#and the wearing his hoodie trope around him trope

[babyb1ues]

shoutout to xavier for being the only one to wear hoodies and enabling the stealing hoodies from your boyfriend trope

[evieelyzabethh]

Warmer than a Comforter

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: it wasn't unusual for Spike to 'break' into your apartment, but it was unusual for him to want to spend the night.

warnings: very long (4.4k words), spike being a simp, one bed trope, dry humping, thigh fucking, masturbation, some fingering, slight praise, Spike being Spike, a smidge of possessiveness, and thats about it

It was no secret to anyone your favorite time of day was long after the sun went down. A full-time college student who worked a part time job on top of that was no easy feat. Your time during the day was never your time, it was your shitty professors time who assigned reading after reading that needed to be read for the never-ending stream of papers and theses, it belonged to your shitty boss who piled on tons of paperwork and demanded you be at his beck and call even after you clocked out. As much as you loved them, your time off belonged to your friends; patrolling, looking through dusty-old books, trying not to die every time you stepped out of your apartment.

When you got home (if there was no patrolling to be done), it was your time and while you were tired, you made time for your nightly routine. You'd slip off your shoes and walk in the dark to make it to your room to turn on your lamp, because you'd be damned if you were turning on one of the big lights this late.

You would usually strip down and dig a pair of pajamas out of your drawers before taking a scalding shower. You'd brush your teeth and wash your face, maybe if you had the energy, you'd do a face mask and paint your nails. You'd turn on your stereo or switch on your TV to fall asleep to the fuzzy sound and soft light. This, of course, is what you'd be doing right now had you not walked into your house with company.

You could see him lounging on your bed, the darkness of his attire somehow darker than your unlit room. His duster slung on the back of your desk chair, only clothed in some tight navy shirt and jeans.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed when you realized he had his dirty ass boots on your bed.

"M' paying my favorite Scooby a visit." You walked over to turn on your lamp, giving you enough light to see how smug he was. His arms sat behind his head, his eyes glittering with amusement. He was doing this to annoy you. He did most things just to annoy you.

"Pay another Scooby a visit." You were dead tired, practically forcing your eyes open. You had just gotten back from work, your bag still in your hand which you used to knock his legs off your bed. He could've been stubborn, but he let you.

You stripped off your hoodie, flashing him your stomach as your undershirt rose with the movement. He whistled, "Scandalous."

"Get out of my apartment." You tossed your hoodie at him while rolling your eyes. He caught it midair, bringing it to his nose to sniff it.

"Smells different. You using a different bodywash?" You hummed as you walked around your room to find something suitable to wear to bed. It was dreadfully hot out, even worse than what you'd expect from a California summer. You had at least 3 fans going anytime you were here, especially since your landlord could never seem to find a permanent solution to the junky A.C unit.

"Midnight Rose. Real fancy stuff." You hadn't even noticed a difference, but of course Spike would. Vampire senses had a way of being intrusive in a way that was only helpful when it came to your cycle and saving you bed sheets.

"I like the other one better: the cocoa butter one. It was fainter. You smelt more like you." You scoffed.

"Duly noted." Your hands roamed over the old t-shirts from high school and camisole tops so old the straps had snapped on a couple of them.

Spike sat up on your bed, untying the laces on his shoes haphazardly before setting them by your bedroom door. He roamed around like you had been, picking up bottles of nail polish and flipping through one of the books on your shelf.

"You could spare me a bit of your attention, love. I mean I did go through the trouble of-"

"Breaking into my apartment?" You interrupted.

"On second thought, it was a bit easy. I pushed it a bit and the window came right out. Are you leaving it open for somebody?" His tone was supposed to sound much more teasing than it did. There was a pang in his chest, probably of jealousy. Much to his chagrin, he was jealous a lot these days and he couldn't quite tell if his frequent visits were enabling that or the very cause of it. Either way, it was hard not to just crawl through your window anytime he pleased.

You acted like you were annoyed and if he had a dollar for every time you threatened to call Buffy on him, he wouldn't need to dumpster dive for furniture. If he had another dollar for every time, you never followed through, he'd be even richer. You said it's because you could handle yourself without her help, but, admittedly, you didn't hate his company that much.

As far as house guests go, it could be worse. It's not like he eats all your food, talks your ears off, or is unfunny. He was just there. A pain in your ass sometimes, like when he insists on being half a step behind you during patrols and never fails to tell you how great your ass looks from behind. Never a malevolent presence, just annoyingly noticeable.

His boots were clunky, and he smelled of faint cigarettes and alcohol. He also hated silence. He was fidgety and anxious, even if his intentions were stealth, he couldn't help but break the tension and open his mouth. At times against his will, he just wanted to be noticed that bad. He just needed to be around you that bad.

"I keep telling the landlord to fix it, but he insists it's just fine. 'Nothin' some glue won't fix'." But you had tried gluing it. Had it not been for the clear shit jammed in the lock, the window would've just come right open with the flick of a finger.

"I could fix it for you." He went ignored while you had made your way to your bathroom, taking your hair down from the claw clip it had been stuck in for the past few hours. A slight moan of relief slipped through your lips as your fingers carded through it to massage your scalp.

"You know how to fix windows?"

"Well...no. But it can't be that hard. I've been around a few hundred years, surely I can figure out how to fix a bloody window." What he meant to say (if he had the balls) was that he would be more than happy to learn how to fix a window for you. It would give him an excuse to hang around, it would keep him in your good graces for a solid month, and he wouldn't have to break an entering anymore. Granted, his preferred place of entry had long been broken and he could always come through the front door, but it was a matter of principle.

You looked him up and down, trying to decipher if this was a set up for a joke or if he was actually serious, but he kept his head down. He hadn't been able to blush since he was a human, but the habit had a way of rearing its head for you.

He was so pretty too. With his high cheekbones and the way the warm light made his complexion look less ghastly. As ironic and cliche as it would be to say, he looked slightly angelic. Like one who fell from Heaven and donned the dark and mysterious charade to make it hurt less. He would burn away under a cross just to make it back to Heaven. Nearly break his spine falling out of windows and bleed out taking stabs if it meant he was closer to your doors. If there was one thing Spike did well, it was devotion.

"You wouldn't even know where to start. I'll just call Xander or something."

"What're you gonna do that for!"

"Because, Spike," you laughed incredulously, confused as to if this was going to become an argument or form a chip on his shoulder. "If I want something fixed, I'm going to call someone who does it for a living."

"But would Xander do it for free?"

"Would you?"

"I wouldn't charge anything of monetary value." You snorted, not surprised at all with his answer.

"You are such a whore, you know that?"

"What can I say, baby?" He leaned against the door frame of your bathroom, where you stood staring at your reflection in the mirror. He was happy that his nonexistent reflection could betray him. He was grateful to be a part of this routine - your routine- in a way that didn't disrupt your peace. It was soft. Almost domestic.

You were so meticulous about the way you scrubbed your face and brushed your teeth. He liked how when you took off your makeup the glitter remained. You sparkled at the right angles, really fucking sparkled. Of course, he was going to sit and stare at you; mascara still not completely wiped away, hair tied back with a fuzzy headband, lips agitated from being bit throughout the day. It was poetic. Second nature to him. He didn't need to breath, but it came to him then, overwhelming and filling his lungs like water until he was full as he stared at you in the mirror with not even his own reflection to judge him.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower."

"How rude, without me?" Damn, he sounded like a bloody idiot. You only looked him up and down, trying to appear deeply disgusted but stopped just shy of mildly annoyed.

"Get out of my apartment before I stake you." You slammed the bathroom door in his face, hiding your blush behind the wood.

"That's not a no." His voice is muffled behind the door, and as much as you'd like to believe he didn't hear it, you did laugh.

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

Spike had to have been a cat in a previous life, is what you decided when you found him still on your bed, nose in some magazine he found pretending to care about the newest Natasha Denona palette.

"That crypt must be uncomfortable as hell for you to still be here." You skated around your room to sink beside him. He reaches across his side to pull out a bottle of water and hands it to you.

"Your showers are hot as hell; I'm surprised you didn't pass out in there." He flips through the pages nonchalantly, pretending not to be incredibly fixated at the water dripping from the nape of your neck and disappearing into your shirt.

"You would've loved that, wouldn't you? Getting to play 'knight and shining armor' while I'm conveniently naked." The sound waxy pages being torn was a surprise. So much of you and his banter was contingent on the assumption that neither of you meant anything serious so nothing would become anything.

Spike, who spent most of his mortal adult life swallowing his feelings until his stomach became an endless chasm where his feelings went to fester rather than die, was more than okay with this unspoken arrangement. Sarcasm was a second language to you. You were used to your words not mattering, especially since in your group of friends, your existence seemed to matter far less than everyone else's. You wondered if that was why you and Spike got along so well.

He just got you. Maybe a side effect of him being around you whenever he could. He just got you. In a stupid way. In an annoying way. The kind of way that made you worried that reading minds was also one of his vampiric powers. He wormed his stupid way into your brain, slithering around in his own sort of Spike way til you didn't know where his influence began.

He did sort of have this hypnotic way of speech. Maybe because he was a poet. Poets have to have some sort of hypnotic power, right? Surely, there was some connection between rhythms and brain waves that made the effect of Spike's voice so persuasive. Maybe it's not the rhythm and it's just the honesty. Ironic, since the basis of your "relationship" was built on never assuming that the other meant what they said, but who cares. It gave you guys flavor. Something to keep things interesting.

"I'll have you know; I am a very old-fashioned guy with manners." You snorted as his response. He talked about his "old-fashioned" ways a lot. Maybe to convince you that he was a gentleman. Gentleman your ass, you'd seen what he kept in his crypt.

"My deepest apologies for assuming that a guy that used railroad spikes as a murder weapon of choice wouldn't be above jumping at the opportunity to see me naked."

"Am I that transparent?"

"When it comes to mirrors, yeah." His scoff was lost in the sound of a car horn going off across the street. Damn, you needed a new place. He had complained to you about the noise before. If you didn't leave near a busy street, he would try his luck spending the night far more than he already did. Each blare deepened the scowl on his face as he flinched at the sound, even louder from where he sat in front of it.

"Those death buggies have to be the worst thing to come out of the 20th century. So obnoxious, and for what?"

"I imagine they are more convenient than horse drawn carriages."

"Yeah, more convenient and not even half the charm." He turned his head to gaze out the window. "It's not even a nice car! I'd rather ride around in the fucking Angel Mobile than drive around in that thing."

"You are so dramatic. Usually I just," you swing your leg over his waist, straddling and reaching over to close the window. He swallowed hard at the feeling of your chest pressing against the magazine, the only boundary between him and you, and the nonchalance of the action. "Shut the window." You felt him tense beneath you, his right hand awkwardly meeting your hip, blue eyes staring up at you through dark eyelashes. "Then again, I'm not a pansy who needs complete silence to sleep."

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "I sleep in a cemetery, love, ain't much noise around those parts." His eyes wandered everywhere they could but the worst part about beautiful people is that there is no unsightly place to avert your gaze. He couldn't stare at your gorgeous eyes, or your stunning nose, or your lips to distract himself from the steadily growing boner that you were sitting right on top of. You were no better than he was.

Within the context of the unspoken agreement, this meant absolutely nothing. The boner was just a normal reaction, that didn't have to mean anything. The way he was looking at you was a bit hard to ignore, but that was the way he always looked at you. He was a lot closer right now, sure, but that stupid lovesick look that you have spent years trying to ignore, totally just a joke. Not real at all. A trick of the light, in fact. The hard-on was very real though.

After sitting there for a few seconds too long, you shift your weight to move back to your side of the bed, but his hands keep you in your place. " 'm cold", he mutters, his thumb rubbing circles between where your shorts meet your bare skin.

"Yeah?" You feel him pressing up against your core. "I didn't think you could get cold."

" Me either but-", you lowered yourself completely on his clothed dick and the groan he let out was salacious. "Here we are." The frigid way he moved made his lie believable. Incredibly cautious, hesitant. No idea what to do with himself. He ran his hands along your thighs, up and down your side, one cold hand sliding underneath your shirt, rubbing the hem of it between his pointer finger and his thumb.

You leaned forward, warm breath fanning against his nose. It smelled like mint. You smelled like some sort of cocoa butter. Smooth and soft on top of him and he didn't know if you were going to roll right off or melt into his skin. Your hands come to the sides of his face, and you stare intently at him. He felt like he was under a microscope with the way you looked at him like you were committing each detail of him to memory so that even when you closed his eyes, it was still him burning in the forefront of your mind.

"You gonna kiss me?" You whispered, pressing yourself further into him. He let out a breathy laugh.

"What, a guy's always gotta make the first move?" With that, you leaned down to give him what was meant to be a quick peck. A tester. A tease. But when you give Spike an inch, he takes a mile, and he took the opportunity to devour you. Mouth open, sloppy, wet kisses while his hands worked as eagerly as his tongue did. You were a calming presence, slow and sane as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to try and ground the both of you.

Breathing through your nose, you inhaled him. The faint smell of smoke, the fresh smell of whatever he washed the gel from his hair with, the distinctly Spike musk. Your thighs wrapped him more closely, subtly grinding into his lap, ignoring the slight burn on your knees from the friction between them and your sheets. His large hands covered swathes of skin, cooling you where you grew too hot from his touch. When he had his fill, he broke away from you, still nose to nose, a string of saliva still between the two of you.

"Do you wanna spend the night?" Your voice was somehow meek as if there was any way in hell he would say no to you. He breathed out, turning his head into the crook of your neck, leaving searing kisses on your silky skin, worshipping at his altar, and thanking who or whatever got him here tonight. He kisses you from your neck, along your jawline, to the corner of your lips.

"Yes", he whispers against your skin. He bucks his hips into you, the imprint of his cock and the rough material of his jeans kissing your pussy through the thin layers of material. You nearly choke on his tongue at the feeling. Fuck.

Your eyes are closed, hips moving furiously against his, too blissed out to even care about the steadily growing wet patch in your underwear. You're lost in kisses, kisses that overwhelm and confuse and steal your breath until you wonder how much you need to breathe anyway. Along with not needing to breathe, you learned they must have incredible resolve. He chases you. Not like how a wolf chases a lamb but how the sun chases the moon.

He pulls and you push for breath, some sort of reprieve, some time for your mind to catch up with your body because right now everything but the way the seams of his jeans catch your clit is one of the only things on your mind. He pulls you, still, his hands squeezing at your waist, moving up to cup your breasts, thumbing at your nipples, and flicking the already hard peaks. And you push, still, not in protest but in harmony. Your hips pressing down, his jerking up. Your hands tugging his hair, his squeezing your waist. It was good. It was so good.

"What is the point", he starts breathlessly, "of these damn shorts if they're so thin. You're leaking right through, love." He smiles against you, sharp teeth grazing against your cheek as he smirks.

"Take 'em off me then." For once in his life, he takes his time. The desperation of his prior movements forgotten as he looks at you as he trails a finger from your chest down between the valley of your breasts, to your navel. He draws invisible shapes along your stomach, diamonds, hearts, and letters spelling m-i-n-e. And he stalls there. Looking from beneath you, smug as you ground yourself onto his dick in an attempt to move him along.

He was amused. Fascinated. You in your own world, mewling, moaning, putting on a show just for him. Choosing to ignore how sticky your panties had gotten, how much they stuck to your cunt as you wiggled your hips as if you could get any closer. Your tits moving with you, the way your mouth was slightly agape, the way you keened when you rubbed against him just right. It was no motivation for him to move his hands at all, not when it was much more rewarding to angle his hips up and make you see stars. "You gonna cum like this?" He crooned, full of fake sympathy.

"You're really gonna make me get myself off." You rolled your eyes, maybe out of pleasure, maybe out of faux annoyance. Either way, his hand slithered to the waistband of your shorts and dipped even deeper. He left feather-light touches on your clit which sent jolts of electricity up your spine. Overcome with the tightening feeling in your belly, your hands grabbed at his shoulders as your hips worked and worked you snapped. Impossibly wet and dazed, you rocked into him until the high had passed and the stars had left from behind your eyelids leaving only Spike.

His fingers still, in your panties, he moves to slide them and your shorts off your body. You hover slightly, still too sensitive to rub your bare pussy against him. You fidget with the button of his jeans and zipper, Spike's hands coming to cover yours to ease the shakiness. Maybe to give the appearance that he was much calmer than he was. He was painfully hard, and you felt it when you palmed him through his boxers after getting his pants down enough. Where his tip sat was a wet spot. You smirked.

"Did I get your dick that wet?" A shiver went down his spine. The heat from your palm was felt through his boxers. Your hand was barely big enough to cover it. Before either of you was prepared for it, he flipped you on your back. His hands sat on either side of your head while yours removed him from his boxers. He was so big.

You tore your gaze away from his cock to meet his gaze. He still looked at you the same. Pupils widened from lust, cheeks with a slightly pink tinge, lips puffy, eyes looking down at you with the same look they always had. It's then he leans down to kiss you for the millionth time. No urgency, less messy, a kiss like he was trying to wake you from a thousand-year slumber.

Your hand still on his cock, you pumped it a few times, swiping your thumb against his tip to lubricate his dick. He groaned into your mouth, humming in pleasure. You try to line him up to sink in your hole, but he slaps you on the wrist. "Don't want your cunt tonight," he mumbled in between kisses, "Jus' let me feel you."

He pumped his cock a few times before slotting it in between the meat of your thighs. The veins and ridges of his dick would occasionally slide between your folds, but that wasn't the focus. No matter how much you wiggled for him to plant his cock so far deep it kissed your cervix, you were ignored as he squeezed your thighs together, panting as he fucked them.

The juxtaposition made your head dizzy. The softness with which he kissed you and the fervor of his dick between your thighs, them getting wetter with the accumulation of precum leaking from his dick. It only forced him to press harder, leaving handprints from how hard he gripped. "Such a pretty thing, aren't you." He sighed out, his pace still even but his breaths far from it. "Go ahead and touch that pretty cunt f' me."

As much as your brain wasn't working, it wasn't needed to do what you were told. Bleary-headed, your hand traveled from the outside of your leg to between your folds. Still wet from your previous orgasm, it didn't take much to just slip a couple fingers in, moaning as you did. One hand toyed with your tit as the other toyed with your clit, your hips wanting to buck into your hand had it not been for Spike's palm on your stomach.

Had he had the composure, he would have made some sarcastic comment. Slow down, love, what's the rush, is what he would've said had his thrusts not been as sloppy as they were. He pulled away from your lips to see the mess he was making. White beads pooled on the skin of your stomach, dripping down your thighs like liquid pearls. And you. Low warm light bouncing off your skin, lip tucked in your teeth, staring right up at him. It took all of him not to cum at the sight.

Not before you did, he decided, which by the way your moans pitched up wasn't that far away. Each "accidental" slide into you was met with a jerk of your hips. "Stop it", you squealed, the bucking of your hips screaming otherwise.

"Feels too good, doesn't it." Then he did it again. His large hand drifts around before grabbing your abandoned tit, groping it until you hit your limit again. Your chest heaved unevenly as you tried to catch your breath as Spike's hips sped up, stuttered, then stopped as his cum splashed on your stomach and breasts.

Spent and not knowing what to do, he kisses you again. He smiles into it, and to his surprise, you do too. Like it was the only thing that made sense to do. The fuzz gradually fades from your mind, the noise from the multiple fans running and the faint humming of electricity apparent again. There's a breeze coming in from your window and you giggle.

"Are you still cold?"

[skzdarlings]

02. sharing a bed series ; skz ; lee know

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 2/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN.

-

pairing: lee know/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. reader&minho had an argument. reader gets pussy eaten. minho likes to tease.

inspired by the cinematic masterpiece known to the world as lee know log 9, aka that vlog where minho went camping and i never recovered.

-

There is a perpetual hum around the campsite, heaters and lamps and cookers buzzing through the night, plus the rain has started coming down harder.  Its restless patter over the tarp of the luxury tent is more a nuisance than relaxing. 

The noise is not why you are still awake.   Your insomnia is the cause of good old-fashioned guilt. 

You and Minho lost your reservation thanks to some traffic delays and the campsite only had single-bed tents available by the time you arrived.  You have been sharing a bed all weekend, but right now you are alone.  Minho stormed out an hour ago, claiming he needed a walk to clear his head after your argument.

The argument you started. 

All weekend, you’ve been testing Minho’s seemingly infallible patience.  Minho might joke around sharply, but he’s a secret softy and it’s hard to get him genuinely angry.  You could feel yourself being a ridiculous ass but, like everything else of late, it felt out of control.  You were like a third party watching your own stupid argument, unable to stop yourself and unable to help him.  He was the mature one, leaving to find some space.

Even if it was after calling you ridiculous and uptight.      

You didn’t cry.  You didn’t let yourself cry.  Maybe you can’t control anything else, but you can control that. 

Now, you just lay in bed and listen to the rain.  You can’t sleep anyway, so you leave the lights on for Minho.   The rain is coming down pretty hard.  You hope he gets back soon.   Much as you don’t want to face him, you are worried about him. 

As if summoned by your thoughts, the tent opens and Minho stomps inside.  He is wearing a backwards hat and a hoodie, neither of which did much to protect him from the downpour.  You look over your shoulder at him, watching him shake himself out.   The wet hat comes off and hits the ground with a slap, the hoodie following.  It leaves him shivering in a t-shirt and shorts, his jaw clenched. 

He turns abruptly, looking right at you.  There is so much intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, slicking his wet hair back.   An unbidden spark of heat bursts inside you.   I want him to look at me like that when he fucks me, you think.  The thought makes you whip away to stare at the white tent wall.  Your heart pounds.   That pounding intensifies when Minho struts up to bed, crossing the space in a few quick strides.  You don’t dare turn around, clutching the blankets and staring at the wall.

He turns off the lights.  Then you hear him leave, disappearing into the small bathroom joined to your tent. 

You exhale.  It takes a while to come down from the burst of adrenaline, but it has mostly dwindled by the time Minho returns.  You hear him moving about in the dark.  You lay straight as a board, your back to him. 

You stare through the dark at nothing.  You know you should apologize for earlier but you can’t bring yourself to speak.   You just breathe. 

Minho climbs into the bed.  It dips under his weight and you feel a flood of warmth from his company.  He has toweled himself dry and changed into sweatpants and a dry t-shirt.  He smells fresh and clean, and just a little woodsy. The bed is not very big so he bumps you as he lays down.  It makes your heart race again, which just makes you cringe. 

The rain has slowed.  It still patters against the roof of the tent, but gently.  

The quiet makes the silence between you even more tense.  It feels heavier than the blankets, dense and suffocating.   You swallow. 

The argument was your fault.  Everything that went wrong this weekend was your fault.  You’ve been on edge and quick to overreaction, uncharacteristic to your usual composure.  You could tell it was worrying Minho but he has never been the type to pry.  No, he waits until he is asked, which would be great if you knew how to ask.  Hug me, hold me, help me.   You don’t know how to ask for the things you want.   So you just continued to spiral, taking it out on him.  

It should be you turning around, you facing him, you apologizing, but it’s Minho who rolls over.  You freeze when he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight from behind.   He doesn’t quite kiss your shoulder, but he presses his face there for a second.  Wisps of his dyed blonde hair tickle your face.  You can imagine his eyes closing when he sighs. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I shouldn’t have said that shit.  I don’t even know why we were fighting.  Just call it my fault, okay?  I shouldn’t have taken a city girl camping.”   

He is trying to joke with you.  His friendliness is what gets you.  Even after everything, he is still so good to you.   

You put a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound when you start crying.  It’s a useless effort because your shoulders shake and Minho can feel it.  Resigned to your pitiful state, you let your gasps shudder out of you. 

“Hey, hey,” he says, rolling you onto your back.  He wipes his thumbs over your wet cheeks, staring down at you with his brow furrowed in confusion.  “I was just kidding.  I’m sorry.  Take a free slap.”  He grabs your hand and lightly taps his own cheek with it. 

It does make you laugh, but it’s a watery sound, rippling through your tears. 

“Minho,” you say miserably, “I lost my job.” 

Understanding fills his expression.  You can’t bear to look at him, so you roll towards him to hide your face in his chest.   He lets you, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your back as you make a blubbery mess on his shirt.   You tell him the whole story, about the promotion you lost to someone else, about the sudden downsizing and subsequent firing.   You are someone who functions with meticulous planning so your life being upended sent you hurtling into an unfamiliar state of panic.  

“That’s why I went out alone the other night,” you say.  Your tears have slowed to hiccups by now.  “I know it was stupid and it made you mad.  I just felt like I was gonna explode.” 

Hopping bars and picking up random men is very out of wont for you.   That’s why you did it.  Minho was less than pleased when he found out you went wandering around downtown at night, inebriated and alone.   His scolding was reasonable but you were beyond reason.

He goes stiff when you mention it now, though he doesn’t stop rubbing your back. 

“I wasn’t mad,” he says after a minute.  “I was just worried.  And…”

You peek up at him.  He sighs and groans and yells all at once, an amazing feat of sound, throwing his head back so it thumps hard against the headboard. 

“I was jealous,” he says bitterly. 

“Jealous,” you say.  “Of me?”  

“Yes.”  He gives you a very sarcastic look.   “I wished it was me in that little black dress going out and—no.  Obviously not of you.  Why do you always torture me like this?   Go cry on the floor.”  He jostles you but jokingly, still holding you against him. 

You laugh a little, resting your head on his shoulder.  Your head feels fuzzy and you don’t think it’s from crying.  Minho just admitted he was jealous of you going out with some other guy.   It feels like your heart is doing circus tricks. 

“There was nothing to be jealous of anyway,” you say softly.  “We didn’t do anything.  He insisted he was, um, really good with, uh, his mouth, you know, but then, like, the more he insisted, um, you know me, I started thinking too hard and, um, he couldn’t make me, well…”

“Keep stammering.  It makes me feel less embarrassed about myself.”   

“Minho.”  You slap his chest.  His laugh is more of a maniacal cackle, his demeanour having shifted back to glee at your admission.   You lift your head to look at him, biting your lip, noticing how his eyes go to your mouth.  “He wound up leaving before it could go farther,” you say, your words startling him into meeting your gaze.  You know it’s a petty blow, but you can’t help but admit, “He said I was too uptight and left.”

Minho’s whole face scrunches up like he just got punched in the gut.   

“No,” he says.  “No.   You’re just saying that to bully me.  I didn’t call you the same thing as that idiot.”   

“It’s okay,” you say. 

“No.” He groans again, closing his eyes and kicking his feet.  “Ahhhhhhh.  I should be shot!”  

You are laughing properly now, clinging to him as he squirms in horror.          

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Oh really?”  He cocks an eyebrow at you, his mouth a grim line. 

“Well.”  You burst into laughter all over again.  “Maybe just a little!” 

He laughs hard at that, shaking his head, but still retaliates by tickling you.  Your laughter turns hysterical, peels of giggles as he pokes every ticklish inch of skin. 

“Minhoooo,” you whine to no avail.  He just grins and continues his attack. 

Your wriggling pushes the blankets off the bed.  You try and whack him with a pillow so that hits the floor too.  Soon it is just you and Minho and some dishevelled bedsheets, you on your back with him leaning over you.   You are both out of breath, both smiling.  His hands are by your head, cradling you under him, while yours are on his chest as if preparing to push. 

The room feels quiet, the silence again tense.  But this tension is not rife with the same uncertainty as before.   It is not guilt or shame, but a longing that comes from the whispered confession that he was jealous of the last man in your bed, the simple reality that he is sharing your bed right now.     

You do not push him away.  You hook your fingers in the collar of his shirt and pull.  His elbows bend as he swoops down, meeting your raised head.  He kisses you, deep and hot and slow, gently pressing your head back into the plush bed.  Your squirming is very different now, legs opening to make room for him to settle between them.  He feels so good on top of you, the feeling of his strong thighs between your legs, of his chest under your hands, wisps of hair brushing your face as he kisses and kisses and kisses you. 

The kiss ends when you are simply too breathless to continue.  He rests his forehead against yours, breathing hard. 

“Wow,” you say softly.  You look at him.  His dark eyes are often severe in a playful way and right now they are intense, seductive, and it isn’t a joke.   You touch his bottom lip, holding his gaze while he kisses the tips of your fingers.   “Just so you know, that kiss was way better than everything that happened the other night.”

He grins at that. 

“Oh,” he says.  “Really?” 

“Yeah.”  You watch him kiss your fingers again, then your palm.  He looks at you as he dips a little lower, kissing the inside of your wrist.  You are hypnotized by the heat of his dark stare, so you speak without thinking much.  “Everything you do turns me on, though,” you say.  “Even earlier, when you were crushing that garlic with the knife—”

His seduction breaks with a little laugh and he raises both eyebrows. 

“Garlic?” he asks.  “The garlic got you hot?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you say, pouting.  “You already made me cry once tonight…”

“Oh, is that what happened?” he says.  “Sure, okay, let’s play.  I made you cry.   I should make it up to you?”

“Mhm…”

“Well then.”  He leans in close to kiss you but he lingers for a torturously long time, just hovering above your lips.   Then he abruptly pulls away.  He kneels upright and sits back on his heels.   

Confused, you push yourself up on your elbows.   He is looking around the room and tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“What is it?” you ask.   

“Hmm?”  He looks at you, tilting his head as if you are the confusing one.  “What?  I’m just looking for some garlic, since you’re into that for some reason.  Give me a minute to remember where I put it.”  

“Ahhh, I hate you!”  You flop back down, covering your face with your hands. 

Minho, diabolical creature that he is, throws back his head and laughs.  He tries to pry your hands off your face but you stubbornly hold on.  He sighs with theatrical exasperation and gives up.  

You hear the rustle of fabric.  Curious, you peek between your fingers.  Minho is staring down at you with a single eyebrow cocked, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips.  That smirk grows as he reaches back, flexing his arms before grabbing the back of his t-shirt and pulling.  Your hands fall away from your face completely, your eyes drinking in the gradual reveal of skin as he pulls his shirt off.   It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding curtly.  “Your turn.”  He makes a come-hither motion with two fingers.  “Come on.  Hurry up.” 

Your brain has short-circuited.  It takes a second to make sense of his request and another minute to actually do it.  You sit up long enough to peel your shirt off, then flop back down where you continue to stare at him.   You are checking each other out, looking up and down.   Your eyes goes over his bare chest and down, your mouth falling open. 

You breath catches when he cups his hardening dick through his sweatpants, rubbing the heel of his hand there. 

You meet his gaze, already breathing harder.

“What else then?” he says, still stroking himself through his clothes as he looks at you. 

“Uh, ah, erm, hm—”

“You said everything I do turns you on.”  He falls forward and catches himself on both hands, so suddenly you gasp.   Once again his arms cage you in, his face close to yours.  His hips come down heavy between your legs, his dick hard where it presses intimately against you.  “So,” he says.  “What else then?” 

“Oh.”  You are staring at his mouth, gaze heavy-lidded when he rocks against you.  “Um.  Well.  Sometimes when you’re driving in reverse and you put your hand on my headrest, it kinda—” 

Once again, his seduction attempt is thwarted when he can’t help but laugh.  He drops his head, laughing harder when you lightly smack him.    

“Stop asking if you’re just gonna laugh!” you say, even while laughing too. 

“Okay,” he says.  “Garlic and driving in reverse.  I’m learning so much.” 

“I’m gonna kill you.” 

“That would be very rude,” he says.  “Especially since I’m about to go down on you.” 

“You—wha—ohhh—”

You grab his head instinctively, fingers sinking into the natural dark roots of his dyed hair, just as he dips down to press kisses on your chest.  You arch under him as his mouth finds every sensitive spot, licking sweetly and biting meanly, as to be expected from Minho.  By the time he reaches the waistband of your shorts, you are panting and wriggling and clawing at him desperately.   

You don’t even have time to overthink.  The world and all its troubles fall away for the time being.  

You will figure things out.  You always do.  Right now, you let yourself lose control.   You usually hate the feeling, but in this moment you don’t mind at all, because Minho has you.   You trust him completely.  Surrender is easy.   

The rest of your clothes join the messy heap on the floor.  He runs his hand smoothly along the inside of your thigh before guiding it over his shoulder.   He kisses there, then kisses you excruciatingly chastely between your legs.  When you try and move, he keeps you steady, the sturdy hands that captivated you now holding you firmly in place. 

When he finally stops torturing you, he gives you everything at once: a long, hot lick right up your centre.  Again, your fingers find his hair.  He doesn’t complain or lose focus even though you are scratching at him a bit ferociously.  Ever a skilled worker, he stays on task.  It is so deft and swift and thorough; you get so wet and slippery that you can feel it running it down your skin.  

When you get close, your hips lift but he brings you back.  He looks up between your thighs as he brings you over the edge.  Your legs shake and your eyes close and you bite your hand just a little, trying not to be too noisy in the middle of the night at a campsite. 

He climbs back up when finished, looking like a very smug feline as he wipes his face on the back of his hand.   

“On a scale of garlic to driving in reverse—” he starts. 

You playfully cuff the side of his head. 

“That good?” he continues to tease. 

You roll your eyes but smile.   You think it is a seductive smile, but you do feel a little wrecked.   Still, you stay on task too, sliding your hand down his chest, down, down, down and—

“Oh,” you say.  You look down at the same time as him.  A noticeable wet stain is on the front of his sweatpants.  “You already—”

He flops down beside you and sighs.

“Sorry,” he says.  “You weren’t the only one amazed with my sexy performance.” 

“That’s okay,” you say with a laugh.  You roll over to rest your head on his chest.  His arm comes down around you, hand running down your naked back.  You giggle when he cups and squeezes your ass.  You dance your fingers down his pants to the wet spot where he came.  “I think it’s kinda hot, actually.” 

Minho came from eating you out.  Of course you think it’s hot. 

And of course he has to be Minho about it. 

“Okay,” he says.  “Garlic. Driving in reverse.  Premature ejaculation.  Uptight was definitely the wrong word.  I honestly don’t know if I can keep up with a freak like you—”

“Ugh!”  You roll away and turn your back to him, mostly to hide the fact you are laughing at his stupid joke. 

He follows you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind.  This time he kisses your shoulder properly, once, twice, three times.  All the way up your neck to your ear and just behind it. 

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” you whisper. 

“I like you too,” he whispers back, kissing your shoulder again. 

You smile and close your eyes, listening to the rain and letting yourself snuggle safely in his arms. 

[b0r3dtod3ath]

HEYY,so i really really love flirty cocky possessive lando but at the same time a cute lando😭hmm

i’m not very good at prompts but here’s some idk if they’re good 🤷‍♀️

- bestfriend readers came back to landos house (that he shares w max f and reader because they’re all bffs) and readers been out drinking and came back crying because readers now ex boyfriend cheated on her and lando is such a cutie,(but has romantic feelings for reader just doesn’t know how to tell her) he takes care of her and they go to his bathroom where he places her on a counter, wipes her tears takes her mascara and dress off and gets her one of his hoodies bc he’s very protective of her,and just tells her how she doesn’t need her ex he was a of shit bf and he knows loads of men that would treat her better and being a cutie hugging her and shit and he just takes her to his bed where he just hugs her all night,maybe bc he’s a little upset some prick hurt his girlie like this😭😭

- Lando and reader ‘hating’ each other and bickering when other drivers are around but one day it all changes when some of the grid wake up after having a big party at another drivers house and lando and reader coming out of the same room / or being caught laying with each other the morning after 😁

- pool party with grid but bff lando x reader ?? Everyone thinking lando was seeing multiple girls but after reader starting to get very close with another driver in the pool clingy ,touchy and needy lando comes out,the side of lando nobody knew because he always acted nonchalant with girls and grabs her by the waist (idk this one isn’t very good but you get the idea) and yea you can escalate it from thereeee

- Reader x Bff lando ((again ik) Reader and lando share a house with other friends such as max F) and reader is getting ready for another hopeless date to fill the void of the only man she wanted which was lando ofc.Lando barges into her room when reader is wearing a kinda see through silky bath gown on top of an vs set,only because she was getting ready,obvs she was gonna replace the overlay with her dress after,Lando bursting in was nothing new and she and him was close, they are best friends that sleep one wall away.. and lando kinda checks her out while asking where she was going as he lays on her bed and she tells him about this date and he gets jelaous?!! reader goes into the bathroom to change into her outfit and lando is just says something like “ooooh you really do need to get laid don’t u?” and she jokingly argues back but he gets kinda clingy,upset,annoyed,pissy maybe? starts questioning why she goes on these pointless dates or one night stands then gets so hyped up by her short dress that he goes “do they even make you cum” and she’s at her mirror and he just comes up behind her because she doesn’t respond and becomes touchy bc yh😚

ok srsly i wrote this at almost 3.30am i’m so tired but can’t sleeeeep, i’m sorry if this is a mess but you can tell i have such a thing for reader bff tropes!!! this whole thing MIGHT be useless i’m sorry if you can’t understand any of it btw LOL😁

request: bestfriend readers came back to landos house (that he shares w max f and reader because they’re all bffs) and readers been out drinking and came back crying because readers now ex boyfriend cheated on her and lando is such a cutie,(but has romantic feelings for reader just doesn’t know how to tell her) he takes care of her and they go to his bathroom where he places her on a counter, wipes her tears takes her mascara and dress off and gets her one of his hoodies bc he’s very protective of her,and just tells her how she doesn’t need her ex he was a of shit bf and he knows loads of men that would treat her better and being a cutie hugging her and shit and he just takes her to his bed where he just hugs her all night,maybe bc he’s a little upset some prick hurt his girlie like this😭😭

a/n: I'm so sorry it took so long to reply to your request. Thank you and I love your message! I hope you are still interested in reading this. I wrote just one part but I definitely will be coming back to this request! 

Lando was laying on the couch, scrolling through his phone, when he heard the front door creak open. He glanced up, expecting to see Max or you. Instead, he was met with the sight of you stumbling through the doorway in makeup ruined by tears streaming down your face.

"Hey, what's wrong? Did someone hurt you?" Lando asked, jumping up and rushing over to you.

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sob. Lando gently took your hand and guided you further inside, closing the door behind you. His heart ached at the sight of you so broken. "Come on, let's sit down," he said softly, leading you to the couch. You collapsed onto it, burying your face in your hands - avoiding his look. "He broke up with me," you finally managed to say between sobs. "He did it in front of half of our friends, and I… I just can't believe he could humiliate me like that and that we are over”. 

Lando's jaw clenched in anger at the thought of your ex-boyfriend's cruelty, but he pushed those feelings aside. Right now, you were in need of his comfort, not his rage. "I'm so sorry," he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "You don't deserve to be treated like that”. You leaned into him, your body shaking with sobs. "You are the best person I know, and he was an idiot to let you go. You deserve someone who will treat you with the love and respect you deserve” Lando said firmly, lifting your chin so you would look at him. You sniffled, more tears streaming down your face. "Thank you, Lando. I don't know what I would do without you”. 

Lando's heart swelled at your words. He had always had feelings for you, but he had never expressed them in fear of ruining your friendship. When you got into a relationship it was a bit easier for him as he kept telling himself that you found someone you loved. Seeing you so broken, he knew he needed to be there for you, no matter what.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said gently, helping you to your feet. He led you to the bathroom, lifting you onto the counter. He didn’t know how to execute your routine and started confusingly looking through your cabinets. You giggled at the sight of him being lost and with a quiet voice instructed him what to do. He was wiping away your tears and makeup as if you were made out of porcelain. "You don't need him," Lando said softly as you cried even more. "He was a piece of shit, and you deserve so much better. You know it”. You sniffled, the pain in your chest easing slightly at his comforting words. "Thank you, Lando”. He smiled, a bittersweet feeling tugging at his heart as he looked into your bloody eyes.

"Let’s get changed," he said, carefully unzipping your dress and helping you slip into one of his hoodies. It brought you a sense of comfort. Not only because of its size and softness but also because it smelled like Lando. He pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "You don't need him," he repeated softly, resting his chin on top of your head. "I know so many guys who would treat you the way you deserve to be treated." You clung to him with your face buried in his chest, finding comfort in his embrace. "You're the best, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

His heart ached at the thought of you hurting as he ran his hand up and down your back. "You need some rest," he said, guiding you to your bedroom.

Lando pulled back the covers and helped you into your bed before climbing in beside you. He wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you close. "I'll be right here," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere”. As you drifted off to sleep, comforted by his presence, Lando stayed awake for a while longer, his mind racing. He was upset that someone had hurt you so deeply, but he was also determined to be there for you, to show you how much you meant to him. "You're going to be okay," he whispered into the darkness, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I promise”. 

June 10, 2024

[pantherxrogers]

hey! could you write a san version of the sugar daddy/boyfriend smut👀

one-shot: sugar daddy!san x fem!reader ⋆。°  ✮   ⁺

⭐️ pairing: sugar daddy!san (+ boxer!san) x fem!reader

⭐️ warnings: smut (18+ only), explicit language, oral (f receiving), dry humping, swearing, gentle dom!san, slightly sub!reader, crybaby!reader (but they're happy tears), incorrect boxing terminology (boxer!san is just sexy lmao i know nothing about boxing), pet names galore, spit as lube, super fluffy too

also...pee after sex!!

⭐️ summary: sugar daddy!san comes home from Europe with a special gift for his spoiled girl. she's a little bit of a crybaby, but he knows how to remedy that. he may be a boxing world champion but he's devoted on making the reader feel like the winner 😼

⭐️ a/n: lmao, i got carried away writing this one because San is my bias. it's definitely longer than Mingi and Yunho, so i'm calling it a one-shot.

i re-watched the bouncy music video recently, so i had the idea to combine sugar daddy!san with Boxer!san. and also non!idol san. it's a trope salad LMAO. enjoy! 🫶🏾 thank you for the request darling! <3

my masterlist (you can find the mingi and yunho versions here!)

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent real events or the actual personalities of any K-pop idols mentioned. All characters and situations are purely imaginary. This story is created for entertainment purposes only, and no harm or disrespect is intended toward the idols or their fans. Enjoy!

"Good job, baby!" You squeal, rushing towards San as soon as he steps into your shared penthouse.

"Thank you, pretty girl," your boyfriend mumbles, weighed down by jet lag, but already feeling lighter in your presence.

"So proud of my undisputed champion! I wish I could've been there," you coo, basking in the feel of him.

"Me too, baby," he confesses, finally content in your arms. It's always nice to win, but nothing beats his greatest treasure. You.

Standing on your tippy toes, you press a firm kiss to his lips. He meets you with a hunger. San traces his tongue along your plump bottom lip, asking for entry. When he delves into your mouth, you can't help the little moan that slips out. The sound makes San's pants feel tighter.

Your heart's beating faster now, and you melt into your boyfriend's warmth. The thin, silky nightie barely covers anything. A warm chill goes down your spine when your nipples brush against San's firm chest. As you lift your leg to drape around his waist, you notice his arms are locked behind his back.

"Ummm…" you trail off, breaking the kiss to ask for an explanation. This is your first moment to really get a good look at him, which doesn't help the wetness gathering in your thong.

He's smirking at you, and he's just so sexy. The chandelier lighting of the foyer reflects from his thin, gold chain. You notice that he's dressed comfortably, likely still wearing whatever he wore on the private jet to get home.

He's wearing his own merch, Choi San (K-Rocky) World Champion printed across the front of the gray hoodie. It makes you beam with pride every time you see it. Trailing your eyes down, you're met with his matching sweatpants and growing bulge. More pride surges in your chest, happy to know he missed you as much as you missed him. As a result, a girlish giggle slips through your lips.

"Something funny, pretty girl?" he chides, playfully raising an eyebrow at you.

"Is there something in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?" you grin, loving the ways his eyes light up at your cheesy joke. He crowds your space again, smiling down at you before he whispers in your ear.

"Well, I'm definitely excited to see my baby, but I also have a little surprise for her," he grumbles, sending warmth to your lower belly. He steps back again, arms still locked behind his back.

You're fighting back a smile, remembering the promise he made before leaving to reclaim his title.

"Close your eyes, sweet girl," he murmurs. You can't see him, but he smirks again, cock stirring in his pants at your obedience.

"Are you ready?" he teases, chuckling softly at the furrow in your brow. He can't ignore how cute you get when you're feeling bratty.

"Sannieeeee, c'mon," you whine, growing more impatient by the second.

He feels like a pervert the way his eyes lock on your full breasts, biting his lip when they sway in tandem with your little tantrum. He thinks about how they'll feel in his mouth when he gets you underneath him.

"Stop staring at my tits and let me have my gift!" you growl, knowing how spoiled you sound but you've lost the ability to care.

"Hey, be a good girl," he commands, the serious tone in his voice putting an abrupt stop to your antics.

" 'm sorry, sir," you whisper breathily, clit throbbing at the way he effortlessly switches into his dominant side.

San heart aches a little bit when he looks at you. He knows you love playing rough, but he doesn't have it in him to torment you any longer.

" 's okay baby, open your eyes for me," he coos. He nearly jumps back at the shriek you let out.

"Ah! I knew it!" you cry out, reaching forward to snatch the Hermes bag out of his hands. Reaching inside, you almost burst into tears when you feel the handbag of your dreams.

"Sannie," you whimper, looking up at him with teary eyes. He's on you before you can continue, wrapping his strong arms around you.

"Don't cry, baby," he begs softly, unable to watch you cry, even if they're happy tears.

"I can't help it," you sniffle, "I'm so grateful for you," the words are muffled against his chest, you find it hard to continue opening the bag.

"I couldn't do any of this without my baby. This is the least I could do," he answers honestly, pulling your soft body away from his to look into your eyes.

"I love you more than anything." You tear up again at the sincerity in his eyes.

"I love you too," you whimper, trying to stop the tears that flow down your cheeks. San's hands come up, brushing away the tears as lightly as possible, so you don't feel his rough callouses.

He holds you for a few more minutes, quieting your tears with affirmations and soft kisses. You stand there in silence for a while, calmed by the steady sound of his heartbeat.

"How do you feel now, baby? he asks softly, tracing his hand down your back. Another smirk rests on his face, when he watches the goosebumps raise up on your skin.

"Think 'm good now," you answer him, remembering the task at hand.

You finally open the bag, admiring the heavy Birkin in your hands. As you pour out a stream of thank you's and I love you's, when San catches you by surprise.

One moment, you're standing in the foyer and the next moment, he's scooped you up and into the living room. He gently places you on the vast leather couch, settling in beside you.

Drawn to his warmth, you cuddle up next to him, loving the way his strong arm cradles your waist. He carefully takes the bag from you, placing it on the marble coffee table. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence before the TV catches his attention.

"Are you watching my highlights, baby?" he teases, knowing full and well that you always tune into ESPN when he's away.

"Don't tease me, Sannie. I missed you," you mumble, nestling further into his side.

San looks down at you, enchanted by the exposed skin that the nightie doesn't quite cover. He brings a rough hand to your thigh, tracing the smooth skin, admiring how it feels in his grip. He can hear your breathing pick up, knowing exactly what effect he has on you.

"Missed you too, pretty girl," he sighs, using one arm to shift you onto his lap. San helps you adjust, finally content when you're straddling him.

"I missed you more," you breathe out, finding it difficult to concentrate.

He's so warm and strong beneath you, his muscular thighs being the perfect pillow. His hands are lower now, softly groping your ass through the lingerie. You can't help but to grind down on him, both of you letting out a content moan.

"Not possible," he murmurs, "But you're welcome to try to prove it," he finishes his sentence with a sharp smack to your ass, triggering another moan from you.

"Shit," you huff out, overwhelmed by the feeling of his body underneath yours.

His cock is fully hard now, protruding through his sweats. Your thong is basically nonexistent, clinging to your wet pussy. That sensation combined with San's lazy grinding make it hard for you to think clearly.

His lips are on your neck now, sucking on the sensitive skin. He loves the way you moan out into his ear, harshly grinding his hard cock against your pussy.

"C'mon baby, you gonna prove it to me?" he teases, warm breath against your ear.

His words finally click in your head, knowing what you want to do. You start to shimmy off his lap, trying to get on your knees, but San's arms lock you in place.

"Wanna show you how grateful I am," you beg, hooded eyes staring back into his own.

His head lulls back onto the cushion, finding it hard to concentrate when you look at him like that. Messy curls, hard nipples poking through your nightie, and your lips swollen from kissing. You look fucked out and he's barely getting started.

"Then let me taste you, baby. That's all I really want," he groans, quickly switching your position. Your head spins for a moment, barely registering how you changed places so fast.

You're on your back, San's rough hands pinning your thighs to your chest. The leather couch is cool beneath your skin, helping you think a little more clearly. Raising up on your elbows, you look down at him, eyes almost rolling back at the image.

He's bent over in front of you, gray hoodie long forgotten. He's wearing a white tank, muscles on display for you. As you admire him, his smooth lips trail along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Always the tease, he softly kisses your clit through your thong, your hips bucking in response.

"S-Sannie, please," you moan out, trying to push up against his mouth. He pulls back, smirking up at you, loving the neediness in your voice.

"Tell me what you want, pretty girl," he murmurs, faintly tracing his fingertips up and down your plush thighs. He looks at you expectantly.

"Want your mouth," you whine, hating when he does this. It makes you feel shy, but maybe that's why your heart flutters a little bit. Even if you'd never admit it to him.

"Want me to lick your pretty pussy?" he coos before lowering his head, pressing another kiss to your bundle of nerves.

"Mmmm, yes" you moan, eyes rolling back at the light pressure.

"Such a good girl. What my baby wants, my baby gets," he growls, peeling the soaked fabric away from your pussy.

"Fuck," he groans, eyes locked on the trail of wetness still clinging to your thong. He can't help dipping his tongue in it, eager to have a taste. You yelp, surprised by the sudden contact.

"Y-yes, Sannie, feels so good," you pant, unable to focus on anything but the intense pleasure from San's tongue.

He alternates between sucking on your clit and bringing up a finger to rub figures eights. Your hips buck up, doing anything to maximize your pleasure.

"You like that, baby? Like how it feels against your little clit?" The look of pure ecstasy on your face gives him his answer.

He latches back onto your pussy, using his thick tongue to delve between your sopping folds. Your high-pitched moans spur him on, sliding his tongue into your tight hole.

The lewd noises of your boyfriend tongue fucking you is too much for you to bear, your pussy starts to clench around the wet muscle, teetering on the edge of your orgasm.

"F-fuck, yes sir," you huff, spreading your legs even wider, "Gonna cum soon."

He hums against you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure. He's back on your clit again, flicking the nub with the tip of his tongue. When you thrash against the couch, San tightens his grip on your thighs, trapping you into place.

"You can come for me, sweet girl. It's okay," he soothes you, switching back to rubbing fast circles against your clit.

Your hips have lost their rhythm now, aimlessly bucking into the pleasure of San's thumb. He lowers his head again, lewdly spitting on your pussy.

"C'mon on my tongue, baby. That's it," he hums, gravelly voice going directly to your clit.

"Ahhh, fuck," you whine out, feeling his tongue enter your hole again. The pleasure is too much. His rough thumb against your clit and tongue stretching out your pussy push you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, San coaxing you through it.

He sits back on his heels, taking in your body. He keeps circling your clit, letting you ride out your high and come back down to him.

When you've calmed down, you see your boyfriend hovering over you. That kind smile is on his face now, stretching all the way up to his eyes. You swear you can feel your heart expanding in your chest.

"Hi, my pretty girl."

"Hi Sannie," you whisper shyly, cheeks burning at the way he admires you.

"C'mere," he snuggles you back into his lap, adjusting your nightie and smoothing down your curls. You giggle at the wet kisses he's pressing to your cheeks, loving the way he cares for you.

"Missed my baby so much," he accentuates his words with a tight squeeze, making your heart do the same. You let out a soft missed you too, feeling sleepy in his arms.

Cradling your body, you feel him rise from the couch. He turns off the TV, but alarm bells ring in the back of your head.

"Sannie."

"Hm?"

"Can you take my Birkin to my wardrobe please?" you mumble. San tries his best to hold in his laugh, so he doesn't disturb you. Not even a mind-shattering orgasm could make you forget about your Birkin.

"Of course, baby," Is the last thing you here before your eyes close for the night.

[aimedis]

milo & sweetheart headcanons 🐺🫥

"i'm ever at your service, baby.."

milo definitely gives sweetheart princess treatment (gender neutral)

milo likes resting his head on sweetheart’s stomach in between their legs

they're the only ones who can reign each other in from being the assholes they are

when sweetheart is overheated, they get really mean and milo has to apologize to everyone for them

in general, sweetheart's attitude to everyone they're close to is just mean. they get mad pissy with milo too but he gives them shit back

they're the takes himself too seriously x doesn't take themself seriously trope

they wear each other’s clothes all the time and have the audacity to get mad at the other for it

“is that mine? take it off.” "whose hoodie is that, huh?" "..." "exactly"

they play fight so often it's not even funny, even around other people

sometimes sweetheart tells milo “don’t touch me i have a mate” when he tries to kiss them. milo threatens to beat him (the mate) up 

sweetheart calls milo "aggro's handsome dad"

they both speak spanish fairly fluently and they use it whenever they're arguing in front of others or talking shit about people

sweetheart is kind of the therapist friend and tries to be the support system for all of their loved ones even if it burns them out. milo is their support system for when it gets to be too much

milo worries about sweetheart constantly over-working and burning themself out but he knows he can't stop them. so he just remains as the person they can fall back on when they can't do it anymore

they have fake arguments about literally nothing for fun

when sweetheart got to take milo home after the inversion, they kept their hand on his chest as often as possible to remind themself that he was still alive

they will argue about literally everything and anything

it only gets super bad when they're both stressed out and only then does it make them say things they don't really mean. but they're both pretty good at accepting blame and communicating afterwards

arguments always end in cuddles and movie nights with warm blankets

there was a time when an argument was entirely milo's fault and he refused to apologize so sweetheart put him on a physical contact ban. no touching, kissing, hugging, cuddling, hair ruffles, no nothing for a whole two days

milo was so distraught after he got home on the second day and they were practically ignoring him so he started compulsively apologizing

sweetheart made him beg for forgiveness on his knees for 10 minutes before they let him touch them again

darlin flirts with sweetheart sometimes and it makes milo crazy jealous

sweetheart is constantly looking at and touching milo's chest

milo slaps sweetheart's ass every chance he gets

they're insanely competitive with each other and milo's a sore loser (“…milo I don’t know what you want me say cause if I say anything it feels like I’m gloating” “because you’re a cheater!”)

milo always has an arm around sweetheart's shoulder/on the back of their chair

their song is ho hey by the lumineers

milo gets really cold on the summer solstice and sweetheart gets really hot. milo clings onto sweetheart the whole day and sweetheart let’s him no matter how sweaty and agitated they are

sweetheart and milo make playlists together as quality time (they 88 playlists with extremely specific moods and titles)

in serious situations, they cannot look at each other without laugh at absolutely nothing

sweetheart went to the same empowered high school the wolf bois did (they never crossed paths, it was a really big school) and when they told milo he flipped his shit

sweetheart is constantly bothering and harassing milo and he thinks it's the most amusing thing in the world

they have matching necklaces with the other's name on

milo definetly has a nickname for sweetheart that's based on their actual name (shortened version of it, elongated version, a rhyme, etc.)

they're the couple that, after being together for so long, have basically turned into the same person (adopting the other’s speech patterns, clothing styles and acting the same way, acting in sync)

milo is an absolute baby when sick, sweetheart babies him the entire time until he's 100% healthy again

sweetheart likes to pretend they're not sick until they collapse which is why milo is always cautiously watching them once he notices (because they have fainted before)

milo and sweetheart love playing the chapstick challenge because sweetheart has an egregious amount of chapsticks and lip balms and it’s an excuse to kiss each other

milo and sweetheart sometimes recite (love) song lyrics with a completely straight face and not singing it. they think it’s the funniest thing ever

they will also just randomly start singing out loud together from a phrase that happens to be in a song

they do each other's hair whenever they have the extra time in the morning because it takes so much longer (it's the extended make-outs)

milo is sweetheart's alarm clock because he wakes up at the same time every day and he cannot, for the life of him, leave bed quietly (sweetheart is also a light sleeper)

whenever sweetheart is extra tired and doesn't feel like doing their whole after-work care routine when they get home, milo does it for them

if sweetheart wears makeup, milo loves watching them put it on

occasionally, sweetheart makes tiktoks (thirst traps) to their favourite/trending songs and posts them on their private socials (only the pack/close friends are on there)

milo is always first in their comments, spamming at least 20 interactions before he texts them letting them know he saw it

they also do tiktok dances (the old actually cool ones not the garbage ones bitches do these days) and milo goes crazy for those

sweetheart's parents were very neglectful so having marie in their life means a lot. milo reminds them often that she's their mother now as well (fuck you colm)

sweetheart paints whenever they need to calm down or stop thinking and they always add a little bit of milo to their paintings (his favourite flowers, a shirt he owns, adding his freckles onto every one of their characters, etc.) ((they also paint aggro all the time))

milo has definetly threatened to kill someone for sweetheart

sweetheart didn't think milo was an overly possessive boyfriend at first because he really doesn't show it that often but they mentioned a coworker flirting with them and he straight up growled

milo gets more jealous than sweetheart does because wolf shifters are generally more possessive than others but sweetheart can also get crazy jealous

they're both really possessive in a "touch my mate and you're dead" way

sweetheart hates throwing up (it's kind of a fear but not quite a phobia) so whenever they do, milo is always sitting next to them to hold them and he dotes on them until they feel better

they both worry over each other all the time over everything

neither of them know how to be subtle or how to keep their hands off of each other

milo loves telling sweetheart they’re gorgeous every damn chance he gets 

sweetheart slides their cold hands up milo's shirt just to make him flinch

[behidethetrees]

Rafe Cameron as your Boyfriend hcs ꩜

Pairing : Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader

Contents : Semi-canon Rafe??, Kook or pogue reader, Sunshine x Grumpy lover trope.

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

- He sat next to you in math class and always asked you for help, That was the first thing he liked about you. You were smart. Rafe was used to dating dumb bimbos who never disobeyed Rafe and clung to him like he would disappear. 

- But you were different from anyone Rafes been with. You were strong, Independent and you never let anybody push you around or intimidate you. 

-Rafe wasted no time in asking you to be his girlfriend (He doesn't believe in talking Stages).  Plus Rafe already knew the basics about you from asking around. 

-Rafe is definitely a stalker. He goes full detective mood when it comes to you. 

-You’re the reason Rafe stopped doing Drugs. When one of your friends told him you hated drug users, He got rid of his habits and paid off his debt to Barry, Even giving him a bit extra to make him stay quiet about Rafe's old days. You never found out what kind of person Rafe used to be and he made sure it stayed that way. 

-People dont understand how you and Rafe got together. You two are the couple with opposite aesthetics. Rafe wears a lot of dark clothing, Messy or shaved hair, and dark eyebags while you love to wear your colorful bikini tops Rafe brought you with shorts, Your hair in different styles, and glittery makeup. You were kind and adventurous while Rafe hated everyone except for you. But that’s what made you guys, You. 

-Rafe is very protective. Sometimes it gets very overbearing but Rafe can't help but follow you around everywhere, looming over you, looking out for others who might be staring at you for too long. 

-Even though you two are deathly loyal to each other, He is a very big overthinker and tends to convince himself of the worst scenario. Like if you dont text him back within a few hours, he starts to spam-text you and even sometimes driving to your house. This man needs constant reassurance. 

- His love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service. He always has something sweet to say and spoils you to no end because you’re his baby! He also loves giving you his stuff. You want his hoodie? You got it. You like his shirt? It's yours now.

- Rafe usually goes along with what you say and he tries not to argue with you but sometimes it's bound to happen. You both have very short tempers and get irritated very easily, But Rafe never yelled at you or hit you (If he ever did, you could definitely deck his ass). You two always end up forgiving each other and maybe do something more…

-Rafe is the type of boyfriend who doesn't even have more than two contacts on his phone. One of them is his dad and the other one is you. Rafe has over 1,000 followers on social media most likely but he only follows you and Only posts about you on his feed. You’ve got him whipped. 

-Rafe really does love you and even if he can be a complete bonehead at times, He would do anything for you. 

requests

[jellitchi]

vat7k designs in my head...

i thought their canon designs were a eensy weensy bit Unpolished so i made these mostly for myself. erm if u rly want it i think varian is 19 here, hugo 19, nuru 18, yong 12.

i also made rhem all playlists and had to draw them a cover so thats what the last img is I linked each of em under my notes for all of em... Under the cut is Like a Huge Infodump of notes i have for each chara,,,,,,

i kept varians design basically the same, i dislike the design w the orange neck thing so i just Nuked it😭... Here's Varians playlist

Hugos design i just wanted to put him in something more Loose. hes a thief, a professional escape artist. i dont think wearing clunky metal is ideal for him. i also gave him a prosthetic arm (blond w no arm design trope!) but u cant see it in the ref so i added another drawing of him in his under layering👍 i vaguely referenced russian(?) clothes for him as well... Yeah not too much changed w him i just tried to make him slippery-er. Here's Hugo's playlist

yong came relatively easy to me, if it wasn't obvious i did rip gaming from g*nshin's hoodie. i thought the lion hood was Adorable and freaking perfect for what i had in mind for hos character. since the og notes said the fire kingdom is loosely Chinese inspired i basically just kept that. i mashed tgt a buncha diff dynasties though sorry for how inconsistent i was... i think he looks Okay. anyways i changed yongs role a bit, ill explain why im adjusting some of their roles later but i kept yong as the Jinx Type character. hes the eldest in his family and has a buncha younger siblings, hes a lion dancer and does performances w his family/siblings. he rly like special effects n keeps tryna incorporate his fireworks into their performances (it flops and he has to sew up the dmg) ill explain more of yongs role in another post maybe shrugs... Here's Yong's Playlist

miss nuru was a bit of a struggle for me i might share my full design process with her coz i did a Bunch of mockups for her😭😭😭... i didnt have a specific country of reference for her but i chose to make her vaguely south asian inspired. i also really wanted to keep the sheer fabric w the star / constellation map. i love that idea its so cute so shes still technically the navigator. but she also wields a sword too, fencing or whatever. (her and varian r Huge Cass fangirls which is probably why she started tryna use a sword (snuck out to watch cass compete) Okay ill talk abt this later) in my head, okay ill Probably make a whole nother post talking abt how im interpreting/writing each chara, but in my head i think nuru is the youngest and her kingdom's archivist. shes mostly in charge of like Her kingdoms history / artifacts / etc. ok im getting too side tracked ill save the lore dump for later but thats Nurus role in the party. Here's Nuru's Playlist

uhm below i made their character stats mostly to help me with planning / role developing. the yellow is their base stats the color behind is their end stats i guess. i was gonna explain my reasoning for their stats but ermm this post is kinda Really long so sorry😭... varian max int for obvious reasons, also max charisma just coz i feel like u kinda learn a thing or two being around a couple manipulators and spending time in jail idk shrugs... (also lets not forget the "ud b surprised what ppl would do for a cookie!") Hugo slippery guy, if a brick is thrown at him as hes running hes gonna try n run faster to shatter it, his mindset is Run Run Run! i think hes relatively agile too but yeah mostly a Speedster. i think he n varian got no Physical strength varian maybe just like A little coz Farm boy but I rly doubt quirin is making him do a Lotta heavy lifting. yong has incredible stamina and agility because hed a performer. nuru is the strongest coz this team would literally Flop without a proper Offense😭... i think varian n hugo r able to outwit plenty of their opponents but i think nuru is pretty good in a fight, same w yong. Yeah Okay Sorry for a Long Long Post thanks hope u guys enjoy

[auclairedetoru]

Ahhh I saw you're also open to writing AoT? Especially Eren?? And I love your little headcanon things, they're so cute! So may I request something sweet with eren too? Maybe a college au or something, they could either be strangers to lovers or idk friends/best friends to lovers (with like years of pining, I love that trope but you do you!). Maybe just some headcanons again💙Have a lovely day!

Thank you for requesting, nonnie 🤍 it's a little short and sweet but I'm definitely going to write more about these in the future!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who has a big friend group, from childhood friends to his frat brothers.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who people perceive as a typical college student in a frat house. Parties any chance he gets, drinks, sleeps around, has a new girlfriend every two weeks, is failing his classes...etc.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who laughs when he hears those assumptions despite them being partially true. Yeah, he does love to party and have fun, but he wasn't the type to wake up in a stranger's bed every weekend, mainly because the thought of catching an STD is scary, but because he might have eyes for one specific person. He's not stupid, either. He's the top student in all of his classes.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who Intrigues people when they scroll through his social media. He has a few solo posts and some with friends, but when you swipe through all of them, you'll always find the same person present... His best friend y/n.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who has known y/n since middle school and has been inseparable from her since then. He does everything with her, takes her everywhere he goes, his friends are her friends and vice versa. The day they got accepted into the same college was one of the best days of his life.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who loves his best friend so much and isn't afraid to show it. Giving her a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek when he first sees her in the morning, holds her hands when walking, wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her in a hug, cuddles with her, calls her cute pet names... He just really loves his best friend.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who's actually been in love with y/n since high school but has always been too scared and nervous to confess. Jean - his other best friend - has told him many times that she feels the same because if she didn't she wouldn't allow him to be as affectionate with her but he still refuses to believe him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who starts hearing the whispers when he's seen with her. People are now saying they might be dating, and those rumours spread like wildfire. He's not doing anything to help calm them down either, but he casually posts a picture of her sleeping in his bed, wearing his sweater, hugging his pillow, with "my world" in the caption.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who despite his nonchalant attitude about everything is worried about her being uncomfortable with his actions, so he asks her about it and she simple answers with sitting on his lap and kissing his cheek, “you know it would be visible all over my face if I'm uncomfortable, 'ren.”, and it's true, he can read her like an open book, even when she tries to hide her emotions.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who's now tired of just being friends and wants to take it a step further. All they need to do is kiss at this point because even their parents think they're an item.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who one morning is on his bed sitting across from y/n who spent the night again. She is still a little sleepy, her hair is a little messy on top of her head and he tries to calm it down a little by petting her head gently, she's wearing his hoodie and drinking from his water bottle. He smiles at her, thinking about how absolutely adorable she looks.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who let's go of everything that was holding him back before and cups her cheek, his thumb slowly caressing the soft plush as he moves his face closer to hers. A soft good morning left his lips making her smile and lean her forehead against his forehead, replying back with the cutest and softest sleepy voice.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who stares at her for a few seconds before leaning in fully and placing his lips against her soft ones, sighing in relief when he feels her kissing him back. His unoccupied arm wraps around her waist and pulls her closer to him until she's on his lap and she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who doesn't hesitate to confess, declaring his love against her lips making her giggle softly in happiness and confessing right back. He feels over the moon, everything he's ever wanted is in his arms, kissing him back, loving him back.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren who proudly shows off the promise rings he got them the same day they made it official. Holding their intertwined hands up so their friends can see them with a big grin on his face, “it's our initials! See? That's the first letter of her name on my finger!”.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eren whose social media is now only filled with pictures of his pretty girlfriend and unapologetically corny captions. He's spent years wishing he could love her the way he's doing now, and he's not going to hold back now that he's got her.

[shurisgf]

SERIOUSLY? — A. ARETAS ✩

ೃ⁀➷ SUMMARY; in which , you and armando get into an argument. | FEAT. Armando Aretas x POC!fem!reader | TROPE established relationship | FORMAT oneshot | GENRE angst | WARNINGS none | NOTES id be scared to get into it w him nolie

12:01 AM

Pissed was an understatement for how you felt. Tonight was the night of a big event that was important to you. You and Armando had been planning outfits for weeks prior to this event, but at the last minute he texted you saying, “Lo siento mamá, can’t make it tonight.” No explanation or anything. To which you very angrily responded, “Are you serious, Armando? I’m literally already at the event.” No response. He left you to fend for yourself in a room full of high-class people that you don’t even know, for several hours. So here you were, driving to Armando’s apartment at midnight with no cares in the world.

As you stormed to his apartment door, you knocked angrily, part of you still pissed off, and the other, worried if he’s okay. As soon as he opened the door he sighed, he could tell that you were upset. You walked inside and he closed and locked the door behind you, situating your purse and things on the counter as you stood there staring at him in disbelief. “So you’re sighing cause you know you fucked up right? Big time.” You finally spoke up, your voice cutting through the dead silent room.

“Bebé-“

“No, don’t ‘babe’ me Armando! You knew that this event was important to me and you blew it. For what?” Your voice cracked, signaling to Armando that he really did fuck up. He hates seeing you cry, and being the one causing your emotion was a whole different ballpark. He walked towards you, trying to hold you, but you rejected his advances. “Don’t touch me please.” Your eyes welled with tears threatening to fall. You looked up at him, “Why?”

“They needed me at the station, it took longer than expected-“ He saw you scoff and roll your eyes as you tried to keep your composure.

“I’m so sorry mamá, I know this event was important to you.” He tried to caress your arms again, in some sort of attempt to comfort you before you started to cry, but it didn’t work, because tears were already falling. “mamá no llores,” He took the sleeve of the hoodie he was wearing and wiped some of the tears off of your face.

“You knew this was important, and you blew it off to go hang out with Marcus and your dad at the station? Are you kidding?” Your voice was scarily calm now, and he had no idea of what to say to you.

“I need air,” you shrugged his arms off of you and grabbed your things, he tried to hold your arm as you walked away, but you snatched it back and kept it pushing. Unlocking the front door and opening it before stepping out. “Bebé-“ Armando watched as you walked out of the door, not turning back. Wondering how on earth he was going to fix this. He walked out of the door behind you, knowing that he could catch up easily, you were much shorter than him, so one step for you was like ten steps for him. “Bebé, c’mere,” he spoke, still walking behind you in the hallway of his apartment complex. You stopped and turned around looking defeated, your makeup was ruined, mascara smudged all over the place, your eyes tinted a little red. He couldn’t stand the sight of seeing you this way. Especially when he’s the one who hurt your feelings. As your partner it’s his job to protect you from being hurt, and instead, he caused it, which didn’t sit well with him. “C’mere,” he motioned for you to come toward him, and you did, because despite how you felt, you still loved him. You walked right into his arms, crying into his chest as he rubbed your back, letting you know that he was there. In a world full of uncertainty, he was your constant. “I deeply apologize, princesa. Work got in the way and it won’t happen again. You always show up for me, and I’m promising you now, that I will do the same. Te amo mucho, eres mi todo y duele verte llorar por mi culpa.” He spoke gently, placing a soft kiss on your head, still rubbing your back.

“I forgive you, and I love you too.“ You mumbled into his chest.

“I think I got makeup on your shirt.” You sniffled, looking up at him as he chuckled lightly.

“It’s all good baby.” He placed a peck on your lips and pulled you into his arms once again.

GLOSSARY !

Lo siento mamá — I’m sorry mama.

Bebé — Babe.

Princesa — Princess.

Te amo mucho, eres mi todo y duele verte llorar por mi culpa. — I love you so much, you’re my everything. It hurts to see you crying because of me.

©2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — SHURI'S GF. Do not modify, repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any work posted on this blog without my permission !

TAGLIST; @ghettogirly @milliumizoomi @loakswifesworld @dyttomori @motheroffae

reblogs are greatly appreciated !

[euseokz]

can you write friends to lovers smut for anton where they have crazy sexual tension pls🙏🏼💗

@ anton — we both want each other, why can’t we just let things go with the flow ? . cws : unprotected sex. creampie . slight size kink . big dick anton . wc : 2.0k+ . genre : smut

a/n : i hope this aligns with what you wanted nonnie ! somehow i always find myself only writing best-friend! anton whenever i write for him, and for some reason, i love it ! i just think he fits this trope so well 😮‍💨

BEST-FRIEND! ANTON who you’ve always shared some sort of sexual tension with, but that neither of you has ever acted on because you have always been afraid of what would happen if you did.

you knew it all. knew how he looked at you, how he’d look you up and down when you got more dressed up and get that little smirk on his lips, how he liked having a hand on your waist when you were in public not only in a protective way, but also because he liked to touch you, liked when people thought you were his. you knew when he was horny too, how his eyes would turn darker and his lips would twist into a sort of cocky smile, and you also knew what made him horny, what words you used and what touches you left on him that made him want to fuck you.

anton also knew all about you, you had each other all figured out, and still, somehow, had never fucked, because you were still afraid due to all the what if’s. what if that ended your friendship? what if one wanted something casual but the other wanted a proper relationship? what if having sex would completely ruin your dynamic and make things awkward? there were just too many possibilities, so you never acted on it — until it finally got to be too much and you did.

you had gone over to anton’s apartment, his roommates loudly talking about something in the next room while you two laid on his bed, close to each other but not as close as you actually wanted to be, having a conversation about whatever came up. you could feel anton’s gaze on you, almost burning into your skin. you had borrowed some clothes from him, a hoodie and a pair of shorts, something about wanting a more comfy outfit to wear instead of the one you had worn all day, and it was driving him insane. anton’s eyes couldn’t leave you, obsessed with how good his clothes looked on you, with how his already baggy hoodie looked baggier on your body, and how his shorts that usually ran just around his knees went down lower on you. you looked so good in his clothes it made him completely lose his mind, getting to a point where he was barely even listening and processing what you were saying and just ogling you. it should be uncomfortable, but somehow it also turned you on, knowing the sight of you was too much for him, that he couldn’t focus on anything but you.

maybe if you hadn’t burrowed his clothes things wouldn’t have developed the way they did, or maybe they would but it would’ve just taken a bit longer, but once you caught anton’s eyes stuck on your body for the nth time you decided you had enough, tired of being cautious and simply deciding that enough was enough, that you needed to be bold, which was what led you to blurt out the next words that came out of your mouth as if they were nothing.

“you should just fuck me if you’re gonna continue looking at me like that”

it took a moment for anton to register your words. was he hallucinating? was that the next stage of the level of horniness he was experiencing? he didn’t know, so he looked at you, a surprised but confused look spread across his features. you repeated the question, and this time he knew it was real, that he wasn’t hearing or imagining things, you had actually told him he should fuck you. his immediate response was to jump on you, but he held himself back, only turning more towards you instead, now being on his side while you still laid back against his pillows, asking you through an all too shy tone if you were sure, his shyness ridiculous taking into account his actions up until that point.

“i wouldn’t propose it if i wasn’t” you replied, a smug smile on your lips, and that was when anton finally let his instincts win and jumped on you, kissing you harder than he had ever kissed someone, cupping your cheeks in his hands with so much strength it made you wonder if he was afraid you’d slip away or vanish into thin air. his lips felt good against yours, the way he sucked on your bottom lip making you mewl against him, a small smirk curling the corners of anton’s mouth because of it. he wanted you to be as into it as him, wanted you to want him to fuck you as much as he did, so he moved on top of you, both hands still cupping your cheeks while one of his knees moved to separate your legs, pressing against your covered middle softly, just hard enough to elicit another small moan to slip past your lips and into his. he started moving it, drawing it in small circles and making sure to start pressing more and more into you, until you were whimpering against him relentlessly, wordlessly begging for more until you finally spoke up, your voice much whinier this time as you told him to just fuck you — and because anton wasn’t one to ever deny you anything, he did, not much time separating the last kiss you shared and the moment you finally found yourselves naked and with him pushing himself into you for the first time.

your pussy was absolutely soaked by then, all thanks to anton’s continuous teasing, making the job of thrusting into you somewhat easier, even if you still struggled a bit to take him fully. anton swore he would cum as soon as he bottomed out solely based on the wondrous feeling of your pussy clenching around him as he dragged his cock languidly into you, getting lost in how you wrapped around him so well, so tightly, a warm feeling surrounding his length, making his brain grow fuzzy with pleasure.

you just looked too good underneath him. your face was twisted into an expression of pure pleasure, brows furrowed and lips parted in a perfect “o” shape, moaning as he started to slowly pull out, giving you time to adjust. you felt as if anton was splitting you open, his cock so thick it barely fit inside you, stretching you out as much as you could take while still feeling good, the initial weird uncomfortableness eventually passing by as he kept moving, keeping his pace slow and steady, wanting to give you time to adjust, being patient because the last thing he wanted was to accidentally hurt you. your pussy looked so good taking him though, swallowing him and wrapping around him so snuggly, making anton wince in pleasure. both your gazes were focused on it, on how your cunt was taking him, each thrust making anton’s cock glisten more with your slick, the visible veins running up and down his length throbbing in anticipation for the moment he would be able to start fucking you properly.

in an attempt to help relax you even more, anton leaned down for another kiss, his hair falling over his eyes as he pressed his lips against yours. this kiss is softer, sweeter, just as needy as the ones you shared previously but not as fast paced. anton wanted to treasure the moment, live it to the fullest and have every second of it imprinted in his brain, afraid of ever forgetting the first time he ever truly had you in his arms. he held you closer, still kissing you, sucking on your tongue while slightly speeding up his thrusts, testing how well you’d take it — and as expected, you excelled, moaning into the kiss and clamping down around him harder, eventually breaking apart from him, wanting to scream anton’s name but suddenly remembering his roommates were still in the room next door, so you couldn’t. instead though, you pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and whimpering about good it felt, about how good his big dick felt stretching you out, fucking you so well, better than anyone ever had. your words affected anton, making him moan, rolling his eyes back in pleasure while changing his posture, hoisting himself higher by placing his hands by either side of your head, picking up his pace and moving more swiftly, by now already able to build up a quicker pace with how well your pussy was taking him.

“you drive me crazy, you know that, right?” he asked, eyes locked on yours, his tone more unstable than usual. you nodded, your expression flustered as you brought him back to you, wrapping both arms around his neck and lacing both of your legs around his waist, holding him in place, wanting to feel anton’s wide frame pressed against yours, his weight on top of you comforting in a way. he also embraced you, reaching behind you and hugging you close, his hands interlocking it’s fingers behind your head and holding you up so your face was close to his, forcing you to maintain the eye contact as he continued fucking you, moving faster, more precisely, reaching deep inside you with his cock, his tip kissing your cervix softly with every thrust. anton felt like he was in heaven — you both did, so lost in each other that nothing else mattered, only able to focus on looking at one another and feeling how good you both made each other feel. it was all too much, too intense, so when anton blurted out his next words without even thinking twice, neither of you reacted as if they were odd for him to say.

“i love you” he told you, his tone sincere and his voice steadier this time, as if he was determined to say it in a way that would let you know he was being truthful. you only kissed him, pressing your lips against this desperately and bringing him as close to you as humanly possible, pulling away for a second just to say those three words back to him, your voice whinier than his, but still just as honest.

anton’s thrusts continued steady, dragging in and out of you deliciously, reaching that sweet spot inside you that made an invisible knot start forming in your lower stomach, growing tighter, ready to snap at any moment. you were both close, so through his low groans, with his lips still pressed closed to yours, anton asked if he could cum inside, if he could fill you up with his cum, and you, in your hazy state, said yes, asking for it, his thrusts growing rougher for a second until you were both reaching your orgasms. anton’s came first, his thrusts starting to get sloppier but not completely losing their pace as he kept going while his cock twitched inside you, shooting creamy strings of warm cum inside you, painting your insides white — that feeling being exactly what finally ignited your own high, one loud moan leaving your lips when it hit before anton was pulling you in for yet another kiss, trying to silence you as you both reveled in your own pleasures, whining into one another as he started slowing down, eventually finally coming to a halt with his dick still buried deep inside you. you both felt at cloud nine, beginning to come back to your senses and finally realizing what you had admitted to in the middle of your sex-induced, foggy states, pleasure having clouded your thoughts throughout the whole thing and making you bolder than usual apparently.

“did you mean it?” anton began, his voice soft as he pressed his forehead to you, both your eyes closed while you still held each other close. “when you said you loved me?”

you hummed in agreement, deciding to be honest, nervous when you asked if he did too. anton replied that yes, he did, both of you smiling at that moment, giggling before sharing another kiss, this one more intimate, as if you were making a promise to each other to stop avoiding your feelings, and to finally lean into them, to let yourselves be together like you had been wanting for so long.

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: joshua

soulmates

'hand in hand, you and me. today, tomorrow, forever.'

when 00:00 glow green in the darkness, you clutch your bedsheets tighter, feeling light burn on your right wrist. it's happening. what everyone talked about, waited for, dreamed of. it tingles for few seconds and when it stops, you know that name of your soulmate is now etched on your wrist with black ink which will not come off no matter how hard you'll try. unspilled tears sting your eyes and you're about to go to the bathroom, when you hear careful knocking and gentle 'love?' from the other side of the door.

'joshua?' you question loudly before jumping from the bed and rushing to open the door. just like you predicted, your boyfriend is waiting on the other side, wearing oversized hoodie on top of his light blue pjs. 'babe, what-'

'your roommate is here?' he asks, interrupting you gently. at the shake of your head, he then points inside. 'can i come in then?'

for the first time since you started dating you hesitate. should you let him in when you don't know if it's his name on your wrist and vice versa? there are so many things on the tip of your tongue: have you checked? is it my name? am i your soulmate? your insides are churning just from the possibility of someone else's name being written on his wrist. joshua takes a second to assess your state and it doesn't take him long to understand what's happening with you. he's always been good at figuring out your feelings even before you did, always knew what to say or do to calm you down. before you can voice out your fears, his arms find their way around your waist, gently but firmly pulling you towards him. 'shh,' he whispers, hugging you tight. 'i know, love, i know.'

'i'm scared,' you mutter, hiding your face in his neck. and it's such a familiar place for you, you can't imagine not being able to do that, can't bear the thought of not having joshua this close to you.

you didn't know how joshua felt the same, how holding your trembling body in his arms made him want to tuck you away from this world and just forget about everything. if the stars decide that you two are not meant for each other then he'll write his own story, create another univerise in which you are his and he is yours because that's the only correct way of how it should be. he hasn't looked at his wrist, mostly because he is scared too but also because he doesn't have to look at it to know who is his fate. gulping, he tightens his arms around you, leaving small kisses on your shoulder.

'have you looked?' you ask in a small voice, biting your lower lip. 'what if-'

'look at me,' joshua asks, leaning back until you move your head and make eye contact. 'i haven't looked. we're both going to look right now but before we do, i just want you to know that it won't change a thing, okay? you are it for me and i don't care if universe agrees with me or not.'

'b-but, if it's not my name..' you start, not being able to finish that sentence because every word breaks your heart.

'then i will cover that name with yours,' joshua says with sureness of person who will not change his mind. 'i will go to the tattoo parlor right now and will make sure that only your name is on my wrist. i love you. do you love me?' at your nod, most beautiful smile blooms on his face. 'ah, i'm just the luckiest guy, aren't i? universe already blessed me with your love, let's check if it blessed me again, shall we?'

it's scary. your throat tightens up and heart rate slows down in anticipation. you didn't think that figuring out who's your soulmate will happen in the middle of the hallway of your dormitory with your boyfriend right in front of you, but life has its own plans. grasping sleeve of your sweatshirt, you look up at joshua, who's already looking at you with impossible fondness. you are it for me, he mouths and with this rolls up his sleeve, looking down. you don't have to look down at your own wrist, because watching surprise and happiness glow on joshua's face is the answer enough for you. when he looks back at you, there are tears in the corners of his eyes.

'it did bless me again,' he whispers, not looking away from you. his eyes are filled with awe and he brings your faces close, so close that your foreheads are almost touching. 'i would've created another universe for us but i don't have to. you are mine in this one.'

what comes out from your mouth is a mix of hysterical laughter and whimpering sob. joshua smiles and takes your hand in his, showing you both his own name written prettily on your wrist. he strokes it lovingly with his thumb as you stare transfixed, not being able to utter a single word. relief floods your system and you sag against him, smiling at the way he keeps on leaving small kisses anywhere he can reach.

'you are my soulmate,' you let out, still in shock. 'josh, you are my soulmate.'

he chuckles, nodding. 'yours, baby. forever and ever.'

he hugs you tight, looking up to the ceiling for a second, silently thanking whoever is responsible for this to happen. he prayed yesterday, promised that he won't ask for anything else as long as he'll get this wish right. i will never ask for anything else, he thinks, mentally sending this message to the universe. you gave me everything.

a/n: oh the feels :') impossible to picture anyone else for this au, so of course it's joshua. tell me how you liked it! - nini

my other works can be found here

[tqavaaas]

𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚ 𝘊𝘏𝘌𝘌𝘚𝘌.ᐟ [𝘛𝘈𝘒𝘌 𝘈 𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘒 𝘈𝘛 𝘔𝘠 𝘉𝘖𝘠𝘍𝘙𝘐𝘌𝘕𝘋]

༊*·˚ ୧ ‧₊˚ ☾ ༘ ೀ⋆

·.𐙚 ༉‧ 脹 ちょう 相 そう

𝖲𝖴𝖬𝖬𝖠𝖱𝖸 ┊ 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 ┊ 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 ┊ 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘰

MDNI ACCOUNTS DNI PLEASE

To start off, this man would be so protective, not in a bad obsessive way. It’s just perfect. He knows when to step in and when you can handle it yourself.

you two would definitely have cats—maybe a black cat or two, and if you aren’t a dog person then deal with it. But seriously, if you prefer dogs he’d probably get a Doberman or a German Shepard; protective like him :)

Beatles and Nirvana kind of guy, blasting it at 2am in the car with you driving around, a hand on your thigh as you speak your mind and eating fast food.

Would Venmo you money, don’t have enough for coffee? 15 bucks in your account. want a shirt? +50 bucks. You don’t know how he gets all the money, when you ask he’ll just say from work.

Loyal!!! I mean loyal. You’re one of the only one he follows his social media, will hand you his phone the same millisecond you ask. Like this man would probably close his eyes when a girl walks by, he’s so loyal and I’m here for it.

Simp boyfriend. If he’s fallen for you, he’s fallen HARD. He’d get on his knees and worship you like the god you are.

Clingy!! It’s not so clingy to the point he’s annoying. For example if your out in public with him, his hand will be in yours.

Cuddles are his absolute favorite. He’s just so giddy about the fact he can just lay with you and relax in his arms. He’s also the big spoon.

He absolutely loved when you ask him to help choose an outfit. When he sees you showing him and him only the outfits he’ll just admire you. Eyes full of love and like “woah, she’s my girlfriend.”

Overdressed girlfriend x underdressed boyfriend dynamic. You’d be wearing a bunch of jewelry and accessories, while he’d probably wear like sweatpants or cargo pants with a hoodie or tee. (But he wouldn’t be like this on fancy dates) and a bracelet with your initial ALWAYS.

speaking of jewelry, you both have matching ones. Like those magnet jewelry or ones with eachothers initials.

(best) friends to lovers trope, like for him to fall for you he’d have to know you well first. I personally love best friends brother but realistically it’s this one.

Dates at eachothers houses are the best. Sometimes you’d do movie marathons at his house (and his brothers would join you, ruining the moment) or bake at your house. Either way, he won’t make home dates boring.

If you suck at school, he’d be the type to tutor you and say like “I’ll give you a kiss for each answer you get right” when you haven’t seen him all day. on the other hand, if you do good at school then you’d do study dates together, but it’ll end up you going out on for a date.

Would wrap is arms around your waist. Cooking? A sudden weight in your waist, and his head rested on your shoulder. Or even cuddling, he’d want to pull you in closer.

Also with Physical touch, he’d be an acts of service type of guy. Like he’d open your car door, pull out your seat, tie your shoe, order for you, etc.

your family loves him. He’s such a family guy it’s unreal. Would get along with your dad and brother if you had one.

[skzdarlings]

03. sharing a bed series ; skz ; changbin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 3/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: changbin/reader content info: explicitly plus size reader. sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. lingerie. teasing. reading and watching porn. a bit of spanking. not so much choking but throat-holding. penetrative sex.

;)

-

Oh god, you think, staring at your suitcase full of lingerie, what the fuck do I do?

You like beautiful things and you love lingerie.  Your suitcase is brimming with pretty nighties and delicate babydolls, a luxury indulged for your own sake but completely inappropriate given the circumstances. 

You thought you would have your own hotel room this holiday, but after a few friends dropped out of the trip, there was some last minute shuffling, and now—

“Yah! Where’s my toothbrush?”     

Changbin is your hotel roommate for the weekend.  Just you, him, and a single king-sized bed. 

Oh, and your suitcase full of lingerie. 

You slam the luggage shut, spinning around to look at him as he emerges from the bathroom in a frantic state of his own. 

It takes a second to register his question, your eyes wide as you look him over from head to toe.  His dark hair is damp from a shower and he is wearing nothing but a bath towel.  He holds it shut at his hip, a sturdy thigh flashing when the towel parts.  His body is one mouth-watering slab of big, broad bulk, and you find yourself clutching your own ample chest as if that will stop your heart from stampeding out. 

“Ah, there,” Changbin says, strutting past you.  Absent-mindedly, he says, “I’m almost done, then you can shower.” 

The few minutes it will take him to brush his teeth will not be enough for you.  Your efforts to find suitable sleepwear are completely futile.  In the end, you settle on the simplest nightie with the fullest body, even if it is a bit transparent. 

You take your turn in the bathroom after him.   When it comes time to change, you slip into the nightie and stare agape at your own reflection. 

Oh god, you think.  This is a disaster. 

This is your most conversative piece and it is still wildly sexy.  You love your bigger body and you love dressing to accentuate its features, and this piece is no exception.  Full thighs and fuller breasts and full curves spill up and over the tighter places.  The little panties are swallowed up by your plushy ass and no matter how much you adjust the neck of the nightie, it continues to fall in the most suggestive way possible. 

You look hot.  If anyone else was waiting for you in that hotel bed, you would be fine.   But it’s Changbin.  Your close friend Changbin.  Your close, hot, loud, insane, sexy, confident, drool-worthy, muscle pig friend Changbin. 

You sigh, resigned to your fate.  There is nothing more you can do. 

You pop open the bathroom door and stick your head around the corner.  Changbin is lounging in bed, dressed in a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, an arm thrown over his head as he watches something on his phone.   His hair has dried fluffy and he is smiling at whatever he’s watching.

“Changbin,” you say.  “Close your eyes.” 

He does the opposite, like the stupid hot dummy he is, looking up at you.  You get a swoop in your gut just from his curious glance, his messy hair, the comfort he radiates laying in your shared bed.   It really is unfair how he is a hundred different styles of sexy at once.  This is the same guy who was working out shirtless on the beach lawn just an hour ago, the same guy who showed up to dinner in designer glasses and a form-fitting jumpsuit, the same guy who was cuddling you in a hammock wearing a big hoodie and board shorts.  Surely he could try and have the decency to look bad at least once.    

“I said close!” you repeat. 

“Ah! What!”  He does it, even if he is confused, lowering his arm and covering his eyes.  “There!  Stop yelling at me!”

“You’re yelling, not me!”

“I’m not yelling!”

You are both yelling.  But his eyes are closed so you make a mad dash for your luggage, tossing your day clothes haphazardly with a little wince for the mistreatment of your pretty things.  But you need to be fast, shoving your clothes in your suitcase so you can dive under the covers before Changbin inevitably gets bored and—

“What are you wearing?” Changbin says. 

“Changbiiiin!”  You turn around with a furious scowl, crossing your arms over your chest.  “I told you to close your eyes!”

“What, forever?  I thought we were done!”

“Well, we’re not!  Close them!”

“But I already—”

“Close!”

He grumbles a curse to himself but closes his eyes, laying back with his arms stubbornly crossed.  You turn away to zip your luggage, shaking your head.  You also fight down a giggle, one bubbling up from the tiniest bit of delight caused by Changbin’s dropped jaw and wide eyes as he thoroughly drank in the sight of you.   

You turn around to find him peeking, one eye open.  He is one second too late closing it again. 

“I saw that,” you say.

“Saw what?” he says.  “I missed it.  My eyes are closed.”

“Uh-huh.”  You walk up to the bed and fold back the covers, eyes on him the whole time.  You put your hands on your hips when he cracks open one eye again.   “Pervert,” you say, with a snort of amusement.

“Me?”  He opens both eyes and gestures wildly.  “Look what you’re wearing!  How am I the pervert?” 

“You’re in boy lingerie so be quiet.”

“What!”   

“The grey sweatpants with the dick print.”  You point to his lap.  “Boy lingerie.”   

“Ahhh! Ah! Hey!  Have some principles.  That’s reverse sexism.  You should be ashamed of yourself.”  He wags a scolding finger you at you.  Then, for good measure, he grabs a pillow and puts it in his lap.  “Stop objectifying me.”   

You laugh in spite of yourself, climbing onto the bed.   You put a comforting hand on his shoulder.   

“I thought I was sleeping alone,” you say.  “I’m sorry.  If you have a big shirt I can sleep in, I don’t mind changing.” 

“You wearing that,” Changbin says, giving you a very thoughtful once-over that makes your whole body tingle, “or you wearing my shirt.”  He lifts the pillow and looks under it.  “What do you think?” he says, as if consulting his dick. 

“You’re so stupid!”  You hate how much you are laughing at this goofball.  You roll your eyes even while giggling.  “I’m going to sleep.  Have a fun conversation with your little friend.”

“Ah! He’s not little,” Changbin says, as if very offended.  “He’s average height and girthy, like me.”

“Nice try but you’re not average height and ew, oh my god, don’t say girthy.” 

“Girthy.”      

“I can’t hear you,” you say, sliding under the covers.  You pull them up to your chin and lay on your side with your back to him.  “I’m already sleeping,” you say. 

“How am I supposed to sleep now!” he says.   

“That’s not my problem!”

He grumbles some more while you snicker.  Eventually he turns off the light and gets under the covers too.  You both go on your phones, the little white lights illuminating the bed.  You glance over your shoulder to see him laying with his back to you, watching videos on mute.  You turn back to your phone and open your reading app, deciding you can squeeze in a chapter or two of your current romance. 

You are reading about the latest duke’s pulsating member and his lady’s quivering thighs when Changbin turns over.  You are too slow hiding your phone.   

“Are you reading porn?” he asks, reaching out and snatching your phone. 

“It’s not porn!”  You sit up to grab it back but he holds it away.  “It’s literature!”

“It’s porn,” he says, bursting into peels of giggles that should be ridiculous coming out of that buff body, but they only make you laugh too.

“Changbiiiin,” you whine through your own laughter, rolling half on top of him to try and grab your phone.  “Give it baaaack.  It’s not porn.” 

“He throbbed as pleasure conquered his senses and ERUPTED LIKE A FORCE OF VOLCANIC NATURE—!”       

“Stooooop!”

“That sounds painful,” Changbin muses. 

You finally snatch your phone back and promptly toss it off the bed.  It lands with a little thump.  

Changbin is laying on his back and giggling like a child, poorly stifled teeheehees that do not relent even when you lean over him with your most intimidating face.   

“That’s not fair,” you say.  “You have to show me yours now.” 

That gets him to look at you with surprise, tilting his head.  You do not miss when his eyes go to your chest, especially because it lingers there for a very long moment.  He touches his bottom lip, flicking his tongue over his thumb absently before finally meeting your gaze. 

“What?” he says.  “Did you say something?” 

“Show me your porn,” you say. 

“My—what!  Get down.”  He bats you away and crosses his arms.  “I will remind you I am a man of principle.  I have convictions.  Unlike you, I don’t keep demeaning pornographic content on hand at all times.  I have too much respect for the human form and the sanctity of intimacy and lovemaking.”  

You blink at him.

“Fine,” he says, and picks up his phone.  “Don’t blame me for any volcanic eruptions.” 

Once he has his bookmarks open, you take his phone and roll over, ignoring his protests.  You hold the phone out and click a link at random, even with him pressed right up against your back as he tries to steal it back.  You wriggle in his lap, making him squeak, either because your ass is pushing at his junk, or because of the video that opens. 

“Oh my,” you say.  

It’s a point-of-view video, a man’s hand sliding down a very soft, curvy body.  Your own body perks with interest when his thumb glides down her wet pussy, teasing her lips apart before sliding inside.  Changbin makes a strangled noise that you hardly register, staring as the man in the video slowly fingerfucks the woman, a woman not unlike you in proportion and general appearance. 

“I can explain—ah, hey! Why are you skipping?”  Changbin’s somewhat embarrassed tone shifts midsentence to indignation as you tap to fast forward.   

“I wanna get to the good part!”

“The good—?  Yah! You’re so impatient!” 

You ignore him, fast forwarding until you see a dick then letting it play. 

Changbin has given up on trying to get his phone back.  He makes a sound of miserable defeat and thunks his forehead against the back of your head.  You bite your bottom lip, flushed from head to toe, your thighs especially squirmy as need gathers between them.   You watch the woman in the video turn over until she is on all fours.  The man pushes inside her and you watch the way her body moves when he thrusts deeply.  His hand comes down in a sharp slap, making you twitch with wanting.

“I like that,” you say, aware of Changbin growing hard against your backside.   You feel him twitch at your comment.   When you skip ahead in the video again, he doesn’t speak.  You stop when the man wraps his hand around the woman’s throat and you smile.  “Like that too.”  

He is rock hard against your ass.  Either he thinks staying still means you can’t feel it or he wants you to feel it.  Testing, you grind slowly against him. 

He grabs your hip through the blankets. 

“Ah, you.”  He squeezes your hip.  “No teasing.” 

“No?” you ask, wriggling just a little more.  “None at all?” 

There is a brief pause, then he slides his hand under the covers to hold your waist directly.  It is a slow, questioning motion, leaving you time to refuse.   When you don’t, he slides his hand down to stroke your thigh. 

You put his phone aside, the screen going dark, its contents forgotten as you turn your head.   He slips one arm under you, his hand cupping a breast at the same time his other hand goes between your legs.  When he kisses you, you open your mouth to immediately deepen it.  He does, licking at you and sucking your bottom lip, grinding in a slow circle against you.   It makes you ache, squirming in his strong embrace, his fingers only just hovering where you need him. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” he says when you start bucking and whining into his kiss.  He kisses you too deeply for you to protest his teasing, but then he finally hooks his fingers in your panties to draw them to the side. 

You get dizzy, either from kissing more than breathing or just his overwhelming presence.  When he touches you and feels how wet you already are, he makes a low sound and curses. 

“Ch—Changbin,” you say, breathy and a little senseless already.  “Please.” 

He moves swiftly, manhandling you with ease and care.  You turn over and he pushes the blankets away to get up behind you.  You whimper into the sheets when he tugs you into a better position, then he is drawing your panties to the side again and stroking your whole pussy from clit to entrance and back again.  His fingers are soaked by the time he puts them inside you, strong arm finding a steady rhythm quickly.  Combined with a couple sharp smacks to your ass, you come apart with a cry, whole body shaking as you grind back on his hand. 

You sink into the bedsheets, eyes closed, panting.  You feel his hand wet hand cup your thigh, then his fingers spreading your pussy open.  You clench around nothing and hear him curse. 

You look over your shoulder at him.  Even though you were the one who came, he looks completely wrecked, his fluffy black hair a dishevelled mess and his jaw clenched, shoulders tense.  You look a little lower, staring at the thick bulge in his sweats. 

It’s him who speaks first, his voice rough when he says, “You look… do you have any idea…” 

“You’re not wearing underwear, are you,” is what you end up saying, giggling.  “Boy lingerie.  Told you.” 

He snorts, grinning, looking more cocky than chagrined.  That expression morphs to curiosity and hope when you reach for a make-up bag sitting on the head-table. 

“Yes,” he says, when you pull a string of condoms out of it.  For some reason, it’s the funniest response he could have given, and you giggle a little more.  Those giggles come to a stop when he pulls your panties down, then rolls down the band of his sweatpants down too.  

Your mouth falls open.  “Wow,” you say.  “You are—”

“Girthy?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.” 

He mimes zipping his lips shut before taking the condom. 

You accidentally untuck the bedspread when he finally gets inside you.  One corner comes undone, and the second one follows when he starts fucking you in earnest.  It’s a good, full stretch, and you moan into the messy bedspread as he grabs your hips to pull you into every thrust.  You swear you see stars when he slides one hand up and around your neck, lifting your head and holding you by the throat as he fucks into you.  He slows down a bit to rub at your clit, making you come and spasm around him, before he drives himself quickly to completion. 

You end up sprawled facedown on the undone bed, your nightie in a state of disarray and your panties god knows where.  He flops down beside you, breathing hard, still pretty much dressed.  Once he’s caught his breath, he looks at you, smiling when he reaches out to brush some hair out of your face. 

You smile back, rolling into his open arms.  You rest your head on his chest and exhale.

Then, knowing it’ll get a reaction because he’s Changbin, you say, “That wasn’t bad.”

“Not bad!” he says, predictably loud.  “What do you mean not bad?  That was amazing.  Come here.”  He’s laughing now, pulling you close when you laugh and try to roll away.  “Get back here.  I’ll show you not bad.” 

[lewkwoodnco]

You look like shit - Lockwood x Reader

One time you told lockwood he looked like shit and four times he told you you looked like shit

“You look like shit.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re in a hospital bed but I’m the one who looks like shit.”

“Exactly, you look spectacularly terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I tried, but my sorry excuse of a boss got his ass kicked by some Type Two, so here I am.”

“Doesn’t your sorry excuse of a boss write your cheques?”

“Have I mentioned how fond I am of my sorry excuse of a boss?”

a/n: just a little drabble i typed up having been inspired by this post :)

tropes/warnings: mostly fluffy, some mentions of grief, slight description of injury, smidge of flirty-ish banter 🙈🙈

wc: 1.5k!

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

“You look like shit.”

Lockwood froze with his mug halfway to his mouth. He gaped at her briefly before setting the mug down once the shock passed. She was Lockwood & Co.'s newest employee and it was only recently that the ice had been sufficiently broken for their interactions to evolve into something more than a passing smile or greeting. This, however, was more than he had expected. He was possessed by a sudden overwhelming urge to laugh.

"It's like, 10 in the morning, and you already look exhausted. Do you ever sleep?"

He struggled with his words for a moment. "...yes. Sometimes."

"Not enough, clearly."

He did look especially worse for wear that morning. Only just recovering from a mild flu, his insomnia was at an all-time high and the lack of sun over the past week had his skin looking nearly transparent. He was a frail, washed-out thing flitting restlessly between rooms, bemoaning all the cases he was missing out on while cooped up here.

He smiled for what felt like the first time in days. She coughed, embarrassed, feeling like she had grossly overstepped.

"I mean...you don't look that horrible."

Fortunately, Lucy chose that exact moment to walk in and sufficiently distract Lockwood with the details of their newest case and she took the opportunity to duck out of the room. What the hell had she been thinking?

"H- oh, you look like shit."

She emerged from behind the counter through a cloud of steam, her hair resting on her shoulders like a large, frizzy, brittle rat. While he and George had spent the morning at the Archives, she had spent it at Portland Row preparing Fesenjān for their lunch as part of some stupid bet she had made with George.

"Oh, good, you're back. You took your time."

"George is still there so Lucy's going in to hel-"

She cut him off by shoving a spoon of hot stew into his mouth.

"Taste."

Lockwood spluttered around the spoon, mouth working furiously to cool the scalding food while she watched him intently.

"Well?"

"It's...it's good."

"As good as George's?"

He grimaced. "I don't think I should be taking sides in this." He didn't even want to think about George finding out.

"This isn't taking sides. But also, if anyone asks, you weren't here. So...?" She fixed a desperate look on him. Lockwood sighed.

"It could use a little more salt."

"Angel." She turned around, pulling out the salt while he watched her with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. The crazy hair suited her in some odd way.

“You look like shit.”

He had meant for it to come out as teasing but at the sight of her tearstained face, it sounded terribly mean. He had found her sitting on the front steps late one evening when he was about to turn in, only a thin hoodie insulating her from the harsh cold. Her head whipped around at the sound of his voice, a hand carelessly dragged across her face. He took a seat next to her, dropping his voice.

"Everything alright?"

She swallowed, eyes trained on their shoes. Her voice was hoarse with disuse.

"One of my friends moved away a couple of years back. She's been in an accident."

"How bad of an accident?"

There was a tightness in her chest that made it difficult to go on. "The worst."

In a rare moment of weakness, she crumbled, sagging against Lockwood like she had no spine left to hold herself upright. He wrapped a warm, comforting arm around her, and the simple gesture was enough to break her down. She cried into his shirt, cried for the friend she would never see again, cried for the part of her childhood that had chipped off and floated away into some abyss. Cried while he held her.

"I can't -" she hiccuped, unable to hold back a poorly concealed sob. "I can't even remember the last thing I said to her." It felt like an awful thing to admit, something sinful and evil, something that made it impossible for her to shake the tremble from her hands. His hold on her tightened a fraction, like he was holding her shattered pieces together, and she clung to his shirt with all the despair of a shipwrecked passenger.

Maybe it was selfish, but she didn't want him to leave. And so he stayed.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

They had just returned from a job at some old, abandoned building set to be torn down in a few months. George and Lucy were handling some other case at the other end of the city, so the sounds of them shucking off their coats and gear echoed through the empty house. Between the two of them, she was always more prone to going ham on their cases. Today, it was in the form of her barrelling full tilt through a series of cobwebs to serve as a distraction. The case had ended with Lockwood hurriedly bagging the Source and her pink-faced and speckled with the grey strings.

Back at Portland Row's kitchen, there was still a lingering tinge of warmth to her cheeks. Lockwood paused by the cupboard where she was pulling out some mugs and plates, idly picking off the remaining strands still loosely clinging to her hair and shoulders. As his movements slowed, fading into something more gentle and meticulous, she glanced at him. He looked back. The cobwebs now littered the little space between them, but still he did not move away. The back of her neck prickled under his wretchedly attentive gaze. She did not know how to look away.

"Tea?" she croaked out, throat embarrassingly taut with choked-back emotion.

Whatever spell that had settled over them broke. Lockwood reeled back, almost noisily busying himself with fishing out the biscuit tin, forcing something nonchalant into his voice.

"Sure."

They spent the rest of their night operating with an invisible bubble between them, neither of them daring to get too close to the other lest a brush of the hand shattered the pallid illusion they were play-acting in. The house was far too quiet that night, filled with the unbearably soothing sounds of their cutlery, the rain and their breathing. Lockwood fiddled with his mug. She scratched at a particularly obscene message etched into the thinking cloth. He dragged a shoe along the scuffed kitchen floors. She drummed her fingers restlessly, watching the seconds tick by excruciatingly slow on the clock.

Where the hell were George and Lucy?

“You look like shit.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re in a hospital bed but I’m the one who looks like shit.”

She was in a gleaming, sterile hospital room, painfully twisted into some uncomfortable plastic chair after a night of fitful sleep and checking to make sure Lockwood was still alive. Lockwood had gone out for a solo case and she had been waiting up, expecting him to return any minute when the hospital called. Luckily, it was nothing fatal, but enough to keep him out of commission for a while. Enough to make her worry.

“Exactly, you look spectacularly terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I tried, but my sorry excuse of a boss got his ass kicked by some Type Two, so here I am.”

“Doesn’t your sorry excuse of a boss write your cheques?”

“Have I mentioned how fond I am of my sorry excuse of a boss?”

He quirked a smile at that, then immediately winced. She lightly tilted his bruised face just as he raised a tentative hand to the stitches on his lip, their fingers brushing against each other for a fraction of a second. He looked at her questioningly, unable to see how it was healing himself, and she thought it was extremely unfair to have eyes as disarming as his. She shoved down the stab of sympathy at the unexpectedly vulnerable sight. Hospital gowns really did a number on how strong, or lack thereof, a patient seemed.

“Poor baby. Do you need someone to kiss it better?”

“You could kiss me better.”

“You…are clearly still concussed. Where on earth is your nurse?”

She stood and busied herself by sticking her head out the door and looking for his nurse, which was most definitely not an attempt to hide the flush creeping up her neck. After a few minutes of futile searching, she returned, alarmed at how wan Lockwood was starting to seem.

“I don’t remember getting a concussion,” he murmured, closing his aching eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t. That’s how concussions work. Idiot.” She tried to keep her tone light, but he cracked an eye open as if he had heard something in her voice. He slipped her fingers through hers casually and she felt the tension in his stiff shoulders ease.

"You should sleep," she tried gently. His thumb slowly traced hers drowsily. Still, he forced his eyes open with considerable effort. Looked at her like she was all he wanted to see for the rest of his life.

"In a minute."

It was the first of the lifetime of minutes ahead of them.

TAGLIST: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cielooci @midnight--raine @mohinithoughts @neewtmas @snoopyluver20 @ahead-fullofdreams @elenianag080 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @mitskiswift99

[airbendertendou]

Can you make gyeongsu x reader? Fluff or something like

AFTERNOON TiCKET! ♡ han gyeongsu

synopsis : you aren’t dating. why does everyone keep asking that?

pre-apocalypse

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

a head hits your shoulder as the noise of the cafeteria echoes around you. gyeongsu’s hair tickles your neck as you converse with suhyeok. he looks to your right and smirks before continuing to eat his lunch.

you jostle your right shoulder, only smiling at the unhappy groan you receive. “you have to eat, too, you know.”

gyeongsu lets out a huff, his chilled nose brushing against your neck as he stretches. sleepy eyes barely open, only prying his mouth open just slightly. you grin, holding the food up to his mouth so he can eat.

“so,” cheongsan eyes you both, “how long will it be now? a few months or…?”

you chew on the food in your mouth, placing some in gyeongsu’s right after. “for what?”

the table goes silent as gyeongsu sits up. he yawns, taking a sip of your drink before rubbing his eyes. “what are we talking about again?”

it’s daesu who answers despite the others telling him not to speak. “you’re dating.”

“well—“

the bell rings before gyeongsu can say more.

——♡——

you clean off the desks, eyes bouncing to gyeongsu and cheongsan as they giggle and sweep the floor. onjo nudges you as she walks by, a sly look on her face. isak trails up beside her, a damp washcloth swinging in her hands.

“so…”

you pause from your cleaning to look up at them. isak gestures to the gray hoodie you wear. “it’s official, then? this is how you tell everyone?”

your face heats immediately as you turn frantically, making sure your conversation wasn’t overheard. you pat their arms tenderly yet desperately. “shut up! shush, shhh!”

“sorry!” onjo giggles to herself as she pulls isak away. “have fun!”

gyeongsu stands behind you now, your bag and his slung over his shoulder. he looks over your figure, clad in his own hoodie with a grin. “ready to head home?”

you trek behind gyeongsu slowly, eyeing the way his empty hand swings. you ache to hold it — can feel the phantom touch of his fingers twining into your own. “date me.”

the words come out before you can stop them. gyeongsu pauses and you think you should take it back — say you hadn’t spoke at all. his head tilts and it’s so endearing you could cry.

“officially.” you pick at your nails nervously as gyeongsu stands in front of you. “be my boyfriend, please.”

gyeongsu’s mouth falls open before he snaps it back shut. he’s going to reject you, your throat closes up. you’ve ruined everything. “i— thought we were already dating.”

a confused silence bubbles around you now. gyeongsu stares at you as you stare at him. his fingers inch to yours and he grabs your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze with a smile. “the first time you held my hand on the way home. you were mine, i thought.”

you gulp, “oh.” and then you laugh, tugging him closer as your empty hand clutches onto his chest. “i think we’re stupid.”

gyeongsu deepens his voice dramatically, into a silly tone before placing his forehead to yours. “stupid in love.”

you shove him away with a grin, smile widening when he only brings you closer once more.

——♡——

he’s the perfect person for this trope me thinks <3 thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoyed!! if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any aouad content, let me know! ♡

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