haiiiiiii i LOVVEDDDD your the first time jsc ff it was genuinely so beautiful. theres something abt the way you write him. anywyassssss i was wondering if you could do a part two where he eats her out for the first time but the whole thing is literally catered to her the whole time and he’s literally js so gentle and its all solely because shes curious abt it n how it feels but it kinda starts out w them cuddling and hes js so sweet n gentle the whole time asking if its too much or not. and aftercare PLSS. anyways ilysm ur literally THE BEST writer on here im so glad i found u mwa
xx,
-anon
ANONNNN ITS LITERALLY IN THE DRAFTS I SWEARRRR ive been so busy lately and haven’t had time to make sure its ready to post :( BUT TRUST ITLL BE UP SOON HEHE ILYSM
dawg i just read your first time sungchan ff and it was ART. im actually screaming im jealous of my past self for being able to read it for the first time it genuinely had me going INSANE. i cried real tears. how the fuck do you write like that deadass. bless u bless u mh and THANK YOU. if you do a series where you do a similar plotline w the other members i could literally kiss u. PLS ty sm and i hope your pillow is always cold and just the best ily!!
omg i’m so down to do a similar fic for the other members im literally a dilf connoisseur 😁😁 THANK U FOR THE KIND WORDS!! more dilf sungchan coming soon 👀👀
I just read your Sungchan just the tip and wow. So good. I love love love how you characterized him there. You’re so skilled as a writer, I hope so see more of your work!!! Whether it’s Sungchan or not hehe
꩜ synopsis: eunseok has always kept his wings hidden. when you finally see them, you learn that touching an angel’s wings is the most intimate act of all.
꩜ warnings: soft smut, first time, angel!au, modern setting, sensitive wings, praise, emotional intimacy, aftercare
꩜ notes: this has been in the drafts for awhile hehe i love this concept so much.. angel eunseok i need u w.c 1.4k
you weren’t supposed to see them.
the room was quiet — the kind of still that only happens late at night, when even the air feels soft. eunseok sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders tense as he rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the floor. the movie you’d been watching together had ended ages ago, but neither of you had moved. there was something heavy in the air.
you’d noticed it before — the way he’d flinch when you touched his back too suddenly, how he’d always keep his hoodie on no matter how warm it was. you thought maybe he was just shy. maybe he didn’t like being touched there.
you didn’t expect wings.
it happened when you leaned forward, fingers brushing the hem of his hoodie to pull it straight — the fabric caught for just a second, and when it lifted, you saw the faint shimmer of light beneath.
and then everything stopped.
his breath caught. yours did too.
he didn’t move as the hoodie slipped off his shoulders, fabric falling soundlessly to the floor.
you thought you were imagining it at first — the pale curve of feathers so fine they almost looked translucent, faintly glowing where the light hit them. not big, not grand, but delicate — curved and soft, folding in close against his spine like something meant to be hidden. they shimmered faintly, the color shifting between white and silver and the barest blush of pink, like sunrise caught in mist.
you whispered his name.
he didn’t turn around. “i didn’t want you to see,” he said softly, voice barely more than a breath.
you stood, heart pounding, and circled to face him. his eyes were glassy, guilt written across every line of his face. “they’re beautiful,” you said, and you meant it.
his jaw tightened, like the word hurt. “they’re a part of me that doesn’t belong here.”
you reached out slowly, giving him time to stop you. “can i?”
he hesitated, lips parting — and then he nodded, just once.
the moment your fingers brushed his wings, a shiver ran through him. his eyes fluttered shut, breath hitching, and you froze, afraid you’d hurt him.
“no, it’s—” he swallowed, voice trembling, “they’re just… sensitive.”
you traced one feather carefully, feeling the faint warmth beneath your fingertips. the movement made his wings twitch, almost like they were breathing.
“no one’s ever touched them before,” he whispered.
you looked up at him, and something in your chest ached. “then why let me?”
he opened his eyes, gaze soft and raw. “because it’s you.”
you didn’t realize how close you were until his breath hit your lips. his hands came up to your face — hesitant, almost reverent — and then he kissed you, slow and trembling like he didn’t know how.
you melted into him.
his wings quivered when your fingers tangled in his hair. you felt him sigh against your mouth, all tension melting from his body as you climbed onto his lap, guided by instinct more than thought. it was soft at first — a series of small, tender kisses, his lips brushing yours again and again like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to.
but then you shifted, just a little, and he gasped. his wings fluttered open behind him, trembling with the smallest sound — like wind against glass.
“sorry,” you whispered.
he shook his head, eyes glassy and dazed. “don’t be. it feels—” his voice broke, “—it feels good.”
the words hung there, breathless and electric. his hands tightened against your waist.
“we don’t have to rush,” you murmur, palms warm on his cheeks. “do you want to?”
his wings tremble once, like a nod translated into light. “i do. i’m… nervous. but i want this—with you.”
you smile at him softly. “okay. you can tell me to stop anytime.”
he nods, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world. you take his hands gently, guiding them to rest on your waist. the feel of your skin under his fingers makes him shiver; his feathers ruffle, face flushing pink. you smile, dragging his hands down your sides until they rest on your hips. he watches every movement, chest rising faster, overwhelmed by feelings he doesn’t yet have names for.
you let your own hands wander—across his chest, up his shoulders—pausing when you realize his fingers have gone still. you giggle softly, tilting your face up to him. “just feel, seok. explore me.”
his eyes flutter shut as he exhales, hands squeezing lightly at your hips. you hum at the touch. his confidence grows with each pass of his hands—down your thighs, back up your waist—while your fingertips trace the dip of his collarbone and the line of his throat. you press a kiss to his adam’s apple, and his whole body shudders, a small whimper spilling out before he can stop it.
you smile against his skin, leaving a trail of kisses up his neck until your lips find his again. he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as your hands slip around his neck. your fingertips brush the place where his wings meet his back, and his entire body responds—shoulders tensing, voice breaking on your name.
“there—oh… it feels… warm. everywhere.”
you pull him closer still, moving your hips lightly, testing. his wings flutter in response; he throws his head back, biting his lip to stifle the sounds rising in his throat. pleasure rolls through him like light, leaving him trembling.
“was that okay?” you ask, pausing.
he nods, voice shaky. “mhm… please… keep going.”
you smile, rolling your hips again, slow and steady. every movement makes him gasp; he’s already so hard, pressing against you with each motion. he whispers your name over and over, unaware of how his wings tremble with every exhale. you brush your fingers along the feathers again, and he moans softly, hips jerking up involuntarily.
you gasp, brows furrowing at the sudden pressure. “d-did i do something wrong? are you hurt?”
his glossy eyes search yours, confused. “no—are you? did i—”
you shake your head quickly, smiling at his panic. “no, angel. you’re perfect. feels good.”
you cradle his face, pressing your forehead to his. his ears burn crimson.
“can i try something?” you ask quietly. he meets your gaze, nodding eagerly.
you shift on his lap, sliding your shorts down and off before he can even process it. he watches, wide-eyed, every movement of yours fascinating him beyond words. you settle back into his lap, hands moving to undo his belt. his breath stutters as you tug his pants and boxers low enough for him to spring free, flushed and trembling. the cool air makes him hiss, but when your hand wraps around him, his whole body arches, surrendering to your touch.
“is this okay?” you ask. he nods, breathless. “don’t… s-stop, please.”
“wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”
you stroke him slowly until his breath hitches, until you feel him start to twitch under your hand. then you shift, hovering over him, guiding him to your entrance and sinking down carefully.
“o-oh,” his voice cracks as you bottom out, his hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. you stay still for a moment, letting both of you breathe.
“i—i feel…” he whispers.
“i know, baby.”
you move slowly, lifting yourself before sliding back down, a soft moan leaving your lips. his head falls to your shoulder, breath hot and uneven. when you brush your fingers over that same sensitive spot on his wings, his control shatters—hips snapping up, sounds spilling from him like broken prayers.
he spills inside you, trembling, and you follow soon after, body shaking, head thrown back as the world blurs to white light and warmth.
when it’s over, he stays inside you, breathing hard, both of you trembling as you come down together. his head rests against your shoulder; you cradle him gently.
he lifts his head, eyes glassy. “i love you, y/n.”
you smile, brushing the hair from his face and kissing him softly. “i love you too, eunseok.”
at your words, his wings unfurl fully, wrapping around you both. a faint glow hums through the feathers, soft and golden.
you tease him gently, voice quiet. “you glow when you’re happy.”
he blushes, hiding his face in your shoulder. “i think i only glow because of you.”
How old are you to be calling a female a “cum dump”? You’re twenty-one years old and you still hold that much misogyny inside of you? Not even men use such misogynistic language on a daily basis
if you don’t like it, don’t read it. everything i write is fiction, clearly labeled and consensual to read. i said the reader is basically a cum dump because that’s literally the plot, not because i’m out here demeaning women. maybe learn the difference between fiction and misogyny before calling a woman a misogynist while catering to men in the same breath. be serious and gtfo my inbox <3
꩜ synopsis: in which sohee takes the wrong pill for his headache and ends up hard, flushed, and desperate
꩜ warnings: accidental aphrodisiac pill, subby/whiny sohee, riding, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, soft guiding reader, creampie, praise, aftercare, reader is basically just a cum dump :P
꩜ notes: hey guys.. ik its been a while and im sorry. ive been super busy with college and honestly haven't had the motivation to write :( please enjoy this sohee meal in return for forgiveness :3 wc: 1k
the first thing you notice is how flushed he looks.
sohee’s sprawled on his bed, hair damp against his forehead, shirt sticking to his chest. his hands fist at the sheets, knuckles pale, thighs trembling like he’s running a fever.
“sohee?” you call softly, stepping into the room.
his head snaps toward you — eyes glossy, lips bitten raw. “c-can’t,” he pants, hips shifting helplessly. “hurts. so hot.”
that’s when you see it, the strain of his cock pushing up against the thin fabric of his sweats, the damp patch spreading from the tip.
he whines when you reach his side, face buried in the pillow. “thought i took tylenol,” he admits, voice small. “but it’s… not. i-it won’t go away. please—”
he’s trembling, embarrassed tears clinging to his lashes, his cock twitching violently under the fabric.
you hush him, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. “baby… did you take something else?”
he nods weakly. “don’t know. it won’t stop. tried—” his hips jerk up at nothing, “—tried touching but it just got worse.”
he looks wrecked, and your chest aches.
“do you want me to help you?” you ask gently, making sure it’s his choice.
the answer is instant — a desperate nod, another whimper of “please.”
you climb onto the bed, straddling his hips, your fingers tugging at the band of his sweats. “i’ve got you,” you murmur, pulling them down enough for his cock to spring free — flushed, leaking, so hard it twitches against his stomach.
he gasps, trembling under you, as you line yourself up.
“shh, baby. i’ll take care of you.”
the moment you sink down onto him, his back arches violently, a sob ripping from his chest. “oh—god, oh fuck—so good—”
his hands clutch your hips, not guiding, just holding like he might fall apart without the anchor. you roll your hips slow, grounding him with steady motion, praise spilling from your lips.
“you’re doing so well. feel how good you’re making me feel, sweetheart? you don’t need to do anything else. just let me.”
he moans prettily, head tipped back, lips parted, breathy pleas slipping out with every thrust. “please—don’t stop—need it so bad—feels so good—”
it doesn’t take long. the pill has him wound so tight that within minutes he’s sobbing, spilling deep inside you, hips jerking uncontrollably.
you’re still catching your breath, stroking his damp hair, when you realize he hasn’t softened. his cock twitches inside you, still hard, still leaking.
“sohee—” you start, but before you can finish, his grip tightens, and he flips you onto your back.
“c-can’t,” he stammers, eyes wild, face burning. “still—need—please.”
you gasp as he starts thrusting, frantic and sloppy, chasing relief that won’t come. his whines fill the room, broken cries of “so good, please, please, so good,” each one more desperate than the last.
you cup his face, kissing him through the tears, grounding him with your touch even as his hips piston into you. “it’s okay, baby. i’ve got you. use me as much as you need.”
he fucks you through another orgasm, messy and frantic. your walls clench around him, overstimulation sparking through your body, and his moans grow higher-pitched.
“g-gonna—ahh, baby, i’m—”
he spills inside you again, hips jerking erratically, cock twitching as if it’ll never get enough. his whole body trembles, but he doesn’t pull out, doesn’t soften.
instead, he whines, tears brimming in his eyes. “still—still hard, hurts—please don’t make me stop.”
you kiss his damp cheek, soothing him. “you don’t have to stop, love. just keep going. i’ll hold you through it.”
he starts thrusting again almost immediately, whimpering into your neck, hips losing rhythm. his cock feels impossibly hot, every movement sending shocks of pleasure through both of you.
“too much—so good—baby, it’s too much, i can’t—”
you cradle him tighter, whispering in his ear, “yes you can, sweetheart. look at how well you’re taking it. my good boy.”
his answering cry is broken, desperate. “yours—yours, only yours—”
when he cums this time, it rips through him like lightning. he sobs into your chest, cock spilling again, but even then, it doesn’t relent.
he finally slows enough for you to see his face, red and blotchy, lips swollen, eyes wet.
“hurts,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “feels so good but it hurts. can’t—please—don’t leave me.”
you kiss his temple, stroking his damp hair. “i’m right here, baby. keep going, let it out. i’ll let you use me until it’s gone.”
he whimpers, hips moving again with shaky determination, tears slipping down his cheeks. his thrusts are erratic, needy, like he’s chasing a high he can’t reach.
you guide him with soft words, grounding his frantic pace until you feel him convulse again, body jerking as another orgasm rips through him.
by now your own body is trembling from the overstimulation, every thrust sparking both pleasure and ache. still, you hold him close, nails dragging gently down his back as he sobs into your shoulder.
“don’t wanna stop,” he babbles, cock twitching inside you. “feels too good, baby, please—”
your heart aches at how helpless he sounds, and you kiss him through the desperation. “then don’t. keep going, love. you’re doing so well.”
his rhythm grows frantic again, hips slamming messily until another broken orgasm shakes through him, cum spilling hot inside you. he whines as if it’s pain and pleasure tangled together.
by the time he finally slumps against you, every part of him trembling, you’ve lost count of how many times he came. your thighs are sticky, the sheets soaked, his body limp with exhaustion.
you hold him close, whispering praise into his hair as he clings to you.
“you did so well, baby. so good for me. i’m so proud of you.”
he whimpers faintly, lips brushing your collarbone. “thank you… love you…”
you clean him gently, tuck him under the blankets, and let him bury his face in your chest as his breathing slows. even in sleep, his fingers curl around your wrist, like he can’t let go.
I MISS U GUYS i’m so sorry for the inactivity college and work has been taking up all my time 😭😭😭😭 im posting tn and actively working on new fics though so pls look forward to that!!
god your latest sungchan fic was one of the best things i’ve ever read like i finished it and then immediately went back to reread bc it was that good!!! i LOVE inexperienced reader so can i request a oneshot with anton where him and his inexperienced virgin gf are making out and he tries to stop things before they go too far but his gf wants to try dry humping and they both get off like that 🫣🫣 if you could somehow throw in anton losing his mind over how hot he finds the whole thing and him struggling to keep his composure as he tries to make this all about his gf, you’d be my fav person forever and ever
OOO ANON UR MIND!!! cooking this up ASAPPPP!!! if anyone wants tagged pls fill out the taglist form in my pinned 👀👀
thank you for writing the first time! i loved it so much - the descriptions are top notch and it's such a sweet fic :) i really love your writing and especially when you write and characterize sungchan. you're so talented i could reread this all day?
i’m so happy you like it 🥹 thank you for the support it truly means so much <33
꩜ notes: i’ve been on a riki kick lately.. y’all saw his new hair?! FAWKKK wc: 1.08k
you notice something’s off when the door to riki’s room is shut tighter than usual. he’s not one to hide from you, not one to put up walls, but tonight there’s a sliver of light under the frame and no sound.
you knock once. no answer.
so you push the door open.
he’s sprawled on his bed, laptop balanced on his thighs, headphones slipping off one ear. the screen flashes quick movement, low moans muffled by tinny speakers. his head jerks up, eyes wide, cheeks red.
“y-y/n—” he fumbles, slamming the lid shut like it might erase what you just saw. “i— it’s not what—”
you lean on the doorframe, arms folded, watching his panic spiral. “really?” you drawl. “because it looks exactly like what i think it is.”
he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “fuck. this is— i didn’t want you to—”
“to catch you watching porn?” you interrupt, stepping inside. “riki, it’s not illegal. you don’t have to act like i just walked in on you committing a crime.”
his flush deepens, spreading to the tips of his ears. “i wasn’t— it’s not because i like it.”
you tilt your head, curious. “then why?”
he hesitates, shoulders hunching like he wants to fold into himself. “i… i just wanted to learn. how to… y’know. make you feel good.”
your heart squeezes, soft and sharp at once. “oh, baby.”
his eyes flick to you, defensive. “don’t make fun of me.”
“i’m not,” you say, gentle now, crossing the room until you’re perched on the edge of his bed. “i think it’s sweet. but you don’t need porn to figure out how to please me.”
he swallows, eyes darting to your mouth, then away. “then how am i supposed to know?”
you smile, brushing your fingers over his wrist until he looks at you again. “you let me show you.”
the silence stretches, heavy. then he nods, slow, nervous. “o-okay.”
you lean in first, pressing your lips to his. he sighs into the kiss, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. his mouth is soft, clumsy, but eager. when you part, his eyes are wide again, but not with fear—with want.
“see?” you murmur. “you don’t need to copy anyone else. you just need me.”
he nods, breathless. “what do i… do?”
you take his hand, guiding it to your thigh. “start here.”
his palm rests tentative against your skin. you nudge it higher. “touch me like you mean it.”
he squeezes, careful at first, then firmer when you hum your approval. you press his hand higher, over your hip, your waist, your ribs. his breath catches when his thumb brushes the underside of your breast through your shirt.
“good boy,” you whisper, and his whole body shivers.
“fuck,” he mutters, eyes glued to your chest. “i— is that really okay?”
“yes,” you assure, covering his hand with yours. “more than okay.”
you tug his hoodie over his head, kissing down his jaw as he fumbles to help. his skin is warm, his muscles tense under your hands. when you push him back against the pillows, he goes willingly, watching you climb over him with parted lips.
“riki,” you murmur, straddling his lap, “you don’t have to figure everything out at once. we’ll go slow.”
he nods frantically. “please. just… don’t stop.”
you roll your hips down once, and his eyes flutter shut.
“oh—” his gasp is sharp, his hands gripping your waist like he might float away.
you grind again, slower this time, dragging your clothed cunt over the hard line of his cock. he whimpers.
“see?” you tease softly. “we don’t need videos for this.”
he moans, low and desperate. “feels so good already. can’t— can’t believe—”
you kiss him quiet, swallowing his whines as you keep rocking on him. the friction sparks low in your stomach, the seam of his sweats pressing perfectly against your clit.
his hands fumble, clumsy but desperate, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “c-can i—?”
“yes,” you breathe, lifting your arms. he strips you, staring at your bare chest like he’s never seen anything so holy.
“fuck. you’re— you’re so pretty.”
you laugh softly, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “touch me, baby.”
he obeys, palms cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. the touch is awkward, uneven, but the sincerity in his eyes makes heat flood between your thighs.
“just like that,” you praise. “you’re learning me, not them.”
he groans, hips jerking up into you. “please, noona— want more—”
the word slips out before he can stop it, and your cunt clenches. his eyes go wide, terrified he’s gone too far.
“say it again,” you whisper.
“…noona,” he breathes, like a prayer.
you kiss him deep, grinding harder, and his moan vibrates into your mouth.
soon the layers are too much. you tug his sweats down just enough, sliding your panties aside, and sink back onto him. the slide of your bare cunt over his cock is messy, hot, perfect.
“fuck—fuck—” he gasps, head tipping back. “you’re— you’re really—”
“grinding on you?” you finish, smiling against his throat. “yeah, baby. just like this.”
you ride him slowly, dragging your clit along his length, slick coating him until every thrust feels wetter, filthier. he’s trembling beneath you, fists bunching the sheets.
“can’t— i’m not gonna last—” he warns, voice breaking.
“it’s okay,” you soothe, kissing his temple. “don’t hold it back. cum for me.”
your hips grind faster, chasing your own high. the friction builds sharp and sweet until you’re gasping his name.
“noona— i’m— i can’t—”
“cum,” you command, and his body obeys instantly.
he spills hot against your cunt, hips stuttering, moaning loud into your neck. the sound tips you over too—you grind once, twice more, and fall apart on top of him, thighs shaking as the orgasm crashes through you.
you collapse against his chest, both of you panting, sweat slicking your skin. his arms wrap around you, holding you tight.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers, voice small. “i wanted to last longer. wanted to be better for you.”
you lift your head, kissing his flushed cheek. “riki. you were perfect.”
he blinks, unsure. “really?”
“really,” you promise, stroking his hair. “you don’t need porn. you don’t need to copy anyone. all i want is you.”
his eyes soften, relief flooding his face. “then… will you keep showing me?”
you smile. “always.”
he buries his face in your neck, clinging tighter. “thank you, noona.”
you kiss his hair, still catching your breath. “good boy.”
hi guy! i finally opened up a taglist form ^_^ please fill it out if you want to be tagged in future works! don’t be shy <3 taglist form it’s also linked in my masterlist and will be linked at the bottom of all my works from now on :3
aged up! dilf! sungchan x inexperienced! virgin! f. reader
꩜ synopsis: in which sungchan’s patience has always been your safety net—until the night you climb into his lap and finally ask him to teach you how to be his.
꩜ warnings: mdni!! first time, size/experience gap, lap makeout, praise, gentle guidance, fingering, protected sex, slow sex, aftercare
꩜ notes: this is lowkey inspired by this dean winchester fic that was like the best piece of literature i’ve ever read on this app :3 wc: 2.7k
you end up in his lap without thinking about it. you always do.
arms looped around his neck, knees bracketing his hips, your cheek pressed to the soft cotton of his tee while the lamp throws a warm circle across the living room. it’s late and quiet, the kind of quiet that makes the air feel thicker. sungchan’s palm strokes your back, slow, steady lines you can time your breathing to. every third pass, he tucks a stray curl behind your ear like muscle memory. every fourth, he squeezes your waist like he’s reminding you he’s there.
“you’re heavy,” he murmurs, warm at your temple.
“am not,” you mumble into his shoulder, but you shift and he laughs, the low sound rumbling under your palms.
his laugh fades when you tilt your face up and kiss him.
it starts soft because you’re soft—always careful, always checking—but the second his mouth parts, the second he sighs a little against your lip, something tilts. your fingers fist in his shirt. his hand spreads at your spine. the kiss deepens like a tide.
you break first, breath catching, and he doesn’t chase. he just looks at you the way he always has: patient, steady, like nothing you could do would startle him. it only makes your heart hammer harder.
“okay?” he asks, voice quiet. not a roadblock—just a hand held out.
you nod, then shake your head, then nod again. “i… i want—”
“use your words,” he says, and his thumb strokes along your jaw so lightly it makes your eyes sting. “tell me what you want, sweetheart.”
“you,” you whisper. it falls out of you easier than you thought it would, like truth does. “i want you.”
his eyes soften and sharpen at the same time. “yeah?”
“yeah.” you lick your lips, nerves fluttering. “i’ve just never… you know.”
“i know.” his smile is small and real. “and we go slow. you don’t have to impress me. you just have to be with me.”
you breathe out, a shaky little sound that makes his hand tighten at your waist. “okay.”
“can i kiss you again?” he asks.
“please.”
he does, a little deeper this time, a fraction hungrier, like he’s letting you feel what he holds back. when he pulls away, he doesn’t stray far; his mouth lingers at your cheekbone, your jaw, a soft path toward your neck. everywhere he goes, you follow—jaw tipping, chest lifting, breath stuttering when he finds the place below your ear that makes your toes curl.
“pretty,” he murmurs against your skin. “you make the prettiest sounds.”
“don’t,” you breathe, mortified.
“i don’t mean it to tease.” he presses a kiss to the apology he hears in your tone. “i mean it because it’s true.”
his hands map the edges he’s allowed: over your ribs, down your sides, across your thighs where your shorts have ridden up. when he squeezes the soft at the top of your leg, you jolt, a tiny gasp escaping before you can stop it. heat flashes up your neck.
“hey.” he stills, lets you feel the stillness. “breathe. we’re not in a rush.”
you nod, swallow, and deliberately sink your weight onto him. he makes a sound he didn’t mean to make, a muted groan right against your collarbone, and your stomach drops like you stepped off a ledge.
“sungchan?”
“mm?”
“you… you can touch me,” you say, the words nearly a whisper, like they’re shy to be heard. “if you want. i want you to.”
he sits up a fraction. you’re inches from each other. the lamp hums, the night presses close at the windows, and his eyes are the only thing you can focus on.
“i always want to,” he says. “but i only will if you want me to. is that now?”
you exhale, a shaky laugh tucked in the middle of it because he’s exactly who you thought he was. “that’s now.”
“okay.” he touches your cheek with his knuckles first, that gentlest of starts, and when you lean into it, his palm cups your jaw. “i’m going to ask you things. you don’t have to explain—just nod or say yes or no. and if you need me to stop, you say stop. not because we’re playing a game,” he adds, mouth tilting, “but because i’ll stop.”
“okay.” your voice steadies on the repetition. “okay.”
he kisses you once more. then his hand slides under the hem of your shirt.
your breath catches automatically. he pauses automatically.
“okay?” he murmurs, fingers warm at your waist.
“okay,” you say, and you mean it.
he lifts your shirt in inches, waiting. when it clears your ribs, you raise your arms and let him take it. the lamp paints you in honey; you’ve never felt so seen. he looks for a moment—not greedy, not clinical, just memorizing—and then he bends and kisses the center of your chest. you stutter on a breath.
“you’re beautiful,” he says into your skin. “you know that?”
“i’m trying to learn it,” you admit, and his laugh is soft against you.
“let me teach you, then.”
he does it with his mouth first, open and warm as it finds the swell of your breast. his hand cups you, thumb stroke-light, and when his lips close around your nipple you gasp so sharply he hums. the pull is gentle and sure, not asking for anything from you except the sound you’re already making. you grip his shoulders; he sucks again; your hips rock before you know they’re moving.
he lifts his head, breathing a little rougher. “that felt good?”
you nod, dazed. “feels like… like it’s too much and not enough.”
“that’s the part i help with,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice that you can’t see. “may i touch you lower?”
you want to be braver than a nod. “yes.”
“over your shorts?” he asks. “or inside?”
your mouth opens and closes. you force yourself to look at him. “inside,” you say, steadier than you feel. “please.”
he squeezes your thigh like a reward. then he does something that startles a little laugh out of you: he reaches for his ring, slides it off, takes your hand by the wrist and, with such carefulness it makes your throat tight, eases the ring onto your thumb where it sits a little big and a little perfect.
“keep that on,” he says, kissing the knuckle below it. “so you don’t worry about me scratching you.”
“oh,” you say, stupidly, because there’s something so intimate about his ring on your hand you can’t find other words. “okay.”
“pretty,” he says again, and then his hand slips into your shorts.
you’re already wet. the contact makes a sound you’re not prepared for, slick and soft and obscene in the quiet room. you bury your face in his shoulder, mortified, but his arm tightens around you like he loves it.
“that’s mine,” he murmurs, and the possessive is so gentle you only feel safe. “all that. that’s for me.”
his fingers explore without hurry. one stroke, another, mapping the length of you, the dip, the plush at the top that makes your thighs jump. when he circles your clit the first time, he barely touches you; when you breathe out hard, he smiles against your temple.
“there you go. that’s the place, isn’t it?”
“yes,” you whisper, the word shaking. “oh—god, yes.”
“look at me,” he says softly. you do, even though your lashes are heavy and your cheeks are hot. his eyes are dark and warm and steady. “good girl,” he says, like he’s handing you a gift.
you keen a little. his thumb circles. his other fingers slide down, gather slick, return. he builds nothing and everything: a slow sweetness, a rhythm you catch without trying. you rock into his hand; he follows you; he murmurs little nothings that are really everything.
“that’s it,” he says. “you’re doing so well. you can hold me as tight as you want.”
“can i—” you swallow, dizzy. “can i feel your fingers?”
“inside?” he asks. “yes. breathe for me first.”
you do. he kisses your mouth while his middle finger slides in, impossibly careful, impossibly patient. the first stretch makes your brows knit; he feels the way you tense and stills immediately, thumb going light on your clit, mouth pressing into your cheek.
“you’re okay,” he says, and you must be because you are. “tell me when it starts to feel good. i can wait all night.”
“it— it’s starting,” you whisper, the words catching on a moan when he curls just a little.
“there,” he says, pleased. “there you are.”
he moves in shallow strokes, unhurried, never chasing. when you melt, he adds a second finger, and your shocked little sound has him groaning under his breath. you cling to his shoulders, ring cool against his skin, and he works you open with a reverence that makes your chest ache. you don’t know when the edge finds you—somewhere between his thumb circling you and his mouth at your jaw and the slow, sure slide of his fingers—but when it arrives, it blots out the room.
“sungchan,” you whisper, high, desperate, “i think— i think i’m—”
“you are,” he says, voice so soft you don’t realize you’re crying until he kisses a tear. “let go for me, sweetheart.”
you do. it’s messy and quiet and everything. your body breaks, and he holds you together, murmuring “that’s it, that’s it, good girl, so good, i’ve got you” as you tremble through it. when your breathing stutters back into rhythm, he eases his fingers out and cups you with his palm, grounding, gentle. your sweat slicks your temple where it rests under his mouth.
“was that okay?” he asks, after a while.
“better than okay,” you say, voice small and awed. “that was… i didn’t know it could be like that.”
“it can be like anything with us,” he says simply. “do you want to stop here tonight?”
you do not. the want is so stark you flinch from it. “i— i want more,” you admit, like you’re confessing to a crime. “i want you inside.”
his breath goes ragged. his hand tightens at your hip. then he nods like he’s steadying himself. “okay. then we’ll do that.”
you expect the world to spin; it doesn’t. he keeps it careful. he shifts you off his lap only long enough to fetch the little box from the drawer, the one that’s been there and unopened for months because he never pushes. you feel shy when he tears the foil, shy when he rolls the condom on, shy when you glance down and realize just how big he is—how much of him there is to learn.
he sees the way your eyes widen and reaches for your hand. the ring glints on your thumb. he threads his fingers through yours.
“you tell me to stop at any point,” he says. “i mean that.”
you nod, dazed and certain all at once. “okay.”
he lies back, draws you over him, keeps one hand on your hip, the other cradling your nape so you can hide if you need to. he fits himself at your entrance and waits. you breathe. you nod. he presses in.
the world narrows. your breath catches. your body resists, then yields. he goes slow enough that you could count the seconds between shallow pushes, slow enough that you feel everything and somehow don’t drown. pain bites at the edges, but the warmth in his voice catches it and turns it into something else.
“good,” he says. “breathe, baby. that’s it. you’re taking me so well.”
“you’re too—” you gasp, then bite your lip hard enough to sting. “i mean— i can feel… all of you.”
“i know.” his laugh is strangled. “i can feel all of you too.”
when he’s fully sheathed, he stops. it’s not for him; it’s for you. he stares at your face like it’s the only piece of the universe he needs to read, and when your muscles stop fluttering and your brows ease and your lips part on a sigh that sounds more like pleasure than pain, he closes his eyes for one long breath.
“okay?”
you blink, slow. “okay. more than okay.”
“if i move—”
“please,” you say, and he does.
not much, not a brutal rhythm, just the kind of slow slide that shows your body what it can do. you feel impossibly full and impossibly safe. you feel owned and worshiped at the same time. he watches you like the sky opened in his living room. he keeps your hands pinned gently to either side of your head so you can hold on without hiding your face, and every time you make a noise he murmurs something back.
“that’s my girl.”
“look at me.”
“you’re perfect.”
“you’re doing so well.”
“i’ve got you.”
you believe him. your hips are clumsy at first, then more sure as you learn the tempo he sets. when he angles his pelvis and hits a deep place you didn’t know you had, you cry out so loud you yelp and clamp your mouth shut. his smile breaks across his face like summer.
“don’t hide them,” he says, breath catching as you squeeze around him. “give me everything.”
you do. the sounds you make are ugly and beautiful. you think you say his name and a thank you at the same time. when you begin to fall apart the second time, it’s not because of the rhythm or the angle or the heat—it’s because he kisses your mouth, slow and sure, right as the wave crests, and you realize you’ve never felt safer during anything.
“let go for me,” he says again, voice frayed. “please.”
you do. you shatter like softened glass, your body clenching around him so tightly he groans, the sound punched out of him. he stutters, swears, buries his face at your jaw. you feel him follow you, hips jerking once, twice, a harsh breath breaking into a moan as he comes. he keeps kissing you through it, heady and helpless.
silence after is a cocoon. the lamp hums. the world exists somewhere else.
he doesn’t leave you. he strokes your hair back, thumbs beneath your eyes to swipe at dampness you didn’t feel fall. you breathe into his mouth. he breathes into yours. eventually, he eases out, ties off the condom, disappears long enough to toss it, and returns with a warm cloth and a glass of water you didn’t realize he’d put on the side table.
“mean,” you whisper, blinking at the ceiling while he cleans you with such care your throat tightens again. “you prepared.”
“i hoped.” he presses a kiss to your knee like it’s a thank you. “never assumed.”
you tip the water to your mouth, and his hand is there under the glass like he can’t not take care of you. when you set it down, he catches your left hand and slides his ring off your thumb, turns it once, then—after a beat—slides it right back on.
“keep it for tonight,” he says. “until you fall asleep. just so you remember you did something brave and you did it with me.”
your eyes burn. you pull him down and kiss him, softer than any kiss so far. when he rolls onto his side, you go, easy as a tide, and fit yourself to him like you’ve been practicing all your life.
“did i do okay?” you ask, ridiculously small.
he makes a sound like a laugh and a groan. “you wrecked me, sweetheart.”
heat floods your cheeks. he catches it and kisses it, then tucks your head under his chin, palm stroking your back in those same steady lines from earlier, as if nothing’s changed and everything has.
“i’ll be sore,” you say, mostly to fill the space because the quiet is so big.
“i’ll draw your bath in the morning,” he answers without thinking, like of course he will. “and make you that tea you pretend you don’t like.”
you nudge his ribs. “you’re a bully.”
“i’m yours,” he says, and the words settle like a blanket over a chair—obvious, right where they belong.
you drift first, hand heavy on his chest, ring a cool circle against his skin. before sleep takes you all the way, you feel his mouth at your hairline, the whisper there so soft you might have dreamed it:
hi guys!! new posts coming vv soon, sorry for the inactivity!! college started back up and i’ve been super busy with homework :( please look forward to my new stuff and my new and improved post aesthetic!!
cock ring (vibrating) ⋆ tiny bit of overstimulation ⋆ riding ⋆ praise ⋆ whiny/desperate sunoo ⋆ aftercare
an: damn i’m on my sunoo shit oops he a sub again… wc: ~1k
you twirled the small black ring between your fingers, watching the way sunoo’s eyes widened when you held it up for him to see. he was already hard, flushed pink down his chest from the sloppy makeout session that had dragged you both onto the bed in the first place.
“ever seen one of these before, baby?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.
sunoo swallowed hard, shaking his head. “n-no…”
you smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly before pulling back. “it’s simple. it goes here…” you brushed the tip of his cock with your thumb, watching it twitch. “…and it vibrates. makes you feel good, makes me feel good. you want to try it?”
he nodded quickly, almost desperately, his soft whimper telling you more than words could.
slipping it over him, you eased the silicone down until it sat snug at the base of his cock. his breath hitched, body already tightening with anticipation. you clicked the first setting on, a faint buzz filling the room, and sunoo gasped, grabbing at the sheets.
“too much?” you asked gently, stroking his hair back.
“n-no, just—” his words broke into a whine, thighs twitching as he adjusted to the new sensation.
you hummed, pleased, and kissed his temple. “good boy. let’s see what this can do…”
click.
the vibrations deepened, a steady hum that made his cock jerk. his head fell back against the pillows, lips parting as a choked sound escaped him.
“oh my god—”
you smirked, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach. “sensitive already?”
sunoo’s eyes squeezed shut, his bottom lip trembling as he nodded. “feels… s-so weird, but good,” he whined, clinging to your wrist.
you pressed another kiss to his lips, slow and tender, before pulling back just enough to whisper, “think you can take more?”
he whimpered but nodded, and you clicked it again. the vibration intensified, a deeper thrum that had him moaning into your mouth as you kissed him again. his hips bucked helplessly, but the tight squeeze of the ring kept him from getting any relief.
“please,” he begged softly against your lips. “please, i— i don’t know what to do, it’s so much.”
“shhh,” you soothed, petting his cheek. “you don’t have to do anything. just let me take care of you.”
you straddled his hips slowly, his wide eyes following every move you made. your slick had already soaked through your panties, the teasing and vibrations turning you on more than you’d realized. pulling them aside, you reached between you, lining him up.
sunoo’s breath hitched, his hands flying to your waist. “w-wait— if you— it’ll—”
“i know,” you whispered, cutting him off with a kiss as you sank down onto him in one slow, wet slide.
the sound he made was broken, something between a sob and a moan, his entire body trembling beneath you. the cock ring pressed against your clit each time you took him deeper, sending sparks through your body until your head was spinning.
“oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod,” sunoo babbled, tears springing to his eyes. his grip on your hips was shaky, desperate, as if he couldn’t believe you were really doing this. “feels so— so good, i can’t—”
you rocked against him gently, testing the way the vibrations hit both of you. every thrust rubbed the ring against your swollen clit, making your thighs shake with the intensity.
“that’s it, baby,” you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair. “you’re doing so good for me. letting me ride you like this, taking it so well.”
he let out a wrecked moan, arching into you, his cock twitching inside. “please don’t stop, please, please,” he begged, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.
your hips moved faster, bouncing against him as the vibrations drove you higher and higher. you could feel him trembling under you, every muscle taut with the effort of holding back.
“you’re close, aren’t you?” you whispered against his lips, kissing him between words. “want to cum with me?”
his answer was a strangled whine, his arms wrapping around your back to hold you close. “yes— god, yes, i c-can’t— please let me—”
the pleasure coiled in your stomach snapped suddenly, and you cried out, clinging to him as you came hard, the ring pressing mercilessly against your clit. sunoo followed instantly, his moans muffled against your shoulder as his cock pulsed inside you, hot and messy as he spilled into you.
you stayed there, pressed chest to chest, both of you trembling and catching your breath. the vibrations still hummed faintly until you reached down with shaky fingers to switch the ring off.
sunoo let out a shaky sigh of relief, collapsing back into the pillows. his cheeks were damp, lips swollen, chest rising and falling fast.
you kissed him softly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “so good for me,” you whispered.
his lips curved in a sleepy, blissed-out smile. “did… did you like it too?”
you laughed softly, pressing your forehead to his. “more than you know.”
later, after cleaning him up and tucking him under the covers, you curled up beside him. his hand sought yours, squeezing weakly.
“you’ll… you’ll do that again, right?” he asked, voice small and hopeful.
you kissed the corner of his mouth, smiling. “anytime you want, baby.”
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