contents: big dick hee! implied first time (with eachother), fingering, overstimulation, squirting, riding, pet names: angel, baby, praise kink if you squint
you’re on your back, thighs shaking, while heeseung leans over you — two of his long fingers scissoring your pussy open. his voice is low, barely a whisper against your neck.
“think you can take a third, baby?”
you nod, lip tucked between your teeth, nerves and anticipation buzzing through your veins.
heeseung eases a third finger in, slow but deep, and your breath catches hard in your throat.
“f-fuck—i feel so full,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut.
“yeah?” heeseung murmurs, voice dark and hungry. “just wait till it’s my cock, angel.”
his fingers move with purpose — curling, fucking, dragging along your walls until you’re gasping, hips twitching with every stroke. the tight knot in your belly coils fast, and when he brushes that one spot, you cry out, body arching.
your orgasm crashes over you, a mess of high-pitched moans and trembling thighs. heeseung watches, rapt, as you come apart, then pulls his fingers out slowly and slips them into his mouth, eyes never leaving yours.
he reaches up, brushing sweat-damp hair away from your face.
“did so good for me, baby,” he says softly. “think you’re ready for my cock now?”
you nod quickly, still breathless. when he goes to press you back down, you stop him with a shaky hand.
“w-wait… let me. i wanna try.”
your cheeks burn, but heeseung just smiles, ridding himself of his clothes before leaning back, letting you take control. you swing a leg over his hips, straddling him, and shiver when your soaked folds press against his cock. you’re still so sensitive, every brush making you flinch.
“take your time, baby,” heeseung murmurs, hands warm on your hips. “you got this.”
you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, give him a few slow pumps — he breathes out hard, hips twitching — before guiding him to your entrance. he’s thick and long, and the stretch is immediate, your body clenching tight around just the tip.
“a-ahh…” your moan comes out breathy, one hand flying to his shoulder for balance. his grip tightens on your waist as he helps steady you, grounding you.
you ease down further, inch by inch, gasping at how full you feel. your eyes squeeze shut.
“s’too much… hee, you’re so big…”
heeseung groans softly, voice strained. “you can take it, baby. i know you can.”
he pushes up just enough to help you sink down fully, and when you do, the breath punches out of your lungs. he’s so deep it feels like he’s everywhere — stretching you out, filling you up, making your legs tremble from the inside out.
“that’s it. such a good girl,” heeseung murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “just breathe for me, yeah?”
you fold into him, arms winding around his neck, trying to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, not rushing a thing.
“want me to help you move, baby?” he whispers, and you nod weakly. “please…”
his hands find your hips again, guiding you slowly — barely lifting you, just enough to grind you down on his cock, over and over. your walls flutter around him, legs shaking as he hits every perfect spot inside you.
the room fills with soft gasps, wet sounds, and heeseung’s quiet, broken moans against your throat.
“fuck, baby… your pussy’s so warm… made for me…”
you can’t even speak, just pant against his skin as he speeds up the pace — thrusting up into you harder now, your body bouncing in his lap with each push.
“m’close, hee—i can feel it,” you whisper, dizzy with pleasure.
heeseung’s hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and circling fast.
it’s too much. the pressure, the stretch, the way he’s fucking you like he needs it to breathe. your orgasm slams into you without warning, blinding and intense. your body jerks, trembling in his lap — but he doesn’t stop.
he keeps thrusting through it, chasing his own release, even as you cry out, overwhelmed.
“s’too much, heeseung—can’t—”
“just a little more, baby,” he breathes, kissing your cheek. “you’re doing so good, almost there—”
you barely register the building pressure in your core before it all breaks — and you come again, violently, back arching as your release gushes out of you, soaking his cock and the sheets beneath. the intensity has your entire body trembling, head buried in his shoulder.
heeseung groans loudly, hips bucking one last time before he spills inside you, holding you tight as he rides out his high.
you collapse against him, boneless, chest heaving. he doesn’t let you go — just rubs circles into your back, kissing your temple gently.
꩜ 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.
contents: dry humping, dirty talk, p in v, body worship kinda, subbish jw, domish reader, kissing, begging
a.n. honestly can’t believe i haven’t written about blonde won yet… wc 1.5k
MINORS DNI
he wasn’t supposed to look that good.
it was just new hair. that’s what you kept telling yourself. a harmless dye job. but when he walked in with that golden blonde halo, soft bangs falling into his eyes, a quiet confidence in the way he carried himself—you felt it. a shift.
now he was sitting beside you on the couch, legs spread, hand draped lazily over the backrest behind your shoulders like he hadn’t just completely ruined your ability to focus for the past hour.
“you’ve been staring,” he said, head tilted, voice soft but smug.
you blinked at him, flustered. “no, i haven’t.”
he smirked. “you totally have. what—do i look that different?”
and when he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead, letting a few strands fall back over his eyes—you snapped.
you didn’t answer. you just climbed into his lap.
“whoa—wait—”
but his hands were already on your hips, catching you like he wanted this. like he’d been waiting for you to do it first. your fingers tangled into his freshly dyed hair, and you yanked just enough to make him groan under his breath.
“i have been staring,” you whispered, lips grazing his jaw. “because you look fucking hot.”
color flushed to his cheeks, but he didn’t stop you. if anything, his grip on your hips tightened, pulling you flush against the hard length straining in his jeans.
“you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, voice breathless, eyes locked on your lips.
and then you kissed him—soft at first, testing, but he melted into it like he’d been starving for your mouth. his hands slid up your back, under your shirt, nails dragging just a little. you rocked against him, hips slow and deliberate, grinding down right where he needed it.
he broke the kiss with a gasp. “fuck—if you keep doing that—”
“then what?” you teased, fingers tugging at his hair. “you gonna make me stop?”
his eyes flashed. “hell no.”
with that, he leaned back, letting you grind on him like he was yours to use—and he was. his head tilted just right, letting your mouth find the soft skin under his jaw while his hands roamed your thighs, your waist, your ass, gripping and guiding.
“you’re insane,” he groaned, hips jerking up to meet your rhythm. “wearing those shorts, sitting so close all night—what the hell was i supposed to do?”
“touch me,” you whispered, lips brushing his ear. “just like this.”
your shirt came off next—his hands sliding up your bare waist, worshipping the way your body moved for him. you could feel how hard he was beneath you, desperate and throbbing, and when you rolled your hips just right, he whimpered.
it was the hottest sound you’d ever heard.
“you wanna fuck me, don’t you?” you breathed, hand sliding down between your bodies to palm him through his jeans.
“god, yes,” he groaned, eyes squeezed shut, blonde hair a mess between your fingers. “i’ve wanted to for so fucking long.”
“then beg for it.”
you could feel him shudder—completely undone beneath you. he looked up at you like you were the only thing in the world.
“please,” he whispered. “i need you. need to feel you—please let me.”
you kissed him again—hotter this time, deeper, tongue sliding against his while your fingers worked his belt open, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. and god… he was hard. thick, flushed, already leaking against his stomach like he couldn’t stand another second untouched.
his breath hitched when your hand wrapped around him, stroking slow, watching him come completely undone under your touch.
“f-fuck—” he gasped, head tipping back against the couch, hands gripping your thighs so tight they’d bruise. “you’re gonna drive me insane…”
you leaned in close, lips brushing his ear. “i haven’t even started yet.”
his hoodie was off in seconds, shirt pushed up just enough to expose his toned stomach—taut, twitching under your lips as you kissed your way down. but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. watching, wide-eyed and breathless, like he couldn’t believe this was real.
then you slid your soaked panties to the side, lined yourself up, and sank down on him.
“oh my—fuck,” jungwon choked out, both hands flying to your waist, fingers digging in like he needed something to ground himself.
he was so deep. thick and stretching you in all the right ways, fitting inside you like he’d been waiting his whole life for it.
you started to move—slow, dragging your hips up and down, letting him feel every inch of you.
he was a mess beneath you, mouth falling open, blonde hair stuck to his forehead as he tried to keep it together.
“y-you feel…” he groaned, thrusting up involuntarily, making you gasp. “so fucking tight, i can’t—shit—”
you leaned forward, grabbing his jaw so he’d look at you, nose to nose.
“look at me while i ride you,” you whispered. “wanna see how pretty you are when you come.”
and he lost it.
he met your rhythm now, bucking up into you with messy, needy thrusts, hands sliding under your ass to pull you down harder. his moans spilled into your mouth as you kissed him through it, your nails dragging down his chest.
“not gonna last,” he panted. “you feel too good—fuck, please let me come inside—please—”
you were close too. so close it hurt. the pressure, the stretch, the friction—everything building fast, sharp, overwhelming.
“do it,” you gasped. “come for me, jungwon. fill me up.”
and with a strangled moan, he did—hips jerking up hard, cock pulsing inside you as he spilled everything, his whole body shaking from how hard he came. you weren’t far behind—your own orgasm crashing over you, making you cry out as your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop.
you collapsed against him, chests heaving, bodies trembling, sweat and heat and the scent of sex thick in the air.
for a long moment, neither of you moved.
then he laughed, breathless and dazed, arms wrapping around your waist.
“you’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” he whispered.
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:
riding ⋆ p in v ⋆ grinding ⋆ tattoo fixation ⋆ begging ⋆ kissing/hickies
an: this is for my insta oomf.. yk who u are ;) wc: 1.7k
you don’t even remember how you ended up here—straddling ni-ki’s lap, his hands heavy on your thighs, his lips moving against yours like he’s starving. his tongue pushes into your mouth, messy and desperate, and you taste the faint sweetness of the drink he’d had earlier. you’re both breathing hard, like neither of you can get enough air, but still refusing to pull away.
his body is warm under you, solid, the kind of heat that makes your head spin. you start kissing down, pulling away from his mouth just to leave wet trails along his jaw, his neck, the line of his collarbone. he lets out a soft hiss when your teeth scrape him lightly, his fingers flexing on your thighs.
you want more. you always want more when it comes to him.
your lips keep traveling, lower and lower, until you hit the spot—his right side, just above his waist, where dark ink is etched into his skin. you pause there for a moment, eyes flicking up to see his reaction, and god—you’re rewarded instantly.
ni-ki’s breath stutters, his jaw clenches, and he tilts his head back, eyelids fluttering shut.
that’s all the encouragement you need.
you press your mouth to the tattoo, slow and deliberate, letting your tongue trace the curves of it. then you suck, harder, until a deep, raw groan spills from his chest. the sound makes your pussy clench around nothing, need sparking hot and sharp in your gut.
“fuck—” he grits out, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. his hips twitch up under you, restless, needy, like he can’t control himself.
“this spot makes you lose it, huh?” you murmur against his skin, lips brushing the ink as you speak.
“y/n—” his voice cracks on your name, his hands gripping tighter at your waist. “don’t stop.”
you smile against the tattoo, pressing your lips there again, sucking until the skin is flushed and damp. meanwhile, your hand slides down between your bodies, palming him through his sweats. he’s already so hard, so heavy against your palm, and the combination of your lips on his tattoo and your hand working him has him unraveling fast.
he bucks into your touch with a strangled moan, head turning into the couch cushions like he’s trying to ground himself. you keep kissing and sucking at the ink while you tug his sweats down just enough, your fingers wrapping around his cock at last. he gasps—loud, unfiltered—and you swear you feel his whole body shiver.
“gonna kill me,” he mutters, voice ragged, eyes squeezed shut as you stroke him slow and steady.
you sit back just long enough to tug your own shorts and panties off, tossing them somewhere behind you. ni-ki cracks his eyes open at the sound, gaze dropping to your bare pussy as you hover over him. his lips part, and he looks wrecked already—hair messy, chest rising and falling, his cock flushed and dripping in your hand.
“y/n, please—” he starts, but his words cut off with a sharp inhale when you sink down onto him in one smooth motion.
he grabs at your waist instantly, a broken groan spilling from his lips as you take him all the way in. you’re so wet that he slides in deep, stretching you perfectly, filling you until your vision blurs.
“fuck,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders as you steady yourself.
“oh my god,” ni-ki whimpers beneath you, hands squeezing your hips like he’s afraid to let go. his eyes are wide now, blown black with lust, and he looks up at you like you’ve ruined him completely.
you start to move, rolling your hips slowly, letting him feel every inch of you. he arches up into you helplessly, breath coming out in ragged moans.
“you feel so good, ni-ki,” you whisper, leaning forward to kiss him again. the kiss is sloppy, wet, your teeth clashing, but neither of you care. you grind down harder, angling your hips just right, and he cries out against your mouth.
his chest is flushed now, his body trembling, and when you lean back down to kiss his tattoo again—pressing your lips, your tongue, your teeth against it—he loses it.
“shit—baby, i—” he chokes, his hands flying up to grip yours. “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—”
your lips stay glued to the ink while you ride him faster, his cock hitting deep, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. every time your mouth touches the tattoo, he moans louder, fucks up into you harder, like it’s wired directly to his cock.
you’re gasping now, clinging to his shoulders as the knot in your stomach tightens, every thrust pushing you closer.
“ni-ki—” you whimper, “i’m gonna—”
“me too, me too, fuck—don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
and you don’t. you slam down on him again and again, mouth sealed to his tattoo, until the pressure inside you snaps. your orgasm crashes over you hard, your whole body shaking as you cry out his name.
ni-ki follows almost instantly, thrusting up into you with a guttural moan as he spills inside, holding you down on him as deep as you’ll take him. his body arches, then collapses back onto the couch, his chest heaving, his eyes glassy.
you both stay like that for a moment, panting, clinging to each other. his cock softens slowly inside you, your thighs trembling from the effort.
finally, he lets out a shaky laugh, brushing sweaty strands of hair from his forehead. “holy shit.”
you giggle breathlessly, pressing one last soft kiss to his tattoo before sitting up slightly.
he looks at you, eyes soft now despite the mess of sweat and cum between you. his hand drifts to the tattoo, fingertips brushing over it gently before he takes your hand in his.
req: Hiii, it’s my first time asking for anything like this but could I please get anton x reader where reader is obsessed with nipple play (received) and Anton is more than happy to give in to that. It starts a little messy, sloppy desperate kisses and stuff ;pp thanks a lot!!
your back hit the wall before you could blink, his mouth already on yours like he couldn’t wait a second longer. it was messy—teeth clashing, lips slick, tongues sliding in a rush. your fingers tangled in his hair, nails dragging across his scalp, and he groaned into your mouth like it drove him crazy.
anton wasn’t usually like this. he was soft, sweet, always asking before he touched. but tonight? tonight he kissed like he was starving.
his hands were everywhere—cupping your jaw, gripping your hips, sliding up the curve of your back. and when his palms skimmed under your shirt, you shivered.
“off,” you mumbled against his mouth, tugging at the hem. he helped you, pulling it over your head, eyes dropping to your chest like he’d never seen anything prettier. his gaze lingered.
and then his thumb brushed your nipple through your bra. soft. experimental. and you gasped—sharp, breathy, head tipping back to the wall.
that’s when he knew.
he did it again, slower this time. circled the sensitive bud until you were twitching under his hands, lips parted, already panting.
“you like that?” he murmured, voice low, eyes fixed on the way your body reacted. you nodded quickly, too overwhelmed to speak.
“yeah?” he said again, this time with a little smile. “fuck. i’ve barely touched you.”
he kissed you again, slower now, more deliberate. but his fingers never stopped. he tugged the bra down, letting your tits bounce free, then slid both thumbs over your nipples—watching you fall apart from just that.
your knees buckled slightly and he caught you, laughing under his breath. “you’re so sensitive here,” he said, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your chest. “can i keep going?”
“please,” you whispered, voice trembling. “please, anton.”
he dropped to his knees, pulling you gently down with him until you were straddling his lap on the floor. the carpet scratched your thighs, but you didn’t care. not when he leaned in, took one nipple into his mouth, and sucked.
you gasped—loud, shameless—and his hands gripped your hips tighter.
“god, you’re loud,” he mumbled against your skin. a groan following right after.
his tongue was slow, deliberate. dragging over the hardened bud before wrapping his lips around it again. he sucked until you whined, then switched sides, not giving you a second to breathe.
your hips were already grinding against his lap—subconscious, desperate—and he groaned when he felt it. “this is just from your tits?” he asked, like he couldn’t believe it. “fuck, baby…”
“don’t stop,” you begged, fingers in his hair again, holding him to your chest. “don’t stop, don’t stop—”
he didn’t. his mouth was hot, wet, unrelenting. switching between gentle flicks and hard sucks that had your thighs shaking around him. every tug of his lips made your pussy clench. every graze of his teeth made your stomach twist.
you were soaking through your panties and you hadn’t even been touched there.
“anton—i think—i might—”
he pulled back, panting. “you gonna come from this?”
you nodded, dazed and needy. “please—keep going.”
and he did. mouthing at your tits like he owned them, groaning every time you moaned his name. he sucked hard, hands gripping your ass now, dragging your body against his in slow, desperate circles.
you cried out when it hit you—sharp and sudden—your entire body curling forward as your orgasm tore through you. thighs trembling, nipples aching, breath catching in your throat.
he held you through it, one hand rubbing slow circles on your lower back while the other gently cupped your chest, fingers still grazing sensitive skin.
“fuck,” he whispered, pulling you close. “you’re unreal.”
you laughed breathlessly, forehead against his shoulder. “you gonna do it again?”
he kissed your neck, already hard beneath you. “baby, i’m not stopping until you beg me to.”
req: hi! i really like how you write sungchan in your fics - it's soooo good and addicting.... my personal favorite is rated r i keep rereading it every day! i saw your requests are open, could i request size training with jsc x innocent reader? thank u!
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
pairing: soft dom! sungchan x f. reader
size kink ⋆ size training ⋆ fingering ⋆ deep penetration ⋆ praise kink ⋆ crying (pleasure) ⋆ slight dacryphilia vibes ⋆ pet names (baby, pretty girl) ⋆ creampie
an: i loved writing this… anon ur mind… 1.4k words
you didn’t think it would be this hard to take him.
but sungchan is big—so big—and even though you’re soaking wet, thighs sticky with want and nerves, you still feel the stretch all the way up your spine.
“breathe, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear as he eases in another inch. “you’re doing so good for me.”
your fingers dig into his shoulders. you can’t help the whimper that slips out—it’s too much, too thick, but god you want it all.
he kisses your jaw, your cheek, every part of your face he can reach. “shh… that’s it. just a little more.”
you nod, even though tears bead in your lashes and your hips are trembling from trying not to squirm. sungchan’s hands never leave your waist, guiding you gently, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs.
he’d spent nearly an hour just getting you ready—fingers slowly stretching you open, mouth buried between your thighs while you cried and begged, all slick and overwhelmed and shy under his praise.
“look at that,” he’d murmured, pressing two fingers inside with ease. “your pussy’s so hungry for me already.”
“’m not ready,” you’d whispered back, even as your body clenched desperately around him. “you’re too big, chan.”
“then i’ll take my time,” he promised, “and make you ready.”
and now—now he’s nearly fully inside. thick, hot, buried deep enough that you swear you feel it in your belly.
“o-oh god,” you gasp, blinking up at him. “you’re really… in.”
he smiles, so soft. “not even all the way, pretty girl.”
your mouth falls open. “i—i can’t—”
“yes, you can,” he breathes, cupping your cheek. “you’re taking it so well already. just a little more, baby.”
he rocks his hips, just enough for you to feel the grind of his cock against the spot that makes your eyes roll back. your hands grip his arms as a moan slips out of you, high and shaky.
“th-there,” you gasp. “feels good—feels really good—”
“yeah?” he presses a kiss to your temple. “you’re gonna feel so full once i’m all the way in. can you do that for me?”
you nod quickly. “want it—want you to fill me up—”
his eyes darken at that. he groans softly as he sinks the last inch inside, hips flush against yours, cock twitching where it stretches your cunt to the limit.
you whimper at the fullness—too much, too deep, too good—and he just hushes you, pressing you back into the pillows as he kisses you again.
“you did it,” he murmurs. “you’re so fucking perfect.”
you whine. “’s so much, chan—feels like i’m gonna break…”
“never,” he whispers, nuzzling your cheek. “i’d never let you break. i’ll take care of you, always.”
his hips start to move, slow and gentle, just shallow rolls that drag his cock against your fluttering walls. every motion has your thighs trembling, your breath catching.
“fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “you’re so tight. clenching around me like you don’t wanna let me go.”
“’cause i don’t,” you whisper. “wanna keep you inside forever.”
his hips stutter. “you’ll kill me saying shit like that.”
you giggle, but the sound turns into a broken moan when he shifts, grinding deep. your back arches, the stretch of him too much and perfect all at once.
“m’gonna cry,” you breathe, voice wobbly.
“good,” he says, kissing your nose. “let me see those tears. let me know how much you feel me.”
you cry out again as he starts to move with purpose—deep, slow thrusts that push you right to the edge. the burn in your core turns molten, pleasure building fast behind your ribs.
“c-can i cum?” you ask, voice breaking.
“you don’t have to ask,” he coos, cupping your jaw. “you’ve been so good, baby. cum for me. cream my cock. let me feel it.”
the wave crashes hard. your body seizes beneath him, back arching, mouth open in a silent cry as your orgasm hits. he keeps fucking you through it, murmuring praise into your ear—how tight you are, how beautiful, how sweet.
“gonna fill you up now,” he grits out. “fuck—gonna pump you full—make you take every drop, baby.”
you’re still shaking when he presses deep, cock twitching, release spilling inside you as he groans your name.
you cling to him, soft and pliant and completely full. you feel it—his cum leaking out around his cock, dripping onto the sheets. your legs tremble as he slowly pulls out, kissing your thighs and whispering how good you were, how perfect.
you blink up at him, cheeks wet, lips kiss-swollen.
“you okay?” he asks gently, already wiping you clean with a warm towel, soft touches and softer eyes.
