⟢ : AND I BET THE THERMOSTAT'S SET AT 69 !? ★ .ᐟ
exo x f!reader ; the exos wanna taste u in a different perspective ;) ⟢ requested by this lovely anonie <3 ty babie!
content: 18+/mdni. 6.6k+ words. established relationships. oral sex (both receiving, AT THE SAME DAMN TIME 😩😩😩). overstim. explicit language. dom/sub dynamics.
⟢ jongin
it always starts slow with jongin—planned, patient, like he’s savoring the space between seconds.
his touch is a conversation in itself, quiet but insistent, as if he’s memorizing the map of your body by tracing it with reverence. every word he murmurs, every breath he exhales, is wrapped in velvet intent. and when he finally lays you back, your thighs instinctively fall open, framing his face like an offering.
you feel studied. cherished. like he’s reading the rhythm of your breaths and syncing his soul to yours.
your lips are already wrapped around him, his cock flushed and pulsing heavy against your tongue. but the moment his mouth meets your center—soft, wet, unbearably tender—he moans.
it’s not subtle. not gentle. just guttural and raw, a sound that rips straight from his chest like he’s been starving for this, for you.
his fingers dig into your hips, grounding himself, his thumbs stroking slow, anchoring spirals into your skin. and when his tongue finally flicks against your clit—quick, sharp, precise—you flinch.
he groans again, louder this time, like your reaction only spurs him on.
“fuck,” he gasps, lips hovering just above you. his voice is wrecked, reverent. “you taste like everything i’ve ever wanted.”
you’re already trembling—tiny, involuntary shudders that ripple through your thighs like aftershocks. your rhythm on his cock falters, lips slipping slightly, and of course jongin notices.
you feel him smile against your cunt before his tongue flattens against you, dragging up in one long, decadent stroke. slow. unhurried.
again.
again.
again.
it’s not teasing. it’s intentional. he’s methodical in his worship—taking his time, like he wants to feel every inch of you unravel under him.
you moan around him, quiet and wrecked, and he bucks up into your mouth with a sharp, choked hiss. “fuck, that—do that again.”
his voice is raw now, low and reverent, frayed at the edges. your thighs tremble around his head, and he’s gripping you harder, holding you steady as his mouth grows frantic—faster, wetter, more desperate with every flick of his tongue.
you try to focus. try to keep your mouth around him, but it’s impossible—jongin is relentless, fucking you open with his tongue like he’s starving. like your pleasure is his only religion. he licks you like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste, eyes fluttering shut, lost in it, high on it.
when you cry out around him—hips jolting, thighs clenching—he moans so loud it echoes inside you, vibrates down your spine.
and just like that— you break.
your back arches, lips slipping off his cock as your orgasm tears through you, sharp and staggering. your whole body pulses against his mouth and he just groans into you, tongue still moving, holding you there like he needs this more than oxygen.
you barely catch your breath before he’s shifting you gently, lifting you off him with effortless strength, flipping you onto your back like you weigh nothing. his face is flushed. lips slick and glistening. eyes heavy, glassy—like he’s been somewhere sacred and barely made it back.
he looks like he’s seen god. but he’s not done.
“i know you just came,” he murmurs, crawling over you, voice a rasp against your skin. his mouth traces your jaw, reverent. “but i need to feel you around me.”
his cock presses against your thigh—thick and hot and twitching with restraint. and then he says it, low and hungry:
“not stoppin’ ‘til ya cum on my dick like ya did on my mouth.”
⟢ chanyeol
it’s messy from the jump with chanyeol—feverish, frantic, like the two of you are starved and this is the only cure. lips crash, teeth graze, tongues clash, and spit slicks the corners of your mouths. it’s all so loud—wet kisses, ragged breaths, low groans curling up his throat and into your chest like smoke.
he lets out a guttural moan the second your lips wrap around him, head snapping back like the pleasure sucker-punched him. but nothing—nothing—compares to the way he sounds when he buries his face between your thighs.
he growls. a full, deep-chested growl into your cunt like a man possessed, and the vibration makes your entire body jolt. his fingers dig into your hips on instinct, locking you in place like prey.
you’re already trembling—and it hasn’t even been a minute. he hasn’t even started.
“baby,” he pants beneath you, voice raw and reverent, “you’re already dripping all over me.”
you try to speak—truly—but he drags you back down, mouth open, tongue flat and feral. he doesn’t just taste you; he devours. long licks, tight sucks, and little flicks that make your legs twitch around his head.
your rhythm collapses. your moans start cracking, broken and breathless, and he knows—he knows. he hears it, feels it, drinks it in like gospel.
and then—his arms.
those big, broad arms wrap around your waist in one fluid, dominating motion. his elbows tuck beneath you like anchors, and one heavy forearm braces across your lower back, caging you in like you’re his final meal.
“where you goin’?” he mutters, voice thick, lips brushing soaked skin. “thought you wanted this.”
you let out a soft, strangled cry around him. your fingers claw at his thighs—desperate, shaking—but he doesn’t budge. not even an inch. he’s locked in, carved from stone, and ravenous.
you’re not going anywhere.
not until he says so.he’s eating you out like it’s his right—like your body was built for this, for him. his tongue moves with reckless hunger, all-consuming and purposeful, like he’s trying to leave his name carved into your nerves. your thighs are quivering, muscles clenching with every pass of his tongue, and your lips are slack around his cock—drool threatening to slip as your rhythm falters.
you can’t keep up. and he sees it. he relishes it.
“losin’ focus, huh?” he rasps, voice thick with cocky satisfaction, words muffled as his tongue drags in one slow, obscene stroke from your soaked entrance to your clit. “s’too much, sweetheart? already unraveling?”
his hips shift beneath you, gently thrusting upward into your mouth in an effort to help you find your pace again. but it’s no use. your whole body is shaking—wracked with tension, splintering at the edges. you’re coming undone in his hold, and he tightens his grip like he feels it.
those massive arms wrap tighter around your waist, muscles flexing as he plants his hands flat against your spine, pressing you down—forcing you closer, deeper, like he wants your body to melt into his face. like he wants to breathe through you.
your lips slip off his cock and you cry out, a ragged, helpless sound as your thighs twitch violently around his head. you’re gone. convulsing. hips stuttering while he keeps going, relentless, licking you through your orgasm like he’s already chasing the next one—insatiable, obsessive.
and then he moans—a low, filthy growl that vibrates straight through your core. it’s the sound of a man possessed, drunk on your taste, high on your pleasure.
“fuck, chanyeol—don’t stop—please don’t stop, baby, you’re so good, so fucking—fuck!”
your voice breaks. your mind blanks. and then, finally—finally—his arms slacken just enough to let you slide off him, legs jelly, cunt soaked, body reduced to trembling breath and fluttering heartbeats.
you barely catch a breath.
and then—he flips you. effortlessly. like a goddamn ragdoll.
your back hits the mattress and he’s hovering over you in an instant, dark hair clinging to his sweat-slicked forehead, lips kiss-swollen and glistening, eyes blown wide with hunger. unhinged. wrecked.
“that,” he pants, gaze dragging over your flushed, fucked-out body, “was just round one.”
his hand slides down your thigh, slow and lazy, fingers trailing like fire before he guides his cock—still rock-hard and glistening—right to your entrance.
“hold on, baby,” he murmurs, smirking as he sinks in with one deep, unforgiving thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. “not done with you yet.”
⟢ sehun
sehun’s hands start soft—just a lazy sprawl over your thighs, like he couldn’t be bothered to grip. like the act of letting you straddle his face is some kind of mercy. his fingers barely curl, the pads resting idle against your skin, a ghost of a touch.
his lips part slow. deliberate. eyes trained on your dripping cunt above him, like he’s done this a hundred times before and already knows how it ends. like this isn’t about to ruin him.
you wrap your hand around his cock, and that’s where his composure fractures. a twitch in his thigh. a hitch in his breath. he’s hard already—obscenely so. flushed and leaking, straining against your palm like he’s been aching for you for hours and just now got the relief of your touch.
you run your tongue along his length, slow and warm, like a warning. and that’s when his fingers dig in—not hard, not yet. but firmer. intentional.
his jaw clenches. his tongue flicks out, tentative at first, slipping between your folds like he’s testing the heat of a flame. he groans low against you, like he just got his first drag of something addictive. and once he tastes you? he’s fucking gone.
his grip climbs higher, tighter, no longer pretending to be composed. he pulls you down onto his mouth, and licks into you with slow, deliberate strokes—measured, almost clinical.
but it’s a front. because the second you take him deeper into your mouth, the rhythm shatters.
he breathes out—sharp, shaky. a whispered “fuck…” barely slips past his lips, muffled by your cunt. he’s trying not to lose it. trying not to whimper.
but when you suck harder, you feel it—his hips buck, helpless. his throat catches around a broken moan he didn’t mean to let out.
he pulls away from your pussy for half a breath, face soaked, voice a wreck. “don’t stop,” he pants, trembling. “just—keep doing that. please, baby—”
you hum around him, lips stretched into a sly grin, voice thick with teasing. “say please.”
his groan punches out between clenched teeth—low, strained, and guttural. his hips twitch upward before he can stop himself, cock begging for friction, but still… he holds his tongue.
you pull back.
slow.
cruel.
he lets out a noise of protest that’s somewhere between a growl and a whine, head tipping back against the mattress like he’s trying to physically hold back the words.
but sehun’s pride runs deep. he won’t beg. not yet.
so he retaliates the only way he knows how—his tongue dives back between your folds with renewed desperation. sloppy now. hungry. he licks like he’s chasing high, like the taste of you is slipping through his fingers and he needs it back. he swirls around your clit, flicks and sucks and kisses like he’s spiraling—and he is. he’s unraveling right beneath you.
you gasp, thighs squeezing around his head like a vice, your moan muffled around his cock. but you’re not letting him win. you press your tongue to his tip and lap at him with light, fluttering strokes—kitten licks. cruel and calculated.
his hips jerk. his breath stutters.
“more,” he bites out against your cunt, voice rough, wrecked. and then he sucks on your clit—hard.
you suck in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering, but you keep your composure. just barely. “good boys say please,” you purr, dragging your tongue from the base of his cock up to the tip, slow and sinfully thorough. then, wrapping your lips around the head, you flick your tongue just beneath the crown and coo, “you’re a good boy, right, hunnie?”
his whole body tenses under you.
he’s silent for a moment. barely.
then—voice hoarse, lips trembling—he whispers, “…please.”
your smile is slow and wicked, full of syrupy praise and something far more dangerous. “that’s it,” you murmur, gaze flicking down to his flushed, twitching cock. “good boy.”
then you sink your mouth over him—no teasing this time, no mercy.
you take him deep, all the way down, until his hips lift off the bed and his hands tremble on your thighs like he doesn’t know what to grab. you set a rhythm—steady, filthy, relentless—and the sound he lets out is ruinous.
his head tips back, jaw slack, and he gasps like he’s never been touched like this before. like you’re unraveling him from the inside out.
and you are. on purpose.
he asked so nicely, after all.
his grip is bruising now, fingers digging deep into your thighs to hold you steady as he devours you like he’s starving—like he’ll die if he doesn’t make you cum first.
and you’re close, fuck—you can tell he is too. his cock jerks in your mouth with every moan, every slick stroke of your tongue.
“shit—” he gasps, voice cracking, hips bucking hard. “gonna c-cum—fuck, baby, i’m—”
he spills without warning. hips locked, cock pulsing between your lips, throat punching out a groan so raw it sounds like it hurts.
his mouth never leaves your cunt. he keeps licking through it all—through the aftershocks, through your own release as it crashes over you in waves.
your thighs tremble violently against his face, and he holds you down, relentless. determined. like he needs to feel every second of you coming undone.
when you finally lift off him, your lips wet and swollen, breath ragged, you catch sight of him—face flushed, lips shiny, black hair sticking to his forehead.
he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stares up at you like you just punched the air out of his lungs.
his voice is hoarse. quiet.
“…you’re the worst,” he mutters, trying for annoyed, but it comes out soft. dazed.
and then, like a pout curling on the edge of his tongue—
“but i just can’t fuckin’ stay away from you.”
⟢ kyungsoo
you’re already trembling when he guides you up his chest, palms warm and sure as they slide along your thighs.
he doesn’t speak. not yet. he just lays back, dark eyes dragging up your body, lingering between your legs like he’s admiring something holy.
when you hover over his face, unsure, your breath catching—
his voice cuts through the air, soft and low.
“sit.”
you hesitate. he looks up at you.
“i said sit.”
his hands wrap around your thighs and he pulls you down, firmly, smoothly, until you’re seated on his face—legs trembling, heat flushed across your skin.
then his lips meet you.
and fuck, those lips.
pillowy. slow. precise.
he kisses your pussy like it’s your mouth—like he’s seducing you from the inside out. each lick of his tongue is deliberate. lingering. he parts your folds with his tongue and moans, barely audible, like you’re the most decadent thing he’s ever tasted.
his full lips wrap around your clit and suck.
you cry out, thighs tightening, but he just groans into you—like your reaction fuels him.
“fuck! kyungsoo—”
his hands grip tighter.
“keep goin’, angel,” he murmurs, voice muffled and filthy, lips brushing your slick. “don’t stop now.”
you lower your head, take the tip of his cock into your mouth—and he exhales sharply, almost like a warning.
“that’s it,” he breathes. “that’s my good girl.”
you swirl your tongue around him, and in return, he eats you like he’s starving. like your pussy is the only thing that matters. like he wants to memorize how you come apart on his lips.
he savors every reaction—the stutter in your breath, the twitch of your thighs, the moan you try to stifle when he tongues you just right.
and when you start to tremble above him, moaning around his cock, he pulls back just enough to speak.
“you’re going to cum in my mouth,” he says, lips still brushing you. “and then you’re going to do it again on my cock.”
your mouth slips off him as you gasp, and he drags his tongue up your cunt, lips plush and hot, sucking your clit into his mouth like he’s addicted.
you fall apart with a cry—loud, desperate, full-body release as his hands hold you down and his mouth drinks you in.
and even as you twitch, overstimulated and panting, he doesn’t stop. his tongue slows, but it doesn’t leave. not until you’re whimpering his name like a prayer.
you slide off him on shaking limbs, but he’s already pulling you close, his cock hard and leaking, his voice low and gravelly in your ear.
“that was just the first course.”
⟢ junmyeon
junmyeon reclines against the pillows like a man carved from confidence, his body stretched out in clean lines and quiet command.
one arm tucked lazily behind his head, the other draped across your thigh—fingers grazing skin in slow, indulgent circles. every inch of him is calm, composed, devastatingly in control. he looks at you the way he does at closed-door meetings and black-tie events: with that same smooth voice, rich and precise, meant for sealing million-dollar deals or undressing someone with just a word.
“c'mere,” he murmurs, his gaze trailing down your body like a drop of hot honey. “lemme take care of you tonight.”
the words curl around your spine, pooling between your legs.
you crawl up his body with purpose, your chest grazing his stomach, the heat between you building with every inch. your hands slide up the insides of his thighs—slow, steady—until your knees settle on either side of his head, framing his face like an offering.
his lips part, just barely, the anticipation tightening his jaw. but he doesn’t move.
not yet.
he watches you—intently, possessively—as you reach down to take his cock in hand. your grip is slow, deliberate, like you're testing him. your lips press to the tip, tongue teasing just beneath the sensitive ridge, and then he breathes in.
sharply. almost silently.
but it’s there. the tiniest crack in his composure.
the first sign that the man beneath you—the one who always plays it cool, always stays in control—is beginning to slip.
and then, the moment your hips begin to lower… the second your delicious wet heat presses against his waiting mouth he breaks.
a guttural moan breaks from his chest, raw and sudden, as his hands fly up to grab your thighs. his fingers dig in, pulling you flush against his face like he’s starving, like he's thirsty, like your cunt is the only thing that can save him.
his tongue drags through your folds with ravenous intent—sloppy, unrestrained, almost reverent in its desperation. there’s nothing careful about it. nothing curated. gone is the polished control, the calm precision you’re used to. this isn’t the composed man who always seems ten steps ahead.
this is primal.
this is a man unraveling—starving, possessed, and lost in the taste of you.
he groans when your hips roll over his mouth, the sound wrecked and half-muffled in your wet heat. you moan around his cock in response, sinking lower, your mouth stretching to take him deeper—and he bucks up into you with a force he didn’t mean to use.
“baby—please,” he gasps, voice cracking open, threaded with need.
his thumbs spread you wider as he sucks your clit with a rhythm that borders on brutal, his tongue flicking so fast, so relentlessly, it’s cruel. his hips grind up into your throat, chasing the tight warmth of your mouth like it’s the only thing that matters. he’s panting now, losing rhythm, breath hot and erratic against your dripping cunt.
you pull off him for just a second, needing air—but he growls.
fucking growls.
“keep fucking sucking,” his tone is raw. desperate. unlike anything you've heard from him before.
and still, his tongue never stops.
you moan softly, obedient, your mouth returning to him as your thighs quiver. you can feel the restraint slipping from his body—see it in the way he trembles beneath you, feel it in the way his cock throbs against your tongue, hot and heavy and leaking.
his voice is broken now, cracking open in confession.
“ya wanna cum?” he pants, licking up into you so deep your eyes roll back. “do it. fuck—cum for me, baby. please—i need it, need to taste you—please—”
you unravel with a sob, your orgasm crashing through you like a flood. your thighs lock around his head as you shake and cry out, and he devours you thru it, sucking and moaning like your pleasure is the only sustenance he’s ever known.
he comes a second later—spurting hot and sudden into your mouth with a choked sound, his body arching, head thrown back, his grip still bruising your thighs.
when you finally collapse beside him, ruined and breathless, it takes a moment before either of you can speak.
he turns to you slowly.
his hair’s a mess, lips swollen, chest still rising fast—and his eyes?
wild.
there’s nothing corporate about him now. nothing curated. just a man undone.
he laughs, hoarse and stunned, one hand smoothing down your thigh.
“…told myself i’d be a gentleman tonight,” he says, voice ruined.
he pulls you in with shaking arms, kisses your temple like a secret, and murmurs, “but you make me forget how.”
⟢ baekhyun
the second your body shifts above him, baekhyun groans like he’s already cumming. his hands slide up your thighs with devotion, like he’s unwrapping the most forbidden gift. like he’s about to make a meal out of you. because he is.
you barely settle into place when he moans against you—loud, hungry, like the scent of you alone has him feral. his fingers dig into your hips, holding you down like he’s afraid you’ll float away. or worse—leave before he’s done worshipping you.
“fuck,” he rasps, lips already brushing over your folds. “y’have no idea what ya do to me.”
you’re trying to focus—really, you are. his cock is twitching against your tongue, oh-so-pretty, flushed and dripping, but the second his mouth seals around your clit, you swear your thoughts short circuit.
he sucks once—hard. purposeful. like he knows. you moan around him and he shudders underneath you, hips jerking up.
“fucking christ,” he pants. “do that again.”
you do. you swirl your tongue around the tip, spit dripping down his shaft as your hand wraps around the base—and he’s eating you like a man starved. messy, breathless, groaning so loud it vibrates through your whole spine.
he’s licking you in slow circles one second, then sloppily fucking you with his tongue the next. no rhythm. no mercy. just need. his fingers slide between your thighs to spread you wider, and you whimper against his cock.
“you're fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbles against your soaked folds. “so wet for me. so fuckin’ good. i could stay down here all night.”
you try to grind against his face—try to take more of him into your mouth—but he holds you steady, pulls you flush against his tongue, and groans deep from his chest.
“oh you want more, baby?” he asks, voice muffled and filthy, “don’t mind if i do.”
and you don’t. not when he’s moaning like that. not when you can feel how close he is, twitching against your tongue, thighs trembling beneath you.
he eats you through your orgasm like a demon, like he’s high off your taste, like he’s going to lose his mind if you stop grinding into his mouth.
you’re still gasping, still shivering, when he pulls back just enough to rasp, “don’t stop. fuck—wanna cum while you’re fallin’ apart on my face again.”
and you do.
you both do.
shaking, wrecked, covered in each other’s sounds and mess and breathless curses.
you collapse beside him, limbs trembling, face flushed, your mouth still tingling with the taste of him. baekhyun turns toward you like he’s magnetized, one hand trailing lazy circles on your thigh, the other still damp from where he held you down.
his voice is low when he speaks, hoarse from groaning your name.
“you ruined me,” he says. not in a playful way. like a confession. but like a fucking blessing.
you glance over at him, lips parted, eyes glassy, and his gaze drops to your mouth—like he’s already craving it again.
“sun’s almost up, princess. we should be sleeping,” he mutters, leaning in, brushing his lips along your jaw, “but all i can think about… is how fast i can flip you over and make you cum on my tongue again.”
he kisses the corner of your mouth. then your jaw. then your shoulder.
“let me,” he whispers, voice hot against your skin. “just once more. promise i’ll be gentle this time.”
he won’t be.
you know he won’t be.
and you let him anyway.
⟢ minseok
you start on top.
because that’s how he lets you.
it’s a silent permission, not a gift—one you understand the weight of the moment your knees settle on either side of his head. your thighs tremble from anticipation, nerves, need. your breath catches in your throat as your fingers brace on the headboard, trying to hold onto composure you never really had. at the same time, your lips wrap around the thick, flushed head of his cock—velvety-soft and hot against your tongue, already leaking, already twitching at the first teasing stroke. he groans low beneath you, but his hands don’t move. he doesn’t pull, doesn’t push, doesn’t grab—not yet. just lies there, the picture of patience, like a man who already knows exactly how this ends.
minseok is still.
like stone. like fire waiting to burn.
because he’s not just patient. he’s dangerously patient.
his control has never been for show—it’s a weapon. and tonight, it’s pointed at you.
when his tongue finally rises to meet you, it’s not frantic. not desperate. it’s one slow, excruciating lick from your entrance up to your clit, the kind of stroke that makes your back arch without warning and your breath stutter on his cock. but instead of continuing, instead of indulging that rising wave inside you—he stops. completely.
he pauses like he has nowhere else to be. like the way your body twitches above him is simply data to record. his gaze flickers up, eyes half-lidded, gleaming with smug restraint as he listens—really listens—to the way your breathing falters, the quiet gasp that leaves your throat.
your hips twitch. he watches. his grip on your thighs tightens just slightly—like a leash being shortened.
and then he licks again. slow. deliberate. still not giving in.
there’s no urgency to his mouth. no sloppy hunger. no groaning desperation. every flick of his tongue is calculated, measured—controlled to the point of cruelty. he’s not trying to make you fall apart quickly. no. he’s dragging it out. drawing it longer. like he’s rationing your pleasure inch by inch, second by second, sip by devastating sip.
and when you try to grind on his mouth, desperate for more, his hand slides up between your legs and he smacks your pussy.
hard.
you yelp around his cock, and he doesn’t stop licking. doesn’t say anything.
just slaps your pussy again, tongue circling your clit lightly—just enough to keep you on edge.
you moan, try to focus, mouth sinking back over his length—but your thighs are shaking.
“still can’t follow directions, huh?” he mutters, voice low and calm against you. “brats don’t get to cum.”
you try to argue—try to take more of him into your throat to prove something—but he groans, a warning, hand tightening around your thigh.
“don’t.”
you ignore him.
you keep sucking, stroking the base, tongue flicking around the tip, and he loses control for the first time. his hips jerk. his cock twitches.
“stop,” he growls, voice sharp now. “i’m gonna—fuck—stop.”
you don’t.
you moan around him, mouth full of his cock, and seconds later he’s groaning—deep, head tilted back, teeth clenched as thick, hot spurts spill down your throat.
“fuckfuckfuck, you little—”
his hand slips between your thighs again—swift, deliberate—and this time the slap lands hard. the sharp crack of skin-on-skin echoes through the room just before the sting blooms, deep and immediate, a flash of pain that arcs straight through your core.
your whole body jolts from the impact. the moan that tears from your throat warps into something raw—a cry, high and broken, half-pleasure and half-punishment.
and then—before you can even catch your breath—
his tongue is back.
he licks your clit once. sharp. stinging. a single flick that makes your spine seize.
then again. and again. and again.
not gentle. not loving.
punishing.
his hands clamp down on your hips, holding you in place like he’s bracing for a storm you’ll never escape. your legs are trembling, useless now. your breath comes in ragged bursts. his tongue doesn’t relent—it drags, flicks, circles, presses. over and over. cruel. relentless.
“ya don’t listen,” he growls, voice breathless, ragged at the edges but still dripping with venom. “ya never fuckin’ listen.”
you try to pull away—hips twitching, thighs jerking, stomach clenching so tight it aches—but his grip is iron. there’s no space to escape. no room to breathe. it’s too much—too sharp, too intense—tongue and pressure and heat building so fast it feels like you’re coming apart at the seams.
he licks your clit like he wants to break it. like his only mission is to unravel you completely, to force the sobs from your throat and keep you strung out on the edge until you're ruined.
and then it happens.
your orgasm hits like a car crash—sudden, violent, and messy.
your thighs lock around his head, a desperate reflex, and your whole body seizes above him. your mouth falls open in a strangled moan, no sound escaping at first—just the tremble of your lips, your back arching as your release crashes through you.
you soak his chin, your body thrashing, crying out, shaking—but he doesn’t stop.
he licks harder.
meaner.
his hands don’t loosen. they tighten. anchoring you down like he’s not done pulling orgasms out of you. like your tears don’t matter. like your cries only fuel him.
“not done,” he snarls, lips dragging across your swollen clit. “ya wanted to misbehave? then fuckin’ take it.”
your vision tunnels. your brain blanks. all that exists is the devastating pressure between your legs and the vicious pleasure riding your spine like a curse.
you’re crying now.
real tears, sliding hot down your cheeks.
you’re twitching—babbling through sobs, breathless moans, slurred whimpers of please and i can’t—but it doesn’t matter. not to him.
because he’s still licking.
still devouring you like your body is a lesson and he intends to teach it thoroughly.
“one more,” he rasps, voice low and final. “you don’t get to stop ‘til i fucking say.”
and god help you—
you cum again.
harder than before. helpless. your body convulsing, jaw slack, no air left in your lungs as you fall apart in his grip—again and again, until all that’s left is the sound of your sobs and the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth claiming every last drop you give him.
⟢ yixing
you barely make it thru the front door.
yixing drops his bag somewhere near the entryway, kicks off his shoes, and pulls you into him like his body’s been aching in your absence. like the three days apart were three months, not hours. like every cell in his body is wired toward yours and he’s finally—finally—allowed to touch again.
his kiss is soft at first—searching. his lips brush yours like he’s reminding himself how you feel, how you taste.
but it changes quickly.
turns hungry.
he presses you against the wall, his hands sliding up under your shirt, like he needs skin to breathe. he exhales through his nose, ragged, whispering against your mouth between kisses.
“missed you so much.”
and god, you can feel it.
in the way he lifts you effortlessly, carries you to the bedroom like it’s instinct. like his arms were made to hold you. you’re pulling at his clothes, he’s tugging yours off piece by piece, but not once does he stop touching—stroking, kissing, feeling.
when he lays you down, it’s gentle. like worship.
but the moment you settle on top of him, thighs on either side of his face, your lips wrapped around the head of his cock—
he’s gone.
yixing moans.
not loud, not showy. just this deep, aching sound from his chest that makes your heart stutter. his hands slide up your thighs slowly, reverently, before gripping your hips and pulling you down to meet his mouth.
and the second his tongue touches you—he’s lost in it.
he devours you. not rough, not rushed—but intense. like he hasn’t eaten in days and your body is the only thing that’ll fill him. like he needs to memorize you again. like he can’t believe he’s finally home.
his mouth is all tongue and lips and breathless praise between licks.
“fuck—missed how you taste…”
his hands hold you steady, but his mouth moves like it’s starving—lapping up your slick, tongue dragging through your folds, then circling your clit with slow, unbearable precision. he’s not teasing.
he’s cherishing.
beneath you, his cock twitches in your hand as you stroke him, the weight of it pulsing against your tongue when you take him back into your mouth. you moan softly, and he groans in return, lips still wrapped around your clit, like your pleasure feeds his.
he mouths at you like he’s making love with just his tongue. like he’s thanking you with every kiss.
you try to stay composed—but his tongue finds that perfect rhythm, his hands spreading you open, tilting your hips just so, and you feel your whole body start to unravel.
“yixing—oh my god—” you gasp, voice breaking.
he pulls back, just enough to breathe, his lips slick and swollen.
“cum for me, pretty,” he whispers, voice trembling. “please. i missed you—need to feel you fall apart.”
you do.
your orgasm hits like waves breaking all at once—hot, slow, overwhelming. your thighs tremble. your moan turns helpless. your body curls over his as you ride it out, clenching around nothing, soaking his mouth—and still, he doesn’t stop.
he licks you through every pulse, every twitch, every breathless cry.
and only when your body starts to go limp does he ease you off, rolling you onto your back, his hands stroking gently down your sides.
his hands stay on your hips, thumbs stroking the trembling curve of your waist. his lips kiss your inner thigh, then again, higher this time—closer to where he wants to be still.
and he’s still hard.
achingly hard.
his cock rests heavy against his stomach, flushed and leaking, untouched—but not forgotten. not for a second.
he helps you off him, lays you back like you’re glass he’s about to break again, and leans over you with his hand pressed to your chest—feeling the way your heart races.
“that was just to start,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, lips swollen. “ya think i waited three days just for one taste?”
you blink up at him, dazed, throat dry, body twitching from aftershocks.
“yixing—”
he grabs his cock and strokes it once—slow, teasing—and his jaw clenches.
he smiles, soft but feral, “you’re not leaving until i’m done with you.”
his cock nudges at your entrance now, slow, slick, throbbing. “and baby?” he rasps, kissing you like he means it. “i’m nowhere close to done.”
and really—who are you to object?
your body arches into him. your arms wrap around his back. your mouth parts in surrender as he pushes in—
slow.
deep.
possessive.
and he fucks you like he’s never letting go.
⟢ jongdae
it happens like most things do with jongdae—too easy.
you’re half-laughing, half-arguing over something stupid. legs tangled on his couch, bare skin brushing a little too often to pretend it’s nothing. and maybe it’s the way his eyes flick to your mouth when you smile. maybe it’s the way your hand lingers on his thigh without thinking.
either way—suddenly, you’re kissing.
it’s not rushed. not explosive.
it’s natural.
like the tension’s always been there, low-burning beneath your jokes and late-night hangouts, and now you’re both just giving in.
you’re on top of him before you realize it—his shirt off, yours somewhere on the floor, your lips swollen, his cock already hard against your stomach. he’s smirking, breathless, but his voice stays soft.
“ya sure?”
you nod, already reaching for him. and just like that—he shifts, laying back, and pulls you up gently.
“then c’mere.”
you settle over his face as your mouth wraps around the flushed head of his cock, and everything goes still for a second. his hands squeeze your thighs, eyes half-lidded as he exhales hard through his nose like he’s been waiting for this longer than he’ll ever admit.
then he starts to lick.
slow. focused. tongue dragging up through your folds like he wants to memorize you from the inside out.
you moan softly, lips parting around his cock—and he groans. low. real. the sound of someone who just got exactly what they wanted.
he doesn’t speak. not yet.
just licks again, firmer this time, mouth locking onto your clit with the kind of pressure that makes your hips twitch. you try to stay focused, stroking him, taking him deeper—but his mouth is too good.
he’s too good.
his grip tightens. his tongue gets messier. more open-mouthed, more intentional. he licks like he wants to pull the moan out of you before you can fight it.
and then he groans into your pussy—actually moans—and your thighs start to shake.
“you okay?” he breathes, voice raspy, mouth still wet and right beneath you.
you nod, but it’s shaky. your rhythm falters around his cock, “yeah, dae. just—fuck. keep goin’.”
he does.
he doesn’t tease. doesn’t talk.
just keeps licking you like it’s instinct. like he needs it. his nose brushes your clit, his tongue circles again, and your moan slips out thick and broken, vibrating against his cock—and that’s when his hips jerk.
you weren’t trying to be hot. you weren’t trying to ruin him.
but now he’s gasping. cock twitching against your tongue.
and then he speaks again—quieter this time, raw: “don’t stop.”
he’s close. you feel it in the way his cock twitches in your mouth. hear it in his trembling voice.
and the second you hollow your cheeks and suck him deeper, he loses it. one hand clenches around your thigh, the other grips the sheets, and his voice breaks as he spills into your mouth with a sharp gasp.
“fuck—shit—”
you swallow every drop, breath shaking, body still throbbing above him—and the moment he feels you start to slow, he gets right back to work.
tongue on your clit. hands gripping tighter.
“don’t think you’re done,” he mutters into your cunt, voice low and hoarse. “ya didn’t even cum yet.”
your whole body jerks.
“jongdae—”
he doesn’t stop.
you’re already close. already overstimulated from the way his mouth never lets up, and when he pulls you down harder against his face, tongue flicking faster—
you break.
your orgasm hits hard and sudden, your thighs clamping around his head as you grind down on instinct, mouth falling open as a moan tears out of you, wet and breathless and real.
he licks you thru it.
every wave. every twitch. every breathless tremble in your spine.
only when you go limp does he slow down, one hand rubbing up your back now, grounding you, soft again.
you collapse beside him, your face flushed, chest heaving.
he doesn’t say anything at first—just smiles, lazy and wrecked, reaching for you with fingers still damp.
“...well,” he murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear. “guess we’re those kinda best friends now.”
and somehow, the most dangerous part?
you don’t wanna go back.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ PHHHEEEEWWWW! 😵💫😵💫😵💫😵💫 it's been awhile since i've done an exo scenario :') hope y'all liked it!!!!!!
