⟢ : STICKY !? ★.ᐟ
exo x f!reader ; the exos n their fave ways to obliterate that coochie 🥰 ⟢ requested by this lovely anonie <3 ty babie!
content: 18+/mdni 3.5k+ words. established relationships. talking u thru it. bulge kink. rough. possessive. marking. overstimulation. explicit language. breeding kink. p in v. creampie. raw juseyooooo <3
⟢ jongin
standing backshots. jongin doesn’t just fuck—he devours. he takes his time, lets the anticipation build, makes you feel every second of his attention before he finally gives you what you’re begging for. and standing backshots? it’s his favorite because it’s raw, desperate, and so damn deep.
his hands are firm on your hips, pulling you back against him as his chest presses into your back, his breath hot against your neck. he likes keeping you right on the edge, teasing, dragging himself along your slick folds, letting you shiver before he finally pushes in.
“fuck, baby,” he groans, voice thick, rough. “so tight—how are you always this tight for me?”
his grip tightens the second you try to move, holding you in place, forcing you to take every inch at his pace. his fingers dig into your hip, guiding you back onto him, slow and deliberate, making sure you feel just how deep he is. and when he finally pulls almost all the way out? he gives you one warning—one low, husky “stay still.”
and then he slams forward, knocking the air from your lungs, your palms pressing into the nearest surface to keep yourself steady. he’s merciless. deep, measured thrusts, grinding into you between each snap of his hips, making sure you’re stretched around him, taking everything he gives you.
“you hear that?” his voice is almost teasing, breathless. “hear how fucking wet you are for me?”
and when your legs start shaking, threatening to give out, he’s already there. one arm wraps around your waist, holding you up, keeping you locked against him as he drives into you from behind, relentless. his lips are on your neck, kissing, biting, whispering filth against your skin as he loses himself in you.
“uh uh, baby. don’t you run from me.” his palm presses into your lower stomach, feeling the way he fills you, the way your body molds around him. “stay your ass right here. i’m not done with you yet.”
he’ll make sure you don’t forget it.
⟢ chanyeol
cowgirl. omg congratulations to you for bouncing on it!!!!!!!!!! chanyeol loves the way you look when you’re on top. all of you—spread out for him, trembling above him, completely at his mercy even when you’re the one in control. he wants to feel you, watch you, let you take him however you want, but if you think for even a second that he’ll just sit back and let you have your way? you’re dead wrong.
his hands are everywhere. gripping your waist, smoothing up your thighs, grabbing handfuls of your ass as he helps you move, his fingers digging into your skin as he watches you take him in, slow and teasing.
“fuck, baby.” his voice is low, wrecked, barely holding himself together. "you feel so fucking good—look at you, riding me so well."
he tries to let you set the pace, he really does, but the second you slow down, teasing, grinding instead of bouncing? his patience snaps.
his hands tighten on your hips, holding you still as he thrusts up into you, deep and sharp, knocking the breath right out of you.
“you think you can play with me?” his voice is a rasp, his head falling back against the pillows for a second before his dark, blown-out eyes find yours again. “nah, baby. you wanna tease me? you better be ready for this.”
he grabs you, pulling you flush against his chest, his arms caging you in as he plants his feet against the mattress and starts fucking up into you—hard. his grip is unrelenting, forcing you to take it, making sure you feel every thick, deep stroke.
“shit—you're gripping me so tight—fuck.”
he’s panting now, his lips brushing against your ear, his groans turning into deep, desperate moans as he loses himself in the way you feel around him. one hand slides up your back, threading through your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back as he leans in, lips hovering over yours.
“say my name, baby.” his voice is wrecked, pleading, demanding. “louder. let me hear you.”
and when you finally give him what he wants, his control snaps completely. he flips you over in one move, pinning you beneath him, his hands on either side of your head as he drives into you, raw and desperate, completely consumed by you.
“fuck, i need you—i need all of you—” his forehead presses against yours, his breath mixing with yours, his hips snapping faster, “you're mine, baby. you're fucking mine.”
and he’ll make sure you never forget it.
⟢ sehun
missionary (but make it intense). sehun might seem nonchalant on the outside, but don’t let that fool you. when he has you beneath him, pinned down, there’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. missionary with him isn’t just some slow, sweet affair—it’s raw, primal, and so deeply intimate that you can’t escape his gaze, even if you wanted to.
his hands are everywhere— fingers laced with yours, pinning your wrists above your head as he presses his body against yours, chest to chest, hips locked together. his thrusts are deep, measured, deliberate, each one hitting you right where you need him, each one dragging out a gasp, a moan, a whimper that only fuels him more.
his eyes stay locked on yours, dark and blown out, his breath mingling with yours as he leans in, his lips just barely brushing against yours with every thrust.
“you feel that?” his voice is a low growl, sending shivers down your spine as he grinds his hips against yours, making sure you feel every inch of him. “you’re mine—every fucking part of you.”
and he doesn’t just say it—he shows it. he shifts, angling his hips just right, making you arch up off the bed, your nails dragging down his back, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist.
his lips find your neck, teeth scraping gently before sucking a mark into your skin, claiming you in every possible way. his hands move from your wrists to your thighs, gripping, pulling you impossibly closer, deeper.
“look at me,” he demands, voice rough, almost pleading. “i want to see you. i want to see what i do to you.”
and when you meet his gaze, eyes wide and glassy, completely undone beneath him? he loses it.
his pace quickens, thrusts turning sharp, almost punishing, each one sending shockwaves through your body. but even then, he keeps his focus on you—watching every reaction, every moan, every tremble.
“fuck—just like that,” he breathes, his voice cracking, his control slipping. “let me feel you, baby. let me feel you come apart for me.”
and when you do—when your body arches into him, when you cry out his name, when you tighten around him so hard he sees stars— he doesn’t stop.
he keeps going, keeps moving, keeps fucking into you with everything he has, chasing his own release, needing to be as close to you as possible. his forehead presses against yours, his breath ragged, lips finding yours in a desperate, messy kiss as he finally lets go, spilling into you with a deep, shuddering groan.
even after, when you’re both panting, bodies tangled together, he refuses to pull away. his hands gently stroke your hair, his lips pepper soft kisses across your face, his voice a whispered promise.
“you’re mine,” he murmurs, a soft, possessive growl lingering in his words. “all mine.”
⟢ kyungsoo
doggy style. kyungsoo is a perfectionist, and that extends to the way he ruins you in bed. he likes control, likes watching your body react to every precise thrust, likes knowing that he’s the one making you lose yourself. doggy style is his ideal position—he gets to set the pace, decide just how deep he’s going to bury himself inside you, how hard he’s going to snap his hips until you’re trembling.
it starts slow, deliberate—his hands gripping your hips, spreading you open, taking his time to savor the sight of you arching for him. his voice is low, rough as he murmurs, “stay just like that.” and then the moment he decides you’re ready? his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he slams forward, knocking the breath right out of your lungs.
he’s ruthless with it—grinding in deep, pulling almost all the way out just to thrust back in and make you whimper for more. one hand presses into the small of your back, keeping you arched perfectly for him, the other wrapping around your throat as he leans over you, voice like a growl against your ear.
“look at you.” his tone is controlled, but there’s a dark edge to it. “taking me so well. you like this, don’t you?”
and the second he hears you gasp yes—or, even better, if you’re too wrecked to speak? he chuckles, slow and dangerous, pulling out just to leave you desperate, whining, arching back for him. his palm lands hard against your ass, the sting making you jolt before he drives back in, harder this time, setting an unforgiving rhythm that has your fingers clawing at the sheets.
but kyungsoo doesn’t just fuck you—he watches you fall apart. his grip tightens when you start shaking, when your legs threaten to give out, when your moans dissolve into nothing but broken gasps. and when you do collapse forward, body trembling, he’s right there behind you, pulling you back against his chest, his hand wrapping around your jaw to turn your face to him.
“we’re not done yet.” his lips brush your cheek, deceptively soft. “you wanted more, didn’t you? keep up, baby.”
he’ll make sure you do. again and again.
⟢ junmyeon
desk/tabletop. junmyeon has an air of sophistication, but behind closed doors? he’s anything but refined. he loves bending you over the nearest surface—his office desk, the kitchen counter, even the damn piano if he’s feeling particularly indulgent. his fingers press into your back, keeping you arched just the way he likes.
"you’re gonna take all of me, right?"
his tone is teasing, calculated—but there’s an edge of warning beneath it. because junmyeon isn’t asking. he’s telling.
his fingers curl around your hip, pulling you back onto him, slow, deep, stretching you open until your breath stutters. he watches your body react to him, watches you arch further, your back curving under his touch like you’re made for him.
and that’s when he loses the last of his patience.
his grip tightens, his control slipping as he thrusts in hard, knocking the air out of your lungs. the desk shakes beneath you, papers sliding to the floor, but he doesn’t care. he’s completely focused on you, on the way you gasp his name, on the way your body clenches around him.
“fuck, baby—” his voice falters just for a second before he catches himself, regaining that controlled, commanding tone. “so tight—taking me so fucking well.”
he leans over you, his hand pressing firm against the small of your back, keeping you exactly where he wants you. his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his breath warm, teasing as he whispers,
“don’t even think about running from this.”
he picks up his pace then, driving into you harder, sharper, until your nails scrape at the wood beneath you. he’s relentless, precise, the way only junmyeon can be—like he’s planned this down to the very last detail, like he already knows exactly how to ruin you.
and when he feels you start to break beneath him, when your moans dissolve into soft, breathless whimpers? he slows, dragging it out, making you feel every thick, deep stroke.
his teasing smirk is the last thing you register before he snaps his hips forward one last time, groaning against your skin as he finally, finally gives in.
and even after, when he’s still catching his breath, his body pressed against yours, his hands stay exactly where they are. because junmyeon may be composed in public, but behind closed doors? he’s anything but refined.
⟢ baekhyun
meeeeaaaann mating press. baekhyun is controlled, precise, and unbelievably strong—and he loves using that strength to keep you exactly where he wants you. the moment he presses you down beneath him, folding your legs up against your chest, pinning you beneath his weight, you already know you aren’t going anywhere.
his grip is firm, unyielding, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs as he pushes you open wider, making sure there’s nowhere to hide, no way to escape the way he stretches you out. his breathing is slow, measured, his dark eyes locked onto yours as he lines himself up, the head of his cock dragging along your slick folds, teasing you, making you wait.
"ready for me, baby?" he murmurs, his voice rough, dripping with quiet dominance. he watches your lips part, watches the way your body trembles in anticipation—and then he pushes in, slow and deliberate, filling you inch by inch until he’s seated deep inside.
and he doesn’t move.
he stays there, his chest flush against yours, his forehead nearly touching yours, his breath mixing with yours as he lets you feel it— the stretch, the pressure, the way he’s buried so deep inside you it leaves you breathless.
"fuck—look at you," he groans, his voice low and wrecked as he pulls out just an inch before snapping his hips forward, making you gasp.
and then he starts moving.
his thrusts are slow at first, devastatingly deep, grinding against you in slow, measured rolls of his hips, making sure you feel every inch. his grip on your thighs tightens, holding you wide open, making sure you take all of him, making sure you don’t run.
but then your nails rake down his back. your moans turn higher, sharper, needier. your body clenches around him so perfectly, so tight—and whatever restraint he had? gone.
he snaps his hips into you, sharp and relentless, his pace turning brutal, his thrusts hard enough to make the bed frame creak beneath you.
his hand slides down your stomach, pressing firmly, feeling the way he moves inside you, feeling how deep he is.
"ya feel that, baby?" his voice is thick, breathless. "feel how deep i am? you’re taking me so fucking well."
his other hand wraps around your throat, not squeezing, just tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze, forcing you to stay in this moment with him.
"don’t look away." his thumb brushes against your jaw, his lips ghosting over yours, his breath ragged as he fucks into you harder. "i wanna see your pretty face when you cum all on my cock."
and when you finally break—when your body tenses, when your back arches, when you sob his name and tighten around him so hard it nearly makes him lose his mind?
he groans, his pace stuttering, his own release hitting just as hard as yours. his grip on you tightens, his body pressing flush against yours as he buries himself deep one last time, letting go completely.
but he doesn’t let you go.
his arms stay wrapped around you, his hands soothing over your thighs, his lips pressing soft, lazy kisses to your shoulder.
"holy fuck, sweetheart," he sighs, his voice still rough, still breathless. "so fucking perfect for me."
and when you’re too wrecked to even move, to even speak?
he just smirks, shifting his hips just slightly, still buried inside you, still keeping you folded beneath him.
"mm, let’s go again," he murmurs, "i’m not done with you yet."
⟢ minseok
reverse cowgirl. minseok is all about control, but he also loves watching you lose yourself on top of him. he leans back, arms resting behind his head, looking effortlessly relaxed—but his eyes? sharp, dark, completely locked onto the way your body moves. he lets you set the pace at first, biting his lip as he watches you roll your hips, taking him in so beautifully, your back arching as you sink down on him again and again.
but what really drives him insane? the way your ass bounces with every move.
his jaw tightens, his fingers twitch against the sheets, his restraint hanging by a thread as he watches the way you take him—so fucking deep, so perfect. he lets out a low, appreciative groan, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.
“shit, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with arousal. “look at you—fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”
he watches, transfixed, letting you ride him at your own pace—until he decides he wants more.
the second he sees your thighs tremble, your rhythm faltering just slightly, his hands are on you. strong, firm, unrelenting.
his fingers dig into your waist, holding you still before slamming his hips up, driving himself deeper into you with a force that makes you cry out.
"getting tired, baby?" his voice is teasing, smooth, dripping with amusement as he watches you struggle to keep up. he pulls you back against his chest in one swift motion, his arms caging you in as he takes full control.
his hands slide lower, gripping your ass, spreading you open just to watch the way you swallow him up with every thrust.
"fuck—look at that," he groans, his voice dark with obsession. "you see how good you take me? how perfect you are bouncing on my cock?"
his fingers dig in tighter as he guides you up and down, slow, deep, precise, making sure you feel every inch. and when he hears that soft, wrecked whimper—when your body starts to tremble again, threatening to collapse—he just chuckles, breath warm against your skin.
“don’t worry,” he murmurs against your ear, his lips grazing your jaw as his grip tightens. “i’ll take care of ya.”
and then he does—grinding up into you, rolling his hips deep, making sure you feel every fucking inch of him. his fingers trail down your stomach, teasing where you’re already so sensitive, circling, stroking, pushing you closer to the edge.
"that's it," his voice turns husky, his breath ragged against your ear. "i want to feel ya come apart just like this. show me how good you can be for me."
and when you finally do—when your body locks up, your moans breaking into desperate sobs, your nails clawing at his arms— he just smirks, tilting your chin back for a deep, possessive kiss as he fucks you through it.
because with minseok? he doesn’t just let you ride him—he makes sure you fall apart on top of him.
⟢ yixing
with yixing, spooning isn’t just a position—it’s an experience. everything he does is slow, deliberate, and devastatingly deep. he loves the closeness of it—your body flush against his, your legs tangled together, your back pressed to his chest as he moves inside you, stretching you open with every slow, intoxicating stroke.
his lips never leave your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your shoulder, his tongue flicking out to taste, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. he murmurs soft praises between breathy groans, his voice low, heavy with pure, unfiltered want.
“you feel so good, baby,” he sighs, his arm tightening around your waist, pulling you even closer, like he’s trying to mold you against him.
his free hand is restless, exploring—fingertips ghosting over your stomach, teasing the softness of your skin, dipping between your thighs with an unbearable slowness. he’s not just touching you; he’s memorizing you, learning what makes you gasp, what makes your body tense, what makes you fall apart.
his voice is gentle but firm, rasping against your ear, “let me take my time with you, baby. i wanna feel all of you.”
and god, he does.
the way he rolls his hips is devastating—unhurried, deep, so precise it feels like he’s unraveling you with every slow thrust. he doesn’t just chase his own pleasure; he savors every little reaction from you, waiting, listening, learning.
he tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your temple, and then… he adjusts just slightly, just enough to hit that perfect spot inside you, the angle making your breath stutter, your fingers digging into his arm. he notices immediately.
his grip tightens, his hand sliding down your thigh to hitch your leg higher over his, holding you there as he grinds into you, deeper, more deliberate, drawing out every shudder, every desperate moan.
“yeah, that’s it,” he breathes against your ear, his lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. “let go for me, baby. let me feel you.”
and the moment he feels your body start to tremble, your breath hitching, he doesn’t stop.
he pushes you through it, dragging you over the edge with slow, relentless precision, whispering something possessive, something sweet, his voice dripping with adoration as he holds you tighter, deeper, refusing to let you go until you’re completely undone in his arms.
even after, when your body is boneless, trembling against him, he doesn’t pull away. his lips graze over your shoulder, pressing soft, lingering kisses, his fingers drawing lazy patterns over your stomach.
“i could stay like this forever,” he murmurs, voice warm, his arms locking around you, holding you close.
and he means it.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ PHEEEWWWWW!
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