rorie / lin
she/her, 18
mostly recs
@/yuzuksi on tiktok!
@/yeohtslook on everskies!
about me !
i stan bonedo, zb1, aespa and illit so feel free to hmu about them if you ever wanna talk
my biases are taesan, hanbin, winter and minju
i honestly would not judge you for anything so this is a safe place (not for ot6 briize though)(ew)
my music taste other than kpop is mostly rock, hiphop and indie!
im very interested in movies and its culture
Helloo!! Hope you're doing well! I just saw your post asking for requests on what to write and couldn't help but to take the opportunity😭
What do you think about doing the rest of the legal line on the accidentally ejaculating in your face prompt?? (If not everyone, especially gunwook, ricky and hanbin 😳)
Btw, this is my first time ever doing an ask, love your work!!
ahhh this is super late bc i forgot i had this written but here it is! im glad you enjoy my work btw omg ><
more legal line reaction to accidentally ejaculating on your face (part 2) ; part 1
* ˚ ✦ minors dni : contains smut
hanbin ⍣ ೋ
would be very apologetic. is watching you the whole time with a frustrated expression. probably takes a long time to cum so he likes to watch you to get himself more aroused. once he’s close he’ll curse and buck his hips up into your mouth. he would 100% cover his face as he cums like hand fully over his entire face lol. self indulgent moment here but his moans would be so pretty omfg. when you start choking on his cum he’ll calm down and ask if you’re ok. is genuinely worried bc sometimes he gets really lost and doesn’t know his own limits. speaks so softly?? it’s such a contrast to how rough he can be sometimes.
"o-oh shit- are you ok? lets clean you up hm?" with the sweetest smile on his face omg
ricky ⍣ ೋ
thinks it’s so fucking hot. says things like “im gonna cum” but mumbles it so really it’s on you if you don’t move away. at first it’s a genuine mistake like he doesn’t really mean to come all over your pretty face but oh my god your expression and his translucent white load dripping down your face- it gets him so high. from that moment on, he would literally pump his cum onto your face, not in a degrading way it’s more like “im painting your face” way. calls you pretty and tells you nice praises. “you like having me use you like a canvas ☺️” “my favorite work of art” bites his lip and tries not to smirk bc he knows you’ll get annoyed at him.
you just accidentally unlocked a kink for him honestly.
gunwook ⍣ ೋ
stop he would feel so bad. most likely acts like a mix of matthew and gyuvin. you would be so keen on pleasuring him and he would be so caught up in reaching his high that he doesn’t realize when he cums all over your face. his mouth is all hung open and once he takes a peek of you he’s like “omg omg”. he gets SO RED and embarrassed. literally tries to wipe it away and asks if you’re ok. “sorry i- idk omg”. the moment he wipes it off your lips he gets so silent and his intrusive thought is like “put ur finger in their mouth 😈“ if he does, he would do it so slowly and sensually but like with a curious aura surrounding his actions. would def get turned on again.
he’s definitely shy but once he knows what he likes, you have to be able to keep up with him.
pairing: bff!hanbin x fem!reader || wc: 1.9k || cw: smut! mentions of alcohol, both are tipsy (not drunk, everything is consensual), they flirt so much, kissing, making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f rec.), clit play, p in v, protected sex, marking, light biting and hair pulling, use of petnames, dirty talk, praise, a tiny bit of teasing, strong language || warnings: +18 content, mdni!!! || a/n: this man’s tattoos are the hottest thing ever
the room is warm. you’re sprawled across hanbin’s couch like you own it, legs thrown over the armrest, head lolling against a cushion that smells exactly like him — clean laundry, faint cedar cologne, and something warmer that’s just his. the peach soju bottle on the coffee table is nearly empty, a thin ring of liquid glowing amber under the lamp. your cheeks are flushed, your limbs loose, everything soft and hazy around the edges.
hanbin’s on the floor, back pressed to the couch, one knee drawn up. he’s in that black tank top that should be illegal in this heat, sleeves cut just enough to show the full spread of ink on his arms. the overhead light keeps sliding across the lines like it’s showing off for you. you’ve seen those tattoos a thousand times — traced them with lazy fingers during movie nights, fallen asleep with your cheek against the sun-star-moon on his collarbone — but tonight the alcohol has stripped away every polite pretense. you can’t stop staring.
“you’re doing it again,” he says, not even looking up from his phone.
“doing what?”
“staring at my arms like you want to sink your teeth in.”
you snort, nudge his shoulder with your bare foot. “maybe i do.”
he finally tips his head back, upside-down smile lazy and dangerous. “you’re so fucking obvious when you’re tipsy.”
“shut up.” you flick his forehead. “i’m appreciating art.”
he laughs low, sets his phone aside, and turns to face you properly. the movement makes the tank ride up, just enough to flash the sharp v of his hipbone disappearing into low-slung shorts. you swallow. hard.
“which one is your favorite tonight?” he asks, voice dipped in honey and teasing. he flexes his right arm slow, deliberate, letting the thin script curl around the muscle. 'don’t regret what you do'. the ink looks alive when he moves.
you push yourself up on your elbows, knees knocking together. “that one,” you say, pointing. “always that one.”
“yeah?” he lifts the arm higher, turns it so the light licks every letter. “tell me why.”
“because it’s hot,” you say, too honest, the soju burning away your filter. “and because it’s you. you really don’t regret anything. not even the stupid shit. not even—” you wave a hand between you, “this, probably.”
his eyes go half-lidded. something shifts in the air, heavy and electric.
“and the other one?” his voice is quieter now. "do you like it?"
your gaze drifts to the delicate line of sun, star, moon just under his collarbone. you’ve kissed that spot before. once. more than a year ago. cheap vodka. a dare you both pretended was funny afterward. you remember the way he’d gone perfectly still, breath caught, like the world had narrowed to your mouth on his skin.
“yeah, that one’s pretty,” you whisper. “makes me think of you when i can’t sleep. like you’re all three at once. bright and far and quiet.”
the teasing melts off his face. he looks at you like you just handed him something fragile and priceless.
“come here,” he says.
you slide off the couch without hesitation, knees hitting the carpet between his. you’re close enough now to taste the peach on his breath, to see the faint sheen of sweat at his temple. your hands find his shoulders like they’ve always belonged there.
“you’re really drunk,” he murmurs, but his thumbs are already slipping under the hem of your shirt, tracing the skin just above your waistband.
“tipsy,” you correct, leaning in until your forehead almost touches his. “big difference.”
“is there?”
you nod. “tipsy means i still know exactly what i want.”
his hands settle fully on your waist now, warm and sure. “and what do you want, baby?”
you don’t answer with words. you close the last inch and press your lips to the sun on his collarbone — soft, then open-mouthed when he exhales like you punched him. you drag your mouth to the star, then the moon, tasting salt and summer and him. his grip tightens, fingers digging in like he’s scared you’ll vanish.
“fuck,” he breathes. “you’re gonna kill me.”
you smile against his skin, teeth grazing the curve where neck meets shoulder. “good.”
that’s all it takes.
he surges up, hands sliding to your thighs to yank you into his lap. you go willingly, knees bracketing his hips, and the second you settle you both groan — he’s hard, thick against you, only two thin layers of cotton between you. you roll your hips once, slow, just to hear him curse.
“you’ve been thinking about this,” he says, voice wrecked. “please, tell me you have.”
“every time you wear one of those stupid tank tops,” you admit, tugging at the hem. “take it off?”
he yanks it over his head in one motion and then he’s bare-chested and the tattoos are right there. you can’t help it — you lean down and lick a long stripe up his bicep, right over the words you love. the muscle jumps under your tongue.
he shudders hard. “you don't know what you're doing to me.”
“don’t regret what you do,” you whisper against the ink, then bite down gently.
that breaks him completely.
he flips you so fast the room spins — your back hits the couch cushions, cushions that still smell like him, and then he’s on you, mouth crashing into yours. it’s not soft. it’s years of "almosts" and "maybes" and what if poured into teeth and tongue and desperate hands. you arch up, nails raking down his back, and he growls into your mouth.
“bedroom,” he mutters, but neither of you move. too far. instead he shoves your shirt up, mouth closing over your breast through the thin lace of your bra. you whine, high and needy, fingers twisting in his hair.
“hanbin—”
“i know, baby,” he says, voice shredded. “fuck, i know.”
clothes come off in frantic pieces — your shirt caught on your elbow, his shorts kicked somewhere towards the kitchen, your panties snagging on his wrist when he tugs too hard. you end up naked beneath him, legs spread wide, and he just stops. looks. eyes black.
“you’re so fucking pretty,” he says, like it hurts. then he drops between your thighs without another word.
his mouth is hot, wet, perfect. he licks into you like he’s starving, tongue curling just right, two fingers sliding in alongside and crooking immediately. you cry out, hips bucking, but he pins you down with one hand splayed over your stomach.
“stay still, baby,” he murmurs against your clit, and the vibration makes you sob.
you come the first time embarrassingly fast, thighs clamped around his head, his name cracked in half in your throat. he doesn’t stop — keeps licking softly through it until you’re twitching and begging. only then does he crawl back up, kissing you slow and filthy so you taste yourself on his tongue.
“condom,” you manage, reaching blindly toward the coffee table.
he laughs, breathless, nearly knocks over the wine bottle fumbling for his wallet. you watch him roll it on with shaking hands, and the sight of him — head tipped back, throat working, cock flushed and heavy — makes you throb all over again.
“look at you,” you whisper.
he glances down, smirks crooked. “like what you see?”
“shut up and fuck me.”
and that's what he does.
he pushes in slow, eyes locked on yours, watching every inch disappear. you’re tight, wet, still trembling from your orgasm, and he groans like it hurts. when he bottoms out you both stay still for a second, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air.
“move, please, binnie,” you beg, legs wrapping around his waist.
he moves.
hard. deep. the couch creaks beneath you, springs protesting. his hand braces beside your head so he can watch your face fall apart. you reach up, trembling fingers tracing the bicep tattoo again.
“say it,” he pants.
“don’t regret—” your voice cracks as he hits that spot inside you, “what you do—”
he snarls and fucks you harder, like the words are gasoline. the angle’s perfect, every thrust dragging over your g-spot until your eyes roll back. you come again clenching around him, sobbing his name into his shoulder, nails leaving half-moon marks on his back.
he follows seconds later, hips stuttering, burying himself deep and spilling with your name on his tongue. you feel him pulse inside you, moaning your name.
after, you stay tangled, sweaty and sticky and perfect. he’s half-hard still, and neither of you move to separate. his face is pressed into your neck, lips brushing your skin.
“so,” he says eventually, hoarse, “still just tipsy?”
you laugh, shaky and wrecked, and bite the moon on his collarbone just because you can.
“shut up, hanbin.”
he hums, content, and rolls his hips lazily. the drag makes you both gasp.
“round two in my bed?” he asks against your skin. “bigger surface area. more room to make you scream.”
you clench around him involuntarily and he groans.
“yes,” you breathe. “god, yes.”
he pulls out slow, ties off the condom, and then scoops you up like you weigh nothing. your legs wrap around his waist automatically, arms around his neck. he carries you down the hallway, mouth on yours the whole way, bumping into walls because neither of you can stop kissing.
his bedroom is darker, just the city glow through half-open blinds striping the bed in silver. he drops you onto the sheets and follows immediately, crawling over you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
this time is slower.
he kisses every inch of you — collarbone, breasts, the soft skin under them, down your stomach, the crease where thigh meets hip. he spends forever between your legs again, licking you open until you’re writhing and begging, until you come on his tongue a third time with his fingers buried inside you and his name a prayer.
when he finally slides back in — after putting another condom this time — he groans like he’s coming home.
“fuck, you feel even better in this angle,” he whispers, hips rolling slow and deep. “i’m never letting you leave this bed.”
you laugh breathlessly, arching up to meet him. “we’ll die of dehydration.”
“worth it.”
he fucks you like that for what feels like hours — slow, then fast, then slow again, drawing it out until you’re both trembling. you lose track of how many times you come. at some point he flips you over, pulls your hips up, and takes you from behind, one hand fisted in your hair, the other rubbing tight circles on your clit until you’re screaming into the pillow.
when he finally comes again, it’s with his chest pressed to your back, your name muffled against your shoulder, arms wrapped around you so tight you can barely breathe.
you collapse together, his weight a perfect blanket. he doesn’t pull out. just stays inside you, softening slowly, lips brushing lazy kisses over every tattoo you praised earlier.
“still no regrets?” you mumble into the pillow, voice shot.
he laughs, low and wrecked, and bites the shell of your ear.
“never,” he says. “told you the ink doesn’t lie.”
outside, the summer night keeps humming, warm and sticky and endless. inside, you fall asleep tangled with him, hearts racing in tandem, skin marked by his mouth and his hands and the quiet promise that tomorrow you’ll do it all again.
putting a collar on kitty-hybrid sungho after he accidentally wandered off inside the grocery store... making sure he hears the bell on his collar jingle while your strap/cock slides in and out of him ruthlessly... so that he knows that no matter where he goes, you'll know <<33
cory speak ! : this is literally sungho i took clips from his live and meshed them together so i hope that's good for the picky mfs ... also omg posting this while drinking the strawberry gatorade that my gf doordashed me bc i had food poisoning yesterday.... isn't that so sweet?? like it genuinely made me so emotionally you guys don't get it gift giving is my love language... GIVING AND RECEIVING !!
kissing you softly while he rolls the head of his cock back and forth over your clit, half-distracted by your lips but deliberately taking his time until you’re grumbling for him to put it in….
Hi, this is random but could you please do a smut audio of Anton or Wonbin please?
😭I’ve never posted smut audios before bc I’m bad at finding ones that are actually similar to the artists voices, so bear with me plz!!
MINORS GO AWAY!! anton.lee x older listener, please use headphones 🎧𐔌՞. .՞𐦯enjoy!!
translation: “haa…haa…how’s that?” “Mmph…haa good…does it hurt? …can I go harder?” “Hmmm…ha…haa…nuna…it’s too…hmph…” “agh…I feel like I’m gonna cum…haa…” “nuna…i feel like im gonna cum…haaa…can i?”
the other night i was giving bf a handjob and he stopped me, put my hand over his, and started stroking himself telling me “i want you to feel how i do it when i think about you” && haven’t stopped replaying that memory ever since
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:
When your group dressed up for a Halloween live for your comeback, Hao wouldn't stop talking about good you looked. So when you surprised him with the same outfit, he couldn't stop himself from being so vocal.
【18+】 ₊˚⊹ᰔ teaching your friend james how to kiss, making out, dry humping, cumming in clothes
you’re both sitting close, knees touching. james looks nervous, keeps glancing at your lips like he’s not sure what to do with himself. but you’re also very nervous too. “you just…follow me.” u say softly, thumb brushing his jaw. he swallows, nods and slowly leans in. his first kiss is hesitant but sweet. u smile against his mouth and kiss him again, showing and guiding him.
his hands are shaky at first, resting on ur waist because he’s afraid to cross a line. u murmur encouragement, press closer and slightly deepen the kiss. that’s when something shifts. his grip tightens without him even realizing it, breath hitching when he feels how close u are. “mm, like this…” u whisper, kissing him again slower. you’re stating to get needy. and suddenly he’s not so unsure anymore.
his kisses get hungrier, more confident. something finally clicks for him. he pulls u closer without even thinking about it, hands guiding u until you’re straddling his lap, and u gasp softly into the kiss. his tongue moves against urs, clumsy but eager, soft sounds slipping from both of you. ur fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just a little, and he lets out the smallest whine.
his hands slide down ur back, ur hips, then ur ass, grounding u on his lap. u can't help but rock against him slowly, testing it, and he freezes for half a second before breathing out hard. “oh—fuck.” he says when he finally realizes what you’re doing. then he’s kissing u again. he doesn’t want to think too hard about it. his hands find ur hips, helping u move on his dick, his own body lifting to meet u, and a soft moan slips out of u. your fingers clutch his shirt. “ngh, j-james…”
the way u move together makes your head spin, the friction slow and overwhelming, and he groans like he’s trying not to lose control. “please…keep going.” he almost whimpers. u do, moving with more confidence now, pushing and grinding ur pussy harder on him and the sounds he makes only encourage u more.
his hand rests on ur throat, kissing you messily while his other hand squeezes ur ass, ur pussy fluttering. “m' gonna—!” — “shit, me too.” he nods, pressing a kiss to ur neck. u both cum at the same time, wetting ur clothes, but ur bodies still chasing friction as you pant in each others mouths. “holy shit.”
Request: Giving Eunseok head (tumblr is annoying and does NOT save asks as drafts ugh)
My brain chemistry altered thinking about this because I feel like just how versatile Eunseok is in general, he could be so versatile in bed down to how he enjoys oral. I think for the most part he'd enjoy seeing you lose yourself in attempts to pleasure him. Rather than taking it, he loves the work you put in to make him feel good, no matter how messy or tiring it may be, just the fact that you debase yourself in such a way gets him off so bad.
♡ Eunseok/Sohee reqs open (Sungchan+Taro temporarily with same rules) ♡
The chill sweeps the apartment corridor, but you can't feel it at all. In fact, you're burning. Sinking back against the wall, breath being stolen by Eunseok's incessant lips feeding your desire until it's the only thing coursing through your veins.
You feel insatiable; every second dragged, your skin physically itching to be back home just to feel Eunseok's body melting against yours. And finally you have him, fingers roughly carding through his hair, his hands encircling your waist and holding you tighter and tighter the deeper he kisses you.
A groan leaves you when his teeth bites down and stretches back your bottom lip. Panting, you're both locked in intense lust-filled eye contact, the need bridging between you both in waves.
With a whimper you desperately drag him back in, not wanting to be parted a second longer than necessary. Tongues meet, desperate for a connection closer than your crushing embrace of one another. Your mouths grow slick in their dance, moaning with each brush and tangle, hair tugged on, drool slipping down chins, bodies magnetising as if separation was forbidden.
But when Eunseok's lips start a heated path down your cheek, against your neck, you know where he's going. You grab his face, lifting him away from your skin— a feat in itself— gazing at him hazy lust-filled eyes, lips wet and parted when you desperately moan out “want you in my mouth baby,” and because you're so desperate, your voice cracks when you whine out a pathetic “please.”
His own gaze barely wavers; even with flushed cheeks and spit-glazed lips, he is the perfect picture of calm.
Blinking steadily, his voice comes out so smooth it's as if it's physically licking at your insides. “You want me in your mouth, pretty baby?”
You nod eagerly, tightly grasping his collar to empathise how you very much need to feel him fill your mouth right now.
He smiles, not soft, not cruel, but amused. “I don't think you can take it, sweetheart. Don't think my baby's quite ready for that yet, hm.” He coos, cupping your soft cheeks to drive his point home that you're simply too sweet, too gentle, too baby to do an act so crude.
You seem to prove his point when you pout, whine petulant and lean into him, shaking your head adamantly between his palms. “I can, I can take it seok— baby please let me, pleasepleaseplease.”
He sighs out. A long tired exhale; feigning annoyance at your neediness. “So desperate for it, huh?” His brown cocks, tongue poking into his cheek with a disbelieving scoff. “Where's my sweet baby gone, hm?”
You know you're somewhat acting out, that you would look humiliatingly ridiculous to anyone else. Except, Eunseok isn't anyone else. And you have no shame when you whine yet again “I'm still hereee.” Your hands slide to his nape and you draw him in closer, warm breath fanning his lips as you brush against them purposefully. “Cmon baby, please— wanna make you feel good.”
His lips curl and the warmth of his eyes ooze with heat and tease. Softly, lazy, careful as if you wouldn't understand otherwise, he brushes against your mouth and repeats back to you in a whisper “wanna make me feel good, hm? Want to feel me fill your throat, beautiful?” you nod immediately, responding with small throaty noises that further amuse Eunseok. He gently tips your head back by your chin, thumb reaching to rub across the fat of your bottom lip, making you shiver. “Why don't you practice first?”
He doesn't give you a chance to respond when he smoothly guides his thumb into your mouth, sliding along your tongue and applies the slightest pressure pressing down. Immediately your eyes flutter and you close your lips around him like you've been waiting for this moment your entire life.
Your eyes are startled open when he laughs; the sound comes from deep in his belly, rumbling up his chest, the apples of his cheeks balling and making him look so cute, you wouldn't think his thumb was rubbing over your tongue.
“God. You really did need this, huh? Look at my baby, looking all sweet and dumb just from my thumb?” he coos, sending your eyes rolling and your lips sucking around his thumb like he flicked a switch inside you rewiring your brain to something so primal you're not even sure how you functioned otherwise.
He watches your eagerness; the way you hold his hand with both of yours, the way you twist your head and drag your own mouth up and down, pretty lips closed around his thumb, ecstasy spilling from your face as if you're being pleasured.
Your eyes are bright, focus solely on those eyes watching you mouth at him, driven by your need to prove you can take him— that you need to have him in your mouth one way or another.
“Slow down, baby.” he lilts, fingers suddenly brushing through your hair and gripping in a way that contradicts his smile, saccharine sweet. You gasp feeling the sharp tug preventing you from moving any further, and when his thumb slowly drags out your mouth to press into your bottom lip, you're already panting at the loss, begging with your eyes. “So greedy.” He tuts, replacing his thumb with the tips of his fingers. They play at the seam of your mouth, rubbing against the inside of your lip before lazily pushing through until they reach the back of your throat. Instantly, you jerk, fingers triggering you to instinctively grab his hand to pull it away, but his grip tightens in your hair keeping you in place and his eyes focus on your lips stretching to accommodate him, ignoring the way you jolt. “If you can't take this, how do you expect to take my dick down that pretty throat, hm?” He pouts, eyes deceptively big and puppy-like.
You completely fall for it, loosening your hold on his hand and spreading your mouth so he could push that much farther until his knuckles are cushioned against your lips. With his fingers still brushing the back of your throat, drool building and slipping through the seams, he leans forward to press his lips to your forehead and hotly whispers “that's my good girl.”
Your determination builds, cheeks pulling in to suck around him when he starts to feed his fingers in and out in the smallest motion, nudging against your soft spot that has you gagging each time, over and over until he can see the tears start to well in your eyes. “So pretty.” He breathes out, suddenly shoving his fingers as deep as they can go, even going as far as to wiggle them as he eases them down the entrance of your throat. He pushes down, on the other hand releasing your hair to press down on your shoulders guiding your back down the wall until you're on your knees for him.
Panic naturally wells inside you at the lack of air, hands latching onto his forearms and clawing as your back arches and bows, trying to slip his fingers away enough to take in a breath. Meanwhile, Eunseok remains calm, releasing your hair and driving his fingers into your mouth so deep his thumb and pinky press into your cheeks and you're forced against the wall, pinned there. He uses his free hand to pull to undo his pants, the sound of the zipper the only thing louder that your gargled moans and hands slapping against his thighs when your head grows fuzzy.
His dick springs free, thick and curved, tip weeping, but you can barely take it in through your blurry eyes. Eunseok sharply pulls his fingers back, taking a load of your drool with him and the moment your mouth is free from the intrusion you're unattractively coughing, fighting to take in a proper breath.
Eunseok crouches down to your height, gripping himself, stroking your drool up and down his length. He leans his forehead against yours, reaching for your hands and thumbing across your knuckles. “Breathe for me baby.” His voice penetrates like the sweetest sedative, easing you back until you're grounded, slowly breathing to the rhythm of his thumb. “Thats it, sweetheart.”
He kisses your forehead, then your nose and then comes eye to eye with you. “It was too much, hm?” sinking into his voice, his care, your heart swells, and as you mull over his question, you hear the slick sound of his fist dragging up and down his aching length. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the lazy way he strokes himself and your mouth waters as if you don't already have trails of drool down your chin.
You shake your head, eyes hyperfocused on how pretty his length looks disappearing through his palm, the beads of precum squeezing out his tip calling for you to lick up.
He tips your head up, chin resting on his finger, a lazy smile on his face as he reads you so easily. “Aw, you still so sure you can take it, baby?” You so badly want to watch his hand, but you're caught in his teasing gaze.
Biting your lip, you nod.
“Words, sweetheart.”
“I can take it, Seok.” You whisper back, voice level, full of conviction that turns him on even more.
He leans down, pressing his mouth to yours, practically breathing you in. “That's my good girl.”
His lips are once again replaced with his fingers and you take them readily. They move slowly, feeding in and out of your mouth in time to the lazy way he palms himself; steadily, your mouth grows slicker than before, drool pooling at the edges of your lips. You moan through it, keeping your eyes locked on Eunseok's, his mouth starting to gape as becoming transfixed on your eyes practically melting into him, bearing all your need for him in the exact way he needs you.
His fingers slip from your mouth when he stands up, once again using your drool to slick himself up.
“I'm all yours, baby.” He stands at his full height, so, so hard for you, bringing waves of arousal to stir low in your gut from the sight alone.
Unable to hold back any longer, you lean forward on your knees, taking hold of his base and bowing your head to trace the curve with your tongue, bumping along the ridges and veins until you reach his tip and finally slide your tongue through his creamy slit.
Your warm hands wrap around his thighs, tilting your head to massage his length between your lips one side, then the other. He watches you use your tongue on every inch of him, the eagerness, how sensual you move like you're worshipping him. When your mouth finds his tip again, you dribble out enough saliva for it to run down, releasing his thighs to grasp him with both hands and jerk him up and down slowly, staring up at him with your tongue out letting the tip rub against you.
Pouting your lips, you lay little kisses on his tip, giggling and kitten licking him. He bites his lips, letting out soft exhales and small groans that rumble from his chest. You can already see the changes in his breathing, the restraint in his body.
You want him to let go.
Mouthing at his tip nice and slow, you moan around him, feeling him twitch in your hands, before pulling off with a pop, continuing to stroke him. “Fuck my mouth, Seokie.”
He smiles, reaching to stroke your cheek affectionately that you immediately nuzzle into. “You have to do it baby. You have to learn my body like I've learnt yours.” He tells you softly, though it doesn't stop you from pouting in dissatisfaction.
But, this is for him. And you want to be good. And you want to make him feel good.
So you press your face to his balls, suckling them into your mouth. Lather him with drool, mouth at his base and lick up the underside of his length with ease. The warmth of your mouth swallows around his tip and this time you allow yourself to take him in deeper, feeding him languidly into your mouth.
Eunseok watches you take him deeper and deeper, but still not deep enough. It amuses him, knowing that soon you'll be struggling. Your hands stroke him up and down, twisting his meatiness as your lips start to stretch the further you slide your mouth.
Pulling off with a gasp, you gather the mess you've made on him, rubbing his full length, lowering back down when your hands reach his base.
You take your time, revelling in every change in his breath, in his throat bobbing when he harshly swallows, the absolute focus in his eyes as you bring him pleasure.
His breathing becomes shaky, glossy lips parted and you make sure he stares into your eyes when you shake your head to get him in deeper, finally feeling him start to wedge at the back of your throat.
That has his stomach noticeably dipping and him sharply inhaling.
“Fuck— please please, Seokie, just fuck my face.” You pant out, voice honeyed in that way that always gets you your way.
Your begging fuel more than his lust, you fuel his mean streak; that sweetness washes off of him, you realise, when he grips your chin and smirks down at you to coo “aw you want me to fuck your face?” when you nod, he only chuckles. His fingers tighten enough to make you wince, but Eunseok's smile doesn't shift at all. "I told you baby you gotta do it yourself. Let me see you make a mess of yourself for me.”
Though irritation flashes across your face, you feel determined. Winding your hands back around his thighs you move your head more eagerly, with the filthy intention of fucking your own face on him.
And that's just what you do; your neck cranes back and forth bringing your face down sloppily on his dick, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat each time. And though he tries to keep his expression passive, the subtle trembling of his body betrays him.
You pull back, jerking him fast, spit trailing between your lips and his dick and then you're diving back in, swivelling your head when you feel your throat tightening, resisting the intrusion. The sound of you trying to force him down your own throat is so lewd Eunseok can't stop the groan he lets out. “Fuck that's it. Just like that, baby. Take it all.”
You whine in response, dragging your mouth back just to press forward, relaxing your throat as much as you can, body convulsing as you finally slip his tip into your throat and gag immediately. Holding yourself there for as long as you can, you pull back sticking out your tongue to slap him down on the muscle, showing Eunseok the webs of saliva your mouths created breaking apart the moment you take him back in.
Gripping his thighs you nod your head faster, feeling the ache but not caring as you feel the weight of him fill the expanse of your mouth. Mouth disgustingly slick, saliva coating your chin and dripping onto the neckline of your dress, you suck in your cheeks applying further pressure and feel him reach deeper down your throat, starting to properly breach your hole.
This time you don't stop. Your eyes roll back, tears pooling and sliding down the sides of your face as you feel him reach deeper and deeper, using your hold on his thighs to pull him into you, retching when you near his base.
Eunseok is barely hanging on; the way you fuck yourself on him is borderline violent, watching you force yourself to take him in even while you gag and choke, even when you can't breathe has unlocked a deranged part of his brain that wants to see you ruin yourself just for him over and over.
And that's what has his hips unintentionally tilting up into your mouth, his weight bearing on his toes as his heels lift off the ground and every muscle in his body tightens up until he's coming down your throat.
Your chest heaves with the heaviness of your breath. You're a total mess; lips swollen and spit-slicked, drool a messy trail down your throat disappearing into your cleavage, staining your dress, eyes glossy and tears drying on your skin.
“Good job, baby.”
The praise fills you like a drug, but the elation is short-lived when his fingers roughly wind through your hair and you're yanked back onto his softening dick, your startled yelp smothered as he drives himself into your mouth.
He keeps you in place, one hand curving to hold your jaw, your hair a messy pile knotting in his grip as he finally fucks your throat with no remorse.
His balls slapping against your chin and the moan Eunseok releases comes from deep in his gut as his hand slides further down to hold your throat and feel himself bulging through your skin as he starts to grow hard all over again.
The overstimulation is worth it as he watches your eyes flood with tears and feels your hands desperately squeeze his thighs— but what drives him harder is the dazed fucked-out look in your heavy eyes, the way you look totally lost in a cloud of bliss as he uses you the way you've been craving.
His brows pinch together and his low moan tapers off into a higher pitched broken sound, head tipping back, stomach dipping and thigh muscles tensing as he holds your head down with both hands, bucking into your mouth mechanically, like he has no control over his body that only seeks one thing: to cum.
Abruptly he yanks your head back, looking back down at you in concentrated pleasure, jerking his sloppy length with one hand until he releases all over your face. You flinch as his cum jets out across your cheek onto your lashes, feeling it land hot and sticky.
“My pretty girl.” He hisses, squeezing his dick until every last drop paints your skin.
