#and if you just get thru it it will be over and you can feel next time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

baekhyunsbestie · 2 days ago

Text

⟢ : NEED TO KNOW ★.ᐟ

˗ˏˋ ꒰ synopsis ꒱ ˎˊ˗ the x-ëxø guys wanna see what that cute lil human cooter is really capable of. each of them has their own vibe, their own way of wrecking you, and once they’ve got you… there’s no getting away. 👽💫💖 so, who’s it gonna be?

˗ˏˋ ꒰ content ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 18+/mdni. 14k+ words (baëkhyun's is the longest i'm so sorry). separate pairings. fem!reader. i'm ngl to u this is just straight up smut for the most part. explicit language. pussydrunk men. degradation. praise. pet names. talking u thru it. dark themes: obsession and possessiveness. brat-taming. powerplay. manhandling. biting. marking. pheromone kink. size kink. choking. spanking. chains. oral. use of their powers hehe (except junmyeon + yixing). p in v. creampies. overstim. aftercare. raw and fuckn ROUGH juseyooo <3

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ “i don't play w my pen. i mean what i write!” ;) omg so i was deep in a doja cat mv binge the other day when this one came on and i was like ??? 🫦 what an insane concept !!! inspired. got to cooking. now here we are <333 anywhoooo, happy monday !!!!!! hope u enjoy this and as always, lmk what u think 😚💞💖💗💖💓💘💗 MWAH! 💋

⟢ kāi

“i don't really got no type. i just wanna f*ck all night!”

the bass thrums through your body, a steady pulse that matches the rhythm of your hips as you grind back against him, your ass pressing into the hard line of his cock. kāi's hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your flesh, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“you’re playing a dangerous game,” he rasps, voice thick with restraint, but you can feel how badly he wants to snap, to take you right here in the middle of the club. you smirk, rolling your hips again, feeling the way he stiffens behind you, a curse slipping past his lips.

“take me home, then,” you purr, glancing at him over your shoulder.

before you can blink, reality shifts, the thumping bass disappearing as the world blurs and twists. the next thing you know, you’re in a dimly lit penthouse, city lights sprawling beneath you. kai’s body is already pressing into yours, hands greedy, mouths colliding in a desperate, open mouthed kiss as you claw at each other, tugging at clothes like they’re offensive barriers.

“i’ve been waiting for you all fuckin’ night,” he groans against your lips, teeth grazing over your lower one before sucking it into his mouth. his hands are everywhere, roaming, squeezing, claiming.

“didn’t think i’d be your type,” you tease between kisses, nipping at his bottom lip.

kāi lets out a dark chuckle, lifting you effortlessly as he carries you deeper into the room, “you think i’d let just anyone make me this fucking desperate?”

his free hand slides down your stomach, pressing lower, fingers slipping and dragging over the damp heat of your soaked panties. his breath catches, his entire body tensing as his fingers glide through the slick mess between your thighs.

“fuck,” he grits out, his hips rolling forward against you on pure instinct, letting you feel just how hard he already is. “you’re so wet for me already, baby. so fuckin’ ready.”

you struggle to catch your breath, still lightheaded from his grip, from the way his fingers move against you, teasing, barely touching, driving you insane. your body bucks against his, chasing friction, chasing more, but he just smirks, pulling away, leaving you gasping.

“kāi—”

“tell me you want me, baby.” his voice darkens, rough with warning, with command.

his fingers press in, slow, teasing, pushing just enough to make you whimper, to make you desperate.

“i—i want you,” you whisper, voice shaky, barely able to form the words past the heat crawling up your throat.

kāi curses under his breath, his body shuddering, his hand tightening on your throat for just a second, just enough to make your knees weak.

his arm releases you just enough for him to shove you forward, forcing you on to your hands and knees. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest down, forcing you into the mattress, keeping your ass high in the air.

his palm drags over your skin, slow, teasing, over the curve of your ass, down to where you’re already soaked, already throbbing for him.

“look at you,” he breathes, his voice drenched in hunger, in possession. “you’re fucking shaking.”

his fingers glide through the slick between your thighs, teasing, never giving you enough.

“so needy. so fuckin’ desperate. aren’t ‘cha, baby?”

his palm cracks down against your ass, sharp, punishing, making you jolt forward with a strangled gasp.

kāi just smirks, rubbing over the sting, soothing only to tease.

“you gonna take it like a good girl?”

you nod frantically, breathless, your fingers clenching in the sheets, already wrecked from just his touch.

kāi groans, low and deep, his head tilting back, his body shaking with restraint. “good—‘cause ’m not stoppin’ till you can’t walk.”

he doesn’t give you another second to prepare—he’s already lining himself up, already dragging the thick head of his cock through your sloppy folds, already pushing inside.

your body tenses, a broken gasp spilling from your lips as he stretches you open, forcing you to take every inch.

kāi hisses through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you still, making sure you feel every inch of him sinking into you.

“that’s it, baby,” he grits out, voice hoarse, thick with pleasure. “take it. take all of it.”

his head drops forward, his lips parting around a guttural moan, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

you feel so fucking good— he can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but fuck you.

his hips snap forward, hard, deep, forcing your body up the bed, forcing a sharp, choked-off moan from your throat.

his fingers tighten on your waist, anchoring himself, losing himself, fucking into you with sharp, brutal thrusts.

your moans shatter into something helpless, something completely wrecked.

kāi feels it all. he feels the way your walls clench, flutter, squeeze him like you never want to let him go. he feels the way your legs tremble beneath him, the way your nails dig into the sheets, the way your moans break into sobbed-out gasps, too much, too good, too deep.

“fuck—”

the groan rips from his throat, deep and ragged, breaking apart as his head drops forward, damp hair falling into his eyes, sweat dripping down his temple, chain swaying against your back with every sharp snap of his hips.

his hands slide down, rough and desperate, gripping your waist, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin, holding you there, pulling you back onto him, making you take every inch, forcing you to feel just how desperate he is.

he’s already too deep, too wrecked, too far gone. his jaw clenches, his breath stuttering, his thighs flexing beneath you as he fights for control, fights to hold himself together, fights the need to cum too fast because you feel too fucking good.

and then—you move.

your hips roll, slow and deliberate, fucking yourself onto him, making him feel every single inch, squeezing him tight, dragging him in deeper.

kāi freezes.

his grip tightens, sharp inhale cutting through the heavy air, his body tensing behind you.

and then he snaps.

his hands fly to your hips, fingers digging in, nails pressing deep, holding you down as he fucks into you with sharp, punishing thrusts, forcing a wrecked sob from your lips.

“holy shit—” his voice is hoarse, ruined, completely unraveling.

his rhythm stumbles, pace turning rougher, harder, deeper. he's fucking you like he needs it, like he’s lost in it, like you’ve just pushed him over the edge and now he can’t stop.

his fingers slip between your thighs, finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles, the contrast between the rough snap of his hips and the slow, torturous pleasure of his fingers making your body shake.

“gonna make you all fuckin’ mine, baby,” he grits out, hips snapping, faster, deeper, unrelenting.

your body locks up, shatters, pleasure slamming into you so hard your breath cuts off, leaving you gasping, shaking, sobbing his name.

he feels you tightening, pulsing, trembling beneath him, and it ruins him.

his hands fly up, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you back onto him, meeting you thrust for thrust, slamming so deep you swear you can feel him everywhere.

his breath stutters, groan breaking into something raw, something desperate. his forehead presses into the back of your neck, his lips dragging over your sweat-damp skin, panting, shaking, completely fucking wrecked.

his hips roll forward, pressing in deep, grinding so slowly it makes your head spin. you jolt, breath catching, a broken little whimper spilling from your lips as the overwhelming sensation crashes through you.

kāi groans, his head dropping forward, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, damp dark green hair sticking to his forehead.

“so sensitive already?” he taunts, voice mocking, playful, so damn smooth it makes your stomach tighten. “but we’ve barely started.”

your breath stutters, body trembling, pleasure crackling through your veins like fire.

“kāi, s’too much!” you gasp, the sound breathless, desperate, wrecked beyond repair.

he grins against your skin, his fingers tightening on your hips, his grip bruising, unrelenting.

and then—you try to shift.

just the smallest movement, a desperate attempt to pull away from the overstimulation, from the way he’s pressing so deep, from the way your body is still pulsing around him.

but he’s not having it.

his arm slides around your waist, yanking you back, shoving you down, holding you in place.

“oh, no, baby,” he coos, voice dripping with amusement, with dominance. “where do ya think you’re going?”

his free hand trails down your stomach, teasing, fingertips dragging over your trembling thighs before pressing between them, parting them wider.

“you can keep going.” his voice is low, commanding, drenched in certainty. “you’re still drippin’ f’me—fuck, look at you, baby.”

your lashes flutter, eyes hazy, dazed, barely able to focus—but then he forces you to look.

his hand slips under your chin, tilting your head down, forcing your gaze between your legs, forcing you to see exactly how much of a mess you’ve made.

and fuck—he’s right.

your slick coats your thighs, dripping down your skin, pooling onto the sheets beneath you, messy, obscene, proof of just how wrecked you are, proof of how much you love this.

kāi groans, voice low and wrecked, completely undone.

“shit, baby—” his fingers dig deeper into your skin, his cock twitching inside you at the sight. “she still wants me, huh?”

his hips pull back, dragging out slow, teasing, before slamming forward again, making you cry out, making your body arch beneath him.

his hands grip your hips, flipping you effortlessly onto your back. your breath stumbles, body shifting, legs instinctively parting as he settles between them, his weight pressing down, his chest hot against yours.

his eyes meet yours, dark and blown-out, filled with something ravenous.

“gonna watch you, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, voice molten against your skin. “gonna watch every fucking second while i fill you up.”

his fingers wrap around the backs of your knees, pushing them up, bending you in half, folding you under him until your ankles hook over his shoulders.

mating press.

deep. suffocating. brutal.

his next thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, the angle hitting so perfectly, so mercilessly, that your head tips back, a wrecked moan spilling past your lips.

kai groans, grinding forward, rolling his hips, pressing deeper, chasing the way you tremble beneath him, the way you clench around him.

“fuck—” his voice is wrecked, breathless, completely gone. “ya feel that? feel how deep i am, baby?”

his hands grip the backs of your thighs, holding you still, keeping you open, keeping you exactly where he needs you.

his lips drag along your ear, voice rough and commanding.

“gonna fuck my cum so deep inside you, you’ll still feel me tomorrow.” he pants, hips snapping forward, grinding deep, making you take it.

his words send heat pooling in your stomach, twisting tighter, unbearable, your body teetering on the edge.

“you gonna cum again, baby?” his tone is mocking, but desperate, hungry, like he wants it just as much as you.

you nod, gasping, shaking, barely able to hold on.

kāi groans, his hands slipping down to your stomach, pressing down, feeling himself inside you, pushing even deeper.

“that’s right, baby,” he breathes, his lips brushing against yours, sweat-damp and feverish. “gimme another one.”

your body shudders, pleasure tearing through you like wildfire, your breath catching, back arching, thighs trembling as you break beneath him.

kāi moans, long and low, feeling every pulsing squeeze of your walls, every desperate tremor of your body, every fucking aftershock of your orgasm rolling through you.

“fuck, baby—” his voice is wrecked, almost hoarse, his breath catching. “gonna—fuck—”

his hips stutter, slam forward, grind deep, and then—

he breaks.

his jaw goes slack, his body locks up, his cock twitches inside you, and then he’s spilling deep, hips jerking through every thick pulse of his release, filling you up, stuffing you full, keeping you there, keeping you under him, keeping himself buried inside you as he groans through the aftershocks.

his forehead drops against yours, damp hair sticking to his skin, his breath uneven, his body trembling.

“holy shit,” he exhales, his voice barely there, soft and wrecked and completely lost.

his hands slide over your thighs, up your sides, up to your face, his fingers tracing over your jaw, soft, slow, reverent.

his lips skim against yours, lazy, claiming, pressing in deeper, messier, letting you feel exactly how wrecked he is.“you’re mine,” he whispers, voice still shaking. “and i’m not fuckin’ done with you yet.”

⟢ chanyeøl

“your eyes told me, ‘girl, come ride me!’”

he can’t move.

his wrists are bound to the headboard, silver chains stretching taut, clinking against metal every time he tugs. every sharp movement makes them rattle, the sound cutting through the thick, heated air, a constant reminder that he’s helpless beneath you. his arms flex with the effort, biceps straining, veins prominent beneath flushed, sweat-damp skin, muscles coiled so tight it’s agonizing. tension rolls through his body in suffocating waves, every nerve set alight, every inch of him aching, burning, starving for more.

and you? you’re fucking killing him.

straddling his lap, hips rolling in slow, torturous circles, your body moving with deliberate cruelty. the drag of your slick heat around his cock is exquisite, unbearable, devastating. you keep it agonizingly slow, a teasing rhythm that drives him insane, that keeps him hanging on the edge but never lets him fall.

he feels everything.

the way your walls clench and flutter every time you shift, the slick warmth of you wrapped so tight around him, the delicious friction that makes his breath stutter and his fingers twitch—except he can’t touch you.

he can only watch. only feel. only suffer.

his pink hair is damp with sweat, messy strands sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, lips parted around ragged breaths. his chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven motions, every exhale shuddering through him like he’s barely holding it together.

his eyes—heavy-lidded, dark, desperate—stay locked onto you, filled with frustration, hunger, something utterly feral.

you grind down just a little harder, squeeze just a little tighter, let a slow, knowing smirk curl your lips—

and chanyeøl groans, head pressing back into the pillows, jaw clenched so tight it aches.

“baby,” he grits out, voice wrecked, deep, thick with warning. “stop fuckin’ teasin’ me.”

but you only tilt your head, lashes low, lips curling into something playful, something cruel, something that lets him know you’re not stopping anytime soon.

“why would i stop?” you murmur, voice sweet, teasing, soaked in mischief.

your fingers trail down his chest, slow, deliberate, nails scraping lightly over the firm planes of muscle, tracing along every dip, every ridge. the moment you reach his abs, you press down just slightly, feeling the way they clench, the way his entire body tightens, the way his breath shudders out of him in something between a groan and a curse.

but you’re not in a hurry.

your nails drag lower, teasing over his stomach, feeling the heat radiating off his skin, feeling every single slight tremor that runs through him.

then—you reach for the candle.

the wax is molten, thick and slow-moving, swirling in liquid fire within its glass prison. your fingers curl around it, lifting it carefully, tilting it just enough to let a single droplet gather at the edge—

and then it falls.

chanyeøl sucks in a sharp breath, every muscle in his body locking up as the wax splashes against his skin. it sears hot for the barest second before cooling, solidifying into something firm and unyielding, a mark of your control, your dominance, your ownership over him.

his breath stutters, his fingers flex, the chains rattling violently as he fights against them.

but he’s not fighting you.

no, he wants more.

you see it in his eyes, dark and blown-out, see it in the way his lips part, the way his thighs tense beneath you, the way his entire body reacts to the sensation.

so you give it to him.

another drip.

then another.

each one landing lower, dragging down his stomach, tracing the ridges of his muscles, painting a sinful path that has him breathing ragged, has him groaning deep in his chest, has him losing himself completely beneath you.

“you like that?” you whisper, voice nothing but a breath of air against his sweat-damp skin.

his jaw clenches, his hips bucking up instinctively, seeking more, needing more, but the chains keep him still, keep him bound, keep him at your mercy.

his pink hair is an absolute mess now, wild and untamed, sticking to his forehead in damp strands, his entire body slick with sweat, his skin gleaming beneath the dim candlelight.

and god, he looks fucking ruined.

but not enough.

you drag the candle higher, letting it hover over his chest, watching the way his abs clench, the way his fingers twitch, the way his lips part like he’s about to beg—

but then—

the chains snap.

heat surges, an overwhelming wave of raw power bursting from within him, and before you can react, before you can even blink, his wrists are free, silver links falling uselessly to the mattress, charred, burned through like they were never meant to hold him in the first place.

your breath catches.

the candle tumbles from your grip, caught effortlessly by his hand before it can spill another drop.

then his hands are on your hips, a bruising grip of pure desperation as he yanks you down onto him. no hesitation, no warning—just pure, raw need. his breath is ragged, his chest heaving, his entire body trembling with restraint, with need, with something dark and insatiable.

“ya really thought you could tease me like that?” his voice is a growl, low and wrecked, thick with amusement, thick with something more dangerous. “thought you could fuckin’ break me?”

his hips grind against yours, slow, deliberate, making you feel every thick, heavy inch of him pressing against your core, making you tremble, making you whimper, making you realize—

you’ve lost control.

chanyeøl smirks, lips curving into something dark, something devastating, something that promises you’re not leaving this bed without remembering who he is.

“my turn, baby.”

his grip is brutal, unrelenting, a bruising force of raw hunger and pent-up aggression. his fingers sink into the soft flesh of your hips, digging deep, holding tight, dragging you down with such devastating strength that the air gets knocked from your lungs the moment he slams you onto his cock.

you choke on a gasp, body seizing, nails clawing at his arms, your mind struggling to catch up with the sheer force of him—

but he doesn’t give you time.

doesn’t give you room to process the way he stretches you open, the way he fills you so deep you swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach.

he breathes, voice wrecked, thick with relief, with amusement, with something darker. his pink hair is a mess, sweat-damp and wild, strands sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted around heavy, uneven breaths.

his hands tighten, nails pressing into your skin, his grip so firm you know you’ll feel it tomorrow, know you’ll wake up with marks of his desperation painted across your body.

he keeps you there, keeps you pressed against him, keeps you right where he wants you, caging you in with his heat, his size, his overwhelming presence.

his smirk is devastating, nothing but pure sin, sharp edges and dark amusement curving his lips as he tilts his head, as his breath spills hot against your mouth.

“ya wanted to ride me?” his voice drips with something dangerous, something mocking, something completely and utterly in control. “then fucking ride.”

his hips snap up, sharp and unrelenting, the sheer force knocking the breath from your lungs, punching a strangled gasp from your throat, sending your body jolting from the impact. the air leaves you in a shuddering exhale, your moan breaking into something fractured, something wrecked, something high and breathless, barely coherent over the ruthless slap of skin against skin.

your vision blurs at the edges, a hazy, pleasure-drunk mess, the world narrowing to nothing but the overwhelming sensation of him—his hands on you, his cock buried so fucking deep inside you, his breath against your throat, the sound of his groans rasping against your skin, the desperation coating his every movement.

you try to move, try to match his pace, try to meet the brutal snap of his hips, but he doesn’t let you—doesn’t give you room, doesn’t give you control. your nails sink into his shoulders, clawing at him, grasping at the sweat-slicked muscle beneath your fingers, searching for something to hold onto, something to ground you. but chanyeøl doesn’t give you that either.

he doesn’t give you a choice.

his grip tightens, fingers digging in, palms spreading wide across your waist, holding you down, keeping you locked against him, keeping you exactly where he wants you. his thrusts turn ruthless, merciless, slamming up into you so hard you swear you can feel him everywhere, every thick inch stretching you, pressing into every devastating spot that has your body convulsing, your thighs trembling, your stomach tightening.

he’s completely lost now. completely feral. completely gone.

his moan rips through the room, raw and guttural, nothing but pure wreckage, his chest heaving, his body trembling, his muscles flexing beneath your fingers as his rhythm falters for just a second—just long enough for him to collect himself, to gather what little restraint he has left.

“that’s it, baby,” his voice is wrecked, shaking, breaking apart on every syllable, pure desperation dripping from his tongue. “take it—fuck, take all of it.”

his teeth find your throat, grazing, dragging over the flushed, heated skin, nipping and sucking, leaving bruises in his wake, marking you as his. his lips travel lower, over the curve of your shoulder, along your collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses between every sharp, gasping inhale. his breath is hot, uneven, barely controlled, every exhale ghosting over your skin like he’s worshipping the way you fall apart for him.

“god, you feel so fucking good.”

his voice drops to a whisper, hoarse and trembling, more for himself than for you. his hips grind forward, deep, slow for just a moment, dragging out the sensation, pressing into you so perfectly, pushing against that one spot that makes your back arch, that makes your walls flutter, that makes you gasp out his name like a prayer.

he chuckles—low, teasing, smug—but there’s no steadiness to it, no confidence, just something wrecked, something helpless, something fucking lost in you.

“gonna make you cum all over my cock just like this, baby.”

his pace stutters, sharp, erratic, his control slipping, his own pleasure climbing too fast, too high, too much.

“fuck—” his moan is low, guttural, his head falling back, pink hair damp with sweat, strands sticking to his forehead, clinging to his temples, his entire body gleaming, flushed, overheated.

his hands slide down your waist, palms pressing into your stomach, holding you still, anchoring you to him as he grinds into you, as he feels you squeeze around him, as he feels you unravel.

his voice is a whisper, breathless and ruined.

“you gonna cum for me?”

your body locks up, muscles tightening, thighs clenching, every nerve in your body winding tighter and tighter, the pleasure swelling inside you, mounting, consuming.

“y-yes!”

your voice breaks, your hands gripping onto him, onto anything, onto whatever will keep you grounded as the pressure twists in your gut, as it builds too high, too fast, too fucking overwhelming.

chanyeøl groans, a low, drawn-out sound, his chest rumbling against yours as he dips his head, lips dragging along your jaw, breath hot against your ear.

his fingers slip between your thighs, sliding against your clit, rubbing in tight, perfect circles, relentless, knowing exactly how to ruin you, knowing exactly how to make you break.

his pace turns frantic, desperate, his thrusts losing rhythm, losing precision, his body trembling as he chases your pleasure, as he chases his own.

“then cum, baby—” his voice is a command, low and rough, breath catching as he feels your walls pulse around him, as he feels you tense, as he feels you start to fall apart.

and fuck— you do.

the pleasure slams into you like a shockwave, too much, too strong, so intense your entire body locks up, a choked sob ripping from your throat as you shudder, convulse, lose yourself in the heat, the overwhelming flood of sensation crashing over you in waves.

your nails dig into his back, raking down the sweat-slicked muscle, clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to the earth. your walls tighten, pulse, clench around him in desperate aftershocks, and you swear you can hear the way he chokes on his next breath, the way his body seizes beneath you, the way he completely fucking loses it.

“oh my god—” your voice breaks, barely even words, nothing but breath and sound and wreckage. “so deep—fuck, yeøl—feels so good! feels too fuckin’ good—”

chanyeøl curses, deep and filthy, a ragged groan ripped straight from his chest, shaking beneath you, trembling, muscles flexing and tightening like he’s on the very edge of ruin.

“jesus fuckin’ christ, baby—” his voice is barely a whisper, barely human, hoarse and guttural, completely wrecked.

his hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, your hips, your thighs, as if he can’t decide where he wants to hold you, where he wants to feel you, if he even wants to hold on at all or if he just wants to let go, let himself completely fucking break.

“shit—" he gasps, voice catching, his hips faltering, losing rhythm, losing control.

he feels everything. every flutter, every squeeze, every pulsing, desperate grip of your gummy walls dragging him deeper, milking him, pulling him under.

his head tilts back, jaw slack, eyes fluttering shut as his entire body locks up and then—he shatters.

his moan is long, drawn-out, completely destroyed, something between a groan and a plea, something raw and helpless, something utterly fucking wrecked.

his hips stutter, slam forward one last time, pressing deep, grinding as his cock pulses inside you, as he spills hot and thick, filling you, stuffing you full, making sure you feel it, making sure he’s buried so deep you won’t be able to forget it.

his fingers tighten, gripping you like he never wants to let go, like he wants to stay right here, like he’s trying to mold himself to you, like this is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

his breath stumbles, uneven gasps falling from his lips, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his entire body trembling beneath yours.

your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through damp, pink strands, holding him against you as he tries to catch his breath, as he comes down from the high, as he struggles to even comprehend the wreckage you just left him in.

and then—he laughs.

soft, breathless, utterly amused, the sound warm and lazy against your skin, like he can’t believe how fucking good that was, like he’s still trying to process it.

his arms wrap around you, dragging you closer, pulling you flush against his chest, keeping you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you, his lips pressing against your temple, slow, affectionate, completely different from the way he just ruined you.

“damn,” he chuckles, grinning against your skin, voice still thick with exhaustion, with satisfaction, with something teasing. “should’ve broken out sooner.”

⟢ sehůn

“i heard from a friend of a friend that that dick was a 10/10!”

you don’t hesitate.

there’s no second-guessing, no last-minute doubts gnawing at the edges of your resolve. you know exactly what you want, and tonight, you’re taking it.

your first time? it has to be good. not just good—worth it. unforgettable. none of that clumsy, awkward, hesitant nonsense. no fumbling hands or uncertain touches. no half-hearted attempts at pleasure. you want something that sets the standard so high, every encounter after this either rises to meet it—

or crashes and burns in comparison.

so when the rumors started swirling—whispers passed from friend to friend, low voices dripping with scandal—you listened. you heard about sehůn. about the way he ruins girls. about how he fucks like he has something to prove, like he needs to leave a mark, like he’s got a goddamn legacy to uphold. you heard that he’s got a fucking 10/10 between his legs, that he knows exactly how to use it, that he has girls losing their minds over it.

and that’s when you made up your mind.

which brings you here. now.

and sehůn? he’s unraveling.

“holy fuck, baby—”

his voice is wrecked, raw and hoarse, cracking under the weight of whatever the hell you’re doing to him. his gaze is locked between your bodies, pupils blown wide as he watches—watches—the way you take him, how your body stretches around every thick, veined inch of him, how your slick heat clings to him like you don’t want to let go.

he moves slow. deep. careful.

because fuck—he’s huge.

long, thick, stretching you open inch by inch, filling you up so perfectly, so completely, it knocks the air from your lungs. your thighs tremble, heat pooling deep in your core, every nerve ending alight. your nails dig into his arms, a sharp contrast to the slow, deliberate way he pushes in, making you feel every inch, every vein, every unbearable second of it.

too much. too good. too deep.

“oh my god,” you gasp, back arching, the burn of the stretch sharp and unrelenting, overwhelming in the best possible way. the pain fades into something hotter, something dizzying, something addictive.

above you, sehůn groans, teeth clenched so tight his jaw ticks, hands gripping your waist like a lifeline. his fingers flex against your skin, the tension in his arms evident, every muscle in his body coiled tight as he forces himself to move slow—forces himself to not snap his hips forward, not fuck you deep and raw and desperate.

because he can’t. because this is your first time. because fuck, he wants to ruin you, wants to wreck you, wants to make it so good that nothing, no one, will ever compare.

“ s-so fuckin’ tight,” he rasps, voice strained, uneven, breaking under the sheer effort it takes to hold back. his head tilts back, throat bobbing as he swallows hard, his fingers digging into your waist. too much. too perfect. too fucking good.

his hands tremble as they slide down, past your ribs, lower, lower—

then he presses. right below your navel.

his breath catches.

“holy shit, baby—”

you blink, dazed, breathless, pulse roaring in your ears as you follow his gaze down—

and fuck— you see it.

the outline of him. thick and deep, pressing against your stomach, buried so far inside you that you can see the way he stretches you, the way he fills you.

sehůn lets out a wrecked, shuddering breath, his eyes glazed over, his thumb tracing over the bulge like he can’t fucking believe it.

“look at that,” he groans, voice breaking. “fuck, sweetheart. i’m so deep inside you.”

sehůn groans, low and wrecked, something primal flickering behind his eyes, his fingers flexing against your belly, pressing down just slightly, just enough to feel himself inside you, just enough to make his cock twitch, just enough to make you moan, high and broken and absolutely ruined.

“fuck,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut, body jolting at the pressure, at the weight of him, at the way he just keeps sinking deeper. “so fuckin’ big.”

sehůn lets out a breathless laugh, something between smug and delirious, something completely pussy drunk.

“yeah?”

you nod, eyes hazy, lips parting, your voice softer now, higher, sweeter.

“s'good.”

his breath stutters, his heart pounding, something thick and hot curling in his stomach at the way you’re taking him, at the way you’re looking up at him like he’s the only thing in the world right now.

his fingers press deeper into your belly, his lips dragging along your jaw, his breath shaky.

you let out the softest whimper, legs trembling around his waist, your body clenching down around him, so tight, so wet, so fucking sweet.

and sehůn? he’s fucking losing it.

his body is trembling, sweat rolling down his spine, damp strands of black hair clinging to his forehead, his jaw slack, his eyes dark, unfocused, his grip on your waist so tight it’s almost bruising. his breath stumbles, breaking over the sharp gasps leaving his lips, wrecked, helpless, completely fucking gone.

his grip tightens, fingers pressing deep into your waist, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself together, to keep his control, to not fucking break. but he’s slipping—you can feel it in the way his hips stutter, in the way his voice shakes, in the way his nails dig into your skin like he’s trying to keep himself tethered to something real.

“gonna claim you, baby—fuck—gonna ruin you.”

his voice is low, rough, cracking under the weight of his own desperation, thick with need, with something raw, something wild, something completely fucking unhinged.

his hips snap forward, deep, fast, rough, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs, making your fingers clutch at him, nails biting into his sweat-slicked back.

he groans at the sting, the sound broken, wrecked, so fucking desperate.

“gonna fuck you so deep, so good, you’ll never want anyone else—"

his words hit like fire, heat spreading through you, searing, melting, consuming.

because you don’t. you don’t want anyone else. no one could ever fuck you like this. no one could ever make you feel like this. no one but him.

“gonna make this pretty pussy take the shape of my cock—”

his words are filth, pure sin, dripping from his lips like a promise, like a vow, like an unshakable truth.

your body reacts instantly, your walls clenching, pulsing, gripping him tighter, your legs wrapping around him, holding him closer, keeping him exactly where you need him, exactly where he belongs.

your practically breathless, wrecked, high and needy, gasping, pleading, your fingers dragging down the flexing muscles in his back, leaving scratches, leaving marks, claiming him the same way he’s claiming you.

because if oh sehůn’s the only dick you’ll ever have for the rest of your life—

you don’t fucking care.

as long as you can cum like this, as long as he fucks you like this, as long as he keeps filling you, stretching you, ruining you, making sure no one else can ever have you.

no one could ever compare.

you dig your nails in harder, dragging them over his skin, feeling the way his entire body tenses, the way his cock twitches inside you, the way he moans against your throat, high and broken and completely undone.

his forehead falls against yours, his breath mingling with yours, hot, heavy, wrecked.

“gonna cum,” he pants, voice barely above a whisper, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you down onto him, making you take all of him, every inch, every thick, perfect inch stretching you, filling you, ruining you. “fuck, baby, gimme one more—”

you let out a choked sob, every thrust sending fire through your veins, sending pleasure rippling through your body, tightening, twisting, coiling too tight, too much, too good—

“sehůn! fuck—”

his grip tightens, his fingers sliding down between your bodies, rubbing messy, fast circles over your clit, his voice a rough command against your lips.

“yeah, pretty, that's it—fuckin' cum for me—”

your body locks up, pleasure crashing over you, white-hot, mind-numbing, overwhelming. your walls flutter, clench, pulse around him, and sehůn completely fucking breaks.

“oh, fuck—”

his moan is wrecked, completely shattered, his hips slamming forward, pressing so fucking deep you swear you feel him everywhere, his cock throbbing inside you, hot and thick, filling you up, stuffing you full, making sure you take every last drop.

his body shudders, fingers gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s trying to keep you here, like he needs this, like he needs you.

his forehead rests against yours, his breath heavy, uneven, his voice barely a whisper.

“shit, baby—never felt anything like this—”

his voice is wrecked, breathless, torn straight from his chest like he can’t believe what just happened, like he’s trying to catch up, trying to process the way you just ruined him.

you smirk, slow and lazy, lips parted, chest rising and falling in uneven waves. bliss coats your skin, warm and slick against his, the aftershocks still pulsing through you, still making your legs weak, your body hum.

you let out a breathless laugh, the sound light, teasing, laced with exhaustion. “was this your first time or mine?”

sehůn huffs out a rough laugh, but there’s no real bite to it, just something wild and wrecked in the way his arms tighten around you, his grip unrelenting, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go for even a second.

his lips find your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw—soft but firm, slow but desperate, like he’s mapping you out, memorizing the way you taste, the way you feel under his hands, against his skin.

“nah, baby,” he murmurs, voice nothing but gravel, nothing but heat against your pulse. “more like this is my last first time with anyone—”

his fingers press deeper into your hips, like he’s making sure you hear him, feel him, understand exactly what he means. his lips brush yours, breath warm, gaze dark, possessive.

“'cus this pussy is mine for life.”

⟢ kyüngsoo

“spank me, slap me, choke me, bite me!”

it all started as a joke. just harmless fun.

it’s friday night and you and your girls had gone to the ëxø bar, a place whispered about in certain circles—where the drinks were stronger, the air was heavier, and the men who owned it… well, no one really knew what they were. just that they were different. powerful. something more.

so, of course, after a few drinks, the conversation had taken a turn.

“i bet they’re fucking insane in bed,” one of your friends giggled, stirring her drink lazily. “imagine the things they could do to you.”

you had laughed, tipsy and unbothered, the warmth of alcohol making you bolder. “i dunno. some of them look like they could ruin you. like, completely wreck your shit.”

“which one do you think would fuck the best?” someone else teased, nudging you playfully.

your gaze had drifted—just for a second—to him. kyüngsoo. the one with the sharp eyes and the ridiculous shoulders, sitting in the corner nursing his drink like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

“that one,” you had murmured, half to yourself. “he looks like he wouldn’t stop until you were a fucking mess.”

you didn’t know then that he could hear you.

but he did.

and now? now you’re here, in his bed, screaming his name like a prayer.

kyüngsoo has you folded, ass high in the air, face buried in the mattress as he pounds into you like he’s trying to break you apart and put you back together again. his grip on your hips is brutal, fingers digging in like he wants to leave bruises, like he wants you to remember this every time you see yourself in the mirror.

“this how you imagined it, baby?” his voice is rough, teasing, so fucking cocky. “when you were giggling with your little friends—wondering how i’d fuck you?”

you try to answer, but all that comes out is a choked moan, your back arching as he lands a sharp smack to your ass.

“answer me.”

you barely manage to stutter out, “it’s e-even b-better!” before he’s yanking you up, one thick arm wrapping around your neck in a headlock.

his strength is inhuman, his body unrelenting, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over like he’s got something to prove. and maybe he does. maybe he wants you to know that no one else could ever fuck you like this.

his hand slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin, to make your body throb around him.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, voice rough against your ear. “pretty little pussy taking me so well. just like i knew it fuckin’ would.”

you’re gone, completely wrecked, every thought in your head wiped clean except for him. his strength, his power, the way he’s fucking you like he owns you.

the moment you start throwing it back, meeting him stroke for stroke, something in kyüngsoo snaps.

his power—his inhuman strength—was something he had always kept under control. always measured, always careful. but not now.

now?

he grabs you, one arm looping around your waist, lifting you clean off the bed like you weigh nothing, like you’re just a doll for him to use. you barely have time to gasp before he’s slamming you back down onto his cock, impaling you so deep you see stars.

“fuck—” your breath hitches, nails digging into his wrist as he manhandles you with ease, bouncing you on his cock like you’re just a toy for his pleasure.

“this what you wanted, doll?” his voice is dark, ragged, dangerous. “you wanna fuck me back? wanna take it like a big girl?”

his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise, and then he’s fucking up into you, his strength making it so you don’t have to move at all—just take it, just let him use you.

your moans are broken, breathless, your body limp in his grasp, barely able to handle the sheer force of his thrusts.

“too much?” kyüngsoo's voice is thick with amusement, a dark tease laced with mockery. his free hand cracks against your ass, the sharp sting making you jolt in his grip. he feels the way you shudder, the way your walls flutter around him. weak. trembling. desperate.

his lips brush your ear, his teeth grazing the shell as he purrs, “nah—you can take it. you were talkin’ all that shit in the bar, weren’t you?” another slap lands, harder this time, and you whimper. “so take it.”

kyüngsoo’s grip tightens on your hips, holding you steady as he fucks into you, his full strength unleashed. the bedframe creaks, the entire thing rocking under the sheer force of his thrusts, his cock slamming into you like he’s trying to fuck you through the mattress.

and he is.

your fingers scramble for purchase, clawing at the sheets, moans spilling from your lips in helpless little cries.

“w-want you so bad, ‘soo! hah—can’t get enough!” your voice is almost slurred, pleasure consuming you, your body begging for him.

he lets out a deep, primal groan, his whole body shuddering, and then—

he grabs you.

one hand wrenches your wrists behind your back, pinning them effortlessly, holding you captive with his sheer strength. his other hand? it wraps around your throat, squeezing, controlling your every breath, forcing you to stay exactly where he wants you. his hips snap forward, unrelenting, each stroke making the bed shake, making you sob with pleasure.

“huh? what’s wrong?” his tone is pure mockery, amusement curling around the edges of his words as he watches you fall apart. “thought you wanted to keep up? but look at you—”

he lets go of your wrists just to shove you down, flattening you into the mattress, his weight crushing you in the best way.

“can’t even move anymore, can you?”

he’s right. you can’t. you’re wrecked, nothing but a quivering mess, your body his to use.

his thrusts grow sloppier, harder, inhumanly deep, and then—

he roars, his grip on your throat tightening, his cock pulsing as he spills into you, filling you up so deep you swear you can feel it everywhere.

and the worst part?

you still want more.

⟢ suhø

“i just wanna know if you can fuck on me better!”

the bass from the club inside pulses through the walls of the dimly lit parking lot, but in here—inside the tight, fogged-up space of suhø’s car—there’s only the sound of your breathy moans and the wet, filthy slap of skin on skin.

you don’t even remember how you got here, how the casual, half-serious conversation over drinks turned into you being splayed out beneath him, your dress hiked up around your waist, his hands gripping your thighs like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

but you remember what he said.

“i can fuck you better.”

you had scoffed. rolled your eyes. told him every guy says that.

and yet—fifteen minutes later, you’re gasping for air, body trembling from the second orgasm he’s wrung out of you with nothing but precise, calculated thrusts that are too damn good. you hate car sex. always found it uncomfortable, never got off, never felt like it was worth the trouble.

but now?

now you’re draped over the center console, one knee propped up against the window, his fingers sinking into your flesh as he fucks into you so good, so deep, you swear you’re about to shatter. your body is still pulsing from the last climax, but you feel another one creeping up fast, winding tight in your gut, making your thighs tremble as suhø leans down, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“you have no idea how fucking long i’ve wanted you like this,” his fingers slide down to press against your swollen clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. you jolt, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as pleasure ripples through you.

“suhø—fuck—”

“hated every time you brought that fucking loser to my fucking bar.” his voice is low, rough, strained with the effort of holding back, “knowing he couldn’t make you feel this way—knowing it should’ve been me. should’ve always been me.”

you let out a breathless laugh, barely coherent. “if i knew you were gonna fuck me like this, i would’ve left him a long time ago.”

suhø groans against your skin, teeth scraping lightly against your jaw before he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something dangerous.

“yeah?” his hips slow, rolling into you deep enough to make you gasp. “then why the fuck did you waste so much time on him?”

“dunno,” you tease, even as your breath stutters. “bad decisions, i guess.”

“damn right,” he grunts, hand sliding down between your bodies, fingers pressing against your clit. “good thing i’m fixing that now.”

your back arches as you keen his name, body responding to him in ways it never has for anyone else.

“you feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, “you’re close again. i can feel you squeezing me.”

and you are—you’re right there, teetering on the edge, but you need something more.

with a desperate push, you press against his chest, flipping him over, straddling his lap. his head tips back against the headrest, hands automatically falling to your hips as you sink down onto him, nails digging into his shoulders.

“god—” he groans, voice tight, “look at you. fucking perfect.”

you roll your hips, slow at first, watching the way his jaw tenses, his fingers flexing against your skin. but then something inside you snaps, and you move faster, chasing that peak, riding him until the pleasure becomes unbearable.

“that’s it, baby,” he grits out, meeting your rhythm with sharp thrusts, “show me how bad you need it—”

you sob his name, and then—fuck—

it crashes over you like a tidal wave. your body locks up, pleasure consuming you as you squirt all over him, the wet, messy sound of it echoing in the car. suhø groans deep in his chest, a rough, guttural sound as his grip tightens, his cock twitching inside you before he thrusts up one last time, spilling deep inside you with a shaky, “fuck—yes—”

the only sound left is your panting breaths, the creak of the car as it rocks gently back and forth. the windows are completely fogged, the air thick with heat and sweat and sex.

suhø exhales heavily, hands roaming up your sides, fingers tracing gentle patterns against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“dump him,” he murmurs against your hair, “get with me instead.”

you hum, still catching your breath. “mmm, that’s a tempting offer.”

suhø scoffs, his grip tightening on your waist. “tempting? baby, i just made you cum three times. what’s there to think about?”

you smirk, trailing your fingers along his collarbone. “true. maybe i need more convincing.”

his jaw clenches, eyes darkening as he flips you back onto the seat in one swift motion, spreading your thighs apart again.

“oh, i’ll fucking convince you.”

his fingers dip between your legs, already teasing, already coaxing another moan from your lips.

“i can take care of you,” he whispers, gaze locked onto yours. “just leave him.”

⟢ baëkhyun

“baby come throw the pipe. gotta know what it’s like!”

your breathing is a trembling mess, uneven gasps breaking apart into soft, choked-off moans, and baëkhyun hears every single bit of it. it’s like your body is singing for him, and he’s so fucking tuned in, so hyperaware, so ruined by the way you fall apart beneath him. he feels the way your chest rises and falls in shallow, needy pants, the way your fingers claw at the sheets like you’re trying to ground yourself, the way your thighs tremble as they lock tighter around his waist. but nothing—nothing—compares to the way your gummy walls flutter and clench around him, gripping him like you never want to let him go. and fuck—he groans, deep and guttural, head dropping forward, fingers digging into your waist so hard they might bruise.

he’s never felt anything like this. it’s not inexperience. he’s had more than his fair share of bodies under him, pretty little things crying for him, scratching down his back as he made them come undone. but this? you? it’s too much. too hot, too tight, too good, dragging him under and drowning him in sensation so intense it turns his nerves raw. every squeeze, every slick pull of your body around him, every little pulse of your walls milking him for more—he feels it too clearly, too sharp, like his body was made for this, for you, for the unbearable pleasure of sinking into you and losing himself completely.

his head tilts back, silver chain catching the dim light, the delicate links shifting with every brutal roll of his hips. his breath is ragged, his body shaking, white hair clinging to his damp forehead as he fights to keep control—fights not to let you drag him under completely. but he’s losing. fuck, he’s losing. the way you take him, the way your heat tightens, flexes, pulls him in deeper like you were made to keep him buried inside—it’s breaking him down, reducing him to nothing but the sharp, desperate need to fuck you harder, to chase the feeling of you unraveling beneath him, for him, because of him.

his head tilts back, throat exposed, taut with restraint, jaw clenched so tight it feels like it might snap. the delicate chains draped across his face glint under the dim light, shifting with every sharp breath, every tremor of pleasure rolling through him, the cool metal a stark contrast against his burning skin. he’s holding on by a thread, barely keeping himself together, but fuck—you're making it impossible.

you're so tight around him, so fucking warm, gripping him like you don’t want to let him go, like you’re trying to pull him deeper, ruin him completely. every slick drag of your walls around his cock sends a fresh surge of heat rushing up his spine, settling low in his gut, twisting tighter, hotter, more unbearable by the second. his fingers dig into your hips, possessive, brutal, leaving behind a promise in the shape of bruises. he wants you to feel this, wants you aching tomorrow, wants you to remember who fucked you like this, who made you come apart.

his breath stutters, his grip tightening like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. “oh, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked, hoarse, barely more than a breathless rasp. “ya have no fuckin’ idea what you’re doing to me.”

but you do.

you know exactly what you’re doing.

your lips part in a slow, smug little smirk, body arching beneath him, rolling up into his thrusts, forcing a deep, guttural hiss from his throat. you feel the way he shudders, the way his breath catches, the way his muscles tense under your fingertips as you drag your nails up his arms, over the solid planes of his shoulders, teasing, testing, pushing.

“thought you were supposed to be stronger than this,” you murmur, voice silky-smooth, laced with cruel amusement, a challenge dressed up in honey. your fingers slip into his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch, just enough to feel the way his cock twitches inside you.

baëkhyun tenses, exhales sharply through his nose.

“at least that’s what you were telling me at the bar earlier,” you continue, tone drenched in mock innocence, pretending you don’t feel the way his grip tightens, the way his jaw flexes. “or was that all bullshit to get me in bed?”

his eyes flicker—sharp, burning, dangerous. the silver chains draped across his face catch the light as he tilts his head, lips curling into something dark, something feral.

“oh, you wanna play it like that?”

his voice is low, dripping with promise, amusement laced with something sharper, something darker. he watches you, eyes scanning your face, the way your lips part, the way your lashes flutter, the way your body responds to the power humming beneath his skin.

and then—he moves.

he pulls out completely.

your breath catches, a whimper slipping past your lips before you can stop it, your walls clenching around nothing, aching, empty, desperate.

but he doesn’t give you time to complain.

before you can even suck in another breath, he slams back in.

deep. brutal. unrelenting.

the force of it sends a sharp cry tumbling from your lips, your back arching off the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets, legs trembling where they wrap around his waist.

he grins.

“yeah, that's what i fuckin’ thought,” he murmurs, pressing forward, completely caging you in, silver chain dangling between you, cold against your overheated skin.

his hips snap forward again, tearing another sharp, gasping moan from your throat, and he drinks it in, revels in it, watches the way your face twists, the way your body shudders beneath him.

“so cocky a second ago,” he muses, mocking, smug, devastating. “but look at you now.”

his voice is smooth, controlled, the kind of control that makes your stomach tighten, makes your breath catch, makes your body tremble beneath his.

“what happened, sweetheart?” his lips graze the shell of your ear, voice taunting, teasing, all teeth and arrogance. “thought you wanted me to fuck you like this.”

he rolls his hips deeper, sharper, filling you so perfectly you can barely breathe, barely think, barely do anything but moan his name.

“you talk all that shit,” baëkhyun continues, mocking, devastatingly smug, “but the moment i fuck you like this, you're just a trembling, moaning mess beneath me.”

he sinks in, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch, every ridge, every unrelenting stretch of him. he presses deeper, so deep you can barely breathe, until his hips are flush against yours, buried to the hilt, seated inside you so perfectly it almost hurts. and then—he stops.

a sharp inhale drags through his teeth, his muscles locking up, his body trembling as he forces himself to stay still. it’s too much. he should be moving, should be fucking into you the way he knows you want him to, the way you’re already arching beneath him, fingers digging into his arms, nails scratching at his skin like you’re begging him to give you more. but he can’t. not yet.

his head tilts back, throat exposed, silver face chain shifting with the movement, glinting in the dim light as his jaw clenches. his breath stutters out of him, shaky and uneven, barely holding on. his fingers twitch where they grip your hips, nails pressing deep enough to bruise, deep enough to remind himself that he’s still here, still grounded, still barely keeping himself together.

but fuck— he’s never felt like this before.

his senses are too sharp, too dialed in, too focused on you, on how fucking perfect you feel wrapped around him. he hears everything—the sound of your breath hitching, the erratic pounding of your heartbeat against your ribs, the slick, obscene noises of your bodies pressed together, the soft, shaky moan that catches in your throat when you shift beneath him.

he feels everything.

your walls flex around him, tight and pulsing, gripping him like you don’t want him to leave, like you want to pull him even deeper, keep him buried inside you forever. you’re so warm, so wet, so utterly wrapped around him, molding to him in a way that makes his vision blur, makes his entire body coil with the unbearable need to move, to fuck, to completely ruin you.

but then—you move first.it’s the smallest shift, just a slow, deliberate roll of your hips, just enough to make him feel it.

and baëkhyun nearly fucking breaks.

his jaw slacks, lips parting around a choked-off groan, hips jerking forward before he can stop himself, chasing the way you squeeze around him, the way you shudder beneath him, the way you’re already so fucking desperate. his hands fly to your waist, gripping tight, like he’s holding on for dear life, like he’s trying to keep himself from losing every last thread of control.

“oh, fuck, baby,” he gasps, voice wrecked, raw, disbelieving.

his hands glide over your body, slow and reverent, mapping every curve, every soft expanse of skin, memorizing the way you feel beneath him. his fingertips trace over the tremble in your thighs, the slight arch of your spine, the way your stomach tenses when his hands dip lower, gripping your hips, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

his cock twitches inside you, so hyperaware, so overstimulated, so fucking deep that every little flutter of your walls makes his entire body tense. it’s too much, too good, too perfect. the heat of your body is suffocating, intoxicating, addicting, pulling him in, swallowing him whole, leaving him so close to the edge he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold back much longer.

his head dips forward, silver chains swaying, brushing against your flushed skin, cold metal against heat. his lips part against your shoulder, panting, breathless, and for the first time, he realizes—

he might not last much longer.

“baëk.”

his name leaves your lips on a breathy sigh, and the moment it hits his ears, his eyes snap open—sharp, glowing, flickering with hunger.

he looks wrecked.

his silver chain glints under the dim light, swaying with every shaky inhale, white hair damp and sticking to his forehead, jaw tight as he stares down at you. there’s something dark behind his gaze, something borderline desperate, something completely unhinged.

and you can’t help it—you smirk.

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you whisper, voice thick with amusement, rolling your hips up just enough to test him, just enough to feel the way he shudders, the way his cock twitches inside you, so fucking sensitive.

his breath catches, jaw clenching harder, fingers twitching against your hips like he’s fighting the urge to pin you down, to snap, to completely ruin you.

“so cute when you're pussydrunk,” you murmur, letting the words sink into his skin, letting them wrap around him like a noose.

baëkhyun growls low, deep, and dangerous.

his hand shoots up, wrapping around your throat, forcing your chin up, tilting your face until your gaze is locked with his. his grip is firm, unrelenting, not choking, just controlling, just enough to remind you who’s in charge.

“you think that’s funny?” his breath is hot against your lips, ragged and uneven, shaky from restraint. his fingers press in just enough to steal a gasp from you, just enough to let you know he could take away even more if he wanted.

and then—he snaps.

his hips slam forward, brutal, punishing, unforgiving.

your back arches off the bed, a strangled moan ripped from your throat, high and broken, your body trembling beneath the force of him.

baëkhyun laughs, breathless and mocking, his grip tightening, his lips brushing against your ear, amusement curling at the edges of his voice.

“not so cocky now, are you, sweetheart?”

his words hit like fire, scorching through your veins, sending heat rolling through your body, pooling low in your stomach, twisting tighter, hotter, unbearable. his voice is thick with mockery, dominance, control, but you can hear the way it falters at the edges, the way his breath stutters, ragged and uneven.

you bite your lip, fighting a moan, refusing to give in completely. instead, you force your eyes up to his, your smirk lazy, taunting, but not quite as steady as before.

“who said i wasn’t?” you rasp, voice breaking on the last word as his next thrust steals the breath from your lungs.

baëkhyun growls, low and dangerous.

you feel it vibrate through his chest, through the press of his body against yours, through the way his fingers dig into your waist, bruising, possessive, desperate.

“you’re fuckin’ shaking,” he breathes, amusement curling at the edges of his words. “don’t think i don’t feel it, baby. your body’s givin’ ya away.”

he slows his pace suddenly, rolling his hips deep, deliberate, pressing into you so perfectly that your head tips back, a broken moan spilling from your lips before you can stop it.

your walls clench around him in response, whimpering, shaking, unraveling beneath his touch, beneath his pace, beneath the raw desperation in his movements.

and he feels it all.

he feels the way you pulse around him, the way your body trembles, the way you lose yourself beneath him, and it only makes him rougher, only makes him fuck you harder, deeper, sharper, until all you can do is take it.

your fingers scramble against his shoulders, against his back, nails dragging down his skin, searching for something to hold onto, searching for anything to keep you from completely falling apart.

“b-baëk—” you gasp, breathless, nearly gone.

he grins, breath hitching, but his eyes glow with something darker.

“what’s that, sweetheart?” he taunts, mocking, knowing. “weren’t you just giving me attitude a second ago?”

you bite back another moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction. instead, you roll your hips up again, tightening around him, watching as his lips part, as his breath stumbles—just slightly.

he curses under his breath, a sharp exhale hissing through his teeth.

“oh, you little—”

his grip tightens—on your hips, on your throat, everywhere, because he can’t get close enough, can’t get enough, can’t fucking stand the way you feel so perfect around him and yet it’s still not enough.

his lips drag along your ear, his voice breathless, shaky, desperate.

“i feel everything,” he whispers, voice raw, shaking with it. “you think you can hide it from me? think you can still play this little game when i can feel this perfect fucking pussy clenching around me?”

your body shudders.

“fuck—” you breathe, finally breaking.

and baëkhyun laughs, low, dark, triumphant.

your moans turn helpless, breathless, uncontrollable.

you’re close—so fucking close, and he knows it.

his fingers slide down, find your clit, start circling, pressing, teasing.

you jerk, tense, writhe beneath him, gasping his name, hands clawing at his back, at the sheets, at anything that can ground you.

“cum for me, my pretty girl,” his voice is pure wreckage, pure desperation. “lemme feel it, lemme feel this sweet pussy squeeze me so fuckin’ tight—fuckfuckfuck, just like that.”

his hips snap forward—deep, grinding, ruthless.

and then—you break.

the pleasure hits like a shockwave, rolling through you, drowning you in heat and static and white-hot euphoria, leaving you gasping, shaking, body clenching around him in waves.

and baëkhyun feels every single bit of it.

it ruins him.

“shit—‘m gonna cum, baby. fuck—gonna fill ya up, make a fuckin’ mess of you. ya want that? yeah? want me so deep you’ll still feel me next week?”

his thrusts grow erratic, rhythm crumbling as the pleasure coils tighter, hotter, winding through every nerve in his body like a live wire. he's barely holding on, teetering on the edge, lost in the unbearable heat of you, the way your gummy walls flutter and grip him, milking him, pulling him deeper into the abyss.

he's gone. completely, utterly gone.

his fingers tighten on your hips, bruising, anchoring himself as his body locks up, shuddering. the tension snaps like a live circuit, raw electricity bursting in his veins as his climax rips through him—violent, devastating, white-hot and all-consuming.

and then—

the world goes dark.

a deep, shuddering groan wrenches from his throat, his entire body seizing, electricity sparking through his nerves, his power surging beyond control. the lightbulbs overhead flicker, pulsing once—twice—before exploding in a cascade of shattered glass. outside, the entire city plunges into sudden, absolute blackness. streetlights sputter and die. neon signs fizzle out. buildings blink into nothing, their towering silhouettes vanishing into the void.

but baëkhyun doesn’t notice. doesn’t care.

he’s buried so deep inside you, cumming so hard, spilling into you in thick, pulsing waves, filling you until there’s nothing left of him, until he’s shaking, panting, forehead pressing into your shoulder, chest rising and falling in ragged gasps.

his body trembles against yours, completely wrung out, completely spent, every last drop of his energy drained, sucked from him the moment he lost himself in you.

his breath is uneven, sharp and shallow, his fingers twitching against your waist as he tries—fails—to regain control, to piece himself back together.

but he can’t.

you’ve ruined him.

you feel the weight of him, the heavy press of his body, the way his heart hammers against yours, erratic and frantic. he’s never felt like this before. never been unraveled like this. never lost himself so completely that he took the entire fucking city down with him.

then—he exhales a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“holy fuck.” his voice is hoarse, wrecked beyond belief, thick with something almost delirious, something that borders on awe. “did i just—”

you swallow, dazed, body still trembling beneath him, still reeling from the way he just ruined you.

“you… turned off the whole fucking city,” you breathe.

baëkhyun blinks.

then, slowly, a smirk curls at his lips.

“shit,” he mutters, breath still uneven. “guess i really was seeing the light.”

you groan, smacking his arm weakly, too exhausted to do anything else, and he chuckles, low and satisfied, lips pressing against your temple in something almost tender.

“’m serious,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion, but there’s something smug underneath it, something cocky, something dangerous. “might’ve just fucked the whole grid offline.”

you huff, shaking your head, but you can’t stop the way your lips twitch, amusement curling at the edges of your spent smile.

“so what now?” you mumble, voice still hoarse, fingers trailing mindlessly over his damp back.

baëkhyun hums, shifting slightly, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you against him, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“dunno,” he sighs, pressing a lazy kiss to your collarbone. “maybe i should do it again. see if i can take out the whole damn country next time.”

you laugh, smacking his shoulder, and he grins, shifting just enough to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

outside, the city remains dark, silent, caught in the aftermath of his power slipping, of his control completely unraveling.

outside, the city remains shrouded in darkness, silent, caught in the aftermath of his power slipping—his control unraveling at the seams.

but inside—

inside, baëkhyun is still glowing.

it lingers on his skin, a faint golden shimmer caught in the sweat-slick dip of his collarbones, in the silver glint of his chain, in the sharp, flickering brightness behind his half-lidded eyes. remnants of power, of pleasure, of something raw and all-consuming.

you watch him, gaze tracing the aftershocks still rippling through his body—the way his chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, the way his muscles still twitch beneath flushed skin, the way he looks so utterly wrecked, so completely gone—yet somehow still devastatingly beautiful.

his fingers ghost over your stomach, over your ribs, over the marks he left behind—absentminded, reverent, like he’s memorizing the proof of his presence on your skin.

then, with a slow, breathless chuckle, he exhales, “didn’t think i’d ever lose it like that over a girl.” his lips brush against your temple, voice thick, almost disbelieving. “a human one at that.”

you blink up at him, still hazy, still catching your breath. “oh? so what—you usually short-circuit cities over celestial beings?”

baëkhyun grins, lazy and wrecked, fingers tracing idle patterns against your hip. “never short-circuited anything over anyone.” he tilts his head, voice dropping lower, rougher. “guess you’re different.”

your breath stutters, but you mask it with a slow, smug smirk. “must be pretty humbling.”

he huffs a laugh, shaking his head, white hair damp against his forehead. “more like terrifying.” his fingers tighten against your waist, like he’s grounding himself. “what the hell are you doing to me?”

you hum, dragging your nails up his back, slow and teasing. “dunno.” your lips graze his jaw. “but i think you like it.”

his breath shudders, his grip flexing, his body still wound tight despite everything. his gaze flickers—something dark, something unspoken, something that burns like an eclipse.

“yeah,” he mutters, pressing a lingering kiss against your throat, voice dripping with something dangerously close to devotion.

“i really fucking do.”

outside, the city will wake up again. the lights will return, people will move on, life will resume like nothing happened.

but in this room, in this bed, wrapped in baëkhyun’s arms—

the world still belongs to him.

⟢ xiūmin

“tell me what's your kink. gimme the dick!”

it starts with a single ice cube gliding along your skin.

“cold?’ xiūmin murmurs, watching you flinch as the frozen edge drags down the curve of your stomach. his fingers, warm in contrast, follow right behind, soothing the goosebumps rising in its wake.

“y-yeah,” you admit, breath hitching, but you don’t pull away. the contrast between heat and ice sends a shiver through you, but underneath the initial shock, there’s something else—something thrilling.

xiūmin smirks. “good.”

he presses the melting ice against your collarbone, tracing the delicate line, the cold bite making you gasp. your hands twitch at your sides, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer. he notices, of course. his gaze darkens, flicking up to meet yours.

“relax. just feel.”

you nod, swallowing hard.

then he gets bolder.

the ice trails lower, circling a peaked nipple, and the sharp chill makes your back arch instantly. “oh—” your moan cuts off as his lips replace the ice, tongue lapping at the sensitive skin warmed by his mouth. the contrast is intoxicating, a push and pull between fire and frost, and it makes your head spin.

“so sensitive,” he muses, rolling the ice between his fingers before pressing it to the inside of your thigh, drawing slow, teasing patterns. you can barely handle it, hips shifting desperately as the cold sears pleasure straight to your core.

“xiū, please,” you whimper, barely recognizing your own voice. you weren’t expecting to react this intensely, but your body is on fire, every nerve ending hyperaware. the ice is melting fast now, water trickling down your skin, and his lips chase the droplets, tongue laving up the trails left behind.

he smirks as he shifts lower, spreading your thighs apart. the remaining ice cube in his fingers drags over the most sensitive part of you, the freezing contrast against your heat making you cry out. your body jolts at the intensity, legs trembling as he watches you come undone under his touch.

“fuck, you’re dripping for me already,” he groans, pushing the ice deeper between your folds, rolling it over your clit, and you swear your vision goes white. your fingers clutch the sheets, desperate and overwhelmed, a wreck beneath him.

“please—oh my god—” you choke out, hips twitching involuntarily as he circles the ice around your entrance, teasing. your body is thrumming, nerves sizzling from the unbearable pleasure.

when the ice finally melts, he replaces it with his mouth, lips wrapping around your swollen, oversensitive bud as he moans against you, the vibrations making you arch off the bed. his tongue is hot, relentless, flicking and sucking until you’re seeing stars, legs trembling on either side of his head.

“more,” you beg, voice wrecked, breathless.

his fingers slip inside, stretching you open as his mouth works you over, lapping at you like he’s starving. your release crashes over you so hard your entire body locks up, toes curling as you cry out his name, drowning in pleasure.

he doesn’t stop.

he keeps going, drawing every last wave out of you, overstimulating you until you’re shuddering, begging him to slow down. finally, he pulls away, his lips and chin glistening, eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you.

he shifts over you, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, and his cock presses against your entrance, teasing, testing. he kisses you, slow and deep, before whispering, “ready?”

nervous, but desperate, you nod. “yes.”

he pushes in, slow and careful, letting you adjust to the stretch. the fullness steals your breath, but the burn melts into pleasure quickly, your body molding to him like you were made for this.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, voice strained as he fights to go slow, to let you savor the sensation.

but soon, your fingers claw at his back, your hips rising to meet his. “move. please.”

he doesn't need to be told twice.

he starts slow, deep, but the moment he hears you moan—really moan—he loses himself. his pace quickens, his thrusts turning desperate, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

“so tight, so perfect,” he grits out, watching your face contort with pleasure. “you love this, don’t you?”

“yes—yes, oh my god—”

he slips a hand between your bodies, circling your swollen clit, determined to push you over the edge again, and again, and again. the pleasure is fucking overwhelming, everything too much and not enough at the same time, and when you finally cum, it’s with a cry that echoes through the room.

xiūmin follows moments later, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, his body shuddering as he spills into you.

for a moment, all that fills the room is the sound of heavy breathing, the lingering tremors of pleasure humming through both of you. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a contrast to the intensity of what just happened.

“told ya you'd like it,” he murmurs against your skin, smug and satisfied.

with what little strength you have left, you manage a breathless laugh. “i loved it.”

his smirk returns, darker this time. “good. because next time, i’m making you beg for it.”

⟢ läy

“eat it like i need an apron on! eat it ‘til i need to change my thong!”

läy starts slow. agonizingly slow.

his lips are soft as they graze over the inside of your thighs, planting open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin, tongue darting out to taste the warmth of your body. his breath is hot, heavy, teasing. he knows what you want, knows how badly you need him between your legs, but he takes his time.

“you’re already so wet,” he murmurs, nosing against your clothed core, his voice rough with something dark, something hungry. “i haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

his fingers ghost over your hips, gripping just tight enough to make you squirm, just firm enough to let you know you aren’t going anywhere. then, finally, he leans in and drags his tongue up the center of your lace-covered slit, slow and deliberate.

a whimper leaves your lips. your hips lift off the bed, seeking more friction, but läy’s hands are there to press you back down.

“be patient,” he chides, but his voice is thick with need.

he presses his mouth against you fully this time, lips sealing over the damp fabric, tongue working slow circles over your clit through the lace. the friction of it—the way the fabric catches just slightly, the heat of his mouth dampening it further—makes you arch against him, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer.

“one,” you breathe, already trembling.

his laugh is dark, warm, reverberating against your core. “one already?” he teases, licking at you again, this time with more pressure, more intent.

your answer is a broken moan.

he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit again, the lace sticking wetly to your folds, your arousal soaking through as he laps at you like he’s savoring every drop. his fingers dig into your thighs as he holds you still, his mouth working you over until your vision blurs, pleasure cresting through your body.

“two,” you choke out, and läy hums approvingly, his tongue flicking over your clit just right, sending another jolt of pleasure straight through you.

your legs shake as he keeps going, undeterred by your gasping breaths, your restless hips. his hands tighten around your thighs, pushing them wider as he angles himself deeper. then, with slow, deliberate precision, he tilts his head and uses his tongue to push the lace aside, baring you to him completely.

“fuck,” he breathes.

his eyes flick up to yours, and the heat in his gaze makes your stomach flip, makes your breath catch in your throat.

“so pretty,” he murmurs before dipping his head back down.

this time, there's nothing between you. no fabric, no barrier—just his mouth, hot and wet, sealing over your cunt like he wants to drown in you.

his tongue slides deep, licking into you before dragging up to flick over your clit again. his nose presses against you, his lips closing around your swollen bud, sucking gently, then harder, and your hands clutch at the sheets, at his hair, at anything you can grab onto as he devours you.

“three,” you gasp, your body already teetering on the edge again.

he doesn’t slow. doesn’t stop. his fingers slide through your slick folds before pressing into you, curling against that sweet spot inside you, the one that makes you cry out his name. he works you open with practiced ease, fucking you with his fingers as his tongue works over your clit, coaxing you into another mind-numbing release.

“four,” you sob, thighs shaking around his head, but he only groans in response, the sound vibrating against your clit, making you tremble even harder.

he doesn’t give you time to recover. doesn’t let up. his fingers press deeper, his tongue moving faster, and before you know it, your body is seizing up again, another orgasm crashing through you so hard that you can’t even form words, can’t even count.

“five,” you whisper, barely audible.

and then, finally, he pulls back, his lips and chin glistening with your slick, his eyes dark with something insatiable.

you’re still catching your breath when he shifts onto his knees, hands moving to his belt, unbuckling it with slow, deliberate movements. your heart stutters as he unbuttons his pants, dragging the zipper down, freeing himself from the confines of his clothes.

his cock is hard, flushed, dripping, and he wraps a hand around the base, stroking himself once, twice, as he looks down at you with a smirk that sends a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs.

“okay,” he says, positioning himself between your legs, rubbing the thick head of his cock over your oversensitive clit.

and then he sinks into you, slow and deep, and you swear you see stars.

“fuck,” läy groans, forehead pressing against yours, his hands gripping your thighs as he bottoms out. “angel… you’re—” his words cut off into a sharp exhale, his jaw clenching as he struggles to hold himself together.

you’re gripping him so tight, wrapped around him so perfectly, your walls pulsing, clinging onto him like you never want to let go. and fuck, he’s barely keeping it together.

“läy”, you whimper, rolling your hips up, desperate to feel more, to push him deeper.

his hands tighten on you instinctively, his fingers digging into your flesh like he's trying to ground himself, like he's trying not to lose himself completely in the heat of you.

“you're so fucking tight,” he mutters, his voice rough, wrecked. “i can’t—fuck, i can’t—”

but you don’t let him finish.

your hands reach up, fingers curling around the back of his neck, tugging him closer until your lips brush against his, your breath mingling with his.

“don’t hold back,” you whisper, eyes locking onto his, and something in him snaps.

his control slips. his hips jerk forward, burying himself as deep as he can go, and a choked moan spills from his lips at the way you squeeze around him.

“baby,” he groans, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch inside you, the way his body trembles with the effort of keeping himself from coming too soon.

but you want him to.

you want to push him past the edge, to make him lose himself in you the way he just made you fall apart over and over again.

so you move.

you plant your feet against the bed and lift your hips, fucking yourself up onto him, dragging him deeper, meeting every one of his thrusts with desperate, rolling movements that make his breath hitch and his arms shake.

“fuck—fuck, angel—” he gasps, and his hands fly to your waist, trying to slow you down, trying to hold on, but you don’t let him.

you pull him closer, your grip on his neck tightening, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “cum for me, baby. give it to me.”

his groan is guttural, a deep, broken sound as his hips snap forward, movements turning erratic, frantic, desperate.

“fuck—i'm—” he chokes out, his head dropping to your shoulder as he buries himself as deep as he can go, hips pressing flush against yours as he spills into you, white-hot pleasure crashing over him in waves.

he moans your name, his hands gripping you like a lifeline as he grinds into you, making sure every last drop is buried deep inside.

your fingers tangle into his damp hair, your lips pressing soft, slow kisses against his temple as his breathing evens out, as he slowly comes down from the high of it all.

“you okay?” you murmur, still holding him close.

he lifts his head, and his gaze is soft, warm, so full of something tender that it makes your chest ache.

“yeah,” he breathes, a lazy smile curling at the edges of his lips. “i just… think i fell completely fucking in love with you.”

your heart stutters.

“yeah?” you tease, your fingers tracing circles against the nape of his neck. “that good, huh?”

his laugh is quiet, sweet, and he presses a lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring against them, “it’s always that good with you.”

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 .

74 notes · View notes