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rockstaryuta · 9 months

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﹫ SMOKING KILLS . . . 일이칠 ✮⋆˙

cigarette with his number on it, he gave it over me, do you want it?

[ ☆ ] nct 127 headcanon. afab! reader. warning. 18+ mdni, smoking, kissing, smut, fingering, missionary, rough sex, doggy style, blowjob, cowgirl, dirty talk, use of pet names.

sitting on his lap, legs spread with his slender fingers sliding up and down your slit, the cigarette in between your lips is practically forgotten. though, not by johnny who reaches up to steal it from its imprisonment between your teeth with a low laugh. he whispers some undoubtedly grating comment into your ears as he blows out smoke, pressing his middle finger just barely inside of you before pulling out and drawing tight, slow circles around your clit. he loves the way you jerk against him, biting back desperate whines, eyes clenched shut and hands gripping the edge of your t shirt. he taps the ash off the cigarette which an absent minded flick of his wrist, bringing it back to your open mouth with a self-satisfied grin and the sudden plunge of his fingers.

“what’s a matter, baby?” he coos, nipping at your earlobe as he pumps his fingers in and out of you at a pace that has your eyes rolling back in your head, “don’t wanna smoke?”

you think taeyong looks his most handsome when he’s just like this. between your legs, delicate hands pushing your thighs back as far as they can. using them as a crutch to hold himself upright, a whiny hiss escaping from his mouth each time he pushes his cock back into you. mumbling about how tight you are, how good he feels when he’s fucking you, all these pretty words that are muffled by the presence of the cigarette in between his lips. the ash falling down to the exposed expanse of your belly each time he thrusts, teeth clenched so tightly that the cigarette itself has become a contorted, disfigured image of itself.

“so good, so, so good…” he whimpers, words unintelligible and eyes fluttering somewhere between clamped down and wide open as he leans against your legs, cock twitching as you clench around him. smoke dripping from his lips as he mewls, “so fucking tight, so perfect for me,"

it always starts with shotgunning. a shared cigarette leading to a heated kiss, smoke falling from your open mouth as he bites down on your bottom lip. a kiss leading to you being bent over onto all fours. all fours leading to yuta’s cock relentlessly slamming into you. cigarette held in between the slender fingers that are laced into your hair, pulling harshly enough that your neck is craned back, earning you a breathless, cheshire grin from the man fucking you stupid. his opposite hand is digging into your hip, a grip so hard that you’re sure there will be bruises in the shape of his handprint when he’s finished. he’s barely able to take a drag, mouth never closed long enough to actually inhale the smoke, always interrupted by a hoarse groan or a comment that nearly sends you over the edge. but when he does smoke, he’s always so lightheaded from the feeling of his cock inside of you that he doesn’t even taste it.

“yeah, you like that?” it’s less of a moaned-out question and more of a definitive statement as his fingers tighten against your hip, taking a shaky drag, “that’s it, pretty. you take my cock so well,”

there are many simple pleasures in jaehyun’s life. and one of them is watching you suck on the head of his cock, blowing smoke from your cigarette as you lap at his throbbing tip. one hand holding the cig, perfectly poised on the v of his torso, and the other tensed around the base of his cock, moving in pace with the strokes of your tongue. he loves the taste of the cigarette, a mixture of you and him, sealed with the impression of your lipstick that is smeared against both the rolled paper and the length of his erection. head tossed back, hand laying over his shut eyes, he takes a drag before handing it back to you. feeling your exhale on his sensitive head, inducing the ache of his cock and a low moan before you finally allow him to slide back into your mouth.

“don’t stop,” he groans, opposite hand digging into the flesh of his thighs as you circle his tip, blowing smoke against him, “shit, baby. you’re driving me crazy,”

doyoung doesn’t like the brand you smoke, constantly nagging you to switch to his favorite brand. that way he wouldn’t have to gag whenever you two kissed or make a face of disgust whenever he caught a whiff of it on you. but he supposes that they aren’t all that bad when they’re smothered by the stench of sex. when the only taste on his tongue is blood, biting down on his bottom lip as he buries his cock into you. one hand pressing down upon the small of your back as you arch for him, the other steadying your ashtray that rocks against the sheets each time he thrusts into you. he steals the cigarette from your stuttering fingers, wet with your drool and bent from your grip. he supposes that he could get used to your brand.

“tastes like you, pretty,” he pants, leaning forward against your back to place it between your lips, encouraging you to take a drag, “don’t you think?”

repeatedly sinking down onto his cock, bottoming out with an airy moan, you nearly drop the cigarette on jungwoo’s chest. his hands are everywhere, cupping your ass, sliding up to your waist, kneading your breasts, thumbs slipping over your nipple with practiced precision. every movement, every breath is concluded with a whimper that escapes from his throat, rolling his hips into you in a desperate plea to get any further semblance of friction. he’s so sensitive that it’s almost pitiful, babbling incoherent sentences that are more moans than words as you rock your hips in a fluid rhythm. cigarette brought to your lips and smoke exhaled alongside a mewl of pleasure, your opposing hand laced with his own as he paws at your tits. there are two things that he prizes above all other iterations of chasing a high, smoking and watching you smoke. and it’s for this reason that you continually lean down onto his chest, hand steadying yourself on his torso and pussy clenching around his cock. you bring the cigarette to his lips, watching him take an exaggerated drag. one that you meet with a clumsy kiss, smoke trapped between your mouths. the feeling of your tongue on his, the tobacco burning in the back of his throat, and his cock buried all the way inside of you is enough for him to lose any shred of self control.

“it’s not fair,” he whines, rutting his hips into you as he smokes, your hand brought to his lips in an effort to let him take another drag, “you just make me cum too quickly,"

for the majority of your time knowing mark, smoking has always been more your speed than his. and perhaps that was for the best. because right now, watching him fist his cock above your pussy, occasionally smearing his precum against your aching folds with a cigarette in between his lips, is bringing you to the brink of orgasm. he takes a drag with a trembling hand, exhaling with half-lidded eyes and a needy groan. the smoke sticks to his eyelashes, clouding his vision as he rubs his tip over your clit before moving down to buck against your slit. he pulls the cigarette from his lips, holding it in between two, slender fingers as he presses down on your lower stomach. feeling himself push inside of you with a cacophony of hissed iterations of ‘shit’ and ‘fuck,’ amongst others. and when he starts fucking you? thrusting in and out as he whines about how much he loves you, how good you feel, how he’s already so, so close. the cigarette is left forgotten and crumbling on the surface of your torso, allowing you to steal it from his lingering fingers and save yourself the trouble of a burn.

“don’t look at me like that, baby,” he groans, watching you stare back at him as you take a lazy drag, tits bouncing and face flushed, “shit, you’re gonna make me cum with that look,”

you’re not one hundred percent sure that haechan knows what shotgunning is. but you can’t complain much when his hands are on you like this, one gripping your waist and the other clawing at your back as he presses himself against you. cock buried deep inside of you as he whimpers and whines against your neck, pressing sloppy, drooling kisses to your throat and leaving behind the soft impression of his teeth. he ruts into you like a dog in heat, desperate and urgent as if his life depends on it. you barely can take a drag of the cigarette that’s caught between both of your entangled fingers before he’s kissing you again, moaning into your mouth as he inhales the smoke that has fallen from your lips.

“t-too much,” he slurs, biting down harshly on the space between the beginnings of your shoulder and neck, “gonna cum. so fucking close,”

🗯️ note. if it wasn't obvious by the length of his section, jungwoo has me gnashing my teeth, ripping out my hair, shaking the bars of my enclosure. i need a cig after writing this.

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