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Haydi | 24 yo | skz blog | nsfw blog (mdni) | enhypen blog

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CLAIMED | K.SM (mdni)

Pairing: Possessive boyfriend Seungmin x afab reader
A.N: all i saw is this quote and my mind couldn’t stop thinking about it.

His fingers are fucking brutal inside you. Three fingers jammed deep, knuckles grinding mercilessly against your G-spot, stretching your slick cunt walls until you feel like you might actually tear. You gasp against the sweat-damp pillowcase, hips thrashing uselessly, pinned beneath the solid weight of his forearm digging into your lower belly. He owns this. Owns your reaction. Owns the pathetic whimpers breaking from your lips.

His other hand isn’t gentle either. It’s fisted tight in your hair, yanking your head back at an agonizing angle, exposing the frantic pulse in your throat like an offering. He likes seeing you strained, helpless, neck arched, utterly at his mercy. His eyes, dark pits of possessive intensity, devour you, watching the way your inner lips clench desperately around his violating fingers and the thick, creamy slickness welling up, coating his hand, dripping onto the already stained sheets.

“Fucking look at this mess,” he growls, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that scrapes against your raw nerves. He deliberately shifts his fingers, spreading you wider, rubbing his thumb cruelly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit. “You’re practically leaking like a broken faucet just from my fingers, aren’t you? So needy. So fucking easy.”

You sob, a choked, humiliating sound. The rough stimulation, the degrading words – it’s sending you spiraling, pleasure and shame twisting into an unbearable knot low in your gut. “Seungmin… please… ah… stop…”

“Stop?” He laughs harshly, clearly enjoying how much of a mess you are becoming. He leans down, fast, pressing his mouth hard against yours before you can utter another pathetic plea. It’s not a kiss; it’s a seal. His lips are firm, demanding, trapping your breath, trapping your moans. His tongue thrusts inside, rough and insistent, tasting the desperation, the fear, the undeniable heat you radiate. While his mouth violates yours, his fingers inside you pick up a vicious, relentless rhythm – plunging deep, then grinding hard against that spot, over and over.

You struggle, gagging against his tongue and the sheer intensity. But his hold is iron, his purpose absolute. He wants to hear you break, but he wants to taste it first. Your muffled screams vibrate against his lips, becoming part of him, feeding the dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes when he finally pulls back just enough for you to gasp a ragged breath.

Your lips are wet, stinging, probably bruised. Spittle and slickness mix at the corners of your mouth. You look utterly debauched.

“Not stopping ‘til you tell me,” he pants, his own breath coming hard now, forehead beaded with sweat against yours. His fingers resume their merciless assault inside you. “Moan it right into my mouth, baby.” He lowers his head again, lips hovering just above yours, close enough for you to feel the heat and smell his arousal. “Tell me who this dripping cunt belongs to. Who owns every pathetic little whimper falling from these pretty lips?” He thrusts his fingers deep, eliciting another choked cry. “Say it.”

The orgasm is clawing at you, sharp and blinding. You can barely think through the overwhelming sensations, the humiliation, the relentless fucking of his fingers. But you know what he wants. What he needs to hear.

“Y-You…” you sob, the word torn from you as another wave crashes through you. He presses his mouth firmly against yours again, capturing the sound. “Mmphh… Yours… Always…” You try to scream his name as the climax finally shatters you, but it’s swallowed whole, vibrating against his lips, his tongue delving deep to taste the peak of your release, the confession, the absolute claim. Your body convulses violently around his fingers, hot slickness flooding out, coating his hand, soaking his grey sweatpants where his cock is bulging violently, all while his mouth devours your broken sounds.

He keeps his mouth pressed to yours, keeps his fingers buried deep inside you, riding out the violent aftershocks, ensuring you feel every last humiliating tremor while tasting your complete submission. Only when you go limp beneath him, trembling and boneless, does he finally withdraw his fingers with a wet, obscene squelch.

He lifts his head, pulling his mouth away. A thick strand of saliva, mixed with your fluids, connects your lips for a moment before snapping. He looks down at you, face flushed, chest heaving, lips wet and slightly swollen from consuming your cries, before he brings his slick fingers – coated in your cum – up to his own mouth, slowly, deliberately licking them clean, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

“Good,” he breathes, the word a final brand. “Fucking knew you remembered.” He leans down, pressing a hard, possessive kiss to your bruised lips before rolling off, leaving you soaked, trembling, utterly ravaged, and tasting nothing but him and your own filthy surrender.

DEVOTION |

Pairing: Bf! Chan x gf afab reader
C.W: Established Relationship, Soft Dom Chan, Fingering, Mild Daddy Kink, Penetrative Sex, Overstimulation, Brief Mention of Bite Marks, Some good aftercare (i hope)…..
A.N: Just was in the mood for something soft (?). M so bad at writing soft things lmao. Again, don’t have high expectations!

“…that’s it,” Chan breathes, the words a rough prayer against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His voice is low, guttural, thick with the reverence he only shows when he has you like this – utterly vulnerable, utterly his to care for, to pleasure, to break down. You’re sprawled back against a mountain of pillows on the bed, legs spread wide for him, hips slightly elevated by the cushion he meticulously placed beneath you moments ago. Every nerve ending is alive, singing under the anticipation, under the weight of his intense, worshipful gaze.

He kneels between your legs, not touching you yet, just looking. His eyes, usually warm and crinkled with laughter, are dark now, almost black, pupils blown wide with focused adoration and simmering control. He takes his time, deliberately cataloging every detail – the flush high on your thighs, the way your breath hitches in your chest, the glistening dew already beading at your entrance, offered up just for him. This slow, visual consumption is part of the ritual, part of his service, making you hyper-aware, making you ache.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, finally reaching out. Not with his hands, not yet. He leans forward, his hair brushing against your inner thigh as he presses a soft, reverent kiss high up, near the juncture of your leg and hip. Then another, slightly lower. He works his way down, slow, deliberate kisses punctuating his progress, leaving trails of tingling heat in their wake. He noses at the damp curls protecting your mound, inhaling deeply, possessively. “Smell so fucking good,” he groans, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So sweet. ”

His tongue darts out, finally, tracing the outer lips with painstaking slowness, mapping your folds, tasting your readiness. You gasp, fingers fisting in the sheets beside you, already starting to tremble. He ignores your reaction for a moment, continuing his worshipful exploration, lapping gently, deliberately avoiding the most sensitive spot, drawing out the torture and building the need.

“Open for me, baby,” he whispers against your slick flesh. “Show me how wet you are. Show me how much you want this.” It’s a command disguised as a plea, and you obey instantly, letting your legs fall wider, offering yourself up completely to his ministrations.

He rewards you with a low hum of approval before finally focusing his attention where you ache for it most. His tongue flicks out, finding your clit. Not hard, not demanding, but with an exquisite, almost unbearable precision. He swirls around it, laves it gently, uses the flat of his tongue to apply broad, wet strokes that make your hips lift instinctively off the pillow.

“Mmmm, yeah,” he breathes, pressing his face closer, deeper between your thighs. “Taste so good. Like mine.” He flicks harder now, faster, finding a rhythm that syncs perfectly with the frantic pounding of your heart. He uses his lips too, creating a gentle suction around the swollen nub, pulling, tugging, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure radiating through your entire body.

You’re panting now, incoherent little whimpers falling from your lips. Your hands reach down, tangling in his soft hair, not to push him away, but to hold him there, closer, needing more. He allows it, leaning into your touch, but his hands come up, gently but firmly capturing your wrists, pinning them to the pillows beside your head.

“Uh-uh, baby girl,” he murmurs against your clit, his voice thick with control now, the earlier reverence giving way to delicious dominance. “Hands stay right here. Can’t have you distracting me from my work, can I?” He punctuates the words by sucking harder, pulling your entire clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue relentlessly around the ultra-sensitive peak.

A sharp cry rips from your throat. It’s too much, unbearably good. Your vision whites out for a second. He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows precisely how to push you right to the edge with just his mouth, his tongue, his meticulous, worshipful attention that somehow feels more controlling than any rough demand.

He feels you starting to build towards release, feels the subtle clenching of your inner muscles and the way your breath hitches and quickens. He pulls back slightly, just enough to break the intense suction, leaving you whining, suspended in agonizing anticipation.

“Not yet,” he whispers, licking a slow, deliberate path from your clit down towards your entrance. He noses at your slick folds, inhaling deeply again. “Haven’t even tasted how deep you get for me.”

Before you even can protest, his tongue plunges inside you. Thick, strong and surprisingly long. He explores your inner walls with shocking intimacy, tasting your slickness, learning the tight channel that usually only his cock gets to know. He swirls, presses upwards against your G-spot drawing lazy circles. You gasp, hips bucking wildly now, straining against the phantom pressure, utterly helpless.

He moves back to your clit, tongue flicking rapidly, expertly, while simultaneously—fuck—he slides two fingers deep inside you. Stretching you, filling you, pumping in a steady rhythm that perfectly complements the frantic work his tongue is doing. The dual stimulation is insane. Overload. You feel the orgasm rushing towards you like a freight train, unstoppable.

“That’s it,” Chan breathes against your skin, his voice rough with his own barely contained arousal. He can feel you trembling violently, feel the way your cunt is clenching desperately around his fingers. “Let go for me, baby. Cum all over my face. Show me how good I make you feel.”

His fingers pump faster, harder inside you, while his tongue becomes a merciless blur against your clit. You scream, a raw, broken sound this time, as the orgasm finally crashes over you, hot and shattering. Your body convulses uncontrollably, inner walls milking his fingers, hot slickness flooding out, coating his chin and his cheeks. You feel utterly undone, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, lost in the consuming intensity of the release he so expertly orchestrated.

He doesn’t stop immediately. He keeps his fingers moving inside you, keeps his tongue pressed firmly against your still-pulsing clit, riding out the aftershocks with you, ensuring you feel every last tremor. Only when your frantic whimpers subside into soft, exhausted sighs does he finally withdraw, pulling his fingers out with a wet, sucking sound.

He lifts his head, pushing his damp hair back from his forehead. His face is flushed, lips slightly swollen, eyes dark and hooded with sated desire. Your slickness glistens on his chin, maybe even a smear near his temple. He looks utterly debauched. Utterly beautiful.

He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your quivering inner thigh, right beside the evidence of your release. Then he looks up at you, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face.

“See?” he whispers, his voice thick with possessive tenderness. “Told you I’d take care of you.” He reaches up, gently wiping a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Always taste best when you’re completely falling apart for me.” He pauses, letting his gaze drift down to his own lap, where his cock strains visibly against the fabric of his sweatpants, thick and undeniably hard. “Ready for me to return the favor?”

You’re still trembling in the aftermath, muscles quivering, skin hypersensitive, cunt throbbing with a residual ache that’s more pleasure than pain. You stare up at him through hazy, blissed-out eyes, watching the blatant evidence of his arousal tenting the front of his grey sweatpants. The sight sends another wave of heat, less frantic now, more of a deep, pooling warmth, through your belly. You can only manage a weak, shaky nod in response to his question. Ready? You feel like you might liquefy if he touches you again, but god, yes. You’re ready. You need it.

He smiles that slow, knowing smile again, the one that makes your insides melt. “Good girl,” he murmurs. He doesn’t rush. He reaches over to the nightstand, retrieving a small bottle of lube – not because you need it, fuck no, you’re practically dripping for him – but because he likes the ritual, likes the feel of the cool slickness on his fingers before he touches you again.

He pumps a generous amount onto his hand, rubbing his palms together, warming it slightly. Then, those warm, slick fingers return to you. He spreads your folds gently, deliberately exposing your swollen, pink entrance, still glistening from your earlier orgasm. He circles the opening with one slick finger, teasingly, making you squirm and whine softly beneath his touch.

“So wet,” he praises quietly, his voice thick with appreciation. “Always so ready for me.” He slides one finger inside, easily finding the slick channel his previous ministrations prepared. Then a second, stretching you slightly, moving slowly, deliberately reacquainting himself with your inner contours. “Feels so fucking good, baby. So tight.”

He adds a third finger, pushing deeper now, knuckles pressing firmly against your clit with each inward stroke. You gasp, hips lifting off the pillows again, chasing the sensation. He curls his fingers inside you, finding that sensitive spot high on your front wall, and applies steady, rhythmic pressure.

“Right there?” he asks, already knowing the answer from the way your breath hitches and the way your inner muscles clench around his invading digits. “You like it when Daddy presses right there?”

This time the title doesn’t feel cringy. It feels… right. Earned. Acknowledging the power dynamic, the absolute control he has over your pleasure right now. “Yes,” you choke out, voice trembling. “Please… Chan… Daddy… yes…”

Hearing you say it, hearing the desperation, the surrender in your voice, makes his own cock give a hard jump beneath his sweatpants. A low groan escapes him. He works his fingers faster now, pumping in and out, using his thumb to mercilessly rub your clit in frantic circles. He brings you up quickly, efficiently, building the pressure again until you’re writhing beneath him, whimpering his name, begging.

“Almost there again, aren’t you?” he whispers, leaning down, his forehead pressing against yours. Sweat beads on his upper lip. “So easy for me to make you come apart.” He slows his fingers slightly, dragging out the torture. “But you want my cock now, don’t you? Want to feel me stretching you open? Filling you up completely?”

“Yes! Please, yes!” you sob, utterly desperate now.

“Good,” he breathes against your lips. He pulls his slick fingers out, leaving you aching and empty for only a heartbeat. He quickly shucks off his sweatpants and briefs, revealing his cock fully. Thick, long, vein-ridden, head glistening pink and weeping pre-cum. It’s beautiful. Intimidating. Perfect.

He positions himself between your spread thighs again, the head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. He doesn’t thrust in immediately. He pushes just the tip inside, stretching you slightly, letting you feel the blunt pressure. He watches your face intently, watches your eyes flutter shut, watches your lips part on a shaky sigh.

“Take me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need. He places his hands flat on your stomach, pressing down slightly, holding you in place. Then, slowly, deliberately, inch by agonizing inch, he pushes himself inside you.

It’s an incredible feeling. Stretching, filling, a satisfying pressure that borders on pain but tips entirely into overwhelming pleasure. You gasp, eyes flying open, fingers digging into the sheets as he sinks deeper, and deeper, until he’s buried completely to the hilt, stretching you fuller than his fingers ever could. He holds himself there, perfectly still for a long moment, letting you adjust, letting you both savor the feeling of absolute connection, of him completely possessing you.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his head back, eyes closed now, a look of pure bliss mixed with intense concentration on his face. “Feels… incredible, baby. Always.”

Then, he starts to move. Slow, deep, deliberate thrusts. Pulling out almost completely, feeling the drag of your inner walls clinging to him, before sinking back in with exquisite slowness, ensuring you feel every inch, every ridge, every vein. It’s not rushed. It’s sensual. Controlled. Each movement is precise, aimed at maximizing the friction, the deep pressure against your cervix and the stimulation of your G-spot.

He whispers praises constantly now against your ear. “That’s it… take my cock… feel how deep I am inside you... such a good girl… gripping me so tight… fuck, you feel perfect…” His words, combined with the slow, deep fucking, are driving you insane. The pleasure builds again, slower this time, deeper, coiling heavily in your core.

He senses it. He always does. He quickens his pace slightly, thrusts becoming deeper, harder, hitting that perfect spot again and again. His hands find your hips, gripping tight, tilting you just right, angling himself for maximum impact. His breath comes in harsh pants now, the control slipping slightly as his own pleasure builds.

“Chan… Daddy… I’m…” you gasp, feeling the familiar signs, the tightening low in your belly, the trembling in your thighs.

“Yeah, baby, F-uckkk, I know,” he pants back, his forehead slick with sweat, pressing against yours again. “Cum for me again. Let me feel you break around my cock.” He pounds into you, faster now, harder, abandoning the slow control for raw, driving need. He watches your face crumple, hears your breath shatter into ragged cries as the orgasm rips through you, even more intense this time, fueled by the sheer fullness of him inside you, milking him shamelessly.

Your climax triggers his. And with a final, guttural roar, he drives deep one last time, burying himself as far as he can possibly go, and floods you with his release. Hot, thick spurts pump inside you, coating your inner walls, filling you completely. He groans your name, shuddering violently, collapsing onto you, pinning you beneath his spent weight, his heart hammering against yours.

He stays buried inside you for long, languid moments, letting the echoes of both your orgasms fade, feeling the gentle pulse of your cunt settling around him. His breathing slowly evens out, the harsh pants softening into deep, steady breaths against your ear. He doesn’t pull out immediately; there’s a possessive comfort in just being there, connected, filling you.

Finally, with exquisite slowness that makes your muscles clench weakly one last time, he withdraws, leaving you feeling hollowed out but strangely complete. He doesn’t just roll away. No, Chan’s aftercare is as meticulous and focused as his fucking.

He props himself up on one elbow, his other hand immediately coming up to gently cup your cheek. His thumb strokes softly across your damp skin, wiping away a lingering tear track you hadn’t even realized was there. His eyes, still dark but no longer holding that fierce intensity, are incredibly soft now, filled with a profound tenderness that makes your heart ache in a completely different way.

“Hey,” he whispers, his voice low and gentle, still slightly rough from exertion but stripped of all command. “You with me, baby girl?”

You manage a weak nod, blinking up at him through heavy lids, feeling utterly boneless, utterly cared for.

He smiles, a soft, genuine curve of his lips. “Good,” he murmurs leaning down, and pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead, then your temple, then the corner of your eye where the tear was. Each touch is impossibly gentle, worshipful. “You were incredible,” he whispers against your skin. “Absolutely perfect for me. Took everything I gave you like a fucking dream.”

The praise, so different in tone from the filthy demands earlier, still sends a warm flutter through you. He pulls back slightly, his gaze drifting down your body, taking in the flushed skin, the faint bite mark already purpling on your shoulder from before, and the slickness still glistening on your inner thighs. There’s no judgment in his eyes, only appreciation. Adoration, even.

“So beautiful,” he breathes. “All messy and mine.” He reaches for the rumpled duvet, pulling it gently over your lower body, tucking it around your hips with careful hands, cocooning you in warmth.

He slips off the bed, padding quietly towards the ensuite. You hear the sound of water running. He returns moments later with a warm, damp washcloth, smelling faintly of the gentle soap he uses. He kneels beside the bed again, his movements unhurried, focused entirely on you.

“Lift up a little for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs. He helps you shift slightly, then begins to gently clean you. His touch is reverent as he wipes away the mingled fluids from your inner thighs, the slickness from your stomach, the drying come from his own body that might have transferred onto you. He’s careful around your still-sensitive clit, his touch light, respectful, a silent apology for the earlier intensity. There’s no shame in his actions, only care. It feels incredibly intimate, profoundly soothing.

Once he’s finished, he tosses the cloth aside and retrieves a soft towel, drying you with the same gentle care. His fingers linger on the angry red bite mark on your shoulder. Before he leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss right onto the mark. “Mine,” he whispers again, the word now purely possessive tenderness.

He pulls a clean, oversized t-shirt – his t-shirt – from his drawer and helps you sit up, sliding it carefully over your head. It smells like him, clean and comforting, engulfing you in his scent, before he guides your arms through the sleeves, his fingers brushing softly against your skin.

He disappears again, returning with a glass of water. “Drink,” he urges softly, holding it to your lips, helping you take small sips, and watches you intently, making sure you’re okay, his brow furrowed slightly with concern now, the dominant edge completely replaced by gentle solicitude.

Finally, he slides back into bed beside you, pulling you carefully against his side. He wraps his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin, his body still warm and solid against yours. He doesn’t initiate anything more, just holds you, his hand stroking slowly, rhythmically, up and down your back.

“Just rest now, baby,” he murmurs into your hair. “You earned it.” He presses a final kiss to the top of your head. “Did so good for me. Always do.”

And wrapped in his arms, surrounded by his scent, lulled by the steady beat of his heart against your ear and the soft cadence of his quiet praise, you finally drift off, feeling utterly cherished, utterly safe, utterly his.

A.N: This was unexpectedly long, sorry. M not 100% satisfied by how this turned out (i told u m so bad at writing soft things bye i wanna cry), but yeah posting it is better than letting it rot in my drafts. Anyways, plz be nice in the comments 🥹🥹

SKZ MAKNAE LINE AND CHOKING/BREATH PLAY (?)

C.W: non-con/dub-con, breathplay(?), Objectification, nd more… MDNI

A.N: not proofread

Han:

Han can barely contain his desperate whimpers as his throbbing cock disappears between your spit-slicked lips. Any semblance of control disintegrates as the velvety heat of your throat envelops him in sinful bliss.

“Oh f-fuck…can’t stop…” he rasps brokenly, thick fingers tangling in your hair to hold you still. With zero restraint, Han begins fucking your face in rough, animalistic thrusts that instantly have you gagging. Harsh grunts and muffled choking sounds fill the air as he uses your mouth like a personal fuckhole, fat cock battering past your convulsing throat again and again.

Hot tears stream down your ravaged cheeks but Han couldn’t care less, too overwhelmed by the perfection of being encased in your searing depths.

“N-need to…get deeper…” he growls, the hand not fisted in your hair pressing insistently against the back of your skull. Your nose is smashed against his pelvis as Han finally sheathes himself to the root, cutting off all airflow.

You struggle weakly against his bruising grasp, vision hazing and lungs screaming for oxygen. But Han is too drunk on pleasure and power to notice, ecstasy washing over his features as he swivels his hips to grind that thick length impossibly deeper.

“So fucking tight…g-gonna…use this c-cocksleeve…” Harsh, broken pants accompany each savage thrust down your spasming throat. Just as blackness fully encroaches, Han hilts himself with a bestial roar, ropes of sticky release flooding the impossibly stuffed channel of your throat…

Felix:

Felix whines needily as you clamp your hand around his throat, pupils blown wide with lust. His slender frame writhes shamelessly beneath you, desperately seeking friction against your thigh. You drink in the decadent sight of his taut body arching wantonly, delirious with desire for your cruel touch.

“Please.. F-uck~…let me breathe,” he gasps brokenly, lips parted in a silent scream as you mercilessly cut off his airflow. Rather than comply, you tighten your grip, watching his pretty face redden as you leisurely steal his oxygen.

He mewls like a bitch in heat, hips stuttering against you as his desperation mounts. You moan at the delicious sight of such a beautiful boy reduced to a squirming, humping mess - all because you hold the power over his very life. Felix’s eyes roll back as you crush his windpipe, thrashing weakly as darkness encroaches.

Just before he slips into unconsciousness, you finally release him, drinking in the erotic spectacle of him gulping down air like a man dying of thirst. Felix whimpers brokeningly, face flushed and shining with a sheen of exertion as his cock twitches angrily.

“Look at you…so worked up and wrecked for me” you croon victoriously, savoring the frantic glaze in those blown-wide eyes, leaning down slowly to lick a tear from his left cheek.

“You’re absolutely stunning like this Lixie, so perfect for me.”

With a bruising grip on his throat, you yank him against your body, delighting in his strangled cry. Felix trembles uncontrollably as you grind your clothed heat over his straining erection, adding to the delicious torment. “Keep whining for me baby, beg me to let you breathe…”

Seungmin:

A sinful groan rumbles through Seungmin’s chest as he drinks in the erotic sight of you - lips swollen and spit-slicked, utterly debauched on his thick cock. He tangles his fingers into your sweat-damp hair, using the grip to yank you deeper onto his punishing length.

“Open those pretty eyes and look at me while I skull-fuck this greedy little mouth,” he rasps, voice pitched low with heady arousal. You struggle to obey through the harsh gagging, throat convulsing violently to accommodate his invasion.

Yet you adore every second of the degrading treatment, pussy clenching needily around nothing as Seungmin carelessly chases his own pleasure using your body. His hips snap forward with increasing brutality, cockhead battering the slick entrance to your throat as fat tears roll down your cheeks.

“Yeah, take it all like a good slut,” Seungmin growls victoriously, savoring each gurgled, strangled cry that bubbles past your spit-slick lips. He looms over you, entranced by the sight of his girth disappearing into your O-shaped mouth again and again, obscenely stretching your pretty features.

You shudder violently as his thumb traces the straining column of your neck, grinding hard against the frantic pulses fluttering just beneath. With a harsh squeeze, Seungmin cuts off what little airflow remains, transforming your whimpers to sporadic, garbled gasps.

Strings of drool pour wantonly down your chin, swaying with each ruthless thrust into your rapidly constricting throat. Every ragged heave of your chest grows more desperate as consciousness grows hazy.

Yet you wouldn’t have it any other way - wholly enslaved to Seungmin’s sadistic whims, reduced to nothing but a set of holes to use and discard at his leisure.

Just as the world threatens to fade to black entirely, sweet oblivion taunting at the edges of your vision, Seungmin pulls free with a vulgar squelch. Your lungs scream for mercy as you greedily gulp down air, soiled ropes of spit and precome streaking your features.

“Good girl taking everything i gave her,” he husks voice adorned with softness despite the harshness of his hand pressing on your jaw, lazily stroking himself to completion over your freshly-abused face with his free hand…

Jeongin:

Jeongin’s lips brush your ear in a hot whisper, sending molten tendrils of need licking through your veins. “Open up for me, pretty girl.” He punctuates the command by dipping his clever tongue into the hollow below your ear, mapping every twitch and shudder with a low rumble of satisfaction.

A whimpering moan spills from your parted lips as you obediently let your jaw go slack, eagerly awaiting his violation. Jeongin groans in guttural appreciation at the sight of your tongue lolling out, glistening strings of drool already painting your chin in lewd strands.

“So fucking pretty and needy,” he husks, sliding two slender fingers between your lips to stuff your mouth full. You suckle on the thick digits helplessly, swirling your tongue around the calloused pads as Jeongin cups your jaw firmly.

He slowly increases the pressure, cutting off your airflow in torturously gradual increments. Darkness creeps in along the edges of your vision as your lungs burn, body thrashing weakly against his iron grip. Stringy ropes of drool gush from the corners of your stretched lips, dribbling down your chin and throat in an obscene display.

Jeongin’s cock twitches hotly against your cheek at the sight of you so thoroughly debauched and helpless, rutting shamelessly as he drinks in your desperate, muffled whimpers. “That’s it, take it all for me like a filthy little slut,” he growls, burying his fingers to the knuckle and relishing your gagging convulsions.

Just before you slip into blessed oblivion, he finally releases you with a cruel smirk, eyes drunk on your ruinned state. You slump forward, coughing and retching up thick ropes of drool that splash over your heaving tits. Jeongin hungrily laps up the mess coating your flushed skin, reveling in the taste of your fucked-up state…

 → Hyung-line

A.N:Me and my fucked up brain that only gets inspired at work, writing this at lunch break lmao 😭 also i tried my best to not let this be repetitive (writing the same thing about 8 people without it being similar is soo hard, so turn a blind eye pretty plz 👉👈)

I LOVE THEM A LITTLE TOO MUCH

Me a few months ago: i’ll be consistent and post here regulary!

Also me a while after, not posting anything in months 💀