sesame

[ J. Yunho ]

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summary: in which you have a mirror kink and your boyfriend has been driving you crazy

warning: dom yunho, sub reader, mirror sex, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, squirting, hair pulling, choking, unprotected sex, creampie

genre: smut

pairing: idol yunho x afab reader

word count: 6.4k

note: his damn mirror selcas been driving me fucking crazy!!!

masterlist

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Three mirror pics.

Three.

You’d been curled up on his side of the bed, scrolling while pretending you weren’t waiting for it. But the second it dropped, your soul left your body.

The first was casual, messy, he was stretched out, headphone in, wrist slung behind his neck. But it was that half lidded gaze, caught in reflection, that had your thighs pressing together. The second? A gold mirror that warped just enough to give his frame a mythic edge. Broad chest, defined arms, tight tank. Captionless. Like he knew.

And the third, God help you, the third had him fresh from a workout, damp towel tossed over his head, black tank clinging to his body, holding a protein drink with one hand and his phone in the other, snapping the mirror like it was a casual afterthought. But nothing about it was casual to you. Not when your mind immediately spiraled to the secret you’d been nursing for months. The thing you’d never told him.

You had a mirror kink. And not the shy kind. The kind where you got off at the thought watching him fuck you in one. Watching you in one. Seeing your legs shake, his body towering behind you, his eyes locked on yours through the glass. The kind of need that had grown too loud to ignore.

Especially now. With Yunho in Taiwan and your brain swimming with fantasies and zero outlet for relief, you finally gave in. That afternoon, you made a quick stop after work. You’d measured the wall a dozen times already, right across from his bed, displaying on half the wall, showcasing the bed and his gaming setup.

You took a step back, gaze flicking between the bed and the reflection. The view was perfect. Every angle visible. The way you imagined it every time he was behind you. Every time his voice got low in your ear. Every time you almost said please, let me ride you in front of a mirror.

You crawled onto the bed, settling in the very center, legs curled beneath you as you grabbed his pillow and inhaled. Your phone was still in your hand, opened to his post. That third pic staring back at you like a challenge. He had no idea what he started. But by the time he came back? You’d be ready. And the mirror would be waiting.

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The door to the apartment creaked open just past sunset, the soft clatter of rolling suitcases echoing in the quiet hallway. “Home sweet home,” Yunho mumbled, voice rough with travel exhaustion.

“Home smells like ramen and dust,” Yeosang replied behind him, kicking his shoes off without grace. “Remind me to ask Y/N if she left the window open again.”

Yunho dropped his bag by the wall, rubbing the back of his neck. Everything ached, his shoulders, his legs, even his eyelids, but the second he stepped into the familiar warmth of the apartment, the ache dulled just a bit. You weren’t there, but your presence lingered in the little ways. Your mug on the sink. Your hoodie draped over the couch arm. Your shoes kicked off by the door next to his.

“She not here?” Yeosang asked, already wandering toward his room.

“Guess not,” Yunho replied as he walked towards his bedroom, pushing his door open, expecting the usual mess, maybe your perfume lingering in the sheets, your lotion sitting half capped on his nightstand. What he didn’t expect was the massive, wall mounted mirror directly across from his bed.

He stopped mid step. Blinking. Processing. “What the fuck?” he muttered, brow furrowing as he took it in. It was sleek. Wide. Almost artistic in how perfectly it framed his bed. The sheets were freshly tucked, pillows fluffed, like you’d prepped the space with intention. The mirror’s reflection offered a full view of the mattress. From headboard to footboard. From every possible angle.

Yeosang peeked into the room, curious why Yunho hadn’t moved. Then he saw it too. “That’s new,” Yeosang said, blinking twice before gasping. “Oh my god,” He mumbled, realization creeping into his tone. “She…. she bought that. She mounted that. Dude. That’s not just a mirror, that’s a mirror. That’s a bed facing mirror.”

“I can see that,” Yunho said, voice a little hoarse now as Yeosang stepped in a little further, staring at the setup like he’d just discovered the Rosetta Stone of your sex life. “Do you think she watches? I mean, she must…. right? That’s like… prime viewing real estate. You could shoot a damn movie with this thing.”

Yunho’s brain was trying very hard not to spiral. But the mirror was right there. And now Yeosang was in his room, pointing at it like it was a conspiracy board. “Out,” Yunho muttered, pushing him toward the door.

Yeosang backed up, hands raised, grinning like he knew exactly what Yunho was imagining now. “I’m just saying… this place is looking a little less like your room and a little more like hers.”

Yunho shut the door in his face and turned back toward the mirror, exhaling slowly, rubbing his jaw. His eyes drifted to the bed. Then back to the reflection.

What the hell were you up to?

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The door clicked open just as Yeosang was halfway through complaining about how jetlag was making him see god in the form of a vending machine granola bar. The scent hit them first, something warm and spicy, the unmistakable comfort of takeout after a week of convenience store snacks and airplane food.

You stepped inside, arms full of bags and dressed in an oversized hoodie, Yunho’s, and jeans, and your expression was that same casual ease you always wore when you were about to get away with something. “I brought food,” you said, kicking the door closed behind you.

Yeosang nearly wept. “Marry me.”

You rolled your eyes and handed him the heavier bag. “Yours has double meat. Don’t say I never take care of you.”

“An angel,” he sighed, already halfway to the kitchen.

Yunho hadn’t moved. He stood just a few feet from his bedroom door, watching you like you were a puzzle he’d never solved before as you glanced over at him, giving him a soft smile. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he said, slowly. “Just… tired.”

You nodded and padded toward the kitchen, grabbing a drink from the fridge and reaching into one of the bags to pass Yunho his usual order. He took it, eyes lingering on your face. Waiting. Searching. But you didn’t say a word about the mirror. Not one comment. Not a glance toward the door. Not a sly smirk or teasing remark like you usually gave when you were baiting him.

Just… silence.

You talked with Yeosang for a few minutes, catching up on what Taiwan was like, laughing when he told you about San nearly falling off the hotel balcony trying to reach for his charging cable. You asked if they were enjoying their global thirst trap status. But even then, you didn’t mention it.

The mirror. In his room. Just existing now. As if it had always been there.

Yunho watched you closely. His brain was in a chokehold. You weren’t not being flirty. But you weren’t being obvious either. And now he didn’t know if this was just some decorating decision you made because you liked the aesthetic, or if it was something more.

Something deliberate. Something filthy.

You caught him watching you more than once, and each time you smiled like you knew exactly what he was thinking but refused to give him the satisfaction.

Later, Yeosang yawned and excused himself to bed, disappearing into his room with a wave and a promise to shower sometime next week and you turned to Yunho once it was just the two of you, your voice soft. “You okay?”

He blinked. “Yeah. Just tired. Long day.”

“Want me to leave you alone?”

“No.” He said it too fast making you tilt your head, eyes gleaming. “Okay.” Still not a word about the mirror. And Yunho? He was losing it.

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It was late. The apartment had gone quiet, save for the low hum of Yunho’s computer fan and the occasional creak of the walls settling. Yeosang had been out cold for at least an hour, snoring softly behind his closed door. You were in the shower. And Yunho hadn’t moved from his chair in twenty minutes.

He sat at his desk, bathed in the soft glow of his monitor, headphones around his neck, fingers still on the keyboard, but he wasn’t playing anything. Not really. The game on his screen had gone idle, long forgotten. Because he couldn’t stop staring.

The mirror.

That damn mirror.

It reflected everything, his bed, his window, the soft blue LED strip behind his headboard, the faint impression of your body still left in the comforter. It was perfectly angled. Clean. Precise. A visual invitation. And you hadn’t said a single word about it.

His eyes dropped to the base of the mirror again. No packaging. No tools. No struggle marks on the wall. Which meant… you hadn’t just bought it. You planned this.

Yunho leaned back in his chair slowly, his knee bouncing. He wasn’t a dumb guy. He’d been around you long enough to read between the lines, to catch the shift in your voice when you were playing coy. But this? This was another level.

And now every memory of every time he’d caught you watching him change, every time you’d slowed down when he touched you in front of a window, every time he’d snapped a selfie and you’d gone weirdly quiet after, was crawling back through his brain, tying itself to this mirror like it was the missing puzzle piece he hadn’t even known to look for.

The bathroom door opened with a faint click but he didn’t turn. He could hear you moving, bare feet padding softly down the hall, the faint rustle of fabric as you toweled off. You emerged a few moments later in one of his oversized shirts, damp hair falling over your shoulders, your skin dewy and flushed from the heat.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

Yunho didn’t move. Just spun lazily in his chair to face you. “You, uh…” He paused, nodding toward the mirror with the smallest lift of his chin. “You gonna tell me why you put that up?”

Your smile was maddeningly innocent. “Why do you think I put it up?” That. That right there. That tone. Yunho leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs just slightly, still watching you like a storm on the horizon. “You know exactly what that mirror displays.”

“Mm.” You shrugged, stepping into the doorway, the hem of his shirt brushing your bare thighs. “It’s a good angle.”

“For watching TV?” he deadpanned.

“For watching things,” you teased, not giving him more.

Yunho exhaled through his nose, laughing low and dark as he tilted his head just a little. “I post a few mirror pics while I’m gone, and suddenly you’re redecorating my room?”

“You’re assuming it was about the pics,” you said, leaning casually against the frame. “Maybe I just wanted to watch myself ride your dick.”

Yunho’s hands gripped the arms of the chair like the air had been punched out of him as you smirked. Then you stepped forward and his breath caught as you walked into the room like gravity pulled you straight to him. His thighs parted instinctively, just enough for you to climb into his lap without a word.

You settled over him slowly, one knee on either side of his hips, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Yunho’s head tilted back slightly to look up at you. His hands hovered at your waist, not touching. Not yet. “You couldn’t stop looking at it, could you?” you murmured, voice soft and close.

He shook his head once. “You planned this.”

You nodded. “Of course I did.”

He finally touched you, sliding his hands beneath the hem of the shirt, his shirt, fingers skimming the backs of your thighs as he held you in place. “You want me to fuck you in front of it?” You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. “I want to see how wrecked I look when you make me come.”

His grip tightened and low groan escaped him, almost a warning. “You’re evil,” he breathed.

“And you,” you whispered against his ear, rocking your hips just barely over the bulge beneath you, “haven’t even seen what I look like in that mirror yet.”

Yunho was seconds away from losing it. You in his lap, your bare thighs pressed to his, your voice like silk and smoke in his ear, he was drowning in it. And the mirror only made it worse.

He could see everything. The flushed curve of your cheeks. Your hands slipping under his shirt, your body arching ever so slightly against his chest. The way you leaned in, lips grazing his jaw, whispering that filthy little promise like it was nothing. “I want to see how wrecked I look when you make me come.”

He growled under his breath and gripped the backs of your thighs, standing up without warning, lifting you against him like he needed to own the moment again. He turned, carrying you the few steps to the bed, setting you down with the kind of force that made the mattress creak and your breath hitch.

His gaze was glued to the mirror. To you. But before he could climb over you, before he could even blink, you slipped from his grasp like water through fingers. A teasing smile playing on your lips as you slid off the edge of the bed and dropped to your knees right in front of him.

Yunho froze. Completely. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror behind you. Your hands rested on his thighs now, your fingers running up the solid length of them, dragging over his sweats with slow, sinful intent as you looked up at him, blinking once, lashes heavy, voice a murmur. “Sit.”

He didn’t question it. Couldn’t. He dropped onto the bed behind him like gravity had taken over, legs spread, pupils blown wide as you sank between them and the mirror gave him everything.

Your knees pressed to the floor. The stretch of your thighs. The curve of your back. The soft rise and fall of your chest as you stared up at him like you were about to pray with your mouth open.

And God, your eyes never left his. Not in the mirror. Not in person. “You wanted to know why I put it there?” you asked, fingers already trailing up his thighs, dangerously close to where he was hard and straining beneath the thin fabric. “This is why.”

He swallowed hard, jaw clenched, chest rising with every shallow breath. “For you to watch,” you whispered, dragging his sweats down just enough, revealing the way he twitched beneath his boxers. “Every second. Every reaction. Every time I ruin you.”

Yunho let his head fall back for half a second before jerking it forward again, eyes locking with the mirror, then with you as you smirked, hooking your fingers under the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down slowly, dragging your lips along the crease of his thigh. “Eyes up, baby,” you purred.

And when your mouth finally closed around him, slow, warm, devastating, Yunho’s body jolted in the chair, his hands flying to the arms of it like they were the only things anchoring him to the planet.

The only sound in the room was the wet drag of your mouth, his breath stuttering, and the distant creak of the mattress as he fought the urge to thrust into your throat.

Yunho hissed as you pulled back and licked a stripe from the base of him to the tip, your tongue flattening against the underside before circling the swollen head. You tasted him like he was a treat you planned to savor, letting your lips wrap around just the top at first, eyes locked on his through the mirror.

He gripped the sheets, knuckles white as you went lower. Your mouth stretched over him inch by inch again, your pace unhurried, deliberate, like you wanted him to lose his mind one second at a time. He watched your cheeks hollow as you took him deeper, your hand wrapping around what didn’t fit, stroking in time with the slow drag of your mouth.

“F… fuck,” Yunho breathed, his head tipping back for a second before snapping forward again, like he couldn’t bear to miss a moment. The mirror gave him the full view. His dick sliding past your lips, disappearing into your mouth. Your hand stroking in time with each bob of your head. The way your spit slicked him, catching the light, shining as it dripped down your chin.

And you looked like you were in heaven. You moaned softly around him, the vibration making him jolt, his thighs twitching under your hands. “You’re fucking evil,” he groaned as you pulled off with a soft pop, eyes never leaving his. “I’m just getting started.”

Then you sank down again, deeper this time, your throat tightening around him, swallowing him slow as your hand worked the base. Your tongue flattened along the underside, and Yunho swore under his breath, hips lifting just slightly before he caught himself. But you felt it. Saw it. Loved it. So you did it again.

Over and over. Slower. Wetter. More intentional. You sucked him like you wanted to ruin him with your mouth alone. And Yunho watched it all. Watched the way your throat bulged. Watched your fingers flex against his thighs. Watched his own dick disappear between your lips and come back out coated in spit. “You’re gonna make me come,” he warned, voice ragged.

You pulled back again, dragging your tongue along the tip, eyes dark with something wicked. And then you sank down again, letting him hit the back of your throat, holding him there just long enough to make him curse under his breath before easing off again.

Your moans were soft now, vibrations teasing along the underside of Yunho’s dick, your throat wrapping around him like silk. But the longer you sucked him, the deeper you moaned, knowing what it did to him. You wanted him to feel it. To watch it. And he did. Every filthy second reflected right back at him.

He wasn’t just close, he was spiraling. And then you moaned again, low, needy, full of want and Yunho’s grip snapped. He growled, deep and sharp, and his hand shot down, threading into your hair. In one smooth motion, he pulled you off his dick, your lips releasing him with a gasp as you blinked up at him, breathless.

“Get the fuck up here,” he ordered, voice low and wrecked. You didn’t resist, not even for a second as he pulled you up, mouth crashing into yours before your knees even hit the bed. His tongue swept in, tasting himself on your lips, swallowing the little moan you let out against his mouth. You barely had time to breathe before he was dragging you higher onto the mattress, pushing you down.

Yunho hovered over you, chest heaving, his eyes flicking toward the mirror once again, and it changed everything. He saw the outline of you beneath him. The way your thighs parted instinctively. The way your shirt rode up when you shifted your hips just the slightest bit, silently begging. He looked back down at you, lips curling. “Take it off.”

The oversized shirt came up and over your head in one slow pull, baring your chest to him completely. You tossed it aside, eyes locked on his like a challenge, your breathing shallow, nipples already tight from the cool air and the heat between your thighs.

Yunho’s mouth parted. “Fuck,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. Then he leaned in. His lips brushed your collarbone first, slow, reverent. Then lower, teeth grazing just beneath your breast before his mouth wrapped around one nipple, sucking softly. He moved down your body like he was worshipping it, tongue dragging across your skin, hands pinning your hips when you squirmed.

You felt him everywhere. The way his hair tickled your stomach, the heat of his mouth trailing down your ribs, the press of his dick still wet against your thigh where it propped out his sweats. And in the mirror, you could see it all.

Yunho glanced up at your reflection again as he kissed just below your navel. His voice came low, thick with lust. “You’re gonna watch me make you come, baby,” he whispered, teeth nipping the skin above the waistband of your panties. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

You whimpered as his fingers hooked under the band of your panties, slow and deliberate, eyes never leaving yours in the mirror and you spread your legs wider and he pulled them down your legs in one slow, lingering drag. You felt the air hit you, cool and teasing, and the way his pupils blew wide at the sight made your stomach flip.

He tossed the panties aside without even looking, his hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, warm and steady, spreading you open for him. And when he saw how wet you already were, slick, swollen, needy, he sucked in a breath through his teeth. “All that,” he murmured, brushing one knuckle along your folds, “from sucking my dick?”

Your breath hitched. But he didn’t wait for your answer. He climbed lower, shoulders settling between your thighs like he belonged there, palms braced on either side of your hips. Then one of his hands began sliding up, up your stomach, over your ribs, between your breasts, until he wrapped his fingers lightly around your upper torso, holding you in place. “Keep your legs open,” he said quietly.

And then he buried his mouth in you. His tongue thrust into you immediately, hot, deep, hungry, making your back arch off the bed with a shocked, broken sound. His grip tightened gently on your upper body, holding you down, keeping you open as he fucked you with his tongue like he’d been starved for you.

Your hand flew to his hair, fingers tangling desperately. “Y… Yunho!” He groaned into you, the vibration shooting straight through your core, making your hips jerk upward, only for his other hand to press your thigh down, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

In the mirror, you saw everything. His broad shoulders between your legs, the slow roll of his head as he licked deeper, the obscene way your hips trembled with every thrust of his tongue. Your own expression, lips parted, eyes glazed, chest rising unevenly, reflected back at you like you were watching a scene you weren’t meant to see.

He pulled back just enough to drag his tongue from your entrance all the way to your clit, lips closing around it in a soft suck before he spoke again, breath warm against your skin. “Look,” he commanded.

You forced your eyes open and met the reflection again. “I said look,” he repeated, voice darker, dragging his tongue through you again, slower this time. “I want you to see what you look like when you fall apart for me.” Then he thrust his tongue into you again, harder. Deeper. His hand tightening on your torso to keep you from writhing out of reach as he devoured you like he couldn’t breathe unless he was inside you.

Your moan was raw, your thighs trembling around him. “Good,” he murmured, tongue flicking in hard, deliberate strokes. “Let it happen.” And you did. God, you did. You came with a choked sob, legs shaking.

You barely had time to breathe, core pulsing from the orgasm Yunho had just coaxed out of you with his tongue, his mouth glistening, jaw flexing as he looked up from between your thighs like he’d just claimed you. And then he was moving. Crawling up your body, dragging his lips over your skin, slow and unrelenting.

He kissed the inside of your thigh. Your hip. The curve of your waist. He licked a stripe between your breasts and bit your collarbone with a low groan like he needed to taste every part of you after what he’d just done. His mouth hovered at your ear. “You watched yourself come,” he whispered, voice deep and rough. “But now it’s my turn.”

You didn’t understand what he meant at first, not until he grabbed your thighs, flipped you gently, and pulled you up with him, dragging you into his lap as he sat in the middle of the bed, strong legs spread and your back flush to his chest.

He adjusted you like he’d done it a hundred times, your thighs over his, your arms resting over his, your whole body splayed wide and open in front of the mirror.

The reflection hit hard.

You, completely bare. Your legs spread across his. Your lips swollen, skin flushed, nipples hard from the cool air and his touch. And Yunho, shirtless now, sweatpants pushed low, chest rising slow as his dark eyes took in the image of the two of you tangled together.

“Look at you,” he murmured against your ear, voice thick with awe and filth. “You look like a fucking dream.” You shivered, then you felt it. His hand sliding down, slow and steady, fingertips brushing the sensitive spot between your thighs. You were still so wet, your body reacting to the reflection, to his voice, to the weight of his chest at your back and the sharp press of his dick beneath you.

“Keep watching,” he whispered. And then he slipped two fingers inside you making cry out, head falling back against his shoulder as he sank in deep, his fingers immediately curling, knowing exactly how to touch you.

“Yunho!”

“Eyes on the mirror,” he reminded you, lips brushing your temple. “I want you to see how perfect you are when I fuck you with my fingers.”

You forced your eyes open. And oh god. Watching it was so much worse. So much better. His hand between your thighs. His fingers thrusting into you, slow and filthy, wet sounds echoing in the quiet room. Your legs twitching, your body trembling against his. And Yunho’s other hand slid up your stomach again. Palming one breast, teasing your nipple, holding you still against his chest like he was presenting you to your own reflection.

“You wanted this mirror?” he rasped, thrusting his fingers deeper. “Then you’re gonna use it.” Your hips bucked as he groaned, breath catching in your ear. “Yeah, that’s it. Watch how you take me. Watch your legs spread, your pussy dripping, your mouth open like you’re already begging.”

“I… I’m not…”

“Yes, you are,” he growled. “Look at you.”

And fuck, you were. A mess. Beautiful. Flushed. Drenched. On display, in his lap, being slowly ruined by his hand and his voice and the reflection of your own unraveling.

And Yunho? He was barely holding on. Because now he knew. This wasn’t just your kink anymore. This mirror had made him feral for you. “Just like that,” Yunho whispered, fingers thrusting deeper, rougher now. “Fuck, you’re so wet… listen to that.”

You could hear it. The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers pumping into you, echoing in the quiet room like a soundtrack to your unraveling. Your hips twitched, thighs trembling where they were stretched open across his, your back arching against his chest. His arm was locked around your middle, holding you still while he worked you with the other.

The mirror in front of you was a goddamn crime scene. Your body splayed out like a fantasy, your legs spread and twitching, your chest heaving, your head thrown back on his shoulder as his hand disappeared between your thighs again and again. “Keep watching,” Yunho growled, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “You wanted this. Look how pretty you look coming undone for me.”

Your moan cracked in your throat as he curled his fingers just right and you screamed, a high, wrecked sound as your back bowed and your walls clamped around him. “That’s it,” he gasped, voice laced with awe. “Right there, baby, come for me. Give it to me. Let it out.” And you did. Your orgasm hit hard, a sharp, blinding wave that exploded from your core and tore through your whole body. You sobbed out his name as your thighs snapped closed around his hand, your hips jerking uncontrollably.

Your body tensed, your stomach clenched, and a hot gush of wetness spilled out around his fingers, soaking his hand and his lap and the sheets beneath you. “Holy fuck,” Yunho choked out as you squirted, crying out, overstimulated and wrecked, your head spinning as pleasure rolled through you so violently you could barely stay upright and your legs wouldn’t stop shaking.

Yunho didn’t stop. He slowed, barely, still thrusting his fingers, still curling them just right, watching the way your body jolted, helpless in his lap. “Look,” he groaned, his voice completely wrecked, breath hot in your ear. “Look what you did.” You forced your blurry eyes open and the mirror showed you everything.

Your thighs twitching, glistening and wet. Yunho’s soaked fingers slipping out of your still clenching pussy. Your lips parted, eyes glassy, chest covered in sweat. The way you trembled in his lap, absolutely ruined. You whimpered, body limp now, too sensitive to even move.

Yunho pressed a soft kiss to your temple, hand sliding gently down your thigh, soothing now. “You okay, baby?” he murmured, holding you close. You nodded, still trembling. But then your fingers curled around his thigh. And he froze.

You lifted your head, slow and steady, turning in his lap until you were straddling him. His eyes searched yours, mouth parted, completely unprepared for the shift in your energy. Your voice was low, wrecked, commanding.

“Lay back.”

Yunho obeyed instantly, breath catching in his throat as you pushed gently on his chest until he leaned back against the pillows, sitting at the center of the bed, body tense with anticipation as you reached down, fingers tugging at the waistband of his sweats and briefs, dragging them all the way down, off this time, until he was fully bare beneath you, dick hard and flushed, glistening from the earlier attention you gave him with your mouth.

His eyes flicked to the mirror, then back to you as you climbed into his lap again, knees planted on either side of his hips, your soaked core hovering just above his dick. One hand wrapped around the base of him, lining him up as you leaned forward, your other hand sliding up his chest, past his neck, until it curled around his jaw. “Look at the mirror,” you said, voice thick with heat. “Don’t look at me.”

Yunho groaned low in his throat, muscles tightening. But he did as he was told. His eyes snapped to the mirror just as you began to sink down, slow, agonizingly slow, the stretch so perfect it knocked the breath from both of you. “Fuck,” he hissed, his head pressing back into the pillows, fingers digging into the sheets.

You kept your hand on his face, fingers holding his jaw firm. “I said don’t look away.” In the mirror, you were everything. Hair messy, skin flushed, legs spread as you straddled him, his dick disappearing inside you inch by inch. Your mouth parted in a silent moan, your hips rocking as you took all of him, slow and steady, until you were fully seated, stuffed so deep you swore you could feel him in your ribs.

“Look at me,” you whispered again, but you meant the mirror. And he did. Eyes wide, blown out, glued to the reflection of your body claiming his as you started to move, a slow roll of your hips that made both of you shudder. His hands came up to your waist, gripping tightly, but he didn’t guide you, he couldn’t. He was too busy watching.

“Is this what you wanted?” you whispered, voice wrecked. “You like watching yourself disappear inside me?” He moaned, eyes fluttering shut, only for you to grab his chin again. “Open,” you demanded. “Watch me ride you.”

His eyes snapped open as you started to ride him in earnest. Long, deep rolls of your hips. The slick sound of your bodies meeting again and again. His dick sliding in and out of your soaked pussy while the mirror showed everything in perfect, obscene clarity.

You.

In control.

Taking him.

Milking him.

And Yunho couldn’t look away if he tried as your hips snapped down, again and again, thighs burning as you rode him hard, faster now, rougher, your wet heat sucking him back in every time he tried to breathe. The slap of your skin echoed through the room, filthy and relentless, but it was the mirror that made it obscene.

Yunho’s eyes were locked on it. Watching your body bounce in his lap, your tits moving with every grind, your slick dripping down the length of him. Watching your mouth hang open, sweat shine on your skin, his dick disappearing inside you over and over.

You were feral. Hair sticking to your neck. Legs trembling. Pleasure curling up your spine like fire as you used him for everything he had. “Fuck, baby…” he groaned, hands gripping your hips now, harder, holding you down when you tried to rise. “You’re gonna make me come.”

You smirked through a breathless moan, clenching around him just to prove a point. “Good.”

And that was it. His restraint snapped like a rubber band. With a growl, Yunho surged upward, grabbing you tight and flipping you over in one fast, fluid motion. You yelped as your back hit the bed, then gasped when he grabbed your thighs and dragged you down, down until your knees hung over the edge and your feet touched the floor.

The mirror was right there. And now you were facing it as Yunho shoved your back down, chest to the mattress, one hand on your lower back, the other dragging down your spine in a slow, heavy stroke. “Look at yourself,” he growled.

You barely managed to lift your head, and what you saw made your breath catch. You. Bent over. Legs parted. Dripping. Yunho behind you, broad and flushed, his dick hard and glistening with your slick as he lined himself up again.

He didn’t give you time to beg as he slammed back into you. You screamed, choked on your own moan, as he filled you all at once, deeper now, the angle brutal and perfect. His hands gripped your hips like he was hanging on for dear life as he began to thrust, fast, hard, his body slapping against your ass with every snap of his hips.

The mirror turned it into a show. You watched yourself bounce forward with every thrust. Watched his hips slam into yours. Watched your mouth open, your body tremble, your knuckles clutching the sheets.

“Fuck, fuck…. look at that,” Yunho gasped, eyes flicking between your reflection and the curve of your spine beneath him. “You see that? That’s mine.” He grabbed your hair, pulled just enough to arch your back harder, to force your eyes back to the mirror. “You see how good you take me?” he panted. “How wet you are? You’re dripping, baby. All over me.”

You whimpered, too wrecked to speak. And still, he kept fucking into you, deep, punishing, relentless. Your body jolted forward with every snap of his hips, bent over and soaked, your legs shaking, breath catching in your throat, but you kept your eyes on the mirror. You couldn’t look away.

Neither could he.

“Look at you,” he growled, voice low, gravel in your ear. “You see that? That’s your pussy taking all of me, dripping around me. So fucking pretty, baby.” You whined, back arching as his hand slid up your stomach, over your breast, to your throat, gripping gently, just enough to hold, to claim, to feel the pulse of you coming undone in his hands.

Your back slammed against his chest as he pulled you up, his thighs braced wide beneath yours, his dick still buried inside you as he bent his knees and started pounding up into you. Hard. Deep. Devastating.

You screamed, pure, broken sound, as he kept one hand around your throat and the other locked tight on your hip, holding you wide open on him, forcing you to stay there and take every brutal thrust. “Eyes on the fucking mirror,” he snarled, his lips brushing your ear. “You see that? You see what you do to me?”

You were gasping, moaning, body twitching violently as the new angle hit everything at once. “You feel that?” he growled again, voice soaked in filth. “Feel how deep I am? That’s your pussy choking my dick. So tight, so fucking good. You were made to be fucked like this.”

Your mouth fell open, a sob slipping free.

“Watch yourself,” he whispered. “Watch your face. You’re about to come again, aren’t you?” You nodded, helpless.

“Say it.”

“I… I’m gonna come…..”

“Louder.”

“I’m gonna… fuck…. I’m gonna come!”

And then your whole body snapped. Your thighs clamped down. Your core seized around him. And your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. You screamed, legs trembling violently as hot wetness gushed out of you, your pussy spasming hard around his dick, soaking his thighs, the bed, the sheets….

“Fuck yes,” Yunho hissed, both arms suddenly wrapping around your waist, pinning you to him, his pace going ragged and brutal as you kept squirting, kept clenching, kept gasping his name like a prayer.

He held you there, locked in place as he slammed up into you again and again, chasing his own edge now. “Mine,” he groaned, voice nearly unrecognizable. “You’re mine, baby… fuck…. fuck… mine!”

And then with a deep, guttural sound, Yunho buried himself to the hilt, arms wrapped around your trembling body as he came hard. You felt it. The heat. The twitch. The full body shake as he pulsed inside you, holding you tight, like he never wanted to let you go.

Both of you staring at the mirror.

Both of you ruined.

His breath stuttered against your shoulder, chest rising and falling like he’d just run for his life. He kissed your neck. “You’re never taking that mirror down,” he whispered.

You smiled, wrecked, still in his lap, his dick still buried deep.

“Didn’t plan to.”

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the combo of seasonal depression + personal stuffs + seeing news of the govt fucking my country up over and over is lethal in draining any drive i have for writing as of this moment

i don't think anyone actually cares or need an explanation but i'm sorry to those who just followed me recently in hopes for more fics to come from me. thank you so much for all the love you guys have shown for my works

NSFW 18+ | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

Word Count: 1.9k

Content: smut, fem-bodied sh & reader, lesbian sex, dry humping, scissoring, seonghwa calls herself "mommy," minor miscommunication, reader is insecure, tit sucking, mutual orgasm, not so happy ending

Pairing: Fem!Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

"Hmm baby…" her voice was coarse from sleep but the sultry tone was still there, tempting you to crawl back into bed with her and spent every moment you could in her arms, "Where are you going so early?"

The alarm clock on her nightstand ticked—it was 8 am.

Her arm slipped around your waist, and she tucked herself into the crook of your neck. There was something about her sweet, flowery scent that made her so irresistible, but there was nothing quite as tempting as the softness of her skin.

"Hwa." You said her name in a breath, "I'm meeting up with friends."

You could feel her lips pout as she pressed them to your bare shoulder, "Aren't they always taking you from me?"

Would yall stone me in the towns square if i wrote a fic about sub!yunho who has split a personality and switches mid sex when you push a little too far and trigger his dominant alter Giseok (😜).

I’d use a fictional version of DID ofc so as to not reinforce any misleading stereotypes, stigmatize and/or sensationalize it.