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warnings: badboy!wonwoo, dominant!wonwoo, established relationship, marking, oral (f rec), unprotected sex
wc: 2893
author's note: maybe this should be a warning but this is straight up fucking in your parents house and trying not to get caught
The dining room in your parents' house is bright under the chandelier, the table set with crisp white linens, polished silverware, and your mother's roast chicken steaming in the center. Your heart races as you sit beside Wonwoo, his hand brushing yours under the table in a fleeting, hidden touch that sends sparks up your arm. You've never brought home a guy before, and Wonwoo is certainly the last man your parents expect you to bring home.
He's transformed for the occasion: black slacks hugging his lean hips, a crisp white button-up shirt tucked neatly, every tattoo concealed beneath the fabric. His dark hair is slicked back just enough to stay out of his piercing eyes, giving him an air of refined elegance that contrasts sharply with the rebel you know—the one who revs his motorcycle too loud and smirks at rules like they're suggestions.
Your father studies your boyfriend, appraising him. “Wonwoo, it’s good to finally meet you.”
There's a hint of skepticism in his tone, but Wonwoo doesn't flinch.
“Yes, sir. I'm grateful for the chance to meet you both properly.” He turns to your mother, offering a charming smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “The house smells great—did you make all this yourself?”
She blushes slightly, waving off the compliment as she gestures for everyone to sit. “Oh, it's nothing special. Just a family recipe.”
As dinner begins, Wonwoo dives in effortlessly. He asks your father about his work, nodding thoughtfully at stories of engineering projects, and shares the story of how you met, focusing on the fact you met at college and omitting the motorcycle ride.
“You know, Wonwoo,” your mother says midway through the meal, passing him the mashed potatoes, “our daughter speaks highly of you. She's always been so responsible, our good girl. It's great to see her bringing home such a nice young man.”
Wonwoo's gaze flicks to you, a subtle heat in his eyes that only you catch, before he replies, “She's incredible. Smart, kind—I'm lucky to have her in my life.”
His foot nudges yours under the table, a secret press that makes your cheeks warm. The conversation flows easily after that; he compliments the wine your parents chose, laughs at your father's dry jokes, and listens intently as your mother recounts neighbourhood gossip. By dessert any tension in the air has eased into approval.
As plates clear, your father leans back in his chair. 'It's getting late, and the drive back might be rough with the weather picking up. Why don't you stay the night, Wonwoo? We have a guest room down the hall.'
Your mother nods enthusiastically.
Wonwoo inclines his head graciously. “That's very kind of you. I'd appreciate it. Thank you.”
You exchange a quick glance with him, smiling at how well the evening turned out.
The evening winds down with tea in the living room, polite small talk fading as your parents retire around ten. You bid Wonwoo goodnight in the hallway, your voices hushed and formal for their sake, though his fingers graze your wrist as he whispers, “Sweet dreams,” with a wink that belies the bad boy beneath.
---
In your old bedroom, the clock ticks past midnight. You're asleep, lost in dreams, dressed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt that skims your thighs and a pair of cotton underwear hugging your hips.
The door opens with a whisper-soft creak, not enough to disturb you. Wonwoo moves like a shadow, closing it behind him and turning the lock with practiced silence. He's shed his shirt somewhere in the guest room, left in loose sweatpants that do little to hide the bulge growing against the fabric.
His bare feet pad across the carpet, eyes adjusting to the dim light spilling through the curtains. He pauses at the bedside, gaze raking over your sleeping form—the way the t-shirt has ridden up, exposing the curve of your ass, the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. The thought of claiming you here makes his cock twitch harder.
He slides onto the bed carefully, the mattress dipping under his weight as he spoons you from behind. His body molds to yours, chest pressing against your back, one arm slipping around your waist to pull you flush. The heat of him seeps through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, his skin feverish with restraint. You stir faintly in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping, but don't wake yet. Wonwoo's lips brush the nape of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo.
Then, without warning, his hand clamps over your mouth—firm, unyielding, fingers splaying wide to seal in any sound. At the same moment, his mouth latches onto the side of your neck, sucking hard, teeth grazing the skin as he draws a deep, bruising mark.
The sharp sting and sudden pressure jolt you awake. Your eyes fly open, heart slamming in your chest as panic flares—then recognition hits. Wonwoo's body is a solid wall behind you, his hips grinding forward to press his hard cock against your ass. It's thick and insistent, the length of it nestling between your cheeks, throbbing with need. You try to gasp, to turn, but his grip holds you pinned, his palm muffling the noise into a pathetic whimper. His tongue swirls over the fresh hickey, soothing the ache even as he bites down again, lighter this time, marking you deeper.
"Shh, baby," he murmurs against your ear, voice a rough rasp laced with amusement.
His free hand slides under your t-shirt, palm flat against your stomach, fingers dipping just below the waistband of your panties. "Didn't mean to startle you. But fuck, I couldn't stay away. Lying in that guest room, staring at the ceiling, all I could think about was you in here. Touching yourself in this little bed, biting your lip to keep quiet."
He rolls his hips, dragging his cock along the cleft of your ass, the friction making him groan low. "Got me so hard imagining it. You, all innocent, rubbing your clit to dirty thoughts.”
His words send a rush of heat straight to your core, your body responding despite the shock. You squirm against him, ass pushing back instinctively, feeling the rigid heat of him twitch in response.
You pull back just enough to breathe. “Wonwoo, wait. They're right down the hall. If they hear—"
He chuckles, the vibration rumbling through his chest as he guides you onto your back and captures your lips, swallowing your protest.
“You think I'm worried?” He nips at your bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth before releasing. “I'll just have to keep you quiet.”
Your breath hitches, a mix of fear and thrill coiling low in your belly. You nod, biting your lip to stifle another sound, but he sees the anxiety in your eyes, the way your gaze darts to the door.
“Trust me,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, trailing hot breaths down your neck. His hands roam now, one sliding under your shirt to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardens under his touch. You arch into him, legs parting as he shifts to kneel between them on the bed.
The kisses intensify, messy and urgent, his tongue exploring your mouth while his fingers pinch and roll your nipples, sending jolts straight to your core. You kiss him back hungrily, hands threading through his hair, tugging just enough to earn a low growl from him.
He presses his body against yours, the hardness of his cock grinding slowly against your thigh. The friction makes you gasp, and he silences it with another deep kiss, his weight pinning you down. Your mind races—images of your parents' bedroom door opening, footsteps in the hall—but Wonwoo's touch drowns it out, his hand slipping lower to cup you over your underwear, fingers pressing against the damp fabric.
“Already wet for me,” he murmurs, voice husky as he nips at your earlobe. “Good.”
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down in one smooth motion; you try to clamp your thighs together, cheeks burning. But he pries them apart gently, settling between your legs, his broad shoulders forcing you open.
“Spread for me. Let me see that pretty pussy.”
You obey, heart pounding, as he leans down, his breath ghosting over your inner thighs. His hands grip your hips, thumbs digging in just enough to hold you still. Your anxiety spikes again—what if a moan escapes? What if the bed creaks too loud? You cover your own mouth with one hand, but Wonwoo shakes his head, prying it away.
“No. I'll handle that.” He shifts up briefly to kiss you once more, softer this time, reassuring, before trailing kisses down your chest. He pushes your top up, exposing your tits, and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make your back bow off the mattress.
A muffled cry builds in your throat, but he releases your nipple with a pop, moving lower, his lips brushing your stomach, then the sensitive skin just above your mound. Your pussy aches, slick and ready, and he inhales deeply, smirking up at you.
“Been craving this. Do you know how hard it was pretending to be the perfect boyfriend while I wanted to bend you over that dinner table?” His words send heat flooding through you, and you squirm, thighs trembling.
Finally, he dips his head, tongue flicking out to trace your outer lips, teasing you without mercy. You bite your lip hard, but a soft whine escapes anyway. Wonwoo's eyes snap up, locking on yours as he reaches up and presses his palm flat over your mouth, fingers splaying across your cheeks. The pressure is firm, muffling any sound, his skin warm and slightly calloused against your lips.
“Quiet now,” he commands, voice a low rumble. “Or I'll stop.”
You nod frantically under his hand, eyes pleading, and he rewards you by flattening his tongue against your clit. The sensation hits like lightning—wet, hot pressure that makes your hips buck. He holds you down with his free arm across your waist, his mouth working you relentlessly. His tongue circles your clit, then dips lower to push inside you, tasting your arousal with hungry laps.
“Fuck, you taste perfect,” he whispers against your skin, the words vibrating through your core. His hand stays sealed over your mouth, thumb stroking your cheek in contrast to the dominance. “So wet, dripping for me. My good little slut, creaming on my tongue while your parents’ sleep.”
The dirty praise seeps into your veins, making you clench around nothing, your body betraying how much you need him. He sucks your clit into his mouth, then soothes with broad licks that have you writhing below him.
Your hands fist the sheets, knuckles white, as waves of pleasure build. He hums in approval, the sound sending vibrations straight to your nerves. He pushes one finger into your pussy slowly, aiming to hit that spot that makes your toes curl. You moan into his palm, the sound trapped and desperate, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity.
“That's it, baby,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your juices. “Squeezing me already. You love this, don't you?”
He adds a second finger, thrusting them in and out while his tongue returns to your clit, flicking rapidly. His hand over your mouth tightens slightly when you get too loud, a warning press.
He devours you methodically, tongue lapping at your folds, sucking your clit until it's swollen and throbbing. His fingers pump faster, scissoring inside you, stretching your walls as your arousal coats his hand. You can hear the wet sounds—slurps and squelches that seem deafening in the quiet room—and it mortifies you, cheeks flushing under his grip. What if they hear that? But Wonwoo doesn't care; he groans into your pussy, the vibration making you shudder.
“Come on, soak my face,” he whispers, voice muffled against you. “I want to feel my girl gush for me.”
The praise pushes you closer, your body coiling like a spring. He senses it, increasing the pace—tongue swirling, fingers crooking relentlessly against your g-spot. Your thighs quake around his head, trying to close, but he shoves them wider with his shoulders, burying his face deeper. The orgasm crashes over you, your pussy clenching hard around his fingers, juices flooding his tongue. You scream into his hand, the sound absorbed by his skin, body convulsing in silent ecstasy.
Wonwoo doesn't stop, licking you through it, drawing out every tremor until you're oversensitive and twitching. Only then does he ease back, removing his hand from your mouth slowly, letting you gasp for air. His chin drips with your release, and he wipes it with the back of his hand, smirking down at your wrecked form.
“See? Kept you quiet just fine.” Wonwoo eases his fingers out of your pussy with a wet pop, the sound obscene in the hushed room, leaving you clenching around emptiness.
Your body still hums from the orgasm, thighs slick and trembling, but the anxiety hasn't fully faded—but he's not done. His eyes darken as he unties his sweatpants.
“Now, turn over. I need to fuck you.” The aftershocks of pleasure make you compliant, rolling onto your stomach as his cock springs free, thick and hard, and he rubs the head against your soaked entrance. “Gonna fill this sweet pussy up,” he growls.
You whimper, face half-buried in the pillow, the soft cotton muffling the sound, but he tugs your head up just enough to expose your face. His free hand snakes around, fingers brushing your lips before clamping over your mouth from the side, palm sealing tight. “No noise, remember? Or do you want Mommy and Daddy to see what a slut their good girl really is?”
The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, shame and desire twisting together as you nod against his grip. His cock nudges your entrance, thick head parting your lips, and he pushes in slowly at first, inch by inch, stretching your walls with that familiar burn.
Unprotected, raw—you feel every ridge, every vein as he sinks deeper, bottoming out with a low groan that vibrates against your back. His hips flush against your ass, he stills for a moment, letting you adjust, his breath hot on your shoulder.
“Fuck,” he whispers, lips grazing your ear, his hand firm over your mouth to catch any gasp. “Like this cunt was made for me.”
He starts moving then, pulling out halfway before thrusting back in, the motion deliberate, controlled. You push back against him instinctively, meeting his thrusts, the slap of skin on skin growing louder despite your efforts to stay quiet. His hand muffles your moans, fingers digging into your cheek just enough to sting, a reminder of his control.
“That's it,” he growls softly, pace quickening.
He punctuates each thrust, his cock plunging deeper, the head brushing that sensitive spot inside you that makes you see stars. Your arms tremble, elbows buckling as pleasure builds again, coiling tight in your core. The fullness of him has arousal trickling down your thighs.
He notices, chuckling darkly against your neck. “So wet, you’re creaming all over my cock.”
You try to respond, but it comes out as a desperate whine into his palm, tongue pressing against his skin. He rewards you by reaching around and rubbing your clit. The dual sensation—his thick shaft filling you, the friction on your swollen nub—has your body seizing, walls fluttering around him.
His hand over your mouth tightens when a louder moan builds, and Wonwoo tilts your head back, exposing your throat. He bites down there lightly, teeth grazing, then sucks another mark that'll need covering tomorrow.
His roughness pushes you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you without warning. Your pussy spasms around his cock, sucking him in further as waves of ecstasy crash over you, thighs quaking. You cry out into his hand, the sound trapped and vibrating against his skin, body arching as you grind back, chasing every pulse. Wonwoo groans low, thrusts turning erratic, chasing his own release.
“Fuck, yes—take it all,” he hisses, burying himself deep one last time. His cock throbs inside you, hot spurts of cum flooding your walls, painting you from the inside as he grinds against your ass, prolonging it.
His hand slips from your mouth slowly, letting you suck in air, lips tingling. He pulls out with a slick sound, watching his cum start to drip from your pussy, a satisfied smirk on his face.
“Look at that mess. My dirty girl, full of me. Better keep it in—don't want to stain your sheets.”
summary: in which your boyfriend was too tired to hide your sex tape on his laptop
warning: oral, fingering, squirting, voyeurism
genre: smut
pairing: idol yunho x afab reader x ateez watches
word count: 3.1k
masterlist
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Tokyo was still glowing outside the hotel windows when Yunho shoved his laptop into Yeosang’s hands like a man already running late. “Hurry up,” Hongjoong called from the hallway, half dressed, hat low over his eyes while managers tried to herd everyone downstairs before traffic got worse. “If we miss check in again I’m leaving somebody in Japan.”
“Probably Wooyoung,” Jongho muttered.
“Rude.”
Yunho barely reacted, already pulling his jacket on while talking to staff. He looked exhausted. The last week in Japan had been nonstop schedules, performances, interviews, dance rehearsals. His hair was still slightly damp from a rushed shower, and there were faint shadows under his eyes as Yeosang adjusted the laptop under his arm. “You sure all the choreo files are here?”
“Everything’s labeled,” Yunho answered distractedly. “New demos, practice formations, performance references. Just connect it to the studio monitor.” Then his phone buzzed and the second he looked at it, his entire face softened and Wooyoung saw it immediately and groaned dramatically. “Ugh. He got a text from her.”
Mingi snorted from where he was dragging his suitcase. “Look at him smiling.”
“I’m not smiling.”
“You literally are.”
Yunho rolled his eyes, but his thumb was already typing back. You’d gone home three days ago to visit your family while he stayed in Japan for solo schedules, and ever since then he’d been annoyingly attached to his phone.
Hongjoong pointed toward the elevator. “Lovebirds later. Move.”
Yunho looked back once toward Yeosang. “Just don’t touch anything else on there.” That should’ve sounded more suspicious than it did. But nobody thought twice about it. Because Yunho’s laptop always looked the same. Dance folders. Music drafts. Performance videos. Gaming lives downloaded. Thousands of clips from practices he obsessively recorded and reviewed. Nothing unusual.
At least… not that anyone knew.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The practice room speakers blasted the new track loud enough to rattle the mirrors while everyone ran through choreography for what felt like the hundredth time. Hongjoong cut the music with an aggravated sigh. “Again. San, half a second earlier on the turn.”
“I was earlier!”
“You were spiritually earlier.”
Wooyoung collapsed dramatically onto the floor. “I’m going to die in this room.”
“You say that every comeback,” Yeosang replied calmly. Sweat clung to everyone after hours of rehearsing. Empty water bottles littered the corners. Mingi was sitting against the mirror catching his breath while Jongho stretched nearby. Yunho still wasn’t back from Japan. Which meant the center formations felt weirdly empty without him there towering over everybody.
Hongjoong rubbed his face tiredly. “Let’s check the reference recordings again. Yeosang, did you bring Yunho’s laptop?”
“Yeah.” Yeosang walked over to his bag near the wall and pulled it out. “He said everything’s organized.”
Wooyoung snorted. “That man has folders inside folders inside folders.”
“He scares me technologically,” San agreed as Yeosang connected the laptop to the big studio monitor while the others gathered around, still breathing hard from practice. The desktop appeared onscreen with folders everywhere over a background wallpaper of Yunho and you.
“See?” Wooyoung pointed. “Psychopath behavior.”
“Open the comeback demos,” Hongjoong said and Yeosang clicked through folders while everyone loosely argued over choreography changes behind him.
Dance_FINAL.
Dance_FINAL2.
Dance_ACTUALFINAL.
“Jesus Christ,” Mingi muttered.
“I told you,” Wooyoung said as Yeosang finally found the right folder and opened it, dozens of video files appearing across the screen and Hongjoong nodded toward one near the bottom. “That one.” Yeosang clicked without looking closely.
For one completely normal second, the screen stayed black before audio filled the room. A soft laugh. Your laugh. Nobody reacted at first because their brains genuinely needed a second to catch up as the video quality was dim and warm, obviously filmed late at night. Yunho was behind the camera, face briefly visible in the mirror across the room as he adjusted the angle. His hair was messy, lips caught between his teeth in that distracted little habit he had when he was focused.
Then the camera tilted lower. Toward the bed. Toward you and the entire practice room froze. You were kneeling on the mattress wearing nothing except one of Yunho’s oversized flannel shirts, the fabric hanging off one shoulder while you laughed softly at something he’d said behind the camera.
“Oh my god,” San whispered immediately as Yeosang’s hand spasmed on the trackpad and Wooyoung slapped both hands over his mouth so hard it echoed. Mingi made a strangled noise somewhere between a cough and a scream as Hongjoong stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.
“Nope,” Jongho said instantly, already turning away. “Nope. Turn it off.” But nobody moved. Because now Yunho’s voice filled the speakers, low and affectionate in a way none of them had ever heard before.
“Baby, look at me.”
The way he said it was the problem. Not cocky. Not joking. Completely gone for you. Onscreen, you glanced toward the camera with a shy smile while Yunho laughed softly behind it, clearly obsessed with filming every reaction you made.
Seonghwa lost it first. “No wonder he’s always tired.”
“TURN IT OFF,” Hongjoong barked, finally regaining consciousness. Yeosang, panicking now, fumbled the mouse completely wrong and somehow fullscreened the video instead and the room erupted.
“YEOSANG!”
“I’M TRYING!”
Mingi was bent over laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe while San had physically thrown himself against the mirror in dramatic distress. And right before Yeosang finally managed to pause it, Yunho’s voice came through the speakers one last time. Soft. Amused and completely whipped.
“You’re so pretty like this.”
The practice room went so quiet the speakers sounded too loud. Nobody should’ve still been watching. That was the insane part. Every single one of them knew they should’ve shut the laptop the second they realized what the video was, but now it felt like witnessing a car crash in slow motion. Horrifying. Intimate. Impossible to look away from.
Onscreen, you slid off the bed slowly, Yunho’s flannel swallowing you whole as your bare legs disappeared out of frame for a second. The camera shifted slightly when Yunho adjusted his grip on it, like even he had gotten distracted watching you move toward him. Then you literally crawled across the floor toward him and seven grown men stopped functioning simultaneously.
“Jesus Christ,” San muttered, hand over his face.
Jongho looked actively pained. “We should turn it off.”
“Yeah…” Mingi answered immediately, voice suddenly deeper somehow. “Totally.”
Nobody moved. Not one of them. Wooyoung was clutching Yeosang’s shoulder so hard Yeosang physically winced, but even he couldn’t stop staring at the screen in complete disbelief at his roommate. Because Yunho looked insane. Not lustful. Not playful. Gone. Completely gone for you.
The camera dipped slightly as you settled on your knees in front of him, and for a brief second Yunho glanced toward the lens like he remembered he was filming. That little glance alone nearly killed the room because his expression was so openly wrecked over you it felt invasive to witness. Then his eyes dropped back down to you and his entire face softened again.
Hongjoong made a noise like he was spiritually leaving his body. “I know too much about this man now.”
Onscreen, Yunho’s hand appeared briefly, brushing your hair back gently before disappearing again.
“Mine,” his voice murmured through the speakers.
Wooyoung folded in half onto the floor. “HE’S WHIPPED,” he shouted.
“He’s been whipped,” Seonghwa scoffed as Mingi was still staring at the screen with narrowed eyes like he was re evaluating everything he knew about Yunho as a human being and his best friend.
The room stayed frozen. Not one of them saying a word now. The joking had died somewhere in the last thirty seconds, replaced with the horrible realization that they were watching something way too intimate to ever erase from memory again. Onscreen, Yunho lowered the camera carefully onto his bedside table, adjusting it with practiced ease until the frame captured the entire room. The edge of the bed. The floor. You between his legs in that oversized flannel looking devastatingly soft against the darker lighting.
Then Yunho leaned back slightly while you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and Wooyoung inhaled so sharply it sounded painful. Nobody looked away. They couldn’t as the fabric dragged slowly down his thighs, and the collective silence in the practice room somehow got even heavier. Yunho was already visibly hard, muscles tense beneath the dim bedroom lighting while he watched you with that same wrecked expression that had everyone spiraling minutes ago.
San rubbed both hands down his face. “We are never recovering from this.”
“Not a single recovery,” Mingi muttered.
The worst part was how quiet the video itself was. No music. Just soft movement, breathing, occasional little laughs from you, and Yunho’s low voice every now and then like he physically couldn’t stop talking to you. Hongjoong finally tore his eyes away long enough to glare at Yeosang. “Why are you still holding the laptop like you’re presenting this to the class?”
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO,” Yeosang whisper yelled back as Jongho stood with his arms crossed so tightly he looked like he was trying to hold onto the last threads of his sanity. “We seriously need to turn it off,” he said again. Nobody disagreed but still nobody moved.
Because onscreen Yunho reached forward suddenly, one hand brushing along your jaw before tilting your face up toward him, his thumb lingering there for a second like he couldn’t stop touching you even while filming then he moved his hand down, wrapping firmly around the base of his dick. He gave it a slow stroke as you knelt there, mouth parting wider at the sight, tongue extending flat and eager.
Yunho tapped his tip against your tongue once, twice, the wet sound barely audible over the quiet breaths in the room. He dragged it across your lower lip, smearing a bead of precum before pulling back just enough to repeat the motion. The group stayed locked on the screen, Hongjoong's jaw tight, Mingi's fingers digging into his own thighs, Wooyoung still folded forward but peeking through his fingers now.
"Fuck," San muttered under his breath, the word barely formed as they watched you open wider, and Yunho finally let you have it. Your lips closed around the tip first, tongue swirling slow and deliberate as you took the first few inches into your mouth. The pace stayed unhurried, your head bobbing in measured movements that let every vein and ridge drag against your tongue and Yunho's free hand rested on the back of your head, not pushing yet, just resting there while his low voice filled the speakers. “That's it, baby. Nice and slow for me."
The video captured every detail, the way your cheeks hollowed slightly on each pull back, the soft glisten of spit building at the corners of your mouth, the way your eyes flicked up to meet his. Yunho's breathing grew heavier, his hips shifting forward in tiny thrusts as you worked him deeper inch by inch and Yeosang shifted in his seat, the movement loud in the silence. Nobody joked anymore. All eyes stayed glued to the footage.
Your pace built gradually. You took more of him on each descent, throat relaxing as the head nudged farther back. Yunho's fingers threaded into your hair, and then he started guiding. A gentle press at first, then firmer, pushing your head down until your nose brushed the base of his dick. He held you there for a beat before easing off, letting you catch air, only to repeat it on the next stroke. “Look at you taking it so deep already. That mouth was made for this, wasn't it?"
The group watched in stunned silence as the rhythm changed. Yunho's grip tightened. He began thrusting into your mouth in controlled rolls of his hips, using the hold on your head to set the depth. Each push sent the head sliding past your tongue and into your throat, the wet sounds growing louder as you gagged softly around him once, twice, but kept going, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes on screen. “Go on baby…. Fuck yourself," Yunho ordered through the speakers, voice rough.
Your hand moved immediately. Two fingers slipped between your thighs, parting your folds before sinking inside your pussy in one smooth motion and you moaned around him at the stretch, the sound vibrating through him visibly as his abs tensed on screen and your fingers pumped in time with his thrusts, slow at first, then matching the pace as he fucked your mouth harder.
San leaned forward, eyes wide. "Holy shit."
Yunho's praise poured out steadily. "Good girl, just like that. Taking every inch so well. This video's gonna be mine to watch later….. gonna fuck my fist to the way you choke on me." His dick twitched in your mouth on screen, the head swelling as he used your throat with deeper, shorter thrusts making your gagging grow wetter, sobs hitching around him while your fingers worked faster inside yourself.
The room stayed frozen except for the subtle shifts of the guys adjusting themselves, arousal clear in the way they couldn't look away. On screen, your body trembled. Your fingers curled inside your pussy, hitting the right spot until your thighs shook and you came hard, squirting around your own hand, the fluid glistening on your skin and the carpet as your moan broke into a choked cry around Yunho's dick.
Yunho didn't stop. He held your head steady with both hands now, thrusting deep and steady through your orgasm. His dick pulsed, and then he buried himself to the hilt, coming down your throat in thick pulses as you swallowed every drop, throat working visibly around him until he eased back, letting you breathe. A thin string of spit and cum connected your lips to his dick as the video faded on the final soft praise from his voice.
The practice room stayed silent for a long moment after, every member hard and flushed, the weight of what they'd just witnessed settling heavy.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The second Yunho walked back into the practice room after returning from Japan, every single member started acting like they were being hunted for sport. It had been two full days since the incident. Two days of pretending it never happened. Two days of Wooyoung randomly bursting into hysterical laughter during meals.
Two days of Hongjoong threatening violence anytime someone even mentioned laptops.
And now Yunho was finally back in Seoul completely unaware that seven people had accidentally watched the most intimate video of his life. Which somehow made it worse. Especially because he was acting normal. That was the terrifying part. Just… regular Yunho. Stretching before practice. Drinking iced coffee. Running choreography like nothing catastrophic had happened because he had no idea.
“Why are you all acting like I died?” Yunho finally asked after San nearly walked into the mirror avoiding eye contact.
“No reason,” Hongjoong answered instantly. Suspiciously fast and Yunho narrowed his eyes as the practice room door opened and immediately his entire expression changed as you walked in carrying bags of food and coffees balanced in your arms, smiling brightly. “I come bearing peace offerings because apparently none of you eat unless someone mothers you.”
Wooyoung made a sound like a dying victorian man as Mingi physically turned around and Jongho coughed into his hand so violently Seonghwa had to smack his back.
You blinked, furrowing your brows. “What’s wrong with everybody?”
“Nothing!” seven voices answered at completely different pitches and Yunho looked even more confused now, already walking toward you to help with the food. The second he reached you, one hand settled automatically at your waist while he took the bags from your arms. “Thanks, baby,” Yunho said casually, pressing a quick kiss to your temple and Hongjoong closed his eyes briefly like a man enduring psychological warfare.
You watched the members awkwardly scatter around the room avoiding you entirely and frowned. “Okay seriously, they’re acting weird.” Yunho shrugged, completely oblivious while unpacking containers onto the table. “They’ve been weird all day.”
Across the room, San accidentally made eye contact with you for half a second and immediately looked away then choked on air making you stare harder now. “Did something happen while you were gone?”
Seven men collectively looked like they were about to enter cardiac arrest as Yunho glanced up slowly. “Why does it suddenly feel like I should be concerned?”
Mingi finally cracked first. Probably because Yunho kept staring around the room like he was five seconds away from starting an interrogation. He cleared his throat, arms folded tightly across his chest. “So… hypothetically…”
Hongjoong pointed immediately. “Don’t.”
“No, because we can’t keep acting like this,” Mingi shot back.
“We absolutely can,” Jongho argued.
“We really can’t,” Wooyoung wheezed from the floor as you looked between all of them in growing confusion while Yunho narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What happened?”
Mingi sighed like a man accepting death. “We might’ve…” He paused. “Watched something on your laptop.”
You blinked once.
Yunho blinked twice. “What?”
“You know,” Mingi continued vaguely, refusing to elaborate while Wooyoung was already shaking, trying not to laugh. “Something that maybe wasn’t choreography.”
Still confused, you looked toward Yunho. “What does that even mean?”
Then Yunho froze. Actually froze. Like someone had unplugged him from reality and the color drained from his face so fast it was almost impressive. “Oh no,” he whispered and Wooyoung immediately lost it. “A LITTLE 18+ DOCUMENTARY,” he shouted, pointing accusingly at Yunho while collapsing against the mirror.
Your entire body went still as Yunho slowly turned toward Yeosang first. “What did you open.” Though he already knew the answer. Yeosang looked seconds away from tears. “IT WASN’T LABELED!”
“It was in the choreography folder!” Hongjoong exploded.
“I WAS TIRED!”
You stared between all of them, realization dawning in horrifying slow motion as your jaw dropped. “Oh my god.”
Yunho slapped both hands over his face instantly as Mingi looked at the ceiling. Wooyoung was physically on the floor now laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe and Jongho looked ready to move countries as Seonghwa pointed at you and Yunho like a courtroom witness. “For the record, none of us wanted to see it.”
“That is such a lie,” Wooyoung yelled from the floor.
“No because why did nobody turn it off?” you demanded, face burning now.
“WE TRIED!” Yeosang defended himself.
“You fullscreened it!” Hongjoong shouted back.
Yunho still hadn’t uncovered his face. “You watched the whole thing?” he asked slowly through his hands and Mingi suddenly found the wall fascinating. San coughed and Hongjoong looked away as Seonghwa, Jongho, Yeosang and Wooyoung just stared in silence.
warnings: friends to lovers, alcohol use, oral sex (m. rec), protected sex,
wc: 2694
author's note: thinking about friends with benefits with jun and this is what my mind provided
The coffee table was cluttered with empty beer bottles and half-eaten snack bowls that formed a chaotic mess. You and Jun had been at it for hours, the card game starting innocently enough after a few shots of soju to loosen up the evening.
Friends with benefits—that's what you called it, a no-strings arrangement that kept things fun and uncomplicated. No kissing on the lips, though. That was the unspoken boundary, the line that kept it from tipping into something too real, too intimate. Despite that, you'd crossed plenty of other thresholds with him, like the night he took your virginity, guiding you through the intensity with careful hands and whispered encouragements.
Jun slouched on the couch opposite you, his hair tousled from running his fingers through it every time he lost a round. He wore a loose white t-shirt and gray sweatpants that did little to hide the outline of his thighs. His eyes, usually sharp and playful, were hazy now from the alcohol, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he slapped down another card.
“Ha! That's three in a row for me. You're going down, literally,” he teased, his voice slurring just a bit at the edges.
You laughed, the warmth of the soju buzzing through your veins, making your cheeks flush.
“You're cheating. I saw you peek at my hand earlier.” You tossed your cards onto the table, the pile scattering slightly.
Leaning back against your armchair, you stretched your legs out, your bare feet brushing against his under the table. The contact sent a familiar spark up your leg, but you ignored it, focusing instead on pouring another round from the bottle.
He snatched the glass you slid over, clinking it against yours with exaggerated flair. “To my victory streak.”
He downed it in one go, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Setting the glass down, he eyed you with that mischievous glint, the one that always signaled trouble—or pleasure.
“Truth or dare? Since we're drunk and all.”
The game had devolved from cards to this sometime around the fourth bottle, boundaries blurring like the edges of your vision.
“Dare,” you said without hesitation, the alcohol making you bold.
Why not? It was Jun, after all—safe in his unreliability, hot in his unpredictability.
His grin widened, teeth flashing white in the low light. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I dare you to... lose the shirt.”
You rolled your eyes but complied, peeling off your tank top and tossing it aside. The cool air hit your skin, nipples hardening slightly under your bra, and you caught the way his gaze lingered, darkening with interest.
“Your turn,” you shot back, reshuffling the deck sloppily. “Truth or dare?”
He hesitated, then smirked. “Truth.”
“What's the wildest thing you've thought about doing with me that we haven't tried yet?” The question slipped out easier than intended, fueled by the buzz and the easy intimacy of the night.
Jun's laugh was low, rumbling from his chest as he rubbed the back of his neck, a flush creeping up his ears. “Honestly? Something with toys. Maybe using one on you while we fuck? But that's for another night.”
He waved it off, but the image hung in the air, thick and charged. You dealt the next hand, but the cards felt secondary now, the tension coiling like a spring between you.
As the game wore on, the dares escalated. By the time the bottle was nearly empty, you were both sprawled closer on the couch, cards forgotten in a heap. Jun's arm draped casually over the backrest behind you, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder.
The alcohol had stripped away the filters, leaving raw edges exposed. He turned to you, his face inches away, breath warm with soju.
“You know,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave, “this game's boring now. Let’s get serious.” His hand slid from the couch to your arm, tracing lazy circles on your skin. The touch was electric, familiar yet always igniting fresh heat.
You met his eyes, seeing the hunger there, unmasked. “What do you have in mind?”
He licked his lips, the gesture unconscious but distracting. “Dare you to suck me off. Right here.”
The words hung blunt and direct, no preamble, just the raw request born of liquor and lust. His hand moved to his lap, palming himself through the sweatpants, the fabric tenting visibly as his cock hardened at the thought.
Your pulse quickened, a thrill shooting straight to your core. No kissing, sure, but this? This was fair game, the kind of casual that defined your arrangement. You shifted closer, knees pressing into the carpet as you knelt between his legs.
“Bossy tonight, huh?” you teased, but your voice came out breathy, eager.
Jun's fingers tangled in your hair, not pulling yet, just holding as he watched you with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Can't help it. You've been teasing me all night.”
He tugged his waistband down, freeing his cock. It sprang up, thick and veined, and he was half-hard from the proximity alone, but as you wrapped your hand around the base, stroking slowly, it swelled fully in your grip—hot, pulsing, the skin silky over the rigid length.
You leaned in, breath ghosting over the tip, making him hiss. No rushing; you wanted to draw it out, savour the power shift. Your tongue flicked out, lapping at the slit, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum. Jun groaned, hips jerking slightly.
“Fuck, yeah... just like that.”
Emboldened, you swirled your tongue around the head, tracing its ridge, before taking him into your mouth. The stretch was immediate, your lips sealing around him as you sucked gently, hollowing your cheeks.
His grip tightened in your hair, guiding without forcing. You bobbed your head, taking more of him with each pass—halfway, then deeper, until the head bumped the back of your throat. The taste of him filled your senses, salty and addictive. You hummed around him, the vibration pulling a string of curses from his lips.
You pulled back slightly, lips dragging along the underside, tongue pressing flat against the vein that throbbed there. Saliva slicked him up, dripping down to your hand as you pumped what you couldn't swallow.
Jun's thighs tensed under your free hand, muscles flexing as he fought to stay still. But he didn't last long in restraint; soon, his hips bucked up, fucking into your mouth with shallow thrusts. You let him, relaxing your jaw, eyes watering but locked on his face—watching the pleasure twist his features, brows furrowed, mouth parted in silent moans.
“God, you're perfect at this,” he panted, voice rough.
One hand left your hair to grip the couch cushion, knuckles white. You sped up, sucking harder, tongue working relentlessly. The wet sounds filled the room—slurps and gasps, your own arousal building as his cock twitched against your tongue. You reached down, slipping a hand into your shorts to rub your clit, the friction adding to the haze.
Jun noticed, his eyes flicking down.
“Touching yourself? Dirty girl.”
The words spurred you on, your fingers circling faster as you deep throated him, nose brushing against his skin. He was close; you could feel it in the way he throbbed, the erratic pulse.
“Fuck, gonna cum,” he moaned. “Swallow it.”
You did, moaning around him as hot spurts hit the back of your throat. He came with a guttural groan, hips stuttering, flooding your mouth with thick ropes. You swallowed every drop, sucking him until he slumped back, spent and breathing hard.
Pulling off with a pop, you wiped your mouth, tasting him still on your tongue. Jun tugged you up, pulling you into his lap for a moment—bodies pressed close, but no lips met. Just heavy breaths and satisfied smiles. 'Best dare ever,' he murmured, hand sliding down to squeeze your ass.
The afterglow lingered like the soju, your body still thrumming with need. You sat straddled across his lap on the couch, his softening cock tucked back into his sweatpants, the evidence of your efforts smeared faintly on the fabric.
His hands roamed your back lazily, fingers tracing the curve of your spine under your bra strap, while your own palms rested on his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breaths. The room spun gently from the alcohol, the discarded cards and bottles a testament to how far the night had unravelled.
Jun's eyes met yours, dark and glassy, a mix of satisfaction and something deeper flickering in them.
“That was... intense,” he murmured, his voice husky, thumb brushing your lower lip where a trace of his cum still lingered. The touch was innocent enough, but it ignited a spark low in your belly, the boundary you'd both upheld feeling flimsier than ever in this drunken fog.
You leaned in without thinking, the impulse born of the buzz and the intimacy of the moment. Your lips brushed his, soft at first, testing. He froze, eyes widening fractionally, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his mouth parted slightly, and you pressed forward, sealing the kiss. Your tongue slipped past his lips, carrying the salty tang of him, letting him taste himself on you. The flavor mingled with the soju on his breath, a heady combination that made your head swim.
Jun groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you like a shockwave. His hands clamped onto your hips, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. Tongues tangled, wet and urgent, his initial surprise melting into desperation. He sucked on your tongue, chasing the taste, moaning low and broken.
“Mmmph, fuck, you taste like me.” His words were muffled against your lips, but they sent a jolt straight to your core, your pussy clenching with fresh need.
You broke the kiss briefly, gasping, but he chased after you, capturing your mouth again with a hunger that bordered on feral. His cock stirred beneath you, hardening against your thigh through the thin barrier of cloth. It thickened quickly, pressing insistently as his hips rocked up in shallow grinds.
“We—we said no kissing,” he panted between kisses, but there was no conviction in it, only raw want. His moans grew louder, needy whimpers escaping as you nipped at his bottom lip, your hands fisting in his shirt.
“I know,” you whispered, voice breathy, the alcohol stripping away your hesitation. “But I want to. Want you.”
The admission hung between you, heavy and honest. His body responded before his words could, cock now fully erect, straining against his sweatpants, the outline clear and demanding.
Jun's hands slid up your sides, thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts, making you arch into him. He kissed you harder, messier, saliva slicking both your chins as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth.
Moans poured from him unchecked—a continuous stream of “Ahh... yes... more,” his usual composure shattered. You ground down on his lap, feeling the heat of his erection rub against your soaked shorts, the friction teasing your clit through the fabric. Pulling back just enough to look at him, you saw the flush high on his cheeks, lips swollen and glistening.
“Jun... what's happening?” The question was soft, laced with the vulnerability the drinks had unearthed.
He swallowed hard, eyes searching yours, the haze clearing just enough for sincerity to shine through. His hands cupped your face, thumbs stroking your jaw.
“I can't do this anymore. Pretending it's just fun.” His voice cracked, raw emotion bleeding into the words. “I've had feelings for you for months. Longer than the friends with benefits shit. Every time we're together, I want more. I want all of you. Not just your body, but this.”
He gestured vaguely between you, then pulled you into another kiss, slower this time, tender despite the urgency.
Your heart pounded, the confession hitting like a wave, but it felt right, inevitable.
“Me too,” you admitted against his lips, the words tumbling out. “I think I've been falling for you too.”
The drunken stupor made it easy to say, but the truth had been simmering beneath the surface.
Jun's eyes softened, a smile breaking through the lust. “Then let me show you.”
He stood suddenly, lifting you with him effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you toward the bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot. The room was lit by a bedside lamp, the bed unmade from earlier, sheets rumpled invitingly.
He lowered you onto the mattress gently, following you down, his body covering yours without crushing. Kisses trailed from your lips to your jaw, neck, collarbone, hot and open-mouthed, sucking marks into your skin.
“Gonna make love to you,” he murmured against your throat, the phrase carrying weight, different from the casual fucks you'd shared before.
His hands worked your bra clasp free, tossing it aside, then palmed your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they pebbled hard.
You moaned, arching up, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Yes... please.”
He lavished attention on your chest, mouth closing over one nipple, sucking firmly while pinching the other. Tongue flicked and teeth grazed, sending jolts of pleasure down to your pussy, which ached emptily now. His cock pressed against your thigh, hot and insistent, leaking through his pants onto your skin.
Impatient, you tugged at his waistband. “Off. Need you naked.”
He obliged, shoving the sweatpants down and kicking them away, his cock springing free, the head flushed dark. You shimmied out of your shorts and panties in record time, spreading your legs to reveal your glistening folds.
He settled between your thighs, cock nudging your entrance, but he paused, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. Always prepared, even in the blur. Rolling it on quickly, he lined up, rubbing the tip through your slickness, coating himself.
“Slow,” you whispered, wanting to savour this shift.
He nodded, pushing in inch by inch, stretching you deliciously. Your pussy clenched around him, walls fluttering as he filled you completely, bottoming out with a shared groan.
“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he breathed, holding still to let you adjust, forehead pressed to yours.
Then he moved, hips rolling in a steady rhythm, deep thrusts that hit every sensitive spot. No frantic pounding; this was deliberate, intimate, his body undulating against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him closer. Kisses punctuated each thrust—lips, cheeks, eyelids—soft and loving amid the building heat.
Jun's moans filled the room again, uninhibited, his face buried in your neck as he pumped into you.
“Love this... love you inside me like this.” The words slipped out, raw and unfiltered, making your chest tighten with emotion.
You met his thrusts, hips lifting to take him deeper, clit grinding against his pubic bone with every slide.
Sweat slicked your bodies, the slap of skin on skin mixing with wet sounds from where he plunged into your pussy. His hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in firm circles that had you gasping.
“Come for me,” he urged, voice strained, pace quickening just a touch.
The pressure built fast, coiling tight in your core. You cried out, nails raking his back as orgasm crashed over you—pussy spasming around his cock, milking him in rhythmic pulses.
“Jun! Oh god.”
Waves of pleasure rippled through you, vision blurring with the intensity.
He followed seconds later, thrusts erratic as he buried himself deep, groaning your name like a prayer. His cock pulsed inside you, filling the condom with hot spurts. He collapsed onto you, both panting, bodies entwined in the aftermath.
Minutes passed in silence, just breaths syncing, his weight a comforting anchor. Jun lifted his head, kissing you softly—no rush, just affection.
“That was... everything,” he whispered, eyes shining.
You smiled, fingers threading through his damp hair. “Yeah. It was.”
♡ — 𝐕𝐢𝐩 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ; @kissmatz @eggielix @miisanthropology @mywonuverse @chanscappuccino @nctwishmogs send a ask to be added or removed!
A/N — I know I said it was fluff week, but I literally can’t get this idea out of my head.
Professor!yunho who let’s you stay behind so you can catch up on late work.
Professor!yunho who always offers to help you during lunch hour, especially if you’re behind on a project.
Professor!yunho who always focuses on you during the lecture, watching you to make sure you’re following along and understanding what he’s talking about.
Professor!yunho who let’s you peek at the exam a week before so you know to expect and gives you more time to study for it.
Professor!yunho who is not fair at all to the students compared to you, letting you pretty much do whatever you want while not even allowing others to eat.
Professor!yunho who calls for you after the lecture, just to chat about ordinary things before discussing your grades.
— “You want an A?” “I do, I can’t fail this..” “Go on, work for it.”
Professor!yunho who makes you rest your head against his lap, pressing his bulge to your cheek.
Professor!yunho who holds your hair in a gentle grip as you suck him off. Pushing your head to take him deeper into your mouth.
Professor!yunho who makes you sit on his desk with your legs spread, just so he can make you watch him jerk off while having something pretty to look at.
Professor!yunho who keeps a vibrator in his drawer just so he can use it on you, watching you squirm is his biggest turn on.
Professor!yunho who likes to put his cock in between your thighs, just to make you feel his length drag across your clit.
Professor!yunho who always cums inside, not wanting to ‘make a mess’ on his desk. That’s what his excuse was, but it’s really just to mark you as his.
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warnings: cowboy!yunho, possessive!yunho, semi public and unprotected sex, violence, blood, established relationship
wc: 1068
author's note: this is my first fic 🫣
The dim haze of the bar hangs thick with sweat and spilled whiskey, the jukebox thumping some twangy George Strait tune. You lean against the scarred wooden bar, nursing a lukewarm drink as a man takes a seat next to you.
"Hey, darlin'," he drawls, his hand brushing your arm too close, fingers lingering on your wrist. "Buy you another? Look like you could use a real man tonight."
Your stomach twists, but before you can shrug him off, a shadow looms massive behind him. Yunho. Your cowboy, solid and wrapped in faded denim and a black Stetson, his broad shoulders straining the seams of his flannel shirt. His jaw clenchs like a bear trap, dark eyes narrowing to slits.
"The fuck you think you're doin', touchin' my girl?" His voice rumbles low, gravel-rough from years of shouting over cattle drives.
The guy turns, smirking, sizing up Yunho. "Your girl? She don't look claimed to me."
Big mistake.
Yunho doesn't waste breath. He grabs the front of the prick's shirt, yanking him off his stool like a ragdoll. The bar erupts—chairs scraping, whoops from the locals—but Yunho's like a freight train.
One haymaker cracks the guy's jaw with a wet snap, sending him staggering into a table. Beer bottles shatter. The dude swings wild, almost clipping Yunho's cheek, but your cowboy just laughs, a feral bark, and drives his knee into the bastard's gut. Air whooshes out. Another punch to the nose—blood sprays, metallic tang hitting the air. The guy crumples, groaning against the sawdust floor, as Yunho stands over him, chest heaving, knuckles split and glistening red.
"Stay the fuck away from her," Yunho growls, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His gaze locks on you, pupils blown wide with adrenaline, that hunger flickering like he's just roped a wild mustang. He stalks over, towering, sweat beading on his neck. His big hand clamps your wrist, firm but electric.
"We're leavin'. Now."
No words needed. He drags you through the cheering crowd, your boots stumbling on the gritty floorboards, heart pounding in sync with his heavy breaths. Outside, the gravel parking lot crunches underfoot, neon signs buzzing overhead and he stalks towards his dark truck.
Yunho yanks the passenger door open, practically lifting you into the cab with one arm, then slams it shut. He vaults into the driver's seat, engine roaring to life with a guttural growl, but he doesn't drive. Keys dangle. Instead, he hauls you across the console onto his lap, his thighs parting wide beneath you.
"Fuck, baby," he snarls, hat tipping back as his mouth crashed into yours.
His lips bruise yours, tongue thrusting deep, tasting of beer and victory. His hands roam—gripping your ass over your skirt, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.
"That piece of shit thought he could take what's mine. You feel this?" He grabs your hand, shoving it down to the bulge straining his Wranglers, thick cock throbbing hot against the denim. "Need to fuck you. Right here."
You gasp into his kiss, grinding down instinctively, the seam of his jeans rough against your pussy. Yunho's hands reach under your skirt, and you know the exact moment he realizes you're already bare for him.
"Fuck—dirty girl."
His hand fumbles with his belt before working his button and zipper open, his cock springing out—veins bulging along the shaft, head red and leaking precum that smears your inner thigh.
"Look at you, soaked already. Watching me beat his ass got you drippin', huh?" His voice is wrecked, breath hot against your neck as he bites down, teeth grazing collarbone. You nod, frantic, lifting your hips as he notches his blunt cockhead at your entrance.
One brutal thrust up, and he spears you open. Your pussy stretches wide around his girth, walls clenching in shock, wet squelch echoing in the cab as he bottoms out, balls slapping your ass. "Tight little cunt," he hissed, hands clamping your hips like iron vices. "Ride me. Show me you're mine."
You brace on his shoulders, feeling the flex of muscle under flannel, rough under your palms. You move slowly at first—his cock dragging out inch by veiny inch, ridges catching your fluttering walls, coated in your creamy juices. The burn twists into bliss, clit grinding against his pubic bone on the downstroke. The leather seat creaks under his shifting weight, the truck rocking faintly on its springs. Outside, distant laughter from the bar fades; gravel shifts as a car pulled out nearby, headlights flashing across your bouncing tits straining your top.
"Faster, darlin'. Milk this cock." Yunho's head falls back against the headrest, Stetson tumbling to the floor, exposing sweat-slicked dark hair. His hips buck up to meet you, your ass rippling from the force. You ride harder, thighs burning, pussy fluttering around him, gushing slick down his shaft to soak his balls. The air thickens with it—musky tang of sex, his sweat-salt skin, the faint copper of his bloodied knuckles now gripping your waist.
He yanks your shirt up, bra shoved aside—nipples pebbling in the chill, aching as he latches on. He sucks hard, tongue lashing the peak, teeth nipping until you keen.
"These tits bounce so pretty when you're fuckin' me. Gonna fill this pussy up, mark you inside." His dirty rumble vibrates through your chest, free hand snaking down to thumb your clit—your swollen nub slick and pulsing.
Pressure coils low, your thighs quivering. "Yunho—gonna come."
A growl rips from him, his thrusting savage now, cockhead battering your cervix with each grind. "Do it. Squeeze me. Come on my cock."
Your orgasm hits like a wave, pussy convulsing, milking him in rhythmic pulses, juices squirting out around his pistoning shaft, wetting his jeans. Your vision whites as you scream his name, nails raking his chest through flannel.
He doesn't stop. Two more brutal bucks, and then he's coming. "Take it all, baby."
His cock seems to swell impossibly thicker, hot ropes of cum shooting deep, flooding your pussy. Spurt after thick spurt, overflowing, dripping down his balls as he grinds up, plugging you full. His chest heaves against yours, groans turning to pants, the truck cab steaming up from your shared heat.
You slump onto him, his cock still twitching inside your cum-stuffed pussy. Yunho's arms band around you, possessive, lips brushing your ear. "Mine. Always."
warnings: mean!seungmin, idol!seungmin, crying, overstimulation, angry sex, established relationship
wc: 1169
a/n: wrote this after dreaming some wild shit 😭🙈
Seungmin slammed the apartment door behind him, the bang reverberating through the quiet space like a gunshot. His keys clattered onto the entry table as he kicked off his shoes with more force than necessary.
The teasing from the guys had gone on all day—endless jabs about dating an older woman, calling him whipped, questioning if he could even handle a noona like you. It grated on him, fueling a fire that twisted into something darker.
"Noona's little puppy," Minho had snickered during practice, the others piling on with smirks until Seungmin's jaw had clenched so tight his teeth ached. He swallowed a retort, fists balled in his pockets, but now, home with you, the dam cracked.
You glanced up from the couch, legs tucked under you, book forgotten in your lap.
"Seungmin? Everything okay?" Your voice was soft, the concern he both craved and resented tonight.
He loomed in the doorway, still in his oversized hoodie and track pants, slim frame taut with barely leashed fury. His dark hair fell messily over eyes that burned—sharp, predatory, nothing like the puppy they thought him to be.
Without another word, he stalked over, grabbed your wrist, and yanked you up to your feet. His grip was firm, bruising almost, as he pulled you against his chest.
“I’ve been teased all damn day,” he growled low, his breath hot against your ear. “That I can’t handle you, noona. But you know what? It just makes me want to remind you who's in charge here.”
Heat poured off him, cock already half-hard pressing insistently through his pants against your stomach.
"Seungmin—" you started, but his mouth crashed down, devouring, teeth nipping your lower lip hard enough to draw a coppery tang.
His hands roamed aggressively, one sliding up to fist your hair, tilting your head back as he deepened the assault, sucking a vicious mark onto your neck. He pushed you backward until your legs hit the edge of the couch, forcing you down onto the cushions. Seungmin loomed over you, his knee wedging between your thighs to spread them apart.
“You're my noona, huh?” he taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stripped off his sweater, revealing lean muscles honed from endless practice sessions. “But look at you now, spread out for me like a needy slut.”
He yanked your tank top up and over your head, tossing it aside, then hooked his fingers into your shorts and panties, ripping them down your legs in one swift motion. The cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver, but his body heat pressed in immediately, trapping you beneath him.
Seungmin's fingers dove between your legs without preamble, two digits thrusting into your pussy roughly, curling to hit that spot that made your back arch. He pumped them in and out, fast and unrelenting, his thumb grinding against your clit.
“Feel that, noona? You're already soaking yourself for me. Bet they wouldn’t laugh if they knew how wet you got for me.” His free hand pinned your hips down, keeping you from squirming too much as he worked you open, his eyes locked on yours with a mix of anger and lust.
"Fuck, so wet for your puppy?" he mocked, thrusting hard, thumb grinding your clit with each pump.
His fingers scissored roughly, stretching you open, dragging over every ridge inside. You cried out, hips bucking, but he held you down. His thumb circled your clit mercilessly fast, unrelenting circles that built friction like fire.
"Seungmin—too much!" you whimpered, but he laughed darkly, leaning in to bite your inner thigh, teeth sinking in until you yelped.
Seungmin didn’t care and he didn't let up as he chuckled at you, “You can take it, noona.”
When he deemed you ready—your walls clenching around his fingers—he withdrew them abruptly, leaving you aching and empty. Seungmin shoved his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock, hard and throbbing, the tip already leaking pre-cum. He gripped your hips, flipping you onto your stomach with ease, your knees instinctively pushing up as he positioned himself behind you.
“On all fours for me, noona,” he commanded, slapping your ass hard enough to sting, the sound echoing in the room. “I’ll show you how being older means nothing. Especially when you're begging for my dick.”
He didn't wait for compliance; his hand pressed between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest down to the couch while your ass stayed elevated. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance, teasing for just a second before he buried himself to the hilt.
You cried out at the stretch, the sudden fullness overwhelming as he filled your pussy completely. Seungmin didn't give you time to adjust; he pulled back almost all the way and drove in again, harder, his hips snapping against your ass with punishing force.
“Take it, noona,” he grunted, each word punctuated by a deep, rough plunge. “This is what you get.”
His pace was relentless, the couch creaking under the pressure as he fucked you without mercy. One hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back so he could lean down and bite at your neck, marking the skin further. The other gripped your hip, fingers digging in to hold you steady as he pounded into you, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust.
Sweat slicked his skin, dripping onto your back, and his breaths came in harsh pants, mixed with more taunts. “They think you’re the one in charge in bed, but listen to you moan for my cock, noona. You're mine to use.”
The friction built fast, your body betraying you as pleasure coiled tight in your core despite the roughness—or maybe because of it. Seungmin sensed it, reaching around to rub your clit in rough circles, forcing you toward the edge.
“Cum for me,” he snarled, his thrusts growing deeper, hitting that perfect angle over and over. “Show me how much you love being fucked like this.”
Your orgasm hit—your walls spasming around him in hot, tight pulses.
"Fuck—Seungmin!" you screamed, but he didn't stop, didn't slow. He fucked you through it harder, the overstimulation turning pleasure to torment. Slick squelched with every plunge, the wet slaps deafening.
Tears streamed now, your body arching further as he chased his own high.
He came with a bitten-off curse, flooding you deep—thick pulses painting your walls white, overflowing them. But even then, he kept thrusting shallowly, rubbing your oversensitive clit. You wailed, nails raking the fabric of the cushions, body convulsing as tears soaked your cheeks.
Finally, he stilled, collapsing onto you, cock twitching softly inside. His breath heaved against your shoulder.
“Next time they tease me,” he murmured, voice still edged with dominance as he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his side, “I'll just fuck you in front of them, let them see who’s really in charge.”
It's finally time for Wonwoo to meet your parents and somehow he manages to charm them completely, enough to get an invitation to stay the night. But Wonwoo is a very bad boy, who sneaks into your bedroom to corrupt you even more.
✎ high rise ────୨ৎ──── l. minho x fem reader
Minho likes to play with his kitten, especially when he's all riled up from a concert. He takes you back to his high rise hotel room with floor to ceiling windows, which leads to some extra risky behaviour.
⤷ posting april 24th
you're in a relationship with Seungmin; the other members like to tease him because you're his noona, but Seungmin can't take the taunting and decides he needs to teach you who's in charge
✎ dare you ────୨ৎ──── w. junhui x fem reader
⤷ posting late may
you and Jun have a friends with benefits relationship, and you two have one rule─no kissing on the lips. after a night of games and drinking, you discover that rules are meant to be broken
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warnings: hockeyplayer!yunho, dominant!yunho, established relationship, unprotected sex, oral, accidental voyeurism, squirting
wc: 1881
author's note: heated rivalry has me in a chokehold and i can't stop thinking about hockey player yunho :3 san, mingi, and wooyoung make an appearance as idiots.
The locker room buzzed with their victory, the air filled with the smell of sweat-soaked gear, beer, and the faint metallic tang of blood from a few fresh cuts. Yunho peeled off his jersey and pads, leaving his shoulders straining against his damp undershirt. The win had been a grinder, but as captain and defenseman, he'd laid it all out on the ice, blocking shots like a fucking wall if needed.
"Yo, Cap! Shots at the club tonight," San called out, cracking open another can of beer and tossing another Yunho's way. He caught it mid-air without looking but didn't open it.
Mingi leaned against the lockers, towel slung low on his hips, grinning like an idiot. "That puck bunny in the front row? The one with your name on her sign? She's gonna be there. We got you covered."
Yunho ignored them both as he headed for a quick shower.
Wooyoung chimed in from the bench, nursing a beer and eyeing Yunho with that knowing smirk. "Come on, man. You've been dodging this shit all season. Live a little. She's got legs for days and an ass that—"
"Nah," Yunho cut him off, voice firm as he turned on the water. His mind was already miles away, locked on who waiting for him at home. "I've got somewhere to be."
The groans from his teammates were immediate, but Yunho didn't care.
"Cap, you're killing us!" Mingi whined, flinging his arms up dramatically. "One drink. One bunny. What's the harm?"
Yunho chuckled low, shaking his head and grabbing a towel, a fresh bruise blooming purple on his ribs from a blocked slapshot. He grabbed a second, wiping down his neck, the coarse fabric rasping against his skin. "Nah, boys. I've got plans."
Wooyoung's brows shot up. "Plans? With your right hand? Come on, Cap. You're in your prime. Don't waste it jerking off to TikTok thirst traps."
Mingi leaned in, elbowing San. "Or wait—is Yunho finally whipped? Some side chick got him on a leash?"
"Pass," Yunho said firmly, pulling on his sweats. He wasn't about to spill that he had you waiting at home—his girl, the one who made his dick throb just thinking about your tight pussy clenching around him.
San stood, clapping Yunho on the shoulder—hard enough to sting. "Fine, be a monk. More for us. But if you change your mind, text."
Laughter echoed off the tiles as they filed out, still razzing him. Yunho lingered for a moment. His phone buzzed on the bench—he scooped it up, thumbing the screen.
You texted. Miss you, baby. Hurry home. Attached was a photo.
His breath caught. There you were, splayed on your shared bed in that pink lace babydoll he'd bought you last month—the one that hugged your tits like a second skin, sheer enough to show your hard nipples poking through. The hem rode up your thighs, barely covering your pussy, lips glistening already under the soft lamp light. Your legs parted just enough to tease, one hand trailing fingers down your stomach.
Blood rushed south, his cock thickening instantly. "Fuck," he muttered, palming himself through the fabric—hot and pulsing in his grip. He shoved his gear into his bag and quickly shrugged on his hoodie. Keys in hand, he was out the door, cock half hard.
The drive was a blur, adrenaline still pumping hot through his veins, and he soon found himself at home. He unlocked the apartment door quietly. The place was dim, lit only by the bedside lamp spilling golden light into the hall.
"Baby?" His voice was rough, boots thudding on the hardwood as he kicked them off and headed for the bedroom.
You lounged almost exactly like the photo, knees bent, babydoll slipping off one shoulder to bare a breast, nipple peaked and begging. "Took you long enough," you purred, voice husky. "Team try to keep you out late?"
He dropped his bag, hoodie stripped off in one yank.
"Tried to pimp me out to some bar slut." His eyes devoured you—thighs parting wider as he approached, the lace riding up to flash your bare pussy, already slick. "But this," He palmed his crotch, outline of his thick cock visible through the grey sweats. "This is what I want. You, dripping for me."
Yunho's hands were on you in seconds, knees sinking into the mattress as he crawled over you, his frame dwarfing yours. His mouth crashed into yours—tongue thrusting deep, tasting the cherry gloss on your lips. You moaned into him, fingers digging into his traps, feeling the muscle flex under his skin.
He broke the kiss, lips trailing hot down your neck, sucking bruises into the soft flesh. "Fuck, this outfit. Knew it'd make my cock ache." His big hand cupped your tit, thumb rolling the nipple through lace—the hard pebble sending jolts straight to your clit. You whimpered, hips bucking up as he shoved the babydoll up to your waist.
"Look at this pussy," he growled, two thick fingers sliding through your folds. Wetness coated them instantly, your lips parting around the intrusion, clit throbbing under the pad of his thumb. He pumped slowly, knuckles deep, the squelch obscene. "Soaked for me. Were you touching yourself, thinking about my cock stretching you?"
"Yes," you gasped, thighs trembling as he curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot inside. "Want you to fuck me raw. Fill me up."
Yunho's free hand pushed at the waistband of his sweats, his cock springing free. It slapped heavy against your thigh, head throbbing and weeping pre-cum, balls tight and heavy below.
He yanked the lace over your head, leaving you naked, skin flushed. His mouth latched onto one nipple—teeth grazing, tongue lashing wet circles while he finger-fucked you harder, thumb grinding your clit in firm circles.
"Gonna eat this cunt first," he rasped against your breast, voice muffled by flesh. He withdrew his fingers, slick strands snapping between them and your hole, and shoved them into your mouth. "Taste how wet you are for my dick."
You sucked greedily, salty-sweet tang exploding on your tongue, eyes locked on his as he descended. His breath ghosted your inner thighs, releasing hot puffs of air against your slit before his tongue flattened, licking a broad stripe from asshole to clit. You keened, fingers twisting in his hair, scalp scraping your nails. He groaned into you, the vibration humming through your folds, nose buried in your mound as he devoured.
Lips sealed around your clit—suction pulling it taut, tongue flicking relentlessly. His hands pinned your thighs wide, keeping you spread as your hips jerked.
"That's it, baby. Grind on my face. Flood my mouth." Spit and your liquids smeared his chin, dripping onto the sheets. Your pussy fluttered, building—coils tightening low in your belly.
"Fuck, baby, listen to how sloppy you're getting. This pussy's drooling for my cock." He sucked your clit hard, teeth grazing just enough to spark fire up your spine, and your first orgasm crashed over you—thighs quivering against his ears, a gush of wetness flooding his tongue as you cried out his name.
He didn't stop, licking you through it, drawing out every pulse until you were gasping, oversensitive. "That's my girl." Yunho reared up, stroking his cock once, then twice, smearing the slick tip along your slit, bumping your clit until you whined.
"Love you so much, angel," he whispered, eyes locked on yours as he pushed in slow. The stretch was obscene—your pussy lips parting around his girth, sucking him in inch by inch. He bottomed out with a grunt, balls pressed to your ass, your walls fluttering helplessly around his thickness.
He started thrusting—deep, rolling hips that ground his pelvis against your clit each time. Intimate, face-to-face, his forearms bracketing you as he kissed you sweet and sloppy. "Feel me stretching this little pussy out. You're mine. All mine." Sweat beaded at his brow as the bed creaked under his power. You clawed at his back, nails digging into muscle, the slap of skin on skin filling the room along with your moans and his filthy praises. "Such a good girl."
Your second orgasm was cresting fast—his cock dragging your walls, hitting deep, the pressure coiling tight in your core. He picked up pace, pounding harder, breath ragged. "Gonna make you cum again, sweetheart."
Yunho's thrusts grew erratic, his thick cock slamming deep into your pussy with relentless force. You clenched around him, your walls gripping his shaft as he drove you both toward the edge. His hands dug into your hips, pulling you back onto him with every brutal push, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the apartment.
You moaned, arching your back, your breasts pressing against his chest as he pounded harder.
His pace quickened, cock stretching you wide, the head rubbing against your inner walls with each plunge. Sweat slicked your bodies, and you felt it inside you, the telltale throb signaling his impending release. "Gonna fill you up," he rasped, one hand sliding down to rub your clit in firm circles, pushing you over the brink.
You came first, your pussy spasming around his cock, juices soaking him as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Yunho followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt. His groan ripped from his throat—loud, primal, echoing off the walls. "Fuck" he bellowed, his cock pulsing as hot cum erupted inside you, flooding your pussy in thick spurts. He kept thrusting shallowly, pumping every drop deep, filling you until it leaked out around his shaft, warm and sticky.
---
At the apartment entrance, the door creaked open quietly as San, Mingi, and Wooyoung walked in, keys jangling softly in San's hand. They'd planned to ambush Yunho a second time, drag his ass to the bar no matter what. “Caps probably passed out,” Mingi whispered with a smirk, tiptoeing forward. “One more push, and he'll cave.”
But then the groan hit them—deep, guttural, vibrating through the air. They froze in the hallway, exchanging glances. Wooyoung stifled a laugh, covering his mouth. “Holy shit, is that?” San snorted, shaking his head. “Dude's jerking off again. Sounds like he's dying in there.”
Mingi doubled over silently, shoulders shaking. “Knew he was blue balled.”
They huddled closer to the door, listening to the fading grunts and heavy breathing, chuckling to themselves.
"Cap! Emergency intervention!" Wooyoung's laugh barked from the hall. San and Mingi whooping behind him.
They burst into the bedroom, spare keys jangling.
“Caught you red-handed—" But the words died on San’s lips as the scene hit them: Yunho’s massive frame glistening with sweat. You gasped, half-hidden under him, your legs spread wide around his hips.
The room went dead silent for a beat, their jaws dropping in unison.
Yunho whipped his head around, face flushing crimson. He cursed, yanking the duvet over your naked body in a blur, shielding you completely as he twisted to face them, cock still throbbing inside you.
warnings: hockeyplayer!yunho, dominant!yunho, established relationship, unprotected sex, oral, accidental voyeurism, squirting
wc: 1881
author's note: heated rivalry has me in a chokehold and i can't stop thinking about hockey player yunho :3 san, mingi, and wooyoung make an appearance as idiots.
The locker room buzzed with their victory, the air filled with the smell of sweat-soaked gear, beer, and the faint metallic tang of blood from a few fresh cuts. Yunho peeled off his jersey and pads, leaving his shoulders straining against his damp undershirt. The win had been a grinder, but as captain and defenseman, he'd laid it all out on the ice, blocking shots like a fucking wall if needed.
"Yo, Cap! Shots at the club tonight," San called out, cracking open another can of beer and tossing another Yunho's way. He caught it mid-air without looking but didn't open it.
Mingi leaned against the lockers, towel slung low on his hips, grinning like an idiot. "That puck bunny in the front row? The one with your name on her sign? She's gonna be there. We got you covered."
Yunho ignored them both as he headed for a quick shower.
Wooyoung chimed in from the bench, nursing a beer and eyeing Yunho with that knowing smirk. "Come on, man. You've been dodging this shit all season. Live a little. She's got legs for days and an ass that—"
"Nah," Yunho cut him off, voice firm as he turned on the water. His mind was already miles away, locked on who waiting for him at home. "I've got somewhere to be."
The groans from his teammates were immediate, but Yunho didn't care.
"Cap, you're killing us!" Mingi whined, flinging his arms up dramatically. "One drink. One bunny. What's the harm?"
Yunho chuckled low, shaking his head and grabbing a towel, a fresh bruise blooming purple on his ribs from a blocked slapshot. He grabbed a second, wiping down his neck, the coarse fabric rasping against his skin. "Nah, boys. I've got plans."
Wooyoung's brows shot up. "Plans? With your right hand? Come on, Cap. You're in your prime. Don't waste it jerking off to TikTok thirst traps."
Mingi leaned in, elbowing San. "Or wait—is Yunho finally whipped? Some side chick got him on a leash?"
"Pass," Yunho said firmly, pulling on his sweats. He wasn't about to spill that he had you waiting at home—his girl, the one who made his dick throb just thinking about your tight pussy clenching around him.
San stood, clapping Yunho on the shoulder—hard enough to sting. "Fine, be a monk. More for us. But if you change your mind, text."
Laughter echoed off the tiles as they filed out, still razzing him. Yunho lingered for a moment. His phone buzzed on the bench—he scooped it up, thumbing the screen.
You texted. Miss you, baby. Hurry home. Attached was a photo.
His breath caught. There you were, splayed on your shared bed in that pink lace babydoll he'd bought you last month—the one that hugged your tits like a second skin, sheer enough to show your hard nipples poking through. The hem rode up your thighs, barely covering your pussy, lips glistening already under the soft lamp light. Your legs parted just enough to tease, one hand trailing fingers down your stomach.
Blood rushed south, his cock thickening instantly. "Fuck," he muttered, palming himself through the fabric—hot and pulsing in his grip. He shoved his gear into his bag and quickly shrugged on his hoodie. Keys in hand, he was out the door, cock half hard.
The drive was a blur, adrenaline still pumping hot through his veins, and he soon found himself at home. He unlocked the apartment door quietly. The place was dim, lit only by the bedside lamp spilling golden light into the hall.
"Baby?" His voice was rough, boots thudding on the hardwood as he kicked them off and headed for the bedroom.
You lounged almost exactly like the photo, knees bent, babydoll slipping off one shoulder to bare a breast, nipple peaked and begging. "Took you long enough," you purred, voice husky. "Team try to keep you out late?"
He dropped his bag, hoodie stripped off in one yank.
"Tried to pimp me out to some bar slut." His eyes devoured you—thighs parting wider as he approached, the lace riding up to flash your bare pussy, already slick. "But this," He palmed his crotch, outline of his thick cock visible through the grey sweats. "This is what I want. You, dripping for me."
Yunho's hands were on you in seconds, knees sinking into the mattress as he crawled over you, his frame dwarfing yours. His mouth crashed into yours—tongue thrusting deep, tasting the cherry gloss on your lips. You moaned into him, fingers digging into his traps, feeling the muscle flex under his skin.
He broke the kiss, lips trailing hot down your neck, sucking bruises into the soft flesh. "Fuck, this outfit. Knew it'd make my cock ache." His big hand cupped your tit, thumb rolling the nipple through lace—the hard pebble sending jolts straight to your clit. You whimpered, hips bucking up as he shoved the babydoll up to your waist.
"Look at this pussy," he growled, two thick fingers sliding through your folds. Wetness coated them instantly, your lips parting around the intrusion, clit throbbing under the pad of his thumb. He pumped slowly, knuckles deep, the squelch obscene. "Soaked for me. Were you touching yourself, thinking about my cock stretching you?"
"Yes," you gasped, thighs trembling as he curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot inside. "Want you to fuck me raw. Fill me up."
Yunho's free hand pushed at the waistband of his sweats, his cock springing free. It slapped heavy against your thigh, head throbbing and weeping pre-cum, balls tight and heavy below.
He yanked the lace over your head, leaving you naked, skin flushed. His mouth latched onto one nipple—teeth grazing, tongue lashing wet circles while he finger-fucked you harder, thumb grinding your clit in firm circles.
"Gonna eat this cunt first," he rasped against your breast, voice muffled by flesh. He withdrew his fingers, slick strands snapping between them and your hole, and shoved them into your mouth. "Taste how wet you are for my dick."
You sucked greedily, salty-sweet tang exploding on your tongue, eyes locked on his as he descended. His breath ghosted your inner thighs, releasing hot puffs of air against your slit before his tongue flattened, licking a broad stripe from ass to clit. You keened, fingers twisting in his hair, scalp scraping your nails. He groaned into you, the vibration humming through your folds, nose buried in your mound as he devoured.
Lips sealed around your clit—suction pulling it taut, tongue flicking relentlessly. His hands pinned your thighs wide, keeping you spread as your hips jerked.
"That's it, baby. Grind on my face. Flood my mouth." Spit and your liquids smeared his chin, dripping onto the sheets. Your pussy fluttered, building—coils tightening low in your belly.
"Fuck, baby, listen to how sloppy you're getting. This pussy's drooling for my cock." He sucked your clit hard, teeth grazing just enough to spark fire up your spine, and your first orgasm crashed over you—thighs quivering against his ears, a gush of wetness flooding his tongue as you cried out his name.
He didn't stop, licking you through it, drawing out every pulse until you were gasping, oversensitive. "That's my girl." Yunho reared up, stroking his cock once, then twice, smearing the slick tip along your slit, bumping your clit until you whined.
"Love you so much, angel," he whispered, eyes locked on yours as he pushed in slow. The stretch was obscene—your pussy lips parting around his girth, sucking him in inch by inch. He bottomed out with a grunt, balls pressed to your ass, your walls fluttering helplessly around his thickness.
He started thrusting—deep, rolling hips that ground his pelvis against your clit each time. Intimate, face-to-face, his forearms bracketing you as he kissed you sweet and sloppy. "Feel me stretching this little pussy out. You're mine. All mine." Sweat beaded at his brow as the bed creaked under his power. You clawed at his back, nails digging into muscle, the slap of skin on skin filling the room along with your moans and his filthy praises. "Such a good girl."
Your second orgasm was cresting fast—his cock dragging your walls, hitting deep, the pressure coiling tight in your core. He picked up pace, pounding harder, breath ragged. "Gonna make you cum again, sweetheart."
Yunho's thrusts grew erratic, his thick cock slamming deep into your pussy with relentless force. You clenched around him, your walls gripping his shaft as he drove you both toward the edge. His hands dug into your hips, pulling you back onto him with every brutal push, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the apartment.
You moaned, arching your back, your breasts pressing against his chest as he pounded harder.
His pace quickened, cock stretching you wide, the head rubbing against your inner walls with each plunge. Sweat slicked your bodies, and you felt it inside you, the telltale throb signaling his impending release. "Gonna fill you up," he rasped, one hand sliding down to rub your clit in firm circles, pushing you over the brink.
You came first, your pussy spasming around his cock, juices soaking him as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Yunho followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt. His groan ripped from his throat—loud, primal, echoing off the walls. "Fuck" he bellowed, his cock pulsing as hot cum erupted inside you, flooding your pussy in thick spurts. He kept thrusting shallowly, pumping every drop deep, filling you until it leaked out around his shaft, warm and sticky.
---
At the apartment entrance, the door creaked open quietly as San, Mingi, and Wooyoung walked in, keys jangling softly in San's hand. They'd planned to ambush Yunho a second time, drag his ass to the bar no matter what. “Caps probably passed out,” Mingi whispered with a smirk, tiptoeing forward. “One more push, and he'll cave.”
But then the groan hit them—deep, guttural, vibrating through the air. They froze in the hallway, exchanging glances. Wooyoung stifled a laugh, covering his mouth. “Holy shit, is that?” San snorted, shaking his head. “Dude's jerking off again. Sounds like he's dying in there.”
Mingi doubled over silently, shoulders shaking. “Knew he was blue balled.”
They huddled closer to the door, listening to the fading grunts and heavy breathing, chuckling to themselves.
"Cap! Emergency intervention!" Wooyoung's laugh barked from the hall. San and Mingi whooping behind him.
They burst into the bedroom, spare keys jangling.
“Caught you red-handed—" But the words died on San’s lips as the scene hit them: Yunho’s massive frame glistening with sweat. You gasped, half-hidden under him, your legs spread wide around his hips.
The room went dead silent for a beat, their jaws dropping in unison.
Yunho whipped his head around, face flushing crimson. He cursed, yanking the duvet over your naked body in a blur, shielding you completely as he twisted to face them, cock still throbbing inside you.
warnings: idol!yunho, dominant!yunho, established relationship,overstimulation, crying, slight non con, oral, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, squirting
wc: 1852
author's note: wrote this while high, it might be too wild 😭 i reread this while sober and blushed at my own writing 🙈
You lay on the king-sized bed in Yunho's dimly lit hotel room, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air from the concert afterparty. Your thighs part instinctively as he kneels between them, his broad shoulders filling your vision, those sharp cheekbones catching the low light from the bedside lamp. Yunho's eyes, dark and hungry, lock onto yours, a smirk tugging at his full lips.
"I've been thinking about this pussy all night," he murmurs, voice low, fingers tracing lazy circles up your inner thighs. The rough calluses from his dance practice scrape lightly against your skin, sending sparks straight to your core.
You arch your back, letting his button-down fall open, panties already soaked through. He doesn't rush. Instead, he hooks his fingers into the lace waistband and drags them down slowly, the fabric peeling away slowly from your arousal. Cool air hits your exposed folds, making your clit throb in anticipation.
He spreads your thighs wider with his palms, thumbs parting your outer lips to expose your swollen clit and your glistening entrance beneath.
"Look at that," he groans, saliva pooling in his mouth. Without warning, his tongue flattens and laps upward in one long, deliberate stroke from your entrance to your clit. The wet heat of it makes your hips buck, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. He chuckles against you, the vibration humming through your nerves. "Sensitive already? We're just getting started."
Yunho dives in like a man starved. His lips seal around your clit, sucking with firm, pulsing pressure while his tongue flicks your clit in rapid circles. You thread your fingers into his soft hair, tugging as pleasure coils tight in your belly.
He moans into you, the sound muffled but filthy, sending vibrations deep inside. One hand slides up your body to pinch your nipple through your thin bra, rolling the hard peak between his fingers. Your pussy weeps onto his chin, the obscene slurping noises filling the room as he drinks you down.
Your first orgasm builds fast, too fast.
"Yunho, oh god, I'm—"
Words cut off into a whine as he doubles down, tongue spearing into your hole while his nose grinds against your clit. Your walls flutter, then clamp, release crashing over you in waves as he laps it up greedily, humming his approval.
"That's it, baby. Give me your first one. Tastes so fucking good."
But he doesn't stop. You twitch, oversensitive, trying to close your legs, but his strong hands pin your thighs open.
"No, no. Stay still. I want more." His voice is wrecked, lips shiny with your juices. He alternates now, slow, teasing licks along your inner folds, tracing every ridge and valley, then sudden suction on your clit that makes your back arch off the bed. Your breaths come in pants, clit pulsing under the assault. The wet squelch of his tongue licking deep intensifies.
Sweat beads on your skin, sheets tangling under your writhing body. "Yunho, it's too much! Fuck, I can't."
A lie. You can. He knows it.
"Don't be silly, baby. I know you can take more," he smirks form between your legs.
His free hand slips two long fingers inside you, curling right against that spongy spot on your front wall. He crooks them rhythmically, stroking while his mouth works your clit like it's his favourite toy. The stretch burns so good, your pussy sucking him in, dripping down his knuckles.
Your second orgasm hits harder, ripping a scream from your throat. Your thighs quake around his head, heels digging into his back. "Please, Yunho!"
Your juices squirt lightly onto his face, and he groans like it's the best thing he's ever tasted, swallowing every drop. He pulls back just enough to admire his work—your pussy puffy, red, gaping slightly around his withdrawing fingers—before diving back in.
"One more. I need you shaking."
Overstimulation sets in like fire. Every lick feels electric, your clit a raw bundle of nerves. You sob, hips grinding up despite yourself, chasing the pain-pleasure edge. His tongue is relentless: flat laps, pointed flicks, lips nibbling your hood. Fingers return—three this time—stretching you wide, knuckles bumping your ass as he finger fucks you deep.
"Gonna cum again," you whine.
He growls his approval, free hand gripping your ass to spread you wider, tongue lashing faster. Your vision whites out. The third climax shatters you, body convulsing, pussy spasming wildly around his fingers. He drinks your nectar, chin dripping, until you're limp, twitching with aftershocks that make you whimper.
Finally, he lifts his head, lips swollen and glistening, eyes feral. "Fuck, you're perfect. My favorite meal."
He crawls up, shedding his shirt to reveal his cock straining against his jeans. But he's not done yet—his mouth hovers over yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you filthy and deep.
"Now it's my turn, baby," Yunho groans.
You nod weakly, spread wide and ready.
Yunho's grin turns predatory as he straightens up between your quivering thighs, his chest heaving. Your pussy throbs visibly, lips flushed deep pink and swollen thick, the inner folds peeking out slick and puffy from his relentless tongue. Every pulse sends a fresh ache through your core, the kind that borders on pain but twists into desperate need. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing your cum across his knuckles, eyes never leaving your wrecked hole.
"Look at this mess," he rasps, voice thick with lust. "All puffy and begging for my cock. You want it, don't you? Even though it'll hurt so good."
You whimper, nodding, your body a live wire. The hotel sheets cling to your sweat-damp skin, the air heavy. Your clit hood feels raw, peeking out and hypersensitive, and just the brush of cool air makes you clench, another dribble of slick leaking onto the mattress. He stands briefly, towering over you, and shucks his jeans in one fluid motion. His cock springs free—heavy, thick, the shaft veined and flushed dark red, curving slightly upward toward a fat, mushroom head already weeping precum in fat beads.
He pumps himself once, twice, fist gliding over the slick skin with a wet schlick, smearing his precum down the length. A low groan rumbles from his chest as he kneels back down, the mattress dipping under his weight.
"Gonna split this swollen little pussy open," he promises, tapping the blunt head against your clit. The contact is lightning—sharp, electric sting blooming from the overstimulated nub. You cry out, hips jerking, but he pins you with one hand splayed across your lower belly, thumb pressing just above your mound to feel your muscles flutter. "Shh, take it. Feel how hard you make me? This cock's been leaking for you all night."
He drags the tip through your folds, slow and deliberate, coating himself in your mess. The friction on your puffy lips drags a burn, but it slicks his cock, easing his path. Up and down, he rubs, bumping your clit on every pass until tears prick your eyes, pleasure-pain coiling so tight you can't breathe. Your walls flutter emptily, craving the stretch despite the sensitivity.
"Yunho—please, fuck me," you beg, voice cracking, fingers clawing at his forearms. The veins there bulge under your nails, his skin hot.
"Since you ask so pretty." He notches the head at your entrance, the pressure immediate and immense.
Your pussy resists at first, but he pushes forward with a firm roll of his hips. The crown pops past your entrance with a obscene pop, stretching your walls inch by burning inch. It's too much, the fullness amplified tenfold by your post-orgasm rawness; every ridge of his cock scrapes hypersensitive nerves, sending jolts straight to your spine. You gasp, thighs trembling, heels skidding on the sheets as he sinks deeper.
Halfway in, he pauses, and grinds in shallow circles. "Fuck, so tight. Like a vice. Hear that?"
The wet squelch echoes as he shifts, your arousal forced out around his girth, dripping down to soak his sack. He leans down, broad chest caging you, and captures a nipple between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make you arch. That movement seats him fully, cock bottoming out against your cervix with a dull thud. You're impaled, stuffed to bursting, the pressure on that gummy spot immediate.
He doesn't give you time to adjust. Yunho pulls back slow, the drag of his veined shaft dragging whimpers from your throat. The thrust punches the breath from your lungs, hips snapping forward with dancer's precision. Skin slaps skin, wet and rhythmic, your slick frothing at the base of his cock into a creamy ring.
"Take it. Fuck, yes," he growls, breath hot against your ear. "This pussy was made for my cock. Swallowing me whole even when it's wrecked."
Your mind fractures under the onslaught; thoughts splinter as he sets a brutal pace, long strokes that pull almost out before ramming deep, head battering your deepest walls. Your clit grinds against his pubic bone on every hilt, the friction like fire on raw flesh. Tears spill hot down your temples, mixing with sweat.
"Yunho—it's too much, hurts," you whine, but your hips buck up to meet him, traitorous body chasing the edge.
"Liar," he pants, one hand hooking under your knee to fold you in half, opening you wider. The new angle lets him grind deeper, cockhead kissing your cervix on every plunge. "You're creaming all over me. Love how it hurts, don't you? Cry for me, baby. Show me how good it feels."
His free hand snakes between you, thumb circling your clit in rough swirls. The touch rips a sob from you; it's pure torment, nerves screaming, but your pussy clamps down harder, walls rippling in warning.
The orgasm sneaks up on you like a thief, shattering you from the overload. You wail, back bowing off the bed, nails raking red trails down his back. Fluids gush around him, hot and messy, but he doesn't slow.
"That's it. Making this pussy sob for me," he growls out.
He flips you suddenly, strong arms manhandling you onto your stomach, ass up. The position presses his cock even deeper as he mounts you from behind, one hand fisting your hair to arch your neck.
"Look at this ass," he grunts, palm cracking against one cheek—sharp sting blooming heat. Then he's pounding, hips snapping with piston force, cock spearing your g-spot on every brutal drive. Your swollen lips cling to him visibly when he pulls back, puffy and red, stretched obscenely around his girth. The bedframe creaks, headboard thumping the wall.
Sweat drips from his brow onto your spine, and he slams into you one last time. Yunho stills, his cock twitching as he shoots thick ropes of cum into your oversensitive pussy, filling you full.
You collapse, wrecked and weeping, pussy a throbbing, cum-stuffed ruin—puffy lips gaping around his softening cock, his seed leaking out in creamy rivulets.
He kisses your tear-streaked cheeks, murmuring, "So fucking beautiful when you cry for me."
warnings: cowboy!yunho, possessive!yunho, semi public and unprotected sex, violence, blood, established relationship
wc: 1068
author's note: this is my first fic 🫣
The dim haze of the bar hangs thick with sweat and spilled whiskey, the jukebox thumping some twangy George Strait tune. You lean against the scarred wooden bar, nursing a lukewarm drink as a man takes a seat next to you.
"Hey, darlin'," he drawls, his hand brushing your arm too close, fingers lingering on your wrist. "Buy you another? Look like you could use a real man tonight."
Your stomach twists, but before you can shrug him off, a shadow looms massive behind him. Yunho. Your cowboy, solid and wrapped in faded denim and a black Stetson, his broad shoulders straining the seams of his flannel shirt. His jaw clenchs like a bear trap, dark eyes narrowing to slits.
"The fuck you think you're doin', touchin' my girl?" His voice rumbles low, gravel-rough from years of shouting over cattle drives.
The guy turns, smirking, sizing up Yunho. "Your girl? She don't look claimed to me."
Big mistake.
Yunho doesn't waste breath. He grabs the front of the prick's shirt, yanking him off his stool like a ragdoll. The bar erupts—chairs scraping, whoops from the locals—but Yunho's like a freight train.
One haymaker cracks the guy's jaw with a wet snap, sending him staggering into a table. Beer bottles shatter. The dude swings wild, almost clipping Yunho's cheek, but your cowboy just laughs, a feral bark, and drives his knee into the bastard's gut. Air whooshes out. Another punch to the nose—blood sprays, metallic tang hitting the air. The guy crumples, groaning against the sawdust floor, as Yunho stands over him, chest heaving, knuckles split and glistening red.
"Stay the fuck away from her," Yunho growls, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His gaze locks on you, pupils blown wide with adrenaline, that hunger flickering like he's just roped a wild mustang. He stalks over, towering, sweat beading on his neck. His big hand clamps your wrist, firm but electric.
"We're leavin'. Now."
No words needed. He drags you through the cheering crowd, your boots stumbling on the gritty floorboards, heart pounding in sync with his heavy breaths. Outside, the gravel parking lot crunches underfoot, neon signs buzzing overhead and he stalks towards his dark truck.
Yunho yanks the passenger door open, practically lifting you into the cab with one arm, then slams it shut. He vaults into the driver's seat, engine roaring to life with a guttural growl, but he doesn't drive. Keys dangle. Instead, he hauls you across the console onto his lap, his thighs parting wide beneath you.
"Fuck, baby," he snarls, hat tipping back as his mouth crashed into yours.
His lips bruise yours, tongue thrusting deep, tasting of beer and victory. His hands roam—gripping your ass over your skirt, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.
"That piece of shit thought he could take what's mine. You feel this?" He grabs your hand, shoving it down to the bulge straining his Wranglers, thick cock throbbing hot against the denim. "Need to fuck you. Right here."
You gasp into his kiss, grinding down instinctively, the seam of his jeans rough against your pussy. Yunho's hands reach under your skirt, and you know the exact moment he realizes you're already bare for him.
"Fuck—dirty girl."
His hand fumbles with his belt before working his button and zipper open, his cock springing out—veins bulging along the shaft, head red and leaking precum that smears your inner thigh.
"Look at you, soaked already. Watching me beat his ass got you drippin', huh?" His voice is wrecked, breath hot against your neck as he bites down, teeth grazing collarbone. You nod, frantic, lifting your hips as he notches his blunt cockhead at your entrance.
One brutal thrust up, and he spears you open. Your pussy stretches wide around his girth, walls clenching in shock, wet squelch echoing in the cab as he bottoms out, balls slapping your ass. "Tight little cunt," he hissed, hands clamping your hips like iron vices. "Ride me. Show me you're mine."
You brace on his shoulders, feeling the flex of muscle under flannel, rough under your palms. You move slowly at first—his cock dragging out inch by veiny inch, ridges catching your fluttering walls, coated in your creamy juices. The burn twists into bliss, clit grinding against his pubic bone on the downstroke. The leather seat creaks under his shifting weight, the truck rocking faintly on its springs. Outside, distant laughter from the bar fades; gravel shifts as a car pulled out nearby, headlights flashing across your bouncing tits straining your top.
"Faster, darlin'. Milk this cock." Yunho's head falls back against the headrest, Stetson tumbling to the floor, exposing sweat-slicked dark hair. His hips buck up to meet you, your ass rippling from the force. You ride harder, thighs burning, pussy fluttering around him, gushing slick down his shaft to soak his balls. The air thickens with it—musky tang of sex, his sweat-salt skin, the faint copper of his bloodied knuckles now gripping your waist.
He yanks your shirt up, bra shoved aside—nipples pebbling in the chill, aching as he latches on. He sucks hard, tongue lashing the peak, teeth nipping until you keen.
"These tits bounce so pretty when you're fuckin' me. Gonna fill this pussy up, mark you inside." His dirty rumble vibrates through your chest, free hand snaking down to thumb your clit—your swollen nub slick and pulsing.
Pressure coils low, your thighs quivering. "Yunho—gonna come."
A growl rips from him, his thrusting savage now, cockhead battering your cervix with each grind. "Do it. Squeeze me. Come on my cock."
Your orgasm hits like a wave, pussy convulsing, milking him in rhythmic pulses, juices squirting out around his pistoning shaft, wetting his jeans. Your vision whites as you scream his name, nails raking his chest through flannel.
He doesn't stop. Two more brutal bucks, and then he's coming. "Take it all, baby."
His cock seems to swell impossibly thicker, hot ropes of cum shooting deep, flooding your pussy. Spurt after thick spurt, overflowing, dripping down his balls as he grinds up, plugging you full. His chest heaves against yours, groans turning to pants, the truck cab steaming up from your shared heat.
You slump onto him, his cock still twitching inside your cum-stuffed pussy. Yunho's arms band around you, possessive, lips brushing your ear. "Mine. Always."
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