#yoonsung

I kind of hate this but I havent drawn in a while so here take this horribly rendered yoosung ♡

~🤤After The Race With 8TURN🤤~

Street Racer 8TURN x Fem reader

Smut

18+MDNI

Content warnings:

Sexual Content | Public Sex | Rough Sex | Dominant Behavior | Hair Pulling | Spanking | Dirty Talk | Degradation | Light CNC Themes | Orgasm Control | Overstimulation | Squirting | Choking (light) | Non-Explicit Violence (manhandling, forceful actions) | Exhibitionism | Impulsive Behavior | Possessiveness | Power Imbalance

Jaeyun

The rumble of engines still vibrates in your chest as Jaeyun’s car tears past the finish line, tires smoking and lights blurring around him. You and your friends watch from the sidelines—heart hammering—when he kills the engine mere feet away, steps out like he owns the night. Leather jacket hanging off his shoulders, hair mussed from the wind, he fixes you with a smug grin that makes your pulse spike despite your best efforts to look unimpressed.

He saunters over, every stride oozing confidence. “Thought you were too good to be seen at a street race?” he drawls, voice low and teasing. You cross your arms, chin lifted in false bravado. “I never said that,” you snap, but his laugh is rough, hungry. “Is that so?” he challenges, eyes flashing with dare.

His hand clamps around your ass—iron‑strong—and he yanks you behind the lot where no one else can see. The cold night air does nothing to cool the heat between you. He shoves you against a chain‑link fence, body pressing hard into yours. “You think you can act entitled towards me?” “Don’t forget, I know you.” he wipers in your ear with a growl, mouth crashing down on yours. His tongue ravages your lips while his free hand buries itself in your hair, tilting your head back.

One heavy hand slides under your shirt, nails dragging across your ribs before cupping your breast with bruising force. He pinches your nipple, watching it harden beneath his touch. “You’ve been dripping for me since I crossed that line,” he hisses, teeth grazing your collarbone. His other hand snakes down your jeans, two fingers diving between your folds. He finds you soaked—slick and ready—then circles your clit with rough, deliberate strokes until you’re trembling.

Without warning, he scoops your panties off in one swift yank and steps back to take a look at your dripping cunt. He strips off his own pants, cock stands thick and throbbing in the cold air. He grabs your hips and gives your pussy a harsh smack that has you screaming out in pleasure and pain. He lines himself up, and slams into you from behind. Fast, brutal, no hesitation—each thrust drives you harder into the fence, skin slapping against metal and flesh. You choke out a cry, gripping the gate as he groans your name.

He keeps pounding you, deeper, harder, until your vision swims. “That’s it,” he pants, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your waist tight. “Take it all, you filthy little slut.” Your orgasm rips through you like lightning—body shuddering, cunt clenching—right as he shudders above you, pulsing his cum deep inside. His growl vibrates through you as he rides out both of your highs.

When he finally pulls out, he doesn’t give you a moment to recover—just presses you back against the fence, breath mingling in harsh pants. “Never try to play hard to get with me baby, I already have you.” he murmurs, voice dark and promising. Then he steps away, slick and steaming, tossing you a crooked grin. “Make sure you see me tomorrow.”

Myungho

The roar of Myungho’s engine still thrums in your ears as he blows past the finish line, tires smoking and headlights flashing like warning beacons. You and your friends press against the guardrail, adrenaline surging, when he kills the engine and steps out—lean, dangerous, and utterly scorching in his leather jacket. His gaze sweeps the crowd until it lands on you. Your pulse leaps as he smirks, hair mussed from the wind, eyes glinting with challenge.

He strides over, every movement measured confidence. “You looked like you couldn’t keep your eyes off me,” he purrs, voice low and teasing. You roll your shoulders back, chin high. “I could say the same about you,” you fire back, tone brittle. Myungho’s grin widens, teeth flashing. “Big mouth,” he murmurs, stepping so close your breath mingles. “Let’s see how long you can talk back when I shut you up.”

He grabs you—surprisingly hard—and he hauls you behind the pit wall, into the deep shadows where the night air is cool on your skin. He shoves you against a stacked tire, body pressing so tight it takes your breath. His kisses you, biting your lip, tongue slamming in. You try to break free, but his other hand snakes under your shirt, dragging it up and exposing your heated skin to the chill concrete.

He rips your jeans open and yanks your panties down in the same motion, discarding them like trash. Two fingers plunge between your soaked folds, dragging slow, deliberate circles over your clit. You gasp, hips bucking against his hand, and he chuckles, dark and low. “Already dripping for me,” he growls, thumb rubbing your slick entrance. “Fuck, you’re so ready.”

Suddenly he spins you, presses you face‑first into the tire, and positions himself behind you. His cock—thick, red‑veined, absolutely throbbing—slams into you. You cry out as he rims your walls with one deep, brutal thrust, spreading your wetness deep inside. He holds your hips tight, hips snapping forward in savage rhythm, each strike making your body tremble. He reaches for your clit and rubs it harshly, making you squirt and scream out.

Your moans echo between the tires as he hammers you relentlessly, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist. “That’s it, take every inch.” Your orgasm rips through you—waves of bliss that shudder your spine—while he buries himself deeper, shuddering with his own release, spurting hot and heavy.

When he finally pulls out, you’re both slick and trembling. He presses you against the tire one last time, and grabs your face like he owns you. “You won’t get to talk back next time. He steps away, jeans half‑zipped, tossing you a crooked grin. “I’ll pick you up for class from now on. See you tomorrow baby.”

Minho

The growl of Minho’s engine still vibrates in your chest as he tears past the finish line, rubber burning and headlights cutting through the night air. You and your friends press close to the guardrail, adrenaline slamming through your veins, when he kills the engine and steps out onto the pavement. Leather-clad, hair wind-tossed, he scans the crowd until his gaze locks on you—bright, predatory, daring you to look away.

He walks over to you, “Watching me, princess?” he drawls, voice low and dangerous. You fold your arms. “Just watching a show,” you snap, tone brittle. Minho’s lips curl into a wicked grin. “Funny,” he murmurs, stepping so close his heat washes over you. “I thought you said you didn’t care.”

Before you can walk away, his fingers clamp around your waist—hard enough to sting—and he yanks you behind a line of parked cars, into the shadowed space beneath the pit lights. Your breath hitches as he shoves you against the cold metal door of his ride, hands landing on your hips with bruising force. He crashes his mouth onto yours, tongue crashing against your teeth, pulling a sharp gasp from your throat.

One hand snakes under your crop top, dragging it up and over your chest in one smooth motion. His other hand slams your skirt up around your waist, exposing your cotton panties to the chill night air. He presses his palm flat against your stomach, pinning you as his thumb circles your hardening bud through the fabric. “Already this wet,” he growls, thumb brushing over your folds until you shudder.

Then he yanks your panties to the side and lines himself up, cock slick—thick and throbbing in the dim light. With one brutal thrust he drives into you, hips slamming forward so hard you cry out. Skin meets metal as he pins you against the car, your back arching beneath him. His hand tightens on your hip, the other tangles in your hair, forcing your head to the side.

He fucks you with savage, unrelenting force—each thrust deeper, harder, echoing in the empty lot. Your moans fill the space, mingling with the slap of flesh on flesh. “Ride me, baby,” he snarls, voice ragged. “Show me how much you love this.” You dig your nails into his shoulders, matching his pace, and your orgasm rips through you in hot, shuddering waves, shaking and overstimulated, just as he groans, hips jerking in one final, explosive release.

He pulls out, still buried halfway, cum dribbling down your thigh. He brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Don’t act cold with me,” he whispers, voice thick, “Ever again.” Then he steps back and bleed to a kiss. “See you in class tomorrow, sweetheart.”

Yoonsung

The night air still thrums with the echo of roaring engines as Yoonsung’s car burns rubber across the finish line. You and your friends lean against the concrete barrier, adrenaline and the sting of cool air on your flushed skin. He kills his engine right in front of you, headlights cutting you in half like a spotlight. Leather jacket unzipped just enough to peek at a bare chest, he steps out—hair wild, chest heaving—and locks eyes with you. That slow, predatory grin tells you he knows you’ve been watching.

He strides over with silent confidence, boots echoing against the pavement. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. You square your shoulders, lifting your chin. “I was watching the race,” you retort, tone cool. He laughs softly, dark and amused. “Keep lying,” he growls, close enough that you can feel his breath. “I saw your hand slip between your legs every time I drifted around that corner.” “What were you checking for?,” “Did I get you too hot?,” He smirks.

Before you can protest, his fingers clamp around your wrist—painfully tight—and he yanks you behind the row of idling cars. He shoves you against the cold metal side of one of the rides, chest to back, and crushes his mouth onto your neck. His tongue licking over and soothing the bite marks he’s leaving, and you moan into him, surprised by your own eagerness. One rough hand threads through your hair, tilting your head back, while the other snakes up under your shirt to grope your bare ribs.

He grabs your hips and spins you, pinning your back against the car’s hood. His hands rip your top up in one motion, freeing your breasts to the chill air. He leans down, buries his face between your breasts, and sucks a bruise into your skin before biting gently. “So good,” he pants, pressing your body flush. “So fucking good for me.” His fingers slip between your thighs, pushing your panties aside to dip into your wet heat. “God, you’re dripping,” he rasps, circling your clit with two slick fingers.

You tremble as he plays with your clit. His other hand yanks your jeans and panties off in a brutal tug, scattering denim across the asphalt. He straightens, unbuckles his belt, and his cock springs free—thick, red‑veined, already leaking. He lines himself up at your entrance and slams in without warning. The brutal impact steals your breath, metal scraping against your cheek, and you cry out.

Yoonsung wastes no time. Each thrust is savage and relentless. He grips your hips, pulling you into him, filling you completely. Your moans fill the silent lot, mingling with the slap of flesh on metal. “Look at you,” he growls in your ear, voice husky. “Such a filthy little slut for me.” You clutch at the hood, nails scraping paint, body clenching around him as he speeds you toward the edge.

Your orgasm hits like a lightning strike—hot, shuddering waves that squeeze him tight—while he snarls and pounds through his own release, spurting cum deep inside you. Feeling overstimulated, you start to squirt. He collapses against you for a moment, chest heaving, before pulling out and pressing you back against the. He smirks. “Keep acting like you don’t want it,” he whispers, voice thick, “and you’ll be begging before the engine even starts.” Then he straightens, zips up, leaving you with a tender kiss.

Haemin

The hiss of burning rubber still echoes in your ears when Haemin’s car skids to a halt, rear tires smoking in the dim light. You and your friends lean over the guardrail, pulses racing, as he steps out—leather jacket unzipped to reveal that sculpted chest, hair slicked back, chest heaving. His eyes sweep the crowd until they lock on you, and that predatory smile flashes like a promise you can’t—and don’t want to—ignore.

He strides over, boots clicking against the asphalt, every movement dripping with confidence. “Thought you didn’t give a damn about racers,” he purrs, voice low and dangerous. You lift your chin, crossing your arms. “You’re just a guy with a fast car,” you snap, trying to sound unimpressed. Haemin’s laugh rumbles through his chest. “Is that so? Prove it—walk away.”

Before you can blink as you try to take one step, his hand clamps around your wrist—iron-strong—and he yanks you behind the stacked concrete barriers where the pit lights don’t reach. The night air turns cold against your skin, but Haemin’s mouth is scorching as he crashes into yours, teeth grazing your lower lip, tongue raking over yours with fierce hunger. One hand threads through your hair, jerking your head back to deepen the kiss, while the other plunges beneath your crop top to press bruising fingers against your bare ribs.

He spins you around, pressing your back flat against the cold concrete. With one brutal tug, he rips your shorts down and yanks your panties aside, exposing you completely. His eyes darken at the sight of your flushed, heaving body as he takes one look at your wet and sticky pussy. “So fucking perfect,” he growls, fingertips pinching your nipples until they pucker and harden. You gasp, arching into his touch as he circles your clit with a heavy thumb, drawing out a needy moan.

Two fingers slip inside you, slow and deliberate, curling to brush that perfect spot. He pumps them in and out with mounting urgency, thumb grinding your clit in vicious circles. “God, you’re dripping all over my hand,” he rasps, pressing you into each stroke. Your hips buck, chasing the friction, and he rewards you by sinking a third finger in, stretching you open with ruthless precision.

Abruptly, he drops to his knees and shoves his face between your thighs, mouth devouring your wetness. His tongue slides thick and rough across your folds, teeth grazing your clit, and you cry out, body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you. He sucks you down harder while still pumping his fingers in and out of you, savoring every slick, slurping sound, before pulling back with a dark chuckle. “Taste so good, baby,” he murmurs, standing and positioning himself at your entrance.

With a savage thrust, he buries himself deep, hips slamming into you without mercy. You choke out a cry as his pace builds—fast, hard, relentless—each stroke jarring your body against the concrete. He fisted his hand in your hair, pulling you back so he can whisper against your ear. He repositions himself to the hood of his car and places you on top of him. “Ride me, slut. Show me how much you want this cock.” Your walls clamp around him, moans echoing off the barriers as you start to ride him. You shatter into your climax, and he follows, growling your name while he spills his cum deep inside. When he finally pulls out, he grants your chin forcing you to look at him. He gives you a gentle kiss on your cheek then your lips, breath hot against your skin. “Next time you try to act like you don’t want it,” he whispers, voice thick, “you’ll be begging before the engine even starts.” Then he kisses you once more, gets dressed, and steps back into the shadows, leaving you trembling and awaiting the next time he claims you.

Kyungmin

The roar of Kyungmin’s engine still thrums through your bones as he rockets past the finish line, taillights glowing like embers against the dark pavement. You and your friends lean over the barrier, pulse hammering, when he kills his engine inches from where you stand. He steps out—jacket slung low on his hips, hair plastered to his forehead—and sweeps the crowd with a predator’s gaze until he finds you. Your breath hitches under that hungry stare.

He strides over, boots crunching gravel, grin cocky as hell. “Didn’t think you’d stick around,” he drawls, voice rough and teasing. You square your shoulders, chin high. “I was bored of watching losers,” you snap, trying to hide how his nearness makes your pulse spike. Kyungmin’s grin widens, eyes flicking to your mouth. “We’ll see how long that attitude lasts.”

Before you can retort, his hand clamps around your wrist like steel, yanking you behind a line of parked rides where his car was parked and the lights don’t reach. The night air chills your skin, but his mouth is fire as he slams you into the metal side of his car. His lips crush yours—teeth grazing, tongue ramming deep—while one hand knots in your hair and the other snakes up beneath your shirt, dragging it over your head in one brutal yank.

He spins you around, pressing you face‑first against the hood, and rips your skirt up around your waist, ripping your panties in half as he does it. The sight of your naked lower half under the orange glow sets something wild in his eyes. “So fucking vulnerable,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your slick folds. Two fingers press into you, hard and merciless, curling to stroke that spot that makes you see stars.

Your body jerks at the intrusion, breath catching as he slams a third finger in, keeping you stretched and trembling. He leans down and bites gently at your shoulder blade, eyes never leaving your trembling backside. “You like that?” he rasps. “Like being used right here on my car?” You whimper, aching for more, and he chuckles, dragging his fingers free just enough to watch you drip.

Without warning, Kyungmin pulls back, undoes his belt, and his cock—thick and leaking—slashes against your back. He positions himself, then drives in from behind with one savage thrust that makes you choke out a gasp. Skin slaps against metal in percussive beats as he hammers into you, each thrust deeper, harder than the last. One hand grips your hip bone, the other pins your shoulder, holding you exact while he fucks you raw.

Your climax crashes over you, hot and merciless, walls clenching down on him as he growls your name. He follows in seconds, spurting deep inside you, chest heaving. When he finally pulls out, he presses you down onto the hood by the neck. “Next time you think you’re too cool to watch,” he breathes, voice low and dangerous, “you’ll be begging me before the checkered flag drops.” Then he steps back, zips up, kisses your lips, and melts into the night—leaving you trembling, sated, and already craving the next race.

Yungyu

The roar of Yungyu’s engine still thrums in your chest when he rockets past the finish line, neon brake lights glowing like embers in the dark. You and your friends lean over the barrier, adrenaline pulsing through your veins, as he kills the engine mere feet away. He steps out—leather jacket half‑unzipped, sweat gleaming on his collarbones, hair falling into his eyes—and scans the crowd until his gaze locks on you. That slow, predatory smile tells you he’s claiming you already.

He saunters over, boots echoing on the asphalt, every movement radiating dangerous confidence. “You can’t hide those eyes,” he murmurs, voice low and magnetic. You lift your chin, arms crossed. “I wasn’t staring,” you snap, though your throat tightens. Yungyu chuckles, stepping so close you feel his heartbeat. “Don’t lie to me. I felt you watching every drift.”

Before you can pull back, his fingers clamp around your wrist—iron‑strong—and he drags you behind the row of parked cars where the floodlights don’t reach. The night air chills your skin, but his mouth is hot as he crushes his lips to yours. His tongue rips into your mouth, teeth grazing yours, and you gasp, caught off‑guard by the raw intensity. One hand tangles in your hair, tipping your head back, while the other unhooks your bra beneath your shirt, exposing your chest to the cool breeze.

He flips you around and shoves you against the cold metal side of his car, crushing his mouth to your neck. His teeth scrape over your pulse point as his hands go to work—one ripping your shirt up and over your head, the other yanking your jeans down in one jagged motion. You’re exposed, nipples hard in the dim light, and Yungyu’s eyes darken with hunger. “So perfect,” he growls, thumbs pinching your hardened buds before sliding lower to find your slick wetness.

Two fingers plunge between your legs, curling inside you without warning, and you moan, hips rocking back into his hand. He presses his thumb to your clit and pumps his fingers relentlessly, each thrust drawing out your deepest whimpers. “Dripping for me,” he rasps, face inches from your core. “Let me see how much you need me.” You tremble, overwhelmed by the delicious friction and his relentless command.

He pulls his fingers free and drops to his knees, yanking your panties aside and capturing your folds with his tongue. His mouth slurps and sucks with brutal precision, teeth grazing the bundle of nerves until you’re arching and crying out. Your hands claw at his shoulders, gripping him as wave after wave of pleasure consumes you. He hums against your slit, tongue flicking over your swollen clit, before standing and lining himself up at your entrance.

Group Ver. 1

Hyung Line:

Myungho | Jaeyun

Minho | Yoonsung

Maknae Line:

Haemin | Kyungmin

Yungyu | Seungheon

Group Ver. 2

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