domm1etae

[domm1etae]

i gotta catch up on all the fics i missed while i was off tumblr omg

[domm1etae]

youre really are the one of the best atiny writer ive ever seen before. looking forward for more from you!

hope youre having wonderful day! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

SHUT UUUUP U ARE MAKING ME SOOOOBBBBBAAAAAH

thank u so much this is actually so sweet omg i love you so so much

[domm1etae]

hi hello how dare you make a fic that is now so in my brain i can't write my own without being like "hehe this reminds me of sent to tempt hehehe"

omg stop, not sent to tempt living in your head rent free…

i’m honored actually hehe💗

[domm1etae]

Hi!! Hope you're healing journey is still going well! I just want to remind you not to rush anything, do something that makes you happy, and have someone to talk to about your problems. Everything will eventually be fine!💞

thank u pretty angel

[domm1etae]

This Was Always Going to Happen

paring: jongho x f!reader

warning: older brother’s best friend, forbidden desire, older male younger female, size difference, suggestive themes, age gap

an: no word count bcs this is just a drabble

You tried to ignore it. Pretend the heat pooling in your chest was harmless. But it wasn’t. The want you had for him ran deep—settled low in your belly and refused to fade, no matter how often you told yourself it was wrong.

He was your brother’s best friend. Off-limits. Out of reach.

But he was also older. Confident. Comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t fumble or hesitate like the boys who didn’t know what to do with their hands. Jongho was steady. Intentional. When he looked at you, it wasn’t with careless curiosity—it was like he already knew. Like he’d already made a decision.

And that made your knees press together, every single time.

You sat cross-legged on your bed, surrounded by all the little things that made your space feel like yours—soft textures, light colors, too many pillows. Your oversized sweater hung off one shoulder, brushing your thighs, and your hair was a mess from running your fingers through it too many times. You looked small. And maybe a little nervous. He made you feel that way just by being close.

Jongho sat across from you, taking up more space than he should. His frame dwarfed the edge of the bed, his knees wide, shoulders relaxed, but his gaze was fixed on you—like you were the only thing that mattered.

His hand settled on your thigh, warm and heavy. Familiar, but different.

It wasn’t the first time he touched you. There were other moments—quiet ones. When he’d linger a second too long while handing you a drink during movie nights with your brother. When he’d rest his hand on your back as you passed in the hallway. When his fingers would brush yours as he reached for something on the counter.

They seemed innocent. Casual. Almost forgettable.

But they weren’t.

Those tiny moments were what got you here. What kept you up at night, heart racing under your covers. They were calculated. And now, you saw it for what it was: a slow, deliberate unraveling.

This moment wasn’t an accident.

The air felt heavier. The space between you buzzed with something unspoken. Jongho’s gaze was unreadable, but his hand on your thigh didn’t move. It just stayed there, his fingers splayed over your skin like a promise he was finally ready to keep.

“You don’t need little boys in your life,” he said, voice low and sure. “Not when I’m right here.”

Your breath stuttered in your chest.

His palm flexed slightly, dragging heat along your leg even through the fabric. He didn’t slide it higher. Not yet. But it was enough to make your mouth go dry.

You looked up at him, wide-eyed, unsure. But he already knew. He could read you like no one else. You’d never been good at hiding what you felt.

“You understand what I’m saying?” he asked, leaning in a little closer.

You nodded before you could stop yourself. Because deep down, you did. You had for a while.

Jongho leaned in until his mouth hovered by your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Let me show you how it feels to be wanted the right way.”

You whimpered, barely audible. Your thighs squeezed together without thinking.

You’d imagined this—fantasized about it on the nights when everything felt too quiet. The way his hands might feel. The way he’d speak to you like you were something precious. Something his.

Your hand reached for him without thinking, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt, trembling.

“This is… we shouldn’t,” you whispered, but your voice gave you away.

He dragged his fingers up, slow and measured, stopping at the waistband of your shorts. Just enough pressure to leave your skin buzzing.

“You don’t want this, doll?” he asked, tilting his head.

Your heart raced as you looked into his eyes—full of heat and patience and that dangerous certainty that made your insides twist.

He’d seen how you looked at him. How your gaze lingered too long. How your voice softened just for him. How you dressed like you didn’t notice him watching—but you always noticed.

And for a while, he held back. Until tonight.

Until he found you curled into yourself after yet another disappointment, mascara smudged, voice small. That’s when something in him snapped.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his hand still resting warm at your waistband.

But you didn’t. Couldn’t.

Instead, you leaned up, lips brushing his in the softest kiss. Barely there. Barely brave.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I want it.”

The words were quiet, fragile. But Jongho heard them like thunder. And that’s all he needed.

You tried to ignore it. Pretend the heat pooling in your chest was harmless. But it wasn’t. The want you had for him ran deep—settled low in your belly and refused to fade, no matter how often you told yourself it was wrong.

He was your brother’s best friend. Off-limits. Out of reach.

But he was also older. Confident. Comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t fumble or hesitate like the boys who didn’t know what to do with their hands. Jongho was steady. Intentional. When he looked at you, it wasn’t with careless curiosity—it was like he already knew. Like he’d already made a decision.

And that made your knees press together, every single time.

You sat cross-legged on your bed, surrounded by all the little things that made your space feel like yours—soft textures, light colors, too many pillows. Your oversized sweater hung off one shoulder, brushing your thighs, and your hair was a mess from running your fingers through it too many times. You looked small. And maybe a little nervous. He made you feel that way just by being close.

Jongho sat across from you, taking up more space than he should. His frame dwarfed the edge of the bed, his knees wide, shoulders relaxed, but his gaze was fixed on you—like you were the only thing that mattered.

His hand settled on your thigh, warm and heavy. Familiar, but different.

It wasn’t the first time he touched you. There were other moments—quiet ones. When he’d linger a second too long while handing you a drink during movie nights with your brother. When he’d rest his hand on your back as you passed in the hallway. When his fingers would brush yours as he reached for something on the counter.

They seemed innocent. Casual. Almost forgettable.

But they weren’t.

Those tiny moments were what got you here. What kept you up at night, heart racing under your covers. They were calculated. And now, you saw it for what it was: a slow, deliberate unraveling.

This moment wasn’t an accident.

The air felt heavier. The space between you buzzed with something unspoken. Jongho’s gaze was unreadable, but his hand on your thigh didn’t move. It just stayed there, his fingers splayed over your skin like a promise he was finally ready to keep.

“You don’t need little boys in your life,” he said, voice low and sure. “Not when I’m right here.”

Your breath stuttered in your chest.

His palm flexed slightly, dragging heat along your leg even through the fabric. He didn’t slide it higher. Not yet. But it was enough to make your mouth go dry.

You looked up at him, wide-eyed, unsure. But he already knew. He could read you like no one else. You’d never been good at hiding what you felt.

“You understand what I’m saying?” he asked, leaning in a little closer.

You nodded before you could stop yourself. Because deep down, you did. You had for a while.

Jongho leaned in until his mouth hovered by your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Let me show you how it feels to be wanted the right way.”

You whimpered, barely audible. Your thighs squeezed together without thinking.

You’d imagined this—fantasized about it on the nights when everything felt too quiet. The way his hands might feel. The way he’d speak to you like you were something precious. Something his.

Your hand reached for him without thinking, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt, trembling.

“This is… we shouldn’t,” you whispered, but your voice gave you away.

He dragged his fingers up, slow and measured, stopping at the waistband of your shorts. Just enough pressure to leave your skin buzzing.

“You don’t want this, doll?” he asked, tilting his head.

Your heart raced as you looked into his eyes—full of heat and patience and that dangerous certainty that made your insides twist.

He’d seen how you looked at him. How your gaze lingered too long. How your voice softened just for him. How you dressed like you didn’t notice him watching—but you always noticed.

And for a while, he held back. Until tonight.

Until he found you curled into yourself after yet another disappointment, mascara smudged, voice small. That’s when something in him snapped.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his hand still resting warm at your waistband.

But you didn’t. Couldn’t.

Instead, you leaned up, lips brushing his in the softest kiss. Barely there. Barely brave.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I want it.”

The words were quiet, fragile. But Jongho heard them waaay tooo well.

And that’s all he needed.

[domm1etae]

hey my loves and sttm readers! i’m really sorry to say this, but as you’ve probably noticed, there wasn’t a new sent to tempt me chapter last week—or this week either. it makes me sad to share this, but sttm is going on a short hiatus for now. between my mental health and school, i’ve got a lot on my plate and just don’t have the time or the right headspace to keep writing new chapters at the moment.

please wait for me and yungi—we’ll be back soon, i promise 💜 (p.s. i’ll try to post some drabbles or short one shots here or over on my twitter when i can!)

with love, dommietae

[domm1etae]

you ever think about dom!yeosang who doesn’t have to raise his voice or give commands to own you completely? who holds your face so carefully... who teaches you, slowly, patiently, that safety feels like his hands, and peace sounds like his breath at your neck. until even loneliness starts to sound like him.

no? just me...ahhahah?

i miss sangi xd

[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter nineteen

chapter nineteen: called by the devil

chapter summary: Mingi wrestles with guilt and uncertainty as he makes a hesitant attempt to fix things with Yunho. But behind the door, Yunho is already falling apart—his body betraying him, his thoughts spiraling into dangerous territory. When Mingi finally speaks, it's the last push Yunho needs to give in…

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 3.5k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho, same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3 | this fics masterlist

author's note: not only did we get our first explicit content today, but also — for the first time ever — mingi’s pov!! woooooow 🥳 i hope i fed u well. follow me on twitter if you wanna stay updated on the next chapters of sttm and see how everything’s going. have a beautiful week, my loves 💫

Yunho stood up from his chair, carefully closing the laptop as if shutting it might erase the weight of everything he’d just done. It didn’t. He tucked the chair back in like nothing had happened, like he wasn’t seconds away from losing control of himself, and padded slowly to his bed.

The mattress dipped beneath him as he sat, back pressed stiffly against the wall, hands resting uselessly in his lap. He didn’t want to do this. God, he hated that he was about to.

The fact that what brought him to this point was that—that video, those sounds, those men—only poured gasoline on a fire that had already been consuming him all evening. Anger curled in his gut, hot and shameful, but even that couldn’t drown out the throbbing ache between his legs.

It was too much. It hurt. He just wanted it to be over so he could crawl under the covers and pretend to be normal again, to live the peaceful university life he always told himself he deserved.

His room was quiet, blanketed in darkness, save for the cool glow of moonlight slipping in through the window above his desk. Yunho took a slow, grounding breath and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. His voice came out low and nearly inaudible, a soft, cracked apology to no one in particular.

Then, with one last bitter sigh, he slid his hands down and began to peel his sweatpants past his hips, leaving them bunched around his ankles.

Now it was just him, in nothing but his boxers, sitting still as stone and staring down at the tented fabric straining against his erection—locked in a silent, humiliating standoff with his own body.

Here goes nothing. Just get it over with. The thought rattles in Yunho’s head as he shoves his hesitation aside. His fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, tugging himself free. A damp patch stains the fabric—proof of how long he’s dragged this out—and when his hand finally wraps around his cock, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. A quiet, drawn-out “ssss” escapes him, raw and unfiltered.

To be honest, he’s been kind of edging himself for a good five years, and not gonna lie, it feels good to finally touch himself, even tho he hates to admit it. His touch is featherlight at first, almost tentative, but the second his palm grazes the length of him, his hips jerk forward. A groan slips out before he can stifle it, and he slaps his free hand over his mouth, muffling the sound.

He’s not gentle anymore. His grip tightens, thumb swiping over the slick head, and the friction burns good, so good it makes his toes curl. Precum beads thickly, dripping down his shaft and coating his fingers in a sticky-slick sheen. It’s messy, borderline embarrassing, but he can’t deny how it eases the glide of his fist—a filthy kind of relief. His rhythm turns punishing, frantic, the bedframe creaking under him, until suddenly the memories ambush him mid-stroke: flashes of what he’d seen earlier, the images from earlier flash behind his now closed eyelids.

That was the last thing he wanted to think about, but the way the two men held each other, the way they whimpered and panted, the sounds they made together—it all wormed its way deeper into Yunho’s mind, feeding the fire he’d tried so desperately to smother.

Sadly for Yunho’s sanity, it made the experience even better than just mindlessly stroking himself to get it over with. His hand moved faster, hips jerking helplessly into his own fist, the images playing over and over behind his eyes.

It had all started so innocently—a simple doctor’s appointment—and yet somehow it had unraveled into something filthy and sinful and impossible to forget.

Doctor’s appointment... Yeah, he was supposed to be in that situation too. It was supposed to be roleplay after all...

With Mingi.

Mingi.

Mingi....

MINGI'S POV:

The door slammed shut with a heavy, hollow bang, the sound rattling down the hallway and into Mingi’s chest like a distant drumbeat. He stayed exactly where he was, slouched across the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world. His arms stretched up lazily over his head, his back arching off the cushions, and he let out a low, drawn-out sigh, blinking slowly at the ceiling.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His voice barely carried past his own lips. “And I didn’t even go that far.” He shook his head in quiet amusement, running a hand through his hair, still feeling the faint stickiness of dried sweat on his skin. Uuugh. Gross. His fingers tugged absently at the waistband of his pants, his mind looping back over the way Yunho had looked at him just before fleeing the room—like Mingi had done something unforgivable. I must’ve really scared him...

A spark of guilt tried to push its way through the haze of tired satisfaction he felt, but he shoved it aside for now. Stretching one more time until his shoulders cracked, Mingi finally peeled himself up off the couch, grabbing his discarded shirt off the armrest and slinging it casually over his shoulder.

He trudged toward the bathroom, feet dragging a little. His brain felt heavy, like it was wading through molasses, but a shower—or at least washing his face—sounded good right now. Maybe it would clear his head.

The bathroom light buzzed as he flicked the switch, flooding the room with cold, unflattering brightness. Mingi caught sight of himself in the mirror and grimaced a little. Yeah. He looked like shit.

Tossing his shirt onto the counter, he turned the faucet on and shoved his hands under the stream of water, wincing as the cold hit his bruised knuckles. After a few moments, he splashed some onto his face, hissing quietly at the sting against a split on his lip he hadn’t even realized was there.

Finally, he leaned closer to the mirror, bracing himself against the sink, and took a long, careful look at the rest of his injuries. Bruises already yellowing. Scratches sealing themselves up faster than they had any right to. Honestly? “Wow,” he whispered under his breath, lips barely moving. He turned his head from side to side, inspecting the damage with something close to amazement. “Healing quick as hell…”

He poked gently at a darker bruise along his ribs, marveling at the lack of sharp pain. It throbbed a little, sure, but not the way it should’ve. His mind flickered back to Yunho, to the careful way those hands had moved over him—practiced, gentle, almost reverent. The way Yunho’s fingers had hovered over his skin, afraid to cause more damage but determined to help anyway. He’s really good at this, Mingi thought, a small pang settling in his chest. Really fucking good… Good to know. Just in case...

For a while, he just stood there, staring at his reflection, water dripping slowly from his fingertips. If he was being honest—and he hated being honest with himself sometimes—he had regretted it.

At first, anyway.

Going back to those assholes had been reckless, maybe even suicidal, and no amount of bravado could cover up how dangerous it had been. They weren’t just posturing this time. They would’ve really hurt him if he didn't know what to do. Maybe worse. And Mingi knew it. He wasn’t stupid, no matter how much he sometimes pretended to be.

The thought made his stomach twist unpleasantly. He wiped his hands on a towel and leaned harder against the counter, letting his head hang for a second. Fucking dumbass move, Mingi. He knew better. He’d always known better. But...

If he hadn’t gotten hurt, if he hadn’t needed help, if he hadn’t been bleeding all over the place like some idiot, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten that moment with Yunho at all. That tiny moment where Yunho had looked at him without suspicion, without that weird distance in his eyes. Mingi had seen it—clear as day—something almost like concern flashing across Yunho’s face when he touched him, when he cleaned his wounds, when he patched him up without even thinking twice. And that had been perfect. Exactly what Mingi had needed.

Because the truth was, he knew he'd already screwed it up with Yunho a long time ago. Right after moving in, when his so-called "friends" wouldn’t shut up about what a loser he was stuck living with. Yunho this, Yunho that. They had spent hours talking shit about him, and Mingi had been stupid enough to let it get to him. To treat Yunho like crap for no reason other than protecting his own image. Acting like a complete asshole. Saying things he didn’t even mean. And the worst part? Yunho hadn’t deserved a damn bit of it. He was a sweet, quiet guy who had just been trying to live his life, and Mingi had been the one to poison the air between them. So when Yunho had knelt in front of him earlier this week, gently cleaning the blood off his face with hands that trembled just a little, Mingi had seen it as a golden opportunity—a second chance to offer something back, even if it was just casual friendliness. Not some deep connection. Not some big, emotional thing. Just... easing the tension a little. Maybe making Yunho not hate him. That was all. But of course, he had to fuck it up again. He had to open his stupid mouth. He had to push Yunho’s buttons and take the teasing too far, like he always did, like he couldn’t help himself. He thought it would be harmless—maybe make Yunho flustered, maybe make him pout or roll his eyes, anything but this. Anything but Yunho bolting from the room like he’d been burned.

Mingi stared at himself in the mirror, hating the sinking feeling building in his gut. He hadn’t meant to scare him. He hadn’t meant to make it worse. And yet somehow, that’s exactly what he had done. Again.

“Damn, Mingi. You really are an idiot,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair as he left the bathroom. His bare feet padded down the hallway toward his room, but just before he disappeared behind his own door, he glanced over at Yunho’s. The door was tightly shut, silent behind it. Mingi frowned. What was Yunho doing now? Hopefully, he hadn’t messed him up that bad. Hopefully, Yunho wasn’t in there freaking out, spiraling, or—God forbid—doing something dramatic and stupid. Mingi didn’t want to be the one who discovered a corpse tomorrow morning. He wasn’t ready to have that conversation with campus security. With a final sigh, he shook the thought away and disappeared into his room, closing the door a little harder than necessary behind him.

Mingi dropped onto his bed and grabbed his laptop, flopping back against the pillows with a groan. But even with the screen lighting up in front of him, his mind stubbornly refused to focus. Thoughts of Yunho buzzed in his head like a swarm of gnats he couldn’t swat away. That kid... God. He was just so innocent. Didn’t have a single clue in the world. How the hell was he planning on surviving university like that? And on top of it, having someone like him—someone like Mingi—as a roommate? It couldn’t be easy for him. Poor guy probably thought he was stuck living with the devil himself. Mingi grimaced, scrubbing a hand down his face. Ugh, let's not think about it. What happened happened, he told himself firmly, clicking around half-heartedly on his laptop in search of something to watch before bed. It's over. Done. Forget it.

But even as he scrolled mindlessly through the endless lists of videos, the thoughts kept creeping back in. I could help him, a voice whispered in the back of his head. I could guide him through all this crap. Make university a good experience for him. Make it something he’d never forget. Mingi squeezed his eyes shut for a second, willing the thoughts away. No, no. Stop thinking about it. Stop. He shook his head and clicked on the first random video that popped up without even looking at the title. The screen filled with color and noise, but it barely registered in his brain. Because in the end, Yunho’s face—those wide, nervous eyes, that uncertain smile—kept flashing through his mind like a broken slideshow. He looks like a lost little lamb all the time... Mingi groaned again, tossing his head back against the pillow. Maybe I should apologize, he thought. But it’s not like I did anything that bad, right? It was just teasing. Harmless. He’s not a baby. He should be able to handle a little shit. Still, guilt gnawed at him, persistent and bitter. How the hell was he supposed to stop thinking about it when Yunho’s stupid, sweet face wouldn’t leave his head?

Mingi cranked up the volume on the video, forcing himself to focus, or at least pretend to, as the late-night hours ticked away.

YUNHO'S POV:

Yunho squeezed his eyes shut, hand moving faster between his legs, desperate to just finish and forget all of this. But his mind, cruel and vivid, wouldn't let up.

Wait—did Mingi really want something like that with him? The thought hit hard, making his hips jerk. How would that even work?

And before he could even stop it, his mind gave him an answear, the people on his screen weren’t just some actors anymore. It was him. It was Mingi. Their hands, their mouths, the sounds—

Yunho let out a panicked whimper, his whole body burning. No, no, no— Not now. Not like this. Why was this happening right NOW?

MINGI'S POV:

Mingi laid on his bed, mindlessly watching videos, already four deep without even realizing it. Damn, the amount of schoolwork he could’ve finished in that time...

Well. Anyways.

Even though he kept clicking through random videos, trying to throw his thoughts away, they kept circling back. I think I really should apologize to him. What if Yunho actually wanted to switch dorms after tonight? What if Mingi ended up stuck with some fucking idiot for the rest of the year?

Groaning under his breath, Mingi shoved his laptop aside, leaving it open on the bed. Fine. Whatever. He could do this.

He threw on a zip-up hoodie over his t-shirt, zipped it halfway, and headed toward Yunho’s room before he could overthink it. It’s just a simple sorry. It can’t hurt him. Hopefully Yunho would actually hear him out and not just, like, throw a textbook at his head.

Mingi closed his own door behind him and crossed the hallway quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. Wait...how should he even start this? Knock? Say something first? Call his name?

YUNHO'S POV:

This was the worst possible moment for Yunho to be thinking about something like this.

He absolutely hated to admit it to himself, but thinking about Mingi — about him — made his tempo quicken, his hand working faster without him even meaning to. His stomach clenched hard, heat pooling low and deep, his member pulsing almost painfully in his grip.

Mingi’s sharp, cutting eyes flashed through his mind, dark and intense like the devil himself, piercing straight through Yunho, pulling him under. His imagination spun out of control — full lips ghosting down his skin, breathy whimpers against his throat, the way Mingi would probably say his name, over and over, needy and sinful.

"Yunho... Yunho..."

God, he could hear it. He could feel it. His whole body shuddered, the pleasure building way too fast now. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the images away, but they just kept getting clearer — Mingi, flushed and panting, mouth slick and open against his chest, hands grabbing onto Yunho like he owned him, like he needed him—

"Yunho... Yunho..."

.....

"Yunho...?"

Wait.

MINGI'S POV:

Mingi lightly knocked on Yunho’s door — barely even a knock, really. His knuckles just grazed the wood.

Should he walk in? No, no, that’d be weird as fuck. Way too weird.

He took a slow breath, trying to calm the ridiculous fluttering in his chest, and called out softly, “Yunho?”

Nothing.

“Yunho?” he tried again, a little louder this time. Still nothing.

Damn. Maybe he did hate him. Maybe he really didn't want to talk. Or... maybe he was asleep?

But no — Mingi paused, listening carefully — there was definitely some kind of movement on the other side. Shuffling, like a sudden shift of fabric or a bed creaking. So not asleep.

He tried one more time, a little softer, more hesitant. “Yunho...?”

Still no reply.

But Mingi wasn’t giving up that easy. Nope. He was gonna smooth talk his way out of this mess, even if it killed him.

He straightened up, rolled his shoulders back, and cracked a tiny smile.

YUNHO'S POV:

That was definitely Mingi. That wasn’t some twisted leftover from Yunho’s overly vivid imagination—no, that was his voice, low and careful, coming from just behind the door. And with that realization, Yunho felt his whole body stiffen, not from fear but something else entirely. His breath caught in his throat. He was already so far gone—back arched, hand slick, thighs trembling. In any other situation, any other time, he would’ve scrambled to his feet, thrown on something, and composed himself before answering. But now? He was seconds away from release, mind clouded and flooded with visions he hadn’t asked for but couldn’t shake.

Mingi’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure Yunho was even awake. “Yunho?” That was all it took. Yunho’s pulse jumped, and he bit down on his bottom lip hard. This wasn’t fair. Mingi had no idea what he was doing to him. His voice alone had Yunho’s entire body tightening, toes curling as his hand worked even faster, desperate and clumsy. This was humiliating. It was perverse. But Yunho couldn’t stop. Not when he was so close. Not when Mingi, Mingi, was just on the other side of that door unknowingly feeding every dark little fantasy that had rooted itself in Yunho’s chest.

“Listen, I know you probably don’t wanna talk to me, but just hear me out. Please.”

That “please” sent a sharp jolt through Yunho’s stomach. He let out a quiet, broken breath—practically a whimper—and his body reacted on instinct, back arching as his hand kept moving with an urgency that made his whole body burn. His mind was splitting in two. One part wanted to disappear from sheer shame, while the other clung to every syllable of Mingi’s voice like it was his only source of oxygen. He felt disgusting. He was disgusting. But oh God, Mingi sounded so close. Too close.

“What I did earlier was totally out of line,” Mingi continued, voice growing a little steadier now. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line or made you uncomfortable. I really didn’t mean to.”

Yunho couldn’t even respond—could barely think beyond the spiraling heat in his core and the overwhelming guilt beginning to mix in. His body jerked slightly, pleasure riding the edge of guilt like a wave threatening to drown him. Why now? Why this moment? Why did hearing Mingi apologize make his chest ache and his body ache even more? Mingi’s voice wasn’t even sultry or flirtatious—just sincere. And still, it drove Yunho completely out of his mind.

“So basically, I hope you’ll forgive me. I’d really like us to be okay. You know—for the project and everything…”

And that did it.

Yunho’s entire body tensed. He exhaled a long, breathless moan as release finally tore through him, hot and overwhelming. His thighs twitched, stomach heaving as his hand slowed, breath coming in rapid gasps. The aftershocks left his skin prickling, sweat clinging to his shirt. It was messy—he was messy. It was all over his hand, his stomach, his pants. It was pathetic. And yet, a small part of him still didn’t regret it. That part scared him the most.

His eyes snapped open when Mingi’s voice called out one last time, just a little more hopeful, a little less rehearsed. “What do you say? Do you think we can be chill again?”

Panic surged through Yunho’s body like cold water. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He scrambled to grab anything—an old T-shirt, maybe a towel, who cared—to wipe himself off. The stickiness was unbearable, and the shame had finally caught up to him. He yanked on the first pair of sweatpants he could find, swiping a hand through his damp hair before stumbling to the door. His chest was still rising and falling too quickly, and he could barely think straight.

He unlocked the door with shaky fingers and cracked it open just enough. Mingi was standing there—still in his hoodie, eyes wide, lips parted like he’d been about to say something else. Their gazes locked, and Yunho swore his heart stopped for a second.

“…Okay,” Yunho breathed, barely above a whisper.

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[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter eighteen

chapter eighteen: click. play. regret.

chapter summary: It was supposed to be research. Educational, even. But now Yunho’s heart is racing, his body is reacting, and he can’t hide from what it means.

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 3.8k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho, same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3 | this fics masterlist

author's note: hello my precious ladybugs! it’s been a while, hasn’t it? sorry for disappearing — i was dealing with a lot of stuuuuuffff, but i’m okay now, don’t worry. little life update: i’ve been super stressed with studying (boo), BUT i got my driver’s license!! so i’m officially a beast on the streets. also treated myself to a new phone and i’m so happy about it 💖

ANYWAYS, BACK TO STTM — mama cooked u something special today: a DOUBLE UPLOAD featuring our first ever explicit content!! yaaaaay 🎉 hope you enjoy it, and i can’t wait to read your comments as always 💌

Yunho slammed the door shut behind him like he was being chased, fingers fumbling against the lock until it clicked into place. He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, before letting out a shaky exhale and letting his full weight collapse against the wood. The cool surface pressed against his back as he slowly slid down, legs folding under him until he was crouched on the floor, head tilted back, eyes wide as though he’d just escaped some kind of wild animal.

Except it hadn’t been an animal. It had been Mingi.

Or rather—whatever Mingi was. A menace, a demon in human skin, a tease of biblical proportions. Yunho couldn't even begin to categorize him properly anymore.

His palms came up to press over his face, dragging down slowly. His skin felt hot. His breath wouldn’t slow. “What… What the hell was that,” he whispered aloud, like maybe saying it would help him believe any of it had been real. “What just happened?”

His mind kept replaying it in painful loops—the way Mingi smirked, the tattoos, that damn smirk again, his hand on Yunho’s knee, the suggestive tone, the way he said Doctor like it meant something else entirely. And then that final blow—that last line, paired with the not-so-subtle pat to his crotch. Yunho nearly choked again just thinking about it.

“I don’t understand anything,” he muttered under his breath, voice muffled by his hands. “Why is he acting like that? I know he wanted to become friends but… friends don’t act like this, no?”

He hesitated, frowning deeper.

“But I guess that’s just how Mingi is?”

He didn’t sound convinced. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t know. I don’t understand this person at all.”

He groaned out loud, dragging himself to his feet with effort, legs slightly unsteady. His room felt stuffy all of a sudden, like the air itself had changed after what he’d just experienced. He stumbled to his desk and collapsed into the chair like gravity had suddenly doubled.

His head dropped into his hands, fingers threading into his hair in frustration as he whispered to no one but himself, “Hopefully, I won’t ever have to play the doctor again.”

But then he paused.

Because… what was that, exactly?

Doctor? Roleplay?

He sat up slowly, furrowing his brow. “Wait,” he muttered, blinking into the dark. “Thinking back to it… I still don’t even think I know what roleplay is.”

He knew the dictionary definition, sort of. Something about pretending to be someone else? That was what Mingi said earlier. Something about getting into character. Playing a part. But why? What for? Was it just for fun? Some weird performance thing?

“Ugh,” Yunho groaned again, rubbing his face with both hands like it could scrub the thoughts out of his brain. “Do I even want to know…?”

And yet—despite the question, despite the way his stomach twisted in embarrassment and confusion—he was already moving. Already leaning forward and reaching for his laptop, the cool keys of the keyboard familiar under his fingertips. He didn’t even turn on the light, choosing instead to sit in the dark, the screen illuminating his face in a soft blue glow as it came to life.

The browser was already open. The cursor blinked in the search bar.

He hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip for a second.

Then, fingers moving slowly across the keys, he typed:

“Roleplay”

And hit enter.

“Okay, let’s see…” Yunho whispered under his breath, fingers hovering over the trackpad as the search results loaded.

Right at the top of the page, a bold blue link to Wikipedia caught his eye. “Amazing,” he mumbled, clicking it instantly. “Wiki always shows up first. I’ll definitely get my answer there…”

His screen blinked as the page loaded, and his eyes scanned the first few lines:

“Role-playing or roleplaying is the changing of one’s behaviour to assume a role, either unconsciously to fill a social role, or consciously to act out an adopted role. Also used in games, such as RPGs—role-playing games.”

Yunho stared at the sentence like it had just spoken a foreign language to him. His head tilted slightly.

“Oh wow… yeah, RPG. I didn’t even think of that,” he murmured, blinking slowly as his brain finally made that connection. “That’s like… video games. Like fantasy stuff. Characters and stats. Leveling up. That kinda thing.”

But his lips pressed into a line as his thoughts quickly doubled back.

“…But I don’t think that’s what Mingi was referring to.”

No, definitely not.

The way Mingi said it—“roleplay, Yunho,” like it was supposed to be obvious—but then brushed it off with a “sort of.” That meant something else. Something more.

And even if the definition fit—pretending to be someone else, acting out a character—it still didn’t explain why Mingi had looked at him like that. Or touched his knee like that. Or said Doctor in that tone.

So… no. This Wikipedia article wasn’t it. It wasn’t that.

“Let’s look more,” Yunho mumbled, scrolling quickly past the text and down through the rest of the search results.

A few more articles. A Reddit thread. Some forums.

A Buzzfeed listicle. “Top 10 Most Awkward Roleplay Fails.” He grimaced and kept scrolling.

A YouTube link popped up in the sidebar. A song? Weird. Another search result pulled up something about Dungeons & Dragons. “Ugh…” Yunho sighed, slumping back slightly in his chair. “Hold up…”

His fingers hovered over the keyboard again. He frowned, then backspaced the previous query.

“Roleplay… two people,” he typed. “That should do it.”

And wow.

It really did.

His entire screen changed in an instant—an explosion of thumbnails and suggestive titles lining up like dominos, one after the other. His heart immediately jumped into his throat.

Videos. So many. Too many. Weird…

The top one had bold text under it that read: “Teacher and Student Roleplay — Detention Is Not That Bad After All”

Yunho blinked. Once. Twice.

“Well… it’s not doctor and patient,” he muttered, cheeks already flushing as he squinted at the image. “But I think it’s… the same thing?”

He didn’t even let himself think past that. His finger moved almost on its own.

Click.

The video started loading.

The room remained pitch black except for the faint, cold glow of the screen, casting a pale blue light across Yunho’s face as the video began to play. He leaned forward a bit.

And then instantly leaned back.

The girl on the screen appeared in frame—someone who, in Yunho’s mind, was very inappropriately dressed for school. Her skirt was barely covering anything, and her blouse was tight enough to make him instinctively glance away. He wasn’t judging. Not really. But still…

Wasn’t this supposed to be detention?

She was alone in a classroom, tapping a pen against a desk. A moment later, a man walked in—tall, wearing glasses, holding a clipboard. Clearly supposed to be the teacher.

It felt like watching a low-budget drama. The camera angles were weird, the lighting was too bright, and the acting…

The acting.

“Oh no…” Yunho winced as the first line of dialogue hit. It was so stiff. So fake.

The girl said something about how she got detention for sleeping in class, and the teacher responded with something about “punishment fitting the crime.”

Yunho’s eyes widened.

Three minutes in, and it was all just awkward close-ups, wooden conversations, and stiff body language.

He sat through it anyway, out of sheer determination to understand. Maybe they’d start talking about the “roleplay” part more clearly soon. Maybe it would all make sense.

But the cringe only deepened. Every line made his toes curl in secondhand embarrassment.

“Who talks like that…?” he whispered to himself.

Another minute passed.

Then another.

And finally, with a groan, Yunho threw his head back and slapped his hand across the trackpad to stop the video entirely.

“I guess I’ll just have to live with not knowing what roleplay really is,” he muttered, thoroughly defeated.

He pushed back from his desk, the chair creaking slightly under him. Then, with a tired sigh, he stood up, stretching his arms above his head.

“I’m done,” he said to himself, already walking over to his dresser. He pulled out a soft, oversized tracksuit—the only comfort that made sense right now—and started peeling off his clothes. But just as Yunho slipped one arm into the top half of his tracksuit, something tugged at his attention.

His gaze, uninvited and unstoppable, drifted sideways—right back to the computer screen. The soft hum of the fan. The faint blue glow. The paused video window now minimized in shame.

He stared for a second. Then two.

Did I really give up that easily?

A wave of frustration swelled in his chest. God, I hate my brain. It just wouldn't let him leave things alone. Not when there were still questions. Not when there was still something he didn’t understand. Before he even finished scolding himself, his body was already moving—tracksuit top hanging loosely from one shoulder as he padded barefoot across the room.

Back to the desk.

Back to the screen.

Back to… whatever the hell this was now.

That video was… awful. He cringed just thinking about it. Whatever that was supposed to be.

The acting had been unbearable. The story made no sense. And the ads—he shuddered. Pop-ups he wished he’d never seen, tabs that opened without permission, and a number of blinking banners that had burned themselves into his retina forever.

Alright. Let's just backtrack. Simplify.

He retyped the query with more precision this time: roleplay 2 people doctor and patient

Search.

And… jackpot.

Oh. Okay. That looks… promising.

Actual results popped up. One of the links stood out immediately—it was to a site he’d never heard of before: xnxx.com.

Weird name for a website, he thought, tilting his head slightly. Is that supposed to be like… a code for something?

He hesitated.

Do I trust this? Absolutely not.

But that curiosity—that damn curiosity—won out. Again.

Okay, I shouldn't expect anything fancy anyway.

He clicked the link. The page loaded quickly, the screen bright against the dark of his room.

Right.

He pressed play.

The screen blinked to life. A soft instrumental hum underscored the opening shot, clinical but pleasant—framed carefully like the start of a real short film. Yunho adjusted the volume slightly, squinting to catch every detail. A man sat on the edge of a bed, posture nervous, bare legs dangling just slightly over the edge of the mattress. His hospital gown was tied loose at the back, collar sloping off one shoulder. He looked young. Vulnerable. His hands twisted anxiously in his lap.

Then another man walked in.

The door clicked shut softly behind him. He was older—late thirties, maybe. His hair was neat, voice calm. Confident in a way that felt familiar. He wore a white coat. The name tag read: Dr. Seo.

Yunho sat up straighter. His eyes darted over the frame, taking in the careful set-up, the staging, the soft lighting. It felt real. Professional. Almost like a drama. His hands folded in his lap as he leaned a little closer. This must be what Mingi meant. Maybe it was an acting scene or an indie film clip with a more mature tone—he had said it was “educational,” right? Maybe there was something to learn in the subtext, in how the characters handled intimacy or awkward situations. Yunho’s brows pinched slightly as he focused harder.

Dr. Seo asked a simple question about the boy’s chest. Something about tightness. Trauma, maybe. Yunho nodded along to himself, mentally tracking where the dialogue was going. Okay. A nervous patient. A concerned doctor. A moment of trust. It made sense.

Then the doctor stepped closer, and his hand brushed over the boy’s shoulder.

Yunho’s brows lifted just slightly, but he didn’t look away.

The patient’s breath hitched.

“You’re shaking,” the doctor said softly, voice almost gentle.

“I get nervous when people touch me,” the boy whispered back, eyes lowered. “You’re very… close.”

And the doctor leaned in.

“And I think you like it.”

Yunho blinked once, twice. Something about that line tugged at him—jolted him ever so slightly out of the thoughtful zone he’d been in. His head tilted a bit, unsure. It was strange. A little on-the-nose. Oddly forward for a doctor-patient exchange. Was it meant to be like that? A power imbalance thing? Maybe this was still an acting clip, just stylized. He swallowed and leaned back slightly. Okay. That was… weird. But maybe there was more context coming.

But oh, he didn’t know what was coming at all.

The scene moved fast. Too fast. Dr. Seo crouched down until they were eye-level, and the camera followed with cinematic intimacy. The patient flushed, stammered something about thinking of him—all the time. And Yunho, with wide eyes now and a tight throat, could only sit frozen as the doctor gently placed the boy’s hand against his chest, then guided him to lie back.

The shift was instant, impossible to ignore. No more pretense. No more subtlety.

Clothes were pulled away slowly, hands ghosted over bare skin, and the boy—Hyun—trembled under every touch. His eyes fluttered shut. He moaned the man’s name.

And that’s when Yunho felt it.

His stomach dropped. Like a trapdoor had opened beneath him and he was falling, limbs numb and heart pounding, not because the scene was arousing—he wouldn’t even let himself name it that—but because it felt like something else was about to break inside him.

It was porn.

Pornography.

And not that Yunho had never watched something like this before. He had. Maybe four or five times, never more, and each time was followed by endless prayer and guilt. A kind of mental self-flagellation that left him feeling hollow and unworthy. Because in his world, pornography wasn’t just a bad habit—it was a crack in the soul, the beginning of a spiritual rot. Lust was equated with sin. And sin, with eternal consequence.

Matthew 5:28, the verse practically tattooed in the back of his mind, rang through him like a hammer blow:

“But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”

Adultery. A glance that became damnation.

And yet the most terrifying part of all—what made the back of his neck burn and his hands go clammy—was the fact that the verse didn’t even apply. Not in the way it was written.

Because Yunho wasn’t looking at a woman.

There were no curves on screen. No soft moans from a female voice. There was only the sound of a boy gasping, arching, whispering please. There was only the image of a man easing between his legs like it was worship, like it was something holy.

And Yunho had watched it. He had not looked away.

The room felt tighter now. Smaller. Suffocating.

Maybe the reason Yunho hadn’t looked away was because he was seeing things he had never seen before—at least, not like this. Not with such… intensity. There was no awkward music, no fake moaning, no pixelated distractions or rushed fumbling like in the handful of videos he’d dared to glimpse in the past. No, this felt different. Real. It was filmed like something intimate, something powerful. The way the men touched each other—how they moved with purpose, how they whispered encouragements and exhaled each other’s names like prayers—it wasn’t just about bodies. It was about want. About longing. About claiming something you thought you weren’t allowed to crave. And maybe… maybe Yunho couldn’t stop watching, not because he shouldn’t, but because something inside him wanted to understand what this was. Why this held him so tightly. Why it made his body heat like a fever.

He sat, unmoving, nearly trembling in place as the minutes passed. Every breath, every moan, every low-spoken phrase between the two men carved itself into his memory like scripture—except this time, it wasn’t the kind he had studied in church. It was a different kind of gospel. A worship of touch. A rhythm of gasps and give and take, where submission wasn’t weakness and dominance wasn’t sin, and Yunho had never realized how utterly captivating it could be. He wasn’t even thinking about the word “roleplay” anymore, the academic curiosity that had started this rabbit hole long forgotten. All he could do was watch as the doctor gripped the boy’s hips and moved with aching deliberation, as Hyun’s fingers curled into the sheets, as both their bodies trembled, slick and flushed, in the low light.

He should’ve closed it. He should’ve clicked away the moment things began. He should’ve panicked, or prayed, or done anything other than this. But instead, Yunho watched them fuck like it was the most interesting film of his life. Like it was art. Like it was truth. His mouth had gone dry from all the quiet swallowing he was doing, trying to keep himself from reacting too loudly. He barely blinked. He didn’t move. He was completely entranced.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the video ended.

The screen blinked back to stillness—soft gray, a thumbnail screen offering “related videos” in little curated rows, each with a paused frame full of sin.

Yunho sat frozen.

He had just watched the whole thing. Not a second skipped. Not a tab closed. Not even a single flinch or gasp of shame that had been strong enough to tear his eyes away. He’d let it play. From start to finish. Every minute.

His mouth parted slightly, like he was trying to breathe around the weight pressing against his chest. His hands hovered, uncertain, before darting for the trackpad with clumsy urgency. He slammed the tab shut. Then another. Then quickly opened his browser settings, wiping the history, clearing the cache. Every click felt like scrubbing at a stain that had already soaked too deep.

“Gay porn,” he whispered under his breath, like confessing it would make it less real. “I just watched gay porn.”

A quiet, choked laugh bubbled in his throat. Not because it was funny. Because it was horrible. A quiet, choked laugh slipped out of him—shaky and breathless, more like a gasp trying to disguise itself as something casual. But it wasn’t funny. Not even a little. It was horrifying. A disappointment in the worst, most personal way. What would his parents say? His pastor? His old Sunday school teacher who’d always told him God saw everything, even the things done in secret? What would they all say if they ever found out that Yunho had watched something like that—with boys, no less—and hadn’t even stopped himself? Hadn’t even looked away? They would be horrified. Maybe they’d cry. Maybe they’d pray harder. Maybe they’d finally understand why God sometimes “gave people over to their desires,” the way Romans 1 said.

Yunho shifted in his seat, posture stiff with shame, every muscle trying to pretend he could go back to how things were ten minutes ago—before he clicked, before he stayed, before his body started wanting things it shouldn’t. But the moment he adjusted, trying to relieve the tightness in his spine, something stopped him cold.

His eyes dropped down. Slowly. Warily.

And there it was.

Hard. Painfully hard. Straining against the front of his sweatpants like it had been there the whole time, waiting for him to notice. A thick, pulsing bulge stretching the fabric, outlined so obviously it was impossible to ignore. And the worst part was the heat still coming off it—this dull, aching pressure that pulsed through his thighs and belly, low and heavy and wrong.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, barely audible, as if saying it any louder would make the shame too real to survive.

He had a boner.

A full, throbbing one.

From that. From two men. From the video he should’ve never clicked on, much less sat through like it was the best thing he’d ever seen.

His face went ice-cold. He didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Just sat there and stared at himself like the proof of his own damnation was written in his lap.

It wasn’t like he’d never masturbated before. Of course he had—he was human. A man. It happened. Maybe not often, maybe not even regularly, but… three times? Maybe four? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t something he liked to remember. He tried not to think about those nights, curled up in bed with guilt already simmering before it even started. Technically, he knew how to do it. Knew the logistics, the mechanics, the motion, the breathing. He’d figured it out the same way everyone else did—quietly, shamefully, alone. But every time he finished, it never felt good. Not in the way people described. There was no rush of release, no satisfaction, no sleepiness. Just guilt. Guilt so loud it drowned out everything else. Lust was a sin. Lust meant impurity. Lust meant failure. And he had failed. Willingly. Every single time.

That’s why he stopped.

It wasn’t healthy, not really. He knew that. Men his age usually had… routines. Habits. And maybe they were lucky enough to not feel ashamed about it, but Yunho had learned early that natural didn’t mean acceptable. That getting hard was just part of being alive, sure—but what you did with that feeling was what mattered. Cold showers worked, sometimes. Deep breathing, distraction, late-night prayers whispered into the ceiling while he clenched his fists and begged God to just take the desire away. And most of the time, he didn’t even have to do anything. If he ignored it long enough, the ache passed. Faded into nothing. Like it had never been there in the first place.

But this time was different.

This time, his dick felt like a problem. It wasn’t just hard. It was throbbing, insistent, heavy with something that felt way too alive. Like it had its own pulse, its own need, its own desperate will. It hurt. Actually hurt. And it wasn’t going away—not with a breath, not with a distraction, not even with shame digging itself deep into his chest. The ache in his gut was sharp now, restless, twisting like a muscle pulled too tight. Like every year of resistance had just built up and chosen now to snap.

Hmm… it was…five years? Maybe, yeah.. It had really been that long.

Five years since he last touched himself. Five years since he let himself even think about it for longer than a second. And now he was here. Panting quietly. Boner pressing like a curse against his sweats. Heart pounding with a mixture of dread and anticipation that made him feel sick.

He hated this. He hated that he was even considering it.

But what was he supposed to do? Sit here until it faded? Wait out the pain as he always did? Hope his body just magically forgot it was aroused?

No. Sadly he could not do that today.. This wasn’t going away on its own.

And he hated to admit it—despised it—but…

He had to jerk off. There was no way around it.

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[domm1etae]

sneak peek of the next STTM chapter. can you guess what Yunho’s doing 😏

[domm1etae]

𖹭.𖹭.𖹭.𖹭.ᐟ.ᐟ

where you cover your face shyly with your hands when you are getting fucked. only for hongjoong to grab said hands and pin them to the bed so you can't hide.

the moment hongjoong caught the sight of your hands flying up to your face, his jaw tightened, and his pace faltered for a split second. you were beneath him, flushed and trembling, trying to hide the soft, breathy moans spilling out of you and the way your eyes rolled back every time he thrust deeper.

"nah," he muttered, voice low and rough, grabbing your wrists and pinning them to the mattress above your head. "don’t hide from me."

your lips parted in a stifled whimper as his grip tightened, his hips snapping forward hard enough to knock the breath out of you. the drag of his cock against your walls was maddening, every inch making you squirm under his hold.

"look at me," he demanded, his tone sharp but laced with something dark, hungry. his eyes burned into yours as he pressed his forehead against yours, his body never losing its relentless rhythm. "lemme see you. wanna watch every little expression you make when i’m fucking you this good."

you bit your lip, your face turning away, but his grip on your wrists didn’t let up. if anything, it got stronger. "don’t do that," he growled, nipping at the corner of your mouth before biting down on your jaw. "don’t act shy when i know how bad you want this. how bad you want me."

his words sent heat flooding through you, your walls fluttering around him, and he smirked when he felt it. "yeah, that’s what i thought," he rasped, his voice thick with satisfaction. "your body doesn’t lie, baby."

his pace quickened, each thrust hitting so deep it had you crying out, your shy protests turning into desperate, high-pitched moans that filled the room. hongjoong grinned, his breath hot against your neck.

"fuck, you’re so good for me," he groaned, his cock twitching inside you as he dragged your body closer to his. "you feel how deep i am? how much i’m stretching you out? bet it’s driving you crazy, huh? bet you’re close already."

your head tilted back, your hands twisting in his grip as you tugged weakly, but he didn’t let go. instead, he leaned down, catching your lips in a messy, heated kiss that left you gasping for air.

"don’t hide from me, y/n," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and teasing. "wanna see every fucking second of you falling apart on my cock."

the way his hips snapped into yours, the way his eyes stayed locked on your face, watching every twitch, every moan, every little tremor that rolled through you—it was too much. the heat in your stomach coiled

tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, your body arching off the bed as you came with a loud cry.

hongjoong cursed under his breath, his pace turning rougher, sloppier, chasing his own release. "that’s it," he groaned, his voice wrecked as he buried himself as deep as he could, his release spilling into you with a sharp gasp.

he stayed there for a moment, catching his breath, his body pressed against yours. when he finally pulled back, his hands loosened around your wrists, but he didn’t let you go completely. instead, he leaned in, pressing a slow, almost lazy kiss to your lips.

"you don’t get to hide from me, baby," he murmured, his grin wicked and smug. "not when you’re this fucking pretty taking my cock."

[domm1etae]

Can’t Say It Out Loud

f!reader x friend yunho

oneshot | mdni

2.1k

What was supposed to be a chill night catching up with your friend from school you both used to go to Yunho turns into way more when a tipsy convo about a dream he had... gets real

nsfw tags under

f/m, vaginal sex, teasting, dirty talk, kissing, top yunho, bottom reader, friends to fucking?

author's note: long time no see my reader x idol lovers ♡♡

Knock, knock, knock.

You adjusted the hem of your oversized t-shirt, wiping your slightly damp palms on your thighs before walking to the front door. A rush of nervous excitement bloomed in your chest as you opened it—there he was.

Yunho stood on your welcome mat, his broad shoulders rising with each breath, a small grin tugging at his lips. His hair was styled in his usual laid-back way, and he carried a six-pack of beer in one hand, the other already outstretched for a hug.

“Hey, roomie-for-a-night,” he teased as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. “Damn, this your new place? You really out here adulting.”

You laughed into his shoulder, your nose brushing against the soft fabric of his hoodie. “It’s still a mess, but yeah, welcome to my semi-unpacked kingdom.”

He stepped inside, gaze flicking over the boxes stacked in the corners, the half-assembled bookshelf, the TV precariously perched on a makeshift stand. “I dig it. It already feels like you.” He kicked off his shoes and dropped onto your couch like he owned it, stretching his long legs across the cushions. “You didn’t lie about snacks either. You go hard.”

You rolled your eyes fondly and walked back to the kitchen. “I literally told you to bring the drinks and nothing else. I’m carrying this friendship on my back.”

He laughed, cracking open a can. “I bring the charm, though.”

“Oh God.” You snatched the drink from his hand with a mock glare and handed him another. “Shut up and drink.”

The two of you settled on the couch, the soft background noise of some random comedy show playing as the first sips of beer warmed your cheeks. It didn’t take long for the laughter to flow—easy, natural. Yunho had always been like that for you. A constant in your life, even when everything else felt like it was shifting beneath your feet.

A couple of beers in, you both were sprawled across the couch, bodies nearly tangled. Yunho’s thigh was pressed against yours, and your hand casually rested near his knee without even realizing it. The alcohol buzz blurred the lines between comfortable and something more.

“I missed this,” Yunho murmured, his voice softer now. “Hanging out. No schedules, no school deadlines, no bullshit.”

You turned your head to look at him, his cheek resting against the back cushion, eyes heavy-lidded. The golden warmth of the lamp softened the angles of his face, but it couldn’t hide the way he’d grown into himself since school ended—he looked older. Sharper. Handsomer.

“I missed you too,” you said quietly, and you meant it.

There was a pause, the kind that didn’t feel awkward but… charged. His gaze shifted, and you realized he was looking at you too. Really looking.

You blinked and looked away, flustered. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me. I’m tipsy, I might cry.”

Yunho chuckled. “You always say that. One beer and you’re like a baby deer on ice.”

You reached out to playfully smack his arm, but your hand lingered for a second too long on his bicep. Solid. Warm.

The silence returned, only this time, it was heavier. Denser.

“Y/N,” he said, quieter now.

You glanced up, heart ticking faster at the tone in his voice.

“I, uh…” he scratched the back of his neck. “I had this weird dream the other night.”

That made you sit up slightly, curiosity piqued. “Okay, do tell.”

He looked sheepish but amused. “You were in it. And… it wasn’t exactly PG.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

You laughed, partly out of surprise and partly to shake the sudden wave of heat rushing through you. “Wait—like, sexy dream?”

Yunho bit his lip, chuckling into his drink. “Yeah. Didn’t mean for it to happen, but… I dunno. Ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Your stomach flipped. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the way his voice dipped lower, or the fact that you had your own share of secret, blurry thoughts about him.

You leaned in slightly, teasing. “What happened in the dream?”

He gave you a look. “You really wanna know?”

“Only if you really want to tell me.”

He hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, he said, “You were on your knees in front of me. Touching me. Kissing me. And it felt… real. Like, really real.”

Your breath caught. You tried to swallow your nerves, but your mouth had gone dry. He wasn’t joking. His eyes were locked onto yours now, searching.

“I’ve thought about it a lot since then,” he murmured. “And honestly? I was hoping… maybe…”

He trailed off.

You didn’t let him finish.

Instead, you leaned forward and kissed him.

Soft. Hesitant. Testing.

He froze for half a second—then melted into it. One hand found your waist, the other cradled your face as he deepened the kiss. It was slow, unhurried. Not lust-filled—not yet. Just the overwhelming relief of finally crossing a line that had blurred for far too long.

You pulled back slightly, eyes wide, breath shallow. “I’ve wanted this too. I just didn’t think…”

Yunho pressed his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Then let me show you.”

He kissed you again, this time with more urgency, more heat. You gasped softly against his mouth as he slid a hand beneath your shirt, fingers brushing the skin of your lower back. The contact sent sparks racing up your spine.

“Bedroom?” he whispered, his voice strained with restraint.

You nodded.

In the quiet hush of your bedroom, the air was thick with anticipation, the silence only broken by the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft rustle of fabric as Yunho gently pressed you back against the bed. The light from the hallway spilled in faintly through the cracked door, casting shadows over his face—soft and golden, like candlelight flickering across skin.

He hovered over you, one knee sinking into the mattress, his fingers reaching to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. His hand lingered, cupping your cheek, thumb trailing over your bottom lip. You caught it between your lips and kissed it, eyes never leaving his.

“You’re sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid any louder might shatter this fragile moment.

“Yunho,” you whispered back, lifting your hand to cup the side of his neck, “please. I want you.”

He leaned in, kissing you again—slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. His lips were soft, a contrast to the way his hands began to explore, sliding from your face to your collarbone, down the sides of your torso as if he was trying to memorize you. The kiss deepened, breaths becoming heavier. His tongue licked softly into your mouth, coaxing a quiet moan from you.

Your hands fumbled at the hem of his sweatshirt, fingertips brushing warm skin as you pushed it up. He pulled back briefly, sitting up on his knees so you could tug it off completely. His toned stomach flexed as he moved, shadows outlining the soft dips and curves of muscle. Your palms slid up his chest, enjoying the feel of his warmth under your touch. His breath hitched when you leaned up to kiss along his sternum, your lips grazing the sensitive skin there.

He leaned down again, helping you out of your own shirt. His eyes flicked down your body reverently, mouth parted slightly as he took in the sight of you. He kissed your shoulder first, then lower—his lips brushing the tops of your breasts, hot and deliberate. His hands spanned your ribs, thumbs stroking slow, hypnotic circles into your skin.

Your bra was discarded next, and Yunho paused, as if needing a second just to process. “God, Y/N…” he murmured, trailing kisses over your chest, his tongue teasing one nipple before moving to the other. He groaned low in his throat at the way your body arched into him, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently when the sensation overwhelmed you.

His hands moved lower—along your waist, over your hips, fingertips skimming under the waistband of your shorts. You lifted your hips to help him slide them down, underwear with them. He kissed your thighs as he went, holding you open just slightly with his hands on your knees, eyes locked on yours. His lips ghosted over the inside of your thigh, hot breath sending goosebumps across your skin.

Then he leaned back, tugging off his sweatpants, revealing the growing bulge in his boxers. You bit your lip as your eyes traced over him, watching the way his cock strained against the fabric. He caught your gaze and smiled, a little bashful, but mostly turned on by your reaction. He pulled off his boxers, and you watched as his length sprung free, thick and flushed.

You reached for him, your palm wrapping around his cock, stroking slowly. Yunho hissed at the contact, his hips stuttering forward into your hand.

“Fuck… Y/N,” he groaned, his hand reaching out to steady himself on the headboard. His head dipped, pressing kisses along your jawline and down your neck as your hand worked him, thumb swiping over his tip to collect the precum beading there.

He couldn’t take much more.

Yunho shifted over you, nudging your thighs open with his knees. His cock rested against your core, sliding through your slick folds. The pressure made your toes curl, and you grabbed at his arms, eyes fluttering shut.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, lining himself up at your entrance. “At any point.”

“I don’t,” you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I want you. Please, Yunho.”

He pushed in slowly, his thick cock stretching you open inch by inch. Your nails dug into his back, your breath catching in your throat as your body adjusted around him. He was big—so much bigger than you’d imagined—and every movement made your walls flutter.

“Oh my god…” you gasped, your arms slipping up around his neck, pulling him in closer. “Yunho…”

His head dropped to your shoulder as he groaned into your skin. “Fuck… you’re so tight… so warm.”

He stayed still for a moment, letting you both breathe, his cock buried to the hilt. Then, with a deep exhale, he pulled out halfway and rolled his hips back into you, slow and controlled.

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders as he began a steady rhythm, fucking you in smooth, deep strokes that made your back arch off the mattress. His hands grabbed your thighs, spreading you wider, pushing himself even deeper.

“You feel like heaven,” he grunted against your neck. “Better than anything I ever dreamed of.”

Your moans spilled freely now, mingling with the soft creak of the bed and the slick sounds of your bodies moving together. His kisses were feverish—along your throat, your collarbone, your mouth—like he couldn’t get enough. His hands never stopped touching you, sliding from your hips to your waist to your breasts, squeezing and exploring as if trying to learn every inch of you by heart.

When you felt your orgasm approaching, it was sharp and sudden, a heat pooling low in your belly.

“Yunho—God—Yunho, I’m close,” you cried out, hips rocking up to meet his.

He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, firm circles as he thrust harder. “That’s it, baby… come for me. Let me feel you.”

You shattered under him, body convulsing as your orgasm ripped through you, pulsing around his cock. You sobbed out his name, your legs locking around him as pleasure rolled through you in waves.

“Fuck, Y/N—” Yunho moaned, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. “I’m gonna—fuck—”

You grabbed his face, kissing him hard as he came inside you, his cock twitching deep within. His hips rolled through it, drawing it out as his breath came in ragged gasps against your mouth.

For a long time, neither of you moved.

Then he gently pulled out, murmuring apologies when you whimpered from the overstimulation. He leaned down to press soft kisses across your chest, your shoulder, your cheeks, and finally your lips.

“You were… incredible,” he breathed, brushing your hair from your damp forehead. “You always are.”

You smiled, dazed and glowing. “That was more than I ever imagined.”

He pulled the blanket over your bodies, tucking you into his side. His fingers idly traced your arm as he whispered, “You were always more than just a friend to me. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

You cuddled into his chest, your heart still fluttering, your body sore in the most satisfying way.

“Maybe you don’t have to say it,” you whispered. “Just… stay tonight.”

He kissed the top of your head, pulling you tighter against him.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

[domm1etae]

right riiight(╥﹏╥)

Can’t Say It Out Loud

f!reader x friend yunho

oneshot | mdni

2.1k

What was supposed to be a chill night catching up with your friend from school you both used to go to Yunho turns into way more when a tipsy convo about a dream he had... gets real

nsfw tags under

f/m, vaginal sex, teasting, dirty talk, kissing, top yunho, bottom reader, friends to fucking?

author's note: long time no see my reader x idol lovers ♡♡

Knock, knock, knock.

You adjusted the hem of your oversized t-shirt, wiping your slightly damp palms on your thighs before walking to the front door. A rush of nervous excitement bloomed in your chest as you opened it—there he was.

Yunho stood on your welcome mat, his broad shoulders rising with each breath, a small grin tugging at his lips. His hair was styled in his usual laid-back way, and he carried a six-pack of beer in one hand, the other already outstretched for a hug.

“Hey, roomie-for-a-night,” he teased as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. “Damn, this your new place? You really out here adulting.”

You laughed into his shoulder, your nose brushing against the soft fabric of his hoodie. “It’s still a mess, but yeah, welcome to my semi-unpacked kingdom.”

He stepped inside, gaze flicking over the boxes stacked in the corners, the half-assembled bookshelf, the TV precariously perched on a makeshift stand. “I dig it. It already feels like you.” He kicked off his shoes and dropped onto your couch like he owned it, stretching his long legs across the cushions. “You didn’t lie about snacks either. You go hard.”

You rolled your eyes fondly and walked back to the kitchen. “I literally told you to bring the drinks and nothing else. I’m carrying this friendship on my back.”

He laughed, cracking open a can. “I bring the charm, though.”

“Oh God.” You snatched the drink from his hand with a mock glare and handed him another. “Shut up and drink.”

The two of you settled on the couch, the soft background noise of some random comedy show playing as the first sips of beer warmed your cheeks. It didn’t take long for the laughter to flow—easy, natural. Yunho had always been like that for you. A constant in your life, even when everything else felt like it was shifting beneath your feet.

A couple of beers in, you both were sprawled across the couch, bodies nearly tangled. Yunho’s thigh was pressed against yours, and your hand casually rested near his knee without even realizing it. The alcohol buzz blurred the lines between comfortable and something more.

“I missed this,” Yunho murmured, his voice softer now. “Hanging out. No schedules, no school deadlines, no bullshit.”

You turned your head to look at him, his cheek resting against the back cushion, eyes heavy-lidded. The golden warmth of the lamp softened the angles of his face, but it couldn’t hide the way he’d grown into himself since school ended—he looked older. Sharper. Handsomer.

“I missed you too,” you said quietly, and you meant it.

There was a pause, the kind that didn’t feel awkward but… charged. His gaze shifted, and you realized he was looking at you too. Really looking.

You blinked and looked away, flustered. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me. I’m tipsy, I might cry.”

Yunho chuckled. “You always say that. One beer and you’re like a baby deer on ice.”

You reached out to playfully smack his arm, but your hand lingered for a second too long on his bicep. Solid. Warm.

The silence returned, only this time, it was heavier. Denser.

“Y/N,” he said, quieter now.

You glanced up, heart ticking faster at the tone in his voice.

“I, uh…” he scratched the back of his neck. “I had this weird dream the other night.”

That made you sit up slightly, curiosity piqued. “Okay, do tell.”

He looked sheepish but amused. “You were in it. And… it wasn’t exactly PG.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

You laughed, partly out of surprise and partly to shake the sudden wave of heat rushing through you. “Wait—like, sexy dream?”

Yunho bit his lip, chuckling into his drink. “Yeah. Didn’t mean for it to happen, but… I dunno. Ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Your stomach flipped. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the way his voice dipped lower, or the fact that you had your own share of secret, blurry thoughts about him.

You leaned in slightly, teasing. “What happened in the dream?”

He gave you a look. “You really wanna know?”

“Only if you really want to tell me.”

He hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, he said, “You were on your knees in front of me. Touching me. Kissing me. And it felt… real. Like, really real.”

Your breath caught. You tried to swallow your nerves, but your mouth had gone dry. He wasn’t joking. His eyes were locked onto yours now, searching.

“I’ve thought about it a lot since then,” he murmured. “And honestly? I was hoping… maybe…”

He trailed off.

You didn’t let him finish.

Instead, you leaned forward and kissed him.

Soft. Hesitant. Testing.

He froze for half a second—then melted into it. One hand found your waist, the other cradled your face as he deepened the kiss. It was slow, unhurried. Not lust-filled—not yet. Just the overwhelming relief of finally crossing a line that had blurred for far too long.

You pulled back slightly, eyes wide, breath shallow. “I’ve wanted this too. I just didn’t think…”

Yunho pressed his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Then let me show you.”

He kissed you again, this time with more urgency, more heat. You gasped softly against his mouth as he slid a hand beneath your shirt, fingers brushing the skin of your lower back. The contact sent sparks racing up your spine.

“Bedroom?” he whispered, his voice strained with restraint.

You nodded.

In the quiet hush of your bedroom, the air was thick with anticipation, the silence only broken by the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft rustle of fabric as Yunho gently pressed you back against the bed. The light from the hallway spilled in faintly through the cracked door, casting shadows over his face—soft and golden, like candlelight flickering across skin.

He hovered over you, one knee sinking into the mattress, his fingers reaching to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. His hand lingered, cupping your cheek, thumb trailing over your bottom lip. You caught it between your lips and kissed it, eyes never leaving his.

“You’re sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid any louder might shatter this fragile moment.

“Yunho,” you whispered back, lifting your hand to cup the side of his neck, “please. I want you.”

He leaned in, kissing you again—slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. His lips were soft, a contrast to the way his hands began to explore, sliding from your face to your collarbone, down the sides of your torso as if he was trying to memorize you. The kiss deepened, breaths becoming heavier. His tongue licked softly into your mouth, coaxing a quiet moan from you.

Your hands fumbled at the hem of his sweatshirt, fingertips brushing warm skin as you pushed it up. He pulled back briefly, sitting up on his knees so you could tug it off completely. His toned stomach flexed as he moved, shadows outlining the soft dips and curves of muscle. Your palms slid up his chest, enjoying the feel of his warmth under your touch. His breath hitched when you leaned up to kiss along his sternum, your lips grazing the sensitive skin there.

He leaned down again, helping you out of your own shirt. His eyes flicked down your body reverently, mouth parted slightly as he took in the sight of you. He kissed your shoulder first, then lower—his lips brushing the tops of your breasts, hot and deliberate. His hands spanned your ribs, thumbs stroking slow, hypnotic circles into your skin.

Your bra was discarded next, and Yunho paused, as if needing a second just to process. “God, Y/N…” he murmured, trailing kisses over your chest, his tongue teasing one nipple before moving to the other. He groaned low in his throat at the way your body arched into him, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently when the sensation overwhelmed you.

His hands moved lower—along your waist, over your hips, fingertips skimming under the waistband of your shorts. You lifted your hips to help him slide them down, underwear with them. He kissed your thighs as he went, holding you open just slightly with his hands on your knees, eyes locked on yours. His lips ghosted over the inside of your thigh, hot breath sending goosebumps across your skin.

Then he leaned back, tugging off his sweatpants, revealing the growing bulge in his boxers. You bit your lip as your eyes traced over him, watching the way his cock strained against the fabric. He caught your gaze and smiled, a little bashful, but mostly turned on by your reaction. He pulled off his boxers, and you watched as his length sprung free, thick and flushed.

You reached for him, your palm wrapping around his cock, stroking slowly. Yunho hissed at the contact, his hips stuttering forward into your hand.

“Fuck… Y/N,” he groaned, his hand reaching out to steady himself on the headboard. His head dipped, pressing kisses along your jawline and down your neck as your hand worked him, thumb swiping over his tip to collect the precum beading there.

He couldn’t take much more.

Yunho shifted over you, nudging your thighs open with his knees. His cock rested against your core, sliding through your slick folds. The pressure made your toes curl, and you grabbed at his arms, eyes fluttering shut.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, lining himself up at your entrance. “At any point.”

“I don’t,” you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I want you. Please, Yunho.”

He pushed in slowly, his thick cock stretching you open inch by inch. Your nails dug into his back, your breath catching in your throat as your body adjusted around him. He was big—so much bigger than you’d imagined—and every movement made your walls flutter.

“Oh my god…” you gasped, your arms slipping up around his neck, pulling him in closer. “Yunho…”

His head dropped to your shoulder as he groaned into your skin. “Fuck… you’re so tight… so warm.”

He stayed still for a moment, letting you both breathe, his cock buried to the hilt. Then, with a deep exhale, he pulled out halfway and rolled his hips back into you, slow and controlled.

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders as he began a steady rhythm, fucking you in smooth, deep strokes that made your back arch off the mattress. His hands grabbed your thighs, spreading you wider, pushing himself even deeper.

“You feel like heaven,” he grunted against your neck. “Better than anything I ever dreamed of.”

Your moans spilled freely now, mingling with the soft creak of the bed and the slick sounds of your bodies moving together. His kisses were feverish—along your throat, your collarbone, your mouth—like he couldn’t get enough. His hands never stopped touching you, sliding from your hips to your waist to your breasts, squeezing and exploring as if trying to learn every inch of you by heart.

When you felt your orgasm approaching, it was sharp and sudden, a heat pooling low in your belly.

“Yunho—God—Yunho, I’m close,” you cried out, hips rocking up to meet his.

He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, firm circles as he thrust harder. “That’s it, baby… come for me. Let me feel you.”

You shattered under him, body convulsing as your orgasm ripped through you, pulsing around his cock. You sobbed out his name, your legs locking around him as pleasure rolled through you in waves.

“Fuck, Y/N—” Yunho moaned, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. “I’m gonna—fuck—”

You grabbed his face, kissing him hard as he came inside you, his cock twitching deep within. His hips rolled through it, drawing it out as his breath came in ragged gasps against your mouth.

For a long time, neither of you moved.

Then he gently pulled out, murmuring apologies when you whimpered from the overstimulation. He leaned down to press soft kisses across your chest, your shoulder, your cheeks, and finally your lips.

“You were… incredible,” he breathed, brushing your hair from your damp forehead. “You always are.”

You smiled, dazed and glowing. “That was more than I ever imagined.”

He pulled the blanket over your bodies, tucking you into his side. His fingers idly traced your arm as he whispered, “You were always more than just a friend to me. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

You cuddled into his chest, your heart still fluttering, your body sore in the most satisfying way.

“Maybe you don’t have to say it,” you whispered. “Just… stay tonight.”

He kissed the top of your head, pulling you tighter against him.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

[domm1etae]

Can’t Say It Out Loud

f!reader x friend yunho

oneshot | mdni

2.1k

What was supposed to be a chill night catching up with your friend from school you both used to go to Yunho turns into way more when a tipsy convo about a dream he had... gets real

nsfw tags under

f/m, vaginal sex, teasting, dirty talk, kissing, top yunho, bottom reader, friends to fucking?

author's note: long time no see my reader x idol lovers ♡♡

Knock, knock, knock.

You adjusted the hem of your oversized t-shirt, wiping your slightly damp palms on your thighs before walking to the front door. A rush of nervous excitement bloomed in your chest as you opened it—there he was.

Yunho stood on your welcome mat, his broad shoulders rising with each breath, a small grin tugging at his lips. His hair was styled in his usual laid-back way, and he carried a six-pack of beer in one hand, the other already outstretched for a hug.

“Hey, roomie-for-a-night,” he teased as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. “Damn, this your new place? You really out here adulting.”

You laughed into his shoulder, your nose brushing against the soft fabric of his hoodie. “It’s still a mess, but yeah, welcome to my semi-unpacked kingdom.”

He stepped inside, gaze flicking over the boxes stacked in the corners, the half-assembled bookshelf, the TV precariously perched on a makeshift stand. “I dig it. It already feels like you.” He kicked off his shoes and dropped onto your couch like he owned it, stretching his long legs across the cushions. “You didn’t lie about snacks either. You go hard.”

You rolled your eyes fondly and walked back to the kitchen. “I literally told you to bring the drinks and nothing else. I’m carrying this friendship on my back.”

He laughed, cracking open a can. “I bring the charm, though.”

“Oh God.” You snatched the drink from his hand with a mock glare and handed him another. “Shut up and drink.”

The two of you settled on the couch, the soft background noise of some random comedy show playing as the first sips of beer warmed your cheeks. It didn’t take long for the laughter to flow—easy, natural. Yunho had always been like that for you. A constant in your life, even when everything else felt like it was shifting beneath your feet.

A couple of beers in, you both were sprawled across the couch, bodies nearly tangled. Yunho’s thigh was pressed against yours, and your hand casually rested near his knee without even realizing it. The alcohol buzz blurred the lines between comfortable and something more.

“I missed this,” Yunho murmured, his voice softer now. “Hanging out. No schedules, no school deadlines, no bullshit.”

You turned your head to look at him, his cheek resting against the back cushion, eyes heavy-lidded. The golden warmth of the lamp softened the angles of his face, but it couldn’t hide the way he’d grown into himself since school ended—he looked older. Sharper. Handsomer.

“I missed you too,” you said quietly, and you meant it.

There was a pause, the kind that didn’t feel awkward but… charged. His gaze shifted, and you realized he was looking at you too. Really looking.

You blinked and looked away, flustered. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me. I’m tipsy, I might cry.”

Yunho chuckled. “You always say that. One beer and you’re like a baby deer on ice.”

You reached out to playfully smack his arm, but your hand lingered for a second too long on his bicep. Solid. Warm.

The silence returned, only this time, it was heavier. Denser.

“Y/N,” he said, quieter now.

You glanced up, heart ticking faster at the tone in his voice.

“I, uh…” he scratched the back of his neck. “I had this weird dream the other night.”

That made you sit up slightly, curiosity piqued. “Okay, do tell.”

He looked sheepish but amused. “You were in it. And… it wasn’t exactly PG.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

You laughed, partly out of surprise and partly to shake the sudden wave of heat rushing through you. “Wait—like, sexy dream?”

Yunho bit his lip, chuckling into his drink. “Yeah. Didn’t mean for it to happen, but… I dunno. Ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Your stomach flipped. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the way his voice dipped lower, or the fact that you had your own share of secret, blurry thoughts about him.

You leaned in slightly, teasing. “What happened in the dream?”

He gave you a look. “You really wanna know?”

“Only if you really want to tell me.”

He hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, he said, “You were on your knees in front of me. Touching me. Kissing me. And it felt… real. Like, really real.”

Your breath caught. You tried to swallow your nerves, but your mouth had gone dry. He wasn’t joking. His eyes were locked onto yours now, searching.

“I’ve thought about it a lot since then,” he murmured. “And honestly? I was hoping… maybe…”

He trailed off.

You didn’t let him finish.

Instead, you leaned forward and kissed him.

Soft. Hesitant. Testing.

He froze for half a second—then melted into it. One hand found your waist, the other cradled your face as he deepened the kiss. It was slow, unhurried. Not lust-filled—not yet. Just the overwhelming relief of finally crossing a line that had blurred for far too long.

You pulled back slightly, eyes wide, breath shallow. “I’ve wanted this too. I just didn’t think…”

Yunho pressed his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Then let me show you.”

He kissed you again, this time with more urgency, more heat. You gasped softly against his mouth as he slid a hand beneath your shirt, fingers brushing the skin of your lower back. The contact sent sparks racing up your spine.

“Bedroom?” he whispered, his voice strained with restraint.

You nodded.

In the quiet hush of your bedroom, the air was thick with anticipation, the silence only broken by the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft rustle of fabric as Yunho gently pressed you back against the bed. The light from the hallway spilled in faintly through the cracked door, casting shadows over his face—soft and golden, like candlelight flickering across skin.

He hovered over you, one knee sinking into the mattress, his fingers reaching to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. His hand lingered, cupping your cheek, thumb trailing over your bottom lip. You caught it between your lips and kissed it, eyes never leaving his.

“You’re sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid any louder might shatter this fragile moment.

“Yunho,” you whispered back, lifting your hand to cup the side of his neck, “please. I want you.”

He leaned in, kissing you again—slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. His lips were soft, a contrast to the way his hands began to explore, sliding from your face to your collarbone, down the sides of your torso as if he was trying to memorize you. The kiss deepened, breaths becoming heavier. His tongue licked softly into your mouth, coaxing a quiet moan from you.

Your hands fumbled at the hem of his sweatshirt, fingertips brushing warm skin as you pushed it up. He pulled back briefly, sitting up on his knees so you could tug it off completely. His toned stomach flexed as he moved, shadows outlining the soft dips and curves of muscle. Your palms slid up his chest, enjoying the feel of his warmth under your touch. His breath hitched when you leaned up to kiss along his sternum, your lips grazing the sensitive skin there.

He leaned down again, helping you out of your own shirt. His eyes flicked down your body reverently, mouth parted slightly as he took in the sight of you. He kissed your shoulder first, then lower—his lips brushing the tops of your breasts, hot and deliberate. His hands spanned your ribs, thumbs stroking slow, hypnotic circles into your skin.

Your bra was discarded next, and Yunho paused, as if needing a second just to process. “God, Y/N…” he murmured, trailing kisses over your chest, his tongue teasing one nipple before moving to the other. He groaned low in his throat at the way your body arched into him, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently when the sensation overwhelmed you.

His hands moved lower—along your waist, over your hips, fingertips skimming under the waistband of your shorts. You lifted your hips to help him slide them down, underwear with them. He kissed your thighs as he went, holding you open just slightly with his hands on your knees, eyes locked on yours. His lips ghosted over the inside of your thigh, hot breath sending goosebumps across your skin.

Then he leaned back, tugging off his sweatpants, revealing the growing bulge in his boxers. You bit your lip as your eyes traced over him, watching the way his cock strained against the fabric. He caught your gaze and smiled, a little bashful, but mostly turned on by your reaction. He pulled off his boxers, and you watched as his length sprung free, thick and flushed.

You reached for him, your palm wrapping around his cock, stroking slowly. Yunho hissed at the contact, his hips stuttering forward into your hand.

“Fuck… Y/N,” he groaned, his hand reaching out to steady himself on the headboard. His head dipped, pressing kisses along your jawline and down your neck as your hand worked him, thumb swiping over his tip to collect the precum beading there.

He couldn’t take much more.

Yunho shifted over you, nudging your thighs open with his knees. His cock rested against your core, sliding through your slick folds. The pressure made your toes curl, and you grabbed at his arms, eyes fluttering shut.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, lining himself up at your entrance. “At any point.”

“I don’t,” you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I want you. Please, Yunho.”

He pushed in slowly, his thick cock stretching you open inch by inch. Your nails dug into his back, your breath catching in your throat as your body adjusted around him. He was big—so much bigger than you’d imagined—and every movement made your walls flutter.

“Oh my god…” you gasped, your arms slipping up around his neck, pulling him in closer. “Yunho…”

His head dropped to your shoulder as he groaned into your skin. “Fuck… you’re so tight… so warm.”

He stayed still for a moment, letting you both breathe, his cock buried to the hilt. Then, with a deep exhale, he pulled out halfway and rolled his hips back into you, slow and controlled.

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders as he began a steady rhythm, fucking you in smooth, deep strokes that made your back arch off the mattress. His hands grabbed your thighs, spreading you wider, pushing himself even deeper.

“You feel like heaven,” he grunted against your neck. “Better than anything I ever dreamed of.”

Your moans spilled freely now, mingling with the soft creak of the bed and the slick sounds of your bodies moving together. His kisses were feverish—along your throat, your collarbone, your mouth—like he couldn’t get enough. His hands never stopped touching you, sliding from your hips to your waist to your breasts, squeezing and exploring as if trying to learn every inch of you by heart.

When you felt your orgasm approaching, it was sharp and sudden, a heat pooling low in your belly.

“Yunho—God—Yunho, I’m close,” you cried out, hips rocking up to meet his.

He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, firm circles as he thrust harder. “That’s it, baby… come for me. Let me feel you.”

You shattered under him, body convulsing as your orgasm ripped through you, pulsing around his cock. You sobbed out his name, your legs locking around him as pleasure rolled through you in waves.

“Fuck, Y/N—” Yunho moaned, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. “I’m gonna—fuck—”

You grabbed his face, kissing him hard as he came inside you, his cock twitching deep within. His hips rolled through it, drawing it out as his breath came in ragged gasps against your mouth.

For a long time, neither of you moved.

Then he gently pulled out, murmuring apologies when you whimpered from the overstimulation. He leaned down to press soft kisses across your chest, your shoulder, your cheeks, and finally your lips.

“You were… incredible,” he breathed, brushing your hair from your damp forehead. “You always are.”

You smiled, dazed and glowing. “That was more than I ever imagined.”

He pulled the blanket over your bodies, tucking you into his side. His fingers idly traced your arm as he whispered, “You were always more than just a friend to me. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

You cuddled into his chest, your heart still fluttering, your body sore in the most satisfying way.

“Maybe you don’t have to say it,” you whispered. “Just… stay tonight.”

He kissed the top of your head, pulling you tighter against him.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

[domm1etae]

new oneshot todaaaaaay yAAAAAH! after like 62843929 years xD

[domm1etae]

Dumb & Dumber Texts with BF!ATEEZ

pairing ✭ bf!ateez x reader

warnings ✭ funny fluff!!

a/n: so yeah, hey guys xdd i decided to try something new, so here is my first texting with format. hope you like it! i've been wanting to do something like this for a good four months now soo here goes nothing

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kim hongjoong ᯓ➤

park seonghwa ᯓ➤

jeong yunho ᯓ➤

kang yeosang ᯓ➤

choi san ᯓ➤

song mingi ᯓ➤

jung wooyoung ᯓ➤

choi jongho ᯓ➤