cw: there are obsessive behaviour undertones from hendery towards the reader.
—
yn was running late towards his art classes, “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” he murmured –concerned– when he was some blocks away from the entrance he stopped to pull out a bottle of water of his backpack, unknowingly a little box of tacks fell to the floor, “ah shit today's my lucky day” yn said sarcastically, then suddenly someone in a bike passes through all the scattered tacks, some of them stabbed the front wheel of it, “what the fuck?” the guy gets off the bike to see what happened, finding out that the tacks were the cause of the damage on his wheel. he looks back looking at a yn who tries to act cool, acting as if the other guy wasn't talking to him.
“hey you, your fucking tacks damage my wheels, you need to pay the repairs”, “sorry sorry we'll talk later i'm running late please” yn tries to run away but the guy stopped him, grabbing him by his wrist. “guess what, i'm running late too and it's your fucking fault”.
“aww come on man. i'll give you my phone, you write your number there and i call you later”, the guy did as he was told, “see ya later then” yn waved and resumed his running. the guy stood there, a smirk appearing on his face “such a fool ynnie” he then remembered he was running late to his class too and started to run too.
yn opens the door and goes straight towards his art teacher “nice mr. ln once again late to the class”, “sorry mr. kim something happened on my way here. may i go to the bathroom i don't wanna be here all sweaty and sticky”, “sure but don't take too long, also you have a mark for coming late”, yn turns on his heels leaving the room, mr. kim's eyes never leave yn's clothed ass. the door creaks open again, “guess today is coming-late-to-the-class-day huh?”, “sorry mr. kim won't happen again”, “yeah right mr. huang, go take a seat, you have a mark for coming late too”.
the art class when like any other class, yn forgot about the problem he caused with his tacks earlier this day so he just walked towards his home as if nothing happened.
the next day yn walked towards college again when someone approached him, it was the same guy of yesterday, he cursed mentally at himself remembering how he didn't call him. “you bastard you didn't called me yesterday”, he was wearing a sleeveless shirt, his sweaty forehead and arms –covered in bulging veins– the sight making yn drift off and not listen to whatever the guy said, “hey are you listening to me?” he said, annoyed, “aishh what the fuck is wrong with you, first you damage my bike and now you want to get away without doing something to fix it” he sighs, “i'm going late again today and he'sgonna put another mark to me, it's your fault.. with my bike i would've come in time for classes”. the guilt catching up to yn, the feeling gnawing at him, “let's go to your class, i'll talk to your teacher and take responsibility for it, don't worry”. the guy looked towards the sky with eyes closed muttering a quiet thanks, “let's go” yn led the path towards the entrance with the guy following him, a creepy smirk never leaving his face unless yn looked towards him.
“it's here” the guy signaled, “wait, it's the same class as me, do you study with me?” one of yn's eyebrows raised while he stared dumbfounded at the guy, “took you long enough ynnie” disappointment laced on his voice. yn couldn't believe how he didn't realized that the guy was also on his class, “oh!” is the only thing coming out of his mouth, the guilt being unbearable now, how can he be so absorbed into his own world that he couldn't even recognize his own classmate, “man i suck”.
the next couple of days yn tried to make it up to hendery, how he liked to be called by his friends, at first he was renuent but little by little he started to let go his non-existent grudge towards the other guy. huang was happy, how everything was going according to his plan, if yn hadn't let that box of tacks fall from his backpack maybe all this wouldn't happened, he was lucky was all he could thought that day before going at the maximum speed he could over the tacks, knowing they would damage his wheel, “great sacrifices comes with great rewards” he murmurs.
“hi hendery, i just talked with mr. matthew about those days you came late to the classes so he can erase those marks, after all it wasn't your fault at all” hendery nodded, “hmm i see, so what did he say?”. “he told me to go talk to him after classes”, “i see” hendery scratched his chin with his thumb and pointer fingers, an idea popping into his mind sensing why mr. matthew would want to talk with him alone. “i'll accompany you then”...
the duo was alone in a classroom, everyone else around already leaving the building except three people, hendery knew he has to act quick so he started to put his head on yn's shoulder –something that catches him off guard– then with his finger he starts to draw little patterns on yn's arms, then going up until it reaches his chest, “you see. after all, it wasn't that bad with that stupid accident. we became closer to each other so i guess i can confess you something now” his face getting dangerously near yn's sensitive neck, his hot breath made him tickle, “there's this boy i can not stop thinking about. he's so pretty, so intelligent, so cute, i wanna eat him” he starts to leave little kisses on the other's neck, “any guess who's that guy who's been running around my mind 24/7, driving me so crazy?” the kisses became licks, “mme-me…??” yn asks nervously. then the licks turned into a bite, “bingo!”
hendery’s left hand slids under yn's shirt and assaults one of yn’s nipples while the other is ruffling his hair, “i'm loving those cute sounds you make” hendery adds, still kissing yn's neck –already littered with little hickeys– “stop, or they're gonna see us” yn says worried that someone would walk past the classroom and see them committing profanities on university ground, “no one’s here. everyone left already” he reassures, “also how can we stop when i'm like this for you yn look” he pulls out his dick, springing free from his underwear with a thick strand of precum connecting the tip with the underwear, “look how wet i am for you, take responsibility ynnie” hendery guided one of yn’s hands to grab and stroke his aching cock, “that's it, keep doing that pretty”.
“now, don't be shy, give it a kiss” hendery guides yn's head towards his dick. they were sitting on the teacher's desk so hendery made yn go under it, “see now they only would see me and won't think something weird is happening, happy now?”, yn nodded, mouth full of dick, it poking inside one of his cheeks and then pulling it out with a pop sound, as if it was a lollipop yn continued sucking it until the ring of a phone took them out of their moment of pleasure.
“hello?” hendery answered, “mr. huang? why are you answering mr. ln's phone?” on the other side was teacher kim, “why do you need him” hendery struggled to form the sentence due to how good yn was giving him head, ‘fuck’ he mouthed and gave an approving sign to yn to keep doing that. “i was going to talk about your late marks, he wanted me to erase them”, “yeah” hendery furrowed his eyebrows and his lips pouted, nodding and caressing yn's flushed cheek. “so where is he?” mr. kim asked on the phone, “he's b-busy now” hendery answered. “i can imagine it” the older said and hendery could almost see the smirk on the other side of the line, “r-really?” hendery asked, curious. “yeah” the older said, his voice becoming low and seductive, hendery was turned on, his dick growing bigger inside yn's mouth, “so what do you wanna do about it?” hendery wanted to rail mr. kim more, “what i was going to do anyway with him but now with you included i guess”, he hung up, “who was that?” yn asked to which hendery answered calmly with a “we have company”.
mr. kim was sitting on the desk, letting loose his tie that rested above his big chest, his shirt was open letting the pair of students touch his abs, they discarded his slacks that were now on the floor while the duo sucked in his dick and heavy balls. the pair of tongues tracing each vein, they even tried to kiss with mr. kim's dick in between their mouths, their tongues touching with each other's while leaving the dick all slobbery.
hendery fucked yn's mouth while mr. kim railed his ass, his powerful thrust making him gag onto the younger's cock, “mr. yn you don't have any idea how much i wanted your ass, is even more perfect with no clothes on” he spanked it, yn moans vibrating onto hendery's cock, “shit” he mutters, "your nasty mr. kim who would've thought”, the man smirked, i'll shape this ass to be a good cocksleeve, it won't forget the shape of my cock” he blurted out, “won't forget mine too” hendery adds looking defiantly towards his teacher, the older does the same looking at hendery above the frame of his glasses, “sure”.
“stop arguing and just fuck me okay?” yn pressured them both to do him, an idea appearing on mr. kim's mind. he leaned on the desk with yn straddling him, bouncing up and down his fat cock, the bottom putting his hands on mr. kim's big tits, his big muscular arms pressing them against each other, making them look firm and suckable, veins and sweat beads decorated his pecs, fuck!! what a sight. hendery spat one last time on his cock then aligned it against yn's already stuffed hole and introduced it gently at first, yn managed to take it all without any struggle, it seems that mr. kim did a good job stretching him out, after all he's hung and thick so it was no surprise. both cocks pummeled into him in unison, a back and forth that didn't leave yn unstuffed. his insides engulfing all the inches, his hole can't get enough of it, he feels like he's made for this, a cockslut if you want.
the constant sensation of both cocks sliding against each other plus yn's tightness made them cum at the spot, loads and loads of sperm being spurted inside.
hendery pulls out and grabs his backpack, “what are you doing?” mr. kim asks, “looking for wipes to clean us all” the younger answered. “don't, come here” mr. kim sucked hendery clean, “you know how to work that mouth mr. kim huh?” the man smirked, proud of his skills, he then pulled out of yn and did the same to him, milking his dick dry, swallowing every single drop, at the same time hendery was returning the favor, sucking clean mr. kim's cock.
after getting clean and dressed mr. kim assured them that he would erase both marks for both students and that he didn't wanted this to come late ever again to his art classes. “don't worry mr. kim we won't” hendery ensures but then yn speaks, “if we have to do this to erase those late marks i might be coming late more often” he winks at his teacher waiting for a response, the man laughs, “if you want my cock just ask for it, will always be there for cockwhores like you” he closes the door and leaves. “do your cock will always be there ready for me too hendery?” he flutters his eyelashes to his classmate who embarrassed looked the other way, “yeah sure”, “then let's go, i want more” yn said grabbing hendery by his bulge, that grew and became hot in yn’s hand.
genre: smut | hard thoughts | hard hours | imagine | scenarios. +18.
warnings/tags: while I haven’t posted the main fics yet, here’s a little treat…
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— Creampie
Matthew is the type of guy who loves to cum inside you. For him, the feeling of every drop being poured into your beautiful little pussy is divine. The possessiveness of knowing that you’re so his that you need to be filled with his cum drives him crazy, eager to coat you entirely and then watch the way your pussy pulses and expels all the gift he gave you, so sensitive and grateful that he needs to shove his fingers inside to push all the milk back to its place.
— Cock-warming
When he’s working on his new songs and setlists in his home studio, he needs — and loves — for you to help in the best way: sitting on his strong lap, his thick cock buried inside your pussy, so warm and comfortable it seems to fuel his creativity for the obscene lyrics. Kisses and caresses are always welcome, on both sides.
— Hand jobs
Touching you everywhere possible is one of the artist’s addictions. He always makes sure to run his big, strong hands over your skin, caressing, squeezing, and tugging at your full flesh. It’s no different in intimate moments, where Matt can use and abuse your body freely, rubbing his digits all over your pussy and enjoying every inch to spank and leave the marks of his palms for hours… maybe even days.
— Recording
BM finds it very useful to use his phone camera to record your sex, sometimes focusing only on the huge cock going in and out of your wet pussy, and other times capturing the expressions on your tearful little face, forced to reveal yourself after repeated, hard slaps on your thighs. Matthew would never do anything to harm you — the trust between you is the foundation of your relationship — so you never feared it. After all, he only films you with your permission.
— Teasing
Teasing is a mutual habit between you, but Matt enjoys it even more when he can taunt you in public or when nothing can be done. The pouty, pleading look on your face is one of the wonders of the world for him, and he loves pushing you to the edge until you beg him to fuck you. When that happens, the older one can’t help but enjoy your desperation, always smiling and commenting on how delicious you are when begging for his cock.
— Multiple orgasm
"Let her cum thrice before I bust, that’s a gentleman." — Motion, BM.
He doesn’t lie in his songs when he drops bold lines like these. Luckily for you, he always makes sure you cum three times or more during sex, whether with his cock pressing into your vagina or with his soft tongue and wide, skilled fingers stroking and licking your clit. For him, it’s vital that you melt entirely in his mouth; the taste of your honey is the fuel that makes him burn your bodies together.
— Oral
Do I need to mention how addicted this guy is to your pussy? Sucking, licking, and devouring your intimacy drives him harder than anything else (except for fucking you doggy style), and he wastes no time when it comes to this. Or rather, he loses track of time between your thighs, so focused and immersed in the pleasure of feeling you twitch on his thick tongue that he barely notices when you’re overwhelmed from cumming too much.
— Orgasm denial
At some point in his long 32 years of life, he discovered that denying orgasm a few times intensifies your pleasure. Thrilled by this, he enjoys teasing you before finally satisfying you, pulling his lips away from yours just as he notices the climax approaching. “My good girl wants to cum?” he teases with a sly, drunken smile, letting a few seconds pass before plunging his face back into your core, sucking with such devotion that the room fills with the sounds of suction and moans, finally giving you what you’ve been craving.
— Fingering
Did I mention how much he loves feeling your vaginal walls tighten around him? Be it cock or fingers, he never misses a chance to finger you, using his ring and middle fingers to caress the interior, massaging slowly and pressing the tips on that spot that drives you wild. He learned a long time ago that just fucking isn’t enough for you; he needs to stimulate every little detail that makes your eyes roll back.
— Unprotected sex
Though not recommended (even by him), sometimes all this man needs is to feel your skin on his, with no barrier — just two intimacies colliding as the heavens intended. The sensation of entering your core with his glans and the soft length of his cock is intoxicating, and he needs it to be happy. You won’t deny him, will you?
— Aftercare
And at the end of it all, Magic Matt becomes Woojin, a big 1.86-meter man who clings to your body, kissing you all over, caressing the spanked and touched areas, whispering how much he loves you in your ear. “You’re so perfect, my little girl…” “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Need anything?” The care and concern in his voice exude a masculinity so strong and comforting that only he can have. In the end, you almost smother him by sitting on his face because, damn, what a responsible and careful bastard!!!
As the industry's most high-demand secret, Big Matthew maintains his status as K-pop’s "community top" by effortlessly handling the desires of every idol who seeks a piece of his legendary dominance.
While relaxing at a crowded industry party, BM keeps his focus locked entirely on Wonho, whose private after-hours invitation on the balcony transforms into an intense, shared triad encounter on the living room sectional after Shownu unexpectedly arrives.
The bass was a living thing.
It pressed through the soles of BM’s sneakers from the polished concrete floor, vibrated up the stem of his glass where condensation beaded and slid over his knuckles. Wonho’s penthouse had that specific kind of luxury that didn’t advertise itself—no gold fixtures, no velvet drapes. Just clean lines, floor-to-ceiling windows that swallowed the Seoul skyline, and a sound system expensive enough to make a producer weep.
BM leaned against the kitchen island, one elbow propped on the quartz, and watched.
Not the party. The party was fine. Familiar faces from the industry circulated through the open-plan living space—backup dancers he’d shared stages with, a producer who’d mixed three tracks on his last EP, a girl group maknae he recognized from music shows nursing something pink and fizzy by the balcony doors. The future-bass track thumping through the room had a drop that made people throw their hands up in unison, a collective surrender to the beat.
Wonho invited him a few days ago to this party, his way to celebrate for winning Best Male Artist in an international awards show.
BM didn’t care about any of it.
His focus had narrowed to a single point of gravity, and that point was currently moving through the crowd like liquid, all bare shoulder and sheer cream fabric and a smile that could charm a firing squad.
Wonho.
The shirt was the problem. Or maybe the solution, depending on how you looked at it. Loose-knit, the kind of thing that draped and clung in alternating currents every time Wonho moved—lifting a soju bottle to top off someone’s glass, tilting his head back to laugh at something a dancer said, reaching across the counter to grab a lime wedge. The fabric slipped off one shoulder, a broad, muscular shelf of trapezius and deltoid, and BM’s grip on his glass tightened until his knuckles blanched.
One button. His own black polo was held together by a single button at the collar. He’d undone the rest an hour ago, the penthouse heat and body count turning the air syrupy. His shorts sat low on his hips, and he’d caught Wonho’s gaze snagging on the exposed V-line above his waistband twice now.
Twice.
The first time, Wonho’s eyes had flicked away fast, a host’s reflex. Smooth. Professional. The second time, though—that one had lingered. Two seconds. Maybe three. Long enough for BM to feel the back of his neck prickle, for the ghost-memory of a different room, a different city, to rise unbidden.
Busan.
Few months ago. A hotel suite after a music festival, the adrenaline still singing in their veins, and Wonho had looked at him exactly like that—a question dressed up as a glance. BM had answered it. Hard. Twice.
Now he watched Wonho glide past the couch, a hand brushing a producer’s arm in easy camaraderie, and the shirt slipped again. Lower this time. The knob of his shoulder joint, the ridge of his collarbone. The faint sheen of sweat that made his skin look lacquered under the ambient mood lighting, purples bleeding into deep blues.
BM lifted his glass to his mouth. Didn’t drink. Just held it there, the rim cold against his bottom lip, and let himself look.
The hallway to the guest bathroom was narrow. Deliberately so, some architect’s idea of intimacy, maybe, or just a space-saving compromise in a penthouse that prioritized the open-plan everything. Whatever the reason, it meant that when BM pushed off the kitchen island and made his way toward the back of the apartment, the collision was inevitable.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Wonho was coming the other direction, fresh from refilling an ice bucket, and the hallway compressed them together for one humming second. The sheer knit of his shirt rasped against the cotton of BM’s polo. Heat bled through both layers immediately, a bloom of warmth that had no business being so specific, so localized, so—
“Sorry,” Wonho murmured. The smile he wore was the host smile. Polite. Easy.
His eyes said something else entirely.
“Don’t be.” BM’s voice came out lower than he’d intended, gravel in the bass register, and he didn’t move. Didn’t step aside. Let the hallway contain them for one breath longer, two, until Wonho’s host-smile flickered at the corner and something rawer pushed through.
Then Wonho was past him, and the bass drop in the living room swallowed whatever sound BM might have made in response.
He stood in the hallway for a beat too long, the back of his neck burning.
The party rolled on.
By one-thirty, the crowd had thinned. The producer left, citing an early studio session. The girl group maknae peeled off with two dancers, their laughter echoing up the stairwell. The future-bass gave way to something slower, deeper, a track with a sub-bass line that felt like a finger drawn down your spine.
BM had moved to the sectional. Sat with his legs spread, one arm draped along the backrest, the picture of casual. Wonho was across the room, seeing off a cluster of backup dancers, his host persona still running at full wattage. Hugs, back-slaps, promises to text, to grab lunch, to collaborate soon.
The front door closed behind them.
The silence that followed was a physical weight.
BM heard the click of the lock, the sudden absence of music—someone had killed the speakers—and then nothing but the distant hum of the refrigerator and the whisper of the air conditioning cycling on.
Wonho turned.
The host persona was gone. Stripped away between one breath and the next, leaving something quieter. Something that looked at BM across the expanse of the living room with eyes that held five months of waiting.
“Balcony,” Wonho said. Not a question.
BM pushed himself off the sectional.
The Seoul night sprawled beneath them, a latticework of light and shadow stretching to the Han River’s dark ribbon. The balcony was wide enough for a small seating area—two chairs, a low table, a potted plant that looked expensive and barely alive—and the railing was cold when BM rested his forearms on it.
The city hummed. Distant traffic, distant lives. Up here, the air tasted thin and clean, cutting through the alcohol-warmth that had settled in BM’s chest.
The sliding door opened.
Closed.
Wonho’s footsteps were nearly silent, but BM felt each one in the subtle vibration of the balcony decking. Felt him stop a meter away, a careful distance. A distance that felt absurd after Busan, after the hallway, after every glance that had passed between them tonight like a secret handshake.
“You’re still wearing that shirt,” BM said without turning.
“You noticed.”
“Hard not to.”
The railing creaked under a shift of weight. Wonho had leaned beside him, close enough that BM could smell him—something clean and slightly citrus, undercut by the warm, salt undertone of a body that had been moving all night. The sheer knit shirt billowed in the breeze, and his shoulder was still bare, and BM’s resolve—what little remained of it—snapped like a guitar string.
His hand found Wonho’s hip.
Not gently. Not tentatively. His palm connected with the jut of bone beneath fabric, his hands clamping tight around his hips with a grip that said stay. The heat that radiated through the knit was staggering. Wonho’s breath caught, a small hitch that he tried to swallow and failed.
BM pulled.
Wonho came, the railing forgotten, his body colliding with BM’s side in a press of muscle and shared warmth. Up close, the sheer shirt was translucent enough to see the shadow of his chest, the discs of his nipples, the way his abdomen tensed as BM’s thumb stroked a slow arc over his hipbone.
“Matthew.” Wonho’s voice had dropped an octave.
“Yeah.”
BM bent his head. The gap between them narrowed to centimeters, to a breath, to the almost-there brush of lips—
The door keypad chimed.
Digital. Sharp. A sound like a needle scraping across vinyl.
They froze.
The heavy front door swung inward, and Shownu stepped into the entryway.
He looked like he’d walked out of a photoshoot that had been designed to ruin lives. Leather jacket slung over one shoulder, hanging from a crooked finger. Black tank top stretched across a chest that seemed to defy physics—too broad, too thick, too much. Hair disheveled, a few strands plastered to his forehead with residual sweat from a schedule that had clearly run long. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, and his eyes were heavy-lidded with exhaustion, and he moved with the quiet, rolling gait of a man who could break you in half but had decided, for the moment, not to.
He stopped.
The leather jacket slid from his finger.
It hit the floor with a soft thump that sounded like a gunshot in the ringing silence.
BM didn’t let go of Wonho’s hip.
Shownu’s gaze moved from BM’s face to the hand on Wonho’s hip, then to Wonho’s face—flushed, lips parted, chest rising and falling in shallow sips of air. The silence stretched. Coiled. A rubber band pulled to its limit.
Most people would have apologized. Backed out. Made an excuse, a joke, a retreat.
Shownu was not most people.
He kicked off his shoes. Two economical movements. His eyes, when they lifted again, had gone from exhausted to something else entirely. Something that made the air on the balcony feel like it had dropped ten degrees.
“Hyung,” Wonho breathed. Just that. Just the honorific, but it came out unsteady, a question wrapped in a title.
Shownu crossed the living room in four strides.
He was bigger up close. That was the first thing BM registered—the sheer mass of him, the way he blotted out the city lights behind him. His presence wasn’t aggressive. It was worse than that. It was certain.
“I have the door code,” Shownu said. Quiet. Level. His voice had a texture like stones rubbing together underwater. “Hoseokie gave it to me years ago. I was just at a late night shoot. Decided to check out the party, actually was planning to crash on the couch.”
He stopped behind Wonho.
His hands came up. Settled on Wonho’s waist—not the hip, the waist, higher, his thumbs bracketing the small of his back—and the contrast in size was obscene. Wonho had been a presence all night, broad and commanding and magnetic. Now, caught between BM at his front and Shownu at his back, he looked small.
He looked breakable.
Shownu’s mouth found the curve of Wonho’s neck, just below the ear.
Wonho’s whole body jerked. A gasp tore out of him, high and thin and nothing like any sound BM had heard him make before. His head fell back against Shownu’s shoulder, baring his throat, and Shownu’s lips moved over the tendon there in a slow, open-mouthed kiss that was more claim than affection.
BM’s grip on Wonho’s hip tightened. His thumb pressed into the hollow where hip met thigh, and Wonho shuddered, caught between two points of pressure, two points of heat.
“Look at you,” BM murmured. The English rolled out, low and textured, his voice barely above a rumble. “Caught.”
Shownu’s eyes met his over the curve of Wonho’s shoulder. Dark. Assessing. A conversation passed between them without a single word—an acknowledgment, a negotiation, a shared decision that settled into BM’s bones like a second heartbeat.
Shownu’s hands tightened on Wonho’s waist.
“Couch,” Shownu said. The word was for both of them.
They moved as a unit—Wonho stumbling, his legs apparently forgetting how to function, bracketed by the two of them. The leather sectional was deep and oversized, big enough to swallow a body, and when they reached it, Shownu’s hands left Wonho’s waist only to find the hem of the sheer knit shirt.
He pulled.
The fabric gave with a soft ripping sound—not violent, just decisive, a seam somewhere giving up—and then Wonho was bare from the waist up, his chest heaving, his skin flushed pink from collarbone to navel.
BM went for the waistband. Wonho’s pants were expensive, some designer thing with complicated fastenings, and BM didn’t bother figuring them out. He just worked his thumbs under the fabric and pushed, and Wonho’s hips lifted to help, and then those were gone too, kicked aside along with his underwear, and Wonho lay naked on the dark leather, his body a landscape of dense muscle and taut skin and visible tremor.
“Fuck,” Wonho whispered. The curse came out breathless and reverent.
Shownu leaned over him from the front.
His hands found Wonho’s jaw, cradling it with a gentleness that felt almost incongruous given the sheer size of them. Calloused palms, thick fingers, and they framed Wonho’s face like a portrait. His thumbs stroked along the sharp line of Wonho’s cheekbones, and Wonho’s mouth fell open, a sound escaping that was half-whimper, half-plea.
Shownu kissed him.
Not gentle. Not tentative. His mouth covered Wonho’s and swallowed the moan that followed, and Wonho’s hands flew up to grip Shownu’s shoulders, his short nails digging into the black cotton of the tank top.
BM watched for a moment—the way Wonho’s body arched, the way Shownu’s back muscles shifted under his shirt—and then moved around to the other side of the sectional. Positioned himself behind Wonho’s head, which was thrown back over the armrest, throat working as Shownu kissed down his jaw, his neck, the hollow of his collarbone.
Shownu’s mouth found Wonho’s chest.
The sound Wonho made was pornographic. A high, broken cry that echoed off the penthouse walls as Shownu’s lips closed over one nipple, his tongue working in slow, wet circles. His other hand found the neglected side, rolling the nub between thumb and forefinger with a precision that spoke of practice.
“Sensitive,” BM observed. His voice was a rumble, appreciation and dark amusement threaded together. He reached down, let his fingers trace the shell of Wonho’s ear, the line of his jaw. “He’s always been sensitive here.”
Shownu hummed against Wonho’s chest. The vibration made Wonho buck, his hips lifting off the leather, his cock slapping against his stomach—hard already, flushed dark at the tip, a bead of moisture pearling at the slit.
Shownu’s mouth continued its path downward. Over the ridges of Wonho’s abdomen, tracing each valley and peak with his tongue. Wonho’s stomach muscles jumped under the attention, fluttering like a startled animal, and his hands had moved to Shownu’s head, fingers threading through disheveled dark hair and gripping.
BM shifted position. Slid down the sectional until he was behind Wonho properly, the other man’s body cradled between his spread thighs. His hands found Wonho’s shoulders, worked the knots of tension there with slow, knowing pressure.
“Breathe,” BM murmured against the shell of Wonho’s ear. “You’re going to need it.”
Shownu’s hands hooked under Wonho’s knees. Spread them. Settled between them with the heavy, inevitable gravity of a tide coming in. His tank top was still on, the black fabric straining across his shoulders, and Wonho’s fingers fisted in it, pulled.
“Off,” Wonho managed. The word was wrecked. “Please—off—”
Shownu sat back on his heels. Peeled the tank top over his head in one fluid motion. The body beneath was a monument—heavy pectorals, a waist that tapered dramatically, abdominals carved so deeply they looked like channels. His sweatpants were next, shoved down and kicked aside with a practicality that was almost dismissive.
His cock was thick. Proportionate to the rest of him—which was to say, overwhelming.
Wonho stared. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, a gesture that was entirely unconscious, and Shownu’s dark eyes tracked the movement with predatory focus.
Then Shownu was leaning over him again, his weight settling onto Wonho’s body in a controlled descent, and his hips aligned, and his hand moved between them, and—
Wonho’s scream was muffled by Shownu’s mouth.
BM held him through it. Hands on his shoulders, anchoring him as Shownu’s hips drove forward in a single, unbroken stroke, the thickness of him parting Wonho with a slick, wet sound that was barely audible over the broken keen tearing from Wonho’s throat.
Lube. Someone had found lube. BM didn’t remember seeing it happen, but Shownu’s fingers were glistening when they’d first pressed inside, working Wonho open with two, then three digits that scissored with surgical patience. Wonho had sobbed into Shownu’s shoulder then, his hips rolling down onto the intrusion, begging in a stream of Korean that BM only half-understood.
Now Shownu was fully seated, his hips flush against the backs of Wonho’s thighs, and Wonho’s eyes were glassy, his mouth slack, his chest heaving with the effort of accommodating.
“Look at me,” Shownu commanded.
Wonho’s gaze dragged upward. Obeyed.
Shownu moved.
The rhythm was slow at first—deep, grinding thrusts that rolled Wonho’s body against the leather, that pushed the air out of his lungs in rhythmic gusts. Wonho’s hands scrambled for purchase on Shownu’s back, his arms, the couch cushions, anything. Found nothing stable. Ended up gripping BM’s thighs, his nails leaving crescent marks.
BM’s cock was a hard line against Wonho’s lower back. He hadn’t undressed yet, still wearing his shorts and that ridiculous single-button polo, and the friction of fabric against his own arousal was a steady, pulsing ache that he ignored. His focus was on Wonho—on the way his lashes fluttered, the way his hips tried to meet Shownu’s thrusts and couldn’t quite coordinate, the way his mouth kept forming words that never made it past his lips.
Shownu’s pace increased. His hips snapped forward with more authority now, the wet sounds of their joining growing louder, and Wonho’s head thrashed against BM’s stomach.
“Please—I can’t—it’s too—”
“You can.” Shownu’s voice was steady. Unmoved. His hand slid up Wonho’s chest, over his sternum, curled around the front of his throat with just enough pressure to feel the flutter of his pulse. “You will.”
The orgasm caught Wonho by surprise. BM saw it happen—the sudden arch of his spine, the way his mouth opened on a silent scream, the violent clench of his abdominal muscles as his release painted stripes across his own chest. Shownu didn’t stop. Drove him through it with relentless, measured strokes until Wonho was twitching, oversensitive, his whimpers taking on a desperate edge.
Shownu pulled out.
Wonho sagged, boneless, into BM’s lap.
“Switch,” Shownu said. The word was directed at BM.
BM didn’t need to be told twice.
He eased out from behind Wonho, the other man’s body slumping onto the cushions with a soft, involuntary moan. Stood. Stripped with an efficiency that was almost mechanical—the single button of his polo popping open, the shorts hitting the floor, his boxer briefs following. His cock sprang free, flushed and aching, the tip slick with pre-cum that had been building since the balcony.
Wonho’s eyes tracked him. Glassy, but present.
“Hey,” BM said, climbing onto the sectional, positioning himself. “Still with us?”
Wonho’s answer was a sound—something between a laugh and a sob—and his legs spread in invitation.
BM took it.
The position was different this time. Wonho on top, straddling BM’s hips, his body still loose and slick from Shownu’s attention. BM guided himself to Wonho’s entrance, and Wonho sank down with a broken cry, taking him to the hilt in one slow, inexorable motion.
The heat was staggering. Wet and tight and fluttering around him, the residual contractions of Wonho’s first orgasm still rippling through his walls.
BM’s head fell back. His hands found Wonho’s hips, the bones sharp under his palms, and he let Wonho set the pace—a rolling, grinding rhythm that was slower than Shownu’s but no less devastating. Wonho’s thighs bunched and released with each movement, the dense muscle flexing visibly under his skin.
Shownu watched.
That was the thing. He didn’t move, didn’t touch himself, just stood at the edge of the sectional with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes tracking every roll of Wonho’s hips, every flutter of BM’s eyelids. His own cock was still hard, still slick, jutting from his body in a curve that was almost aggressive.
And then he moved.
Behind Wonho. His hands found the globes of Wonho’s ass, spreading them, and BM felt the pause—the moment of stillness—before Shownu pressed the head of his cock against the tight rim that was already stretched around BM’s girth.
Wonho stopped moving. His eyes flew open. Met BM’s.
“Hyungwoo hyu—” he started.
“Breathe,” Shownu said, the same word BM had used earlier, and then he pushed.
The sound Wonho made was not human.
A scream, a sob, a prayer—something that tore itself from the deepest part of his chest and hung in the air like smoke. His body seized, caught between two thick cocks, two points of impossible fullness, and BM felt every inch of Shownu’s intrusion through the thin membrane separating them.
Pressure. Heat. A stretch that bordered on pain and became something else entirely.
“Oh god oh god oh god—” Wonho’s chant was barely audible, his voice shredded, his forehead pressed to BM’s shoulder.
Shownu bottomed out. Held.
The three of them stayed like that for a heartbeat. Two. Three. A tableau of sweat and muscle and shared breath, Wonho’s body impossibly full, impossibly surrendered.
Then BM moved.
A shallow thrust, barely a roll of his hips, and Wonho’s cry was muffled against BM’s neck. Shownu echoed the movement behind him, pulling out a fraction and sliding back in, and Wonho’s whole body convulsed.
They found a rhythm. Not synchronized—that was impossible—but alternating. BM’s retreat was Shownu’s advance, and Wonho was caught in the center of it, a vessel for their combined pleasure, his voice rising and falling with each stroke.
The sounds were obscene. Wet flesh, ragged breathing, the creak of leather under shifting weight. BM’s grunts were low, guttural, punctuated by English curses that spilled out without his permission. Shownu was nearly silent, just the heavy exhalation of his breaths and the occasional deep groan that rumbled through Wonho’s body and into BM’s.
Wonho was not silent. Wonho was a symphony of whimpers and pleas and broken versions of their names, his sweat-slick body writhing between them, his second orgasm building visibly in the tension of his shoulders, the desperate clutch of his inner walls.
“Close,” BM gritted out. “I’m—”
“Together,” Shownu said. The word was a command.
His rhythm fractured. Became erratic. His hips snapped with a force that pushed Wonho down harder onto BM’s cock, and BM felt the answering surge in his own belly, the tightening that started in his groin and radiated outward like ripples in a pond.
Wonho came first. A second time, dry now, his body clenching with such violence that BM saw stars. The contraction pulled Shownu over the edge—a deep, grinding thrust that stilled, buried to the root, his release pulsing hot and wet into the already overstuffed channel.
BM followed. Couldn’t help it. The dual sensation of Wonho’s spasming body and Shownu’s pulsing finish sent him careening into his own orgasm, a white-out of pleasure that erased thought, erased time, erased everything except the hot pulse of his seed joining the mess already inside.
They collapsed.
A tangle of limbs on the leather, chests heaving, skin slicked with cooling sweat and viscous release. Wonho was sandwiched between them, completely boneless, his eyes closed and his lips parted and his breath coming in shallow, shuddering sips.
The room was quiet. The kind of quiet that follows a storm, heavy and humming and thick with the aftermath.
Shownu’s forehead rested against Wonho’s damp shoulder. His arm was draped across Wonho’s waist, a possessive curve of muscle and bone, and his thumb traced idle circles on Wonho’s hip that seemed entirely unconscious.
BM leaned back against the opposite armrest, one leg tucked under him, the other sprawled. His hand moved without thought, tracing the deep valleys of Wonho’s abdominal muscles—the ridges of the rectus, the sharp descent toward the navel. His fingers came away sticky.
No one spoke.
The first pale light of dawn crept through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the penthouse in shades of charcoal and rose. It caught on the empty glasses scattered across the coffee table, the discarded heap of shredded knit fabric on the floor, the gleam of Wonho’s skin where sweat still clung.
Shownu stirred. Lifted his head just enough to look at BM over the curve of Wonho’s shoulder. His eyes were still dark, still assessing, but something softer moved beneath the surface now.
BM met his gaze. Held it.
Something unspoken passed between them—a recognition, a promise, a question that neither was ready to voice.
Wonho shifted between them, a small sound escaping his throat, and both of them looked down. His lashes fluttered. His lips curved in the ghost of a smile, hazy and unguarded.
- Matthew has insomnia so he’s often up til early morning playing COD or doomscrolling through posts that tagged him…you’ll be asleep in the bed behind his gaming chair and he keeps turning his head to check on you
- smiles when he sees you cuddled up in his bed
- when he gets sleepy, makes sure to crawl into bed softly and curl up behind you to not wake you up
- ends up scooping you up in his arms, your chest to his back and legs thrown around yours
- matthew likes to spoil his baby girl. he has plenty of money…dinner is always on him. random gifts placed on your desk. those new earrings you wanted? they’re yours the next day
- so insanely protective of you. tries to find solutions to any problem you’re having. if you’re having a bad day, he is too. and he doesn’t like when both of you are upset, so he’s hunting down the source to your problems.
- enjoys spending time inside with you more than partying. but if he is invited to a party, he’s bringing you along to show you off
- “look how pretty my angel looks”
- keeps an arm around your waist all the time, especially if he notices lingering looks on your form
- is in love with all parts of your body. when you two cuddle, he’ll just trace your figure with his hands and kiss every part of you. if you’re feeling insecure about a specific part of your body, he’ll make sure to take extra time showing love to that one insecurity.
- his goal is to make you laugh all the time. he adores how you look when you’re smiling and your eyes are crescents. your face glows with happiness and BM made it his goal to always be the one to bring you happiness.
- doesn’t cook much, but learns how to make your favorite meals so he can see your eyes light up even more
- never lets you go hungry. you haven’t eaten yet? he’s pestering you until you eat…or he’s buying out stores with all your favorites.
- he’s convinced he’s a bad singer but you always tell him that he has such a soothing and beautiful voice. he really appreciates your praise and kisses you with so much love.
- likes kissing you until your lips are numb. his favorite kisses are when you’re on his lap and your arms are around his shoulders. he enjoys pulling you as close as possible and kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in days.
NSFW
- matthew is surprisingly not that freaky…he really enjoys vanilla sex; mostly because he can make you feel good no matter what
- they don’t call him Big matthew for nothing. He’s packing plenty. in fact, it takes all his fingers to prepare you…he makes sure you’re dripping wet and needy before he enters
- is an ass man. 100% if you walk around him in tight pants or shorts, he’s gonna be on you in 10 seconds.
- hands grip any curve you have. stomach, hips, waist, breasts… Matthew loves your curves and will suck dark marks onto all your love handles.
- he enjoys being told what to do, but it doesn’t mean he’ll do it. he loves teasing you. dominant for sure but can still enjoy a little switch fight. if you wanna ride him, he has no problems with that. he might still thrust into you if you start slowing down….
- when he’s producing, he loves when you cockwarm him. he swears he works better if you sit on his lap with his cock nestled in your folds
- call him daddy and he’ll fold. yes, he is your daddy. he’s big, caring, and possessive, and he’ll take care of you in anyway. he’s your daddy.
- enjoys eating you out more than getting sucked off…there’s something about the sounds you make and the writhing that makes him feel so much pleasure
- his favorite position is doggy for sure. He likes threading his fingers through your scalp and tugging, making you clench around him. His other hand is gripping your hip while he fucks into you
- enjoys the size difference in between you and likes cupping your face in his large hands while he fucks you in missionary
- you like feeling small so he’ll always make sure he’s covering you…no matter the position, you’re captured in his hold
- has a dirty mouth…always groaning in your ear and calling you all kind of names. Good and bad ones
- “you’re my good girl, yeah?” “fuck, taking me like my good slut” “feel how deep daddy is in you? taking me so well, baby girl”
- loves spanking you. he’s an ass man, what can i say. watching your plush cheeks turn red and letting his hands grope and kneed at you… you sometimes have to cry out that it’s too much
- so possessive in bed. you’re not leaving the bed unless you’re covered in hickeys, dark bruises littering your neck and shoulders. he loves showing you off and he wants you to show him off as well
- breeding kink!!!! if you’re not on the pill or some kind of control, he’ll still beg to come inside of your pretty pussy. please let him fill you up, he needs to have a bit of himself in you… it helps soothe the possessive side of him. there’s nothing better than the feeling of your warm walls hugging him so tightly.
- aftercare is so important to him. once he makes sure you’ve cum at least twice, he’ll finish inside of you and make sure you’re satisfied. once you’re both coming down from your high, he’ll slowly pull out and walk to the bathroom to grab a damp towel. wipes you clean and then himself.
- makes sure to get you some water before he covers both of you up with the sheet and you cuddle; checks in with you on how it was and if anything needed to be changed
- make sure to thank your daddy for such a lovely round, and he’ll be ready to go for round two in a few minutes ;)
- when he has to go on tour, he makes sure to facetime you every night and wring at least one orgasm out of you. he knows his voice has an impact on you and he can’t help but tease you over the phone until you’re needy.
- isn’t rly one to send dick pics, but he’ll face time you and let you watch him stroke himself with your name on his lips
- “please come home soon, daddy” you’ll say
- he tells you, “daddy gon’ be back to to turn you inside out.”
smut - oral (both receiving and giving), unprotected sex (pls don't), big dick!matthew, daddy kink, breeding kink, ass play and anal, titty sucking, they fuck in a car - they're desperate and horny ok?
he outed himself as having a daddy kink in his own damn song, what was i supposed to do? ignore that? yeah right
(he's big i know it)
Pulled up to her house
Sex on the bed
Sex on the couch
Sex in the kitchen fucked her brains out
Every position, let our imaginations run wild
Fuck like a savage, but I keep it gentleman
Let her cum twice before let one out
This gon' be the best sleep she had in a while
Matthew was leaving for tour in the morning. Well.. night technically. 3am.
Which is why you're currently on your knees, by the front door, clothes still on and his simply pushed out of the way for easy access, while you have the tip of his thick, long cock pressing into your throat, spit covering your face and neck.
"Fuck, such a good girl," the praise has you rubbing your thighs together for some friction, and he chuckles at the sight. "Poor lil baby getting horny from having daddy's dick in her throat?"
You moan around his length.
"Up," he gives your hair a gentle tug, and you rise to your feet, hands reaching to hold his waist, seeking the warmth of his body. "Couch, clothes off."
You move quickly, hands fumbling to drag your jeans and t-shirt off. Positioning yourself on the couch, you arch your back to present your ass the way you know he likes, a pink gem gaining his attention.
"Stretched for daddy?"
"Yes daddy."
"Good girl." He rewards you with a slap to your ass, a squeal leaving your lips as he presses into your space from behind. "I'm gonna fuck your pussy first, ok?"
"Yes, daddy." He runs his tip through your folds, grunting at the slick that's gathered there.
"Baby, you know I love you, right?" His voice is so soft, so sincere, and you nod.
"Of course I do, Matty, I love you too." He presses a soft kiss to you lips.
"Good," he moves your hips to be lined up with his. "Because I'm about to fuck you like I don't."
He doesn't give you any warning, doesn't let you adjust, just drives his hips forwards, cock filling you up, stretching you out and then pulls back, hips thrusting in a brutal, punishing pace. Grunting, he presses you forwards, your chest colliding with the couch as he makes his hips move faster, rougher.
You're squealing and yelping and moaning and hands are reaching back for him, squeezing the cushions of the couch, drool pooling in your mouth and sliding out. There's sweat gathering on your skin, dripping from his forehead and nose, his hand tangled in your hair and the other holding your hip in a bruising grip.
"M'gonna cum, daddy, gonna cum-"
"Cum on my cock, baby, give it to me." His pace doesn't slow down as he removes his hand from your hair in favour of reaching around to rub harsh circles into your clit, grunting as your body tenses, walls fluttering as you cum with a silent scream around his cock.
He pulls out, crouching down to latch his lips to your clit, and suck, harshly, your body thrashing on the couch, hands flying to his hair, unsure if you're trying to push him away or pull him closer. He presses the butt plug further into your ass, groaning when the sensation brings you to your second orgasm, whimpers and sobs leaving your lips at the overstimulation - god, he loves to make you cry.
He pulls away, picking you up and carrying you to your bedroom, lying you down softly, hand soothing your hair.
"You with me, baby?"
"Mmhh, I'm with you," you're reaching out for him, hands gripping his muscle, pulling him closer. "You didn't cum, daddy."
"That's ok baby, you just rest for now." When you whine, he soothes his hand over your ribs. "We have time baby, don't worry."
He holds you to his chest for a while, body relaxing with yours, content to just hold you close, knowing it'll be a while before he get's to experience this again.
"Matt," he hums in response. "Fuck me again, please."
His cock jumps at your words, and you're pulling away, rolling over to your knees before he can process the loss of warmth.
"Fuck my ass, please." He drags a hand down his face, grunting that you'll be the death of him, body moving behind yours automatically, hand finding the plug in your ass, giving it a little tug. "Please, I'm so ready for you."
His hand rubs your ass as he pulls the plug out, the tip of his cock quickly replacing it, both of you grunting as he pushes in.
"Fuck, baby-" he knows he should let you adjust, but when you rock back on to him, he really can't help himself, and gives you slow, sharp thrusts of his hips.
It doesn't take long for his hips to be moving wildly, chasing the high he's been neglecting since you got home, hand rubbing at your clit wildly, determined to make you cum with him.
"In me, cum inside, daddy, please-" you can tell he's close, can feel the way his cock is twitching, and your begging only brings him closer.
Refusing to cum anywhere other than your pussy, especially when he's leaving for a while, he pulls his cock out, thrusting into your pussy, just in time for his warm cum to splatter against your walls, his body folding over yours.
The feeling of him folding over you, has your body following his over the edge, your pussy contracting around him as he groans.
"I've gotta go, baby," Matthew's trying to leave, hair still wet from the shower he's just left. "The car's here."
"I'm coming with you."
"Baby-"
"No arguments." You're out the door before he can try to stop you, so he sighs and follows behind you, already knowing that he's going to have to tip the driver extra.
You're still bouncing in his lap when the car comes to a stop, but it doesn't make a difference. Your hips move frantically, lips pressed to his desperately, tears on your cheeks.
"I love you, I love you-" you're both crying as you cum, his arms holding you close to his body.
"Daddy gon' be back to turn you inside out" he promises as he leaves, a lingering kiss on your lips and a fresh load of cum dripping onto the seat below you.
Summary: You decide you've had enough when your boyfriend invites his friend over on a day that the two of you planned to spend together.
Warnings: Lowkey toxic relationship, smut (dom!Matthew x sub!reader, spanking, brat reader, daddy kink, implied round 2). If you think that I missed a warning, please let me know!
Networks: @cosyhomenet, @winerys-collection
A/N: If you would like to be added to my Kinktober taglist, you can send an ask, send a dm, or comment on any of my Kinktober-related posts with the username that you'd like tagged. Happy reading!
Taglist: @xomakara, @chugging-antiseptic-dye
Fic is under the cut.
All you’d wanted all day was to spend time with your boyfriend, but every moment alone was interrupted by Matthew’s friends or family. You knew that they were important to him, and you tried to understand that he wasn’t ignoring you intentionally. So, you really tried not to show how upset you were. As he pushed your plans aside to invite Taehyung over, however, you couldn’t help but ask if they really couldn’t hang out another day.
“I can’t just leave him hanging, baby,” he’d said apologetically after the plans were made.
“But you can leave me hanging?” you mumbled, both hoping that he would hear you and that he wouldn’t. If he did, he didn’t show it, and you didn’t know if you were relieved or hurt.
Taehyung showed up ten minutes later, clearly struggling. You felt a pang of guilt over your reaction to the new plans, but in the end, you knew you couldn’t control how you felt. So, you decided to just stay calm and have a conversation with Matthew after Taehyung left.
Your plan changed about two hours after Taehyung arrived. By that point, it was late, even by your standards, and you were more frustrated than you could even really put into words. As Matthew and Taehyung sat on your couch and talked about whatever the hell they wanted while you felt like an outsider in your own home, you had an idea.
It started small, with lingering touches every time Matthew joined you in the kitchen for more snacks or a quick question about where something was. He said nothing about the way you touched him, but you could see the way he looked at you. There was a mix of arousal and frustration in his eyes that you knew all too well, and you were certain that your plan to finally get his attention had succeeded.
At least, you were certain until he stopped talking to you completely, only acknowledging Taehyung. That was when you decided you’d had enough, and you did everything that you knew would get under his skin but had held yourself back from previously. You made a point to bend over in front of him every time the two of you were alone in the room. You told him how sexy he was when he was mad every time you noticed that he looked just a little bit more pissed off than before. You even made a few flirty comments toward Taehyung, giggling every time he looked at you the same way Matthew usually did.
Eventually, though, Taehyung did go home, and that was when you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Matthew had gotten tired of watching you act like a brat in front of his best friend.
“Bedroom. Now,” Matthew said as soon as his front door was shut.
“But I would rather stay here,” you replied, your voice dripping with false innocence as you silently dared him to do something.
“Well, that’s not happening. Bedroom. Now.”
With an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you said, “Fine,” and went to your room, filled with silent satisfaction and anger as Matthew followed you. You knew he could hear your frustrated mumbles on the way, but he didn’t acknowledge them, which only added to your frustration.
When you got to your bedroom, he looked at you and said, “What the fuck was that?”
“I wanted attention,” you answered matter-of-factly.
“Well, you certainly have my attention now. Bend over.”
“Why should I?”
“Because if you continue testing me your punishment will be worse. Bend over.”
“Yes, daddy,” you mumbled as you followed his instructions.
“Now, was that so hard?” he asked. You didn’t answer, not wanting your punishment to be any worse than the spanking that you knew was coming. “That’s what I thought. Now, I’m gonna give you ten, and I want you to count them. Ok?”
“Yes, daddy.”
The first spank was harsher than you expected, and you winced as you started the count, but part of you loved the pain. You didn’t think you’d enjoy being spanked when Matthew first mentioned it at the start of your relationship, but you were willing to try most things once. When you actually did try it shortly after your first time together, it became your favorite way for him to punish you.
Each hit hurt just a little bit more than the last, but you didn’t mind it. In fact, a punishment was exactly what you’d wanted, considering that it was a sign that he wanted you. In the end, that was all you wanted.
Before you knew it, your punishment was done. After Matthew gave your ass one extra smack, he sighed and said, “Get up.” You did as you were told and turned toward him, and he asked, “What the fuck was that about?”
“Just wanted you today,” you mumbled, looking up at him for the first time since before the punishment had started.
When you looked into his eyes, it was like you could see everything click in Matthew’s head. With tears starting to fill his eyes, he pulled you into a hug and said, “I’m so sorry, baby.”
That was when you told him everything that you’d held in all day, from how badly you wanted to spend time with him to how hurt you were that he’d invited Taehyung over to why you started acting out in the first place. Matthew held you while you explained, soothing you as tears you didn’t know you were holding in started to fall.
Once you finished explaining, Matthew kissed the top of your head and said, “I’m sorry, angel. I was such an idiot. Let me make it up to you. For the rest of the night and all day tomorrow, I’m all yours. No interruptions.”
You practically lit up as you asked, “Really?”
“Really.”
The room was silent for a moment before you whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby. I’ll let everyone know that I’m busy in the morning, ok? For now, I wanna show you just how much I love you,” he said as he gently pushed you onto the bed and spread your legs apart.
If you'd like to see what else is in store for this month, the kinktober 2025 masterlist can be found here. If you wanna check out my non-kinktober works, my masterlist can be found here. If you wanna see what I'm working on, my upcoming works list is here. If you'd like to be tagged whenever I upload a new fic, my taglist form is here!
Thank you again for reading, and have a wonderful day!
Wonho x MonstaX 🌈 ft. BM (WH x BM)
Mature | Explicit | MDNI
After BM catches Shownu and Wonho in the shower area, Shownu leaves and gives them their own space and time.
The silence in the shower room was absolute, broken only by the steady hiss of water and the ragged sound of Wonho’s breathing as the last tremors of his climax subsided. BM was stuck standing in the doorway, his handsome features frozen in a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. His eyes darted from the mess on Shownu’s stomach, to Wonho’s blissful, dazed expression, to the way Shownu’s large hand still possessively cupped his spent cock.
Wonho felt Shownu’s mouth release his nipple with a final, soft kiss. He turned his head, meeting Shownu’s dark, knowing gaze. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Shownu’s ear. His whisper was a low, intimate murmur, lost to the water’s noise. “It’s okay. Go.”
A slow, easy smile spread across Shownu’s face. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. With a calm that was utterly disarming, Shownu stepped back, his now-flaccid cock swinging heavily between his thighs. He didn’t rush. He walked, naked and utterly unselfconscious, past the stunned BM, towards the bench where his gym bag sat. He picked it up, slung the strap over his shoulder.
As he passed back by BM on his way to the locker room exit behind him, Shownu paused. He reached out and placed a large, warm hand on BM’s shoulder. He gave it two gentle, deliberate taps—a gesture of reassurance, of permission, of blessing. Then, without a word, he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click.
The room was now a charged vacuum. The only sounds were the shower and the pounding of two hearts. BM’s eyes were locked on Wonho.
Wonho, for his part, simply turned back to the spray. He let the hot water cascade over his head, down his broad shoulders, over the thick, muscular planes of his back and the heavy, perfect curves of his ass. He moved with a languid, cat-like grace, rinsing the soap and spend from his skin. He knew he was being watched. He could feel the weight of BM’s gaze like a physical touch, tracing the water’s path over every ridge and valley of his body.
He turned his face, just slightly, catching BM’s eye over his shoulder. He offered a small, soft smile—not an invitation, not a challenge, just a simple, warm acknowledgment. Then he looked away, tilting his head back into the stream, his eyes closing.
A minute passed. Maybe less. The tension thickened, coiling in the steam-filled air.
Then, Wonho felt it. A shift in the atmosphere. A large, warm presence materializing directly behind him, blocking the light. He didn’t startle. He simply leaned back, his spine curving, his shoulders settling against a solid, tall chest. BM was much taller. Wonho’s head fit perfectly beneath his chin.
For a moment, BM just stood there, his body not quite touching Wonho’s. Wonho could feel the heat radiating from him, the faint tremor in the air. Then, slowly, Wonho reached back. He found BM’s wrists, his own hands looking small encircling them. Gently, firmly, he guided BM’s large hands forward, placing them on his chest—on the full, heavy swell of his pectorals.
It was an unmistakable command. Touch me.
BM’s breath hitched. Then his hands came alive. They were big, strong, with long fingers that splayed over Wonho’s pecs, testing the firm, resilient muscle beneath the slick skin. He began to massage, his thumbs finding Wonho’s nipples almost immediately, rubbing them into stiff, sensitive peaks. The touch was tentative at first, then grew bolder, greedier. He groped and kneaded, his grip firm, as if trying to memorize the shape and heft of him.
A low, pleased hum vibrated in Wonho’s throat. He arched his back, pushing his chest more fully into those exploring hands.
Encouraged, BM dipped his head. His lips found the juncture of Wonho’s neck and shoulder. The kiss was soft, almost chaste. Then another, lower. Then his mouth opened, and he sucked a patch of wet skin into his mouth, his tongue laving the spot. Wonho shuddered, a full-body ripple of pleasure.
That was all it took.
Wonho turned in his arms.
They faced each other, water sluicing between them. BM’s eyes were dark, wide with a mix of awe and hunger. Wonho’s smile returned, softer now, more intimate. He didn’t speak. He simply lifted a hand and placed it flat on BM’s chest, over his pounding heart. Then he leaned in and kissed him.
It was not a gentle kiss. It was deep, hungry, and wet from the start. BM’s arms came around him, crushing their bodies together. Wonho moaned into his mouth, his own hands sliding up to mirror BM’s, palming the hard planes of his chest, his thumbs flicking over his nipples. They kissed like they were drowning, tongues tangling, teeth clashing. The steam and the water made everything slick, hot, and unreal.
As they kissed, their hips began to move, a slow, grinding rhythm. Wonho felt it then—the thick, hard length of BM’s cock brushing against his thigh. It was an insistent, promising pressure. He broke the kiss, panting, and looked down.
His breath caught. BM was big. Thick and long, fully erect and curving up against his stomach. A bead of clear pre-come already glistened at the tip. Wonho smiled, a genuine, pleased curl of his lips. He looked back up at BM, held his gaze for a heartbeat, then sank to his knees on the wet tile.
He didn’t hesitate. He took the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the broad crown, tasting clean skin and salt. BM groaned, his hands flying to the wall behind Wonho for support. Wonho took more, relaxing his throat, working to accommodate the impressive girth. It was a struggle. He couldn’t take it all, not yet. He used his hand, fisting the base as he bobbed his head, sucking with avid, noisy concentration.
He looked up. BM was looking down, his expression one of stunned, overwhelmed pleasure. His knuckles were white where he gripped the wall, his body trembling with the effort of staying upright. “F-fuck, Wonho…” he choked out, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary thrust.
Wonho increased his pace, hollowing his cheeks, his other hand coming up to fondle BM’s heavy balls. The sounds were obscenely loud—wet, gagging sucks, BM’s ragged gasps, the slap of water on tile.
Just as Wonho felt BM’s thighs begin to shake with the threat of climax, BM pulled back. He gently but firmly pulled Wonho up by his shoulders. His eyes were wild. Without a word, he guided Wonho to the long, tiled bench against the wall. He sat down, the water from the shower still raining down on them. Then he pulled Wonho into his lap, straddling him.
They kissed again, even more desperately than before. BM’s hands were everywhere—in Wonho’s hair, on his back, gripping his ass. He broke from Wonho’s lips to attack his chest, his mouth latching onto a nipple with a desperate, sucking hunger. He suckled hard, his tongue flicking, his teeth grazing. Wonho cried out, his head falling back. The sensation was direct, animal, and went straight to his own neglected cock, which was now fully hard again, trapped between their stomachs.
Wonho was impatient. The ache, the emptiness from Shownu’s departure, the raw need coiling in his gut—it all demanded to be filled. Now.
He reached between them. His hand wrapped around BM’s thick, slick erection, guiding it. BM understood, his hands moving to grip Wonho’s hips, helping to position him. Wonho rose up on his knees, the head of BM’s cock nudging against his entrance. He was still loose, slick from Shownu’s spend and the shower water, but it wasn’t enough. It would be a stretch.
He didn’t care.
He looked into BM’s eyes, saw the same frantic need mirrored there. Then he sank down.
It was a slow, burning, incredible descent. BM was so big, stretching him open in a new, breathtaking way. Wonho bit his lip, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat as he took him inch by inch, his body trembling with the effort. BM’s hands on his hips were vise-like, holding him steady, his own face a mask of agonized pleasure.
When he was fully seated, BM buried to the hilt inside him, they both went still for a long, shuddering moment. Wonho was so full he could barely breathe. He felt stretched to his limit, every nerve ending screaming.
Then BM moved his hands, sliding them up to grip Wonho’s waist. It was a silent signal.
Wonho began to move.
He rose up, almost until the head threatened to slip out, then sank back down with a hard, driving force. A broken moan escaped them both. Wonho set the pace, riding him with a fierce, determined rhythm. He used his powerful thighs, bouncing in BM’s lap, each downward slam forcing a grunt from BM’s chest. The angle was perfect, each stroke dragging BM’s cock directly over his prostate, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure up his spine.
BM’s hands moved to Wonho’s ass, gripping the thick, muscular cheeks, spreading them as he watched himself disappear into Wonho’s body. The visual seemed to undo him. His hips began to piston upwards, meeting Wonho’s descents with powerful thrusts of his own. The bench was slick, the sound of their wet skin slapping together echoing off the tiles, mixing with the shower’s spray.
Wonho braced his hands on BM’s broad shoulders, his head thrown back, his mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. He was lost in the sensation—the brutal, perfect fullness, the friction, the building heat in his core. He rode BM like he was trying to claim him, to brand himself on him.
BM’s control shattered. His thrusts became erratic, deeper, harder. He pulled Wonho down against him, holding him tight as he fucked up into him with ragged, desperate drives. “Wonho… I’m… I can’t…” he gritted out, his voice a raw scrape.
Wonho felt the telltale swell, the pulsing throb deep inside him. He tightened his muscles, milking him, and with a choked, guttural cry, BM came. His release was hot and torrential, flooding Wonho, his body convulsing with the force of it.
The feeling of being filled, claimed, so soon after Shownu, was the final trigger. Wonho’s own orgasm tore through him without a single touch to his cock. It was a dry, full-body convulsion, a seismic wave of pleasure that locked his muscles and stole the air from his lungs. He shook violently in BM’s arms, a silent, rapturous wreck.
They stayed like that, locked together, panting, for what felt like an eternity. The water began to run cool.
Slowly, the tension leaked from their bodies. BM’s grip on his ass loosened. Wonho, feeling boneless and utterly spent, pushed himself up, wincing as BM’s softened cock slipped from him. He stood on shaky legs, water now lukewarm pelting his skin.
He didn’t look at BM. He simply walked to the bench, picked up his discarded clothes and towel. He dried himself with slow, mechanical movements, then pulled on his sweats and shirt.
BM was still sitting on the bench, head bowed, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, water plastering his dark hair to his forehead.
Wonho finished dressing, slung his own bag over his shoulder. He paused at the door, one last glance over his shoulder. BM hadn’t moved.
Without a word, Wonho left. The door swung shut behind him, leaving BM alone in the cooling spray, the only evidence of what had transpired the tingling ache in his body and the phantom heat of another man’s release deep inside him.
sugar-daddy!BM headcanons (NSFW section at the end)
SFW trigger warnings: fem!reader, he ends up being more like a rich boyfriend than an official sugar daddy, you call him daddy, he calls you honey and baby, light cursing, mentions of a sick family member
NSFW trigger warnings: p in v intercourse, oral sex, hair pulling, scratching, marking up, soft dom x obedient sub dynamic, spanking, handcuffs, lingerie, daddy kink, size kink, car sex, balcony sex, he calls you princess and baby
how you met:
you met matthew at the mall. you were working at a jewelry store trying to make some extra money, selling things you could never afford for yourself.
he came in one day to buy a new chain, and you were immediately taken aback at how gorgeous he was
he was tall, built, and had a smile that could make any girl melt. and the way he wasn’t fazed at all by the high prices of the jewelry meant that he had MAD money. in short, he was your dream man. but you knew there was no way he’d go for someone like you. guys like him only went after heiresses and swimsuit models, right?
still, you were super kind and helpful, as you were with all your customers who weren’t assholes. he greatly appreciated how interested you were in finding the perfect chain for him :)
you knew he was flirting with you… i mean, what man unbuttons his shirt and asks if you think his chain hangs low enough to show off his sternum? he knew how much he was flustering you, and he loved it.
once he had picked a suitable chain, you rang him up and packaged it better than you’d ever done before. you made sure to throw in some extra goodies for him too, just because he was just so damn fine 🤭
as expected, nothing came of your first interaction. he just thanked you again for all your help and told you he hoped you had a wonderful day, then walked off, presumably to another high end store
he thought you were gorgeous, sure, but he sees gorgeous women all the time. what really made him fall for you was when he saw you a few hours later.
he had in fact gone to a couple other stores, buying himself some designer clothing and fine accessories. as he was about to leave the mall with his shopping bags, his attention was drawn back to the jewelry store
a little girl had just ran up to the counter, tears streaming down her cheeks
“miss, please help me! i can’t find my mother!”
he was about to go help, but stopped once he saw you react
you immediately walked around the counter and crouched down to her level, putting your hands on her shoulders.
“it’s okay sweetie, don’t cry!” you reassured her with a warm smile. “we’ll get you back to your mother, okay?”
once she had calmed down, you asked her for her name and called security to ask them to make an announcement for her mother to come get her from the jewelry store.
“would you like to look at some pretty jewelry while we wait sweetie?” you asked her. she of course agreed, quickly forgetting her sadness as you showed her all the sparkly pieces in the case.
eventually her mother did come get her, thanking you over and over for helping her daughter find her. you told her it was no problem and to have a wonderful night!
matthew couldn’t help the little smile that crept its way onto his face. it was so sweet of you to take such good care of that kid. anyone else would’ve just dumped her off at the lost and found. suddenly, you became the most attractive girl in the world in his eyes. a beautiful girl is certainly enough to turn his head, but kindness is always what wins him over. 🥰
you were too good for this world. he wanted to take you away from this place, show you some of the happiness you always gave to others. you deserved everything, and he wanted to give it to you. 💞
becoming a sugar baby:
when he approached you and asked you out, you were honestly too shocked to even give him an answer. you thought you had seen the last of him after he bought his chain, but here he was, asking you to get dinner with him after your shift.
after collecting yourself, you told him you’d love to, but you didn’t think you were properly dressed. the white blouse, pencil skirt, and ballet flats you were wearing didn’t seem posh enough for the place he had in mind 😀
“don’t worry about it, we can stop somewhere to get you something. i think there’s a chanel around the corner, does that work for you?”
you blinked at how he said it so casually. “i think the only thing i could afford there is a luggage tag.” you laughed nervously.
“i would pay for it obviously.” he replied nonchalantly. “as well as anything else you’d like along the way.”
you wanted to protest, but everything just seemed to happen so fast. next thing you knew, he was opening the passenger door of his benz for you, and then you were in a chanel dressing room, zipping up a dress that costed more than your rent 😭
“look at you, you’re absolutely stunning!” he told you, smiling brightly with wide eyes as he looked you over. you were suddenly so bashful under his gaze, chuckling nervously and smiling at the ground
“i’m serious, you look perfect.” he told you again, taking your hands in his so you were inclined to look up at him. “you’re a total vision, own it.”
as an assistant was removing the tags so you could wear it out of the store, he pointed out that there was a pair of shoes in the display window that would go perfectly with your dress 👀
and, that you might was well pick out a bag to complete the outfit :)
“matthew, you really don’t have to do th-“
“i’ve got it, honey. i asked you out, remember? it’s no trouble.”
you usually hated it when men called you honey, but for some reason, it felt good coming from him 😳
at dinner, you had an amazing time. he was so funny and interesting, you guys just clicked immediately. for a while, you actually forgot you were in a designer dress at a posh restaurant. it was just the two of you having a nice meal together.
over dessert, he asked if you’d want to keep seeing him. you weren’t too sure if you wanted a relationship just yet… partly because you still weren’t sure why he was so interested in you, and also because you had some major trust issues from your past. men tended to swoop into your life and promise you the world, only to leave once you acted like a human being instead of a pretty porcelain doll they could carry under their arm and show off.
“that’s fine honey. if you don’t want any labels, i’m cool with that. i just want to spend time with you.” he confessed, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.
you smiled at his understanding, thinking to yourself for a moment. finally, you gave him your answer.
“what about the label ‘sugar baby?’”
he smirked, obviously pleased at your suggestion. “i can definitely be your sugar daddy, if that’s what you want.”
you nodded, and the agreement was final 💋
falling for him:
adjusting to the sugar baby life was a bit difficult at first, but it wasn’t rocket science. matthew would take you out a couple times a week and give you a base allowance, and pay for everything while you guys were out. this included food, gifts, transportation, lodging, drinks… he didn’t want you spending a single penny.
“girl put your card away, daddy’s got it.” 😤
at first you kind of felt like a financial burden, but after a while you learned that he thoroughly enjoyed spending so much money on you. it was just how he chose to show his affection! he would honestly get just as happy as you did when he bought you something you really wanted 🥰
you were too shy to just go in and buy whatever you wanted, so he would usually just give you a spending limit whenever you got to a store
he took you to the jewelry store you used to work at and bought you the necklace you had always drooled over but could never hope to afford 🥹
and of course all your old coworkers congratulated you on finding a hot sugar daddy 💀
speaking of work, it was a bit awkward to explain to your family why you weren’t working at the jewelry store anymore. but they eventually came to accept it, as long as you were safe and comfortable with this new arrangement :)
he just randomly shows up at your house and tells you to pack your bags because he just booked you guys a foreign vacation
he’ll ask you where you’ve always wanted to go and then just spontaneously buy plane tickets 😭
he likes bringing you to work events as his arm candy, making all his colleagues jealous with his beautiful baby 💋
until they stare a little bit too long, and he gets possessive 👀 he tightens his grip on your waist and grits his teeth a bit, staring at them with cold, dark eyes until they look away from you
“i just had to have the prettiest girl in the world, didn’t i? now everyone wants my girl.” he’d huff, and you’d just lean into his side, whispering little flirty comments in his ear that would settle him down
“let them stare at me, you’re the only one who gets to be my daddy.” you smirked, biting his earlobe before pulling away ❤️
he liked that a lot lmao
he also likes bringing you into the studio with him! he loves showing you his work and getting your opinion on it :)
if he ever sees you even remotely struggling with anything, he immediately offers to help, both financially and emotionally
“why are you upset baby? do you need money? hugs? both?”
what truly made you fall for him was what he did when one of your family members was sick. he walked into your apartment with a gift for you, only to see you sprawled out on the floor sobbing :(
he of course immediately ran up to you to crouch down and ask you what was wrong. you explained that your relative was sick and that you had to travel quite a long way to go to them, but you didn’t have enough money for it
he didn’t even bring up the money at first. his main focus was calming you down. he cradled you in his arms and soothingly rubbed your back, shushing you slightly and telling you everything would be okay until you stopped crying
“shh it’s okay i’ve got you, everything will be okay honey, i promise.”
once you had settled down and wiped your tears, he then reached into his pocket and just handed you his card, which he had never done before.
“i want you to take this and just go to them. don’t worry about expenses, don’t worry about me, just go see your family. i’ll be here whenever you can come back.”
you could swear a cupid’s arrow hit your heart at that exact moment. this was when you knew he cared about you as much more than just a sugar baby 💞
when you got back home, you jumped into his arms without a word and kissed him harder than you’ve ever kissed anyone in your entire life. he chuckled as you pulled back, but froze once he heard what you said next.
“can i be your girlfriend matthew? like your real one?”
he just stared at you blankly for a minute, then his face broke out into the brightest smile ever. “of course you can baby. i’ve been waiting to make this official since the day we first went out.” ❤️
NSFW: (18+/MDNI)
him fucking you while you’re wearing nothing but the diamond choker he got you
he loooooves when you tug on his hair or dig your nails into his back. he’s not a masochist by any means, but a little bit of pain always gets him going 💋
he’s a soft dom 100%, but he wouldn’t mind being on the bottom if you wanted to ride him 💞 he’ll just most likely still take on a dominant role tho
(imagine his big ass hands gripping your hips and guiding you along his cock OMG)
i honestly see him being more into obedient subs than brats, but he can handle a little bit of attitude. he wouldn’t mind throwing you over his knee and spanking you if you’ve been purposefully making him jealous
oof actually he’s not always a soft dom… every once in a while he’ll put you in cuffs and make you beg for him to touch you ⛓️
will NOT let you hide your face when you finish, he needs to see you and hear you. it’s honestly what gets him off the most, knowing that he can make you feel so good ❤️
he’s possessive af so he LOVES marking you up. he’ll shamelessly leave hickeys all over your neck and chest, and ENCOURAGE you to wear low cut tops to show them off to people 💀
looooots of car sex is his benz… the windows will be fogged up and the whole car will be shaking 👀
him buying you expensive lingerie sets and leaving them on the bed before he leaves for work, then sending you a text telling you to put it on right before he gets home 🥰
now i KNOW everyone thinks matthew is a boob guy bc he’s always talking ab man titties, but i honestly thinks he likes EVERYTHING equally 😤 boobs, waist, hips, thighs, butt… he worships ALL of it!
MASSIVE daddy kink, which pairs well with his EQUALLY MASSIVE size kink. he adores pinning your wrists down with his large hands and just hovering over you, observing how small you look underneath him
i also know this man is PACKING
“awh my poor baby, is daddy too big for you? i know my princess can take it.”
“look at you, taking daddy’s cock so well… you deserve a reward, baby. i’ll give you whatever you want, since you’re being such a good girl.”
will literally stop fucking you if you call him any name other than daddy during sex 😭 (as long as he knows you like saying it, obviously)
“come on princess, you know better than that. what’s my name? yeah, say it again. louder.”
mans is a certified munch 😛 he loves receiving oral as well, but he derives a certain type of pleasure from having his tongue on your clit
him fucking you over the balcony when you guys are on vacation in a fancy hotel (don’t try this guys it’s very dangerous LOL)
overall, he’s not into anything super crazy. he’s just a dominant guy with a lot of passion. he can go rough or mellow depending on the day. he’s not super into punishing or denying, like i said, he just wants to make you feel divine. and he wants you to know that you’re his baby, always 🥰
