𐙚 Rough Sex with 82Major 𐙚
Request
Genre: Smut MDNI 18+
Warnings: Rough sex, Dom/sub dynamics, Spanking, Choking/breath play, Degradation, Praise, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Brat taming, Hair pulling, Marking… biting, bruises, Dirty talk, Overstimulation, Restraint, Power imbalance, Emotional edge, No safewords… EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL THOUGH
Seongil
You’d been teasing him all day—mouthy, smug, bold. Sitting on his lap like you weren’t wearing that tight little outfit just to get a reaction. Whispering smart comments with that wicked look in your eyes, acting like he wouldn’t do anything about it.
But Seongil’s patience only stretches so far.
That’s why you’re face down on the bed now, wrists pinned behind your back with one hand while his other grips your hip tight enough to bruise. He’s fucking you hard—relentless, punishing, the way you asked for without saying a word.
“Thought you were being cute earlier, huh?” His voice is low, steady, but dangerous. Like the calm right before everything breaks.
Each thrust drives you forward, your moans caught between the sheets and the sharp slap of skin on skin. Your body’s shaking, already pushed too far—and he knows it.
“Oh, now you can’t talk?” he taunts, dragging his cock out slowly just to slam back in, ripping another cry from your throat. “You had a whole lot to say when you were acting up. What happened, baby?”
You whimper his name, but it only makes him rougher. His hand wraps around your throat, just enough pressure to make your head spin as he leans in close.
“You like it when I fuck you dumb, don’t you? Say it.”
You manage a broken, “Yes, daddy,” and it’s over for you after that.
He doesn’t stop until your legs give out, until your body’s a mess beneath him—sweaty, used, aching, satisfied. And when it’s done, when you’re trembling in his arms, Seongil’s the one pulling you into his chest, voice soft against your ear.
“Next time you wanna act like a brat… remember this.”
Yechan
You shouldn’t have posted that mirror selfie. Not with the crop top hiked up like that. Not with your thighs showing. And definitely not while tagging the studio.
Yechan saw it the second you hit upload.
Now you’re up against the wall in the dorm, arms above your head, one of his hands holding both wrists tight while the other’s gripping your thigh around his waist. His hips slam into yours again and again, rough and unforgiving, each thrust laced with irritation he never bothered to hide.
“Wanna act like you’re single?” he growls against your neck, voice low, teeth grazing skin. “Want the whole damn world looking at what’s mine?”
You’re trying to breathe, to speak, but all that comes out are moans, gasps—helpless sounds that make his eyes darken even more. His fingers slip around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who’s got you pinned like this. Who owns you like this.
Your back hits the wall with every thrust. He’s feral, but so controlled—driving you insane with the roughest rhythm you’ve ever felt, knowing exactly how deep to go, how hard to push. His lips bite down on your shoulder, marking you. “They can like the picture all they want. They don’t get to fuck you like this.”
Your body’s trembling, slick and ruined, and he doesn’t even slow down. You’re close, too close, and Yechan knows it. His hand moves to your jaw, forcing your eyes to stay on him.
“Come on. Show me who this pussy belongs to.”
You fall apart right there on the wall, legs going weak—but he’s not done.
He fucks you through it with a possessive, punishing pace until you’re crying his name, completely wrecked, head buried in his shoulder.
Then, and only then, does he pull back, dragging your face to his so he can kiss you like he didn’t just ruin you.
“Next time, post it without tagging the damn location.”
Seongmo
He warned you.
Told you not to keep grinding on his lap while he was on the phone, not to look at him like that and bite your lip like you didn’t know exactly what it did to him. But you just giggled and kept going—until he hung up mid-call.
Now you’re flat on your back, legs shaking around his waist as he fucks you deep and hard, his hands holding your thighs wide open with no chance of escape. His pace is merciless, but his voice—god, his voice—stays soft. Low. Warm.
“I told you, didn’t I?” he murmurs, brushing his lips across your temple even as his hips snap forward. “You push, I’ll give you what you’re asking for.”
Your fingers claw at his shoulders, overwhelmed, gasping, barely able to form words—and Seongmo loves it. Loves watching your eyes roll back, your body twitch, your mouth fall open for him.
“Too much?” he asks, almost sweet. Almost.
You nod, but it’s a lie, and he knows it. His hand slips down, finding your sweet spot without breaking rhythm.
“You say it’s too much, but you keep letting me in. Keep holding on like this pussy’s made for me.”
You cry out, high and helpless, legs trembling hard—and he slows for just a second, cupping your face as you come undone again beneath him.
“There you go, baby. That’s it. That’s my good girl.”
But he doesn’t stop. He leans in, presses his forehead to yours, and fucks you straight into another high, relentless but tender in all the places that make you feel his—only his.
When your body goes limp and your eyes flutter, he kisses your cheek and whispers, “Next time, sit still. Or I’ll ruin you worse.”
Seongbin
Seongbin doesn’t wait for permission. There’s no slow build, no soft touches—just pure, raw force the second you cross his line.
You thought the teasing was playful. You thought you could get away with biting your lip and arching your back, acting like you were in charge. But one look from him tells you otherwise.
Now, you’re bent over the edge of the bed, nails digging into the sheets, breath coming fast and uneven, while Seongbin grips your hips with iron strength. His cock rams into you hard and fast, each thrust pounding deep enough to shake your bones.
“Don’t fucking move,” he snarls, voice low and rough like gravel. “You think you’re the boss? I’m the one who decides.”
You whimper, but he tightens his hold, fingers digging into your skin, marking you like a warning.
“Good girl,” he spits, then pulls your hair back with a sharp tug, exposing your neck. His mouth closes over the sensitive skin, teeth grazing it just enough to make you shiver.
You try to speak, to beg or plead, but the only sound that escapes is a strangled moan. Seongbin doesn’t care. He’s taking what’s his, breaking you down in the best way.
“Come for me. Now.”
Your muscles clench, your body trembling as he drives you to the edge. No mercy, no apologies—just pure, unfiltered control.
When you finally shatter, your cries fill the room, loud and desperate. Seongbin catches you before you fall, holding you tight, voice softer but still firm.
“You’re mine. Don’t forget it.”
Seokjoon
You caught his eye the moment you laughed at that guy across the room—too loud, too carefree. Seokjoon saw the way the guy’s gaze lingered on you, and his jaw clenched tight.
Now, he’s got you slammed against the cold wall, one hand gripping your wrist high above your head, the other clutching your hip like he’s staking his claim.
“You think you can look at someone else like that?” he growls, voice low and deadly.
Before you can answer, his mouth crashes against your neck, teeth grazing and biting as his cock thrusts deep inside you without warning. Rough, fast, relentless—he’s not giving you a second to catch your breath.
His hips slam hard, every thrust pounding like he’s angry, possessive, wanting to remind you exactly who you belong to. His grip tightens on your waist, digging into your skin, pulling you flush against him.
“Say it,” he commands, voice thick with need and jealousy. “Tell me you’re mine.”
You can barely breathe, the sting of his roughness mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly. “I’m yours,” you manage to whisper.
“Good,” Seokjoon spits, slamming into you even harder, his pace merciless. “Only mine.”
Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks you like he’s punishing the whole world for even looking at you. Each thrust is brutal, but somehow, beneath it all, you can feel the desperate possessiveness wrapped around it like a burning chain.
When your body shakes apart, trembling and dripping, Seokjoon doesn’t let up until you’re completely undone—exhausted, wrecked, and utterly his.
He presses a harsh kiss to your lips, voice ragged, “Nobody gets you like I do.”
