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baekhyunsbestie · 2 days ago

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girl hear me out ‼️

how the exos react when they see you… play w yourself? 🫠🥵

exo x f!reader ; ty for this spicy req nonnie babie <3333333

content: 18+/mdni 5.1k+ words. explicit language. established relationships. voyeurism. mild humiliation kink. power dynamics. dirty talk. pet names. light degradation. teasing. filthy praise. mutual masturbation (sehun omGGGG). overstimulation. sensory play. edging.

⟢ jongin

the door creaks open.

“hey baby, i’m home—”

he stops.

the sound of his voice shatters the silence, and your entire body locks up.

fuck.

your breath catches, the pleasure that had been coiling in your belly instantly snapping into something else—shock, panic, raw, pulsing heat.

your fingers freeze in place. your body tenses.

your heart is pounding, slamming against your ribs, so loud you swear he can hear it.

you were so close. so lost in it, wrapped in the slow, building pleasure, drowning in it—so deep that you hadn’t even heard him come in.

but now?

now, he’s here.

watching.

jongin stands in the doorway, one hand clenched around the doorknob, the other still gripping his phone, his entire body frozen mid-step—stuck between hesitation and realization.

his expression is unreadable, his dark eyes dragging over you in a slow, deliberate sweep, taking in everything.

the way your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths.

the sheen of heat still clinging to your skin.

the trembling in your thighs that betrays just how deep into it you were.

his silence is suffocating, thick with an unspoken tension that coils tighter with every second he just stands there.

your breath catches.

heat rushes up your neck, shame wrapping around your ribs like a vice, crashing over you in heavy, suffocating waves.

your body reacts on instinct.

move. hide. disappear.

but the moment your fingers twitch toward the sheets—before you can even think about yanking them over yourself—

he moves first.

his lips curl.

slow. knowing. lethal.

the kind of smirk that doesn’t just see through you—it sees into you.

shit.

“you expect me to just stand here and watch?”

his voice is low—thick, weighted, dripping with something dark and hungry.

the air shifts, suddenly too hot, too heavy, too thick, wrapping around you like a second skin, making your breath stutter in your throat.

your entire body burns.

his name barely makes it past your lips, voice weak, trembling, unsure.

“i—”

you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. an excuse? an apology? a plea?

but it doesn’t matter.

because he moves.

slow. deliberate. calculated.

the soft click of the door shutting behind him feels final. like a lock turning. like a decision already made.

his head tilts slightly, dark eyes tracing over every inch of you, his gaze heavy, consuming, like he’s already imagining how you’ll come undone beneath him.

like he’s deciding where to start.

his fingers drop to the buckle of his belt, toying with it, his smirk never wavering. never softening.

“nah, baby,” he murmurs, taking another step forward, his voice a slow, lazy drawl—amused. teasing. dangerous.

“you don’t get to act shy now.”

his knee presses against the edge of the bed, sinking slightly into the mattress as he looms over you.

he’s too close. too much.

his presence fills the space, thick and all-consuming, until it’s the only thing you can feel, the only thing you can breathe.

you don’t move. can’t move.

his lips hover just above your ear, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin—hot, teasing, intoxicating.

“since you already got started without me…”

his voice is low, a slow, deliberate drawl, dripping with mocking amusement.

his fingers lift, tracing the curve of your jaw, soft, teasing, possessive, tilting your face up until you’re forced to look at him.

nowhere to hide.

no escape.

only him.

his smirk deepens, dark eyes flickering downward—straight to where your hand still lingers between your thighs.

you should pull away. you should close your legs, turn away, do something.

but your body betrays you.

your fingers twitch, hesitating.

your thighs tremble, still aching for more.

his smirk widens.

“i think it’s only fair,” he murmurs, his voice smooth, smug, dangerous, “that i help you finish.”

his fingers slide in, replacing yours.

hotter. crueler. devastatingly better.

your breath catches—sharp, broken.

his control is maddening. he doesn’t rush, doesn’t give in to urgency.

instead, he takes his time.

dragging it out. making you beg. making you his.

⟢ chanyeol

the moment he steps into the room, he freezes.

his hand tightens around the doorknob, knuckles going white as his gaze locks onto the sight in front of him—you.

sprawled out on the bed, legs parted, fingers buried deep between your thighs. your body writhing, breathy little whimpers spilling from your lips, eyes squeezed shut as you chase your high.

fuck.

for a second, he just stands there, blinking, like his brain is short-circuiting.

like he’s struggling to process the fact that his girl is lying there, touching herself, completely lost in pleasure—without him.

and that?

yeah, that’s not gonna fly.

“you really couldn't wait for me, huh?”

his voice comes out lower than he expected, gravelly, dripping with something dangerous.

your entire body jolts, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as your head snaps up.

“ch-chanyeol? i-i didn’t hear you come in—”

his eyes drag over you, slow, deliberate, drinking in every ruined inch of you.

your thighs still twitching.

your chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

your fingers, still coated in your own slick.

fucking hell.

you already look wrecked, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“please, continue.”

he steps closer, slowly, deliberately, savoring the way you shudder under his gaze.

like a predator closing in on his prey.

“since you were so eager to do it without me…”

he smirks, tilting his head, watching the way your fingers hesitate between your thighs.

“finish what you started.”

your breath catches.

“i—”

his tongue flicks out, swiping over his bottom lip as he watches you struggle.

teasing. taunting. testing you.

“what?” his voice is deep, laced with amusement.

“you were just so into it a second ago.”

his gaze is relentless, unyielding, burning straight through you.

“don’t get all shy now.”

your entire body flushes, heat spreading across your skin like a wildfire.

but the way he’s watching you—waiting—daring you to keep going...

it’s too much.

your fingers tremble, but you do it.

hesitant, slow, just a little embarrassed, but when you touch yourself again—

he groans.

low and deep in his throat.

like watching you is physically affecting him.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

he doesn’t even hesitate.

his hands move to the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one swift motion, tossing it aside carelessly.

your breath catches as your eyes trail over him—broad shoulders, toned chest, the deep ridges of his abs, the sharp dip of his v-line disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

his fingers work quickly, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, freeing himself.

“goddamn,” he mutters, palming himself, already so achingly hard.

“you're gonna make me lose my fucking mind.”

before you can react, he’s climbing onto the bed, hovering over you, his body radiating heat.

his eyes burn with something wild. something primal.

he watches your fingers move against yourself, his lips parting slightly, his breathing heavier.

and then—his hand wraps around your wrist.

firm. possessive. grounding.

“lemme help, baby,” he murmurs, brushing your hand away to take over.

his fingers replace yours, slipping between your folds, teasing, exploring.

“since you clearly need me so bad.”

you’re completely at his mercy now.

⟢ sehun

he was just coming to grab his phone charger.

but when he steps inside and sees you, everything stills.

his breath. his movements. his entire body.

holy shit.

the lazy, indifferent air that usually surrounds him is gone. in its place, something sharper. darker. hungrier.

his expression shifts, amusement flickering in his eyes as they darken, dragging over your bare skin, the way your chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven breaths.

the way your thighs tremble, still parted, still aching.

caught. helpless. ruined.

“tsk.”

the sound clicks from his tongue, disappointed. teasing. entertained.

you barely have time to react before he’s moving closer.

your pulse jumps. panic and heat war inside you as you scramble to yank the sheets over yourself, but before you can, his fingers wrap firmly around your wrist.

stopping you. grounding you. owning you.

“don’t.”

his voice is low. steady. final.

your breath catches, heart pounding in your chest.

his grip is warm, firm, inescapable.

he tilts your chin up with his other hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

your stomach flips at what you see there—control. amusement. something more dangerous simmering beneath the surface.

his thumb brushes your bottom lip, voice silk and steel as he murmurs:

“keep going.”

your pulse stutters.

“w-what?” your voice barely makes it out.

his smirk deepens. slow. devastating.

“i said, keep going,” he repeats, his grip on your wrist tightening just slightly—a warning, a command.

“i wanna see how desperate you are before i touch you.”

your entire body burns.

heat curls in your stomach as you lower your trembling hand back between your thighs, your fingers brushing against the soft pink silicone of your favorite toy.

sehun sees it, and his smirk twists into something even darker.

“that one, huh?” he muses, stepping back just slightly, his arms crossing as he settles in to watch.

“figured you'd use that pretty pink one when i'm not around.”

your breath shudders.

his words shouldn’t make you hotter, wetter, needier. but they do.

with shaky hands, you press the toy back against yourself, the first buzz sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you.

your legs twitch, and sehun chuckles, tilting his head.

“good girl,” he murmurs. “just like that. don’t be shy, baby, let me hear you.”

your lips part as a soft moan slips free, hips rolling against the vibrations.

“fuck,” he exhales, eyes glued to you.

but then—he moves.

his hands drop to the waistband of his sweats, loosening them.

your breath stutters as he shoves them down just enough, his boxers slipping along with them, freeing his already aching length.

your stomach tightens.

he wraps a hand around himself, slow, lazy strokes, matching your pace.

his jaw tightens, a quiet groan slipping past his lips.

“shit, baby,” he mutters, voice deeper now, rougher. “you really were desperate, huh?”

your fingers tighten around the toy, the pleasure building, coiling tighter, hotter, deeper.

sehun notices.

his strokes speed up, his breathing heavier, his free hand moving to grip your thigh.

"you’re close," he murmurs, watching the way your body tenses, trembles.

his thumb brushes over your knee, almost gentle, almost cruel.

“let me hear you, baby. tell me how good it feels.”

“so—so good,” you gasp, legs trembling.

his smirk deepens, his strokes getting sloppier.

“that’s it,” he groans, eyes flickering between where the toy is pressed against you and the way your lips part with every moan.

“cum for me, baby,” he whispers, voice dripping with control, command, absolute possession.

“cum while i watch you fall apart.”

and you do.

the pleasure crashes over you, your back arching, your thighs quaking as the orgasm rips through you.

sehun groans, watching every second, every shudder, every moan.

his grip tightens, his pace stutters, and then—

“ah—fuck,” he growls, breath hitching, head tipping back as he follows you over the edge.

your body twitches, your breathing ragged, still caught in the aftermath of pleasure.

sehun licks his lips, eyes still locked on you.

his thumb swipes lazily over your sensitive, overstimulated skin, his smirk returning.

“next time?” he exhales, leaning down, his lips brushing your ear.

“that toy’s staying in the drawer.”

⟢ kyungsoo

the room is dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of your laptop screen. the air is thick, heavy with something intimate, something forbidden—something that shouldn’t have been interrupted.

but it is.

the door clicks open, and you freeze.

your fingers instantly still, your breath catching in your throat.

kyungsoo stands at the threshold, silent, unmoving, unreadable. his dark eyes flick to the screen first, and that’s when you see it—recognition. his jaw tightens, his lips part slightly, and his gaze shifts to you.

you’re sprawled out, legs trembling, still holding the toy between your thighs.

still playing the video.

his voice. his hands. his body.

the kyungsoo on the screen is behind you, voice thick with pleasure as he murmurs filthy things into your ear, his hands gripping your waist. it’s one of the videos from your hidden folder—the one you made in that hotel room, the one where you begged for him over and over until your voice was raw.

and now, kyungsoo—the real kyungsoo—is watching you watch him.

his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, slow and deliberate.

“you couldn’t wait for me?”

his voice is low, deceptively calm, but there’s a dangerous edge to it.

your face burns as you scramble to shut the laptop, but his voice stops you.

“don’t.”

it’s not a request.

your body tenses, eyes flickering up to meet his. he’s still by the door, arms crossed, but there’s a shift—something dark, something possessive coiling beneath his controlled exterior.

“start it over.”

your stomach flips. “w-what?”

his gaze doesn’t waver. “i said, start it over.”

your fingers tremble as you drag the cursor back to the beginning of the video.

the screen flickers, and suddenly, it’s you again. your moans, your hands grasping at his back, the wet sounds of skin against skin.

kyungsoo watches, completely still, his breathing deep and controlled. then, his eyes lower—to you.

“keep going.”

your breath stutters. “kyungsoo, i—”

his head tilts slightly, dark eyes narrowing.

“you started without me. now finish.”

a shiver racks your spine.

you hesitate for only a second, but the way he’s looking at you—like he’s waiting, like he’s testing you, like he wants to see how far you’ll go—has you reaching for the toy again.

your fingers tremble as you press it back against yourself.

the first vibration makes you gasp, thighs twitching, and kyungsoo notices everything. the flicker in your expression. the way your body responds. the way you try to contain your sounds as the video plays in the background.

his eyes stay locked onto you, but his fingers twitch at his sides.

“you do this a lot?” his voice is smooth, but there’s something dangerous beneath it.

You shake your head, breathless. “n-no.”

“liar.”

your stomach clenches.

on the screen, his voice cuts through the room—a deep groan, a curse, the sound of him thrusting deeper.

your entire body trembles.

kyungsoo’s eyes darken. he’s watching everything.

“faster.”

your breath hitches. “kyungsoo—”

his jaw clenches, and he steps closer.

“you wanna cum, don’t you?” his voice is softer now, but no less commanding.

your fingers twitch, and he notices.

“you were close before i got here,” he murmurs. “weren’t you, sweets?”

you nod, barely holding yourself together.

“then don’t stop now.”

your entire body tightens, your thighs trembling as you obey. the toy moves faster, the pleasure building, mounting, suffocating—and he watches every second of it.

kyungsoo doesn’t touch you.

doesn’t need to.

his presence alone—his dark, knowing eyes, the deep timbre of his voice, the weight of his control—is enough to unravel you.

the pleasure builds and builds, coiling tight in your core, a burning, aching need that pushes you closer, closer—until finally, it snaps.

your body jerks, back arching, thighs quivering as the orgasm rips through you. a choked moan spills from your lips, and you barely manage to catch your breath before—

kyungsoo moves.

finally.

his hand grips your chin, firm but controlled, tilting your face up until your dazed, wrecked eyes meet his.

and fuck, his gaze.

dark. heavy. intense.

like he’s memorizing the way you come undone for him. like he’s already planning the next time.

“that’s my good girl,” he murmurs, voice low, deep, possessive.

before you can catch your breath, his tongue swipes up your bottom lip, slow and deliberate, tasting the shaky, desperate whimper that slips from your throat.

your pulse jumps, heat surging through your already sensitive body.

when he pulls back, his eyes flick down—not at your trembling thighs, not at the way your chest still rises and falls in sharp gasps.

but lower.

to the tent in his grey boxers, where a dark spot of precum stains the fabric.

he exhales slowly, jaw tight, muscles flexing as he peels off his white tee, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

your breath catches.

the soft glow of your laptop screen casts shadows over the lines of his body, highlighting every ridge, every muscle, every sharp dip of his toned stomach.

but your eyes keep drifting lower.

the way his sweats hang low on his hips, how the thick outline of him strains against the fabric of his boxers.

how much he’s already aching for you.

kyungsoo watches you, watches your gaze dip lower, watches the way your thighs instinctively press together despite the way your body is still trembling.

a slow, satisfied smirk curves at the corner of his lips.

“you really think we’re done?” his voice is smooth, calm—too calm.

your breath stutters.

his fingers hook into the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down in one slow, fluid motion, his boxers following right after.

and when he steps forward, pressing hot, solid, burning skin against your still-sensitive body, his hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing over your lip.

“you made a mess of yourself for me,” he murmurs, tilting his head, his mouth hovering just over yours.

“now let me return the favor.”

⟢ junmyeon

he blinks.

once.

twice.

his lips part, but no words come out at first.

then, after a slow exhale—

“oh.”

your stomach plummets.

your entire body burns with humiliation as you scramble, yanking the sheets up to cover yourself, as if that could somehow erase what he just saw.

as if that could make it go away.

your heart is pounding, a frantic, erratic rhythm that drowns out everything else.

“i—i can explain—”

suho exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, his jaw tight. tense.

“explain what?”

his voice is calm. too calm. dangerously calm.

but his eyes?

his eyes tell a different story.

dark. sharp. heated. hungry.

his gaze drops, flickering down to where you’re still clutching the sheets, hiding what he already saw.

what he already knows.

“explain how you’re touching yourself thinking about me?”

oh fuck.

your breath stutters, your grip tightening around the fabric, but before you can even think of an answer, he moves.

he steps closer, his presence heavy, intoxicating, overwhelming.

you don’t move. can’t move.

his fingers brush against your wrist, the touch so light, so teasing, so effortless—but it sends a fresh wave of heat rolling through your already trembling body.

your thighs press together, a futile attempt to calm the ache between them, but his eyes catch the movement.

he sees everything.

his lips curve into a small, knowing smirk.

“baby,” he murmurs, voice smooth, dipping into something lower, deeper, more dangerous.

“you don’t have to do that yourself, ya know?”

his thumb traces lazy circles over your pulse, feeling how frantic, how desperate it is beneath his touch.

his voice dips, softer, teasing.

“that’s my job.”

before you can process what’s happening, his hand moves.

the sheets are torn away, discarded, leaving you exposed beneath him.

his fingers trail down, over your stomach, lower, lower—until they brush against your still-sensitive core.

you shudder. gasp.

“so wet,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

his fingers slip between your folds, slow, deliberate strokes, just barely touching you, teasing.

“you got this worked up all by yourself?”

you whimper, hips instinctively rolling into his touch, desperate for more.

“answer me, baby.”

your breath is uneven, every nerve in your body on fire.

“y-yes,” you gasp.

suho exhales sharply, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips, but his fingers don’t stop.

if anything, they slow down.

“bet you were picturing my hands instead of yours.”

his fingers finally press in deeper, curling, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you.

your head tips back, a broken moan falling from your lips.

“oh?” his smirk deepens, his tone dipping into something more satisfied. pleased. knowing.

“that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

your thighs tremble as the pleasure climbs, builds, intensifies, your body completely at his mercy.

“jun—”

his thumb brushes over your clit, and your words cut off into a whimper.

“shhh,” he soothes, his other hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

forcing you to look at him.

his forehead nearly brushes against yours, his breath warm against your lips as his fingers work you faster, deeper.

“look at me when you cum, baby,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something silky, sinful, commanding.

“wanna see exactly what i do to you.”

and when your orgasm finally crashes over you, when your body tenses and trembles beneath his touch, when your moan breaks apart in his name, he watches it all.

memorizes it. savors it. owns it.

his fingers slow, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure before he finally pulls away.

you’re still shaking, your breath still ragged, but his touch remains—his fingers tracing soft, lazy circles over your overstimulated skin.

his lips brush against your ear, his voice a satisfied hum.

“next time?”

his tongue flicks against your earlobe, teasing.

“just wait for me, baby.”

⟢ baekhyun

baekhyun swears he feels something in him fracture—a jagged, searing break that splinters straight through his chest the moment he steps into the bedroom.

and sees you.

spread out on the bed, bathed in the low, hazy glow of the bedside lamp, your head tipped back against the pillows, lips parted around soft, breathy moans that make his cock throb in his jeans. but it isn’t for him. not for his fingers, his mouth, his cock.

no, it’s for that.

the tiny, pulsing toy nestled between your trembling thighs, the rhythmic buzz of it filling the room, echoing alongside the quiet whimpers slipping from your lips. your fingers grip it like a lifeline, knuckles whitening as your hips roll, chasing something he should be the one giving you.

a muscle in his jaw ticks. something dark coils inside him, a mix of possessiveness and simmering irritation.

he doesn’t hesitate.

“well, well, well. what do we have here?”

his voice is smooth as silk, deep and rich, yet dripping with something venomous—jealousy wrapped in velvet.

your eyes snap open, a sharp gasp catching in your throat. your grip falters, but the vibrator keeps going, relentless against your swollen, sensitive flesh. baekhyun watches with narrowed eyes, drinking in the way your thighs tremble, the way your breath stutters in your chest as his presence fully registers.

“b-baekhyun—”

he doesn’t let you finish. doesn’t let you explain. instead, he moves. a slow, deliberate stride toward you, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. his fingers wrap around the toy—your precious little lifeline—and pluck it from your grasp without effort. your lips part in protest, eyes wide, a petulant whine slipping past them as he studies the thing between his fingers like it personally offended him.

and then—he tosses it aside.

like it’s nothing.

like it never mattered.

“h-hey!” your voice is high-pitched, laced with frustration. “i wasn’t—i wasn’t finished yet!”

baekhyun clicks his tongue, the sound thick with condescension. he doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. if anything, he looks amused.

“oh, i know you weren’t, sweetheart.” he smirks, watching as your thighs press together instinctively, your body still wound tight from the high that was just within reach. “but, baby, were you really about to cum without me? without my fingers stretching you open first? without my tongue teasing you, getting you all soft and wet for me?”

you glare at him, heat flushing up your chest, but it’s impossible to ignore the way your breath shudders at his words, how the ache between your legs only intensifies under his scrutiny.

“i have something much better for you,” he purrs as he crawls onto the bed, settling between your legs with unbearable ease. his warmth sinks into you, hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open beneath him. his lips ghost over your inner thigh—soft, teasing kisses that leave a scorching path in their wake. his fingers dig in, kneading, possessive.

he glances up at you, amusement flickering in the darkness of his gaze. “so, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your sensitive skin, sending a shiver up your spine, “what’s it gonna be? hmm?”

his voice is thick, dripping with promise.

“my tongue?” a teasing lick just there makes your breath hitch.

“my fingers?” his hand trails upward, fingertips barely grazing over your slick heat before pulling away.

“or do you want my cock instead?” the last words are spoken like a temptation, a promise, a guarantee of ruin.

the choice is yours, but it’s not really a choice at all—because once he’s done, once he’s wrung every last cry and moan from your lips, once he’s torn you apart and put you back together with nothing but his mouth, his hands, and his unyielding determination to remind you exactly who you belong to—

those toys?

they’ll be nothing more than a distant memory.

⟢ minseok

his smirk.

that’s the first thing you see.

slow. knowing. dripping with amusement.

he leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, exuding the kind of effortless dominance that makes your stomach tighten. his gaze pins you in place, dragging over your body—your parted lips, the way your thighs are still twitching, the way your chest rises and falls as you struggle to catch your breath.

he caught you. completely. utterly. helplessly.

“that desperate, baby?”

his voice is low, filthy, teasing in a way that makes your skin burn.

your breath catches, your stomach drops, and panic flares through you as you scramble to yank the sheets over yourself.

but he’s faster.

before you can so much as blink, he’s on you.

strong hands. firm grip. unshakable control.

his fingers wrap around your wrists, yanking them away, pinning them down against the mattress with ease.

“mm, no,” he hums, voice dripping with amusement.

his grip tightens, just enough to make your pulse jump.

“that’s not how you do it, baby.”

he pushes you down, his weight settling between your legs, the heat of his body pressing into yours. he’s so close. too close. but not close enough.

his breath brushes over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“if you’re gonna touch yourself thinking about me…”

his knee nudges between your thighs, spreading them wider.

his lips graze over your jaw, not quite kissing, just teasing.

“...at least do it right.”

your breathing is ragged, chest heaving as his hands wander.

one hand trailing down your stomach.

the other pinning you still, making sure you don’t move.

his fingers ghost over your skin, featherlight, tantalizing.

“let me teach you,” he whispers, his smirk pressing against your throat.

“let me show you how good it feels when you do it my way.”

his fingers slide lower.

his grip tightens.

his voice drops to something almost dangerous.

“and this time…”

his tongue flicks over the pulse at your neck, teasing, hot, deliberate.

“you don’t get to finish until i say so.”

⟢ yixing

your breath comes in shaky gasps, your body thrumming, heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.

you’re so close.

your fingers work quickly, desperately, rubbing slick, frantic circles against your swollen clit, your legs trembling as the pleasure builds—higher, hotter, almost too much.

just a little more—just a little more.

and then—

the door opens.

fuck.

your entire body jolts, a startled gasp escaping your lips as your head snaps up.

yixing.

he stands frozen in the doorway, his dark eyes locked onto you, lips parted just slightly—like he just walked in on something forbidden. intoxicating. devastatingly hot.

his gaze flickers down, taking in everything.

the way your fingers are still pressed against your soaked folds, the way your body still quivers, trembling from how close you had been.

your stomach drops, embarrassment crashing over you like a tidal wave.

“yixing, i—”

“no need to explain yourself, sweetheart.”

his voice is soft, but firm.

your breath stutters.

“keep going.”

your brows furrow, heat creeping up your cheeks. “huh?”

he takes a slow, deliberate step closer, letting the door click shut behind him.

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, watching you. calculating. deciding.

“don’t stop now, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, knowing, teasing.

“you were so close.”

your stomach flips, the burn of embarrassment warring with something hotter, deeper, dirtier.

his eyes never leave yours as he lowers himself onto the bed, settling between your legs.

too close. too much. too overwhelming.

his lips curve into a lazy smirk, eyes flicking down between your thighs.

“so pretty,” he murmurs. “all soaked for me.”

a sharp, embarrassed whimper leaves your throat, and he just smirks deeper.

“keep going, baby,” he urges, his fingers dragging slow, teasing strokes up and down your thighs, his touch featherlight.

“wanna see you get yourself there again.”

your body shudders, still aching, still needing.

your fingers find your clit again, tentative, hesitant, embarrassed.

his eyes darken.

“more,” he exhales, “i want you as desperate as you were before i walked in, angel.”

your fingers press down, working slow but steady, trying to chase the pleasure you had lost.

yixing hums, watching intently, his head lowering until his lips graze the inside of your thigh.

you twitch.

his smirk returns.

“so sensitive,” he murmurs, lips pressing soft, teasing kisses along your inner thigh.

his fingers press against your skin, holding you still, holding you open.

“feels good?” he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin, sucking just enough to leave a faint mark.

your breath hitches.

“y-yeah. so good,”

his teeth scrape lightly, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting.

“good girl.”

his lips trail higher, his breath hot against your skin as he watches your fingers slick with your arousal.

“you look so fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs.

his teeth sink in just slightly, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain through you.

your fingers move faster, circling your clit, thighs trembling as the pleasure climbs again.

yixing hums against your skin, his breath hot, teasing, knowing.

“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs.

“cum for me.”

his teeth scrape against the softest part of your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh, his voice low, hypnotic, filthy.

“cum for me like a good girl.”

and you do.

pleasure slams into you, your body arching, your mouth falling open in a choked, broken moan.

yixing groans softly, his grip tightening as he holds you through it, watching every shake, every tremor, every twitch of your thighs as you unravel for him.

he licks his lips, watching the way your body twitches, your breath still ragged, your clit still aching.

his smirk turns dangerous.

“‘kay,” he breathes, his fingers spreading you open.

“let’s see if you can cum again for me.”

before you can catch your breath, his lips lock around your still-sensitive bud, his tongue lapping, flicking, teasing.

you’re fucked.

49 notes · View notes