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authorhjk1 · 1 month ago

Note

Black in the airport or pink princess of a kingdom?

Black

(Shin Ryujin X Male Reader)

"Go to the bathroom."

Ryujin reads your message. She swallows hard, knowing what you have in store for her. Usually the two of you engage in your shenanigans at the dorm. Or backstage, when you know no one will walk in. But here? At an airport? There were so many reporters here earlier.

"I'll be back in a second."

Yeji just nods in acknowledgement.

"Can you ask oppa if he can bring some snacks for the flight, I forgot mine?"

Ryujin almost feels caught. But Yuna's bright smile seems to innocent for her to know what's going on.

"Sure."

Ryujin quickly hurries to the restrooms. She steps inside the men's and is relived when no one but you is in there. You watch her enter through the mirrors on the wall above the sink.

"Are you wearing it?"

Instinctively Ryujin places her hand on her stomach.

"Yes.....master."

That last word leaves her lips only after some hesitation. With enough foreplay, Ryujin doesn't have a problem with your bedroom dynamic at all. But this is in public. And she is unsure of what to do or what to expect from you.

"Show me."

Ryujin hesitates, but then moves her dress. Lucky for her it already shows off her naked sides, now you can see the naval piercing you gave her a couple of days ago.

"You like it?"

Ryujin nods at your question.

"Good. Then you know what happens next."

You look at the piercing once more. It's not an ordinary one. And she can't wear it all the time for sure. You had it custom made, just for her. The silver letters spell "butt slut". It's obviously heavier than normal piercings, but Ryujin doesn't hesitate to put it in, whenever she can.

Now, she only hesitates for a second, before she reaches into her purse and takes out a small bottle of lube. You take off your pants and watch her pour a good amount of the clear liquid into her hand. Ryujin reaches down to stroke your shaft, covering it with the lube. Her warm hand feels amazing.

"Good girl."

You stroke her hair, which makes Ryujin crack a proud smile. Once you're hard enough, you motion for her to bend over the sink. You bite your lip as you watch how her firm ass is now tightly hugged by the black fabric of her dress.

"How is your workout routine doing? I don't want to put too much pressure on my favourite toy."

You softly stroke her ass cheeks.

"It's great, opp-"

You raise your hand, but Ryujin quickly corrects herself.

"-master. I just want you to enjoy my ass as much as possible."

You give one of her cheeks a slight squeeze.

"Good girl. Maybe next time you can show me what kind of workouts you do? I just want to make sure that ass of yours looks amazing while I use it."

"Of course, master. Is there any clothing you want to see me in in particular?"

You slowly push up the hem of her dress, while you respond.

"I think Yeji owns this amazing pair of red leggings. They make her butt look almost as good as yours. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you borrowed them."

Stepping closer, you make your wet cock rest between Ryujin's cheeks, right above her hole.

"Thank you, master. I'll make sure to wear them."

You watch Ryujin's mouth fall open, when you finally push your tip past the tight ring of muscles. You distracted her little with your conversation and now caught her off guard. While she takes a couple of deeper breaths, you keep talking.

"Then again, the last time you walked around the dorm with a pair of leggings on, I ripped them apart."

You push in deeper, which makes Ryujin's nuckles turn white as she tightens her grip on the sink.

"I could just buy the exact pair. That way, you can do with them whatever you want."

Slowly picking up the pace, you enjoy Ryujin's pleasure wrecked face through the mirror.

"That's true. But I'm sure it would be fun to watch, while you explain to Yeji why her pants her torn open."

By now, it's getting harder for her to talk. Your cock in her ass pushes the air out of her body, whenever you thrust inside. And yet, it yearns for more, whenever you pull back again.

"Please, master. Yeji can't know you're using me."

"And why not?"

You give her right cheek a disapproving spank.

A moan leaves Ryujin's lips. The sight of her firm cheeks pressed against your crotch again and again makes you fuck her a little harder. You want to see her flesh ripple deliciously with every thrust.

"Because I don't want her to take my place. I want to be your only slut."

You hear the desperation in Ryujin's voice as her greedy asshole pulls you deeper inside of her, her tight walls gripping onto your cock.

"Alright then, buy a new pair."

"But make sure they're smaller than your normal size. I really want to see that sexy ass of yours."

You hear her sigh in relieve, which is cut short when you dig your fingers into her cheeks and pick up the pace further. Now Ryujin's head bobs with every thrust as she watches herself getting used through the mirror.

"I will...."

Ryujin can't finish her sentence, you fuck her a little too fast. You punish her by spanking her left cheek.

"I will, mas-master."

Now the image of Ryujin in Yeji's red leggings is ingrained into your brain. You imagine how she is doing a set of squats right in front of you. How that red fabric stretches over that delicious ass.

"Damn, slut."

You feel your orgasm slowly approaching. Even after having fucked Ryujin's ass hundreds of times, it still amazes you how tight it is. It never fails to make you cum way sooner than you expected.

"I'm gonna ruin that ass throughout the whole trip. You might as well wear nothing while you're at the hotel."

"I will, master."

The idea of Ryujin walking around naked finally does it for you.

"Fuck."

You groan as you manage to pull out of her snug hole. You aim at her ass and shoot your load all over her plump cheeks. Her flawless skin is now stained with ropes of your cum.

"And you better not skip any workouts, just because we're not at home."

You spank her one last time for good measure, before turning around and leaving the restroom.

#ask #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #itzy ryujin #itzy smut #itzy

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asiantransformations · 2 months ago

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A Fitting Power-Up

Wei Xun had always been a man of discipline. A Chinese Malaysian fitness influencer, he had built his life around maintaining the perfect physique. Hours spent in the gym, sticking to strict diets, and an intense daily routine had earned him the admiration of millions of followers online. His body—bulging biceps, perfectly sculpted abs, and legs that could press twice his body weight—was a testament to his dedication. But despite all his hard work, he yearned for something more: the stamina, strength, and power that would make him truly unbeatable, something beyond the limits of human potential.

One day, while visiting an ancient temple in the outskirts of Malaysia, Wei Xun encountered a monk renowned for his mystical abilities. The monk, an old man with wise eyes and a quiet, almost otherworldly presence, could sense Wei Xun’s desire for physical perfection.

“Your body is strong, but your spirit still searches for more,” the monk said, his voice like a whisper carried by the wind.

Wei Xun, intrigued by the monk’s insight, nodded. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am, but I want to push beyond my limits—to have the strength, power, and stamina no one else has. I want to be invincible.”

The monk studied him for a long moment, then gestured for him to follow. They walked deeper into the temple grounds, where the monk stopped in front of a shrine. From behind the shrine, the monk retrieved an ancient scroll and a pair of simple black sneakers, worn but well-kept.

“These shoes,” the monk said, “can give you what you seek. They will amplify your strength, increase your stamina, and grant you unrivaled power every time you wear them. But the blessing comes with a price.”

Wei Xun’s eyes widened as the monk continued.

“These shoes will channel the energy of the universe into your muscles, your body, and your spirit. You will be more powerful, more virile, more tireless than ever before. However, should another person wear them, the blessing will transfer to them entirely for as long as they wear them. You will lose everything: your power, your strength, your stamina, and even your body itself.”

The weight of the monk’s words settled heavily on Wei Xun’s shoulders. He stared at the shoes, tempted by the power they promised. But the risk was clear—if anyone else wore these shoes, he would lose it all. Still, the lure of the strength they offered was too great to resist.

Wei Xun agreed.

The monk nodded solemnly and began a ritual. He chanted softly under his breath, and as he did, the air around them seemed to shift. Wei Xun watched as the monk dipped his fingers into a small bowl of water, tracing ancient symbols over the shoes. The atmosphere grew heavy with energy, as if the very essence of the temple was being drawn into the sneakers.

Once the blessing was complete, the monk handed the shoes to Wei Xun. “Wear them with caution. The power is yours as long as you guard them wisely.”

From that day on, Wei Xun’s workouts became extraordinary. Every time he wore the blessed sneakers, he felt his muscles surge with unstoppable power. His strength seemed endless—he could lift heavier weights than ever before, and his stamina during workouts became almost superhuman. He could run for miles, train for hours, and still have energy left to spare. His body, already impressive, became even more chiseled and powerful, his muscles bulging with newfound vigor. His virility seemed boundless, and the energy that radiated from him was magnetic, drawing even more admiration from his growing fanbase.

But Wei Xun didn’t take any chances. He knew the danger that came with the shoes. He kept them hidden, locking them in a secure, custom-made safe in his home. The only time he took them out was when he needed an extra boost—whether it was for a critical workout, a fitness competition, or an event where his strength and stamina needed to be unmatched. No one knew of their existence, and he made sure it stayed that way.

Every time he put on the sneakers, he felt the surge of energy flow through him, an unstoppable force that made him feel invincible. But the memory of the monk’s warning always lingered in the back of his mind. He knew that as long as he kept the shoes safe, the power would remain his. But should anyone else ever wear them, everything he had worked for would be gone.

And so, Wei Xun continued to rise in the fitness world, his body a symbol of perfection and strength, his stamina unmatched by anyone. But hidden beneath the surface of his success was the secret of the sneakers—the power they held and the risk that came with them.

Every time he locked them away after a workout, he felt a sense of relief. They were his secret weapon, but they were also his greatest vulnerability. And he knew that as long as he kept them under lock and key, no one would ever take his power away.

#buff asian #asiantransformations #asianmuscle #asianbodybuilder

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romanshomeonwattpad · 6 months ago

Text

Girl in New York

pairings - art donaldson/reader | challengers au! |

“__” = Y/N

masterslist | next chapter

sypnosis - men would call you a siren, and women would call you a bitch. but all he knows is that you’re his.

warnings - future smut

word count - 1.5k

authors note - this fic will be having a part two. its completely out my comfort zone, and i wanted to experiment my skills as a writer to create a character super complex. any hate will be deleted and blocked. reminder that this is purely fiction!

His pink lips glistened with beads of sweat that resembled diamonds. Unknowingly licking your own—your thighs clenched as his girlfriend pecked his cheek. You didn’t know why, but having the attention of every man in the vicinity made you feel as if you were worth something. The pain on girls’ faces after seeing their man’s arms wrapped around your figure always made you….

…….bite back a smile.

Your current subject was taken. It was perfect. A challenge never bored you—but only encouraged your habits.

Art Donaldson was on every girl’s agenda at the moment. Whenever you went to your local gym, he was playing on the tv screen at every treadmill with hunger in their eyes. These suburban women go crazy for a pretty boy with nice eyes and a fit bod. And the fact that you’ve never seen him smile, is a plus. He wasn’t a pushover.

He was a challenge.

The blonde haired girl got on her tiptoes, wrapping her tiny arms around Art’s shiny neck. You could see his defined muscles slightly bulge beneath his completely soaked t-shirt, making him look absolutely delicious. He offered her a smile, mumbled something, and she nodded before going to the snack bar.

Taking this as your chance, you dug into your purse and pulled out a cherry sucker from a few days ago. Plucking it into your mouth, you hummed at the sweet tart like taste—carrying your long legs that were hugged tightly by a pair of tiny workout shorts towards the tennis player. He had been tying his shoe when you paused before him.

You cocked out your hip, clearing your throat. His eyes slowly trailed up your figure, jaw clenching as they finally met yours. “Cute girlfriend of yours. Looks pretty young, though….” you sigh afterwards, swirling your tongue over the top of the pop. Art’s eyes slightly widened at the sight, gulping. “I’m _ _! What’s your name, pretty boy?”

You already knew it. As soon as he had shown up on your tv screen.

His eyes were bluer in person, if possible. It was as if there were thousands of diamonds carved into his eyes as the sun set on them. Sun-kissed skin had a thin gloss of sweat from his tournament, his broad shoulders quickly going up and down as he breathed heavily. He was considerably taller than you. He had to look down at you.

“Uh…Donaldson. Art…Donaldson.”

Bending over a tad, making sure your large breasts slightly spill out your bra—you smile innocently. Your lips release the suction on the lollipop with a loud pop! “Pleasure! I was wondering if you offer private lessons?”

Shamelessly, his eyes darted over your hardened nipples. His tongue poked out and slid across his puffy bottom lip, “I um, I charge 20 bucks an hour.”

“Deal. But I’m sure we can come up with a way to give me a discount,” you winked, pulling out your phone from your bra. You heard his breathing turn ragged as you handed him it. “Put your number in. I’ll let you know when I can start.”

His teeth sunk into his lower lip, narrowing his eyes at you. “Just meet me here next Tuesday same time. Make sure to bring cash,” he muttered, looking away from you. Your brow rose at his sudden dryness—but realized you probably intimated him with your forwardness. And to make matters worse, his air headed girlfriend had returned with a boba drink in her hand.

“Art, who’s this? A friend?”

“_ _ Smith. And no—we aren’t friends. I’m only a customer, a happy one at that.” Excusing yourself, you made sure to not even glance at her. You sent a brow towards Art, his eyes filled with a storm.

“See you soon, Mr. Donaldson.”

When next Tuesday rolled around—to say you were ecstatic was an understatement. Your black tennis skirt stopped right at the bottom of your ass, a black skin tight jacket hugging your breasts tightly. The side of your heel hit the bottom of your racket as your hair swayed in its ponytail. A smirk grew onto your lips as you spotted Art, waiting for you at the court.

Pulling your glasses down, you noted how his intense eyes burned holes into your body. “Hello, again. Your girlfriend here?”

“Why does that matter?” His tone was cold—a challenge. Every second seemed to get better and better.

He looked scrumptious. There was a hickey poking out from beneath the collar of his white tennis shirt. His girlfriend probably left it there so you wouldn’t try anything—to mark her dominance per se. But the problem with that is, you don’t respect anybody’s property. What’s yours….

……..is yours.

Your brow raises. “I’m getting the impression you don’t like me to much.”

He scoffs, “I know what type of girl you are. Not interested.”

You didn’t realize this was an assessment.

“I’m unaware of what—“

“I have a girlfriend for fucksake, and you’re dressed like—like—“

You innocently round your eyes at him, deciding to play it off as if you’re hurt by his words. But he didn’t actually know the real you—he was just trying to paint a picture for his own benefit. He was scared of what you were capable of. Which meant he was cracking.

“I didn’t come here to be slut shamed,” you shrug, taking a step back. “I’ve been watching your tournaments on tv for a few months now, and thought you were beyond talented. I tried my best not to act too starstruck and got carried away.”

His eyes soften.

Bingo.

“But I’ll leave—“

“Look, I’m sorry. Let’s just forget about this and start over.” He ran a hand through his hair, then leaving it on the back of his neck.

You bit back a smirk.

There were pleading undertones laced in his words, feeling guilty for judging your outfit and questioning your morality. You knew this time to come off less forward, figuring out he liked submissive women instead. Women who go with what he wants, who let him control the situations.

“Understood. Shall we get started?” You offer, in which he chuckles and agrees.

For the duration of two hours, Art accessed your abilities. He complimented you multiple times on how quick you were. Although he was significantly faster when it came to hitting the ball—you knew he didn’t expect you to be at least a little good. After the session, Art when to retrieve the both of you water as you grabbed the cash from your purse.

You should’ve paid him triple just for how good his butt looked in those shorts.

“Thanks,” Art handed you your matte black hydroflask—snatching you from your thoughts. He watched you take a couple swigs from it, a drop of water rolling down between the crack of your breasts.

He licked his lips before chuckling, hoping you didn’t catch him stare. “You hate the color black, huh?”

Looking down at your hydro, you laughed before holding out the cash for him. “It’s my favorite color. Besides, it goes with everything.”

“Hm,” his eyes fall to your hand offering the cash. Instead of taking both 50 dollar bills—he takes one and sends you a smirk.

“You get a half off discount for me being a dick. One time offer.”

You nod and chew on your bottom lip as he swallows thickly. “Perhaps I can at least buy you a smoothie or something. It’s pretty hot,” you offer, adding a suggestive tone to the end of your sentence. Noticing a hard tent forming in his pants, Art steps back, clearing his throat.

“I can’t today. I’ll see you on Thursday—same time.” He mutters, turning around and offering a sheepish smile before walking away. You wondered if he was going to rub one out in his car, or fuck his girlfriend and imagining it was your pussy he was driving into.

The thought made a pool begin to seep through your panties.

The tip of his cock poking out between his fisted palm, leaking with drops of creamy pre-cum. A mouth of pure ecstasy pulling at his features as his mouth hangs open, gripping his center console as he finishes all over the interior of his car.

Or fucking his girl from behind, imagining your bouncy ass rippling with every thrust. His fingers tugging at your strands, reaching the deepest spot inside your dripping pussy. He would think of you—not her. He would….

……cum for you.

Patrick, your cousin, had been visiting from East Boston and staying at your family’s house. He was passionate about tennis, just like you, and pretty much taught you everything you know. That’s why you were so skilled. Learning from Art was simply to get into his pants.

And of course, he wanted to crash your tennis class with Art. Said some bullshit about Art and him meeting at a summer tennis camp—whatever. You were plotting on snatching Art from his perky titted girlfriend—but with Patrick there, it may be a bit hard.

“For fucks sake, I said no!” You shout before lighting a cigarette, painting your big toe a glittery cherry color you bought at the drug-store. You heard your neighbor slam their window shut before Patrick slides open the screen door and comes out to the backyard where you were. After taking a puff, you blow the smoke into his face. “Love you, cuzzo. But you’re cockblocking me here.”

Patrick snatched the cigarette from you, taking a frustrated hit of his own. “Didn’t you say he had a girlfriend?”

“And?”

You receive a glare, causing you to roll your eyes and snatch the cigarette back from him. “Fine. Whatever. You can come.”

He gasps before hugging you, causing you to scoff and push him off you. It would be cool for him to reunite with his old friend, but this was so not the time for that. Patrick got on your nerves but you had love for the dude. It’s always been hard to say no to him. It was despicable.

You took another hit. The rancid stench filled your senses, smoke swirling around your figure. After finishing your last toe—Patrick pulled up a chair and sits on it backwards. “You like this dude or what?”

A laugh couldn’t leave your lips after. Who does he think you are?

You haven’t truly dated a guy since you were seventeen. Ever since your ex, you didn’t grow feelings for another individual. And it had nothing to do with him—you just outgrew relationships. It was fun to have options. Especially when those options, were already taken.

Men with girlfriends are harder to obtain. They had settled already, and it takes a lot for them to trust you. But once there’s a clear understanding you don’t genuinely care for them…and only what’s in between their legs—

That’s when the real fun begins.

“Hell no. He’s hot. That’s it.”

Patrick lights another cigarette, nodding before blowing out the white ropes of smoke. “Ah. I see. You wanna fuck his brains out.”

“Precisely.”

“Back when I met him, he was dating this cute tiny little thing. What was her name? Tracy? Tara? Tam—Tiffany!”

Your smirk twitched, taking another hit of your cigarette. It was almost finished at this point. “Is she blonde?”

He looks over at you, sending a brow. “You know her?”

“I’ve seen her prancing around.”

“He told me she’s controlling and shit. Wonder if that’s still true,” he pops open the cooler and pulls out a beer, tilting his head back and taking a swig. You suddenly perk up at his words as he swallows the fermented alcohol harshly.

“Heard they took therapy classes together.”

You pressed a finger on your chin, giving him a mischievous look. “They’ve been together for a while now…huh?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Hm.

It was going to feel all the much better to steal him.

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sinkovia · 10 months ago

Text

Coffee shop

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee Shop Masterlist

After months of deployment, Simon was finally discharged, and the decision to settle down took root within him. Years of moving between apartments during deployments led him to the conclusion that it was time to have a place to call his own, a familiar haven to return to. He opted for a one-bedroom house in a quiet neighborhood of a small town—a space he could truly call home.

What appealed to him the most about this place was the convenience of having many things within walking distance, reducing the need for constant driving.

One of his newfound discoveries was a small cafe just five minutes away from his house. After finishing his workout in the afternoon, he grabbed one of the many books he had ordered and walked down. As he entered, the cozy atmosphere embraced him, and there were only a few patrons inside, eliciting a small sigh of relief from him.

It felt like the perfect place to unwind and delve into his books, a quaint spot where he could enjoy the simplicity of life after the rigors of military service.

When you saw him walk in, you took in his appearance and greeted him with a welcoming smile. Standing tall, he was a behemoth of a man, and you instinctively assumed he would order a straightforward black coffee. However, as he approached the counter and confidently stated his order for black tea in a strong Manchester accent, you nearly froze.

"Is something wrong?" His deep voice resonated, and you softly smiled, "Not at all, sir. I'm sorry. Would you like any sugar or milk?"

He grabbed his wallet and placed a ten-dollar bill on the counter, "Plain is fine."

Walking away, he took a seat near the front of the cafe, affording him a clear view of everyone entering and a pleasant sight through the nearby window. Your brows furrowed at the ten-dollar bill.

Where on God's green earth did he ever pay ten dollars for a cup of tea?

After making his cup, you retrieved his change of six dollars and approached his table. He seemed deeply engrossed in his book, you almost felt bad for interrupting him.

"Here's your tea, and the tea is only four dollars. This is your change." He glanced at the money on the table before looking up at you. His gaze lingered, taking in your features; you looked only a few years younger than him.

You were pretty too.

Shifting your weight from one leg to the other, you felt his eyes wandering. "Keep the change, love." His use of the endearment caught you off guard. People around here never spoke that way, but then again, based on his accent, you knew he wasn't from the area.

"Oh no, that's too much. Please, keep it." He picked up the cup, bringing it to his lips. After taking a sip, his eyes slightly widened. It was the best cup of tea he had had in years.

"Consider it a tip then. You know how to make a good cup," he said, and you smiled, feeling proud that this giant man appreciated the way you made tea.

"Thank you. That's very sweet of you to say." He hummed in response, and you took it as a sign to let him go back to his book and read in peace. You gathered the cash on the table and tucked it into your apron as you walked away.

After taking off your apron in the back, you made yourself a cup of tea before settling down in the corner of the cafe with a book. Simon glanced up at you, noticing an older man standing in your place at the register.

Were you on break?

His eyes returned to the pages of his book, and he continued reading until he heard you get up after about thirty minutes, standing back at the register with the book still in your hand. The only customers to come in were an older couple who chose to sit in the back, away from Simon.

A small timer on his watch beeped quietly, and he turned it off. Having spent around an hour and a half at the cafe, he thought it was a good time to head back home. Your eyes went to him when you heard the quiet beeping, observing as he tore a small piece of the napkin and used it as a bookmark. You smiled to yourself, recalling how you used to do the same before you started doodling on strips of paper to use as bookmarks.

As he got up from his seat, you smiled and called out to him, "Have a nice day."

He responded with a gruff "you too" before walking out and heading back home. Simon appreciated the quiet and emptiness of the cafe and decided he would definitely be returning tomorrow.

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