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mephisto-reporting · 1 month ago

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Silk, Satin and Sensual

Premise: Headcanons on his preferences for lingerie and his reaction when he sees you in them. Based on this request. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is suggestive. Please do not interact if you are a minor. Caleb version is out!!. If you wanted to be added to my taglist, please DM, ask or comment :D Content warning: Suggestive. MNDI.

XAVIER

Xavier has a thing for soft, celestial tones like white, cream, silvers and muted golds. He’s drawn to fabrics that shimmer faintly, almost like starlight against your skin. He has a thing for delicate patterns, like lacework.

Sheer materials like mesh and chiffon drive him wild, especially if they reveal just enough to leave him craving more. He prefers the balance of teasing and revealing, where the fabric hints at your curves without fully exposing them.

He’s absolutely obsessed with your thighs and prefers lingerie that accentuates them. Garter belts, thigh-high stockings, and intricate lace shorts are his kryptonite.

If you have small celestial accents like tiny golden stars or moon charms hanging from the garters… good fucking luck. You are not walking the next day.

He has an unapologetic habit of tearing your lingerie when he loses control, so he’s constantly replacing your wardrobe. His explanation? “It’s not my fault they’re made so fragile. I’ll get you something sturdier—next time.”

Once the damage is done and your new lingerie is in shreds, Xavier looks annoyingly unbothered. He’ll casually toss the ruined piece aside and murmur, “Guess I’ll have to buy you another.”

He’ll commission a lingerie set made of delicate ivory lace with gold threads woven into it, shaped to mimic constellations. He’ll surprise you with thigh-high stockings that have faint, shimmering patterns running up the sides. These are always paired with garter belts because he loves tugging on them when he is intimate with you.

He’ll leave the box on your bed, wrapped in soft cream paper with a gold ribbon. Inside, there’s always a handwritten note in his steady handwriting. “For you. You’re too beautiful not to be dressed like the stars themselves.”

His reactions:

The moment he sees you in lingerie, his carefully composed demeanor melts away, replaced by an intense, almost predatory focus. His eyes lock onto your thighs, and his voice becomes a low murmur laced with want. He is the definition of: his eyes darkened.

Xavier likes the idea that these pieces are chosen specifically for his eyes. If anyone else saw you in them, even accidentally, it would ignite a streak of jealousy.

If you walk past him too many times, deliberately flaunting the look, he’ll finally snap. One moment, you’re teasing him; the next, you’re backed against the wall with his hands tracing the garter straps. “Do you want me to tear this off?” he’ll ask, his voice soft but carrying that dangerous edge. Spoiler: He’s already decided the answer.

ZAYNE

Zayne prefers earthy tones—rich browns, deep greens, warm ambers, and muted burgundies. These hues remind him of natural beauty, grounding yet alluring. He loves subtle details like lace trim, delicate straps that crisscross your back, or a ribbon that ties just above your hips—small elements that add to the allure.

Zayne is drawn to pieces that accentuate your waist. Corset-style lingerie, high-waisted panties, or teddies with cinched designs are his favorites. He admires the way they create an hourglass effect, appreciating your silhouette.

He has a thing for materials that feel good to the touch: silky satins, fine lace, and soft mesh. The tactile experience is as important to him as the visual.

Zayne has impeccable taste, selecting pieces that balance seduction with sophistication. Think satin teddies with plunging necklines or lace bodysuits with subtle, sheer paneling. He gravitates toward lingerie sets that emphasize your natural beauty rather than overwhelming it—clean lines, elegant accents, and designs that celebrate your form.

When Zayne gifts you lingerie, he makes it an intimate experience. He’ll lay the gift on the bed, wrapped in tissue paper with a single dried flower,something earthy and subtle, like a sprig of lavender or rosemary. His note is direct: “For when you’re ready to let me admire you properly.”

Zayne picks quality over quantity. He’d rather gift you one stunning, well-made piece than several forgettable ones. His selections are designed to last—not that he always gives them the chance to.

His gaze never wavers. When you wear lingerie, Zayne’s eyes lock on yours before slowly traveling down your body, making you feel like the most captivating thing in the world.

There’s no ripping it off, but it won’t take long before he’s slipping the fabric off. He’s not gentle, but he’s not reckless either. There’s a certain hunger in how he undresses you.

His Reaction:

When you walk into the room wearing one of his carefully chosen pieces, Zayne’s reaction is immediate. His calm is replaced by a sharp intake of breath, his eyes trailing over you with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier.

Zayne’s fingers brush over the fabric with deliberate slowness, his palms lingering against the soft satin at your hips. “Feels even better than I imagined,” he murmurs, his lips quirking into a heated smirk. “But I think it’d feel better on the floor.”

If you tease him, letting a strap fall off your shoulder or adjusting the lace just so—Zayne’s control begins to crack. His hands are on you instantly, his voice dropping to a growl. “You like testing me, don’t you? Keep it up, and you’ll see what happens.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel is drawn to soft, pastel shade like gentle blues, lavender, and delicate purples. He prefers lingerie that’s sweet and soft, evoking a sense of innocence while still being sensual.

He gravitates towards cuter lingerie like bralette sets with flowing chiffon accents, babydolls with sheer overlays, or high-waisted lingerie shorts. He likes pieces that don’t reveal too much but are so alluring that he cannot keep his eyes off you.

Rafayel is obsessed with fine details such as silver waistbands that drape lightly like jewelry, chokers that gleam with tiny pearls, delicate chain straps on your bra, tiny dangling gemstones, or trims that sparkle subtly in the light.

Sheer robes, flowing fabrics, and fluttering hems draw his gaze as they cling to your skin over your lingerie like water waves. If you are wearing a lingerie, fresh out of the shower with your hair still wet, it is game over for this man.

Rafayel treats every moment with you in lingerie as sacred. He doesn’t rush; instead, he takes his time, savoring every detail like an artist admiring their finest work

Rafayel is the kind of person who doesn’t just buy off the shelf. He’ll have something specially commissioned for you, likely a set of lingerie that reflects your personality and his artistic sensibilities. His commission might even include small charms that are Lemuria inspired.

Rafayel, though loving, is bashful when it comes to gifting lingerie. He would likely have the lingerie sent to you without a grand reveal, perhaps bundled with other gifts like chocolates, perfume, scarves that might distract from his true intentions. His note will be brief, almost casual: “Some pieces I thought you'd appreciate, seeing as you're always so fashionable.”

His Reaction:

The first time you step out wearing one of his custom sets, a soft lavender bralette with delicate gold chain accents and a matching choker—Rafayel freezes. Rafayel can’t stop staring, though he tries to look away, his hand rising to cover his mouth as his blush deepens. “I-I didn’t think it would suit you this perfectly…” he stammers, his gaze flicking back to you despite himself.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to be so… um… revealing,” he stammers, eyes lingering on the intricate lace and the subtle gleam of the small jewels. “But… you look… divine.” When Rafayel touches the fabric, his fingers tremble against your skin. He’s so gentle, almost reverently so, as though touching you in this way is an act of worship.

"It’s like you’re wearing my art… and I can’t stop admiring it." His gaze will flicker between your face and the lingerie, doing his best to hold himself together. “Why are you doing this to me?” he’ll murmur with desire. “I just want to keep you here... like this... for as long as possible.” he whispers, voice barely audible, as though if he spoke louder, he might break the spell.

SYLUS

Sylus gravitates toward bold, classic colors like deep blacks, rich reds, and occasionally luxurious whites, midnight blues or dark emerald greens. These colors resonate with him. He appreciates the elegance of these shades, as they exude sophistication and bold sensuality.

He’s a silk and satin man through and through. These fabrics are smooth, luxurious, and irresistible to his touch. He loves how they glide over your skin and how they feel beneath his fingertips.

He loves classic, timeless lingerie: lacy bras with garter belts, high-cut panties that highlight your legs, and elegant teddies that hug every curve. Think luxury brands and couture pieces that scream sensuality.

Occasionally, Sylus surprises you with bolder, risqué styles: Cage-style bras with open backs, strappy bodysuits that playfully expose just enough skin, lingerie with sheer panels, leaving little to the imagination.

He doesn’t tear or rush; instead, he carefully folds each piece, placing it aside after everything is said and done. “I’ll want to see this on you again.” he explains with a sly smirk

Sylus doesn’t stop at gifting you a single set. Every outfit in your closet has a matching pair of lingerie. You’ll find lingerie for every occasion. Sylus alwayssurprise you with a box containing lingerie hidden among other extravagant gifts—fine jewelry, luxurious robes, or even a custom-made vanity to store your collection: “Maybe my luck is not be so bad if I am the only man who gets to see you in these, sweetie.”

For Sylus, lingerie isn’t just for the bedroom. He loves seeing you lounge in one of his tailored sets, reclining on his sofa as you read or listen to music together. Sylus is content to let his hands roam over the satin, enjoying the feel of it warmed by your skin. “Stay like this,” he’ll say softly, his voice a mix of command and yearning. “I want to keep you close.”

True to his nature, Sylus has a habit of keeping little trophies. He has a drawer in one of his private residences dedicated to these keepsakes as a reminder of your shared moments. If you ever catch him in the act of placing something there, he’ll simply shrug with a sly grin. “Can you blame me? I keep what’s mine.”

His Reaction:

When you step into the room wearing something he’s chosen for you, Sylus’ composed exterior falters, just slightly. His gaze darkens, and his lips curl into a small, satisfied smirk. He’ll take a slow step toward you, one hand tucked casually in his pocket, the other reaching out to trail a finger down the silk, letting it rest against your hip.

Without hesitation, he’ll scoop you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly to where he wants you—be it the bedroom, his grand leather chair in the study, or even the chaise lounge in front of the fireplace. “I’m not letting you out of my sight when you like this.”

Sylus never tears your lingerie—he unwraps you like the most precious gift, his hands moving with reverent care. “You deserve to be savored, not rushed.” he whispers, his gaze locked on you. He’ll seat you on his lap or lay you down, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate movements along the fabric. The lingerie is not just for his pleasure, it is for yours as well.

CALEB

Caleb prefers lingerie that’s just for him—sexy yet teasing, revealing enough to drive him mad but covering just enough to make him desperate.

Caleb gravitates toward sleek, understated sensuality. He favors deep, alluring colors like navy, black, and dark burgundy, shades that hint at elegance but still feel undeniably intimate. However, he has a soft spot for delicate lilacs and soft purples, especially when they complement your skin.

Minimal but devastatingly effective designs have him on edge. Thin straps barely holding everything together, high-cut panties that accentuate your legs, delicate bralettes that are more about aesthetics than practicality. He loves when the details like lace appliques or ribbon ties demand his attention. Anything he can tug, unravel, or ruin.

Let’s be real. Caleb is not a man who delicately undresses you. He’s been patient his entire life, watching, waiting, restraining himself. The moment you’re finally his? He’s not taking his time. “You knew what would happen when you put this on, didn’t you?” His voice is low, rough—before the sound of tearing lace fills the room.

If you ever wonder why pieces of your lingerie mysteriously disappear, don’t. Caleb takes them when you’re not looking, slipping them into his uniform pockets or luggage when he’s preparing for deployment. He’s possessive, obsessive, and when he’s away on fleet missions, he wants something of yours to keep with him. A delicate lace garter? A silk chemise you once wore to bed? He’ll tuck them away like trophies, running his fingers over them late at night, mind filled with thoughts of you.

He’s a man who gives gifts with purpose. He knows exactly what you want, and he knows what he wants. If he’s getting you that plushie you mentioned offhandedly, or the book you’ve been dying to read, you will find a carefully wrapped lingerie set alongside it. Every gift is a two-for-one deal—his way of spoiling you while satisfying his own desires. Tucked inside, there’s always a note with cheeky messages: "Making dinner tonight. But if you wear this, you'll be the dessert."

Caleb is the picture of patience in public. He knows what you’re wearing underneath your dress—he saw you put it on, watched every slow movement in the mirror. But he doesn’t let it show. Not a single twitch of his lips, not a single shift in his stance. He leans down, lips brushing your ear, his voice impossibly calm: “You’re going to regret this later.”

There is one thing that drives him past the point of no return— his clothes on you. Seeing you in his oversized shirt is one thing, but if he catches you lounging in his boxers? He’s done. His fingers dig into the waistband, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “You must really like testing me, huh?” His breath is hot against your neck, his hands already tugging the waistband lower. Any plans you had for the day? Gone.

His Reaction:

When you step into the room, wearing something meant just for him, his expression darkens immediately. There’s a brief flicker of something feral in his purple eyes—desire, possessiveness, raw hunger. He doesn’t say a word at first, just stands there, his breath held. “You expect me to behave after this?” His patience is frayed, and it's clear he’s barely holding onto his composure.

Try to tease him, make him work for it and he’ll let you, for a moment. He enjoys the chase, the way you think you’re in control. But the moment he decides he’s had enough? You’re done for. One second, he’s watching you with quiet intensity, and the next, you’re beneath him, your wrists pinned, your breath stolen by the sheer force of his presence.

When he touches you, it’s as if he can’t get enough—his fingers move with purpose, reverence, but there’s an undeniable urgency. “You’re mine. Always.” And with that, his lips crash against yours, taking what’s his. There’s no gentle teasing here—this is pure, unfiltered desire. It’s clear there’s no going back now. You’ve pushed him past the point of no return. The soft, teasing lace may have been your choice—but now everything that happens from there is his.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

taglist: @cordidy

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bunny-jpeg · 7 months ago

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show-off (simon's version)

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut/pwp, size difference/kink, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, dirty talk, filthy, missionary, rough sex, mask kink, clothed sex, crying kink

price's version | johnny's version | kyle's version

simon loved his precious girl. he had been calling your "the missus" for months now. the task force was honestly surprised that simon managed to find someone. especially someone so.... cute? innocent? sweet?

the boys remembered one time you went all the way to base with a container full of homemade cookies because simon would be on base during his birthday. you somehow made your way onto base with no proper identification that would allow you on base. somehow you figured it out and ended up surprising simon with it.

so to get a video message in the group chat on a sunny afternoon was a bit of a surprise to price, johnny and kyle. simon never sent videos, he barely sent messages that were more than a word long.

so a lengthy video made the rest of the task force very interested.

"there's the pretty bird." simon cooed. you were all giggles as you tried to shield your face from the camera.

"si, stop it!" you giggled as you felt your cheeks grow hot under the lens of the camera. you were both outside in the backyard.

the task force knew about the high fence that protected the property you called home. even if someone could hear the both of you, it would take a lot for them to see it. the camera panned down to the sight of the skirt of your sundress pushed up to your waist and your panties were around your left ankle.

wasn't simon a gentleman letting you lie out on a checkered blanket. you had a smile on your face as the camera was pointed to you. the sound of simon undoing his belt, it was dropped by your head soon after.

your expression made it clear that simon had taken his cock out, your eyes went wide and the movement of your throat as you swallowed.

"tell the boys what you're lookin' at right now, birdie?" he asked, he let out a soft groan as he started to stroke his lengthy cock. he was situated at about seven and a half inches, almost eight if he was painfully hard.

you replied, "um.. hi, captain price, sergeants mactavish and garrick! i hope you're liking this video!" god you sounded so painfully cute. (by this point johnny had always came once, but he was working himself for a second round). you looked at simon, "it's embarrassing!"

"c'mon. it's nothing they haven't seen before." simon chuckled.

you made a face, "what are you doing when i'm not around?"

simon reached for you with his free hand and rubbed your soft cheek, "i mean in the showers, lovie. no one is takin' me from you."

you pouted, "good."

"now tell the boys what you see. give them a nice visual before i fuck you." simon's voice was soft. soft in a way that the rest of the team didn't even know if it was possible.

you looked up at the camera and held onto the bottom of your dress skirt that was bunched up around your waist. you looked embarrassed as you said, "si is wearing a green t-shirt and camo pants, he has his gloves with the bones on them, and his mask."

"do i look good, lovie?"

you nodded meekly, "you look very good, si!" you blushed more and smiled up at him. he used his free hand to put around your neck delicately, he wasn't choking you, just holding you. you leaned into his touch lovingly.

"but you're prettier, lovin' a dog like me." he laughed as he grabbed you by one hip and shifted your hips up. your cunt rested in his lap up against his cock. he tilted the camera down to get a good look at your glossy pussy.

he rubbed his impressive cock up against your pussy. how could something so big fit inside something so small. it was nothing short of a miracle.

"like that, lovie? like when i film ya for the boys?" simon chuckled as he stroked his cock and tapped it against the top of your pussy, "make ya open up for me."

you whined, "simon!!"

he chuckled lowly before he pressed his cock into your waiting hole. you made a low groaning noise as you clutched into the blanket under you. the wet noises sounded like a dream as you whimpered loudly.

simon kept the camera on your face and bouncing tits as he thrusted against you. the sounds of sex rang through the video as simon pleasured you. of course you looked like a sex goddess, your rightful throne on his cock.

you rolled your hips as he filmed you, his free hand on your bent knee as he moved against you. your cheeks looked warm as you panted heavily. the pleasure coursed through you.

"like what you see, boys?" he asked as he got a close up of your face as it was twisted with pleasure, "pretty little thing." he chuckled.

"si! please!' you whimpered, as you met his thrusts. they weren't extremely fast but they carried power that made your breath get caught in your throat. like he was moving your organs up with each thrust.

simon looked down at you, you couldn't read his expression due to the mask. you hated to admit but the thing was very attractive. it left him so mysterious as he rubbed your knee and held the camera in your face. he watched you with a knowing gaze, he knew what his teammates were thinking right now.

price was probably watching this with his morning coffee, johnny was stroking his cock like it was a lifeline, and kyle was casually watching it, monitoring your every facial expression. regardless the video would be in steady rotation in the task force 141's spank bank.

simon felt a surge of pride in his gut as he continued to fuck your sweet pussy, earning more sweet noises from you. it was adorable, you sounded like a dream to him. you were just the cutest thing ever, he couldn't even put into words how adorable he thought you were.

"pretty girl." his tongue was filthy, "everyone thinks you're the sweetest thing since sugar. but i've seen the damage you can do.' you love how big i am. you always said the bigger the better, even when it stretches your little cunny." you covered your face once more and he chuckled, "show me your face, lovie."

you slowly pulled your hands away and looked at the camera. he made a pleased noise as he continued to fuck you. you felt amazing wrapped around his cock. like a sexual fantasy come to life, it was arousing.

sometimes the arousal in you was so intense that you ended up tearing up. your bottom lip wobbled as he buried his cock into you, his balls gazed your ass as you took every last inch. you wiped your tears but simon only put the camera further in your face to get the best view of his crying little angel.

"poor girl, poor mrs. riley." he purred, "gettin' bullied by her hubby's fat cock."

you whimpered, "please, si." you felt your back arch as your heart thumped in your chest. the back of your sundress stuck to your sweaty back.

simon was a hungry man, a greedy, hungry man. he loved that his teammates are going to get off to the sounds of him fucking you. it wasn't long before the video's stabilization became a little off because simon was nearing his orgasm.

your clothed breasts bounced with each thrust, them almost tumbling out of the front of your sundress, and your tongue peeked out from your mouth as you panted heavily. it was arousing to the point where simon could feel his cock twitch inside of you.

"most beautiful thing ya ever seen." he said as his pace staggered and with a few thrusts, he pushed his cock all the way inside of you.

simon afterwards too his cock out, it was growing soft as he pulled out, a dribble of leftover cum came out.the camera for a brief moment showed your used cunt.

then the video ended. and there was an additional message from simon that read, "this isn't me sharing. i was just showin' off."

#bunny writes #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #bunny speaks #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader

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p5buecks · 11 days ago

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gift swap

paige bueckers x reader

valentines day gift swap with your girlfriend

cw: smut (munch p! strap p!)

hi! happy early valentines day or galentines day, i hope u feel all the love <3

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `

“You first.” “No, you first.” “No, you.” You and your girlfriend were currently arguing over who would open their gift first. It was the night before Valentine’s Day and you had snuck away from your family home to come to Paiges house to exchange gifts.

“No seriously, you first because it’s technically for me but you’ll get the true present.” Paige says shoving the red gift bag towards you. “Wait really? Because same. We didn’t get the same thing did we?” You ask although there’s no way you could have gotten the same thing. Your gift to Paige wasn’t exactly her kind of vibe. “Doubt it, ma.” Paige chuckles, “Now open it. And take your coat off. Makin’ me all uncomfortable sat on my bed in your trench coat.”

“You want me to take my coat off?” You ask, brows raised. “Yeah?” Paige was confused and it made you giggle, “Whatever you say.” You stand up from her bed and with your back towards her, you untie the belt around your waist and carefully unbutton your coat. The material falls slack around your body and you slowly spin around to face Paige, “Happy Valentine’s Day, P.” Paiges eyes widen as she takes in the sight in front of her.

You’re wearing a short, sheer black babydoll dress with a black lace trim. Beneath, a matching black lace bra and thong set. Your smooth thighs are on full display as the dress hem barely covers your ass. The deep, plunging neckline paired with the push up bra accentuates your full cleavage and along with the knee high black boots you opted for, you looked damn right slutty and Paige was eating it up. “Damn, ma.” She rasped out, leaning back on her elbows, her piercing blue eyes raking over your body, from head to toe, unapologetically. You shrug your coat off and it lands on her bedroom floor with a soft thud. “You like?” You ask, giving your girlfriend a spin so she could see the full fit. “I fuckin’ love.” She all but growls, reaching out for you hungrily.

You let out a high pitched giggle as she pulls you onto her lap so you’re straddling her, “You know I love you in black.” Paige remarks, fiddling with the lacy hem. The way her fingers graze the exposed skin on your thigh gives you goosebumps. “I do.” You grin down at her, “I know you love me in lace too.” Your raspy words have an immediate effect on Paige and she pulls her lip in between her teeth, “Alright. Open your gift now.” She hands you the red gift bag and you swing your leg off of her so your sat by her side.

Ruffling through the pink tissue paper, your hand meets something in the bag and it takes your brain all of three seconds to come to the conclusion your touching a strap on. You pull it out with eyes wide and your mouth falls open when you see the size of the silicone toy. “Paige! That’s huge!” You gasp further inspecting her gift to you. “Theres no way that’s fitting in-“ You begin to speak but Paige silences you, taking the strap from your grip, “Relax ma. You trust me, right?” Of course you do. You nod. “And you know I’d never hurt you?” Absolutely. You nod again. “Ok good. Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. I got you.”

You and Paige settle on a safe word of apple. She tells you if anything feels too much or it hurts or you don’t like it, just say apple and she’ll stop. No questions asked. You’re grateful for her care and consideration but by the time she’s knuckles deep, tongue lapping to get you wet enough, any fear you had disappeared and you just wanted her inside, now.

“Want you…inside.” You moan, pushing Paiges head away from your dripping core and she stretches up and kisses you deeply, hands digging into your waist. You taste yourself on her lips and tongue as it plays with yours and you groan into her mouth.

“You ready?” She checks in and you nod eagerly before she gives you another quick kiss and you watch as she strips out of her sweats. Her navy blue boxers tight against her muscular thighs and the way they flex as she steps into the harness makes you salivate. Her sweater was long discarded and the way she looked in her sports bra, hair in a messy bun and the plastic cock hanging from her waist made you wonder why it took this long for y’all to try this. “You look hot as fuck right now.” You tell Paige, looking at her through hooded eyes, desperate for her to hurry up.

You fiddle with the button holding your babydoll dress closed but Paige tells you to stop, “Keep that on.” She softly commands before tugging on your ankles, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You shudder with a mix of nerves and excitement, “Remember, apple, okay?” She reinforces the chosen safe word and you nod but that’s not good enough, “Words, baby.” Paige insists. “Yes. Apple, got it, whatever. Now just fuck me…please.”

Despite your clear yearning and vocal begging, Paige took her time and teased you. With one hand holding the base of the silicone cock and the other pushing your thigh to the side, she ran the tip through your wet folds. Up and down, agonisingly slow. You twitched and fidgeted, unable to keep still and you bucked your hips upwards in hopes that she would finally get the hint and give you what you wanted.

“Deep breath, ma.” Paige instructs and as you inhale and hold, she sinks down into you. You can’t help but wince as the silicone toy stretches you open, “You good?” Paige checks in and you nod quickly, biting down on your lower lip, “Uh huh.” Words are failing you right now but you want to assure her you’re okay. “I’ll go slow.” She promises and she proceeds to move her hips at a careful, steady pace.

Both her hands were planted on each of your knees, not only keeping them apart but also steadying herself. After the first few initial movements, your body began to relax and Paige could tell. She pressed her hips down further and your jaw fell slack as the tip of the toy knocked at your g-spot ever so slightly. A quiet, breathy moan escaped your lips and you reached up for your girlfriends hand which she gladly linked with her own.

Her speed never faltered and you could tell she was being gentle with you. Her thumb stroked your leg comfortingly and her eyes never strayed from yours. You appreciated her concern for you but the ache between your legs was becoming so intense, it felt like you were being edged in the worst way. “Faster, Paige.” You plead. You were aware of how ridiculously needy you sounded, but you didn’t care. “Are you sure?” Paige double checks and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “I’m not made of glass. If you’re fucking me, I want to feel it.” In hindsight, you should have known this would set your girlfriend off, but you were desperate and in the moment you wanted nothing more than for her to slam into you with no remorse.

Any thoughts you had quickly turned to mush and you could only imagine the same had happened to Paige because she was no longer holding eye contact with you. She was utterly entranced as she watched the way she filled you up, thrust after deep thrust. “Taking me so well baby. Good fucking girl.” She praised and your cheeks flushed a dark fuchsia as you groaned in satisfaction at her words. You had a praise kink and Paige knew it and there was no way she wasn’t going to take advantage of that. “Feels s-so so good.” You whine and you grip onto the sheets beneath you in hopes of grounding yourself even slightly.

You knew how wet you were because you could feel it. It was dripping out of you, coating your thighs, they were warm and sticky. But the sloppy sounds of Paige driving into you at full force were nothing shy of pornographic.

With every movement from Paige, you were being pushed further up the bed, your tits jiggling each time she slammed into you. You had followed her instructions and kept your babydoll dress on, the mesh now clinging to your sweaty body. Your hands traced over the thin lace covering your firm nipples and you tweak them slightly, intensifying your pleasure. Paiges eyes were back on you and you watched in real time as she had a physical reaction to your movements. She groaned hungrily, as if she was a predator and you were her prey before leaning forward and hooking one finger into the neck line of your lingerie. She pulled it down in one swift, calculated action and your perky tits spilled out of the lace cups, now on full display.

You were pinned beneath Paige and her position on top of you caused her to be so deep inside of you, you were sure you could feel it in your stomach. You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut and in an attempt to relieve you she tried to pull back but in your utterly fucked out state, you wrapped your legs around her, keeping her in place and begged for more. “Don’t stop.”

Paige steadied herself, with her hands at either side of your head, her intense eye contact and deep pounding resumed. “Fucking me so good P, gonna come.” You rapsed, your mouth was dry and your whole body was beginning to tingle. Your orgasm was scorching inside of you and Paige knew exactly what you needed to get you there. Of course she did. It was Paige. She gave your first orgasm and hundreds since then. She knew your body inside and out.

She shifted her weight to one arm and it flexed under the pressure while the other dipped down and found home on your swollen clit. She rubbed soft circles over the sensitive spot and your body jolted as if her fingers were a souce of electricity. Within seconds you were overcome with pure bliss and delirium. All awareness of what you were saying or doing disappeared but your girlfriends strong, steady voice remained as she spoke your through your shattering release.

“That’s it baby, doing so good.”

She kissed your forehead.

“You took me so well.”

She kissed your cheek.

“My perfect girl.”

She kissed your lips.

You were so far gone, you were unable to even kiss Paige back and she chuckled against your lips, “You okay?” Her voice was tender and caring, “M’ okay.” You replied with a small nod of your head. “I’m gonna pull out okay? Might feel weird.” Paiges constant, clear communication only turned you on more. She cared about you deeply and she wasn’t afraid to show it.

As she pulled out, it did feel weird, she was right and you felt empty, like something was missing. “I want to turn around.” Your voice was thick with tiredness, “What?” “I want to turn around. And I want you to take me from behind.” You proposed and Paige chuckled again, “As much as I would love that, your legs are still shaking and you haven’t opened your eyes.” “But-“ “Next time baby. Let me get you cleaned up.”

thank u for reading! appreciate u guys so much <33 let me know if u have any fun valentines day plans so i can live vicariously through you 😫 long distance sucks especially on days like this :( anyway send requests if you have any fun <33

#p5buecks #paige bueckers fanfiction #wlw #paige bueckers x reader #fanfiction #lesbian #paige bueckers imagine #paige bueckers smut #smut #one shot #valentines day

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fox-guardian · 9 months ago

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[ID: Three sets of digital drawings of Alice Dyer from The Magnus Protocol in different outfits on a brown background. She is a thin white trans woman with freckles, shaggy brown hair with faded pink tips, crooked teeth, and pink painted nails, and she is always wearing pink cat-eye glasses, two pairs of silver earrings and silver snakebites, with a varying third ear piercing as well.

The first image features three pajama outfits.

The first is a baby pink cami, dusty pink shorts, and burgundy slippers, in which she also has her hair tied in a bun with a burgundy colored scrunchie. She is standing hunched and yawning.

The second is a dusty pink cami, gray PJ bottoms with pink stars and moons, a dark blue robe, and burgundy slippers. In that one, her hair is down and extra shaggy, and she is scratching her side, lifting her shirt a bit.

The third has her with nicely curled hair, wearing a baby pink satin robe, a black cami, and burgundy stockings, slippers, and matching makeup. She is standing coyly lifting her robe slightly with one leg lifted and a hand to her mouth.

The second image features three work outfits.

The first is of her in a pink and gray flannel shirt, dark blue hoodie, patchwork flannel maxi skirt, and dusty pink converse. She is also wearing a gold and red braided bracelet and a pink one. She is standing in profile, smiling with her hands behind her back.

The second outfit is a blue, pink, and brown flannel shirt over a grey undershirt, a pair of ripped blue jeans, a brown and pink flannel tied around her waist, brown socks, dusty pink converse, pink bracelet, and a dark blue hoodie draped over her shoulder. She is standing with one hand on her hip, the other holding her hoodie, and she is smiling as thought talking.

The third outfit is a burgundy blouse, long navy skirt, brown belt, and burgundy shoes. Her hair is also done in nice curls and she is wearing soft burgundy makeup. She is smiling awkwardly and shrugging.

The third image features casual outfits.

The first is a soft pink tank top with a navy bra peeking underneath, a frilly brown maxi skirt, pink slip-ons, and a grey and brown flannel purse. She is also wearing the three bracelets previously shown with, and pink donut earrings. She is smiling with her hands behind her.

The second outfit is a burgundy bra, baggy brown and grey flannel hanging off her shoulder, a pink and brown flannel tied around her waist, a navy knee-length skirt, white crew socks, and dusty pink converse. She is also wearing a grey bracelet, a pink beaded bracelet, tooth earrings, and navy eyeshadow and burgundy lipstick. She is standing leaning to the side with one hand on her knee, smiling and holding up a peace-sign with her other hand near her face.

The last outfit is a dusty pink crop-top with a boat on it, dark blue hoodie, a short burgundy-plaid skirt, shredded navy tights, gray knee-high socks with burgundy stripes at the top, and dusty pink converse. She also has her usual bracelets as well as shark earrings and smeared burgundy lipstick. She is jumping up, smiling and shouting, with one hand punching into the air.

end ID]

~~~~

ALICE OUTFITS <3 these were soooo fun to do omg. i have my own favorites out of these, please tell me yours!! i'm really happy with how they all turned out <3

#fg's art #the magus protocol #tmagp #alice dyer #i hope that ID format works i tried to make it not just three big blocks of text #tried to make it Readable also #part of me wants to make a bunch of alice-colored plaid textures to just Paste over her chowder style but.... the definition of forms....#anyway I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE THESE I WANNA DO MORE <3 #who next?? 👀

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itsminjify · 2 months ago

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★ ENHYPEN WHEN YOU WEAR A SHORT MINIDRESS ───𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇’ ‘𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇

﹙𝑜𝑓﹚: when enhypen get a bit obsessed when you wear your pretty outfit && 12OOwc. ˖ smut ⠀⎯⎯ ⠀fem!centered ﹙ ⌕. ﹚ ARCHiVE ?

( minji says ) : my new years eve gift for you guys! i love writing and i love you guys~hehe, i wrote this at like 10 pm... i really need to go to sleep ㅋㅋ

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

your phone vibrated, the picture you’d just sent practically radiating heat through the screen. that dress. barely there, clinging to every curve, showcasing miles of leg that started just below your ass. you could almost feel the cool air on your skin where the fabric ended, a stark contrast to the burning anticipation building inside you. you smirked, imagining heeseung’s reaction.

the penthouse door crashed open, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent space. heeseung stood there, tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned, his hair a mess as if he’d been running his hands through it in frustration."baby," he breathed, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the air.

"heeseungie," you purred, tilting your head, letting your eyes roam over his body, lingering on the obvious bulge straining against his expensive suit pants. you saw his jaw clench, his hands fisting at his sides.

he moved then, with a speed and purpose that erased any trace of the polished businessman. he crossed the room in three long strides, his hands already reaching for the hem of your dress. “you’re driving me fucking insane,” he growled, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pushed the fabric higher, revealing the delicate lace of your thong. he cupped your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples through the thin material, making them harden instantly. “god, you’re so fucking hot. so fucking mine.”

“mmm, heeseung,” you moaned, arching into his touch, your head falling back as he leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. his hot breath ghosted over your skin before he latched onto your nipple, sucking hard, nipping and biting until you were whimpering, your hands clutching at his hair.

“mine,” he repeated, his voice thick with possessiveness, his fingers kneading into your ass, squeezing and teasing. he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist, your core pressing against his hard cock. he carried you to the bedroom, the urgency of his movements sending waves of anticipation through you. he dropped you onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours, burning with an intensity that made you tremble. he followed you down, his body pressing against yours, his hard cock throbbing against your core through the thin fabric of your thong. “you’re such a little tease, baby,” he whispered, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, then dipping lower, parting your folds and teasing your clit, making you gasp.

“only for you,” you whispered back, your breath catching as he fumbled with his belt, his hard, thick cock springing free, pulsing with anticipation.

he thrust into you, hard and deep, making you gasp, your head snapping back against the pillows. “say my name, baby,” he grunted, his breath hot against your ear, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements.

“heeseung! fuck, heeseung! oh, fuck!” you cried out, your nails digging into his back, your hips bucking against his as you met each thrust with equal force. you felt his fingers teasing your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, until you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you in waves of pure pleasure.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

you tug the hem of the short black minidress down, smoothing it over your thighs. it barely covers anything, riding high on your hips. you take a deep breath and walk into the living room, where jay’s sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels. he glances up, his eyes widening as they travel down your body. his jaw tightens, and he abruptly sits up, the remote falling to the cushions.

“where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” he asks, his voice low and rough. he tries to sound stern, but the heat in his eyes gives him away.

you shrug, feigning nonchalance. “movie night? remember?” you twirl slightly, making the dress flare out. you see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. a visible bulge strains against his sweatpants. he definitely didn’t wear boxers.

“yeah, but… that?” he gestures vaguely at your dress.

you saunter over to the couch and plop down, deliberately sitting on his lap. you feel the immediate pressure of his erection against your lower back. you smirk, knowing he can feel you shifting slightly against him.

“what? it’s comfortable,” you murmur, batting your eyelashes.

he runs a hand through his hair, his breathing heavy. “comfortable for who? because i’m about to lose my fucking mind.” he whispers, his voice thick with lust. he looks down at you, his eyes dark. "you're killing me right now."

you look up at him, a playful glint in your eyes. “is that so?” you reach up and trace a finger along his jawline.

he groans and grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing your fingertips. “you know exactly what you’re doing,” he murmurs against your skin. “and i’m not sure how much longer i can pretend i’m not about to fuck you right here, right now.” he shifts slightly, pressing harder against you through his sweatpants. the friction is intense, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “fuck,” he breathes, his hips subtly rocking against yours. “right through my pants… you feel that?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

the closet door creaks open, you emerge, a nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin. jake’s sprawled across the bed, bathed in the soft glow of his phone screen, but the second he catches sight of you, his head snaps up. the phone clatters onto the nightstand, forgotten. his eyes widen.

“fuck,” he breathes, his voice a low, husky rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “is that… is that even a dress?”

you blush, biting your lip and twisting a strand of hair around your finger. “i i bought it today. do you like it?”

jake’s eyes darken further, his breath catching in his throat. he throws his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up abruptly, his gaze never leaving you. “like it? baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust, “you’re killing me.” he reaches out. he tugs you gently forward, pulling you into the space between his spread legs. “come here, you little tease.”

you stumble slightly, your heart pounding in your chest, and land softly between his thighs. he immediately wraps his arms around your waist, his hands splaying across the small of your back, pulling you firmly onto his lap. a gasp escapes your lips as you feel the hard, insistent ridge of his cock pressing against your thigh through the thin material of your dress. he shifts slightly, and you feel the denim of his jeans straining against him. with a quick, practiced motion, he unbuttons his pants and slides them down his legs, kicking them off to the side of the bed. then, with a flick of his wrist, his boxers follow, revealing his fully erect cock. it’s thick and heavy, the head a dark, purplish red, pulsing with anticipation. a thick vein runs down its length, and you can see a drop of precum glistening at the tip.

“god,” he murmurs against your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. he nuzzles the sensitive spot behind your ear, his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “you’re driving me fucking crazy.” his hands slide down your back, cupping your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh, kneading and squeezing. “you’re so fucking hot.” you gasp again, your head falling back to give him better access to your neck.

“jake…” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

he groans, his grip tightening on your ass. “ride me, baby,” he commands, his voice low and demanding. “ride my fucking cock.”

you don’t hesitate. gripping his shoulders, your fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt, you begin to move. you shift on his lap, aligning yourself perfectly with the hard length of his erection. a gentle rocking of your hips that allows you to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. you press down, feeling him fill you completely, a delicious ache spreading through your core. “fuck,” you whisper as he slides in deep.

you arch your back slightly, lifting yourself up and then sinking back down onto him. the thin fabric of the dress does little to protect you from the heat of his skin against yours. you grind against him, feeling the head of his cock rub against your most sensitive spot. “oh, fuck, yes,” you moan, your voice thick with pleasure. you can feel jake’s hands tightening on your ass, his thumbs tracing circles on your skin as he urges you on. “that’s it, baby, fucking ride me,” he growls. he’s groaning beneath you, his head thrown back, his eyes closed.

as you ride him harder and faster, the friction intensifies. you can feel the slickness of your own juices mixing with his precum. “you’re so fucking wet,” he gasps, his voice thick with lust, “fucking perfect.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

his breath hitches when you walk in. the fabric of the minidress, barely skims your thighs, clinging to every curve. he’s sprawled on the couch, one leg dangling off the edge, but he straightens instantly, his eyes widening. the magazine he was pretending to read slips from his fingers, landing with a soft thud on the rug.

you move with a deliberate sway, a subtle tilt of your hips as you walk past him. you can feel the heat of his stare burning into your skin, making you flush. he shifts on the couch, a low groan rumbling in his throat. his jaw clenches, a muscle ticking nervously in his cheek.

“fuck,” he breathes, the word barely audible. he clears his throat, the sound rough and uneven. “that… that’s…” he stumbles over his words, his eyes still fixed on you. “quite a dress.”

you offer a slow, deliberate smile, tilting your head slightly. “do you like it, sunghoon?” you ask softly, your voice a low purr.

he pushes himself off the couch. he closes the distance between you in long strides, his eyes never leaving yours. his hands settle on your hips, his thumbs brushing against the bare skin just above the hem of the dress.

“like it?” he whispers, his voice low and husky, his breath warm against your ear. “i’m about to lose my mind.”

before you can even register what’s happening, his hand slips beneath the hem of your dress, his fingers finding the soft folds of your flesh. a gasp escapes your lips, and you arch into his touch involuntarily. he moves his fingers slowly, rhythmically, teasing you with gentle strokes, building the pressure until you’re trembling. he withdraws his hand, bringing his fingers to his lips. he licks them clean, slowly, deliberately, his eyes locked on yours, a predatory gleam in their depths.

“you’re going to be the death of me,” he murmurs,

#: ୨୧ MINJIsWORK.COM. ´ ᯅ `#enha imagines #enha scenarios #heeseung enha #enhypen #enha #enha smut #jay smut #heeseung smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung enhypen #enhypen heeseung #sunghoon #enhypen lee heeseung #enhypen hard headcanons

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nova-amor · 1 year ago

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𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧��-𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐢-𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 [𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠], 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐲 & 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 [𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭, 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.]

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟏.𝟔𝐤

red oak wood digs into your abdomen as you lay flat across the surface of your desk. a rough hand digs into your scalp, forcing your heated cheek against the cool surface as the clattering sound of an undoing belt fills the silent void. there’s a heavy weight of tension lingering in the classroom’s air— the sounds of your blood rushing filling your ears, your muscles tensed and body tingling in anticipation.

your pleated midi skirt is bundled up to your waist, white blouse unbuttoned and bra disgarded from the copious kisses and fondling toji had done before bending you over your desk. pens and papers were casted aside, littering the classroom floor— a mess you definitely didn’t mind cleaning up after. this hadn’t been the first time you had fucked a student’s dad and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“look at you,” toji cooes into your ear from behind, his voice dropping an octave— thick, gravely, and lust-ridden. the accompanying metallic hiss of an undoing zipper makes your cunt throb with want, your body needy and begging to be filled. “dirty slut, yer fuckin’ pussy’s droolin everywhere, makin’ such a mess and we haven’t even gotten started yet.”

“please, mr. fushiguro,” you’re desperate. your hips bucking at the sensation of his cock’s head poking at your wet folds, smearing your arousal around with each glide and slide between. “don’t tease me— need ya so bad, please.”

toji tsks, rolling his eyes as his cock catches the hood of your clit. “i’ll do whatever the hell i want,” a harsh smack lands on your ass cheek, flesh stinging from the blow, your body attempting to jolt forward to evade another hit. “and what i want is for you to beg; beg me to fuck you, sweetness, c’mon.”

another smack echoes through the room, a whimper slipping from your lips from how hard he was spanking you. you want to melt into a puddle, knees growing weaker as the tip of his cock pushes into your sopping cunt. your walls clench hard around the cock’s head, clinging desperately to the single inch he was providing you with.

“mr.fushiguro, please,” you sound so pathetic, so weak— your voice high-pitched and needy. without even looking behind you, you knew that a shit-eating smirk had formed on toji’s pink lips, his ego inflating at the sound of your begging. “please, need your cock so bad— need t’ be stuffed with your cock— just wanna be your little cocksleeve, want you to fuck me like i’mma fleshlight— pleasepleaseplease—”

“good girl,” toji hums in delight, releasing his grip on the back of your head to hold your hips in place. “sounds so pretty when ya beg. whatever you want, baby, i’ll give t’ ya.”

his cock slides deep into you— your tight walls straining to stretch around his thick girth, your eyes crossing and mind melting into mush from how full you are. he doesn’t waste a second to start rutting into you, his thrusts short and fast— balls bouncing against your clit and the ridges of his cock dragging against your gummy walls. you can’t restrain the moans that bubble in your throat, the sounds of skin slapping against one another and your combined moans and groans filling the classroom.

“fuck— pussy’s too fuckin’ good, moanin’ like a whore f’me, baby.” toji grunts, nails digging deep into your hips. “that’s what you are, right? a dirty whore who likes fuckin’ her students’ dads? good for nothing but screwing half of the pta?”

you’re a blubbering mess, tongue-tied and mind too far gone to string words along. drool seeps from the corner of your mouth, brows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut. a hand snakes its way around your throat, lifting your head up and arching your back deeper, forcing you to make eye contact with the man behind you.

“i asked you a fuckin’ question: you like being a slutty little teacher?” there’s a hint of possession in his voice. his green eyes boring into your’s, eyes narrowing as he grips your neck a bit tighter. “like it when your students’ daddy’s use you?”

“yesyesyes— love bein’ a slut, love bein’ used, f-fucckkk,” you blabber, the flat of your palms pressing against your desk to support yourself. the angle allows toji’s cock to perfectly bully your g-spot, your vision growing blurry as the familiar tight knot forms at the pit of your stomach. you’re so close, it’s almost pain. “that’s what i’m here for, t’ be the school’s slutty teacher— fucckk, toji— you feel so fuckin’ good...”

“yeah? you like it when i fuck you like this?” he taunts, his other hand finding the back of your knee, forcing it to prop up on the desk. the angle is deeper, his thrusts getting faster. “can feel you’re about t’ cum, slutty pussy’s clench around me like a damn vice.”

“make me cum, please— wanna cum all over yer cock, wanna cream all over yer big cock— pleaseee—” your begging makes toji chuckle, his cock jackhammering into your g-spot.

“fuck, if i had known you were this much of a slut, i would’ve fucked you so much earlier,” he taunts, leaning in closer to you. “cum for me. be a filthy little cockwhore and cum on my cock.”

your orgasm hits you like a freight train, toji laughing at the sight of tears spilling down your cheeks as your cries fill the classroom. you’re so thankful there’s no one else around to hear your screaming, the rest of the school’s staff having left hours ago. your cries and expression earn a condescending “thatagirl” from toji, your cunt throbbing around him so hard that he struggles to keep his cock buried deep inside you.

toji then turns you around, manhandling you to lay your back flat down on the desk, his hands cupping the underside of your thighs. he squishes your legs up to your chest, knees tucked and pussy spread wide open— glistening with the thick slick of your arousal under the fluorescent lights of the classroom. the cool air makes your clit twitch, your throat dried out from your previous wails of pleasure.

“stick that tongue out, pretty girl,” toji forces you into a mating press, leaning over you completely and blocking the light above. you obediently stick your tongue out, a fat glob of spit landing on your tongue as he slides his cock back into you. “atta girl, such a perfect little thing.” he says as you gulp down his spit.

he ruts deep into you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. your tongue glides against his, allowing him to explore every crevice and space of your mouth as he pounds into you. you breathe through your nose, both of you unable to pull away from one another as he rearranges your insides to his liking.

“love this fuckin’ pussy— g’na stuff ya full of my cum, want ya barely able t’ walk out of here with my cum drippin’ down your thighs.” he murmurs inbetween the kiss, his teeth catching your bottom lip and tugging hard before letting go. you moan at the pain, your walls clenching hard again around him. he pulls away just enough to let you lick at his scar, the tip of your tongue gliding against the smooth skin.

“you’re my girl now, sweetness.” he cements the title into both your mind and your pussy, imprinting every vein and curve of his cock into the walls of your cunt. “only i can use this slutty little pussy from now on, got that?”

“holy shit— yess yesss,” you nod your head pathetically, your head bobbing along in complete agreement. your body bounces across the surface of your desk, barely able to keep up with the brutality of toji’s hips snapping into you. “all yer’s— no one else’s— fuucckk— i promise,”

“please fill me up, toji— pump me full with yer cum— please need it so bad—” with your pleads, toji only fucks you faster. his thrusts growing sloppier, his cock twitching and pulsating against the tight walls of your sloppy cunt.

with a sharp hiss, toji buries his cock deep inside of you— spilling his seed up against your cervix and his hips stutter from the intensity of his release. his grip on the back of your knees tighten momentarily, your cunt milking him and draining his balls for every drop of cum.

“fuck,” you giggle, a delirious smile tugging at your lips as toji retracts his cock from inside of you. his cum spills out, dense semi-translucent droplets staining your desk, your puffy folds, and inner thighs. “that was amazing.”

toji presses a sloppy kiss to your damp forehead, dropping your knees before gathering himself up to stuff his cock back into the restraints of his underwear and his pants. his vibrant eyes glimmer with a combination of possession and amusement, watching attentively as you clean yourself up with a few kleenex tissues before readjusting your outfit. he helps you to pick up the items littering the floor that he had knocked off your desk, giving you a proper moment to breathe and relax since the bones in your legs had turned to gelatin.

“what were we talking before?” you try to recall as you glance over the notes you had made to discuss with toji. the whole purpose of his visit was to discuss something related to his son, megumi, but you hadn’t the faintest clue where you had left off before getting derailed.

“his grades,” toji cups your cheek, his large hand engulfing the entirety of the side of your face. his thumb runs across your bottom lip, his finger tip dipping into your mouth. you suckle lightly, his eyes darkening once again as your tongue swirls around his thick finger, eagerly welcoming it. “somethin’ about his grades.”

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evnseokz · 2 months ago

Note

Drunk!heeseung x Sober!Reader trope when hee is so needy but the members are there so he pulls you into a closet or smthn for a quickie BUT the members hear you n heeseungs lovemaking n r MASSIVE teases 😝

{ ☆ quickie ~ l.hs }

pairing: tipsy bf! heeseung x sober! f. reader

contents: alcohol use, quick sex, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t!), no foreplay, no clear power play, kissing, dirty talk, pet name baby, sex in a closet lmao

an: ty for the request!! i struggled with writing the members teasing them for some reason so i hope this is okay! wc 1k

MINORS DNI

“baby, please?” heeseung pleaded, his wide eyes filled with desperation, his cheeks flushed with a soft pink, and the lingering scent of alcohol on his breath.

you glanced over at the living room, where the members were still gathered. “hee, the guys are right there,” you pointed out, motioning toward the group. heeseung had followed you into the kitchen as soon as you stood up to grab some water, his plea hanging in the air, urging you to go somewhere alone with him.

his arms hung around your waist as you sipped from your water, his frontside pressing into your back, making sure you could feel how needy he truly was. he swayed lightly behind you, lips forming a pout. “i need you, please. ill be quick.” his breath tickled your ear as he spoke, the action sending shivers through your skin. you hated how much of an effect he had on you in such a short time.

you sigh, turning around in his grasp to look him in the eyes. “fine, but we have to be fast.” heeseungs eyes light up with satisfaction, and you barely get a chance to set your cup down before heeseung is tugging you by your arm behind him. heeseung scans the area for a moment before pulling you into the nearest closet. you silently curse at him for choosing such a small, cramped space, but you don’t argue.

heeseung is quick to lock the door behind you two, pressing you into it, wedging his knee between your legs as his lips find your neck. a whimper escapes your lips at the action, wetness already pooling between your legs as you tug on your boyfriend's belt. heeseungs lips have found yours now, melding perfectly in sync as your tongues fight for dominance. you finally get his belt undone, unbuttoning his pants next as he hikes your skirt up your hips. his fingers slip under your panties, slotting between your lips as he feels how wet you are.

he chuckles slightly, the scent of alcohol fanning over your face as he does so. “so wet, baby, you’d think this was your idea.” you roll your eyes in response, instead pulling his hardened cock out of his pants and stroking him a few times. “just- hurry, please,” you breathed. heeseung wastes no time, removing his hand from your heat and hoisting you up so your legs were wrapped around his waist. he pushes your panties to the side, rubbing the head of his cock between your folds as you whine.

he loves how needy you’ve become, even though this whole thing was his idea in the first place. his tip prods at your entrance before he pushes in slowly, bottoming out in one go as you clench harshly around him, a loud moan falling from your lips. his hand flies over your mouth, muffling your sounds as he begins to move inside you. “shh, quiet, baby, they’re going to hear you,” he says, almost mockingly. you scowl at him with your eyes, eliciting a low laugh from heeseung.

his hips snap into yours at a fast pace, quick and desperate for release. the loud wet noises coming from where you’re connected, creating a stark contrast with the quietness of the dark closet that surrounds you. heeseungs hand remains over your mouth, and thank god for it because if it weren’t, then his fellow members definitely would be able to hear you.

heeseungs breathing becomes labored as he approaches his high, his free hand coming down to circle your swollen nub, wanting nothing more than for you to cum at the same time as him. you feel your stomach tighten as the stimulation from your clit and his cock begins to overwhelm you; your legs begin to tingle, and everything just feels so good. “fuck baby, cum for me,” heeseung purred into your ear, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he held out for your release.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as your legs shake around him, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. your tight walls spasming around heeseungs cock sends him over the edge, his seed spilling into you as his thrusts slow. once you’ve both rode out your highs, heeseung exits your sweet cunt, and his hand removes itself from over your mouth.

your legs fall from his waist, but you remain holding onto him, your legs weak from being in the same position for too long. he steadies you as you try to catch your breath. “you look so pretty like this,” heeseung smiled at you, and a blush coats your cheeks at the compliment, finally letting go of him to fix your clothing. heeseung fixes himself too, and you both exit the closet as quietly as possible, trying your best to sneak back into the living room like nothing happened.

when you sit back down, you notice a mischievous look on the boys faces. you’re sure they had to have known what happened. your cheeks heat up red as you try to focus on the tv in front of you, pushing the possible embarrassment to the back of your mind. jungwon is the first to speak up, “fuck baby! cum for me!” he says in a mocking tone, causing laughter to erupt amongst the members. you cover your face with your hands, your entire being burning red with embarrassment.

“if you guys wanted to fuck, y’all could’ve just gone upstairs and freed us from the live audio session,” jake laughed, sunghoon nodding in agreement. sunoo rolled his eyes playfully at the boys next to him, “just let us know next time so we can turn the tv volume up!” he chuckled, jay and riki agreeing silently, laughter threatening to escape their lips. heeseung shakes his head at his members, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“you guys are just jealous that we got some and you didn't.”

…

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prael · 6 months ago

Text

Pliancy

Kinktember Day 4: Dollification

ILLIT Park Minju x male reader smut

words: 6,488 Kinktember Masterlist

Art is eternal. Who was it that once said that a thing of beauty is a joy forever? Was it Byron? Was it Yeats? Who cares. But that line, however trite, does kind of get the concept down, really, as clichéd and insipid as it sounds.

Minju, too, is a joy forever, with her soft face, her sweet body, and her delicate touch. On this, I will allow you an image: she was the absolute pinnacle of girlhood, the perfect blending of innocence and wanton sexiness. When you pressed her slender wrists down into the sheets of her bed with those pale, thin fingers and pinned her slender body with your cock, you became one with a living, breathing piece of high art. The feeling of that, ah, that is something you cannot ever convey. And that's probably how it started, your obsession with her; she was beautiful and delicate and utterly desirable. She had all the loveliness of a porcelain figurine; just looking at her could arouse you, bring about your lusts and make your mouth dry up.

But there is something, and you realise this, something both primal and shameful, about wanting to sully that image of innocence. Not, of course, that your feelings towards Minju are wholly visceral—you do love her, and genuinely so. The things you do may imply something different, a detachment from her as a person if someone were looking in from the outside, but just as you assured her, it's an act born out of admiration. It's an act out of devotion.

To dollify the living, breathing, loving, feeling organism called Minju, then to make her merely an object for your desires. Ah, there's something wonderfully, gloriously filthy in that—the violation and the liberation. In all those actions and thoughts, you can be sure, is that undercurrent of perverseness and lust. Your lips tracing across Minju's navel is an act of passion, one to express the fullness and warmth that has bloomed inside your chest. Your hands gripping her thighs so tight that they leave deep, crimson fingerprints on the skin is an act of passion too—one to express a primal need.

When it all starts, Minju, a girl so usually full of energy and vivacity, is demure and quiet; she sits in this stoic way in front of you, knees together and her hands resting on her thighs, just below the table. The table holds the tools of your art: hairclips, mascara, lip gloss, nail polish and everything else. She waits, as she always does, in silent expectation.

Minju wears the outfit you laid out for her that afternoon. The fabrics are light and flowing, cotton in a milky off-white colour hugging her upper body and a linen shirt whose billowy sleeves hang around her slender arms; at the wrists, she keeps the cuffs rolled up. Cotton shorts, equally soft, equally neutral in colour, held to her small waist by a ribbon as a makeshift belt. All of it was chosen specifically by you—it's all so very angelic, and comfortable. Innocent.

You set about your work, asking her to place a hand on the table. Nails take the longest to dry so you start there: you paint the end of each of her slender fingers one at a time, taking great care, letting her rest her hand in the palm of your own as you go through the motion. Whisper-like strokes of the brush over the thin keratin in a pastel shade, the pink of newly-blossomed cherry flowers. A compliment to her fair complexion.

One hand done, you raise it closer to your mouth and gently blow over the fingertips, to quicken their drying. Her hand, in yours, is ever so small. So petite. You remark this, smiling, and her expression—wide-eyed and quietly attentive—softens. It's a sight so adorable; how the ends of her lips upturn as if you've said something exceptionally touching. That's the thing with Minju; you just never quite get used to how much trust and affection is conveyed in those big, soft eyes.

Not long until the other hand is done, perfect crisp painting without a single smudge, or mistake.

You screw in the brush, then stand to move the table aside, you pull it away from her and then push it away. You kneel at her feet, hand resting gently on a small calf. You lift a leg, then draw your hand down it, to her heel. Bare feet, too, are a marvel in and of themselves: smooth skin over arched bones. Like all good things, it's imperfect; she's a dancer after all, still, she takes all the care to moisturise and you take all the care to massage them.

Now, Minju is ticklish, always has been, so when you take hold of her foot in preparation to paint her nails, she struggles not to break composure, and yet a cute little smirk betrays her. With one hand, you hold it steady; with the other, you reach to the table and draw the brush from the pot of white paint. White like the brightest snow, a winter's morn. You make slow, even strokes, over her nails, starting with the big toe and making your way down the digits, till her little feet are thoroughly and beautifully made up.

She flinches occasionally, under your touch, but with great care, you never make a mistake. No stain on her flesh. Repeated for her other foot too, each followed by a patient period of gently blowing, which sees her struggle against the tickling of her flesh even more. This time, she moves, almost unable to help it—and you know that to admonish her would not be the gentlemanly thing.

"It's okay Minju. Relax," you tell her, softly, as she takes a steadying breath, "that's it. Good."

It is here where you see a glow of pleasure and a hint of a smile on her pretty, youthful face, at hearing words of praise from you. This you know well: to Minju, your affirmations have an almost spiritual significance. In all the time you have known her, she has yearned to do well, to make others around her happy, to gain approval and affection, and as someone important in her life, this sentiment extends to you.

"My angel," you call her, not for the first time, and definitely not for the last. You lean close to place a gentle peck of your lips against her leg, just above the ankle, which causes her to stir. But that's okay, a moment of weakness is ever expected. You shift away from her leg, letting the soft flesh slip from your hand, and admire the neat work you have done so far. "There we go."

You bring your chair close to her, so you can sit, knee to knee across from her and set to work on her pretty features. First, you frame her face by clipping back the locks of fine honey-brown that threatened to obscure her eyes. Then you take the lip gloss in a soft rose colour, and a slender, synthetic-haired brush, and begin the work of accentuating her lips. Start at the top and glide over the curve that runs along her cupid's bow. Define the fine edges and then coat, to treat yourself to a shimmering pink glow; a shine over the otherwise natural look.

"Perfect. Oh, how I want to kiss them."

Minju doesn't say a word but the look in her eye speaks all the same, 'I wish you would do it.'

She remains still as you take hold of the thin eyeliner pencil in one hand and Minju's chin with the other, carefully positioning the tip under the lash line, and drawing it slowly, ever-so-carefully. Drawing a light, curved line to the side, first on her right, and then on her left. Do the same, light and clean, under the bottom lashes, being extra sure to define her creases.

Her eyes, as you study them, are so rich and vivid in colour that they command all of your attention and all of your efforts. So you work carefully, deliberately; being this close to her means you can see each speck, each mote in those deep, earthy brown irises. This intimacy, the face-to-face nearness of it all, brings on a unique vulnerability: when she closes her eyes next, to allow you to apply shadow to her lids, Minju puts herself at your mercy.

Minju's lips part and a small but noticeable hitch of her breath follows as you pull yourself away and admire your work. She has this kind of seductive natural pout—soft, shapely. Something alluring that the angles of her mouth lend her. As you sweep blush powder over her cheeks with a fine, oval-shaped brush, she utters a soft question, "How does it look?"

You bring a finger to rest against the fullness of her cheek, letting it trace along her soft flesh, down her jaw, and under her chin—before bringing it upwards, a physical prompting, to make her lift her chin higher. "Perfect. Always."

It occurs to you, as you define her eyebrows in quick, practised strokes, that for all the work you put into her, the inhuman focus and the undivided attention, this effort is nothing against the absolute, undying beauty that is Park Minju. It's a sort of colour-by-numbers deal; with all the perfect lines drawn out, it's up to you—a mock amateur—to simply embellish, to exaggerate, what is already there. To add shadow, light, and life.

You finish your work creating ('Creating' is the wrong word, more so, refining) the perfect doll. Minju keeps still, and patient. Beautiful.

"Precious girl."

By her earlobe, just below the jaw, there is a spot. The most perfect, sensitive area, to which you bow your head. Close your eyes. Place your lips. You kiss this spot, slowly, dragging your lips against her flesh, across it, revelling in the delicate softness. Revelling in her soft little moan, muffled only by pursed lips.

You push your chair back, and stand, looking down at her from above. You draw the clips back from her hair and it falls back into the perfect place. You circle around her once, slow, methodical. Taking all of her in, marvelling.

The greatest treasure in all the world. A masterpiece.

She follows your every guidance as you pull her to her feet. After all, she is, for tonight, nothing more than a doll. Pliable. Openly, and explicitly, subservient. You turn her and position her before a full-length mirror set in the far corner of her room. There she stands, arms at her side, staring back at you with doe-like, innocent eyes. There you stand, tall, strong behind her, hands on her arms.

"Perfect. You really are the most precious girl."

Your grip on her upper arms is gentle but firm as you ease her forward into a bend at the hips, tilting her towards the mirror as you place her into a pose. Fingers playing lightly down her limbs, like stroking the keys on the piano, or the strings on a guitar. You place her hands behind her back, and instruct her expression, "Give me a sweet smile."

Your voice is quiet in her ear as she nods, just the slightest, almost indiscernible incline of the head. She stares down the mirror as her full, kissable lips slowly contort into a charming, simpering smile, the type that the most beloved princesses often wear. You press up behind her, brushing your body tight against hers and see how that lovely little grin of hers slowly stretches up, to become ever so slightly crooked.

In your reflection in the mirror, you see yourself behind her. She holds perfectly still, hands fixed as if bound at the wrists, legs set slightly apart. "Pretty, don't you think?" You ask, teasingly. You press a little into her upper back, angling her in such a way that in the reflection you see down her cotton shirt, revealing the taut, soft curve of her small breasts. The sight of that, the teasing glance, is intoxicating. It brings a slight tremor down your spine, one you swallow down with a sharp breath. "Yes," you assure her, "Very pretty."

Her breathing comes laboured now, sharp little gasps; perhaps it has started to arouse her too, knowing herself to be at the mercy of your hands. Knowing herself to be nothing more than an object at this time—a living doll. To be used, played with, broken, toyed with, cared for or cast aside as you will.

You pull her to a stand and guide her away from the mirror. Her legs are long but you tower over her. She's so light to the touch, the petite girl, that should you need to, you could carry anywhere you desire in one swooping embrace.

You lead her to her dresser, to pose her against it. You guide her lithe left leg, so it crosses over the right one, you place her hands on the wood and let her rest against it. And she, docile, complies. "Like this?" She whispers.

"That's perfect."

You draw the collar of her shirt over her left shoulder, the one closest to you, until it hangs at around elbow height, exposing the skin underneath. A bare arm, all the way up to the strap of her tank top. You smile, admiring your own work, her poise and posture. You adjust her face, so she gazes slightly down in front of her. A final check to ensure the pose is perfect. It doesn't hurt that Minju is a natural when it comes to expressions: there is always some inflexion to the curl of her lips and the shape of her eyes, that says, 'I love this'.

You take the final unused item from the table, a Polaroid camera, one of the new instant types. This one, white, boxy and expensive, is perfect to capture Minju's pristine beauty. One image taken of her here, a pose in the frame, holding the photo to wait for it to develop is worth, it seems, a thousand words. It never ceases to amaze you: how well the camera captures her: how it draws out that natural aura of Minju and depicts it on the fine gloss. It makes, in effect, a perfect keepsake.

You take two more shots, each one giving you pause for appreciation. Each one, was perfect, like it was a scene from an album cover or the poster for a movie. She watches you from her position, gazing intently at you with a lovingly longing gaze. Watching you in fascination, and admiration.

You hold one in front of her. "This is my favourite, look at the way your leg curves here," you point to it, showing her. "And here, the shoulder, just at that angle. See the light dancing in your eyes and on the pink gloss, on the lips. Beautiful."

She remains lifelessly still staring at herself in the print without a word or reaction.

"Now, just one more like this, but first..." You place the camera slowly on the dresser, then grab the hem of her shirt. You fold it in under itself a few times until it sits taut across her stomach, just above her button. Her narrow waist is set into beautiful relief: a curvature down toned abs leading to between her thin hips. Then you pull at the other shoulder of the shirt, more pale skin, more svelteness of form, more smooth flesh. There's a light shiver through her skin as you graze her arm with your finger.

You push slightly into her chest, leaning her back a little over the dresser and then you tilt her head back exposing her neck. Soft lips fall open just the slightest, like the petals of a rose blooming, a faint gasp of a moan parting her pink lips, and her heavy breathing filling her heaving chest.

Taking the camera, you step back, crouch slightly, hold the lens up to eye height and take the shot; a flash and a click of the shutter is followed by a slow hum and a whir of the plastic film rolling out. Another polaroid, you take it to her, tugging lightly at her chin to direct her gaze to it. "This one," you breathe in close to her, placing a kiss on her exposed neck, "is something truly special." You fix on her scent, something fruity and soft: orange blossom undertones.

Minju lets out a soft gasp.

"This one turns me on. The exposed skin. The lustful eyes. Those parted lips, like an invitation," you utter, "do you know how beautiful you look, Minju? How sexy?"

The deepening of her breath tells you what you want to hear.

"New pose. Come here." You take hold of her bare shoulders and pull her to a stand. Her shirt hangs at her back between her elbows. You move behind her as you guide her toward the window, opening her curtains wide and letting the final embers of sunlight in to kiss her skin. You slip her shirt from her arms that hang by her side. "Let's lean you against here."

You guide her hands onto the sill of the window. Let her hands rest flat against it. Hold her by the hips and pull them back, making her shuffle her legs back. Make the curve of her ass tighter, the flex of her lower back deeper.

You pose her into this deep bend, then guide her face up so she faces the evening light. So she basks, regally, in the final glow of the setting sun, and you can see the pinking hue reflected in her eyes.

"Be a good doll and remain still."

The heat has turned Minju's pale flesh red, but you soothe her with a palm, a brush against a soft cheek and an affectionate 'hush'. You fixate upon the curves and lines of her back, following the path of her spine down with your hand, taking care to remain in the hollow. That central channel carved through her back that draws down the centre, passing by dimples in her lower back before widening at the hips and merging into her tapering waist, is a work of art unto itself.

A simple touch of a kiss against that soft flesh at the base of the spine, and Minju fails to disguise a sharp breath as you kneel, her bare calves become a mounting point for your hands. She inhales in soft, controlled bursts as your fingertips stroke around the curve of her lower leg, working around and under the leg, dragging slowly upwards as you make careful circles over her toned calves, till your finger hits the lower thigh. Upward, further. Her body trembles gently as your hand traces along her inner thigh, up to her light cotton shorts where you draw your hand over to the back of her thighs and back down.

"Be a good doll," you repeat, quiet, breath warm against her lower back. You hook your fingers into her shorts, running your palms on her taut, toned little ass. Slight tremors from Minju ripple through your skin as you hook in the fingers of either hand beneath the elastic of her underwear too. A lingering hesitation passes as you focus, and in the serenity of the moment, you draw everything down in one slow, measured pull. The sight of the white cotton dragging down over the firm roundness of her ass has you weak.

You stop at her ankles, and one at a time, you lift a foot out of the clothes, and pull them free, planting her foot back down in a slightly wider stance. You look up, and to her faint reflection in the window, and admire the look she wears, the unnerving determination to hold still and say not a single thing. The deep red hue paints her skin as the day darkens.

"Stay," you command.

You find the camera one final time, to indulge in one final intoxicating shot: Minju, back beautifully lit by the last remnants of the sun's rays, the light striking her skin and making the paleness and tone all the more beautiful; the slight swell of her hips, the small, firm, almost apple-like curve of her behind, and those slim toned thighs in the shadow.

"Hold for me, don't move."

She stares resolutely into the distance through the window, hands clutching the edge of the window sill as you draw the viewfinder to your eye once again. Click, a flash and a whir. The exposure of the light behind her leaves a shadowy image on the thinning film of her nude behind; the smooth line of her legs, her trim waist and that sweet little thing between her legs. An air of sophistication; and one of sin.

"See this?" You show it to her and the embarrassment causes a flutter in her eyes; the arousal of watching her own bare ass on the printed film causes the slightest redness of her cheeks. "I'm going to use that right there. Stay."

There's another twitch in her eyes as you walk away and leave her there, still posing, looking as sensational as ever. You walk out the door, to drink, relax, anything to make her wait. Make her suffer the indignity of exposure and vulnerability.

You spy her through the doorway and never does she move a muscle, your little doll-girl stands there obediently as requested. Time passes—several minutes. And yet she, with such admirable determination, wills herself to stay in position until you return. And you do. You saunter back in, slow. Walking behind her and she never once looks back over her shoulder.

You rest a hand on her waist and the contact is met with a sudden release of tension—her chest falls with a sigh. Her pose remains perfect—adulation for your hand, written in the small shakes of her body and the gradual intonations of her heavy pants. A perfect and delicate angel. Your hand slips from her waist down over the taut curve of her ass, palm resting for the briefest moment on the soft, supple flesh. The pliability. Your hand continues the path it has carved over her skin until it rests lightly between her legs.

A gentle palm over her sex sends a current through her entire form, and a tensing in her muscles is the only indication she offers that there's a struggle to suppress noise in her throat. Hot and wet and you're a man driven by impulse. You step behind her, stroking her, massaging her, then withdrawing to instead spread her slightly with a single, teasing fingertip. "Good little doll."

A clear, sticky, glistening moisture trickles onto the digit and in the way Minju shivers, you are given every impression, you're sure of it, that her lower stomach muscles have clenched tight and are presently squeezing themselves in on each other. A fever pitch is reached within her, and you're ready too.

You draw your hand away, leaving Minju suspended in torment: there is desire, there is desperation and tension that must be alleviated. That itch soothed. She must hear it, the sound of you unbuckling and unzipping. A rustle of fabric as you pull them down and take them off.

With no word, you hit a palm against her ass, a quick and painful swat with your bare hand. Hard, smacking against soft, dough-like flesh. She stifles a soft, bitten-off yelp that sends a vibration up the curve of her back. "Going to play with you," you utter quietly. "Use this doll however I like."

Your hand is drawn back over the red mark on her tender flesh, stroking the mark, massaging, and it soon heats against your palm. You follow it by pressing the very tip of your dick, gently, against her opening. Enough pressure there for you both to know where the next moments go and a slight motion—only the gentlest thrusting—to grind that sensitive flesh in. Just enough to make her bite back her lower lip, to struggle against the overwhelming urge to break her poise.

To add to that struggle, the sensation, you lull her, deceive her, by trailing your length against her slick, tender folds, then abruptly drag it over the tight hole right there at the back. One more light tap there too, right on her little asshole, that drives her into a daze. Then you take her slit again, spreading her open, rubbing yourself over that hot hole and sending her a thousand electric tingles up through her hips.

You thrust once, a single long thrust, right into her little pussy, as much as her wetness will allow until resistance forms. Then back out, completely. Glistening with the slick fluids, you slap your shaft against her ass a couple of times. Wetness dripping, staining those tight cheeks. Then a wet slap of your hand to a cheek. Testing when she will break. Searching for that whimper, that moan, or maybe she'll hold it so well that a tear will form in her eye.

You fill her again, use her a little, rocking your hips back and forth. A careless use of her for pleasure, no consideration for her, for what she might desire and it is pure torture to her. One hand circles over her ass, grazing over the reddened mark, you let it settle on the top of her thigh for leverage and dig your fingertips into the skin. Another few firm pumps into her. Out. All the way out.

Dripping fluid pools around her slit, spilling out down her thigh, hot. "There's no better use for you than this," you hiss, as you smear the wetness over her flesh with the swollen head. The discomfort, the uncertainty, all of it written on her reddened skin and trembling lips. Another few slow pumps up her. Thrust, thrust, thrust. Draw out—slow, torturous—and then fill her again, rough, and violent, driving yourself up hard against her soft skin. Again. "Just like a sex doll," you groan. "Like you're a dirty toy."

Those words draw this low growl inside her, and Minju shudders under the intensity, this vibrating noise rising in her. Fuck, it feels wonderful in her, tight, burning hot—soft, yielding—wet, messy. Drive into that tension, the squeeze on you, where she can feel you so full and snug inside her.

Allow yourself for a moment, to just enjoy her, as she is. She will allow you to, don't fret. Enjoy her as a possession, something lesser than yourself; an object to be manipulated, used and owned. Let her be your slut and let the words roll around in your head. There are times you prefer to fill her with long, agonising strokes, and there are those other times that are frantic and hurried. She takes it all, wilfully and willingly and adoration flows through your veins.

No care for if she cums, you simply use her too. It is not in a casual disregard for her desires, or in selfish pursuit of pleasure at the sacrifice of her. No, no. That is not true. Minju wants this. She cares less about her own pleasure than you. Should she cum, then maybe that would be a nice perk to all of this, but all she wants is to submit herself as a vessel for yours. To serve as the implement to which you expel everything. You have taken her into that dream world she desires to inhabit, where she's an item to be manoeuvred as one wills.

And so you get close, right inside of her—clutch, tense—as she milks you so exquisitely, squeezing and so soft, so fucking silken-smooth and at the very last, you pull out—every last drop is captured on Minju's skin. Her spread ass, her back, thighs.

For all the care you took, perfecting her makeup, now a fine sweat paints a layer across her skin and you're shooting over it and making a true mess of her. All that, her absolute purity and devotion, and what you have done is sullied it. Your doll, your most precious is dirtied. But your most precious thing in the world deserves the best you can give her.

So it is after you have painted your release over her body, that you leave her again—basking in the humiliation of how fluids trickle down her flesh. Just a toy, put aside to stand, vulnerable, debauched and unsatisfied, waiting to be picked up again and played with once more. You could leave her all night. Have her be ready and willing any time you desire. Your toy.

"Fuck, what a sight." You step away, back out of the room, spent and gazing at her. Minju, of course, keeps her back facing you the entire time, she does not dare turn back around to see her, not even to cover up or find modesty, it simply would not occur to her to do so.

Aware of the pain, the hurt of being left this way. Left unfinished. A small smile plays on your lips, the knowledge that this is what turns her on most. Her lover is out there, he's drinking, eating, watching TV, or anything, and she doesn't really know where. She just stays resting over the window ledge with her legs held apart, exposed and vulnerable.

Knowing, feeling, every stroke that has been applied over her body, every part you have made use of, and the places in which you have violated, is enough to turn Minju's insides all warm and fuzzy and soft. Your fingerprints are inked upon her flesh—traced by the veneer of liquids coating her—a record of who has marked her, owned her, as nothing more than an instrument of delight.

Until you're ready to come back, she holds back an unspoken whimper. Tension in her stomach muscles and legs threatened to give out.

Oh, how badly the poor girl yearns to be picked up, taken and fucked again and again.

Eventually, you do return, and without warning. As if you'd never been gone a moment at all, you're just there suddenly behind her, you just have that presence of power that exudes over her. You say her name—nothing else—but the tinge to your voice tells her that you've missed her.

You bring your hands around her slim waist, just above the hips, and trail upwards. Grinding back inside her feels as wonderful as ever. Still throbbing, still wet, still wanton, and she takes you in, spreading wide once again. "Missed me?" You coo, but she still never responds verbally—dutifully compliant, Minju simply moans, her cheeks flushed the same colour as her smeared lips.

You're rough with her, pulling her away from the window and pushing her into the middle of the room. Hasty, impatient, and uncaring. Now, you see, Minju weighs nothing to you, it feels like there's nothing to her; something light, lithe, easily manoeuvrable, like you can twist her and pull her without resistance.

You draw her to you, picking her up from the ground by her waist and walking forward. You set her down on a desk—her ass perching first, then you push her onto her back, drawing up her knees to her chest and pressing onto her. Oh, flexible Minju, sweet Minju: the perfect sexual tool to place and fold and screw whichever way you want.

Minju is pinned there, under you, taking you into her pussy, tight around you. Dutifully letting you shove into her repeatedly, without fight or complaint, only meek, restrained sounds of satisfaction. Letting her limbs fold, letting herself be toyed with however you need or want.

Stretch her as you take hold of her neck and restrain her to the wooden surface. You bear down on her, fucking into her with strong, sure pumps, and with every thrust into Minju, you feel her heat against your thighs and groin, her warm juices seeping down over her, and a vulgar squelching sound filling the air.

The air is dense and hot and she is flushed bright red; she gazes at you, her face etched with need. You're forcing your doll-girl, fucking her raw and hard into her desk. Rough, dominating strokes. And what does she do but squirm and moan and take every ounce of your strength? "F-fuck," she moans out the profanity, her body succumbing to the overwhelming burst of intense, numbing heat. She flinches a few times as her eyes squeeze shut.

So close, now. Another round, and there is nowhere Minju is more content than trapped, helpless, watching you near another orgasm. She doesn't even attempt to hide her delight when you're about to blow. A smile of satisfaction as you unload inside of her. A welcome sight as you feel yourself rupture, as your essence pumps into her little fuckhole. The sticky hot cum that fills her.

And Minju moans for you, breathless, happy, so lovingly joyful that her existence has resulted in this moment—this act—her purpose as nothing more than something you fuck, claim, and own.

But, there is work to be done, work you cannot shirk away from. So, with a light sigh, you wipe your forehead, you gather Minju off of the table—flickering eyelids and all—and you lead her with gentle encouragement. "Let's clean you off. There's a good girl," you say, and she holds onto your neck, as you lift her off the desk.

You perch Minju on the sink for a moment, un-trapping her legs so she can stand once you place her into the shower.

"Stay. Still."

And again, you can see that longing gaze. Sultry, drawn. She wants so much, and she needs so little.

"There," you draw out the word with a certain finality and walk behind her to start the shower, switching from bath faucet to shower nozzle, and taking great care in testing the heat of the water, to make sure not to burn her precious skin.

You start with her shoulders, sweeping her soaked locks down her back, wet, heavy and darker now. Washing her takes time, patience, and gentleness—you bring the palm of your hand over her shoulder while the other directs the shower head. The water trails down her arm, little rivulets tracing over her porcelain skin. You draw the shower across her back and admire how the water caresses the curves of her frame.

She keeps perfectly still, save the tremble that comes with the rise of her chest each time the water meets a sensitive point. Your hand follows in the water, over her sides, slowly. You draw her close against your chest, putting your head beside Minju's, looking down over her shoulder. you bring the head of the shower to her chest and let the water flow across, over the swell of her breasts.

You whisper into her ear, "Stay just like this. Let me wash down my toy after use."

Your name comes out of her mouth, a little strained, and when you wrap your arm around her and cup her little breast, she immediately whimpers. This poor girl still hasn't cum, and she's so sensitive.

You rest her against you, keeping your front flush against the curve of her back, and there is something wonderful and sweet in the way she falls back against you. Minju leans her head back on your shoulder, a nuzzle, and your hand continues to cup her and you play with her nipple. The shower, however, you bring lower and lower, down over her slender belly and between her legs.

The lower it goes, the more soft whimpers she makes, and Minju's feet begin to curl, and she draws a slow intake of air through her clenched teeth. You dip the jets of water low, and Minju finally gives out this small groan, her eyes squeezing tight and her mouth opening and closing, the words and sounds catching as she trembles all over.

You press it against her pussy, and she bucks lightly backwards against you—hard—and grinds. A pleasured exhale, a sign of satisfaction. That the poor girl is finally getting her pleasure but "No, no, no," she says—is she feeling guilty for it?—and she struggles forward from your grasp.

"Shh... it's okay," you soothe her, but she still jerks her body. There's this fact, that always rings true, whenever you use Minju like this. Part of it, she told you before, is how in her own head she degrades herself. She tells herself that she doesn't deserve to cum. That a toy's only purpose is for others, and she will deny herself an orgasm until you give her express permission to finish herself. That's why she fights now, she is ashamed of her own arousal and enjoyment.

You press the shower hard into her clit and she groans, "I can't... I can't—"

"Yes, you can." You focus on using the shower in little circles, not allowing any distance between it and the sensitive nub. Her head falls back on you, eyes shut tight as if in anguish. "You have served me so well. You were so wonderful. Let go for me, beautiful." You murmur those things in her ear and Minju opens her lips to say something but no words form, it's simply a long, deep-seated, contented moan. A relief-filled sound that is music to your ears.

Her back goes completely tense, and her hips twist and buck, but you press firmly down, keeping her locked into the jet. She bites her lower lip, almost like she's desperate, and it hurts, the way her whole body tenses up for so many seconds before the relief sweeps over her. The sensations surge throughout her body, leaving her limp and satisfied.

After the rush passes through, she moans, over and over. Shattering pleasure has overtaken her mind and all she can think about is the joy her lover has bestowed upon her, the ultimate show of adoration and tenderness.

"Good girl. That's it. Give in," you breathe out the last sentence, and Minju moans louder, riding it out. Her body writhes violently and her toes curl as her breathing stops, she's stuck at the very height of her pleasure, but finally lets out an ecstatic, long-winded moan. You drop the shower, and cradle Minju with your whole body.

Her hips jump one last time against your hand and then she goes completely lax against you, her feet plant flat down and her whole body gives out. Minju slides back onto her heels, and her face drops toward the floor and she just smiles with pure glee. If not for you, she would collapse to the floor in this exhausted, limp state.

For some minutes, you hold Minju until she can find enough strength until the daze of her orgasm is no longer in effect.

"Now, let's really clean up."

"Let me," she says. "Let me clean you, please."

#kinktember #kpop smut #Minju smut #Illit smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #m reader #smut #Minju x reader #Dollification #Park Minju smut

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boypied · 4 months ago

Text

AFTER CLASS.

pairings: professor!clark kent x male reader

summary: male readers professor is continuously distracted by his choice of clothing, so he decides to see him after class.

requested by: anonymous

warnings: SMUT, age gap, teacher x student, feminization, dirty talk, edging.

You did it on purpose. You loved how flustered he became when you walked into a room. His glasses practically fogged up the moment you arrived to class, you always made sure to wear the most seductive and slutty outfit known to man. You arrived with knee high socks and a short-short skirt that showed your thong with every step you took, Clark couldn't take his eyes away no matter how hard he tried. He knew he should look at you this way. You practically became a sex symbol to him. You were his student and he was your teacher but he almost didn't even care, he wanted you... he needed you. He had developed an unhealthy obsession with you, and that is exactly what you wanted. He asked you to stay behind after class, and you nibbled at your lip, fantasising about what he could want.

After everyone leaves the class you make your way over to his desk, you lean onto the desk giving him fuck me eyes. "So.." He mumbles out nervously as he clears his throat "You can't keep wearing clothes like that y/n. It's distracting." Clark mumbles out avoiding eye contact with you, "You don't like what I wear sir?" you say seductively as you make your way round the desk to get to him. He clears his throat and manages to finally make eye contact with you, "your clothing is just very distracting." Clark repeats himself as he sits down in his seat trying to ignore what you're currently wearing, "is this distracting?" You lean down to whisper in his ear as you bend over in front of him revealing your pink thong to him.

"You like that sir?" You say seductively as you begin to bounce your ass up and down letting him watch the jiggle, he leans down slightly in awe feeling his suit trousers becoming tighter as he grows harder and harder watching you put on the little show for him. He rubs his eyes "no, no! We can't do this" he mumbles out. You bend back up and straddle his lap, his hands immediately hovering over your hips and then gently pulling up your skirt revealing your bare ass cheeks with the thin pink string of the thong perfectly hiding your hole. "f-fuck" Clark nervously moans out as he caresses circles over your cheeks, "I know you want to fuck me professor...do it" you whisper.

You climb off his lap and begin unbuttoning his shirt, peice by peice a section of his body is revealed until his entire torso is revealed to you, you run your hands down his hairy chest. "W-Wow" you mumble out in shock feeling his hard body, your hands travel down to his trousers pulling off the belt and practically ripping off his trousers and pants. "WOW!" You gasp out as his cock practically hits you in the face, the size of his cock was almost unearthly. You bite your lip as you climb back onto his lap and line up his cock with your hole as you slide down onto it. Inch by inch a peice of his cock corrupts your hole, he wraps his arms around your waist as his hands grip onto your ass cheeks.

"Takin' me so well," he groans out in your ear as he passionately kisses you, your tongues sliding against each other as he begins to buck his hips up into you, "f-faster" You moan out as he hits your sweet spot. You bounce faster and faster until he takes over and dominates your hole by bucking his hips up. Clark's abs flex as he comes closer and closer with each buck of his hips into his students' hole, "s-so tight. You keep squeezing me" he moans out before his cock begins spurting his seed into your hole, you continue bouncing on his thick cock through his orgasm. "A-AH" he whimpers out as you ride him harder in his chair.

You reach your breaking point when you shoot your load all over his abs as he continuously hits your sweet spot. You collapse down onto his chest, and he rubs your back softly, "Why don't you come back to mine tonight?" He whispers into your ear, "mhm" you answer softly as his cock becomes flaccid and slips out of your cum filled hole.

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#x male reader #fanfic #gay #x male y/n #male reader #smut #gay smut #henry cavill x male reader #henry cavill #henry cavill gay #clark kent #clark kent x male reader #clark kent x male reader gay #clark kent smut #superman x male reader #superman x male reader smut

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yzzyhee · 5 months ago

Text

flamin’ hot lemon — lhs

bf!heeseung x gf!reader

warnings: established relationship, suggestive (blowjob— minors dni), kissing/making out?, petnames (baby), lowcases written

wc: 3.8k~

synopsis: you know how the saying goes… save a horse, ride a cowboy… or do something about it as long as it’s saving the horse…

now listen to: flamin’ hot lemon — jaehyun

a/n: now. this song was on repeat ever since the release so obviously, it had to happen as i remembered the sweet venom stage— also ! first time writing smth that’s like not fluff / small suggestive and actually going almost all the way in but well, this was heavily saved by my beloved precious @ja3yun — a big round of applause cause without her this fic would’ve never seen the daylight 🙂‍↕️ anyway, feedbacks & constructive criticism is appreciated ✌🏻

ps. my wife said to make it clear there won’t be a part two so i’m saying it — there won’t be a part too.

you blink. and then you blink again, and again, and again as if each time you won’t be met with the same view, thinking it must be your eyes playing tricks with you.

“baby? you okay?” heeseung asks, a slight hint of worry in his eyes though his tone gives him away. he knows. of course, he knows why you’re suddenly speechless, staring at him as if he came out of your shared bedroom completely naked.

your mouth parts, forming an “o” as you try to wrap your mind around the view before you. and what a beautiful view… there he stands, your boyfriend, in all his denim-clad cowboy glory.

the fitted jacket hugs his frame in all the right places, highlighting his broad shoulders and the way the jeans cling to his legs is almost unfair. a silver belt attached to his jeans that accentuates his pretty tiny waist. and of course, the most important part of it all, the cowboy-denim hat that sits low on his head, casting a shadow over his mischievous eyes.

you knew you were going to match — a cowboy always has to have his cowgirl after all. you have the perfect blend of casual and playful; a fitted, deep red plaid button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just above your elbows, high-waisted denim shorts that hug your hips perfectly, a fringed brown suede vest that you wear over your shirt, and a pair of scuffed-up cowboy boots completing your whole look.

“yn?” he smirks, his voice low as he takes a slow step toward you. “cat got your tongue?”

you blink again, the heat rising in your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up. your mind isn’t cooperating with you, struggling to string together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. you try to focus, but the way heeseung is standing there — all cocky and confident in that ridiculously attractive cowboy outfit — has your nerves completely scrambled.

“i- what… what is this?” you finally manage to stutter, gesturing vaguely toward his outfit. the words feel clumsy on your tongue, your heart pounding a little too loudly in your chest.

heeseung chuckles softly, his hands casually resting on his hips, the gesture making you even more aware of how well the denim clings to his figure.

“it’s for the party tonight. you like it?” his voice is low, teasing, and you know now that he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having on you.

right, the party. your friends thought it was a brilliant idea to throw a random halloween party even though it wasn’t even remotely close to 31st october, yet, you still agreed without much thought. but now, standing here, facing heeseung like this, it’s hard to focus on anything except how your pulse seems to be dancing under your skin, and how your throat has gone dry.

you try to clear your head, but every time you look at him, the butterflies in your stomach only get worse. heeseung’s eyes don’t leave yours, the playful spark in them making your pulse race even more. his presence feels overwhelming, like the air between you two is thick with electricity.

“i-yeah,” you breathe, swallowing hard. “i just wasn’t expecting… this.”

his smirk deepens, and you catch the slight shift in his expression, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something else—something darker, more intense. “i wanted to surprise you,” he says, his voice soft now, like he’s not just talking about the costume.

and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of how close he’s standing, the warmth radiating off him, the way his fingers brush against your waist as he steps in even closer. you can smell his cologne, something warm and familiar, but tonight it feels different, headier and spicier somehow.

“so, are you surprised?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now, as he gently tilts your chin up, his thumb tracing along your jawline.

you nod, your breath hitching in your throat. you’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the way his thumb continues to brush against your skin, but you feel like your heart might just burst out of your chest. everything feels so intense — like the whole room has shrunk to just the two of you.

heeseung leans in, his lips hovering just above yours, and you feel like time slows down. your heart is racing, your entire body tingling with anticipation as his breath mingles with yours. you close your eyes, waiting, wanting.

then, he closes the distance, his lips finally meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss. it’s gentle at first, like he’s testing the waters, but when you respond — when you kiss him back with equal intensity — something shifts. the kiss deepens, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies.

your mind blanks, the only thing you can focus on is the warmth of his lips against yours, the way his hands grip your waist, the way he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. it’s slow but deliberate, filled with a tenderness that has your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

when he pulls back, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath is slightly uneven, and his lips are curved into a soft smile.

“i think we should head out for the party now…” you say, your voice just slightly louder than a whisper.

humming in response, heeseung’s lips brush your forehead in a featherlight kiss before he straightens, his hands reluctantly sliding from your waist. “right,” he says, his voice hushed and warm, though there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “wouldn’t want to keep the party waiting.”

by the time you reach your friend’s hourse, it’s buzzing with life. you can hear the thumping bass of music before you even reach the front door, the muffled sound of laughter and voices spilling out onto the porch. the house is decked out in full halloween glory — orange and purple lights drape across the front yard, casting an eerie glow over the hay bales and fake tombstones scattered across the lawn. a giant inflatable skeleton waves ominously from the roof, its eyes flickering red.

the inside of the house is even more chaotic. there are people everywhere, dressed in every kind of costume imaginable — witches, zombies, vampires, superheroes — filling the space with laughter and energy. the smell of caramel apples and popcorn mingles with the unmistakable scent of candy and punch, and the air is thick with excitement.

heeseung’s hand tightens slightly around yours as you weave through the crowd, his thumb still brushing against your skin in that comforting way you love so much. you catch glimpses of familiar faces as you move deeper into the house, waving at people you know from classes as you pass. everyone seems to be caught up in the pre-halloween spirit, and the atmosphere is electric, a blend of fun chaos and easygoing joy.

you suddenly spot jay, his cowboy hat cocked at a ridiculous angle, standing with his girlfriend, aejay, by the snack table. jay is in a flannel shirt and boots, looking like he stepped straight out of a western, while aejay rocks a sleek, edgy vampire costume — her dark lips and red contacts making her look both elegant and slightly dangerous. they’re laughing about something, jay’s arm slung casually around her shoulders.

when jay catches sight of you and heeseung, his grin widens. “well, well, look who finally decided to show up!” he calls, raising his red solo cup in greeting. “and look at you, heeseung, pulling off that cowboy look like you were born for it.”

heeseung grins back, tugging you closer as you approach. you laugh, shaking your head. “is this some kind of cowboy reunion?” you ask when you reach the couple and eye jay more intently in his flannel and boots.

jay smiles and nods, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “we thought it’d be funny. jake should be around here somewhere too, dressed as that cowboy character from toy story.

heeseung immediately perks up, avid fan of the toy story movies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you mean woody?”

jay snickers, already sensing where this is going.

“well,” heeseung says, glancing at you with a mischievous grin, “looks like jake’s the only one buzzing with excitement tonight.” he leans closer to you, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “but don’t worry, baby — i’m no toy. you don’t have to pull my string to get me talking. however, you can pull on something else…”

you roll your eyes, groaning at the cheesy, suggestive line, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “heeseung,” you laugh, nudging him in the side, “let’s just hope jake doesn’t take the woody too seriously tonight.”

jay bursts out laughing at that, and even heeseung’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

the four of you chat for a while, catching up amidst the hum of the party. aejay, always the life of any gathering, starts telling a dramatic story about how she had to battle three different costume stores to get the perfect set of vampire fangs. jay interrupts her every few seconds, adding his own exaggerated spin to the tale, making you laugh until your stomach hurts.

the lights are dim, casting everyone in a soft, warm glow, and the air is filled with the scent of sugar and cinnamon, along with the occasional burst of cold air from the open back door.

it’s a perfect kind of chaos—the kind where time seems to slow down and you’re acutely aware of every moment, every laugh, every smile. but most of all, you’re aware of heeseung’s presence beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his arm wrapping around your waist every so often, like he can’t bear to be too far away from you.

you keep stealing glances at him, your eyes tracing over the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his denim jacket fits perfectly across his broad shoulders.

you bite your bottom lip, unable to comprehend how this ridiculously handsome man is yours. every time you look at him, an involuntary expression of satisfaction and adoration spreads across your face. that’s right, he is yours.

sensing your stare, heeseung leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear in that soft, teasing way that always makes your heart race. “having fun?” he asks, his voice low and intimate, like a secret meant only for you.

you look up at him, your heart fluttering in your chest as you meet his gaze. his eyes are dark, full of warmth, and something else — something that sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. you nod, feeling your breath hitch slightly. “yeah,” you whisper, smiling softly. “i’m having a lot of fun.”

heeseung grins at your response, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. the heat between you feels tangible, like the rest of the crowded room has melted away, leaving just the two of you. “good,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

then, he leans back just enough to look into your eyes, his fingers grazing your chin. with a gentle touch, he tilts your head up towards him, his thumb brushing across your skin as he smiles, his voice dipping even lower. “wanna have even more fun?”

the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker with mischief, makes your pulse quicken. you can feel the air between you both shift, thick with anticipation, and all you can think about is how close his lips are to yours, how effortlessly he seems to set your whole world spinning with just a look.

heeseung’s grin deepens as he holds your gaze, his fingers still resting gently under your chin. you feel the tension change between the two of you. his face has written trouble all over it and, without another word, he gently grabs your hand, forgetting about your friends and starts tugging you through the crowd with that easy confidence you love so much.

“where are we going?” you ask, your heart racing in your chest, excitement swirling inside you as you follow him down the dimly lit hallway.

heeseung glances back at you, that signature playful smirk tugging at his lips. “wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, his voice teasing.

before you can ask another question, he stops in front of the bathroom door, pushing it open slightly and pulling you inside with him. the moment the door clicks shut, the noise of the party fades into a distant hum, leaving just the two of you together in the small space.

your back presses gently against the bathroom counter and heeseung leans in, his hands bracing on either side of you, caging you in, his eyes dark with a playful intensity. he doesn't say anything for a moment — just looks at you, his gaze roving over your face like he's taking his time, savouring the way you're biting your bottom lip, the way your breath catches every time he gets a little closer.

"you’ve been staring at me all night," he murmurs, his lips brushing just barely against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "got something on your mind, baby?"

your cheeks burn as his words settle over you, but you can't stop the grin that threatens to split your cheeks. "maybe," you tease back, your hands instinctively finding their way to the front of his denim jacket, your fingers toying with the fabric.

heeseung’s eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "you know," he says softly, his voice laced with amusement, "if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask."

you laugh, the sound light and breathless, your body buzzing with anticipation. "oh, i’ve had your attention all night," you counter, your voice just as teasing, leaning in closer, your lips grazing his jaw. "haven’t i?”

his breath hitches slightly at the contact, his arms tightening around you. "yeah, you have," he admits, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, like it's just for you. "but now... i think I want a little more."

your heart skips a beat at his words, your pulse thrumming wildly in your chest. heeseung leans in, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours, close enough.

your heart races as heeseung’s lips hover close to yours, the tension between you thick and electric. the space around you seems to shrink, and the air feels warmer, heavier, with anticipation. his breath mingles with yours, and you're maddeningly aware of how close his body is to yours, how his hands on either side of you are steady, but his eyes — his eyes tell you he's barely holding back.

your hands tighten their grip on the front of his jacket, pulling him closer still, your breath dancing with his. the sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, loud and steady, as you resist the urge to close the gap between you immediately. instead, you let the tension simmer, savouring the way it builds and swells in the space between you both.

"i want to give you something," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, his eyes dark with curiosity and desire, but his smirk never falters. "yeah?" he murmurs, his lips just a breath away from yours, his hand gently sliding down your arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. "what’s that, baby?"

you bite your lip, your pulse quickening. "a little reward," you tease, your voice playful yet laced with intent.

his grip on your waist tightens slightly, and you can feel the tension in his body as he leans in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "i like the sound of that," he whispers, his voice low and rough.

you grin, your heart racing, and slowly, you let your fingers slide down from his jacket to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. "but," you say, tilting your head up just enough so your lips graze his jaw, "you'll have to be patient."

heeseung groans softly, his head dipping forward until his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and uneven. "you’re killing me," he mutters, though there's a hint of amusement in his tone, like he's enjoying this playful back-and-forth as much as you are.

"patience," you repeat, your fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines down his chest, your touch light enough to drive him crazy.

heeseung chuckles, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, his voice thick with both amusement and frustration. "you’re really gonna make me wait?"

looking up at him through your lashes, the smile on your lips is playful but knowing. "i think it'll be worth it," you say, your voice teasing, and you lean up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth

his lips press back against yours, but before he can deepen the kiss, you pull away, your smile widening at the quiet groan of protest he makes. heeseung’s hands tighten on your waist, and his eyes meet yours with a mix of desire and amusement, like he knows exactly what you're doing, and he's more than willing to play along.

you tilt your head slowly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. before heeseung can even register what's happening, you drop to your knees, the cool bathroom floor sending a brief shiver through you. when you look up at him, his breath catches, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

his hands, which had been resting on the counter behind you, grip the edge tightly now, knuckles white with tension. his gaze locks with yours, dark and full of surprise, anticipation, and something deeper. you can see the way his chest rises and falls, his breath coming faster as the realisation of your bold move settles in.

"y/n." heeseung breathes out, his voice rough, like he's struggling to keep control. his eyes flicker between your face and the space between you, his hands twitching as if unsure of whether to stop you or let you continue. but his body betrays him — he's frozen in place, caught between disbelief and desire.

you bite your lip, leaning closer, your fingers lightly grazing the fabric of his jeans. "shh," you whisper, your eyes never leaving his. the power shift between you both is palpable, the air between you charged with intensity.

you can see the effect you're having on him-the way his breath hitches, his muscles tensing under your touch, the raw hunger in his gaze as he watches your every move.

for a moment, you both just stay there, the silence in the small bathroom heavy and thick with expectancy. heeseung’s jaw clenches, his hands still gripping the counter as he lets out a shaky breath. his lips part as if to speak, but no words come out, just another sharp inhale as he watches you, eyes hooded and dark with want.

but instead of taking things further, you pull back just slightly, your teasing smile widening. "still want me to keep going?" you ask, your voice soft but dripping with playful intent, leaving him on the edge of anticipation.

heeseung’s grip loosens for a moment, and he lets out a low, breathless chuckle, his voice hoarse. "you’re really not playing fair, are you?"

you wink at him and moisturise your lips. a feel of rage and desire rushes to heeseung’s limbs as you free his now hard dick. your hands wrap around the base of his dick and you stroke him with a rotating motion. a small gasp escapes your boyfriend’s lips as a zap of pleasure shoots down his spine.

heeseung’s fingers sink into you hair, gathering it in a ponytail, and then yanking you back not so smoothly. you look back at him, eyelashes batting and lips forming a pout. “let me have a taste, please.”

and who is heeseung to say no to you? he stares at you as you slide his length into your hot, wet mouth, the tip of him disappearing past your lips as you continue pumping him at the base slowly, your grip tightening gradually.

your movements are slow, teasing and sensual. you peek up at your boyfriend through your lashes the whole time, watching his reactions, relishing in each moan and hiss — loving the effect you have on him.

suddenly, heeseung tugs you away gently, his fingers tangled in the makeshift ponytail he created, his eyes dark but steady as they meet yours. his lips curl into a teasing smirk as he watches you spread his precum across your lips. his thumb lightly brushes your bottom lip, and his breath hitches for a moment.

"why did you stop me?" you ask, your voice soft but with a hint of frustration, groaning slightly at the abrupt interruption.

his grip tightens ever so slightly around your arms as he pulls you up to stand, his expression shifting from playful to something more serious, yet still burning with desire.

“we’re leaving the party now, get up.” he says firmly, voice low and commanding.

you frown at first, confused by the sudden shift, but before you can question him, he's already pulling you closer, his hands gripping your elbows as he makes sure you're steady on your feet. his eyes soften as he sees your confused, slightly hurt expression, and his lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“no, no, baby. i loved it, i love you” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “ but we’re doing things my way now. let’s go home.”

a playful smile spreads across your face, and you nod, understanding the promise behind his words. "as long as you wear the hat while fucking me, i’ll go anywhere you want," you tease, your voice playful but full of anticipation.

heeseung chuckles, adjusting the cowboy hat still perched on his head “you really love this costume, don’t you?”

“you know what they say, save a horse… ride a cowboy…” you say in a sing-song voice, winking as you turn around and open the bathroom door to step out.

behind you, heeseung’s deep, booming laughter echoes down the hallway, and you feel his presence close behind as he follows you out. there’s a glint in his eyes, and you can feel the shift in the air, the promise of what's to come.

as you step back into the party, the noise and music barely register. all that's on your mind is heeseung, and judging by the heated look in his eyes, the feeling is mutual. there’s only one thing on his mind as he watches you saunter ahead — tonight, a lot of riding will be involved.

after all, he thinks with a smirk, a lot of horses need saving.

#— 💭 mars ; written work #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung imagines #heeseung smut #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts

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