'The bigger, the better,' some would say, but taro? Taro likes it smaller than him. He can barely take it as is.
I fear his first time ever was when he was gaining weight, he was weak to everything you said and did to him, so if you were to tease him abt 'I'm gonna make you see white, taro' 'I love you, you're so handsome' 'these love handles are perfect for gripping' (and manhandling) he'd fall even deeper in love.
Offering to do all the work when he starts to slow down during sex, his white hair clinging onto him, and his body is covered in sweat. He's lost his prime, he could've gone hours non-stop before, could've pleasured you until the sun rises until its his turn (yeah right, he'd cum ropes instantly but at least he had the stamina). He tries to feel bad, but he just can't due to all your praise. You seem to like him this way, and he just wants to be the type of man you'd like.
Prepping him wasn't difficult. It was fun to pinch at the plush of his thighs to keep his legs open, he'd jolt and wither slightly before giving into your demands. He's tense and the rim of his hole keeps on clenching around a single digit. You'd have to press kisses to his shoulder blade to get him to relax.
'[Name]... M'nervous' he says, shifting his hips. His fat moves like water and it mesmerizes you enough to sink your teeth into him. He tries not to tremble too much.
'I promise to be gentle' he likes it like that anyway. The genuine love, the praise, the mutual pleasure.
Errhh, you lied.
The second the tip of your silicone dildo kisses his fluttering hole, you push in with no prior warning. He jumps, his grip on the sheets rip them and he has to resort to finding the headboard for support.
'I'm sorry! I'm really excited!!' Was your response. His reply, in turn, was a squeak.
A squeak. Taro doesn't sound like a mouse, he doesn't make much noise apart from breathy groans.
You push even deeper until the hilt is lost between his fat rear, your strap ran against the walls. in and out, very slowly. you can feel as if it were a part of you.
And taro's hips give in, his legs shaking so much so that you have to grip onto him, digging your nails into his rolls.
'Huh..' you mused to yourself, he burns in humiliation 'so right here.'
Your hips angled down to hit that same spot over and over again, the squelching from the lube makes the room sound holy.
And taro? He gives you smth better than a porno. He cries out loud. His big body bounces with your thrusts, squirming his pelvis into the pillow situated below his hips just so he could get some friction to his red, leaking cock. He probably doesn't need it anyway, it just makes him feel like he has some type of control over his body.
'Just like that, taro?' You coo over him, you watch in intense awe at the feverish red that spreads down his nape. His shaky hand reach back to still your deep, amateurish thrusts while the other one fixed his slipping glasses. 'It's only 5 inches!'
He's willing to go bigger to see that joyous glint in your eye and that grin that makes him blush so badly but he knows it'll definitely break his back. He's limping so badly that customers have to help him.
Something about submissive Katsuki is so pathetic to me. And again, this is barely about sex. He's just... loving to the point of dependant. Desperate. Needy. Wanting and craving you, always. He's in love to the point that he wants to physically lay on top of you and never let go.
But anyways. He's so pouty and whiny. Easily upset if you don't pay attention. And you have to look, or it 'doesnt count.' Puffy pouty lips and frowny eyes. Ugh he's so easily bullyable in that state. So easily teary.
I see people writing him as someone who'll walk out on you easily, or someone who will brashly insult and say harsh things. But I hc him as like, such a mindful person. Like he could not manage to utter harsh words at you. And if he does he just freezes and has that Deer in Headlights look. Just plain stunned and guilty. You can't even get mad about it cause he's just so pathetic you know he never means that shit truly. Didn't mean to phrase it like that.
Ugh I love this goober so much I wish I could eat his cheeks.
────────── he says to keep going. that's not your man, would u keep the show on the road? .ᐟ.ᐟ
⤿ pairings. kei uzuki x gn reader
⤿ contents. mind breaking, sub character, face riding, no genitalia mentioned. this contains slightly mature content, read at your own discretion.
⤿ thoughts. at ur service rahhh!!!
Please, I feel like it's hard to get him in a state so vulnerable. Intimacy; itself, is very sacred to this man. To be open and to allow that special someone into his life. It's so... scary.
So, the first couple of times, he's probably discussed what he wants and what he likes. He likes praise, he wants safety. There is a safeword and there's one thing where he draws the line — feeling too good.
His head gets dizzy and he loses control of his own mind. Voices in his head, scrambling to get out.
Yet, for some strange and degenerate reason, it also turns him on.
To be on the brink of passing out from how good he feels when your hands are all over him, from that little safe head-space he gets in when you hold him down as you "force" him to take everything you give him — all of you.
The way he watches you with wet, heart eyes as you ride his face makes you throb. His pupils start to blank over as he feels light headed. It's been hours. His flushed, pale skin was covered in bites and hickeys. Even drenched with mixed juices, yours and his combined.
Uzuki would typically allow this to slide without a second thought, but, today, something was off. He seemed hyper aware of his sticky situation.
His hands ball up into fists from their restraints. Your belt. He's shaking.
Whats that now? He can't breath.
"Mnfff!" Uzuki pants against you, his throat closing in. He tries to whimper, to warn you as his hips squirm and thrust into the air.
Sane him would've called out his safeword. He wouldn't have to look so pathetic as he tries to muffle out pleas, struggling to allow oxygen through his nostrils but even so, you're blocking it.
But he didn't.
Uzuki wants to be tested. As he discussed prior to the session.
You watch him, carefully. Even when tears start to flow out and his teeth softly graze you as he can no longer keep his mouth open, you continue to grind into him, yanking at his hair to keep him still.
"What's wrong, doll?" You tease with a grin. You would be lying if you said this wasn't turning you on.
The sight of the notorious slur teary-eyed, chest heaving and tied down without any way to escape (read: he can escape, yet, he chooses not to).
You lift your hips off for a split second but he dives right back on in, tongue swallowing you whole.
"Tsk," you click your tongue down as you push yourself off him to catch your breath. "Slow down, kei."
Then, he growls.
The mood shifts.
You tilt your head curiously. That's not like him.
You watch him carefully, calmly. His eyes are glazed over with lust rather than love, adoration. His face flushed and covered with drool. His white hair sprawled underneath him. But his personality... it's another.
You scoff in disbelief. There's no way.
You messed with him so bad (good), his mind and body subconsciously searched for someone to help him out.
────────── who wouldn't want to destroy their sweet husband on a special occasion? .ᐟ.ᐟ
⤿ pairings. taro sakamoto x gn reader
⤿ contents. no dom/sub roles, top reader, clothed dry humping. this contains mature content, read at your own discretion.
⤿ thoughts. love aoi. love her. but i love a loyal and obsessed man even more. thinking of chubby taro in this one, but u can imagine whichever one
Teach me?
There's a slight twitch in his fingers as he tilts his head curiously.
An air of innocence fills the room as you softly smile at him - a soft blush filling his ears at that.
He's very much aware of what you're suggesting. He's thought of it a few times (here and there, a lot of times). You glance away from his eyes to reach for his hand. His palm heats up, and he feels clammy all over.
"Do you want me to teach you?" You gently repeat your previous question. What should he do in this situation? He can barely handle kissing you without exploding. How will he react to touching you!?
He wants to do it, and so, he nods (very robotically, might i add). You stare back at him expectantly. Your fingers softly caress his hand, both comforting him and sending him into a frenzy.
Right. He remembers. Words.
"I want to..." Taro swallows thickly, "make you feel g-good..."
A teasing glint appears in your eyes, "you do?"
His breath hitches when you step closer to him, your eyes glancing to his lips. "Mhm."
His eyes flicker to the bed just a couple of feet away. Worries eat him alive. What if he isn't good? And if he gets carried away? Will you like it or hate it? Should he have picked a more romantic setting for your honeymoon?
The wind howls knocking against the trembling windows as the hands holding his tighten their grip upon reading him.
"How about we take it slow, hm?" He gives another robotic nod. "We can both feel good."
Both of us?
-Ah!
Taro gasps at the new feelings. He stares at you as if you were the sun, the stars, and the moon. With hearts in his eyes, he struggles to see you through the blur of his tears, but he fights through it.
It feels good. Feels so very good.
No one has ever touched him like this, made him feel this way. He's melts when you press your lips to his, pushing your tongue to meet his. You kiss him like it's the end of the world! He loves it. He lives for it.
Taro tentatively raises his hips to meet yours, and the stain (and strain) in his pants grow as a moan leaves your lips at the contact.
He grips onto the sheets for dear life. His entire body felt too, too, too hot. Is he going to pass out?
Help me, God. He pants heavily into your lips, struggling to get out a single word.
No, not a god.
Only you can help him now.
"You're doing such a good job, Taro." A whimper left his lips at the praise. He pulls away to press wet kisses under your jaw, sucking tenderly.
"Do-do you - hah! feel good...?"
"So good!" You whine next to his ear. You hug his body closer, practically leaving no space in between the two of you.
He shivers and squirms as your hands yank at his white locks.
Taro bites his quivering lip, swallowing all his precious noises to hear you better. The panting, gasps, grunts, whimpers.
He's making you feel good.
The bed creaks under the weight of both of you as you order him to go faster. The thought of hurting you scares him, but the overwhelming feeling to please you wins, so he obeys with a shaky nod.
He buries his head in the crook of your neck. He's making you feel good!!
A cry of pleasure is strangled out of his mouth when your hands pull at his hair, forcing him to face you. He catches your eyes through his tears and flushes a deep, dark red.
"Focus on me, okay?" He nods clumsily, never one to deny your requests.
'The bigger, the better,' some would say, but taro? Taro likes it smaller than him. He can barely take it as is.
I fear his first time ever was when he was gaining weight, he was weak to everything you said and did to him, so if you were to tease him abt 'I'm gonna make you see white, taro' 'I love you, you're so handsome' 'these love handles are perfect for gripping' (and manhandling) he'd fall even deeper in love.
Offering to do all the work when he starts to slow down during sex, his white hair clinging onto him, and his body is covered in sweat. He's lost his prime, he could've gone hours non-stop before, could've pleasured you until the sun rises until its his turn (yeah right, he'd cum ropes instantly but at least he had the stamina). He tries to feel bad, but he just can't due to all your praise. You seem to like him this way, and he just wants to be the type of man you'd like.
Prepping him wasn't difficult. It was fun to pinch at the plush of his thighs to keep his legs open, he'd jolt and wither slightly before giving into your demands. He's tense and the rim of his hole keeps on clenching around a single digit. You'd have to press kisses to his shoulder blade to get him to relax.
'[Name]... M'nervous' he says, shifting his hips. His fat moves like water and it mesmerizes you enough to sink your teeth into him. He tries not to tremble too much.
'I promise to be gentle' he likes it like that anyway. The genuine love, the praise, the mutual pleasure.
Errhh, you lied.
The second the tip of your silicone dildo kisses his fluttering hole, you push in with no prior warning. He jumps, his grip on the sheets rip them and he has to resort to finding the headboard for support.
'I'm sorry! I'm really excited!!' Was your response. His reply, in turn, was a squeak.
A squeak. Taro doesn't sound like a mouse, he doesn't make much noise apart from breathy groans.
You push even deeper until the hilt is lost between his fat rear, your strap ran against the walls. in and out, very slowly. you can feel as if it were a part of you.
And taro's hips give in, his legs shaking so much so that you have to grip onto him, digging your nails into his rolls.
'Huh..' you mused to yourself, he burns in humiliation 'so right here.'
Your hips angled down to hit that same spot over and over again, the squelching from the lube makes the room sound holy.
And taro? He gives you smth better than a porno. He cries out loud. His big body bounces with your thrusts, squirming his pelvis into the pillow situated below his hips just so he could get some friction to his red, leaking cock. He probably doesn't need it anyway, it just makes him feel like he has some type of control over his body.
'Just like that, taro?' You coo over him, you watch in intense awe at the feverish red that spreads down his nape. His shaky hand reach back to still your deep, amateurish thrusts while the other one fixed his slipping glasses. 'It's only 5 inches!'
He's willing to go bigger to see that joyous glint in your eye and that grin that makes him blush so badly but he knows it'll definitely break his back. He's limping so badly that customers have to help him.
I want to bend over Uzuki in front of Kashima. Or better yet, we all get in on it together 👅👅👅
Your cold office feels warm. Like you left the heater running all night before deciding to call Uzuki in for a small 'planning session'. This? This was the plan all along? What phase of the plan was this??
N-no... This can't be...!! Kashima watches with parted lips, his breath hitching upon spotting his master's half-lidded eyes and his trembling back that arches into your touch. Mr. slur is... letting this happen...?
Uzuki's shaky fingers curl around the edge of the wooden desk where his upper body rested, tender nipples pressing into the cold surface. A small spasm tensed his thighs together as your finger trails down the curvature of his spine, his sweater pooling just above his waist, exposing the dimples on his lower back.
Kashima is in denial.
Maybe it's to get on your good side! Yeah! Mr. Slur would do anything for us. He's just that nice. He did mention he needed the funds to maintain such an operation so it makes sense... I respect the hustle.
However; his master doesn't seem to be fighting it. In fact, it seems like he's almost... like he's begging for it. For you, to be specific.
A master does not — should not — beg.
But he did — "Please don't tease me-" Uzuki huffs desperately, his hot breath fanning on the surface, mist appearing in its wake. You hum, teasingly, exactly how he didn't want, your fingers pressing into the plush of his hips.
He's gained some weight.
"You've been eating well?" Kashima's mouth drops, flabbergasted. Who asks such a question?! So rude! Have you no respect for his boss???
"I have, uhn.. you're-" Uzuki brings his bottom lip between his teeth. He nips at himself until he can regulate his breathing enough to speak properly. "T... The meals you make fill me up so well. They make me feel warm inside and out. Thank you."
There's a hidden innuendo in his sentence. Something you and he, probably, understand. Kashima squints his gaze. Is he... flirting?
"Very good." You purr, fondly; amorously. Just what kind of history did you two have? Kashima questions himself through the crack of the door, his deer mask shifting slightly as he presses himself closer to watch something he should not have concerned himself with.
Uzuki's face flushes over to his shoulders, his gaze hazy from the praise. His eyelids fall shut when your index and middle fingers tiptoe their way up his warm skin until they disappear beneath his sweater. You sigh as you push your palms down his body, the sound of skin caressing skin ringing in Kashima's ears, "So soft for a man covered in scars..." You push his sweater higher for more access to his upper back.
Uzuki helps you out, blinking rapidly as he tries to process your next move, "Please..".
It seems to be the wrong thing to say since you sigh again, this time, it sounds a tad bit exasperated. "What is it?"
Uzuki frowns at your tone, but he pushes through, "Please touch me."
"I am touching you." You reprimand him with a tut, tongue kissing your teeth. You squeeze at his side. "You'll have to be more specific, dear."
He shakes his head softly, "No... my heart can't take it anymore." His voice breaks into helpless little whimpers. It's a shock to see him that way, Kashima would have never thought him to make a sound like that. "I don't know what comes over me when you touch me, [name]."
Gentle and intelligent Uzuki — he enjoys being dumbed down? Or is this all part of his ploy?
... It doesn't seem like it.
Kashima may blind himself sometimes. He sits, he eats, he plans, he builds and repairs, and he observes. He does it all while he denies himself of reality. However; as he leans in closer to watch the scene, he judges Uzuki.
His boss with the flaming pink cheeks and breath so ragged, it almost seemed like he was going to shut down.
It's intriguing.
Kashima turns his gaze to you. What have you done to him? Are your hands magic? Do you have powers, have you drugged him? It can't possibly feel that good (kashima doesn't do those things. Sex. It's a weird word to him).
His stitched up palms press flat against wooden doors to your office, his mouth watering the slightest bit. Upon leaning forward, the doors finally knock open, leaving him - uzuki, more than him - exposed to the naked eye.
You blink, calmly. As if you knew he was watching all along.
Oh, but his boss...
His body seizes up, completely caught off guard. Mr. Slur always had superb instincts, he'd be able to smell a deer from a mile away. Do you happen to bring his defenses down..?
Kashima huffs, acting like he has the right to be angry over this. Why? Because he's upset Mr. Uzuki never told him about this.
"Huh," you counter, unamused. "Are you just clusmy and stupid, you big moose?"
Despite having a stunned kashima watching, you decide it's the perfect time to push the hem of his pants past his thighs. Kashima makes a surprised noise from the back of his throat.
Uzuki's body locks up, his heart hammering in his blood. He so badly wants you to warn him, let him know what you're thinking, but.. but he always likes guessing games. "I.. P-please don't make me come in front of him..."
You ruffle his white hair. The strands of hair slipping through your fingers so you lightly tug at them to reveal the face of pleasure that crosses your sweet boy's expression. "You see, Uzuki, you didn't have a choice in the first place. He was going to stay and watch behind my door any way, weren't you, buddy?"
You direct yourself towards Kashima, who jumps at the sudden attention. He flushes beneath the mask, a sudden feeling of suffocation taking over him. Sweat beads start to roll down his forehead at a rapid rate, his posture subtly changing to hide his pitching tent.
"I was only curious." He defended himself weakly. His boss watches, tensed and terrified. Kashima had never seen that look before, it excited him! "I.. I wondered where he headed off too after a mission an-and I didn't expect this. Is this where you hide away, Master? Why didn't you tell me? It's not fair-"
Uzuki, like a deer on shaky legs, brings his finger to his lip, shushing kashima, "This is a secret, Kashima. You must not tell anyone, okay?"
You smile gently at the deer, "Keep quiet and I'll give you a raise-"
Gaku def has a thing for older women, I'm gonna spread my Gaku loves milfs propaganda
I've been thinking the same thing. It's not even a joke anymore. He's the baby of the group, what did you expect? Older women are his calling.
He likes to push his limits. Of course, if they're in reach. So, think a mid twenty year old woman. That's an easier catch. Fun, and flirty.
Now, late 30s and older? Gaku wishes to never leave. Wouldn't mind if you trapped him (possible crossed his mind a couple of times).
Listen, I believe gaku can be crazy when he finally has something he knows he'll have fun with.
Sure, everyone is warning him that it might be a tad bit controversial. But isn't everything?
"Now you want to talk about what's right and wrong?"
Oh, he's sassy. That's for sure.
Get him a milf and he shuts up quickly. Wear a low neckline, and his eyes will never leave you. He'll, possibly, most definitely, break his ps4 in half as he tries not to wonder too much.
Do you lactate? Are you currently?
Is it true that when you hear a baby crying, milk will spill out?
"Does it hurt?" He asks beneath his breath. You almost don't hear him, almost don't understand him either. That is until he gropes the air with his hand, a lazy smirk rising upon his face.
You narrow your eyes, "Yes, actually. It feels hard as a rock when it's not released."
"That brat's with its papa, right?" Maybe his wording can use some work. He truly means no harm.
"Yes, my daughter is with her father. Why?"
"I can help you with the pain."
"Oh, it's no big deal, sweetie. I'll just use a breast pump."
"Tch."
Oh my god.
No, no, no. This won't do.
Will spell it out for you if he has to. "Cmere, let me help you out."
It's confusing to you. What does he mean? It's almost like that old man never did this before, and it gives him the upper hand momentarily.
It's gentle at first. A kitten lick. Tentative. He's watching your reaction. If you wince, he'll press his lips to your swollen nipple and smother his tongue down to maybe help with the pain.
It works.
But he's greedy.
Your whole tit will be in his mouth, and he'll still try to take in more, constantly switching to give equal attention to 'your girls'.
When the milk comes spurting out, his whimper is criminal, his jaw opening impossibly wide to swallow everything like a good boy. He'll ignore his gag reflex when liquid shoots down a bit too harshly for his body to handle.
Now.
Because my favorite trend with milfs are white French tips, so will his.
He'll sink his teeth into the back of his hand as he watches your hands work on him, manicured hand rubbing furiously on his swollen head.
You maneuver with such expertise. It almost makes him jealous of the countless times you've done this for the father of your child.
"Ungg!!"
When he makes a noise that doesn't sound at all like him, you perk up. "Oh!" You look like you won the lottery.
Gaku pants, steamy huffs hitting your face. His eyes gleam curiously. Huh? He watches your lips move, but nothing is heard.
"Wah.." he leans into you, gasping silently when you play with his hair. Your fingers brush any remaining hair sticking to his forehead, tucking it back.
"My baby..." his ears tingle at your call. "Can't take anymore?"
Your fingers nudge his head back by his scalp, and he shakes his head slowly. He surprises himself. No? He can't take anymore?
A slight frown brings his features down.
"It's okay, baby boy. I can train you some other time, yeah? How's that sound?"
Shin with a perverted fem reader, she would think the nasties sht to prank shin
cw... sub!virigin!shin, dom!fem!reader, handjob
Employee of the month: [Name].
It was the first thing Shin saw when he was walking out of the break room, plastered right in the middle of the door.
Immediate disbelief.
“Oh? Looks like you didn’t get employee of the month this time… Sakamoto’s gonna think you’re a slacker.”
Lu. She was laughing at him, and she had no idea what Shin goes through on a daily basis since they hired you.
“Shut up, Lu! This is rigged! [Name] has been throwing me off!”
“Reallyyyy now? How so?”
He froze.
Honestly, he had to applaud your skills. As soon as a customer entered the store (your favorite time to do this), you'd disappear behind the shelves, pretending to restock the shelves while you watch Shin between the cracks.
Then it played like a movie. Unlike how Heisuke thinks in simple pictures, yours were far too detailed, had too many close-ups, and flustered him no matter how many times you'd done it.
Oh, he fucking hated it. Both in real time and in your mind, he was falling apart at the sight of you, with your pretty manicured hands wrapping around the base of his cock, eyes peeking behind lashes as you stroked him with a smile. Somehow your apron would come off along with your shirt, tits barely covered by the fabric of your bra, and he'd wouldn’t be able to look at you without rosy cheeks for the rest of the day.
And why was he always such a mess? Is that how you see him? Biting back his moans, blushing uncontrollably, grasping at whatever he can but unsure of what to do, eagerly waiting for your guidance. Yes, he was a virgin, but did you have to take that into account every time you tortured him like this?!
"Don't tell me you're blaming your perverted thoughts on [Name]?"
His face was hot.
"T-that's not—you wouldn't understand!"
You wouldn’t even bat an eye afterward. How the hell was he supposed to bring this up?
────────── hey google, why can't i stop thinking of my ex-sleeping buddy? .ᐟ.ᐟ
⤿ pairings. shin asakura x gn reader
⤿ contents. sub&bottom character, handj0b, mentions of wet dreams, this is mainly them coming together as one aww. this is mature content, read at your own discretion.
⤿ thoughts. shh they don't know how freaky i really am 💔😔😔
The nerve you have to look him in the eye and converse with him irked him to a sense he couldn't even describe!
How dare you act in such a way.
Shin taps away at the countertop, his apron resting so neatly against his body (not a single speck of dust on that ugly green thing). He feels frustrated.
You're staying over tonight. What if it happens again? What is he going to do then? He's been laying awake for nights on end, thinking and, as much as it hurts to admit, caressing himself.
His hands would curl into fists around his pijama pants, and he would slightly squirm before his fingers trailed over his abdomen. He would shut his eyes and imagine that night, over and over and over again.
He would never, actually do anything. After all, he was in the home of his beloved hero. With his family.
Riiinggg!
"I'm back, Shin!"
Aoi! His face lights up as he quickly runs to help her out with the groceries in her arms. He falters in his steps when he catches those eyes that have been haunting him for weeks now.
You send him a friendly wave.
The blond esper bites his bottom lip, and his gaze wavers shyly. His biceps flex as he walks up the stairs leading to their home.
His face feels hot!
He quickly sets the bags on the kitchen table and turns to the cheery woman. He refuses to meet your eyes. Rather, he hides behind his blond hair.
"Do you need any help?"
"Oh no, thank you very much, Shin!" Aoi perks up with a huge smile, like always. She carefully goes through the products of face masks that you bought. "Me, hana, Lu, and (name) are going to have a makeover night! Isn't it exciting?!"
Shin's smile visibly deflates alongside his shoulders before he pops himself back into shape.
This means you won't share a room with him!
But then, why is he sharing a room with Mr. Sakamoto?
She kicked me out. The white haired man explains. He looks like the saddest pup on the block.
"Uff.." Shin scrambles to find a response to cheer up this sad mode. "Must be tough..."
Did I do something wrong? Sakamoto trails off. The younger boy nearly replies but he's cut off. Did I say something wrong. I'm sorry. What did I do?
"Um." Shin feels sweat form at his face as he squirms uncomfortably. He nearly jolts out of bed as he finds the perfect excuse — "I needa hit the loo."
The esper sighs in relief. Only Aoi seems to get a rise out of him. As his feet softly hit the floor, his mind subconsciously wanders to you.
Have you fallen asleep yet?
...There's no sound. No dream, no image. Nothing.
He frowns before his eyes widen, catching himself. He slaps himself as hard as he can, yelping.
Was he disappointed??
He locks his jaw before rushing into the bathroom, only to jump when he runs straight into you. He stares for a heavy second before breaking out into a sweat.
"Sorry!" He squeaks out, hairs standing on end. You calmly dry your hands with a small, embarrassed grin.
"Don't worry. 'Was just washing my hands." Your reassurance calms him down, but the silence that engulfs the tiny bathroom — doesn't. You seem to think of something.
Shin does everything in his power to not read your mind.
You've been avoiding me.
Darn it.
His hair is spiked up, all messy, from the tossing and turning in his bed. He thinks he looks like a mess, but you? You think he looks adorable.
A red blush spreads across his cheeks before he parts his lips, wetting them nervously.
"I haven't been avoiding you.." You shake your head, clearly not believing him. "Well, n-not obviously."
"You won't even glance at me." Shin quickly meets your teary eyes before they fall unto the shower curtains. The little fishes on the curtain were fading away from all the water, tainting it. "See!"
"Um," you tilt your head, "well, the night you stayed over.. uh, you uhh kinda had a d-dream of-"
"Of you." A look of recognition rises across your pretty features. Shin nods, embarrassed.
I made you uncomfortable, "I'm sorry, shin."
No. Shin thinks, "That's not it.."
Whoops. He didn't mean to say that aloud.
He flushes as he steps closer to you, hands hoovering over your elbows. He was afraid to touch you.
"I've... never been the subject of admiration before." His brows knit together, fingers twitching as he drops his arms to his sides.
Much less of a dirty dream.
"Oh." You swallow nervously.
It's not the first time. You're twiddling with your shirt, eyes looking at the cute bunny slippers on your feet. They were aoi's spare ones.
"H-huh?" The room feels hot. Or is it just him?
You step closer to him until your chest is just an inch away from him. Barely. Shin grips at his pants, his heart beat spiking up.
"I've had many dreams of you," you shrug as if this information was nothing new. After all, he can read minds. It's going to come out anyway. "Many where we had sex even as just friends."
Shin gulps as blood rushes all over his body. What are you insinuating?
"That's not who you are, though." You muse, brushing back his sweaty hair. His skin is hot to the touch. "You want to make love with someone who you have feelings for. Isn't that right?"
Shin presses his lips together to hold back any embarrassed cries. He was 100% sure he wouldn't even be able to form a sentence without stumbling and stuttering.
"Do you like me, shin?" His head bows, but you're quick to cup his cheek as you force him to look at you. Your touch is so tender. He's almost tempted to move your hand even lower.
He hesitates.
I like you, Shin. His ears burn as he stares wide eye, in curiosity? Disbelief? He isn't sure.
Nonetheless — he nods. Once.
It's a confirmation.
-kiss me.. you think.
"Can I kiss you? Please?" Before you even get a proper response, Shin lunges forward. He grasps at the collar of your shirt and pulls you in to steal a kiss.
Your lips taste of cherry.
His head feels light and dizzy when you open your mouth to push your tongue against his. His hold on you loosens, legs trembling as he decides to lower himself to his knees, bringing you down with him.
He can feel you, shockingly.
Every thought, every sensation, every feeling. It's overwhelming. He feels like he's being electrocuted as his pulse quickens.
More. He tries to gasp out loud and he ends up getting frustrated when you slow down. He pulls away, tongue hanging out as he processes whats going on.
In your mind, you imagine a little puppy.
"S-shut up." Shin grunts, embarrassed, as he closes his wet, pink lips. He wipes at them with the back of his wrist, hips rocking gently. He pulls you closer by your clothes before his hands cup your jaw as he presses tender kissing to your cheek.
You smile, curious.
"What's up?"
"You really do like me." Shin breathes out. He earns a nod in return. His body relaxes into you, shivers raking down his back. You pull him into a warm hug, one leg in between his. His hips buck involuntarily as his breath hitches when his boner rubs against your thigh.
"I've never felt that before." He hiccups, stomach churning with need. You nod in understanding. Your hands trail from his back to the hem of his shirt, lifting it just enough to spot the way his muscles twitch.
"How was it?" Shin sighs in relief when you rub him through his tight pants. You can feel him pulsating.
He bites his lip, hips angling higher to find a more comfortable position. "I could - hnng, feel everything you felt, ah.."
You smile at him, "but it was just a kiss?"
He throws his head back with a groan. The door softly thuds under his weight. "C'monn, quit teasin'.."
A chuckle escapes you as you slip your nimble fingers underneath his pants yet over his boxers.
"Here?" You feather like touch dips over the wet spot, purposely missing the head.
"Noo.." He shakes his head rapidly, slapping his palm over his mouth as his ears burn. He sounds so needy.
Just like in your dream(s).
But even better. You think to yourself.
"What about this?" Your fingers trace the print of his cock slowly, as if you were trying to memorize his.. well, everything. Shin curses under his breath, rocking his hips back and forth.
He lifts his shirt up to get a better view (more like give you a better view, but he'd never admit that). You eye his body, from his pink nipples to the v-line trailing downwards. He tries his best to hide that shy grin that forms on his face.
"More, please." You lean forward to press a wet kiss to his bitten and bruised lips as a reward. He huffs out in response. You pull out your hand to, finally, free him of the clothing, only to leave his pants mid-thigh. Is this supposed to be some sort of restraint?
His chest heaves rapidly, impatiently. You leave a trail of kisses from his jaw to his chest, down his v-line and finally at the base of his cock. Shin watches eagerly with wide eyes, arching his hips into you.
You grasp at him, his twitching cock in your hand. It feels so hot, you can't help but tease him with a kiss to his leaking tip.
Mwah.
The action smears sticky, white goo against your lips, and it seems to be making more of a mess when you lick at your lips.
His mouth drops open at the lewd scene, but his heart warms up, too.
How confusing he is.
You hum in pleasure as you lay your tongue flat against his slit, licking up more of his precum. Shin whimpers softly, pushing his hips further. More, more, more.
Knockknockknock.
The sound of rapid knocks break him out of his daze as you jolt up, surprised.
Oh drats! I'm going to pee myself!
"Lu!" Shin whisper yells to you as he scrambles to fix himself. He winces painfully as he hurries to find a hiding spot.
Now we need the opposite, Nagumo being needy and wants to drink your breast milk 🫨
❛ #HAMARTIA! SAKAMOTO DAYS.
────────── a fatal flaw leading to the downfall of a tragic hero — in other words, your chest .ᐟ.ᐟ
⤿ pairings. nagumo yoichi x afab reader
⤿ contents. sub character, twt link, f!lactation, nipple play, slight thigh riding, mommy kink, wanna be mean to him but i couldn't in the end. this contains mature content, read at your own discretion.
⤿ thoughts. this is making me nervous, i've never lactated before... also ummm i overthought this one and it came out mediocre 😔
His watch reads 1:39 in the morning. The ticking irritates his ear drums, and his eyes feel heavy. It's the first time in a while that he's been beat.
But, there's nothing like coming back to a warm, loving home.
Just the thought of seeing you in bed brightens him. He perks up when his hands prop open the window to your shared bedroom. It squeaks, and he thinks he should've checked it out when you told him to all those days back.
You're sleeping, body curled up around the blankets. His shoulders sag, and he can no longer bite back a whine.
He's tired.
He wants your embrace.
Maybe a kiss or two. When his fingers brush against your face, he knows he definitely wants more than that.
A sheepish grin finds you when you shuffle in bed, lashes fluttering open. "Yoichi?"
"Good morning, beautiful!"
"You're too loud -" a smothering kiss shuts you up. Your lips muffle his precious sighs. His fingers grasp at your shirt, yanking down to take a peek underneath your collar. He gasps before his hair falls over his face, blocking his view of your chest.
You're not wearing a bra.
"Please..." his whispers, voice quivering. Almost shyly. It's so unlike him.
"Oh, are you hungry? You've been working so hard that you deserve a reward." At your change of tone, nagumo's stare switches from mischievous to something warmer. Need. Desperation. "You just want mommy's milk, don't you, sweet boy?"
"Mhm, yeah!" Nagumo nods slowly, shifting his hips uncomfortably. "Need mommy so bad ungg."
"That's not how we ask for things."
Be respectful.
Nagumo rests his cheek on your chest, carefully threading through the strands of his dark hair to meet your eyes, "Please, momma. I beg of you, allow me a taste..."
To sell the deal, he nuzzles into you, burying his nose to your collarbone.
"Hm."
Your hands are quick to work at freeing him and yourself from any clothes, but somewhere in between his lingering touches, you forgot to remove your blouse.
His slender hand slips beneath your shirt, groping at you, the pads of his fingers kneading your nipples.
You gasp, quickly grasping his wrist — "gently."
"You-" Hell. He choked on his breath. He would feel embarrassed, but his arousal poked at him in the same manner a knife held against his neck would.
Your explanation is simple, "I'm feeling tender."
The spit in his mouth accumulates into a pool of drool. He swallows thickly, "You don't need this, right?"
Ripppp!
"...Nagumo..."
You can punish him later, for now, he wants to be here, smothered in between your chest. "Shorry."
With a mouthful of your fat in his mouth and glossy onyx eyes, his pupils dilate as he stares up at you in your glory. Your head falls forward, hissing softly, "Not so roughly, yoichi."
"You- hahhh — jerk." You shouldn't say such mean things. He wants to do what he wants.
"Me?" You click your tongue down at him. He feels himself melt at your attention. "Baby, you should thank me for this opportunity. You came onto me like a thirsty hound, and now you want to turn this on me?"
Essentially, you're saying, 'Look at yourself'. Nagumo thinks that if he takes one glimpse at the mirror, he wouldn't be able to gaze into his eyes the same.
His stomach grumbles. He needs his food now.
When the first leakage drops onto his awaiting tongue, he pulls away.
He squeezes your breasts, and once he spots some of the liquid exiting your nipple, he latches back on with a whine.
He's lapping away at anything. Cock jumping as he grinds mid-air as if you'll decide mercy on him and grant him a ghost of a touch.
He's a dog.
Your body feels all tingly. "Drink up, yoichi."
His response comes in a form of muffles, choking back on your milk. Though he doesn't waste a single drop.
"Good boy!" An immediate sense of relief hits him at your praise.
Through hazy eyes, he waits for your signal.
You pat at your thigh, once.
"Mfff Yes!" He moans out loud. He crawls on top of you, knees situated alongside your thigh. He's quick to get to work.
The prominent vein on his cock pulses when he meets your warm skin, coating your thigh immediately.
The broken growl that escaped him was vile. It proved him to act like an animal even outside of assassination.
He's rutting against your thigh like a messy virgin, balls heavy, and hormones to the roof.
He feels so lightheaded.
"Are you satisfied, now?" Your voice breaks with a sigh. He nods in agreement through hot pants. "That's ahh, that's good, baby. Don't stop until you're full."
Nagumo gives slow, mindless thrusts, arms shaking, but he pushes through to press himself even closer to you, constant 'ahn uhh's are ripped out of him with no volume down button.
It's time to start the day all over again.
He raises a shaky hand to check his watch.
It's 5:09am when he decides he has had enough, tummy full and his lips coated with your milk.
He pats his hard stomach, tensing with pleasure when he realizes how much he fed. "Thanks, Mommy, I was starved!"
a/n— these hc are kind of intense bc i love this man and i would do all kinds of things to him 🤭😋
kurapika doesn’t hand over control easily. he’s calculated, private, always keeping his emotions tight behind his eyes , but with you? the more you strip him down, the more he aches for someone to just take the control away.
his submission isn’t instant , it’s earned. at first, he fights it. stiff posture, sharp eyes, resisting your commands even when his body says otherwise. but once he realizes he wants to obey you… it’s over. he’s hooked.his pride is
part of the pleasure. the way he blushes when you touch him, how he refuses to beg until he’s shaking all of that tension? it makes the moment he breaks even sweeter. because when kurapika gives in, he gives everything.
his scarlet eyes don’t just glow with anger , they flare with arousal. when you take control of him, when he feels overwhelmed, stretched, fucked open and completely yours, his irises ignite. not from rage, but from pure, unfiltered need.
sometimes, when he’s on his knees for you, his eyes are red and teary, his chest rising and falling like he’s about to collapse …. and you realize it’s not just lust. it’s emotional release. because giving in to you feels like the only place he’s ever truly safe.
he goes insane for pegging. he won’t say it, but the filthy sound that escapes his throat the first time you slide a strap-on inside him says everything.
he struggles to express what he likes, but when you ask him, “you like being fucked like this, don’t you, kurapika?” he just nods with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.
he has a quiet spit kink. spit in his mouth, on his cock, down his hole. he shudders every time. and afterwards? completely mortified.
he loves being told what to do. your calm, commanding voice turns him pliant. like his body stops thinking and just listens.
he sometimes trembles while undressing for you. not from fear, but from the rush of giving in. vulnerability turns him on more than he admits.
he rarely says “i like this,” but his body speaks for him. back arched, thighs shaking, cock pulsing hard with need.
he hates being recorded or exposed. his submission is sacred. private. showing it to anyone else would make him shut down completely.
he’s not into pain for pain’s sake. he can handle slaps, pressure, even bites, but degradation that hits his pride? no.
being fucked while clothed drives him wild. shirt still on, pants halfway down, ass up and face buried in the sheets? perfection.
when he’s deep into it, he becomes a quiet beggar. “please,” “don’t stop,” “give me more” come out in little, broken gasps.
he loves being full. not just physically. he wants to feel owned, pressed into the bed, marked by your hands and your body.
sometimes he cums from anal play alone. no stroking. no teasing. just a toy or your fingers hitting the right spot, and he loses it.
he secretly loves it when you keep using him long after he’s done. when he’s soft, dripping, overstimulated, and you’re still riding him? his cock starts to get hard again.
he hates being called “puppy” or “baby boy.” that’s not his vibe. he wants to be your man. your fucktoy. your hole to ruin, not babied.
after a scene, he holds you. no words. just his face buried in your neck, arms wrapped around you like he never wants to let go.
when he’s on his knees and you tell him to stick his tongue out? his cock twitches instantly. whether it’s your spit or his, he’s ready to melt.
sometimes, when you dominate him just right, he cums untouched. the voice, the pace, the toy deep in his ass—it’s too much. he explodes.
he cleans your toys afterwards. not because you tell him to, but because it’s how he serves. quiet gratitude, post-orgasm devotion.
the heat of the day had begun to fade, but the warm desert breeze still lingered as you settled in front of vash. his eyes, always hidden behind those yellow glasses, seemed to avoid you more than usual. you'd noticed he hadn’t looked at you directly for a while now, and that only stirred your curiosity further.
"vash… why are you so quiet?" you asked, leaning in a little closer to him.
vash flinched slightly, his metal arm gripping his knee like he needed to steady himself. the blush rising on his cheeks was impossible to ignore, even with his usual laid-back demeanor.
"i-i'm not quiet! i was just… thinking about stuff, you know, important stuff," he said, trying to sound convincing.
"important stuff, huh?" you tilted your head, moving even closer to study his face. his lips trembled, and he leaned back like he couldn’t handle your closeness.
"don’t look at me like that!" he exclaimed, covering his face with his metal hand.
"why not?" you asked playfully, your smile reflected in the lenses of his glasses. his discomfort was adorable, and you couldn’t help but enjoy it a little.
vash let out a sigh of defeat, letting his head fall back.
"i really don’t know how you make this look so easy… i can barely…" he trailed off when you got on your knees in front of him, placing both hands on his legs.
"does this make you nervous?" you murmured teasingly, leaning in closer.
the blond swallowed hard, eyes shutting as if searching for an answer in his chaotic mind.
"this isn’t fair…" he whispered, more to himself than to you.
"what isn’t fair?" you pressed, now so close that your faces almost touched.
he opened his eyes just as your lips brushed against his in a quick, gentle kiss, something that seemed to explode in his mind like a grenade.
"w-what was that?!" he squeaked, throwing both hands over his face and recoiling.
"a kiss. what else?" you replied, amused by his over-the-top reaction.
vash peeked at you through his fingers, his cheeks bright red like they were burning under the sunset.
"don’t make weird noises, vash." you laughed, pointing at him teasingly.
"i didn’t make any weird noises!" he protested, scandalized—but his tone wasn’t helping his case.
you leaned in again, taking his hand this time, fingers intertwining with his.
"you’re adorable, you know that?" you said with a soft smile.
vash tried to look away again, but you didn’t let him. you lifted his metal hand and pressed a kiss to the cold knuckles, and that seemed to completely break him.
"don’t tease me…" he muttered barely above a whisper, though he didn’t pull his hand away.
"who said i’m teasing? i like seeing you blush, vash. i think it’s cute."
he let out an unintelligible sound, covering his face with his other hand. the defeated little sighs he made only made you smile wider as you leaned in once more.
"i think i’m getting used to making you suffer just a little," you said playfully, watching his blush deepen even more.
"please, have mercy on me!" he cried, though his voice was laced with a nervous laugh.
you laughed too, enjoying every second of his reaction. sometimes, it was just too easy to make the infamous vash the stampede melt under your gaze. 🥰
content warnings… 18+, not proofread, sub!kenji sato, edging, solo masturbation, pet names, praise kink, might be a lil ooc, kenji can’t be discreet over the phone
How embarrassing, really, Kenji thought. He stared at himself in the mirror across from him as he sat on the edge of his neatly made bed, hands positioned behind him. He hadn’t seen you in what felt like months, and now the evidence was staring right back at him, though covered by the thick layer of his black sweats. It ached. He wanted nothing more than to relieve himself, but he knew himself. He can’t cum without your help.
And yet, he was desperate. Already, he was breathing heavily as he took a shaky hand and palmed his clothes dick. He let out a deep sigh before pulling down the waistband of his sweats juuuust enough for his cock to bobble up. The air was cold against his sensitive tip, and a hiss left his lips. Kenji wasted no time wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, just the way you do, trying to stimulate the same movements you used. He glanced up and caught a glimpse of himself biting his lip with a slightly flushed face in an attempt to hush himself from sounding so pathetic.
He imagined you behind him, guiding him to his orgasm, and the image itself makes him forget any rational thoughts.
“Fu-hhhh…”
That one time you really did sit behind him, whispering sweet nothings in his ears, reminding him how much of a slut he was for you while praising him all the same, popped up in his mind, and he couldn't help but stroke faster. Your sultry voice, your breath on his ears, the teasing kisses you gave him. Oh, how he fucking mi–
A loud ringtone filled the quiet room. Startled, he let go of himself, and his incoming orgasm was lost. But he quickly recognized the ringtone– it was the one he picked specifically for you.
But shit. Could the timing have been any worse better? At this point, his tip was fuming. An angry red, his slit trickling pre. He couldn't stop now, but he wasn't going to skip your call either.
“Hey baby… what's up?”
“Just wanted to say you did great today, sweetheart. I saw your little heroic moment on the news.” God, and the first thing you do is praise him. He feels like a horny teen again, the way he wraps his hands around his cock just to jerk off at the sound of your voice. You wouldn't mind though, right?
A shaky, “Yea?” was all he could manage without revealing his actions to you.
“Mhm, and also just to say sorry for not being able to see you lately. Work has been so busy and…” he could listen to you for hours. He stroked himself to the pace of your words, squeezing tighter every time he went over his tip. He couldn't do the same motions as you, his brain already too preoccupied with you and his need to empty his balls.
“Ken? Ken, baby, I know it’s been a few days, but if you’ve missed me that much, you could've just told me.”
He didn't even realize. He'd already gotten too comfortable, his back against the bed, one hand holding his phone to his ear, the other hand stroking his cock, and his throat eliciting all the evidence you could ever ask for. You'd never mistake these moans for anything but pleas for pleasure.
But being caught only spurred him on more. “Hahh– missed… you s’ much…” You couldn't hear them as well as his breathy groans, but the sound of slick was filling up the room, slowly but surely.
“Don’t you dare cum, Ken.” He stopped. A whine. You loved it. The way the pitch of his voice rose when he didn't get what he wanted. And he wanted more, so why should he listen? He thought he would break with how much his cock ached. Yet his hand was still at the base of his dick. “I’m coming over right now, so sit pretty like the good boy you are.”
He so terribly wanted to disobey you, show you he doesn't always have to be a good boy for you, but he knew himself. He wouldn't have been able to cum without you anyways.
18+ | just thought of vampire!reader and sub!nagumo | biting n blood
Something was off about you from the moment he met you. He could never put his finger on it, as if you were already aware he was onto you, but you didn’t let anything slip by.
But he never missed how your eyes trailed from his lips to his jaw, gaze steady when it rested near his jugular. How your eyes lingered for just a half-second longer than at his other features, before you swiftly returned your eyes to his dark ones.
You hid your fangs well, but just once you licked his finger jokingly, sharp canines grazing against his tattooed knuckles before you realized any further would tempt you too much.
It kept him on his toes. Was he simply a blood bag you were keeping around, or was there something more behind your hesitancy?
What he couldn’t deny was his interest—what would it feel like to have your fangs piercing through his flesh? Is it as sedative as they say? How much could he take before he passed out? How would his blood compare to the others you’ve drunk from? Why haven’t you tried his blood yet?
How could he make you lose control? Putting his life on the line purely for his curiosity wasn’t anything new, but he was starting to think his interest was growing into something else. Surely, he wouldn’t be aroused if he was bitten by you…
So can you imagine the euphoria he felt when you succumbed to your desire, gripping his waist as he bared his neck for you, finally—finally, your fangs were sinking themselves deep, the sharp pain accompanied by a rush of dopamine, heat spreading through his veins like a wildfire. Blood trickled from the wound, staining his white t-shirt.
He was all but whimpering, his breathing suddenly ragged, small noises abruptly leaving his mouth each second. Even as his knees began to grow weak, he couldn’t see himself asking you to stop, not when he realized his dick actually enjoyed this. The ache overshadowed any rational thoughts, his mind only thinking of succumbing to your touch.
“Don’t stop…” he mumbled. “And don’t think of drinking—hah—anyone else’s blood—mmngh—besides mine…”
Summary: inspired by these Han Jisung photos because damn, does he look so girlfriend here!
Jisung has a little secret - one he can't tell anyone, but especially not you, his perfect partner. It's a secret that's lacey and frilly and girly, because Han Jisung has a little…hobby. He likes to dress up in girl's clothes, likes how pretty and small and cute it makes him feel.
And maybe, like an idiot, he forgets to lock his door. And maybe, you just happen to walk in.
(written in thought format, because this was meant to just be a little drabble, and I naturally wrote a whole fic!)
Warnings: sub!han jisung, dom!reader, implied switch!jisung and switch!reader, feminization (jisung), anal sex (jisung!receiving), humping (jisung), caught masturbating (jisung), penetration (reader! and jisung!receiving), dacryphilia, petnames (jagi, baby, pretty girl, princess), swearing
w.c.: 6.7K
– – –
My wife, my sweet, sweet wife...there was something just so girlfriend about him in this outfit (abracadabra video I'm talking about YOU oh my gooooood) that I had to write about it. This was meant to just be a girlfriend!han jisung headcanon style drabble and then well. I got carried away...My finals are coming up soon so my posting will be slow but I'm excited to be back to writing!! I missed all of you lovlies so so much <3 Thank you as always for reading my fics!!
Boyfriend!Han Jisung, who loves to be the "man" in your relationship.
He's silly, sure, and he's a little bit clumsy and nerdy, but he tries. He holds open every door for you, fumbles to pull your chair out before you can grab it yourself, and insists you walk on the inside of the sidewalk, even when the street is empty. He's the picture of a gentleman (or at least, he's trying very hard to be) and it's endlessly sweet. He doesn't like the stereotype, but he likes taking care of you, so he does, in a very Han Jisung way.
Boyfriend!Jisung who everyone jokes is the "woman" of your relationship anyways.
Who's dramatic, who loves to gossip, who won't touch certain things because he's worried it'll chip his nails. He won't go out if he's had a bad hair day, he won't get anywhere near the tiny spiders that appear in the bathroom, and he certainly won't leave the house if his outfit isn't "serving" (his words, not yours). Neither of you care about stupid stereotypes like that anyways, but you can tell it digs at him a little bit. Makes him feel like he's not taking care of you well enough, that he's someone not doing enough for you despite being the best boyfriend you've ever had.
Boyfriend!Jisung who, under his facade, has a big, girly secret.
The secret is kept folded neatly in a little brown box in the back, back corner of his closet, behind his old guitar case and a handful of shoeboxes full of memories. Jisung's disorganization is his safety net, because no one wants to dig through his mess to find anything in his closet, so his little secret stays nestled away.
The secret is made of silks and lace and cotton, is sheer and soft and flowy, is everything everyone jokes he is.
Boyfriend!Jisung who has a box of pretty, girly clothes in the back of his closet.
It's something he holds close to his chest. It's not like he cares - hell, he's worn skirts for shoots before, done girl group choreo without "boy group-ing" it, loves the way that makeup softens his features - but there's something different about dressing in feminine clothes in his own home. Something domestic burns under his skin, something softer, something he absolutely refuses to unpack. So he doesn't. He waits until he knows Minho isn't home, until he knows you're going to be busy for a few hours, and he slips himself into his cute home clothes.
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who walks around his shared dorm with skirts and thigh high socks on, the kind with the stripes rimming the top, in the name of it being "more comfortable". A skirt is so very freeing, the range of movement so much nicer than his sweatpants or the big shorts he usually wears around the house. He likes the ones with pleats, the ones with lace rimming the hem, because they swish so much prettier when he turns, make him feel small and cute and girly.
He has a whole secret photo album of photos, in a locked folder within a locked folder just in case. LEDs a deep red in his room, his phone angled to cut his face off, thighs spread and skirt riding just high enough on his thighs to be suggestive. Some of the photos are sweeter - soft beiges and browns against the white of his bedsheets, cute sweater paws and even cuter makeup, pouty lips painted a pretty pink - but there's something just so taboo about the whole thing that makes him want to take dirty photos.
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who has a lacey surprise hiding under his skirt, too.
He hadn't indulged in lacey underwear right away. Lingerie always seemed uncomfortable anyways, and plus, the pretty ones weren't necessarily designed for his...anatomy, anyways. Other than the one time he had lost a bet to Minho and had to wear a red lacey thong under his clothes for the day, Jisung was sure he would never wear lingerie.
He proves himself wrong very, very quickly, because he stumbles across an online forum about lingerie for men and suddenly there's a package at the door in a discrete little box from a local boutique. He tells himself the first time it's just curiosity - that something shaped like that couldn't possibly hold his balls and his dick in - but on the fifth time a little box shows up in their mailbox in the span of two weeks, Jisung can't lie to himself anymore.
There's something so racy about having lace on under his clothes. Like another layer of secret under his skirt and the pretty sweater he wears that falls off his shoulder. If you caught him now, would you know that the lacey black strap peeking out from under his sweater is a bra? Would you cup his tits pecs, tell him how pretty he looks? Run your fingers up up up his thighs until they found the soft, silky material underneath his skirt? Would you tell him how cute his little cock looks, straining against the lace?
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who tries really, really hard to convince himself that he isn't into this.
It's just a fun little side hobby! He's an idol, of course he likes dressing up. It's part of his job, after all! He just loves all parts of his job, that's all. Is it so bad that a guy loves his job so much he brings part of it home with him to enjoy? He likes feeling pretty on stage, likes the way it feels when Stay calls him cute or pretty, likes the way it sounds when it falls from your lips more, so why would it be bad if he wants to feel pretty at home, too? Sure, he's not usually wearing skirts on stage, but he could be! The stylists certainly wouldn't complain, and he saw the way that the internet lost their minds over Jeongin and Seungmin's little half-skirts. Imagine how much Stay would enjoy it if Jisung just fully wore a skirt on stage!
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who shamefully gets off in his prettiest little outfits.
Shameful is a tough way to put it, because Jisung likes the shame. Likes the way it boils under his skin, makes him feel pathetic and needy. It blurs into pleasure, blurs all his thoughts into mush and makes him come harder than he ever has from just his hand and his imagination. It shouldn't feel good, the humiliation of doing something that feels taboo, but it does, and Jisung leans into it, lets it drape over his skin until he doesn't know who he is without it.
He likes to turn off the lights, to let the LEDs illuminate every dip and curve of his skin, to watch himself settle onto his bed from his full length mirror. Seeing himself like this makes the shame burn hotter, and the lust swirling in his gut feel like magma. He loves watching the way his lips part when he runs his fingers gently down his sides, loves to watch the way his hips jerk up when he runs the pads of his fingers over his nipples through his too-thin sweater.
He rarely gets off any other way anymore, because nothing else feels as good. It's shameful, makes him feel girly, when he doesn't even have to reach down to wrap his hand around his cock anymore to get off. Instead, he presses a plushie between his legs and ruts down onto it weakly, fingers dipping into his mouth or playing with his nipples until his brain is fuzzy with pleasure, and the poor lace covering his cock is almost sheer with precum.
Some nights, he doesn't take off the skirt or the cute little top he's wearing with it, plays with himself under his clothes instead. Watching the way his skirt tents, the way his tight-clad thighs try to squeeze together around the plushie, it's almost too much. He feels so much warmer, as he watches his cheeks go rosy and his fingers disappear beneath the hem of his shirt. His fingers can barely sneak below his bra enough to tweak at his nipples before he's coming with a moan, painting the inside of his skirt white.
He's started humping the night away pathetically, somehow teenager-levels of horny again. Minho's started making his coffee a little stronger in the morning, his eyes searching as he tries to figure out why Jisung's eye bags are sinking further into his head, but Jisung's too embarrassed to say it's because he's horny. Not like Minho wouldn't offer to help, or at the very least rat out Jisung's horny behaviour to you, but Jisung can't stomach the idea of Minho knowing about his secret. So he comes nightly in his panties alone instead, often more than once, and wakes up early enough to clean up his mess before Minho can walk in and catch him asleep with dried cum gluing his skirt to his thighs.
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who knows he can't keep it a secret forever, who tries so hard to hide it anyways.
...but he's notoriously terrible at keeping secrets from people he's close with. It's easier, with the members, who don't pry into his personal life other than to poke fun. When his ears go red when Hyunjin calls him your "girlfriend", it can be excused as embarrassment. You're too busy defending his boyfriend honor for him to catch the flush that creeps up his neck, the way he swallows like his mouth is full of cotton, the way his tongue pokes into his cheek like he's trying to swallow down a needy sound.
Minho notices first, because of course he does. Jisung hates that he knows Jisung better than he knows himself, hates that Minho always knows how to read him like a book, even when Jisung himself can't read the words on the page. The eye bags were the first piece of evidence, and then Minho comes home late one night and finds Jisung's door locked, and he starts to connect dots.
He catches Jisung doing laundry at 5am on a Wednesday and that's when he knows for sure that Jisung is keeping a secret from him, and Minho will be damned if he doesn't figure it out. Jisung flushed so red when he saw Minho that morning that Minho thinks, perhaps, Jisung pissed the bed. But there's more than just bedding in the machine - not that Minho can get a good glimpse, not with Jisung shoving him out of the room and insisting he'll "cook breakfast" for the two of them - and Minho's curiosity has been peaked.
So he pokes and prods until Jisung spills the beans, because, actually, it's not that Minho always knows what's going on with Jisung, he just knows how to get him to talk about it. It's a gentle game of coaxing and convincing, not unlike getting a shy cat to allow you to pet it, and Minho's got Jisung across the table from him with his head in his hands in less than a week, confessing his sins.
"Okay." Minho says afterwards, evenly, like his roommate didn't just confess to humping himself to sleep in women's clothes every night.
And it's actually...normal, after that. Minho doesn't judge him, and Jisung finds that he doesn't quite mind wearing skirts around the house when Minho's there anymore. He comes home one day to see Minho holding a skirt up to himself and almost cries with joy. So maybe, maybe, things are okay again.
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who still can't bring himself to talk about his little nighttime routine with you, his partner.
He knows you're not stupid, though, and that you're catching on. Jisung has never necesarily been dominant in bed before, but he's never quite been submissive either. The two of you have a push-and-pull dynamic, a perfect blend of both of you in charge in a way that makes it feel like no one's quite really in charge, at all. It's an equal act of giving and taking that makes your bed chemistry so good, and Jisung wouldn't trade it for the world.
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who's getting worse and worse at keeping any level of control when the two of you are fucking.
It's as if the box in his closet is calling his name whenever you roll on top of him, when you use your weight to hold him down and just take. He pictures, on nights when he's on his own, you guiding his hips, you wrapping your fingers around his neck like a necklace, you forcing his hips onto the bed as you ride him like a personal dildo. You, fully clothed, pushing that pretty pink dildo he's used on you before into him and making him take it like a good girl boy.
He tries it once, on his own, because he really just couldn't help it! He starts with his fingers, blunt and short, and finds quickly that it's just not enough. He wants more, wants you pressing him down with your weight on the back of his thighs, fingers spread his cheeks and forcing the pink dildo in and out of him. He can't do it well himself, his wrist giving out when it feels too good, and he can't keep the pace up well enough when his pleasure peaks that he can't bring himself to come with the dildo, despite the burn of pleasure under his skin.
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who's become a total pillow princess.
He's all glossy eyes and bitten raw lips, fingers digging uselessly into the sheets or the fat of your hips when you're having sex. He's sloppy when he's thrusting into you from behind, until you get sick of his inconsistent bucking and flip the two of you over, riding him until both of you come. He's babbling the whole time, begging for more and less all in one breath, because it's just so overwhelming to have you on top of him. He feels like a sick, dirty pervert, laying back and sobbing and imagining you calling him your pretty girl boy, imagining you fucking into him, instead.
You take the role in stride, because who would turn down a doe-eyed Han Jisung, begging to be fucked into the mattress? You certainly don't mind being the one in control - your ego certainly doesn't mind either, especially when his eyes roll back and his back arches so high off the bed he almost throws you off of him - and he's just so sweet with you afterwards. Face pressed to your chest, pinky linking with yours, taking big, shuddering breaths while you rub circles into his back until he melts against you. He mouths at your skin softly, pressing kisses wherever his heavy head can reach, mumbling about how "good you felt" and how he loves you "so, so much, love you so much, you know that?". You can't help but be soft on him, cooing and petting his hair until his legs are strong enough to carry him to the bathroom.
You wash him carefully, not letting him do any of the work, because when he's like this, you just want to coddle him. Want to wrap him up in bubble wrap and protect him from the world. You use your softest towel to dry his hair afterwards, noting how his eyes are still a little glassy and unfocused when you take care of him like this too, not just when you're pressing him into the mattress. He looks so perfect, all thoughtless and pliant for you, and you tell him so as you tug him into your bed, wrapped in one of your oversized hoodies.
"Shut up." He huffs, but his words hold no weight when he's got little sweater paws balling into fists against your chest, and his ears are going bright red.
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who gets caught in the middle of his nighttime routine.
He's gotten bad about locking his bedroom door at night, mostly because Minho already knows not to disturb him at night anymore, at least without knocking loudly at the door and giving him an obnoxious "are you decent in there?". Minho knows to give him a warning.
You, on the other hand, do not.
Because you don't know about his little habit. Well, didn't know, because now you're looking with wide eyes at your boyfriend sitting on the floor, clad in a little pleated mini-skirt and a soft, creamy white sweater, and wondering how the hell you missed this development. You can't take your eyes off of him, because he just looks so...right. There's nothing unnatural about it at all, no stiffness in his shoulders, no "this was for a bet" anywhere in the way he carries himself.
Plus, the pillow between his legs and the red light of his LEDs tell another story.
You close the door behind you, click! the lock, and tentatively step forward. Jisung's eyes are squeezed shut as his hips buck and you have to resist to urge to moan out yourself, because Jisung looks so gorgeous. A bead of sweat drips down his neck, and you want to trace the path with your tongue, want to grab his tiny waist and force him to rock harder and faster into the crumpled pillow between his perfect thighs, which look to be clad with something silky and soft. You think you might come before you even get your hands on him.
"Jisung?"
No response. His own moan drowns out your call of his name, a quiet but powerful sound, sweet and high-pitched, so unlike the deep groans you used to hear from your sweet boyfriend. His fingers drag up his thighs, up past the skirt, up under his sweater, and you bite your lips as he starts toying with his nipples underneath the soft fabric. You wonder what generous, self-sacrificing thing you must have done in your past life to have earned the right to see such a beautiful sight.
"Jisung."
Nothing again. He's lost in his own world, caught in the swirl of pleasure in his gut and the way each rut of his hips makes everything feel like static. It buzzes under his skin, the image of you behind his eyelids enough for him to fuck into the pillow harder.
"Jisung."
Your voice is firm, strict even, and that's what pulls him out of his reverie. Part of his is still sickly turned on, your voice so in control and in charge that he feels his cock leak even more under his skirt.
Part of him, though, is so fucking scared. Scared of what you're going to say. He can taste the acid on his tongue, the venom that you would spit at him for dressing like this. It burns his skin, peels back the layers and leaves him feeling raw, like one word from your mouth would be enough for him to bleed. He's ready to beg, to plead, to tell you "it's not what it looks like" and "please don't leave me" and he doesn't even realize he's sobbing until you're on your knees next to him, cradling his face so gently that he can't help but sob harder. He's going to miss this. Miss you, when you tell him you don't want anything to do with him anymore.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong, jagi?" you ask, concern laced in your voice, and he shakes, words heavy on his tongue.
He chokes on whatever he was going to say and pushes your hands away from him, arms wrapping around himself like it'll protect him. He knows what's coming. He's read enough romance novels, watched enough K-dramas to know that a secret like this is always the tipping point. The truth comes crashing down, and everything shatters underneath the weight of it.
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who's convinced he's about to be ex!boyfriend!Jisung pretty soon.
You're looking at him so tenderly, too. At least, that's what it looks like, through his tears and the dim glow of the red lights above the two of you. It makes it burn so much worse that you're going to leave, he thinks, arms curling tighter around himself, the soft fabric of the sweater under his fingers scrunched so tight he can feel it digging into his sides now, but he doesn't care. Nothing is going to hurt more than-
"Pretty boy, what's wrong?" you say, sitting yourself cross-legged in front of him, "I know it's probably not appropriate for me to say right now...but you look beautiful, you know that? How can I make you feel better, jagiya?"
Pretty? Beautiful? Jisung takes a shuddering breath. And he looks at you now, really looks, searching your face for an answer you'll readily give him. He hates that you know him well enough to know he needs to read your feelings on your face, hates how easily you share everything with him like you trust him. It makes something in his stomach constrain itself, twist and twist until everything comes tumbling out of his stupid, stupid mouth.
"You're not...you're not grossed out?" He squeaks, so quiet it's barely a breath, but you hear him, because you know him, know to listen for his little truths in the quiet, not in the loud.
"Sungie, what?" You look startled, like that was the last thing you could ever think, "Sungie. Did you really think that I would...me?? Jagi, look at me."
He swallows, wills himself to stop burning a whole into the wall behind your head with his eyes and lets himself hold eye contact with you.
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who finds nothing but adoration in your eyes.
He hates that the dam breaking, the sweet wash of acceptance over his skin, is enough for his cock to stir back to life. Enough for his body to remember what he was doing, what he was thinking about when he was humping his pillow like a dog in heat. He remembers that same look in your eyes in his fantasies, so endlessly fond, so perfect and lovely and it tears a raw little sound out of his throat. He tries to swallow it, but it bubbles up anyways, and you give him a sugary sweet smile, a knowing look in your eyes as you reach a cautious hand out.
He doesn't let you reach him - not because he doesn't want you to, but because he's barreling forward into you before he can think twice, fingers reaching to wrap around you and hold you impossibly close. And you, perfect perfect you, just open your arms and catch him, careful fingers tracing up his back and tangling into his hair. Your legs spread open to accommodate him, and he feels small, curled up into you and shaking with your body surrounding him.
Fuck. There's his cock again.
He squirms in your hold and you just squeeze him tighter, mistaking his wiggling as a sign that he wants more. And well, he does, but not like this. He needs you to slip a thigh between his legs, needs you to slide your fingers under his sweater and find the lace there, needs to watch your pupils dilate as you realize he's wearing little panties under his skirt. He wonders if that's where you'll draw the line. Wonders if you'll call him disgusting and gross while still palming his cock through the gauzey material, wonders why the idea makes his cock leak even more.
"Can I..." you trail off, fingers digging a little harder into his skin as you think, "Sungie, can I ask you something? Feel free to say no."
He nods, not trusting his voice, and he feels you let out a slow exhale, body relaxing underneath him.
"Can I...can I help you?" You murmur, pressing kisses the the crown of his head to distract yourself from the heat spreading across your face and down your neck, "Help you here, I mean."
You accentuate your words with a drifting hand, sliding down until it squeezes his cock through the skirt lightly, like you're scared to cross a line. His body responds for him, arching into your touch, a weak sound escaping his mouth when your fingers pull away.
"No-" he whines, eyes wide and pouting as he pulls back to look at you.
"No?" you say, smugness settling into your skin as you tease him, "No, you don't want me to? Okay baby, we don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
"No, no, that's not - you know that's not - you're being mean," he whines, big, glossy lips curling into a frown, "Why are you being so mean?"
You watch reverently as little tears prick at the corner of his eyes, leaning forward to kiss at the corners there like it'll make him feel better. It doesn't, the softness of your actions just making the heat under his skin worse, and he makes an indignant sound when you pull back away from him to give him an expectant look.
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who's so much more sensitive when he's like this.
To your touch, to your words, to everything. He's already leaking and hard again and you haven't even properly touched him yet. You haven't even been that mean - he's taken worse, asked for worse, and yet a little jab is enough to have him tearing up. It sends a twisted thrill through you, a spike of heat straight down, that you have this much power over him. It feels wrong, to want to make him cry more, to smudge the gloss on his lips across his cheek and watch it mix with his salty tears. You should feel guilty.
You don't.
Instead, you feel yourself sliding away from him, standing up and offering a hand down to him. He looks up at you like you're his god, irises swallowed by pools of black and tears making his eyes shimmer, and takes your hand. You guide him carefully to the bed, guide him to lay down on the sheets, skirt splayed across the sheets like a piece of art. You think he looks edible.
You tell him as much and he laughs, a wet thing, and then makes grabby hands at you. You strip yourself of your clothes as quickly as you humanly can, fumbling a bit with your underwear and snorting when Jisung whines in response. You can't deny him for long (you never can), and you slide on top of him easily, settling your weight on his thighs, just below the skirt hem.
Boyfriend(?)!Jisung who looks like he could be your pretty girlfriend, instead.
Now that you get the chance to really admire him, you can see the light dusting of blush painted on his face, the weight of mascara on his eyelashes. There's a little bit of eyeshadow used to frame his eyes and make them look big, and the gloss on his lips still glimmers in the low light. You want to know what it tastes like, so you lean in carefully, a hand coming to cradle his chin as you guide his mouth to yours.
It's your first kiss you've shared tonight, so it starts delicate, sweet. All the words that haven't been said quite yet are passed to the other in this moment, in the breath between your lips. The gloss tastes of something sweet, and your tongue peeks out to swipe a line across his lips just to get a second taste. He whimpers, fingers dancing across your skin and settling on your bare hips, digging in hard enough to leave the shape of his fingers printed into your skin tomorrow.
You pull away just enough to breath and enough to admire his face, smiling down at him when he grins up widely at you.
"It's uhh...peach," he says, swallowing when your brows furrow in confusion, "The uh. The gloss. It's peach flavoured."
"You are so hot." You tell him, with so much sincerity it makes his head spin, and swoop back in for another taste.
He already tastes so sweet, so the peach flavour just makes him taste like a treat, like a peach cobbler fresh out of the oven. The artificial flavour fades the more you taste him, but you can't be bothered, because all you really want to taste is Jisung. The peach is just an added bonus, the cherry on top of your perfect girl-boyfriend.
Your fingers slip down his body, down the soft sweater, down the pleats of his skirt, until they're toying with the hem of it, looking up at him carefully to read his expression. He's watching you with bated breath, eyes locked on where your fingers roll the soft fabric between them.
"Can I, pretty girl?"
You both freeze, the words still fresh on your tongue. Pretty girl. He would be, you're certain, and the lust had put a haze over your brain, but you hadn't meant to say it out loud. You wince, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.
"Shit, sorry Sung-"
"Say it again." He blurts out all at once, looking anywhere but you.
"...pretty girl?"
BoyfriendGirlfriend!Han Jisung who lets out the loudest, prettiest moan when you call him pretty girl.
Both of you feel the shift in the air. It feels thicker, like the room is filled with so much lust and desire that it's hard to even take a breath. You're so turned on you think you might explode, watching with an open mouth as Jisung's cock tents his little skirt impossibly more, a wet spot spreading from where his tip is pressed to the fabric.
You're greedy, the desire to consume him whole overtaking your whole body so violently that you shiver on top of him, a jolt of lust-love-pleasure zipping up your spine so violently you think you might keel over. You steady yourself, if only to fulfill your greed and slip your wandering fingers under the hem of his skirt.
You expect to feel the smooth glide of his boxers or nothing at all, not lace. It's rough and wet against your skin, but you can feel the silk underneath it. You think this must be what it's like to meet god. You think you might come untouched.
"Han Jisung," you stutter out, choking on your own air, "Baby. Baby. You're going to kill me."
"In the hot, sexy way?" He jokes.
Only Han Jisung could crack a joke with your hand pressed against his erection through his panties - you can't believe still that he's been hiding these from you. You wonder briefly how many times he's gone out in public in these. How many dates that he's had pretty lace cupping his dick underneath his jeans, how many times he's hidden these where no one can see, a little secret between him and himself. You want to crawl into his ribs and live there, want to put him in a jar and keep him in your pocket forever.
Instead, you squeeze his cock through the flimsy material, grinning when his eyes roll into the back of his head and his lips fall open into a little 'o'. Your other hand flips up the skirt so you can stare, and fuck.
The lace is a pretty white, a deeper color where it's soaked with Jisung's precum. It hugs his skin tight, like it's molded to his skin, and it makes you want to take him into your mouth through the fabric, taste the lace and his precum under your tongue. But you're impatient, your own arousal burning between your legs, so you file the idea away for another time. God, you hope there's another time, because now that you've seen your boyfriend in a pretty little skirt and white lace, you don't think you can live without it ever again.
Girlfriend!Han Jisung whose fingers slide under his sweater on his own accord, fingers mindlessly playing with his puffy, sore nipples.
His sweater rides up just enough for you to see the shape of his tattoo, black ink creeping up his side and reminding you that this is your boyfriend. Your strong, capable boyfriend, reduced to mush underneath you, playing with his nipples like he can't get off without it.
You yank his panties to the side, just enough to free his dick and balls, enough that you can sink down onto him without the lace getting in the way. If you were more patient, you'd drag your own arousal over the lace, keep him trapped under that flimsy material as you humped against him for pleasure. Use him for pleasure until you're both desperate, until he's crying again and begging you for more more more, please-
You're too aroused for that now, your own heat leaking and dripping as you reach over to the bedside table and fumble for the little bottle of lube you know is hiding in there. Jisung toys with his nipples as he watches you, glassy eyes wide and unfocused as he tugs and twists at them. You wish he would slide the sweater up enough for you to see more than the shape of his hands moving under it, so you could see just how swollen and abused his nipples are, but your hands are covered in lube and Jisung has no thoughts left in his head, so you let it go for now. Another time, another time, you repeat like a mantra, hoping that perhaps your blind hope with manifest another time to happen at all.
You prep yourself lazily and quickly, already worked up enough that you can't help but want to get him inside you already. You use a generous amount of lube, enough that it drips down your thighs and sinks into the sheets, but you don't have it in you to care. The comforter below Jisung is ruined with a sick mix of both of your fluids already anyways, so it doesn't matter if you get a little lube on them now.
"Sit still," you hiss as you move to straddle him properly again, reaching back to stroke his cock once, twice and line it up with your hole, "Let me make you feel good, princess."
It was a risk to call him that, but a calculated one, because the word makes Jisung's hips buck up into you, and both of you moan in tandem as your legs give out at the sudden rush of arousal that floods over you and you take him all the way in one go.
Girlfriend!Han Jisung who comes the second he's fully seat inside of you, because he's just so, so sensitive.
He's been worked up for so long, his own pillow humping having gotten him so close to the edge already. It's not his fault that your warm, wet heat was so much better! Really, it's your fault for making him feel so good.
"Sorry, sorry, didn' mean to," he whimpers, blinking up at you with hazy eyes, "'m sorry, sorry, promise, didn't mean to-ahn, ahn, too much!"
Girlfriend!Jisung who starts crying when you start bouncing.
It's too much too little too everything for him, still so fresh from his last orgasm that he doesn't think he could possibly be hard already again. He must be, because his dick doesn't slip out of you, still stretching you impossibly wide open, but he can't feel anything other than a loop of pleasure, magma pulsing under his skin and melting him until there's nothing left of him that doesn't blur into you.
He's babbling, he's sure of it, can feel the dull pull of the muscles of his mouth and jaw moving, but he can't hear a word of it. His vision is black around the edges, dotted with stars and galaxies he's never seen before, and all he can see is you in the middle of it, using him like he's nothing more than a pretty little dildo for your pleasure.
You're not doing much better, the warm feeling of him coming so quickly giving you a head rush, the act of having this much power over him making your own orgasm seem impossibly close.
You can't shut up either, your mouth moving a mile a minute, because you have to tell him how beautiful he is. How much you want to spend hours with him dressed up like this, worshipping him from head to toe, exploring every inch of him with your hands and your mouth.
Your fingers splay across his abs as you use him for balance, your thighs shaking from the exertion, but it just feels so good you can't bring yourself to slow down and take a break. You need him more than you need to breath, more than you need to walk anywhere tomorrow.
Your head falls forward as you moan, the coil in your stomach tightening and tightening. You're so close, so near the edge you can taste it on your tongue.
"My pretty girlfriend, taking it so well for me," you pant out, words broken up by little moans and hiccups as pleasure muddles your mind and weighs down your tongue, "You like that? Like being my pretty girl? My pretty little sex doll, just here to lay there and take it?"
He moans, hips bucking up meet your movements, but you dig your fingers into his skin as a warning.
"Princesses don't move, they just lay back and let themselves be taken care of, hm? Stay still pretty girl, don't make me hold you there."
His cock pulses inside of you, a violent twitch, but he doesn't come yet. You can see how close he is in his eyes, in how they can barely stay open enough to look at you, that he's almost there, that he's just as close as you.
So you push your luck. "Can I play with your tits, perfect girl? Please, wanna touch your tits, can I?"
You whine a bit at the end of your question - a plea - and it has him nodding eagerly, hiccuping through tears enough to give you permission to play with him.
"Want that, wan' your hands on my titties," he wails, words slurring together in pleasure, "Please touch my titties? Please please please?"
Your fingers slide up up up his sweater, rolling it further up, and the sight in front of you is what pushes you over the edge.
Because underneath the sweater is a bra.
It's white and lacey just like the panties, clearly a matching set, little bows sitting at the peak of each cup just to tease you. There's a delicate little pink rose that sits right at the center of the bra, and it hugs him so perfectly that it really does look like he has boobs.
Your fingers can barely make it to rub at his nipples through the delicate lace before you're coming with a moan of his name, riding out your orgasm on top of him. Your hips move in fast little grinds as you fall forward, and you mouth finds one of his nipples through the lace, biting down, and he comes with a shout, a hand shooting up to cup your head to his chest. You continue to lick and suck and bite as he fills you up, the burn of oversensitivity worth it to have his come paint your walls white.
Girlfriend!Han Jisung who looks up at you with her big, fucked out eyes and begs for more.
Girlfriend!Han Jisung who's absolutely unsatiable now that you know his little secret, the two of you fucking like rabbits until the sun is peeking over the horizon to say hello. You can't help it, not when he looks so good like this, so gorgeous and perfect, your pretty pretty girl. You remind him over and over and over again, until you're both shooting blanks and too lazy to do anything more than spoon. You fall asleep like that, sticky and gross and perfectly content, because your pretty girlfriend was in your arms.
What more could you ever ask for?
I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3
Contains: wife!reader, waterbender!reader, no p in v, whimpering man, dirty/sweet talk, ice play duh, he's tied to a chair, pp stimulation(idfk), nipple stimulation
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It didn't take particularly much convincing honestly. Not only because it truly sounded intriguing to him and he trusted you. But also since you married the firelord, and he got to call you his wife, you rarely ever heard the word no. All over the palace, all everyone ever heard was: my wife this, my wife that, well my wife, my wife and I, etc.
It was the level of trust he had in you that also played a big role in his agreeing to now be sat down on a chair in your bed chambers with his hands tied behind his back.
The chair was an intricate piece of dark wood that creaked every time the ropes that connected the back of the chair with his arms got pulled. The rope was a dark red, thick material that wrapped from his shoulders and chest to his wrists tightly making his deltoid and bicep muscles pop even more. His hair was messy, and he was panting even though you hadn't done much of anything to him. Your husband kept looking between you and his cock, which was pitifully drooling between his legs. The tip was slightly red and the precum that glazed it glistened in the dim light of the fireplace.
You, his pretty wife, who was standing with your back towards him, taking a cup of ice from a tray, in your silk, flowy robe. All you had done was kiss him earlier as you were tying him but the tension and his anticipation made the air in the room feel thick.
You turned and walked to him. With one hand you held onto the little bowl of ice, with the other you held his face by his jaw, lifted up towards you and stroked his chin sweetly. "You're twitchy, my love," you voiced your observation. Zuko let out a stuttering exhale, trying to use all his non-short-circuited neurons to speak. "I-I think it's gonna feel weird," he said with that boyish charm of his that came out when he was vulnerable. "Oh, I will make sure it feels good for you, sweet love," you leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. His heart melted at his wife's sweetness.
Slowly you started by keeping your hand in the ice bowl for a few seconds to get it nice and cold. Then you reached and grazed up the underside of his cock with two cold fingers. His thigh muscles immediately tightened as he gasped. He looked down, watching how his own cock twitched above his wife's icy fingers. "Shh," you said soothingly, stroking his thigh with your other hand.
Then you dipped your hand back in the ice. When you removed it you put the pointer and middle finger of your left hand on either side of his sensitive tip. He hissed, squeezing his eyes shut as you watched his abdominal muscles spasm. "Sensitive?" you asked with an amused smile. He didn't look up or open his eyes, just nodded and hummed in agreement. You continued your motion going up and down, jarring him off with only two fingers. When you go to his tip again you brush the still cold pad of your middle finger across his leaking tip, smearing precum. Your husband's eyes widened as he whimpered and his hips bucked up into your hand. "It feels like it's burning," he said panting, his mouth slightly ajar. "Since when have you been afraid of a little burn, hmm?"
He smiled lazily at your rhetorical question. You took that as a sigh and grabbed one ice cube from the bowl. "Sweetheart, I don't kno-" he started as he stared at your hand holding the cube threateningly close. You shushed him, reaching over and gliding your warm palm against his abdomen knowing he liked that. "Just look at me, baby," you said soothingly. He nodded dumbly, and it twisted your heart seeing how little it took for him to trust you.
You used your waterbending and molded the ice cube into half a circle. You slid it down the underside of his cock. He whimpered, his v line tightening as he bit his lower lip. His hips started to buck up. "Did you like it, baby?" you asked, pulling it away after a few seconds. He nods, "I don't know, I- keep going," he said, your husband's usual voice had become breathy slurry.
"Good." You knew he'd like it. Your husband, like every firebender, ran hot almost permanently. So you knew that the contrast between his skin and the ice would have him twitchy and shivering in no time.
You molded it into a full circle, the exact circumference of his girth. "Oh fuck..." he only said as he looked at the ice mold. You inched it closer, passed it over the bump of his head and immediately saw the straining of the rope against his skin. You continued until the ice ring was halfway down this length, then you lifted it up again but didn't take it off. It reached the tip and you pulled it down again. He let out a moan that sounded more indulgent than he previously let on.
You did that a couple times and his breathing turned sporadic and deep. At that point you had only ever put the ice on him for a couple of seconds, so the first couple of times you thrusted it down his whole length had him reeling.
You expanded the ring a bit more with your bending so it would fit snuggly around the hilt of his cock and you left it there. "Sweetheart, i-it's a little tight," he said between whimpers. "It should be," you said, reaching for the bowl again and taking a new ice cube out. "Wh-" he started, "Honey." And he closed his mouth.
You inched it closer , first to his stomach, right below his belly button. The muscle under the skin tensed instantly. "Oh you're just messing with me now," he whined. "Mhmm, and what about it?" You asked, smiling innocently at your poor husband. He sighed as his body shivered.
You raised the ice cube, letting it pass over the line between his abs, making his torso curl and the chair creak under the strength of the firelord. The ice left a wet trail that glistened in the light, matching with that of his reddened cock. You moved it up further, lifting it to pass over the rope and enter his chest area. His breath caught as you circled it around one of his nipples. It hardened as his hips bucked up, searching for more friction than just the stationary icy ring. You passed the little ice cube over his nipple, making him whine. "Oh god, that feels so good, fuck," he panted.
You pointed up with your other hand and in an instant the ice ring on his cock started moving up. Then you pointed down and it went downwards effectively making your husband jerk his hips and let out a strangled moan. He tightened his jaw and he watched your finger go up and down while your other hand kept circling his nipple still. "Baby, I'm getting close, please," his hips stuttered. You stopped the movements of the ring, kept it in the air at a medium distance from him. "Go on then, my love, fuck up into it," you grazed his face with the same hand that was moving the ice mold until now. He whimpered at your sweet voice and wasted no time, thrusting his hips up, the lines of the rope pulling with his movements.
He gasped, whimpered, panted as he worked to get himself close. And he was getting close, so close. You smiled adoringly at your dear husband, humping the ring like a dog, getting himself to cum.
You took yet another ice cube. This time you put it in your mouth. You grabbed your husband's jaw and angled it. You kissed him deeply, gliding your tongue into his mouth, then pulling it away to slide the ice cube in. His thrusts continued as he whined into your mouth, surprised since he'd apparently not seen you put ice in your mouth. Once it was entirely in his mouth you pulled away and sucked on his bottom lip. "Are you gonna cum for me, baby?" You said when you noticed his hips were stuttering, his ears had gone red(firebender side-effect of being close), and his Adam's apple bobbed.
He nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. "Mhm, mgonna, yeah, I- oh fuck", he stuttered. You tangled your fingers in the back of his hair and pulled his head back. You leaned and bit right into your masochist of a husband who only took that as a push over the edge. He came with a strangled moan, his eyes rolling back, his back instinctively pulling on the ropes leaving red lines on his chest and arms. As red as the mark you left on his neck. His thick cum shot on the floor, some got on your thighs
He whimpered lowly as he calmed down, slowing down his thrusts. He looked at you with his head tilted as he panted heavily. Within a second you turned the ice ring straight into water and leaned to give him a toothachingly sweet kiss. "Did so good, my dear," you said when you pulled away. He took advantage of your proximity and leaning in, pressing his forehead against your shoulder smiling drunkenly.
