Made in Japan 𓏲๋࣭࣪˖⋆｡🍥
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆... Pairing: Leeknow x Model!afab!reader Genre: smut no minors pls! (Includes unprotec sex, fingering, nipple play, degrading, voyerism themes eg dressing room sex)🔞 Summary: Trying cute clothes with your bf in Japan before a model shoot, he accidently gets distracted by the sheer lace dresses. Wc: 2k Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do! A/N: I wrote this real quick, #yummm I love Lino so muchhh urgh he is so sexyyy our Japanese king (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ ☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
Lee Know has a habit of staring at things intensely. He does this with everything from a slightly tilted picture frame to the way a stranger holds their coffee cup.
It is a quiet, focused intensity that usually makes people nervous, but to anyone who knows him, it’s just his way of cataloging the world. He doesn't blink often when he's in this mode, and his posture becomes unnervingly still, like a cat deciding whether or not to jump.
"You're doing it again," you say, glancing at him through the mirror. You are currently draped in a cream-colored dress that costs way too much, standing in a store that smells faintly of expensive cedar and new leather.
"Doing what?" he asks, though he doesn’t break his gaze from the silhouette of the dress. He finally blinks, the intensity softening into something warmer, more appreciative. He reaches out, his fingers grazing the heavy fabric of the skirt to check the weight of the material. "I was just calculating if the hem would trip you up when you walk. It’s a lot of fabric for one person to manage."
He turns away from you and begins to navigate the racks of the private dressing room suite.
“Maybe something shorter,” he mumbles, his voice barely a vibration. He doesn't look back at you, his focus entirely consumed by hangers gliding past his hand. You watch him in silence, noting the way his shoulders shift under his own jacket.
He stops abruptly, his hand clamping onto a hanger with a sudden, decisive snap. He pulls out a dress in the shade of dusty rose. It is less of a dress and more of a suggestion, layers of sheer, intricate lace and a silhouette that clings dangerously close to the skin, bordering on lingerie.
Lee Know doesn't immediately speak, instead, he holds the dress up against the air, testing the translucency of the fabric against the lighting. A slow, knowing smirk curls the corner of his mouth as he turns back toward you, the pink lace draped over his arm like a trophy.
"I think we've found the one," he says, his voice dropping. His smirk remains, playful and mischievous, as he walks back toward you. The way he looks at you, not as a model to be styled, but as someone he simply wants to see in something breathtaking, makes the air in the room feel suddenly smaller.
“I can’t wear that!” The words come out as a frantic, hushed shout, the kind of volume that feels loud in a room designed for silence. You glance toward the heavy mahogany door, terrified that the store assistant might have heard your outburst and be rushing back to witness your momentary lapse in composure.
Lee Know doesn’t flinch. Instead, he lets out a soft chuckle that vibrates in his chest, his eyes dancing with amusement. He doesn’t pull the dress away.
“Why not? It’s a high-end shoot, not a church service,” he teases, his voice smooth and devoid of any judgment. He steps into your personal space, the scent of his cologne mixing with the cedar of the room, effectively boxing you in between the mirror and his own steady presence.
"Besides," he adds, his voice dropping to a confidential murmur as he leans in, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. "We’ve been in Tokyo for six days, and every single one of your dresses has been an exercise of my restraint." He lets the dress drape casually over his shoulder, his other hand finding the small of your back, guiding you just an inch closer. "Between the flight, the press conferences, and the three different hotel transfers, I feel like I’ve spent the entire week pretending I’m not counting down the seconds until we’re actually alone. I'm exhausted from the effort of being a professional."
You find yourself tracing the line of his jaw, captivated by the strange, magnetic contradiction of his expression. His face is a mask of cool composure, yet his eyes are burning with heat. Your thighs squeeze together instinctively.
With a quick, breathless movement, you snatch the lace from his grip. The fabric is light as air, nearly weightless in your hands. "I'll be back," you whisper, the words sounding rushed and fragile. You don't wait for an answer, retreating quickly into the nearby dressing room and pulling the heavy velvet curtain shut.
Outside the curtain, Lee Know didn’t move for a moment, letting the silence settle. Then, he moved to an oversized velvet lounge chair. He sank into it with a slow, deliberate heaviness, his posture shifting from the rigid precision of a boyfriend stylist to the relaxed confidence. He leaned back, his legs spreading wide to claim the space, one arm draped casually over the backrest while the other rested on his thigh.
The sounds of your struggle filtered through the curtain, the frantic rustle of silk, the metallic zip of a fastener, and the occasional frustrated huff of breath. He listened to it all with a faint, knowing smile, his fingers drumming a slow, rhythmic beat against his thigh. He wasn't rushing you, he enjoyed the anticipation.
The curtain slid back, you stepped out into the amber light, feeling immediately vulnerable. The lace provided a delicate veil of texture but it offered no actual coverage.
Every movement felt amplified. The way the lace clung to the curve of your hips, the slight chill of the air-conditioned room kissing your bare skin, and the sudden, dizzying realization that there was absolutely nothing hiding you.
Lee Know didn’t react immediately. He stayed frozen in the lounge chair, his drumming fingers coming to a dead stop. For a few heartbeats, the silence in the suite became absolute. His gaze traveled upward slowly, starting at your ankles and gliding over the translucent layers until it finally locked onto your eyes. The professional, calculating look was gone, replaced by a raw, unfiltered hunger that made your breath hitch. He didn't say a word as his pupils dilated.
You didn't look away from him, your gaze locked onto his, feeling the heat of his stare like a physical touch against your skin. As you drew closer, the sheer fabric of the dress swayed with lightness
Then, he shifted. He didn't use a loud voice, instead, he leaned forward just enough to close the gap, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that sent a shiver racing down your spine.
“Turn and sit," he whispered, the command soft. As he spoke, he patted his lap with a slow, deliberate thud of his palm against his thigh.
You obeyed without thinking, the instinctual pull of him overriding any lingering professional hesitation. As you turned, the lace swirled around your thighs, and you lowered yourself onto him. The moment your weight settled onto his lap, his arms locked around you possessively. One hand splayed across the small of your back, pressing you firmly against his chest, while the other slid up to cup the nape of your neck.
The first kiss is less of a request and more of a collision. The tension that has been simmering for six days in Tokyo snaps with a violent, sudden force. His mouth crashes against yours, hungry and demanding. You let out a muffled sound, half-gasp, half-sob, that is swallowed instantly by him, your fingers tangling frantically into the hair at the base of his neck to pull him closer.
It is a heavy, suffocatingly sweet kind of making out, the kind that makes the world outside the dressing room cease to exist. Lee Know’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into the delicate dress, pulling you flush against his chest until you can feel the frantic, drumming rhythm of his heart mirroring your own.
As you shift, trying to find a more secure anchor on his lap, the reality of his arousal presses firmly into you. A small, involuntary whine escapes your throat as you realize just how much he has been holding back. The sound seems to trigger something in him, his grip on your waist tightens, his fingers bruising the delicate fabric of the dress, pulling you down even harder against the heat of him.
"You're so loud," he murmurs against your skin. He breaks the kiss to trail a path of searing heat down your jawline, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. He doesn't stop there; he continues downward, his lips finding the hollow of your collarbone, marking you with a series of slow, deliberate kisses.
You arch your back, your head falling back as you lean into the sensation. Every distant sound from the main floor, the muffled chime of a door or the faint murmur of a conversation, feels like a dangerous gamble. But the danger only makes you hornier.
His hand wanders, sliding from your back to the hem of the dress, his palm grazing your thigh. The lace is a mere suggestion of clothing that he pushes aside. When his skin finally meets yours, the contact is electric.
As his hand climbs higher. He shifts his weight, his hips tilting to create a firmer base, and in one fluid, authoritative motion, he uses his palms to guide your legs wider. He spreads your thighs firmly that leaves you completely exposed to him.
As a sharp, needy moan escapes your throat, Lee Know’s hand snaps upward. His palm presses firmly against your lips, muffling the sound into a low, vibrating hum that echoes only between the two of you.
"Shh," he murmurs, his voice a deep rasp that vibrates against your skin. "I don’t want the staff to come in yet."
When he finally makes contact, he slides two fingers past the sheer fabric and into the slick, hot center of you, finding you completely undone.
As his fingers sink into the wetness, a low, guttural groan vibrates in his chest, a sound of pure relief. He curls his fingers, testing the depth and the heat, his breath hitching as he feels you clench around him.
"Relax, baby, I got you," he whispers, the words vibrating against the sensitive skin of your neck as he pushes a finger deeper into the heat of you.
He knows exactly how to pace himself, his finger curling slightly, finding the precise spot that makes your toes curl.
The air in the suite had become a thick, suffocating haze of desire, making every breath feel like an effort.
Lee Know shifted his weight, his movements sudden and decisive. He withdrew his hand with a wet, sliding sound that echoed too loudly in the silence, and the sudden void left you shivering. In one fluid motion, he reached for his own belt, the metallic clink of the buckle sounding echoing in the quiet room.
He didn't waste a second. With a low, focused grunt, he guided himself toward you, the blunt, searing heat of his tip lining up precisely against your entrance.
A sudden, heavy pressure made your hips tilt downward in a reflexive search for more. He paused there for a heartbeat, his forehead leaning against your neck, his breathing ragged and uneven.
Lee Know drove forward with a sudden, uncompromising force that felt like it was splitting you in two. You clamped your hand tighter over your mouth, your knuckles white, your eyes widening as you felt the sheer, overwhelming length of him stretching you open, filling every available inch of space.
He let out a low, guttural grunt, the sound echoing through your own body.
"Fuck," he breathed, his voice a fractured rasp, "nmh—so tight."
He paused for a fraction of a second, his muscles coiled and trembling, his forehead pressed hard against you as he fought the immediate urge to lose himself.
He leaned his head back against the chair, his eyes half-lidded and dark with a predatory kind of satisfaction. He bit his lower lip, in a way that looked almost painful. The sudden change in angle sent a fresh jolt of electricity through your nerves, the depth of him hitting a new, sensitive area.
"Bounce on this cock, whore," he demanded.
The command acted like a trigger, snapping the last thread of your hesitation. You pushed off his chest, shifting your weight until you were perched upright, your thighs gripping his hips. As you began to rise and fall, the movement was slow, a rhythmic grind that felt like it was carving your name into the very center of his being.
Lee Know didn't close his eyes, he watched you with an unnerving intensity. His gaze was locked onto the way the dusty rose lace bunched and stretched over your hips with every movement.
“Good girl…” he muttered, voice low.
The compliment sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you, fueling the rhythm as you continued to ride him.
"Turn and face me. I want to see your tits too," he rasped, the command cutting through the haze of your pleasure like a blade.
You didn't hesitate. With a shaky, desperate breath, you shifted your weight.
As you came around to face him, the lace slid further down your torso, clinging to your waist and leaving your chest completely exposed.
He looked up at you from below, his eyes dark and predatory, tracing the line of your exposed chest with a slow, possessive hunger. As you found your balance, he reached up, his fingers snagging the remaining scrap of that clung to your breast. He pinched your nipple through the sheer fabric, the friction of the lace adding a sharp sting to the pressure of his grip.
The sudden sensation snapped the tension in your spine, and you began to bounce again. You drove yourself down onto him with a desperate force. Every downward plunge matched the sharp tug of his fingers on your nipples.
Just as the rhythm reached a fever pitch, Lee Know’s hand abandoned the lace of your dress. He slid his palm beneath you, his fingers navigating the slick. He found the swollen bud of your clit with an accuracy that felt almost unfair, his middle finger beginning a rapid friction that synchronized perfectly with the thuds of your hips.
The sensation was an immediate, overwhelming overload, a pleasure that threatened to short-circuit your entire brain.
You felt the first tremors of a climax ripple through your thighs, a sudden, violent tightening that made your grip on his shoulders turn bruising. It was all blurred by a white-hot haze. Lee Know knew it. He could feel the way your pussy pulsed in frantic, desperate contractions around him.
“I’m gonn—fuck, I’m about to cum so hard!” The cry escapes you, raw and unfiltered.
Lee Know leans back into the velvet, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across his lips as he watches you squirm.
“Me too..Cum with me, baby.” His voice is no longer a rasp, it’s a low, vibrating command. He doesn’t let up for a second, his thumb maintaining that relentless, friction against your clit, driving you insane.
Suddenly Lee Know hooks his arms around your waist and begins to rut into you. Each thrust is heavy and wet filling you to the absolute brim and pushing you further and further past the edge.
As the first wave of the climax crashes over you, a moan begins to build in your throat, a raw sound that would undoubtedly echo through the entire boutique. In a frantic, instinctive blur, Lee Know’s hand shoots upward to capture your mouth with his own. He pulls you down into a rough, bruising kiss, swallowing your cry.
He cums with you, his body shaking with a series of deep, powerful tremors that lock you both in a crushing embrace. You cling to him, your teeth grazing his lip, the kiss turning into something feral and uncoordinated as you both fight the urge to shout.
Lee Know remained anchored to you for several long minutes, his chest heaving against yours. Eventually he exited slowly.
He didn't immediately let you go. Instead, he shifted you slightly, his arms still acting as a cradle, and leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead.
Then, he pulled back, his gaze dropping. He took a slow, analytical look at the pink pretty dress. It was a wreck, bunched up around your waist, wrinkled and damp, the delicate lace clinging to your skin in a way that made him want to pounce again.
A low, genuine laugh bubbled up from his throat, a sound of pure, smug satisfaction.
He looked back up at you,
"I want this dress in every color," he murmured, his voice playful. "Every single one. I think we need to buy the whole line just to see how they all look on you when they're ruined."
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