enhypen - boudoir polaroids
ot7!xfem!reader - showing them the polaroids of your boudoir photoshoot
boudoir: captures sensual, intimate, and often erotic images of a subject in a private setting
warnings: husband!enha, photos taken during sexual acts (solo), masturbation, recording, use of “slut”, brief anal sex, implied unproctected p in v, oral (f), tons of nasty shit i won’t spoil, lingerine, mdni, def longer than the other ones, not proofread
idea belongs to this lovely anon. interpented it in my own way somewhat, so it’s not 100% factually accurate lol. masterlist
HEESEUNG
Heeseung, your brand new husband — the most pussy-clenching title he’s ever worn, probably.
Ever since he became your fiancé, till now, he has been extra, super hot. Has been fucking you even rougher, better, like a good little wife should be fucked (by his words).
So this thing you decided to do, now it was like the perfect answer to that, the perfect sign of devotion.
You hand your brand-new husband an envelope—pretty cream paper, little gold wax seal, soft smile on your face like “open it later, okay?”
And Heeseung waits, as long as his curiousity let’s him. Then later, when he finds himself alone for some minutes, he opens it. You, taking your makeup off in the bathroom, can hear the paper rustling, and you smile at your reflection, waiting.
Silence.
Until he goes
‘Come here’
You gently open the bathroom door, and walk back into your bedroom. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed, a stack of little polaroids spread out on his lap. The look he gives you, is dark. Well, expected, because the photos are mostly close-ups of you…
— with your mouth open, two fingers shoved down your throat, gloss smudged
— you in a bridal white, fingering yourself with those same two fingers
— one with a toy, pink and cruelly realistic, barely halfway in – your eyes rolled back, thighs clenched
— one that appears to be a final shot, biting down on your veil, looking like you’re reaching your orgasm
And Heeseung?
Just processing.
Because his wife did this. For him. Because you posed like a full-on pornstar, hours before you walked down the aisle.
‘How many of these are there?’ ‘Who took them?’ ‘Where’s the rest?’
But he doesn’t actually give you the chance to explain or answer. He orders you to get on the bed. He’s already rock hard in his pants, and he is determined.
‘Wanna recreate this one.’ He holds up the shot of you with your fingers in your mouth and the toy barely inside you. His favorite.
‘But this time, you’re gonna fuck yourself on my fingers, and better keep your eyes on me the whole time.’
Obviously, it’s a sleepless night.
Doesn’t fuck you immediatelly, no, he makes you study the pictures with him.
‘Did you cum before or after taking this one?’
‘Did it feel as good as my cock?’
‘Don’t you think this is more slut than wife-material?’
And when he finally fucks you, it’s mean. No mercy, no patience, just using you to his own desires.
‘This how you looked when you came all over that toy?’
‘You wanna give me more pictures, baby? I want the ones you were too shy to include.’
JAY
It only suits you that you had a damn argument one day into your honeymoon with Jay. Maybe your plans and wants didn’t align perfectly, and the post-wedding stress was still wearing off. Jay was cold. Distant. Didn’t even say goodnight properly.
So the next day, you toss him an envelope across the bed like
‘Peace offering. Take it or leave it.’
Jay opens it like he’s giving you a favor, chin high and movements full of spite. But the second he sees the first photo?
You. His wife. In white lace. On her knees. Sucking a finger like it’s his cock. His reaction is immediate, his throat pushes out an almost choking like sound, and his whole body stiffens. Well, expect his hands which he uses to flip through some of the pictures.
One with you bent over, wedding veil still on, looking back at the camera while your hand disappears under your panties.
Another with your bra pushed under your tits and one hand squeezing lube out onto a toy off-frame.
He sits in silence for a minute. Hand on his thigh. Breathing steady.
Then folds the photos back into the envelope neatly… and comes to find you.
You’re brushing your hair or something casual when you hear his voice behind you:
‘You gave these to me just to get out of apologizing, didn’t you?’
You smirk. ‘Did it work?’
Jay comes up behind you, grabs your hips a little too hard, and leans in to your ear like:
‘You know what works better than an apology?’ He tosses the envelope onto the vanity table — ‘Giving me the real show. On your knees. Now.’
He makes you recreate every shot. Expect, this time he is behind the lens, using his phone camera to make himself even more intimate material.
‘Yes, that’s my perfect wife.’
‘Gonna save this one. Maybe send it to you next time you try to walk away from a fight.’
JAKE
Jake is the most grateful man alive on your wedding night. You could show up in sweatpants and he’d cry and pop a boner right away. But like with most things, you top his imaginations by far.
You pull out the pink envelope, decorated with a little bow in the middle. Slide it over to him on the bed, like it’s no big deal at all.
‘You should open it after your shower, babe.’
He opens it in the warm glow of the hotel lamp, fresh out the shower, towel on his hips — and he just stops breathing. Like genuinely. Just blinks. Stares. Gets real quiet. Because the first glimpse he gets, just a little part, already screams perfect. You’re layed out on soft sheets, pale ivory lingerine panties barely covering your folds. His mouth waters. Lot more of that kind. Some thigh-focused ones, some of you slobbering over your fingers and fingering yourself with the other.
The best one, though? (If gun to his head, he was forced to choose one).
It’s a close-up. Your fingers spreading yourself open, all slick and swollen. A heart-shaped lollipop resting just against your clit. Your hand holding it. His love for pussy and his habit of oral fixation are being stimulated through his eyes.
You’re in the bathroom brushing your teeth, and all you hear is, ‘Baby please come here. Right now. Please.’ In the neediest voice possible.
You walk out and he’s on his knees on the floor. Literal towel pitched up, photos spread out around him.
And when you smile and go — ‘I thought you’d like them. Do you? — he just whines.
Not groans. Not moans. Whines.
‘Are you crazy? I’m already so in love with you I could die, but this is literally attempted murder!’
Then he pulls you into his lap, kissing all over you, your lips, your neck, your breasts, going down on your stomach…
‘Fuck, I love you. I love you so much…’
SUNGHOON
You were sneaky with it. You gave him the envelope with a sweet smile, like you’re handing over a hand-written love letter rather than the dirty content it was hiding.
‘Hope you like them, Love.’
Sunghoon raises an eyebrow but takes it, fingers careful, gaze suspicious. He opens it while you’re brushing your hair.
Starting off strong, the first photo is you on your side, gripping your tit with one hand and pulling your panties aside with the other, head tilted almost innocently, but eyes filled with lust. Then a bunch of other positions, showing off your silky lingerine and delicate curves, always teasing what’s beneath but never displaying it fully.
And Sunghoon — Sunghoon does not react well.
He stands up, envelope in hand, and walks over to you with that same dead-calm expression. Slow and collected.
‘Who took these?’
‘What?’ You blink up at him.
‘The photos. Who the fuck took them?’
Though he’s not even close to being loud, you still stutter, seeing the tension on the veins on his neck, the way he grips the paper, trying not to crumble it entirely.
‘I-I took them myself, of course. Timer. I set it up. Just me. I swear.’
At that, his whole body relaxes. He might even flash a little relieved smile.
Then.
‘Get your ass on the bed.’
At first, he’s cold. No kisses, no nothing. He trips you naked, and studies the polaroids while playing with your body in real time.
‘Spread your legs. No, wider.’
And when he thinks it’s good enough (like he actually gave a fuck about how accurate it is), he grabs his phone and starts taking his own shots.
No warning. No direction, only
‘You want to give me photos? Fine. Give me new ones. Better ones. Real ones.’
‘You think your little solo pics could compare to this?’
‘You’ll look even better when I’ve filled you up.’
SUNOO
You slide it over while you two are cuddling on the honeymoon bed. You’re in a fluffy robe, bare legs over his lap, and he’s scrolling his phone when you whisper
‘I made you something. Open it after I shower, okay?’
Sunoo nods softly, excited but also curious about what could you have come up with.
But baby.
The moment he opens that envelope?
He lets out a scream.
Like a literal, hand-over-mouth, spine-curved squeal.
Because inside of that, it’s you, in a strappy white set, veil slightly off your hair, pink gloss on your lips, sucking your fingers while side-eyeing the camera like a whole whorehouse with a coquette dresscode.
One where your legs are closed on top of each other, but with your palm inside of them, obviously teasing your clit (he can just tell by looking at your face on it).
But the worst for him? Probably the one where you’re pressing your shiny little cunt down on his pillow.
‘You’re evil.’
‘How dare you be this sexy.’
‘You’re not fucking real. What kind of slutty wife does this?’ While he’s already palming his cock.
When you go over to him, giggling, saying it’s not that big of a deal, he just pushes you down on the bed.
‘No. You don’t get to act all casual after doing this to me, baby.’
After that, it’s a mess of giggles and recreating the ones he liked the most. Calls you “my beautiful wife”, “my good little girl”, and “my pretty slut” in the same ten minutes.
Sticks one of the Polaroids to the headboard like a shrine while he eats you out.
‘Just to see how much messier you can get when it’s me who makes you cum.’
JUNGWON
You hand Jungwon the envelope while you’re still glowing from the wedding night — robe slipping down your shoulders, bare thighs brushing his under the covers.
‘I made something for you’
He tilts his head to the side, like a confused little cat.
‘What’s in it?’
‘You’ll see’ Kissing his cheek. Then you stand in front of him, wanting the full, unfiltered first reaction you’ve been itching for.
Jungwon opens it.
Then he goes feral.
Cause every picture looks like you’ve carved the blurry image of them right out of the depths of his mind (which you might have, by how deeply you know and understand him).
Of course, you know he’s a tit-addict. And the photos feed right into that obsession.
You pushing your tits into the camera, covered by the prettiest white bras he’d ever seen. Gripping them, caressing them. With your bra off, looking into the camera with the deadliest doe eyes, licking off frosting (from God knows where) from your fingers, then circle around your nipple with the same one.
One picture of you rubbing your clit and wetting your sweet pussy, followed by smearing your own slick (then cum) all over your chest.
His mouth parts. He stares at them one by one, then flips through again. Ears red. So hard it’s painful.
‘Do you like them?’ You ask with a smile.
In a second, you’re under him, while he’s practically feasting off your boobs, rubbing your cunt with his hand, muttering shit like
‘Were you thinking about me while you did this?’
‘You want new ones? Want me to take them while I fuck these perfect tits?’
And he does.
Set up his phone on video mode while you’re straddling his lap, tits bouncing as he thrusts up into you.
Perfection.
RIKI
You hand Riki the envelope during the car ride back from the ceremony. He’s in the passenger seat. You’re still glowing and giggling, playing with your ring.
‘Open this at the hotel.’ And Riki just shrugs like whatever, tucks it into his jacket.
Later that night, you’re changing into something special in the bathroom, when he remembers he has it and opens it, not expecting to be flashed.
You in a white thong, back arched, pearls laying down your spine, heels still on. His favorite position, his favorite curve. Literally framed like art. It starts off like this?!
The second one might be even better though.
You bent over, panties pulled halfway down your thighs, ass cheek lifted so you can get your fingers underneath. Flash lighting up your thighs, gloss on your lips, veil around your shoulders. Looking like a fucking Goddess.
Polaroids from that position, with your finger teasing both holes, with toys rubbing over them, pearls on your spine, all pretty for him.
There’s one photo, which is…different than the rest.
No face, no pearls, no lingerine, no veil.
Just you, on your belly, knees spread, panties off, and your hands reaching back to pull your cheeks apart. The flash puts a delicious focus of the curve of your spine, ending in the most intimate, shameless shot of your tightest hole on full display — puckered, pink, just a little shiny.
Like you’d already played with it.
Like you prepared it just for him.
In that perfect little black polaroid border, you scribbled in sharp letters
“Next time, it’s yours<3”
Riki doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even move for a solid ten seconds.
Just stares. Blinks once. Closes the envelope. And then knocks on the bathroom door.
‘Babe. Come out.’
You peek out in a silk robe, small nightgown under, and his gaze goes straight down.
‘Hands on the bed. Just like that photo.’
He drops his pants, and gets behind you. Grabs your hips with so much harshness like he’s mad. Then pauses — cause you have the nerve to giggle.
‘You liked them?’
‘Stop talking.’
Then he spits on your back and watches as it slides down in between your cheeks. Your hole, it’s still open for him. Those damn pictures were freshly taken, with this exact purpose. To get him to fill you there.
So he pushes in. No more prep, no more teasing, just raw pleasure.
‘Gonna stretch it for me properly, baby’
‘You made it look so pretty… wanna see it twitch when I cum inside.’