Lacy Euphoria

🔞 Adults 18+. MDNI. Fictional fanwork using names fictitiously for entertainment. Not real, endorsed, affiliated, or a claim of real events. All romantic and sexual content is between consenting adults. Please consume fiction with media literacy intact.

Originally published on AO3.

You had learned not to ask Seonghwa for help choosing lingerie unless you had time to lose.

He was stretched across your bed while you stood before the open wardrobe, supposedly helping you decide what to wear beneath a black satin dress. Three rejected pairs of panties rested beside his thigh: wine-red lace, ivory silk, and a sheer black pair he had stared at long enough to make you laugh. He had an opinion about every cut, every color, every delicate strap meant to disappear beneath clothing. He called it appreciation. You called it the reason the two of you were already running late.

When you stepped into an emerald-green pair and drew them over your brown thighs, the room went quiet. The lace curved high over your hips, leaving most of your ass bare while a narrow panel covered the place his eyes had settled. You adjusted the waistband and turned toward the mirror, but Seonghwa was no longer pretending to consider the outfit. He had pushed himself upright, elbows resting on his knees, lips parted as his gaze followed the shape of the lace.

“Those,” he said.

You studied your reflection. “Those what?”

“Those are the ones.”

“I haven’t tried the blue pair yet.”

“You’re not trying on anything else.” His answer carried the certainty of a man who believed the matter had already been decided. When you glanced at him through the mirror, he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip and added, “Come here.”

You smiled and reached for the matching bra. “We have reservations.”

“They’ll keep the table.”

“They absolutely will not.”

“Then we’ll eat somewhere else.” Seonghwa rose from the bed and crossed the room before you could finish fastening the bra. His hands found your waist from behind, warm against the strip of bare skin between the two pieces. He met your eyes in the mirror while his fingers traced the scalloped edge of your panties. “You can’t put these on in front of me and expect me to behave.”

“I bought them to wear.”

His mouth touched the curve of your shoulder. “You bought them because you knew what they would do to me.”

You watched him in the mirror, the sharp line of his jaw near your cheek, his dark hair falling over his forehead, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made the lace feel thinner. The admiration was not casual. He looked at your lingerie the way some men studied art, noticing the stitching, the shape, the contrast against your skin. But tonight, beneath that appreciation, there was hunger. His fingertips moved from your waist to your hips and followed the narrow straps around to your ass.

“You have expensive taste,” he said, slipping one finger beneath the lace without moving it aside.

“And you benefit from it.”

“I intend to.”

His hand traveled between your thighs, stopping over the fabric. The first slow stroke made your breath catch, and the satisfaction in his eyes told you he had felt the warmth waiting beneath it. He rubbed you again, following the shape of your pussy through the lace with two fingers while his other arm held you against him.

“This pair is already ruined,” he said.

“You haven’t even done anything.”

“That’s the problem.” He turned you in his arms and kissed you before you could answer. His mouth was slow, but his hands were not. One gripped your ass while the other slid beneath the waistband and found you bare under the lace. When his finger passed through the wetness gathering between your folds, his kiss deepened and a low sound left his throat. He drew back only far enough to look at you. “Tell me we can miss dinner.”

You tried to hold on to the little discipline you had left. “You’re the one who chose the restaurant.”

“And now I’m choosing this.”

“This being my panties?”

“This being what’s inside them.” He stroked you again, circling your clit until your thighs shifted apart for him. “Still yes?”

The question softened nothing about the want in his face. It only made you trust the hands already turning you weak. You curled your fingers into the front of his shirt and whispered, “Yes.”

Seonghwa kissed you once, hard and grateful, before lowering himself to his knees. The sight alone sent heat through you. He settled between your legs as if that had been his destination from the moment you opened the underwear drawer. His palms moved up the backs of your thighs, then over the lace framing your ass. He studied the panties from this angle with no shame at all.

“Pretty,” he said, placing a kiss against your hip. Another followed near the waistband, then one over the lace covering your pussy. “But they’re in my way.”

His tongue dragged over you through the fabric, slow enough for you to feel the wet warmth spreading into the lace. Your hand found his hair as he did it again, flattening his tongue against your covered clit and looking up when your hips tilted toward his mouth.

“You like tasting me through them?” you asked.

“I like making you wet enough to taste through them.”

The answer landed with another sweep of his tongue. He held your hips steady and licked you through the panties until the fabric clung to every swollen curve beneath it. Each pass became more deliberate, his mouth closing around your clit through the lace while your fingers tightened in his hair. He took his time with the barrier because he liked what it did to you. He liked the frustrated roll of your hips and the way you tried to pull him closer when the sensation was almost enough.

“Take them off,” you breathed.

Seonghwa kissed the soaked lace and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“You said they were in your way.”

“They are.” His eyes lifted to yours as he hooked one finger beneath the narrow strip between your thighs. “I didn’t say I wanted them gone.”

He drew the wet fabric aside, exposing you while leaving the panties stretched around your hips. The first touch of his bare tongue made your knees weaken. He caught you before you could lose balance and guided one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you wider for his mouth. Then he licked from your entrance to your clit in one slow stroke that stripped the last sensible thought from your mind.

He had admired the lace. Now he worshipped what it framed.

His tongue circled your clit before flattening against it, alternating between long, hungry strokes and quick flicks that made your body jerk. He watched every reaction, learning which rhythm made your nails scrape his scalp and which angle made you forget the reservations, the dress, and everything beyond the bedroom door. When your hips began moving on their own, he tightened his hands around your ass and pulled you into his mouth.

“Right there,” you gasped, holding his head closer. “Don’t stop.”

He did not. His mouth stayed exactly where you needed it, sucking gently before his tongue returned to that relentless rhythm. Your wetness coated his lips and chin, and he seemed proud of the mess. Every time you tried to retreat from the intensity, his grip reminded you that he was not finished.

“You wanted to wear these out?” he asked against you, his breath hot over your clit.

You looked down at him between your thighs. “I was trying to.”

“And sit across from me all night knowing they were under your dress?” He slipped two fingers inside you before sealing his mouth around your clit again. The sudden fullness pulled a cry from you. His fingers curved slowly, stroking the place that made your leg tremble over his shoulder. “Cruel.”

“You like them.”

“I love them.” His fingers moved deeper as he looked up at you. “But I like you wetter.”

The rhythm of his hand matched his tongue, steady enough to build something sharp and unforgiving inside you. You stopped trying to stay quiet. He had no interest in your composure anyway. He wanted the sounds, the shaking thighs, the proof that his fascination with your panties had led him somewhere better than dinner.

When you warned him that you were close, Seonghwa only tightened his grip. His tongue moved faster while his fingers curled inside you, and the pleasure broke before you could prepare for it. Your body folded toward him as the climax rolled through you, your hand clutching his hair while his mouth stayed greedy against you. He licked you through every tremor, refusing to pull away until your hips slowed and your leg nearly slipped from his shoulder.

You expected him to stand. Instead, he placed a kiss against your inner thigh and looked at the panties still gathered to one side.

“We are definitely late now,” you said, breathless.

“We’re not going.”

Seonghwa rose just enough to guide you backward onto the bed. He eased the emerald lace down your legs with surprising care, admired the darkened center, and placed the panties beside you like something precious. Then he settled between your open thighs again.

“I’m making another decision too,” he said, kissing the soft skin above your clit.

You lifted yourself onto your elbows. “What decision is that?”

His eyes held yours as his tongue touched you again.

“These are my favorite pair,” he said, his hands spreading your thighs wider. “And I’m not done thanking you for wearing them.”