#Control lights using voice commands (turn on/off

[sowerpatch]

unfold [chapter seven - belong]

Summary: Paige Bueckers didn’t expect to lose the WNBA championship. She also didn’t expect to find comfort in a bartender who spoke more with her in guarded silences than most people did with words.

Author's note: this is an AU where Azzi doesn't play basketball but works as a bartender.

*CHAPTER LIST HERE*

Chapter Summary: Paige rediscovers her love for the game while helping kids at practice, but it’s a quiet night with Azzi that changes everything. One kiss turns into something deeper, and by the time they’re wrapped in the warmth of Azzi’s family Thanksgiving, Paige begins to believe she might finally belong—on the court, with Azzi, and with herself.

Word count: 5,297

The gym hummed with the familiar cadence of youth in motion. Sneakers skidded against the polished hardwood as basketballs struck the floor with sharp, rhythmic thuds. Voices carried across the court, punctuated by the occasional whistle and the steady calls of players encouraging one another. The energy was focused, a mixture of eagerness and discipline shaping the atmosphere. 

Katie and Paige entered together, stepping through the wide double doors without hesitation. Their presence altered the room’s dynamic instantly.  

Mid-dribble, a girl froze, her eyes widening as recognition settled over her. Slowly, heads turned in unison, conversations tapered off, and the lively court fell into a charged stillness. Every pair of eyes shifted toward the newcomers. 

Paige’s lips curved into a tentative smile, a flicker of shyness threading through her gaze. She scanned the faces before her, uncertainty brushing the edges of her expression, wondering if the echoes of her WNBA Finals performance had changed how they saw her.  

Katie moved closer, her voice dropping into a quiet, reassuring murmur. “If it becomes too much, just say the word. We can leave whenever you want.” 

“I’m good,” Paige shook her head slowly, her smile firming with quiet resolve.  

Katie’s gaze swept over the group before she raised her voice, steady and clear. “Good morning team! Today, we have a special guest joining us.” 

Her gesture toward Paige was subtle but commanding. 

A ripple of excitement stirred through the room. Whispers floated softly as the kids absorbed the moment, some shifting on their feet, others pressing forward slightly.  

Paige held her ground, the smile lingering, meeting each gaze with calm confidence that belied the vulnerability beneath.    The drills started slowly, but with each passing minute, Paige’s movements grew more fluid and confident. She guided the kids through passing sequences and footwork, her instructions steady but encouraging. At first, her focus was guarded, careful to keep control over every step and gesture. Then something shifted. 

Her smile broadened, warm and genuine, lifting a weight she had carried for months. When a young player dared her to a one-on-one, she accepted without hesitation, her competitive spark reigniting. They darted and weaved, Paige laughing freely as she dodged around kids half her size, the sound bright and unrestrained. 

The children’s eyes followed her every move with wide admiration, respect mingling with awe. Before long, they clamored playfully over who could ride piggyback on her during a break, their voices overlapping in laughter as they scrambled for the chance. Paige bent down willingly, letting the smallest climb up, their joyful giggles filling the gym. 

In that moment, she let herself enjoy basketball, the pure, simple joy that had drawn her to the game long ago.  

Then she heard one of them whisper, “This is the best day of my life!” 

The past weeks of pressure and doubt melted away, replaced by something light and alive. 

As she watched the kids laugh and race for rebounds, Paige felt something stir in her chest. She remembered what it was like to be their age, eyes wide at the sight of a player she admired, clutching a worn ball in her hands, trying to mimic every move. Back then, she had her own heroes. Women who made the impossible look easy, who made her believe there was space in the world for someone like her to take up. 

Now, these kids looked at her the same way. 

And that did something to her. It didn’t erase the sting of the finals or the questions she still carried, but it gave them context. It reminded her that the game had never just been about wins. It was about showing up, again and again. It was about reaching back, even when she was still figuring things out. 

If she could be that kind of light for someone else, if she already was, then she wanted to do better. Not just for herself, but for every little kid out there watching, hoping, believing. 

And maybe that was enough to begin again. 

- 

Paige stood by Azzi’s bedroom door, tapping her foot with growing impatience. They were supposed to be heading out for dinner soon. Azzi wanted to show her favorite spots around town, and Paige had agreed, but only if she got to drive. 

She pressed her ear against the door and called out, singing her impatience. “Azzi, are you done yet? Or do I need to come in and pick out your shoes for you?” 

From inside, Azzi’s voice floated back, light and teasing. “Almost. Patience, Paige.” 

Paige rolled her eyes, leaning against the wall and sinking to the floor. She groaned dramatically, whining, “I don’t have patience. I’m starving and bored, and you’re taking forever.” 

Azzi’s laughter came through the door, warm and soft. 

The door swung open suddenly, catching Paige completely off guard. She stumbled forward, catching herself against the doorframe just in time, cheeks flushing with surprise. 

Azzi stepped into the doorway wearing a simple blouse and skirt that seemed effortlessly elegant. The blouse fell softly over her shoulders, its fabric light and delicate, while the skirt moved with a graceful flow. The understated outfit framed her perfectly, combining ease with quiet sophistication. 

Paige’s breath hitched as she took in the sight. “Wow,” she said, her voice a little breathless. “You look incredible.” 

Azzi smiled, eyes shining with quiet confidence. Paige’s gaze lingered, admiration clear in every glance.  

“Seriously,” Paige added, “you make casual look like an art form.” 

Azzi rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips as she reached out and tugged Paige by the hand.  

“We’ll be late if you keep ogling me like that,” she teased, though her eyes softened. Then, almost under her breath, she added, “Thank you though.” 

They slipped out together and headed to the driveway where Tim’s car waited.  

Paige settled behind the wheel, the familiar weight of responsibility settling comfortably over her. She turned the key, and the engine came alive with a steady purr. As they pulled away, the city lights flickered past, guiding them toward Azzi’s favorite Spanish restaurant where the flavors were as warm and vibrant as the night ahead. 

- 

The warm glow of the restaurant surrounded them, casting soft pools of light over the rustic wooden table. The scent of garlic and smoky paprika mingled with the gentle murmur of nearby diners and the clatter of plates.  

Paige and Azzi settled into a quiet corner, their conversation weaving through the night as they shared small plates of rich, flavorful tapas. 

Azzi’s voice took on a steady edge, the weight of her decision clear beneath her calm. “After graduation, I’m going to have to step back from the club. My master’s program will need my full attention. I can’t keep splitting my focus.” 

Paige took a slow sip of her wine while nodding. “I’m gonna miss picking you up and surely, Tom will miss me picking you up.”    Azzi laughed at that. 

Paige’s gaze distant for a moment. “Drew’s birthday is coming up soon,” she said softly. “I’ve been thinking about going to Minnesota to see him and my dad. Maybe even make a weekend of it.” 

Azzi looked over, her brow lifting. “That sounds nice. You haven’t been home in a while?” 

“Yeah,” Paige admitted. “Feels like everything’s been so hectic lately. I keep telling myself I’ll go, but then something always gets in the way.” 

Azzi nodded thoughtfully. “Sometimes you just need to get away, even if it’s just for a few days.” 

“Will you go with me?” 

Azzi nodded slowly, considering the invitation. “I’d like that. I need to check my schedule with Vault 35 first. When will it be?” 

Paige smirked. “It’s next month. But I could talk to your manager. Smooth things over.” 

“Absolutely not,” Azzi’s eyes widened in mock horror. “You’re not interfering with my work like that.” 

Paige grinned, holding up her hands. “No promises.” 

They shared plates of patatas bravas, tender chorizo, and garlic shrimp. The rich aromas filled the air as soft conversation and the clatter of cutlery surrounded them. The restaurant’s warmth settled around their small table.  

Their talk moved between light teasing and quiet seriousness. Azzi’s laughter came easier than it had in weeks. Paige watched her with softened eyes, feeling the connection deepen in the glow of the evening. 

Paige slipped the check from Azzi’s hand with a practiced ease as their meal ended. 

“If you keep doing this, I’m going to be spoiled,” Azzi muttered, a smile tugging at her lips. 

Paige’s eyes sparkled with warmth and mischief. “Maybe you deserve it.” 

-  “You’re not driving this time,” Azzi said as she reached for the keys. 

Paige narrowed her eyes in playful suspicion but handed them over without a word. 

Azzi drove with purpose, guiding the car through winding roads that slipped away from the city’s center. Streetlights grew sparse as they climbed higher into the hills, passing quiet neighborhoods draped in shadows. Trees lined the road, their branches catching streaks of passing light as the city slowly fell away behind them.  

Paige watched the familiar skyline disappear in the rearview mirror, curiosity growing with every turn. 

Eventually, Azzi pulled into a small clearing carved out at the edge of an overlook. There were no signs, no other cars. Just space. Trees bordered the lot in a loose arc, framing what lay ahead like a stage curtain pulled open. Beyond the windshield, the city sprawled in silence. 

Lights stretched across the horizon in dense, glittering waves. The tallest buildings rose like glass towers dusted in gold, their windows glowing steadily against the dark. Streets formed glowing paths that wove through the city’s grid, headlights and taillights pulsing like veins. From this height, everything below shimmered, distant and softened, as if the world had briefly stilled. 

Azzi turned off the engine. The air felt still and cool around them.  

They stayed inside the car, their seats reclined just enough to relax without breaking the moment. The windshield framed the view like a painting, the city cast in silver and amber. 

“This your secret spot?” 

Azzi didn’t look away from the lights. “It is. I come here when I need to feel far from everything.” 

“It’s beautiful, like it’s waiting for something, but not in a hurry.” 

“Exactly!” Azzi smiled. “So… you ready to spend Thanksgiving with my whole family tomorrow?” 

Paige laughed under her breath. “As if I have a choice.” 

Azzi turned toward her, the corner of her mouth curving. “You don’t. But I figured a little warning might help.” 

Paige tilted her head, gaze fixed on the skyline. The lights still glowed steadily across the horizon, a soft golden sea stretching into the dark. “Okay. What am I walking into?” 

“A lot of people. Loud. Affectionate. My uncles will argue over stuffing. My cousins will hog the TV for their annual Madden showdown. My grandma will pretend she’s indifferent but will definitely make three backup side dishes just for you.” 

Paige grinned, the expression tugging easily at her lips. “I already like her.” 

“There’s also a pie contest. Everyone brings something. My grandma always wins with sweet potato, even though she swears she forgets the recipe every year.” 

“So I should expect food, chaos, and competitive baking.” 

Azzi nodded, amused. Her profile caught the faint city light, sharp and soft all at once. “And someone’s probably going to ask if we’re dating.” 

Paige turned toward her, smirking. “Should I just kiss you in front of everyone to make it easier?” 

Azzi held Paige’s gaze, steady and unflinching. The space between them tightened, filled with meaning neither dared to voice. Paige’s tone had been light, but her words carried a deeper weight. 

Azzi watched her closely, catching the trace of something serious beneath the surface. There was a quiet challenge in her look, but also a pull that invited Azzi in. Her thoughts spun, caught on the edge of what that moment could mean.  

Her heartbeat picked up.   

“Do you want to kiss me in front of my whole family?” 

Paige met her gaze, surprise mingling with a quieter, more tender emotion. Her breath caught, and for a moment, her usual composure gave way to something more vulnerable. The sound of her heartbeat grew more noticeable in the silence. A gentle warmth rose along her neck, and the tension in her shoulders began to ease. Though she felt exposed, there was also a sense of being drawn closer, as if Azzi’s question had gently opened a door she had never dared to approach. 

“I want to kiss you now,” Paige offered a small, confident smile. “Can I?” 

Azzi's gaze held Paige’s with an intensity that made the space between them feel fragile, like it might break under the weight of everything unspoken. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were alive.  

Slowly, her attention lowered to Paige’s lips, lingering there for a breath too long. The movement was small, but it changed everything. When her eyes met Paige’s again, there was no doubt left in them.  

She gave a soft nod, subtle and deliberate, and in that gesture was a quiet unraveling. It was acceptance, a silent confession, and a letting go. 

Paige didn’t move right away. The air inside the car had shifted, dense with anticipation, each second suspended like it might stretch into forever. When she leaned in, it was with care, her movements slow and full of intent.  

Azzi met her halfway, the distance between them disappearing as if it had never existed. 

Their lips met with a tentative softness. It wasn’t hurried or practiced, but something unsure and deeply felt. The kiss carried the weight of things neither of them had said, of feelings kept in silence for too long.  

It was delicate at first, almost cautious, shaped by the fear that one wrong move could send it all tumbling down. But as the seconds passed, something steadier took hold. The hesitation melted, leaving behind something quieter, more certain. 

Azzi’s fingers brushed Paige’s jaw, featherlight and trembling. Her touch said what her words hadn’t, and Paige leaned into it, eyes closing as warmth bloomed across her skin. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was discovery. It was the beginning of something fragile and real, carried in shared breath and closeness. 

The air between them pulsed with quiet tension, every movement slow and purposeful. Beneath that initial shyness, a deeper current began to rise, a simmering hunger that neither could ignore. Their breaths grew heavier, mingling in the tight space, and the softness of the kiss transformed into a craving filled with longing and urgency. 

Azzi’s fingers found the fabric of Paige’s shirt, gripping it with a need that matched the fire building inside her. Her body leaned in, pressing closer until the boundaries between them melted away. Then, through the haze of sensation, a low, involuntary moan slipped past Azzi’s lips, a raw, beautiful sound that echoed the depth of her desire. 

The sound sent a shiver through Paige, catching her completely off guard. Her breath hitched and the single word that escaped felt like a confession, heavy and full of meaning.  

“Fuck.” It rolled from her lips softly, but held a fierce intensity that lingered in the space between them. 

The kiss deepened, turning from gentle exploration into something more urgent and consuming.  

Azzi shifted, sliding halfway onto the console between the seats, her body trembling with need and anticipation.  

Paige responded without hesitation, her hands moving to cradle Azzi’s waist as she carefully drew her up onto her lap in the passenger seat.  

The closeness sparked a new electricity, the heat between them flaring as their movements grew more urgent, each touch a silent promise in the intimate quiet of the car. 

They pulled apart, both panting and gasping for air, the rush of heat between them still thick in the small space. Paige’s lips found Azzi’s again, tracing soft, lingering kisses along her mouth, down to her chin, and along the curve of her jaw. Each touch was gentle, tender, like trying to hold onto the moment a little longer. 

Azzi’s fingers dug into Paige’s shoulder, her breath catching as she whispered Paige’s name, a low moan vibrating through her voice.  

The sound sent a shiver through the blonde girl, but she pulled back just enough to meet Azzi’s eyes. 

“Baby, we need to stop,” Paige said quietly, voice shaky but firm. 

Azzi whimpered, her gaze pleading. “No.” 

Paige shook her head with a small smile. “I don’t want to traumatize your dad’s car.” 

Azzi laughed softly, resting her head against Paige’s shoulder. The warmth of her touch melted some of the tension away. 

Paige wrapped an arm around her, soothing Azzi by gently rubbing circles along her back, grounding them both in the quiet comfort of the moment. 

She drew back slightly, just enough to see Azzi’s face clearly. Her voice was calm, but there was a tension beneath it, a quiet vulnerability she could no longer hold back.  

“We also need to talk about us.” 

Azzi leaned gently against her, their eyes meeting in the muted glow of the dashboard.  

“It’s not complicated,” Paige continued. A small, grateful smile tugged at her lips, but her chest tightened as the words came out. “You know how I feel. I like you. More than that. And I’m thankful. For your support. For staying, even when I gave you reasons not to.” 

Azzi’s mouth curled into a smile.  

Paige hesitated, feeling the words rise with the ache in her chest. “I haven’t met anyone like you before. And that scares me sometimes. Because I want to give you everything. Not just the easy parts of me, but the pieces I’m still trying to understand. The ones that feel damaged or unfinished.” 

Her throat tightened, but she pressed on, her voice steadying with quiet resolve. “You don’t deserve someone who’s still falling apart. That’s not what I want for you.” 

She drew a slow breath, anchoring herself in the silence between them. “I’m going to do the work. I need to heal. To find myself again, both on and off the court. Not just for me, but for you. For whatever this could become. But I'm staying with you for as long as you want me to," Paige said, her voice calm and unwavering. "If you can be patient while I find my way back to feeling whole again." 

Azzi held her gaze and nodded with quiet conviction. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." 

A faint smile touched Paige's lips.  

"I'm getting there," she murmured. She drew a breath before continuing, her tone gentle. "This morning, your mom took me to the kids' basketball practice. I didn’t know what to expect. At first, I felt out of place—maybe even a little self-conscious. But once I started helping with the drills, something shifted." 

She paused, her eyes distant for a moment as she recalled the scene. "I played one-on-ones with kids half my size. We laughed. I smiled. And for the first time in months, I felt like myself again." 

Azzi listened intently, her expression softening.  

As Paige spoke, she reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, her fingers lingering with quiet affection. The simple touch conveyed what words couldn’t—Paige was seen, and she was safe. 

“I have you to thank for that.” Paige’s voice softened, threaded with emotion. “I know how hard you’ve tried to help me. How careful you’ve been, trying to support me without overstepping or disturbing the peace we’ve managed to create.” Her fingers curled into a loose fist in her lap as she fought to maintain her composure.  

Her eyes shimmered, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing in. “You’ve shown so much patience and understanding. You never asked for anything in return. Even when I walked away, you still welcomed me back.” 

Her breath caught, and despite her efforts, tears slipped down her cheeks. Her voice trembled with vulnerability as she whispered, “I don’t deserve you.” 

And for the first time since she lost that WNBA Finals, Paige cried. 

The tears fell freely now. The quiet confession lingered in the space between them as Azzi pulled her into a gentle embrace, offering silent comfort in the warmth of her arms. 

-  Paige insisted on driving them home, brushing away Azzi’s offer with a shake of her head and a quiet, “You’ve chauffeured me enough tonight.” Her voice had steadied, even if her chest still carried the softness of what she’d let out an hour earlier.  

She kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on Azzi’s lap, her thumb gently drawing small circles over the fabric of her skirt. She would be damned if she didn’t give Azzi the princess treatment she deserved, even if she had been a sobbing mess not too long ago. 

When they pulled into the driveway and the engine cut to stillness, Azzi stayed quiet for a beat. Then she reached down and gave Paige’s hand a squeeze, grounding them both. 

“So,” she said, her tone light, “you still haven’t answered the question.” 

Paige turned to her, already smiling. 

“What’s the verdict if my family asks if we’re dating?” Azzi asked. 

“I don’t know about you,” Paige said, grinning, “but it’s definitely dating on my end.” 

Azzi arched a brow, amused. “Wow. Confident.” 

Paige leaned her head against the seat, her hand still warm in Azzi’s. “I’m locked in. And when we get back to LA, I’m going to ask you out properly. Real date. But for now?” Her smile grew, soft but sure. “Definitely dating.” 

Azzi laughed, a real, unguarded sound that filled the car with warmth. Then she tugged Paige forward by the hand, her touch gentle but certain, and kissed her. It was short, deliberate, sealed with the edge of a smile. 

“Okay, definitely dating it is,” she said. 

- 

The house was alive with sound. Laughter moved between rooms, layered over the low thrum of music playing from a speaker tucked somewhere in the dining room. Pots clattered in the kitchen, followed by the quick bark of a timer and the hum of overlapping conversations. The air was rich with warmth and spice. Paige hadn’t expected it to feel like this. So full. So close. 

She stood near the edge of the living room, one hand wrapped loosely around a glass of cider Azzi had handed her earlier, the other tucked into her pocket. Around her, people wove between couches and entryways, plates already balanced in their hands. A cousin she’d been introduced to earlier nodded and passed by with a smile. A toddler ran past her ankle with a dinosaur in hand. Someone shouted “watch the rug” from the kitchen. 

Azzi reappeared from down the hall, her sleeves pushed up, a faint flush on her cheek from helping set the table. She reached Paige with a soft grin, standing close enough for their shoulders to brush. 

“You doing okay?” she asked under her breath. 

Paige gave a small nod, then exhaled. “It’s a lot. But it’s good.” 

Azzi looked at her for a moment longer, then leaned in. “If my Aunt Gina starts asking you about babies, just redirect to animals. She respects all creatures.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Paige said with a small laugh, the edges of her nerves beginning to smooth. 

She followed Azzi to the formal dining room, where the long table had been stretched with folding leaves to make space for nearly twenty people. Napkins folded into autumn shapes. Candles flickering against a bowl of cranberries and pine. The plates didn’t match—some were newer, others had tiny chips or faded patterns—but the table felt lived-in. It felt like history. 

Dinner was loud and fast. Every dish was passed around twice. Paige tried everything, complimented the sweet potato casserole with the toasted pecans, and survived three rounds of questions from different aunts. Azzi’s father gave her a wink across the table when the questions got personal. 

By the time dessert was served, Paige had relaxed into it. She was laughing without thinking, leaning toward Azzi in conversation, shoulders touching as their plates filled again.  

The room had softened with the weight of full stomachs and pie. A few people had moved to the couch, and someone had started replaying clips from an old Thanksgiving football game on the television in the corner. 

Azzi turned to her and brushed a crumb from Paige’s cheek. “You made it through. No casualties.” 

“You sure? I think your cousin Max was going to fight me over the last slice of pecan pie.” 

“You’ll win. But you’ll never be invited back. Max is Grandma’s favorite.” 

Paige smiled and leaned in, letting their foreheads touch for just a second. “Worth it.” 

Azzi’s uncle leaned forward, elbows resting on the edge of the table, a twinkle of curiosity in his eye.  

“So, Paige,” he began, voice casual but pointed, “what’s next for you on the court? That last game in the finals... tough one.” 

At once, the energy around the table shifted. Azzi’s parents exchanged a glance. Katie opened her mouth as if to intercept, but hesitated. Tim looked toward Azzi, subtly shaking his head. Azzi herself straightened, ready to steer the conversation elsewhere. Her fingers tensed slightly on her napkin. 

But Paige lifted her chin and gave a small, calm smile. 

“It was a tough game,” she said. “One of the worst I’ve played all season, to be honest.” 

The room quieted just enough for her voice to settle in. Azzi watched her closely, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. 

“But it also taught me a lot,” Paige continued. “I wasn’t in the right headspace. I let the pressure get to me, and I hesitated when I needed to lead. I’m not proud of how I played, but I’m not ashamed of it either. I’m going to take what I learned and bring it into next season. That’s the only way to grow.” 

A few nods circled the table. Someone muttered an approving “well said” under their breath. The moment passed, not with pity or awkwardness, but with quiet respect. 

Azzi couldn’t look away from her. Her chest tightened, not with worry but with pride. Paige hadn’t flinched. She hadn’t needed anyone to shield her. She had spoken for herself—with clarity, with humility, with strength. 

Paige turned to her, as if she felt the weight of her gaze. She smiled, softer this time, and reached under the table to take Azzi’s hand. Their fingers laced together easily, as if they had always fit that way. Azzi’s thumb brushed over Paige’s knuckles, and her smile held steady. 

There were still things to work through. But right now, Paige was here, grounded in herself, and Azzi had never admired her more. 

- 

The house had quieted by the time they slipped upstairs. Dishes were stacked in the sink, someone had turned the music off, and only the low hum of the dishwasher filled the silence. Paige followed Azzi to her room, moving slowly, heavy from food and the weight of the day. Her hand stayed in Azzi’s until the door shut behind them. 

Azzi tossed her sweater onto the back of the chair and kicked off her boots. She didn’t speak, just crossed the room to her vanity where her small basket of skincare sat waiting. Paige hovered near the edge of the bed, hands in her pockets. The soft yellow lamplight settled over the space, casting long shadows across the dresser and bookshelf. 

“Top drawer,” Azzi said, gently pulling a cotton pad from the jar. “There’s a hoodie and sweats if you want to change.” 

Paige nodded, tugged open the drawer, and pulled out the folded clothes. They smelled like Azzi. Clean linen, warm cedar, something soft beneath it all. She turned toward the bathroom, but Azzi caught her wrist as she passed. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m good.” Paige smiled. “Just tired.” 

She changed in the bathroom and returned to find Azzi already under the covers, her skin fresh and bare of makeup, hair pulled back loosely. Paige crossed the room slowly, easing herself into bed beside her. The sheets were cool, the mattress familiar in its softness. She turned on her side, facing Azzi in the near-dark. 

Azzi shifted closer, resting her hand between them. “You were great tonight.” 

“I didn’t totally embarrass you?” 

Azzi smiled. “Only when you ducked behind me after Grandma told you she’s ready for great grandchildren.” 

Paige groaned and pulled a pillow over her face. “That was brutal.” 

“It was sweet.” Azzi’s voice lowered. “You handled everything... really well.” 

There was a pause. The kind of quiet that came only after a long, full day. Paige lowered the pillow slowly and looked at her. 

“I haven’t felt like that in a long time. Like I belonged.” 

“You do,” Azzi said softly. 

They fell asleep like that—facing each other, their hands barely touching in the space between pillows.  

- 

Morning settled over the house slowly, golden light slipping through the curtains and pooling across the hardwood floors. The sounds drifted in first—pots clinking, silverware clattering, someone humming off-key over the low chatter of early risers. The scent of butter and cinnamon warmed the air, thick and welcoming. 

Paige woke to it all gradually, eyes half-lidded as she stretched under the soft weight of the blanket. Beside her, Azzi was already sitting up, her hair pulled into a lazy knot, the glow from her phone lighting the quiet space between them. 

“You snore,” Azzi said lightly, without looking up. 

Paige groaned into her pillow. “I don’t.” 

“Fine. You breathe with a lot of commitment.” 

Paige turned over and squinted at her. “You’re lucky I like you.” 

Azzi only smiled, then leaned down to kiss her forehead before sliding out of bed. They dressed slowly, lingering in the rhythm of the morning. By the time they made their way downstairs, the house was fully awake.  

The kitchen was alive with motion. Katie flipped pancakes with practiced efficiency, Tim poured coffee into mugs, and two of Azzi’s younger cousins darted between adults, chasing a balloon they’d tied to a spatula. 

The moment Paige stepped inside, a boy around ten stopped short in front of her, eyes wide as he tilted his head back to look at her. 

“Are you the basketball girl?” 

Paige grinned. “I might be.” 

“Can you dunk?” 

“Only on good days.” 

The kids exchanged glances, and then grinned. A moment later, both of them were tugging at her sleeves. 

“Can we play basketball outside? Uncle Tim has a real hoop!” 

“Will you teach me how to shoot a fadeaway?” 

Azzi watched from the kitchen as Paige let herself be pulled down the hallway and out the back door, still barefoot, hair tangled from sleep. Within minutes, she was on the cracked driveway with the two cousins, showing them how to square their feet and follow through on their shots. Her laughter carried through the window, unguarded and full. 

Tim walked up beside her. “She’s good with them.” 

Azzi didn’t look away from the window. “She’s good, period.” 

Paige lifted one of the kids up so he could dunk on the lowered hoop. When she set him back down, he immediately wrapped his arms around her legs and declared her his favorite person in the world. She looked surprised for a moment, then smiled and ruffled his hair, the easy kind of joy blooming across her face. 

Azzi stood at the window, fingers wrapped around her mug, watching the woman she loved be everything she already knew she was—kind, patient, full of light, even in the quiet aftermath of her own storms. 

[under0-0s]

Tony’s brow lifted slightly at the way you called him your “safety net,” and for a moment, something flickered in his expression. Maybe guilt. Maybe pride. Maybe a touch of worry. But all he said was

“Lucky me.”

His tone was light, but the softness in his gaze gave it away. He understood exactly what that meant. And he wasn’t taking it lightly.

As the two of you stepped into the lab-level suite, the doors slid shut behind, sealing out the rest of the Tower’s chaos. It was quieter here. Cleaner. Safer, maybe—not in the way of alarms and armor, but in the intentionality of the design. Tony had built this space for outliers, for people like you.

He turned to face you fully.

“You’ll have access to the lab—yours is the third one on the left. Has your name on the door already.” He gave a shrug, brushing it off like that hadn’t taken two hours of coding to get Friday to recognize a multiversal Bruce. “You’ll also have access to the AI archives, your own encrypted network space, and your pick of one of the simulation rooms. Full privacy if you need it.”

He started moving toward the console, fingers tapping in a code to bring up your personalized dashboard. “You won’t have access to weapons storage, classified Avengers mission files, or remote security commands. Yet.” He shot a glance at you, not judgmental—just honest. “That’s not a ‘no.’ That’s a ‘let’s build some stability first.’ Trust takes time. You get that.”

Then, seeing the tension building in your shoulders, his voice softened again.

“As for the world-ending maniacs and interdimensional psychos? You’ll get briefed. Not dumped with everything at once. You’ve got time. You’re not just some blip of chaos, Bruce. You’re a variable. And I like variables. They tend to save lives when used right.”

Tony paused, watching your hands fidget with the straps.

“And if you ever feel like you’re spinning? There’s a stabilizer room two doors down—gravity shift, light control, silence chamber. Sometimes helps… when the inside noise gets too loud.”

He leaned back against the edge of a counter, arms crossed, but his stance open.

“Anything else you need, you tell me. Not Friday. Me.” Then, because it was Tony, he added dryly, “Unless it’s a kitten. Then definitely tell someone else. I don’t do fur.”

{Hey Tony? Got a Theoretical situation for you to ponder on, I don't need answers immediately but-} Fidgeting with my hands, looking a bit sheepish like I might have exploded one of the labs, looking frazzled. {What would you do if you find yourself stuck in a different universe with no means of getting back and technically have all of your belongings with you already- This is JUst Theoretical situation! Like, what would you do?} Voice cracking slightly at the word Just, something is definitely up - @gamma-archivist

“Right. Theoretical, huh?”

Slight pause. You can practically hear him squinting through the comms.

“I’m guessing this isn’t just some innocent little thought experiment from my favorite green scientist, is it? You sound like you just watched someone divide by zero in real time.”

Sighs, a bit dramatic. There’s the clink of a glass in the background—definitely coffee. Probably Irish.

“Alright, fine. Theoretically, if I were stuck in another universe and couldn’t get back, I’d start with three things: securing shelter, establishing identity, and figuring out how close their version of Wi-Fi is to ours. Then I’d do some recon. Find out how different their tech and timeline is, and whether or not I exist. If I do? Great. I’m breaking into my own house. If not, I’m registering Stark Industries before their version of me even graduates high school.”

“And if I’m really stuck? Like… forever? I guess I’d stop trying to get home and start trying to make the new one feel like less of a stranger.”

Another pause.

“…Bruce? You are in another universe, aren’t you?”

[medickpidia]

Information 

The Govee Smart Light Bulbs bring vibrant colors, smart controls, and energy efficiency to any space. Featuring 16 million RGBWW colors, WiFi & Bluetooth connectivity, and compatibility with Alexa and Google Assistant, these bulbs let you customize lighting, sync with music, and create automation routines with ease. The 800-lumen brightness ensures optimal illumination, while the app-controlled settings provide a fully immersive lighting experience.

Features

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Adjustable white tones (warm to cool) from 2700K to 6500K.

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Control lights using voice commands (turn on/off, change color, adjust brightness).

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Set up custom scenes, timers, and schedules.

Group multiple bulbs for synchronized lighting control.

Use preset modes for relaxation, reading, parties, and more.

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Lifespan: Up to 25,000 hours.

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Compatible with standard fixtures for plug-and-play use.

No hub required – simply screw in, connect, and customize via the app.

Ideal 

✔️ Smart home users looking for voice-controlled, customizable lighting. ✔️ Gamers & entertainment lovers who want dynamic RGB lighting. ✔️ Home decorators looking for colorful ambiance settings. ✔️ Energy-conscious users wanting long-lasting, low-power LED bulbs.

Specifications

Type: A19 Smart LED Bulb (Standard E26 Base)

Brightness: 800 Lumens

Color Options: 16 Million RGBWW (Warm & Cool White)

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Lifespan: Up to 25,000 Hours

Pack Size: 4 Bulbs

The Govee Smart Light Bulbs deliver smart lighting, vibrant color customization, and effortless automation for any space. Whether you're creating a cozy atmosphere, gaming setup, or party vibe, these bulbs make it easy to set the perfect mood.

[greengoblinswifey]

Fatal Attraction

pairing— The Salesman x Recruiter!Reader

summary— You and the Salesman share an undeniable attraction that’s filled with playful banter and sexual chemistry, despite the risks of being involved as recruiters for the Squid Game. It eventually boils over in a way you didn’t expect. based on this request.

warnings— sexual tension, flirting, jealousy, switch!salesman, manipulation, groping, slight voyeurism, thigh riding, praise kink.

a/n— part 2?🤭

Part II

The evening air was cloudy as the city hummed around you. Dressed in a chic black dress that hugged your figure and a pair of sleek red bottom heels, you walked through the dimly lit streets with an air of effortless confidence. Your black curls cascaded over your shoulders, catching the light as you moved, each step commanding attention. The world around you seemed to part as men turned their heads, unable to resist the allure you exuded.

You smirked, feeling the eyes on you. Most of the time, you didn’t need to say a word. They came to you. A flirtatious smile was all it took, and you knew that by the time they left, they'd be clutching the game card in their hands, their minds already made up. It was easy, really. Your beauty and charm were weapons, subtle but deadly, and you wielded them with precision. It was no wonder they hired you.

Behind you, the Salesman was watching. His gaze followed you, a mix of admiration and something else, something darker? He’d always been fascinated by you, but you knew he wouldn’t admit it. His competitive streak ran deep, and that was what made the dynamic between the two of you so—interesting. You had a way of making him lose focus, just for a moment, and he hated how much he liked it.

“Are you always this distracting?” he asked. He stepped closer, his presence almost predatory as you felt his eyes linger on you for too long.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you teased.

He narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed but intrigued at the same time. “You're making it hard for me to concentrate,” he said.

You leaned in just enough to feel the heat between you, brushing past him sultry, making sure to brush your ass against hun. “Well,” you said, your voice a whisper, “maybe you just need to focus more.”

The way his jaw tightened gave you a little thrill. He wasn’t used to being the one distracted, but there you were, effortlessly captivating him. He hated that you had this power over him, but at the same time, it only fueled his need to be around you.

As you approached a group of lower class men, you effortlessly captured their attention, your words emphasized as you explained the game to them, each one of them hanging on your every word. They didn’t even care about the money anymore, they were entranced by you, by the way you spoke, the way you looked, the way your eyes sparkled with mystery.

You glanced over your shoulder, catching the Salesman’s narrowed eyes. There was a flicker of jealousy there, and you smiled to yourself. He was usually so composed, so in control, but when it came to you, it was clear he was a little off balance.

As you handed the last card to a willing participant, you turned back toward him, catching frustration in his eyes. “You’re still looking at my ass,” you noted. “Is there something you want to say?”

His eyes flickered to yours, something passing between you, but instead of responding immediately, he took a step closer, cornering you against a nearby wall. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your skin, and for a moment, the world around you both seemed to fade away.

“We need to focus,” you said, your voice a mix of teasing and determination. You could feel his body heat radiating against yours, and for just a second, you almost let go. But the chemistry between you two was a game of its own, one you weren’t ready to lose yet.

His lips hovered inches from yours, but you moved away just in time, leaving him wanting more, the silent promise of what could be lingering in the air between you. You walked away, leaving him there, caught between frustration and fascination.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was a smile at his lips. He couldn’t stay mad at you for long.

“You love it,” you called over your shoulder with a wink, and he couldn’t argue with that.

The bustling subway platform crowded, filled with footsteps, idle chatter, and the occasional rumble of an approaching train. You stood poised, elegant as ever while the Salesman stood nearby, his briefcase in hand and his usual smirk in place, but even he couldn't deny that all eyes were on you.

“You’re making this too easy,” he said, his voice laced with amusement as he watched another man approach you, drawn in like a moth to a flame.

“Not my fault I have—certain advantages,” you replied, letting your hand drift over your tits for just a moment before returning to the man who had approached you.

The man stammered as you handed him a game card, your voice smooth as you explained the rules. He barely registered the words, too mesmerized by the way you leaned in just enough to catch his attention.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the Salesman watching, his expression a mixture of pride and annoyance.

“You’re going to spoil them,” he muttered under his breath as the man walked away, clutching the card like it was a love letter.

“Jealous?”

“Hardly,” he shot back, but the way his jaw tightened said otherwise.

As you moved through the station, you approached another potential recruit, a man sitting on a bench, his head in his hands. His clothes were old, his expression weary. You softened your approach, sitting beside him with a look of genuine concern.

“I couldn’t help but notice you look like you could use a fresh start,” you began, your voice gentle.

The man looked up, startled by your presence. His eyes widened as he took in your appearance, clearly caught off guard.

“It’s not easy, is it?” you continued, your tone having fake empathy. “But I can offer you something better. A chance to turn things around.”

By the time you handed him the card, the man was nodding eagerly, his despair replaced by a spark of hope.

The Salesman watched from a distance, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re a witch,” he said when you returned to his side. “The way you manipulate people—it’s almost unfair.”

“Takes one to know one,” you said smiling.

Later that evening, the two of you stood in a crowded peak, each of you scanning the crowd for potential players. He approached a group of men, his signature ddakji tiles in hand. “Care for a game?” he offered, his tone inviting.

The men glanced at him, then at you, their interest shifting immediately.

“Actually, we’d rather play with her,” one of them said, his gaze fixed on you.

You smirked, stepping closer to the Salesman and leaning in just enough to make him flinch. “Looks like you’ve got competition,” you whispered.

“Careful, or I might start charging for your services,” he retorted.

As the men prepared to play, you caught the Salesman watching you again. You met his gaze, your lips curving into a sly smile. Then, almost unknowingly, you bit your bottom lip, letting the subtle action hang heavy in the air.

His eyes darkened, his composure slipping for just a moment before you stepped away, leaving him standing there, frustrated and wanting more.

During one particularly tense recruitment, a man you’d just handed a card to glanced between you and the Salesman, frowning. “You two, you should really sort out whatever this is,” he said, gesturing between you.

Without missing a beat, you turned to him. “What you need to sort out is that broke issue you have,”you retorted, leaving him sputtering as you walked away.

“You’re ruthless,” the Salesman laughed, shaking his head.

“And you love it,” you shot back, not even bothering to deny it.

As the night wore on, the two of you found yourselves alone again, leaning against a railing overlooking the city. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his hand brushing against your arm. For a moment, it seemed like he might close the distance, but you stepped back, breaking the spell.

“Back up,” you snapped.

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “One day, you’re not going to walk away,” he said.

You smiled, turning away as your curls bounced with each step. “Good luck with that,” you called over your shoulder, leaving him to brew in his frustration once again.

Another evening at the busy train station, you and the Salesman stood on opposite sides of the platform, each scanning for potential recruits. You caught his eye briefly before a man in a tattered suit approached you. He didn’t hesitate to ask your name, his interest plain.

The Salesman watched from a distance as you gave the man a coy smile, tilting your head to send the perfect signal. The man eagerly accepted the card you handed him, and even after walking away, he kept glancing back at you.

“Showing off again?” the Salesman said as he finally approached.

“Not my fault,” you said with a shrug. “They just come to me.”

“They should try not flirting with you for once,” he muttered, his jaw tightening as his gaze darted to the men still watching you.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you laughed softly, leaning in for him to smell your perfume.

Later that night, the two of you walked back to the car after another successful round of recruitment. He was unusually quiet as you strolled under the streetlights, the faint sound of your heels breaking the silence.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He hesitated, then said, “I was just thinking, how do you do it?”

“Do what?”

He stopped walking and turned to face you. “Get everyone to fall at your feet like that.”

You tilted your head, a small smile on your lips. “It’s a gift. But don’t worry, you’re not immune.”

He shook his head, his smirk returning.

During one recruitment night, you and the Salesman found yourselves at a lounge. You moved effortlessly through the room, drawing attention without even trying. At the bar, a man offered to buy you a drink, and you accepted with a polite smile, leaning in to keep him hooked.

From across the room, the Salesman watched, his jaw clenching when the man leaned closer to whisper something in your ear. You laughed lightly, slipping the card into the man’s jacket pocket before walking away.

When you rejoined the Salesman, he raised an eyebrow. “Enjoy yourself?”

“Totally,” you replied, sipping the drink you had brought back with you.

“Next time, I’ll be the one buying you a drink,” He leaned in, his voice low.

You looked up at him, your lips curving into a playful smile. “If you’re lucky.”

One late night, as you were reviewing the day’s ‘victims’, a playful argument broke out between you two.

“You only got that guy at the park because I wasn’t there,” he teased, leaning against the table.

“Oh, please,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “He wouldn’t have looked at your ass twice.”

“Care to bet on that?”

You met his gaze, unfazed. “Fine. Loser buys dinner.”

“Deal.”

As he turned to leave, you called after him, “You should practice your flirting first. Wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself.”

Another evening you stood on the busy street corner, your black dress and signature heels drawing stares as usual. A potential recruit leaned lazily against a lamppost, his attitude immediately grating.

“You think I’m fucking stupid enough to fall for this?” he sneered, flicking the card you handed him back toward you. His tone was sharp, his words laced with anger.

Your smile tightened, but you didn’t break your composure. “I wouldn’t say stupid, but if the shoe fits—”

The man stepped closer, his expression darkening. “Listen, woman, don’t test me. You think your little tricks work on everyone?”

Before you could respond, the Salesman appeared at your side, his eyes narrowing as he sized up the man. Without warning, his fist connected with the man’s jaw, sending him falling backward. The man scrambled to his feet, muttering curses as he stumbled away.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s my job to make sure you’re safe,” he replied firmly, his voice softer now as his eyes stayed on yours.

For the first time, you faltered. His protectiveness caught you off guard, leaving you unsure of what to say.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “How about dinner?”

“Sure, what the hell.”

The restaurant was cozy and dimly lit, a bit romantic. You sat across from him, sipping your wine as laughter filled your small talk. For the first time, the banter felt easy, natural.

The waitress arrived to refill your drinks and smiled warmly at the two of you. “You two make a great couple,” she said.

You opened your mouth to correct her, but the Salesman beat you to it. “Yes, we do,” he said, his grin almost asking you to challenge him.

You shot him a look, your eyebrow arching. He just shrugged, clearly enjoying himself.

As the meal continued, you slipped off your Louis Vuittons under the table, your stocking clad foot gliding toward him. You made contact with his leg first, and when he didn’t react, you moved higher.

His fork clattered against his plate when your toes brushed against his cock. He coughed, his eyes darting to yours.

“Careful,” you said, tilting your head innocently.

“What—what are you doing?” he stammered.

“What do you mean?” you asked, as if you had no idea what he was talking about.

His jaw clenched as he tried to maintain his composure, but you could see the cracks forming. “Act normal,” you murmured softly, your foot still teasing his cock. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know what we’re doing.”

He nodded stiffly, attempting to make small talk, but his sentences came out broken and stuttered. You held back a laugh, savoring his discomfort.

By the time the meal ended, you had stopped, sitting back in your chair and putting your heels back on with a satisfied smirk as he paid the bill.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, but the air between you was filled with more tension than usual. You placed your hand on his thigh, rubbing lightly as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Why are you so tense?” you asked.

“Don’t act dumb,” he muttered, his voice strained.

You giggled, sliding your hand higher until you reached his bulge. His sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed, and you leaned back in your seat, thoroughly enjoying yourself.

When you finally reached your apartment, he followed you inside, closing the door behind him. Before you could take another step, he spun you around and pressed you against the door, his hands braced on either side of your head.

His face was close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m sick of your games,” he growled. “It doesn’t matter what happens out there. In here, I’m in control.”

You bit your lip, your pulse quickening. “Yes, sir,” you murmured, your voice teasing.

That was all it took for his restraint to snap.

His lips crashed against yours. It was magnetic, a clash of sexual tension and pent up frustration. His hands framed your face as if you were going to slip away. Your arms went around his neck instinctively, drawing him closer. The world outside the apartment ceased to exist. His lips moved with a ferocity that made you forget every rule you were breaking.

Before you could even catch your breath, he lifted you effortlessly, his hands firm on your thighs as he carried you through the dimly lit apartment. His strength, his control, sent something through you. He didn’t hesitate, pushing open the door to the bedroom with his shoulder, and setting you down in his lap as he sank onto the edge of the bed.

You slowly began grinding on him, his hands moved to your waist, guiding you instinctively. “You always know how to push me, don’t you?” he murmured against your lips.

“Me? I think you’re the one who—”

He cut you off with a smirk, his grip tightening. “Ride my thigh,” he said suddenly.

Your heart beat faster. “W-what?” you stammered, caught off guard.

“You heard me,” he repeated, his dark gaze locking with yours. “Show me how much control you really have.”

Your breath hitched as his hands remained steady on your hips, guiding you forward. You hesitated, unsure if this was a line you should cross, but his touch, his words, it was consuming. Slowly, you moved on his thigh, the friction and the intimacy making your pulse quicken.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Just like that.”

His praise sent a thrill through you, but as the moment grew more intense, the reality of the situation began to creep in. Your hips moved back and forth and your head fell back as the pleasure began to build in a way you didn’t expect. You were leaking through your thong and stockings, staining his pants. His hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. “Cum on my thigh,” he whispered.

The coil in your abdomen snapped, your release hitting you like a truck, and you sagged against him, breathless and unsure how things had escalated this far. His arms wrapped around you as he steadied you, holding you close as the weight of what just happened sank in.

“W-we shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered, breaking the silence.

“No,” he agreed, his voice low. “But I’m not stopping.”

The rules echoed in your mind, the Front Man’s orders, the consequences if you were caught. You knew you were playing with fire, but there was no denying the pull between you.

“If he finds out,” you trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

His thumb brushed against your cheek as he met your gaze. “He won’t,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The words hung in the air, a reassurance and a promise all at once. You knew it wasn’t that simple, but in his arms, you felt obligated to believe.

[wonfie]

NOT YOURS !

‎ ꗃ 𝗐𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅

𝑓─── fwb!jungwon ㅈ f!rea ✶ smut ⏜ bartender!reader barowner!jungwon rough sex petnames degradation jealousy use of handcuffs, blindfold fwb2??? ✿ 𝐜𝓲𝐞𝓁 ｡

消息 ⦂ finally here.. (i hate it) not worth the wait imo this was a disappointment 💔 8.5k words of pure ASS writing

REBLOG4 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 𓏼 ◜ ᴗ ◝ 𓏼

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈 : ACT LIKE MINE

THE MUSIC thrums through the floor, a relentless pulse that shakes the air and sinks into your bones. the club is a living, breathing beast, its veins made of neon, its heartbeat the bassline that drowns out thought. strobe lights cut through the haze like blades, catching sweat-slick skin and glinting off half-empty glasses. your dress—black, tight, barely there—clings to every curve, the hem riding high enough to turn heads, to invite stares. you move through the crowd with purpose, hips swaying to the rhythm, each step a deliberate invitation. you’re not here to blend in. you’re here to be seen, to be wanted, to feel the weight of eyes on you like a second skin.

you sense him before you see him. jungwon. not hovering, not chasing, but there—always there. his presence is a tether, a pull you can’t ignore. from the shadowed booth across the room, his gaze locks onto you, sharp and unyielding, cutting through the chaos of bodies and lights. his arms are crossed, one leg stretched out, his posture deceptively relaxed, like he owns the place. because he does. his lips are pressed thin, his expression unreadable, but those eyes—dark, hungry, burning with a cold fire—tell you everything. he’s watching, waiting, and you know he’s not going to move until you make him.

the dance floor is a crush of bodies, a sea of heat and motion, but you carve out your space in the center, your drink in hand, condensation slick against your fingers. sweat beads on your skin, catching the light as you move, your body swaying in time with the relentless beat. jungwon stays back, leaning against the wall now, talking to someone—a friend, a business associate, it doesn’t matter. his eyes never leave you. you feel them like a touch, like a hand sliding down your spine, and it makes your breath catch, your chest tighten with something you don’t want to name.

you’re playing a game. you both are. he’s the master, the one who sets the rules, but tonight, you’re rewriting them. you lean into the stranger beside you—dark shirt, flashy watch glinting under the lights, the faint scent of sweet liquor clinging to him. you don’t care about his name or his smile, but you let him think you do. you laugh at his half-heard jokes, tilt your head back, let your lips graze the rim of your glass in a way you know jungwon hates. it’s a performance, every movement a silent dare, a challenge thrown across the room. you want him to see. you want him to react.

the stranger’s hand brushes your arm as he hands you another drink, and you let it linger, let his fingers graze your skin just a second too long. you feel jungwon’s gaze sharpen, feel the air shift as his patience frays. you don’t look at him—not yet. you sip your drink, slow and deliberate, letting the cold liquid slide down your throat while your body moves to the music, hips rolling, hair falling over your shoulders. the stranger says something, leans closer, and you smile, all teeth and no warmth, because this isn’t about him. it’s about the man watching you, the one whose control you’re testing, whose limits you’re pushing.

then you feel it—his hand on your wrist, firm but not painful, a quiet command that stops you cold. you turn, meeting jungwon’s eyes, and they’re darker than the club’s shadows, burning with something that makes your pulse race. “we’re leaving,” he says, voice low, clipped, leaving no room for argument.

“but we just—” you start, voice teasing, testing him one last time.

“now.” his grip tightens just enough to remind you who’s in charge.

you glance at the stranger, who’s watching with a mix of amusement and awkwardness, and you flash him a quick, mocking wave. “boyfriend,” you say, your smile sharp and wicked, before letting jungwon pull you through the crowd.

outside, the night air is a shock against your flushed skin, the low cut of your dress leaving you exposed to the bite of the cold. you wrap your arms around yourself, heels clicking against the pavement as you trail a few steps behind him. he’s already on his phone, calling the car, his jaw tight, his movements sharp. when the sleek black sedan pulls up, you slide into the back seat beside him, the leather cool against your thighs. he doesn’t look at you, just stares straight ahead, knee bouncing, body taut with barely restrained energy.

you watch him from the corner of your eye, the city lights streaking across his face in flashes of neon. you want to say something, to break the silence, but the words feel heavy, trapped in your throat. you’re wet already, and you hate how easily he does this to you—how a look, a touch, a single word can unravel you.

“you’re mad,” you say finally, voice soft, testing the waters.

he turns his head slowly, eyes narrowing, unreadable. “mad?” he echoes, the word sharp enough to cut. “no.”

you raise an eyebrow, skeptical, but his lips twitch into a low, bitter laugh before you can press further. “i’m embarrassed,” he says, and the admission catches you off guard.

“embarrassed?” you repeat, surprise flickering through you.

“you looked pathetic,” he says, voice like a blade, precise and vicious. “pressing up on some guy like you didn’t have anyone. like you were begging for it.”

“he wasn’t touching me—” you start, defensive, but he cuts you off, voice dropping lower, darker.

“you wanted him to.” it’s not a question. “don’t lie to me.”

you open your mouth to argue, to deny it, but the words die on your tongue. he’s right. you were playing a game, pushing boundaries, and you both know it. his eyes darken, not with anger but with something fiercer—hunger, control, a need coiled tight beneath his skin.

“you wanna act like that?” he murmurs, leaning closer, his voice a dangerous whisper meant only for you. “don’t fucking complain when i treat you like you don’t know how to behave.”

you say nothing. you don’t need to. because he’s right, and because you want whatever comes next.

the car pulls up to his building, and jungwon is out first, slamming the door without a glance back. you follow, heels unsteady on the pavement, your stomach twisting with anticipation. the elevator ride is a study in silence, the air thick with it, your shoulder brushing his just once. he doesn’t react, doesn’t move, his hands loose at his sides, but you know better. you know the calm is a mask, and beneath it, he’s deadly.

the apartment door barely clicks shut before he’s on you.

the space is too quiet after the club’s chaos, the city’s hum a faint drone through the thick glass windows. jungwon doesn’t speak, just watches you, his gaze heavy, predatory. you shift in the tight dress, the fabric warm from the night, your bare legs pressing against the cold floor. your wrist still tingles where he grabbed you, the memory sharp, electric.

he steps closer, and the distance between you shrinks to nothing, the air charged with unspoken words. his breath is steady, slow, but you can feel the danger in it, the promise of something raw. his finger traces your jaw, light but deliberate, sliding down your neck, sending a shiver through you that feels like it could break you apart.

“you don’t listen, do you?” he murmurs, voice low, calm in a way that makes your knees weak. his hands are on you now, quick and impatient, dragging the dress up over your hips to reveal the thin lace beneath. “you think just ‘cause they’re out there, i won’t fuck the attitude out of you?”

you gasp, heart pounding as the cold air hits your thighs. “won—wait, i—”

you don’t finish. he’s already bending you over the counter, one hand covering your mouth before you can say another word, the other gripping your hip with bruising force. he doesn’t wait, doesn’t tease—just pushes in, rough, a sharp stretch that steals your breath. you squirm, but he holds you still, his pace relentless, your legs trembling under the onslaught.

it’s not playful. it’s not angry. it’s possessive, primal, like he’s staking a claim. he fucks you like he’s proving something, each thrust deep and unforgiving, but his voice stays low, lips brushing your ear when he leans forward. “be good for me, baby.”

you moan behind his hand, loud, unfiltered, and he tightens his grip, muffling you instantly. “you want them to hear you getting ruined by me?” he hisses, his breath hot against your skin. “you want them to know who fucks you like this?”

your body shakes, your moan turning to a whimper as he slows just enough to let the pressure build, the stretch becoming unbearable, addictive. his teeth graze your neck, nipping just below your ear, and the heat between your thighs pools, your body betraying you as it clenches around him.

he feels it. groans. “fuck,” he breathes, voice raw. “you’re so wet it’s disgusting.”

he pulls out suddenly, and before you can catch your breath, he flips you around, lifting you onto the counter like you’re weightless. your wrists reach for his shoulders, but he catches them, pinning them to your sides, his gaze hard, unyielding. “don’t touch me unless i tell you to.”

you nod, dizzy, drunk on his voice, his presence, the way he looks at you like you’re his to break. “bed,” he says, and you slide off the counter, legs shaky, walking ahead of him, feeling his eyes on you like a predator stalking prey.

you hear the clink of his belt hitting the floor, the soft thud of his jacket following. slow, methodical, deliberate. he’s not rushing—not when he’s like this. every move is calculated, every step heavy with intent. you reach the bedroom, and your eyes flick to the drawer by the bed, the one with the handcuffs, the blindfold, the small black box you’re forbidden to touch without permission. he follows your gaze, and without a word, he pulls it open, setting out what he needs with the precision of a surgeon—cuffs, blindfold, and something else, something you can’t quite see.

“on your knees,” he says.

you drop to the bed, hair spilling over your shoulders, hands trembling as you kneel, waiting. he takes your wrists, locking the cuffs behind your back with a soft click. the metal is cold, biting into your skin—not painful, but a warning, a promise of what’s to come.

he stands back, his breath heavy, and you can feel his eyes on you, taking you in. “look at you,” he says, voice low, almost reverent. you bite your lip, feeling the weight of his gaze, the way it strips you bare.

“do you feel good about what you did tonight?” he asks.

you nod, hesitant, knowing it’s the wrong answer but unable to lie.

his head tilts, eyes narrowing. “you shouldn’t.”

he grabs the blindfold, slipping it over your eyes without warning. the world goes dark, the fabric tight against your face, and your breath stutters. every sound is sharper now—the creak of the bed, his steady breathing, the rustle of his clothes. you hear him move, feel the mattress dip as he kneels in front of you. his knuckles brush your jaw, then your lips, and you flinch, oversensitive, hyperaware.

“open,” he says, pressing two fingers to your mouth.

you part your lips, letting his fingers slide in, your tongue curling around them instinctively. he exhales sharply, a sound that sends a thrill through you, and you suck, slow and deliberate, pulling a soft grunt from him. then he’s gone, fingers pulling away, leaving you empty, wanting.

you whine, soft and needy, and he laughs—low, mocking. “don’t start.”

the bed shifts again, and you know what he’s doing, even without sight. the faint sound of fabric, the subtle rhythm of his hand moving, stroking himself just inches from your face. your lips part, ready, aching for him, and he mutters, “needy little mouth. didn’t get what you wanted at the bar, so now you’re desperate for mine, huh?”

you nod, because lying is pointless. he knows you too well.

he brushes the tip of his cock against your lips, barely there, just enough to make you chase it. again, and again, teasing, cruel. “open wider,” he says, and you do, letting him thrust in slow, shallow at first, then deeper, his hands holding your face steady as he rocks forward. you gag slightly, throat flexing, but he doesn’t stop, his pace building, relentless, until your throat burns and your lungs ache. spit drips down your chin, tears prick behind the blindfold, but you don’t pull away. this is what you wanted.

he holds you there, nose pressed to his skin, throat full, until you’re trembling, then pulls out with a wet pop. you gasp, chest heaving, throat sore and pulsing. he’s silent for a moment, letting you catch your breath.

then, soft but stern: “face down.”

you move without thinking, cheek pressed to the sheets, hips raised, the cuffs digging into your wrists as you brace yourself. he fucks you like he’s marking territory, each thrust deep, deliberate, his lips brushing your ear with every movement. “mine,” he says, and you don’t argue, because you are.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈 : BOLD ASSUMPTION

three months ago, you didn’t know his name. the city was a maze of glass and steel, neon bleeding into the night, and you were just another shadow passing through. you’d come here after a breakup that left you raw, chasing a fresh start in a place where no one knew your failures. the job was simple—bartending at a dive bar downtown, pouring cheap whiskey for tired men, dodging their hands, their leers. it paid the rent, kept you moving, but it didn’t fill the void.

the first time you saw jungwon, he wasn’t like the others. he didn’t flirt or leer or make crude jokes. he sat at the end of the bar, nursing a bourbon, eyes scanning the room like he was waiting for something—or someone. his face was all sharp angles, shadowed and unreadable, but there was an intensity to him, something that made your pulse quicken when his gaze landed on you.

“another?” you’d asked, holding up the bottle.

he nodded, sliding his glass toward you. “make it quick.”

you poured, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light. “rough night?”

he didn’t answer, just tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve. “you new here?” he asked instead.

“couple weeks,” you said, wiping the counter. “you a regular?”

“something like that.” his lips twitched, not quite a smile. “you don’t belong here.”

you bristled, but his tone wasn’t cruel, just certain. “and where do i belong?”

he leaned forward, elbows on the bar, voice low. “somewhere people don’t look at you like meat.”

you laughed, sharp and surprised. “bold of you to assume i don’t like it.”

his eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them. “you don’t.”

you didn’t know why, but you believed him. he saw through you, saw the armor you wore, the cracks beneath. you poured another shot, slid it to him. “on the house,” you said. “for the unsolicited advice.”

he didn’t touch it, just watched you, unblinking. “careful,” he said finally. “this place chews up girls like you.”

he was gone the next night, and the one after that, but when he came back a week later, he sat in the same spot, ordered the same drink, and watched you with that same unnerving focus. you started to notice things—the steadiness of his hands, the way he never slurred, the way people gave him space without being asked. he wasn’t just a drifter. he carried weight, the kind that came with power.

“you own this place or something?” you asked one night, half-joking, as you refilled his glass.

“or something,” he said, that not-quite-smile back.

you learned his name eventually. jungwon. no last name, no explanation. just jungwon. and you learned he wasn’t just a regular—he was the kind of man who could silence a room with a glance, who didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard.

you started staying late, closing up alone, just to see if he’d show. sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t, but when he was there, the air felt charged, like a storm waiting to break. you’d talk, or you wouldn’t. he’d watch you wipe down the bar, and you’d feel his eyes like a physical touch. you started wearing tighter shirts, leaning closer when you poured his drink, letting your fingers brush his when you handed it over. testing. teasing. seeing how far you could push before he pushed back.

one night, he stayed until the last customer stumbled out. you were locking up, the bar empty except for the hum of the neon sign outside. he was still there, sitting at the counter, watching you.

“you’re trouble,” he said, voice low, like he was stating a fact.

you turned, leaning against the bar, arms crossed. “you don’t know me well enough to say that.”

“i know enough.” he stood, slow, deliberate, crossing the space between you. he was close now, close enough you could smell the faint spice of his cologne, feel the heat of him in the cool air. “you’re looking for something. and you think you’ll find it here.”

“and what if i do?” you shot back, chin tilted, defiant.

he stepped closer, crowding you against the bar. his hand came up, fingers brushing your jaw, light but possessive. “you won’t. not with them.”

“and who’s them?” your voice was steady, but your pulse wasn’t.

“everyone who’s not me.”

you laughed, shaky. “cocky bastard.”

“you have no idea.” his thumb grazed your lower lip, and your breath hitched. “come with me.”

“where?”

“does it matter?”

it didn’t. you followed him out the back door, into the alley where the city’s pulse felt rawer, louder. he didn’t touch you—not yet—but you felt him, like a current under your skin. the car was waiting, black and sleek, and you slid into the passenger seat like you’d done it a hundred times before.

that was the first night. not the last.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈 : FRIEND OR FHOE?

jungwon wasn’t your boyfriend. you didn’t call him that, and he didn’t ask you to. but he was something. something that made your heart race, your skin burn, something that made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in years. he was a drug, and you were hooked.

he owned clubs, you learned—not just the dive bar, but others, sleek upscale places where the city’s elite came to lose themselves in music and liquor and secrets. he moved through them like a shadow, always in control, always untouchable. you saw how people looked at him—fear, respect, desire, all tangled together. you saw how women watched him, how men stepped aside when he passed. and you saw how he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the room that mattered.

you started going to his clubs, not as a bartender but as his. you’d show up in dresses he bought you, tight and expensive, the kind that made heads turn. he’d watch from across the room, never hovering, never crowding, but always there, his presence pulling you back. you’d dance, drink, flirt with strangers just to see how long it took for him to cross the floor and claim you. it was a game, and you both played it, knowing who’d win.

tonight wasn’t different—at first. you’d picked the dress yourself, black and barely there, knowing it would drive him up the wall. you’d danced with that guy because you could, because you wanted to see how far you could push before jungwon snapped. you wanted the rush of his anger, the heat of his possession. you wanted to feel him.

and now, here you are, blindfolded and cuffed, kneeling on his bed, his voice cutting through the dark like a blade.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐕 : ARE YOU, THOUGH?

“you think you’re clever,” he says, voice almost a growl. “you think you can play me.”

you shake your head, lips parted, but no words come out. the blindfold sharpens everything—the creak of the bed, the sound of his breath, the brush of his fingers against your skin. you’re hyperaware, every nerve alive, waiting.

he’s close now, the heat of him radiating, the weight of his presence suffocating in the best way. his hand trails down your spine, slow, deliberate, and you arch into it without thinking. he laughs, soft and mocking.

“so eager,” he mutters. “you act like you don’t want this, but your body says different.”

you bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, to hold onto some shred of defiance. but it’s hard when his fingers are on you, tracing patterns that make your skin burn, make your thighs clench. he knows exactly what he’s doing. he always does.

“say it,” he says, voice sharp. “say you want me.”

you hesitate, just for a second, just to push him. but then his hand is in your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your throat. you gasp, the sound loud in the quiet room.

“say it.”

“i want you,” you whisper, and it’s true. it’s always been true.

he hums, satisfied, and releases your hair. you feel the bed shift, feel him move away, and you hate it—the sudden absence, the cold where his body was. you strain against the cuffs, the metal biting into your wrists, but you don’t care. you want to touch him, want to pull him back.

“patience,” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “you don’t get to decide what happens next.”

you hear the drawer again, the soft clink of something being picked up. your heart races. you know what’s in there—the tools he keeps, the ones he uses when he wants to take his time, to unravel you slowly. you don’t know what he’s chosen, and the not-knowing makes your pulse throb in your ears.

“spread your legs,” he says.

you do, slow, feeling the mattress dip under your knees. you’re exposed, vulnerable, and the blindfold makes it worse—or better. you can’t decide. every nerve is alive, waiting, anticipating.

you feel it then—the cool, smooth edge of something against your inner thigh. not his fingers, not his mouth. something else. you flinch, but he steadies you with a hand on your hip.

“don’t move,” he says, voice calm but edged with warning.

you nod, breath shallow, and he drags the object higher, teasing, letting it linger just close enough to make you squirm. you don’t know what it is—maybe a knife, maybe something else—but you trust him. you shouldn’t, maybe, but you do.

“good girl,” he murmurs, and the praise sends a rush of heat through you, makes your toes curl against the sheets.

he moves the object again, and this time it brushes against you—light, fleeting, but enough to make you gasp. it’s cold, slick, and you realize it’s the handle of something, maybe a knife, maybe a toy. you don’t care. you just want more.

“you like this,” he says, not a question. “you like not knowing.”

you nod, because lying is pointless. he knows you too well.

he chuckles, low and dark, and then the object is gone, replaced by his fingers, warm and rough, sliding over you, testing your limits. you moan, loud and unashamed, and he doesn’t stop you this time. he lets you make noise, lets you beg with your body, lets you fall apart under his touch.

“you’re mine,” he says, and it’s not possessive now—it’s a fact, like the sky is dark or the city never sleeps. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” you gasp, and you mean it.

he doesn’t respond with words, but you feel him shift, feel the bed dip as he moves closer. his mouth is on you then, sudden and relentless, and you cry out, back arching, wrists straining against the cuffs. he’s not gentle, not careful, but it’s exactly what you need—exactly what you’ve been chasing all night.

hours later, you’re lying on the bed, blindfold gone, cuffs off, your body heavy and sated. jungwon is next to you, one arm draped over your waist, his breath steady against your neck. the room is quiet now, the city’s hum a distant backdrop. you’re both silent, but it’s not uncomfortable. it’s just… done.

you turn your head, look at him. his eyes are half-closed, but he’s watching you, like always. you wonder what he sees when he looks at you like that. you wonder if he knows how much you need this—need him.

“you’re still trouble,” he says, voice soft, almost fond.

you smile, small and tired. “you like it.”

he doesn’t deny it, just pulls you closer, lips brushing your temple. “go to sleep,” he says.

you do, because for once, you don’t want to fight him.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐕 : DON’T FLATTER YOURSELF, IT’S WHAT FRIENDS DO

the morning light is pale, spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows of jungwon’s penthouse, softening the sharp edges of the room. you’re in one of his shirts, too big, the hem brushing your thighs as you stand at the kitchen counter, pouring coffee from a sleek machine that probably costs more than your rent. jungwon is at the table, scrolling through his phone, hair still messy from sleep. he looks almost normal like this—human, not the untouchable figure who commands rooms and owns half the city’s nightlife. but even now, there’s an edge to him, a quiet intensity that never quite fades.

“you’re staring,” he says, not looking up.

“am not,” you lie, turning back to the coffee, the rich aroma filling the air.

he snorts, soft, and you hear the scrape of his chair as he stands. he’s behind you before you can react, hands on your hips, chin resting on your shoulder. “you’re a terrible liar,” he says, voice low, teasing, but with that undercurrent that makes your pulse quicken.

you lean back into him, just a little, letting his warmth seep into you. “you like that too,” you murmur, and he doesn’t argue, just tightens his grip on your hips, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“you working tonight?” he asks, his breath warm against your skin.

“yeah,” you say, stirring sugar into your coffee, the spoon clinking softly against the mug. “closing shift.”

he hums, thoughtful, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your hip. “don’t flirt with the customers.”

you laugh, turning in his arms to face him, one eyebrow raised. “jealous?”

his eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of amusement there, a spark that makes your stomach flip. “you know better,” he says, voice low, and you do. you know exactly how far you can push him, and you know what happens when you go too far. it’s why you keep doing it.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐕𝐈 : GET REAL !

the club is different in the daytime, hollow and quiet, the neon lights off, the air stale with the ghost of last night’s chaos. you’re behind the bar, restocking bottles, the clink of glass against glass the only sound in the empty space. jungwon walks in, his presence as commanding as ever, even in the daylight. he doesn’t come here during the day often—too busy running his empire, you assume—but when he does, it’s always with purpose.

“you’re early,” you say, not looking up from the crate of vodka you’re unpacking.

“had a meeting nearby,” he says, leaning against the bar, his eyes tracking your movements. “thought i’d check in.”

you glance at him, skeptical. “you don’t check in.”

he smirks, just a little. “maybe i missed you.”

you roll your eyes, but your pulse quickens, betraying you. “sure.”

he watches you work, silent, and you feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and familiar. it’s not just attraction—it’s something deeper, something that makes you feel seen in a way that’s both thrilling and unnerving. you set a bottle down, turn to face him, wiping your hands on a rag. “what do you really want, jungwon?”

he shrugs, but his eyes are serious, searching. “you ever think about quitting?”

you pause, caught off guard. “this job?”

“this life.”

you set the rag down, cross your arms. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he steps closer, voice low, deliberate. “you’re not like the others here. you’re… different.”

“different how?” you ask, chin lifting, challenging him.

he’s closer now, close enough that you can smell the faint spice of his cologne, feel the heat of him in the cool air. “you’re not just passing through. you’re looking for something. but you won’t find it behind a bar.”

you laugh, sharp and defensive, but it rings hollow. “you don’t know what i’m looking for.”

“don’t i?” his voice is soft, but it cuts deep, and for a moment, you can’t meet his eyes. he’s right—he always is—but you’re not ready to admit it, not to him, not to yourself. you’ve spent too long running from your past to start digging it up now.

“i’m fine,” you say finally, turning back to the bottles. “i like it here.”

he doesn’t believe you. you can feel it in the way the air shifts, in the way his jaw tightens. but he doesn’t push, not this time. “be careful tonight,” he says instead, and then he’s gone, leaving you with the echo of his words and the weight of his absence.

that night, the club is alive again, the same pulsing beast it always is. you’re behind the bar, pouring drinks, dodging hands, flashing smiles at the customers who tip well and ignoring the ones who don’t. jungwon’s there, in his usual spot, but he’s not alone tonight. there’s a woman with him—tall, sleek, her dress as expensive as the ones he buys you, her hand brushing his arm as she laughs at something he says.

you hate the way it makes you feel. you hate that you care.

you pour a drink too fast, and it spills over the edge of the glass, the customer cursing under his breath. you barely hear him, your eyes flicking to jungwon, to the woman, to the way she leans closer, like she has a right to him. he doesn’t look at you, not once, and it twists something sharp in your chest.

you tell yourself it’s fine. you’re not exclusive. you’re not anything. but the knot in your chest doesn’t loosen, and when your shift ends, you’re out the door before he can say a word, the cool night air hitting you like a slap.

you walk home, the city’s lights blurring into a haze. your apartment is small, cramped, nothing like his sleek penthouse, but it’s yours. you drop your keys on the counter, kick off your heels, and sink onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. you don’t know why you keep doing this, why you keep going back to him, why you let him pull you in again and again when you know it’s a game you’ll never win.

your phone buzzes. a text.

jungwon: where are you?

you don’t answer. not tonight.

he shows up at your door an hour later, and you’re not surprised. he probably bribed the doorman, or maybe he just knows everyone in this city. he’s still in the black shirt from the club, hair slightly tousled, like he’s been running his hands through it. he looks at you, standing in your doorway, and there’s no trace of the smirk you’re used to, just a quiet intensity that makes your heart stutter.

“you didn’t answer,” he says, voice flat.

“i was busy,” you lie, leaning against the doorframe, blocking his way in.

he raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “busy hiding?”

“busy living,” you snap, sharper than you meant. “i don’t owe you an explanation.”

he steps closer, and you hate how your body reacts, how your heart speeds up just because he’s near. “you ran out,” he says. “why?”

“i was tired,” you say, but it sounds weak, even to you.

“bullshit.” his voice is low, cutting through your defenses like they’re paper.

you glare at him, but he doesn’t back down. he never does. “who was she?” you ask before you can stop yourself, the question slipping out, raw and unguarded.

he pauses, and for a moment, you think he’s going to dodge it. but then he smirks, just a little, and you want to slap it off his face. “a business associate,” he says, and the way he says it makes it sound like it’s nothing, like it shouldn’t matter. “jealous?”

“no,” you lie, but your voice betrays you, sharp and brittle.

he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, smell the faint trace of his cologne. “you don’t get to be jealous,” he says, voice low, almost dangerous. “not when you’re out there playing games with me.”

“i’m not—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“don’t.” his voice is sharp, final. “you know exactly what you’re doing. you always do.”

you want to argue, want to push him away, but he’s right. you’ve been playing this game as long as he has, and you’re both too good at it. “what do you want, jungwon?” you ask, tired suddenly, the fight draining out of you.

he looks at you, really looks, and for a moment, there’s something soft in his eyes, something almost vulnerable. but then it’s gone, replaced by that hard, unreadable mask. “you,” he says simply.

you laugh, bitter. “you have me.”

“do i?” his voice is quiet, but it hits like a punch.

you don’t answer. you don’t know how.

he steps past you, into your apartment, like he owns this place too. you close the door behind him, because what else can you do? he’s here, and you’re here, and the game isn’t over.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐈 : ANYTHING BUT UNDERSTANDABLE

the next few weeks are a blur of nights like that—clubs, drinks, his hands on you, his voice in your ear. you tell yourself you’re in control, that you’re choosing this, but every time he looks at you, every time he touches you, you feel yourself slipping, falling deeper into something you can’t name. you start noticing things about him—small things, things you shouldn’t care about. the way his hands shake sometimes, just slightly, when he thinks no one’s looking. the way he avoids questions about his family, his past. the way he never talks about love, or forever, or anything that feels too real.

you ask him one night, after, when you’re both lying in his bed, the city lights spilling through the window. “why do you do this?”

he’s quiet for so long you think he’s not going to answer. but then he says, “because it’s easier.”

“easier than what?” you press, turning to look at him.

“everything else,” he says, and his voice is so soft, so guarded, you almost miss the weight of it.

you don’t push. you don’t know if you want to know.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 : DOES THIS COUNT AS OBJECTIFICATION ?

the club is louder tonight, the crowd wilder, more reckless. you’re not working—you’re here for him, like always. you’re in another dress he picked, red this time, the fabric clinging to you like a second skin. you’re dancing, but it’s not for the crowd—it’s for him. you feel his eyes on you, always, from the corner of the room, and it’s enough to make your blood sing.

you don’t see the fight until it’s happening. a drunk guy, too handsy, too close, and then jungwon’s there, pulling him off you, his fist connecting with the guy’s jaw before anyone can blink. the crowd parts, security swarms, and jungwon’s standing there, knuckles bloody, eyes blazing.

“won—” you start, but he grabs your arm, pulls you through the crowd, out the back door.

the alley is cold, the air sharp against your skin. he’s pacing, hands in his hair, breathing hard. “you okay?” you ask, because you don’t know what else to say.

he laughs, short and harsh. “am i okay? you’re the one who had that asshole all over you.”

“i was handling it,” you say, defensive, arms crossing.

“handling it?” he rounds on you, eyes flashing. “he had his hands on you.”

“so what? you don’t get to punch every guy who looks at me.”

he steps closer, voice dropping, dangerous. “you think i do this for fun?”

you don’t answer. you can’t.

he grabs your face, not gentle, but not rough either. “you’re mine,” he says, and it’s not a question.

you pull away, heart pounding. “i’m not a thing you own.”

he looks at you, and for a moment, you think he’s going to argue. but then he just nods, slow, and steps back. “fine,” he says. “walk away.”

you don’t. you never do.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐗 : JUST MAYBE

the next night, you’re back at his place. you don’t know why you keep coming back, but you do. he’s different tonight, quieter, softer. he doesn’t touch you right away, doesn’t push. he just sits on the couch, watching you as you stand by the window, the city sprawling out below.

“why do you stay?” he asks, and it’s the first time he’s ever asked you that.

you don’t have an answer—not a good one. “because i want to,” you say finally, and it’s the truth, but it’s not enough.

he stands, crosses the room, and this time, when he touches you, it’s gentle. his fingers brush your cheek, your throat, and you lean into it, closing your eyes.

“you’re going to break my heart,” he says, so quiet you almost miss it.

you open your eyes, look at him. “you don’t have a heart to break.”

he smiles, small and sad. “you’d be surprised.”

the game doesn’t end. it never does. but it shifts, becomes something else. you’re not sure what it is, but you feel it, every time he looks at you, every time he touches you. it’s not love—not yet, maybe not ever—but it’s something. and for now, it’s enough.

you’re back in the club, weeks later, the same pulsing lights, the same pounding music. you’re dancing, and he’s watching, and you know how this ends. you know you’ll push, he’ll pull, and you’ll both fall into each other, like always.

but tonight, when he takes your hand, when he leads you out, there’s no anger, no punishment. just you, and him, and the city that never sleeps.

and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐗 : OUCH !

you keep going back to the clubs, to the nights that blur into mornings, to the way jungwon’s eyes find you in a crowd, no matter how packed the room is. it’s a rhythm you’ve both perfected—push, pull, tease, surrender. you wear the dresses he buys, each one bolder than the last, each one designed to draw his attention and everyone else’s. you dance with strangers, let their hands linger just long enough to make jungwon’s jaw tighten, to make his fingers flex at his sides. you know what you’re doing, and so does he. it’s a dance, and you’re both leading.

but there are moments—quiet ones, in the spaces between the chaos—where something else creeps in. moments when he’s not the untouchable club owner, not the man who can silence a room with a glance. moments when he’s just jungwon, sitting across from you at his sleek dining table, pouring you coffee, his hair mussed, his eyes soft. moments when you catch him watching you, not with that predatory intensity, but with something warmer, something that makes your chest ache in a way you don’t want to examine too closely.

one night, after another round of the game—another night of dancing too close to someone else, of feeling his eyes burn into you from across the room—you end up back at his place, sprawled on his couch, the city lights glittering through the windows. he’s sitting beside you, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his tie long gone. you’re in one of his shirts again, the fabric soft against your skin, your legs tucked beneath you.

“why do you keep doing it?” he asks, voice low, almost curious. he’s not looking at you, just staring at the amber liquid in his glass, swirling it slowly.

“doing what?” you ask, though you know exactly what he means.

he glances at you, one eyebrow raised, calling out your feigned ignorance. “pushing me. testing me. you know what happens when you do.”

you shrug, leaning back against the couch, stretching your legs out so your toes brush his thigh. “maybe i like what happens.”

his lips twitch, but it’s not a smile, not quite. “you’re gonna get yourself in trouble one day.”

“haven’t i already?” you shoot back, voice teasing, but there’s an edge to it, a challenge.

he sets the glass down, leans closer, his hand resting on your knee, his thumb brushing slow circles against your skin. “you’re different,” he says, and it’s not the first time he’s said it, but it hits harder tonight, in the quiet, with no music to drown it out. “you don’t belong in this world.”

you laugh, but it’s hollow. “and what world do i belong in, jungwon? some quiet little life where i’m not… this?” you gesture vaguely at yourself, at the shirt, at the city beyond the glass.

he doesn’t answer right away, just looks at you, his hand still on your knee, his thumb still moving in those slow, maddening circles. “i don’t know,” he says finally. “but not here. not with guys like that. not with me.”

you freeze, the words landing like a punch you didn’t see coming. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he leans back, running a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. “you’re too good for this. for me. you’re gonna figure that out one day, and when you do, you’re gonna leave.”

you stare at him, your heart pounding, because he’s never said anything like this before, never let the mask slip this far. “and what if i don’t want to leave?” you ask, voice quieter than you mean it to be.

he looks at you, and for a moment, you see it again—that softness, that vulnerability, buried deep but there. “then you’re dumber than i thought,” he says, but there’s no bite to it, just a quiet resignation that makes your chest ache.

you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. you just slide closer, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. he doesn’t push you away, doesn’t make a move. he just lets you stay, and for now, that’s enough.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐗𝐈 : YOU KNOW BETTER

the weeks blur together, a cycle of nights and mornings, of clubs and his apartment, of games and quiet moments that feel too real. you start to notice more—the way he clenches his jaw when he gets a call he doesn’t want to take, the way his hands linger on you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, the way he never asks about your life before this, like he’s scared of the answers.

you’re not sure when it happens, when the game starts to feel like something else, something heavier. maybe it’s the night he shows up at your apartment unannounced, his tie loose, his eyes tired. you open the door, and he doesn’t say a word, just steps inside, pulls you into his arms, and holds you like he’s trying to keep himself together. you don’t ask what’s wrong, because you know he won’t tell you, but you let him hold you, let him bury his face in your hair, let him pretend for a moment that he’s not the man he is.

or maybe it’s the morning you wake up in his bed, the sunlight soft and golden, and he’s watching you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. “stay,” he says, and it’s not a command, not this time. it’s a request, soft and raw, and you nod, because how could you not?

you start to wonder if this is what love feels like—not the burning, all-consuming thing you’d imagined, but something quieter, something that creeps in slowly, like the tide. you don’t say it, though. you don’t dare. because love is a dangerous word in a world like this, and you’re not sure either of you is ready for it.

one night, the club is packed, the air thick with sweat and perfume and the sharp tang of alcohol. you’re behind the bar again, filling in for someone who called out, your hands moving fast, pouring drinks, taking tips, dodging the usual handsy customers. jungwon’s there, in his usual spot, but he’s distracted tonight, his phone buzzing constantly, his jaw tight. you don’t ask questions—you’ve learned not to—but you feel the shift, the tension radiating off him like heat.

you’re pouring a shot when it happens. a guy—drunk, loud, too close—grabs your wrist, his grip slimy and too tight. you twist away, flashing a smile to defuse it, but he doesn’t let go, his eyes glassy, his words slurring. “come on, sweetheart, don’t be like that.”

you’re about to snap something sharp when jungwon’s there, faster than you’ve ever seen him move. he doesn’t touch the guy, doesn’t need to—just steps between you, his presence enough to make the man shrink back. “walk away,” jungwon says, voice low, deadly, and the guy does, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to disappear.

you exhale, shaking out your wrist, and meet jungwon’s eyes. “i had it under control,” you say, because you always say that, even when it’s not true.

he doesn’t answer, just grabs your hand—not your wrist, not rough, but firm—and pulls you out from behind the bar, through the crowd, to the back office. the door shuts, and it’s just the two of you, the music muffled, the air heavy.

“you didn’t need to do that,” you say, crossing your arms, but your voice lacks conviction.

he steps closer, his hands flexing at his sides like he’s trying not to touch you. “you think i’m gonna stand there and watch some drunk asshole put his hands on you?”

“it’s part of the job,” you snap, but even you don’t believe it. you’re tired, suddenly, of pretending you’re untouchable, of pretending you don’t need him to step in.

“fuck the job,” he says, and his voice is raw, unguarded, like he’s saying something he shouldn’t. “you’re not theirs to touch.”

you stare at him, your heart pounding, because this isn’t the game anymore. this is something else, something real, and it scares you as much as it thrills you. “and whose am i?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

he doesn’t answer right away, just looks at you, his eyes dark and searching. then he steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. “you know whose,” he says, and then he kisses you, hard and desperate, like he’s trying to prove it.

you kiss him back, because of course you do. you always do.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐗𝐈𝐈 : LIKE PUZZLE PIECES

the game doesn’t end, but it changes. it’s not just about pushing and pulling anymore, not just about testing limits. it’s about the quiet moments after, when you’re lying in his bed, his arm around you, the city outside silent for once. it’s about the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not watching, like you’re something he’s afraid to lose. it’s about the way you feel when you’re with him, like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, even if you don’t know what that means.

you’re back at the club, weeks later, the same lights, the same music, the same pulsing energy. you’re dancing again, and he’s watching, and you know how this will end. you’ll push, he’ll pull, and you’ll end up tangled in each other, like always. but this time, when he takes your hand, when he leads you out, there’s no edge to it, no punishment. just you, and him, and the city that never sleeps.

and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

you don’t talk about what this is, not really. you don’t call it love, or a relationship, or anything that feels too permanent. but you feel it, in the way he touches you, in the way he looks at you, in the way he shows up at your apartment unannounced, just to sit with you in the quiet. you feel it in the way you think about him when he’s not there, in the way your body aches for him, in the way you don’t want to imagine a life without him.

one night, you’re at his place, sitting on the balcony, the city sprawling out below like a glittering dream. he’s beside you, a cigarette between his fingers, though he doesn’t smoke it, just lets it burn down to ash. you’re in one of his shirts again, your legs bare, the cool night air raising goosebumps on your skin.

“you ever think about leaving?” you ask, breaking the silence.

he glances at you, exhaling a slow plume of smoke. “leaving what?”

“this.” you gesture at the city, the lights, the life. “all of it.”

he’s quiet for a moment, his eyes on the horizon. “sometimes,” he says finally. “but it’s who i am.”

you nod, because you get it. this world—his world—is as much a part of him as you are. maybe more. “and me?” you ask, voice soft, almost afraid of the answer. “where do i fit?”

he looks at you then, really looks, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your breath catch. “you’re the only thing that makes it bearable,” he says, and it’s the closest he’s ever come to saying something real, something that matters.

you don’t push, don’t ask for more. you just lean your head against his shoulder, and he lets you, his hand finding yours, his fingers lacing through yours like they were made to fit.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈 : I LIKE U

the nights keep coming, and so do you, back to the clubs, back to him. you dance, you drink, you push, and he pulls, and it’s a rhythm you both know by heart. but now, there’s something else in it—a thread of something deeper, something that makes the game feel less like a game and more like a promise.

you’re not sure when it happened, when the lines blurred, when it stopped being just about the thrill and started being about him. but you know you’re in too deep now, and you know he is too, even if he’ll never say it. you see it in the way he watches you, in the way he touches you, in the way he lets you see the parts of him he keeps hidden from everyone else.

you’re back at the club, the music pounding, the lights flashing, the crowd a living, breathing thing. you’re dancing, and he’s watching, and you know how this ends. but tonight, when he takes your hand, when he leads you out, it’s different. it’s not about possession or control or proving a point. it’s just you, and him, and the city that never sleeps.

and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

[thirteenheavens]

how about scoups fucking reader with a dildo/vibrator? thank you :3

What’s this thing? || Choi Seungcheol

Word count:1.2k

Notes: thank you for the request anon hope you enjoy <3

Seungcheol was helping you clean your room when he stumbled upon something unexpected - a long, pink dildo hidden under a pile of clothes. He holds it up, his eyes widening in surprise. "What's this, baby?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips. "You've been hiding this from me?"

You feel your cheeks flush as you try to snatch it from him, but he holds it out of reach. "Come on, don't be shy," he teases. "I'm not mad, I'm just... intrigued." He turns the dildo over in his hands, inspecting it closely. "How big is this thing?" he asks, his voice low and husky. "Did you ever use it on yourself while thinking of me?"

"Maybe I did," you admit, biting your lip as you watch him examine the toy. "And maybe I thought about you watching me use it." Seungcheol's eyes darken with desire at your confession. "Is that so?" he says, taking a step closer to you. "Well, now I'm even more curious."

He grabs your waist and pulls you against him, the dildo still in his hand. "Why don't we put this to good use?" he suggests, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to see how you look getting fucked by it while I watch." You brush off his suggestion, pretending to be busy with the cleaning, but Seungcheol isn't deterred. He follows you around the room, the dildo still in his hand.

"Come on, baby," he coaxes, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Don't act like you don't want to. I know you're curious." He sets the dildo down on your bed and walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Let me take care of you," he murmurs, his hands sliding down to your hips. "I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

"Seungcheol..." you say hesitantly, leaning back against his chest. "I don't know..." He turns you around to face him, cupping your face in his hands. "Trust me," he says, his eyes filled with desire and tenderness. "I want to see you come undone, completely lost in pleasure." He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roam over your body. "Let me take control," he whispers against your lips. "Just this once."

"Okay," you finally agree, your voice barely above a whisper. "But you have to promise to be gentle." Seungcheol smiles and kisses your forehead. "I'll be gentle," he promises, leading you to the bed. "At first." He gently pushes you down onto the bed, crawling on top of you and capturing your lips in another kiss. His hands roam over your body, teasing and caressing as he prepares to give you an experience you'll never forget."

Seungcheol takes his time, slowly pulling your pants to the side to reveal your bare skin. He runs his fingers along the edge of your underwear, his touch light and teasing.

"You're so wet already," he murmurs, his eyes darkening with lust. "And I've barely even touched you." He kisses down your neck, his lips trailing over your collarbone as his fingers continue to tease you through the fabric. "I'm going to make you feel so good," he promises, his voice rough with desire.

Seungcheol grabs the dildo and slowly slides it up and down your wet folds, coating it in your arousal. "Look how much you're dripping for it," he says, his eyes fixed on your pussy. He circles the tip of the dildo around your entrance, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm. "Are you ready for this?" he asks, his voice low and commanding.

"Yes," you gasp, your hips bucking up towards the dildo. "Please, Cheol, I need it." He pushes the dildo inside you slowly, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. "Good girl," he praises, his free hand rubbing soothing circles on your thigh. "You're taking it so well."

"More," you moan, arching your back as the dildo fills you completely. "I want more, Cheol." Seungcheol smirks and begins to move the dildo in and out of you, his pace increasing with each thrust. "You're such a greedy little thing," he says, his eyes locked on your face. "But I love it." He leans down and captures your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently as he continues to fuck you with the dildo. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs against your skin. "Completely at my mercy."

Seungcheol is completely mesmerized by the sight of you taking the dildo, his eyes never leaving your body. "Fuck, you look so perfect," he groans, his hand moving faster. He adds a second finger to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he continues to thrust the dildo. "I could watch you like this all day," he confesses, his voice thick with desire. "You're driving me insane."

Seungcheol's movements become more urgent and erratic, his breathing heavy as he watches you come undone. "You're so close, aren't you?" he asks, his own arousal evident in his voice. He leans down and kisses you hungrily, swallowing your moans as he pushes the dildo deeper. "Cum for me, baby," he growls against your lips. "Cum all over it like a good girl."

"Cheol, I'm gonna..." you gasp, your body trembling as your orgasm approaches. Seungcheol doesn't slow down, his fingers and the dildo working in tandem to push you over the edge. "That's it, let go," he encourages, his voice rough with need. "Cum for me, now." You cry out as your orgasm hits you, your body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over you. Seungcheol watches with intense fascination, his eyes dark and hungry.

"Beautiful," he whispers, slowly removing the dildo and setting it aside. "Absolutely beautiful." As you come down from your high, you notice Seungcheol's pants are undone and he's still hard. "I already came," he admits, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "Just from watching you." He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he tries to calm his racing heart. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen," he confesses, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I didn't even need to touch myself."

"You're so easy to please," you tease, cuddling closer to him. Seungcheol chuckles and playfully pinches your side. "Only for you," he says, nuzzling your neck. "You're the only one who can get me that worked up."

[hisfavoritesundress]

a/n: unedited, not proofread, just for fun <3

dating jason todd as red hood is something you haven't prepared yourself with.

aside from being the eventual personal nurse of his, but also your crazy bodyguard.

im not just talking about walking you home or taking you safely to any destination. He know your schedule every damn day, in every second, in every minute, with your knowledge of course, he wants you to understand that he is your boyfriend, and that's his job to protect you, but that doesn't mean he wants to control you, just letting you know that he'll jump off a building for you, just your word is all he needed.

he's jason todd, he doesn't settle for less., especially when it comes to your safety.

talking about tracking device, not just on your phone, he's not taking any chances, he's putting it everywhere, making a device inside a pendant, that small unnoticeable earrings, even around the band of your rings, panic button disguise as a cutesy little keychain, or even a pink little wrist watch, to monitor your pulse, all those devices connected to him, monitoring you when he's away and he'll be damned if something happens to you.

"this is a very cute keychain jay," you beamed, looking at him as he hand you a new design of keychain he made using 3d printer.

"yeah, it got a tracker, just in case," he said looking at you, "call me immediately if something came up, you can press it, it's a panic button too."

you bite a smile, "you're the best"

well, you're in Gotham and he's not risking even a little bit, so you can't blame him either.

"if you see something unusual, walk the other way, got it?" he said with that slight commanding voice that he used everytime he's talking about danger or Gotham or both, to you.

you look up to him. "yeah, got it"

"don't hesitate to call me or press that button, don't try to fight, just run if you can," he said even if the idea of you running from danger spins his head and taste bitter in his mouth, but it's the reality, despite how much he wants you to be in safety, there are circumstances that you might get involved.

"what if i don't have a choice but to fight babe?" you asked, curiously.

which he's well aware of, but he doesn't want to worry you.

he turn his back to the stainless steel table at the side and grab something and take it to you.

"this is a switch blade," he said, despite his initial disagreement of giving it to you, not that he doesn't trust you but because he would prefer you not getting hurt in the process, "it looks like a pen but when you click this," he demonstrate, clicking the button at the top, then the knife no longer than 5 cm glints under the florescent light, "it won't kill a man but it can nip a skin that would give you enough time to," he paused, "if it ever happened which won't ever," he added emphasizing his words, "will give you enough time to run," he added, watching your reaction, "press the same button, the blade goes back in."

"that's so cool," you smile, wanting to try it now, but he pulled his arm away before you could get the weapon.

"i want you to understand that this is not something you can just play around, doll," he frowned, unimpressed of your smile.

"yeah I know babe," you said, looking up to him. "I just wanna try it'

"you won't use it unless, unless, you really really need it," he said, firmly, "this is your last resort, you have every means of reaching me before you use this," he added, "are we clear?"

you nodded again.

"use your words"

"i promise, i won't use it unless i really really need it," you repeated, taking his words to heart.

he sighs and hand you the cute weapon, it's in pink, with glitter details around the rim of the button. "just be careful around it," he said, never looking away from you.

you smile softly, "i promise, i do, I'll call you first."

he sighs, at least you and him are in the same page, "okay," he said, reluctant to give the weapon to you, "you have to press it with a bit pressure so the blade comes out," he explained, while you hold the ball pen around your hand, "so it won't be an accident, when you bury it in your bag" he added.

"does it comes with other colors too?" you asked, looking at the table.

he shook his head, "no, just one, I only made that for you," he said.

weeks later, he saw you opening a package using the very weapon, he only shook his head and smile, cause let's face it, he's your real weapon.

[gildedwillow]

obedience to you - emily prentiss - 18+

.

emily prentiss might be in control at work, but behind closed doors, she’s yours to tease, use, and ruin. after a night of public teasing that leaves her painfully hard, you take her home and make her watch as you strip, denying her every touch.

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g!p emily prentiss x fem!reader

.

requested - emily prentiss taglist - masterlist

The music’s a slow, pulsing throb under your skin, bass vibrating through the velvet walls of the VIP lounge. You’re in Emily’s lap, straddling her, arms draped lazily around her neck like this is just another dance — except your hips are moving slow, deliberate, your mouth grazing her ear as you whisper things no one else can hear.

She’s trying so hard to behave. Hands gripping the armrests like they’re her lifeline, knuckles white. Her dark eyes are locked on your face — jaw clenched, lips parted just enough for you to see the shaky exhale she can’t quite suppress. Her suit jacket’s rumpled now, tie loosened from the heat, from you. And god, you can feel it. The way she’s hard beneath you, cock straining against her slacks as you roll your hips, again and again, pretending like you're just enjoying the beat.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” you purr, voice dipped in honey as you grind down just a little harder, enough to make her flinch. “Not touching me, even though I know how badly you want to.”

Emily’s breath stutters. Her fingers twitch on the armrests, just once, and you reward her restraint with a kiss to the underside of her jaw. She moans softly, barely audible over the music — but you hear it. You feel it. Her cock is throbbing against you now, thick and hot, and she’s probably aching from the way you’ve been teasing her all night. Leaning in too close at the bar, slipping your hand into her lap under the table, whispering dirty little promises while she tried to keep it together in public.

“You’re dripping down your thigh, aren’t you?” you murmur, dragging your lips over her cheek as she shudders. “Bet your cock’s so sensitive it hurts. Poor thing.”

She whimpers, head falling back just slightly, exposing her throat in a silent, desperate plea. It’s too easy to smile, smug and cruel in the best way, as you press your hand between your bodies and cup her through her pants. She bucks instinctively and you tsk.

“No. You don’t get to touch anything tonight unless I say so. Hands stay right there. You understand?”

Emily nods fast, frantic. “Yes, ma’am,” she breathes, voice cracked open, pupils blown wide with lust and submission.

“Good girl.”

You don’t even turn on the lights when you get home — you want her squirming in the dark, want her focused only on how you touch her, how you command her. The door slams shut behind you, and Emily’s already fumbling with her jacket like she’s on the edge of breaking, but you press her back with one firm palm to her chest.

"Strip. Everything. But don’t you fucking touch your cock."

Her breath catches in her throat — a high, shaky sound that’s almost a moan — but she obeys. Her hands tremble as she works off the layers, her slacks hitting the floor with a soft sound, boxers right after, and there it is. Her cock, flushed and thick and so hard it’s bobbing slightly with each tiny movement, veins prominent, the head wet and shiny with precum. She’s dripping — like she’s been leaking for hours — and maybe she has, considering how much teasing you put her through at the club.

You let her sit on the edge of the bed, legs spread just enough to make room for you as you sink to your knees between them, still fully clothed. You rest your hands on her thighs and look up at her.

"Look at you," you murmur, voice sultry and low. "So hard it hurts, huh? I can see your cock twitching, baby. You gonna beg for it?"

Emily’s already panting, her fists clenched into the sheets behind her. “Please,” she whispers, hips twitching forward despite herself. "I—I need it so bad, I can’t—fuck, I can’t think—"

"Oh, poor thing," you coo, leaning forward, letting your lips barely brush her inner thigh. "You gonna come just from my mouth?"

She whimpers. “Please, yes—need your mouth, I can’t take it—please, I’ll be good, I’ll be so fucking good—”

That’s all you need.

You wrap one hand around the base of her cock, squeezing just enough to make her gasp, then slowly lick from the underside up to the head, tasting the precum already smeared there. She bucks slightly, immediately apologizing, breathless — “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stay still—” —and it makes you smile as you swirl your tongue around the head, teasing the slit.

"Good girl," you purr, before taking her in deeper, lips wrapping around her thick cock as she groans, ragged and raw.

She’s big. Long and heavy on your tongue, thick enough to stretch your lips wide as you slide down her length, your hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach. Her cock pulses against your tongue, the taste of her precum salty and addictive. You hollow your cheeks, suck hard — and she cries out, a soft, broken sound like she’s trying not to sob.

You know you look like sin. Your cleavage is on full display, breasts pushed up tight in your top, your pussy soaked through your panties and pressed against the floor as you rock your hips for a little friction. But it’s all for her — every moan you let out as you suck her, every time you drag your tongue along that sensitive vein on the underside of her cock, is to undo her completely.

Emily’s shaking now, thighs trembling on either side of you. “I—I can’t—fuck, I’m gonna come, please—let me, please, I need to—”

You pull off just long enough to growl, “Not until I say.” Then you take her deep again, swallowing around her as you bob your head faster, jerking the base of her cock in rhythm with your mouth. Her hips jump — she’s holding herself back with everything she’s got.

“Please—pleasepleaseplease—” she’s sobbing now, barely coherent, voice wrecked. “Let me come, let me, I can’t hold it—”

You pull back just enough to tease her tip with your tongue and whisper, “Come in my mouth.”

She shatters.

With a strangled cry, her cock jerks in your hand and she spills hot and thick down your throat. You moan around her, swallowing greedily, loving the way she whimpers as the orgasm crashes through her — hips twitching, whole body shaking under your control. You don’t stop until she’s given you every last drop, licking her clean as her thighs twitch helplessly.

When you finally look up, her eyes are glassy, lips parted, cheeks flushed deep red. She looks utterly wrecked. And you?

You just smile, wiping your mouth slowly with the back of your hand.

"Good girl. Now lie back. I'm not nearly done with you yet."

She’s still trembling when you rise to your feet, her chest heaving, cock softening slightly between her thighs but still slick, flushed, needy. You don’t speak. Not yet. You just start moving — slow, deliberate — your fingers sliding to the hem of your top as you hold her gaze.

Emily’s wide-eyed, helpless, wrecked — and starving for you.

You peel your shirt up inch by inch, giving her a slow reveal of bare skin, your stomach flexing as you stretch, then your lacy bra coming into view. Her breath catches audibly.

“God, you’re—fuck,” she whispers, eyes raking over you like she’s trying to memorize everything. “You’re so beautiful…”

You smirk as you drop the top and move your hands to the waistband of your skirt, taking your time unzipping it, hips rolling gently side to side like you’re dancing just for her. The fabric falls to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your panties and bra — both black, both sheer enough to leave little to the imagination.

Emily’s eyes darken. She leans forward instinctively, hand lifting toward your waist like she can’t help herself. You slap it away — not hard, but sharp enough to make her jolt.

“Nuh-uh,” you warn. “You don’t touch until I say. You want my body? You watch it first.”

She groans — head falling back a second, teeth clenched like she’s holding herself together by a thread. You reach behind your back and unclip your bra, letting it fall off your arms. Her eyes drop to your chest instantly, pupils blown wide.

“Fuck… your tits—” she whimpers, breathless. “You know how much I—please, I wanna touch, I wanna taste them so bad…”

You cup them in your own hands, rolling your nipples slowly between your fingers, moaning just a little as your body reacts — nipples tightening, pussy clenching in anticipation. You see the way Emily twitches — her cock starting to swell again, helpless to your show.

“You’ll get your chance,” you murmur. “But I’m going to ride you first.”

You hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties and peel them down slow, letting her see the wet string of arousal sticking to the fabric. You’re soaked — your thighs glistening, your pussy visibly aching for her — and she makes a desperate, strangled sound as she watches you step out of them and climb back into her lap.

Her cock is rock hard again, flushed dark red and slick with her own release, twitching eagerly beneath you. You position yourself over her, rubbing your folds along her shaft, spreading wetness from tip to base, teasing you both with the promise.

“Can I touch you?” she begs again, voice cracked and reverent. “Please, I’ll be so gentle, I’ll—fuck, please let me hold your tits while you ride me—”

You lean in close, your lips ghosting over hers but never kissing. “You love my tits that much?”

“Yes,” she gasps. “So fucking much—”

You take her cock in one hand and line yourself up, and as you sink down onto her, you grab her wrists and guide her palms to your chest.

“Then touch. Show me how much.”

Emily moans like she’s been given salvation. Her hands come up to cup your breasts reverently, fingers splaying across your soft skin, thumbs brushing over your aching nipples. You start to ride her slow — grinding your hips, letting her feel every tight, wet inch of you envelop her cock.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” she gasps, head falling back against the mattress as her hands knead your tits. “So tight, so wet—so fucking perfect—”

You bounce on her cock with increasing rhythm, your thighs slapping against hers, your pussy clenching around her thick length as she fills you again and again. You brace your hands on her chest, back arching as you ride her deeper, harder, your breasts bouncing into her eager palms.

“Touch me like that,” you pant, “and I might let you come inside me.”

That’s all it takes. Emily’s hips start to jerk, her cock throbbing deep inside you as she grips your breasts harder, rubbing and squeezing like they’re the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. You clench around her, moaning as you feel her swelling inside you, every vein dragging along your walls perfectly.

“I’m gonna come—please, I’m gonna come inside, let me—please, please—”

You ride her faster, leaning down to kiss her finally, your lips crashing onto hers just as her cock pulses hard inside you — thick, hot ropes of cum spilling deep into your pussy. You grind through it, milking her, moaning as her body shudders beneath you, her grip on your breasts tightening just shy of painful.

You don’t stop until you’ve wrung every drop out of her, until you feel her twitching, overstimulated, whimpering against your mouth as you finally slow.

When you sit up again, her cum is dripping out of you, thick and warm between your thighs, and her cock is still buried deep inside.

She looks up at you like she’s seen heaven.

And maybe she has.

She’s still hard inside you.

Barely. Sensitive. Twitching. But hard — and that’s all you need.

You grin, slow and wicked, as you lift your hips and let her half-soft cock slide out of your cum-dripping pussy with a filthy wet sound. You don’t give her a moment to recover. You just shift, press her back flat against the bed, and straddle her chest, your soaked cunt hovering just above her face.

“Did I say you could come?” you ask, voice low, taunting. Her eyes widen — she knows it was allowed — but you’re already smirking, grinding your wet pussy along her chest, smearing her own cum across her skin.

“I—I thought—” she starts, but you reach down and slap her cock lightly — just enough to make her whimper and twitch.

“You thought wrong, baby. I said maybe. You came like a desperate little bitch anyway. So now you’re going to make it up to me.”

You grab her by the hair and drag her face between your thighs, not gentle in the slightest. She gasps at first, but her mouth opens fast, eager, tongue darting out to lap at your folds like she’s starving for you — and maybe she is. You ride her face with no hesitation, grinding your pussy against her mouth, your slick lips parting over her nose, her chin. She moans against you like it’s a gift, and you pull her hair harder.

“Don’t just lick — eat me, Emily.”

And she does.

Tongue plunging between your folds, sloppy and desperate, licking into your dripping pussy with a devotion that’s almost pathetic. She sucks your clit when you grind down harder, and you reward her with a deep moan, grabbing the headboard with one hand while the other stays tangled in her hair, riding her face with ruthless rhythm.

She’s so fucking good like this — mouth stuffed with your cunt, cock twitching uselessly against her stomach, eyes half-lidded with overwhelmed need. You fuck yourself on her tongue until your legs start to tremble, until you're soaked and throbbing and overstimulated — then you pull away, dripping onto her lips and watching her chase your pussy with a broken whimper.

“Mm-mm,” you hum, crawling back down her body until you’re hovering over her cock again. “You don’t come again until I say. You don’t move unless I tell you. Understand?”

“Y-yes,” she pants, breathless, her lips shining with your slick. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl.”

You line her back up and sink down hard — all at once — taking her back into your pussy while she sobs, back arching like her body can’t handle the overstimulation. Her cock’s still overly sensitive, still slick with her last release and your arousal, but it slides in deep, stretching you open again, filling you in one tight, brutal thrust.

Her thighs shake. Her hands clench the sheets.

You ride her without mercy.

Fast, punishing, wet. Skin slapping, bodies colliding, your pussy sucking her back in every time she tries to squirm from the intensity. Her cock throbs with every stroke — already on the edge again, just barely holding on. You lean down and press your tits to her chest, grinding harder, your breath hot against her ear.

“Your cock’s mine,” you whisper. “This tight, aching little thing? It belongs to me. I’ll fuck you until you cry, and you’ll say thank you, won’t you?”

She nods frantically, barely able to breathe. “Thank you, thank you—fuck, I love your pussy—I love how it feels, please don’t stop—”

You grab her throat — not to choke, just to hold her still — and ride her faster. Your breasts bounce against her chest, your soaked cunt clenching, milking her cock like you want her to break.

“Touch me,” you pant finally, and she doesn’t even hesitate — her hands come up to your chest like they belong there, fingers cupping your tits, thumbs flicking your nipples as you ride her deeper.

She’s losing it. You can feel it — her cock twitching wildly inside you, her breath ragged, your name falling from her lips like a prayer.

“I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t hold it—”

You dig your nails into her chest. “You will. You’ll beg for it.”

“Please,” she sobs, “please, I need to come in you again, let me, I’ll be good, I’ll do anything—”

You clench hard around her, grinding down to take her as deep as she’ll go.

“Come for me, baby.”

She breaks again.

With a long, broken cry, her cock pulses inside you, hot cum shooting deep into your pussy, again and again, as you moan and ride through it, wringing her dry. Her hands clutch at your tits like they’re the only thing keeping her grounded, her body twitching beneath you as she fills you all over again — your slick mixed with hers dripping down her thighs.

You don’t slow until she’s begging you to stop, completely spent and wrecked beneath you.

And even then… you consider going one more round.

[zeroseuniverse]

Hiiii! I just read the s.coups as a lovesick fool who's absolutely whipped for his gf even though he's a gang leader and I have to say girl you slayed . I dont know if you take requests but could you please write about their love story or how he fell for her ? It would be so cuteeee.

Love Sick Fool II

Word Count: 1.5K Summary:"Boss, why are we here again?" "Coffee's decent." "Hyung, you don't even like coffee." "Shut up, Mingyu." Pairing: S.coups X reader

Taglist: @haaruki  @agaha127 @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120  @ltfirecracker

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The first time Seungcheol saw you, you were nothing more than a passing presence in a world he ruled with an iron fist. He was used to people avoiding his gaze, lowering their heads in fear or respect. But you? You looked right at him.

It wasn’t a challenge, nor was it admiration. It was a simple glance—curious, unafraid.

And that was enough to make him pause.

You were working at a small café, one he only stepped into because Joshua insisted they needed a place to lay low for an hour. It was nothing special—at least, it shouldn't have been. But the moment you approached the table, notebook in hand, Seungcheol felt something shift.

“What can I get for you?”

Your voice was light, patient, not at all like the people who usually spoke to him with nervous energy or calculated charm. He was about to answer when Jeonghan spoke up first.

“An americano for me, please,” Jeonghan said smoothly, flashing you a practiced smile.

Seungcheol expected you to melt the way most people did under Jeonghan’s charm. Instead, you barely spared him a glance as you jotted down the order.

“And for you?” you asked, looking directly at Seungcheol.

For some reason, it took him a second too long to answer. He was used to commanding a room, controlling situations, but here you were—entirely unaffected, treating him like just another customer.

Joshua nudged him, amusement flickering in his eyes. Seungcheol cleared his throat. “Same. Americano.”

“Got it.”

That should’ve been the end of it. You should’ve walked away, and he should’ve returned to discussing business. But as you turned, someone at a nearby table bumped into you, causing the tray you were carrying to tilt. In a split second, Seungcheol’s hand shot out, steadying the tray before it could fall.

You blinked, surprised, before offering a small smile. “Good reflexes.”

He let go of the tray, fingers lingering for just a second too long. “Comes with the job.”

You didn’t ask what that job was. Maybe you already knew. Maybe you didn’t care. Either way, you simply gave a nod before walking off.

Seungcheol watched you go, an unfamiliar weight settling in his chest.

Jeonghan smirked. “That was interesting.”

“Shut up,” Seungcheol muttered, but even as they went back to their conversation, his mind kept wandering back to you.

Over the next few weeks, he found excuses—ridiculous, unnecessary excuses—to stop by the café.

"Boss, why are we here again?"

"Coffee's decent."

"Hyung, you don't even like coffee."

"Shut up, Mingyu."

Every time he walked in, you’d greet him with the same calm, easy presence. You never pried, never tiptoed around him like others did. Instead, you teased him about ordering the same drink every time, raised an eyebrow when he lingered too long after closing, and even smirked once when he threatened a guy outside the shop—completely unfazed by the power he held.

He couldn’t figure you out.

And that drove him crazy.

Until one night, when he walked in just as some drunk idiot was grabbing your wrist.

Seungcheol didn’t think—he acted.

In seconds, the guy was shoved against the counter, Seungcheol’s forearm pressing into his throat. “You have three seconds to apologize before you regret ever walking in here.”

The man stammered, clearly regretting all his life choices. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Leave.”

The guy bolted.

Seungcheol turned back to you, expecting fear, maybe even shock. Instead, you sighed, shaking your head. “You’re really dramatic, you know that?”

He stared. “Excuse me?”

You crossed your arms. “I could’ve handled him.”

He scoffed. “Yeah? And what were you gonna do, throw a sugar packet at him?”

You smirked. “I was thinking hot coffee to the face, but your way works too.”

For the first time in a long time, Seungcheol laughed. A real, genuine laugh.

And that’s when it hit him.

He was already falling.

Falling for the person who never looked at him with fear.

Falling for the one who treated him like something more than a name whispered in hushed tones.

Falling for the only person who made him forget, even for a moment, that he was someone the world feared.

He was utterly, completely doomed.

And from that day on, Choi Seungcheol—the most powerful, ruthless gang leader in the city—was absolutely, irreversibly whipped.

Falling for you was easy. It was everything after that that terrified him.

Seungcheol was used to controlling—to knowing every move before it happened, to staying two steps ahead. But you? You threw every rule out the window. He didn’t know how to navigate this—this warmth, this lightness, this you.

He should’ve kept his distance. Should’ve told himself that a man like him didn’t get to have things like this.

But the moment he knew—really knew—that he was yours?

It was the night you patched him up.

It had been a messy deal. One of his men screwed up, someone pulled a knife, and though Seungcheol got the situation under control, he took a hit in the process. A deep gash along his side, bleeding more than he liked.

He should’ve gone to a safehouse. Should’ve called Wonwoo to handle it.

But somehow, his feet led him straight to you.

When you opened your door to find him standing there, blood staining his shirt, your eyes widened—but not in fear. Never in fear.

"Sit," you ordered, pulling him inside without hesitation.

He let you. Let you press him onto your couch, let you pull out a first-aid kit, let you mutter curses under your breath as you lifted his shirt to assess the damage.

“This is bad,” you murmured, hands surprisingly steady as you cleaned the wound. “You should be in a hospital.”

“No hospitals.”

You sighed, but didn’t argue. You never did—not about this. Instead, you worked quietly, patching him up with gentle but firm hands.

And then, as you finished securing the bandage, you looked up.

“Seungcheol,” you said softly. “You can’t keep doing this.”

His breath caught.

Not because of the pain. Not because of the wound.

But because of the way you said his name—like it mattered. Like he mattered.

He could handle knives, bullets, enemies plotting against him in the dark. But this? The way you looked at him, eyes filled with something dangerously close to care?

That was lethal.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice rough.

You frowned. “No, you’re not.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but then you did something he didn’t expect.

You reached out—slowly, carefully—and rested a hand against his cheek.

Seungcheol froze.

“You can’t just keep throwing yourself into danger like this,” you murmured. “You think I don’t notice when you show up like this? Or when you disappear for days and come back looking like hell?”

His throat felt tight. “This is the life I chose.”

Your jaw clenched. “And if something happens to you? If one day, you don’t walk through that door?”

He had no answer.

Because for the first time, he realized—he never thought about what his life meant to someone else.

But here you were. Worried. Angry. Scared for him.

Him. Choi Seungcheol. The man no one dared to care for because they knew it was dangerous.

Yet you did. You did.

And just like that, he was done for.

Utterly, completely yours.

Seungcheol wasn’t good with words.

He could command a room, negotiate million-dollar deals, and terrify a man into silence with just a look—but when it came to you? When it came to everything you made him feel?

Words felt useless.

So he showed you in the only ways he knew how.

By making sure you never walked home alone. By slipping extra cash into your pockets when he knew you were struggling. By waiting outside your café at night just to make sure you were safe.

And then, one night, he just… said it.

He hadn’t planned to. Hadn’t even thought about saying it yet. But you were standing in the kitchen, rambling about something that happened at work, and he was just watching you—watching the way your eyes lit up, the way your hands moved when you spoke, the way you existed in his space like you belonged there.

And before he could stop himself—before he could think about what it meant—he said it.

“I love you.”

You froze.

For a second, his heart stopped.

And then, slowly, you turned to look at him. “What did you just say?”

Shit.

He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly unsure if he should take it back, laugh it off—

But then you smiled.

Soft. Disbelieving. Radiant.

And just like that, the fear disappeared.

“You’re an idiot,” you whispered, stepping closer.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

You reached for him, fingers curling into his shirt. “Say it again.”

He smirked, heart pounding. “I love you.”

And when you pulled him down into a kiss, he knew—he would never stop saying it.

From that moment on, Seungcheol stopped caring who knew.

His gang? They figured it out the second they saw the way he looked at you.

His enemies? They learned the hard way that you were the one line they could never cross.

And you?

You never once made him feel like he had to choose between the world he built and the world you gave him.

Because somehow, somehow, you became both.

And Seungcheol—ruthless, untouchable Seungcheol—was yours in every way that mattered.

[hyunjincanraptoo]

FOURTEEN FOURTEEN FOURTEEEEEEEENNNNN 🙏🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Your wish is my command 🙂‍↕️ this is my first time writing something like this so please be kind to me haha

This is from my prompt list. Pick a number and send it to my asks.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: smut, threesome (Hyunjin and Felix are just sharing reader, not doing anything between each other)

Alexa, play Envolver by Anitta

For your birthday, Hyunjin and Felix surprise you with an unexpected gift

The party had been a blur of laughter, flashing lights, and dancing. Felix and Hyunjin had been practically glued to your side the entire evening, making sure you had the best time. Now, after the last guest had left and the music had faded away, the three of you were left alone, the soft hum of the fridge and the occasional clink of a glass the only sounds in the room.

“You should be used to cleaning up after parties by now”, Felix teased as he wiped down the counter. His smile was wide, and his eyes twinkled with mischief, “I don’t mind”, you shrugged, brushing your hair out of your face as you picked up the scattered plates and cups. The room still smelled like cake and lingering alcohol.

Hyunjin leaned against the wall, watching you both with a playful smirk, "Don't forget to thank us for the surprise gift later, huh?". You raised an eyebrow, "Gift?!". Felix stepped forward and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box. Your heart skipped a beat as you took it from him, unwrapping it carefully to reveal a delicate silver bracelet, a charm that you knew meant something special to them. The charm was a piece of a three piece puzzle that only felt complete when together— a symbol of your friendship, a sign of your bond, of the fun, the mischief, and the shared moments, “Guys, this is... perfect”, you whispered, smiling wide. Your heart swelled with affection, and you pulled them both into a hug.

The alcohol you’d had earlier was still swirling in your bloodstream, making your movements a little looser, your thoughts a little less controlled. As you hugged them, a strange warmth filled you. The close contact, the way their bodies pressed against yours, the comfort of their familiarity. It was almost too much.

What started as an impulsive, messy kiss turned into a tangle of limbs and low, breathy laughs. Awkward at first— Hyunjin bumping noses with you, Felix accidentally knocking over a plastic cup— but it didn’t take long for the teasing touches to melt into something deeper. Hands slipped under clothes. Moans slipped past lips. You ended up sandwiched between their bodies, their mouths everywhere— Hyunjin kissing down your neck while Felix’s fingers explored under your shirt. The air thick with soft gasps and whispered curses. “God”, Hyunjin groaned against your skin, “You taste so good”. Felix’s voice was breathless beside your ear, “This might be the best birthday gift we’ve ever given”. And in that moment, wrapped in their heat and touch, you couldn’t have agreed more.

Without thinking, you pulled back slightly and, in an impulsive rush, planted a soft kiss on Hyunjin’s lips. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he smirked, leaning into the kiss and returning it gently. Felix, who had been standing beside you, let out a small chuckle, “Humm… okay, wow! Get a room?”. But you turned to him, slightly breathless, cheeks flushed, “Why don’t you come here too?”. His brows lifted up, but he didn’t hesitate for long.

You didn’t remember how the three of you ended up sprawled on the couch, tangled in each other, clothes half pulled off and kisses exchanged like secrets. Hyunjin hummed softly from behind you, where he was pressed along your back, shirt already discarded, chest warm against your skin, “You’re such a temptation”, he muttered, kissing the curve of your shoulder before slipping his hand under your waistband, fingers brushing over your core

It was clumsy at first— Felix trying to push your pants down while you were still seated, Hyunjin’s hips nudging yours, impatient and eager. But eventually, it settled into something slow and charged. You found yourself leaning forward, bracing yourself on your elbows as Hyunjin knelt behind you, stroking himself slowly before guiding his length to your entrance, “Shit”, he muttered, licking his bottom lip. “Do you really wanna do this?” “I didn’t plan to”, you smirked, looking over your shoulder, “But now I want to”. “Fuck”, Felix laughed under his breath as Hyunjin massaged your ass, “Relax, baby”, he whispered, pressing kisses along your spine as his hand gripped your waist, “I’ve got you”.

The stretch was intense but delicious, making your breath hitch as he slowly slid inside you. Hyunjin let out a low groan, head falling backward as he sank deeper, one hand still caressing your waist while the other gripped firmly on your hip.

In front of you, Felix was already stroking himself lazily, watching the way your mouth parted, the way your hips pushed back into Hyunjin’s. He reached forward, his hand guiding yours to wrap around his shaft. Immediately, your thumb teased the head, “Shit”, he gasped. You moaned in between the slow, steady thrusts behind you and Felix’s sexy groans in front of you. Your body felt hypersensitive, pleasure hitting you in waves.

Then Felix reached for something from the table— an unfinished slice of cake, the icing slightly melted. You barely registered it before he spilled a bit of frosting over the tip of his member with a little smirk, “Let’s make dessert even better”, he said with a wink, before you leaned in to lick it off, tongue curling obscenely as he moaned at the sensation. Hyunjin groaned behind you, thrusts deepening slightly, “Are you serious?”, he panted, laughing breathlessly,“You’re licking cake off his cock?”. You chuckled between licks, voice trembling, “I multitask”.

The scene was messy, hot, and overwhelmingly intense— Hyunjin’s hips slapping softly against yours, you alternating between stroking Felix’s member and licking it, your body arching and trembling under the pressure of so much stimulation. Hyunjin was losing control, breath hitching with every thrust, “Fuck, you feel so good…. so tight…”, he grunted, his rhythm faltering as he buried himself deep with every thrust of his hips.

Your hand worked faster now, lips pressing kisses along the length, as Felix whined your name. You were so close, heat pooling low in your belly, tension building, unbearable. “Come for us”, Hyunjin whispered against your shoulder, voice husky, “Let go, baby”. You cried out, your orgasm hitting you hard as you felt Felix’s release on your tongue. Your whole body was shaking, muscles clenching around Hyunjin, who cursed low and spilled inside you, balls deep, eyes squeezed shut in pure bliss.

Felix leaned back, amused with the scene— you all covered in frosting, cum, and sweat. “Well… this party turned out better than expected”. You collapsed forward with a breathless laugh, flushed and wrecked, “Best birthday ever”. Hyunjin pulled you close, kissing the nape of your neck, “Next year, we’re getting more cake”. Felix raised a brow, “And maybe whipped cream”. You groaned, but didn’t say no.

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

[partoffantasy]

Tension and Takedowns (Part 2) - Garrick Tavis

⸻ image credits to scribe.jesinia ⸻

summary: Y/N, unable to sleep, trains in the gym late at night, trying to push thoughts of Garrick from her mind. Frustrated and overheated, she decides to use the men’s showers for their stronger water pressure, thinking no one will be there. However, Garrick walks in, and the tension between them becomes unbearable.

pairing: garrick tavis x fem!reader warnings: MDNI!, smut, swearing, unprotected p in v, oral (m) word count: 2k

For @domciak84 & @0717luv. Thank you for your requests. 💙

Part 1: Click here

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

The punching bag swung back toward her, and Y/N threw another punch, her knuckles connecting with a satisfying thud. Her breath came in short, controlled bursts, sweat glistening on her exposed skin under the dim glow of the lights overhead. The riders quadrant was silent at this hour, the only sound in the gym the impact of her fists and the occasional creak of the chains holding the bag in place. She couldn’t sleep and found herself back in the gym around midnight.

She needed to be better. Faster. Stronger. But even as she pushed herself harder, her thoughts kept drifting—kept lingering—on something far more distracting than her training. Garrick. The way he moved, the confidence in his stance, the sheer presence he commanded when he stepped into a room. It infuriated her how easily he got under her skin, how he could flash that damn smirk and destroy all the self-control she thought she had.

She threw another punch, harder this time, the force of it reverberating up her arm. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not by him. Not by the way his muscles shifted under his uniform, or how his dark eyes always seemed to find hers with knowing amusement. Not by the memory of his voice, low and teasing, sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine.

Another punch. Another. Harder. Faster. The ache in her knuckles was welcome, grounding. It forced her focus back to where it needed to be—on getting stronger. Enough for now. The thought of a cold shower was too tempting to resist. As she turned toward the exit, another memory flickered to the forefront of her mind—Rhi’s offhand comment about the stronger water pressure in the men’s showers.

Normally, she wouldn’t risk it. But at this hour? No one would be there. Y/N padded silently through the corridors, her damp skin cooling in the night air. When she reached the showers, she paused at the entrance, listening. Silence. Perfect. She slipped inside, the faint scent of soap and steel filling her senses. The air was cool, but the promise of hot water had her stripping off her clothes quickly. The first spray of water ran down her body, washing away the sweat and tension from her muscles. She let out a slow breath, tilting her head back as the warmth seeped into her skin.

Then, footsteps. Her heart stuttered. The door creaked open, and before she could react, a familiar presence filled the space. She turned her head just as Garrick stepped inside, his own training gear clinging to his body, darkened with sweat. Her breath caught in her throat. He hadn’t seen her yet. Y/N was frozen in place, water streaming down her body as she watched him tug his shirt over his head, muscles flexing effortlessly. His hands moved to his belt, and her brain finally kicked into gear.

Shit. She must have made a sound, because Garrick’s head snapped up, his sharp gaze locking onto her naked form through the steam. Time stopped. His eyes widened slightly, his jaw tightening as realization set in. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and for a moment, he just… looked. His gaze dragged over her, hot and lingering, before snapping back to her eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, voice lower than usual, roughened at the edges. She swallowed hard, unable to speak. Heat ran up her spine, different from the warmth of the water. It coiled in her stomach, twisting tighter when he took a slow step forward. "What are you doing in the men's showers, Y/N?" His voice was teasing, but there was a razor-sharp edge of intrigue beneath it.

She forced herself to swallow, forcing her mind to work past the shock of seeing him—shirtless, damp with sweat, and the sharp lines of his chest. "Stronger water pressure," she muttered, trying for nonchalance, but it came out breathless. His lips curled into something between amusement and interest. "Convenient excuse." She bristled, heat crawling up her neck for an entirely different reason now. "I didn't think anyone would be here."

Garrick's gaze flicked to the row of empty stalls and back to her. "And yet, here I am." The words hung between them, charged and heavy, stretching the moment unbearably taut. She was suddenly acutely aware of the water cascading down her bare skin, the droplets glistening in the dim light.

His eyes swept over her once more, the intensity making her pulse jump, the peaks of her nipples unwillingly perking. "You seem to be interested now, Y/N," he murmured, his voice a dangerous drawl. "Want to do something about it?" Her pulse pounded in her ears. The tension crackled like lightning in the enclosed space, the only barrier between them the swirling steam.

Her mind screamed at her to move, to grab a towel, to run—But her body stayed rooted in place. And Garrick took another step closer. His gaze darkened, his expression unreadable as he reached up, brushing a single damp strand of hair from her face. His fingers barely grazed her skin, but the contact sent a jolt through her. A challenge flickered in his eyes.

It wasn’t a question of whether she wanted this. They both knew the answer. Y/N’s breath came unevenly, her body humming with awareness. And then, before she could second-guess herself, she stepped closer to him.

Her hands slid up the sharp planes of his face, fingers brushing against the rough stubble before tangling in his damp hair. She pulled him down, her breath hitching just before their lips crashed together in a heated kiss. Garrick responded instantly, his hands finding her bare waist, yanking her body flush against his own. The sensation of his solid warmth against her ignited a fire low in her belly, and when his tongue swept against her lips, she parted them willingly. He took immediate control, deepening the kiss, his dominance evident in the way their tongues moved together—demanding, possessive, utterly intoxicating.

His grip tightened as his hands roamed lower, tracing every curve of her body before settling on her backside. He kneaded the soft skin, eliciting a soft whimper from her. The sound was swallowed between their lips, her fingers gripping his shoulders as if anchoring herself to him. When his mouth abandoned hers, he trailed a path of heated kisses along her jaw, down the curve of her neck. He found the sensitive spot beneath her ear, sucking and licking, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. Her knees were going weak as his mouth claimed her skin, marking her as his.

Her hands slid over his chiseled chest, fingertips tracing the ridges of his abdomen, savoring the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. When she reached the waistband of his training shorts, she hooked her fingers in the fabric, tugging them down along with his boxers in one swift motion. Garrick kicked them aside without hesitation. The water cascaded down their bodies, steam curling around them, adding to the desire thick in the air. She smirked up at him, biting her lip as she pressed a lingering kiss to his sternum, then lower—over his taut stomach, the defined V-line that led her exactly where she wanted to go.

Garrick watched her intently, his hazel eyes dark with lust, his jaw tight as he leaned a hand against the wet stone wall. When she dropped to her knees before him, her hands smoothing over his muscular thighs, a deep growl rumbled in his chest. She wrapped her fingers around his hard length, stroking him, reveling in the way his breath shuddered at her touch. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, his head tipping back, the veins in his forearm prominent as he clenched his fist.

Her tongue flicked out, dragging a slow, teasing stripe from the base to the swollen tip before she finally wrapped her lips around him. His gaze snapped down to her, his hand immediately threading into her wet hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail. She took him deeper, hollowing her cheeks, her tongue pressing against the sensitive underside. Garrick let out a strained groan, his fingers tightening their grip as he started guiding her movements, setting the pace he needed.

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes as he pushed deeper, her throat constricting around him. The sound she made—desperate, submissive—only spurred him on. "You look so fucking beautiful like this," he rasped, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he watched her. "Feels so damn good."

She moaned around him, the vibrations making his hips jerk forward. But before she could bring him over the edge, he pulled back with a strangled groan, gripping her arms and yanking her up to her feet. The sudden movement made her gasp, but then he was pressing her against the wall, his mouth crashing against hers, swallowing the needy whimper she let out.

His hand slid between her thighs, fingers finding her slick heat. "You're so fucking wet for me, Y/N," he muttered, groaning as he stroked her. His fingers worked her with practiced precision, circling her clit before slipping inside her with ease. "Gods, Garrick," she moaned, her head falling back, exposing the delicate column of her throat. Her lips were already swollen from their earlier kisses, her nails biting into his shoulders as he thrust his fingers into her, curling them just right. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. "I need you now." Garrick smirked against her jaw, but his pace didn’t relent. "What do you need, cadet?" His voice was low, teasing, as his fingers pushed deeper, making her moan louder.

"I want your cock inside me, sir," she whimpered, her pleading gaze locking onto his. That did it. He withdrew his fingers, his hands gripping her hips. "Jump." She obeyed without hesitation, wrapping her legs around his waist as he pinned her to the wall. She could feel him, hard and hot against her, teasing her entrance. "So eager," he chuckled darkly, dragging the thick head of his cock against her soaked folds. She writhed against him, desperate for more. And then—

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside her, stretching her completely, making her cry out in pleasure. His grip on her tightened as he stilled for a moment, savoring the way she felt around him, before he started to move. His thrusts were deep and deliberate at first, but when she moaned his name—needy, desperate—he lost the last of his restraint. His hips snapped into hers with increasing urgency, his grip on her thighs leaving marks, his name falling from her lips like a prayer.

"Fuck, Y/N. You feel so fucking good," he groaned, his forehead resting against hers. The water ran over them, mixing with sweat, their bodies locked together. One of Garrick’s hands slid between them, finding her clit again, his fingers circling in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation sent her over the edge, her walls clenching around him as she cried out his name, her nails digging into his back, sure to leave red marks.

Garrick gritted his teeth, thrusting harder, chasing his own release. He set her down for a moment, his hands gripping her waist as he turned her around. "Lean against the wall," he commanded, his voice rough. She did as she was told, pressing her palms against the stone, arching her back as he thrust into her from behind. The new angle had her gasping, the pleasure overwhelming as he pounded into her with reckless abandon. His fingers dug into her hips, his breathing ragged.

"F-fuck, I’m close," he gasped, his pace faltering as he slammed into her one last time, his release spilling into her with a guttural moan. Their bodies trembled against each other, chests heaving, the steam wrapping around them like a veil. He took a step back, his gaze raking over her as she turned around to face him, lips swollen, eyes hazy with satisfaction. Garrick exhaled heavily, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Gods, why the fuck didn’t we do this sooner?"

[madsxyins]

Off the Court

pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: sexual content, rough sex degradation, and strap and vibe use

synopsis: After a loss Paige takes her anger out on you

anon req

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The locker room was silent except for the hum of the overhead lights and the hollow thud of Paige’s fist hitting the metal locker door. Another loss. Another night in Dallas where her team choked the win away like it meant nothing. She’d dropped twenty eight points, fought through it all, and for what? A scoreboard that said she wasn’t enough.

Her hands were still taped. Sweat clung to her skin beneath her practice gear — a soaked compression top, baggy shorts riding low on her hips. Her blonde hair was messy, pulled half loose from the bun she’d tied it in before the game. Her jaw was clenched, that ever-sharp gaze burning holes through her reflection in the mirror.

She didn’t even hear the locker room door open.

“You done punching shit?” The voice came cool and low.

Paige didn’t turn, not at first. Just let a smirk curl across her lips.

“Not even close.”

“Good,” came the reply. “Then let’s make tonight worth losing for.”

They made it back to the hotel room fast. Paige’s tension was already boiling over — muscles tight, eyes wild, breath heavy. The second the door shut behind them, her hands were at the waistband of her shorts, stripping off like she needed to shed the entire night with them.

“On your knees,” she snapped.

Y/N barely had time to respond before Paige shoved her down. No patience, no sweetness. This wasn’t about comfort or romance — this was Paige exorcising demons through flesh and control.

Paige wore the strap, the base thick and strapped tight against her toned hips. Matte black, veined, and heavy, it matched the hardness in her stare.

“You gonna take it like a good girl?” Paige growled, grabbing a fistful of hair.

A nod. That’s all she got — that’s all she needed.

“Open.”

What followed was a mess of spit, moans, and wet, gagged gasps as Paige worked every inch into her mouth. Her grip never loosened. She fed her frustration through every thrust of her hips, every groan as her partner drooled over the shaft, mascara already smudging down her cheeks.

“Yeah. That’s it,” Paige snarled, hips snapping forward. “Use that throat. Like the team should’ve used their fucking defense.”

The rhythm was brutal. Y/N was a wreck, eyes watering, drool dripping off her chin. Paige didn’t slow, she used. The slap of fake skin against flushed lips filled the room, broken only by Paige’s gritted teeth and the wet, sloppy rhythm of it all.

Eventually, she pulled out with a slick pop and grabbed her partner by the throat.

“Get on the bed. Face down, ass up.”

Y/N scrambled to obey, legs shaking with anticipation.

Paige climbed on behind her, spit-slick strap already gleaming. No teasing. No warming up. She grabbed both hips, lined herself up, and shoved in with a grunt.

A cry ripped from y/n’s throat, muffled against the pillows.

“That’s right. Take it. All of it.”

Her hips pounded hard and fast. Skin against skin, lewd sounds echoing through the room. Paige leaned forward, one hand gripping hair, the other reaching around to rub rough circles — just enough to drive her wild, never quite letting her finish.

“Not yet,” she whispered darkly into her ear. “You don’t come until I say. You want relief? You earn it.”

Sweat dripped from Paige’s back. Her body moved with a brutal rhythm, abs flexing, her thighs slapping against slick, trembling skin. Her frustration poured out through every thrust, every slap on the ass, every filthy command.

The sheets were already damp with sweat and slick when Paige rolled Y/N onto her back, straddling her hips. Her abs glistened under the soft hotel light, still flushed from the first round. Her strap-on was still attached — wet, gleaming, veins catching the light — and her hand was already reaching into the nightstand.

“You think I’m done?” Paige asked, tone low, dangerous.

Y/N swallowed, lips parted, breathing shallow.

“N-no.”

“Good girl.” Paige pulled out the slim, black remote-controlled vibe and clicked it on. A low hum vibrated in her palm. “You’re not gonna cum again unless I say so. And this—” she pressed it right against Y/N’s already-swollen clit, taping it in place with a pair of sheer lace panties — “is gonna help with that.”

Y/N whimpered, her hips twitching already under the teasing pulses.

Paige smirked, climbing off her to kneel beside the bed. She grabbed Y/N’s ankles, yanked her to the edge with zero gentleness, and spread her legs wide. The vibe was humming mercilessly now, low at first, but growing.

“You’re gonna keep that inside your panties the whole fucking night. And if you make a mess on the sheets without permission?” She leaned down, licked a slow line up Y/N’s inner thigh. “I will punish you.”

Y/N’s eyes rolled back when the first wave of near-orgasm hit — and stopped.

The remote clicked off.

“Nope,” Paige whispered. “Not yet.”

She leaned in again, dragging her tongue over the toy, over the panties, teasing and cruel.

Y/N sobbed. “Please…”

“Oh, we’re begging now?” Paige smirked. “Thought you liked being my good little stress toy.”

She pulled her back onto the bed and tied her wrists in front with one of her own sweat-drenched warm-up shirts. The knot was rough, the fabric smelling like courtside pressure and frustration. Paige didn’t care for finesse. She wanted control — and Y/N gave it to her willingly.

Then came the next wave.

Paige clicked the remote back on. Full power. The vibe buzzed mercilessly against Y/N’s clit, and her hips bucked in raw desperation. Her thighs clenched, but Paige was already there — hand between her legs, slapping her inner thighs open.

“You stay open. You don’t squirm. You take it like my little whore,” she hissed, mouth brushing hot against Y/N’s ear.

Y/N was already unraveling — flushed, soaked, legs trembling.

“You wanna cum, baby?”

Y/N nodded frantically.

“Say it.”

“I want to cum, Paige, please—fuck, please!”

The vibe cut off.

Paige chuckled darkly, tilting Y/N’s chin up to face her. “Then maybe you should’ve won the game for me.”

She leaned down, kissed her roughly, and rammed the strap back inside her in one hard stroke.

Y/N screamed.

“God, you feel better than victory.”

The night stretched into an endless loop of denial, edging, and total submission.

Paige used her. Mouth. Hands. Toys. Her own body pressing her girlfriend into the mattress like she could fuck the loss out of her bloodstream. There were slaps — stinging and sharp — followed by soothing fingers and degrading praise whispered into tear-streaked skin.

“My perfect toy.”

“Such a desperate little slut for me.”

“You belong under me, crying from needing to cum.”

“This is what you’re good for.”

Y/N was wrecked.

She begged. She cried. She came once — without permission — and Paige saw it in the way her thighs spasmed and the way the sheets were soaked.

“You came without permission?” Paige’s voice dropped to something dangerous.

Y/N froze. “I— I’m sorry—”

Paige flipped her over fast and delivered a brutal slap across her ass, then another, then another, until her skin burned red.

“Count. Every. One.”

Y/N sobbed as she counted each punishing slap, voice breaking by number eight.

When Paige finally pulled her close again, she was breathless. Eyes sharp. One hand slipped back between Y/N’s legs and pressed the vibe in again—taped tight, humming loud, relentless.

“You’ll cum again now,” she whispered. “And again. And again. Until I say stop.”

And Y/N did — helpless, screaming, twitching under the force of it all.

By the time dawn cracked through the window, Paige’s rage had melted into something else — not tenderness, not quite. But satisfaction.

The only scoreboard that mattered was the look on Y/N’s face, ruined, blissed out, completely claimed.

Paige traced a finger over her lip, then leaned down to whisper

“Maybe I should lose more often.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶

author’s note: this is absolute filth…THANKS FOR READING THO!!!

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Hello, can i request a seongje nsfw alphabet? thank uuu

🔞 Seongje NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare Seongje is low-key about it but does care. After the storm, he pulls you close, brushes your hair back, and murmurs soft words as he calms you down. He’s not big on coddling, but the lingering touches and quiet warmth say everything.

B = Body part (his + yours) His: His broad shoulders—perfect for pinning you down, and the way his arms flex when he’s holding you tight is irresistible. Yours: His favorite? Your hips. He loves gripping them, guiding your movements, and feeling you press into him, making the connection electric.

C = Cum He cums deep inside, slow and deliberate, wanting you to feel every drop. Afterwards, he might pull you closer, catching your breath as he quietly tells you, “You’re mine now.”

D = Dirty Talk Smooth and teasing. He’s confident, dropping lines like:

“You like it when I take control, don’t you?” “Beg for me.” “You’re so good at this—just for me.” His voice dips low, teasing and commanding all at once.

E = Experience He’s skilled but not flashy—steady, attentive, and always learning your likes and limits. He knows how to read your body and push just enough to leave you craving more.

F = Favorite Position

Face-to-face for intimacy, locking eyes as he moves slowly,

From behind when he wants to be rougher,

Straddling you so he can control the pace and watch every reaction.

G = Goofy Seongje can be a little cheeky during sex—like whispering silly things between kisses or pretending to be shocked when you tell him how good he is. It’s brief but charming.

H = Hair He keeps his hair styled but messy when aroused—fingers running through it, or you tugging on it during a heated moment, making him groan.

I = Intimacy His intimacy is intense but subtle. He lets you see glimpses of vulnerability, like when he lingers in your arms afterward, or his eyes soften when he catches you staring at him.

J = Jack off He’s not shy about it. Sometimes he texts you when he’s alone, describing what he’d do to you, making you blush instantly.

K = Kinks

Light dominance with respect,

Teasing and denial to build tension,

Hair pulling and neck biting,

Loving when you respond eagerly to his commands.

L = Location Prefers private but unusual spots — like an empty rooftop, a quiet hotel room, or the back of a car on a late-night drive. He loves the thrill of almost being caught.

M = Motivation Your reactions. Every gasp, shiver, and moan fuels him to go deeper, harder, longer. He wants to see you undone by him.

N = No He respects your limits but can be persistent when you say no in a playful, teasing way. But if you’re serious, he stops immediately.

O = Oral He loves giving oral—taking his time to make you shiver and beg. Receiving is equally intense, his hands gripping your hair as you please him thoroughly.

P = Pace Starts slow, teasingly exploring every inch before ramping up to a fast, urgent rhythm that leaves you breathless.

Q = Quickies Definitely a fan—short, intense bursts of passion when time’s tight, leaving you both panting and desperate for more.

R = Risk Adrenaline turns him on. Sex where you might get caught—like in his car, or behind closed doors at a party—makes him more daring and vocal.

S = Stamina Good enough to keep going through multiple rounds, though he’s also happy to rest and savor aftercare when you’re both wiped.

T = Toys Not his usual thing but open to trying vibrators on you or restraints if it’s part of a shared kink adventure.

U = Unfair He sometimes uses his strength and size to pin you down playfully, smirking as you pretend to struggle but secretly love it.

V = Volume Not loud but deep. His low moans and groans vibrate through you, punctuated by whispered praises and possessive murmurs.

W = Wild card Surprises you by being unexpectedly gentle sometimes, holding you close and kissing your forehead before picking up the pace again.

X = X-ray Lean but muscular build—his hardness is impressive, with just enough girth to fill you perfectly and leave you wanting more.

Y = Yearning He gets frustrated when you’re apart too long, sending teasing messages or showing up unexpectedly to remind you he’s thinking of you.

Z = Zzz Falls asleep curled around you after sex, breathing steady and warm, content in the quiet after the storm.

[maximwtf]

as a junho lover i am BEGGING you to please release the fic you had 😭😭😭😭

Hwang Jun-Ho x detective! Reader

Words: 3970

google docs pages: 6

Warnings: Platonic relationship mostly, but squint and it’s not. Squid Game season 1 spoilers, violence, guns, choking, character death but not major. 

Opening: You and Jun-ho are colleagues and your shift tonight would only consist of being on patrol. This leads to a lot of talking as per usual, before you spot something suspicious.

AN// G/N reader. A lot of you wanted me to post this ancient piece of media back up, so your wish is my command. This was actually fun for me to read as well. This was last posted in 2021 and soon after deleted, no memory of why I did that :”D. But I hope yall will still enjoy this s1 inspired fic ! And before anyone asks, I won't write a pt 2 for this, since I don't remember where I was taking this story initially;(

“I know you miss him.”

You were walking behind Jun-ho towards his car. Tonight's shift would be just you and him on patrol. There was nothing surprising with that, since he was your partner and you had gotten to know him pretty well over the years. But the problem was that you hadn’t slept well last night, and you had forgotten to bring your lunch while in a hurry this morning. So this meant that you'd either have to be without food the whole night or beg for Jun-ho to stop for a moment before the stores closed.

You watched how Jun-ho unlocked the doors of the car. The front lights lit up for a second, Indicating the doors had opened. He stepped into the driver's seat and sat down. You soon followed and sat down on the seat next to him. Nothing out of the ordinary, another normal shift. 

The car was almost fully white, with two stripes going on both of the sides. The smaller stripe was yellow and on top of that was a larger stripe in blue. Under the stripes was text that said ‘Police’. On the roof of the car, there were the usual police red and blue lights but also a bigger light for searching in the dark. The seats were fully black, like most of the car was on the inside.

Jun-ho started the car, and slowly drove away from the police office. The sun had gone down a little bit ago, and slowly but surely the street lights had turned on. It had rained earlier that day, so the streets were a little wet still. The car had no lights on inside, only the lights on the control board were illuminating a soft light against whatever it managed to touch. The street lamps passing by allowing some more light to come in every once in a while. This was exactly what you were used to, since the two of you had been on night patrol a lot recently.

You sat in silence as Jun-ho drove through the familiar streets. Watching the yellowish lights as they passed you, one by one. Your gaze wandered off to Jun-ho. You couldn’t tell how he was feeling, since he was only looking at the road with no defined expression on his face. He had told you on your last shift that he hadn’t seen his brother in a while, but you weren’t sure if he had been found already or not. Not sure if it was appropriate to ask about it again, seeing as it might have been a sensitive topic. But if Jun-ho was feeling out of it, you weren’t sure if he should be working a night shift.

“Hey, could we stop by a store? I forgot my ‘lunch’, and I don't want to pull an all-nighter without anything to eat.” You requested with a hint of embarrassment in your voice. But it was either this or having to suffer through the night with no food. Either way, this was maybe the best way to start a conversation, to see how  your partner was doing. Jun-ho turned his gaze at you for a little bit before he replied. “Sure, just make it quick.” He said with a nod. 

Soon the car pulled up near a store and you left to grab something to eat. Knowing that you didn't have a lot of time, you just took the nearest thing that happened to be some sort of a salad. You grabbed the nearest energy drink just to be sure the night would pass smoothly, and went to pay. As you were walking back to the car, you saw Jun-ho writing something on his phone. Not thinking much of it, and seating yourself back down next to him. “Sorry for this. I’ll try to wake up earlier next time.” You apologized, while placing the food on the back seat. “It’s okay. You didn’t waste much time.” He hummed as a reply, and started the car again. The small walkie talkie that he had connected to his belt was making noise. The other officers that were on the same shift seemed to be actively talking right now. This didn’t worry you yet, since they would have contacted you two if something was going on nearby.

After a while of going around the part of the town you were supposed to patro, you reached back to get the energy drink. Staying up late last night had started to turn against you, starting to feel awfully worn out by now. Your eyes were looking at the almost empty streets, as you lifted the can up to your lips. 

Your gaze detected movement on the road, and soon seeing a dog crossing the street. Jun-ho didn’t seem to be bothered by it, continuing on. Panicking for a moment when the realisation hit you that he must have not seen the damn thing. You quickly put the can on the cup holder. “Stop, there’s a dog!” You exclaimed to Jun-ho. His eyes widened and he pressed down the brakes. The car stopped just in time, and the dog crossed the road quickly, with its tail in between its legs. Your body almost hit the dashboard, but thankfully your seat belt held you in place. You were both staring at the road with widened eyes. All you could hear was heavy breathing that was coming from the both of you. 

You slowly leaned back and rested your body on the seat. “Pull the car on the side of the road.” You demanded quietly, voice firm. Jun-ho did as you requested, and parked the car on the side. “How did you not see the dog?” You asked in a much calmer voice, body seemingly still in some form of shock. You didn’t want to be mean to him, since it could have just been a mistake on his part. “I was in my thoughts. I’m sorry for putting you in danger.” Jun-ho sighed, with his gaze avoiding you. “Now, you look at me and tell me what is going on. You seem totally out of it?” You huffed and tilted your head in confusion. It took him a while, but he turned to look at you again. “And now the second part. Are you doing okay?” You asked the question in a different way so he couldn’t avoid the topic. “I’m doing just fine. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. I promise.” Jun-ho tried to convince you.

He turned away to start the car again, but you had other plans. “Have they found your brother yet?” You asked with a more monotone voice. Trying to dig a little deeper this time. Straight after saying this, Jun-ho stopped completely for a brief moment. “He’s…still missing.” The man admitted quietly while looking at the windshield. He leaned back on the seat like you had done and closed his eyes. You furrowed your brows in worry. Before you were able to reply, he continued. “I have reported him as missing already, but they can’t seem to find him. I have some evidence of..something but nothing that would actually help.” He pressed his palms against the steering wheel firmly, eyes opening again.

You looked at him with a freshly formed frown on your face. “What's the evidence you’ve found so far?” You asked, interested in the topic because you wanted to help him. “A card with a circle, triangle and a square on it. My brother had one in his room and I recently saw another man have a similar card. They’re related but I don’t know how.” Jun-ho replied, and turned his gaze back to you with sorrow behind his eyes. “Well, have you talked to the man yet? Maybe he knows what’s going on?” You tilted your head. “I tried to, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to tell me anything..” The man sighed again, but this time with more frustration. “I know you miss him, but you can’t give up. Did you see what was written on the card?” You patted his shoulder, an attempt to wipe the saddened look off of his face. “There was only a number on the back, nothing more.” He explained, not much to go off of. “We need a little more evidence to really start looking into this, but I can try to help you. I’m sure we can find him.”  You tried to smile a little and offered a hug to him. Jun-ho looked at you for a moment and accepted the offer.

After you had pulled back from the hug, the walkie talkie started to make noise again. Jun-ho answered it quickly. The person talking to Jun-ho told him to switch cars to a civil one, because they had spotted something going on near you two. Jun-ho ended the call, and started the car again. “Seems like we’ve got a case on our hands.” He hummed, and pulled the car back on the road. Like nothing had happened.

At this hour it was fully dark. Only the street lights, signs and the lights from the car broke veil the darkness. There were only a few people walking on the streets, most likely coming from a bar. 

Before you knew it, you had arrived all the way back to the police office. You could barely see the whole building in the dark, the city having not invested a whole lot on the building. Jun-ho took the keys from the car and stepped out. You took your items and followed him, hurrying to the side of the car he was standing by. He led you to a fully black car, around the corner from the office. “Let’s be quick.” He stated quietly and opened the door to the passenger seat. You smiled at him kindly, and stepped in. He soon sat down on the driver's side and pulled the car onto the road. “Where are we going?” You asked while putting on your seat belt. “Here.” Jun-ho said as he was typing the location on the navigator. You didn’t recognize the street’s name, but you decided to not ask where it was located. You’d see soon enough. “Did they tell you what was going on there?” You asked for more information, hoping that Jun-ho didn’t mind. “Someone who we have been looking for has been reported to be in that area. We were called to check if he’s still there.” Jun-ho quickly explained while driving faster. You two didn’t have time to lose, since the man could get away any moment. 

The navigator kept giving directions, and Jun-ho was following them. You seemed to be getting closer by the second. But suddenly Jun-ho slowed down the whole car. “What are you doing?” You questioned your partner. But what you didn’t know was that he had seen something far more important to him than the person you two had been called to look for. “That’s him. That’s the man that had the same card as my brother.” Jun-ho said quietly before he started to back up the car. He backed in the shadows and turned off the lights from the car. “I might get fired for this, but I'll make sure that you’ll be fine.” The man murmured, as his eyes were following Gi-hun get picked up by a big van. “Wait- Are you trying to tell me that you’ll disobey the request to find the man the office has been looking for just to follow him? What if we end up in danger? There’s no backup.” Your heart beat got faster the more you thought about this. This didn’t seem like the worst case scenario was going to be fired, but something way worse. “This might be my only chance to get to know where my brother is. I’m not letting this go.” He replied with confidence in his voice.

As much as you appreciated and trusted this man, you weren’t sure if you should tell him no. And even if you did, would he even listen at this point. Before you had time to say anything against his plan, the van started to drive away. Jun-ho started to slowly shadow it. He had turned off all the lights from the car, and he wasn’t using the headlights either. You had never been in a situation like this, but there was no getting out of this now.

“Do you have a phone?” Jun-ho asked with a more serious tone. “Y-yes, why?” You asked but still showed him your phone. It was almost fully charged, only a few percents missing. “Good. Just in case we get separated.” He nodded and kept following the van. “So are you saying we might? We’re not getting out of this car are we?” You asked in a panicked voice. “You don’t have to. But I want to know what’s going on. They’re clearly going somewhere and my brother has to be somewhere with them.” Jun-ho spoke, attention clearly keen on the van. 

Soon the van stopped. The navigator showed that you were close to a port. Suddenly you were able to see multiple of the same kind of van going the same way. They all turned and started to drive towards a cargo ship. There was a lot of space for all the vans and some people with red clothing showing where the vans should be parked. Seemingly a well orchestrated operation, whatever this was.

Jun-ho stopped the car and parked it so that it wouldn’t be too easy to see. “Now. You stay here, and I’ll call you in a little bit once I have found out what's going on here.” Jun-ho started to undo his seat belt and get out. “Wait- We don’t even know who these people are, and we don’t have any backup. What if they come and ask what I’m doing here?” You started to get restless. “Just..” Jun-ho had to think about this for a moment. “Tell them you’re waiting for your boyfriend.” He finally said and closed the door. Your eyes widened for a moment but before you could form any words, he was gone. 

There were more lights near the port, so it was easy to see all the grey vans enter the ship. There were huge yellow towers built to hover on top of the bridge that led to the ship that had multiple bright lights showing the way to the drivers of the vans. There didn’t seem to be anyone else but more of the people with the red suits. The situation unfolding before your eyes, seemingly sketchier by the minute.

It was hard to see, but you could make out where Jun-ho was standing. He took out his phone and started to type something. You started to look even more worried. Now wasn’t the best time to start looking at your phone. The worry caused your hand to start wandering closer to the door handle. Your eyes were still focused on him, and you saw when he switched the phone to a gun. Only hoping it was loaded full, but it wasn’t safe anyway to go on a mission like this with only one gun anyway.

As your hand started to open the door, Jun-ho ran from the place he was hiding in. From what you could see he had hidden behind one of the vans. “Damn it..” You cussed under your breath and got out of the car. After making sure that there was no one around, you ran towards another van, and copied what he did. You got on your back and quickly got under the van. Quickly finding something to hold on to and lift your body up from the ground.

Soon after doing this the vans started to all move in the cargo ship. There was some talking  you could hear, and after that the ship left the port. You had no idea where the two of you were going, but you had to follow your partner. You would never forgive yourself if he never came back from this mission that no one even had an idea you two were on. Knowing no one would believe you if you told them Jun-ho had disappeared just like his brother.

The vans you had gotten under were neatly parked next to each other, near the back of the ship. You saw him shift and then get up, still staying behind the van. You took a quiet deep breath and followed his lead. “Hey.” You whispered quietly, so that no one would hear you. With a quick movement he was pointing his gun at you, before he realised who it was. “What are you doing?! I told you to stay in the car?” He whispered back with tension in his voice. “And I’d go to the office alone, to explain to the boss where you had disappeared? As if they’d believe me.” You murmured back. He then quickly switched to your side. “Do you have your gun?” He whispered close to your ear. You shivered slightly at this, placing your hand over the firearm. “I do, it’s full,”  you whispered back. He only nodded at you and went to peek over the edge of the van. While he was doing that someone started to talk through a microphone. “Check the players,” echoed through the ship. With this the side doors of the vans opened by themselves. 

“Get in.” Jun-ho whispered quickly before he stepped in one of the vans. Without another thought you stepped in the van that Jun-ho had been under, ready to follow his lead. Knowing by now how sensitive this situation was. One wrong move, and you’d truly see what these men dressed in red were truly up to.

Your eyes scanned the people sitting in the van. You couldn’t see too well, no lights on in the vans. But no matter how well you looked, you couldn’t see anyone that even slightly looked like Jun-ho’s brother. Before you knew it, you heard the drivers of the cars step out. Your eyes widened. The only thing you could think of was to pretend to be one of the people in the van. 

You sat down on one of the seats at the back, and pretended to sleep. You were able to open one of your eyes slightly, trying to stay up to date on what was happening. You saw a masked person with a full red suit and a black mask with a white circle on it. They were scanning the other people in the van by checking something from behind their ears. You had no idea what Jun-ho was going to do, but as the suited person started to come closer to you. Knowing you didn’t have whatever the others had gotten placed behind their ears, you prepared to attack the suited man. 

 They tested one of your ears and then turned your head to test your other ear. Not being able to find the chip they were looking for. You opened your eyes and quickly attacked them. You hit the mask so that the person fell backwards, buying yourself some time. While they were trying to get up, you moved behind them. The person tried to stab you with a black knife, but you dodged it. You took a hold of their wrist and repeatedly hit it against the seats of the van, until they let go of the knife.  With that you hit their head with your knee and began to choke them. Trying to make as little noise as possible as to not alert any of their companions.

The van moved a little as the person struggled until they started to go limp. You let go of the pink suited person, and took a deep breath. Your heart beat was going crazy at this point, and your hands were shaking. Not once during your time as a detective had you had to fight like this for your life. The idea of you two being alone on this mission, and not even knowing if Jun-ho was alive scared you. 

You knew that you didn’t have a lot of time, so you began to strip the pink suit off the person. It was better to hide in plain sight, especially if they were all dressed the same. You took off the mask as well and dressed up. You had no clue what the job of this person was, other than checking the players and driving the van, but maybe you’d be able to just follow the others. After getting the suit on, you took your tag that showed who you were off, and placed it in the pocket of the person that was now wearing your clothes. 

After that you lifted up the body of the person, attempting to drag them outside the van. Not being used to doing something like this made it hard to lift up a whole body alone. While struggling you wobbled to the edge of the ship, and dropped the body in water. After this you turned around to see where you were supposed to go, you saw another pink suited person. They heard you and turned around. You froze up, not really having a plan to go off of. You felt a tap on your shoulder. “I saw what you did.” A man’s voice said. You could tell it was Jun-ho’s, since it was more muffled due to the mask. But you took the gamble. “You did the same,” You mumbled back. The other masked person made no move to harm you, confirming you’d been correct.

“Hey, you two!” You both turned to look at who was talking to you. There was a person in a pink suit, but this one had a triangle on the mask and a gun. Behind them there was another pink suited person. Only, they had a square on their mask and no gun in hand. You were too stressed out to say anything, and you assumed Jun-ho could sense this since he started to talk. “This is...They were feeling sea sick.” Jun-ho said to the triangle. They didn’t reply, but the square stepped forward, pointing their gun down. 

Their behaviour made you wonder if the symbols on their masks had something to do with their ranking system. Attempting to figure it out while Jun-ho was conversing with them. Square, then triangle, and that left the circle. And if it was the last one it meant that it was the lowest position. “Did you forget the rules?” A man’s voice said from behind the square mask. “You do not speak without your supervisor’s approval.” They continued. You were trying to make your breathing as calm as possible, so that the square wouldn’t notice anything. “Go wait in the cabin,” the square ordered. He gave you and Jun-ho a stare before walking away, taking the triangle with him. 

After they had left you put your hand on your chest to take a breather. You had no idea what you had gotten yourself into, and you couldn’t even blame Jun-ho. You had killed a random man a minute ago and after that you were pointed a gun at, and it was most likely only going to get worse from here.

“Are you doing alright?” Jun-ho’s voice asked, as he kneeled down a little, and pulled your upper body back up by your shoulder. “We have to get to these ‘cabins’, just follow me. Please?” Jun-ho kept talking to you. Giving you a moment to recollect yourself after the encounter. “I’ll recover, I just need to rest for a moment…” You exhaled while looking at your shaky hands. With that you nodded and Jun-ho started to walk up the stairs, where the other circles had gone as well.

[mylovesstuffs]

How OT13 would handle free-use with their s/o

Request: more seventeen non-con/dubcon themes please. like, maybe free-use if you’re comfy with it? like yeah, its consensual and they’ve established boundaries and stuff with you but similar to the angry sex one, it’s like… rougher..

A/N: The way I wrote it...it sounds weird. Doesn't sound tasty to my ears. Really weird flavours. I don't like how it turned out but okay...I'm sorry to the anon if this is not what they wanted. I just winged it—

Content warning: MDNI !! Non-consensual, power dynamics, dominance and submission, Abuse (physical/verbal), intensity, teasing, rough sex, control, degradation, violent themes, obsession and possession, tension building, touching and groping, kissing, slapping—lmk if I missed anything

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Seungcheol: Seungcheol is a textbook example of an aggressive, dominant abuser. He uses physical force and verbal degradation to assert his power and control over the situation and his partner. His assertiveness bordering on aggression. His words are very harsh and demeaning, but you don't mind as there's boundaries set up. We'll have to admit that he's actually both assertive and caring, which makes him the type to take control but always in a way that feels like it's for you. His voice is always low, like a command waiting to be obeyed. Without warning, he'll spins you around, pressing you roughly against the nearest hard surface - a desk, a wall, or any available surface. He doesn't give you much space to answer before his lips are on yours again, and his body flushes against yours in a way that promises he's not leaving until he gets what he wants. He will yank your hair back, exposing your throat as he growls in your ear. His free hand slides down your body roughly, grabbing your thigh and lifting your leg up against his hip to keep you off balance and trapped against him. Yanking your pants down abruptly, without preamble, he thrusts inside you, setting a brutal pace that leaves no room for gentleness. "Take it, slut. You asked for this, teeing me mad all night."

Jeonghan: Jeonghan's personality shifts to a darker, more menacing tone during non-consensual themes. He becomes assertive to the point of being abusive, using his strength to overpower you and assert his dominance. His words are laced with degradation and insult, designed to break your spirit and make you feel powerless. He is a master of psychological manipulation, using fear, intimidation, and verbal abuse to control you. He delights in making you feel helpless and trapped. He might call you derogatory names one moment, then whisper "baby" the next as he wraps his large hands around your throat. He could be forcefully shoving you down on his lap, then gently running his fingers through your hair afterward, like a sick parody of tender care. The way he glides his hand along your thigh is enough to make your heart race, his eyes never leaving yours. The sweet eyes shifts abruptly into something darker "You're making me wait, aren't you? Little whore doesn't know how to act properly." He slaps your ass hard enough to sting, making you yelp. His touch turns suddenly rough, fingers gripping your jaw painfully as he forces you to meet his intense gaze. His other hand shoves between your legs, groping roughly. His hand comes down on your ass again, and again, the slaps are loud and painful. He yanks your head back as he spits in your face. "Shut up and stay still."

Joshua: Joshua's teasing is masterful, balanced perfectly between charming and predatory. His touch is feather-light yet possessive, each gentle movement made to keep your senses heightened and anticipation building, his presence magnetic. When Joshua decides he's had enough of teasing and wants you regardless, he becomes a different creature altogether. His magnetic presence turns into a smothering aura, pulling you into his orbit whether you like it or not. His earlier gentle touches become rough grabs, fingers leaving unwanted marks on your skin. He corners you against walls, pinning you with his lean but strong frame "You're making this so much fun for me," he whispers, his sweet voice now carrying a dangerous edge as he blocks your exit. He backhands you sharply across the face, the sound echoing through the room. He wraps his long legs around yours to keep you from kicking, trapping you beneath him. He spits in your face (just like Jeonghan), his cold eyes locked onto yours as he growls, "Say it." Joshua leans in closer, his breath hot and foul against your face as he snarls, "Let me hear you beg, whore. Scream it for me." His hips grind viciously, forcing his cock deeper as his free hand mauls your breast, twisting the nipple cruelly.

Jun: Jun is playful with a dash of unpredictability. He might start innocently enough perhaps with a casual brush of his fingers against yours-but before you know it, he's pulling you in. He fully embodies his darker alter ego. His mannerisms become more aggressive and calculated. He frequently uses possessive language and may engage in acts without clear verbal consent (with boundaries discussed before), though his physical actions might give subtle warnings or tests. Physically, he could engage in rough handling, binding, or the use of objects without express permission. Jun's unpredictability shines through as he suddenly turn you around, pulling your back flush against his chest. His lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing the skin teasingly. "Gotcha," he chuckles softly, arms tightening around your waist. His hands slide up your body, one possessively gripping your neck while the other teases your sensitive spots with a vibrating toy while making sure you're okay. His voice softens for a moment, genuine concern in his eyes meeting yours. But then his grip tightens again as he growls, "Answer," Jun hisses, his teeth sinking into your shoulder possessively. His free hand forces another toy between your thighs, the cold metal clinking as he turns it on, the vibrations intensifying. "You're not passing out on me, are you?"

Hoshi: Hoshi during non-consensual themes is a whole different entity. His playful and teasing nature gives way to a dominant and controlling persona. He thrives on the power dynamic, relishing in the fear and submission he inspires. His actions become rougher, more aggressive, and sometimes violent. But as we all know his energy is contagious, and his playful teasing is just the tip of the iceberg. He'll catch you off guard, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a spontaneous dance, only for the movements to turn more intimate as his hand finds your waist. In a swift motion, Hoshi pushes you against the wall, his hand gripping your throat gently. Hoshi's hand tightens around your throat, cutting off your airflow slightly as he pins you against the wall. He bites down hard, marking you with his teeth before pushing you further into the wall with his body. With a wicked grin, Hoshi begins to tear at your clothes as he exposes your bare skin. He presses his body against yours, his hands roaming roughly over your curves. Suddenly, he grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head, holding them in place with one hand. His other hand moves to your jaw, forcing your face up to meet his intense gaze. Without warning, he slaps you sharply across the face before immediately crashing his lips against yours in a harsh, bruising kiss.

Wonwoo: Wonwoo is calm, composed, and reserved, but there's an intensity beneath his quiet exterior that comes to life when he's with you. He'd watch you from across the room, his gaze piercing yet lazy, knowing that he's got your attention. When you approach him, he doesn't waste words; instead, his lips press firmly against yours in a kiss that is both deep and demanding. He pulls you closer, his hands settling on your hips with a surprising firmness as he guides you to stand between his legs. His voice, low and hushed, vibrates through you when he speaks. "I know what you need, and I'm going to give it to you." There's no question in his tone, just certainty. Wonwoo's fingertips trace agonizingly slow lines down your trembling skin, each millimeter a deliberate torment. His touch lingers, savoring every ridge and valley of your body like a connoisseur studying a fine wine. His fingers pause over particularly sensitive spots, circling teasingly before abruptly changing course, leaving you aching for more. Yet he denies you, drinking in the frustrated whimpers he extracts with cruel delight. His palm flattens possessively against your stomach, claiming every inch as his own. Despite the roughness of his actions, there's an undercurrent of affection in his words and actions, ensuring you know this is something you've both agreed upon, even if it feels like you've been swept up in the intensity of it all.

Woozi: Woozi's playful nature may be subtle, but that only makes it more dangerous. He'd stare at you for a moment, studying you, before his lips curve into a knowing smile. "You've been quiet today," he muses, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Woozi traces patterns on your arm with his index finger, his touch feather-light yet electric. He leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks in a whisper, "You know... the longer you stay silent, the more I want to make you scream," before he pulls away just enough to let you wonder if he's really teasing or if he means every word. He brings one hand to your waist, pulling you slightly closer while his other hand finds its way to your neck, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His lips curve into that maddening smirk again, "Should I help you find your voice?" Everything is almost calculated, as if making you wait is his favorite game. Woozi's kiss is a paradox that's both romantic and violent. His lips are gentle and soft one moment, pressing against yours with tender reverence, and the next, they're demanding and rough, sucking on your bottom lip until it bleeds. He becomes a master of gradual entrapment, his seeming gentleness masking predatory intentions. Rather than overt aggression, Woozi employs isolating you through his undeniable charm and control that have you boozing.

Dokyeom: He uses his charm and humor to lull victims into a false sense of security before abruptly switching to verbal humiliation and threats. His are aimed to keep you off-balance while maintaining control. While physically strong, he prefers mental games over brute force. But he's also the type to make you laugh and feel at ease, but when he wants to tease, he does so with a twinkle in his eye. "Come on, you're hiding something," he grins, sliding his hand gently but firmly around your waist. DK's gentle grasp on your waist transitions into a firm hold as he spins you around to face him. His twinkle-eyed grin morphs into a smirk, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. His hands roam more freely now, no longer pretending to be innocent. He backs you up against a wall, his hands sliding down to your thighs and hooking them over his arms. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, trapping you against him. Kyeom's hands move with a newfound roughness, tearing at your clothes with little care for the fabric. His fingers dig into your skin as he yanks you closer, his mouth crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. He breaks away only to rip your shirt open, buttons scattering everywhere.

Mingyu: Mingyu's playful teasing has a way of keeping you guessing. He'll pull you close, his hands lightly grazing your back, before flashing you a smirk. His lips press against your neck, and you can feel the intensity in his touch as his hands begin to roam, drawing out a soft gasp from you. His teasing doesn't stop with just physical touch; his words and gaze are enough to make your heart race as you lose yourself in his playfulness. Without warning, his strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the ground with ease. His grip is like a vice, crushing the air out of your lungs. In non-consensual times, Mingyu becomes a domineering, aggressive who uses his strength to overpower and violate. He employs brutally rough handling, from throwing you around to slamming you against surfaces. He uses his free hand to harshly grab your thigh, pulling your leg up to wrap around his arm, exposing you completely. He runs his other hand down your body possessively, squeezing and grabbing at your most sensitive areas. With a cruel smile, he rips your panties aside and shoves his thick, uncut cock inside you without any lubrication, stretching your tight pussy brutally. Mingyu pushes you down on the bed, spreading your legs forcefully. His large hand presses down on your throat, restricting your airflow. "You like being used, don't you?" Not giving you time to respond, he slams into you again, harder than before. You can feel every single throbbing inch of him as he roughly fucks you. His other hand comes down hard multiple times on your exposed skin, leaving angry red welts. "Take it, you fucking whore."

Minghao: Minghao teasing is a slow burn. His approach is subtly sinister. He overwhelms with patience rather than brute force. He corners you gently but firmly, trapping you against a wall, his eyes boring into you with an unsettling intensity. His voice remains eerily calm while doing whatever the fuck he's doing to you. "Spread your legs," he commands softly, his hands slowly pushing your legs apart despite your protests. He uses his superior height and build to position himself perfectly between your thighs. "You can't run now, can you?" His fingers trail down your spine with the same deliberate slowness, making you shiver. Minghao's lips trail slow, wet kisses down your neck, his tongue tasting your skin. He takes his time exploring every inch of your body, his hands roaming everywhere. When he reaches your core, he breathes hotly against it, "So pretty and pink." His tongue slowly parts your folds, teasingly licking upwards but stopping short of your most sensitive spot. He repeats this agonizingly slow motion, building tension but giving no release. His fingers spread your thighs wider, opening you up completely to his slow, tantalizing torment.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan's playful side is matched only by his ability to make you feel like the most important person in the room. I don’t think he’d ever be hard with you. Instead, he’d make sure you have the best time of your life, treating you with nothing but care and intention. And let’s be honest, even if it wasn’t entirely consensual, there’s no way you could resist that kind of overwhelming pleasure. He’d know exactly what you need, even before you realize it yourself, taking his time to draw out every little reaction from you. His touches would be deliberate, his words soft yet firm, making sure you feel cherished and completely swept away. There’s no rush with him. He'd slide in next to you with a smile that'll make you melt on the spot, "What's with the silence, huh?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. His lips find your ear, his voice a mock whisper. "You're not as quiet as you think, love," he says, laughing softly. His hands begin to explore your body with reverence, his touch light yet deliberate. He traces the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck, the swell of your breasts. His lips follow the path of his fingers, pressing soft, worshipful kisses to your skin. He unbuttons your shirt slowly, his fingers brushing against your skin with each button undone. He spreads the fabric open, revealing your bare midriff, then your ribcage, then the lacy edge of your bra. He pauses, his fingers hooking in the fabric. His voice drops to a whisper, as sweet as syrup, "Is this another one of those nights where I make you forget your name?" He gently pushes you back against the cushions, his body covering yours in a way that's giving a loverboy vibes. "Your skin... it's like silk," he murmurs against your collarbone. He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire, yet still holding that playful spark. "You know," he whispers, trailing a finger across your lower lip, "Every time I touch you," he continues, his voice dropping lower, more intimate, "your eyes flutter like that. And your body..." His hands trace along your sides, making you shiver. "It responds to me like it's made specifically for my touch." His lips curve into a smug but sweet smile. (I low-key see CBZ Seungkwan here for some reason TT)

Vernon: Vernon's teasing is laced with an effortless charm, his smirk always making you wonder what he's up to. His hands slowly glide down your back, the light touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "Trying to act like you don't want this?" he teases, pulling you closer, his voice low and intoxicating. His confidence only increases the more you resist, and before long, you're unable to do anything but give in to him, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that's full of passion and playful dominance. As you melt into the embrace, a shiver runs down your spine at the feeling of his lips on yours. His hands continue to roam your back, possessive and gentle at the same time. You can't help but surrender to the warmth and comfort he provides, your arms wrapping around him instinctively. Suddenly, he lifts you up and carries you to the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around you. Before you can even process what's happening, he tosses you onto the mattress and pounces on top of you, his weight pinning you down. "Shh," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding as he reaches for a pair of handcuffs on the nightstand. He snaps them around your wrists before you can react, pulling your arms above your head and securing the other end to the headboard. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he looks down at you, bound and helpless beneath him. He slowly begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest. "Now, let's see just how loud I can make you scream," and yeah he's a different kind of Vernon.

Dino: He's the type who likes to chase and claim what's his, and he won't take no for an answer. Dino's energy is infectious, and his playful nature is never without a mischievous edge. He'd pull you into a tight embrace, his lips quick to find yours. His hands find their way to your hips, his touch becoming. His kisses are hungry, playful, and full of youthful energy, leaving you breathless as he continues to push you to the edge. "You keep pushing me away," he whispers, his voice dangerous and sweet at the same time. Before you can react, he's got you spun around, his chest pressed against your back, one arm banded firmly around your waist. "You're already soaking through those panties, aren't you?" "Answer me," he demands. His hand moves lower, tracing your thigh before suddenly yanking up your skirt. "Such a fucking tease, showing off these pretty legs. Was that for me?" His fingers find the edge of your panties, tracing the damp material. "Goddamn, you're dripping wet," he groans approvingly, fingers pushing your panties aside to feel your slick folds directly. "Look at that, your slutty little cunt is begging for my cock." Without warning, he plunges two fingers deep inside you, pumping furiously. "Take it, fucking take it," His long fingers continue their persistent rhythm inside you, curling to hit that sensitive spot while his thumb circles your clit. No talking, just the sounds of your wetness against his movements and your ragged breathing as stimulation becomes almost unbearable. He adds another finger, stretching you wider as he continues to thrust and curl inside you. His other hand reaches up to grab your thigh, pulling your leg up higher against his arm, opening you up even more to his touch. You're so overstimulated you can barely think.

[satkru]

*๑♡՞ . cnc , dead dove: do not eat , extremely dark themes , usage of power over another individual (forgot what thats called) , gun-play , threats , little to unknown amount of consent , read at your own discretion , possibly could be considered a crack fic?? , also slight revenge fucking

p.s . this is a more filler fic than anything as i try to get my writing schedule under control, im mostly getting ideas as i watch the 2nd season of squid games, other than that, i hope this fic can fufill ur dark fantasies!! also this isnt any specific triangle guard, but hes tall and lanky w a big dick, who also seems to be ur ex

y/n didnt know why he even got himself in this predicament, all he wanted was to get some money to pay off the loan sharks and be done with them already. but he was too blindsided by the thought of winning all the money for himself to realize how much of a fuck up he really made, now, he was stuck in a murderous game filled with all types of shitty people who were just like him. y/n lied in bed as the announcement notified the rest of the players about their set bedtime.

he tossed and turned, and even when the lights officially turned off, he still couldnt find a wink of sleep inside his system. so to appear like all of the others, y/n closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep. minutes went by and the silence in the dark room annoyed y/n more than when the other dunces were screaming their heads off.

in the midst of the silence, y/n couldnt help but hear the shuffling of baggy pants legs rubbing against each other, seeming to draw closer to his bed. suddenly, the noise stopped and the silence that was originally in the room began to seep back in. "player 037, please get up from your bed", the familiar voice of a guard made y/n's eyes shoot open and sat him up straight. the sight of the triangle on the guards mask made y/n tremble, and the assault rifle in front of him scared him shitless. "follow me."

y/n got up from his bed and waddled behind the guard, his heart and mind racing every passing second. the two passed through the door leading into the room that led to the multitude of different games, climbing up the stairs and eventually stopping at the top.

the guard led y/n into the men's bathroom and dragged him into one of the small and isolated bathroom compartments. "your pants." the guard instructed, y/n nodded his head vigorously and dropped his pants as fast as he could, thinking he had some sort of contraband hiding on him that the guards didnt take already.

"turn around." the guard ordered, causing shivers to run down y/n's spine. yet again, the man followed the orders and whipped around as fast as he could in such a small space. the sound of pants unbuckling and clothes shuffling off of someone made y/n's heart drop. "w-wait..! w-what are you doing—!" y/n's question was cut off as he felt his underwear fall from his hips and something shoving its way into his tight hole.

y/n shrieked, the feeling of pain, but also pleasure, ran through his veins and nerves at the same time. "so tight..." the guard whispered as he then began to thrust inside y/n, causing the man to let out confused noises and moans. somehow, such a situation made the man grow harder than he had ever been. could he really be into such a thing?

"keep it down 037.. fuck.. youre so much more tighter than I expected you to be.." the guard let out breathy groans, his hips thrusting into y/n without any hesitation. his arm wrapped around the throat of the player, putting him into a headlock, but not putting any pressure on his neck. it was more like a way to keep y/n's moans low and quiet.

the guard threw his head back in pure bliss, the feeling of his cock being swallowed up by y/n's gummy walls made his groans more audible. "stop squirming 037.. or else i'll have to use more forceful actions to keep you from moving.." the deep and harsh voice commanded y/n once again, "fuck! guard- sir-! im gonna cum!!" the timid and shaky voice of y/n warned the guard that he was soon reaching his climax.

but the guard did nothing to stop the inevitable action y/n would soon face, instead, he quickened his pace and bent more forward. y/n cried out as he was soon taken over by the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, his cock spilling out ribbons of white cum onto the lid of the toilet.

"n-no..! stop! i already came!!" y/n begged as tears dropped from his eyes, his shaky hands tried prying off the arm of the guard from his neck, but there was no use. as his strength slowly left him, the feeling of pure bliss slowly filled the emptiness that his strength had left. "player 037, stop resisting.. oh fuck.. or else.. you'll face a more graver punishment...".

the guard's thrusts became more sloppy and ruthless, leaving y/n breathless and desperate for a break. the sound of wet skin to skin contact filled up the bathroom, echoing off the porcelain tiles of the room. "go on and cum again.. i know you want to" the deep, but also sweet voice of the guard whispered directly into y/n's ear, causing him to lose more of his mind to hysteria.

"im going to fill up this tight hole with so much of my cum it'll be flowing out of you for hours.. you'll have to sit out of the games unless you want my cum to seep out of you and stain your pants.." the guard loosened his arm around y/n's throat and instead grabbed a fistful of his hair. "you want it dont you? just admit you want it all in your guts baby.." although y/n couldnt see it, he knew that the guard had a smug smirk plastered on his lips.

"fuck off why dont you.." y/n choked out before succumbing to the moans bubbling up in his throat. "dont be so mean my love, dont you remember me?" the guard dragged his hand down to y/n's cock, slipping it into his hand and gently caressing it. such a small action made y/n go absolutely mad, making his hole tighten around his aggressors cock. "i could care less on who the fuck you are!! just quicken your pace!!" y/n barked back, his limbs were growing more weak each thrust, causing him to wobble and shake like a newborn horse.

the guard simply chuckled and quickened his pace, "youre still as commanding as you were when we were together.. it riles me up so good!.." y/n couldnt hold back any longer and released his second load of cum onto the toilet once again. "o-okay stop! fuck! please stop!" y/n sobbed, but his cries fell on deaf ears as the guard then released his own load inside of y/n's guts.

"I missed that feeling so fucking bad.." the guard slowly pulled out and watched as his cum drooped onto the floor, y/n's hole was pounded into oblivion, the swollenness and puffiness made it obvious to onlookers. "damn thats hot" the guard purred, his voice low and and barely above a whisper. "a-are we done now..?" y/n asked, hiccups interrupting his breathing every now and then.

"done? oh baby im just getting started.." the guard smugly stated as he took the gun off his shoulders and shoved y/n forward so that the stall would have enough room to be able to thrust his handgun in and out of y/n's already gaping hole. "w-what are you doing?!" y/n screamed and began trying to squirm out of the bathroom, but was stopped when the guard pulled on his hair and shoved him down.

"jeez do you really need to make everything more difficult..?" He snarled before wrapping his arm around y/n's hip to hold him up. Y/n couldnt help but shuffle around, uncomfortable with the humid air constantly hitting his bare ass, along with the harsh degradation from the guard.

Y/n gasped at the cool but sensational feeling of cold and untouched metal at the entrance of his hole, the unfamiliar feeling felt confusing but in that confusion was pure bliss and lust. "thrust.." the player whispered with his face buried in his forearms. The guard smirked under his mask and gladly began to thrust the weapon in and out of y/n.

Y/n through his head back in pleasure, moans coming out of his mouth automatically. drool seeped down his chin and fell on the rim of the toilet. "faster..! i need to cum a second time" y/n commanded, his words laced with sexual frustration as the pistol barely hit any vital points.

"you got it boss" the guard chuckled as he tightened his grip and began to fuck the pistol into y/n's already leaking hole. slight squelching noises bounced off the stall walls along with moderately loud moans. y/n's knees bended more, to the point where they were leaning on one another for support.

y/n's voice progressively got more desperate, his breath was beginning to weigh on him and he could feel another orgasm tightening up in his abdomen. "just a few more baby, then we'll be done" the guard hummed, his own cock strained against y/n's thigh, twitching at every moan and whimper y/n let out.

"im cumming..!!" y/n whined out, he could feel the knot in his stomach slowly untying every thrust the guard threw his way. The gun was coated in cum and moisture from y/n's insides, the mess reached from the start of the pistol all the way back to where the trigger was. y/n loudly moaned as he felt hot ribbons of cum shoot out of him.

"god that was so hot.." the guard whispered, slowly pulling the gun out of y/n, making sure he remembered every last inch of that pistol. y/n's head hanged low, he was trying to regulate his breathing but had difficulty due to the steaminess both him and the guard's questionable actions.

"I'll meet you tomorrow night, be prepared player 037"