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meadowfics · 1 day ago

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“ Payment Accepted ”

you meet a mysterious man alone in a subway corridor and agree to play Ddakji with him. After losing, you willingly offer yourself to him, drawn in by his charm.

Rating: 18+ (explicit, nsfw)

Pairing: The recruiter (gong yoo) x F!Reader

Warnings: Power dynamics, oral (f receiving), public setting (no witnesses), reader willingly submitting

It wasn’t even supposed to be your stop.

You’d missed your train by seconds — the echo of its departure still rattled the platform tiles beneath your boots. The crowd had thinned. The lights buzzed above in flickering pulses. You were alone.

Or… almost.

The suitcase caught your eye first.

Then the man beside it.

He stood like he was waiting for someone — crisp dark suit, red tie knotted tight, one hand tucked neatly into his coat pocket. Calm. Still. Almost too still. Like a photograph.

When you didn’t move, he smiled.

“Lost?”

His voice was deep. Clean. Almost velvety. Like it belonged somewhere indoors, behind polished glass and soft whiskey.

You hesitated. “No. Just… missed my train.”

“Then maybe you’ll play a game with me while you wait.”

Your breath caught.

He bent down and unlocked the suitcase with a satisfying click.

Inside—two neatly folded pieces of red and blue Ddakji paper.

“You win,” he said, “you get the money.”

“I win… you repay me however I ask.”

He paused. “But only if you want to.”

That part wasn’t a threat.

It was a dare.

Your eyes flicked to the paper squares. Then to his hands — long fingers, buttoned cuff. Clean nails. The kind of man who didn’t just take control. He commanded it.

You stepped closer.

“I’ll play,” you said. “But don’t go easy on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You lost.

Three times in a row.

The sharp crack of the Ddakji slapping the platform echoed louder than you expected. The final fold flopped onto its back, defeated.

You looked up.

He was already stepping toward you — not hurried. Just… deliberate. One slow foot in front of the other.

You swallowed. “So… what happens now?”

“You pay,” he said, smooth as ever. “But I’m not interested in slapping you.”

He reached out, his fingertips brushing under your chin. Lifting it.

“You’re far too pretty for that.”

The words weren’t crude. They were precise. Like everything he did was planned two steps ahead.

“There’s no one here but us,” he said. “And I think you knew you’d lose the second you agreed to play.”

Your pulse throbbed in your throat.

“Why else would you still be standing here?”

“Why else are you looking at my mouth like that?”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

Because when he kissed you, you kissed him back.

Hard.

His hands slid around your waist and backed you into the subway wall, one palm splayed against the tile behind your head. The suitcase lay forgotten. His tongue slipped between your lips with expert ease — no fumbling, no hesitation. Just full intent.

He tasted like mint and something darker.

You let out a breathless sound as he pressed his body to yours — sharp suit lines firm against your chest, thigh between your legs.

“You want to repay me?” he murmured, lips ghosting your ear. “Let me taste you.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

You didn’t answer with words.

You just nodded — and reached for the zipper of your jeans.

He dropped to his knees with the grace of someone who was used to being obeyed.

You steadied yourself against the wall as he gently tugged your pants down, his breath warm against your inner thighs. His eyes never left yours.

Even when he licked his lips.

“Already wet for me,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

Then his mouth was on you.

The first lick was broad — tongue flat, slow, deliberate, dragging up your slit like he wanted to memorize the texture. He stopped at your clit, mouth pausing to gently suck — not hard, not rushed. Just enough pressure to make your breath hitch and your knees tighten.

Hot and slow and deliberate — like he wasn’t just trying to make you come, but trying to learn you. Every flick of his tongue was measured, every suck of your clit perfectly timed.

His tongue moved with devastating skill — circling your clit once, twice, then flicking it rhythmically while his lips sealed around it. He kept you open with one strong arm under your thigh, holding your hips steady when you bucked forward.

Your hands fisted into his hair, breath catching when his tongue flattened and dragged upward — then circled again, tighter, then again—

You weren’t guiding him — he didn’t need guidance — but you needed to hold something as he devoured you like it was his purpose.

He changed pace — slow swirls, then sharp flicks. He dipped down, licked through your folds, and back again, tongue teasing your entrance, then sucking your clit again until your moans echoed off the tiled walls.

You cried out softly, but he only pressed deeper — one arm hooked around your thigh to keep you open, the other hand braced against the floor.

“Let go,” he said between licks. “You can. No one’s watching.”

He closed his mouth around your clit again — this time sucking harder, with his tongue flicking in steady rhythm.

You came with a gasp, thighs trembling, hips rolling forward into his mouth as he groaned against you — like your taste was everything he expected and more.

Your orgasm tore through you like a wave — hips bucking into his face, thighs clenching around his shoulders, your fingers gripping his hair so tight you heard him moan.

He didn’t stop.

He licked you through the aftershocks — slow, reverent strokes now, easing the tremors out of your legs until your grip loosened and your back slumped into the wall.

Only then did he stand.

He licked his lips. Not in show. Just to taste what lingered.

And then he smiled.

“Payment accepted.”

He smoothed your clothes back into place, tucked your hair behind your ear, and handed you a small piece of paper from his jacket.

“Call the number,” he said.

He leaned in again — lips grazing your cheek, hot breath against your ear.

“Or don’t.”

“But if you don’t…”

“I’ll come collect you again.”

And with that — he turned. Lifted his suitcase. Vanished into the tunnel like a shadow.

#meadowlovesthisfic

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meadowfics · 1 day ago

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yay 🥳🥳🥳

https://x.com/jewellershands9/status/1937637132018827492?t=5uVt9TIOPbhWXtyacwwH2Q&s=19

happy birthday no-eul baby <3

#meadowsthoughtstypedout

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meadowfics · 1 day ago

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just realized I accidentally put the 14th instead of the 4th lol!

this series will be dropping a week after season three release, on July 4th :)

𝐵𝐿𝑂𝑂𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐹𝐿𝑂𝑊𝐸𝑅

kim young-mi x f!reader + eventual cho hyun ju x f!reader

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: in the deadly games, reader's over-protectiveness over her sensitive girlfriend, young-mi, is beaten out by jealousy when an ex-marine joins your group. after young-mi's tragic death, your shared grief with hyun-ju draws you closer, leading you to realize your jealousy stemmed from something else.

all chapters for the series will come out by july 4th

warnings: this series will include themes of death, homicide, attempts of suicide, canon violence, angst, mental illness, fluff, romantic tension, and more.

𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑚-𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑔

𝑜𝑛𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒

ℎ𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠

𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑒

𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑏𝑜𝑤 𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑑

𝑒𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙

𝑛𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑑

𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒

𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑛

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑒𝑘

ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ

𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑘 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑘, 𝑤ℎ𝑜'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒

𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦

𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠

#meadowsthoughtstypedout #blooming flowers series by meadowfics

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meadowfics · 1 day ago

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warning signs

father!jeon jae-jun x f!mother!reader

this is the fourth part to my mini series linked here

warnings: smut! 18+ minors do not interact. p in v unprotected. mentions/implied baby trapping. stockholm syndrome! angst

the boutique encounter with yeon-jin burns in your chest like acid, her psychotic laugh echoing as you drive home, your hands gripping the wheel so hard your knuckles ache.

you’ve always hated her, a hatred rooted deep in high school, where she was the queen and you were just collateral damage in her war for jae-jun or whenever dong-eun couldn't be her punching bag.

back in high school, yeon-jin didn’t just want him...she wanted to own him, to make sure no one else could.

you were his secret, his quiet obsession, but she sensed you, sniffed you out like a predator.

she’d corner you in the halls, her smile sharp as a blade, whispering insults that cut deeper than fists.

“you think he loves you?” she’d hiss, her eyes glittering with malice, “you’re just his sex toy, y/n. he tosses you around when he’s bored.”

you’d shrink under her gaze, your heart pounding, knowing she was half-right but too weak to fight back.

she’d flaunt her place at his side, her arm looped through his, her laughter loud when he ignored you in front of her.

once, in the girls’ bathroom, she’d shoved you against the sink, her nails digging into your arm.

“stay away from him,” she’d spat, her voice venomous, “he’s mine.” you’d wanted to scream that he wasn’t a prize, that he was a poison, but you were too scared, too caught in his web to break free.

now, years later, her smirk in the boutique, her casual mention of ya-sol and seo-yeon as sisters, reignites that old rage.

yeon-jin has her own husband, but its clear that she still feels for jae-jun. of course that woman wants to own every fucking thing.

she’s still the same, playing games.

you try to shake her voice off as you head to the dental office, the sterile hum of your workplace a temporary anchor. y

ou’re checking x-rays when the receptionist buzzes you.

“ms. lee sa-ra’s here,” she says, “its a walk-in. she says her father made her come.”

your stomach twists, as much as you want to laugh since that grown woman is still following the commands of other people.

sa-ra, another ghost from high school, part of yeon-jin’s cruel clique, was always high on something, always laughing at your pain.

you brace yourself and call her in. she saunters into the exam room, her designer sunglasses perched on her head, her skin sallow despite the expensive makeup.

she flops into the chair, her eyes and smirk lazy.

“well, well,” she drawls, her voice slurred just enough to confirm your suspicions, “y/n, the big-shot dentist. never thought you’d make it this far.”

“just shut up for once, and open your mouth,” you whispered, your tone clipped, pulling on gloves. you don't even care about remaining professional for this clique of monsters.

you’re not here for her games. she complies, but her eyes stay on you, mocking, as you examine her teeth. the x-rays don’t lie...her enamel’s shot, cavities blooming like dark stars.

“so I see that you’re still using,” you say, not a question, your voice flat as you adjust the light.

sa-ra laughs, a brittle sound.

“what, you think you’re my mom now? worry about yourself, y/n. heard you’ve got a kid with jae-jun. how’s that working out, keeping him from his own daughter for fifteen years?”

your hand freezes on the scaler, your jaw tightening.

“you’ve got bigger problems,” you say, tapping the x-ray screen, “these cavities? you’re one bad day from a root canal. maybe focus on that instead of my life.”

she smirks, unfazed, leaning back in the chair.

“touchy, huh? bet jae-jun’s not happy you hid his kid. he’s got a right to her, you know. what, you think you can play mommy and daddy forever?”

“i think you should shut up and let me do my job,” you snap, your voice sharp enough to cut glass, “or i can send you back to your pastor daddy with a bill for a full mouth reconstruction. your choice.”

sa-ra's smirk falters, but she doesn’t push further, letting you finish the cleaning in tense silence.

when she leaves, her sunglasses back on, you’re shaking, her words clawing at you.

she’s right about one thing...jae-jun’s not going to stop.

you think of dong-eun, her plan, her promise to end this, but the lines are blurring.

you head home, your mind a storm, expecting to find seo-yeon sprawled on the couch, her phone glued to her hands.

instead, you stop short in the doorway, your keys slipping from your fingers.

jae-jun’s there, lounging in your living room like he owns it, his suit jacket slung over a chair, his tie loosened.

no seo-yeon. your heart lurches, panic spiking.

“where’s my daughter?” you demand, your voice sharp, stepping inside.

he stands, his hands raised in mock surrender, that infuriating smirk on his lips.

“relax, y/n. she’s with her friends. told me she’d be out for a bit. thought i’d wait for you.”

you cross your arms, your skin prickling under his gaze.

“what the hell are you doing here, jae-jun? you can’t just show up in my house.”

he steps closer, his voice low, casual but laced with intent.

“i haven’t talked to you properly in, what, sixteen years? thought we could catch up. go out, grab some dinner. just you and me.”

your stomach twists, recognizing the trap.

he means a date, a chance to pull you back into his orbit.

you want to say no, to kick him out, but dong-eun’s voice echoes.

let him think he’s winning.

you swallow, hating yourself for it.

“fine,” you say with your voice tight. and lowered, “dinner. but that’s it.”

jae-jun's smirk widens while triumphant, “that’s all i’m asking.”

the restaurant is upscale, all dim lighting and clinking glasses, the kind of place where wealth hangs in the air like perfume. jae-jun’s at ease, ordering wine with a flick of his wrist, his eyes never leaving you.

you’re in a black dress you threw on in a rush, your hair loose, and still beautiful. however, you hate how his gaze makes you feel...seen, wanted, but in the worst way.

he’s casual, charming, asking about your dental practice, your life, like he’s genuinely curious.

it’s all a performance, you know it. every laugh, every brush of his hand against yours, is calculated, pulling you closer to the edge.

“you’ve done well,” he says, sipping his wine, his eyes glinting over the rim.

“dentist, nice house, seo-yeon is in a top school. you raised her like a jeon without needing me... I didn’t think you had it in you back then.”

“you didn’t know me,” you say, cutting through his charm, “you never bothered to.”

he leans back, his smile softening, almost sincere.

“maybe not. but i see you now, y/n. you’re strong. always were, even when you didn’t know it. makes me wonder what we could’ve been if you hadn’t run.”

you bristle, your fork pausing midair.

“i didn’t run. i survived you.”

he chuckles, low, like you’ve amused him.

“survived me? come on, y/n. we were kids. we had something real. you can’t deny that.”

“real?” you snap, “you manipulated me, jae-jun. you used me. don’t rewrite history.”

he leans forward, his eyes locking onto yours, his voice dropping.

“and you loved it, didn’t you? at least a little. i felt it, y/n. you can hate me all you want, but weissier we’re here now.”

your throat tightens, anger and shame twisting together. you want to argue, to throw your wine in his face, but dong-eun’s plan holds you back.

you force a breath, sipping your drink to steady yourself.

“that’s not the point,” you say, your voice cold, “the point is you don’t get to walk back into my life and claim anything.”

“i’m not claiming,” he says, his hand sliding across the table, brushing your fingers.

“i’m asking. for a chance. for seo-yeon. for us.”

you pull your hand back, your skin burning.

“there is no us.”

he smiles, undeterred, and the conversation shifts, his charm relentless.

jae-jun talks about seo-yeon, how proud he is, how he wants to be there for her. he talks about you, how he’s never forgotten you, how he’s changed.

you can tell he is telling the truth about seo-yeon but starts to lie when it comes to you.

you know it, but his voice is smooth, seductive, blurring the lines between truth and manipulation. you try to hold onto dong-eun’s plan, to the rage you felt after yeon-jin, but his words slip under your defenses, stirring memories you’ve buried.

by the time dinner ends, you’re exhausted, your resolve fraying.

he pays the bill with a flourish, guiding you to his car with a hand on your lower back. you expect him to drive you home, but the city lights blur past, and you realize he’s taking a different route.

“where are we going?” you ask, your voice sharp.

“my place,” he says, glancing at you with a smile, “just for a drink. i want you to see where i live, y/n. where seo-yeon could spend time.”

your heart pounds, warning signs flashing in your mind, but you don’t protest.

dong-eun’s voice is faint now, drowned out by the pull of his presence, the dangerous familiarity of it.

jae-jun's apartment is a penthouse, all glass and steel, a bachelor’s dream overlooking the city. he pours you a drink, his eyes never leaving you as he shows you around...sleek furniture, modern art, a view that screams power.

after about ten minutes, he stops at a closed door, opening it to reveal a small room, decorated in soft pinks and whites, clearly for a little girl.

seo-yeon is too old for a room full of unicorns, and its so much pink.

your daughter's favorite color is not pink, its sage green.

this was clearly meant for jae-jun's youngest.

“this for ya-sol?” you ask, your voice tight, the name slipping out before you can stop it.

he freezes, his eyes narrowing.

“how do you know about ya-sol?”

you swallow, cursing yourself.

“yeon-jin,” you say quickly, “i ran into her. she… mentioned her and seo-yeon being half sisters.”

he nods, his expression unreadable, but you see a flicker of something... suspicion, maybe.

“yeah,” he says while closing the door, “it’s for her. she’s… special, but not as special as seo-yeon... don't worry.”

you don’t respond, the weight of ya-sol’s existence, seo-yeon’s half-sister, pressing down on you.

he leads you to his bedroom, the air thick with tension.

you’re standing by the window, looking out at the city. for a couple of seconds, you try to ignore where you are.

this is for dong-un. you try to convince yourself.

this is when you feel him behind you, his chest brushing your back.

your heart starts to race as jae-jun's lips hover near your earlobe, his breath warm against your neck from behind.

“how could you leave me, y/n?” he murmurs, his voice low, seductive, “all those years, and you never looked back once?”

your heart races with anger and something else, something you hate, stirring in your lower stomach.

"you know why,” you whisper, your voice shaking, “you destroyed me.”

“and you rebuilt yourself,” he says, his hands sliding to your waist, turning you to face him, “look at you now. stronger, beautiful. but you’re still mine, aren’t you?”

you want to push him away, to scream, but his eyes hold you, dark and intense, pulling you in.

“i’m not yours,” you say.

your voice wavers, and he knows it.

he shakes his head in disbelief before he leans in to kiss you, slow at first, then deeper, and you lean into it, your body betraying your mind.

the room spins, his hands roaming, pulling you closer, and you’re kissing him back, years of anger and pain blurring into something reckless.

almost all of your clothes fall away, the city lights casting shadows across his bed as he presses himself into you.

it was easy and embarrassing, how soaked you were for a man who you swore you hated more than anything else in the world.

your legs up into a full mating press, where you were displaying the waterfall inbetween your legs as jae-jun easily pushes in and out.

“has another man been raising our daughter?” he asks, his voice rough, his lips brushing your moaning ones, “has some other guy playing daddy?”

you can feel the hate in his voice, knowing that his other daughter has been being raised by other man.

“no,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders.

“no one. just me.”

“good,” he growls, his smirk returning, his hands possessive.

jee-jun keeps fucking himself in and out of you, pulling out until his tip is only inside of you before he pushes himself back in.

“I forgot how good you've always felt, mama," jae-jun groans.

the name almost broke you out of your horny state, but the pleasure has you hypnotized.

jae-jun pushes his upper body up, looking down at you as his dick rearranges your insides. your glassy eyes and swollen lips take over his mind.

the man has always found you so beautiful, which was why he was so obsessed with you.

nostalgia hits him as this reminds him of high school, where he took your virginity for the first time back in that gym locker room.

“for someone who fucking hates my guts, you’re fucking soaked.” jae-jun smirks, his arms on both sides of your head as you mumble for him to not stop.

"sh-shut up." you moan.

“no, because this is how it could be every night. just us, then. you and me. we could do it again, you know. another kid. one i’d raise from the start, not after fifteen years.”

you freeze, his words cutting through the haze, but your body’s too far gone, caught in the heat of him.

“you’re insane,” you whimper, but it’s weak, lost in the moment.

he laughs, low and cruel, his lips against your throat.

“insane? you’re under me, y/n, after fighting me for so long. look at you, falling apart like this. you missed my dick, didn't you?”

you hate him, hate yourself, but you can’t stop. you love and hate how your body responds to his touch, his words, and his degradation.

it’s high school all over again, his control, your weakness, but this time, you’re not a teenager.

you’re a mother, more wise, a survivor.

somewhere in the fog of pleasure, dong-eun’s plan flickers, a warning sign you can’t quite see.

he’s manipulating you, pulling you back, and it’s working.

the lines of your resolve blur into the night.

the fifth part will be linked here

full series masterlist linked here

#jeon jae jun #jeon jae joon #the glory x fem reader #the glory fanfiction #the glory x reader #the glory kdrama #cho hyun ju #park sunghoon actor #park sunghoon #park sung hoon x reader #player 120 #netflix kdrama #netflix fanfiction #fanfiction

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meadowfics · 2 days ago

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nsfw alphabet

kang no-eul x f!reader

warnings: all smut details. strap is mentioned. reader used to be a triangle guard alongside no-eul. all nsfw. minors do not interact.

aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

no-eul insists that you go pee after she finishes with you.

utis are no joke.

afterwards, she will ask if you need anything.

water, thigh massage, head massage, cuddles, sleep, television time?

she accommodates to anything that you need.

body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

no-eul's favorite body part on herself is her hands.

they're fast, and knows how to get tasks done.

she keeps them well-manicured

the woman's hands can break you apart as they push you to release every time she fingers you.

no-eul's favorite body part of yours is your chest area.

she loves giving open mouthed kisses to your collarbones, dragging a whine from you as she moves lower to your breasts.

the way her tongue attaches to your nipples is like a moth to a flame.

she loves all of you, but she is a chest girlie.

cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

no-eul loves when you cum all over her strap after she finishes fucking you through multiple releases.

she makes you get on your sore knees afterwards.

"come on... clean."

the woman smirks as she enjoys watching you use your tongue to clean your own cum off of her strap.

dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

whenever you were a triangle guard alongside her, no-eul always loved whenever your room was next to hers.

before she went to sleep, she always imagined fucking you inside of those rooms while an innocent square guard watched through the cameras.

experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

no-eul only had experience with men before you came along.

in north korea, homosexuality was not common amongst her community.

however, she is a quick learner.

she makes you finish so intensely that you wonder how you were her first woman ever.

favorite position (this goes without saying)

no-eul loves putting you on all fours.

this gives her the power and control she is used to having.

in this position, she will take one of her strong hands and lift one of your legs to the side.

the angle hits all of the good spots inside of you, the ones no-eul know so well.

goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

no-eul is 95% serious.

there was a moment where you and no-eul bursted out in laughter whenever you both had to figure out how to put on a strap for the first time.

she can have a laugh, but that is rare.

hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

no-eul is groomed everywhere except for down-there.

she trims, but fully shaving gives her razor bumps.

the carpet matches the drapes!

intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

no-eul is super sweet... on the inside.

others might find her as cold and calculated on the outside.

however, no-eul is super sweet during sex still.

her hands never leave your body.

'is this alright?" each time she changes the position.

jack off (masturbation headcanon)

no-eul has masturbated less than ten times in her life.

she never needs to since you are usually with her to help with her needs.

however, you caught her one time and you screamed in apologizes before shutting the door.

no-eul giggled, covering herself with comforters before joking about how you've seen her naked and being sexual hundreds of times before.

kink (one or more of their kinks)

service dom: that woman LOVES to cater to you. yes, she can be feisty but no-eul gets turned on knowing that you are loved and cared for by her.

exhibitionism: she loves walking around naked around you at home. nothing sexual has to be happening, she loves knowing that you are the only person who can see her like that. she loves when you do the same.

breeding kink: yeah... how? I know. you and no-eul get soaked over roleplaying and imagining that her strap could seriously get you pregnant. luckily, it cannot.

roleplaying: nothing out of ordinary. sometimes, you and no-eul consider her strap as her actual dick. other times, you love roleplaying as a bimbo while 'no-eul takes advantage of that' (she is not, this is all consensual!!)

katoptronphilia: no-eul LOVES the big mirror inside of your shared bedroom. she will force you to look into the mirror while she fingers or fucks your brain out with her strap. stripping in-front of a mirror is another turn-on.

location (favorite places to do the do)

the bedroom or the couch in your shared apartment.

no-eul hates being uncomfortable or feeling like she is making you feel that way, so keeping it domestic makes her happy.

motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

your words of affirmation turns her on.

no-eul pretends like the words don't get to her, but you know they do.

your praise always sinks right down to her soaking core.

your naked figure on the bed, especially whenever you're teasing her, is another motivation.

no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

nothing that involves human waste.

no mommy kinks, since she was a mother herself.

oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

no-eul does not have a preference.

a perfect 50/50 lady.

she loves riding your face, feeling your hands grip her thighs and ass.

the woman is obsessed with eating you from the back.

pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

slow and steady wins the race.

no-eul is slow, but rough.

quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

quickies happen twice a week.

usually before you leave for work, or the night before no-eul spends the next week on the island participating as a guard in the games.

risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

no-eul hates risks.

stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

no-eul can last seven rounds on a good night.

each round can last for about thirty minutes.

your woman loves dragging things out ;)

toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

no-eul owns two straps, and two dildos.

the first dildo is pink and glittery, 7.5 inches, its more lengthy than girthy.

the other dildo is baby blue, 6 inches, but girthy.

no-eul loves when you use the pink one on her, while she loves using the blue one on you.

no-eul and you have a few rose toys as well.

unfair (how much they like to tease)

that woman is torturous.

no-eul will push you until you beg for her, sometimes waiting for tears to form in your eyes (from desperation) before she gives you what you want.

volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

no-eul tries not to be loud, but fails.

she whimpers and moans, as opposed to whining.

wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

no-eul LOVES when you interrupt her to let her know that you want her.

things like straddling her when she is watching TV, removing the phone from no-eul's hand and sitting on her lap, or closing a book and grabbing her face to kiss her softly.

no-eul loves that you feel comfortable enough to let her know whenever you feel horny for her.

x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

no-eul is super toned.

sleeper build.

back in north korea, she was a soldier who had to train all of the time.

now, she trains as a guard for the annual games.

she stays fit.. just incase.

yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

honestly, I think no-eul has bursts with her libido.

there might be days where no-eul might not want to engage in any sexual activity at all.

sex might be mentally draining for her during dark periods in her life.

for example: the week after she gets home from the island

whenever she is in a better mood, she cannot keep her hands off of you!

zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

no-eul does not fall asleep immediately whenever she tops.

it takes her another hour or two before she will lay down and rest.

however, she is asleep in five minutes if you topped her during sex.

masterlist

#meadowlovesthisfic #squid game #kang no eul x reader

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meadowfics · 2 days ago

Text

out of sight, still in my mind

namgyu x f!reader

after two years together, you, burnt out by the club scene, stay home while namgyu struggles realizing he can’t enjoy himself without you.

warnings: drugs and alcohol are mentioned. the club scene in general. mean namgyu (not towards reader). swearing. namgyu being a simp. fluff. suggestive content.

in club pentagon, the air was hot while your sight saw streaks of blues and pinks, the strobe lights slicing through the haze of sweat and perfume.

two years ago, you wove through that chaotic crowd, your confidence was a force beneath the pounding bass.

namgyu stood by the bar, sharp eyes scanning the room.

the guy was a club promoter in his element. somewhat charismatic (if he wasn't pissed off), untouchable, the guy who could make or break a night.

you caught his gaze, and held it as you approached him.

"hey." you smile, as namgyu took in your figure covered by your black dress.

"hi." namgyu says after he scanned over your body.

"what's your name?" you ask as your hand traced over namgyu's forearm.

the tall guy in front of you tried to act cool, and he is being good at doing so.

most of the women at the club threw themselves onto his bestfriend, thanos, so internally he was surprised that you wanted to get to know him... namgyu.

"its namgyu. what about you, pretty girl?" namgyu takes your right hand in his, sightly shouting in your ear due to the loud music surrounding you both.

“I'm y/n.... do you wanna dance?” you asked, your voice cutting through the music.

the heat throughout namgyu's chest seemed to grow, knowing that 'do you want to dance' means a lap dance.

most women will drag a guy to the darkest corner of the club, give them a lap dance, and sometimes things continue from there. other times, the two people usually move on.

he raised an eyebrow, sizing you up, "what do you mean?"

the club promotor knew exactly what you meant.

“follow me.”

you didn’t say anything else. you let the rhythm take over, holding his hand while pulling him away into a dark hallway in the club which led towards the bathrooms.

of course namgyu followed. he received the best lap dance of his life from you, and the conversation you guys had afterwards connected the inevitable chemistry.

by the end of the night, he had your number, and you had his touches burned into your memory.

that was the spark that lit the fire between you and namgyu.

now two years later, you’re curled up on the couch in your shared apartment, the TV flickering with some late-night drama you’re barely watching.

the clock ticks past midnight, and the city outside hums with its usual chaos.

namgyu’s out at club pentagon, doing what he does best... aka promoting, mingling, keeping the energy alive.

it’s his world, the one he thrives in, surrounded by liquor, drugs, and bodies moving to a relentless beat.

you? you’re done with it.

not him, never namgyu, but the scene.

the late nights, the sticky floors, the constant noise...it’s drained you. you’re burnt out, and tonight, you chose the quiet of home over the messy club.

you trust namgyu, though.

he’s wild, sure, but he’s yours.

he’s never given you a reason to doubt him, not in two years.

still, as you sit there in your silk pink nightgown, the absence of his presence tugs at you.

you wonder how he’s doing, if he’s laughing with thanos, the club’s usual guest rapper, or tossing back shots with the regulars. you don’t worry about him doing something stupid...he’s too loyal and stubborn for that...but you can’t help missing him.

your fingers trace the hem of your nightgown, the soft fabric grounding you as you try to focus on the TV.

it’s no use.

your mind keeps drifting to him, to the way he grins when he’s in his element, the way his hands feel when they pull you close.

across the city, namgyu’s at club pentagon, but something’s off.

the lights are too bright, the music too loud, the crowd too pushy. he leans against the bar, a tequila sprite in hand, his usual charm dulled.

he’s not himself.

normally, he’d be in the thick of it... hyping up the DJ and making sure everyone’s having the time of their lives.

tonight? he doesn't give a fuck.

namgyu is irritable, snapping at a bartender for mixing his drink too slow, rolling his eyes when a regular tries to pull him into a conversation about some new party drug that would've sent the wrong person into overdose.

“yo, namgyu, you good?” thanos asks, sliding up beside him.

thanos is a crazy person, all gold chains and purple hair, but he is observant when it comes to his people.

“nahhh, just not feeling it,” namgyu mutters, taking a sip of his drink.

it tastes like nothing, the burn in his throat doing little to spark his usual fire.

“not feeling it? since when do you not feel pentagon?” thanos laughs, clapping a hand on namgyu’s shoulder.

“c’mon, man, loosen up. have a hit, dance, do something.”

namgyu shakes his head, his jaw tight as he swats the offered blunt away from his face.

he can’t explain it, not to thanos, not to anyone.

the truth is, he misses you.

it’s a weird, heavy feeling in his chest, one he’s not used to. he’s never needed anyone to have a good time before. he’s namgyu, the guy who can turn any lame night into a crazy one.

without you there, the club feels hollow, like it’s missing its pulse.

the music doesn’t hit the same, the drinks don’t loosen him up, and the crowd just annoys him.

he glances around, half-expecting to see you weaving through the bodies, that sly smile on your lips, but you’re not here.

it’s killing him.

as thanos walks away to dance behind some girl... a girl approaches namgyu.

she is all confidence and glitter, her purple skirt barely covering her thighs, her bandeau top leaving little to the imagination.

she’s got that look in her eye, the same one you had two years ago when you offered him a dance.

“hey youuu,” she purrs, leaning closer, her breath warm with vodka.

namgyu had no idea who this girl is, and the girl didn't know him either.

“wanna dance?”

he doesn’t even look at her properly. just shakes his head, lifting his glass to his lips.

“nah.”

she doesn’t get it, stepping closer, her hand brushing his arm.

“come on, it’ll be fun.”

namgyu's patience snaps like a taut wire.

“are you fuckin' stupid or something?” he says, voice low and sharp, his eyes finally meeting hers with a cold edge.

“i said no, get the fuck out of my face.”

the woman's face flushes, embarrassment replacing her flirty smile.

“sorry,” she mumbles, backing away, her heels clicking as she disappears into the crowd.

thanos comes back after noticing the interaction.

the purple haired guy raises an eyebrow, leaning against the bar.

“damn, man, you didn’t have to do her like that.”

namgyu doesn’t respond.

he downs the rest of his drink, the burn doing nothing to fill the emptiness in his chest.

it’s barely 2 am., only an hour since he arrived, but he’s done. he sets the glass on the bar with a clink, grabs his jacket, and turns to thanos.

“i’m out.”

“out? it’s not even late!” thanos looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“what’s up with you?”

“just not feeling it,” namgyu repeats, already heading for the exit. he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation, but the truth sits heavy in his mind: he can’t do this without you.

it’s not just that he misses you...it’s that you’ve changed him. you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and the thought of it scares him.

he’s never been this dependent on anyone, never needed someone to make his world feel right. not even thanos.

you? you’re his everything. the club, the drugs, the drinks... they’re all just noise without you.

the city streets are slick with a recent drizzle as he steps outside, the neon signs reflecting in puddles. he pulls out his phone, tempted to text you, but decides against it.

he wants to see you, not just talk through a screen.

the drive home is a blur, his mind replaying the night, the way the club felt wrong without you there.

he’s used to coming home at 6 am., happy and hyped up from a good night.

right now it’s 3:02 am., and all he wants is you.

you’re half-asleep on the couch when the door creaks open.

you blink, glancing at the clock, confusion knitting your brows.

namgyu’s never home this early, not unless something wild happened...like that one time he got into a fight with a drunk guy who tried to start a brawl, or the night the club got shut down early because of a busted sound system.

tonight? nothing like that.

he steps inside, his jacket slung over his shoulder, his dark hair slightly messy from the night’s chaos. namgyu's sober eyes, though, they’re what catch you.

he is tired, clearly didn't take any drugs tonight... and his eyes are heavy with something you can’t quite place.

“namgyu?” you sit up, rubbing your eyes, your voice soft with sleep.

“why are you back so early?”

he doesn’t answer right away.

your man's eyes land on you, taking in the way your silk pink nightgown clings to your frame, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows across your skin.

he drops his jacket on the armchair and crosses the room in a few strides, pulling you into a deep, tight hug.

namgyu's arms wrap around you like he’s been holding his breath all night and you’re his first gulp of air. your boyfriend's scent... alcohol, cologne, and something distinctly him envelops you, grounding you.

“missed you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low, almost vulnerable.

you pull back slightly, searching his face. his eyes are raw, unguarded in a way he rarely lets show.

“did you do something stupid?” you ask, half-teasing, half-serious, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

“no,” he says quickly, shaking his head.

“i didn’t. i just…” he trails off, his hands still resting on your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles against the silk, “i couldn’t have fun without you there.”

you blink, caught off guard.

namgyu, the life of the party, the guy who can charm a room with a single shout or drug, couldn’t have fun?

“what do you mean?” you ask, your voice soft, curious.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, his fingers catching in the messy strands.

“it’s not the same. the club, the people, the drinks. none of that shit matters if you’re not there. i tried, you know? i tried to do my thing, keep the vibe going, but it felt… empty like, what’s the point?” namgyu's voice cracks slightly, and he looks away.

he’s embarrassed to admit it.

you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. you lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his long silky hair.

“i missed you too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“i was sitting here, thinking about you all night.”

he pulls you closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“you’re in my head all the time, pretty girl.” he admits, his voice rough with honesty, “even when you’re not there, it’s like i can’t shake your ass off of me.”

you laugh softly, the sound muffled against his chest.

“you’re making it sound like i’m a problem.”

“you are,” he teases, but there’s no bite in it. namgyu's slender hands slide up your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“you’ve ruined me. i can’t even do my job without you.”

you tilt your head, meeting his eyes.

“you’re still good at your job. you’re just… whipped for me.”

he snorts, but the smirk on his lips is soft, real.

“yeah, maybe i am.” he pauses, his gaze flickering over your face, like he’s memorizing every detail.

“not gonna lie... you’re worth it, though.”

you don’t say anything for a moment, just let the weight of his words settle between you. the TV is in the background, the city outside a distant murmur.

you’re both quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. it’s the kind of quiet that feels like home.

you shift, pulling him down onto the couch with you, your legs tangling together as you settle against his chest.

“you’re gonna have to quit that job someday,” you tease, poking his chest, your voice light.

namgyu chuckles, his breath warm against your skin.

“yeah? and do what? sit on the couch with you all day?”

“would that be so bad?” you grin, tilting your head to meet his eyes.

he pauses, his smirk softening into something real, something tender.

“nah,” he says quietly, his hand finding yours, his fingers lacing through yours.

“that’d be perfect.”

you smile, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

namgyu hums, his arms tightening around you.

he's home, and he is yours.

masterlist

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