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rainydayfix · 17 days ago

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Trouble (Part 1)

Pairing – Steve Rogers (The Winter Soldier Steve in particular) x female reader Summary: He came into the club to unwind. You focus on making ends meet. But his shyness and your compassion might be both of your undoing.

Warnings: 18+ content (MINORS DNI!!!), thigh riding, one or two cursewords, pretty much just making out and horniness but PART 2 will be on its way and it will be much more NSFW. Contrary to the title, both of these are consensual.

Word count: 1,914

Snippet: “You getting married soon?” Maybe that was the reason for his reclusiveness, he's got a woman at home and doesn't want to mess up his future. It almost settled a sense of relief in you, to know a good one was still out there.

“I'm just busy at work. I don't get much time off,” he said. You exhaled a sight of relief bigger than you anticipated. You almost swore, with the way his neck perked up, he heard it too.

Random Notes – I was literally driving home from work, and Trouble Man from The Winter Soldier soundtrack came on - the whole story kinda flashed in my mind and I was just so giddy. As soon as I got home, I just kinda let this one go and here we are. I hope ya'll enjoy, and let me know what you think!! :D

Having just come off your set on the main stage, you take your cue with the hoots and hollers around the room from bored husbands and bosses to get all you can. A little shimmy here, some quick flirty convos there, as men stuff the lining of your bra and underwear with singles and double digits. Feeling hot from the stuffiness of the air, and not the attraction of anyone in the room, you shuffle to a mirror in a dark corner behind the crowded bar to make yourself look more presentable. The crisp and crumpled dollar bills felt a bit thicker than your intake from the night before. At least you hope so as you take off your heel and force the bills to the bottom before slipping it back on. Safe keeping.

A separate round of large shouts and hollers come from the entranceway rather than close to the stage. A bachelor party? A happy hours get-together? You couldn't care less to be honest, but you had to care enough while you were on the clock with bills to pay.

A couple of the girls from the back scuttle back and forth from the dressing room, wanting to get a vantage point of the new troupe of customers. We were all desperate for more than the regulars, even if they paid between impish and fairly well. Two servers dipped over to them more than ready to take their orders, as a few of the men began busting out bills for the table, the kind of show and tell to bring over any dancer in a heartbeat.

From where you stood across the floor, the eight of them all looked like they belonged roiding out in the gym, or getting off fighting a war – wearing various combos of black jackets, pants, shirts, slick back hair. The one with the beard had gruffest voice and looked like the leader, and none of them had a problem following his lead. Being loud and gruff for the sake of it.

Except for one. He wasn't even wearing black. You couldn't be sure under shadows of neon lights but he looked like he was donning the most subtle navy blue casual look, not the cargo wear of his pals. Blonde hair. Sharp jawline. Looking exactly like he had no idea what he was doing there. If you were one of your friends, you would've gone to him next. None of the others seemed to think he was worth the hassle, going for the more extroverted ones of the bunch. You almost felt sorry for him.

But you didn't want any problems tonight. Sighing and mentally wishing the other girls luck you made your way around the room, hitting up some guys who cheered the most when you were on stage, some who left you great tips last night.

That sorriness you felt for the lone stranger didn't last long before you found yourself close enough to the table you planned on avoiding.

“What's your name, sweet cheeks,” the loud one, the leader, shouted over the music, letting a loose hand gently graze your back.

You offered your stage name with a tight smile. The tightest most polite smile you could while trying desperately not to eye the wad of cash splayed across the tables that seemed to grow bigger from the time they entered twenty minutes ago. It almost made your heart jump from what that could help you pay off.

“You gonna take care of our boy, [Y/N]?” His suggestion coming off like a barking order. You gonna help take care of our boy, or else, kind of order. You couldn't help but think that they just didn't want him ruining their mood and wanting to fuck anything that moved instead of actually wanting him to have a good time.

The blond guy's face flinched , as one of the waitresses put down a drink in front of him and turned away almost immediately. He seemed to relax a bit but not that much, and that wasn't going to make most of the dancers here spend much time with him if it seemed like he wasn't capable of ponying up.

You didn't pay attention to the loud one. Instead, you offered a heartwarming smile to the one practically sitting on his own in the crowded booth as you maneuvered over to him.

“It's a little loud in here,” you leaned over, remarking.

All he could do was nod his head. You sighed, deeply. Your closest friend who was already joined at the hip to a svelte guy with way too much oil in his slicked back hair gave you a look of pity, and then forced a laugh to whatever he said.

Your hand reached over to his face, redirecting his eyes to meet your gaze. “Why don't we go somewhere a little more private?” you asked, leaning over close enough for him to smell your perfume. Maybe close enough for him to feel, I don't know, safer, at ease.

His eyes were blue. Soft yet sharp, even warm. You didn't expect that being this close to him. With a quick nod of his head, he stood up with more confidence than what you expected. Taking your head in his, you saw the first glimpse of a smile, even if it was a shy one, as his friends howled behind him and threw down more money for the dancers making out on stage.

You led him through to a private suite, with one of the security guards eyeing the both of you as you walked through the threshold. You heard him give a big sigh, making you catch a glimpse of him running his palms over the highs of his jeans. Damn, he was good looking.

“That better,” you noted, as he looked around warily before sitting down in the main both across from you.

You were sure he had to be 6'3'. Probably 250 or 300 lbs covered in pure muscle. He could beat the shit out of every jerk in this place and not break a sweat. Yet, with the way he was sitting on the pleather couch, his shoulders hunched forward and unsure what to do with his hands, he looked like a lost golden retriever. It made you swallow hard, not wanting to buy into all of these small signs of genuine humility. A part of you wanted to swear it an act, and that's what made you focus more on the audio player to find your favorite playlist to collect your thoughts.

A soothing yet sultry saxophone blared out from the speakers. You glided over to him, his eyes finally darting all over your body. You swore it was the first time he was registering exactly where he was. You started moving your hips, swaying and feeling the lump of cash at the bottom of your one heel. At least if you couldn't get anything out of him, you had that pad of take-ins for the night.

“What's your name,” you asked. Your mind couldn't help but think if you had actually seen him before. Not here, but somewhere else.

“Steve,” he offered, his voice much deeper than you expected, so deep that you could feel it light a fire under your skin.

“Those your friends outside, Steve?” you prompted, rolling closer to him, encouraging the closeness to prompt him to lean back. “You guys celebrating a promotion?”

He let out a tentative no, but there was something in his tone that made you believe it was a full-on rejection of the idea. His eyes were zeroing in on your movements. Finally.

“You getting married soon?” Maybe that was the reason for his reclusive nature, he's got a woman at home and doesn't want to mess up his future. It almost settled a sense of relief in you, to know a good one was still out there.

“I'm just busy at work. I don't get much time off,” he said. You exhaled a sight of relief bigger than you anticipated. You almost swore, with the way his neck perked up, he heard it. “The guys wanted me to unwind.”

You rolled your back down to the ground, grabbing your heels, making sure to stick your ass in his face and sway your hips a bit. When you pretended to play with your calves, at this point just improving your front legged stretch from yoga class, you caught a glimpse of Steve's jaw clenching shut.

So, he is an ass man too. For some reason, the observation took to the back of your mind like a note that you could use for later...but surely you wouldn't.

You sighed, rolling upwards and turning around to move in on him.

“Relax,” you told him, your hands opening up the lapel of his jacket and letting your hands briskly grab his shoulders. “I'm not gonna bite.”

You couldn't lie the polite gentleman act was cute. A part of you felt like you wanted to take care of him, show him it was okay to want someone and be wanted. Another part wanted you to help him break free of it, see the fuckboy that was surely hiding underneath. It would be a shame to have all those muscles and tension, and never work them out, especially on you.

“You can if you want to,” whispering close to his ear, hoping the words would make a difference. You whipped your long hair to the side, exposing your neck close to his face, and trying to convince yourself there wasn't a selfish incentive behind it.

“Hmmm,” was all he could muster.

You nod your head in the direction of the sign. NO TOUCHING.

He peered slightly up at you, as your hips rest easy several inches over the tent in his pants. It surprised you how much he seems to be asking for permission without any words. You bite your lips was all he needed as his hands grabbed hold of your waist, firmer than you ever anticipated. He helps plant you over him, the most intimate you were with anyone that night, for as long as you could possibly remember.

“You don't let anyone get this close to you, “ you smooth your hips over and over his, letting his hard member get as close to the apex between your legs as possible without real penetration. “Huh, big boy.” You mean that as an end to the sentence, but can't help but moan instead.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, applying pressure to give you an idea of the kind of restraint he's grasping onto. There is more to him afterall...

Both of you get caught up in the motions, spending what seems like an eternity, letting your hands roam all over each other's bodies, your lips toying with kissing but always leaving him wanting more. Neither of you notice that a more than couple of songs have gone by since he first cupped you into his lap.

You try your best to direct your hips to brush over his more than anything, but more often than not, you're pretty much riding his thigh. You could tell he's holding onto his composure with everything he has by how tense his muscle feel even though his clothes. He lets you practically take off his jacket as you brace yourself against his shoulders and firm chest. And, surprisingly, he seems to have no problems with it. You also have no problems with his calloused yet gentle hands cupping your breasts or gripping your ass, depending on how he alternates between them both.

You roll your hips across his member that's padding and protected by the clothing the two of you still have on. The pleasure you feel sparks your body alive with goosebumps, a tingle all the way down to your toes, feeling so close to euphoria. All of this and he's not even penetrating you. All you could imagine is how much real attention he would give to you, and he really is big underneath you, maybe the biggest yet most devoted one you would ever get from someone at the club or outside of it.

Just when you felt on the precipice of coming undone, you hear a loud banging on the door. And remnants of what sounds like his friends shouting and then laughing on the other side. Of course, the security guard, Max, getting involved as well, you could only imagine either threatening to kick them or kick their asses.

Steve completely relaxed into the cushions, making you take note of his hair disheveled and his hands left supporting your back. You don't remember when but your hands are practically gripping the rim of the booth over him, as your faces are nose to nose. You were probably worse for wear, reminding yourself to check your make-up and hair before going back on the floor. You both are left to do more than start catching your breath.

It takes you a second to realize – the music's moved onto some obnoxious pop song at random. It further thrusts you out of the moment. Definitely not something that will get the most out of your remaining customers.

And, that thought brings you back to reality.

You were actually longer in here with him than your regulars. You probably gave your co-workers the wrong impression of what was going on. Your boss was gonna be pissed.

And, you want to fight this moment of having to go back to work. Because you actually had a nice time for once.

You try not to move as hastily as possible off of him, not enough to put him off from coming back at least. You take your time, managing to straighten out what little clothing you have on and finding a way to stand between his legs.

“Did I manage to help you,” you ask, in a soft tone, trying not to think of how wet you are between your legs and desperate you'll be by the time you get home to take a cold shower.

He stands to meet you as close as possible, his eyes never leaving your face. You breathe in what's left of his warm cologne in the room that feels quickly colder without his embrace. His hands reach into his pockets, and then his wallet. You almost don't want to accept, or look what he is going to offer. He unblinkingly pulls out a wad of cash.

“In more ways than one,” he mentions, softly.

All you could think of in that moment is how your hand is impossibly tiny in his, as he slips you almost double than what is in your heel. And, it almost scares you how little you care about the money you earned, and more about the possibility of never seeing him again.

Sneak peek of Part 2 (coming later this weekend): “No kissing,” you shake your head and try your hardest not to bite your lip. You don't want to make the wrong impression he has on you even worse. “is a rule of mine.”

Without missing a beat, but with a spark in those heavenly blue eyes you missed so much, his tongue darts between his teeth quickly, and he says, “How about eating, then?”

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #masterlist #character imagine #steve rogers winter soldier #captain america smut #the winter soldier smut

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magnagaruzenmon · 2 months ago

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Burlesque

So Dio had an idea for two stories that were interesting this is the more Salacious story. This is a bit of a mashup and handling of requests for @moonluvrrsworld and @casualkpopfan we hope you enjoy your time at the Idoll studio.

Prologue

When I got the invitation from Heejin, I was more than a little surprised. She had always given off tomboy vibes—hoodies, sneakers, a constant air of mischief—so hearing she was part of a burlesque troupe, much less seeing videos of her on stage, was…unexpected to say the least.

Still, here I was, standing outside a sleek, dimly lit studio with a neon sign flickering overhead. Music pulsed faintly from within, a low, seductive thrum that made my palms sweat. Nervously, I pushed through the door and approached the front desk. The building was bright but minimalist in its coloration and stimulating aspects. There was a front desk and three hallways that split off from the desk. The two ends (left and right) hallways had several doors and rooms behind them meanwhile the hallway in the center had one singular ornate door.

A girl—no, a woman, probably around Heejin’s age—looked up from her phone and flashed me a practiced, mischievous smile.

“First time?” she asked, her voice lilting with amusement.

I nodded, feeling a little out of place.

“I could tell,” she said, laughing lightly. “Newbies always have the look. Yours, though, might be the most guarded and uptight I’ve seen yet.”

She extended her hand. “Name’s Shuhua. You?”

“Diobronto,” I said, feeling awkward as I shook her hand.

Her grin widened. “Mind if we call you Dio for short?”

I nodded again, just as a familiar laugh echoed from behind the counter.

Heejin appeared, decked out in a dazzling belly dancer outfit that clung to her in all the right places. I blinked in surprise—this wasn’t the scrappy girl who used to steal my fries and pick fights with vending machines.

“Since when do you look so hot?” I blurted out before I could catch myself.

Heejin laughed—the same goofy, dorky cackle I’d always known—shattering the seductive aura she’d worn just a moment ago.

“Only when I’m working, you jerk,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder with mock grandeur. “Glad you made it. Shuhua, this is my roommate and certified pain in the ass.”

Shuhua tilted her head, eyeing me up and down like she was sizing up a prize.

“Ohhh, the prize fighter,” she mused. “Hmm. You’re less pugnacious up close. I like him.”

Heejin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no, hands off. He’s not fresh meat—not unless he chooses to be.”

Shuhua pouted dramatically, then leaned on the counter toward me. “Fine, fine. But what is your fancy, Bronto? We have a robust menu of girls—and trust me, the good ones get booked fast.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but my mind was still stuck somewhere between Heejin’s belly dancer outfit and Shuhua’s mischievous grin.

Maybe I was in deeper than I thought. Seeing my hesitation Shuhua says, “I can tell you the story of past customers if you’d like?”

I nod and she start relaying their tales to me.

Miracle

You decided on the one billed as Miyeon the Miracle—a mesmeric gazelle of grace, roaming the wild savanna of seduction. The nickname seemed almost too poetic to be real, but curiosity—and maybe something a little more primal—spurred you on.

Shuhua, smirking knowingly, led you through a hallway tucked behind the counter. The path twisted and turned, each step making your heart pound louder against your ribs. At the very last door on the left, she stopped, resting a hand on the handle.

“Be careful in there,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “This gazelle? She bites like a lion.”

You raised an eyebrow, half amused, half intrigued, but Heejin only gave you a sly wink before nudging you inside.

The room swallowed you in warmth and color. Rich golds, smoldering reds, deep oranges—all painting the air like a desert sunset. A single, plush chair waited at the center, facing a small, elevated stage. As you took your seat, the lights dimmed and a pulse of music filled the room—upbeat, sultry, laced with a bassline that seemed to vibrate right through your chest.

Then she appeared.

Miyeon stepped into the light like something conjured from a dream. Black negligee, delicate bralettes, sheer stockings that gleamed against her skin, and a crimson boa lazily wrapped around her waist like a serpent. She moved with an effortless, magnetic grace, her every step a wordless flirtation.

A playful twirl revealed a tantalizing glimpse of ankle. A slow, deliberate kick showed off long, toned legs that seemed sculpted for sin. She dipped low, flashing a teasing hint of cleavage as she glided from the stage toward you.

Your breath caught as she straddled your lap with feline ease, her touch featherlight but electric. She leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she purred,

“First time?”

You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. Miyeon’s smile was wicked and sweet all at once, the kind that promised trouble you wouldn’t mind getting into. She looped the red boa loosely around your neck, drawing you in just enough to make your pulse jump.

“I could tell,” she murmured, her fingers lightly tracing your collarbone through your shirt. “You’re way cuter than my usuals.”

You found your voice somehow, managing a smile as you said, “I’d love to be one of your usuals.”

Her laugh was soft, musical, and she leaned even closer, her forehead nearly brushing yours.

“Oh, a good boy,” she cooed, teasing the boa with a light tug. “I do love those.”

She let the boa slide slowly through her fingers, the soft fabric brushing against your jawline as she shifted in your lap—just enough to make your mind short-circuit. Her perfume was intoxicating: a blend of sweet florals and something deeper, muskier, that made it impossible to think straight.

Miyeon tilted her head, studying you with a sly smile, as if savoring how stiff and wide-eyed you’d become under her touch.

“You look tense,” she teased, tracing a single manicured finger down the side of your neck. “We can’t have that.”

Before you could respond, she leaned back slightly, just enough to catch your gaze trailing the graceful arch of her body. She laughed—a low, knowing sound—and tugged the boa tighter, gently pulling your face closer to hers.

“Relax,” she whispered, her lips just grazing the edge of your cheek, not quite a kiss but not quite innocent either. “You’re here to enjoy yourself, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard, nodding, earning another amused grin.

“Mmm. Good answer.” She shifted again, deliberately slow, crossing one stockinged leg over the other as if you were a throne she was making herself comfortable on.

Miyeon let the boa fall from your neck, draping it lazily over your shoulders instead, as she traced a slow, deliberate circle over your chest with one fingertip.

“Tell me,” she said, voice honeyed and heavy with mischief, “what’s a good boy like you hoping to find in a place like this?”

The question hung between you, thick and daring, daring you to answer honestly—or lie—and risk being caught.

Mirage

Curious, you leaned toward Heejin and asked, “What’s the Mirage all about?”

Like a well-rehearsed oracle, she replied with a mischievous glint in her eye, “The Mirage is an enigma. She lures you into her oasis, tempts you with a lavish feast… but remember, it’s all an illusion.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, caught off guard by the almost prophetic way she said it. Shuhua laughed too, clearly pleased by your reaction.

“I’m glad you have a sense of humor about it,” she said, linking her arm with yours playfully. “Come on, I’ll take you to her.”

You followed, your nerves dancing with anticipation. Shuhua led you down the right hallway, stopping at the third door on the left. She knocked once, sharp and sure.

“Momo, you’ve got a customer!” she called, flashing you a teasing grin as she turned to give you a slow once-over. “And he’s cute,” she added, with a singsong lilt, before gently pushing you inside.

The room instantly swallowed you into a lush, dreamlike atmosphere. The walls shimmered with projections of a vibrant jungle: towering palms, golden sunlight, the sound of distant waterfalls and birdsong weaving a calming spell around you.

Then you saw her.

Momo stood on the stage, barefoot, bathed in soft green and gold lights. Her gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch—but there was a bright, unmistakable sparkle of mischief in her eyes. Somehow, she was both piercing and adorably unfocused at the same time, a contradiction that made her all the more captivating.

She grinned, a little giddy, as she sauntered toward you with a sway in her hips that seemed effortless, natural.

“You’re cute,” she said, her voice dripping with honey and mischief. Before you could respond, she reached out, pressing a gentle hand to your chest and pushing you down into the single plush chair at the center of the room.

Her short, sleek hair framed her face perfectly as she leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear.

“I know this is your first time,” she whispered, her lips barely brushing your skin, “but let me make it special.”

You managed a crooked smile just as she straightened—though not before you noticed how her silver top struggled to contain her generous curves, the shimmer of it catching the light and drawing your eyes helplessly.

Without another word, she spun away from you, gliding back to the stage. As the music shifted into a slow, sultry beat, Momo moved with a blend of athletic power and playful seduction. Every movement was deliberate: a sharp snap of her hips, a languid stretch of her toned legs, the roll of her shoulders that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

At one point, she caught your eye mid-spin and burst into a soft, breathy giggle—breaking character for the briefest, most endearing moment. Then, with a wicked smirk, she smoothed her expression into something far more sinful, never losing that ditzy sparkle in her gaze.

You couldn’t help the grin creeping up your face as you watched her. It was like she knew she had you wrapped around her finger—and she was having the time of her life playing with you.

The Mirage wasn’t just an illusion. She was a trap you were starting to hope you’d never escape.

The music pulsed around you, low and hypnotic, as Momo danced just out of reach, casting teasing glances over her shoulder. Then, as the song shifted to a more playful rhythm, she paused mid-twirl, placing a hand dramatically on her hip.

She pointed directly at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Up.”

The single word left no room for argument, but the playful lilt in her voice made it feel like a dare rather than a command.

You hesitated, and Momo giggled—a light, almost bubbly sound that somehow only made the tension crackle hotter.

“Come on,” she teased, curling her finger to beckon you forward. “Don’t make me come over there and drag you onto the stage myself… although…” she pretended to ponder it, tapping a finger against her chin, “that would be kinda fun.”

Chuckling under your breath, you rose to your feet. The second you did, Momo crossed the distance between you in a flash, taking your hands and placing them—gently, but deliberately—on her hips.

“There we go,” she cooed, smiling up at you through her lashes. Her body moved under your touch, a slow sway that made your hands burn where they rested against her.

She leaned closer, her forehead nearly bumping yours with how little space she left between you, her voice a giddy whisper.

“Rule number one in my oasis,” she said, “you have to have fun.”

Without warning, she spun out of your grasp in a flurry of laughter and silk, twirling back toward the center of the stage. Her boa slipped from her shoulders and floated dramatically through the air, landing across your arm.

You stood there for a moment, holding it dumbly, and Momo beamed at you—both sexy and adorably chaotic at the same time.

“Keep that safe for me, cutie,” she winked. “You’re officially part of the act now.”

You weren’t sure if it was the boa, the jungle lights, or simply the way Momo moved, but you had the distinct feeling reality had shifted the moment you stepped into her Mirage—and you weren’t in any rush to leave.As the song built to a playful crescendo, Momo danced back toward you, her movements bold but light-hearted, like she was weaving you deeper into her spell.

Still twirling, she plucked a prop from the corner of the stage—a delicate golden circlet decorated with fake vines and tiny flowers. She spun it around her finger as she approached, her smile wide and wicked.

“Since you’re already part of my little world,” she said, voice low and lilting, “you might as well have a title.”

You barely had time to process her words before she slipped the crown onto your head with exaggerated ceremony, adjusting it with an unnecessary—and very teasing—amount of care. She tilted your chin up with one finger, surveying you like a queen admiring her new prize.

“King of my jungle,” she declared dramatically, her eyes gleaming with laughter—and something a little hotter beneath it.

You laughed despite yourself, feeling slightly ridiculous in the best possible way. Momo’s grin widened at your reaction; clearly, she loved every second of seeing you teeter between flustered and entertained.

Stepping back, she threw her arms wide, as if presenting you to an imaginary audience.

“All hail!” she called out, giggling uncontrollably when she caught the slightly dazed look on your face.

Then, in a swift, surprisingly graceful move, she dipped low into a mock-curtsy before giving you one last smoldering look that sent heat rushing to your ears.

The lights dimmed slowly as the music faded, leaving you standing there—crowned, holding her boa, heart hammering in your chest—with Momo blowing you a playful kiss as the final act of her enchanting, giddy seduction.

The Mirage might have been an illusion… but the way she made you feel? That was very real.

Hope

You idly scanned the menu when a particular description snagged your attention:

Haseul: we hope you can withstand the haughtiness of this feline diva and her ravenous appetite for younger men. Will you be prey, or will you be predator? The choice is yours—for the radiant jungle cat of beauty.

The words stirred something low and primal in your gut. You barely noticed when Heejin leaned over your shoulder, her smirk practically audible.

“Ohhh, a momma’s boy?” she teased.

You shot her a horrified look, but she only laughed and patted your back reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” she said, her voice lilting with amusement. “She’ll take excellent care of you.”

Before you could even fully process what that meant, she was already tugging you down the left hallway to the second door on the right. She rapped her knuckles sharply on the wood, then cracked the door open.

“Unnie, you’ve got a live one,” Heejin called into the dark. “Try to leave him conscious this time,” she added, a devilish grin flashing across her face as she gave you a shove and shut the door firmly behind you.

You were instantly swallowed by darkness.

The room was black as a moonless night, save for tiny glimmers of light scattered across the ceiling, creating the illusion of a star-drenched sky. The air was warm, thick with the heady scent of spiced perfume—something smoky, rich, like cinnamon laced with rum.

The slow thrum of jungle drums began to pulse through the darkness, each beat vibrating through your chest. Instinctively, you moved closer to the low stage set against the far wall, feeling a magnetic pull you couldn’t resist.

You barely had time to lower yourself onto the soft cushions scattered at the foot of the stage before she emerged.

First, her eyes.

Twin embers of gold cutting clean through the blackness—piercing, feral, and devastatingly aware. The feline contacts made her gaze almost supernatural, and the way they locked onto you made it feel like she was stalking you, singling you out from the herd.

As she drew closer, her full form materialized: a body carved of sinuous, lethal curves, clothed in black cougar print that clung to her like a second skin. Every step she took radiated power, the slow prowl of a jungle queen confident in her domain.

Her hand, graceful and deliberate, cupped your cheek. Her touch was soft—but there was a simmering heat beneath it, a hunger barely restrained. She tilted your chin up so you could see her properly: elegant, regal… and utterly ravenous.

“Will you be my good boy for the night?” she murmured, her voice a silky purr.

Before you could muster a response, she added, lower, closer—breath ghosting hot over your ear—

“Will you be a good boy for mommy?”

Your mouth went dry. Your body answered before your mind could catch up—you nodded, almost desperately, heat flooding your veins.

Haseul’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

Without ceremony, she straddled your lap, her body molding against yours with a slow, liquid grace. Her hands found your shoulders, pinning you there with deceptively gentle pressure as she leaned in—and bit you.

Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to claim.

The shock of it sent a pulse of adrenaline through you, your breath catching in your throat. It was primal. Intimate. Devastatingly arousing.

“You taste so sweet,” she whispered against your skin, her voice dripping satisfaction.

She began to sway, her hips rolling hypnotically while still anchored to your lap. Every movement was a slow, devastating grind that left no part of you untouched. Her perfume filled your senses—spiced, heady, intoxicating—as you let yourself sink under her spell.

In that moment, under her jungle sky, you knew exactly what you were:

Prey.Willing, enthralled, and utterly hers for the night.She smiled—a slow, wicked thing—before pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek.

“You’re all alone, little one…” she cooed, voice dripping with possession. “All mine.”

Before you could even respond, her nails raked down your shoulders, sharp enough to leave faint trails of heat blossoming in your skin—her marks, claiming you. You groaned under the sudden bite of sensation, the sound torn from your throat without thinking.

Above you, Haseul purred—overconfident, indulgent.

“Ah, there he is—“my good boy,” she crooned, her voice alight with triumph.

Still straddling you, she continued to sway, her movements even slower now, more deliberate—designed to test every shred of self-control you had. Then, with a sly smile, she guided your hands to her hips and lower, until your fingers found the generous curve of her bottom.

A sharp gasp of pleasure escaped her lips, almost a mewl, as she pressed herself into your grasp, luxuriating in the contact. You barely had time to savor the feeling before she rose suddenly, leaving you disoriented, breathless, and desperate for more.

But she wasn’t finished.

In one fluid, predatory motion, she returned, pushing you back onto the cushions. Her hands pinned your wrists to the floor as she descended on you, peppering your skin with kisses—your arms, your neck, your jawline—claiming you in a thousand soft, heated touches.

Each kiss felt like a brand.

Each press of her lips a silent vow: Mine.

You groaned again, helpless beneath her, overwhelmed by the sensual onslaught—the strange contradiction of how something so chaste could feel so decadently lurid.

Then, with a sudden, deliberate motion, Haseul shifted—and the thin strap of her dress slipped down her shoulder, exposing a tantalizing sliver of skin.

You inhaled sharply, utterly entranced, the temptation almost painful.

But just as quickly, she paused. Her golden eyes caught yours, smirking as she languidly adjusted the strap back into place, savoring the obvious hunger on your face.

“Maybe…” she purred, leaning closer so her breath brushed your ear, “if my good boy comes back another time… he’ll earn the privilege of seeing a little more.”

She traced a final, lazy kiss along your collarbone before pulling away, leaving you marked, dazed, and aching for her in the starlit dark.

The door creaked open, and you stumbled out into the hallway, dazed and disheveled, your clothes rumpled and skin still burning where Haseul had kissed, clawed, and claimed you. You barely had the presence of mind to straighten up, and even then, you moved like a man walking through a dream.

Shuhua stood nearby, leaning casually against the wall. The moment she caught sight of you, her lips curled into a wicked grin.

“Well, well,” she said, folding her arms. “Looks like mommy really liked you.”

You opened your mouth, maybe to protest, maybe to defend what little pride you had left—but all that came out was a low, helpless groan. Shuhua laughed, bright and merciless.

“Don’t worry,” she added with a wink, “*Haseul only leaves her favorite boys marked up like that. You should feel honored.”

Heejin popped her head around the corner then, snickering as she caught sight of you.

“Is he walking straight?” she asked Shuhua.

“Barely,” Shuhua giggled. “Might need to get him a wheelchair at this rate.”

Sublime

“Hey, what’s the deal with Sana?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Heejin and Shuhua exchanged a look—one that made your stomach flip slightly. For the first time tonight, their playful energy seemed touched with genuine apprehension.

“Sana’s one of my friends,” Shuhua said carefully. “But… I wouldn’t recommend her for first-timers. She can be… intense.”

You laughed off the warning, flashing them a grin. “No worries then. You two are the old heads around here—I’ll trust your judgment.”

You should have known better.

Before Heejin or Shuhua could say anything more, a voice piped up behind the counter—light, lilting, almost childlike.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’re scared of little ole me?”

You turned—and there she was.

A brunette woman with the softest, kindest brown eyes you’d ever seen. They glowed with a disarming sweetness that seemed almost too pure for a place like this. She smiled at you—wide, genuine—and you found yourself smiling back before you even realized it.

That’s how she got you.

The world blurred, and the next thing you knew, you were in her room.

And she was kissing you.

Hard.

Her lips crashed against yours without warning, tasting, taking, branding you in an instant.

When she finally pulled away—just enough to breathe—she giggled, a sound so sweet it made your head spin.

“We’re not technically supposed to touch,” she said in a singsong tone, “but none of us really follow that rule… especially me.”

Without waiting for your response, Sana gave you a gentle shove, sending you sprawling backward onto the plush, heart-shaped bed at the center of her room.

You barely had time to catch your breath before she disappeared behind a crimson curtain.

The lighting in the room shifted to a sultry, soft glow, and through the sheer fabric, you could see her silhouette—a teasing shadowplay of long legs, slow movements, and deliberate intention. You watched, utterly mesmerized, as she peeled off her casual clothes with a sinful grace, her curves highlighted in the low light.

When she slipped into something far more provocative—lace, silk, skin—you realized intense hadn’t even begun to cover it.

Every move she made was calculated. Every glance she threw your way was a snare.

You weren’t just a customer here.

You were prey—and Sana was delighted by the chase. The curtain fluttered—and then Sana stepped out.

The provocative lingerie clung to her petite frame, hugging every curve in a way that was both playful and devastatingly seductive. Her hair framed her face in soft waves, her smile bright and sweet—almost innocent—save for the dangerous gleam in her eyes.

She approached you slowly, one step at a time, hips swaying with a mesmerizing rhythm, like a cat toying with a cornered mouse.

You sat up instinctively—but she was already there, climbing onto the bed, crawling over you on all fours with predatory grace.

“You look so nervous,” she cooed, reaching out to brush a thumb across your bottom lip. Her touch was featherlight, almost reverent. “That’s cute. I like when they’re nervous.”

Before you could reply, Sana straddled your waist, pinning you effortlessly against the mattress. Her fingers trailed up your chest, slow and deliberate, as if mapping every inch of you for memory.

Then, without warning, she leaned in close—her nose brushing yours, her breath hot against your skin.

“I always get what I want,” she whispered, a glint of pure, greedy affection flashing in her gaze.

She peppered kisses across your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, each one more possessive than the last. Tiny, adoring bites followed—just enough to leave invisible marks, to remind you that you belonged to her, even if only for tonight.

“Mine,” she breathed after every kiss, as if staking a claim with each touch.

You were completely helpless, completely hers—and Sana reveled in it, giggling softly like it was the cutest secret in the world.

At one point, she tugged you up slightly by the collar, forcing your eyes to meet hers.

“You’ll come back to me, won’t you?” she asked, voice dripping with saccharine sweetness—but the intensity lurking underneath the question left no room for doubt.

There was only one right answer.

You nodded, almost dazed, and she beamed, rewarding you with another deep, lingering kiss that left you breathless and aching for more.

When she finally pulled away, Sana gave you a little wink, tapping your nose playfully.

“Good boy,” she whispered, before sliding off you with an effortless grace, leaving you wrecked on the heart-shaped bed—marked, claimed, and already desperate to fall back into her arms again.Sana didn’t rush. She took her time, hovering over you with a mischievous smile, as if admiring her handiwork. Your hair was tousled, your clothes rumpled, your expression somewhere between bliss and disbelief.

“Tsk, tsk,” she giggled, reaching down to tug gently at your wrinkled shirt, smoothing it out with slow, teasing hands. “I can’t let my precious boy walk out looking like a mess, can I?”

She adjusted your collar with exaggerated care, her fingertips brushing your neck just a little too long to be innocent. Every featherlight touch sent shivers through you, reopening every nerve she had already set on fire.

Satisfied with her work, Sana leaned in once more—so close you could feel the soft tickle of her hair against your cheek.

Then, without warning, she pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Not fiery. Not greedy. Just sweet. Tender.

Like you were something precious.

She pulled back, grinning with a mix of mischief and pure affection, her eyes sparkling.

“Now,” she whispered, tapping your chest lightly with one manicured finger, “go before I decide to keep you forever.”

You stumbled to your feet, somehow managing to stand, even as your legs threatened to give out from under you.

The door swung open, and there stood Heejin and Shuhua—both openly gawking at the state Sana had left you in.

“Holy shit,” Shuhua said under her breath, biting back a laugh. “She didn’t just break him—she soul-snatched him.”

Heejin smirked, clapping you on the back hard enough to nearly topple you.

“Told you she was intense,” she said. “Congrats, rookie—you survived your first encounter with Sana.”

Barely.

You staggered down the hall, Sana’s kiss still burning on your forehead, her scent clinging to your skin like a brand.

And somewhere behind you, her giggles echoed sweetly—haunting you in the best way.

Intermission

After another one of their stories I paused Shuhua from starting another. I leaned back, still trying to catch my breath from the last story, when another name on the menu caught my eye.

“Oh—what about Jihyo the Jubilant?” I asked, pointing lazily at the listing. “She sounds enticing… and, well, jiggly.”

Heejin and Shuhua burst out laughing, nearly doubling over from the force of it. Shuhua had to slap the counter to keep from falling over, while Heejin wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Oh my God,” Shuhua gasped between fits of giggles. “Did you just call our boss jiggly?!”

Heejin shook her head, grinning wide. “You’re lucky Jihyo didn’t hear that, rookie. She’d suplex you into next week.”

“Well I only said it because you guys have this alliteration thing going on i don’t know if she’s actually well jiggly,”

Still chuckling, Heejin added, “But seriously, she usually picks who she wants. She’s the boss, after all—way too busy running this madhouse to take on clients very often.”

I sighed dramatically, slumping deeper into the seat like a pouting child. “Man… that kinda sucks.”

Shuhua leaned in, tapping the side of her nose conspiratorially. “Maybe if you impress her, she’ll make an exception,” she whispered.

Heejin snorted. “Yeah, impress her by surviving the other girls first.”

They both laughed again as I sat there, feeling like I’d somehow stumbled into a beautiful, dangerous carnival where the rides had a mind of their own—and I was just along for the ride.

As we spoke I noticed the door handle on the ornate stairs behind the center hallway jiggle lightly.

Unwind

As soon as you walked in, Heejin barely glanced up before smirking.

“Right hallway, third door on the left,” she said with a lilt in her voice. You hesitated for a second, unsure, until she added with a sly grin, “Your little pet is waiting.”

There was a teasing sharpness to her tone—knowing, almost conspiratorial. With a polite nod, you followed her directions, your heart ticking faster with every step down the softly lit hallway.

You pushed open the third door and stepped inside. The atmosphere immediately shifted: the lighting was warm and low, the air scented faintly of vanilla and fresh linen. And then you saw her.

A young woman with a petite frame but curves that could stop traffic sat perched on a cushioned chaise lounge. Her beauty was almost disarming—flawless porcelain skin, a playful twinkle in her wide brown eyes, and a delicate gap between her front teeth that gave her the look of a mischievous, human bunny.

She beamed at you, radiating an infectious sort of glee that made your earlier tension start to slip away.

“Hi there! I’m Eunbi!” she said, her voice bright and musical. Before you could even answer, she patted her lap invitingly.

“Come here,” she giggled, wiggling her fingers in a beckoning motion.

You crossed the room slowly, still a little cautious, but she just kept smiling—patient, unbothered, like she had all the time in the world for you. When you reached her, she grabbed your hands gently, guiding you down until your head rested in her lap.

“There we go,” she cooed, threading her fingers lightly through your hair. Her touch was feather-light, barely there, but soothing in a way that made your whole body sag with relief.

“Long day?” she asked, tilting her head as she looked down at you, her voice dipping into something softer—more intimate.

You managed a small nod, and her smile widened as she leaned down just a little closer.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” she whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead with almost reverent care.

She began to hum a soft, aimless tune as she continued to stroke your hair, her nails occasionally scratching lightly against your scalp in slow, lazy circles. Every so often, she would trace the line of your brow or the curve of your jaw with a fingertip, playful but affectionate, like you were some beloved pet she was thrilled to pamper.

And you let her. For the first time all week, your mind went quiet. Under Eunbi’s gentle, pliant care, the world outside faded until it was nothing but warmth, touch, and her tender, giggling presence. As your body melted into her lap, you heard Eunbi giggle—an airy, delighted sound that tickled your ears.

“You’re really cute when you’re all floppy like this,” she teased, her fingers dancing through your hair in lazy, affectionate strokes. Then, as if testing your boundaries, she let her nails scrape just a little harder along your scalp, a subtle edge hidden in the gentleness. A low, unbidden sigh escaped your lips.

“Mmm, you like that, don’t you?” she whispered with mock innocence, biting her lower lip to stifle another giggle. She shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting your head so that it nestled even deeper against her thighs.

Then, emboldened, she traced the outline of your ear with a single fingertip, featherlight and slow, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

“Poor thing,” she crooned, her voice dipping into something syrupy and teasing. “All tense and overworked… don’t worry, Eunbi will take care of everything.”

She punctuated her words by leaning down just enough that you could feel the ghost of her breath against your cheek, tantalizing and warm. It was maddening how casual she made it seem—this careful, calculated game of almost touching, almost kissing.

Then, almost mischievously, she let her fingers wander lower, trailing soft, playful patterns along your collarbone, her nails just grazing the exposed skin of your neck.

“You can let go, you know,” she whispered, voice like a secret. “You don’t have to be so good all the time.” Her giggle bubbled up again, but this time there was a slyness to it—like she knew she was slowly unraveling you.

And you were powerless to stop her. Underneath Eunbi’s sweetness, there was something irresistible and insistent—an unspoken promise that if you gave in, she’d reward you with even more of her tender, teasing affection.

As her fingers continued their gentle exploration and her thighs cradled you like a throne, you realized something startling: You didn’t just want to relax—you wanted to be pampered, teased, adored. You wanted more.

And Eunbi, smiling softly down at you like a bunny about to devour a carrot, could clearly see it too. Eunbi’s eyes sparkled with delight as she watched you try — and fail — to keep your breathing steady. She tapped your forehead lightly with one manicured finger and said in a mock-stern voice,

“Tsk. Still so stiff! Didn’t I tell you to let go?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she simply giggled and placed a soft finger over your lips, silencing you with a teasing shush. Her touch was featherlight but commanding, and somehow that made it even harder to resist her.

“You’re way too serious,” she said, pouting dramatically. “I guess I’ll just have to work harder, huh?”

Without warning, Eunbi leaned down further until the tip of her nose brushed against your cheek, nuzzling you with a soft affection that felt impossibly tender. Then she pulled back just enough to look at you — really look — with those big, earnest brown eyes. Eyes that said trust me, even as a devilish smile played at her lips.

She let her hands roam now, slow and deliberate — massaging your shoulders, squeezing the tight muscles with surprising strength for her petite frame. Every so often she’d “accidentally” let her nails scrape just a little too sharply down your neck or along your arm, sending shivers down your entire body.

“Poor baby,” she crooned again, her voice dripping with sugary mock-sympathy. “So much tension… stuck inside this big strong body…”

Her hands paused at your chest, where she traced lazy circles with the pads of her fingers, her nails just barely grazing the sensitive skin exposed by the collar of your shirt. You inhaled sharply — and her smile widened into a full, mischievous grin.

“Ahhh~ There it is,” she said, almost triumphant. “You’re starting to melt for me, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer — couldn’t, really — and Eunbi seemed perfectly pleased with that. Instead, she rewarded you with a soft, affectionate kiss planted just over your heart, light as a whisper.

When she pulled away, she gave you one last teasing look, the corners of her mouth curving up in a smile so sweet it was almost dangerous.

“You’re mine for now,” she said simply, patting your chest like she was marking her territory. “So behave… or I’ll have to get even more creative.”

And as she resumed her gentle, tantalizing “massage,” humming a cheerful little tune as if she weren’t slowly unspooling every last thread of your self-control, you realized something with a strange, dizzy sort of clarity:

You wanted to be her good boy. More than anything. As you drifted off into sleep you could hear Eunbi’s gleeful giggles as rested in her embrace.

Surrender

You had come to the Burlesque studio on the recommendation of a trusted friend, who had spoken with surprising reverence about a young lady named Tsuki. Curious, and perhaps a little skeptical, you approached the front desk where Heejin sat casually thumbing through her phone.

At the mention of Tsuki’s name, Heejin gave a knowing smile. “Left hallway, fifth door, right side,” she said, pointing lazily over her shoulder.

With a nod of thanks, you made your way down the hallway. The muted lights and soft ambient music gave the place an otherworldly feel — like stepping into some secret, velvet-cloaked world just outside reality.

When you reached the door and stepped inside, you blinked in surprise.

Instead of the sultry, poised seductress you half-expected, a lanky, adorably awkward young woman sat perched on a chair, her long legs dangling like she didn’t quite know what to do with them. She wore a smug look of playful indifference — until her eyes landed on you.

Instantly, her whole demeanor melted. She lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, a giant, bright smile breaking across her face.

“Oh! You’re my first customer!” she squealed, practically hopping up from her seat.

She started toward you enthusiastically, arms wide for a hug — but then froze mid-stride, her hands flailing slightly as she caught herself.

“W-Wait!” she gasped. “We’re not supposed to touch… or get touched!” she recited nervously, as if she were remembering a rule she almost forgot in her excitement.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how genuine and endearing she was. While you casually looked around her room, your amusement only grew.

Anime posters, plushies, figurines, and even a few cosplay accessories adorned every corner — it was colorful, chaotic, and somehow perfectly her.

Noticing your gaze lingering on a particularly elaborate Gundam model, Tsuki bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet.

“You like anime?!” she asked, practically vibrating with anticipation.

You turned to her, nodding with a small, amused smile.

“Wait here! I’ll be right back!” she chirped, disappearing behind a partitioned-off corner of the room, where you could hear the soft rustle of clothes and bursts of giddy giggles.

A minute later, she emerged — now dressed in a full bunny girl cosplay outfit, complete with floppy black ears, a puffy tail, and the most earnest, blushing smile you’d ever seen.

She struck a playful, if somewhat clumsy, pose and asked with exaggerated cuteness:

“Will you be my little rascal?”

You couldn’t help it — you laughed, the sound bubbling out of you effortlessly. There was just something about her — her ridiculous charm, her pure enthusiasm — that disarmed you completely.

When you nodded, Tsuki let out a happy little squeal and did a delighted twirl just for you, the fabric of her outfit catching the light as she spun. As she twirled, her laughter — light, dorky, infectious — filled the room, wrapping around you like a hug she wasn’t allowed to give.

You found yourself smiling harder than you had in weeks, completely charmed by the earnest magic that was Tsuki.

And somehow, you knew: this would be an experience unlike any other. Tsuki clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels, looking you up and down like you were the coolest thing she’d seen all week.

“So, Mr. Rascal,” she said brightly, “what do you want to do first? Should I show you my dance? Or maybe I should just cuddle you until you melt!”

Her energy was so earnest it made you chuckle again, but before you could answer, Tsuki suddenly closed the distance between you in a few graceful steps.

Without warning, she slid a delicate hand along your chest, her fingertips tracing an almost possessive path up to your shoulder.

Her big brown eyes, usually so wide and dorky, half-lidded for a moment as she leaned in close — close enough that you could smell the soft vanilla of her perfume.

“Or,” she whispered, her voice suddenly a velvet purr, “maybe I should make you beg for it…”

The words hit you like a freight train. For half a second, the room felt hotter, smaller — your heart kicked hard against your ribs.

But just as quickly, Tsuki pulled back with a giggle, covering her mouth with her hands as if even she was surprised by what she’d said.

“Ahaha! Sorry, sorry!” she said, cheeks flushing pink. “I always forget when I’m in character it gets a little spicy!”

You stared at her, momentarily stunned, as she twirled again in her bunny outfit, the little cotton tail bouncing.

It was disorienting — the way she shifted between innocent dork and sly seductress, like flipping a switch you hadn’t even seen her touch.

“Come sit, come sit!” she chirped, grabbing your hand lightly and pulling you toward a small padded bench in the center of the room.

The moment your hand was in hers, you noticed something else — Despite her bubbly nature, her grip was confident. Almost possessive. Like she wasn’t going to let you get away if she didn’t want to.

You sat down as she directed, feeling weirdly like a student in some strange, alluring class.

She leaned down just enough that the top of her outfit shifted, giving you a teasing glimpse of soft skin and cleavage. Again, the look in her eyes shifted for a fraction of a heartbeat — hungry, knowing — before she giggled and plopped herself down beside you, swinging her legs like a kid.

“So, Rascal,” she said in her usual sunny voice, bumping her shoulder playfully into yours, “you gonna be good for me today?”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry.

Because you had the distinct feeling that if you said yes, you were going to find out exactly how mischievous Tsuki could really be. You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck as Tsuki kicked her feet idly, completely unaware—or at least pretending to be—of the effect she was having on you.

“I’ll try,” you said, voice a little rougher than you intended.

“Good!” she said brightly, clapping her hands. “Because bad rascals get… punished.”

She dragged out the word just a little too long, a little too slowly, her voice dipping again into that dangerously sweet register. Her hand, small and deceptively strong, trailed up your arm — slow, almost catlike — until it brushed the side of your neck. You tensed instinctively, feeling her nails skim your skin in a way that sent a jolt down your spine.

But just as quickly, she beamed at you, giggling like she’d just pulled a harmless prank.

“Relax, Mr. Rascal!” she said, tapping your nose with her finger.

Then, without warning, she swung one leg over you and plopped herself right into your lap — wiggling slightly to get “comfortable” with a bright, oblivious smile.

Your brain barely kept up.

Her softness pressed against you in ways you could not ignore, and you realized her innocent act wasn’t quite as innocent as she made it seem.

She tilted her head at you, bunny ears bouncing, her smile the picture of sweetness.

“Ne, Rascal~” she teased in a singsong voice, “why are you getting all tense? You’re not scared of little me, right?”

The glint in her eye told you she knew exactly what she was doing.

Before you could answer, she leaned in so close that her breath tickled your ear.

“If you are,” she whispered, her tone dropping to a silky murmur, “I might have to be extra nice… or extra naughty… to make you feel better.”

Another hot wave surged through you, your hands twitching at your sides, desperate to hold her, steady her — claim her.

But you stayed still, your knuckles whitening from the effort.

Tsuki pulled back with a sunny, mischievous giggle, clearly enjoying how much she was making you squirm without ever once dropping her bubbly facade.

She hopped off your lap lightly and spun around again, her skirt flaring just enough to give you glimpses that felt all the more scandalous because of her carefree attitude.

“You’re doing great, Rascal!” she chirped. “Most guys are already puddles by now.”

You exhaled shakily, running a hand down your face.

How was she this cute and this lethal at the same time?

Tsuki skipped over to a side table, pretending to rifle through a basket of props — but every once in a while, she’d throw a look over her shoulder, smoldering in a way that left your thoughts in complete disarray.

Finally, she pulled out a little silk scarf, twirling it between her fingers.

“Want to play a game?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet.

You swallowed hard and nodded.

Her grin widened — too innocent to be pure.

“Good boy,” she said with a wink that absolutely did not belong in a room this hot and heavy.

As she sauntered back toward you, trailing the silk scarf over her bare shoulders, you realized something crystal clear:

Tsuki wasn’t playing at being dangerous. She was dangerous — just wrapped up in the world’s cutest package.

And you were trapped with her for the rest of the session.

And, honestly… You weren’t sure if you even wanted to escape.Tsuki bounced over to you, humming a cheery tune as she twirled the silk scarf in her hand.You watched her — or, more accurately, you tried to keep your eyes on her — but she kept slipping between little teases and full-on, wide-eyed sweetness, and it was making your head spin.

“Alright, Rascal,” she said with a bubbly lilt, “since you’re so good… let’s play a game!” She giggled and suddenly leaned down close to your face, the soft scent of her vanilla perfume overwhelming your senses.

“I’m gonna blindfold you!” she whispered with a mischievous grin, “And then we’ll see just how smart you are, okay?”

Before you could even respond, the silk slipped over your eyes — cool and smooth — and you felt her small, deft fingers tying it behind your head. The room went dark, but somehow, everything about Tsuki felt brighter — louder, closer, more dangerous.

“Now, you have to guess the anime opening I hum,” she said, her voice sugary sweet. “But~ if you get it wrong…” You felt her breath brush your ear, teasing, taunting. “I get to do whatever I want for ten whole seconds.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs like a war drum.

Tsuki giggled again — pure and innocent — before you heard her clearing her throat dramatically.

And then she began to hum.

You recognized it almost instantly: the catchy tune from My Hero Academia’s first opening.

“Peace Sign!” you blurted, grinning.

You could hear the pout in her voice. “Aww, you’re good!” she whined playfully. You smirked under the blindfold, proud of yourself — until you felt a weight settle in your lap again.

“Still…” she murmured, her voice dipping low, “you didn’t say it fast enough, Mr. Rascal.”

You barely had time to process her words before you felt her hand trail down your chest slowly, hot and possessive, and her hips gave a wicked little roll against your lap.

Your mouth went dry.

The ten seconds felt like an eternity.

She popped off of you suddenly, humming another tune as if nothing happened.

“Round two!” she chirped, and the next melody filled the air — bubbly and energetic.

You racked your brain, trying to focus — but it was nearly impossible with the smell of her skin, the faint brush of her fingertips against your shoulder, the occasional graze of her thigh against your knee.

“Uhhh… is that K-On!?” you guessed.

Silence.

You held your breath — until you felt Tsuki’s hands cup your face, gentle and reverent, her thumbs stroking your cheeks as she leaned in, brushing the tip of her nose against yours.

“Wrong~” she cooed. “It was Lucky Star.”

And before you could react, her lips brushed yours — featherlight at first — before she pressed a slow, languid kiss against your mouth.

She tasted like strawberry lip gloss and mischief.

You melted instinctively, chasing her mouth as she pulled away with a playful giggle.

“Good boys have to listen very carefully,” she teased, her voice dripping seduction.

You barely had time to recover before she started humming the next tune — switching back to being the bubbly, bouncy bunny girl, as if she hadn’t just melted your brain a second ago.

It went on like that: Tsuki flipping between teasing little pecks, nuzzles, playful tickles — and devastating, slow drags of her fingers down your arms, your chest, your thighs — with every wrong answer. Her warmth wrapped around you, her scent drove you crazy, and her playful giggles were like a melody in themselves.

And all the while, the silk blindfold kept you at her mercy.

You realized very quickly… It wasn’t about the game anymore.

Tsuki was training you — slowly breaking down your defenses, rewiring your brain to respond to her — her voice, her touch, her scent.

And God help you… You were losing.

Fast. You squirmed slightly in your seat, struggling to keep your breathing even. The blindfold dulled your senses, made every brush of Tsuki’s fingertips magnified — every playful giggle, every sultry hum, each innocent little kiss on your cheek or neck sent electric jolts racing down your spine.

You could hear her moving again, quick little steps padding across the room.

“Okay~!” she said in a sing-song voice. “New rule, Mr. Rascal!”

You tilted your head, trying to keep up.

“If you get one more wrong…” You felt her breath against your ear again — playful, wicked. “…I get to tie your hands. And then you’ll be all mine, just like a little prize bunny.”

The words hit you like a hammer: playful, sweet… and terrifyingly seductive.

You swallowed hard and nodded, already dizzy with anticipation.

She hummed the next tune, bubbly and energetic — but your mind was mush. You couldn’t focus. All you could think about was the way her body had pressed against you earlier, the taste of her lips, the smell of her perfume still lingering around you.

“…uh…” you stammered, guessing wildly, “Demon Slayer?”

A moment of silence. A slow, exaggerated sigh from Tsuki.

“Nope~!” she chirped, almost giddy.

Before you could react, the silk scarf slipped from your eyes. You blinked rapidly in the low light — only to see Tsuki kneeling in front of you, her bunny ears tilted jauntily, a sly grin playing at her lips.

“You’re gonna love this,” she said, almost breathless with excitement.

With a few deft movements, she gently — but firmly — tied your wrists together with the silk scarf, knotting it just tight enough that you couldn’t easily slip free.

“There,” she said with a playful clap of her hands. “Now you’re my rascal, officially!”

You stared at her, helpless, aroused, and more than a little nervous.

She leaned in close, her fingers trailing up your arms, tracing the newly bound line of the scarf. Her grin softened into something more sultry, more dangerous.

“I could do anything to you right now,” she whispered, her eyes locking with yours. “And you couldn’t stop me.”

Her hand drifted lower, running teasingly over your chest, lingering just enough to make you shudder. Her lips brushed the shell of your ear again, her voice a soft purr.

“I could kiss you,” she whispered. A slow, lingering kiss pressed against your jaw.

“I could ride you like a bunny in heat,” she murmured, her voice melting into raw, sweet sin.

You sucked in a ragged breath, your wrists tugging uselessly at the scarf.

Tsuki giggled — her usual bubbly self for a moment — before pressing another, longer kiss against your throat.

“But~” she added coyly, pulling back just enough that you could see the wicked glint in her big brown eyes, “you have to earn that.”

She stood up in a twirl of soft pink fabric and hopped backward, her cheeks flushed, her breath a little uneven now too.

“Another song!” she said brightly, clapping her hands like a schoolgirl. “If you get it right… maybe I’ll untie you. Or… maybe I’ll just sit on your lap again. Real hard.”

The way she said it — half giggle, half growl — sent a primal shiver down your spine.

And with that, she started humming again — swaying her hips to the tune — switching seamlessly between the cute little bunny girl and the seductive hare who was steadily dismantling your sanity one giggle, one kiss, one sultry touch at a time.

You were so, so screwed.

And God help you… you loved every second of it. The new song started — a deep, throbbing beat that you could feel vibrating through the floor.

Still blindfolded and bound, you heard Tsuki’s footsteps circle you slowly. But there was no giggle this time. No bubbly chatter. Only the soft, deliberate click of her heels against the floor… and your own pounding heartbeat.

Without warning, she straddled you.

You could feel the heat radiating off her body, the gentle weight of her hips settling onto your lap, the teasing slide of her thighs against yours.

A slow, low moan escaped her lips — a sound that was pure sin, nothing innocent left.

“Poor little rascal,” Tsuki murmured against your ear, her voice velvet-smooth, smoky, dangerous. “You didn’t think I was gonna stay your cute little bunny all night, did you?”

You gasped as she rolled her hips against you — a slow, devastating grind that left no room for misinterpretation.

“You woke up the hare in me…” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. “And now you’re mine.”

Her hands roamed your chest — nails dragging just enough to make you shudder. Then she leaned in closer, her lips ghosting across your throat.

“So warm under me…” she purred, planting a searing kiss at the base of your neck. “So easy to ruin.”

The blindfold heightened everything — her scent, the soft rustle of her costume, the maddening rhythm of her hips.

Her hands slipped lower, gripping your thighs to steady herself as she moved faster, her body sinuous, every roll of her hips a deliberate attack against your crumbling self-control.

You bit down a moan as she ground down even harder, her hands sliding up your bound arms to tangle in your hair. She tugged — just a little — pulling your head back, exposing your throat to her.

“I could break you right here,” she whispered fiercely. “Make you beg for me.”

And God help you, you nearly did.

Another slow, torturous roll of her hips. Another hot, lingering kiss pressed just beneath your jawline.

“Should I?” she teased, voice syrupy with wickedness. “Should I ride my rascal until he forgets his own name?”

You whimpered — actually whimpered — as she laughed low and delicious in your ear.

Tsuki’s hands trailed back down to your waist, her nails dragging lightly through your clothes, every touch a crack of heat against your skin.

“You want it so bad…” she whispered, hips never stopping, never giving you a second to breathe. “Such a good little prize bunny. So sweet… so easy.”

The music built to a fever pitch, and so did you — trembling under her weight, her heat, her relentless sensuality.

Then — mercy — the song faded out, and Tsuki stilled on your lap.

You heard her giggle — that same adorable, bubbly sound from before — but now it was layered over something feral, something that knew exactly what she was doing to you.

She leaned down, her lips brushing your earlobe one last time.

“Game over,” she whispered. “I win.”

And with that, she bit you — not hard, but enough to make you jolt, helpless under her control — before untying the scarf with maddening slowness and pulling the blindfold from your eyes.

When you blinked up at her, she was smiling — wide, beaming, sweet — but her eyes still smoldered with raw, unhidden hunger.

“Thanks for playing with me, rascal,” she said, hopping off your lap with a bounce, tugging her bunny ears straight again. “Come back anytime… if you think you can handle me next time.”

You sat there, utterly wrecked, as Tsuki winked and skipped — skipped — off to the other side of the room, humming like nothing had happened.

You didn’t know whether you wanted to run for your life… or beg her for round two. You were still slumped in the chair, trying to remember how breathing worked, when you felt a pair of soft hands cup your cheeks.

You blinked — dazed — up at Tsuki’s face. The same face that had just broken you down into trembling wreckage… was now looking at you with genuine, almost motherly concern.

“Aww, poor rascal~” she cooed, her voice light and full of giggles again. “You look like you just got hit by a truck made of bunny fluff.”

You managed a hoarse laugh, and Tsuki smiled even brighter — clearly proud of herself. She grabbed a nearby fluffy towel (pink, covered in cartoon bunnies, of course) and dabbed at your forehead, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat.

“There, there,” she said, patting your head like you were some overworked puppy. “Tsuki’s got you. You’re safe now.”

She tucked the towel around your shoulders, then leaned in — way too close — and whispered conspiratorially, “You were soooo cute. I almost didn’t wanna stop. Almost.”

You flushed hotly, and she giggled again, poking your nose with one manicured finger.

“But you’re tough! You lasted longer than a lot of guys do,” she said cheerily, giving you a thumbs up. “Most of them run away halfway through.”

She said it so sweetly, so proudly, like she was praising you for winning at carnival games — not surviving an hour of merciless lap dance destruction.

Tsuki plopped down beside you on the floor, swinging her legs and humming a tune under her breath as if everything that had just happened was the most casual thing in the world.

“Hey, hey,” she said suddenly, tugging at your sleeve like an impatient little kid. “You are gonna come back to see me, right? I promise I’ll be nice next time.”

You arched a skeptical eyebrow, and Tsuki gave you her biggest, most innocent smile — the kind that was so suspicious it could only belong to a professional troublemaker.

“Scout’s honor!” she chirped, holding up two fingers in a sloppy salute. (You were 90% sure she had never been a scout.)

Still chuckling, you pushed yourself up — still wobbly, still half-drunk off her — and Tsuki hopped to her feet too, grabbing your hands to help steady you.

She squeezed your fingers gently, looking at you with a rare moment of softness.

“Really though,” she said quietly, “Thanks for playing with me. It was… really fun.”

And somehow, between the wrecked body, the pounding heart, and the melted brain… you found yourself smiling back.

Because yeah. It was fun. In the most wild, bewildering, wonderful way

Jubilee

After hearing all of Heejin and Shuhua’s wild stories about the other girls, I leaned back and sighed.

“Well…” I said, trying to gather what was left of my dignity, “this has been an enlightening—and extremely arousing—experience, but I think it’s time I call it a night.”

Heejin laughed lightly, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. “Aw, really? Sorry we couldn’t find a girl to satisfy you,” she teased.

I shrugged, offering a half-hearted smile, but before I could turn to leave— the door at the top of the stairs creaked open.

The air in the room seemed to shift immediately. Heejin and Shuhua both froze, exchanging a loaded look before snapping their eyes to me.

Without a word, they grabbed me—one on each arm—and practically shoved me toward the staircase, pushing me up into the unknown.

The hallway above was dim, lit only by the soft, muted glow of a few scattered lamps.

But it didn’t matter.

She glowed.

At the far end of the hallway, framed by the door of her office, stood Jihyo—the boss, the legend, the unspoken queen of this hidden world. The low lighting kissed every inch of her, giving her bronzed skin a soft, molten sheen. She looked like some divine, forbidden idol, radiant and resplendent—and yet there was something almost… alarming about how her presence warped the very air around her.

Gravity itself seemed to bend in her favor.

"so you're the rapscallion prize fighter who lives with Heejin. I must say you look a bit to sophisticated to be doing such a savage profession. Maybe it is a facade," she mused

Her sharp eyes found mine, pinning me in place with an effortless command.

“Are you sure you want me tonight?” she asked, her voice a low, sultry rasp that vibrated straight through my chest. “I’ve driven even the most loyal customers to ruin. I’ve broken men who swore they’d never want another girl again. Once I take you…” She paused, her lips curving into a wicked smile, “you won’t ever be the same.”

It took everything I had not to collapse under the weight of her words. I swallowed hard and nodded like a man walking to his own beautiful execution.

“Um,” I stammered, “can I… apologize for the ‘jiggly’ comment earlier? I was just trying to go for alliteration…”

A slow, amused smile spread across her face.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she walked—no, stalked—toward me, each step deliberate, each movement impossibly smooth. When she finally reached me, she took my hand without hesitation, her grip strong, commanding, and possessive.

Wordlessly, she led me to a singular chair placed in the center of the room—a throne meant for her prey.

The second I sat down, she didn’t waste a moment. Her hands gripped my shoulders with a firm, almost possessive touch, sending sparks straight down my spine. My body nearly gave out as she loomed over me, her scent—a mix of sweet amber and something richer, darker—wrapping around me like an invisible leash.

When our eyes finally locked— Time stopped.

And then—almost bashfully—she fluttered her lashes at me. A coy, deceptive little act that only made the hunger burning in her stare even more unbearable.

The music started.

And with it— Jihyo’s dance.

Not just a performance. A slow, sensual claiming. The music throbbed low and hypnotic, wrapping the room in a thick, heavy pulse that matched the frantic rhythm of my heart. Jihyo moved with the music—no, she commanded it—every step, every sway, an act of calculated seduction.

For the first few minutes, I managed to keep some semblance of composure. I sat rigid in the chair, fists balled on my thighs, refusing to let my gaze stray too obviously over her body.

But Jihyo knew better. She wanted me to lose control.

She danced slow, sensuous circles around me, her hips rolling with obscene grace, her body teasing every forbidden fantasy I hadn’t even realized I harbored. Sometimes she’d brush her fingertips along my jawline in a fleeting caress, her nails feathering just enough to make my skin beg for more.

She never touched me for too long. Just enough to starve me.

Every time her hands left me, they seemed to take a little more of my sanity with them.

Minutes bled into minutes. Maybe ten. Maybe twenty. Time didn’t exist anymore—only the way her body arched, dipped, twisted in the air like a living spell, weaving lust and longing tighter and tighter inside my chest until I could barely breathe.

She made it worse with those eyes—deep, dark, and glinting with mischief. At times, she’d lean close, so close that her lips were a hair’s breadth from mine… only to smirk and pull away at the last second, laughing softly at the broken sound that tore from my throat.

Thirty minutes in, I was wrecked.

Sweat beaded at my temples. My legs twitched. My fists gripped the chair so tightly my knuckles ached. All from watching her. Just watching.

Jihyo purred—a low, pleased sound—as she straddled the chair, never sitting, just hovering close enough for me to feel the heat of her thighs near mine. Her perfume clung to my skin now, sweet and heady, and I could barely tell where her scent ended and my own fevered desire began.

“Poor baby,” she murmured, brushing my bottom lip with the pad of her thumb. “You’re barely holding on, aren’t you?” Her voice was dripping with pity and cruelty all at once, like she relished how undone she was making me.

I tried to speak—anything—but only a broken sound escaped.

She giggled sweetly, an almost innocent noise completely at odds with the devastating way she slid the thin strap of her dress down one shoulder… then slowly, torturously, pulled it back up again.

An hour had passed. An hour of hellish, blissful torture.

By the end of it, I was a trembling wreck, eyes glazed, lips parted, lungs heaving for air. I hadn’t been touched, not truly—but my body felt like it had been set on fire and left to burn.

Jihyo stepped back, finally granting me a sliver of mercy.

Her smile was triumphant as she leaned down, her lips ghosting the shell of my ear.An hour had passed.An hour of slow, sensual torture.I was trembling, dazed, desperately clinging to the last fragile threads of my self-control.

Jihyo stood before me, absolutely radiant, breathing steadily as if she hadn’t just spent sixty minutes devouring my sanity with nothing but movement and presence.

Her lips curled into a wicked smile as she tilted her head, studying me with a predatory glint in her eye. Then, voice dripping with challenge, she said,

“Well then… looks like I’ll really have to break this bucking bronco.”

I blinked up at her, too wrecked to even fully comprehend her words—until she pounced.

With a speed that made my heart nearly leap out of my chest, Jihyo straddled my lap—this time settling fully onto me, her thighs pressing in firm against mine, her warmth seeping into every nerve ending.

Her hands cupped my face, almost tenderly, before she dragged her nails lightly along my jawline, down the side of my neck, and across my collarbone, sending shivers ripping through me.

The music changed, slower, deeper—throbbing like a second heartbeat.

Jihyo moved with it, grinding her hips in slow, devastating circles against me, a sinful smile never leaving her lips. She leaned in, brushing the tip of her nose against mine, her breath hot and sweet as she whispered,

“Still holding on, baby?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. My brain had long since melted into a puddle of pure need.

Seeing my silence, she giggled—a soft, almost innocent sound—and rewarded herself by trailing open-mouthed kisses along the line of my jaw, nipping gently at my earlobe.

Each touch was light, teasing, maddening. It wasn’t about getting more—it was about getting just enough to drive me insane.

She toyed with me like a cat with a wounded mouse. Letting me feel her—but never truly letting me have her.

She tugged one of my hands up and placed it firmly on the curve of her waist, encouraging me to squeeze—and when I did, when I dared to touch her more boldly, she simply purred and pushed closer, her breasts pressing against my chest, her mouth finding the sensitive spot under my ear.

“Good boy,” she murmured between kisses, the words sending another violent shudder through me. “You’re learning… but you’re still not broken, are you?” Her tone was mockingly sweet, full of dark, delicious promises.

The second hour blurred into something fevered and dreamlike.

Jihyo kept escalating her assault— Sliding her fingers through my hair, pulling slightly just to hear the choked sounds it pulled from my throat. Rocking her hips more firmly now, her body pressing, demanding, owning. Whispering filthy little praises against my skin while she grazed my chest with her nails just enough to leave faint, thrilling scratches.

Every time I looked like I might fall apart completely, she would slow… pull back… smirk… and start again, dragging it out even further.

The worst part? I wanted it. I needed it. And she knew it.

By the end of the second hour, my body was quaking, drenched in sweat, heart racing like a trapped animal. It took every ounce of pride not to collapse to my knees before her and beg.

Jihyo pulled back one last time, standing above me with a look of utter satisfaction.

“Hmmm,” she hummed, tapping a manicured finger thoughtfully against her chin. “You’re tough. Most of them don’t even last through the first act…” She flashed me a teasing grin that could’ve brought armies to their knees. She blew me a kiss, turned on her heel, and sauntered toward the shadowed doorway, leaving me a panting, ruined mess slumped helplessly in her chair.

But instead of turning to leave… I heard the soft click of the door locking.

Slowly, Jihyo turned back around—this time with something darker in her smile. Something dangerous.

“Oh no,” she cooed, her voice low and syrupy, “I’m not done with you yet.”

I swallowed hard. Every instinct in my body screamed to run. But something far louder, something deeper, older, more primal, kept me rooted to the spot.

Jihyo walked toward me with an almost lazy grace, like a panther toying with its prey. She dragged a single manicured nail along my jawline, down my throat, over the pounding pulse at my neck.

“You’re doing so good,” she whispered, her words dripping honey and sin into my ear. “But I want to see what happens when you finally… break.”

Her hands roamed lower now, teasing the hem of my shirt, lifting it just enough to let her fingers skate along my bare stomach. I sucked in a sharp breath, muscles tightening against her featherlight touch.

“I wonder,” she purred, almost to herself, “will you beg me to stop… or beg me to keep going?”

She straddled me again—this time grinding her hips down harder, slow, devastating circles that made my vision blur. Her scent filled my lungs—heady, intoxicating—a mix of spice, sweetness, and something uniquely her.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” Jihyo murmured, her lips brushing against my ear, sending another helpless shiver racing through me. “That wild little thing locked up inside you… scratching, clawing, desperate to get out…” She giggled, but there was a hunger in it, an obsession.

“Let him out,” she whispered. “Show me.”

Her words were chains and keys all at once—wrapping tighter around the primal part of me, the part I’d always kept caged. It thrashed now, roaring against its bonds. My fists clenched, knuckles white. Every breath I took was a battle against instinct.

She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes—those beautiful, bottomless eyes—and whispered, “Break for me, baby. Be mine.”

The tension shattered into electricity between us. I felt my mouth move—half-growl, half-plea—but no words came out.

Jihyo just smiled wider, victorious.

And then—God help me—she rocked her hips harder, arched her back to press every lush, golden curve against me, and moaned softly into my ear like a secret only I was allowed to hear.

That was it. The final spark. My cage split open at the seams, a low, primal noise tearing out of my throat before I could stop it. The civilized part of me crumbled under the relentless, exquisite assault.

Jihyo leaned in, lips brushing mine but never quite kissing, and whispered:

“Good boy…”

The moment my cage broke, she felt it.

Jihyo wasted no time—her hands threading through my hair, pulling me into a kiss that set my every nerve ending on fire. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t polite.

It was wild, consuming, primal.

Our mouths crashed together, all the teasing tension of the last hour exploding into a desperate tangle of lips and teeth and gasps. Her body molded to mine, soft curves pressing, daring me to take, to lose myself completely.

And I did. God, I did.

I didn’t even realize the hours slipping by, the slow creep of pink and gold light spilling through the high windows behind her desk.

When we finally broke apart—chests heaving, lips bruised, bodies flushed—the first rays of dawn crowned Jihyo like a goddess. She looked radiant. Smug. Mine.

She smiled that lethal, dazzling smile that had undone me all night, leaned in, and whispered against my lips:

“You’re mine now.” Her voice was velvet and chains all at once, binding me tighter than anything physical ever could.

“And guess what?” she teased, tapping my chest playfully before she kissed the corner of my mouth again. “We’re going out now. You’re officially my boy.”

I could barely breathe, barely think—still swimming in her heat, her scent, her voice. But then she pulled back, eyes twinkling wickedly as she glanced down at the chair I was still clinging to.

“Also…” she said, a laugh bubbling up. “You cracked my favorite chair, you animal.”

I blanched in horror but before I could apologize, she grabbed my jaw, tilted my face up to hers, and kissed me again—longer, deeper, a possessive branding of lips and tongue that stole what little composure I had left.

When she finally pulled away, she smirked.

“Don’t worry,” she said sweetly, “you’ll just have to work it off.”

She winked. And I knew—with bone-deep certainty—that I wasn’t just walking out with Jihyo’s number. I was walking out owned. Before I could even catch my breath, Jihyo straddled me again, a slow, wicked smile curving her lips. Her fingers curled into my shirt, pulling me close until her mouth was hovering just over mine.

“You thought we were done?” she whispered, her breath hot against my skin.

Then she kissed me—deep, languid, devastating. Every stroke of her tongue against mine felt like a promise, a threat, a claim.

Between kisses, between the stolen gasps she pulled from me, she spoke.

“I’m going to make you forget your own name,” she breathed, nibbling at my bottom lip. “I’m going to kiss you until you’re drunk on it, until you can’t think about anything but me.”

Another kiss—slower this time, more coaxing than demanding. She tugged my hair just enough to tilt my head back, dragging her lips down my jaw, to the sensitive hollow of my throat.

“I’m going to leave marks where no one else can see…” A bite, sharp and possessive against my collarbone. I gasped. “Only you and I will know they’re there.”

She pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes—dark, wild, hungry.

“I’m going to drive you insane,” she promised, her voice dropping even lower, softer, like a secret, “and the best part?” Her hand trailed down my chest, stopping just above my waistband.

“You’re going to thank me for it.”

Another kiss—this one brutal, messy, claiming. I groaned into her mouth, hands finally finding the courage to grip her hips, pulling her flush against me.

Jihyo laughed—a rich, sultry sound that wrapped around me like silk and chains.

“Good boy,” she purred against my lips. “You learn fast.”

Then she kissed me again—kissing me like she had all the time in the world to ruin me.

And from the way my heart raced, the way my body melted under her, I knew she already had.

Epilogue

Somehow—somehow—I ended up draped over Jihyo, dizzy and breathless, while she calmly straightened her outfit. She gave me one last playful kiss on the forehead, smoothing my hair like I was something precious she had every intention of keeping.

“Come on, baby,” she said, voice lighter now, almost teasing. “Let’s go greet the day.”

Still dazed, still reeling, I followed her as she unlocked the office door and pulled me gently into the hall.

The sudden blare of fluorescent lights felt obscene after the dreamscape I had been trapped in all night.

And right there, standing at the bottom of the stairs, was Heejin.

She froze mid-bite into a breakfast sandwich, her mouth comically hanging open as her eyes darted from me—rumpled, flushed, absolutely ruined—to Jihyo, who looked fresh as a daisy and completely composed.

“huh…” Heejin squeaked.

Jihyo just smiled—bright, warm, perfectly in charge—and waved breezily like they were old girlfriends meeting for brunch.

“Morning, Heejin! Hope the girls didn’t burn the place down while I was busy,” she chirped, her voice now sweet and firm, with none of the predatory heat she had lavished on me just minutes ago.

I blinked, struggling to reconcile the two versions of her in my head—the feral seductress who had broken me against her chair, and the poised leader who now looked ready to conduct a board meeting.

Heejin recovered first, snorting into her sandwich.

“Damn, boss. You really went and took him for a spin, huh?” she teased, elbowing me lightly as I tried not to collapse on the spot.

“for a spin?” Jihyo echoed with mock innocence, casting me a sly glance. “Oh no, Heejin. I took him. he's mine now. which reminds me, I need to move him in with me so after we get breakfast and I properly break him in we need to chat about moving him in with me.”

She grabbed my hand—her fingers lacing through mine with easy possessiveness—and tugged me toward the front doors.

“Come on, baby boy,” she said over her shoulder, “I’m hungry, and you owe me pancakes after cracking my chair.”

Heejin’s laughter echoed behind us, but I barely heard it. I was too busy trying to keep up, still wrapped in the scent of Jihyo’s skin, still tasting her kiss on my tongue, still completely undone by her touch.

And somehow, despite the chaos swirling inside me, I couldn’t stop grinning.

Because as terrifying as it was… I was hers now. Happily.

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