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orangeblossomsintheair · 15 days ago

Note

oh could you write something cute about the reader and Lando please, maybe something funny where the reader says "oh yeah I'll do this but for that you'll buy me a Porsche" and Lando actually buys her a car 💜

BRAND AMBASSADOR | LN4

wc : 3k

an : slowly working through my requests yippie! im not too sure about this but i hope its alr :'>

It was meant to be a joke. Really.

But Lando didn’t know how to take a joke.

For weeks, he’d been pestering you to do a photoshoot with him for Quadrant.

“Brand image, baby!” he insisted, arms flailing as if that explained everything. “Power couple vibes! You and me, absolutely dominating the internet. Imagine the engagement!”

“My manager would actually drop dead if I did a hoodie campaign.”

“Oh come on, baby, just one photoshoot,” he pleaded, leaning so far over the kitchen island that he looked like he might slide right off. “Just a few pics in Quadrant stuff! Hoodie, joggers, maybe the bucket hat if you're feeling spicy-"

You didn’t even look up from your phone. “Lando. I’m booked for the next eight months. Vogue is flying me to Paris next week, and Dior wants me in Milan by the weekend. I don’t have time to play influencer in your gamer merch.”

“It's not gamer merch!” Lando gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. “It’s- it's… lifestyle! Culture! Gaming and racing fusion!”

“That’s cute,” you said flatly, scrolling.

Lando narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t even look at the new designs I sent you.”

“Because it’s just another hoodie, baby.”

He gasped again, louder this time. “Just another hoodie?”

“Oh, I’m sorry- hoodie, but make it Formula 1.”

“Wow.” He pointed at you. “I cannot believe this slander. From my own girlfriend.”

“Your supermodel girlfriend,” you corrected without missing a beat.

“And yet, I’m still here, humbly begging for crumbs of attention.”

You didn’t even blink.

And that’s when you heard it. The soft shuffle of socks against hardwood floors.

You looked up just in time to see Lando drop dramatically to his knees in front of you, arms sprawled over your thighs like some lovesick Victorian maiden.

His chin rested on your knee, staring up at you with those big, stupidly pretty eyes.

“Please.” His voice dropped to a pitiful whisper, like he was auditioning for a charity ad. “Do a Quadrant shoot with me.”

“Oh my God, Lando- get off the floor!”

“No. I live here now.” He clung tighter. “Photoshoot. Please, baby. You could be the face of the brand! Imagine it: you in my merch, absolutely carrying. We could finally replace Max’s ugly mug on the website-”

“Lando!” You laughed, swatting at him.

“It’s true! The customers deserve better!”

“You own the brand. You’re supposed to be the face.”

"But you’d look so good in my hoodies," he said, practically drooling at the thought. "God, you in joggers? Maybe one of those cropped sweaters? The internet would lose its mind.”

You stared at him. Long. Hard.

“…Fine.”

His eyes lit up, stars in aquamarine. “Wait, really?”

“But it’s gonna cost you.”

Lando blinked. Sat up straighter. “How much?”

You smirked, dragging your perfectly manicured nails through his curls, watching him melt like butter.

“A car.”

His entire posture changed. He sat up straighter, interest piqued. Now you were speaking his language. “Which one?”

You almost choked. “Excuse me?”

Lando leaned in, eyes sharp now. “Which. One.”

Oh, he was serious.

You blinked, regrouped, and leaned back like you were simply ordering off a menu.

“LaFerrari.”

Silence.

“The red one. Wine red. Matches my nails.” You admired the burgundy polish glinting under the light. “I’d look good in it.”

Lando didn’t even blink.

“Deal.”

Your head snapped toward him. “What?”

“Done.” He stood up, dusting off his sweatpants like you hadn’t just asked for a multi-million-dollar hypercar. “I’ll have the keys for you next week. Photoshoot’s on Friday.”

“Lando, that’s a LaFerrari-”

“And?”

“It’s like… a $3 million car!”

He tilted his head. “Do you want it in the garage or delivered to your place?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…You’re insane.”

Lando leaned down, smirking, and kissed your forehead. “And now you’re stuck with me.”

“…I want full creative control over the shoot.”

“Baby, you can set the studio on fire if it makes you happy.”

“And you’re paying for my glam team.”

“Obviously.”

You stared at him, still trying to process how you had accidentally hustled a hypercar off your billionaire boyfriend in under five minutes.

“And I want full rights to veto any photo where I look bad.”

“Oh, baby, you never look bad.”

You squinted. “If I show up and it’s just me in some hoodie in front of a brick wall-”

Lando’s hands cupped your cheeks, deadly serious. “You will be in a hoodie… in front of a gaming PC.”

You slapped his hands away.

—

You were never supposed to take it this far.

The photoshoot was meant to be a joke.

A little bargaining chip to shut Lando up for five minutes. You didn’t think he’d actually pull it off.

Yet here you were.

In a studio. In a Quadrant hoodie. In sweatpants.

And to make it worse, Lando was treating this like he was shooting for Vogue.

“Okay, okay- pause! Can we fix the lighting on her left side? I need more contrast, more mood. She’s selling the hoodie but not the vibe.”

You slowly turned to glare at him. “Lando. I am wearing a hoodie. There is no ‘vibe.’”

“There’s always a vibe!” Lando spun around to the photographer. “Tell her there’s a vibe.”

The photographer, who was clearly riding the paycheck wave, gave you an awkward smile and a less than enthusiastic thumbs up. “Yeah. Big vibe.”

You groaned and adjusted the hoodie, tugging the hood up over your head. “Lando, I walked for Dior last month. Dior. And now I’m here, dressed like a Twitch streamer in front of a gaming PC.”

Lando gasped. “First of all, streamers WISH they looked this good. Second of all, don’t disrespect the setup. That’s a triple-monitor, RGB-lit, water-cooled rig worth more than my life.”

“Yeah, well, it better be. Because I’m dying inside.”

“Okay, can we get a shot of her sitting on the desk? Like, casual, but make it fashion. Maybe holding a controller? No- headset! Baby, put on the headset.”

You stared at him. “You want me to wear a gaming headset in a fashion shoot?”

“Yes. Gamer girlfriend aesthetic. Internet eats that up.”

“I haven’t touched a console since the Wii came out.”

“And that’s the fantasy!”

—

Lando couldn’t stop staring.

The moment you put on the damn headset, he knew he was in trouble.

He’d been so smug, so proud of himself for getting you to agree to this ridiculous photoshoot.

But now? Now he was fighting for his life.

Because there you were, sitting on the desk in a Quadrant hoodie, wearing his brand, looking so effortlessly good that it was like the universe was punishing him for ever thinking this was a good idea.

It wasn’t just the way the hoodie hung on you, oversized and perfect, or the way you pushed the headset into place like you were made to wear it.

It was the thought behind it.

You were wearing his stuff.

And that did things to him.

Very Dangerous things.

Lando dragged a hand over his face, trying to snap himself out of it, but it was no use.

His gaze betrayed him, sliding back to you as you leaned back on the desk, legs crossed, your smirk telling him you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“Lando,” you said, your voice teasing and smooth, “you okay over there, baby?”

He tried to play it cool. “Yeah. All good.” His voice cracked halfway through, and he coughed to cover it up.

But he wasn’t fine.

Not even close.

His hands were clammy, his heart was pounding, and he was hyperaware of the fact that he was growing harder by the second.

Oh, this was bad.

You shifted on the desk, leaning forward slightly, the motion drawing his eyes to your legs before snapping them back to your face.

That cocky little smirk was still there, your stupidly pretty eyes glinting with amusement.

You were enjoying this. Brat.

“You sure?” you pressed, tilting your head.

His voice was higher this time, strained and barely holding it together. “Yep. Fine. Totally fine.”

You didn’t buy it for a second. “Lando…”

“That’s it,” Lando muttered, voice tight, cracking slightly with frustration. “Break! We’re taking a break.”

His words were sharp, a contrast to the usual smooth confidence he exuded.

Without waiting for any response, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you away from the set with a sense of urgency that didn’t match the cool composure he usually carried.

“Lando, what the-”

“Not now,” he interrupted, low and tense, as he pulled you into a nearby storage room.

The door clicked shut with an almost deliberate force, the sound of the lock turning echoing in the small space.

You barely had time to gather your thoughts before he was in your space, his breath coming fast, his chest rising and falling against yours.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” His voice was low, strained, his hands finding your waist, gripping tight, enough to bruise.

A slow smile spread across your lips. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

Lando’s forehead pressed against yours, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as if trying to center himself.

His breath fanned across your lips, shaky and uneven, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his chest seemed to rise and fall faster with every breath.

“You’re a brat,” he muttered under his breath, voice raw, yet edged with something almost desperate.

“You’re the one who wanted me in your merch,” you teased, your fingers curling into his hair as you leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body.

“Yeah, well…” His hands slid lower, pulling you closer, his fingertips burning against your skin. “Now I’ve got more than I bargained for.”

The words barely left his lips before his mouth found yours.

The kiss was messy, urgent, his lips urgent against yours, like he couldn’t get enough.

You didn’t need to think. Your body responded immediately, hands moving to pull him closer, the heat building.

The press of his body against yours was relentless, hard and desperate, as he deepened the kiss.

His hand slid down your thigh, pulling it up to hook around his waist, while the other traced a slow, deliberate path along your jaw.

His breath fanned across your skin, shallow and uneven, each exhale carrying a heat that set your nerves ablaze.

“You don’t fight fair,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, edged with a hunger that made your stomach flip. His mouth moved to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his teeth grazed your throat.

Your lips curled into a smirk, your nails raking across his back just enough to make him shudder. The sound of his sharp inhale sent a rush of power through you.

“Neither do you,” you whispered, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his as your fingers found the hem of his hoodie, tugging it higher, your touch skimming over his skin.

“God, you…” His voice broke, his words catching in his throat as he crashed his mouth back to yours.

The kiss was harder this time, almost frantic, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

His hands moved with purpose now.

Demanding, claiming, leaving no part of you untouched.

Your nails scraped against his back again, dragging another groan from deep in his chest, a sound so raw and desperate it made your knees weak.

His hips rocked against you, slow and deliberate, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

“Careful, Norris,” you teased, your voice breathless but still carrying a hint of mischief as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. A quiet intensity that you'd seen more than once.

“You’re starting to look a little… well, territorial.”

For a moment, he froze. His chest heaved with every ragged breath as if he was trying to regain control.

Then his lips twitched into a sly, almost dangerous smile, one that sent a thrill through you.

“Maybe I am,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word carrying weight. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, making any distance between you disappear.

The words sent a shiver through your spine. But it wasn’t fear. It was something else, something exciting, something that only made you want more.

His lips found your neck again, pressing soft, burning kisses against your skin.

His teeth grazed over your pulse, just enough to send a jolt through you, sharp and unexpected, making your breath catch in your throat.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered, “Everyone’s going to notice, you know. You weren’t exactly subtle when you dragged me off like that.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a grin, but it was dark now, and there was a sudden pressure in his hands as he adjusted his position against you. “Let them notice,” he said, his voice thick with something unspoken.

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin. “I don’t care. They can see whatever they want.”

The words sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, your nails scraping lightly over his back.

—-

When it was over, you leaned back against the wall, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breath.

Lando, however, was already standing in front of you, his hair tousled, his hoodie still hanging off his frame in a way that somehow made it look even better on him than it ever had before.

He bent down casually to scoop your underwear from the floor, dangling them in front of you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Come on, love,” he said, his voice rough and teasing, still thick with exertion. “Don’t leave me hanging. Put these back on before we go out there.”

You shot him a glare, snatching the fabric from his hand and hurriedly slipping it on, feeling the heat rush to your face.

Lando leaned back against the wall, watching you with a cocky, self-satisfied grin. “Still dripping with me,” he murmured, but the rasp in his voice made your stomach flip. You felt your cheeks flush even more.

You rolled your eyes, tugging the hoodie down to hide your body and fix your composure. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with a wink. “Guess that says something about you too.”

The studio lights were still dimmed as you walked back in, legs slightly unsteady. You caught yourself on the doorframe, trying to keep your cool, but the feeling between your legs was still fresh, raw.

Lando followed you, smirking like a cat that had just caught its prey. He leaned against the wall, eyes on you as his grin grew wider. “Fix your hair,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “You look like you just got fucked.”

You barely suppressed a laugh, brushing your fingers through your hair and pulling it back into something that at least resembled “done.” “Gee, I wonder why,” you muttered under your breath.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you were still trying to play it cool. “Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to retort when Lando took a step forward, his smirk never fading, and pulled you close. He kissed you softly, lingering, the kind of kiss that made it hard to remember where you ended and he began.

“Come on,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, the mischief still dancing in his eyes. “We’ve got a photoshoot to finish.”

—-

Months passed.

The LaFerrari didn’t show up.

Not that you cared. Really.

Sure, it had been a fun little joke—“Pay me in a LaFerrari or I’m not doing this shoot”—but you never expected Lando to actually follow through.

He said he would but Lando also forgot to stock up on groceries some days so you didn’t take it to heart.

Besides, it wasn’t like you had time to think about it.

Your schedule was relentless: fashion weeks in Paris, Vogue shoots in Milan, fittings for Dior in New York.

You were barely home long enough to unpack, let alone pine after a car.

It wasn’t a big deal.

Until one night, after a particularly grueling flight back from London, you pulled into your driveway and-

You slammed the brakes.

Because there it was.

A LaFerrari.

Burgundy red. Like aged wine. Like sin and velvet had a baby and parked it outside your house.

It gleamed under the porch light, shameless and expensive.

For a full minute, you did nothing but stare, slack-jawed.

Then you slowly got out of the car, leaving your bags in the trunk.

“Lando,” you muttered, pulling out your phone.

You called.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, baby- what’s up?”

“You left a LaFerrari on my driveway.”

“Oh! You got home?” He sounded way too casual.

“Lando. There is a multi-million-dollar car parked outside my house.”

“Yeah, about that. It’s yours. Obviously.”

“…You’re joking.”

“Would I joke about something this expensive?”

“Yes.”

“Fair. But not this time.”

You stared at the car again.

“Are you serious? After months?”

“It takes time to deliver a LaFerrari!” Lando said, his voice way too serious for a man who had just been exposed.

“I had to get it customized, too. Your name is literally engraved on the side. And then there was the whole issue with cargo. Did you know they’re super strict about how cars are transported? I had to make sure it wasn’t gonna get dented, and the shipping company I trust didn’t have any available slots until-”

“I thought you were joking, Lando!”

“Well, I wasn’t,” he replied confidently. “You said you wanted a LaFerrari. You said ‘make it red wine,’ so I made it red wine. I also got the seats customized with carbon fiber inserts and-”

You groaned in disbelief, interrupting him. “You literally bought the car, customized it, and shipped it to my house."

Lando blinked, unfazed. “Well, yeah. Obviously. Did you think I was kidding about that part?”

“Yes! It’s a LaFerrari! Who even does that?! It’s absurd!”

"Clearly me.” He paused. “Check the glove compartment.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Suspicious, you approached the car, heels clicking on the pavement. You opened the door.

God, even the door sounded expensive- and popped the glove compartment.

Inside was a tiny Hot Wheels car. A red LaFerrari.

Taped to it was a sticky note.

“Just in case this one wasn’t enough. - Lando”

You stared at it.

You looked back at the LaFerrari, glinting under the sun like some ridiculous, over-the-top love letter.

“…I’m taking it to the Dior fitting tomorrow.”

“You better.”

“…Is this why you were ignoring my texts last week?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you! I was busy coordinating with Italy!”

“Oh my God.”

#x reader #formula one x reader #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x reader #lando imagine #lando x y/n #lando x you #lando x reader #lando norris #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n #ln4 x you #ln4 fanfiction

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lifestyleblogeruk · 2 years ago

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The Versatility of Concrete Flooring: From Industrial to Modern Interior Design

Concrete flooring has come a long way from its utilitarian roots and is now celebrated for its exceptional versatility and aesthetic appeal in both industrial and modern interior design. As a durable and cost-effective flooring option, concrete has emerged as a popular choice for homeowners and designers seeking to create stylish and functional spaces. Let's explore how concrete flooring seamlessly transitions from industrial to modern interior design, transforming spaces with its unique charm and adaptability.

Industrial Charm:

In industrial interior design, concrete flooring is a hallmark feature that exudes a raw and rugged appeal. The exposed concrete surfaces, often with visible imperfections and patina, bring an authentic and industrial look to spaces. Whether it's a loft apartment, warehouse conversion, or commercial setting, the inherent strength and durability of concrete lend an unmistakable character to the overall design.

Minimalist Elegance:

In modern interior design, concrete flooring takes on a new identity as a minimalist canvas that complements clean lines and sleek aesthetics. The smooth and polished surfaces of concrete provide a sophisticated backdrop for contemporary furnishings and decor. Its neutral gray tones serve as an ideal foundation to enhance the visual impact of furniture, artwork, and accent pieces.

Stained and Decorative Finishes:

Concrete flooring's versatility shines through with stained and decorative finishes. In industrial settings, acid stains can create rich earthy tones, enhancing the concrete's natural texture. For modern interiors, decorative techniques like stenciling, engraving, or embedding aggregates offer opportunities for creative expression, adding subtle patterns or unique designs to the floor.

Seamless Transition between Indoors and Outdoors:

One of the remarkable aspects of concrete flooring is its ability to create a seamless transition between indoor and outdoor spaces. By extending concrete flooring from the interior to patios or outdoor living areas, homeowners can achieve a harmonious flow, blurring the boundaries between the two realms.

Sustainability and Eco-Friendliness:

In an era of increasing environmental consciousness, concrete flooring gains admiration for its sustainability. Concrete is often sourced locally, reducing the environmental impact of transportation. Additionally, its thermal mass properties can help regulate indoor temperatures, reducing the need for excessive heating or cooling.

Low Maintenance and Longevity:

Another advantage of concrete flooring is its low maintenance and long-lasting qualities. Properly sealed and maintained, concrete floors can withstand heavy foot traffic and daily wear, making them an enduring investment for any space.

Conclusion:

From the raw charm of industrial settings to the minimalist elegance of modern interiors, concrete flooring showcases its remarkable versatility as a design element. Its adaptability, sustainability, and longevity make it a popular choice for homeowners and designers seeking to create distinctive spaces that stand the test of time. Whether you embrace the industrial aesthetic or opt for a contemporary flair, concrete flooring provides the perfect foundation for transforming your interior spaces into stylish havens of creativity and comfort.

#Concrete Flooring #Pros and Cons of Concrete Flooring #How to Install Concrete Flooring #Concrete Flooring Ideas for Modern Homes #Cost of Concrete Flooring per Square Foot #Best Sealer for Concrete Flooring #Concrete Flooring Maintenance Tips #How to Polish Concrete Flooring #Concrete Flooring for Industrial Spaces #Decorative Concrete Flooring Trends #Concrete Flooring DIY Installation Guide

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pangaeafloors · 2 years ago

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Pangaea is a cement based polymer enhanced compound that is installed on top of existing structural substrates. It is mixed on site and hand troweled at an average thickness of up to 15mm. After curing, Pangaea is then machine ground and mechanically polished for a finish system of 10-12mm. Pangaea polished concrete can if desired achieve matte, satin or gloss finishes.

#polished concrete floors cost

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fear-is-truth · 2 months ago

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patrick bateman x fiancée!reader | nsfw. mdni

you’re kneeling on the polished oak floor, jerking off your fiancé as he studies your hand, captivated by the engagement ring he’d bought for you. his thumb slides over the warm, polished 18k rose gold of the cartier panthère ring, and you can see patrick’s face contort slightly when you swiped your thumb over the bulbous tip, admiring the rosy shade of pink. you make a mental note of the colour, perhaps you can buy some nail polish of the exact shade.

“this isn’t just any ring,” patrick mumbles suddenly, as if justifying his choice to himself. “it’s designed by aldo cipullo—the same guy who created the love bracelet. only the best, obviously.” his voice trails off, noting the way the delicate pavé diamonds sparkle against your skin, then looks back up at you, cheeks flushed.

“two carats of vvs clarity diamonds, high colour… princess cut. they don’t make them like this anymore,” he rambles on, tongue poking out between parted lips. “each one’s hand-finished in their paris atelier. it cost… twenty-five grand. minimum,”

“thank you, patrick. they’re beautiful, i love them,” you say as you gently squeezed the head, a droplet of clear liquid oozed from the slit — glistening like the diamonds you’re wearing. his cock twitches in your hand and patrick frowns. “these trousers are ermenegildo zegna and they cost nine hundred and fifty dollars. don’t get them dirty.”

“… of course, patrick.”

#patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman #patrick bateman fanfic #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman x y/n #american psycho #christian bale x reader #slasher x reader #slasher smut

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perfecthomepros · 1 year ago

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Floor Polishing Cost

Floor Polishing cost can depend on many factors. Perfecthomepros show you on average what people reported to have paid for Floor Polishing.

#floor polishing cost #estimate #flooring #perfecthomepros

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missaengg · 3 months ago

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Massaging Lord Sukuna

Day 23 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Jujutsu Kaisen | Sukuna x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, massage, hand job, Lord Sukuna, servant reader, Sukuna is massive Prompts: Massages | “That's it, you're doing such a good job.” ao3 link here.

“Enter.”

The deep, foreboding voice commands you through the sliding doors. You enter, hastening to your Lord’s feet and falling to the ground in a deep bow.

“You called for me, my Lord?”

“Uraume tells me you’re well-versed in the art of massage.” “Y–yes, my Lord.”

You keep your eyes trained on the polished wooden floor. You’ve heard the stories whispered among the other servants, how Lord Sukuna can change his mood on a whim, how if you happen to be present when his mood shifts… You shiver. You’ve seen the empty beds of those who entered his chambers and never returned.

“Stand before me.”

You scramble to your feet keeping your head bowed. You don’t dare look him in the eyes.

“Look at me.”

Trembling, you raise your chin, tentatively gazing into his cold, demon eyes. They appraise you slowly, taking his time to drag over every inch of your tiny form. You hold your breath, terrified of making the wrong move and catching his ire. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he looks away, releasing you from his hold.

“Do not disappoint me, wench.”

You inaudibly release the tense breath you’re holding in your lungs. “Yes, my Lord.”

Lord Sukuna disrobes, casually slipping the luxurious silk material fluidly off his shoulders and discarding it carelessly to the side. You gasp and avert your eyes quickly, a blush blooming on your cheeks at your Lord’s unabashed naked form. It’s your first time seeing a man – if Lord Sukuna can be considered a man – bare, and you’re surprised by how much you relish it, at the rush of heat overwhelming you. While it’s no secret Lord Sukuna has an informidable build, seeing him disrobed… you can’t help, but admire just how chiseled he is, how clearly each contour of his body is outlined under his flesh.

“Where…” You clear your throat, reaching for the massage oil. “Where would you like for me to focus, my Lord?”

“My shoulders and my back. Do not skimp on the pressure.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

You get to work briskly, slathering a generous amount of oil on your hands, rubbing them together to warm up the oil so your hands aren’t too cold. You don’t know if he’ll mind, but you prefer not to find out at the cost of your life.

Desperately attempting to quell your shaking, you place your hands on his shoulders, feeling his taut muscles ripple under your palms. You can tell that he’s tight, and you knead along the fibers, pressing as hard as you can with your thumbs. You run your thumb along a particularly dense knot, and Lord Sukuna grunts. Lightening your touch, you wonder if perhaps you’ve pressed too hard, and you wait with bated breath, waiting to see if he’ll turn on you in rage.

“Harder, brat. Do not make me say it again.”

You bite your lip to keep from squeaking in fear. “Y–yes, my Lord.”

You dig your thumb in the knot again, harder this time, rocking it back and forth to loosen what you can. Lord Sukuna grumbles in displeasure, your thumb too weak against the thick fibers of his dense muscle. Coating your elbow in oil, you press your bony joint into the stubborn point. You relax when Lord Sukuna sighs, now using your forearm and elbow to soothe the strain in his back.

“Uraume was right. You are satisfactory.”

A rare utterance of praise.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

The tense clench of your body begins to subside as you focus on the task at hand, finding a rhythm to the way your arms slide along his broad torso. You frown when your thumbs travel down towards his waist. His lower back is an impenetrable column, even tighter than the knots in his shoulders. Re-coating your hands with more oil, you rake your knuckles against the firm ropes of muscle, following the path to his glutes.

You almost topple over once you realize where your hands are placed.

“F–forgive me, my Lord. I did not mean to touch you indecently.”

Lord Sukuna simply chuckles. “You wish to seduce your Lord?”

“No, my Lord!” You throw yourself into a deep bow even though you know Lord Sukuna can’t see you. “For–forgive me, my Lord!”

Lord Sukuna sighs. “You may continue.”

Shaking, you place your palms back down on his glutes, but the heels of your palms are too feeble against his powerful muscle. You wince. You have no choice, you’ll have to use your knees. Hiking the hem of your yukata up to your hips, you coat your knees in massage oil.

“Please excuse me, my Lord.”

“Hm?” Lord Sukuna’s bored hum hangs in the stifling tension, but he doesn’t move, uninterested in your next move.

You carefully climb on top of your Lord, your knees moving in opposing circles on his cheeks, leaning with your hands on his shoulder blades. You’re practically laying on top of him attacking both his glutes and his upper back simultaneously, painfully aware of your close proximity. You can feel his body heat radiating off of him in heavy crashing waves. For such a cold, imposing demon Lord, his body heat is impossibly, scorchingly hot, and you’re burning in its presence.

Lord Sukuna tenses, and you freeze. Are you not using enough strength? Remembering his earlier threat, you prepare to sink more of your meager weight into his flesh when he suddenly rises, and you tumble unceremoniously off his back to the hard floor below.

Your breath catches in your throat, fear dancing in your now teary eyes. Is this where your life will end?

Lord Sukuna simply flips over in one swift movement, his back now on his futon. You catch a glimpse of his impressive twitching cock, and you almost choke at the sheer, monstrous size of his appendage. It’s standing at attention, fully engorged, a bead of something glistening on his tip. It’s your first time seeing a cock in real life, but they can’t possibly be this big… Can they?

“I’ve changed my mind…”

You forcefully tear your wide eyes away from his lap.

“I want you to work on my front.”

You’re still too dazed to fully comprehend Lord Sukuna’s request or wonder why he suddenly changed his mind when you’ve hardly worked on his back, which is still a mess of crunchy, tangled fibers. All you can do is stutter, “Yes, my Lord,” before moving to kneel by his head.

You jump when Lord Sukuna grabs you by the wrist, snapping you out of your dazed trance.

“By my side.”

You blink. You don’t understand why he wants to keep you by his side to massage his chest. The best placement for the neck and chest is with his head cradled between your knees, but you comply. You aren’t reckless enough to argue with him. What Lord Sukuna wants, Lord Sukuna gets.

“Yes, my Lord.”

You kneel by his chest. Despite the awkward angle, you do your best to knead his pecs.

“Lower.”

You move your hands down until they’re directly cupping his chest.

“Lower.”

Abs aren’t quite an area that’s normally massaged, but you accede. While humans don’t generally prefer having their stomachs pressed, perhaps demons are different in that regard.

“Lower.”

This time you pause. Lower would mean… you blush furiously at what his command is implying.

“My Lord?”

“You heard me, brat. Lower.”

You hesitantly slide your hands lower following the trail of hair leading down to his… your blush deepens. There’s only one thing in that region that’ll require a massage, and it’s currently twitching quite violently in your view.

“Do I need to spell out what I want?”

The irritation threading through his words is clear.

“N–no, my Lord.”

You know what he’s asking you to do. Taking in a deep breath, you grasp his thick shaft, your tiny hand barely able to close around its full girth. It’s throbbing, the protruding veins pulsing in a steady yet demanding rhythmic beat. You exhale. The feeling of a man’s dick is foreign to you, and you’ve heard other ladies giggling over their midnight trysts with the other men, but this is your first time even holding one in your palm, much less one this massive.

Struggling to remember what exactly was shared in the cover of night, you timidly move your oil-slicken hand up and down his shaft. Are you supposed to squeeze? How fast are you supposed to go? Do you include the tip?

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears prickling your eyelids. You so desperately want to please your Lord, but you have no idea what you’re doing, and you’re too scared to ask. Too scared of the consequences that may follow.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

Lord Sukuna is staring at you, contemplating something in his head. There’s a look in his eyes you can’t quite read. You don’t know whether you should be struck with fear or something else entirely or a combination of both. Your hand stills. The moment is tense with unspoken words.

“Apply more pressure and increase your pace gradually.”

Relief floods your anxious, fearful heart. For whatever reason, he is being patient with you, and you’re grateful for his mercy. You strengthen your grip around him, and pump, twirling around his shaft to cover every exposed inch.

“That's it, you're doing such a good job,” Lord Sukuna purrs, his eyes still trained on you, still gleaming with the something you can’t identify.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“Do not forget to include the head of my cock.”

Your hand aches. After the strenuous exertion of massaging Lord Sukuna’s dense body and the width of his member, your fingers are cramping, at their limit, but you refuse to give in to the strain. Lord Sukuna has spared you several times already, and you’re determined to keep him pleased.

Lord Sukuna growls quietly under his breath, and you take a peek, taken aback at the rosy flush that has appeared on his cheeks and at the way his eyes are rolling under his eyelids and his mouth hangs open. His breaths are rapidly shallow.

He’s enjoying this.

Emboldened by your Lord’s response, you pump furiously. This time remembering to include the bulbous head. Your hand glides easily, the massage oil acting as a slick lubricant allowing you to increase your pace smoothly.

Your aim is to please your Lord, but you feel unsettled by the way your thighs are rubbing together, the way his growl has awoken a fluttering in your belly, the way you ache and throb between your legs.

Sukuna’s growls grow louder, interspersed with guttural grunts, all laced with a feral edge. Every so often his hips jerk against your fist until his cock pulls taut, and with a fearsome groan he erupts, shooting wave after wave of his white cum, his explosion so powerful and copious, his cum is spilling over your fist and spurting onto your clothes.

The ladies spoke of what happens when a man is pleasured, but this… This is something else entirely. Lord Sukuna’s release is a relentless torrent of white far beyond anything you’d previously heard.

Lord Sukuna finally stills, his breathing labored. Despite spilling an impressive amount, his cock is still undeniably firm. He cracks his eyes open, and he languidly smirks, taking in the way you’re practically bathed in his cum.

“You have pleased me, little one.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” You bow, ignoring just how drenched you are from his release. “If you are satisfied, I shall take my leave.”

You’re so shaken from how much pleasure you also felt from pleasing your Lord, you forget you must first be dismissed before leaving his presence.

Lord Sukuna narrows his eyes, and he grabs you by the arm, pulling you closer towards him. “I’m not done with you, brat,” he hisses.

You flinch, recognizing your impudence. “I’m sorry, my Lord,” you whisper, flushing from how close his face is to yours.

Lord Sukuna trails his finger down your cheek, a wicked grin gracing his lips. You look into his eyes, finally understanding the gleam you couldn’t identify earlier.

Ravenous hunger.

He brings his lips so close to your ear, they brush your helix causing you to shiver, and says…

“I won’t be done with you until morning.”

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allgrind · 3 months ago

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How Much Does Polished Concrete Cost Per Square Meter in Melbourne?

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atfoklahoma · 5 months ago

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Flooring Installation Service in Arkoma: Your Trusted Partner for Quality Flooring | ATF Oklahoma

When it comes to flooring installation in Arkoma, finding a reliable and skilled contractor is essential. Whether you're considering epoxy flooring, polished concrete, or any other type of flooring, the right service can make all the difference. Here’s what you need to know about Flooring Installation Services in Arkoma, and how to choose the best option for your needs.

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mingi-s-dimples · 28 days ago

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Cost of Entry - sangi *300 followers special*

andddd here it is! thank you so, so much for 300 followers! it means everything to me! I love every single one of you 🤍

pairing: mafia leaders!sangi × fem!reader

genre: 18+, mafia au, filth

summary: you just wanted a break from everything.. and you decide to sneak in the VIP section. One of the best choices in your life.. despite the dangers lurking in.

wc: 9.4k (half plot/half smut)

warnings: mafia au, possessive and controlled!san, drunk and teasy!mingi, bratty f!reader, drunken confession (mingi), teasing, mentions of alcohol, alcohol ingestion (mingi), drunk sex (mingi was wasted), lots of cum, multiple orgasms, san eats her out, mingi is loud, san is a calm controlled storm until he isn't and mingi is ravished all over, enemies to lovers slightly more like forbidden encounter, double penetration, 3some, a singular degradation *slut*, choking, head pushing, oral (f and mingi receiving), manhandling, bulge kink (the one where reader gets turned on by seeing.. mingi’s bulge), size kink, some making out, some praise, unprotected (wrap up irl!), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: I feel like I improved so much since I first started writing... and it’s been a while since then 🥹 I don't care about the following whatsoever, but seeing all of you like, reblog, and appreciate my work is so fulfilling for me. School and life in general have been shit these past couple of months, starting with October, and I'm so grateful for everyone that waited for the kinktober fics 😭 I know it took me ages to write them but, hey! we're done, and I hope all my readers have had time to read everything ^^ watch out for three requests and one New Year's Eve Special (it's gonna be steamy 🤗)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and doesn't represent the reality of the members in any way.

The club was alive with an almost oppressive energy, and the air was thick with heat, sweat, and the faint sting of alcohol, mingling into something intoxicating. People moved like shadows across the dance floor, their faces blurred under flashing lights and clouds of smoke. The space was designed to disorient, to make you forget time and place.

You hadn’t planned to end up here.

Your life had been spiraling lately—work stress, personal struggles, and the kind of exhaustion that made everything feel heavier. Tonight, you’d needed a change, an escape from the suffocating routine of your life. But as you wove your way through the crowd, sober and increasingly overwhelmed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t quite fit.

And then you saw it—the VIP section.

It was set apart from the rest of the club, a raised platform encircled by a sleek black rope. The lighting was softer there, casting an ambient glow over the space. Plush leather couches and polished tables hinted at luxury, while the guests seated within exuded something else entirely—an aura of power. It wasn’t the kind of wealth that came from successful businesses or old money; this was something sharper, more dangerous.

You didn’t know the specifics, but you’d heard whispers. The people who occupied those seats weren’t just rich; they were the kind of people you wouldn't usually meet. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t get too close.

But tonight, curiosity—or maybe desperation—got the better of you.

You watched the bouncers for a moment, waiting until one of them turned to speak to someone at the entrance. Then, with your heart hammering in your chest, you ducked under the rope. It was a calculated risk, but as you stepped into the VIP section, the change in atmosphere was immediate. The music was still present, but muted, as though the space itself demanded quiet. The people here weren’t shouting over the bass like the crowd below; their conversations were low and deliberate.

You hesitated, your steps faltering as your eyes scanned the room.

That’s when you saw them.

Two men occupied the largest couch, a bottle of expensive whiskey on the table between them. They were seated with a kind of confidence that drew attention without effort, the kind of presence that made everyone else fade into the background.

The man on the left, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, exuded control. His dark hair was slicked back, and his sharp jawline caught the light as he leaned back in his seat. His gaze was steady and piercing, scanning the room like he was cataloging every threat, every movement. Something about him was almost surgical in its precision, his presence commanding without needing to speak.

The other man was a striking contrast. His posture was looser, his energy more chaotic. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a hint of tattoos beneath. He held his drink lazily, swirling the liquid as he leaned forward to say something to his companion. Where the first man was sharp and quiet, this one was wild, his energy buzzing beneath the surface like a storm waiting to break.

They were magnetic.

You didn’t know who they were, not exactly, but you didn’t need to. The air around them crackled with something electric, and your instincts screamed at you to turn back. These were not men you messed with. But before you could make your escape, their attention shifted.

The man in the suit noticed you first. His gaze snapped to you, sharp as a blade, and you froze under the weight of it. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was cold, calculated.

“Someone’s feeling brave,” he murmured, his voice smooth and quiet but carrying an edge that made your pulse race.

His companion followed his gaze, his expression twisting into something halfway between amusement and curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes raked over you. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice rough and teasing. “What’s this? Lost your way, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat before you managed to find words. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just... I needed a break.”

The suited man tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “A break,” he echoed, as though the word was unfamiliar to him.

“From what?” his companion pressed, his tone almost playful.

“I—” You hesitated, feeling their eyes on you, dissecting you. “From everything.”

The man in the suit leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his knuckles as he studied you. “Interesting choice of refuge,” he remarked, his voice soft but cutting.

His companion chuckled, low and rough, as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and poured a generous amount into an empty glass. “You know what they say: When in Rome.” He slid the glass toward you, his smirk widening. “Drink. You’ll need it.”

You stared at the glass, your mind racing.

“She doesn’t drink,” the suited man observed, his gaze never leaving you.

You met his eyes, your voice steadier than you felt. “How do you know that?”

His smirk deepened. “You’re still standing upright, and your shoes are in one piece.”

San's words lingered in the air, his sharp gaze still locked onto yours. There was a weight to his presence that made it hard to look away, as if he was silently daring you to say something—anything—that might amuse him. Mingi, on the other hand, was all energy and movement, the chaos to San’s calm. He leaned back with a smirk, his glass dangling loosely between his fingers as he looked at you like you were the night’s entertainment.

“Cat got your tongue?” Mingi teased, his deep voice carrying just enough bite to make your cheeks flush.

You squared your shoulders, willing yourself not to let their intensity overwhelm you. “I didn’t realize needing a break required permission,” you said, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Mingi’s grin widened, and he let out a low chuckle. “Feisty. I like her.”

San didn’t smile, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. “You should choose your words carefully,” he said, his tone calm but cold. “You’re in a space where even the smallest mistake can have... consequences.”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Noted.”

Mingi set his glass down with a deliberate clink, then rose from his seat. He was tall—taller than you’d realized—and every step he took toward you felt like a test. When he reached your side, he sat down on the couch, the leather creaking softly under his weight. His broad shoulders and long legs made the space feel impossibly small, his proximity overwhelming.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Mingi asked, his voice low as he leaned closer. He didn’t wait for an answer, instead reaching for the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another drink.

Your pulse quickened as his thigh brushed against yours, the heat of his body seeping into you. He didn’t touch you outright, but the way his arm draped over the back of the couch—his fingers just inches from your shoulder—made it clear he was testing boundaries.

San’s gaze flicked to Mingi, his expression unreadable. “You’ve had enough.”

Mingi snorted, swirling the whiskey in his glass before downing it in one gulp. “I’ll decide when I’ve had enough.” He set the glass down with more force this time.

“Mingi.” San’s voice was sharper now, carrying an authority that made the air feel heavier. “Enough.”

Mingi ignored him, his attention fully on you now. His hand brushed your shoulder, his touch deliberate as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re awfully quiet for someone bold enough to crash our table,” he murmured, his tone dark and teasing.

You shivered under his gaze, unsure whether it was fear or something else entirely.

“Mingi,” San said again, his voice colder this time. “Stop. You’re scaring her.”

But before Mingi could respond, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay.”

San’s sharp gaze snapped to you, his expression unreadable. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your cheeks warming as you whispered, “Yes.”

Mingi’s grin returned, this time more feral. He turned back to San, gesturing at you with a lazy wave of his hand. “See? She’s fine.” Then he leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief and menace as he added, “Not like she had much of a choice anyway. She’s in our territory now, and what’s in our territory...” He let the words hang in the air for a moment before finishing with a smirk, “...is ours to play with.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of their meaning pressing down on you.

San’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing at Mingi. “That’s enough.”

Mingi only laughed, the sound low and dangerous, as he sat back and grabbed the bottle of whiskey again. “Relax, San. You’re always so uptight. She’s not running.”

You glanced between them, your heart racing as the tension crackled like a live wire.

Mingi’s body was a furnace beside you, radiating heat as he poured himself yet another glass of whiskey. His movements were slower now, less precise, but his grin was as sharp as ever. You could tell he was far gone—the slight slur to his words, the way his fingers occasionally fumbled for the glass—but it didn’t seem to bother him.

San, on the other hand, was the picture of control. He sipped his drink slowly, his sharp eyes flicking between you and Mingi like a predator assessing the situation.

“You’re really not going to join in?” Mingi teased, leaning back against the couch and spreading his legs a little wider. His arm stretched out behind you, his fingertips brushing your shoulder as he spoke. “You’re missing out, San. She’s... something else.”

San arched a brow, his lips quirking in a faint smirk. “Unlike you, I know how to pace myself.”

Mingi chuckled, the sound rough and low as he turned his attention back to you. “Pacing is fucking overrated.” His hand drifted lower, his fingers trailing down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

The club around you seemed to fade into the background, the music a dull thrum as Mingi’s touch became more deliberate. His fingers brushed against your waist, testing, teasing. You froze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. And then you saw it—a noticeable bulge forming in his pants, pressing against the fabric.

Your cheeks burned, and you tried to look away, but your eyes kept flicking back to it. Mingi caught the direction of your gaze and grinned, leaning closer so his breath tickled your ear. “See something you like?”

Your hand trembled as it moved, almost of its own accord, resting lightly on his thigh. His grin faltered for a split second, surprise flickering in his eyes before it was replaced with something darker, hungrier.

San let out a low chuckle, drawing your attention back to him. “Brave,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “But you shouldn’t be here. You’ve got no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

You frowned, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing. “And why is that?”

San leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes bore into yours. “Because we’re not the kind of men you walk away from,” he said, his tone cold and deliberate. “We’re mafia leaders, sweetheart. Every choice you make with us has consequences.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you could fully process them, Mingi let out a bark of laughter. “Mafia leaders, consequences... You’re scaring her, San.” He turned to you, his hand sliding a little higher on your waist as he smirked. “Don’t listen to him. You’re already here. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

San’s gaze flicked to Mingi, his expression unreadable. “You’re not exactly helping your case, Mingi.”

Mingi ignored him, his focus entirely on you. His eyes roamed over your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts. “You know,” he said, his voice rough and slurred, “you’re driving me insane. The way you walked in here like you owned the place... That bold little attitude of yours. And don’t even get me started on this body.” His hand squeezed your waist gently, his fingers pressing into your skin. “Your waist, your thighs, those perfect—”

“Mingi,” San interrupted, his voice sharp, though there was an edge of amusement in his tone.

“What?” Mingi shot back, his grin widening as he leaned closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m just being honest. She deserves to know how fucking gorgeous she is.”

You felt your heart racing, the heat of Mingi’s words and touch sending a confusing mix of adrenaline and desire coursing through you. Your gaze darted to San, whose smirk deepened as he leaned back, watching the scene unfold like it was some sort of game.

“She doesn’t belong here,” San said after a moment, his tone soft but firm. “And if she has any sense, she’ll leave before it’s too late.”

Mingi let out another laugh, shaking his head. “Too late for what? She’s already in our territory.” His hand moved again, brushing lightly against your hip as his grin turned wicked. “And as I said.. what’s in our territory... is ours.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, his rough, drunken demeanor making the statement feel both dangerous and thrilling. San’s expression shifted slightly, his smirk fading as he studied your reaction.

“Well?” San asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Do you want to stay?”

Your hand tightened slightly on Mingi’s thigh, your body betraying you even as your mind screamed at you to be careful. You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Mingi’s grin widened, and he let out a low growl of approval. “Smart girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding to rest on your lower back. “I knew you’d be fun.”

San chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

San’s glass clinked softly as he set it down on the table, the whiskey within barely touched. His movements were deliberate, calculated, as he rose from his seat. The room seemed to shift around him, his presence commanding enough to silence even Mingi’s drunken teasing.

He stopped directly in front of you, looming but not overbearing, his sharp gaze pinning you in place. For a moment, he simply stared, his expression unreadable, the corners of his lips twitching as though he were debating whether to smirk or scowl.

Then, without warning, he reached for the whiskey bottle, filling his glass to the brim. He tilted his head back and downed the entire thing in one smooth motion, his throat working as the liquid disappeared. When he lowered the glass, his dark eyes met yours, burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

San leaned down, his face inches from yours. His hand brushed the back of the couch, caging you in without touching you. His voice was low, a near-whisper that somehow drowned out the pounding bass of the club.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Sneaking in here, testing us. But let me make one thing clear.” He paused, his lips barely brushing your skin as he spoke again, each word slow and deliberate. “You’ll regret it if you mistake this for mercy. I am not the man who lets you walk away unscathed.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, his tone dripping with something dark and forbidden. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, caught in the gravity of his presence. And then, just as suddenly as he leaned in, he straightened, his face an unreadable mask once more.

“Enough,” San said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. His gaze flicked to Mingi, who was still leaning against you, his hand idly tracing circles on your hip. “Stop.”

Mingi scowled, his drunken grin faltering for the first time. “What’s your problem, San? She’s fine.”

San’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he turned away, pulling his phone from his pocket. “She’s coming with us.”

Before you could fully process his words, San pressed the phone to his ear, speaking in clipped tones. “Bring the car around. Now.”

The command was brief but absolute, and you didn’t doubt that whoever was on the other end of the call would obey without question. San hung up and turned back to the two of you, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

“Get up,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Mingi groaned but obeyed, standing and stretching lazily before offering you a hand. You hesitated for a second, glancing at San, who watched you. Finally, you took Mingi’s hand, and he helped you to your feet, his grip lingering just a little too long.

The three of you made your way through the VIP section, San leading the way with his usual precision and control. The club seemed to part around him, the crowd instinctively moving aside as he passed. Mingi stayed close to your side, his hand brushing yours occasionally, whether by accident or design, you weren’t sure.

When you reached the exit, a sleek black car was already waiting at the curb. The chauffeur stepped out to open the door, bowing his head slightly as San climbed in first.

Mingi gestured for you to follow, his grin returning as he leaned down to whisper, “After you, princess.”

You slid into the car, the cool leather seats a sharp contrast to the heat of the club. San was already seated, his gaze fixed out the window, his profile sharp in the dim light. Mingi climbed in after you, the door closing with a soft thud as the car pulled away from the curb.

The tension in the car was palpable, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife. Mingi shifted beside you, his knee brushing against yours as he leaned back, his arm draping casually over the seat behind you.

San’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, catching your reflection for a brief moment before he looked away again. “This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re in over your head.”

Mingi laughed, the sound rough and carefree. “Don’t scare her off, San. She’s more fun than half the people we deal with.”

San didn’t respond, his focus returning to the city lights streaming past the window. You glanced between them, your heart racing as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“Relax,” Mingi murmured, his hand resting lightly on your thigh. His touch was warm, almost soothing, but the glint in his eyes was anything but. “We’re just getting started.”

The car continued its smooth journey, the cityscape blurring as you wondered what exactly you had just stepped into.

In the dim, confined space of the car, you shifted slightly, catching San’s reflection in the tinted window. He sat stiffly, his gaze fixed outside, the sharp angles of his jaw tightening every few moments. You could tell he was irritated—whether it was at you, Mingi, or the entire situation, you weren’t sure.

But something about his restrained demeanor, the tension radiating off him in waves, made you bold. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from sneaking into their space, or maybe it was the effect of Mingi’s earlier touch still tingling on your skin. Either way, you couldn’t resist.

“So, San,” you began, your voice light and teasing as you crossed your legs, the movement subtle but deliberate. “Always this uptight, or is it just when women crash your little mafia clubhouse?”

Mingi barked out a laugh, his arm still stretched lazily over the back of the seat. “She’s got a mouth on her, huh? I like it.”

San turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours in the reflection. “Careful,” he warned, his voice quiet but dangerous.

You leaned forward just a bit, your smirk growing. “Or what? You’ll lecture me again? Maybe I should take notes. You seem like the type who likes to be... in control.”

The corner of Mingi’s mouth twitched as he tried to stifle another laugh, clearly enjoying the show. San, however, didn’t react immediately, his silence only fueling your determination.

“I mean,” you continued, feigning innocence as you leaned back against the seat, “you’re all about consequences, right? But it makes me wonder...” You let your gaze trail over him, slow and deliberate. “What would it take to get you to lose that cool composure of yours?”

San’s jaw ticked, his grip tightening briefly on the edge of his seat. The way he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring just slightly, told you you’d struck a nerve. Good.

The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of an imposing apartment building, its sleek façade gleaming under the city lights. San stepped out first, his movements stiff and controlled, as though he were holding himself together by sheer will. You followed, with Mingi stumbling slightly as he climbed out after you, muttering something about the uneven curb.

Inside the lobby, the tension didn’t ease. The three of you moved toward the elevator, Mingi swaying slightly as he leaned against the wall while San pressed the call button. The soft ding of the elevator’s arrival broke the silence, and the doors slid open.

The ride up was quiet at first. San pressed the button for the 25th floor, the soft hum of the elevator filling the small space. Mingi leaned against the corner, his head tipped back against the wall, but his drunken grin hadn’t faded.

You stood between them, your heart pounding as you stole a glance at San. His posture was rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Then the doors closed, and something in San snapped.

In one swift motion, he turned toward you, his hand reaching up to grip your jaw—not harshly, but firmly enough to make you gasp. He tilted your head up, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a fire that burned through every ounce of control he’d been holding onto.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he growled, his voice low and rough, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

His free hand ghosted over your throat, his fingers barely brushing your skin as he leaned in, his lips so close you could feel the heat of his breath.

“You wanted to piss me off?” he continued, his tone both dangerous and unbearably sensual. “Congratulations. You did.” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his grip tightening slightly as he added, “But let me make one thing clear—you don’t play games with me unless you’re ready for the consequences.”

Your breath hitched, your mind spinning as his words sank in. Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding, as though he was determined to claim every ounce of control you’d tried to take from him.

His kiss was a contradiction—hot and cold, restrained and wild. His hand remained on your throat, his fingers flexing just enough to remind you of the power he held without crossing a line.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “You drive me fucking insane,” he murmured, his voice raw. “That mouth of yours, the way you look at me like you’re daring me to lose control... You have no idea what you’ve started.”

Behind you, Mingi let out a low whistle, breaking the moment. “Damn, San. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

San straightened, his gaze never leaving yours as he ignored Mingi’s comment. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before stepping back, his composure slipping back into place like a mask.

The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival at the 25th floor. San gestured for you to step out first, his expression unreadable once more.

“Let’s go,” he said, his tone clipped but softer than before.

You stepped out of the elevator, your heart still racing as you followed them down the hallway. Whatever you’d walked into tonight, you knew one thing for certain—you weren’t walking away unscathed.

San’s demeanor changed the moment the door to the penthouse swung open. The space was vast and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city below. Sleek black leather furniture contrasted with the warm tones of wood paneling, and a massive crystal chandelier hung above the open living area, its light casting intricate patterns on the marble floor.

But none of it mattered—because as soon as the door clicked shut, San turned to you with a look that could melt steel.

“Bedroom. Now.”

You barely had time to react before his hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not painful, as he pulled you through the space. You caught glimpses of the penthouse as he led you—an open kitchen with gleaming stainless-steel appliances, a curved staircase leading to a second level, and finally, a door at the end of a hallway.

San pushed it open, revealing a massive bedroom. The centerpiece was a king-sized bed with a dark gray headboard, framed by sleek black nightstands. The room was minimalist but luxurious, the kind of place that radiated power and control.

Before you could take it all in, San was on you. His hands gripped your waist, spinning you around and backing you toward the bed. The edge of the mattress hit the backs of your knees, and he didn’t give you time to steady yourself before his hands moved to your shoulders, pushing you down with controlled force.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he said, his voice a low growl as he loomed over you. His dark eyes burned with a mix of anger and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. “Waltzing into my world, running that mouth of yours. Do you even understand what kind of fire you’re playing with?”

You met his gaze, refusing to back down even as your pulse raced. “Maybe I like the fire,” you shot back, your voice sharper than you expected. “Maybe I want to see just how far I can push you.”

San’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the bed on either side of you. “You think this is a game?” he said, his voice cold and biting. “You think you can just walk into my territory, challenge me, and get away with it?”

Your lips curved into a smirk, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “What if I do?”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. Then, Mingi’s voice broke through, lazy and amused.

“Now this,” Mingi drawled, leaning against the doorframe with his usual casual confidence, “is entertaining.”

You turned your head to look at him, and your breath caught. Mingi had stripped off his shirt, revealing a body that was all hard muscle and tattoos. His skin glistened slightly, the faint sheen catching the light as he crossed his arms over his chest.

His gaze dropped to the bulge straining against his pants, and he let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing over it lazily. “San,” he said, his voice laced with mockery, “you’re hogging all the fun.”

San didn’t look at him, his focus remaining solely on you. “She’s the one who wanted to test me,” he said, his tone dark. “And I’m going to make sure she understands exactly what that means.”

Mingi smirked, pushing off the doorframe as he sauntered into the room. “Be my guest,” he said, his fingers teasing at the waistband of his pants. “But don’t take too long. I’m not exactly a patient man.”

San finally looked at him, his expression hard. “Stay out of this,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Whatever you say, boss.” But his eyes drifted back to you, his gaze heavy and full of unspoken promise.

Your breath hitched as San’s gaze returned to you, his hand brushing against your jaw in a touch that was both possessive and almost tender.

“You wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t forget that.”

San’s hands gripped the edge of the bed with enough force to leave marks in the sheets, his eyes never leaving yours as if trying to read your every thought. The way his gaze darkened, the slightest shift in his posture, told you everything—you had pushed him to the edge, and now there was no turning back.

You could feel the heat radiating between the three of you, Mingi leaning against the doorframe with a wicked grin that only fueled the fire. He sauntered toward the bed, his presence almost magnetic. His gaze roamed over you, his eyes lingering on your every curve, drinking you in. His fingers twitched, as if testing the waters, before his hand settled on your arm, warm and possessive.

San watched every move Mingi made, his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak. He was too far gone—his control slipping, his desire too raw and evident in the air. He was trying to contain it, but the force of it all was starting to unravel him.

Without warning, Mingi’s hands moved to your shoulders, his fingers brushing over your skin in slow, deliberate strokes. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You look so fucking good,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust and amusement.

You shivered, your body reacting involuntarily to the heated touch. You tried to suppress the tremble in your voice as you met Mingi’s teasing gaze. “Is that what you want, Mingi? To watch me squirm?”

Mingi chuckled softly, low and deep, his fingers lightly tracing the neckline of your shirt. “You don’t know how much I enjoy watching you try to fight it,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes darkened further. “You’ve got a fire in you, and I can’t wait to see how far it burns.”

San’s jaw tightened, a flicker of possessiveness flashing in his eyes, but he stayed silent, watching. He wasn’t backing down—he was waiting for something, for you to push him further, maybe.

You wanted to respond, to fire back, but your thoughts scattered as Mingi's hands shifted lower, finding the hem of your shirt. His fingers tugged at the fabric, pulling it up slowly, deliberately. The cool air of the room hit your skin as your shirt was discarded to the side.

Before you could process the situation, San moved, his body shifting with an almost predatory grace. His eyes never left you as he reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a sense of urgency that surprised you. He was just as affected, just as hungry.

“You’re mine,” San growled, his voice rough, filled with something primal. He pushed you back against the bed with just enough force to make you gasp, the heat of his body pressing against yours as he loomed over you. “And I won’t let anyone forget that.”

Mingi’s voice cut through the air again, but this time there was no teasing in it, only admiration as his gaze dropped to your chest. “You didn’t tell me about these,” he murmured, his eyes flashing with something like appreciation. “Damn, you’re perfect.”

San’s eyes flicked to Mingi then, a hard, sharp glance that had the younger man holding his tongue for a second. He knew the territory; San had already marked his claim in the club, and it was clear now who had the upper hand.

“I said stop talking about her body like that,” San snapped, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful glint still in his eyes, “Alright, alright, I get it. You’ve got her.”

San’s grip on your wrist tightened, his fingers moving with the same deliberate intensity he’d shown earlier. His gaze never left you, he stood over you, fully exposed, his muscles tense and rippling as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. It wasn’t soft; it wasn’t tender. It was rough, commanding, a mark of ownership.

He pulled back for a split second, his breath hot against your cheek as he muttered, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

In that moment, you knew exactly what he meant—everything about you drove him wild. And now, there was no way out. The tension had broken, the line had been crossed. The storm had begun, and you were caught in its eye.

“Don’t you dare play games with me,” San murmured, his voice low and dangerously quiet, a thread of restraint running through it. “You’re in my world now.” His grip on your wrists tightened just enough to remind you of who was in control, his other hand moving to undo your pants with the same cold precision.

You held your breath as the fabric slid down your legs, leaving you exposed beneath the harshness of his touch. But even then, you didn’t look away. You felt the pulse of electricity between you—his power, his control, and your own challenge to it.

Mingi, still lingering by, watched with a smirk that never faltered. His hand brushed over his chest as he approached, his gaze flicking from you to San, then back to you with a teasing glint in his eye.

“You’re really not going to let me have any fun, are you?” Mingi said, his voice playful but carrying an underlying heat.

San’s response was a sharp glance that silenced Mingi for a moment. But then, with a barely-there nod, he signaled for Mingi to move closer. Mingi’s smirk grew as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a teasing whisper. “Don’t think we’re done here. You wanted to get under his skin, didn’t you? Now you’ll see what happens when you do.”

His words hung in the air as he pulled back, allowing San to take the lead once again. You barely had time to process before San’s lips were on your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he kissed and trailed his lips up your skin. His breath was hot against your flesh, and you could feel the intensity of his presence, his hunger for control, in every movement.

“You want me to stop?” San’s voice was low, almost a growl, as his lips hovered just above your skin.

It wasn’t a question you could answer easily, not with the fire coursing through your veins. Your body betrayed you, trembling with anticipation, your pulse racing with every subtle touch, every whispered command. You fought to hold onto your composure, but it was slipping, bit by bit.

Mingi, watching all of this unfold, let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by the sight of you trying to stay in control while San worked his power over you. “She’s got a fire,” Mingi muttered to himself, leaning casually against the wall.

San, hearing his words, shot a glance at Mingi, his jaw tight. “She’s in my hands now,” he said, his tone laced with something possessive. “And she’ll learn what it means to be tested.”

San’s gaze never wavered, his focus entirely on you. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with tension as his fingers traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His voice dropped to a low rumble, the weight of his authority palpable. “Eyes on me. You don’t get to shy away now.”

Mingi moved closer, his presence as heavy as San’s, though tinged with a teasing energy that made your heart race. He settled beside you, his hand brushing against your shoulder, a touch both gentle and possessive. “You’re holding back,” Mingi murmured, his voice like a soft hum against your skin. “Why don’t you show us what you’re really capable of?”

San smirked at Mingi’s words, his expression dark with satisfaction. “She will,” he replied confidently, his hands steady as they skimmed over your thighs, his grip tightening just enough to draw your attention fully back to him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Mingi, not to be outdone, shed his remaining clothing as well, his smirk never faltering as he took his place beside you.

San chuckled, his hands returning to your hips, pulling you closer with a firm but careful tug. “She’ll take everything we give her. Won’t you?” His words were a challenge, laced with something possessive, his tone daring you to deny him.

Your breath hitched, and San leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Don’t fight it. Let me see how much you can handle.” His fingers dug into your sides slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he was in control.

Mingi’s hand trailed down your arm, his touch light but deliberate, sending a shiver through you. “I think she’s ready.”

San smirked, leaning back just enough to lock eyes with you. “Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and commanding. “She’s not done proving herself to me.”

The cool sheets beneath you were a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your skin as San positioned himself between your legs, his movements deliberate and brimming with purpose. His sharp eyes drank in every inch of you, a reverent smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough yet warm, carrying a weight of appreciation that sent a shiver through your entire body. “How can someone be this breathtaking?”

His words, so unexpectedly tender, made your breath hitch.

On your right, Mingi knelt with a smirk that was anything but soft. His dark eyes roamed over you, his expression hungry, though laced with mischief. “Breathtaking, huh?” he drawled, one hand resting on your side, his thumb brushing over your ribs. “That’s one way to put it. But I’d call her... delicious.”

His teasing tone made your cheeks burn, but before you could respond, San’s voice cut through, steady and commanding. “Careful, Mingi,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a faint edge in his tone. “This isn’t about you.”

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Relax, San. I’m just admiring your masterpiece.”

San turned his attention back to you, his expression softening as he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin gently. “Ignore him,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble meant just for you. “Right now, you gotta focus on me."

The weight of his words settled in your chest, grounding you. But then, San’s lips curved into a wicked smile, and his hands tightened on your thighs, spreading them a little wider. “Actually,” he murmured, his tone taking on a darker edge, “I have an idea.”

You blinked up at him, your body already reacting to the shift in his demeanor. “An idea?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

San’s smirk grew, his hands trailing down your thighs with deliberate slowness. “I’ll show you just how much I want you,” he said, his voice smooth yet laced with intent. “And Mingi here can... keep himself occupied.”

Mingi raised a brow, his grin turning sharper. “Occupied, huh?” he echoed, his gaze flicking between you and San. Then his attention locked onto you, his smirk softening just slightly. “You wouldn’t mind helping me out, would you?”

The intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you barely had time to process his words before San leaned down, his breath warm against your thigh. “It’s not really a question,” San murmured, his voice dripping with authority. “You’ll do exactly what I say, won’t you?”

His confidence left no room for hesitation, and your body answered before your mind could catch up, your breath hitching as you nodded. San chuckled, the sound low and rich as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Good girl, or may I say.. good slut? That's more like it." he whispered, the degrading praise sending a thrill through you

San’s hands tightened on your thighs, grounding you as he lowered himself further, his presence overwhelming and commanding all at once. “Keep your focus,” he ordered, his voice low but firm, even as his lips trailed closer to your cunt. “You don’t stop until I tell you to. Understood?”

The weight of his command left you breathless, and all you could do was nod.

The headboard was cool against your back, grounding you amidst the heat that filled the room.

“You’ll watch me, won’t you?” San murmured, his voice low and commanding. “Every little reaction you give belongs to me.”

Before you could respond, a hand brushed against your jaw, turning your attention upward. Mingi, his towering frame casting a shadow over you, stood by the side of the bed, his gaze locked onto yours with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. His smirk was a challenge, daring you to take control even as he exuded a quiet authority of his own.

“Don’t get distracted,” Mingi murmured, his voice smooth yet firm as he guided his cock closer, his confidence unwavering. He took your hand, his touch deliberate as he placed it at the base of it. “You’re going to be good for us, aren’t you?”

Your fingers hesitated for the briefest moment before wrapping around him, the weight of his command making your heart race. Slowly, you moved your hand along his cock, your palm brushing over every vein, feeling his breath hitch slightly as you teased him.

San chuckled darkly from between your thighs, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watched. “Look at you,” he muttered, his voice laced with pride. “Already falling into place like you were made for this.”

Mingi’s hand tightened on yours as he guided you further, his deep voice a steady presence above the storm San was creating. “That’s it,” he murmured, his tone equal parts encouragement and demand. “Just like that. Don’t hold back now.”

The tension in the room thickened as the sounds of your shallow breaths and soft whimpers intertwined with the low rumble of their voices. San’s grip on your thighs tightened as he leaned in. His lips finally reached the place you needed him most.

The first stroke of his tongue was unrelenting, both tender and possessive as though he wanted to draw every ounce of reaction from you. Your back arched against the headboard, a trembling whine escaping your lips, but it was quickly muffled by Mingi's cock.

He held your jaw gently, tilting your face so that his tip brushed against your parted lips. “Show me how good you can be.”

You took a shaky breath before wrapping your lips around it, your fingers curling at the base for balance as you began to move your head. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming, his low groans blending with your muffled whines as San’s movements became more precise.

San’s hands slid up your thighs, grounding you, anchoring you against the overwhelming sensations. “So responsive,” he muttered, his tone dripping with satisfaction. He pressed his mouth more firmly against you, his tongue working in slow, deliberate patterns that sent waves of electricity coursing through you.

Your cries reverberated around Mingi, the vibrations making his jaw tense as his hand moved to cradle the back of your head. “That’s it,” he groaned, his deep voice resonating through you. “You sound so pretty like that.”

San chuckled darkly against you, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” he mused, his voice muffled but no less commanding. “Taking everything we give her so beautifully.”

You couldn’t focus on anything but the push and pull between the two of them, the way Mingi’s deep groans matched the rhythm of San’s relentless attention. Every touch, every sound built the tension inside you higher, drawing you closer to the edge with a heady mix of roughness and sensual control.

San pulled back slightly, his lips glistening and his dark eyes sharp as they met yours. He let out a low, mocking chuckle that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your thighs never faltered, his thumbs pressing into your skin just enough to keep you firmly grounded in the moment.

“Here’s the deal,” San murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. “You don’t get to come until he does. Show me how good you are at taking care of him, and maybe I’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

Your wide, needy eyes met his, your body trembling from the intensity of his gaze and the deliberate tease of his hands on your skin. San leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he added, “Make him fall apart first, and I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

Mingi groaned softly at San’s words, his hand cupping your cheek to guide your attention back to him. “You heard him,” he said, his tone rough but lined with a teasing edge. “Show me how good you can be.”

Your resolve firmed despite the heat coursing through you, and you took Mingi deeper, the sound of your efforts mixing with his low, guttural groans. Your hand stroked him in time with your movements, your tongue trailing against him in a way that had his breath hitching. His free hand gripped the edge of the headboard, his control faltering with every deliberate flick of your tongue.

San watched with dark satisfaction, his hand sliding along your thigh as a silent reminder of his presence. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice smooth but edged with hunger. “You can do better than that. Make him feel it.”

You pushed yourself further, letting your lips tighten and your tongue tease, drawing a shuddering gasp from Mingi. His head tipped back, his grip on the headboard tightening as his breaths grew uneven. The sharp inhale he took before he came was punctuated by a low, satisfied groan, his body trembling as he filled your mouth with his cum.

San’s pleased hum was the only warning you got before he shifted you slightly, his hands moving to adjust your hips as he leaned in closer. “Good girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with approval. “Now, let me give you what you’ve been waiting for.”

The first touch of his mouth was unrelenting, and your cry of relief was immediate. San worked with precision, his movements rough enough to leave you trembling but careful enough to draw every ounce of tension from your body. His hands held you in place, his grip firm as he pushed you closer to the edge.

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as the waves of your orgasm finally crashed over you, your body arching against the headboard. You cried out, San’s name spilling from your lips as he carried you through every trembling moment, his hold never faltering.

As you came down from the high, San’s lips brushed against your thigh, his voice low and satisfied. “That’s how I want to hear you,” he said, his tone possessive but lined with pride. “Falling apart for me.”

Mingi’s deep voice rumbled from behind San, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “If San gets to have ideas, then I have one too,” he said, his tone smooth but carrying an undercurrent of mischief. He leaned back against the headboard, his broad frame radiating confidence as he continued, “What if we both take care of her?”

San froze for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing as he considered Mingi’s bold proposition. But before he could respond, you felt the weight of Mingi’s gaze on you—curious, warm, and daring. It wasn’t until he noticed the flicker of excitement in your eyes, a spark you couldn’t hide, that his lips curved into a knowing grin.

San caught that spark too. He tilted his head, his initial hesitation melting into something darker, more intentional. “Interesting,” he muttered, his fingers still trailing along your thigh. “You’re into that, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught, the tension in the room thickening as Mingi made his move. Without waiting for further confirmation, he reached out, his strong hands finding your waist as he effortlessly guided you onto his lap. The shift was seamless, his strength evident as he settled you above him, his arms caging you in with a gentle but commanding grip.

Mingi’s voice was a low murmur as he tipped your chin up to meet his gaze. “Don’t be shy now,” he said, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “We’re just getting started.”

San moved behind you, his presence grounding you as his hands found your hips, steadying you against Mingi’s chest. The duality of their touches was overwhelming—Mingi’s hold firm and encompassing, San’s deliberate and teasing.

“You’re going to be good for both of us,” San said, his breath warm against your ear. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, a slow, deliberate movement that sent chills through you. “Let him see how much you want this.”

Mingi chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you as he shifted beneath you. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice a tantalizing promise. “We’ll take care of you.”

Their combined attention was intoxicating. Mingi’s hands spanned your waist, holding you close as San’s fingertips teased along your sides. Their coordination was seamless, their shared focus on you leaving no room for doubt.

Mingi tilted your chin down toward him, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You’re ours tonight,” he murmured, his tone heavy with intent. His grip tightened slightly, his strength a silent reassurance as he added, “Let us show you how good it can be.”

Behind you, San’s hands slid along your body, his touch purposeful as he leaned in to press a lingering kiss against your neck. His lips curved into a smirk as he felt you shiver beneath him.

“Trust us,” San murmured, his voice a velvet promise, “and let go.”

Mingi’s grip on your waist tightened, his strength palpable as he held you effortlessly above him. His dark gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his expression making your breath hitch. With a slow, deliberate movement, he guided you down, your body trembling as he buried himself in you, his hips rolling upward with an undeniable authority.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. His hands splayed wide on your hips, holding you firmly in place as he set the rhythm, his dominance radiating in every calculated move. “Take all of me. You’re not going anywhere.”

Behind you, San’s restraint was hanging by a thread. His fingers dug into your shoulders, the pressure almost bruising as he steadied you between them. The sound of your breathless whimpers seemed to snap something inside him, his control shattering as he thrust forward without warning. His movements were rough, almost desperate, his hips slamming into you with unrelenting force.

“You feel too good,” San growled, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your shoulders tightened, pulling you back against him as he drove deeper, each thrust more powerful than the last. “I can’t stop. Don’t even think about asking me to.”

Mingi chuckled darkly beneath you, his hands sliding up your sides to keep you upright as your body trembled. “He’s lost it,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement and pride. His thumbs pressed into your waist, his hold steadying you as he tilted his head back to watch the way your body responded to their relentless pace. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’re ours. We’ll make sure you do.”

Your legs threatened to give out entirely, the overwhelming intensity of their combined focus leaving you barely able to hold yourself up. Mingi’s grip on your waist grew even firmer, his strength keeping you steady as he thrust upward with a controlled power that left you gasping.

San, on the other hand, was a storm. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bit down gently, marking you with a possessive edge that left no doubt about his intentions. “You’re mine,” he growled against your ear, his voice rough and unyielding. “Ours. Don’t forget it.”

The room was filled with the sound of ragged breaths, low groans, and the slap of skin as San and Mingi worked in perfect, chaotic tandem. Mingi’s hands slid up to cup your face, tilting your chin down so your eyes met his. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice a dangerous mix of gentleness and authority. “Don’t you dare look away.”

Behind you, San growled in frustration, his pace growing even faster as he leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back. His hands moved to your waist, gripping tightly as he took over the rhythm, each thrust forcing a breathless cry from your lips.

“You’re perfect,” San muttered, his voice strained and full of raw hunger. “Made for us. Look at how you’re falling apart. Can’t even stand, can you?”

Mingi’s laughter rumbled beneath you, his arms wrapping around your trembling form to keep you steady as San continued his relentless assault. “She’s ours now,” Mingi said, his tone possessive and dripping with satisfaction. “Completely and utterly ours.”

They moved as one, their shared goal clear: to claim every part of you, to leave no inch of you untouched by their relentless intensity. Your body trembled in their grasp, every ounce of your strength surrendered to their combined power.

“Give in to us,” San growled, his breath hot against your ear as his movements grew even more forceful. “Let us ruin you.”

And you did—completely, utterly, and without hesitation. But they didn't falter. they didn't stop.

San, his chest rising and falling with each measured breath, leaned down toward you with a simmering heat in his gaze. Without a word, his hand reached out to harshly wrap around your neck, his fingers pressing in just enough to pull you closer to him. His grip was firm, as he slowly lifted you, bringing you flush against his chest.

San’s voice was a low murmur, soft but commanding, his lips grazing your ear. "Don’t forget who’s in control."

You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, and the way he held you, just barely choking you with his gentle pressure, made your body shiver.

Mingi, still inches deep inside, watched the scene unfold with a sly grin, his hands staying steady at your waist, making sure you felt both of their presence, unyielding but tender. He moved gently beneath you, adding to the slow, simmering rhythm of the moment.

Both men fucked you relentlessly through your orgasm until they were satisfied enough.. and that meant right when they filled both your holes up with their cum, mingling with your juices. A string of curses escaped Mingi’s lips as San lifted you up and softly placed you on the bed, your legs trembling and threatening to give out at any moment. You were dizzy, overstimulation hovering over as San leaned in, softly enough to give you a forehead kiss.

“How about a warm bath?" San asked softly, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face as he looked down at you with concern. His voice had softened, but the possessiveness remained in his tone, making you feel like you were still entirely his.

Mingi, ever the playful one, leaned back with a teasing grin. "If you’re getting the bath ready, don’t forget about me. I wouldn’t mind a round two in there," he said, his tone lighthearted, making you smile despite the tension that still lingered in the air.

San chuckled, brushing his lips against your forehead before offering you a hand. "Let’s get you in the bath first. You deserve a moment to relax." His touch was gentle now, his usual intensity replaced with a soothing calm.

The two of them guided you to the warm water, their care wrapping around you like a soft blanket, the playful teasing from. You.. for sure, didn't falter from their grip unscathed.

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