#netflix trigger

A = Aftercare (What he's like after sex).

Moon Baek is a tender mess after sex, his tough exterior cracking open to reveal the soft, devoted man beneath. He'd pull you close, wrapping his arms around you, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and whispering how much he loves you, massaging any aches from his rough thrusts, would hold you against his chest, letting you listen to his heartbeat slow, murmuring how much he loves you or praising how perfectly you took him. No rush to separate—he'd stay buried inside you until you both drift off, melting in your arms as you caress his jaw, neck and torso, fingers stroking through his hair, making him feel loved and cherished after the storm of passion.

B = Body part (His favorite body part of his and yours).

On himself, Baek loves his hands—large, veined, strong, perfect for pinning your wrists, large hands around your throat as he pounds into you, feeling your pulse race under his palm, or gripping your hips, fingers digging into your soft skin as he controls the pace. He knows how they make you shiver when they slide between your thighs. For you, it's your thighs; he can't get enough of wrapping his mouth around the soft flesh, biting and sucking marks there before spreading them wide to bury his face or thrust deep between them.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum).

Baek is obsessed with cumming inside you, flooding your pussy with thick ropes of his hot seed, marking you as his in the most primal way. He loves watching it drip out afterward, only to push it back in with his fingers or cock, growling about how he wants to fill you until you're overflowing. If he's pulling out, he'll aim for your tits or ass, rubbing the sticky mess into your skin while kissing you hungrily. Swallowing? He'd guide your head down, moaning as you take every drop down your throat, his hand tangled in your hair.

D = Dirty secret (Dirty secret of his).

Deep down, Baek fantasizes about you dominating him completely—tying his wrists with his own belt, riding his cock until he's begging, his scarred body writhing under your control. Coming from his criminal life, where he's always in charge, the vulnerability of submitting to you, letting you use his thick shaft for your pleasure while he gasps and moans like a desperate puppy, is his ultimate thrill. He's never admitted it, but the thought makes his cock throb just imagining your pussy clenching around him as you take what you want.

E = Experience (How experienced is he?)

Baek has plenty of experience from his wild, dangerous life—quick fucks in back alleys or tense encounters. But with you, it's different; he knows exactly how to read your body, using his knowledge to tease your clit with precise flicks of his tongue or angle his hips to hit that spot deep inside your pussy that makes you scream. He's a natural leader in bed, but he learns your every gasp and moan, adapting to drive you wild, turning raw skill into intimate mastery fueled by love.

F = Favorite position (His favorite).

Missionary—it's intimate, letting him stare into your eyes as he thrusts deep, his scarred chest pressing against yours, feeling your nails rake his back. He loves the control, pinning your wrists while his cock slams into your soaked core, but also the romance of kissing you through every orgasm. For variety, he'll flip to you on top sometimes, gripping your ass as you deliciously bounce on his length, but nothing beats watching your face contort in pleasure beneath him.

G = Goofy (Is he more serious in the moment? Is he humorous? etc.)

Baek starts serious, eyes darkening as he strips you bare, but as passion builds, a shy, goofy smile breaks through—especially when you trace his scars murmuring something sweet like 'You're gonna kill me with that look', making him blush and chuckle.

H = Hair (How well-groomed is he?)

He stays groomed, impeccably groomed—trimmed short and neat above his thick cock, a dark trail leading down from his v lines, small hairs that have just re-emerged after being shaved not long ago. He absolutely drools about your smooth or lightly shaved pussy, running his fingers over your mound before diving in to lick your folds.

I = Intimacy (How is he during the moment? Romantic aspect).

He blends roughness with intimacy, whispering 'I love you's to your ear as his length bullies your cervix, hard thrusts accompanied by deep, passionate kisses, his blue and brown eyes lock longingly on yours, making you feel desired, cherished, turning raw sex into a profound connection where every gasp and clench binds you closer.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon).

Baek jerks off thinking of you when you're apart, his large hand wrapping around his throbbing cock in the shower, stroking firmly from base to tip, veins bulging under his grip. He imagines your skins slapping together, your moans echoing as he pumps faster, deeper, cum spurting against the tiles with your name on his lips. It's quick and intense, but nothing compares to the real thing—your mouth, hands, or heat enveloping him.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks).

Gunplay tease, he traces the cool barrel of an unloaded pistol along your skin during foreplay, eyes dark with lust as you shiver. It heightens the thrill, his voice low: 'Trust me,' before he discards it and buries his face between your legs, also, you face fucking him as he eats your pussy makes him feral, his cock leaking pre-cum as he laps at your folds desperately.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do).

His dimly lit apartment is prime—bedroom for slow, romantic sessions where he can worship every inch of you, or the kitchen counter for urgent, standing fucks, your legs wrapped around him as his cock drives up into your dripping pussy. Also car fucks, fogging the windows with your shared breaths, eagerly rocking the car as he thrusts deep inside of you, the risk of getting caught mid-thrust making him cum harder than ever.

M = Motivation (What turns him on, gets him going).

Your vulnerability—seeing you fearless around a man who always carries at least one gun on him, how you simply slide into his arms. A simple touch on his arm, your gaze lingering on his bulge, or whispering how much you need him inside you sends blood rushing south.

N = No (Something he wouldn’t do, turn-offs).

Baek draws the line at anything that feels like true violence without consent—his past has enough of that. No degradation that cuts deep; he won't call you names that belittle, preferring praise and possession. Humiliation isn't his thing either—he's so head over heels for you to make you feel anything but desired and equal in the heat of the moment.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving).

He loves giving, kneeling between your thighs to devour your pussy like a starving man, teasing your entrance, tongue flicking your clit while his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot until you squirt on his face. Receiving? He melts when you suck his cock, your lips stretching around his girth, taking him deep until he hits the back of your throat, his hands fisting your hair as you gag on him over and over again, turning him into a moaning mess, he'll be thrusting hard and deep into your mouth in no time.

P = Pace (Is he fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

It depends on the mood—slow and sensual, grinding deep so you feel every inch of his cock drag against your walls, building to brutal, fast slams that shake the bed, loves railing you hard, skin slapping as he chases mutual climaxes.

Q = Quickie (His opinion on quickies).

Thrives on quickies—stealing moments when tension builds, like bending you over the couch for a frantic fuck, his cock slamming into you from behind until you both cum hard and fast, pulling your head back for a kiss so often, or holding you against the wall while he impales you up and down his engorded member. They're frequent in his high-stakes life, a release valve, but he prefers drawn-out sessions to savor you fully.

R = Risk (Is he game to experiment?)

Public teasing under tables or car sex with windows down, also loves pushing boundaries, like fingering you during a quiet dinner or a meeting, his eyes daring you to stay silent.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can he go for? How long does he last?)

Baek's stamina is endless, he can go multiple rounds, cumming inside you twice before flipping positions for more, his cock hardening again at the sight of your flushed body. Each session lasts long, thrusting steadily until you're both wrecked, but he always ensures you cum first, drawing it out deliciously.

T = Toys (Does he own toys? Does he use them on you oor him?)

He's not big on toys for himself, but for you? Absolutely—he'd use a dildo to stretch your pussy while he watches, then replace it with his cock, or a remote-controlled vibrator, watching how you arch your body as his fingers tease the buttons of the small control, later burying his length into the waterfalls of your teased, aching pussy. It heightens the pleasure, making him groan at how you clench around him, turning playtime into intense, shared ecstasy.

U = Unfair (How much he likes to tease).

Baek teases mercilessly, his fingers circling your clit without pressing, or pulling out just as you edge toward orgasm, smirking at your whines. 'Beg for it, love,' he'd rasp, loving how you squirm. But he's fair in return—once you plead, he delivers, fucking you hard until you're screaming his name.

V = Volume (How loud is he).

He's vocal, he's LOUD... This man isn't afraid to moan. He is very expressive, both in sounds and in facial expressions, deep moans rumbling from his chest as your pussy tightens around him, gasps turning to growls when he nears climax. 'Ffffuck, y/n...' he'd pant, head thrown back, your moans draw louder ones from him. He demands your noises too, fucking you deeper, harder, whispering filthy thoughts into your ear and spanking you if he thinks you're too quiet, wanting to hear every whimper, hearing you in pleasure is music to his ears. His gunmen are very familiar with both your moans, btw.

W = Wild card (Random sex headcanon).

Baek has a secret marking kink—after cumming inside you, he'll trace patterns on your skin with his cum, or bite your shoulder hard enough to bruise, leaving hickeys like badges of his love. It's possessive yet tender, a way to claim you without words, his lips soothing the marks afterward with kisses.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes).

Thick and veined, about 7 inches, curving slightly upward to hit all the right spots. His balls hang heavy, slapping against you during deep thrusts, always ready to unload.

Y = Yearning (How high is his sex drive?)

Sky-high—Baek's drive is insatiable, especially with you. His past left him starved for real connection, so now he craves your touch constantly, hardening at a glance or brush of skin. He's ready anytime, fucking you slow in the morning or rough at night, his longing never fully sated, always pulling you back for more.

Z = Zzz (How quickly does he fall asleep afterward).

After the intensity, Baek holds out until you're settled, caressing your back until your breaths even out. Then he drifts off quickly, cock softening inside you if you're still connected, his arms a protective cage. Sleep comes easy in your embrace, the first peaceful rest he's had in years, lulled by the warmth of your body against his scars and how your fingers caress his lips, neck and chest.

"Maybe you just wanted to shoot them up and kill them all?" is a cutting question, because it's not that far from the truth.

Lee Do's crux isn't that he doesn't want to fire the gun, but that he so badly wants to. The trigger for him is not something he has to pull as much as it is something for him to let go. The temptation is always burning, and he's fighting to hold himself back at every moment.

Lee Do, like everyone who's offered Moon Baek's gun, is trapped in a pressure chamber with the anger that just builds and builds. Pulling the trigger and releasing the anger is the much easier option against keeping the anger in. That's the danger of a gun. It's too easy for all the destruction and dehumanization it causes. And in that path, there is no healing, just a circle of violence that spirals deeper and deeper.

He's saved from that pit by a warm embrace that held him as a child--the depth of the same pit from which stare back the eyes of Moon Baek, the child who was never held the same way, who was never saved and cannot return. And perhaps with disgust, perhaps with jealousy, perhaps with despair, Moon Baek calls to Lee Do, tempting him, tempting everyone who has been hurt and brutalized and tortured with anger that has nowhere to go. And everything that held him back crumbles around him, even the very arms that had once saved him.

But the love that had embraced Lee Do holds him back. And he again and again consciously chooses the agony of not inflicting the same pain that was inflicted on him. Because as much as he is pained by the anger that burns in him, he is also impossibly healed by the grace and the warmth of love.

he's so bon jovi coded

i am almost afraid to answer this for fear of the torrent of dissatisfaction that will spew forth.

big SIIIIIGHHHH

The tl:dr is any good will cultivated eas completely destroyed by the last 2 eps and yet at the same time this series has been plaguing me.

Thanks, babe🥰I'm glad you enjoy my writings. Here you go❤️‍🔥hope you like this one. Will be writing about your second idea in a few days.😉

🔞Moon Baek NSFW🔞Missed me?💋

Pairing: Moon Baek x fem!reader.

Genre: Smut.

The house felt emptier than usual as you stepped through the door late at night, the weight of another solitary evening pressing down on you. Your husband, Moon Baek's absence had stretched into months, his demanding schedule keeping him far from home. You flicked on a single lamp in the entryway, the soft glow doing little to chase away the loneliness, and shrugged off your coat, heading toward the kitchen for a glass of water before bed.

Before you could reach the counter, firm arms encircled your waist from behind, drawing you flush against a tall, solid frame. A startled yelp escaped you, your body tensing as a wave of warmth seeped through your clothes. The familiar aroma of his cologne—spicy and intoxicating—filled your senses. 'Missed me, doll?' A deep, familiar voice murmured into your ear, sending a shiver straight down your spine. 'I couldn't stay away any longer,' he whispered, his breath hot against your neck as he nuzzled closer, his large hands splaying across your stomach, fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt to trace the soft skin there. 'I've missed you so much. Every night, every damn day, I dreamed of this—of holding you, feeling you against me.' His voice was rough with emotion, laced with the longing that had built up over months of separation.

You turned fully in his arms, eyes widening at the sight of him. Moon Baek, your husband, stood there in the dim light, his black hair was slightly disheveled, strands falling over his piercing brown blue eyes, his silky black robe draped open, revealing the defined lines of his pecs and that sinful, chiseled trail leading down to where his pants tented obscenely. You didn't expect him at all, since his last message said he'd be delayed another week, your hands instinctively rising to grip his forearms, feeling the corded muscles flex under your touch. 'You're really here? I thought you were still...' But he silenced you with a kiss, deep and desperate, his lips claiming yours like he was starving. His tongue slipped in, tasting you, exploring with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. 'Flying in last night, planned this for you,' he said between kisses. 'Wanted to surprise you.'

Tears blurred your vision as the reality sank in—he was really here, solid and real after all this time. You surged up, crashing your mouth to his in a messy, desperate kiss. Tongues tangled, teeth clashing as months of pent-up longing poured out. Baek's hands roamed greedily—yanking your blouse buttons open, shoving it off your shoulders to expose your lace bra. He broke the kiss to trail bites down your chest, sucking marks into your skin while palming your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers until they pebbled hard. His lips pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive column of your throat. 'You're driving me insane,' he murmured between kisses, trailing his lips along your pulse, sucking harder now to leave faint marks—reminders of his return. His free hand roamed lower, cupping your ass down your skirt, squeezing possessively as his arousal grew evident, the thick ridge of his cock straining against the loose fabric of his pants, pressing insistently into your belly.

The intensity built quickly, he backed you against the kitchen counter, his body pinning yours, your hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, drawing lightly over his scars. 'I've dreamed of this every night,' you confessed, as he continued his assault on your throat—kissing, licking, biting with increasing fervor, hips grinding forward to let you feel how hard he was for you, the pants doing little to hide the throbbing length begging for release. Clothes became an obstacle he dispatched with urgent hands, he peeled your shirt away, bra following, his mouth leaving your neck only to lavish attention on your breasts—sucking one nipple into his mouth while pinching the other. But he returned quickly, unable to stay away, pressing open-mouthed kisses back up to your jaw and ear, whispering filthy promises.

'Fuck, babe, I need to be inside you.' His fingers unziped your skirt, shoving it down along with your panties. His cock sprang free, curving slightly upward in it's eagerness, veins pulsing along its shaft, the flushed head leaking pre-cum that made it glisten. He was magnificent—tall and leanly muscled, his thighs, powerful, his abs flexed as he breathed heavily, every inch of him radiating need, skin flushed with desire. He stroked himself once, eyes locked on yours, before lifting you onto the counter, spreading your legs wide. 'Tell me you want this,' he demanded, though his voice cracked with need, his tip nudging your slick entrance. 'Yes, please—fuck me,' you begged, and that was all it took. He thrust in deep, filling your pussy completely with one powerful stroke, both of you gasping at the connection. He was thick, stretching you perfectly, and he paused, buried to the hilt, his forehead resting against yours as he savored it.

'Tell me how much you missed me,' he demanded. You could smell him everywhere—his arousal mixing with yours. 'So much,' you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. 'Every night, I touched myself thinking of you fucking me.' That ignited him. He started moving, slow and deep at first, each pull back dragging against your walls before slamming forward, his balls brushing your ass. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he fucked you steadily, the counter creaking under the force. Leaning in, he captured your neck again, lips sealing over the spot he'd marked earlier, sucking hard while his hips pistoned relentlessly. The dual sensations—his cock hitting deep inside, his mouth devouring your skin—pushed you toward the edge fast. You came with a cry, your pussy fluttering around him, juices coating his shaft as pleasure exploded through you.

He didn't stop, chasing his own release with grunts, his thrusts erratic now, sweat beading on his brow. 'Fuck, yes—take it all,' he growled, spilling inside you moments later, hot jets of cum flooding your depths, his body shuddering against yours. But the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed. He pulled out slowly, watching his seed drip from you with a satisfied smirk, then scooped you up, carrying you to the bedroom without a word. Laying you on the sheets, he hovered over you, robe discarded entirely now, his cock already twitching back to life—semi-hard and slick with your combined essences. Positioning at your entrance, he teased your folds with the tip, coating himself in your arousal before slamming home in one brutal thrust. You arched at the sudden stretch you missed for months, nails raking his back as he bottomed out, filling you to the brim, his balls slapping against your ass. 'Fffuck, yes,' he groaned, setting a punishing rhythm right away—hips snapping forward, cock dragging along your inner walls with every withdraw and plunge.

The bedframe rattled, headboard thumping the wall as he fucked you deep, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh to hook it over his hip for better leverage, you met his thrusts, rolling your hips to take him deeper, the friction on your clit building another peak. 'Harder, please,' you cried, and he obliged, pounding into you with feral intensity, grunts escaping his lips. He flipped you onto your side, spooning behind you, one leg hooked over yours to open you up. Sliding back in from this angle, his arm banded around your waist, hand toying with your breasts, while his lips stayed glued to your neck—kissing, nibbling, inhaling your scent like a drug. 'Love how you feel, how you smell when you're aroused,' he breathed, thrusts picking up speed, his cock plunging deeper, harder with each rock of his hips. The intimacy of it, the way his body enveloped yours, amplified everything—the emotional reunion blending with raw lust.

You reached back, clutching his hip, urging him on as another orgasm built. He sensed it, grinding harder, you shattered again, walls clamping down, and he followed with a muffled groan against your skin, pumping more cum into you until you overflowed. Still, he wasn't sated. Rolling you onto your back, he settled between your thighs, entering you a third time with a tender thrust that belied the hunger in his gaze. This round was slower, more exploratory—his mouth on your neck in endless, sensual worship, mapping every inch as he rolled his hips, grinding his pubic bone against your clit. His description was etched in every movement: sweat-glistened skin, muscles straining, cock throbbing inside you, eyes never leaving yours.

By the time you both collapsed, spent and tangled, the night had blurred into a haze of touches, scents, and shared breaths. 'I'm home for good now,' he whispered, lips brushing your neck one last time, his arms holding you close as if he'd never let go again. 'I love you,' he whispered, nuzzling into your skin, inhaling your scent like it was oxygen. But even as you both caught your breath, you felt him hardening again inside you, the insatiable need flaring back to life. 'One more round?' he murmured against your neck, a wicked grin in his voice as he started moving once more, slow and teasing this time, promising another night of endless intimacy.