...or it was, until you accidentally flashed his friends!
pairing: teacher!Geto x gf!reader
content: MDNI, au where Geto never defected, unprotected piv sex, flashing, spitting, doggy style, obligatory reader gets stuck porn trope oneshot LMFAO, established relationships, soft dom Geto ig, he's a lil possessive, implied taking photos during sex, creampie, guys it's just filthy
prompt sixteen from @egglain dickcember !! the absolutely GORGEOUS art by @zuunary (who everyone should go follow seriously) and divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !!
There wasn't much you wouldn't do for your boyfriend.
Apparently that included discarding your dignity at the door, considering the fact you were currently wearing nothing under your skirt, the cold draft creeping through the broken window of his office more unforgiving than usual considering how much of you was left bare under the short, thin fabric.
Suguru was supposed to show twenty minutes ago.
But you couldn't exactly ask him where he was considering he didn't know where you were right now. Which was sitting in his chair, riffling through all the papers and notes of his desk (most of which were silly ones you'd stuck to his lunch, ones you guessed he'd peeled off and saved somewhere he thought you wouldn't see). The long coat and scarf you'd worn over your clothes here was thrown across of the opposing armchairs, but you were starting to consider throwing it back on before you froze half to death, starting to shiver, nipples already hardening and starting to poke through the your almost see-through shirt.
He probably just was finishing picking up some paperwork from Nanami or maybe held up by one of the students with a question after training. You sighed, the drawer rattling as you shoved it closed again, turning your attention to his little collection of fancy pens tucked in a souvenir cup Gojo had gotten him a few years ago. You'd probably blame Suguru's tardiness on him if he wasn't out on a solo mission a plane ride away.
It was stupid. Or just stupider than what you were currently doing, trying to twirl one of them on the tip of your finger just to send it flying into the corner of the room, watching it hit the wall and roll behind one of the filing cabinets lined up underneath the windows.
Trying to pull your skirt down to cover more than your ass when you walked over, squatting down to squint in the shadows just to discover it had rolled all the way back behind the middle filing cabinets out of your reach. Huffing, you struggled to pull out one of heavy metal rectangles, heaving to move it backwards until you had enough space to fit behind the first one.
The floor was clean, at least.
Getting down on your hands and knees, painfully aware of how exposed you were when you had to crawl to reach it, palm outstretched and about to close around the sleek metal of the pen when the door creaked opened.
"And then, I swear it-" The all-too-familiar sound of Gojo's rambling was cut off by what sounded like Nanami clearing his throat.
You might actually ask your boyfriend's best friend to hollow purple you.
You knew you needed to move. Wiggle out and try to cover yourself up before finding a hole to curl up and die from embarrassment in since you apparently just accidently flashed two of your longtime friends and coworkers.
"Get out."
Suguru's voice wasn't a warning, but a command, low and firm as the door suddenly slammed shut, the clock of the lock clicking into place. You hadn't even begun to shuffle backwards before the filing cabinet was suddenly pressed against your hip, cold metal pinning you between it and the wall.
Stuck.
"S-Sugu, I can't move," You stammered, every breath getting caught in your throat when you tried to move, but it wouldn't budge, trying to glance back over your shoulder at your boyfriend when there was barely any room.
"Uh-huh," He wryly murmured, closer than you expected.
It struck you after another second that he was the reason you couldn't move, that he pushed it to keep you stuck like this was some cheap porno. Your mind was already trying to think of a tagline before his palm grazed against the curve of your ass, your thighs already damp from the weight of his presence, the energy rolling off him in heated waves that seemed to sink and simmer into your stomach. The realization sinking in that you really were trapped and at his mercy.
"Care to explain this?" He spoke slowly, his words deceptively soft as his fingertips skimmed down to the inside of your thighs, phantom touches sending shivers down your spine.
"Your pen fell," You muttered, weakly wigging back into his hand, not really trying to escape, but his other hand landed on your hip, pushing up your skirt the rest of the way like he hadn't been able to get a full view from the moment he stepped in.
"Uh-huh," He repeated, a slow drawl to match the creep of his finger curling down to cup your cunt.
"D-did Gojo get back early?" You shivered as he suddenly rolled your clit carefully between two sturdy fingers, tsk-ing his tongue in disapproval.
"Why? You wanted to surprise him too?" Suguru dryly mocked, collecting the slick now dripping down your thighs before his hand pulled back, waiting until you whined at the absence of his heat to bring his palm down for a smack! you hoped they didn't hear down the hall.
"Don't act like you wouldn't love cu-" You yelped when he spanked you the second time, your own taunt cut off by the sharp sting of his fingers connecting with your clit.
Before you could react, you felt something wet hit your bare skin, barely registering the fact he just spit on your cunt for lube before his fingers were messaging the sore and swollen bud again, softer this time to soothe the pain and overwrite the pleasure.
"Y-you, fuck," You muttered, biting down on your lip, lost in what you were trying to say when you heard the sound of his belt hitting the ground, the rustle of clothing before something warm was nudged at your entrance, teasingly rubbing the thick head of his cock to watch you mindlessly try to grind back against it.
"You wanna try saying that again?" He hm-ed, like he didn't just want to hear you whimper trying to catch the tip against your entrance and edge it inside.
"You're such an a-"
Suguru shoved the first inches in to shut you up, a moan they definitely heard escaping your mouth at how easily he slipped in, pushing past the first bit of resistance to start inching forward.
"I'm sorry, baby, what's that?" He murmured, his hips hitting your ass when he buried himself in to the hilt, his honeyed voice making you shiver just as much as his tip smashing against your cervix was. He held it there, only moving to angle himself deeper.
All you could do was throb, pinned between the cabinets and the wall while he filled you up, not giving you the space to think of anything but him.
"You're being mean," You desperately mewled, one of his huge hands pushing your shirt up to trace an appreciative line up your spine, refusing to pull out like it was some petty punishment.
"You want me to be nice?" He chuckled, knowing the condescension only made you squeeze around him tighter, cling to him more.
"N-no," You reluctantly admitted.
He leaned in so his chest was pressed against your back, slipping his hand around to grip your throat, lightly applying pressure before his fingers drifted up until his thumb grabbed your chin, forcing you to crane your neck to the side to look back at him over your shoulder. You expected him to kiss you.
But he clicked his tongue.
"Open up, pretty girl," He murmured, and your compliance came without thinking. When his cock was currently stuffing you so full you couldn't do anything other than obey him.
Your lips parted from their pout, the seconds stretching before he forced your chin down, opening it wider so he could spit into your mouth before guiding it shut again, his cock throbbing inside you at the bob in your throat, the sight of your automatic swallow.
"Fuck," He groaned, angling the head of it even deeper, your whine at the stretch only making the fingers on your throat, his hold on your jaw tighten, trying to keep you in place until every last fucking centimeter was inside. "Made for me, you know that?"
"Mhm," You whimpered, sucking in a gasp, your throat still somehow dry, trying to squirm away? against? him with every little movement of his hips. "J-just you."
You'd been his from the moment you met him.
He released his grip, but the fingers holding up your hips dug in, his clipped nails creating tiny divots into your skin while his other hand quickly found it's way around the front to your clit, painting practiced circles like he wanted to make you cum as fast as possible. Hurtling you closer to the edge with each swift motion, ripping out broken little gasps from your throat, shattered cries of his name when you dug your own nails into your palm and chewed on your lip trying to hold it in.
"S-Sugu, I c-can't," You whined, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes, ready to spill over at any second. "Gonna cum."
"You can," His voice was so soft, deceptively sweet. You knew him though. It was an unspoken promise you'd get what he really wanted to give you later, that this was just the warm up.
"I, fuck," You still snapped though, unable to hold the strands of your sanity together when he had the scissors, unravelling under the pressure of his fingertips and the steady slams of his cock pumping inside you, a stray tear falling as white splotches filled your vision.
Thick cum spurting inside of you, a low groan leaving his throat when his thrusts became sloppy, finishing only a few seconds after you. Waiting until the last drops fell out before stuffing it back in with his thick fingers and pausing to admire his handiwork.
But even after he finished, he didn't help you out or even clean you up.
"Suguru?" Your voice was weak, whiny, cheeks starting to flush with embarrassment at him leaving you in that position.
"Hold on a second, sweetheart," He murmured, rubbing your ass appreciatively, but he sounded well, distracted.
"Seriously, Suguru?" You repeated, nervousness creeping in.
Then you heard the soft click! and registered the faint flash of his phone behind you.
"Sorry baby, just had to remind them who you're made for too."
sukuna takes you to the beach so you can lay on your tummy! ft: pregnant reader & whipped sukuna <3
notes: i feel like sukuna would be very territorial and protective of you while you're pregnant cus now not only is he protecting his wife but also his kid?! anyway i'd love to see him chilling there too <3 i think he'd have fun at the beach... if he let himself -_-
if there was one thing you exceeded at, it'd be sending your dear husband's blood pressure soaring to astronomical heights, and you took pride in being the one person to evoke such emotions in the man most considered heartless
currently, you're walking by the shore while sukuna trudges behind you, carrying all your necessities for the day with ease underneath the hot, scorching sun. you keep one hand over the swell of your stomach while admiring the view before suddenly stopping, and sukuna drops your belongings onto the sand beside you a moment later as you deem this spot perfect aloud for him
"four bags. you brought four bags for what, woman?" he growls, pinching your cheek as you squeal. he lets go eventually, already dropping onto his knees as he begins carving into the sand with determination set in his gaze, and you lower yourself carefully and wiggle your toes in the sand right after
"thank you for bringing me here." you sigh happily, and he merely grunts in response. you watch his large hands dig skillfully into the ground as he works. it's a hot summer day, and you're nearly three quarters of the way through your pregnancy.
sukuna had found you crying, as he often did these past few months simply due to mood swings, and through a garbled confession filled with tears and whining, he learned your sadness came from the fact that you couldn't lay on your stomach anymoreâand, well, that just wouldn't do.
it didn't take him long to figure out a way you could relax while still being safe for the baby, but once he did, he quite literally dressed you in a sundress himself before renting out a beach for the two of you to relax on. to say you were happy was an understatement: you were absolutely ecstatic
"the things i do for you... stupid woman. stupid, lovely woman." he mumbles irritated, and you tilt your head down to peer up at him through your sunglasses before offering him a dazzling grin. sukuna stares right back, utterly unimpressed
once he's carved out a suitable crater for you to lay your stomach in, he helps you get adjusted, relaxing only when he sees you smile
"lay with me!"
âand so he does. he lies right beside you, squinting up at the sun as he sighs loudly
"it's too fucking bright out here." he complains, throwing an arm over his eyes as you hum noncommittally, breathing in the fresh smell of the sea. you feel so comfortable you could fall asleepâand while you do spend some time drifting between dreamland and consciousness, sukuna nudges you gently about a half an hour later
"nooo," you whine, digging yourself further into the sand while you hear him snort
"you'll regret not looking up," he murmurs, and you raise your head from your arms with a huff as he gently takes hold of your chin and tilts it towards the water. your brows furrow in confusion before a gasp slips past your lips when you see a mother sea lion with her baby relaxing by the shore
"oh my god," you say, eyes round as your gaze glasses over in an instant, and sukuna watches your lips form an annoyingly adorable pout
"oh, for fuck's sake, please don't start crying again." he groans, but even when he hears the little sniffles that escape your lips a moment later, he doesn't hesitate to pull you against him. thankfully, sukuna's large enough for you to collapse against him and be supported by his arms alone entirely
"adorable... so, do you think it's a baby boy or girl?"
sukuna bristles at your question before his gaze snaps down towards you
"what?"
"i said do you think it's a girl or a boy." you repeat, poking his cheek as he gently swats away your hand. sukuna's brows furrow as if he's thinking carefully about what to say next, and you listen closely for his response before he murmurs the word quietly
"...a girl."
you hum, and his eyes narrow as he stares at you
"what about you?" he questions, and you tap your chin in thought
"i think it's a boy. i don't know whyâi guess it has a bit of a boyish look. but i'm sure girl sea lions and boy ones look the same, yes?"
sukuna pales once he realizes you were in fact not talking about the baby in your stomach but rather the fat baby sea lion residing about a hundred feet from the two of you instead
"what the fâyou neverâwhat?!"
"i'm pretty sure male sea lions are bigger too, and that one looks like a pretty big baby! it must be! you should thank me, ryo. because of me, you still get to learn new things here and there." you say proudly, nuzzling back against his chest contentedly as he fights back the string of curses lying heavy on the curve of his tongue
"you're so..." he starts, words tapering off into a growl as you peer up at him through your lashes innocently
a toji fushiguro fanfiction where he's trying to teach babygumi how to say 'dada' but he just says mama all the time. [from this ask.]
toji fushiguro x wife!reader ft. babygumi.
âľ sorry if there are any grammar errors!! im lowk flopping.. oh and art from @/thatsallitchief !
fatherhood had changed Toji in ways he'd never admit.
not dramatically, no. he's still grumpy, still impatient, and still looked permanently annoyed whenever someone interrupted his peace.
but somewhere along the way, he'd become the kind of man who could spent twenty minutes sitting on the floor with his baby doing absolutely nothing. and he somewhat enjoy it.
the apartment was quiet that afternoon.
sun spilled through the windows, warming the carpet where Megumi sat surrounded by his blocks.
Toji lounged on the couch, one arm draped over it, watching his son knock over a tower he'd the last spent 10 minutes building
Toji snorted at the delighted squeal Megumi let out. "Dumbass."
Megumi looked up, his face brightened instantly. then, he abandoned his blocks without hesitation.
he crawled straight into Toji's lap.
"There he is," Toji muttered, scooping him up and balancing him on
Megumi giggled as Toji pressed an absent kiss to the top of his head. the action was so natural it made you smiled at the sight.
Toji noticed. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like i'm acting cute or something."
you pointed. "Can you blame me? My husband and baby are over there being all domestic."
Megumi chose that moment to grab a handful of Toji's t-shirt and used it to pull himself upright. Toji immediately steadied him with one hand.
he rolled his eyes. "Domestic. Right."
your laughter filled the room. "See? He's being clingy with you!"
slowly, realization crossed his face. "... shut up." and you laughed once again.
hearing your voice made Megumi twisted around immediately in Toji's lap. the second he spotted you, he lightened up.
you waved at him, making him squeal. he started bouncing excitedly Toji had to tighten his hold before Megumi launched himself to the floor.
"Relax," he sighed. and Megumi completely ignored him.
tiny hands reached toward you, a string of babble followed.
"Hi, sweetie," you smiled at him.
Toji watched the interaction with narrowed eyes. he looked down at his son, then back at you.
a thought occured to him. "I wanna see if he can say dada," he said suddenly.
"Hm?" you hummed, sitting down next to him. "Oh, try it! I wanna see it too!"
Toji steadied Megumi on his lap before tapping a finger against his own chest.
"This is dada. daaa-da," he repeated, tapping his finger again. "Give it a shot, Megs."
Megumi stared up at him. you, on the other hand, already fighting smile.
he blinked once. twice. then his entire face brightened.
"Mama!"
your hand immediately flew to your mouth, trying to hold in your laugh. Toji's face didn't change, which is making it worse for you.
"No," he said slowly. "Dada,"
"Mama!" Megumi giggled.
"No, Megsâ"
"Mamamamamama!" he babbles while kicking his feet excitedly.
you lost the battle and laughed. hard. earning a glare from Toji.
"Don't laugh."
"But he's being cute, 'ji!"
"He's doing this on purpose."
Toji looked back down on him.
"Listen carefully," he said, pointing to himself again. "Dada," then he pointed at you. "Mama."
Megumi followed the movement of his finger, good.
Toji nodded encouragingly. "Now, who is this?" he asked.
Megumi stared, you can see the gears in his head working. Toji waited, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. maybe he will get it right this time?
after a moment, Megumi pointed directly at Toji, a triumphant smile spread across his face.
"Mama."
you buried your face into you husband's shoulder, still laughing, while he looked like he'd just been betrayed.
"No, we're not done."
"We absolutely should be done," you giggled.
"We're making progress," he insisted.
"What progress, honey?"
"He pointed at me!"
"And then he called you mama."
Toji ignored you at that.
Megumi, meanwhile, had become fascinated with his dad's hair.
a tiny fist wrapped around his black locks and immediately pulled, making Toji wince.
"Ow," he winced. "You brat."
the little menace looked far too pleased with himself. Toji carefully pried the tiny finger from his hair.
"He's assaulting me."
Megumi reached for his hair again, but this time, Toji caught the attack before it could happen.
"Absolutely not."
the baby pouted, like actually pouted. just for two seconds though.. because something else caught his attention.
his tiny hands moved to Toji's face instead. you watched as Megumi pressed both palm against his father's cheeks, squishing them slightly.
"What's going on in that little head of yours, hm?" Toji muttered.
Megumi blinked. then, slowly, he reached forward.
a sloppy baby kiss landed on Toji's cheek.
you melted immediately. "Look how cute he is!"
Toji sighed. a long, defeated sigh. one large hand came up to ruffle Megumi's unruly hair.
"Yeah, yeah."
Megumi beamed again. "Mama."
Toji groaned and dropped his head against the couch. "He's unbelievable."
Megumi, completely unaware of the devastation he'd caused, snuggled into Toji's chest and let out a sleepy yawn. within seconds, his eyelids started drooping.
Toji's arm protectively tightened around him.
you leaned against Toji's shoulder, smiling at the sight.
after everything, Megumi had fallen asleep right where he was the happiest. in his dad's embrace.
he clicked his tongue. "I'm still gonna try to make him call me dada."
you laughed quietly. "Yeah, good luck with that."
Toji rolled his eyes. "You're not helping. at all."
but he didn't stop holding Megumi, not even a second.
Š mochaization 2026. DO NOT copy, reconstruct, reupload on any other platform, or feed my works to AI.
As your final days in New York wind down, you decline an offer from Matthew while constantly scanning the city crowds, trapped in a tense, agonizing limbo of wondering if Mingyu will ever show up on your doorstep.
The weight of your mother's voice lingered in the apartment like cigarette smoke, bitter and impossible to air out. Days bled into each other after that call. You woke, you wrote, you walked, you sleptâor tried to. The workshop became your anchor, the only structure in a life that had suddenly lost all its legs.
Professor Harding noticed. She was a sharp-eyed woman in her fifties with silver-streaked hair and a habit of asking questions that peeled back skin. "You're writing with your teeth clenched," she told you after class on Wednesday, tapping a finger on your latest submission. "Technically proficient. Emotionally bankrupt. What are you running from?"
"Deadlines," you said, and her expression told you she didn't believe a word.
You took on three extra assignments that week. Then four the next. You pulled advance readings from the course outline and spent hours in the university library, your highlighter bleeding yellow across pages you wouldn't remember. Anything to keep your brain occupied. Anything to stop the mental cinema from screening its greatest hits: your stepfather's hollow eyes, your mother's measured devastation, Sarah locked in a hotel room, and Mingyu, always Mingyu, walking out of his own wedding with nothing but the clothes on his back.
When the library walls pressed too close, you turned to the city's more expensive distractions. You wandered into boutiques on Fifth Avenue where the sales associates smelled your desperation and descended like well-dressed vultures. A silk blouse you'd never wear. A pair of heels that pinched your toes. A cashmere throw blanket that cost more than your monthly grocery budget. You swiped your credit card and felt nothingânot pleasure, not guilt, just the brief mechanical satisfaction of completing a transaction.
The shopping bags accumulated in the corner of your studio like shedding skin. You stopped unpacking them after the first week.
The restaurant Matthew chose was small and candlelit, tucked beneath a wine bar in the East Village. Brick walls. A single rose in a bud vase. The kind of place that announced intentions before a single word was spoken.
He looked good. Healthy. The two weeks in New York had relaxed something in his shoulders, smoothed the sharp angles of his stress. His linen shirt was rolled at the sleeves, his hair still damp from a shower. When he stood to greet you, he pulled out your chair.
"Chivalry," you said, aiming for lightness. "Didn't know they taught that in law school."
"They don't. I'm self-taught." His smile crinkled his eyes, but there was something careful in it tonight. Something held back.
The dinner passed in easy conversationâhis plans for the fall, the firm he'd be joining, a case he was excited about. You asked questions. You laughed at his jokes. You performed the version of yourself that wasn't quietly hemorrhaging, and you did it well enough that he almost seemed convinced.
Almost.
"You're doing it again," he said over dessert, his fork hovering above his tiramisu.
"Doing what?"
"That thing where you're here but you're not. Like you're watching yourself from somewhere across the room."
You set down your spoon. The gelato had melted into a sweet puddle. "I'm trying my best, Matthew."
"I know." His voice was gentle. "I'm not criticizing. I'm just... asking. Are you okay?"
Three words. Such simple words. You looked at himâhis windswept hair, his kind eyes, the face of someone who had been nothing but patient and good and safeâand you couldn't lie.
"Trying my best," you said again, quieter this time.
The candle flickered between you. Outside, the city hummed its endless song. Matthew reached across the table and covered your hand with his, his palm warm and dry.
"Come back with me," he said.
"What?"
"To the hotel. Tonight. And then tomorrow, on the flight." His thumb traced circles on your knuckles. "You don't have to stay here alone. Come home. Let me be there for you."
"Matthewâ"
"I know the timing is terrible. I know you're dealing with... whatever this is. But I've been thinking about it all week. About us." He took a breath, and you saw it thenâthe nervousness beneath the composure, the vulnerability he'd been hiding behind his easy smiles. "I want to do this properly. I want you to be my girlfriend."
The word landed like a stone in still water.
Girlfriend.
His girlfriend. Someone's girlfriend. Someone who would call to check in, who would hold your hand in public, who would post photos of you on Instagram with heart emojis and captions about being lucky. Someone safe. Someone normal. Someone who wasn't a secret.
Your throat constricted. For one dizzying moment, you let yourself imagine it. A life without hiding, without shame, without the constant electric fear of being discovered. Sundays spent reading in the same room. Dinner parties with friends who knew your name. A relationship that existed in the light.
But Matthew deserved more than being your escape hatch. He deserved someone who looked at him the way you looked at Mingyu, with that desperate, consuming, catastrophic hunger. Someone who didn't flinch when he touched her because his hands weren't the ones her body was trained to crave.
"Matthew." His name came out broken. "I can't."
His thumb stopped moving. "Can't, or don't want to?"
"Can't. I'm not... I'm not in a place where I can be anyone's girlfriend right now."
"Is this about him?"
The question hung in the air. You could have lied. Should have lied. Instead, you said nothing, and your silence was answer enough.
Matthew withdrew his hand. The loss of warmth felt like a punishment. He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly, and when he looked at you again, the easy warmth that had always lived in his eyes had been replaced by something more careful. More distant.
"I understand," he said. And he probably did. That was the worst part.
The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of polite conversation and forced smiles. He walked you to your door like a gentleman. Kissed your cheek like a friend. And when the door closed behind you, the apartment felt emptier than it ever had before.
Sleep became a fighting match you couldn't win.
You lay in bed that night, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, your body exhausted but your mind on fire. The sheets tangled around your legs. The pillow grew hot and then cold and then hot again. You flipped onto your left side. Your right. Your stomach. Nothing worked.
Somewhere around three in the morning, exhaustion finally pulled you under.
When you wake, the apartment was still dark, but not empty. A silhouette sat on the velvet couch across from your bed, its shape carved from shadow. As you watched, paralyzed, the figure rose and moved into the amber streetlight bleeding through the window.
Mingyu.
He looked different. Thinner. His jaw sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced, dark circles carved beneath his eyes like bruises. But his gazeâthat dark, possessive, consuming gazeâwas exactly the same.
He crossed the room without a word. His movements were slow, deliberate, predatory. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he slid into the cool sheets behind you. No preamble. No gentle words. Just the heavy, familiar weight of his chest pressing against your back, his rough hands sliding beneath your shirt to grip your hips with bruising force.
His mouth found your neck. His breath scorched your skin.
"Did you think you could run from me?"
His voice was gravel. Smoke. A sound that vibrated through your bones.
Your body betrayed you instantly. Your spine arched, pressing your ass back against the hard ridge of him. A gasp escaped your throat, half protest, half plea. His teeth grazed your earlobe, his stubble scraping the sensitive skin of your shoulder.
"You're mine," he growled against your pulse. "You'll always be mine."
His hand slid down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. He didn't ask. Didn't wait. Just yanked the fabric aside andâ
Your eyes flew open.
You sat up in bed, gasping, your heart slamming against your ribs like a caged animal. Sweat cooled on your skin. Your shirt was twisted around your torso. Your thighs were pressed together, slick and aching.
The apartment was empty.
The couch was vacant.
The silence was absolute.
A dream. Just a hyper realistic vivid dream. But your body didn't know the difference. Your nipples were hard peaks beneath your thin tank top. Your core throbbed with a desperate, unmet need. You pressed your palm against your chest, trying to slow your heart, trying to convince your nervous system that you were safe.
It didn't work.
You lay back down, trembling, and didn't sleep again until dawn.
The second month in New York was a tightrope walk over a pit of your own making.
You developed rituals. Checking the street before you left the apartment. Scanning the crowds on Hudson Street for tall men in dark sweaters. Tracking every broad-shouldered silhouette until it passed safely out of range. Your neck grew stiff from the constant swiveling. Your dreams remained a battleground.
Some days, anger consumed you. A pure, clarifying rage that burned through your veins. You hated him. Hated his hands and his mouth and his lies. Hated the way he'd made you believe you were special while he was fucking his fiancĂŠe with the same passion, the same face, the same desperate sounds. You wished you'd never met him. You wished he'd stay gone forever.
Other days, the anger curdled into something more difficult to name. A sickening worry that sat in your stomach. You'd catch yourself searching the faces on the subway, half-hoping to find his. You'd check your spam folder for messages that weren't there. You'd lie awake at night and wonder where he was sleeping, whether he was eating, whether he was even alive.
Your mother called every few days with updates. Her voice was strained, exhausted. The scandal had rippled through their social circle like a shockwave. The Parks were demanding compensation for the cancelled weddingâa figure with more zeros than you wanted to think about. Mr. Cho had hired a private investigator to find Mingyu, not out of concern, but out of fury. Sarah had apparently thrown a vase at a wall.
"Your father still won't say his name," your mother told you one evening. "He's rewritten the will already. Mingyu gets nothing. Not a cent. It's like he never existed."
"And Sarah?"
A pause. "She's... unraveled. Her mother says she's not sleeping. Not eating. She keeps calling our house, demanding to know if we've heard anything." Another pause. "I think she loved him. Really loved him. Not the merger, not the money. Him."
Guilt stabbed through you like a needle. You knew exactly how Sarah felt. That was the cruelest part.
The email arrived on a Tuesday afternoon.
You were sitting at your desk, the window cracked open to let in the late summer air, when the notification pinged. No subject line. No sender name. Just a string of random characters that made no sense: `[email protected]`.
Your finger hovered over the delete button. Spam. It had to be spam. But somethingâsome pricking instinct at the base of your skullâmade you click it open instead.
Inside was a single audio file. No text. No explanation. Just an MP3 attachment and the encrypted silence of an anonymous sender.
Your hands shook as you plugged in your headphones. Your finger hovered over the play button. You knew, before you pressed it, exactly whose voice you were about to hear.
The audio clicked open. Static hissed for a beat. Then:
"Hey."
His voice hit you like a physical blow. Deep. Gravelly. Exhausted in a way that went beyond physical tiredness. You pressed your palm against your mouth.
"I'm really sorry for everything." A pause. A shaky exhale. "I know you're mad and probably don't wanna hear from me, but I just want you to know that you're out of this. Of everything. I hope you don't blame yourself for what happened. All of this was because of me and my decisions."
The words came faster now, as if he'd rehearsed them and was trying to get through before his nerve failed. "Also, don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I hope someday you find forgiveness in your heart for me." A beat. "And please keep this message a secret. Don't try to track me. I promise to stay away from everyone."
Long, heavy silence. You could hear him breathing on the recordingâragged, uneven breaths that spoke of sleepless nights and too many cigarettes. The track kept running, capturing every shuddering exhale.
Then, lower. Raw. Unraveled.
"I miss you."
The words cracked something inside your chest.
"So much. It fucking hurts."
His voice splintered. Just slightly. Just enough.
"I'm sorry."
The recording cut off.
You sat there in the silence of your studio, your headphones still pressed to your ears, tears streaming down your face before you even realized you were crying. The sound that escaped your throat was animalâa choked, gasping thing that had been building for months.
You missed him too. God help you, you missed him too.
But you clenched your jaw. You wiped your face with the back of your hand. You did not save the file. You did not reply. You buried the secret in the hollow of your chest, next to all the other secrets, and you did not let a single tear fall after that first wave.
No more. I'm done being destroyed by him.
The summer ended without ceremony.
You packed your suitcase on a gray morning, the studio stripped of your presence. The shopping bags you'd never unpacked went to a donation bin on Bleecker Street. The cashmere throw, still in its box, you left on the bed for the next tenant.
The flight home was spent staring at the seatback in front of you, rehearsing your lines.
Your mother met you at the arrivals gate. The moment you saw her face, the careful composure you'd constructed nearly crumbled. She looked older. The lines around her eyes had deepened. Her smile, when she saw you, was genuine but exhausted.
You threw your arms around her and held on tight.
"Mom."
"Welcome home, sweetheart."
You pulled back, scanning her face. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She smoothed your hair back from your forehead, a gesture from childhood. "I'm just glad you're back. Tell me everything. How was New York?"
"Perfect," you said, the practiced lie sliding out with ease. "The program was incredible. I learned so much. I'm completely fine."
She seemed to believe you. Or maybe she was just too tired to dig deeper.
The mansion felt different when you stepped through the front door. Quieter. Heavier. The absence of Mingyu was a physical presence, a negative space that sucked the warmth from every room. The staff moved through their routines with subdued efficiency. The guest wing sat dark and empty.
Your stepfather found you in the study an hour after you arrived. He looked shrunken somehow, his tailored suit hanging looser on his frame, his sharp eyes dulled. He pulled you aside with a hand on your shoulder, his grip weaker than you remembered.
"I wanted to tell you something," he said. His voice was thick, heavy with something that sounded almost like grief. "I'm proud of you. For pursuing your studies. For doing your best."
"Thank you."
He looked at you then, and his eyes were hollow. Empty in a way that made your stomach drop. "I just hope you turn out to be okay." A pause. His jaw tightened. "Unlike..."
He couldn't finish the sentence. Mingyu's name died on his lips, unspoken and forbidden. He squeezed your shoulder once and walked away, leaving you standing in the study with guilt coiling in your gut like a snake.
This is my fault too.
You carried that guilt with you through the following weeks. Through the quiet dinners where no one mentioned the empty chair. Through the phone calls your father took behind closed doors, his voice raised in arguments you couldn't quite hear. Through your mother's forced cheerfulness and the careful way everyone avoided saying his name.
The Pilates studio was a twenty-minute drive from the mansion, tucked into a strip mall between a juice bar and a boutique that sold artisanal candles. You'd started going three times a week, needing the physical exertion to quiet your mind. The burn in your muscles was a cleaner pain than the one in your chest.
On a hot Saturday afternoon, you stepped out of the studio into the blinding sun, your gym bag slung over your shoulder, your muscles buzzing with endorphins. The asphalt shimmered with heat. Your car was parked at the far end of the lot, a hundred yards of baking pavement between you and the driver's seat.
You were halfway there when the black sedan cut across the lane and pulled up directly in front of you.
Your feet stopped. Your heart didn't.
The tinted window rolled down with a mechanical whir. Sarah's face appeared behind the glass, perfectly made up, her dark hair swept into an elegant twist. She looked expensive. Polished. But her eyes were deadâflat and cold in a way that made your blood run slow.
"Let's get some afternoon coffee," she said. It wasn't a question. "Have a little talk."
Your mouth opened. Closed. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to claim an appointment, to do anything but get into that car. But there was no logical way out. No excuse that wouldn't sound exactly like what it wasâcowardice.
"Sure," you managed.
The interior of the sedan smelled like leather and her perfume, something floral and sharp. The doors locked automatically as she pulled out of the lot. You gripped your gym bag in your lap like a shield.
The cafĂŠ she chose was quiet, almost empty, tucked at the end of a cobblestone street you'd never noticed before despite driving past it a hundred times. Secluded. Private. The kind of place where conversations could happen without witnesses.
Sarah ordered a black coffee. You ordered the same, your throat too dry for anything else.
"How have you been?" She didn't look at you as she asked, her eyes fixed on the foam art dissolving in her cup.
"Fine. Busy. New York was..." You trailed off, unsure how much she already knew. "Productive."
"Productive." She repeated the word like she was testing its weight. "That's nice."
"And you? How are you doing?"
Her gaze lifted. Met yours. The emptiness in her eyes was terrifying. "Trying my best to be okay."
The silence that followed was razor-sharp. You took a sip of coffee you couldn't taste.
"Did he ever visit you in New York?" The question came out flat, casual, as if she were asking about the weather.
"No." You held her gaze. That much, at least, was true. "He never did."
"What about a call? A text?"
You shook your head, maintaining the lie with a steadiness that surprised you. "No. He never did. I wish he had, so everyone could finally have some answers, but..." You shrugged, letting the sentence trail off.
Sarah drained the last of her coffee. Set the cup down with a deliberate clink. She stood, adjusting her coat with precise, controlled movements.
"I sure hope you're telling the truth."
Her fingers played idly with her phone screen as she spoke. Then she turned and walked out of the cafĂŠ without looking back. The door swung shut behind her. Through the glass, you watched her car pull away from the curb and disappear around the corner.
You sat paralyzed at the table, your hands wrapped around your cooling coffee, your mind racing.
Then your phone buzzed.
A direct message notification. From Sarah.
Your thumb swiped the screen open.
The air left your lungs in a violent rush. Your body went numb. Flashing on the screen, unmistakable and devastating, was the photo Mingyu had taken months ago, the ball of white cotton and pink fabric on his bathroom counter. Your stolen tank top. Your soft panties. The evidence of everything you'd tried to bury.
You looked up frantically, scanning the street through the cafĂŠ window. Sarah's car was gone. She was gone. But the photo remained, glowing on your screen like a brand.
She had access to his cloud? His iPad? His old phone?
The questions hit you in rapid succession, each one a fresh wound. Did she read the texts? Did she find the call logs? Does she know about the hotel rooms and the hidden bruises and the hands clamped over your mouth in the dark?
Your hands shook so badly you nearly dropped the phone. You clutched it to your chest, staring at the empty street, paralyzed by a flood of terrifying unknowns.
Sarah hadn't confronted you because she wanted an explanation. She'd confronted you to show you that your sanctuary was an illusion. That she knew. That she'd known all along. And now you were completely at her mercy, drowning in the agonizing suspense of what else she was holding over your head.
The cafĂŠ hummed with indifferent life around youâthe hiss of the espresso machine, the murmur of distant conversation, the clink of cups on saucers. Normal sounds. Ordinary sounds. They belonged to a world you no longer inhabited.
You sat alone at the corner table, the phone clutched in your trembling fingers, the photo still burning on the screen, and waited for the next blow to fall.
husband!satoru gets a little too possessive of you on your beach vacation. . .
the beach had been your idea.
you wanted a relaxing day togetherâ sunshine, fresh air, finally swimming in the cold ocean water. somehow, though, the moment youâd stepped out of the changing room wearing your bikini, the entire plan had fallen apart.
or rather, satoru had.
you barely make it to your spot on the sand youâve been eyeing before he plants himself directly in front of your beach chair.
at first, you think nothing of it. heâs always clingy, always finding excuses to stay close. but after several minutes pass and he still hasnât moved, you start narrowing your eyes.
âwhat are you doing?â you ask.
âhm?â
âwhy are you standing there?â
he shrugs, taking another sip of his drink. âjust hanging out.â
âwell, hang out without blocking my view!â
âdonât wanna.â
you look at him expectantly, thinking heâll finally move, but he just smiles innocently behind his sunglasses.
seems that he knows exactly what heâs doing.
every time you try adjusting your chair, he somehow adjusts his positioning too. every time you glance toward the water, his massive frame ends up between you and the rest of the beach.
it turns ridiculous enough that you finally sit up and cross your arms.
âokay. whatâs wrong with you?â
ânothingâs wrong.â
âsatoru.â
he lets out a dramatic sigh before lowering himself onto the edge of your beach chair. his arm immediately wraps around your waist, pulling you closer against his side.
âyou look too good.â
you raise an eyebrow. âwhat..?â
âyou heard me.â
his jaw tightens slightly as his gaze drifts away, and toward the crowded shoreline. there are people everywhere, couples, groups of friends. just doing completely normal beach activity.
satoru, however, looks threatened by all of it.
âi was excited to bring you here,â he admits. âthought itâd be nice.â
âand?â
âand then you walked out wearing that.â
you let out a laugh. âitâs just a bikini..?
âi know.â
âthatâs what most women wear at beach, no?â
âmhm,â he pouts, and his expression remains the same.
normally, satoru loves showing you off. heâll throw an arm around your shoulder in public, kiss your cheek randomly, introduce you as his wife every chance he gets. heâs never been subtle about how proud he is to have you.
apparently, though, this situation has created some kind of internal conflict.
because on one hand, he clearly wants everyone to know just how pretty his wife is. on the other hand, he seems seconds away from carrying you back inside the hotel and locking every door.
âyouâre jealous of.. strangers?â
ââm not jealous.â
his arm tightens around your waist as another group of people walks by. none of them are paying attention to either of you, but satoru tracks them anyway before immediately shifting closer.
you can practically feel the possessiveness radiating off him.
âyou know,â you say, smiling, âif youâre that bothered, maybe you stop staring.â
he looks at you like youâve said something absurd.
âhow am i supposed to stop staring?â
he reaches up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
âseriouslyâŚâ his voice softens. âi canât.â
the warmth of the sun, the sound of the waves, the distant chatter around youâ it all fades into the background beneath the way heâs looking at you.
like youâre still the most beautiful thing heâs ever seen.
then his gaze flickers past you again, and his eyes narrow. âthat guy looked over here.â
âtoru!â you groan immediately. âyou donât even know if he was looking at me.â
before you can argue further, he stands up, grabs the beach umbrella beside your chair, and drags it several feet across the sand.
directly in front of you, and blocking your view of half the beach.
your mouth falls open. âokay. enough!â
âwhat?â he says innocently.
âmove it.â
ânuh-uh.â
he squeezes back onto your chair, completely satisfied with himself as he throws an arm around your shoulders.
ânow nobody can look.â
âseriously..?â
âas serious as can be,â he says, pulling you closer, then moving you onto his lap, âi feel way better.â
you bury your face in his shoulder to hide your giggles, and he takes the opportunity to press his lips against the top of your head.
after all, he still got exactly what he wants.
a beautiful beach, a sunny day..
and his wife all to himself.
wrote this after getting home from my beach trip >:) ugh i miss it already what is this unbearable heat rn..
⥠BOYFRIEND OF THE MOST
INTROVERTED GIRL YOU KNOW
"äşćĄ ć âś GOJO SATORU," ⌠âă ¤ ďšăwait, who's gojos girlfriend? The quiet girl at the back of the classroom?ă૮â ´ ęł `âáăartist credits: official jjk artăreblog / like 2 supportă âŕť× âĄăđ¤.đ: 1.3k â Ëł âĄ
âĄâăâ¸â¸ăăđŚARNINGS Ëă âăăsfwăfluffăcrackăshe/her pronounsănanami, haibara, suguru & shoko cameoăreader is quiet & introvertedăshy-ish!readerăpopular boy!gojoă2006 timelineăreader & gojo are like 17ăreader obvi isn't loud and won't appeal to everyoneăonly tooth rotting fluffăcanon compliant auăbefore hidden inventory / premature deathă2nd person perspectiveăâ
ââ #â MINA'S NOTES ( đŹ )ăliterally me and gojo broămasterlist <3
GOJO SATORU was the it boy of popular boys in the 2000s.Â
There's fan pages of him online, teenage girls and boys take pictures with him in the street asking "can I punk my friends and tell them you're my boyfriend?" and how could he say no and stop people from experiencing the awesomeness that is Satoru Gojo. His flip phone is usually set to silent or vibration only, since he often took pictures of himself and uploaded them to Mixi and Nico Niico Douga under his "digimoncutiez639" persona. Blurry photos taken in the Shinjuku nightlife, mostly ones he had forced suguru and shoko to take for him.
junmasamoto4199: "digimoncutiez639 is meccha kakkoii! >_<"
Xx_Imblue_xX: "That boy is chou sekushii"
tempura2: "*gyaa gyaa . . . i wish he waz my bf  (âĽďšâĽ)"
The last comment was one he seemed to get a lot, and he didn't exactly reject any of his dedicated fan girls and fan boys, never replying to comments unless the asked for where his outfit was from. He didn't avoid telling people that he was dating you, per say, it was more that⌠people reacted differently. Almost as if he was lying to them.Â
The first time had been almost at the end of his first year at Jujutsu Technical College and 3 weeks after he had officially asked you out. The upperclassmen usually avoided him, put off by the so called "prodigy," but he had finally been able to strike up a conversation with them after the school's athletics carnival had went well. Suguru had kicked the football a total of 3 times and scored one goal, while Satoru had hogged the ball most of their first year match and scored over 10 goals, before Yaga had dragged him off of the field by his ear.Â
"Ohhh, right, I saw you get dragged off," Haruto has nodded and yawned, scratching the back of his neck, while Yoshida had hummed. "Yeah, Sawako even wanted us to check up on you, pfft," he snorted before Haruto nudged him to shut up.
"Whaaat? I'm being a good friend," Yoshida scoffed and rolled his eyes with a prideful smile, before his eyes looked over at his tall underclassman again. "Yo, Satoru, do you have a girlfriend?" he asked bluntly, ignoring his friends glares and sighs of embarrassment and awkwardness.Â
He had raised a confused eyebrow, before pointing his thumb back at the classroom. He was sure he had kissed you and held your hand on the bleachers that day, did they not see? More importantly, you were literally the most gorgeous and prettiest girl in his eyes, obviously someone as hot as him was perfectly paired with another otaku baddie like you! Pshhhh, maybe they couldn't believe someone like him has been able to pull you.
"Yeah. Her." His thumb pointed back at your figure in the empty classroom.
Yoshida and Haruto had peered into the classroom, only to see⌠some girl they had never seen before. Plain hair, plain eyes, plain uniform, and a plain you just pressing away at your Tamagotchi. Haruto and Yoshida shared a confused look, before Yoshida clicked his fingers and gasped. "O-oh yeah, that's the girl I was telling you about the other day! You know, the one who walked away when I was trying to ask her for directions?" Haruto nodded, eyes lighting up in recognition, before confusion washed over their faces at the same time.
How does one of the most extroverted and loud boys, fall and date someone like you? Someone who talks in class maybe once a week! someone whoâs flip phone is used to play snake while Gojoâs is used to actually⌠talk to people!
"What?" They had blurted at the white haired student, going on and on about how someone like you shouldâve hated someone like gojo, and that you were clearly not meant for each other, and how they were going to tell Sawako that it'd be a waste of her time to pursue Satoru. As if Satoru wasn't right there. His eyes narrowing and upper lip curling in obvious annoyance.
As if heâd let anyone insult you.
"Hey, dumbasses. That's my girlfriend you're talking about," he scoffed at him, pushing past and going back inside the classroom to sit next to you again.Â
You had looked over at him curiously, showing him the small screen of your Tamagotchi. "Look, our child is growing," with that casual smile on your face. Satoru blinked, his face straight, before he broke out into coos and awhs, pinching your cheeks and suffocating you in kisses all over your face. "Aghhhh, get off of me! You lunatic!" You had huffed, while he was happily kissing your face all over, "you're such a good mother to our baby dragon! Awhhh, what's the name you chose for him again, my beautiful princess?"
You had huffed, looking a mess before sighing and giving the toy to him. "Sylus."
That day was one of the main reasons that Satoru avoided outright disclosing your relationship, preferring to show it to people instead.Â
Nanami didn't need to ask when he finally had enrolled into JJT, as Satoru made it a habit to hold your hand at every chance he got, and kiss your cute face. Haibara, unfortunately, hadn't seen enough or gotten the clue, only seeing how quiet and standoffish you were, and made the brilliant terrible statement when you all were camping in the back of the forest behind JJT for fun. Unfortunately, Haibara had spoken right in front of Satoru fucking Gojo, or Satoru L/N as he'd prefer to be called.Â
The fire crackled in the cold dark night, illuminating 6 faces in the forest, as the scent of pine and wet soil drifted through the air. "Y/N and Nanami would make a good pair, wouldn't they? They're so similar!" he had smiled happily and adjusted his hold on the marshmallow he was roasting, not noticing Suguru choking on his spit, Shoko looking up at him and even pausing in chewing her gum. He especially didn't notice Satoru freezing, when he was draping his expensive jacket over your shoulders, cold icy blue eyes glaring holes at the sweet boy's face.
"Convergâ" Suguru had jumped to stop and tackle gojo to the ground before he could possibly have killed Haibara.Â
After calming Gojo down, mostly by you looking at Gojo as if he was embarrassing you and him whining apologies to you, Haibara had finally been made aware that Gojo and you were dating. "Ohhh, you're Y/N's boyfriend, sorry Satoru, I didn't know," Haibara had chuckled and nodded his head in an apology.Â
"We're married," he lifted his hand to show a string you had tied around his ring finger a few minutes ago while fidgeting with him quietly. "We're not married," you shook your head bluntly, correcting him with a straight face.
"Engaged. We're engaged." he nodded proudly and flipped his hair back, all cool and already thinking about wanting to whip out his digital camera and force Suguru to take more shots of him for his fans.
"We're 17, Satoru."
"We have a child."
"I have a Tamagotchi pet⌠one that you get jealous of."
"We're madly in love then." He nodded again, not shy or embarrassed after being shut down by you so many times. He waited, Suguru waited, even Nanami waited, wanting to hear you correct Satoru's claim. Only after a full minute had passed, Satoru smirked, a blush on his cheeks as he shrugged, "see, she loves me. Hah," he smirked and stuck his tongue out at Nanami for a split second, knowing the blond man had been doubting him.
That's when he felt your lips press against his cheek. Very rarely did you initiate an sort of romantic gestures, let alone kisses.Â
His face had turned beet red, while you were looking at him confused. Blinking blankly, and Suguru laughing loudly in the background. Yes, Satoru did love his girlfriend, more than he loved anyone or anything else, and much to peoples complaints . . .
She was a perfect match for him.
Š đđđđđđđđđ | do not copy, translate, republish or feed my work into ai.
sukuna was used to getting hit on. normally, he flat out rejects anyone that even makes an attempt to flirt with him. tonight he's taken you on one of your usual date nights, but imagine his surprise when the woman who approaches your table is hitting on you instead of him!
"ryo. ryo, ryo, ryo, i don't know what to get!" you pout, extending a leg underneath the table to graze your husband's calf as he grunts, brows pinched together in concentration as he stares down at the menu
"doesn't matter. i'm ordering half the stuff they have here anyway... you hungry for dessert too?" he questions, and you give him a deadpan look before he dramatically rolls his eyes, eliciting a giggle from you that has the corner of his mouth tipping upwards in a smirk
"fatty," he murmurs, and you make a point to dig the tip of your heel into his shoe, yet even through the pain, he maintains that annoying grin, and you shake your head with a laugh
the restaurant sukuna chose to take you out to tonight was located on the outer edges of the city near the water. your seating is overlooking the ocean, and you're not sure where you should stareâeither at the lapping waves shimmering underneath the sparkling sun, or at your husband (an equally irresistible sight). he's wearing a tight black shirt with the first few buttons open, revealing the intricate details of his tattoos and the large expanse of his muscles and chest
a waitress eventually approaches your table. she's prettyâtall, lean, and wearing a dark red lipstick that suits her wellâand you feel your heart sink a bit. you're sure she was staring at your table earlier, and you'd already assumed she was keeping an eye out on sukuna. almost subconsciously, you sit a little taller in your chair as she greets you two
"hello! i hope you guys are doing well. what can i get started?" she starts in an extra sweet voice, and you avoid her eyes and instead drum a single manicured finger against the table to distract yourself
you know you have nothing to feel insecure about, but anyone would feel a bit down if attractive women were constantly hitting on their husband, right?
without looking up, sukuna starts
"i'll have a plate of crab cakes, four fish tacos, one chicken marsala, one miso marinated black cob, two fettuccini pastas, one lobster ravioli, and one lava cakeâand the center of it better not be undercooked. my wife doesn't like whenever it happens and i want her dessert to be nothing short of perfection." sukuna finishes, and the waitress looks genuinely distressed as she quickly jots down everything he said
"uhm, and all that is for just the two of you?" she questions hesitantly, and sukuna's gaze snaps up with a scowl
"yeah. and?"
you try to stifle your laughter as she quickly shakes her head with a smile, still writing everything down. your husband was... a bit of a big eater.
"no, no, i was just wonderingâ oh. did you say wife?" she frowns, and you try not to wince at twinge of disappointment in her voice
"if you were thinking i'm single, you're out of luck." sukuna states boldly, not bothering to give her any further attention as he folds up the menu and hands it to her
"uhm... i wasn't wondering about you. i was wondering about you." â and suddenly her gaze is pinned on you, and your eyes widen a fraction
"me?" you squeak in disbelief, and she smirks. it's cocky and slanted and it instantly reminds you of your husband's habit when he's teasing you, and you can't even try to hide the smile on your face as you cover it with your hand, caught off gaurd and embarrassed
"yes, you. you are beautiful. so, are you happily married to this guy, or just marriâ"
"that's enough." sukuna stammers, and he looks genuinely mortified by the look of curiosity on your face. you giggle, shaking your head
"thank you... you're very beautiful too." you smile, and she actually blushes at your words, telling you she'll be out with your food soon as she walks back inside the restaurant with a lot more pep in her step than before
sukuna reaches over to pull your hand out of your lap and onto the table, and he adjusts your ring with furrowed brows as you giggle
"ryoâ"
"i can't believe that woman's audacityâhitting on my wife! when i get home, i am writing the most deplorable review of this restaurant." he snaps as you let out a sudden laugh
"don't be silly, you big grump! she was nice," you smile, and he drags a hand down his face as if this was the worst day of his entire life.
sukuna wasn't used to women hitting on you. no man ever tried because all six feet of your husband was always looming behind you like a guard dog just waiting to rip someone's head off for looking at you too long, but he never suspected he had to look out for women too!
his brows are furrowed as he rubs a thumb over the diamond on your ring finger, and your gaze softens before you cradle his own larger hand in your own and press a kiss onto his knuckles. he blinks at you a few times before turning away with a huff, the tips of his ears a light shade of pink
"you're mine. you'll never indulge in anyone that tries anything with you, right?" he murmurs, still staring at your interlocked hands as you pout
"of course not." you promise gently, and he seems satisfied by your response as he holds your hand firmly in his own
after a moment of thought, he opens his mouth once again
"do you think we should make out to confirm our status for everyone else here?"
⤡ ăFOR HIM, ALWAYS â.á ËËË â in a world built on blood and silence, you were his constant, his weapon, his weakness, his only truth, and every line between duty and desire was drawn in your name. â
âŻâ˘ pairing: yoon jeonghan x f!reader
âŻâ˘ synopsis: Bound by loyalty and stained by sin, you were made for Yoon Jeonghan, and in the end, youâd burn the world for him, always.
âŻâ˘ wc: 16.1k
âŻâ˘ tags: mature themes, explicit sexual themes, mafia!jeonghan, mafia!f!reader, dark!jeonghan, dark romance, childhood best friends to lovers, porn with plot â¸â¸ cws: 18+ mdni, cursing, threats, physical violence, murder, torture, immolation (death by fire), multiple deaths, blood, fighting, arguments, jealousy, emotional cheating, cheating, secret affairs, consumption of alcohol, consumption of drugs, smoking, illegal activity, mafia business talks, guns / weapons, smut, multiple smut scenes, unprotected piv sex (please donât.), intercourse under the influence (alcohol & drugs), sex during a phone call, rough sex, dry humping, praise kink, edging, possession kink, oral, cunnilingus, blowjob, cowgirl, missionary, doggystyle, slight exhibitionism, petnames (baby, bunny, slut & whore), MESSED UP SHIT UNDER THIS (youâve been warned!)
.đĽ Ý Ëđ.⢠ÝË sel speaks â.á i havenât posted on here for a while and i apologize, i have been busy with my main blog :/ i promise that iâm not ignoring you guys over here. anyway, a lot of you want a dark romance / mafia au with our jeonghannie which are seen from these requests here: request 1 & request 2. and honestly, i have no complaints since he is my bias đ¤ so yeah! i hope you little nasties enjoy reading this one!!
There are stories born from loyalty, and others born from ruin.
Yours was always both.
From the beginning, your life was tied to Yoon Jeonghanâs.
You learned early that love and loyalty could look the same, that devotion could feel like duty until you forgot where one ended and the other began. The world you belonged to was built on power and silence, and you followed him through every shadow it cast.
You once believed you could survive it together. But power changes everything. Love does too.
And when blood begins to spill, you will learn what it truly means to choose him, not just in loyalty, but in everything that follows.
ii. ROOTS IN THE SAME SOIL
You and Yoon Jeonghan grew up one year apart and always together.
From the first time you learned to walk, there was always a small hand in yours that belonged to him.
Playdates were never about playgrounds or school recitals. Your earliest memories are of low-lit back rooms, of men in suits who smelled like smoke and oil, of orders spoken in the hush between a door closing and a phone hanging up.
Your parents were not members of a club that discussed yachts or wine lists. They did not trade favors over polite dinners.
They ran a syndicate, and it was the sort of thing people pretended did not exist until it touched their lives.
The syndicate carried a name that everyone in the city learned to fear with a shrug.
It controlled ports, moved contraband, owned laundries and shell companies that made dirty money look like clean profit. It had its hands in protection, trafficking, information for sale, and the kinds of deals you read about in headlines when someone forgot how to be careful. They were embedded in the city in ways small and large: in who got prime contracts, who won tenders, who was turned away when they asked for help.
Power like that ate quietly and kept its appetite hidden behind polite facades.
The Yoons sat at the top of it.
Your parents sat right after them, trusted lieutenants who answered when the Yoons called and carried out orders without question.
You were not an accident of fate.
You were, in every practical way that mattered in that world, made for Jeonghan.
Not made in a romantic sentence pulled from a novel, but shaped by choices and plans.
Your parents were the kind of allies who did not leave things to chance. They educated you to be flawless under pressure. They taught you how to read a room and read a man. They taught you where to look for weakness and how to make a decision stick. You learned to sit still and watch, to listen for the rhythm of a meeting so you could step in the moment it faltered.
Everything they did was designed so you could be exactly what Jeonghan needed.
Jeonghan was bred for succession in a way that could not be more blunt.
With no older siblings to complicate inheritance and with trust stretched thin in a life built on secrecy, the Yoons needed the central line, the heir, to be unbreakable.
Jeonghan was trained from childhood to take over the family when his father stepped down or when death made the choice for him.
Etiquette, strategy, the calculus of favors and debts, and how to be cruel with a face that seemed to enjoy nothing; all of that was poured into him with careful hand. His mentors were men who taught him how to hold people with a look, how to make threats sound like promises, how to make violence a tool with an economy.
Because of how rare trustworthy people were, your familyâs agreement with the Yoons was exact and practical.
You were raised to be his right hand, his constant presence, his first line of defense.
That meant more than walking alongside him at events. It meant you would be the person to read faces when the council turned hostile. It meant you would be the one who could be placed in charge of a job and finish it without questions. It meant you would know which alliances to preserve and which to quietly end.
Your training was not polite or academic alone. You learned to defend, to strike, and to disappear. You learned to be the kind of blade that could be hidden inside a velvet glove.
Growing up under that pressure, you and Jeonghan had no room for moral lectures.
There was no space for the questions about right and wrong that teenagers in other neighborhoods entertained. The ones you asked were practical: what needs to be done, and how do we make sure it works.
Comfort and complaint were luxuries you did not own.
Both your families gave you money and parties and all the trappings of status, and they were honest about where that money came from. You were taught not to pity what you had because pity was a weakness you could not afford in a place built on transactions and loyalties.
So you studied together, learned maps and ledgers and languages that made deals smoother. You trained together, practicing hand to hand until your blows matched and your timing became a shared rhythm. You fought together, in the way children play that is close to war: testing each otherâs limits, finding out how far you could push without breaking.
The adults watched and nodded and told stories about how the two of you would probably sit on the same throne one day.
It was a plan repeated like a vow.
When Jeonghan finally took over, nothing about the arrangement changed. If anything, the world tightened around the two of you.
He assumed the seat with a quiet that made the younger members straighten and the older ones lean in.
You stayed at his side.
In every line of people who reported up the chain, in every hand that reached out for a favor, you were there, the shadow trailing his steps. You were the calm to his chaos and the chaos to his calm because both of you were dangerously unpredictable in your own ways. He could be measured and cold. You could be quick and reckless.
Together you balanced one another in a way the organization found strangely efficient.
It was common knowledge inside the syndicate. When Jeonghan went somewhere, you were there. When he took a room, you took the one across the hall. When a decision had to be made and every eye searched for a show of solidarity, the room looked to the two of you and, more often than not, to your face and his hand on your shoulder.
People learned to read the space between you for cues.
It served you both, a silent language that meant orders did not need to be repeated and loyalties could be displayed in a single look.
You were his constant.
He was your anchor.
In a world that demanded ruthless clarity, you offered each other a kind of private logic, where the only real question was what needed to be done.
Nothing about that felt soft. Sometimes, late at night after meetings had thinned and the city hummed somewhere beyond the windows, you would find yourself watching him and thinking how strange it was that two people could be bred for the same purpose and still be completely their own sort of dangerous.
That, in the end, was the truth everyone accepted: you were inseparable because it made sense for the business.
Together you were the heir and the weapon, the pair the syndicate relied on.
Wherever Jeonghan went, you followed.
Wherever you stood, he took note.
You had been built for each other by the choices of men who understood one thing above allâ survival.
iii. THE LOVE THAT ISNâT HERS
The two of you never fought.
Not really.
Sure, there were stupid arguments about who aimed better at the range, who was sloppier after missions, who owed who a drink, but they were never serious.
Nothing ever cracked the foundation between you and Jeonghan.
Youâd always found your way back to laughter, to shared glances over burning cigarettes and unfinished whiskey, to quiet understanding that didnât need words.
Inside the business, you had each otherâs backs.
Outside of it, you were just as inseparable.
Jeonghan could be halfway across the room, and youâd still know what he was thinking. He was the calm that tempered your sharper edges, and you were the chaos that kept him from drowning in control.
Youâd also talk about the dumbest things, which of your men had the worst aim, who had the best poker face, what kind of food youâd eat if you werenât always surrounded by alcohol and bloodstains. You made fun of him for being too pretty to be intimidating, and heâd tell you you looked more like trouble than anyone else in the room.
It was easy.
It had always been easy.
Until her.
The first time you felt something shift, something hot and dangerous that clawed at your chest and made it hard to breathe, was when Jeonghan started dating this girlâ Narin.
Jeonghan had brought women around before. None of them lasted. They were temporary, disposable, just there to warm his bed and stroke his ego for a night.
Youâd never cared much; you had your own share of meaningless indulgences. But this one was different. This one lasted. Weeks turned into months, and for the first time, you heard the word âgirlfriendâ attached to his name.
You found out at one of your usual parties in your club where the lights were flashing, the bass was thudding through the floor, and the smoke hung thick in the air.
You were leaning back on the couch of the vip area, half-listening to the music and half-watching the bodies on the dance floor when Joshua leaned over, his voice raised against the noise.
âHey, have you heard?â he shouted near your ear.
You opened one eye lazily, swirling your drink before glancing at him. âHeard what exactly?â
Joshua grinned, eyes gleaming in the flicker of the strobe lights. âAbout Jeonghan and his new girl.â
You furrowed your brows, the corners of your mouth twitching. âI should care because?â you asked flatly.
âBecause they seem to be hitting it off,â Joshua teased. âTheyâre together.â
You scoffed and leaned back. âI donât see your point. Jeonghan has hooked up with other women before, how is this news?â
Joshua only smiled wider, like heâd been waiting for that reaction. ââCause he introduced her as his girlfriend.â
That made your eyes open.
You turned to look at him fully this time, disbelief coloring your expression. âWhat? Are you sure he wasnât just high?â you snickered, taking another sip of your drink.
Joshuaâs grin turned smug. âAre you sure you arenât in denial?â he bit back playfully.
You glared at him, about to retort, but he raised his glass with a knowing smirk before downing it in one go. âSpeak of the devil.â
You didnât turn right away, but the sudden shadow that fell across your table told you enough. Jeonghanâs voice came before his presence, low, familiar, smooth. He sat down across from you, a woman clinging to his arm.
She was beautiful, in that practiced, polished way. Perfect hair, perfect smile, the kind that didnât reach her eyes. She looked like she didnât belong in a place like this, and maybe that was exactly why Jeonghan had brought her.
You turned your head slowly, finally meeting his gaze⌠he was already watching you.
âYou already met Shua,â Jeonghan started, gesturing lazily toward Joshua before turning his attention to you. âThis is my best friend in the whole world,â he said, and you caught the faint curl of his lips when he said your name.
âThis is Narin.â
The woman smiled, holding out her hand toward you. âHis girlfriend,â she said, almost proudly.
You raised your brows, eyes flicking from her hand to her face before deliberately ignoring it and glancing back at Jeonghan. âThis is new. You never introduce any of your girls to us before,â you said, laughing lightly. âWhatâs this, are you getting married?â
Narin laughed, maybe thinking it was harmless teasing. Joshua joined in, but Jeonghan only smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement as he watched you.
âIâm surprised you didnât tell her first,â Joshua said, looking at Jeonghan. âYou two talk about everything.â
You picked up your shot, tossing it back in one clean motion before answering. âWe talk about important things, Josh.â You emphasized the word, leaning into it just enough for Jeonghan to notice.
Then, you turned to Narin, waving your hand casually. âSo, how much are your rates?â you asked, deadpan.
Jeonghan said nothing. He simply took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the haze above you.
Narinâs smile faltered. âIâm not an escort,â she said, her tone clipped, offended.
âYouâre not? Are you sure?â you asked, giving her a slow once-over.
âIâm a dancer,â Narin shot back sharply. Then, with a raised brow, she added, âAnd you? Aside from being my boyfriendâs best friend, what are you?â
A smirk curved your lips. âI pay your bills,â you replied coolly.
Joshua burst out laughing, reaching for Jeonghanâs cigarette as the man passed it to him.
Narin turned to Jeonghan as if expecting him to say something in her defense, but he just watched, quiet and unreadable.
âJeonghan is my boss,â Narin said firmly.
You smiled, slow and dangerous. âOh, you poor innocent soul.â You took the cigarette from Joshua, brought it to your lips, and stood up, your eyes still on her as you exhaled.
Then, without another glance, you turned toward the dance floor.
âSheâs my right hand,â Jeonghan said as he watched you go, voice calm, almost fond. âShe could honestly be my left as well. So yes, sheâs your boss as much as I am.â
They watched as you stepped into the crowd, the music swallowing you whole, parting people like the Red Sea, smoke and lights catching on the edge of your grin.
That night was the beginning of it; the quiet, invisible line drawn between you and Narin.
It was one-sided, really.
You didnât care enough to have a problem with her, and Jeonghan didnât care enough to pretend he did.
Still, from that first meeting, something in Narinâs eyes changed.
You noticed it in the smallest ways, the stiffness of her smile when you entered a room, the way her hand would grip Jeonghanâs arm a little tighter when you walked past, the tension in her jaw when he spoke to you first instead of her.
It wouldâve been funny if it werenât so predictable.
You told yourself you didnât care.
Maybe you didnât.
Narin was still around after months, which was new for Jeonghan, but even with that, you could see it plain as day⌠your best friend didnât care about her the way she wanted him to.
He never looked at her like she mattered.
Not like he looked at you.
Not that you cared.
It was one-sided because Narinâs hatred burned where yours didnât exist.
You could read her like a book; the insecurity, the jealousy, the need to prove herself in a world that would never take her seriously.
It was confusing at first.
Narin was beautiful. She had the kind of beauty that made people stop mid-sentence, the kind that couldâve made her untouchable anywhere else. But here? She was standing in the wrong arena. And in her head, you were the opponent she couldnât beat.
Because she saw it.
Everyone saw it.
You had Jeonghan in every way she didnât.
Sure, she had the titleâ girlfriend. He bought her clothes, jewelry, the kind of things girls dreamed of. But titles and gifts meant nothing in your world. What mattered was power, and Narin didnât have an ounce of it.
The members respected her out of formality.
They feared you.
To them, Narin was temporary a bed warmer.
You were Jeonghanâs equal.
Narinâs resentment grew every time she saw you and Jeonghan together. Every subtle look, every quiet nod across the table that said more than words ever could, it chipped away at her. She watched him defer to you, seek your opinion, trust your instincts before anyone elseâs.
If you said no, that was it. The conversation ended.
Like the time during a meeting when one of the associates pitched a risky deal. Jeonghan sat at the head of the table, arms crossed, expression unreadable. You didnât even look up from your notes.
âNo,â you said simply.
The room went silent.
Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, glancing at you once before turning to the man who had spoken.
âYou heard her,â he said. âItâs a no.â
The lieutenant tried to argue, âBut boss, if weââ
Jeonghan cut him off with a single raised hand. âShe said no.â
Narin was sitting beside him that day, her face frozen in disbelief. She saw how everyone accepted it without question.
No one looked at Narin. No one cared for her opinion.
And when one day she did try to join in, tried to fit in⌠it went even worse.
One afternoon, sheâd insisted on sitting in on a smaller meeting. Youâd let her. Jeonghan didnât object, mostly because he didnât care enough to stop her.
Halfway through, Narin spoke up. âMaybe if we tried negotiating first, it wouldnât have to come to violence.â
The entire room went quiet.
You slowly turned your head toward her, eyes blank.
âFirst, he brings you,â you said, voice flat, âand now youâre voicing unsolicited opinions as a non-member?â You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. âControl your pet, Han.â
The silence that followed was sharp. Jeonghan didnât even flinch at being scolded. Instead, his gaze slid to Narin, cold and warning.
âYou said you wanted to watch what I do,â he told her, voice low. âSo watch.â
Narin shrunk into her seat, eyes darting away from his.
That was the day she stopped showing up to meetings.
But the resentment didnât stop.
Narin hated the way only you could call him Han. The way his face softened, barely, but enough every time you did.
Narin tried it once, just once.
âHan,â sheâd said casually while they were alone in his office.
Jeonghanâs head snapped up, and the look he gave her was enough to make her flinch. âDonât call me that.â
She blinked, confused. âBut she calls you that.â
âThatâs because only she can.â
The words hit like a slap.
He didnât even look up again after saying them.
Their fights started not long after that.
Every single one of themâ about you.
âYou donât even hear yourself anymore!â Narin shouted one night, her voice echoing off the walls of his penthouse. âItâs always her! She does this, she said thatââ
Jeonghan sat on the couch, calm as ever, pouring himself another drink. âYouâre being dramatic.â
âIâm not being dramatic! You talk to her more than me, you trust her more than meââ
âOf course I do,â he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. âSheâs my second. My best friend. I trust her with my life.â
Narinâs voice cracked. âDo you even hear yourself?â
He looked at her then, eyes flat and almost bored. âYouâre insecure, Narin. Thatâs not my fault.â
âIâm insecure because you give me reasons to be!â she yelled, voice breaking. âBecause youâre always defending her! Because itâs always herââ
âBecause you keep bringing her up,â Jeonghan snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through hers. âYou think I want to talk about her with you? Youâre the one obsessed. You turn every conversation into a reason to talk about her. Maybe you should ask yourself why that is.â
âIâm not obsessedââ
âYou are,â he interrupted smoothly. âYou hate her so much you canât stop thinking about her. You canât stop comparing yourself to her. She doesnât even talk about you to me. Sheâs not the problem here, Narin. You are.â
She stared at him, disbelief and hurt twisting her face. âYouâre gaslighting me.â
Jeonghan laughed softly, almost pitying. âIf you say so.â
That was the thing about Yoon Jeonghan, he could twist any truth until it sounded like it was your fault.
And Narin fell for it every time.
Still, no amount of manipulation could hide what she already knew deep down.
If it came down to it, if Jeonghan ever had to chooseâ heâd burn her alive if it meant keeping you warm.
iv. SIN IN SILENCE
For the past few weeks you had been watching the statistics with the kind of attention that made other people uncomfortable.
It started small, an out-of-place zero on a ledger, a seal that looked a fraction off when you ran your thumb over it. Then a container that was logged at dock eight showing up in the yard, empty. Then a shipment of precursor chemicals that vanishes between the port and the warehouse. In an operation this size mistakes do not happen by accident.
What you were seeing was not sloppy accounting.
It was a pattern.
You stand by Jeonghanâs desk with a stack of printouts and a tablet, the city lights slanting through the blinds and making the room feel smaller than it is. He is leaning back in the chair he took the day his father stepped down, hands folded, face like stone.
âYou pulled the manifests from the past twelve weeks?â he asks.
You tap the tablet and bring up a screen full of rows and columns. âEvery port intake, every warehouse transfer, every handoff. I cross-checked the manifests with GPS pings from the drivers, the surveillance logs, and our distribution records. There are six anomalies that line up.â You push one of the printouts toward him. âOn the tenth week, shipment A-42 registered at the inland terminal, then the GPS shows the truck route cut. The driverâs feed drops out for twelve minutes. When the truck arrives at the warehouse, the manifest shows two pallets missing.
He read the screen, thumb tracing a line of numbers. âPrecursor chemicals and packaging,â he said. âThat keeps the north routes running for weeks. If that disappears, the network dies.â
âExactly.â You kept your voice flat. âEither an outside handler with high-level access, or someone inside with procurement privileges. The way the manifests were changed shows inside knowledge.â
Jeonghan folded his hands. âOptions.â
âLock down custody now,â you said. âTwo-person sign-off at pickup and delivery. Live feed confirmation that cannot be masked. Route all high-value loads to the secondary yard under armed escort. Any manifest edits require biometric approval that pings you, Joshua, and me.â
He nodded. âAnd if they try to change the system?â
âBait them,â you answered. âWe send a decoy shipment tonight. Tag the pallets with a tracer. Let the leak take it. When they move it, we follow the trace to wherever it disappears. Joshua runs the yard op. Security watches the north corridor for deviations.â
âYou start with the peripheral crew,â you said. âDrivers, dock foreman, gate steward, intake clerk. Quiet interviews. Offer cooperation for leniency. If they stonewall, escalate pressure. Isolate them, limit contact, and apply calibrated tactics until they talk. No public purge until we have names.â
He looked up at you, eyes steady. âKeep the council out.â
âKeep the council out,â you repeated. âA purge without proof will fracture loyalty. We do this clean and fast. Iâll run the audit on access logs and vendor payments. Joshua will handle physical ops. You keep security ready and clear the channels.â
âCall Joshua,â he said, standing. âGet the decoy manifest in motion. I want tracers on those pallets by midnight.â
You pulled out your phone and started dialing, âIâll start the audit now. Interviews begin after the first sweep. If one of them cracks, we follow the ledger. We control the narrative.â
Jeonghan pushed his chair back and stood, the leather creaking faintly. âGood work as always,â he said, voice quiet but sure. âYou caught what the others didnât. Thatâs why I trust you with this.â
You didnât look up right away, pretending to be absorbed with your phone as you scrolled through the contact list. âIâll call Joshua,â you said simply, already dialing.
Jeonghan moved behind you, lighting a cigarette as you waited for the call to connect. The sharp click of the lighter followed by the faint inhale filled the silence between rings. You could feel the warmth of him behind you, close enough that the faint scent of smoke and cologne mixed into the air you breathed.
The line rang twice before Joshua picked up.
âWhere are you?â you asked, walking toward the window.
Jeonghan leaned slightly against the edge of the desk behind you, exhaling a thin trail of smoke toward the ceiling, his eyes steady on you. As you spoke, he found himself tracing the rhythm of your voice, the calm certainty in it. The way your lips moved around each word.
âWeâre missing shipments again. Han wants to run a decoy load tonight. Youâll oversee. He wants tracers on every pallet and your team ready by eleven.â You said.
Jeongan took another drag, slower this time, watching the curve of your back as you shifted your weight, the cropped hem of your shirt riding just a little higher.
The faintest smirk tugged at his lips as he realized how his thoughts had drifted. Heâd known you since you were kids, grown up side by side, loyal and ruthless in the same breath. Maybe it started years ago, back when you first started standing beside him during briefings, when you started speaking and men twice your size listened.
He admired that part of you, the way you saw through people, how sharp you were, how easily you could dismantle a man with words alone.
You were dangerous in ways that werenât just physical, and heâd always known that.
But it wasnât just that anymore, not to him. He knew he shouldnât look at you this way, shouldnât think about how that top hugged your frame or how easily your confidence pulled him in.
But Jeonghan had caught you looking at him with the same look in your eyes before too, and that was enough to keep his guilt quiet.
âYes, Iâll brief Soonyoung and Jun. Make sure the men on guard rotation stay alert tonight,â you continued on the phone. âIâll send you the file in ten.â
Jeonghan barely registered Joshuaâs voice on the other end of the line. He was too focused on you and the little shift of your hand as you tucked your hair behind your ear, the steady calm in your tone as you gave orders.
You werenât aware of his stare, not fully, and maybe thatâs what made it worse.
You slid the phone into your back pocket and turned, and that was when you realized just how close Jeonghan had gotten. He was standing directly behind you, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the cigarette between his fingers. His eyes flicked from your face down to your lips before meeting your gaze again.
âJoshuaâs got it handled,â you said, your voice steady, though your heart didnât match it. âHeâll start preparing the tracers and rerouting the drivers.â
âGood.â Jeonghan exhaled smoke to the side, slow, deliberate. âYouâre efficient. Always have been.â
You raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile. âYou say that like youâre surprised.â
âIâm not surprised,â he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. âJust reminded.â
His tone was casual, but the air between you wasnât. It was heavy, thick enough to feel. You could smell the faint burn of tobacco on him, the warmth of his skin beneath the sharp scent of cologne.
âReminded of what?â you asked, half amused, half curious.
âHow you make everything run,â he said. His gaze didnât waver. âThis place. Me.â
You let out a quiet breath through your nose, masking the way your stomach flipped. âYouâre being dramatic, Han.â
âAm I?â he asked, leaning forward slightly. âYou tell me.â
You tilted your head. âYouâve had too much caffeine.â
He chuckled, soft and low, before taking another drag. âOr maybe not enough of something else.â
The words hung there, casual on the surface, dangerous underneath.
You rolled your eyes but didnât move away. âI know Iâm distracting but you have to focus, boss,â you said, mocking the title just a little.
The air between you shifted, it was now thick, charged, a silent dare neither of you accepted out loud.
Jeonghanâs gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes. âCareful,â he said quietly. âPeople might start thinking you enjoy this too much.â
You met his stare without flinching. âWho says I donât?â
He smirked then, that slow, knowing kind of smirk that had gotten you both in trouble before. You didnât move, didnât need to.
Everything unspoken already hummed between you, alive and dangerous.
Jeonghanâs eyes, dark and fathomless, held yours. There was a weight there, a heat youâd spent years dancing around.
Memories flickered: the clumsy press of fifteen-year-old lips behind the old garage; his patient, intense instruction years later when youâd nervously asked him to âshow you how to kissâ, the lingering touches while passing weapons, the brush of fingers that lasted a heartbeat too long.
Innocent moments loaded with unspoken electricity.
He lifted the cigarette to his lips again. This time, as he inhaled, his gaze dropped to your mouth. Your lips parted slightly on an unsteady breath. He saw it. A low groan escaped him, primal and hungry. He tilted his head back, exhaling a thick plume of smoke towards the ceiling, the cords in his neck standing out.
Then, faster than thought, his free hand shot out, wrapping firmly around the nape of your neck, not painfully but with undeniable possession. He pulled you forward just as he leaned in. Your lips were centimeters apart. His eyes burned into yours, daring you to pull away.
Jeonghan didnât kiss you.
Instead, he parted his own lips and exhaled sharply, forcing the smoke heâd held deep in his lungs directly into your open mouth.
It was intimate.
The acrid taste filled your senses, mingling with the scent of him; bourbon, tobacco, and something uniquely Jeonghan.
Your eyes widened slightly, locked on his as the smoke curled inside you. You held it for a suspended moment, the connection vibrating with years of suppressed desire and shared violence, before slowly exhaling it back towards him, the plume mingling with the air between your almost-touching lips.
The air crackled.
The line wasnât just crossed⌠it was incinerated.
A tremor ran through him.
You saw the raw need flash in his eyes, the carefully constructed control beginning to fray.
Heart hammering, you forced yourself to break the contact, turning sharply back to the desk. Your hands, suddenly clumsy, fumbled with the files. âI⌠I need to go. I still have a lot of things to do.â The words sounded breathless, unconvincing.
âGo?â His voice was dangerously soft. You heard the soft thud as he stubbed out his cigarette. Then, swift and silent, he moved. Not away. Towards.
His arms came around you from behind, caging you against the hard edge of the desk. His body pressed flush against your back, solid, unyielding heat.
You felt the hard ridge of his arousal pressing insistently against the curve of your ass through layers of clothing. His lips brushed the sensitive skin where your neck met your shoulder, sending shivers cascading down your spine.
âYouâre not going anywhere,â he murmured, his voice thick against your skin. One hand slid down from your waist to splay possessively low on your abdomen, pulling you back harder against him. He ground his hips forward, a slow, deliberate roll that drew a sharp gasp from you.
âHanâŚâ you breathed, the protest weak.
You didnât sound guilty.
You sounded wrecked.
âMmh?â He nipped lightly at your shoulder, his other hand moving up to cup your breast through your blouse, his thumb finding your nipple and rubbing it to a hard peak. âTell me this is wrong. Tell me to stop.â His voice was a dark challenge.
You arched back into him instinctively, pushing your ass more firmly against his hardness. A low groan rumbled from his chest. âIt is wrong,â you managed, your own voice husky. âYou have⌠your girlfriendâŚâ
âShe doesnât matter,â he cut in ruthlessly, his hand squeezing your breast, his hips grinding again in a rhythm that was becoming unmistakable. âNot here. Not now.â He rocked against you, the friction deliciously maddening even through clothes. âNot when Iâm buried deep inside this ache Iâve had for you since we were fucking teenagers⌠and since when did you care about whatâs wrong or not?â
He punctuated his words with another sharp thrust of his hips. You moaned, your head falling back against his shoulder. âJeonghan⌠GodâŚâ
âWhatâs wrong?â he taunted softly, biting your earlobe. âWeâve done worse, havenât we, bunny? Weâve put bullets in skulls for less.â His hand on your abdomen slid lower, fingers dipping below the waistband of your trousers, seeking the heat beneath. âWeâve watched men beg for their lives.â His fingers brushed the top of your mound through the damp silk of your panties. You gasped, bucking against his touch.
âThis?â He pressed harder, finding your clit through the fabric and rubbing in tight circles. You cried out, your hand flying back to clutch at his thigh. âThis little sin? This is nothing.â
Jeonghan ground against you relentlessly now, his cock hard and demanding against your ass, his fingers working magic through your panties. The dry humping was building a frantic heat low in your belly. Your breath came in ragged pants that matched his own.
âBut⌠sheâllâŚâ you tried again, the thought fragmented by pleasure.
âShe wonât know,â he growled, his voice guttural with need. He pressed his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. âNo one has to know about how wet you are for me right now.â His fingers pushed aside the barrier of your panties, sliding through your slick folds with a groan of pure greed. âFuck, look at you. Soaked. All for me, bunny.â He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them instantly against that sweet spot.
You arched violently, a loud moan tearing from your throat as pleasure spiked through you. âOh God! Hannie! Yes!â
âThatâs it, baby,â Jeonghan purred against your skin, his fingers pumping ruthlessly while his thumb kept pressure on your clit. His hips never stopped their rhythmic grinding against your ass. âTake it. Take what youâve always wanted from me.â He added a third finger, stretching you, fucking you with his hand while his cock pressed hard against you from behind.
âWe deserve this,â Jeonghan rasped, his own breathing harsh. âAfter everything⌠after everyone weâve buried⌠we deserve this pleasure.â
The sensations were overwhelming; the deep thrust of his fingers, the relentless pressure on your clit, the hard grind of his cock against your ass sending jolts of pleasure and pain through you.
Your moans became continuous, broken pleas and gasps. You pushed back against him wildly, meeting every thrust of his fingers and grind of his hips.
âCome on,â he commanded, his voice rough with strain. He bit down on your shoulder blade. âCome for me. Show me how good it feels when I finally touch you like this.â He curled his fingers harder, pressed his thumb down fiercely. âLet go for me, baby. Let me feel you come around my fingers.â
The command, the relentless stimulation, the sheer taboo intensity of it shattered you.
A high-pitched cry ripped from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, violent and all-consuming. Your inner muscles clenched and fluttered around his invading fingers as wave after wave of blinding pleasure rolled through you. Your legs trembled violently, and you sagged back against him, held upright only by his iron grip around your waist and the pressure of his body pinning you to the desk.
He held you through it, fingers still buried deep inside you, prolonging the tremors with slow pulses of his hand while you gasped and shuddered against him. As the last tremors subsided, he slowly withdrew his fingers.
You felt him bring them to his lips, heard the soft, obscene sound as he sucked them clean.
âPerfect,â he murmured darkly against your damp neck. His own hips gave a final, frustrated grind against your ass before he stilled, breathing heavily. His arms tightened around you for a moment longer, a possessive anchor in the storm theyâd created, before he slowly released his hold.
The sudden lack of his heat felt like a physical blow. The silence in the office now held a different weight, heavy with satisfaction, thick with sin, and crackling with the knowledge that a line had not just been crossed, but obliterated.
And when you finally gathered yourself and turned to leave his office, you caught his reflection in the glass watching you go, the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips that said he knew exactly what he was doing.
The world outside Jeonghanâs office felt different, sharper. The air tasted of illicit sweetness, a flavor you craved. You walked away, hips swaying with a newfound confidence, a secret smile playing on your lips.
He watched you, you knew. He always watched you.
And the knowledge thrilled you, a dangerous current flowing beneath your skin.
You would like to think that this would be a one time affair but you knew, the second you saw the smirk on your best friendâs face that he wouldnât be letting you go anytime soon⌠and you werenât complaining.
You remember the places, the lies, the sheer, reckless need that obliterated everything else, including the lack of guilt.
After a messy interrogation regarding the organizationâs missing shipments, you and Jeonghan found yourselves in his penthouse for a âdebriefingâ that only requested your presence.
Blood still faintly under your nails, adrenaline singing. He poured whiskey, your fingers brushed the glass. His gaze, always simmering, boiled over.
His hand was already under your skirt before you knew it, fingers buried deep inside you as you straddled his lap on the leather couch, your blouse ripped open. His mouth was hot and demanding on your breast, teeth grazing your nipple. âFuck, finally,â he growled against your skin, his hips bucking up, driving his cock impossibly deeper where your bodies joined.
âIâll never get tired of you. After years of watching you, wanting you... pretending with other women." His free hand gripped your ass, pulling you down harder onto him. âYou feel like fucking mine.â
There was no pretense of tenderness, only raw, claiming possession. The only excuse was the lingering violence in the air and the unspoken truth, We deserve this.
At some point during the âdebriefâ your palms were splayed against the chilled glass, breath fogging it. Jeonghan stood behind you, one hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. He drove into you relentlessly, the reflection in the glass showing his dark eyes locked on yours, his jaw clenched.
âLook at us,â he rasped, his thrusts jarring you against the unyielding surface. âLook at this fucking city beneath us. Itâs ours. Youâre mine.â He leaned close, his lips brushing your ear. âEvery girl I fucked... every single one... I picked because they had your eyes, or your hair, or the fucking curve of your waist.â
A harsh laugh came out of Joenghanâs mouth, âNarin only lasted because she looks the most like you in the dark. But sheâs a fucking ghost compared to you. A bore. She could never be this. She could never be you, baby.â He punctuated each word with a brutal thrust.
âNever feel like this.â
The vastness of the city mirrored the vastness of your shared sin.
One time, Jeonghan had fabricated a security alert with you who was supposed to be reviewing files.
But instead you were bent over his massive mahogany desk, papers scattering. His hand pressed between your shoulder blades, pinning you.
Jeonghan fucked you from behind, hard and fast, the only sounds the slap of skin, your choked gasps, and the rhythmic creak of the desk.
âF-Fuckâ Hannie.â
âTell me,â he demanded, his voice thick with exertion and lust. âTell me you thought about me too. Tell me you touched yourself imagining this.â His fingers dug into your hip. âAll those nights... my hand wasn't enough. Had to find pale imitations... echoes of you.â
He leaned over you, his chest pressed against your back. âBut they were never enough. Only you. Only fucking you.â
Then there was that time in the training room.
During one of your training sessions in the training room, post-sparring, sweat-slicked and buzzing. A grappling move was held too long, the both of your eyes locking.
Sooner than later, Jeonghan had you pinned against the padded wall, your leg hooked over his hip. He was buried deep inside you, his sweat mingling with yours, the scent of exertion and sex thick in the air.
Your hands scrabbled against his damp tank top. "Shouldn't... someone could..." you gasped, even as you arched into him.
Jeonghan laughed, dark and humorless, biting your shoulder. âLet them see,â he challenged, thrusting harder. âLet them see how pretty you are and how good I make you feel.â His hand slid down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough circles.
âWe've killed for territory, for less than this thrill,â he breathed against your neck.
Jeonghan was insatiable because the day after that in the gun range where you busied yourself checking new weapons and firing a few rounds, it wasnât long before Jeonghan found you, took one look at you, and had you behind the soundproofed partition, he had you turned around, your hands braced against the cold concrete wall beside the bullet-scarred target. The acrid smell of gunpowder mixed with the musk of sex.
Your psycho of a best friend fucked you with the same ruthless efficiency he handled his weapon, deep, measured strokes designed for maximum impact. The rhythmic gunfire from the other lanes masked your stifled cries.
âHear that?â he murmured, his lips against your ear, his hips snapping against your ass. âThat's the sound of our world. Loud. Demanding.â He slid a hand around your front, fingers dipping into your wetness, then circling your clit. âBut this... this silence between the shots... this is where I find you.â His thumb pressed hard. âWhere I own you.â
The proximity to death only heightened the life in the stolen moment.
Then when two of you finally found it in yourselves to be productive and actually talking about business in the conference room, you found yourself mesmerized by him, your eyes drifting all over his body as they spoke about logistics and courses of actions for the next interrogation.
But you werenât listening, not really. All you could think of was how good it would feel if you were riding your best friendâs cock right now while heâs in a suit.
And one of the things people should know, is that Yoon Jeonghan gave you anything and everything you wanted.
Which is why you were straddling him in the high-backed leather chair at the head of the long, polished table. His pants were pushed down, yours shoved aside.
You rode Jeonghan slowly, deeply, your skirt pooled around your waist making you throw your head back at the sensation, âAhâ f-fuck, you feel so good inside me, Hannie.â
You could do this for the rest of your life. The feeling of Jeonghanâs thick cock sliding inside of you whilst his warm hands caressed your body all over made you moan harder, in fact, you didnât care anymore if anyone walked into the room and saw you two.
You wanted people to see. You wanted everyone, especially that bitch Narin to see you riding her boyfriendâs dick and making him feel good which is why when Jeonghanâs phone started ringing you immediately breathed out and eyed Jeonghan.
âAnswer it.â
Jeonghan eyed you up and down for a a few seconds before he chuckled and pulled his phone up to his ear.
âNarin,â he said, his voice utterly flat, devoid of any warmth, even as his eyes burned into yours, dark with lust. His hands gripped your hips, silently urging you faster. âMmhm. Fine. Whatever you think best.â
You bit your lip, suppressing a moan as you sank down deeper into him completely, feeling him twitch inside you.
You rocked your hips, a slow, deliberate grind. Jeonghanâs jaw tightened, but his voice remained chillingly indifferent. âNo. Not tonight. Tied up.â
You leaned forward, your breasts brushing his chest, and kissed his neck, your tongue tracing his pulse point.
A faint gasp escaped him.
You were so close to Jeonghan that you heard Narin through phone, ââŚJeonghan? Are you even listening? Youâre so busy these days, I rarely see you.â
He met your gaze, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. âI said I'm busy, Narin. Don't call again.â
Jeonghan ended the call and tossed the phone onto the table with a clatter. The cold indifference vanished, replaced by feral heat. âFucking ride me faster, bunny,â he snarled, bucking his hips up, his hands clamping onto your ass. âLet them hear you scream through the fucking walls.â
You laughed then, a silent, breathless chuckle of pure, shared wickedness as you obeyed, moving faster, taking him deeper, the polished table reflecting your tangled, sinful form.
The ultimate betrayal wasn't just physical, it was the utter contempt in his dismissal of her while buried inside you.
Each location, each frantic coupling, each lie told and boundary shattered, is a proof to a hunger that eclipsed morality.
Jeonghanâs words, whispered against sweat-slicked skin or growled amidst thrusts, were vows sharper than any ring; You were his obsession, his benchmark, his ultimate prize claimed after years of settling for shadows.
And you? You revelled in it.
The danger, the possession, the sheer wrongness of it all was the purest adrenaline.
Guilt was for the weak.
Shame was for those who hadn't spilled blood under moonlight.
Youâd both done far worse than fuck.
This wasn't sin, it was destiny, finally seized in the dark corners of the empire you were born to rule together.
The affair was a declaration written in sweat, whispers, and the cold dismissal of anyone who dared stand between you.
v. CLOSE ENOUGH TO BURN
You walk into the courtyard as if you belong to the sun itself, though the heat does nothing to soften the shape of what this meeting will be.
The back yard of the compound is wide enough to host half the city and still feel private: gravel underfoot, palms trimmed to neat silhouettes, the terraces of the house crowding the space like watchful sentries.
Men and women who answer to Jeonghan stand in tidy clusters, faces trained to blankness, hands folded or idly resting on gun belts. The air smells faintly of diesel and lemon oil from the cars.
Even on a bright day, the mood is a shadow.
You keep your sunglasses on until the last step, the dark lenses reflecting everything and nothing. They hide the glint in your eyes, the small flare of satisfaction that has nothing to do with the sun.
Beside you, Jeonghan is composed in the way he is when everything must be exact with his shirt sleeves rolled, posture casual but hard as iron. He watches the crowd with that stillness he keeps for important things, then gives you the smallest tilt of the chin.
You slide into place at his side.
Your eyes move across the line of faces until they stop on himâ Mark.
Heâs been with you long enough to know the ritual and too new to have the armor the elders wear. Mid-thirties, a hard jaw wired to a cocky smile, the kind of man who thinks his luck is permanent. Heâs the shipment foreman who handled the docks, one of the few people who touched the pallets before they disappeared.
Today he looks⌠exposed.
Not yet terrified, just surprised, which is a worse look than fear.
Jeonghan calls the gathering to order with the economy of a man who has no time for small talk. His voice is flat, authoritative. People fall into silence like metal settling into place.
âWe had a problem,â he says. His words are not a question. âShipments went missing. Our routes were compromised. That is not acceptable.â
You watch how the room inhales.
Nobody moves.
They all know what missing product means in a business that runs on precision and reputation.
âWe tightened custody,â he continues, voice slow and deliberate. âTwo-person sign-offs. Live feeds at handoff. Biometric controls on manifest edits. We rerouted sensitive loads to the secondary yard. We did everything right. But someone took our material anyway. Someone inside knew how to look like us and move like us.â
Jeonghan stops, lets the accusation hang. And then he names what you already suspected, âWe set a decoy to bait the leak. We flagged a pallet with a tracer. Joshua and Jun followed it to an extraction point. They saw the handoff. They traced the payment streams. They followed the logistics that fed the fake manifests.â
You feel the room tighten because everyone knows the next sentence is the part where the empire shows teeth, where consequence becomes visible.
Jeonghan nods once toward Joshua. The man steps forward without hesitation, his expression is controlled but loaded. He motions and two boots move like trained puppets. Jun and another pair of men peel through the crowd and come for Mark like predators closing a circuit. There is no hesitation in their hands.
They do not theatrically drag him; they take him with the efficiency of people who practice the same movement a thousand times.
Markâs surprise finally reaches his face when a hand locks behind his neck and heâs pushed down to his knees on the gravel. Rough cords bind his arms and legs, quick, professional, designed to immobilize without tearing. He struggles, the sound of it small in the hush, and then the ropes pull snug.
The crowd watches, silent as a jury.
âMark,â Joshua says, voice low enough to be private and loud enough to cut through the open air. âYou want to tell them why you helped move a shipment out of our chain of custody?â
Mark lashes out with panic. âWhat? I didnât, I swear! Youâre crazy! It wasnât me! I didnât do anything! I swearââ His words tumble, pleading, the bravado all collapsed into raw denial.
Jun presses a knee near his shoulder to stabilize him so Mark canât lever himself up. âItâs not a game, Mark,â Jun says. âDonât make it worse.â
You watch Markâs face like you read pages. Heâs good at pretending confidence, bad at making it last. Around you there are faces youâve known since childhood, men who have seen worse and who understand the arithmetic of punishment.
They watch quietly, some look curious, others oddly distant; all of them waiting for the calibration of blame.
Jeonghanâs voice cuts through the tension, measured, cold. âWe made this decision because we didnât want the council to panic.â He lets the phrase sit. âWe handled it without taking it public. We baited the line and watched who took it. Joshua and Jun found the pickup. Mark signed for the trailer. The GPS went dead for twelve minutes on his run. The manifest was altered at the inland terminal after his pickup. The seals were replaced with company-standard tape. He didnât move product for his own pockets. He moved it for somebody who wanted it whole and unmarked.â
Mark splutters again, âYou donât understand. I was set up. I was paid by a courier, a man I trust. They told me to route a pallet to a secondary lot and I thought it was a re-route because of customs. They had me sign the papers, everything looked okay. I swearââ His voice is raw now, fear pushing out the cockiness.
âWho paid the courier?â You asks, voice neutral.
The question is not rhetorical.
Markâs face goes blank. He looks like a man who really doesnât know the answer and yet he knows the consequences of admitting that. âI donât know. It was a burner. I just handled the load I was told. I swear.â
You catch Narin at the edge of the crowd. Her hands twist the strap of her purse. Sheâs supposed to be composed, the girlfriend who invited herself into a world she cannot control. Instead sheâs plainly frightened, eyes darting between Markâs bound form and Jeonghanâs impassive face. She had inserted herself into meetings, tried to learn the vocabulary of the room, to belong.
Today she looks small in a way that makes you feel giddy for reasons you do not announce.
Jeonghan watches Mark for a long beat, then addresses the gathered ranks again with the cool appraisal of a man performing a function that demands no sentiment. âWe will run this to ground. We will find the financiers, the drop points, the relay network. We will trace payments through shell accounts and away from our vendors. If Mark is lying about being set up, we will know soon enough from the ledger and the phone calls. If he isnât lying, then whoever used him will lead us to a larger network.â
Mark screams again, a higher pitch now. âItâs not me! You have to believe me!â He settles into frantic bargaining that will buy him minutes if he can keep anyone believing.
Your eyes flick briefly to Jeonghan, who's still got that iron composure, his voice cutting through the tension as he presses Mark. âYou're wasting time, Mark,â Jeonghan says, his tone flat and unyielding, like a blade scraping against stone. âWho paid the courier? Give us names, routes⌠don't make this drag on longer than it has to.â
Mark's on his knees, ropes biting into his wrists, his face slick with sweat that's not just from the heat. He's sputtering denials, his voice cracking like dry twigs. âI told you, I don't know! It was just a job, some anonymous drop. Please, man, you gotta believe me!â
You ignore the back-and-forth for a moment, your focus shifting to the bar at the far end of the courtyard. It's a sleek setup, polished wood gleaming under the sun, stocked with bottles that catch the light like jewels in a thief's haul.
You walk towards it with slow, deliberate steps, your sunglasses still perched on your nose, hiding the calculating glint in your eyes.
The world around you blurs, the murmurs of the crowd, the rustle of fabric as people shift uncomfortably but you're untouchable here, the only one who can wander like this without Jeonghan's glare turning lethal.
Your boots scuff the gravel, kicking up small clouds of dust that settle lazily in the still air, and you feel the weight of eyes on you, curious but detached, like they're watching a storm brew from a safe distance.
Reaching the bar, you run your fingers along the edge, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat radiating off your skin. You grab the whole bottle of whisky, the glass is heavy in your hand, promising that burn you crave. You pour a shot into a glass, the liquor glugging out with a thick, satisfying glug-glug, and toss it back in one smooth motion.
The whisky hits your throat like fire, searing its way down, warming your chest and sharpening your focus. You savor the raw, peaty taste for a second, the burn lingering on your tongue, before you discard the glass.
With the bottle now in hand, you tilt it to your lips and take a long, greedy swig. The liquor flows down, hot and unfiltered, making your veins hum with a buzz that edges out the day's frustration.
âAhh,â you grunt softly to yourself, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling the sticky residue on your lips.
You don't rush back; instead, you linger for a beat, letting the scene play out behind you, Jeonghan's voice rising slightly as he circles Mark. âYou're lying through fucking your teeth,â Jeonghan growls, his words clipped and precise. âWe have the manifests, the GPS logs. Talk, or this gets uglier than you.â
Mark's voice is a desperate whine now, âI'm not lying! It was a setup, I swear on my life! Just let me explain!â
Finally, you turn and saunter back towards the group, bottle swinging loosely in your grip, your steps measured and unhurried. The courtyard feels smaller with every stride, the heat pressing in, but you're cool as ice, the whisky fueling that detached calm.
Jeonghan glances at you briefly, his expression unchanging, but you catch the subtle nod; he's handing the reins your way soon enough.
As you approach, you spot Joshua off to the side, his face a mask of controlled intensity, arms crossed like he's ready for whatever comes next.
You jadedly extend the bottle towards Joshua, your voice a low, gravelly drawl as you say, âHere, take a fucking hit. This shit's too good to waste.â
Joshua smirks at you, that crooked grin flashing across his face, and grabs the bottle with a firm hand. âAppreciate it,â he replies, his tone laced with dark humor, before tipping it back for a sip.
âDamn, that's smooth,â he adds, his voice rough around the edges.
While Joshua holds the bottle, you fish a cigarette from your pocket with your free hand, the pack crinkling under your fingers. You light it with a quick flick of your lighter, click-hiss, the flame dancing in the sunlight as you draw in a deep lungful.
The smoke curls up, warm and acrid, filling your senses as you exhale slowly, the gray tendrils twisting into the air. Your other hand toys with the lighter, flipping it open and closed with absent-minded clicks, click-click, the metal cool against your skin, a tic that keeps you grounded.
By now, Jeonghan's interrogation has hit a wall.
Mark's still denying everything, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. âI don't know anything else! Please, just stop!â
Jeonghan eyes you then, that silent signal passing between you like it always does, a tilt of his chin, the barest flicker in his gaze.
Everyone there knows what it means; the air thickens with anticipation, and Mark's eyes snap to you, wide with dawning fear, his body tensing against the ropes.
You move closer to him, cigarette dangling from your lips, smoke trailing behind you like a ghost. The gravel shifts under your boots as you circle him slowly, your shadow falling over his face, making him flinch. You're calm, voice steady and low, contrasting his desperation.
âAlright, Mark,â you say, exhaling a plume of smoke that wafts towards him, âlet's cut the bullshit. Who helped you? Who fed you the orders for those shipments?â
Mark's breathing comes in ragged gasps, his face flushed and sweaty, eyes darting around like a cornered animal. âI-I don't know what you're talking about! Nobody helped me, it was just a mistake!â His voice cracks, pitching higher with panic, and you can see the fear sweating out of him, beads rolling down his forehead.
You take another drag, the cigarette glowing red, and blow the smoke directly into his face, making him cough and turn his head.
âMistake, huh? That's cute,â you reply, your tone mocking, almost bored. âWe both know that's horse shit. Spill itâ who's your contact? Give me names, routes, the whole fucked-up mess.â
He's trembling now, ropes creaking as he strains against them. âFuck you, bitch! I don't have to tell you anything! You think you can scare me?â His words are bravado mixed with terror, but you see the way his lips quiver.
You chuckle softly, stepping even closer, the tip of your boot nudging his knee. âScare you? Nah, I'm just getting started,â you say, your voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. âWho helped you, Mark? Don't make me ask again.â
Mark's eyes are wild, his voice rising in a desperate plea. âPlease, just leave me alone! I didn't do it! I'm not saying shit!â He's gasping for air, his body jerking futilely.
The back-and-forth drags on, the crowd watching in silence, their faces a mix of curiosity and indifference, like they're observing a routine spectacle.
You press harder, already losing patience, âCome on, you piece of shit, talk. Who fed you the info? Was it one of our own? Give me something real, or this ends badly for you.â
Mark's response is a broken sob, âYou can't prove anything! I swear, it's not me!â His words tumble out faster, laced with fear, âJust kill me already! I'd rather die than rot in some hole!â
You pause, letting his words hang in the heavy air, then lean in, your voice cold and unflinching. âOh, you'd rather die than tell the truth, huh? Not scared to die, are you? Donât want to rot in a hole? That's rich, coming from a rat like you.â
Mark glares up at you, defiance flickering through the fear. âYeah, that's right! Do it! fucking kill me! I ain't fucking talking!â
You straighten up, taking another drag of your cigarette, the ember flaring brightly. âHow about if someone dies in your place?â you say, your tone casual, like you're discussing the weather. âMaybe that'll loosen that tongue of yours.â
His eyes widen, but before he can respond, you turn away, scanning the crowd. Your gaze locks on Sydney, the tech whiz who's been hovering at the edge, her fingers twitching nervously. She's mid-twenties, sharp-eyed usually, but right now, she looks pale and out of place in her fitted shirt and jeans, like she didn't expect to be pulled into this.
You move towards her with purposeful strides, the cigarette still burning in your hand. Grabbing her by the hair, your fingers tangle in the strands roughly, yanking her forward as she yells in surprise. âWhat the fuckâlet go of me!â she screams, her voice high and panicked, struggling against your grip, her feet scraping the gravel as you drag her. âStop! Ow, you're hurting me, get off!â
You shove her in front of Mark, her body stumbling to a halt, breath coming in sharp gasps. She winces, trying to pull away, but your hand stays firm on her shoulder.
Mark's face twists in horror, his eyes bulging. âSydney? No, leave her out of this!â
You lean in close, your voice a menacing growl. âOh, I know all about you two, Mark. Dating the tech girl, huh? Real smart. Since you're okay with dying instead of talking, maybe she can die in your place. How's that sound?â
Mark's pleading now, his voice cracking. âNo, please! She's got nothing to do with this⌠you can't!â
You pull your gun from the holster with a smooth motion, the metal cool in your hand as you reload it, click-clack, the sound echoing in the courtyard.
Pressing the barrel to Sydney's forehead, she freezes, her eyes wide with terror, whimpering, âOh God, noâ please, don't!â
Mark yells, âStop! Don't hurt her, she's innocent! You fucking monster, let her go!â
âYou know what to do, Mark. All you have to do is talk.â You reminded him.
But Mark calls your bluff, his voice shaking but defiant. âYou wouldn't hurt an innocent and loyal member. Sydney's good at her job, you'll never find another one like her if you kill her!â
You stay silent for a second, letting the tension build, the crowd's breaths holding steady.
Then, without a word, you pull the trigger.
Bang!
Bang!
Two shots ripping through the air.
Sydney screams, a raw, piercing wail that echoes off the walls, âAaaah! Oh fuck, stop!â as she drops to the ground, clutching her legs, blood seeping into the gravel, her body writhing in agony.
You near Mark, gun still in hand, growling low, âThere, she's still got working hands, doesn't she? Sheâll die when I want her to. She will live if I want her to. Sheâll work if I want her to. Everyone's replaceable, including you. You don't call the shots here, so stop messing around before I put a fucking bullet through your girlfriend's head for real.â
You aim the gun at Sydney on the ground, her sobs mixing with the wet sounds of her pain, âShe's bleeding out, but hey, techies are a dime a dozen.â
Mark breaks, his face crumpling, voice frantic. âOkay, fuck, okay! It was the rival gang, the fucking Park syndicate ordered it! They paid me to reroute the shipments, drop points at the old warehouse on 5th, payments through offshore accounts!â
He spills everything, words pouring out in a rush as everyone listens, the crowd's silence unbroken. âThey planned to hit our next big load, ambush at the docks next week, bribe one of the guards there, Jake, to let them in. They're stockpiling our shit to undercut our prices⌠it's all set for tomorrow night!â
You smirk, holstering your gun with a satisfied grunt. âGood, that's more like it. See? That wasnât so hard,â you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
Then, you lean in close, taking a final drag of your cigarette and blowing the smoke right into his face, making him cough. âOne last thing⌠who else did you work with in here? Who's the other rat?â
Mark hesitates, then whimpers, âI-I don'tâ itâs just me, I swear that's all!â
You had told Jeonghan weeks ago there were multiple rats. He had agreed. Now one of them was cuffed and dragged across your gravel like a lesson, lying to your face.
You know he's lying for a fact, his eyes dart too much, his voice hitches on the names he spat out, like he's fishing for a way out.
Your hand twitches on the gun still warm from its last use, and without a word, you pivot slightly, your boot grinding into the gravel with a harsh crunch, and aim down at Sydney on the ground. She's writhing in a pool of her own blood, her legs mangled and useless, whimpering pathetically, âNo... please... I didn't... ahh, no, it hurts so bad...â
But you don't hesitate.
Bang!
The shot rips through the air, the bullet tearing into her chest with a wet, thudding impact, her body jerking violently as blood sprays outward in a crimson arc, splattering the gravel and flecking your boots.
Mark's reaction is immediate and feral; he lets out a guttural scream that echoes off the palm trees, âYou fucking bitch! You killed her, you goddamn monster!âHis body bucks against the ropes, the cords digging into his skin with a sharp riiiip as he struggles, veins bulging in his neck, face contorted in rage and terror.
âI'll kill you for this! You sick fuckâahh, fuck you! Let me go, you fucking coward!â He thrashes wildly, gravel scraping under his knees, his words tumbling out in a frantic, hate-filled barrage, âYou're nothing but a lapdog for Yoon Jeonghanâpiece of shit! I'll make you pay if it's the last thing I do!â
You turn back to Mark slowly, your expression unchanging, the gun still smoking in your hand as you tut softly, a low, mocking sound that vibrates in your throat.
Your voice is calm, edged with that cold satisfaction, as you say, âThat's what happens when you lie to me, you worthless sack of shit. Thought you'd get away with half-truths? Now look⌠your girl's gone, and itâs all your fault. You're next if you don't start singing.â
You emphasize each word with a slight wave of the gun, the metal glinting in the sunlight, your tone dripping with disdain, âYou had your chance to play straight, but no, you had to be a dumb fuck. Poor Sydney died knowing itâs your fault that you dragged her into this mess. Hope it was worth it.â
Mark's chest heaves, his face a mask of sweat and blood spatter from Sydney's final moments, but you don't give him time to wallow. You step closer, your shadow falling over him like a shroud, and lean in just enough to make him flinch.
Your voice drops to a dangerous whisper, laced with threat, âThis is the last time I'm gonna ask, Mark. Who else in this organization do you work with? Spill it all, names, plans, every dirty little detail or I swear, I'll make sure you join her in pieces.â You pause, letting the words sink in, your eyes boring into his, âDon't fuck this up again. Who's the rat besides you?â
But Mark's fear twists into something ugly⌠defiance, maybe, or just pure spite.
He lets out a harsh, barking laugh right in your face, the sound ragged and broken, spit flying from his lips as he glares up at you. âHa! You're bold as hell thinking I'd say shit now that you've killed Sydney, you twisted cunt. What's next? Torture me more? Go ahead! I'm not telling you jack. You think I'm scared? You've already taken everything!â His laughter turns manic, echoing in the courtyard, âYou're all talk and bloodâfucking psychopath! I hope you choke on it!â
You nod slowly, a wry smile tugging at your lips as you straighten up, turning away from him with that unhurried confidence.
The crowd watches, their breaths shallow, as you stride over to Joshua, who's standing there with his arms crossed, that same smirk playing on his face like he's enjoying the show. You grab the bottle of whiskey from his hand, the glass cool and slick under your fingers, and take a swig as you mutter, âFigured you'd say that, you stubborn prick. Always the hard way with you fucking people.â
The liquor burns down your throat in a fiery rush, warming your insides as you swallow deeply, then pull the bottle away with a satisfied grunt, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before turning back to Mark.
You eye him with a predatory gaze, the cigarette still smoldering between your fingers, and say in a low, dismissive drawl, âGuess there's no use for you anymore, huh? You're just dead weight now⌠literally.â Your words hang heavy, laced with finality, as you take another swig from the bottle, the amber liquid sloshing inside.
Mark's eyes widen in terror, his bravado cracking as he struggles harder against the ropes, the cords straining with a creaking snap. He yells right in your face as you lean down to his level, his breath hot and foul against your skin, âWhat the fuck do you mean? You crazy bitch, don't you dare! I'll fucking end youâahh, get away from me! You're a sadistic whore, that's what you are! Psycho killerâlet me go, you cunt!â His voice rises to a scream, spittle flying, âYou're nothing without Jeonghan, you fucking lapdog! I'll haunt you, you hear me?â
You take a long, deliberate swig from the whiskey as he rants on, his words blurring into a furious tirade, âYou think you're tough? You're just a thug with a gun! Fuck you and your boss!â
The liquor sits heavy in your mouth, and with a quick motion, you spit it directly into his face, the alcohol splashing across his skin in a stinging spray, making him gasp and choke, his words cutting off mid-sentence.
You cackle in amusement, the sound low and mocking, echoing in the tense air as you say, âOh, shut the fuck up, you whiny piece of trash. Thought you'd never stop yapping⌠and I thought you wanted to die?â
But as Mark starts cursing again, his voice hoarse and enraged, âYou filthy bitch, I'll rip your throat out if I get free!â, you tilt the bottle and pour the entire contents over him in one smooth, relentless stream, glug-glug-glug, the expensive whiskey drenching his hair, face, and clothes, the sharp, peaty scent filling the air as it soaks into his skin, making him sputter and twist away.
Before he can open his mouth again, you swing the heavy, now-empty glass bottle like a bat, the impact connecting with his head in a sickening crash, shards exploding outward in a shower of glittering fragments.
Blood erupts from the gash on his scalp, warm and sticky, as he lets out a guttural groan, âUghhâfuck!â, his body going limp and collapsing to the gravel like a rag doll, landing hard on his side with a thud, the ground staining red beneath him.
You take one last drag of your cigarette, the ember glowing bright as you inhale deeply, then puff the smoke directly into his face, the gray tendrils swirling around him as he coughs weakly. Crouching down to his level, the gravel digging into your knees, you grab him by the collar, yanking his face close to yours, and with your free hand, you remove your sunglasses, sliding them up onto your head so he can see your eyes that were cold, unyielding, and full of promise.
You smile, a slow, predatory grin, and say in a voice that's almost tender, âI want to be the last thing you ever see, Mark. Remember this face, it's the one sending you to hell.â
You hold his gaze for a beat, letting the words sink in, before smiling wider and standing back up, the sunglasses perched like a crown on your head.
Everyone present tenses, expecting the quick end, the pull of your gun, a shot to the head but what you do is so much worse, so viscerally final.
You pull out your lighter again, the metal cool in your palm as you start flicking it open and closed, click-hiss, click-hiss, the flame dancing tauntingly, your smile growing as you watch the fear and understanding dawn in Mark's eyes, his pupils dilating in horror.
Your eyes flick towards Jeonghan, who's watching you with an amused glint, his posture relaxed but his gaze hungry, raking over you up and down like you're the main event. He's turned on, no doubt about it, his breath a little shallower, a subtle bulge in his pants that he doesn't bother hiding, and he nods once, a silent permission that sends a thrill through you, his voice a low murmur to himself, âFuck, you're incredible.â
You smirk, the lighter still in hand, and with a final flick⌠hiss, you light it fully before tossing it casually onto Mark's whiskey-drenched form.
The flames erupt instantly, engulfing him in a roaring inferno, the alcohol fueling the fire as it licks up his body with a whooshing fwoosh.
Mark's screams pierce the air, raw and agonizing, âAaaah! Oh God, noâfuck! It hurts, fuck, help me! Aaaahhh!â His body convulses, the flames charring his skin, the sickening sizzle of flesh filling the courtyard as he thrashes, âMake it stop, please! Ahhhhhh!"
You take one last drag of your cigarette, the smoke filling your lungs with a final, satisfying burn, before flicking it into the fire, the ember sparking as it lands.
Turning away, you spot Narin at the edge of the crowd, her face pale and twisted in fear, eyes locked on you like you're a demon incarnate. You smirk at her, pulling your sunglasses back down over your eyes with a smooth motion, and strut back towards the mansion, your boots crunching confidently on the gravel, leaving the chaos behind.
Jeonghan falls into step behind you, his presence a heated shadow, and as the screams fade into the distance, you both slip into his car parked in the shade.
The drive is short, but Jeonghan can't wait as usual, his hands are on you the moment the door slams shut, the engine barely humming to life before he's grabbing your thigh, his voice a rough growl, âFuck, you're everything I wanted, always have been, baby.â
He pulls you into a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as he drives one-handed, the car swerving slightly on the private road.
By the time you reach one of your many mansions, he's frantic, yanking you out and pinning you against the car hood, his cock already hard and straining against his pants. He rips at your clothes, buttons flying, and thrusts into you without preamble, the hot metal of the hood pressing into your back as he pounds you relentlessly.
You moan loudly, âOh fuck, Hannie, harder, yes!â, your nails digging into his shoulders as he grunts with each thrust, âUghh, shit, you're so tight, take it, baby.â
He fucks you in oblivion right there, his hips slamming into yours with wet slap-slap sounds, your cries echoing in the empty driveway until you both climax, your body shuddering under him.
But he's not done, dragging you inside, he shoves you onto the kitchen counter, papers and bottles scattering with a clatter. He strips you fully this time, his mouth on your neck as he enters you again, the cool marble under your ass contrasting the heat of his body.
âGod, you're perfect for me,â he groans, his thrusts deep and rhythmic, âMoaning for me like thatâughh, fuck yes, bunny.â
You arch your back, gasping, âAhh, Han, don't stop, fuck me harder!â, the counter shaking with the force, your juices mixing as he drives you to another peak, his grunts growing louder, âTake it all, you dirty whoreâahh, fuck!â
Finally, he hauls you to his bed, throwing you down on the sheets with a possessive growl. He ties your wrists to the headboard with his tie, his eyes dark with lust as he teases you first, licking and biting your skin until you're begging.
Then he plunges into you again, the bed creaking under the assault, your moans turning to screams, âAaaah, yes! Hannie, I'm yours!â
He pounds you mercilessly, his hands gripping your hips, âYou're mine, all mine. Fucking made for meâughh, so good, baby,â until you're both spent, collapsing in a sweaty, satisfied heap, the world outside forgotten.
vi. SHE WHO REMAINS
The ledger, the burner traces, the weak points in procurement all said the same thing, one capture would not end this.
For three days you pushed through manifests, cross-referenced vendor payments and skimmed through hours of port footage. Joshua ran physical sweeps while Jun ran tails. Everything threaded back to small signals, movements at odd hours, payments that skimmed off into shadow accounts, and a courier pattern that matched the holes in your shipments.
That morning Joshua sent you a packet with a single note: check the feed in folder C-07.
You opened it at your desk, the compound feeling too quiet for a Tuesday. Your office was the usual, a long table, a bank of monitors, charts pinned on the wall, a coffee gone cold. The laptop hummed. You pulled the CCTV clips up and let them run, frame by frame.
At first it was routine footage, the alley behind a bar on the north route, low-res night cam. Then a hooded courier moves in, exchanges a package with a man inside a black sedan. You slowed the clip and pushed enhancement until the pixels softened into meaning.
Joshua tagged the timestamp and a feed popped up next to it, GPS coordinates of the handoff, a route that matched the empty-container incident two weeks back.
You opened the manifest notes for that date. The pattern fit like a lock into a key.
The second clip arrived while you watched.
It was from a small private camera on a side street near a Park-owned club. The resolution was better. A woman stepped into frame, moved with a rhythm that looked practiced, hands deliberate, not nervous. She scanned the street then met with two men who slid from the shadows like trained silhouettes.
They exchanged papers.
The men left.
The woman stayed, looking around, then slipped back into the club.
Joshuaâs label read: 2025-10-12_0213.
You enhanced again.
You slowed the speed, isolated facial features, played the clip through noise reduction until the edges sharpened.
It was Narin.
You did not feel surprised.
You felt full of cold fury, the kind that sits behind the ribs and makes your voice come out flat.
Narin, the girlfriend who had tried so hard, the woman who wore Jeonghanâs gifts like armor, the one who had been so visibly fragile during Markâs interrogation. She was sloppy enough to meet men on a side street and have it caught on camera.
That made her reckless. Recklessness made her stupid.
You cross-checked her schedule against the Park family contacts Joshua had flagged weeks ago. The numbers matched. The burner connection that showed on the foremanâs phone had pinged through the same relay node that had forwarded a payment to a shell company with links to the Park family. Junâs tails had turned up small drop points in the week after the first missing shipment.
When you connected the dots the map made sense, Mark was a connector. Narin was a relay.
It fit the other pieces too.
The way manifests had been altered at the inland terminal required someone with access and someone who could move in and out without setting off alarms. Narinâs presence at the club offered cover. She came as a girlfriend, she stayed as an observer, and she learned the rhythms. That someone from inside would reach outward for revenge or for leverage was ugly but logical. She had motive and access. She had the fear that could be turned into spite.
You pictured the nights she sat at the back of meetings, taking notes, trying to learn terms, trying to belong.
A woman who wants to be seen will do dangerous things to get attention.
You pulled the audio track, isolated the menâs voices, and fed them through your enhancement software. A name broke through the static, a courier alias that matched the burner number in Markâs call logs. The ledger entries flagged last month now had meaning. A payment had moved through an account that you traced to a front business that subcontracted loading crews.
You opened the vendor contract flagged in June and saw a secondary clause that allowed on-the-fly reroutes under certain codes.
Someone had used that clause to create the parallel channel.
You did not sit with it.
Anger made your hands efficient.
You grabbed the small pistol you kept in the desk drawer. You slid your laptop and phone into your bag. You stepped out of the office faster than the staff expected and moved through the halls with the certainty of someone who knew exactly where everyone would be.
The conference room sat along the eastern wing, glass looking out over the courtyard where Mark had been humiliated days ago.
You did not bother to knock.
You strode into the room, anger radiating from every pore.
Everyone's eyes shifted to you, the gun in your hand gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Joshua sat across from where you stood, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, he knew exactly what he was doing when he handed you that evidence. While Jeonghan watched you calmly from his seat, knowing that you wouldn't cause a scene without good reason. His gaze flicked to Narin, once he saw the permanent glare you had on the girl, and he knew instantly what it meant.
Narin didn't meet your eyes as you plugged in your laptop and let the video play on the projector screen.
The room fell silent as they watched Narin, the boss's girlfriend, revealed as the cheap snitch she truly was. Her eyes darted around the room, her hands shaking as she tried to speak over the sound of her own breathing.
The video ended, leaving an uncomfortable stillness hanging in the air.
Jeonghan spoke first to you, his voice eerily calm yet manic. âI should have known the second you brought it up months ago. I should have trusted my gut and killed her there and then.â His words hung heavy in the room, each one a blow to Narin's shattered dignity.
âI'm sorry! Iâm sorry, babe!â She cried, the desperation in her voice thick. âI was just jealous of her, I was blinded by anger... I didn't do anything more than that!I promise!â Her words were punctuated by sobs as she knelt on the ground, begging for her life.
You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Narinâs pathetic excuses. She wanted to be one of them so badly that she sold them out for a taste of power. âPlease, don't kill me,â she begged, tears streaming down her face. âI'm sorry⌠Jeonghan, babe, Iâm sorry. Please!â
Jeonghan merely tutted at her pleas before giving you a look that said it was okay. You nodded, cocking your pistol and shooting her once in a spot that wouldn't kill her immediately but would make her bleed slowly. Her scream cut through the silence like a knife, ringing in your ears long after it faded away.
âEverybody out!â Jeonghan ordered everyone in the room which you knew exempted you.
Everyone scattered out of the conference room immediately as soon as Jeonghan finished his order, leaving you and Jeonghan alone with a slowly dying Narin on the ground.
You watched Narin bleed out, taking a moment to revel in the sense of satisfaction washing over you.
It was exactly as you wanted it, no immediate end for her, just a slow, agonizing demise. You couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph, knowing that it finally led to this moment, and now Narin would have to witness the power of her anger towards her.
âHan,â you said, your voice sultry and dripping with an almost childlike demand. âI want to show her... I want to show Narin that you're mine.â
Jeonghan's smirk was instantaneous, a low chuckle escaping him as he looked at you, his gaze appreciative. âDirty fucking girl,â he murmured, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek before pulling you into a rough, messy kiss.
The taste of him was intoxicating, and you melted into the embrace, your hands roaming over his body, craving the feeling of his skin against yours.
As your lips clashed in a frenzy of need and desire, you pushed him down onto his chair, your fingers making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. His chest was bare and warm beneath your touch, and you broke the kiss only to trail your lips down his neck, biting and sucking at the tender skin there.
âYou've been so good to me, Hannie,â you whispered against his skin, your hand slipping down to stroke his growing erection through his pants. âLet's show that bitch just how good you can be for me before she fucking dies.â
With a playful smirk, Jeonghan grasped your wrist and pulled you down to kneel before him. You wasted no time in unbuckling his belt, pulling his pants down along with his underwear, freeing his throbbing cock. Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him deeper, moaning around his length.
âFuck, just like that,â Jeonghan groaned, his hands finding their way into your hair, guiding you with a firm grip. âYou're such a good slut for me, aren't you? Sucking my cock like it's the best thing you've ever tasted.â
You moaned around him, the vibrations sending pleasure through his body. His voice music to your ears, spurring you on as you sucked him deeper, taking him to the back of your throat.
As you bobbed your head, you pulled away before you whined up at Jeonghan, âTell her, Hannie. Tell her about all the times we've fucked behind her back. Make her hear it before she can't anymore.â
Jeonghan's eyes locked onto yours, a wicked glint dancing in them. âNarin,â he called out, his voice laced with lust and triumph. âDo you remember that night at my penthouse when you visited? This pretty girl over here came over a few hours after you lefts and I fucked her stupid. Or how about that afternoon when I cancelled dinner plans with you? We fucked everywhere, just like we're about to do now. And it's all because I love her,â he said, looking down at you with adoration in his eyes.
You giggled as he pulled his cock from your mouth, his hands rough as he pulled you up by your hair. You straddled his lap, rubbing against him, desperate to have him inside you. His hands roamed over your body, tugging at your clothes until you were bare on top of him.
As he entered you, you moaned loudly, arching your back in pleasure. âYes, Han,â you moaned, âI love you tooâso fucking much. Now fuck me like I know only you can.â
He didn't need to be told twice. He lifted you up slightly, positioning you on the edge of the table before diving into you. His thrusts were deep and relentless, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you moaned his name over and over.
The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and his grunts, the slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls.
You could see Narin's dying eyes on you, but you didn't care.
This was all for you, for your pleasure, for your revenge.
As Jeonghan's thrusts became erratic, you knew he was close. âI'm going to come, baby,â he groaned, his hips jerking as he reached his peak. You took everything he had to give, the feeling of his cum warm inside you making you shiver.
But he wasn't done with you yet. He pulled himself out of you, his eyes ravenous as he stared down at your naked body. His hands and mouth were everywhere, kissing and biting at your breasts, your stomach, moving lower to where you were still throbbing from his earlier attention.
His tongue delved between your folds, licking and sucking at your most sensitive spots. You writhed beneath him, your hands finding their way into his hair, urging him on as he brought you to the edge. And then, just as you were about to fall over, he slid two fingers inside you, curling them in that perfect way that had you screaming his name as you came.
Jeonghan then flipped you over onto your stomach, lifting your hips up to meet his thrusts as he entered you from behind. You moaned loudly, your body still trembling from your orgasm as he began to move inside you again.
âAgh! F-FuckâHanâŚâ you threw your head back.
âLook at Narin,â he growled, his hand reaching around to wrap around your throat, pulling your head back so you could see her dying eyes on you. âShe's watching her boyfriend fuck his best friend. Isn't that a beautiful sight?â
You laughed, the sound mingling with your moans as he fucked you hard and fast.
It was a wild, mindless coupling, the both of you lost in the heat of the moment.
And as you stared down at Narin, watching her life slip away with each thrust, you knew that this was the perfect end to your twisted game.
Jeonghan's thrusts were relentless, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. His hand tightened around your throat, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that only spurred you on. You moaned his name, the sound raw and desperate as you felt another orgasm building inside you.
âI'm yours,â you gasped, âI'm yours, Jeonghan. Only yours. Always have been.â
âAnd I'm yours,â he grunted, his hips snapping against yours with a frenzied pace. âAlways yours, my dirty girl.â
His words sent you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that left you breathless. You clung to him, your body trembling as he continued to move inside you, chasing his own release.
With a final thrust, he came, his hot release filling you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, moaning your name like a prayer. His body trembled against yours, the both of you coming down from the high of your intense coupling.
As your breathing slowed, Jeonghan pulled out of you and sat back in his chair, pulling you onto his lap. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both looked down at Narin's lifeless body.
âPerfect,â you whispered, turning your head to press a kiss against Jeonghan's lips. âIt was perfect, just like I imagined it would be.â
Jeonghan's smile was wide and content as he looked down at you. âAnything for you, angel,â he said, his voice full of adoration. âAnything at all.â
You sit there, tangled in Jeonghanâs arms, the scent of smoke, whiskey, blood, and sex still clinging to the air between you. His hand rests loosely against your hip, thumb tracing idle circles against your skin.
The quiet hum of the air conditioner fills the room, broken only by the faint echo of footsteps outside, growing distant until they fade completely.
Across the space, Narinâs body lies still, the lifelessness of her presence almost unreal.
You watch her without emotion, without pity.
Somewhere deep inside, you know something in you died long before this night, maybe the both of you did.
Whatever humanity remained between you and Jeonghan, it was buried years ago beneath loyalty, blood, and the choices you never had time to regret.
And as you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that this was just the beginning of your twisted tale.
The world outside could burn, and neither of you would care. You had each other, like always, that was the only thing that ever truly mattered.
There would be more, so much more, and you couldn't wait to see where your depraved desires would take you next.
vii. EPILOGUE
There are endings born from consequence, and others born from choice.
Yours was always both.
In the end, it was never about right or wrong, only about him.
Yoon Jeonghan, the name that shaped every line you crossed, every part of you that forgot how to turn back.
The world you built together was never meant to last. Too much blood, too much silence, too much of you in him and him in you.
But even as everything burned, neither of you let go.
You held on the only way you knew how, through loyalty, through ruin, through love that no longer knew its limits.
It was never redemption you wanted.
It was him.
And for him, it will always be.
mdni banner: @cafekitsune
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Ëâ¡ ÍÍÍÍâłâĽ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!
⤡ ăFOR HIM, ALWAYS â.á ËËË â in a world built on blood and silence, you were his constant, his weapon, his weakness, his only truth, and every line between duty and desire was drawn in your name. â
âŻâ˘ pairing: yoon jeonghan x f!reader
âŻâ˘ synopsis: Bound by loyalty and stained by sin, you were made for Yoon Jeonghan, and in the end, youâd burn the world for him, always.
âŻâ˘ wc: 16.1k
âŻâ˘ tags: mature themes, explicit sexual themes, mafia!jeonghan, mafia!f!reader, dark!jeonghan, dark romance, childhood best friends to lovers, porn with plot â¸â¸ cws: 18+ mdni, cursing, threats, physical violence, murder, torture, immolation (death by fire), multiple deaths, blood, fighting, arguments, jealousy, emotional cheating, cheating, secret affairs, consumption of alcohol, consumption of drugs, smoking, illegal activity, mafia business talks, guns / weapons, smut, multiple smut scenes, unprotected piv sex (please donât.), intercourse under the influence (alcohol & drugs), sex during a phone call, rough sex, dry humping, praise kink, edging, possession kink, oral, cunnilingus, blowjob, cowgirl, missionary, doggystyle, slight exhibitionism, petnames (baby, bunny, slut & whore), MESSED UP SHIT UNDER THIS (youâve been warned!)
.đĽ Ý Ëđ.⢠ÝË sel speaks â.á i havenât posted on here for a while and i apologize, i have been busy with my main blog :/ i promise that iâm not ignoring you guys over here. anyway, a lot of you want a dark romance / mafia au with our jeonghannie which are seen from these requests here: request 1 & request 2. and honestly, i have no complaints since he is my bias đ¤ so yeah! i hope you little nasties enjoy reading this one!!
There are stories born from loyalty, and others born from ruin.
Yours was always both.
From the beginning, your life was tied to Yoon Jeonghanâs.
You learned early that love and loyalty could look the same, that devotion could feel like duty until you forgot where one ended and the other began. The world you belonged to was built on power and silence, and you followed him through every shadow it cast.
You once believed you could survive it together. But power changes everything. Love does too.
And when blood begins to spill, you will learn what it truly means to choose him, not just in loyalty, but in everything that follows.
ii. ROOTS IN THE SAME SOIL
You and Yoon Jeonghan grew up one year apart and always together.
From the first time you learned to walk, there was always a small hand in yours that belonged to him.
Playdates were never about playgrounds or school recitals. Your earliest memories are of low-lit back rooms, of men in suits who smelled like smoke and oil, of orders spoken in the hush between a door closing and a phone hanging up.
Your parents were not members of a club that discussed yachts or wine lists. They did not trade favors over polite dinners.
They ran a syndicate, and it was the sort of thing people pretended did not exist until it touched their lives.
The syndicate carried a name that everyone in the city learned to fear with a shrug.
It controlled ports, moved contraband, owned laundries and shell companies that made dirty money look like clean profit. It had its hands in protection, trafficking, information for sale, and the kinds of deals you read about in headlines when someone forgot how to be careful. They were embedded in the city in ways small and large: in who got prime contracts, who won tenders, who was turned away when they asked for help.
Power like that ate quietly and kept its appetite hidden behind polite facades.
The Yoons sat at the top of it.
Your parents sat right after them, trusted lieutenants who answered when the Yoons called and carried out orders without question.
You were not an accident of fate.
You were, in every practical way that mattered in that world, made for Jeonghan.
Not made in a romantic sentence pulled from a novel, but shaped by choices and plans.
Your parents were the kind of allies who did not leave things to chance. They educated you to be flawless under pressure. They taught you how to read a room and read a man. They taught you where to look for weakness and how to make a decision stick. You learned to sit still and watch, to listen for the rhythm of a meeting so you could step in the moment it faltered.
Everything they did was designed so you could be exactly what Jeonghan needed.
Jeonghan was bred for succession in a way that could not be more blunt.
With no older siblings to complicate inheritance and with trust stretched thin in a life built on secrecy, the Yoons needed the central line, the heir, to be unbreakable.
Jeonghan was trained from childhood to take over the family when his father stepped down or when death made the choice for him.
Etiquette, strategy, the calculus of favors and debts, and how to be cruel with a face that seemed to enjoy nothing; all of that was poured into him with careful hand. His mentors were men who taught him how to hold people with a look, how to make threats sound like promises, how to make violence a tool with an economy.
Because of how rare trustworthy people were, your familyâs agreement with the Yoons was exact and practical.
You were raised to be his right hand, his constant presence, his first line of defense.
That meant more than walking alongside him at events. It meant you would be the person to read faces when the council turned hostile. It meant you would be the one who could be placed in charge of a job and finish it without questions. It meant you would know which alliances to preserve and which to quietly end.
Your training was not polite or academic alone. You learned to defend, to strike, and to disappear. You learned to be the kind of blade that could be hidden inside a velvet glove.
Growing up under that pressure, you and Jeonghan had no room for moral lectures.
There was no space for the questions about right and wrong that teenagers in other neighborhoods entertained. The ones you asked were practical: what needs to be done, and how do we make sure it works.
Comfort and complaint were luxuries you did not own.
Both your families gave you money and parties and all the trappings of status, and they were honest about where that money came from. You were taught not to pity what you had because pity was a weakness you could not afford in a place built on transactions and loyalties.
So you studied together, learned maps and ledgers and languages that made deals smoother. You trained together, practicing hand to hand until your blows matched and your timing became a shared rhythm. You fought together, in the way children play that is close to war: testing each otherâs limits, finding out how far you could push without breaking.
The adults watched and nodded and told stories about how the two of you would probably sit on the same throne one day.
It was a plan repeated like a vow.
When Jeonghan finally took over, nothing about the arrangement changed. If anything, the world tightened around the two of you.
He assumed the seat with a quiet that made the younger members straighten and the older ones lean in.
You stayed at his side.
In every line of people who reported up the chain, in every hand that reached out for a favor, you were there, the shadow trailing his steps. You were the calm to his chaos and the chaos to his calm because both of you were dangerously unpredictable in your own ways. He could be measured and cold. You could be quick and reckless.
Together you balanced one another in a way the organization found strangely efficient.
It was common knowledge inside the syndicate. When Jeonghan went somewhere, you were there. When he took a room, you took the one across the hall. When a decision had to be made and every eye searched for a show of solidarity, the room looked to the two of you and, more often than not, to your face and his hand on your shoulder.
People learned to read the space between you for cues.
It served you both, a silent language that meant orders did not need to be repeated and loyalties could be displayed in a single look.
You were his constant.
He was your anchor.
In a world that demanded ruthless clarity, you offered each other a kind of private logic, where the only real question was what needed to be done.
Nothing about that felt soft. Sometimes, late at night after meetings had thinned and the city hummed somewhere beyond the windows, you would find yourself watching him and thinking how strange it was that two people could be bred for the same purpose and still be completely their own sort of dangerous.
That, in the end, was the truth everyone accepted: you were inseparable because it made sense for the business.
Together you were the heir and the weapon, the pair the syndicate relied on.
Wherever Jeonghan went, you followed.
Wherever you stood, he took note.
You had been built for each other by the choices of men who understood one thing above allâ survival.
iii. THE LOVE THAT ISNâT HERS
The two of you never fought.
Not really.
Sure, there were stupid arguments about who aimed better at the range, who was sloppier after missions, who owed who a drink, but they were never serious.
Nothing ever cracked the foundation between you and Jeonghan.
Youâd always found your way back to laughter, to shared glances over burning cigarettes and unfinished whiskey, to quiet understanding that didnât need words.
Inside the business, you had each otherâs backs.
Outside of it, you were just as inseparable.
Jeonghan could be halfway across the room, and youâd still know what he was thinking. He was the calm that tempered your sharper edges, and you were the chaos that kept him from drowning in control.
Youâd also talk about the dumbest things, which of your men had the worst aim, who had the best poker face, what kind of food youâd eat if you werenât always surrounded by alcohol and bloodstains. You made fun of him for being too pretty to be intimidating, and heâd tell you you looked more like trouble than anyone else in the room.
It was easy.
It had always been easy.
Until her.
The first time you felt something shift, something hot and dangerous that clawed at your chest and made it hard to breathe, was when Jeonghan started dating this girlâ Narin.
Jeonghan had brought women around before. None of them lasted. They were temporary, disposable, just there to warm his bed and stroke his ego for a night.
Youâd never cared much; you had your own share of meaningless indulgences. But this one was different. This one lasted. Weeks turned into months, and for the first time, you heard the word âgirlfriendâ attached to his name.
You found out at one of your usual parties in your club where the lights were flashing, the bass was thudding through the floor, and the smoke hung thick in the air.
You were leaning back on the couch of the vip area, half-listening to the music and half-watching the bodies on the dance floor when Joshua leaned over, his voice raised against the noise.
âHey, have you heard?â he shouted near your ear.
You opened one eye lazily, swirling your drink before glancing at him. âHeard what exactly?â
Joshua grinned, eyes gleaming in the flicker of the strobe lights. âAbout Jeonghan and his new girl.â
You furrowed your brows, the corners of your mouth twitching. âI should care because?â you asked flatly.
âBecause they seem to be hitting it off,â Joshua teased. âTheyâre together.â
You scoffed and leaned back. âI donât see your point. Jeonghan has hooked up with other women before, how is this news?â
Joshua only smiled wider, like heâd been waiting for that reaction. ââCause he introduced her as his girlfriend.â
That made your eyes open.
You turned to look at him fully this time, disbelief coloring your expression. âWhat? Are you sure he wasnât just high?â you snickered, taking another sip of your drink.
Joshuaâs grin turned smug. âAre you sure you arenât in denial?â he bit back playfully.
You glared at him, about to retort, but he raised his glass with a knowing smirk before downing it in one go. âSpeak of the devil.â
You didnât turn right away, but the sudden shadow that fell across your table told you enough. Jeonghanâs voice came before his presence, low, familiar, smooth. He sat down across from you, a woman clinging to his arm.
She was beautiful, in that practiced, polished way. Perfect hair, perfect smile, the kind that didnât reach her eyes. She looked like she didnât belong in a place like this, and maybe that was exactly why Jeonghan had brought her.
You turned your head slowly, finally meeting his gaze⌠he was already watching you.
âYou already met Shua,â Jeonghan started, gesturing lazily toward Joshua before turning his attention to you. âThis is my best friend in the whole world,â he said, and you caught the faint curl of his lips when he said your name.
âThis is Narin.â
The woman smiled, holding out her hand toward you. âHis girlfriend,â she said, almost proudly.
You raised your brows, eyes flicking from her hand to her face before deliberately ignoring it and glancing back at Jeonghan. âThis is new. You never introduce any of your girls to us before,â you said, laughing lightly. âWhatâs this, are you getting married?â
Narin laughed, maybe thinking it was harmless teasing. Joshua joined in, but Jeonghan only smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement as he watched you.
âIâm surprised you didnât tell her first,â Joshua said, looking at Jeonghan. âYou two talk about everything.â
You picked up your shot, tossing it back in one clean motion before answering. âWe talk about important things, Josh.â You emphasized the word, leaning into it just enough for Jeonghan to notice.
Then, you turned to Narin, waving your hand casually. âSo, how much are your rates?â you asked, deadpan.
Jeonghan said nothing. He simply took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the haze above you.
Narinâs smile faltered. âIâm not an escort,â she said, her tone clipped, offended.
âYouâre not? Are you sure?â you asked, giving her a slow once-over.
âIâm a dancer,â Narin shot back sharply. Then, with a raised brow, she added, âAnd you? Aside from being my boyfriendâs best friend, what are you?â
A smirk curved your lips. âI pay your bills,â you replied coolly.
Joshua burst out laughing, reaching for Jeonghanâs cigarette as the man passed it to him.
Narin turned to Jeonghan as if expecting him to say something in her defense, but he just watched, quiet and unreadable.
âJeonghan is my boss,â Narin said firmly.
You smiled, slow and dangerous. âOh, you poor innocent soul.â You took the cigarette from Joshua, brought it to your lips, and stood up, your eyes still on her as you exhaled.
Then, without another glance, you turned toward the dance floor.
âSheâs my right hand,â Jeonghan said as he watched you go, voice calm, almost fond. âShe could honestly be my left as well. So yes, sheâs your boss as much as I am.â
They watched as you stepped into the crowd, the music swallowing you whole, parting people like the Red Sea, smoke and lights catching on the edge of your grin.
That night was the beginning of it; the quiet, invisible line drawn between you and Narin.
It was one-sided, really.
You didnât care enough to have a problem with her, and Jeonghan didnât care enough to pretend he did.
Still, from that first meeting, something in Narinâs eyes changed.
You noticed it in the smallest ways, the stiffness of her smile when you entered a room, the way her hand would grip Jeonghanâs arm a little tighter when you walked past, the tension in her jaw when he spoke to you first instead of her.
It wouldâve been funny if it werenât so predictable.
You told yourself you didnât care.
Maybe you didnât.
Narin was still around after months, which was new for Jeonghan, but even with that, you could see it plain as day⌠your best friend didnât care about her the way she wanted him to.
He never looked at her like she mattered.
Not like he looked at you.
Not that you cared.
It was one-sided because Narinâs hatred burned where yours didnât exist.
You could read her like a book; the insecurity, the jealousy, the need to prove herself in a world that would never take her seriously.
It was confusing at first.
Narin was beautiful. She had the kind of beauty that made people stop mid-sentence, the kind that couldâve made her untouchable anywhere else. But here? She was standing in the wrong arena. And in her head, you were the opponent she couldnât beat.
Because she saw it.
Everyone saw it.
You had Jeonghan in every way she didnât.
Sure, she had the titleâ girlfriend. He bought her clothes, jewelry, the kind of things girls dreamed of. But titles and gifts meant nothing in your world. What mattered was power, and Narin didnât have an ounce of it.
The members respected her out of formality.
They feared you.
To them, Narin was temporary a bed warmer.
You were Jeonghanâs equal.
Narinâs resentment grew every time she saw you and Jeonghan together. Every subtle look, every quiet nod across the table that said more than words ever could, it chipped away at her. She watched him defer to you, seek your opinion, trust your instincts before anyone elseâs.
If you said no, that was it. The conversation ended.
Like the time during a meeting when one of the associates pitched a risky deal. Jeonghan sat at the head of the table, arms crossed, expression unreadable. You didnât even look up from your notes.
âNo,â you said simply.
The room went silent.
Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, glancing at you once before turning to the man who had spoken.
âYou heard her,â he said. âItâs a no.â
The lieutenant tried to argue, âBut boss, if weââ
Jeonghan cut him off with a single raised hand. âShe said no.â
Narin was sitting beside him that day, her face frozen in disbelief. She saw how everyone accepted it without question.
No one looked at Narin. No one cared for her opinion.
And when one day she did try to join in, tried to fit in⌠it went even worse.
One afternoon, sheâd insisted on sitting in on a smaller meeting. Youâd let her. Jeonghan didnât object, mostly because he didnât care enough to stop her.
Halfway through, Narin spoke up. âMaybe if we tried negotiating first, it wouldnât have to come to violence.â
The entire room went quiet.
You slowly turned your head toward her, eyes blank.
âFirst, he brings you,â you said, voice flat, âand now youâre voicing unsolicited opinions as a non-member?â You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. âControl your pet, Han.â
The silence that followed was sharp. Jeonghan didnât even flinch at being scolded. Instead, his gaze slid to Narin, cold and warning.
âYou said you wanted to watch what I do,â he told her, voice low. âSo watch.â
Narin shrunk into her seat, eyes darting away from his.
That was the day she stopped showing up to meetings.
But the resentment didnât stop.
Narin hated the way only you could call him Han. The way his face softened, barely, but enough every time you did.
Narin tried it once, just once.
âHan,â sheâd said casually while they were alone in his office.
Jeonghanâs head snapped up, and the look he gave her was enough to make her flinch. âDonât call me that.â
She blinked, confused. âBut she calls you that.â
âThatâs because only she can.â
The words hit like a slap.
He didnât even look up again after saying them.
Their fights started not long after that.
Every single one of themâ about you.
âYou donât even hear yourself anymore!â Narin shouted one night, her voice echoing off the walls of his penthouse. âItâs always her! She does this, she said thatââ
Jeonghan sat on the couch, calm as ever, pouring himself another drink. âYouâre being dramatic.â
âIâm not being dramatic! You talk to her more than me, you trust her more than meââ
âOf course I do,â he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. âSheâs my second. My best friend. I trust her with my life.â
Narinâs voice cracked. âDo you even hear yourself?â
He looked at her then, eyes flat and almost bored. âYouâre insecure, Narin. Thatâs not my fault.â
âIâm insecure because you give me reasons to be!â she yelled, voice breaking. âBecause youâre always defending her! Because itâs always herââ
âBecause you keep bringing her up,â Jeonghan snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through hers. âYou think I want to talk about her with you? Youâre the one obsessed. You turn every conversation into a reason to talk about her. Maybe you should ask yourself why that is.â
âIâm not obsessedââ
âYou are,â he interrupted smoothly. âYou hate her so much you canât stop thinking about her. You canât stop comparing yourself to her. She doesnât even talk about you to me. Sheâs not the problem here, Narin. You are.â
She stared at him, disbelief and hurt twisting her face. âYouâre gaslighting me.â
Jeonghan laughed softly, almost pitying. âIf you say so.â
That was the thing about Yoon Jeonghan, he could twist any truth until it sounded like it was your fault.
And Narin fell for it every time.
Still, no amount of manipulation could hide what she already knew deep down.
If it came down to it, if Jeonghan ever had to chooseâ heâd burn her alive if it meant keeping you warm.
iv. SIN IN SILENCE
For the past few weeks you had been watching the statistics with the kind of attention that made other people uncomfortable.
It started small, an out-of-place zero on a ledger, a seal that looked a fraction off when you ran your thumb over it. Then a container that was logged at dock eight showing up in the yard, empty. Then a shipment of precursor chemicals that vanishes between the port and the warehouse. In an operation this size mistakes do not happen by accident.
What you were seeing was not sloppy accounting.
It was a pattern.
You stand by Jeonghanâs desk with a stack of printouts and a tablet, the city lights slanting through the blinds and making the room feel smaller than it is. He is leaning back in the chair he took the day his father stepped down, hands folded, face like stone.
âYou pulled the manifests from the past twelve weeks?â he asks.
You tap the tablet and bring up a screen full of rows and columns. âEvery port intake, every warehouse transfer, every handoff. I cross-checked the manifests with GPS pings from the drivers, the surveillance logs, and our distribution records. There are six anomalies that line up.â You push one of the printouts toward him. âOn the tenth week, shipment A-42 registered at the inland terminal, then the GPS shows the truck route cut. The driverâs feed drops out for twelve minutes. When the truck arrives at the warehouse, the manifest shows two pallets missing.
He read the screen, thumb tracing a line of numbers. âPrecursor chemicals and packaging,â he said. âThat keeps the north routes running for weeks. If that disappears, the network dies.â
âExactly.â You kept your voice flat. âEither an outside handler with high-level access, or someone inside with procurement privileges. The way the manifests were changed shows inside knowledge.â
Jeonghan folded his hands. âOptions.â
âLock down custody now,â you said. âTwo-person sign-off at pickup and delivery. Live feed confirmation that cannot be masked. Route all high-value loads to the secondary yard under armed escort. Any manifest edits require biometric approval that pings you, Joshua, and me.â
He nodded. âAnd if they try to change the system?â
âBait them,â you answered. âWe send a decoy shipment tonight. Tag the pallets with a tracer. Let the leak take it. When they move it, we follow the trace to wherever it disappears. Joshua runs the yard op. Security watches the north corridor for deviations.â
âYou start with the peripheral crew,â you said. âDrivers, dock foreman, gate steward, intake clerk. Quiet interviews. Offer cooperation for leniency. If they stonewall, escalate pressure. Isolate them, limit contact, and apply calibrated tactics until they talk. No public purge until we have names.â
He looked up at you, eyes steady. âKeep the council out.â
âKeep the council out,â you repeated. âA purge without proof will fracture loyalty. We do this clean and fast. Iâll run the audit on access logs and vendor payments. Joshua will handle physical ops. You keep security ready and clear the channels.â
âCall Joshua,â he said, standing. âGet the decoy manifest in motion. I want tracers on those pallets by midnight.â
You pulled out your phone and started dialing, âIâll start the audit now. Interviews begin after the first sweep. If one of them cracks, we follow the ledger. We control the narrative.â
Jeonghan pushed his chair back and stood, the leather creaking faintly. âGood work as always,â he said, voice quiet but sure. âYou caught what the others didnât. Thatâs why I trust you with this.â
You didnât look up right away, pretending to be absorbed with your phone as you scrolled through the contact list. âIâll call Joshua,â you said simply, already dialing.
Jeonghan moved behind you, lighting a cigarette as you waited for the call to connect. The sharp click of the lighter followed by the faint inhale filled the silence between rings. You could feel the warmth of him behind you, close enough that the faint scent of smoke and cologne mixed into the air you breathed.
The line rang twice before Joshua picked up.
âWhere are you?â you asked, walking toward the window.
Jeonghan leaned slightly against the edge of the desk behind you, exhaling a thin trail of smoke toward the ceiling, his eyes steady on you. As you spoke, he found himself tracing the rhythm of your voice, the calm certainty in it. The way your lips moved around each word.
âWeâre missing shipments again. Han wants to run a decoy load tonight. Youâll oversee. He wants tracers on every pallet and your team ready by eleven.â You said.
Jeongan took another drag, slower this time, watching the curve of your back as you shifted your weight, the cropped hem of your shirt riding just a little higher.
The faintest smirk tugged at his lips as he realized how his thoughts had drifted. Heâd known you since you were kids, grown up side by side, loyal and ruthless in the same breath. Maybe it started years ago, back when you first started standing beside him during briefings, when you started speaking and men twice your size listened.
He admired that part of you, the way you saw through people, how sharp you were, how easily you could dismantle a man with words alone.
You were dangerous in ways that werenât just physical, and heâd always known that.
But it wasnât just that anymore, not to him. He knew he shouldnât look at you this way, shouldnât think about how that top hugged your frame or how easily your confidence pulled him in.
But Jeonghan had caught you looking at him with the same look in your eyes before too, and that was enough to keep his guilt quiet.
âYes, Iâll brief Soonyoung and Jun. Make sure the men on guard rotation stay alert tonight,â you continued on the phone. âIâll send you the file in ten.â
Jeonghan barely registered Joshuaâs voice on the other end of the line. He was too focused on you and the little shift of your hand as you tucked your hair behind your ear, the steady calm in your tone as you gave orders.
You werenât aware of his stare, not fully, and maybe thatâs what made it worse.
You slid the phone into your back pocket and turned, and that was when you realized just how close Jeonghan had gotten. He was standing directly behind you, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the cigarette between his fingers. His eyes flicked from your face down to your lips before meeting your gaze again.
âJoshuaâs got it handled,â you said, your voice steady, though your heart didnât match it. âHeâll start preparing the tracers and rerouting the drivers.â
âGood.â Jeonghan exhaled smoke to the side, slow, deliberate. âYouâre efficient. Always have been.â
You raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile. âYou say that like youâre surprised.â
âIâm not surprised,â he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. âJust reminded.â
His tone was casual, but the air between you wasnât. It was heavy, thick enough to feel. You could smell the faint burn of tobacco on him, the warmth of his skin beneath the sharp scent of cologne.
âReminded of what?â you asked, half amused, half curious.
âHow you make everything run,â he said. His gaze didnât waver. âThis place. Me.â
You let out a quiet breath through your nose, masking the way your stomach flipped. âYouâre being dramatic, Han.â
âAm I?â he asked, leaning forward slightly. âYou tell me.â
You tilted your head. âYouâve had too much caffeine.â
He chuckled, soft and low, before taking another drag. âOr maybe not enough of something else.â
The words hung there, casual on the surface, dangerous underneath.
You rolled your eyes but didnât move away. âI know Iâm distracting but you have to focus, boss,â you said, mocking the title just a little.
The air between you shifted, it was now thick, charged, a silent dare neither of you accepted out loud.
Jeonghanâs gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes. âCareful,â he said quietly. âPeople might start thinking you enjoy this too much.â
You met his stare without flinching. âWho says I donât?â
He smirked then, that slow, knowing kind of smirk that had gotten you both in trouble before. You didnât move, didnât need to.
Everything unspoken already hummed between you, alive and dangerous.
Jeonghanâs eyes, dark and fathomless, held yours. There was a weight there, a heat youâd spent years dancing around.
Memories flickered: the clumsy press of fifteen-year-old lips behind the old garage; his patient, intense instruction years later when youâd nervously asked him to âshow you how to kissâ, the lingering touches while passing weapons, the brush of fingers that lasted a heartbeat too long.
Innocent moments loaded with unspoken electricity.
He lifted the cigarette to his lips again. This time, as he inhaled, his gaze dropped to your mouth. Your lips parted slightly on an unsteady breath. He saw it. A low groan escaped him, primal and hungry. He tilted his head back, exhaling a thick plume of smoke towards the ceiling, the cords in his neck standing out.
Then, faster than thought, his free hand shot out, wrapping firmly around the nape of your neck, not painfully but with undeniable possession. He pulled you forward just as he leaned in. Your lips were centimeters apart. His eyes burned into yours, daring you to pull away.
Jeonghan didnât kiss you.
Instead, he parted his own lips and exhaled sharply, forcing the smoke heâd held deep in his lungs directly into your open mouth.
It was intimate.
The acrid taste filled your senses, mingling with the scent of him; bourbon, tobacco, and something uniquely Jeonghan.
Your eyes widened slightly, locked on his as the smoke curled inside you. You held it for a suspended moment, the connection vibrating with years of suppressed desire and shared violence, before slowly exhaling it back towards him, the plume mingling with the air between your almost-touching lips.
The air crackled.
The line wasnât just crossed⌠it was incinerated.
A tremor ran through him.
You saw the raw need flash in his eyes, the carefully constructed control beginning to fray.
Heart hammering, you forced yourself to break the contact, turning sharply back to the desk. Your hands, suddenly clumsy, fumbled with the files. âI⌠I need to go. I still have a lot of things to do.â The words sounded breathless, unconvincing.
âGo?â His voice was dangerously soft. You heard the soft thud as he stubbed out his cigarette. Then, swift and silent, he moved. Not away. Towards.
His arms came around you from behind, caging you against the hard edge of the desk. His body pressed flush against your back, solid, unyielding heat.
You felt the hard ridge of his arousal pressing insistently against the curve of your ass through layers of clothing. His lips brushed the sensitive skin where your neck met your shoulder, sending shivers cascading down your spine.
âYouâre not going anywhere,â he murmured, his voice thick against your skin. One hand slid down from your waist to splay possessively low on your abdomen, pulling you back harder against him. He ground his hips forward, a slow, deliberate roll that drew a sharp gasp from you.
âHanâŚâ you breathed, the protest weak.
You didnât sound guilty.
You sounded wrecked.
âMmh?â He nipped lightly at your shoulder, his other hand moving up to cup your breast through your blouse, his thumb finding your nipple and rubbing it to a hard peak. âTell me this is wrong. Tell me to stop.â His voice was a dark challenge.
You arched back into him instinctively, pushing your ass more firmly against his hardness. A low groan rumbled from his chest. âIt is wrong,â you managed, your own voice husky. âYou have⌠your girlfriendâŚâ
âShe doesnât matter,â he cut in ruthlessly, his hand squeezing your breast, his hips grinding again in a rhythm that was becoming unmistakable. âNot here. Not now.â He rocked against you, the friction deliciously maddening even through clothes. âNot when Iâm buried deep inside this ache Iâve had for you since we were fucking teenagers⌠and since when did you care about whatâs wrong or not?â
He punctuated his words with another sharp thrust of his hips. You moaned, your head falling back against his shoulder. âJeonghan⌠GodâŚâ
âWhatâs wrong?â he taunted softly, biting your earlobe. âWeâve done worse, havenât we, bunny? Weâve put bullets in skulls for less.â His hand on your abdomen slid lower, fingers dipping below the waistband of your trousers, seeking the heat beneath. âWeâve watched men beg for their lives.â His fingers brushed the top of your mound through the damp silk of your panties. You gasped, bucking against his touch.
âThis?â He pressed harder, finding your clit through the fabric and rubbing in tight circles. You cried out, your hand flying back to clutch at his thigh. âThis little sin? This is nothing.â
Jeonghan ground against you relentlessly now, his cock hard and demanding against your ass, his fingers working magic through your panties. The dry humping was building a frantic heat low in your belly. Your breath came in ragged pants that matched his own.
âBut⌠sheâllâŚâ you tried again, the thought fragmented by pleasure.
âShe wonât know,â he growled, his voice guttural with need. He pressed his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. âNo one has to know about how wet you are for me right now.â His fingers pushed aside the barrier of your panties, sliding through your slick folds with a groan of pure greed. âFuck, look at you. Soaked. All for me, bunny.â He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them instantly against that sweet spot.
You arched violently, a loud moan tearing from your throat as pleasure spiked through you. âOh God! Hannie! Yes!â
âThatâs it, baby,â Jeonghan purred against your skin, his fingers pumping ruthlessly while his thumb kept pressure on your clit. His hips never stopped their rhythmic grinding against your ass. âTake it. Take what youâve always wanted from me.â He added a third finger, stretching you, fucking you with his hand while his cock pressed hard against you from behind.
âWe deserve this,â Jeonghan rasped, his own breathing harsh. âAfter everything⌠after everyone weâve buried⌠we deserve this pleasure.â
The sensations were overwhelming; the deep thrust of his fingers, the relentless pressure on your clit, the hard grind of his cock against your ass sending jolts of pleasure and pain through you.
Your moans became continuous, broken pleas and gasps. You pushed back against him wildly, meeting every thrust of his fingers and grind of his hips.
âCome on,â he commanded, his voice rough with strain. He bit down on your shoulder blade. âCome for me. Show me how good it feels when I finally touch you like this.â He curled his fingers harder, pressed his thumb down fiercely. âLet go for me, baby. Let me feel you come around my fingers.â
The command, the relentless stimulation, the sheer taboo intensity of it shattered you.
A high-pitched cry ripped from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, violent and all-consuming. Your inner muscles clenched and fluttered around his invading fingers as wave after wave of blinding pleasure rolled through you. Your legs trembled violently, and you sagged back against him, held upright only by his iron grip around your waist and the pressure of his body pinning you to the desk.
He held you through it, fingers still buried deep inside you, prolonging the tremors with slow pulses of his hand while you gasped and shuddered against him. As the last tremors subsided, he slowly withdrew his fingers.
You felt him bring them to his lips, heard the soft, obscene sound as he sucked them clean.
âPerfect,â he murmured darkly against your damp neck. His own hips gave a final, frustrated grind against your ass before he stilled, breathing heavily. His arms tightened around you for a moment longer, a possessive anchor in the storm theyâd created, before he slowly released his hold.
The sudden lack of his heat felt like a physical blow. The silence in the office now held a different weight, heavy with satisfaction, thick with sin, and crackling with the knowledge that a line had not just been crossed, but obliterated.
And when you finally gathered yourself and turned to leave his office, you caught his reflection in the glass watching you go, the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips that said he knew exactly what he was doing.
The world outside Jeonghanâs office felt different, sharper. The air tasted of illicit sweetness, a flavor you craved. You walked away, hips swaying with a newfound confidence, a secret smile playing on your lips.
He watched you, you knew. He always watched you.
And the knowledge thrilled you, a dangerous current flowing beneath your skin.
You would like to think that this would be a one time affair but you knew, the second you saw the smirk on your best friendâs face that he wouldnât be letting you go anytime soon⌠and you werenât complaining.
You remember the places, the lies, the sheer, reckless need that obliterated everything else, including the lack of guilt.
After a messy interrogation regarding the organizationâs missing shipments, you and Jeonghan found yourselves in his penthouse for a âdebriefingâ that only requested your presence.
Blood still faintly under your nails, adrenaline singing. He poured whiskey, your fingers brushed the glass. His gaze, always simmering, boiled over.
His hand was already under your skirt before you knew it, fingers buried deep inside you as you straddled his lap on the leather couch, your blouse ripped open. His mouth was hot and demanding on your breast, teeth grazing your nipple. âFuck, finally,â he growled against your skin, his hips bucking up, driving his cock impossibly deeper where your bodies joined.
âIâll never get tired of you. After years of watching you, wanting you... pretending with other women." His free hand gripped your ass, pulling you down harder onto him. âYou feel like fucking mine.â
There was no pretense of tenderness, only raw, claiming possession. The only excuse was the lingering violence in the air and the unspoken truth, We deserve this.
At some point during the âdebriefâ your palms were splayed against the chilled glass, breath fogging it. Jeonghan stood behind you, one hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. He drove into you relentlessly, the reflection in the glass showing his dark eyes locked on yours, his jaw clenched.
âLook at us,â he rasped, his thrusts jarring you against the unyielding surface. âLook at this fucking city beneath us. Itâs ours. Youâre mine.â He leaned close, his lips brushing your ear. âEvery girl I fucked... every single one... I picked because they had your eyes, or your hair, or the fucking curve of your waist.â
A harsh laugh came out of Joenghanâs mouth, âNarin only lasted because she looks the most like you in the dark. But sheâs a fucking ghost compared to you. A bore. She could never be this. She could never be you, baby.â He punctuated each word with a brutal thrust.
âNever feel like this.â
The vastness of the city mirrored the vastness of your shared sin.
One time, Jeonghan had fabricated a security alert with you who was supposed to be reviewing files.
But instead you were bent over his massive mahogany desk, papers scattering. His hand pressed between your shoulder blades, pinning you.
Jeonghan fucked you from behind, hard and fast, the only sounds the slap of skin, your choked gasps, and the rhythmic creak of the desk.
âF-Fuckâ Hannie.â
âTell me,â he demanded, his voice thick with exertion and lust. âTell me you thought about me too. Tell me you touched yourself imagining this.â His fingers dug into your hip. âAll those nights... my hand wasn't enough. Had to find pale imitations... echoes of you.â
He leaned over you, his chest pressed against your back. âBut they were never enough. Only you. Only fucking you.â
Then there was that time in the training room.
During one of your training sessions in the training room, post-sparring, sweat-slicked and buzzing. A grappling move was held too long, the both of your eyes locking.
Sooner than later, Jeonghan had you pinned against the padded wall, your leg hooked over his hip. He was buried deep inside you, his sweat mingling with yours, the scent of exertion and sex thick in the air.
Your hands scrabbled against his damp tank top. "Shouldn't... someone could..." you gasped, even as you arched into him.
Jeonghan laughed, dark and humorless, biting your shoulder. âLet them see,â he challenged, thrusting harder. âLet them see how pretty you are and how good I make you feel.â His hand slid down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough circles.
âWe've killed for territory, for less than this thrill,â he breathed against your neck.
Jeonghan was insatiable because the day after that in the gun range where you busied yourself checking new weapons and firing a few rounds, it wasnât long before Jeonghan found you, took one look at you, and had you behind the soundproofed partition, he had you turned around, your hands braced against the cold concrete wall beside the bullet-scarred target. The acrid smell of gunpowder mixed with the musk of sex.
Your psycho of a best friend fucked you with the same ruthless efficiency he handled his weapon, deep, measured strokes designed for maximum impact. The rhythmic gunfire from the other lanes masked your stifled cries.
âHear that?â he murmured, his lips against your ear, his hips snapping against your ass. âThat's the sound of our world. Loud. Demanding.â He slid a hand around your front, fingers dipping into your wetness, then circling your clit. âBut this... this silence between the shots... this is where I find you.â His thumb pressed hard. âWhere I own you.â
The proximity to death only heightened the life in the stolen moment.
Then when two of you finally found it in yourselves to be productive and actually talking about business in the conference room, you found yourself mesmerized by him, your eyes drifting all over his body as they spoke about logistics and courses of actions for the next interrogation.
But you werenât listening, not really. All you could think of was how good it would feel if you were riding your best friendâs cock right now while heâs in a suit.
And one of the things people should know, is that Yoon Jeonghan gave you anything and everything you wanted.
Which is why you were straddling him in the high-backed leather chair at the head of the long, polished table. His pants were pushed down, yours shoved aside.
You rode Jeonghan slowly, deeply, your skirt pooled around your waist making you throw your head back at the sensation, âAhâ f-fuck, you feel so good inside me, Hannie.â
You could do this for the rest of your life. The feeling of Jeonghanâs thick cock sliding inside of you whilst his warm hands caressed your body all over made you moan harder, in fact, you didnât care anymore if anyone walked into the room and saw you two.
You wanted people to see. You wanted everyone, especially that bitch Narin to see you riding her boyfriendâs dick and making him feel good which is why when Jeonghanâs phone started ringing you immediately breathed out and eyed Jeonghan.
âAnswer it.â
Jeonghan eyed you up and down for a a few seconds before he chuckled and pulled his phone up to his ear.
âNarin,â he said, his voice utterly flat, devoid of any warmth, even as his eyes burned into yours, dark with lust. His hands gripped your hips, silently urging you faster. âMmhm. Fine. Whatever you think best.â
You bit your lip, suppressing a moan as you sank down deeper into him completely, feeling him twitch inside you.
You rocked your hips, a slow, deliberate grind. Jeonghanâs jaw tightened, but his voice remained chillingly indifferent. âNo. Not tonight. Tied up.â
You leaned forward, your breasts brushing his chest, and kissed his neck, your tongue tracing his pulse point.
A faint gasp escaped him.
You were so close to Jeonghan that you heard Narin through phone, ââŚJeonghan? Are you even listening? Youâre so busy these days, I rarely see you.â
He met your gaze, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. âI said I'm busy, Narin. Don't call again.â
Jeonghan ended the call and tossed the phone onto the table with a clatter. The cold indifference vanished, replaced by feral heat. âFucking ride me faster, bunny,â he snarled, bucking his hips up, his hands clamping onto your ass. âLet them hear you scream through the fucking walls.â
You laughed then, a silent, breathless chuckle of pure, shared wickedness as you obeyed, moving faster, taking him deeper, the polished table reflecting your tangled, sinful form.
The ultimate betrayal wasn't just physical, it was the utter contempt in his dismissal of her while buried inside you.
Each location, each frantic coupling, each lie told and boundary shattered, is a proof to a hunger that eclipsed morality.
Jeonghanâs words, whispered against sweat-slicked skin or growled amidst thrusts, were vows sharper than any ring; You were his obsession, his benchmark, his ultimate prize claimed after years of settling for shadows.
And you? You revelled in it.
The danger, the possession, the sheer wrongness of it all was the purest adrenaline.
Guilt was for the weak.
Shame was for those who hadn't spilled blood under moonlight.
Youâd both done far worse than fuck.
This wasn't sin, it was destiny, finally seized in the dark corners of the empire you were born to rule together.
The affair was a declaration written in sweat, whispers, and the cold dismissal of anyone who dared stand between you.
v. CLOSE ENOUGH TO BURN
You walk into the courtyard as if you belong to the sun itself, though the heat does nothing to soften the shape of what this meeting will be.
The back yard of the compound is wide enough to host half the city and still feel private: gravel underfoot, palms trimmed to neat silhouettes, the terraces of the house crowding the space like watchful sentries.
Men and women who answer to Jeonghan stand in tidy clusters, faces trained to blankness, hands folded or idly resting on gun belts. The air smells faintly of diesel and lemon oil from the cars.
Even on a bright day, the mood is a shadow.
You keep your sunglasses on until the last step, the dark lenses reflecting everything and nothing. They hide the glint in your eyes, the small flare of satisfaction that has nothing to do with the sun.
Beside you, Jeonghan is composed in the way he is when everything must be exact with his shirt sleeves rolled, posture casual but hard as iron. He watches the crowd with that stillness he keeps for important things, then gives you the smallest tilt of the chin.
You slide into place at his side.
Your eyes move across the line of faces until they stop on himâ Mark.
Heâs been with you long enough to know the ritual and too new to have the armor the elders wear. Mid-thirties, a hard jaw wired to a cocky smile, the kind of man who thinks his luck is permanent. Heâs the shipment foreman who handled the docks, one of the few people who touched the pallets before they disappeared.
Today he looks⌠exposed.
Not yet terrified, just surprised, which is a worse look than fear.
Jeonghan calls the gathering to order with the economy of a man who has no time for small talk. His voice is flat, authoritative. People fall into silence like metal settling into place.
âWe had a problem,â he says. His words are not a question. âShipments went missing. Our routes were compromised. That is not acceptable.â
You watch how the room inhales.
Nobody moves.
They all know what missing product means in a business that runs on precision and reputation.
âWe tightened custody,â he continues, voice slow and deliberate. âTwo-person sign-offs. Live feeds at handoff. Biometric controls on manifest edits. We rerouted sensitive loads to the secondary yard. We did everything right. But someone took our material anyway. Someone inside knew how to look like us and move like us.â
Jeonghan stops, lets the accusation hang. And then he names what you already suspected, âWe set a decoy to bait the leak. We flagged a pallet with a tracer. Joshua and Jun followed it to an extraction point. They saw the handoff. They traced the payment streams. They followed the logistics that fed the fake manifests.â
You feel the room tighten because everyone knows the next sentence is the part where the empire shows teeth, where consequence becomes visible.
Jeonghan nods once toward Joshua. The man steps forward without hesitation, his expression is controlled but loaded. He motions and two boots move like trained puppets. Jun and another pair of men peel through the crowd and come for Mark like predators closing a circuit. There is no hesitation in their hands.
They do not theatrically drag him; they take him with the efficiency of people who practice the same movement a thousand times.
Markâs surprise finally reaches his face when a hand locks behind his neck and heâs pushed down to his knees on the gravel. Rough cords bind his arms and legs, quick, professional, designed to immobilize without tearing. He struggles, the sound of it small in the hush, and then the ropes pull snug.
The crowd watches, silent as a jury.
âMark,â Joshua says, voice low enough to be private and loud enough to cut through the open air. âYou want to tell them why you helped move a shipment out of our chain of custody?â
Mark lashes out with panic. âWhat? I didnât, I swear! Youâre crazy! It wasnât me! I didnât do anything! I swearââ His words tumble, pleading, the bravado all collapsed into raw denial.
Jun presses a knee near his shoulder to stabilize him so Mark canât lever himself up. âItâs not a game, Mark,â Jun says. âDonât make it worse.â
You watch Markâs face like you read pages. Heâs good at pretending confidence, bad at making it last. Around you there are faces youâve known since childhood, men who have seen worse and who understand the arithmetic of punishment.
They watch quietly, some look curious, others oddly distant; all of them waiting for the calibration of blame.
Jeonghanâs voice cuts through the tension, measured, cold. âWe made this decision because we didnât want the council to panic.â He lets the phrase sit. âWe handled it without taking it public. We baited the line and watched who took it. Joshua and Jun found the pickup. Mark signed for the trailer. The GPS went dead for twelve minutes on his run. The manifest was altered at the inland terminal after his pickup. The seals were replaced with company-standard tape. He didnât move product for his own pockets. He moved it for somebody who wanted it whole and unmarked.â
Mark splutters again, âYou donât understand. I was set up. I was paid by a courier, a man I trust. They told me to route a pallet to a secondary lot and I thought it was a re-route because of customs. They had me sign the papers, everything looked okay. I swearââ His voice is raw now, fear pushing out the cockiness.
âWho paid the courier?â You asks, voice neutral.
The question is not rhetorical.
Markâs face goes blank. He looks like a man who really doesnât know the answer and yet he knows the consequences of admitting that. âI donât know. It was a burner. I just handled the load I was told. I swear.â
You catch Narin at the edge of the crowd. Her hands twist the strap of her purse. Sheâs supposed to be composed, the girlfriend who invited herself into a world she cannot control. Instead sheâs plainly frightened, eyes darting between Markâs bound form and Jeonghanâs impassive face. She had inserted herself into meetings, tried to learn the vocabulary of the room, to belong.
Today she looks small in a way that makes you feel giddy for reasons you do not announce.
Jeonghan watches Mark for a long beat, then addresses the gathered ranks again with the cool appraisal of a man performing a function that demands no sentiment. âWe will run this to ground. We will find the financiers, the drop points, the relay network. We will trace payments through shell accounts and away from our vendors. If Mark is lying about being set up, we will know soon enough from the ledger and the phone calls. If he isnât lying, then whoever used him will lead us to a larger network.â
Mark screams again, a higher pitch now. âItâs not me! You have to believe me!â He settles into frantic bargaining that will buy him minutes if he can keep anyone believing.
Your eyes flick briefly to Jeonghan, who's still got that iron composure, his voice cutting through the tension as he presses Mark. âYou're wasting time, Mark,â Jeonghan says, his tone flat and unyielding, like a blade scraping against stone. âWho paid the courier? Give us names, routes⌠don't make this drag on longer than it has to.â
Mark's on his knees, ropes biting into his wrists, his face slick with sweat that's not just from the heat. He's sputtering denials, his voice cracking like dry twigs. âI told you, I don't know! It was just a job, some anonymous drop. Please, man, you gotta believe me!â
You ignore the back-and-forth for a moment, your focus shifting to the bar at the far end of the courtyard. It's a sleek setup, polished wood gleaming under the sun, stocked with bottles that catch the light like jewels in a thief's haul.
You walk towards it with slow, deliberate steps, your sunglasses still perched on your nose, hiding the calculating glint in your eyes.
The world around you blurs, the murmurs of the crowd, the rustle of fabric as people shift uncomfortably but you're untouchable here, the only one who can wander like this without Jeonghan's glare turning lethal.
Your boots scuff the gravel, kicking up small clouds of dust that settle lazily in the still air, and you feel the weight of eyes on you, curious but detached, like they're watching a storm brew from a safe distance.
Reaching the bar, you run your fingers along the edge, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat radiating off your skin. You grab the whole bottle of whisky, the glass is heavy in your hand, promising that burn you crave. You pour a shot into a glass, the liquor glugging out with a thick, satisfying glug-glug, and toss it back in one smooth motion.
The whisky hits your throat like fire, searing its way down, warming your chest and sharpening your focus. You savor the raw, peaty taste for a second, the burn lingering on your tongue, before you discard the glass.
With the bottle now in hand, you tilt it to your lips and take a long, greedy swig. The liquor flows down, hot and unfiltered, making your veins hum with a buzz that edges out the day's frustration.
âAhh,â you grunt softly to yourself, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling the sticky residue on your lips.
You don't rush back; instead, you linger for a beat, letting the scene play out behind you, Jeonghan's voice rising slightly as he circles Mark. âYou're lying through fucking your teeth,â Jeonghan growls, his words clipped and precise. âWe have the manifests, the GPS logs. Talk, or this gets uglier than you.â
Mark's voice is a desperate whine now, âI'm not lying! It was a setup, I swear on my life! Just let me explain!â
Finally, you turn and saunter back towards the group, bottle swinging loosely in your grip, your steps measured and unhurried. The courtyard feels smaller with every stride, the heat pressing in, but you're cool as ice, the whisky fueling that detached calm.
Jeonghan glances at you briefly, his expression unchanging, but you catch the subtle nod; he's handing the reins your way soon enough.
As you approach, you spot Joshua off to the side, his face a mask of controlled intensity, arms crossed like he's ready for whatever comes next.
You jadedly extend the bottle towards Joshua, your voice a low, gravelly drawl as you say, âHere, take a fucking hit. This shit's too good to waste.â
Joshua smirks at you, that crooked grin flashing across his face, and grabs the bottle with a firm hand. âAppreciate it,â he replies, his tone laced with dark humor, before tipping it back for a sip.
âDamn, that's smooth,â he adds, his voice rough around the edges.
While Joshua holds the bottle, you fish a cigarette from your pocket with your free hand, the pack crinkling under your fingers. You light it with a quick flick of your lighter, click-hiss, the flame dancing in the sunlight as you draw in a deep lungful.
The smoke curls up, warm and acrid, filling your senses as you exhale slowly, the gray tendrils twisting into the air. Your other hand toys with the lighter, flipping it open and closed with absent-minded clicks, click-click, the metal cool against your skin, a tic that keeps you grounded.
By now, Jeonghan's interrogation has hit a wall.
Mark's still denying everything, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. âI don't know anything else! Please, just stop!â
Jeonghan eyes you then, that silent signal passing between you like it always does, a tilt of his chin, the barest flicker in his gaze.
Everyone there knows what it means; the air thickens with anticipation, and Mark's eyes snap to you, wide with dawning fear, his body tensing against the ropes.
You move closer to him, cigarette dangling from your lips, smoke trailing behind you like a ghost. The gravel shifts under your boots as you circle him slowly, your shadow falling over his face, making him flinch. You're calm, voice steady and low, contrasting his desperation.
âAlright, Mark,â you say, exhaling a plume of smoke that wafts towards him, âlet's cut the bullshit. Who helped you? Who fed you the orders for those shipments?â
Mark's breathing comes in ragged gasps, his face flushed and sweaty, eyes darting around like a cornered animal. âI-I don't know what you're talking about! Nobody helped me, it was just a mistake!â His voice cracks, pitching higher with panic, and you can see the fear sweating out of him, beads rolling down his forehead.
You take another drag, the cigarette glowing red, and blow the smoke directly into his face, making him cough and turn his head.
âMistake, huh? That's cute,â you reply, your tone mocking, almost bored. âWe both know that's horse shit. Spill itâ who's your contact? Give me names, routes, the whole fucked-up mess.â
He's trembling now, ropes creaking as he strains against them. âFuck you, bitch! I don't have to tell you anything! You think you can scare me?â His words are bravado mixed with terror, but you see the way his lips quiver.
You chuckle softly, stepping even closer, the tip of your boot nudging his knee. âScare you? Nah, I'm just getting started,â you say, your voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. âWho helped you, Mark? Don't make me ask again.â
Mark's eyes are wild, his voice rising in a desperate plea. âPlease, just leave me alone! I didn't do it! I'm not saying shit!â He's gasping for air, his body jerking futilely.
The back-and-forth drags on, the crowd watching in silence, their faces a mix of curiosity and indifference, like they're observing a routine spectacle.
You press harder, already losing patience, âCome on, you piece of shit, talk. Who fed you the info? Was it one of our own? Give me something real, or this ends badly for you.â
Mark's response is a broken sob, âYou can't prove anything! I swear, it's not me!â His words tumble out faster, laced with fear, âJust kill me already! I'd rather die than rot in some hole!â
You pause, letting his words hang in the heavy air, then lean in, your voice cold and unflinching. âOh, you'd rather die than tell the truth, huh? Not scared to die, are you? Donât want to rot in a hole? That's rich, coming from a rat like you.â
Mark glares up at you, defiance flickering through the fear. âYeah, that's right! Do it! fucking kill me! I ain't fucking talking!â
You straighten up, taking another drag of your cigarette, the ember flaring brightly. âHow about if someone dies in your place?â you say, your tone casual, like you're discussing the weather. âMaybe that'll loosen that tongue of yours.â
His eyes widen, but before he can respond, you turn away, scanning the crowd. Your gaze locks on Sydney, the tech whiz who's been hovering at the edge, her fingers twitching nervously. She's mid-twenties, sharp-eyed usually, but right now, she looks pale and out of place in her fitted shirt and jeans, like she didn't expect to be pulled into this.
You move towards her with purposeful strides, the cigarette still burning in your hand. Grabbing her by the hair, your fingers tangle in the strands roughly, yanking her forward as she yells in surprise. âWhat the fuckâlet go of me!â she screams, her voice high and panicked, struggling against your grip, her feet scraping the gravel as you drag her. âStop! Ow, you're hurting me, get off!â
You shove her in front of Mark, her body stumbling to a halt, breath coming in sharp gasps. She winces, trying to pull away, but your hand stays firm on her shoulder.
Mark's face twists in horror, his eyes bulging. âSydney? No, leave her out of this!â
You lean in close, your voice a menacing growl. âOh, I know all about you two, Mark. Dating the tech girl, huh? Real smart. Since you're okay with dying instead of talking, maybe she can die in your place. How's that sound?â
Mark's pleading now, his voice cracking. âNo, please! She's got nothing to do with this⌠you can't!â
You pull your gun from the holster with a smooth motion, the metal cool in your hand as you reload it, click-clack, the sound echoing in the courtyard.
Pressing the barrel to Sydney's forehead, she freezes, her eyes wide with terror, whimpering, âOh God, noâ please, don't!â
Mark yells, âStop! Don't hurt her, she's innocent! You fucking monster, let her go!â
âYou know what to do, Mark. All you have to do is talk.â You reminded him.
But Mark calls your bluff, his voice shaking but defiant. âYou wouldn't hurt an innocent and loyal member. Sydney's good at her job, you'll never find another one like her if you kill her!â
You stay silent for a second, letting the tension build, the crowd's breaths holding steady.
Then, without a word, you pull the trigger.
Bang!
Bang!
Two shots ripping through the air.
Sydney screams, a raw, piercing wail that echoes off the walls, âAaaah! Oh fuck, stop!â as she drops to the ground, clutching her legs, blood seeping into the gravel, her body writhing in agony.
You near Mark, gun still in hand, growling low, âThere, she's still got working hands, doesn't she? Sheâll die when I want her to. She will live if I want her to. Sheâll work if I want her to. Everyone's replaceable, including you. You don't call the shots here, so stop messing around before I put a fucking bullet through your girlfriend's head for real.â
You aim the gun at Sydney on the ground, her sobs mixing with the wet sounds of her pain, âShe's bleeding out, but hey, techies are a dime a dozen.â
Mark breaks, his face crumpling, voice frantic. âOkay, fuck, okay! It was the rival gang, the fucking Park syndicate ordered it! They paid me to reroute the shipments, drop points at the old warehouse on 5th, payments through offshore accounts!â
He spills everything, words pouring out in a rush as everyone listens, the crowd's silence unbroken. âThey planned to hit our next big load, ambush at the docks next week, bribe one of the guards there, Jake, to let them in. They're stockpiling our shit to undercut our prices⌠it's all set for tomorrow night!â
You smirk, holstering your gun with a satisfied grunt. âGood, that's more like it. See? That wasnât so hard,â you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
Then, you lean in close, taking a final drag of your cigarette and blowing the smoke right into his face, making him cough. âOne last thing⌠who else did you work with in here? Who's the other rat?â
Mark hesitates, then whimpers, âI-I don'tâ itâs just me, I swear that's all!â
You had told Jeonghan weeks ago there were multiple rats. He had agreed. Now one of them was cuffed and dragged across your gravel like a lesson, lying to your face.
You know he's lying for a fact, his eyes dart too much, his voice hitches on the names he spat out, like he's fishing for a way out.
Your hand twitches on the gun still warm from its last use, and without a word, you pivot slightly, your boot grinding into the gravel with a harsh crunch, and aim down at Sydney on the ground. She's writhing in a pool of her own blood, her legs mangled and useless, whimpering pathetically, âNo... please... I didn't... ahh, no, it hurts so bad...â
But you don't hesitate.
Bang!
The shot rips through the air, the bullet tearing into her chest with a wet, thudding impact, her body jerking violently as blood sprays outward in a crimson arc, splattering the gravel and flecking your boots.
Mark's reaction is immediate and feral; he lets out a guttural scream that echoes off the palm trees, âYou fucking bitch! You killed her, you goddamn monster!âHis body bucks against the ropes, the cords digging into his skin with a sharp riiiip as he struggles, veins bulging in his neck, face contorted in rage and terror.
âI'll kill you for this! You sick fuckâahh, fuck you! Let me go, you fucking coward!â He thrashes wildly, gravel scraping under his knees, his words tumbling out in a frantic, hate-filled barrage, âYou're nothing but a lapdog for Yoon Jeonghanâpiece of shit! I'll make you pay if it's the last thing I do!â
You turn back to Mark slowly, your expression unchanging, the gun still smoking in your hand as you tut softly, a low, mocking sound that vibrates in your throat.
Your voice is calm, edged with that cold satisfaction, as you say, âThat's what happens when you lie to me, you worthless sack of shit. Thought you'd get away with half-truths? Now look⌠your girl's gone, and itâs all your fault. You're next if you don't start singing.â
You emphasize each word with a slight wave of the gun, the metal glinting in the sunlight, your tone dripping with disdain, âYou had your chance to play straight, but no, you had to be a dumb fuck. Poor Sydney died knowing itâs your fault that you dragged her into this mess. Hope it was worth it.â
Mark's chest heaves, his face a mask of sweat and blood spatter from Sydney's final moments, but you don't give him time to wallow. You step closer, your shadow falling over him like a shroud, and lean in just enough to make him flinch.
Your voice drops to a dangerous whisper, laced with threat, âThis is the last time I'm gonna ask, Mark. Who else in this organization do you work with? Spill it all, names, plans, every dirty little detail or I swear, I'll make sure you join her in pieces.â You pause, letting the words sink in, your eyes boring into his, âDon't fuck this up again. Who's the rat besides you?â
But Mark's fear twists into something ugly⌠defiance, maybe, or just pure spite.
He lets out a harsh, barking laugh right in your face, the sound ragged and broken, spit flying from his lips as he glares up at you. âHa! You're bold as hell thinking I'd say shit now that you've killed Sydney, you twisted cunt. What's next? Torture me more? Go ahead! I'm not telling you jack. You think I'm scared? You've already taken everything!â His laughter turns manic, echoing in the courtyard, âYou're all talk and bloodâfucking psychopath! I hope you choke on it!â
You nod slowly, a wry smile tugging at your lips as you straighten up, turning away from him with that unhurried confidence.
The crowd watches, their breaths shallow, as you stride over to Joshua, who's standing there with his arms crossed, that same smirk playing on his face like he's enjoying the show. You grab the bottle of whiskey from his hand, the glass cool and slick under your fingers, and take a swig as you mutter, âFigured you'd say that, you stubborn prick. Always the hard way with you fucking people.â
The liquor burns down your throat in a fiery rush, warming your insides as you swallow deeply, then pull the bottle away with a satisfied grunt, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before turning back to Mark.
You eye him with a predatory gaze, the cigarette still smoldering between your fingers, and say in a low, dismissive drawl, âGuess there's no use for you anymore, huh? You're just dead weight now⌠literally.â Your words hang heavy, laced with finality, as you take another swig from the bottle, the amber liquid sloshing inside.
Mark's eyes widen in terror, his bravado cracking as he struggles harder against the ropes, the cords straining with a creaking snap. He yells right in your face as you lean down to his level, his breath hot and foul against your skin, âWhat the fuck do you mean? You crazy bitch, don't you dare! I'll fucking end youâahh, get away from me! You're a sadistic whore, that's what you are! Psycho killerâlet me go, you cunt!â His voice rises to a scream, spittle flying, âYou're nothing without Jeonghan, you fucking lapdog! I'll haunt you, you hear me?â
You take a long, deliberate swig from the whiskey as he rants on, his words blurring into a furious tirade, âYou think you're tough? You're just a thug with a gun! Fuck you and your boss!â
The liquor sits heavy in your mouth, and with a quick motion, you spit it directly into his face, the alcohol splashing across his skin in a stinging spray, making him gasp and choke, his words cutting off mid-sentence.
You cackle in amusement, the sound low and mocking, echoing in the tense air as you say, âOh, shut the fuck up, you whiny piece of trash. Thought you'd never stop yapping⌠and I thought you wanted to die?â
But as Mark starts cursing again, his voice hoarse and enraged, âYou filthy bitch, I'll rip your throat out if I get free!â, you tilt the bottle and pour the entire contents over him in one smooth, relentless stream, glug-glug-glug, the expensive whiskey drenching his hair, face, and clothes, the sharp, peaty scent filling the air as it soaks into his skin, making him sputter and twist away.
Before he can open his mouth again, you swing the heavy, now-empty glass bottle like a bat, the impact connecting with his head in a sickening crash, shards exploding outward in a shower of glittering fragments.
Blood erupts from the gash on his scalp, warm and sticky, as he lets out a guttural groan, âUghhâfuck!â, his body going limp and collapsing to the gravel like a rag doll, landing hard on his side with a thud, the ground staining red beneath him.
You take one last drag of your cigarette, the ember glowing bright as you inhale deeply, then puff the smoke directly into his face, the gray tendrils swirling around him as he coughs weakly. Crouching down to his level, the gravel digging into your knees, you grab him by the collar, yanking his face close to yours, and with your free hand, you remove your sunglasses, sliding them up onto your head so he can see your eyes that were cold, unyielding, and full of promise.
You smile, a slow, predatory grin, and say in a voice that's almost tender, âI want to be the last thing you ever see, Mark. Remember this face, it's the one sending you to hell.â
You hold his gaze for a beat, letting the words sink in, before smiling wider and standing back up, the sunglasses perched like a crown on your head.
Everyone present tenses, expecting the quick end, the pull of your gun, a shot to the head but what you do is so much worse, so viscerally final.
You pull out your lighter again, the metal cool in your palm as you start flicking it open and closed, click-hiss, click-hiss, the flame dancing tauntingly, your smile growing as you watch the fear and understanding dawn in Mark's eyes, his pupils dilating in horror.
Your eyes flick towards Jeonghan, who's watching you with an amused glint, his posture relaxed but his gaze hungry, raking over you up and down like you're the main event. He's turned on, no doubt about it, his breath a little shallower, a subtle bulge in his pants that he doesn't bother hiding, and he nods once, a silent permission that sends a thrill through you, his voice a low murmur to himself, âFuck, you're incredible.â
You smirk, the lighter still in hand, and with a final flick⌠hiss, you light it fully before tossing it casually onto Mark's whiskey-drenched form.
The flames erupt instantly, engulfing him in a roaring inferno, the alcohol fueling the fire as it licks up his body with a whooshing fwoosh.
Mark's screams pierce the air, raw and agonizing, âAaaah! Oh God, noâfuck! It hurts, fuck, help me! Aaaahhh!â His body convulses, the flames charring his skin, the sickening sizzle of flesh filling the courtyard as he thrashes, âMake it stop, please! Ahhhhhh!"
You take one last drag of your cigarette, the smoke filling your lungs with a final, satisfying burn, before flicking it into the fire, the ember sparking as it lands.
Turning away, you spot Narin at the edge of the crowd, her face pale and twisted in fear, eyes locked on you like you're a demon incarnate. You smirk at her, pulling your sunglasses back down over your eyes with a smooth motion, and strut back towards the mansion, your boots crunching confidently on the gravel, leaving the chaos behind.
Jeonghan falls into step behind you, his presence a heated shadow, and as the screams fade into the distance, you both slip into his car parked in the shade.
The drive is short, but Jeonghan can't wait as usual, his hands are on you the moment the door slams shut, the engine barely humming to life before he's grabbing your thigh, his voice a rough growl, âFuck, you're everything I wanted, always have been, baby.â
He pulls you into a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as he drives one-handed, the car swerving slightly on the private road.
By the time you reach one of your many mansions, he's frantic, yanking you out and pinning you against the car hood, his cock already hard and straining against his pants. He rips at your clothes, buttons flying, and thrusts into you without preamble, the hot metal of the hood pressing into your back as he pounds you relentlessly.
You moan loudly, âOh fuck, Hannie, harder, yes!â, your nails digging into his shoulders as he grunts with each thrust, âUghh, shit, you're so tight, take it, baby.â
He fucks you in oblivion right there, his hips slamming into yours with wet slap-slap sounds, your cries echoing in the empty driveway until you both climax, your body shuddering under him.
But he's not done, dragging you inside, he shoves you onto the kitchen counter, papers and bottles scattering with a clatter. He strips you fully this time, his mouth on your neck as he enters you again, the cool marble under your ass contrasting the heat of his body.
âGod, you're perfect for me,â he groans, his thrusts deep and rhythmic, âMoaning for me like thatâughh, fuck yes, bunny.â
You arch your back, gasping, âAhh, Han, don't stop, fuck me harder!â, the counter shaking with the force, your juices mixing as he drives you to another peak, his grunts growing louder, âTake it all, you dirty whoreâahh, fuck!â
Finally, he hauls you to his bed, throwing you down on the sheets with a possessive growl. He ties your wrists to the headboard with his tie, his eyes dark with lust as he teases you first, licking and biting your skin until you're begging.
Then he plunges into you again, the bed creaking under the assault, your moans turning to screams, âAaaah, yes! Hannie, I'm yours!â
He pounds you mercilessly, his hands gripping your hips, âYou're mine, all mine. Fucking made for meâughh, so good, baby,â until you're both spent, collapsing in a sweaty, satisfied heap, the world outside forgotten.
vi. SHE WHO REMAINS
The ledger, the burner traces, the weak points in procurement all said the same thing, one capture would not end this.
For three days you pushed through manifests, cross-referenced vendor payments and skimmed through hours of port footage. Joshua ran physical sweeps while Jun ran tails. Everything threaded back to small signals, movements at odd hours, payments that skimmed off into shadow accounts, and a courier pattern that matched the holes in your shipments.
That morning Joshua sent you a packet with a single note: check the feed in folder C-07.
You opened it at your desk, the compound feeling too quiet for a Tuesday. Your office was the usual, a long table, a bank of monitors, charts pinned on the wall, a coffee gone cold. The laptop hummed. You pulled the CCTV clips up and let them run, frame by frame.
At first it was routine footage, the alley behind a bar on the north route, low-res night cam. Then a hooded courier moves in, exchanges a package with a man inside a black sedan. You slowed the clip and pushed enhancement until the pixels softened into meaning.
Joshua tagged the timestamp and a feed popped up next to it, GPS coordinates of the handoff, a route that matched the empty-container incident two weeks back.
You opened the manifest notes for that date. The pattern fit like a lock into a key.
The second clip arrived while you watched.
It was from a small private camera on a side street near a Park-owned club. The resolution was better. A woman stepped into frame, moved with a rhythm that looked practiced, hands deliberate, not nervous. She scanned the street then met with two men who slid from the shadows like trained silhouettes.
They exchanged papers.
The men left.
The woman stayed, looking around, then slipped back into the club.
Joshuaâs label read: 2025-10-12_0213.
You enhanced again.
You slowed the speed, isolated facial features, played the clip through noise reduction until the edges sharpened.
It was Narin.
You did not feel surprised.
You felt full of cold fury, the kind that sits behind the ribs and makes your voice come out flat.
Narin, the girlfriend who had tried so hard, the woman who wore Jeonghanâs gifts like armor, the one who had been so visibly fragile during Markâs interrogation. She was sloppy enough to meet men on a side street and have it caught on camera.
That made her reckless. Recklessness made her stupid.
You cross-checked her schedule against the Park family contacts Joshua had flagged weeks ago. The numbers matched. The burner connection that showed on the foremanâs phone had pinged through the same relay node that had forwarded a payment to a shell company with links to the Park family. Junâs tails had turned up small drop points in the week after the first missing shipment.
When you connected the dots the map made sense, Mark was a connector. Narin was a relay.
It fit the other pieces too.
The way manifests had been altered at the inland terminal required someone with access and someone who could move in and out without setting off alarms. Narinâs presence at the club offered cover. She came as a girlfriend, she stayed as an observer, and she learned the rhythms. That someone from inside would reach outward for revenge or for leverage was ugly but logical. She had motive and access. She had the fear that could be turned into spite.
You pictured the nights she sat at the back of meetings, taking notes, trying to learn terms, trying to belong.
A woman who wants to be seen will do dangerous things to get attention.
You pulled the audio track, isolated the menâs voices, and fed them through your enhancement software. A name broke through the static, a courier alias that matched the burner number in Markâs call logs. The ledger entries flagged last month now had meaning. A payment had moved through an account that you traced to a front business that subcontracted loading crews.
You opened the vendor contract flagged in June and saw a secondary clause that allowed on-the-fly reroutes under certain codes.
Someone had used that clause to create the parallel channel.
You did not sit with it.
Anger made your hands efficient.
You grabbed the small pistol you kept in the desk drawer. You slid your laptop and phone into your bag. You stepped out of the office faster than the staff expected and moved through the halls with the certainty of someone who knew exactly where everyone would be.
The conference room sat along the eastern wing, glass looking out over the courtyard where Mark had been humiliated days ago.
You did not bother to knock.
You strode into the room, anger radiating from every pore.
Everyone's eyes shifted to you, the gun in your hand gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Joshua sat across from where you stood, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, he knew exactly what he was doing when he handed you that evidence. While Jeonghan watched you calmly from his seat, knowing that you wouldn't cause a scene without good reason. His gaze flicked to Narin, once he saw the permanent glare you had on the girl, and he knew instantly what it meant.
Narin didn't meet your eyes as you plugged in your laptop and let the video play on the projector screen.
The room fell silent as they watched Narin, the boss's girlfriend, revealed as the cheap snitch she truly was. Her eyes darted around the room, her hands shaking as she tried to speak over the sound of her own breathing.
The video ended, leaving an uncomfortable stillness hanging in the air.
Jeonghan spoke first to you, his voice eerily calm yet manic. âI should have known the second you brought it up months ago. I should have trusted my gut and killed her there and then.â His words hung heavy in the room, each one a blow to Narin's shattered dignity.
âI'm sorry! Iâm sorry, babe!â She cried, the desperation in her voice thick. âI was just jealous of her, I was blinded by anger... I didn't do anything more than that!I promise!â Her words were punctuated by sobs as she knelt on the ground, begging for her life.
You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Narinâs pathetic excuses. She wanted to be one of them so badly that she sold them out for a taste of power. âPlease, don't kill me,â she begged, tears streaming down her face. âI'm sorry⌠Jeonghan, babe, Iâm sorry. Please!â
Jeonghan merely tutted at her pleas before giving you a look that said it was okay. You nodded, cocking your pistol and shooting her once in a spot that wouldn't kill her immediately but would make her bleed slowly. Her scream cut through the silence like a knife, ringing in your ears long after it faded away.
âEverybody out!â Jeonghan ordered everyone in the room which you knew exempted you.
Everyone scattered out of the conference room immediately as soon as Jeonghan finished his order, leaving you and Jeonghan alone with a slowly dying Narin on the ground.
You watched Narin bleed out, taking a moment to revel in the sense of satisfaction washing over you.
It was exactly as you wanted it, no immediate end for her, just a slow, agonizing demise. You couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph, knowing that it finally led to this moment, and now Narin would have to witness the power of her anger towards her.
âHan,â you said, your voice sultry and dripping with an almost childlike demand. âI want to show her... I want to show Narin that you're mine.â
Jeonghan's smirk was instantaneous, a low chuckle escaping him as he looked at you, his gaze appreciative. âDirty fucking girl,â he murmured, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek before pulling you into a rough, messy kiss.
The taste of him was intoxicating, and you melted into the embrace, your hands roaming over his body, craving the feeling of his skin against yours.
As your lips clashed in a frenzy of need and desire, you pushed him down onto his chair, your fingers making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. His chest was bare and warm beneath your touch, and you broke the kiss only to trail your lips down his neck, biting and sucking at the tender skin there.
âYou've been so good to me, Hannie,â you whispered against his skin, your hand slipping down to stroke his growing erection through his pants. âLet's show that bitch just how good you can be for me before she fucking dies.â
With a playful smirk, Jeonghan grasped your wrist and pulled you down to kneel before him. You wasted no time in unbuckling his belt, pulling his pants down along with his underwear, freeing his throbbing cock. Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him deeper, moaning around his length.
âFuck, just like that,â Jeonghan groaned, his hands finding their way into your hair, guiding you with a firm grip. âYou're such a good slut for me, aren't you? Sucking my cock like it's the best thing you've ever tasted.â
You moaned around him, the vibrations sending pleasure through his body. His voice music to your ears, spurring you on as you sucked him deeper, taking him to the back of your throat.
As you bobbed your head, you pulled away before you whined up at Jeonghan, âTell her, Hannie. Tell her about all the times we've fucked behind her back. Make her hear it before she can't anymore.â
Jeonghan's eyes locked onto yours, a wicked glint dancing in them. âNarin,â he called out, his voice laced with lust and triumph. âDo you remember that night at my penthouse when you visited? This pretty girl over here came over a few hours after you lefts and I fucked her stupid. Or how about that afternoon when I cancelled dinner plans with you? We fucked everywhere, just like we're about to do now. And it's all because I love her,â he said, looking down at you with adoration in his eyes.
You giggled as he pulled his cock from your mouth, his hands rough as he pulled you up by your hair. You straddled his lap, rubbing against him, desperate to have him inside you. His hands roamed over your body, tugging at your clothes until you were bare on top of him.
As he entered you, you moaned loudly, arching your back in pleasure. âYes, Han,â you moaned, âI love you tooâso fucking much. Now fuck me like I know only you can.â
He didn't need to be told twice. He lifted you up slightly, positioning you on the edge of the table before diving into you. His thrusts were deep and relentless, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you moaned his name over and over.
The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and his grunts, the slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls.
You could see Narin's dying eyes on you, but you didn't care.
This was all for you, for your pleasure, for your revenge.
As Jeonghan's thrusts became erratic, you knew he was close. âI'm going to come, baby,â he groaned, his hips jerking as he reached his peak. You took everything he had to give, the feeling of his cum warm inside you making you shiver.
But he wasn't done with you yet. He pulled himself out of you, his eyes ravenous as he stared down at your naked body. His hands and mouth were everywhere, kissing and biting at your breasts, your stomach, moving lower to where you were still throbbing from his earlier attention.
His tongue delved between your folds, licking and sucking at your most sensitive spots. You writhed beneath him, your hands finding their way into his hair, urging him on as he brought you to the edge. And then, just as you were about to fall over, he slid two fingers inside you, curling them in that perfect way that had you screaming his name as you came.
Jeonghan then flipped you over onto your stomach, lifting your hips up to meet his thrusts as he entered you from behind. You moaned loudly, your body still trembling from your orgasm as he began to move inside you again.
âAgh! F-FuckâHanâŚâ you threw your head back.
âLook at Narin,â he growled, his hand reaching around to wrap around your throat, pulling your head back so you could see her dying eyes on you. âShe's watching her boyfriend fuck his best friend. Isn't that a beautiful sight?â
You laughed, the sound mingling with your moans as he fucked you hard and fast.
It was a wild, mindless coupling, the both of you lost in the heat of the moment.
And as you stared down at Narin, watching her life slip away with each thrust, you knew that this was the perfect end to your twisted game.
Jeonghan's thrusts were relentless, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. His hand tightened around your throat, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that only spurred you on. You moaned his name, the sound raw and desperate as you felt another orgasm building inside you.
âI'm yours,â you gasped, âI'm yours, Jeonghan. Only yours. Always have been.â
âAnd I'm yours,â he grunted, his hips snapping against yours with a frenzied pace. âAlways yours, my dirty girl.â
His words sent you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that left you breathless. You clung to him, your body trembling as he continued to move inside you, chasing his own release.
With a final thrust, he came, his hot release filling you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, moaning your name like a prayer. His body trembled against yours, the both of you coming down from the high of your intense coupling.
As your breathing slowed, Jeonghan pulled out of you and sat back in his chair, pulling you onto his lap. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both looked down at Narin's lifeless body.
âPerfect,â you whispered, turning your head to press a kiss against Jeonghan's lips. âIt was perfect, just like I imagined it would be.â
Jeonghan's smile was wide and content as he looked down at you. âAnything for you, angel,â he said, his voice full of adoration. âAnything at all.â
You sit there, tangled in Jeonghanâs arms, the scent of smoke, whiskey, blood, and sex still clinging to the air between you. His hand rests loosely against your hip, thumb tracing idle circles against your skin.
The quiet hum of the air conditioner fills the room, broken only by the faint echo of footsteps outside, growing distant until they fade completely.
Across the space, Narinâs body lies still, the lifelessness of her presence almost unreal.
You watch her without emotion, without pity.
Somewhere deep inside, you know something in you died long before this night, maybe the both of you did.
Whatever humanity remained between you and Jeonghan, it was buried years ago beneath loyalty, blood, and the choices you never had time to regret.
And as you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that this was just the beginning of your twisted tale.
The world outside could burn, and neither of you would care. You had each other, like always, that was the only thing that ever truly mattered.
There would be more, so much more, and you couldn't wait to see where your depraved desires would take you next.
vii. EPILOGUE
There are endings born from consequence, and others born from choice.
Yours was always both.
In the end, it was never about right or wrong, only about him.
Yoon Jeonghan, the name that shaped every line you crossed, every part of you that forgot how to turn back.
The world you built together was never meant to last. Too much blood, too much silence, too much of you in him and him in you.
But even as everything burned, neither of you let go.
You held on the only way you knew how, through loyalty, through ruin, through love that no longer knew its limits.
It was never redemption you wanted.
It was him.
And for him, it will always be.
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Summary: Your parents are at the restaurant table wondering where you are, feeling increasingly embarrassed and irritated that you just up and stood them in front of the Harpers whose son they tried to introduce you to. Little do they know that here you are, in the restroom, being taken apart by your boyfriend who is a little too territorial to just sit back and watch you in the company of another man.
Word count: 6.4k
Genres/warnings: smut, pwp (porn w/ some plot, surprise!), romance; high society au, forbidden lovers, secret relationship, boyfriend!seungcheol x girlfriend!reader; for the sake of the story reader's last name is Lynn (i hate using Y/N L/N), difficult family relationships, old school customs of marrying the daughter off to someone as a business deal, mentions of fragile male ego, being under pressure and threatened by your own family; lmk if i missed anything.
Smut warnings: Minors DNI, semi-public sex, light teasing and fingering, bodily fluids (arousal, using spit as lube replacement. tough times), piv sex (unprotected; don't do it kids), it's rough but with love (^_^), some ass slapping, ass and boob fondling, breath play if you squint, creampie, dirty talk, our fave mix of degradation and praise, seungcheol is called daddy like once, use of pet names, cheol loves giving aftercare; lmk if i missed anything.
A/N: if only you knew what served as inspiration for this fic (besides the recent Jungle performance) you wouldn't have believe it because it turned out much deeper than i initially planned for it to be considering the material... i'm not complaining though, i'm really happy that i'm on this writing streak, you can't imagine how good it feels to just put out things consistently. Please enjoy yourselves and leave your feedback in any form youâre comfortable with be it comments, (anon) asks or reblogs. And I will see you in my next fic; requests are open á̤̍
A/N2: big thanks to @pochaccoups for beta reading this because i doubted myself a little on this text and i needed the feedback and reassurance and your reactions (i smiled like an idiot and giggled)đŠľ
If you see any mistakes: I try to proofread but English isnât my first language, proceed at your own discretion.
Masterlist.
You're bored. You've been bored for the past hour, maybe more. The restaurant is the typical high-end quiet place that whispers luxury and closed society in ways people who don't come from wealthâespecially old moneyâwould totally miss. The music here is a suggestion, not an obvious presence. Somehow you're glad today isn't a live band day; you'd develop a migraine faster.
You sit at a round tableâyour dearest mother and father on your left, and this guy with his family to your right. You don't even make an effort to memorise his name. It's either Nathan or Henry, but you couldn't care less.
It's a familiar routine with you and your parents. For the past couple of years, the closer you get to thirty, the more insistent they become on using you as an ace card in your father's business game. Finding you a match that brings the most prosperous deal to the table. Every time you think too deeply about the fact that your own family is trying to sell you off in hopes that some wealthy son will think with his⌠secondary brain and want to marry you, you shut the thought down. It makes you want to puke.
This one is the worst so far, you think. Not a single attempt at conversation from him sparks even a hint of interest. And the more distracted you become, the more often you catch your father's infuriated stare and your mother's hand subtly pinching your thigh or side every few minutes. They've been more insistent, less patient recently, exhausting their options with increasing speed the more you sabotage them.
You think you've been somewhat smart about your tactics. Sometimes it's as obvious as today. Sometimes you give them false hopeâa smooth dinner, maybe even one dateâbut it never moves past that.
Tonight, as you subtly observe the young man beside you, the urge to shut him down grows stronger. Actually, you hate men, period. Well, most of them. But you hate these ones most of all, the kind who try so desperately to look like they mean business, masking how badly they want to be respected, to climb. You often imagine men like him taking orders from those above them, or how in secret they might want to be pegged.
The thought makes you chuckle quietly as you trace the stem of your glass with your index finger.
"Something on your mind?" a voice cuts in. It's himâHenry or Nathan, as you continue to wrack your brain between two optionsâleaning slightly toward you with a smile that is supposed to be charming or even private but is just empty.
You glance at him, your own smile thinning. "Just appreciating the crystal." Your voice is flat, devoid of invitation.
He blinks, off balance for a second, then recovers. "It is fine quality. My father imports these from a family-owned studio in Munich."
You hum, noncommittal, and take a slow sip of water. Of course your daddy does.
The conversation doesn't go anywhere else from here. Your thoughts of this guy being pegged real hard are interrupted and your smile is wiped from your face quite a few minutes later the moment your father calls your name, drawing the table's attention to you. You look up, an eyebrow archingâa habit you picked up from someone your father would hate to know hangs around you quite a lot.
"Did Henry say something funny, sweetheart?" The lighthearted tone is deceptive. You see it in his eyes, that silent warning to behave.
You couldn't care less. Your expression turns impassive. So, it is Henry.
"No, he didn't," you say evenly. At least not to me remains unsaid. You haven't been listening at all, trying to entertain yourself with your thoughts. But your parents read between the lines anyway. You hate that they choose to put you on the spot as reprimand. Maybe they think it's right, getting back at you for embarrassing them. You're not sure how they expect silent compliance when they raised you to be sharp, or how they expect obedience after violently attempting to take away the only thing that ever made you happy. There's not a chance you'll trust or listen to them again after that.
"Care to share with the table what you were giggling about, then?" your father presses, his jaw tight beneath the pleasant facade.
Your expression hardens, challenging him silently. This, like many other things with you and your parents, is a familiar dance. He built you like a sonâindependent, opinionatedâbut hated it every time you turned on him. Now he wants you docile. Quiet. Probably dumb. He should know he's treading dangerous territory when he pokes you like this.
You feel your entire body lock into fight mode.
"Darling," your mother whispers under her breath, a barely audible plea. It's meant to placate you, to stop you from rising to the bait, from making a scene. And just for herâbecause while she's had her moments, she's endured enough of your father's bullshit, and she doesn't deserve more, certainly not because of youâyou force your shoulders to relax. You plaster on a polite smile.
"Sorry, Dad," you say, your tone saccharine sweet. "It was rude of me to drift off. I apologise." You offer a brief, contrite smile to Henry's parents. His mother looks intensely uncomfortable, her eyes darting between her son and your father. You pity her, though you pity yourself more.
Henry's father clears his throat, attempting to steer the conversation back to safe, tedious waters. "As I was saying, the merger prospects in the southeast sector are quite promising, provided the regulatoryâŚ"
His voice fades into a dull buzz. You tune it out, focusing on the cool weight of your fork in your hand. Henry, emboldened by your supposed apology, tries again.
"Do you follow the art scene? There's a new exhibition at the National Museum I was planning to attend this weekend."
You turn your head toward him slowly. "I find most curated exhibitions to be a little⌠sanitised. I prefer art with teeth. The kind that makes people uncomfortable."
He stares, his smile stiffening. "I⌠see."
You don't elaborate. The silence between you stretches until his mother gently asks your mother about the floral arrangements for a spring charity gala. The script resumes.
It's all good, though. It has to be over soon. You take a slow, deep breath and brace yourself.
However, as you let your eyes wander beyond the table, before you can even exhale, something catches your attentionâand your breath. You look behind your father and fully freeze, forcing your expression to remain neutral so it doesn't raise any alarms in your parents.
There, a couple of tables away, you spot Seungcheol. He's just finished shaking hands with some suited man and is sitting back down as the other leaves. You wonder how long he's been there. Probably a while; it looks like he just concluded a business dinner. Has he noticed you yet?
Your question is answered almost immediately. Seungcheol looks up from the glass of whisky he's tapping lightly on the tablecloth, and his gaze lands on youâsmouldering, knowing. He's been here for long enough. He's been observing. To any outsider he looks unreadable, calm, but you see the way his eyes blaze, the way they briefly flicker toward the man on your right. To you, his quiet possessiveness is so glaringly obvious it burns through the distance and right into your skin. It makes you want him more than you should in this moment. Far more.
You swallow hard, suddenly salivating. He looks so good in his black suit and shirt, the top button already undone. And just to make it worse, he slowly reaches up and undoes another one as he holds your stare, the corner of his naturally downturned plush lips quirking up just barely. Fucking tease, you think, but force your expression to stay blank.
You don't even notice you're sitting up straighter, tauter, breathing shallowly, until a polite laugh from your right snaps you back. You feel pulled out of waterâdisoriented, breathless, lost. You down the rest of your wine, grab your clutch, and excuse yourself from the table with a placid smile, your voice impressively steady as you speak up.
Your mother gives a tight, approving nod. Your father's eyes narrow slightly, but he says nothing. Fortunately, neither of them has noticed Seungcheol, who is already standing, moving casually in the direction of the bathrooms that are thankfully absolutely out of sight.
He's there when you round the corner, leaning against the wall opposite the restroom doors, watching your every step. You move past him as if he isn't there, pushing into the women's lounge.
The faint ambient music is slightly louder here in the quiet. You walk toward the counter with its several sinks and wide wall mirror, setting your clutch down. A tremor runs through you in anticipation as you watch the door in the reflection. You're not disappointed. It opens, and Seungcheol steps through, locking it behind him with a soft click. His eyes sweep the space, checking the open, empty stalls. You hear him hum in satisfaction before his footsteps approach.
"Hi, beautiful," he murmurs, his hands finding their familiar place on your hips. His lips go to your neck, planting a kiss that makes you shiver and grab the edge of the counter. "You look splendid, baby."
"Ain't so bad yourself," you respond, a cheeky smile playing on your lips as his eyes meet yours in the mirror. Amusement dances in his expression. "What are you doing here? Didn't expect to see you," you add, changing the topic briefly even though you can guess.
"Had to close a deal with a new supplier for my father. Nothing interesting." Seungcheol explains, his voice a low rumble near your ear. You hum in understanding as he lands another soft kiss, this time on your shoulder, before turning you around to face him. "You, however," he says, his eyebrow raising inquiringly. "What was that?"
You have to bite the inside of your bottom lip to suppress a smileâboth because he looks so hot when he's possessive like this, and because his eyebrow thingy is one of the little quirks you find the most charming in him.
"Just the usual. My parents trying to set me up to land them a generational business deal," you shrug with an eye roll. Your hands come up and begin picking at the lapels of his jacket absentmindedly. You're tired, and Seungcheol can tell. He knows. After all, your parents tried desperately to ruin your relationship with him five years ago.
They were fine with you doing whatever you wanted during college, and you really thought it was possible to stay with Seungcheol. He had everything on their list: an old-money background, a family business that promised a ridiculously prosperous merger with your father's company. And on top of that, you were happy. You actually loved him. But as soon as you had your degree, they did everything to pull you apart. It's because you suffered so much under their relentless pressure that Seungcheol suggested you pretend to finally break up and see him secretly instead. Whether your parents think they fully succeeded or they know you're still seeing your "ex" and are simply choose to ignore the truth for now, you don't know and don't careâas long as they don't try to lock you away again.
You still don't fully understand what triggered your father's hostility toward the Choi family, but you have a hunch. It likely had something to do with his huge, fragile ego being lethally bruised by Seungcheol's father in some way. Why your mother supported him so fiercely on this matterâis a real mystery you can't seem to solve to this day.
"So wound up," Seungcheol coos, bringing you back to the present. You blink, looking up from where your fingers have been beginning to trace the open collar of his shirt. "Do I need to help my baby relax?" he asks, brushing your cheekbone with his knuckles in a feather-light touch. You lean into itâa reflex you can't control. His tone is suggestively soft, and you feel yourself shiver, a familiar warm heaviness settling low in your belly. "Yeah?" He smiles knowingly when your fingers unconsciously clutch the fabric of his lapel.
You shake your head, forcing your body to relax. "No, Cheol, we don't have time for that. They'll grow suspicious if I'm away too long," you say, brushing the fabric to straighten it out before removing your hands from him, feeling regretful that you have to leave, and turn around to grab your purse.
But before you can, Seungcheol comes half a step closer, pressing you gently into the counter and bracketing you with his arms. You startle briefly, your hands flying to the front and pressing onto the marble edge for support, before you look up to see him in the mirror, behind you.
"Sorry, princess. Can't let you go without marking you up properly," he whispers, his lips pressing softly right beneath your earâthat sensitive spot he knows quickly makes you weak in the knees. Your updo is working against you, giving him far too much access. He nuzzles there afterwards, and you notice your breathing already turning shallow. "I really don't like the idea of you going back out there there all stiff and tired and nervous, hmm." He purrs. You see him watching you through the reflection, not a hint of serious sympathy on his face.
His warm brown eyes, framed by those long, fluffy lashes and heavy lidded with intent, are hypnotising. He lifts his head just enough so his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "Want you to reek of me when you head back."
You swallow thickly, attempting to grasp some control, but you know there's none left. "Cheol," you try, appealing to a conscience you know is absent when his greed for you is stoked. Seungcheol isn't controlling, isn't toxic, but he hates sharing what's his. And you are his.
Over the past couple of years as your parents grow more insistent, Seungcheol's patience for staying secret thins in geometrical progression to their efforts. Seeing you in the company of another man, even against your will, only stokes that primal need to mark his territory.
However, you've been deranged for a long time now when it comes to Seungcheol. Because it turns you on to know that people around you will see that you're his, whether it's subtle or obvious. The thought alone makes your skin flush hotter under his mouth.
"Just a little," he coaxes, his voice a velvet promise. "Enough so only you and I know." His teeth graze the spot, not biting, just threatening, and a helpless sound escapes you. "That's it," he murmurs approvingly, one hand moving from the counter to your hip and up over your curves until he gently tilts your head to the side. "Let me take care of you. Let me remind you who you belong to."
You close your eyes for a second, surrendering to the sensation, to the feeling that always comes with being in his arms. The feeling that you're at the right place.
Seungcheol's lips are warm and soft when they press over the spot his teeth just grazed.
You feel both his hands settle on your hips again, their heat seeping through the silk of your dress. His palms caress and squeeze the flesh there, eliciting soft sighs from your lips.
A hum builds deep in his throat, low and approving, as his mouth moves againâslow, leaving a wet trail over your skin until he tugs on your earring with his teeth. It's just enough to make your pussy clench needily around nothing, and you moan in a whisper. "Cheol.."
He smiles at you through the mirror, lazy and satisfied, when you press back into him reflexively, seeking. "Bend over for me, princess," he murmurs, and gently presses his palm between your shoulder blades.
You comply, leaning over the cool marble counter, holding yourself up on your forearms.
"Good girl," he praises, his voice thick. He begins to lift the slip of your dress, bunching the cherry red fabric up over your waist.
You watch Seungcheol in the reflection, seeing his eyes run over your legs and ass appreciatively. Extra so, since you're wearing his favourite colours. "So pretty," he murmurs, his voice rough. "This colour against your skin... fuck." His fingers trace the dip of your spine until he hooks a finger into the waistband of your matching red lace. He tugs, seemingly fascinated. "Wearing my colours to a dinner with another man? My little rebel," he chuckles, and lets go, allowing the band to snap against your skin.
You flinch, biting the inside of your lip to stifle a whimper. He hums in satisfaction, continuing his path of exploration as if he hasn't done it a hundred times before. Seungcheol's touch is loving in its thoroughness, murmuring praises as he reaches the backs of your thighs. But his next action is pure degradation. He kneads the swell of your ass for a moment, and then his palm lands on your bared skin with a sharp, stinging slap. The sound echoes crisply in the tiled room. You gasp quietly, your fingers splaying against the counter. Heat blooms instantly, contrasting with the cool air.
"One more," Seungcheol says softly, relishing the way his handprint flares red on your skin.
He delivers another, a fraction harder, on the other cheek. Your body jolts forward, and a quiet, punched-out mewl escapes you. "Good girl. Taking everything so well." He pats your butt affectionately as you wiggle slightly.
You hear the clink of his belt buckle, the rasp of his zipper, and the shuffle of fabric as he slips out of his suit jacket. He folds it neatly by your purse before meticulously rolling his sleeves up. More rustling, and then you feel him pressing against your backsideâthe warmth of his body, the way his hardening cock presses into your skin.
His fingers hook into the side of your flimsy lace panties, peeling the material off your wet cunt and simply pushing it aside. The air hits your now-exposed folds, making you clench involuntarily. Seungcheol runs two fingers through your slit, gathering wetness, and lets out a gratified groan right by your ear as he leans over.
"Soaked already," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He presses the pads of his fingers against your clit in slow, circling pressure that makes your knees threaten to give out. "All this for me? Just from sitting there, knowing I was watching?" He continues stroking through your folds, smearing and collecting your arousal. He slips a finger inside you, just to the first knuckleâa tease rather than reliefâand you whimper, pushing back against his hand. "Greedy little thing. Does your pussy miss me this much, baby girl? Hmm?" Seungcheol asks, and sinks his finger deeper, making you melt and clench around the invading digit.
"Yes, Daddy," you sigh, and your whole body shudders when he adds a second finger. "Please..." You know you need to be quiet, but you can't. If he continues teasing you like this, you're going to have a hard time keeping it down.
"Please what, love? Use your big girl words," he encourages, his voice dripping with both malice and adoration for the way you're coming undone so easily.
"Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad," you breathe, your eyes bleary and desperate when you meet Seungcheol's in the reflection. The corner of his mouth quirks up in approval.
He doesn't play with you for long after that. Withdrawing his hand, you hear him spit into his palmâthe sound lewd and thrilling. The slick, rhythmic sound of him fisting his cock follows, working himself to full hardness, spreading the spit as a crude lubricant. His other hand returns to your hip, holding you firmly in place.
Seungcheol guides himself to you, the rounded, hot head of his cock nudging against your entrance, catching. He swipes through your folds slowly, once, twice, coating himself in your arousal for good measure, teasing your quivering hole until you're pushing back against him in silent plea.
"Shhh," he soothes, though he's the one torturing you, dragging it out. "I've got you."
Before the begging can fully form on your lips, he snaps his hips forward, rough and unceremonious, burying himself inside you in one brutal thrust. The force jerks you forward, your forehead nearly touching the mirror. A ragged gasp is torn from your throat as you're stretched, filled, conquered. He wraps a hand around your throat and pulls you against him, making you arch and present even more so he can go deeper. His other hand slides over your mouth just in time to muffle the small cry that escapes you as your eyes roll back.
"Good fucking girl," he rasps, his breathing already growing heavier. He pulls almost all the way out and snaps his hips forward again, bottoming out in one swift motion that knocks the air from your lungs. You moan into the hand still covering the lower half of your face.
"Take it, baby."
Seungcheol picks a slow, forceful pace that sends an echo of slapping skin through the tiled bathroom with every thrust. His hand moves from your mouth to your neck, squeezing lightly, making your head spin. His hips snap into you in a grinding motion, the tip of his cock reaching deep enough to kiss your cervix every time.
You feel his hands move again. He manhandles you gently, making you brace against the mirror instead of the counter. His hands find your waist, just beneath the bunched-up dress, as he continues to grind into you, slow and deep. Your body moves with his, pushed into the counter with every snap of his hips. Your vision swims as you watch him through the mirrorâeyebrows pinched in concentration, lips slightly open, the tip of his tongue just visible with the effort. He'd look adorable if he weren't taking you apart in a restaurant bathroom, making your entire body jolt, your breaths coming in lewd sighs and soft moans.
Seungcheol catches you watching him and sends you a half-smirk before leaning over your body. One hand fondles your braless breast through the fabric of your dress; his lips find your skin, leaving a sloppy trail of kisses on your neck.
When he straightens again, the hand that isn't on your waist goes to your already dishevelled updo. He pulls out the pins holding it up, allowing your hair to spill across your back. "Much better," he murmurs, low and satisfied, before gathering your hair in his hands. He makes a makeshift ponytail, yanking your head back against his shoulder for just a moment before letting go. "Such a pretty slut for me, aren't you?" He lands a sharp slap to your ass, and then another.
Then he picks up the pace, fucking into you with abandon. All you can do is take it, breathing heavily and doing your best to stay quiet while your pussy gets dicked down so good. He makes you pant like a dog with the pace he sets, your tongue sticking out because he hits your spots and makes your brain melt away.
An insistent buzzing registers somewhere in the back of your mindâyour phone. It's most likely your parents, trying to figure out where you went, if you walked out under the guise of a ladiesâ room. Too bad you can't let them know you'll be back. Not when Seungcheol reaches around you, his hand splaying over your lower belly to press and feel the way he pokes into your insides. You mewl, clenching around his length.
"Cheol, please... I'm gonna cum," you manage breathlessly.
He helpfully moves his hand to stimulate your clit. "Then cum, baby. Want you to cream all over my cock," he grunts, beginning to rub your sensitive nub just the way he knows you like it while continuing to spear into your sopping cunt.
The sounds become wetter, sloppier. You're barely holding up when your walls begin to clench and contract around his fat dick. Your pleasure crests, spilling over, engulfing your body in warm, tingling waves as you shudder violently, struggling to keep yourself upright.
You hear Seungcheol cursing behind you, his pace picking up in force and speed, using the way your greedy cunt tries to milk him to bring himself to his own climax.
It doesn't take long. His hips stutter, and you feel his cock pulse, filling you up with his seed. His pace turns sporadic until he presses deep within you, heaving against your back while you lean on your elbows on the marble countertop, unable to hold yourself up without his hands gripping your waist.
"Fuck," he whispers, stroking your back soothingly before leaning over and pressing soft, sucking kisses to your shoulder. They won't leave bruises, but they feel nice.
Your brain is mush. You can't think straight; your consciousness is swimming somewhere, grounded only by the contrast of the cold marble counter and Seungcheol's warm body pressing against you. You hear him whispering somethingâsweet, meaningless comfortsâbefore he pulls out, leaving you empty and gaping. You feel his cum drip down your thigh and whimper, disturbed.
"I'm onto it," Seungcheol says softly. You hear him grab paper towels. He returns quickly, wiping most of the mess clean and pulling the lace of your underwear back into place, sealing whatever didn't leak. You bite your lip, forcing yourself not to moan. His hands are reverent and gentle when he fixes the hem of your dress, though you could do it yourself.
You finally find the strength to stand straight, though you still feel a bit like a newborn deer.
You turn, using the counter for support, and watch Seungcheol briefly clean himself and put his pants back on properly. He notices you watching him, notices the dazed look on your face, and smiles. He comes closer and wraps his arms around your waist. You don't have to be perceptive to see how amused and full of himself he is right now for ruining you so thoroughly. "Did I overdo it?" There's not an ounce of remorse in his voice.
You brace yourself on the counter behind you and roll your shoulders and neck, giving yourself time to clear your head. You've been away from the table too long. Staying here another couple of minutes won't make much difference.
When you open your eyes, Seungcheol is watching you, his eyes warm and affectionate.
Before you can stop him, he leans in and litters the column of your throat with gentle kisses, almost apologetic for getting carried away. But you know he's not really sorry. Not when he pulls on your already low neckline and latches onto your breast, sucking a hickey right by your nipple.
"Cheol, no-" but it's too late. You feel the tingling on your skin as he detaches with a soft, smooching sound and looks at his handiwork with a sense of full accomplishment. The neckline of your dress does cover the mark, but you can't help but wonder if it will bloom too soon and possibly peek out for anyone to see.
"Much better," he says, nosing the spot right under your ear, turning extra tactile and clingy. You know Seungcheolâhe thrives on providing thorough aftercare, from physical closeness to literally taking care of you. And you know he hates that he can't do it properly right now. So he takes what he can before the two of you have to inevitably part for the rest of the night.
"You should go," you whisper, your voice still a little unsteady. "'ll be okay."
He pouts, a genuine, boyish expression that contrasts wildly with the man who just had you bent over a bathroom counter. "Do I have to?"
You smile, despite everything, and kiss the pout away. "Yes. Before my father sends a search party."
It turns into the two of you continuously chasing each other's lipsâsoft, lingering kisses that speak of reluctance to part more than passion. He holds your face between his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.
"Tomorrow," he murmurs against your mouth. "My place. I'll cook."
"No, thanks. Last time you almost burned the kitchen," you whisper back, smiling.
"Then we'll order in. Just be there." His tone leaves no room for argument, but his eyes are pleading.
You nod, and with one last, searing kiss, he releases you. You watch as he slips his jacket back on, becomes the Choi Seungcheol, heir and businessman, once more. With a final, smouldering glance, he unlocks the door and disappears.
You're left alone with the scent of him on your skin, and the quiet hum of the restaurant waiting beyond the door.
Somehowâcomposed and recollectedâyou return to the table where your parents, Henry, and his family are still seated. Unfortunately. A part of you had hoped they'd believed you'd just walked out, that the dinner had been wrapped up in your absence. No such luck.
Your parents don't look impressed with your reappearance, not outwardly at least. You play your part, offering a soft apology for your extended absence, citing a sudden wave of nausea and needing fresh air. Your father's eyes assess you with cold scepticism.
"Your hair is down," he states, the observation a quiet accusation.
You touch the loose waves self-consciously. "The pins were giving me a headache," you explain, your voice smooth. "I had to take them out."
You don't think they believe you. You also don't really care. You just want this pantomime to finally end. Though, the desperate urge for it to be over has dulled. You're too sated, too relaxed, thrumming with a deep, secret security under the phantom weight of Seungcheol's claim. Henry's presence on your right is still an irritant, but now it's laced with a perverse, smug satisfaction. You notice him frown subtly, his nostrils flaring just a bit as if catching a new scent. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, puzzled.
"Is something wrong?" you turn to ask him, innocence perfected as you bat your lashes.
He startles, clearing his throat. "No, not at all." He quickly turns back to the dry conversation about market fluctuations between your fathers, suddenly eager to re-insert himself, to look important.
You barely suppress a smirk and take a sip of water. It nearly goes down the wrong pipe when you see Seungcheol walking toward your table. Your eyes widen, sending him a silent, frantic question. What the fuck? He was supposed to leave.
The second person to notice him is your mother. Her sharp intake of breath is quiet, but it shifts the energy. Soon, the entire table's attention is on the man striding confidently toward you. You tense, bracing. Your father's posture turns rigid, his irritation now simmering visibly.
Seungcheol is utterly unbothered. He greets the table with an effortless, polished politeness, shaking hands with the men, offering a charming, respectful nod to the women.
"Mr. and Mrs. Lynn, a pleasure. I didn't mean to interrupt." Of course he did. His eyes land on you and then on Harper's son sitting on your right. This is when you know that whatever he's going to do next is fully dictated by his fierce unwillingness to share. It seems that today the last strand of his patience snapped.
He comes to your side, his hands resting on your upper arms in a squeeze that is far too intimate for casual company. He leans down, his lips brushing your cheek in a kiss that lingers a heartbeat too long. "Just a brief business thing, baby, relax," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble meant only for you, though you know your mother catches it. Her face is a mask of stunned confusion.
If you were wondering whether your parents knew of your remaining connection to Seungcheolânow you know that they certainly didn't.
He straightens, but his hands slide to your shoulders, his thumbs digging into the knots near your spine with sure familiarity. He doesn't leave your side as he addresses Henry's father. "Mr. Harper, I won't take much of your time. Regarding the shipping lanes we discussedâmy father wanted me to convey his thoughts personally."
He doesn't monopolise the conversation. He's succinct, professional, powerful. It doesn't take longer than five minutes, but for you, time distorts. You observe the tableau unfold from within the circle of his possession.
Your father is quietly seething, his knuckles white around his wine glass. Your mother's gaze flicks between Seungcheol's hands on you and your own carefully neutral face, as if seeing you for the first time. Henry, to your right, radiates a humiliated annoyance. Here is a man his own age, from the same world, who commands the roomâand his own father's fawning attentionâwithout even trying.
Yes, this is Choi Seungcheol for you, you think, a sense of fierce pride swelling in your chest. The Choi heir. Their dynasty is arguably the most formidable in your circles. They have enemies like your father, allies, and then they have people like Henry's fatherâmen who are willing to bend over backwards, to swallow their pride and serve, just to be in their graces. You see the sycophancy now, the desperate gleam in the older man's eyes. You can guess that the moment Seungcheol leaves, that same man will likely mutter curses about the "Choi brat." It's pitiful. You think it's better to be like your father, to despise openly, than pretend not to but still allow them to own your ass and be salty about it. You hope, in some twisted way, your father thinks the same. After all, you are your father's daughter.
You don't even realise you've leaned back into Seungcheol until your head comes to rest lightly against his abdomen. He doesn't pause his conversation, his hands a steady, warm anchor on your shoulders. You don't listen to the words about tariffs and logistics. Your mind wanders, circling a question that has haunted you for years: What are you still so afraid of?
You don't have an answer. Not a clear one.
But sitting here now, with the man who loves you more than life itself standing tall at your back, his presence a shield and a declaration, you suddenly feel... untouchable. Protected.
Your father's silent wrath ceases to feel like a tsunami meant to drown you. You are not the terrified girl from five years ago, flinching at threats of being hidden away, of being broken until you were compliant. You have been remade, in part by him, in part by your own stubborn will.
You're distracted when Seungcheol gives your shoulders a final, telling squeeze and removes his hands. The sudden absence of his warmth makes you shiver. You watch, your heart sinking, as he rounds the table, shaking hands with Mr.Harper, then with your father. He's leaving. He's really leaving you here with them. You watch him, feeling a surge of panic, like he's abandoning you to the sharks. Your eyes must betray you, because you want to call out, to tell him to wait.
It's unnecessary. His rich brown eyes find yours just as he's half-turned to go. He stills completely. His eyebrow arches a fraction, a silent question, but his expression softens almost instantly. Seungcheol can't stand you looking so heartbroken, so abandoned, when he would never willingly leave you in distress. He'd meant to go, to avoid causing you more trouble with your family, whom he knowsâdespite everythingâstill hold a complicated piece of your heart.
But your eyes are pleading, and there is nothing in this world that could make him turn his back on that look.
He moves.
His eyes stay locked on yours, watching the way the desolation in them shatters, replaced by a dawning, luminous hope with every step he takes back toward you. How could he have even considered leaving you now? His baby. His love.
He stops beside your chair and extends his hand down to you, palm up. It's not a request. It's an offering. An exit.
"I'm stealing her for the rest of the evening," he says to the table, his tone leaving no room for debate. It's polite, but it's a statement of fact. He's not asking your father. He's telling him.
The silence that settles over your table is ringing. Your father's face darkens. Your mother places a subtle, warning hand on his arm. And you're too distracted to process the fact that for once she seems to be standing on your side.
You look from Seungcheol's sure, waiting hand, up to his face. He gives you the barest nod, his gaze steady. It's time.
The familiar fear tries to claw up your throat. The old programming whispers in your head. Of consequences, of scenes, of retribution. But a newer, stronger voice that you've been secretly honing, reminds you of warmth, of safety, of love that doesn't barter or hide. Of tomorrow, and Seungcheol's apartment, and the life you've built in the shadows, yearning for the sun.
You place your hand in his.
His fingers close around yours, firm and encouraging. He pulls you gently to your feet. You don't look at your parents or anyone else really. You keep your eyes on Seungcheol, on the proud, tender smile touching his lips.
"Once again, my apologies for the interruption," he says to the table, his voice the very picture of courtesy, even as he commits the ultimate discourtesy. "We'll see ourselves out."
You pick up your purse and he leads you away. Not with the hurried pace of an escape, but with the confident stride of a man claiming what has always been his. You walk beside him, through the hushed restaurant, past the tables of the silently judging eliteâthat will no doubt spread the news across the globe by tomorrow morningâand you don't feel a single pair of eyes upon you. You only feel his hand in yours, the ghost of his touch on your skin, and the terrifying, exhilarating freedom of walking out of this restaurant with the man you love.
*.(ŕšâ˘Í Ë â˘Íŕš).* Please like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this! This means a lot and motivates me to continue posting.
Synopsis. Toji Fushiguro: MMA light heavyweight champion, tyrant in the ring, the strongest man in the world. But after a sudden losing streak leaves him without his title, Toji realizes that he suffers from a certainâŚjinx. The cure: you, his new physical therapist - and whatâs between those pretty legs of yours!
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!physical therapist!reader, MMA fighter!Toji, Jinx (the manhwa) AU, heâs mean, matches, slight vioIence (to his opponents), Shiu cameo, jinxes, pĂşssydrunk Toji, oraI (fem rec.), face-sĂtting, fĂngering, spĂtting, p sIapping, SO MUCH manhandling, HEADLOCKS, slight chokĂng, rough s, cervĂx kĂssing, folding you, p talking, heâs rude, creampĂes, cĂşmplay, tasting it, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swĂŠaring.
Word count. 12.2k
A/N. PHEW-
âOuch! Huge overhand rightâToji Fushiguro is on his last leg, ladies and gentlemen and everyone in-between. I repeat-â
Toji scowls as the commentatorâs voice bellows in his ears, like lightning flashes of derision through the thunder of the crowd. Those bastards, he seethes, they sure were singing his praises last seasonâŚ
He sways ever-so-slightly, and throws a punch- misses- then gets hit with an uppercut that he really shouldâve dodged.
Shouldâve.
âThat is some damage- wow! A shocking turn of events for the once-champion, it seems like Toji is already down for the count tonight.âÂ
The hell are they talking about? He tries to glare down at the table of commentators (which wouldâve been easier if said table wasnât soâŚtilted).
Why was the world spinning?Â
Before he knows it, Tojiâs on the mat. He feels the referee rush to his side, slamming the ground in countdown. He feels the crowd roar as heâs announced his defeat, yet again. And in that moment, he knows.
Itâs a jinx.
.
.
.
ââdevastating loss for the man that once ruled the octagon.â
âThe latest in his recent losing streak, fans are left wondering when their light heavyweight champion will make his comeback. And what changes have to be made in order toââ
ââalmost as if heâs been jinxed, hah!â
You hasten to turn down the volume on your phone. Despite having your earphones connected, all those screams nâ cries nâ protests still melded together into a powerful whirlwind, blaring out from the cheap speakers.
Tinny. The disappointment of the vast audience on-screen was far too much for your device to contain.
And not wishing to draw any more dirty looks from the other passengers on your bus, you muted the video and paused it on a still of Toji Fushiguro.
It was right after his defeat in the preliminaries; his skin glistening in fervent sweat, a cut bleeding from his brow, face scrunched as he rejected the help of someone from his own team. Instead, choosing to get up by himself.
Still silenced, you let the video play on a little longer - and you take in the glump slump of his shoulders. Oh-so-toned. You take in the way he stalks grimly off of the octagon-shaped battleground that the MMA was most famous for.
From here, you could tell that Toji towered above all of the crew- hell, he even towered above his opponent.
So why did he lose?
Alright, so you werenât an expert in all things mixed-martial arts - but as a physical therapist you think you had some sort of say in the matter!
From here, you determine that this shouldâve been an easy win for him. Terribly easy. Practically handed to him: for Toji was built considerably larger, stronger, about 6â3 with a ripped physique that made you understand exactly why the fighter had graced every single sports magazine in existence last season. Every TV show. Every sports exclusive. Heâd taken the fighting world by storm at his debut, and heâd held that title ever since.
Infamous.
A wonder to watch on the screen.
A deep v-line. Arms the size of your head.
Those sage, half-lidded eyes of his were intense - especially now, as they blazed with injustice. You could remember feeling them follow your every move, prowling, from the athletics section on every magazine aisle. You think youâd picked up those exact magazines a few times, just to make sure that they werenât somehow actually following you.
One time, you even remember the shop employee nodding approvingly at your choice.
Everyone knew Toji Fushiguro.
If not from his legendary MMA reputation, then from his irresistible looks. If not from his irresistible looks, then from his reputation as a tyrant in the ring.
If from neither then from his recent streak of losses that shook the fighting world.
Itâd come out of nowhere. And no athlete quite expects to lose, but this seemed to have come as a surprise especially to Toji and his team, crew to an athlete that shouldâve been at the top of his game.
You ponder - perhaps it was some wear on the joints, or maybe he hasnât been getting enough electrolytes this seasonâŚ
Youâre pulled out of your little reverie by a cough from the kind olâ lady seated beside you; the type that was less a necessity of the body, and more a pointed intonation of âI donât know what youâre doing and it seems like neither do youâ.
And, suddenly, you realize that you hadnât just been staring into space as youâd thought- no, youâd been staring (quite passionately) at a paused frame of Toji Fushiguro in all his shirtless, sweaty glory. A close-up of his built figure. A close-up of the tattoo on the side of his toned hip.
Which, you had to admit was quiteâŚattractive- pull yourself together! You turn off the phone that youâd pulled out in the first place for research, lest anyone else on the bus start thinking that you were some kind of pervert (it might already be too late for that, the elderly woman was tittering to herself). Ducking your head in shame, you sigh out in relief as you notice that your stop is near.
âThe next stop is Sendagaya Station, Shibuya.â The lilting voice of the conductor rings out, âPlease prepare your fares.â
You were glad to finally get off this bus, after a long ride spent toiling to yourself. In no time, youâd paid your fare and was stepping out into the bustling city.
Conveniently, right in front of the gymnasium you were supposed to arrive at: TEAM BLACK, TOKYO MMA GYM. 5F.Â
To work for Toji Fushiguro.
You check your watchâfive minutes early. Dressed in your crisp scrubs, you adjust the glinting golden badge engraved with your name and your position as physical therapist.Â
And then you step in.
The sound of gloves connecting with flesh, of groaning punching bags, and shouts greet you immediately as you enter. There were a multitude of fights that were ongoing in the expansive gym, but there was only one that you couldnât take your eyes off of - right in the middle, pummeling his bloodied opponent, was Toji Fushiguro.
From around the ring, teammates and coaches were yelling at the dark-haired man to stop. But he doesnât.
His stone-cold face specks with blood, and he still doesnât stop. His opponent taps at the mat to halt the match, and he still doesnât stop. One of the other fighters in the gym runs up to grab him, and he still doesnât stop.
Ultimately, you watch as it takes about five men to even match Tojiâs strength- forget about overpowering.
âWhatâs wrong with you?!â One of the men cried out, ââFree sparringâ doesnât mean you should actually take the guy apart- someone could have gotten injured!â
âYou okay? You seemed lost there, manâŚâ
âIs this about the loss from a few weeks ago- eek!â Several of them stumble backwards as Toji glares at them for that particular comment, and suddenly youâre reminded of the match youâd just watched on the way here. That devastating loss.
You look over and canât help but notice that the man inside the ring right now is much bigger than the one heâd fought during that match. Much stronger, it seems.
And again, youâre wondering - why the hell couldnât he win?
âThe punk wanted to spar, sânot my fuckinâ problem he couldnât handle it.â Toji grunts, and itâs the first time youâre hearing his low baritone. Slightly husky.
He rolls his eyes as he shoves off the other fighters, and pulls aside the colored ropes ring to step out. Which is when, slowly, magnetically, his eyes meet yours.
âWhoâs this?â
Tojiâs in front of you in a split-second, his broad shape looming. His twinkling irises staring down. His black t-shirt skin-tight. His scarred lips slightly quirking upwardsâ
And before you can even think of responding, you hear a call of your name.
From the other side of the gym, a clean-cut man with a slight spattering of scruff was pacing his way over. He was well-built, like the other fighters here, though with an air of authority with which he wielded a clipboard.
In front of you, Toji repeats your name. Like he was tasting it.
âAh, you must be the new physical therapist!â The man announces once heâs close enough, and you bow politely to which he does the same. âThank you for coming on such short notice. The nameâs Shiu Kong, mâthe manager of these animals- so if thereâs anything you need to ask, you ask me.â
âThank you for having me, and for the opportunity.â You smile, seeing Tojiâs stunned expression from the edge of your peripheral vision.
He scoffs, âAnd what do we need a physical therapist for?â
Shiu instantly smacks him with his clipboard, âHave you had one too many blows to the head?â He barks out, in a tone that was the complete opposite of the gentle way heâd spoken to you. âHuh? Have you? Have you forgotten the fact that youâve done more losing than winning this season-â
âAlright alright-â Toji waves off, âThe fuck? They should put you in the ring next.â
And then he turns to you and sweeps his eyes up and down. Deciding to take a chance, you thrust your hand out in the attempt of a handshake- only for him to take it in his much-larger, roughened one. And instead he flips your palm over and bends- almost like heâs bowing, almost like youâre royalty - and grins. âPleasure.â
He doesnât introduce himself, he knows he doesnât have to.
And with only a slight smirk thrown your way, Toji turns on his heel and heads in the direction of one of the clinical-looking rooms in the gymnasium. Away from all the fighting, you assumed that this will be your office going forward.
Tojiâs already there when you enter, and heâs-
âŚshirtless?
His broad back was all on display for you, every curve nâ divot, every one of his eight washboard abs, every flex of his muscles. He was glimmering with a sheen of sweat that brought out just how toned he was- and you think you could see, closer than ever, the inky spirals of a snake on his hip.
âMy clothes are soaked in sweat-â Toji turns to look at you, and you feel your heart race at being caught staring. âI can do this in my boxers, right?â
âAh, yes!â You try to keep your tone even, and help your client - your client - lay down on the examination table. But oh- he really was attractive. Painfully so.
Not even those smokinâ hot magazines and edits on social media (all part of yourâŚresearch, of course) had done him justice.
But you had a job to do, and youâre getting started right away. âDo you have any specific concerns?â You ask, pulling a thin towel over Tojiâs crotch area as he reclines. And he only sighs and rests his head upon his palms, muscles rippling as he does so.
âJust do your thing.â
âYes, sir.â You nod, âThen, Iâll give you the full body sports oil massage.â
âMn.â
You start from his broad shoulders, and then down to his pecs.
And he really wasnât like any of the clients youâd had prior - no one came even close. You could feel the power in his body, the firmness, the training. Any time you glissade your lotionized hands across Tojiâs muscles, he grunts- and, oh, you have to squeeze your thighs together to stop from thinking anything stupid.
You kneaded your way down from his bulging biceps, and onto the side of his hips - where you got a really good look at the snake tattoo. You notice that it also had flowers inked around it.
And then onto his thighsâŚyouâre raising them in external rotations. All the while looking up at his ridiculously handsome face to check whether it hurt, you didnât register the way your hands somewhat struggled to get a proper grasp on his meaty thighs, especially with the sweat.
You didnât register the way your fingertips slightly scoured downwards-
âOh, shit!â You hiss, jumping your hand back. In the few seconds that youâd been distracted by his looks, youâd somehow traced the crown head of something longâŚand hard.
Looking down, you realize that Tojiâs erection was throbbing against the thin layer of his boxers. Barely even hidden by the cover of the towel, the lengthy cylindrical outline was there for your eyes to see - and for your hand to accidentally touch.
Your eyes widen.
How was he so big?
âMy- my apologies, sir!â You sputter out, resting your treasonous hands against your sides. âItâs a very common physiological response to get hard- ah- an erection during a massage, and itâs completely my mistake for not noticing. Again, my apologies, I completely understand if you wish to-â
âWhaddaya doing just standing there?â Toji cuts you off gruffly, and you look up at his face in surprise. He raises a dark brow, âArenât you gonna finish what you started?â
You blink, âFinish what IâŚâ
âThe massage.â He cocks his head, though thereâs a knowing smile on his lips - how devilish he looked this way. âThat damn Shiuâs gonna give me hell if I donât get it- so hurry it up, will ya?â
That was close. Hastily nodding, you reach over to massage his thigh once more. âRight at once, sir.â
Looking down, you chose not to make eye-contact with him for the rest of the session. Instead, focusing your entire attention on perfectly executing the massage, step by step - you wouldnât want a repeat of what happened before!
Toji, however, stared at you through his partially-lidded eyes the entire time.
.
.
.
âThat wraps up your treatment for today. Thank you for your patience, Mr. Fushiguro.â You step to the side, giving the athlete the space to stretch out his long limbs and feel the effects of your massage- which, you had to admit yourself, was amongst some of the best in the academy.
He takes his time rolling his shoulders, feeling the way the blood vessels on his muscles flow smoothly. Energized.
âHm, not bad.â Toji muses, more to himself. âMost of the punks here call me âsirâ or âMr. Fushiguroâ-â He nods at you, âYou can just call me Toji.â
âOh- Iâm honored, sir- I mean-â Your veins blister with heat, and you think that the slight quirk of his lips might have something to do with it. ââToji.â It felt so wrong on your tongue, and yet so right.
And before you can let anything further slip (because, really, youâd never been close enough to a client to address them by their first name, let alone be told to do so after the very first session), you turn away from the handsome man to grab your bag of supplies, your coat, and step to fumble with the door handle. âAnd now- if thatâs all, then Iâll be going now. Have a nice day, sir- I mean-â
As you make your very evident escape, Toji can only watch. Can only stare.
He feels his massive erection still throb furiously between his legs, still ravenous. Like never before. And one of his hands snakes down to squeezeââHowâŚinteresting.â
Before the door swings open once more and in comes Shiu, prattling away something about how you âleft in such a hurryâ and what a âsweet lilâ thingâ you were- Toji casually throws a second hand towel over his lap as his best friend (and manager) comes to slap him on the shoulder. âFeeling refreshed, eh? I can see it in your eyes- with her, we might just have hope about winning that next match.â
âYeah.â He rasps out, throat dry. Toji watches where you left, he can still feel your soft hands tingling on his skin. âYeah, we might just.â
.
.
.
âFuck-â The champion spits between his clenched canines- well, future champion. But it didnât hurt to be a lilâ optimistic, did it? âOh, fuck- Iâve never been fuckinâ harder.â
He didnât fucking care. Not right now, not when he had his strong hand rested against the glistening tile of the stall. His head bent forwards, his back wet with the pouring shower, his right hand slipped below his v-line and furiously pumping his cock.
Up and down. Up and down.
Fuck, he was jerking himself off like he never had before. Until the friction of his roughened palm left his long, hot length all red nâ raw- and yet, he still wasnât stopping. Still couldnât.Â
He remembers the feeling of your soft hands on his thighs and Toji bucks-
âF-fuck-â The fighter gnaws down on his scarred bottom lip, trying desperately not to make a sound that will echo out in the gymâs empty locker room. âFuck fuck fuck fuck- sânot supposed to feel this good.â Sure, they had stalls - but right now even the slightest flick of his thumb, right underneath his mushroomy tip, felt so good that he might as well moan out loud.
And the worst part was that heâs sure his very first moan would be your name.
âFuck, mama, sânot supposed to feel this good.â He snarls, entire body wracking with shivers. The bulging biceps on his arms ripple as he glides his hand down to his base. And all the way back up.
Abs tensing. Veins on his pelvis popping.
With a few more vulgar strokes, heâs hoverinâ his thumb right over the divot on the middle of his cockhead. It was all pink nâ needy, dribbling out in syrupy white cum in absolutely no time- âLook what youâve done to me.â Toji watches himself through his shaggy black bangs, wet with water and perspiration, cumming all over his hands. âI donât know what blessing- what c-curse youâve put on me, butâŚâ Why couldnât he stop thinking about you?
He rides out his high on his right hand, fucking his fist like he imagines you might tease him through it- just like the way youâd teasingly grazed his tip. Just grazed.
Youâd probably take it like such a good girl. Let him paint his gluey white cum all over your face, and just across your lips - it would probably match your scrubs, heh. Biting back a groan, those lecherous thoughts of his only make him finish even faster.
And once the sparks of his high have finally bated - the fountain of his ivory sap stopping - Toji washes off the remnants of his lewd act. Spurting out some cool body wash and cleaning himself off, he slicks back his hair with clean hands now.
Head throwing back, he knew he had to get his mind in focus for the upcoming match - just in a few hours, actually. The car was supposed to be waiting for him outside the gym by now. It was some sort of rebound match of Legends vs. Rookies that Shiu had managed to scrounge together, and it should be displeased at the fact that he was supposed to fight some no-good, hotshot punk- but, honestly he had a good feeling about this one.
Tojiâs thoughts stray back to you, and he finds himself cracking a snicker- âYouâve fuckinâ cursed me, woman. You plague me. ButâŚâ A thrill zaps through his strong body, ââŚI like it.â
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.
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Toji Fushiguro won the Legends vs. Rookies event.Â
A wipe-out so clean that everyone was sure itâd go down in history. A comeback so strong that it had already gone down in history.
After that, it was a streak of absolute demolition: the preliminaries, the co-main events, the PPV matches, each and every single fight that was thrown his way- Toji Fushiguro was sure to win without even breaking a sweat (metaphorically).
Hell, at one point even some of his past contenders from his losing streak had demanded rematches, perhaps thinking that they could put the legend in his place once more.
Heâd won those, too.
After a season-long losing streak, it was months of winning. And you were giving him his massages on the days before every match.Â
And Toji was back on the magazine covers, the interviews, the brand deals. Right now you couldnât even step outside your humble apartment building without being met with at least four different billboards and several commercials featuring him. It was quite strange - seeing the rugged persona in those mediums, and then his still-rugged demeanour in real life.
Though, slightly less so.
There was a faint gentleness to the way that Toji was (when youâd brought this up with some of the other fighters youâd grown close to, theyâd fervently denied and showed off their bruises from the pummelings that Toji gave them in the ring).Â
But you were sure it was there: in the way that heâd always be first in the office, in the way heâd lightly murmur greetings to you and only you, in the way heâd hold open doors and look away as if he wasnât, in the way that there was a drink of your favorite preference on your desk every morning. And youâd asked around, wondering if it was perhaps Shiu or any of the rookies that was doing so- but they all denied it.
All but one of them.
Toji.
Even Shiu seemed to have noticed that something had shifted in his best fighter. Hell, he was on a winning streak after so long, so of course there had to have been a change.
The other man couldnât quite pinpoint it, though he gave most of the credit to you and your massages. âThey must be some sort of magic work!â Heâd exclaimed to you one day, after a particularly tough opponent that Toji had easily beat.
And you yourself couldnât quite be sure, though you didnât want to give yourself all the credit. You were only glad that your favorite fighter (yes, after being around MMA fighters for long enough now, youâd determined that Toji was your favorite) was back to winning again.
Only glad you could help.
Which is why, in the ghost entrails of the early morning, at exactly 2:36AM, when Toji texted you - you answered.
2:36AM - Toji (MMA fighter): I need you.Â
2:38AM - Toji (MMA fighter): For another one of those full body massages.
2:42AM - Toji (MMA fighter): Please.
2:42AM - You: On my way!
As you jumped out of your bed to get dressed, you noticed that you had several missed calls from Shiu, as well. After calling him right back, he informed you that just last week, Toji had come up on a draw during his last match, which was yet another co-main event for the #1 Contender spot.Â
Of course, you knew of this, youâd watched the match on the gymnasium television. And though it wasnât the worst of outcomes (especially considering that this was world-class fighting, at a light heavyweight level), considering his winning streak, you were somewhat surprised. And slightly afraid that heâd go back into his rut of losing, just as Shiu was.
Which was why he, too, wanted to reach out to inquire whether you could do one of your âmagicalâ full-body massages on Toji on the night before one of his biggest matches yet. A rematch for the #1 Contender spot - the audiences loved him.
Shiu told you heâd seen Toji moping around after that devastating draw, and knew that the only one who just might have the ability to brighten his mood would be you. So please, if you could go at 2:45AM to the penthouse apartment of a celebrity MMA fighter to give him a massage?
Of course, you said yes.
It seems that Tojiâs team had arranged for everything already, and a flashy black car was already waiting outside your apartment building to whisk you off to your destination. You twiddled your thumbs, slightly nervous (for what? You werenât quite sure) as the car parked in front of a set of gleaming skyscrapers. Apartment buildings of a calibre that youâd only seen in architectural magazines.
Escorted upwards by a few of Tojiâs own personal bodyguards past an entrance larger than your entire apartment, and a lobby that practically screamed luxury.Â
You didnât even know that Tokyo had such a place.Â
Massive. Concierges that bowed as soon as they saw you. An orchestra that still played in the dead of night. Chandeliers like miniature suns that lined the ceiling.
Damn, maybe you shouldâve become a famous fighter, you whistled. It made sense, though, he is one of the highest-paid athletes in the country. Even the elevators were gilded, shining so brightly that you could make out every inch of your face on its reflection. And the bodyguardâs, too- you quickly straightened up and tried to look as casual as possible as he led you to the very top floor.
A large glowing button simply labelled with a âPâ.
The penthouse floor had a wide carpeted corridor leading up to it, all golds and reds like the rest of the apartment. You walked up to the expensive-looking door at the end of it, and buzzed the doorbell on its touchpad.
Bzzzzâ!
The door swings open.
And there stands Toji Fushiguro, in all his sweaty, shirtless glory.
It almost reminded you of the first time you gave him a massage. Chest heaving. Vision bleary. A glittering bead of sweat lines the curve of his jawline, ending at his chin and dripping downwards. Down, down, down the valley of his pecs.
There was a lewd little flush that overtook his tannish skin.
Like he wasâŚsex-flushed.
Spreading out across his tense shoulders, and all the way down his chest. The back of his neck. You donât think it even ends as it follows the line of his dark happy trail, those curly lilâ hairs at the bottom of his navel, and then even further downâ
Tojiâs grey sweatpants hung low on his hips.
Dangerously low.
And you have to force yourself to look away. You swallow as he raises one big, beefy arm and rests it on the top of the door frame. Looking at you through the gaps in his damp bangs, âWell arenât you a sight for sore eyes, mama.â
âO-oh.â You immediately close your mouth, realizing that youâd been gawking at him for far too long now (how unprofessional!) Sheepishly, you raise your bag of supplies and shake it ever-so-slightly. âI uh- got your text! And Shiu also called to tell me that you wanted an extra round of physical therapy before your match, sir-â
âToji.â
âToji-â You amend. Before taking on a stern tone, âAnd it looks to me like youâd already been up working out before your match. Overstressing your joints will wear them out, you know!â
He scratches the back of his head, a sleazy smile overtaking his face. âWorking out- right.â
Tutting, âWhat you need now is a nice massage and some relaxation. Iâll do your usual with some added therapy for your blood pressure, how about that?â
âPerfect.â Toji grins, and he cracks the doorway open. Just slightly open. So that you have to squeeze yourself between the doorway and his chiselled body - not that you were complaining. âCome on in and give me a- hah, real workout then, how about it?â
âRelaxation, Toji.â
âOf course, maâam.â
Ignoring his teasing, you step inside. Itâs a luxurious apartment - one of those stylishly modern types, black and white, with flares of Tojiâs MMA career. Boxing gloves on the sprawling couch. A TV that takes up an entire wall, paused on highlights from his last match. A cabinet overspilling with trophies and belts.
Led by him, you stumble past towering artworks that likely cost about five of these penthouses - and thatâs about ten thousand of your own apartment.
He walks you through winding hallways, and ultimately into what you guess is the master bedroom.
His bedroom.
The first thing you notice as you step in isnât the rich furniture, or the king-sized bed, or the draping curtains that were cracked ever-so-slightly to let a sliver of the city seep through. No- itâs the mountain of tissues scattered on the wine-red carpet, the bottle of lotion on his bedside table, the way the dark bedsheets looked like heâd just been thrashing on it.
Toji casually lays back down on his wrinkled bed, and rests his clammy head on two hands. Stretching out.Â
You hasten to set out your work, coating your palms in lotion, and beginning your massage. As you start off warming up his obliques, you canât help but blurt out- âM-my apologies for assuming it was a workout-â
Fuck.
Why would you say that?
You gasp, âI mean-â
âWhy?â Toji croons, tilting his head to look at you. Trying to avoid his gaze, you quickly shift to extending his legs instead. âIt was a workout, heh.â
Your veins bubble, âOhâŚâ
âAnd itâs a workout I need before every match, yâknow?â Looking at you closely, still, youâre too aware of the fact that youâre massaging his thigh. âThe fact that mâfuckinâ my fist like some lecher before every match, you donât think thatâs strange?â
âI see. I donât reallyâŚâ Your throat is drier than the Sahara, you have no idea what to say - though, you admit, a part of you wants to hear more. So thatâs what heâd been doing, in this very room, on this very bed, just before youâd arrived.
Another part of you is thrilled. Another part of you is confused why youâre thrilled- which quickly morphs into understanding once your brain conjures up a sizzling image of Toji Fushiguro alone with his sweatpants at his ankles, hands fisting his rock-hard cock.Â
Shaking your head free of those lecherous visions, you attempt to lighten the mood- âIs that why youâve been winning all these matches lately, hah?â
âExactly.â And Toji sounded dead-fucking-serious. Rising, he looks you squarely in the eyes with his slightly murky ones. âSee, the thing is, I have this jinx.â
Your eyes widen.
âThatâs why I was on a losing streak- no matter what happens, it turns out I needa have a real good high the night before a match.â Your hands have stopped their movements, yet he shifts to edge them up higher. Closer. âNâ it needs to be truly satisfying for me to win.â
âSo- so these past few matches?â
âMhm, youâre a smart one, mama.â He shifts on the bed, sitting up. Even closer. âYou could say itâs my routine, and itâs very important to me.â His verdant gaze shifts from your right eye, to your left, to your lips. A triangle. âAndâŚIâd found my fix. Just fucking my fist to the thought of her was enough- but latelyâŚlately, I dunno if thatâs all I want.â
Your breath catchesâhe was talking aboutâŚâI see- th-that must be quite challenging.â
âHeh, it looks like you still donât get it.â
Before you know it, his hand grasps yours. And heâs bringing it up- to press an innocent peck on the back of your hand, though the burning look in his eyes was anything but.
Scarred lips murmuring against your skin, âWhyâd ya think that on the crucial night before a match, Iâd go through all the trouble of calling my manager, informing security, and having you come over?â He chuckles, âAnd if you still donât get it-â
And that sweet, sweet kiss he was pressing to your hand?
Well, Tojiâs canines slip outwards to lightly bite down - just teasingly. He looks at you through his long, Stygian lashes. âI know the way you look at me, ya arenât slick- hah! If you want - only if you want - you should know.â Sighing out. A confession. âItâs always been you, doll. Always.â
So he really was talking about you earlier.
Your heart stutters, and the only thing you can think to do - let your hand slip up, just the way it had on the first day youâd given him a massage.
And sure as day, there it was, the massive fucking erection that raged beneath his sweatpants. Just as large - if not even larger - than how youâd remembered him.Â
Just as needy - if not needier.
You gulp, âWell, I am your physical therapist intended to help youâŚâ You stare at him dead-on in the eyes: they were drunk with lust. Looking as if he was on the very urge of shattering if you just say the word. And youâd be lying if you said you didnât think of him in that way, either. â-win.â
.
.
.
âOh fuck, you taste so good, mama. Just a lilâ wider nowâjust a little wider.â At Tojiâs throaty beckons, youâre stretchinâ your thighs further apart with a whimper.Â
Feeling the scorchinâ hot gust of his breath against your core, you arch your back with a yelp once you feel him swat his calloused fingertips against your folds.
Teasingly, he runs his fat thumb right past your pussylips- snagging down on your clit to make you even wetter above him. âWiiider now- lemme see her properly, mama.â He huffs out, demanding. âNo need to be shy with me.âÂ
âMâalready stretching.â Youâre rebutting, grabbing onto a few tufts of his raven bangs to balance yourself. You knew you didnât need to be gentle with him- in fact, Toji groans at the feeling of you pulling on his hair, using it as leverage.Â
After all, heâd been the one to insist on making out with your cunt this way: your thighs straddling either side of his face, your cunt hovering above his mouth.
A beaded droplet of slick dribbles into his mouth and he has his tongue out nâ ready to catch it. Pryinâ your swollen folds even further apart with his thumb, âAtta girl-â As you leak out at his words- âAtta girl, sâexactly how wet I want you.â
âHmpf- and you havenât even kissed me yet.â You point out, stubbornly.
To which Toji only grins - oh, how cute you were. âYou wanâ me to kiss you? There-â And before you know it, youâre feeling something cold and wet cling onto your pussy. Only later are you realizing that heâd just spat on your cunt, letting the lewd slurp-slurp-sluuuurp ring out for both your ears to hear. âThose lips happy now, or do you want tongue?â
âYouâre just so mean- ngh-â
Another probing press of his crowned thumb, once more rolling over your clit perfectly. âOh, so you do want tongue.â
And Toji says it so casually, as if heâd just stumbled across an epiphany. As if he normally did communicate through the squelching slurps your pussy was giving out-
Because then heâs delving his tongue into you like an animal.
Barely even prepping you, barely even warning you- not before the scourinâ tip of his tongue then enters past your folds. Striking directly against some tender inner part of your walls, before heâs darting it back out and fucking you with his long muscle.
Rutting.
Again and again and again.
You feel your thighs shiver hopelessly at the sheer length of Tojiâs tongue - so fucking long that you could feel his ridged tastebuds aim for your very cervix. As if he could reach. âO-oh my god. How are you so big, Toji?â
âMmm, and I havenât even put my cock in yet, doll.â He smiles priggishly, his tongue slurping up every wadded ounce of slick that leaves you. âHow are you gonna take that then, huh?â
âI donât know- ngh.â Heâs mazing another inch of his tongue in, thoroughly. And itâs enough to leave your body all loose nâ wobbly with pleasure- stupidly, you attempt to hold onto the towering headboard on his bed, but Toji canât have that, now, can he?
Not when he was the one pounding your pretty pussy with all his tastebuds.
Glued to the slick-filled orifices of your cunt, heâs unhooking your hands from the headboard and bringing it back down to hold onto his scalp. To pull. To rough him up a little. âDonât even think about it-â He canât even speak through the rough, open-mouthed kisses he was leaving on your puckered hole. Wetly. Gasping for air- for more tastes of your candied cunt. âIn factâŚâ
Your hips flinch ever-so-slightly once Toji raises his head up - which, with his powerful body, was absolutely nothing even with your weight on top of him. And through his long bangs he takes a gooood, long look at you.
At your cunt.
At the way you were still hovering your hips, and then heâs spanking his familiar hand down on the tip-top of your clit. Making you gasp- âDid you just-â
âWhoops.â Faux-innocently, Toji acts all nice then - pinpointing the top of his tongue into each of those tender spots you loved so much. He unhinges his jaw even further to make sure that he isnât leaving a single spot unkissed. Long and hard.Â
Smack!
And again, youâre finding the most tender outer part of your pussy slapped. âAww, not again.â Toji has the audacity to pout on your behalf. Meanly, his free hand slides over to grip your ass and pull you down. âAnywaysâŚwhy donâtcha properly fuckinâ sit, mama. Maybe then my hands will stop- heh, slipping.â
And as if to prove his point, his prolonged tongue skids all the way from your glossy hole to your clit. âI meanâŚâ
âLike- fuck!â Still urging you to sit properly with his hands, on the verge of manhandling you. âWho the fuck do ya think you are, honey?â
You shyly try to listen to what he says, grindinâ your treacly cunt all over his open mouth. And oh- oh, it was like heaven for him. He has his greedy maw unfastened and his tongue slurping all over, stickinâ into every orifice even deeper than he had before. âI worry- hngh! I just worry that I might-â But he still wanted more. Still had his neck craning up nâ down to take in everything you gave him. â-suffocate you if you go on like this.â
And it was a realistic concern- fuck, you were hovering your waist right now and still Toji wasnât stopping to take a breath. Wasnât even slowing down.
Heâs burying himself nose-deep between your pussylips and letting his mouth do more stirrinâ than talking. And itâs only after a few more vulgar fucking strokes of his tongue, a few more swabs inside your pussy that he can even wrench himself away to answer you. âOhhhh, I get it.â Tugging on your trembling thighs, âYou think I canât handle it, huh?â
âI didnât say- oh, fuck-â
Without hesitation, Toji plants a rude slap on your pussy once more. Letting those glittering beads of slick splatter all over, âYou think mâfucking weak?â He seethes, half-joking. But half-wanting. âLet me get one thing fuckinâ clear, doll.â
And youâre listening intently - because if he sensed you were becoming too far one on the way his tongue lavishly licks, then Toji would once again swat your cunt. Drawing your attention once more.
The fighter stares deeply into your hazed peripherals as he lets his lengthy tongue flop out. Slitherinâ that honed tip right in- âNo matter what you weigh, I can bench press more than five of you.â And he gives your pussylips yet another sinful spank! âNow- fucking- sit.â
Youâre being seated with an unceremoniously loud sluuuuurp.
Of his tongue stickinâ deep inside you, his upper lip practically glued to your clit. With you riding his face, Toji fills out every tiny geysering nook and cranny. Grazing every velvety bundle of nerves that makes you see stars.
âOh- please-â He was just ruthless. As if you didnât know whether to fuck back or run forwards, youâre jolting your hips sloppily up and down. Slick, needy drags to match his lapping tongue.
Again and again.
Slurp after squelch.
Before you know it, Toji wants more - needs more. Even having you on top of him like this, his mouth was ravenous. Licking. Leaning up from the pillows to let you ride his face; all the way from the curve of his chin nâ up to the tip of his straight nosebridge.Â
As you come back down from one of these particular gyrations, Toji holds you still and - before you know it - youâre feeling the sensation of something elongated and thick entering your cunt.
âSh-shit, thatâs not your tongueâŚâ You blink away the tears in your eyes and look downwards, where the protruding edges of his joints were stretching you intensely.
Two of them- even though it felt like four, with how big his fingers were.
As you wail nâ wobble on top of him, Toji crushes you to his mouth ferociously. And you marvel at the stretch that keeps you hostage - you canât do anything but take it. But let your mouth fall ajar, and your head throw back, at the feeling of his probing thrusts.
Sultry tastebuds flickering over your clit- âMmm, sânot my tongue- good catch, doll.â He snickers, âThought that such a goooood pussy deserved a little something m-more-â
You catch the way that his dark brows furrow, a slight flush tinting what little you could see of his ears. âWait- Toji, did you just stutter-â
âNo the fuck I didnât-â Heâs snapping back.Â
And in response, youâre having your gummy walls pummeled with some of the rudest jackhammers youâve ever felt in your entire life. Oh, heâs just swabbing his fingerpads in so deep, mouth pursing to spit against your entrance once more nâ lick it all up.Â
Letting himself salivate.Â
Toji drools down a waterfall of your slick, his fingers tugginâ apart your tight hole to squeeze-squeeze-squeeze in a third finger. âDonât make me lose focus now.â Grumbling from underneath you, the fighter pins you down with a big, beefy arm wrapped âround your waist. Tight. Youâre in awe of his sheer inhuman strength. âDonâtcha remember? Iâve gotta- ngh- win tomorrow, nâ this pretty pussy is the key to it, mama. So let me focus alllll my attention on h-herâŚâ
You gasp, âSo you did stutter-â And soon enough, you feel yourself growing even wetter at the implication that the strong, cocky Toji Fushiguro was so pussydrunk right now that he was slurring his words.
Gone on your cunt. The way you clenched âround his rovering fingers- oh.Â
And, of course, Toji wasnât complaining about the fact that you were soaking yourself even more. Only gaping his maw further open, âMmm, tch-â His fingers pull out with a squelch to spank the front of your core, â-these lips are much nicer tâme.â
âHeyââ You huff, âJust because I got you all ngh- pussydrunk doesnât mean- oh fuck!â
âWhat were you sayingâ?â And then heâd bullied in four fingers - four. Four entire, long digits- he ends off by hitting his mountainous knuckles against your folds with a smack! Smack after smack. Until the skin on his hands were rubbed all raw, Toji probes his fingers inside your cunt. âOh yes, I think someone was talkinâ all big wâme. Do you know who that, mmm, might be?â
You shake on top of him, his cushy fingertips were glissading oh-so-close to your g-spot. With every rapid thrust, they inched inââI-I donât-â
âI see.â And then heâs rolling his tongue ruthlessly against your clit with a few wettened noises. âDo you know then?â
âWhat do you-â
âShhh, not you.â Toji rolls his half-lidded eyes. And his vibratinâ words zap through your entire body - he always did make sure to lean in reeeeal close whenever he spoke, but right now, he was tracing his canines over your swollen clit and lightly gnawing. âMâtalking to her- arenât I?â
âF-fuuuckâ!â Just then, heâs striking your g-spot. Thunderously. Just then, heâs realizing he did- and repeating the motion in quick, frenzied half-thrusts.
Barely even pulling properly to tease your elastic hole, barely even letting you register the way he bashes your bundle of nerves before he repeats the act. Toji was just vicious with how he batters in your poor cunt, âYeah? Yeah yeah yeah- ya like that?â He spits, âWhoâs stuttering now, mama? Got anythinâ else to say?â
You whimper, âMm-mm-â
âMhm, I knew she was chattier anyway.â
Talking to your pussy, Toji nods along like heâs part of the conversation. All those pretty, pretty sounds that he almost wishes he could record and listen to on loop.
So it was only a matter of time before heâs feeling the way your clampinâ walls reach a feverpitch, the way your damp noises only seem to get damper.Â
And the fighter looks up at you with a glint of excitement in his partially-lidded eyes, âOh, sheâs close, doll.â
âHow did you-â Your breath catches- fuck, heâs only accelerating his thorough pushes. The only thing you could register at this point was the perfect way he knew how to work your pussy, all those deepest, most fragile spots.
Quickly enough, those twinges of pleasure at the pit of your stomach are turning into waves.Â
And you can feel your thighs tremor on top of him, struggling to support your body when your orgasm quakes. âToji, mâclose-â You tug on his sweaty hair, âI think mâgonna c-cum soon.â
âSo cum on my face, then?â He answers, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Determined, you donât even need to hold up your own self anymore - heâs doing so with one hand glued to the side of your hips, the other pressing and probinâ until youâre being fucked by both his mouth nâ his fingers- straight into your high.
Crash-landing into your orgasm, it takes you entirely by surprise.
You jerk your cunt against his mouth, and Toji groans with delight. Back arching. Toes curling. You close your eyes and see entirely white as the surge of euphoria takes over your body.
âOh my- ngh, fuck. Mâcumming, mâcumming mâcumming and it feels so good-â Heâs just digging his veiny fingers against every sensitive ridge on your walls, just the way you liked. âRight there, keep going just like that, Toji.â
And usually this would be the point where he says something to tease you. The point where he says something to make you whine nâ try to shut him up with your bloated pussylips.
But he was fucking you so thoroughly through your high that he doesnât even have the time for that anymore, doesnât have the patience.
With his scarred lips smoochinâ away at your clit, Toji lets his plump fingertips hit your g-spot. Constantly. With those keen senses of his (honestly you blame the reflexes from MMA), he pinpoints the exact tempo of your high.
Every peak- he bashes in with a swat! at your bundle of nerves. Letting his mouth salivate all down your runny slit, drinking up every sip of your sweet, sweet juices. Like honey. âAnd you called me p-pussydrunk, heh.â Toji titters away, noticing the glazed look in your eyes. âAs if youâre not the one gone on my tongue, doll. As if youâre not the one salivating all like that. As if youâre not the one with the pussy thatâs fuckinâ ruined me- fuck.â
Both of you register what heâs said at the same time.
Toji with a sudden gasp, and you with a smug smirk. The strongest of your high has bated by now to nothing more than a few tingles, and you have half the mind to look down at him and ask. âSoâŚruined you, huh?â
âSh-shut up.â
That pussydrunkness - oh, Toji Fushiguro was fighting against it. Trying not to cave in. But alas, he couldnât be in denial any longer after your orgasm has ended, and youâre trying to pull off of his mouth- only for Toji to hold onto your thighs and chase after your cunt.
You whimper from overstimulation as he licks at your teary crevice a few more times, before you the pleasure is too much and you really have to push his sweaty crown away.
âToji- ngh, mâsensitive.â You squeal, to which he grunts in nonchalance. Still addicted to tastinâ you. Realizing this, you finally huff, âIf you let me go now, then maybe I wanna take a shot at- hah, paying you backâŚâ
And that finally makes him pull off. With a raised brow, âCheh, go easy on yerself- you canât take me that easily.â
âOh? Scared?â
âYou wish.âÂ
In fact, there was a hint of challenge in Tojiâs dazed eyes. In no time, youâre plopped off of his mouth with the most lecherous noise. Seated on the edge of the bed, he got off and tugged down on the flimsy fabric of his sweatpants.
Resting his fist on the dark curls at his base, youâre being introduced to Tojiâs proud length.
Tanned. Rock-hard.Â
Even larger than youâd imagined from all hisâŚaccidental erections during your sessions. Long. And he wasnât lacking in the girth department, either - the plumpest tip, all covered in a layer of creamy pre. It dripped down the nozzle of his cockhead, nâ allllll the way down his shaft.
Body moving before your mind, youâre reaching out to grab at his tannish cock. The flatness of your thumb easily smears the lines of precum he was leaking out, letting them glide along the veins that decorated either side of his shaft.
So textured, you wondered how it would feel inside-
âSo?â Toji grunts out from above you, peering down. You notice that he still has the remnants of your slick plastered all across his chin, mouth, all the way up to his cheekbones. Worn like some medallion. He sinks his fangs into his lower lip to stop from making too many needy noises as you inspected his sheer size, âNot too late to back out now, doll- heh- oh.â
Youâre making him swallow that cocky laughter of his back.
Because in a few sultry split-seconds, you have your mouth pointed right above the divot on his shaft. Spitting. You let the dollop of spittle ooze down his shaft for a bit, before immediately taking his tip into your mouth.
Oh, heâs reaching for the roof of your mouth instantly.
So thick. So plump. You shut your eyes and groan at the salty-sweet taste that greets you, itâs surprisingly not unpleasant.Â
And Toji lets off a low whistle at the slobbered display, âOho?â Looking at you through his lashes, you stare up with doey, teary eyes and he feels himself throb at near the back of your throat. âSh-shit- dooonât fucking look at me like that. Oh, you know what youâre doing, woman.â
âMmmpf-â You moan, your lips âround his sensitive slit. They send sinful vibrations that makes the larger man hiss.
âFuck yeah, you do.â With a mean hand, the fighter grips onto the back of your scalp. Manhandling you slightly, âCâmon, doll. Câmon- letâs see if that slutty mouth oâ yours is just talk.â
And then heâs rutting slightly upwards - gently.
At least, for him. But for you, youâre clawing down the lines of his toned pelvis, struggling to catch your breath-
âOh? Some claws on ya, girl. Donât tell me youâre tapping out already? I havenât even fucked ya dumb yet.â And he has the audacity to make that mocking pout again, âYâknow Iâve been fuckinâ my cock to the, mm, thought of you for months now. And- oh, fuck- keep doing that with your tongueângh.â
Your jaw aches, and yet you unhinge it even deeper to let the tip of your tastebuds trace patterns all across the line of his slit. All pinkish and slicked with precum.
He continues, âYou wanna know a secret?â It was such a heavenly sight, watching you try to nod with Tojiâs fat cock stuffed between your lips. Hell, you hadnât even taken him all yet. âRight before you came here-â Leaning in, whispering. â-I was jerking my cock- oh-â
âMhmmâ?â
â-to your text, doll.â
Oh, fuck.
Youâre plucking yourself off of Tojiâs thick crown to gasp- but he doesnât let you get too far before grabbing you with one hand at your throat. Lightly putting pressure at your sides, heâs crashing his lips onto yours.
âMmmââ He groans against your lips, tasting you, tasting himself, tasting you. âGet on the middle of the bed, all fours. Wanna see if those other lips of yours are just talk, too.â
âTheyâre not.â You huff, but do as he says anyway.
Those overworked bedsprings creak as you both reposition yourselves: you on your hands and knees, your face pushed into one of the pillows, and Toji right behind you.
His rough hands bend your spine into a cute lilâ curvature, and then proceeds to bang the ends of his fingertips against your weepy pussy. âEasy there, mama.â Toji coos once you buck with a whimper, âTojiâs here nâ you just have to be my good girl and take it, alright?â
Youâre nodding, âJust shut up and fuh-fuck me already.â
âTut tut, greedy girl.â
But heâs doing as you say anyway - oh, heâd do anything you say, to be quite honest. Youâre inching your needy cunt closer to where his erection was upright, and Toji holds onto the base of his cock to just slightly eeeeease his way in.
His plump, puckered tip pries apart your folds.
From his honed end, all the way down to where his cockhead swells, youâre feeling him stretch you wiiide open as he enters. âOh my- fuck! You feel even bigger than you looked-â
âWhy, thank youâŚheh.â And you swear you can feel his red-hot girth throb even bigger. Wider. Since Toji was rock-fucking-hard, you could sense any and every change in his size. âNow donât run, alright?â
âWhy would I-â Youâre cutting your own self off, feeling him give the slightest half-thrust from behind. And itâs enough to make you lurch your hand out and grab onto one of the spindles of his headboard. â-oh- oh, I get it now.â
âMhmâknew youâd wanna run, all talk.â Shaking his head and his shaggy strands, Toji had to have some extra, extra precaution, you see.
Just a warning wasnât enough. So without further ado, his beefy forearm reaches out to hold tightly onto your neck. Squeezing either side of it, he feels the way your pulse thunders underneath his touch.
Throat strangled with spittle and whines. âOh my god-â Even more so when he starts rutting his hips like an animal.
âEasy there, eeeeasy there.â Heâs reassuring you from behind, as if his achingly hard cock wasnât splitting you open incredibly. âSâjust the tip, doll. You can take it- shhh, you can take it.â
âWhaddaya mean this is just the tip?â You gasp, feeling your body being pulled into his like a ragdoll. He manhandles you as if youâre nothing, constantly grinding your hips back against that scruffy happy trail of his.
âWell, just the tip aaaaandâŚâ Youâre quickly learning that whenever Toji elongates his words, heâs dragging out his thrusts, too.
Letting the thick, vein-covered length of his shaft gliiiide all across your walls and then right back. Baaaack and forth. Baaaack and forth. With a sensual pace, heâs inching his way in- the fat, bulbous end of his shaft acting like the headlight. Spearing. He snickers, â-an inch more. Two.â
Tears stream down your cheeks, and Tojiâs lavish tongue careens out to lick at them deliciously. âA-and- oh, how much more is there?â
He casually leans his weight back to check, and the fighterâs greedy gaze gets stuck on the sight of your pussy suckinâ him up. Slurping him.Â
Itâs like your pussylips were stretched apart so widely and struggling to take his merciless pace- yet still clamping down, still glistening with wetness after each one of his rugged strikes. âOh, just about two inchesâŚthreeâŚfour-â Toji whispers hotly against your ear, âYâknow what- how about I just tell you after youâve taken all, mm, nine inches, doll?â
Nine inches?
Oh, you were done for.
You werenât walking out of this very penthouse.
âYeah, youâre not.â He confirms your thought- shit, youâd said that out loud. Just so dickmatized by the way his flared ridges were swervinâ all around your tight walls.
The curvaceous line of his cockhead nudges apart your channel, and you feel his hold tighten even further. âBut the good news- youâre gonna take- ngh, my entire cock, wonât you?â Breathy. He was speeding up his cadence now. Long, thorough strokes. âGonna take e-every single inch?â
âYes-â You claw at the headboard, âYes yes yes yes-â
And then rings the loudest squeeeelch ever as heâs fitting in a few more inches, âMhmmm, and youâre gonna- ngh- love it.â
Both you and your sloppy pussy do - and he can tell.
All that arousal. All those cute noises you were making. Youâre feeling the exact way the zig-zagged pattern of his veins massages your cunt, just perfectly scratching every carnal inch. And heâs almost bottoming-out, almost feeling his reddened tip hit the back of your pussy-
Before you clench around his rude cockâ
And you hear the exact, shattered moment that Tojiâs breath catches. âOh fuck-â He stills, âOh fuck, this wonât work-â
Blinking over your shoulder, âToji?â
âFuck.â
His bass cracks at the tail end of that profanity.
And in a mere instant - so fast that you donât even have enough time to compute - youâre finding your head trapped in one of Tojiâs infamous headlocks.
Sure, heâd often used it in a much less attractive way with his opponents.
But never had he used it like this. And youâre choking at the restraint of his flexing muscles, all bulged and big. His biceps digs perfectly against the front of your throat, and you feel your saliva come out in heaps- âToji- Toji Toji Toji- oh, I can feel you hit my c-cervix.â
Sure enough, heâd dragged you back to bottom out.
The curvy tip of his shaft cutely bumpinâ your cervix, you feel a sticky layer of his precum drip out at the fact. Pulling back, back, baaaaack - right until his plump crown kisses your hole, and then all the way back in again.
In and out. In and out.
So thoroughly, heâs fucking his rock-hard cock into you. Leaving absolutely no hidden spot unturned, leaving your fuzzy brain in absolute shambles.
âYou said- hah, you said I didnât kiss you, right?â Toji rasps against the shell of your ear, his heated proximity making goosebumps run down your spine. And, honestly, at this point you can barely even remember the conversation thatâd led up to him saying this. âWell, here I am now-â
âWhat you doâŚoh.â
His cock was hitting your cervix- smooching it. Hard, wettened kisses.
Over and over. Toji smashes you back against his pistoning hips, and with his other hand heâs sliding slithering a hand down to your pussy - spanking. âSee? Mâkissing her, too, now.â Heâs tittering, so thoroughly proud of the way your mouth waters.
âThat doesnât cou-â
Smack!
âWhat was thatâ?â
The force of it is so pleasurable that your body automatically holds onto the headboard and tries to heave yourself upwards. Thrashing. To which Toji turns his beady eyes down at the futile escape route-
And immediately slams his hand down on the flat top of the headboard.
âSpeak tâme, mama- what was, ngh, that?â
Splitting it straight down in two.
You gape stupidly at the way the bed frame easily cracks underneath his strength, and Tojiâs taking the slight distraction as an opportunity to lean back onto his haunches.Â
And heâs taking you right with him.
Tojiâs sitting back on his heels, his buttocks resting on the balls of his feet. And youâre somewhat seated on his lap, still having him fuck upwards into you- with this position, heâs reaching his globular tip so deeply.
Even further than he ever had before, he wetly glissades his tip to pierce your womb. âNgh- fuck.â Grunting in your ear, âYou canât tell me that doesnât count, doll.â So he did know what you were about to say.Â
Stirrinâ up your goopy insides, he feels like velvet inside. And you think heâs slowly molding your cunt to his exact size, every line of his vein, every inch. âSee? One kiss.â Toji counts out, and immediately youâre feeling his cocktip swipe your cervix. Thudding. âTwo kisses.â Another one. âThree kisses-â
Four.Â
Five.
Six.
Seven- itâs on this one that his glistening wet tip manages to locate your g-spot. Since his shaft was more right-leaning, it was oh-so-easy for him to constantly glide down that one spot.
âE-eight-â You count out, by yourself.
And if you could see him right now, youâd have noticed the way that Tojiâs predatory eyes widened with pleasant surprise. Oh, you were cockdrunk. He holds you down to him, âOho? You can count it by yourself now, huh? Then- haaaah, how about- this?â
âNine-â You blurt out, saliva sploshinâ down the entire front of your chin. âTen- ngh, eleven.â
âThat was actually twelve, but close enough.â He rolls his eyes - he couldnât punish you too much for that, just a few sodden spanks at the forefront of your cunt. And that was it, really. Heâd decided to go easy on you this time, really. Now for him to smoothly shovel his shaft into you, until you were idly reaching your second orgasm of the night.
Hah- as if.
After two slaps to your clit, the fighter edges himself close to your ear and mutters out. âIf you canât do that- could you at least, mm, fuck back into me.â
You whine, âDo I have to? But you do it so goodâŚâ
âSpoiled brat.â Yet another swat down on your slit, he caresses your clit as if making up for it. And before long, youâre feeling the spearheading tempo of his cock slow down. âCâmon now- up! There we go- get to work, doll.â
âMmpf- youâre gonna pay for this.â You growl, doing your very best to try and get your legs to work. Theyâd been taking it for so long, limp at the pressure, that your hamstrings were positively screaming now. âShit- but I wanna go faster, oh.â
Toji rolls his eyes with a scoff, âSo go faster, girl. Whatâs the hold up?â
âIt just feels so- so- oh.â It just felt so good is what you wanted to say - but you donât sputter out the words right at that moment (you didnât want to feed his ego too much).Â
âSo so oh?â He mocks, âDidnât I say this pretty pussy of yours was- oh, chattier? Think she might just be more articulate, too- heh.â
âSh-shut up.â
And as if to prove a point, your sloppy drags only made your cunt echo out even louder. The skin on your ass cheeks burned after each slam against his hips, and Toji was just so ripped that every rut left the indentations of his v-line stinging.
âNgh- fuck.â You arch your back and attempt to slide down his thick cock easier, rubbinâ that part of your g-spot against where his veins were most prominent.Â
You hated to admit it, but your limbs were growing all weary. And Toji lets out a huff of breathy laughter as he noticed the way your cadence seemed to be slowing down, âMmm, feelinâ tired, are we? Youâre not tapping out any time soon, mâkay?â
âBut- but Iâm so-â You whine, your fingers fisting in the silk bedsheets. They seemed to be the expensive type, yet ruined with a damp layer of sweat nâ slick. Soon enough, youâre dropping to the bed with a weary mewl. â-shit, I donât know if I can go any longer-âÂ
You donât even get to finish your sentence.
You donât even get to finish the lone, sloppy thrust that you were stumblinâ across
Not before Tojiâs then taking over. He gets up off his haunches, pushing you rudely onto all fours again.Â
And this time? He wasnât holding back.
âAllll that talk- cheh.â Tojiâs spitting down at your pussy, lubricating it once again despite you not even needing it. Before long, youâre being pounded by his long, heavy cock- feeling every single inch in your throat. âBut your Toji just has to finish this pretty pussy off, hm?â
âYes- yes-â You donât even feel slightly embarrassed in admitting, âJusâ wanna cum, Toji- ngh, Iâm so close.â
âOh, mama, I know.â Two rugged pads of his fingers come down to slap your clit, smoothing it over with a few gentle rolls. But youâre so far gone at this point that even that makes you see stars- âAnd youâre gonna cum allll over my- hah, cock, alright? All over.â
Nodding pathetically, you were just drippinâ in spit and sweat. Body shaking with the pangs of pleasure already- âAll over b-but you then you have to cum right in here, okay?â
His breath catches, âWh-where?â Toji stutters.
Blissfully ignorant, you point down the front of your stomach. Drawing a line right where you could feel his rotund tip bottoming out after every thrust, âI donât think mâgonna last that long.â
âOh.â
There was something broken in his voice as he registers what you were just telling him with your actions - that you wanted him to finish inside. To pump you so full of cum that itâll drip out of you. To make sure you feel him from the outside and the inside.
Heâs fucking you so hard that the skin âround his pelvis had begun to rub raw, slightly overstimulating his tip against the softness of your cunt. Toji pushes down on your body, pinning you down with his weight.
Manhandling you.
So much manhandling.
In this mean doggy position, he leans down and pinches your clit. âOh, doll, you canât even imagine what mâgonna do to ya-â Ruined. Shattered baritone. â-donât even know how far mâgonna fill you up with my cum. Youâre gonna be- ngh, overspilling.â
âYes yes yes- I want it.â And now youâre gyrating your hips back into his- hah, he could almost tease you for it. So you had the desperation now? âPlease- give it tâme-â
âNuh uh, you have to cum first.â
âBut- ngh.â A pinch at your clit, a puckering kiss. And Toji hits your g-spot so hard that you swear you see the pearly gates of heaven: youâre cumming.
Wave after wave of your white-hot high.
The pleasure thrums in your veins, and youâre crying out as Toji hits every precious spot with his globular tip. Pinpointed precisely. Your knees weaken- you were mistaken earlier, this was the best orgasm youâve ever had.
Heâs not too far behind.
With a grunt, Toji cums. And after every riveting peak of your high, heâs pourinâ out in sticky wads of cum. Itâs like an ivory sap that takes over every inch of your insides, hot and wet.
You squeal as you feel the gluey layer of it stuff you to the brim, ultimately ending up formulating a ring of white around the girth of his hilt. âCumming-â You blabber tearily, your brain foggy with the feeling of him cumming inside you. Turning around to face him, âIâm c-cumming, Toji.â
âMmm, you are. So pretty takinâ my- ngh, cum.â Tojiâs rough lips kiss down the line of your spine, and his fingers dip from your clit to tease your creamy slit. âI love this view.â
The more heâs swiping away the droplets of cum that pour out of your pussy, the more that keeps sprinkling out - and he honestly doesnât know whether thatâs his fault or yours.
Letting the treacly glaze drip down to his wrist, Toji brings his sticky hand up to your mouth. âSpread those lips fâme, doll- yeahhh, like that.â He murmurs, thickly. And you whimper as he sticks his adhesive-like fingertips into your mouth, making you suck on the salty sap.Â
Cleaning it off.
It feels like years - almost like eons - until Tojiâs finally finished riding out his high, just as strong as yours. He hunches over as he cums-
âOh, weâre not done y-yet, doll.â Too soon, youâre being dragged back into his hulking body. And since he was finally done with webbing up your insides, now came the fun part where he was fucking it in. Each nâ every gooey wad seeped into your innards. Those earlier specks thatâd leaked out from before? Well heâs using his fingers to push those in, too. âYou didnât think that a world-class fighter had a stamina that low, did ya?â
Gasping, you donât think you can trust your very eardrums right now. âSo you mean to sayâŚâ
âMhm.â Tojiâs fucking you into utter stupidity- easily flipping you over, youâre being folded into the sloppiest mating press in existence. He mutters to you as he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending you down. âYâknowâŚMMA championships have five rounds.â
âOh- and?â
Toji just grins, drilling out a heavy thrust. âOne down, four to go, mama.â
.
.
.
âWow! That was a mean right hook, I definitely wouldnât want to be on the receiving end of that strength.â You bite back a grin at the commentatorâs voiceâoh, how you knew. âToji Fushiguro sends Naoya Zenin flyingââ
You canât bring yourself to wince as the two-tone-haired man lands on the other side of the octagon with a shuddering thud.
Too excited from your seat in the cageside area - the closest you could be to the fighters - as part of the team. It was your first time officially accompanying Toji to one of his big fights, as his physical therapist.
And his lover.
Though, that part was a secret (more or less, you swear youâd seen most of the gym giving you knowing looks whenever you clocked into work walking a little funny, or whenever Toji had sauntered into the locker room; hickies, nail marks, and all). But for now you settled into your role as the alert physical therapist, watching out for any points in which Toji showed signs of discomfort or soreness.
âCan you hear the crowd- theyâre in uproar!â
âWell, itâs no wonder. Toji Fushiguroâs comeback has been long-awaited- ouch, thatâs a nice uppercut from Toji.â Another voice bellows.
And the others hum in agreement. âAnd after his unfortunate streak last year, the champion found his footing once more. With a winning streak thatâs one of the longest recorded in recent years, the man is unstoppable!â
âI guess the million dollar question of the night is - can he win the finals tonight?â
Though your efforts were likely for naught, because your boyfriend was at the top of his game.
Without letting Naoya even get up (some rookie hotshot, according to Toji, who had to be put in his place), the older man is pummeling him with a right hook, left hook, right hook, left hook. Until that cocky face of his looked mangled.
And the referee is rushing to his side- about to crouch on the floor for the countdown. The commentators have their announcement of his win on the tip of their tongue. The crows is already reaching a fever point-
Itâs in that moment that Toji looks at you.
Towering, the lone fighter standing in the middle of the cage, he stares.
He smiles.
He points.
âAaaaand the countdown is overâNaoya Zenin down! Toji Fushiguro has won the title of world light heavyweight champion once more! Itâs a historical win for Toji!â
Youâre all on your feet. The team claps each other on the back, the commentators are shaking hands. Shiu catches the way that Toji immediately heads for you - barely waiting till the heavy golden belt was draped across his body, barely letting the referee raise his hand in the air. Victory.
And he chuckles, âI already knew.â Taking a celebratory drag of his cigarette, âGuess Iâm winning the bet.â
Your eyes bulge, âYou guys bet on us?â
âEver since the first day you walked in, sugar.â He chuffs, and lightly nudges your shoulder with his. âNo go to him- before he tears down the cage, that is.â
Shiu was right to be worried. By the time youâre reaching the edge of the octagon, Toji has already jumped down from it- and youâre barely registering his brilliant grin before youâre in his arms. His face crushed into the nook of your neck. Arms looped around your waist.
In the distance, it seems, you can hear reporters and fans alike scream questions about you and your relationship. Something youâre sure will end up on every headline and front page of those sports gossip magazines that you now read. Hell, you can even hear the members of your team catcall and howl from the sidelines.Â
But right now, itâs as if Tojiâs voice is the only sound in your ears. âWe won.â
You smile, âYou won.â
He shakes his head, âCome off it, silly girl. We won.â And even in front of everyone else, even in front of the cameras, he nods down at the very obvious bite marks on your neck. The way your knees were slightly weak. Your core was slightly sore. Evidence of last night. âAnd mâgonna win a whole lot more tonight-â
âFive rounds just like this championship, then?â You tease, squirming in his strong arms. And he only pulls you even tighter to him-
âActually, I hear the IMMAF is trying to make it six roundsâŚâ
A/N. Listen I donât condone J*o J*ekyung but Toji?? Gimme.
Synopsis. Toji Fushiguro: MMA light heavyweight champion, tyrant in the ring, the strongest man in the world. But after a sudden losing streak leaves him without his title, Toji realizes that he suffers from a certainâŚjinx. The cure: you, his new physical therapist - and whatâs between those pretty legs of yours!
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!physical therapist!reader, MMA fighter!Toji, Jinx (the manhwa) AU, heâs mean, matches, slight vioIence (to his opponents), Shiu cameo, jinxes, pĂşssydrunk Toji, oraI (fem rec.), face-sĂtting, fĂngering, spĂtting, p sIapping, SO MUCH manhandling, HEADLOCKS, slight chokĂng, rough s, cervĂx kĂssing, folding you, p talking, heâs rude, creampĂes, cĂşmplay, tasting it, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swĂŠaring.
Word count. 12.2k
A/N. PHEW-
âOuch! Huge overhand rightâToji Fushiguro is on his last leg, ladies and gentlemen and everyone in-between. I repeat-â
Toji scowls as the commentatorâs voice bellows in his ears, like lightning flashes of derision through the thunder of the crowd. Those bastards, he seethes, they sure were singing his praises last seasonâŚ
He sways ever-so-slightly, and throws a punch- misses- then gets hit with an uppercut that he really shouldâve dodged.
Shouldâve.
âThat is some damage- wow! A shocking turn of events for the once-champion, it seems like Toji is already down for the count tonight.âÂ
The hell are they talking about? He tries to glare down at the table of commentators (which wouldâve been easier if said table wasnât soâŚtilted).
Why was the world spinning?Â
Before he knows it, Tojiâs on the mat. He feels the referee rush to his side, slamming the ground in countdown. He feels the crowd roar as heâs announced his defeat, yet again. And in that moment, he knows.
Itâs a jinx.
.
.
.
ââdevastating loss for the man that once ruled the octagon.â
âThe latest in his recent losing streak, fans are left wondering when their light heavyweight champion will make his comeback. And what changes have to be made in order toââ
ââalmost as if heâs been jinxed, hah!â
You hasten to turn down the volume on your phone. Despite having your earphones connected, all those screams nâ cries nâ protests still melded together into a powerful whirlwind, blaring out from the cheap speakers.
Tinny. The disappointment of the vast audience on-screen was far too much for your device to contain.
And not wishing to draw any more dirty looks from the other passengers on your bus, you muted the video and paused it on a still of Toji Fushiguro.
It was right after his defeat in the preliminaries; his skin glistening in fervent sweat, a cut bleeding from his brow, face scrunched as he rejected the help of someone from his own team. Instead, choosing to get up by himself.
Still silenced, you let the video play on a little longer - and you take in the glump slump of his shoulders. Oh-so-toned. You take in the way he stalks grimly off of the octagon-shaped battleground that the MMA was most famous for.
From here, you could tell that Toji towered above all of the crew- hell, he even towered above his opponent.
So why did he lose?
Alright, so you werenât an expert in all things mixed-martial arts - but as a physical therapist you think you had some sort of say in the matter!
From here, you determine that this shouldâve been an easy win for him. Terribly easy. Practically handed to him: for Toji was built considerably larger, stronger, about 6â3 with a ripped physique that made you understand exactly why the fighter had graced every single sports magazine in existence last season. Every TV show. Every sports exclusive. Heâd taken the fighting world by storm at his debut, and heâd held that title ever since.
Infamous.
A wonder to watch on the screen.
A deep v-line. Arms the size of your head.
Those sage, half-lidded eyes of his were intense - especially now, as they blazed with injustice. You could remember feeling them follow your every move, prowling, from the athletics section on every magazine aisle. You think youâd picked up those exact magazines a few times, just to make sure that they werenât somehow actually following you.
One time, you even remember the shop employee nodding approvingly at your choice.
Everyone knew Toji Fushiguro.
If not from his legendary MMA reputation, then from his irresistible looks. If not from his irresistible looks, then from his reputation as a tyrant in the ring.
If from neither then from his recent streak of losses that shook the fighting world.
Itâd come out of nowhere. And no athlete quite expects to lose, but this seemed to have come as a surprise especially to Toji and his team, crew to an athlete that shouldâve been at the top of his game.
You ponder - perhaps it was some wear on the joints, or maybe he hasnât been getting enough electrolytes this seasonâŚ
Youâre pulled out of your little reverie by a cough from the kind olâ lady seated beside you; the type that was less a necessity of the body, and more a pointed intonation of âI donât know what youâre doing and it seems like neither do youâ.
And, suddenly, you realize that you hadnât just been staring into space as youâd thought- no, youâd been staring (quite passionately) at a paused frame of Toji Fushiguro in all his shirtless, sweaty glory. A close-up of his built figure. A close-up of the tattoo on the side of his toned hip.
Which, you had to admit was quiteâŚattractive- pull yourself together! You turn off the phone that youâd pulled out in the first place for research, lest anyone else on the bus start thinking that you were some kind of pervert (it might already be too late for that, the elderly woman was tittering to herself). Ducking your head in shame, you sigh out in relief as you notice that your stop is near.
âThe next stop is Sendagaya Station, Shibuya.â The lilting voice of the conductor rings out, âPlease prepare your fares.â
You were glad to finally get off this bus, after a long ride spent toiling to yourself. In no time, youâd paid your fare and was stepping out into the bustling city.
Conveniently, right in front of the gymnasium you were supposed to arrive at: TEAM BLACK, TOKYO MMA GYM. 5F.Â
To work for Toji Fushiguro.
You check your watchâfive minutes early. Dressed in your crisp scrubs, you adjust the glinting golden badge engraved with your name and your position as physical therapist.Â
And then you step in.
The sound of gloves connecting with flesh, of groaning punching bags, and shouts greet you immediately as you enter. There were a multitude of fights that were ongoing in the expansive gym, but there was only one that you couldnât take your eyes off of - right in the middle, pummeling his bloodied opponent, was Toji Fushiguro.
From around the ring, teammates and coaches were yelling at the dark-haired man to stop. But he doesnât.
His stone-cold face specks with blood, and he still doesnât stop. His opponent taps at the mat to halt the match, and he still doesnât stop. One of the other fighters in the gym runs up to grab him, and he still doesnât stop.
Ultimately, you watch as it takes about five men to even match Tojiâs strength- forget about overpowering.
âWhatâs wrong with you?!â One of the men cried out, ââFree sparringâ doesnât mean you should actually take the guy apart- someone could have gotten injured!â
âYou okay? You seemed lost there, manâŚâ
âIs this about the loss from a few weeks ago- eek!â Several of them stumble backwards as Toji glares at them for that particular comment, and suddenly youâre reminded of the match youâd just watched on the way here. That devastating loss.
You look over and canât help but notice that the man inside the ring right now is much bigger than the one heâd fought during that match. Much stronger, it seems.
And again, youâre wondering - why the hell couldnât he win?
âThe punk wanted to spar, sânot my fuckinâ problem he couldnât handle it.â Toji grunts, and itâs the first time youâre hearing his low baritone. Slightly husky.
He rolls his eyes as he shoves off the other fighters, and pulls aside the colored ropes ring to step out. Which is when, slowly, magnetically, his eyes meet yours.
âWhoâs this?â
Tojiâs in front of you in a split-second, his broad shape looming. His twinkling irises staring down. His black t-shirt skin-tight. His scarred lips slightly quirking upwardsâ
And before you can even think of responding, you hear a call of your name.
From the other side of the gym, a clean-cut man with a slight spattering of scruff was pacing his way over. He was well-built, like the other fighters here, though with an air of authority with which he wielded a clipboard.
In front of you, Toji repeats your name. Like he was tasting it.
âAh, you must be the new physical therapist!â The man announces once heâs close enough, and you bow politely to which he does the same. âThank you for coming on such short notice. The nameâs Shiu Kong, mâthe manager of these animals- so if thereâs anything you need to ask, you ask me.â
âThank you for having me, and for the opportunity.â You smile, seeing Tojiâs stunned expression from the edge of your peripheral vision.
He scoffs, âAnd what do we need a physical therapist for?â
Shiu instantly smacks him with his clipboard, âHave you had one too many blows to the head?â He barks out, in a tone that was the complete opposite of the gentle way heâd spoken to you. âHuh? Have you? Have you forgotten the fact that youâve done more losing than winning this season-â
âAlright alright-â Toji waves off, âThe fuck? They should put you in the ring next.â
And then he turns to you and sweeps his eyes up and down. Deciding to take a chance, you thrust your hand out in the attempt of a handshake- only for him to take it in his much-larger, roughened one. And instead he flips your palm over and bends- almost like heâs bowing, almost like youâre royalty - and grins. âPleasure.â
He doesnât introduce himself, he knows he doesnât have to.
And with only a slight smirk thrown your way, Toji turns on his heel and heads in the direction of one of the clinical-looking rooms in the gymnasium. Away from all the fighting, you assumed that this will be your office going forward.
Tojiâs already there when you enter, and heâs-
âŚshirtless?
His broad back was all on display for you, every curve nâ divot, every one of his eight washboard abs, every flex of his muscles. He was glimmering with a sheen of sweat that brought out just how toned he was- and you think you could see, closer than ever, the inky spirals of a snake on his hip.
âMy clothes are soaked in sweat-â Toji turns to look at you, and you feel your heart race at being caught staring. âI can do this in my boxers, right?â
âAh, yes!â You try to keep your tone even, and help your client - your client - lay down on the examination table. But oh- he really was attractive. Painfully so.
Not even those smokinâ hot magazines and edits on social media (all part of yourâŚresearch, of course) had done him justice.
But you had a job to do, and youâre getting started right away. âDo you have any specific concerns?â You ask, pulling a thin towel over Tojiâs crotch area as he reclines. And he only sighs and rests his head upon his palms, muscles rippling as he does so.
âJust do your thing.â
âYes, sir.â You nod, âThen, Iâll give you the full body sports oil massage.â
âMn.â
You start from his broad shoulders, and then down to his pecs.
And he really wasnât like any of the clients youâd had prior - no one came even close. You could feel the power in his body, the firmness, the training. Any time you glissade your lotionized hands across Tojiâs muscles, he grunts- and, oh, you have to squeeze your thighs together to stop from thinking anything stupid.
You kneaded your way down from his bulging biceps, and onto the side of his hips - where you got a really good look at the snake tattoo. You notice that it also had flowers inked around it.
And then onto his thighsâŚyouâre raising them in external rotations. All the while looking up at his ridiculously handsome face to check whether it hurt, you didnât register the way your hands somewhat struggled to get a proper grasp on his meaty thighs, especially with the sweat.
You didnât register the way your fingertips slightly scoured downwards-
âOh, shit!â You hiss, jumping your hand back. In the few seconds that youâd been distracted by his looks, youâd somehow traced the crown head of something longâŚand hard.
Looking down, you realize that Tojiâs erection was throbbing against the thin layer of his boxers. Barely even hidden by the cover of the towel, the lengthy cylindrical outline was there for your eyes to see - and for your hand to accidentally touch.
Your eyes widen.
How was he so big?
âMy- my apologies, sir!â You sputter out, resting your treasonous hands against your sides. âItâs a very common physiological response to get hard- ah- an erection during a massage, and itâs completely my mistake for not noticing. Again, my apologies, I completely understand if you wish to-â
âWhaddaya doing just standing there?â Toji cuts you off gruffly, and you look up at his face in surprise. He raises a dark brow, âArenât you gonna finish what you started?â
You blink, âFinish what IâŚâ
âThe massage.â He cocks his head, though thereâs a knowing smile on his lips - how devilish he looked this way. âThat damn Shiuâs gonna give me hell if I donât get it- so hurry it up, will ya?â
That was close. Hastily nodding, you reach over to massage his thigh once more. âRight at once, sir.â
Looking down, you chose not to make eye-contact with him for the rest of the session. Instead, focusing your entire attention on perfectly executing the massage, step by step - you wouldnât want a repeat of what happened before!
Toji, however, stared at you through his partially-lidded eyes the entire time.
.
.
.
âThat wraps up your treatment for today. Thank you for your patience, Mr. Fushiguro.â You step to the side, giving the athlete the space to stretch out his long limbs and feel the effects of your massage- which, you had to admit yourself, was amongst some of the best in the academy.
He takes his time rolling his shoulders, feeling the way the blood vessels on his muscles flow smoothly. Energized.
âHm, not bad.â Toji muses, more to himself. âMost of the punks here call me âsirâ or âMr. Fushiguroâ-â He nods at you, âYou can just call me Toji.â
âOh- Iâm honored, sir- I mean-â Your veins blister with heat, and you think that the slight quirk of his lips might have something to do with it. ââToji.â It felt so wrong on your tongue, and yet so right.
And before you can let anything further slip (because, really, youâd never been close enough to a client to address them by their first name, let alone be told to do so after the very first session), you turn away from the handsome man to grab your bag of supplies, your coat, and step to fumble with the door handle. âAnd now- if thatâs all, then Iâll be going now. Have a nice day, sir- I mean-â
As you make your very evident escape, Toji can only watch. Can only stare.
He feels his massive erection still throb furiously between his legs, still ravenous. Like never before. And one of his hands snakes down to squeezeââHowâŚinteresting.â
Before the door swings open once more and in comes Shiu, prattling away something about how you âleft in such a hurryâ and what a âsweet lilâ thingâ you were- Toji casually throws a second hand towel over his lap as his best friend (and manager) comes to slap him on the shoulder. âFeeling refreshed, eh? I can see it in your eyes- with her, we might just have hope about winning that next match.â
âYeah.â He rasps out, throat dry. Toji watches where you left, he can still feel your soft hands tingling on his skin. âYeah, we might just.â
.
.
.
âFuck-â The champion spits between his clenched canines- well, future champion. But it didnât hurt to be a lilâ optimistic, did it? âOh, fuck- Iâve never been fuckinâ harder.â
He didnât fucking care. Not right now, not when he had his strong hand rested against the glistening tile of the stall. His head bent forwards, his back wet with the pouring shower, his right hand slipped below his v-line and furiously pumping his cock.
Up and down. Up and down.
Fuck, he was jerking himself off like he never had before. Until the friction of his roughened palm left his long, hot length all red nâ raw- and yet, he still wasnât stopping. Still couldnât.Â
He remembers the feeling of your soft hands on his thighs and Toji bucks-
âF-fuck-â The fighter gnaws down on his scarred bottom lip, trying desperately not to make a sound that will echo out in the gymâs empty locker room. âFuck fuck fuck fuck- sânot supposed to feel this good.â Sure, they had stalls - but right now even the slightest flick of his thumb, right underneath his mushroomy tip, felt so good that he might as well moan out loud.
And the worst part was that heâs sure his very first moan would be your name.
âFuck, mama, sânot supposed to feel this good.â He snarls, entire body wracking with shivers. The bulging biceps on his arms ripple as he glides his hand down to his base. And all the way back up.
Abs tensing. Veins on his pelvis popping.
With a few more vulgar strokes, heâs hoverinâ his thumb right over the divot on the middle of his cockhead. It was all pink nâ needy, dribbling out in syrupy white cum in absolutely no time- âLook what youâve done to me.â Toji watches himself through his shaggy black bangs, wet with water and perspiration, cumming all over his hands. âI donât know what blessing- what c-curse youâve put on me, butâŚâ Why couldnât he stop thinking about you?
He rides out his high on his right hand, fucking his fist like he imagines you might tease him through it- just like the way youâd teasingly grazed his tip. Just grazed.
Youâd probably take it like such a good girl. Let him paint his gluey white cum all over your face, and just across your lips - it would probably match your scrubs, heh. Biting back a groan, those lecherous thoughts of his only make him finish even faster.
And once the sparks of his high have finally bated - the fountain of his ivory sap stopping - Toji washes off the remnants of his lewd act. Spurting out some cool body wash and cleaning himself off, he slicks back his hair with clean hands now.
Head throwing back, he knew he had to get his mind in focus for the upcoming match - just in a few hours, actually. The car was supposed to be waiting for him outside the gym by now. It was some sort of rebound match of Legends vs. Rookies that Shiu had managed to scrounge together, and it should be displeased at the fact that he was supposed to fight some no-good, hotshot punk- but, honestly he had a good feeling about this one.
Tojiâs thoughts stray back to you, and he finds himself cracking a snicker- âYouâve fuckinâ cursed me, woman. You plague me. ButâŚâ A thrill zaps through his strong body, ââŚI like it.â
.
.
.
Toji Fushiguro won the Legends vs. Rookies event.Â
A wipe-out so clean that everyone was sure itâd go down in history. A comeback so strong that it had already gone down in history.
After that, it was a streak of absolute demolition: the preliminaries, the co-main events, the PPV matches, each and every single fight that was thrown his way- Toji Fushiguro was sure to win without even breaking a sweat (metaphorically).
Hell, at one point even some of his past contenders from his losing streak had demanded rematches, perhaps thinking that they could put the legend in his place once more.
Heâd won those, too.
After a season-long losing streak, it was months of winning. And you were giving him his massages on the days before every match.Â
And Toji was back on the magazine covers, the interviews, the brand deals. Right now you couldnât even step outside your humble apartment building without being met with at least four different billboards and several commercials featuring him. It was quite strange - seeing the rugged persona in those mediums, and then his still-rugged demeanour in real life.
Though, slightly less so.
There was a faint gentleness to the way that Toji was (when youâd brought this up with some of the other fighters youâd grown close to, theyâd fervently denied and showed off their bruises from the pummelings that Toji gave them in the ring).Â
But you were sure it was there: in the way that heâd always be first in the office, in the way heâd lightly murmur greetings to you and only you, in the way heâd hold open doors and look away as if he wasnât, in the way that there was a drink of your favorite preference on your desk every morning. And youâd asked around, wondering if it was perhaps Shiu or any of the rookies that was doing so- but they all denied it.
All but one of them.
Toji.
Even Shiu seemed to have noticed that something had shifted in his best fighter. Hell, he was on a winning streak after so long, so of course there had to have been a change.
The other man couldnât quite pinpoint it, though he gave most of the credit to you and your massages. âThey must be some sort of magic work!â Heâd exclaimed to you one day, after a particularly tough opponent that Toji had easily beat.
And you yourself couldnât quite be sure, though you didnât want to give yourself all the credit. You were only glad that your favorite fighter (yes, after being around MMA fighters for long enough now, youâd determined that Toji was your favorite) was back to winning again.
Only glad you could help.
Which is why, in the ghost entrails of the early morning, at exactly 2:36AM, when Toji texted you - you answered.
2:36AM - Toji (MMA fighter): I need you.Â
2:38AM - Toji (MMA fighter): For another one of those full body massages.
2:42AM - Toji (MMA fighter): Please.
2:42AM - You: On my way!
As you jumped out of your bed to get dressed, you noticed that you had several missed calls from Shiu, as well. After calling him right back, he informed you that just last week, Toji had come up on a draw during his last match, which was yet another co-main event for the #1 Contender spot.Â
Of course, you knew of this, youâd watched the match on the gymnasium television. And though it wasnât the worst of outcomes (especially considering that this was world-class fighting, at a light heavyweight level), considering his winning streak, you were somewhat surprised. And slightly afraid that heâd go back into his rut of losing, just as Shiu was.
Which was why he, too, wanted to reach out to inquire whether you could do one of your âmagicalâ full-body massages on Toji on the night before one of his biggest matches yet. A rematch for the #1 Contender spot - the audiences loved him.
Shiu told you heâd seen Toji moping around after that devastating draw, and knew that the only one who just might have the ability to brighten his mood would be you. So please, if you could go at 2:45AM to the penthouse apartment of a celebrity MMA fighter to give him a massage?
Of course, you said yes.
It seems that Tojiâs team had arranged for everything already, and a flashy black car was already waiting outside your apartment building to whisk you off to your destination. You twiddled your thumbs, slightly nervous (for what? You werenât quite sure) as the car parked in front of a set of gleaming skyscrapers. Apartment buildings of a calibre that youâd only seen in architectural magazines.
Escorted upwards by a few of Tojiâs own personal bodyguards past an entrance larger than your entire apartment, and a lobby that practically screamed luxury.Â
You didnât even know that Tokyo had such a place.Â
Massive. Concierges that bowed as soon as they saw you. An orchestra that still played in the dead of night. Chandeliers like miniature suns that lined the ceiling.
Damn, maybe you shouldâve become a famous fighter, you whistled. It made sense, though, he is one of the highest-paid athletes in the country. Even the elevators were gilded, shining so brightly that you could make out every inch of your face on its reflection. And the bodyguardâs, too- you quickly straightened up and tried to look as casual as possible as he led you to the very top floor.
A large glowing button simply labelled with a âPâ.
The penthouse floor had a wide carpeted corridor leading up to it, all golds and reds like the rest of the apartment. You walked up to the expensive-looking door at the end of it, and buzzed the doorbell on its touchpad.
Bzzzzâ!
The door swings open.
And there stands Toji Fushiguro, in all his sweaty, shirtless glory.
It almost reminded you of the first time you gave him a massage. Chest heaving. Vision bleary. A glittering bead of sweat lines the curve of his jawline, ending at his chin and dripping downwards. Down, down, down the valley of his pecs.
There was a lewd little flush that overtook his tannish skin.
Like he wasâŚsex-flushed.
Spreading out across his tense shoulders, and all the way down his chest. The back of his neck. You donât think it even ends as it follows the line of his dark happy trail, those curly lilâ hairs at the bottom of his navel, and then even further downâ
Tojiâs grey sweatpants hung low on his hips.
Dangerously low.
And you have to force yourself to look away. You swallow as he raises one big, beefy arm and rests it on the top of the door frame. Looking at you through the gaps in his damp bangs, âWell arenât you a sight for sore eyes, mama.â
âO-oh.â You immediately close your mouth, realizing that youâd been gawking at him for far too long now (how unprofessional!) Sheepishly, you raise your bag of supplies and shake it ever-so-slightly. âI uh- got your text! And Shiu also called to tell me that you wanted an extra round of physical therapy before your match, sir-â
âToji.â
âToji-â You amend. Before taking on a stern tone, âAnd it looks to me like youâd already been up working out before your match. Overstressing your joints will wear them out, you know!â
He scratches the back of his head, a sleazy smile overtaking his face. âWorking out- right.â
Tutting, âWhat you need now is a nice massage and some relaxation. Iâll do your usual with some added therapy for your blood pressure, how about that?â
âPerfect.â Toji grins, and he cracks the doorway open. Just slightly open. So that you have to squeeze yourself between the doorway and his chiselled body - not that you were complaining. âCome on in and give me a- hah, real workout then, how about it?â
âRelaxation, Toji.â
âOf course, maâam.â
Ignoring his teasing, you step inside. Itâs a luxurious apartment - one of those stylishly modern types, black and white, with flares of Tojiâs MMA career. Boxing gloves on the sprawling couch. A TV that takes up an entire wall, paused on highlights from his last match. A cabinet overspilling with trophies and belts.
Led by him, you stumble past towering artworks that likely cost about five of these penthouses - and thatâs about ten thousand of your own apartment.
He walks you through winding hallways, and ultimately into what you guess is the master bedroom.
His bedroom.
The first thing you notice as you step in isnât the rich furniture, or the king-sized bed, or the draping curtains that were cracked ever-so-slightly to let a sliver of the city seep through. No- itâs the mountain of tissues scattered on the wine-red carpet, the bottle of lotion on his bedside table, the way the dark bedsheets looked like heâd just been thrashing on it.
Toji casually lays back down on his wrinkled bed, and rests his clammy head on two hands. Stretching out.Â
You hasten to set out your work, coating your palms in lotion, and beginning your massage. As you start off warming up his obliques, you canât help but blurt out- âM-my apologies for assuming it was a workout-â
Fuck.
Why would you say that?
You gasp, âI mean-â
âWhy?â Toji croons, tilting his head to look at you. Trying to avoid his gaze, you quickly shift to extending his legs instead. âIt was a workout, heh.â
Your veins bubble, âOhâŚâ
âAnd itâs a workout I need before every match, yâknow?â Looking at you closely, still, youâre too aware of the fact that youâre massaging his thigh. âThe fact that mâfuckinâ my fist like some lecher before every match, you donât think thatâs strange?â
âI see. I donât reallyâŚâ Your throat is drier than the Sahara, you have no idea what to say - though, you admit, a part of you wants to hear more. So thatâs what heâd been doing, in this very room, on this very bed, just before youâd arrived.
Another part of you is thrilled. Another part of you is confused why youâre thrilled- which quickly morphs into understanding once your brain conjures up a sizzling image of Toji Fushiguro alone with his sweatpants at his ankles, hands fisting his rock-hard cock.Â
Shaking your head free of those lecherous visions, you attempt to lighten the mood- âIs that why youâve been winning all these matches lately, hah?â
âExactly.â And Toji sounded dead-fucking-serious. Rising, he looks you squarely in the eyes with his slightly murky ones. âSee, the thing is, I have this jinx.â
Your eyes widen.
âThatâs why I was on a losing streak- no matter what happens, it turns out I needa have a real good high the night before a match.â Your hands have stopped their movements, yet he shifts to edge them up higher. Closer. âNâ it needs to be truly satisfying for me to win.â
âSo- so these past few matches?â
âMhm, youâre a smart one, mama.â He shifts on the bed, sitting up. Even closer. âYou could say itâs my routine, and itâs very important to me.â His verdant gaze shifts from your right eye, to your left, to your lips. A triangle. âAndâŚIâd found my fix. Just fucking my fist to the thought of her was enough- but latelyâŚlately, I dunno if thatâs all I want.â
Your breath catchesâhe was talking aboutâŚâI see- th-that must be quite challenging.â
âHeh, it looks like you still donât get it.â
Before you know it, his hand grasps yours. And heâs bringing it up- to press an innocent peck on the back of your hand, though the burning look in his eyes was anything but.
Scarred lips murmuring against your skin, âWhyâd ya think that on the crucial night before a match, Iâd go through all the trouble of calling my manager, informing security, and having you come over?â He chuckles, âAnd if you still donât get it-â
And that sweet, sweet kiss he was pressing to your hand?
Well, Tojiâs canines slip outwards to lightly bite down - just teasingly. He looks at you through his long, Stygian lashes. âI know the way you look at me, ya arenât slick- hah! If you want - only if you want - you should know.â Sighing out. A confession. âItâs always been you, doll. Always.â
So he really was talking about you earlier.
Your heart stutters, and the only thing you can think to do - let your hand slip up, just the way it had on the first day youâd given him a massage.
And sure as day, there it was, the massive fucking erection that raged beneath his sweatpants. Just as large - if not even larger - than how youâd remembered him.Â
Just as needy - if not needier.
You gulp, âWell, I am your physical therapist intended to help youâŚâ You stare at him dead-on in the eyes: they were drunk with lust. Looking as if he was on the very urge of shattering if you just say the word. And youâd be lying if you said you didnât think of him in that way, either. â-win.â
.
.
.
âOh fuck, you taste so good, mama. Just a lilâ wider nowâjust a little wider.â At Tojiâs throaty beckons, youâre stretchinâ your thighs further apart with a whimper.Â
Feeling the scorchinâ hot gust of his breath against your core, you arch your back with a yelp once you feel him swat his calloused fingertips against your folds.
Teasingly, he runs his fat thumb right past your pussylips- snagging down on your clit to make you even wetter above him. âWiiider now- lemme see her properly, mama.â He huffs out, demanding. âNo need to be shy with me.âÂ
âMâalready stretching.â Youâre rebutting, grabbing onto a few tufts of his raven bangs to balance yourself. You knew you didnât need to be gentle with him- in fact, Toji groans at the feeling of you pulling on his hair, using it as leverage.Â
After all, heâd been the one to insist on making out with your cunt this way: your thighs straddling either side of his face, your cunt hovering above his mouth.
A beaded droplet of slick dribbles into his mouth and he has his tongue out nâ ready to catch it. Pryinâ your swollen folds even further apart with his thumb, âAtta girl-â As you leak out at his words- âAtta girl, sâexactly how wet I want you.â
âHmpf- and you havenât even kissed me yet.â You point out, stubbornly.
To which Toji only grins - oh, how cute you were. âYou wanâ me to kiss you? There-â And before you know it, youâre feeling something cold and wet cling onto your pussy. Only later are you realizing that heâd just spat on your cunt, letting the lewd slurp-slurp-sluuuurp ring out for both your ears to hear. âThose lips happy now, or do you want tongue?â
âYouâre just so mean- ngh-â
Another probing press of his crowned thumb, once more rolling over your clit perfectly. âOh, so you do want tongue.â
And Toji says it so casually, as if heâd just stumbled across an epiphany. As if he normally did communicate through the squelching slurps your pussy was giving out-
Because then heâs delving his tongue into you like an animal.
Barely even prepping you, barely even warning you- not before the scourinâ tip of his tongue then enters past your folds. Striking directly against some tender inner part of your walls, before heâs darting it back out and fucking you with his long muscle.
Rutting.
Again and again and again.
You feel your thighs shiver hopelessly at the sheer length of Tojiâs tongue - so fucking long that you could feel his ridged tastebuds aim for your very cervix. As if he could reach. âO-oh my god. How are you so big, Toji?â
âMmm, and I havenât even put my cock in yet, doll.â He smiles priggishly, his tongue slurping up every wadded ounce of slick that leaves you. âHow are you gonna take that then, huh?â
âI donât know- ngh.â Heâs mazing another inch of his tongue in, thoroughly. And itâs enough to leave your body all loose nâ wobbly with pleasure- stupidly, you attempt to hold onto the towering headboard on his bed, but Toji canât have that, now, can he?
Not when he was the one pounding your pretty pussy with all his tastebuds.
Glued to the slick-filled orifices of your cunt, heâs unhooking your hands from the headboard and bringing it back down to hold onto his scalp. To pull. To rough him up a little. âDonât even think about it-â He canât even speak through the rough, open-mouthed kisses he was leaving on your puckered hole. Wetly. Gasping for air- for more tastes of your candied cunt. âIn factâŚâ
Your hips flinch ever-so-slightly once Toji raises his head up - which, with his powerful body, was absolutely nothing even with your weight on top of him. And through his long bangs he takes a gooood, long look at you.
At your cunt.
At the way you were still hovering your hips, and then heâs spanking his familiar hand down on the tip-top of your clit. Making you gasp- âDid you just-â
âWhoops.â Faux-innocently, Toji acts all nice then - pinpointing the top of his tongue into each of those tender spots you loved so much. He unhinges his jaw even further to make sure that he isnât leaving a single spot unkissed. Long and hard.Â
Smack!
And again, youâre finding the most tender outer part of your pussy slapped. âAww, not again.â Toji has the audacity to pout on your behalf. Meanly, his free hand slides over to grip your ass and pull you down. âAnywaysâŚwhy donâtcha properly fuckinâ sit, mama. Maybe then my hands will stop- heh, slipping.â
And as if to prove his point, his prolonged tongue skids all the way from your glossy hole to your clit. âI meanâŚâ
âLike- fuck!â Still urging you to sit properly with his hands, on the verge of manhandling you. âWho the fuck do ya think you are, honey?â
You shyly try to listen to what he says, grindinâ your treacly cunt all over his open mouth. And oh- oh, it was like heaven for him. He has his greedy maw unfastened and his tongue slurping all over, stickinâ into every orifice even deeper than he had before. âI worry- hngh! I just worry that I might-â But he still wanted more. Still had his neck craning up nâ down to take in everything you gave him. â-suffocate you if you go on like this.â
And it was a realistic concern- fuck, you were hovering your waist right now and still Toji wasnât stopping to take a breath. Wasnât even slowing down.
Heâs burying himself nose-deep between your pussylips and letting his mouth do more stirrinâ than talking. And itâs only after a few more vulgar fucking strokes of his tongue, a few more swabs inside your pussy that he can even wrench himself away to answer you. âOhhhh, I get it.â Tugging on your trembling thighs, âYou think I canât handle it, huh?â
âI didnât say- oh, fuck-â
Without hesitation, Toji plants a rude slap on your pussy once more. Letting those glittering beads of slick splatter all over, âYou think mâfucking weak?â He seethes, half-joking. But half-wanting. âLet me get one thing fuckinâ clear, doll.â
And youâre listening intently - because if he sensed you were becoming too far one on the way his tongue lavishly licks, then Toji would once again swat your cunt. Drawing your attention once more.
The fighter stares deeply into your hazed peripherals as he lets his lengthy tongue flop out. Slitherinâ that honed tip right in- âNo matter what you weigh, I can bench press more than five of you.â And he gives your pussylips yet another sinful spank! âNow- fucking- sit.â
Youâre being seated with an unceremoniously loud sluuuuurp.
Of his tongue stickinâ deep inside you, his upper lip practically glued to your clit. With you riding his face, Toji fills out every tiny geysering nook and cranny. Grazing every velvety bundle of nerves that makes you see stars.
âOh- please-â He was just ruthless. As if you didnât know whether to fuck back or run forwards, youâre jolting your hips sloppily up and down. Slick, needy drags to match his lapping tongue.
Again and again.
Slurp after squelch.
Before you know it, Toji wants more - needs more. Even having you on top of him like this, his mouth was ravenous. Licking. Leaning up from the pillows to let you ride his face; all the way from the curve of his chin nâ up to the tip of his straight nosebridge.Â
As you come back down from one of these particular gyrations, Toji holds you still and - before you know it - youâre feeling the sensation of something elongated and thick entering your cunt.
âSh-shit, thatâs not your tongueâŚâ You blink away the tears in your eyes and look downwards, where the protruding edges of his joints were stretching you intensely.
Two of them- even though it felt like four, with how big his fingers were.
As you wail nâ wobble on top of him, Toji crushes you to his mouth ferociously. And you marvel at the stretch that keeps you hostage - you canât do anything but take it. But let your mouth fall ajar, and your head throw back, at the feeling of his probing thrusts.
Sultry tastebuds flickering over your clit- âMmm, sânot my tongue- good catch, doll.â He snickers, âThought that such a goooood pussy deserved a little something m-more-â
You catch the way that his dark brows furrow, a slight flush tinting what little you could see of his ears. âWait- Toji, did you just stutter-â
âNo the fuck I didnât-â Heâs snapping back.Â
And in response, youâre having your gummy walls pummeled with some of the rudest jackhammers youâve ever felt in your entire life. Oh, heâs just swabbing his fingerpads in so deep, mouth pursing to spit against your entrance once more nâ lick it all up.Â
Letting himself salivate.Â
Toji drools down a waterfall of your slick, his fingers tugginâ apart your tight hole to squeeze-squeeze-squeeze in a third finger. âDonât make me lose focus now.â Grumbling from underneath you, the fighter pins you down with a big, beefy arm wrapped âround your waist. Tight. Youâre in awe of his sheer inhuman strength. âDonâtcha remember? Iâve gotta- ngh- win tomorrow, nâ this pretty pussy is the key to it, mama. So let me focus alllll my attention on h-herâŚâ
You gasp, âSo you did stutter-â And soon enough, you feel yourself growing even wetter at the implication that the strong, cocky Toji Fushiguro was so pussydrunk right now that he was slurring his words.
Gone on your cunt. The way you clenched âround his rovering fingers- oh.Â
And, of course, Toji wasnât complaining about the fact that you were soaking yourself even more. Only gaping his maw further open, âMmm, tch-â His fingers pull out with a squelch to spank the front of your core, â-these lips are much nicer tâme.â
âHeyââ You huff, âJust because I got you all ngh- pussydrunk doesnât mean- oh fuck!â
âWhat were you sayingâ?â And then heâd bullied in four fingers - four. Four entire, long digits- he ends off by hitting his mountainous knuckles against your folds with a smack! Smack after smack. Until the skin on his hands were rubbed all raw, Toji probes his fingers inside your cunt. âOh yes, I think someone was talkinâ all big wâme. Do you know who that, mmm, might be?â
You shake on top of him, his cushy fingertips were glissading oh-so-close to your g-spot. With every rapid thrust, they inched inââI-I donât-â
âI see.â And then heâs rolling his tongue ruthlessly against your clit with a few wettened noises. âDo you know then?â
âWhat do you-â
âShhh, not you.â Toji rolls his half-lidded eyes. And his vibratinâ words zap through your entire body - he always did make sure to lean in reeeeal close whenever he spoke, but right now, he was tracing his canines over your swollen clit and lightly gnawing. âMâtalking to her- arenât I?â
âF-fuuuckâ!â Just then, heâs striking your g-spot. Thunderously. Just then, heâs realizing he did- and repeating the motion in quick, frenzied half-thrusts.
Barely even pulling properly to tease your elastic hole, barely even letting you register the way he bashes your bundle of nerves before he repeats the act. Toji was just vicious with how he batters in your poor cunt, âYeah? Yeah yeah yeah- ya like that?â He spits, âWhoâs stuttering now, mama? Got anythinâ else to say?â
You whimper, âMm-mm-â
âMhm, I knew she was chattier anyway.â
Talking to your pussy, Toji nods along like heâs part of the conversation. All those pretty, pretty sounds that he almost wishes he could record and listen to on loop.
So it was only a matter of time before heâs feeling the way your clampinâ walls reach a feverpitch, the way your damp noises only seem to get damper.Â
And the fighter looks up at you with a glint of excitement in his partially-lidded eyes, âOh, sheâs close, doll.â
âHow did you-â Your breath catches- fuck, heâs only accelerating his thorough pushes. The only thing you could register at this point was the perfect way he knew how to work your pussy, all those deepest, most fragile spots.
Quickly enough, those twinges of pleasure at the pit of your stomach are turning into waves.Â
And you can feel your thighs tremor on top of him, struggling to support your body when your orgasm quakes. âToji, mâclose-â You tug on his sweaty hair, âI think mâgonna c-cum soon.â
âSo cum on my face, then?â He answers, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Determined, you donât even need to hold up your own self anymore - heâs doing so with one hand glued to the side of your hips, the other pressing and probinâ until youâre being fucked by both his mouth nâ his fingers- straight into your high.
Crash-landing into your orgasm, it takes you entirely by surprise.
You jerk your cunt against his mouth, and Toji groans with delight. Back arching. Toes curling. You close your eyes and see entirely white as the surge of euphoria takes over your body.
âOh my- ngh, fuck. Mâcumming, mâcumming mâcumming and it feels so good-â Heâs just digging his veiny fingers against every sensitive ridge on your walls, just the way you liked. âRight there, keep going just like that, Toji.â
And usually this would be the point where he says something to tease you. The point where he says something to make you whine nâ try to shut him up with your bloated pussylips.
But he was fucking you so thoroughly through your high that he doesnât even have the time for that anymore, doesnât have the patience.
With his scarred lips smoochinâ away at your clit, Toji lets his plump fingertips hit your g-spot. Constantly. With those keen senses of his (honestly you blame the reflexes from MMA), he pinpoints the exact tempo of your high.
Every peak- he bashes in with a swat! at your bundle of nerves. Letting his mouth salivate all down your runny slit, drinking up every sip of your sweet, sweet juices. Like honey. âAnd you called me p-pussydrunk, heh.â Toji titters away, noticing the glazed look in your eyes. âAs if youâre not the one gone on my tongue, doll. As if youâre not the one salivating all like that. As if youâre not the one with the pussy thatâs fuckinâ ruined me- fuck.â
Both of you register what heâs said at the same time.
Toji with a sudden gasp, and you with a smug smirk. The strongest of your high has bated by now to nothing more than a few tingles, and you have half the mind to look down at him and ask. âSoâŚruined you, huh?â
âSh-shut up.â
That pussydrunkness - oh, Toji Fushiguro was fighting against it. Trying not to cave in. But alas, he couldnât be in denial any longer after your orgasm has ended, and youâre trying to pull off of his mouth- only for Toji to hold onto your thighs and chase after your cunt.
You whimper from overstimulation as he licks at your teary crevice a few more times, before you the pleasure is too much and you really have to push his sweaty crown away.
âToji- ngh, mâsensitive.â You squeal, to which he grunts in nonchalance. Still addicted to tastinâ you. Realizing this, you finally huff, âIf you let me go now, then maybe I wanna take a shot at- hah, paying you backâŚâ
And that finally makes him pull off. With a raised brow, âCheh, go easy on yerself- you canât take me that easily.â
âOh? Scared?â
âYou wish.âÂ
In fact, there was a hint of challenge in Tojiâs dazed eyes. In no time, youâre plopped off of his mouth with the most lecherous noise. Seated on the edge of the bed, he got off and tugged down on the flimsy fabric of his sweatpants.
Resting his fist on the dark curls at his base, youâre being introduced to Tojiâs proud length.
Tanned. Rock-hard.Â
Even larger than youâd imagined from all hisâŚaccidental erections during your sessions. Long. And he wasnât lacking in the girth department, either - the plumpest tip, all covered in a layer of creamy pre. It dripped down the nozzle of his cockhead, nâ allllll the way down his shaft.
Body moving before your mind, youâre reaching out to grab at his tannish cock. The flatness of your thumb easily smears the lines of precum he was leaking out, letting them glide along the veins that decorated either side of his shaft.
So textured, you wondered how it would feel inside-
âSo?â Toji grunts out from above you, peering down. You notice that he still has the remnants of your slick plastered all across his chin, mouth, all the way up to his cheekbones. Worn like some medallion. He sinks his fangs into his lower lip to stop from making too many needy noises as you inspected his sheer size, âNot too late to back out now, doll- heh- oh.â
Youâre making him swallow that cocky laughter of his back.
Because in a few sultry split-seconds, you have your mouth pointed right above the divot on his shaft. Spitting. You let the dollop of spittle ooze down his shaft for a bit, before immediately taking his tip into your mouth.
Oh, heâs reaching for the roof of your mouth instantly.
So thick. So plump. You shut your eyes and groan at the salty-sweet taste that greets you, itâs surprisingly not unpleasant.Â
And Toji lets off a low whistle at the slobbered display, âOho?â Looking at you through his lashes, you stare up with doey, teary eyes and he feels himself throb at near the back of your throat. âSh-shit- dooonât fucking look at me like that. Oh, you know what youâre doing, woman.â
âMmmpf-â You moan, your lips âround his sensitive slit. They send sinful vibrations that makes the larger man hiss.
âFuck yeah, you do.â With a mean hand, the fighter grips onto the back of your scalp. Manhandling you slightly, âCâmon, doll. Câmon- letâs see if that slutty mouth oâ yours is just talk.â
And then heâs rutting slightly upwards - gently.
At least, for him. But for you, youâre clawing down the lines of his toned pelvis, struggling to catch your breath-
âOh? Some claws on ya, girl. Donât tell me youâre tapping out already? I havenât even fucked ya dumb yet.â And he has the audacity to make that mocking pout again, âYâknow Iâve been fuckinâ my cock to the, mm, thought of you for months now. And- oh, fuck- keep doing that with your tongueângh.â
Your jaw aches, and yet you unhinge it even deeper to let the tip of your tastebuds trace patterns all across the line of his slit. All pinkish and slicked with precum.
He continues, âYou wanna know a secret?â It was such a heavenly sight, watching you try to nod with Tojiâs fat cock stuffed between your lips. Hell, you hadnât even taken him all yet. âRight before you came here-â Leaning in, whispering. â-I was jerking my cock- oh-â
âMhmmâ?â
â-to your text, doll.â
Oh, fuck.
Youâre plucking yourself off of Tojiâs thick crown to gasp- but he doesnât let you get too far before grabbing you with one hand at your throat. Lightly putting pressure at your sides, heâs crashing his lips onto yours.
âMmmââ He groans against your lips, tasting you, tasting himself, tasting you. âGet on the middle of the bed, all fours. Wanna see if those other lips of yours are just talk, too.â
âTheyâre not.â You huff, but do as he says anyway.
Those overworked bedsprings creak as you both reposition yourselves: you on your hands and knees, your face pushed into one of the pillows, and Toji right behind you.
His rough hands bend your spine into a cute lilâ curvature, and then proceeds to bang the ends of his fingertips against your weepy pussy. âEasy there, mama.â Toji coos once you buck with a whimper, âTojiâs here nâ you just have to be my good girl and take it, alright?â
Youâre nodding, âJust shut up and fuh-fuck me already.â
âTut tut, greedy girl.â
But heâs doing as you say anyway - oh, heâd do anything you say, to be quite honest. Youâre inching your needy cunt closer to where his erection was upright, and Toji holds onto the base of his cock to just slightly eeeeease his way in.
His plump, puckered tip pries apart your folds.
From his honed end, all the way down to where his cockhead swells, youâre feeling him stretch you wiiide open as he enters. âOh my- fuck! You feel even bigger than you looked-â
âWhy, thank youâŚheh.â And you swear you can feel his red-hot girth throb even bigger. Wider. Since Toji was rock-fucking-hard, you could sense any and every change in his size. âNow donât run, alright?â
âWhy would I-â Youâre cutting your own self off, feeling him give the slightest half-thrust from behind. And itâs enough to make you lurch your hand out and grab onto one of the spindles of his headboard. â-oh- oh, I get it now.â
âMhmâknew youâd wanna run, all talk.â Shaking his head and his shaggy strands, Toji had to have some extra, extra precaution, you see.
Just a warning wasnât enough. So without further ado, his beefy forearm reaches out to hold tightly onto your neck. Squeezing either side of it, he feels the way your pulse thunders underneath his touch.
Throat strangled with spittle and whines. âOh my god-â Even more so when he starts rutting his hips like an animal.
âEasy there, eeeeasy there.â Heâs reassuring you from behind, as if his achingly hard cock wasnât splitting you open incredibly. âSâjust the tip, doll. You can take it- shhh, you can take it.â
âWhaddaya mean this is just the tip?â You gasp, feeling your body being pulled into his like a ragdoll. He manhandles you as if youâre nothing, constantly grinding your hips back against that scruffy happy trail of his.
âWell, just the tip aaaaandâŚâ Youâre quickly learning that whenever Toji elongates his words, heâs dragging out his thrusts, too.
Letting the thick, vein-covered length of his shaft gliiiide all across your walls and then right back. Baaaack and forth. Baaaack and forth. With a sensual pace, heâs inching his way in- the fat, bulbous end of his shaft acting like the headlight. Spearing. He snickers, â-an inch more. Two.â
Tears stream down your cheeks, and Tojiâs lavish tongue careens out to lick at them deliciously. âA-and- oh, how much more is there?â
He casually leans his weight back to check, and the fighterâs greedy gaze gets stuck on the sight of your pussy suckinâ him up. Slurping him.Â
Itâs like your pussylips were stretched apart so widely and struggling to take his merciless pace- yet still clamping down, still glistening with wetness after each one of his rugged strikes. âOh, just about two inchesâŚthreeâŚfour-â Toji whispers hotly against your ear, âYâknow what- how about I just tell you after youâve taken all, mm, nine inches, doll?â
Nine inches?
Oh, you were done for.
You werenât walking out of this very penthouse.
âYeah, youâre not.â He confirms your thought- shit, youâd said that out loud. Just so dickmatized by the way his flared ridges were swervinâ all around your tight walls.
The curvaceous line of his cockhead nudges apart your channel, and you feel his hold tighten even further. âBut the good news- youâre gonna take- ngh, my entire cock, wonât you?â Breathy. He was speeding up his cadence now. Long, thorough strokes. âGonna take e-every single inch?â
âYes-â You claw at the headboard, âYes yes yes yes-â
And then rings the loudest squeeeelch ever as heâs fitting in a few more inches, âMhmmm, and youâre gonna- ngh- love it.â
Both you and your sloppy pussy do - and he can tell.
All that arousal. All those cute noises you were making. Youâre feeling the exact way the zig-zagged pattern of his veins massages your cunt, just perfectly scratching every carnal inch. And heâs almost bottoming-out, almost feeling his reddened tip hit the back of your pussy-
Before you clench around his rude cockâ
And you hear the exact, shattered moment that Tojiâs breath catches. âOh fuck-â He stills, âOh fuck, this wonât work-â
Blinking over your shoulder, âToji?â
âFuck.â
His bass cracks at the tail end of that profanity.
And in a mere instant - so fast that you donât even have enough time to compute - youâre finding your head trapped in one of Tojiâs infamous headlocks.
Sure, heâd often used it in a much less attractive way with his opponents.
But never had he used it like this. And youâre choking at the restraint of his flexing muscles, all bulged and big. His biceps digs perfectly against the front of your throat, and you feel your saliva come out in heaps- âToji- Toji Toji Toji- oh, I can feel you hit my c-cervix.â
Sure enough, heâd dragged you back to bottom out.
The curvy tip of his shaft cutely bumpinâ your cervix, you feel a sticky layer of his precum drip out at the fact. Pulling back, back, baaaaack - right until his plump crown kisses your hole, and then all the way back in again.
In and out. In and out.
So thoroughly, heâs fucking his rock-hard cock into you. Leaving absolutely no hidden spot unturned, leaving your fuzzy brain in absolute shambles.
âYou said- hah, you said I didnât kiss you, right?â Toji rasps against the shell of your ear, his heated proximity making goosebumps run down your spine. And, honestly, at this point you can barely even remember the conversation thatâd led up to him saying this. âWell, here I am now-â
âWhat you doâŚoh.â
His cock was hitting your cervix- smooching it. Hard, wettened kisses.
Over and over. Toji smashes you back against his pistoning hips, and with his other hand heâs sliding slithering a hand down to your pussy - spanking. âSee? Mâkissing her, too, now.â Heâs tittering, so thoroughly proud of the way your mouth waters.
âThat doesnât cou-â
Smack!
âWhat was thatâ?â
The force of it is so pleasurable that your body automatically holds onto the headboard and tries to heave yourself upwards. Thrashing. To which Toji turns his beady eyes down at the futile escape route-
And immediately slams his hand down on the flat top of the headboard.
âSpeak tâme, mama- what was, ngh, that?â
Splitting it straight down in two.
You gape stupidly at the way the bed frame easily cracks underneath his strength, and Tojiâs taking the slight distraction as an opportunity to lean back onto his haunches.Â
And heâs taking you right with him.
Tojiâs sitting back on his heels, his buttocks resting on the balls of his feet. And youâre somewhat seated on his lap, still having him fuck upwards into you- with this position, heâs reaching his globular tip so deeply.
Even further than he ever had before, he wetly glissades his tip to pierce your womb. âNgh- fuck.â Grunting in your ear, âYou canât tell me that doesnât count, doll.â So he did know what you were about to say.Â
Stirrinâ up your goopy insides, he feels like velvet inside. And you think heâs slowly molding your cunt to his exact size, every line of his vein, every inch. âSee? One kiss.â Toji counts out, and immediately youâre feeling his cocktip swipe your cervix. Thudding. âTwo kisses.â Another one. âThree kisses-â
Four.Â
Five.
Six.
Seven- itâs on this one that his glistening wet tip manages to locate your g-spot. Since his shaft was more right-leaning, it was oh-so-easy for him to constantly glide down that one spot.
âE-eight-â You count out, by yourself.
And if you could see him right now, youâd have noticed the way that Tojiâs predatory eyes widened with pleasant surprise. Oh, you were cockdrunk. He holds you down to him, âOho? You can count it by yourself now, huh? Then- haaaah, how about- this?â
âNine-â You blurt out, saliva sploshinâ down the entire front of your chin. âTen- ngh, eleven.â
âThat was actually twelve, but close enough.â He rolls his eyes - he couldnât punish you too much for that, just a few sodden spanks at the forefront of your cunt. And that was it, really. Heâd decided to go easy on you this time, really. Now for him to smoothly shovel his shaft into you, until you were idly reaching your second orgasm of the night.
Hah- as if.
After two slaps to your clit, the fighter edges himself close to your ear and mutters out. âIf you canât do that- could you at least, mm, fuck back into me.â
You whine, âDo I have to? But you do it so goodâŚâ
âSpoiled brat.â Yet another swat down on your slit, he caresses your clit as if making up for it. And before long, youâre feeling the spearheading tempo of his cock slow down. âCâmon now- up! There we go- get to work, doll.â
âMmpf- youâre gonna pay for this.â You growl, doing your very best to try and get your legs to work. Theyâd been taking it for so long, limp at the pressure, that your hamstrings were positively screaming now. âShit- but I wanna go faster, oh.â
Toji rolls his eyes with a scoff, âSo go faster, girl. Whatâs the hold up?â
âIt just feels so- so- oh.â It just felt so good is what you wanted to say - but you donât sputter out the words right at that moment (you didnât want to feed his ego too much).Â
âSo so oh?â He mocks, âDidnât I say this pretty pussy of yours was- oh, chattier? Think she might just be more articulate, too- heh.â
âSh-shut up.â
And as if to prove a point, your sloppy drags only made your cunt echo out even louder. The skin on your ass cheeks burned after each slam against his hips, and Toji was just so ripped that every rut left the indentations of his v-line stinging.
âNgh- fuck.â You arch your back and attempt to slide down his thick cock easier, rubbinâ that part of your g-spot against where his veins were most prominent.Â
You hated to admit it, but your limbs were growing all weary. And Toji lets out a huff of breathy laughter as he noticed the way your cadence seemed to be slowing down, âMmm, feelinâ tired, are we? Youâre not tapping out any time soon, mâkay?â
âBut- but Iâm so-â You whine, your fingers fisting in the silk bedsheets. They seemed to be the expensive type, yet ruined with a damp layer of sweat nâ slick. Soon enough, youâre dropping to the bed with a weary mewl. â-shit, I donât know if I can go any longer-âÂ
You donât even get to finish your sentence.
You donât even get to finish the lone, sloppy thrust that you were stumblinâ across
Not before Tojiâs then taking over. He gets up off his haunches, pushing you rudely onto all fours again.Â
And this time? He wasnât holding back.
âAllll that talk- cheh.â Tojiâs spitting down at your pussy, lubricating it once again despite you not even needing it. Before long, youâre being pounded by his long, heavy cock- feeling every single inch in your throat. âBut your Toji just has to finish this pretty pussy off, hm?â
âYes- yes-â You donât even feel slightly embarrassed in admitting, âJusâ wanna cum, Toji- ngh, Iâm so close.â
âOh, mama, I know.â Two rugged pads of his fingers come down to slap your clit, smoothing it over with a few gentle rolls. But youâre so far gone at this point that even that makes you see stars- âAnd youâre gonna cum allll over my- hah, cock, alright? All over.â
Nodding pathetically, you were just drippinâ in spit and sweat. Body shaking with the pangs of pleasure already- âAll over b-but you then you have to cum right in here, okay?â
His breath catches, âWh-where?â Toji stutters.
Blissfully ignorant, you point down the front of your stomach. Drawing a line right where you could feel his rotund tip bottoming out after every thrust, âI donât think mâgonna last that long.â
âOh.â
There was something broken in his voice as he registers what you were just telling him with your actions - that you wanted him to finish inside. To pump you so full of cum that itâll drip out of you. To make sure you feel him from the outside and the inside.
Heâs fucking you so hard that the skin âround his pelvis had begun to rub raw, slightly overstimulating his tip against the softness of your cunt. Toji pushes down on your body, pinning you down with his weight.
Manhandling you.
So much manhandling.
In this mean doggy position, he leans down and pinches your clit. âOh, doll, you canât even imagine what mâgonna do to ya-â Ruined. Shattered baritone. â-donât even know how far mâgonna fill you up with my cum. Youâre gonna be- ngh, overspilling.â
âYes yes yes- I want it.â And now youâre gyrating your hips back into his- hah, he could almost tease you for it. So you had the desperation now? âPlease- give it tâme-â
âNuh uh, you have to cum first.â
âBut- ngh.â A pinch at your clit, a puckering kiss. And Toji hits your g-spot so hard that you swear you see the pearly gates of heaven: youâre cumming.
Wave after wave of your white-hot high.
The pleasure thrums in your veins, and youâre crying out as Toji hits every precious spot with his globular tip. Pinpointed precisely. Your knees weaken- you were mistaken earlier, this was the best orgasm youâve ever had.
Heâs not too far behind.
With a grunt, Toji cums. And after every riveting peak of your high, heâs pourinâ out in sticky wads of cum. Itâs like an ivory sap that takes over every inch of your insides, hot and wet.
You squeal as you feel the gluey layer of it stuff you to the brim, ultimately ending up formulating a ring of white around the girth of his hilt. âCumming-â You blabber tearily, your brain foggy with the feeling of him cumming inside you. Turning around to face him, âIâm c-cumming, Toji.â
âMmm, you are. So pretty takinâ my- ngh, cum.â Tojiâs rough lips kiss down the line of your spine, and his fingers dip from your clit to tease your creamy slit. âI love this view.â
The more heâs swiping away the droplets of cum that pour out of your pussy, the more that keeps sprinkling out - and he honestly doesnât know whether thatâs his fault or yours.
Letting the treacly glaze drip down to his wrist, Toji brings his sticky hand up to your mouth. âSpread those lips fâme, doll- yeahhh, like that.â He murmurs, thickly. And you whimper as he sticks his adhesive-like fingertips into your mouth, making you suck on the salty sap.Â
Cleaning it off.
It feels like years - almost like eons - until Tojiâs finally finished riding out his high, just as strong as yours. He hunches over as he cums-
âOh, weâre not done y-yet, doll.â Too soon, youâre being dragged back into his hulking body. And since he was finally done with webbing up your insides, now came the fun part where he was fucking it in. Each nâ every gooey wad seeped into your innards. Those earlier specks thatâd leaked out from before? Well heâs using his fingers to push those in, too. âYou didnât think that a world-class fighter had a stamina that low, did ya?â
Gasping, you donât think you can trust your very eardrums right now. âSo you mean to sayâŚâ
âMhm.â Tojiâs fucking you into utter stupidity- easily flipping you over, youâre being folded into the sloppiest mating press in existence. He mutters to you as he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending you down. âYâknowâŚMMA championships have five rounds.â
âOh- and?â
Toji just grins, drilling out a heavy thrust. âOne down, four to go, mama.â
.
.
.
âWow! That was a mean right hook, I definitely wouldnât want to be on the receiving end of that strength.â You bite back a grin at the commentatorâs voiceâoh, how you knew. âToji Fushiguro sends Naoya Zenin flyingââ
You canât bring yourself to wince as the two-tone-haired man lands on the other side of the octagon with a shuddering thud.
Too excited from your seat in the cageside area - the closest you could be to the fighters - as part of the team. It was your first time officially accompanying Toji to one of his big fights, as his physical therapist.
And his lover.
Though, that part was a secret (more or less, you swear youâd seen most of the gym giving you knowing looks whenever you clocked into work walking a little funny, or whenever Toji had sauntered into the locker room; hickies, nail marks, and all). But for now you settled into your role as the alert physical therapist, watching out for any points in which Toji showed signs of discomfort or soreness.
âCan you hear the crowd- theyâre in uproar!â
âWell, itâs no wonder. Toji Fushiguroâs comeback has been long-awaited- ouch, thatâs a nice uppercut from Toji.â Another voice bellows.
And the others hum in agreement. âAnd after his unfortunate streak last year, the champion found his footing once more. With a winning streak thatâs one of the longest recorded in recent years, the man is unstoppable!â
âI guess the million dollar question of the night is - can he win the finals tonight?â
Though your efforts were likely for naught, because your boyfriend was at the top of his game.
Without letting Naoya even get up (some rookie hotshot, according to Toji, who had to be put in his place), the older man is pummeling him with a right hook, left hook, right hook, left hook. Until that cocky face of his looked mangled.
And the referee is rushing to his side- about to crouch on the floor for the countdown. The commentators have their announcement of his win on the tip of their tongue. The crows is already reaching a fever point-
Itâs in that moment that Toji looks at you.
Towering, the lone fighter standing in the middle of the cage, he stares.
He smiles.
He points.
âAaaaand the countdown is overâNaoya Zenin down! Toji Fushiguro has won the title of world light heavyweight champion once more! Itâs a historical win for Toji!â
Youâre all on your feet. The team claps each other on the back, the commentators are shaking hands. Shiu catches the way that Toji immediately heads for you - barely waiting till the heavy golden belt was draped across his body, barely letting the referee raise his hand in the air. Victory.
And he chuckles, âI already knew.â Taking a celebratory drag of his cigarette, âGuess Iâm winning the bet.â
Your eyes bulge, âYou guys bet on us?â
âEver since the first day you walked in, sugar.â He chuffs, and lightly nudges your shoulder with his. âNo go to him- before he tears down the cage, that is.â
Shiu was right to be worried. By the time youâre reaching the edge of the octagon, Toji has already jumped down from it- and youâre barely registering his brilliant grin before youâre in his arms. His face crushed into the nook of your neck. Arms looped around your waist.
In the distance, it seems, you can hear reporters and fans alike scream questions about you and your relationship. Something youâre sure will end up on every headline and front page of those sports gossip magazines that you now read. Hell, you can even hear the members of your team catcall and howl from the sidelines.Â
But right now, itâs as if Tojiâs voice is the only sound in your ears. âWe won.â
You smile, âYou won.â
He shakes his head, âCome off it, silly girl. We won.â And even in front of everyone else, even in front of the cameras, he nods down at the very obvious bite marks on your neck. The way your knees were slightly weak. Your core was slightly sore. Evidence of last night. âAnd mâgonna win a whole lot more tonight-â
âFive rounds just like this championship, then?â You tease, squirming in his strong arms. And he only pulls you even tighter to him-
âActually, I hear the IMMAF is trying to make it six roundsâŚâ
A/N. Listen I donât condone J*o J*ekyung but Toji?? Gimme.
SYNOPSIS â§Ë° for several generations, thereâs been bad blood between two competing families running ancestral firms in the shipbuilding business. when an accident happens during a joint venture, the families are forced to work together to cover it up, and what better way to do so than with an unexpected marriage?
TAGS â§Ë° arranged marriage/fake dating, explicit sexual content, dilf!mingyu, age gap (20s + 40s), funny thing is this was supposed to be more porn than plot but i got carried away and made them lovers⢠instead
⍠â§Ë° private by the nbhd ⧠tube by ethel cain ⧠freak by lana del rey
YOU ARE YOUR FATHERâS DAUGHTER. youâve heard it plenty of times throughout your life.
stand-offish, detached, decorum-obsessed. you and your older brother are carbon copies of the man who raised you, his norms and values remaining imprinted in your heads. not that your motherâs any different.
what you clearly care about most in life is two things: money and status.
luckily, you were born into a prominent, wealthy family that allowed you to have both of those things. your grandparents founded a shipbuilding company thatâs grown to be one of the largest in the world, and to this day, the company is still in your familyâs hands.
your father, as the ceo, sits at the helm of the company. your mother is a private equity investor, a terrifyingly good one. your brother, wonwoo, is about five years older than you and set to take over your dadâs position as soon as he retires.
being the second-born means ranking lower in the pecking order. not that you really mind â you work hard, you deliver good results, and you already know a stellar position in the company is waiting for you as soon as wonwoo becomes the man in charge.
your family is known to drive business more ruthlessly than others. a stark contrast to the family business thatâs posed the biggest threat to yours for multiple generations now.
kim mingyu leads his familyâs company in a way you never would. close personal relationships with their staff, dressed relatively casually for a ceo, radiating nothing but warmth and approachability.
your father believes itâs the main reason theyâll never make as much money as you, even if most people in the same business has always spoken rather highly of them.
where the competition between your two companies came from or what led up to it, you donât know, but it was already there when your grandparents were still running things. something personal, clearly.
and, as it turns out, old habits really do die hard. itâs the main reason youâve been hostile to each other for so long.
though, in all fairness, itâs not nearly as bad as it used to be. most of your current rivalry has been reduced to mere dirty glances, low blows, bad mouthing one another and trying to take each otherâs clients. not professional, no, but a necessary evil sometimes.
one of the clients of theirs you tried to poach from them â a man of solid status, who both your families tried your hardest to impress â decided he simply couldnât choose which of the two companies he wanted to get into business with. so to your worst nightmare, he put out the idea for a joint venture. since the profit and other benefits from the proposal were too good to turn down, both kim mingyu and your father agreed to it.
in hindsight, however, you kind of wish you hadnât.
four months into your partnership, an accident occurred on one of the wharfs. a result of gross negligence that could be blamed on either of your families, and as it turns out, you might not be the only ones aware of it.
which brings you to your current situation â an emergency meeting between the only people allowed to hear of it.
âwe have footage of a person taking evidence. for all we know, it could be an employee. itâs too delicate to see the light of day,â your father says.
wonwoo steals a look at you from under his thick-rimmed glasses before turning back to the paperwork in front of him.
mingyu sighs, one hand supporting his chin, that silver ring he always wears on his pinky glistening in the sunlight thatâs shining through the windows. âyes, and weâre gathered here because you said you had an idea how to handle it.â
âwe talked with our lawyers, who ended up advising the old-fashioned approach,â wonwoo begins, twirling the navy ballpen sitting between his thumb and index finger. âpeople love a new subject to talk about, right? simple gossip easily becomes the talk of the town. like a relationship, for example.â
mingyuâs sister, coo of their company, raises a brow. âbetween who?â
âsomeone from your family, with someone from ours.â
âiâd agree, except most of us are spoken for,â she adds, gesturing to the ring on her finger.
itâs a fair point. your parents are married, your brother engaged, mingyuâs sister is also married. which, technically, leaves him, andâ
he appears genuinely confused for a moment â until his eyes meet yours.
for someone with such a presence, you know exactly how to draw attention to yourself at the right moment without saying a word. you shoot him a catlike smile, waiting for him to figure it out, full-on smirking once the realization visibly dawns on his face.
âare you implying what i think youâre implying?â mingyu asks, his mouth running dry.
âunless youâve got some secret younger brother walking around somewhere, yes, itâs gonna be you and me.â
heâs baffled that youâre being so casual about it. âand youâre happy with this?â
a question you donât hear quite often. still, you pay it little mind.
âwell, it was my idea,â you cross your arms, immediately speaking up again once you catch those raised brows of his. âdonât flatter yourself. youâre the last man iâd willingly take to be my husband under normal circumstances.â
mingyu shakes his head. âthis is deranged.â
âlook, think of the damage it would do to both our reputations if the press got a hold of it,â wonwoo cuts in, folding his hands together. âit wouldnât be permanent. how about a three-year contract? you can claim to be a private couple, you just gotta show your faces together every once in a while to keep up appearances. once three years have passed, file for divorce. itâd probably fly by.â
the idea isnât unheard of, heâs aware of that. plenty of pr firms are very much in favor of fake relationships, even fake marriages. itâs one of the things he dislikes about that circle of society his job has forcibly put him in.
and now that heâs thinking about it, the press would have a fucking field trip with this relationship. heâs gotten media attention for his good looks before, and he knows youâre quite popular as well, having acquired a bit of a socialite status â in the eyes of any pr agency, youâd be a perfect match.
still, mingyu stares at you, his lips parted, brows knitted in something awfully close to horror, choosing to voice his thoughts; the elephant in the room.
âand how old are you, again?â he hears himself ask, the question almost rhetorical. he couldâve sworn you were, what, twenty-five? twenty-four?
âtwenty-three,â you answer curtly, at which his eyes widen.
christ. as if this couldnât possibly get any worse.
youâre just so⌠young. too young. an adult, obviously, but still. heâs got no business being married to some girl your age at forty-one. the press will undoubtedly agree. hell, theyâll make a full-blown scandal out of it.
heâs pulled out of his thoughts once more when he hears that low, silky voice of yours. âif itâs any consolation, iâll be twenty-four by the time we get married.â
finding your eyes again, he feels struck by you.
god, look at you, for christâs sake. you might as well be a porcelain doll â flawless makeup, dangly pearl earrings, bouncy princess-like curls, clothes tailored perfectly to your body.
sure, he thinks youâre a pretty girl. heâs not blind. but your beauty hides a design; itâs a shame the rest of the world canât see you for who you really are. the same goes for the rest of your picture-perfect family.
âif i were to agree to something like this,â he hesitantly begins, âweâd have to make it believable. a public outing every two months wouldnât cut it. weâd have to commit to it, live together, even do public displays of affectionââ
again, he meets your gaze, this time to gauge your reaction. youâre as unimpressed as ever, shrugging your shoulders before taking a sip of your water. does he really think you didnât come up with that already?
âwe have an estate just on the city border. secluded, big enough to lead your own lives,â your father suggests. âpeople would be none the wiser.â
a mere glimpse of his sisterâs expression is enough for him to know she doesnât think itâs a bad idea, and with that in mind, he bites his lower lip, putting the companyâs best interests above his own.
âiâll consider it. send over the paperwork. youâll have my answer by friday.â
itâs a good enough answer for now. you all shake hands, and when your father and brother exit the conference room, mingyu gestures for his sister to escort them to the entrance, making sure you stay behind.
youâre still seated several spots away from him, symbolizing how big the distance is between you. today marks, what, the second time youâve talked to him? the third time? youâre practically strangers to one another. all youâve ever done is watch each other from the sidelines.
emphasizing the extent of the possible future agreement again, he says, âyou know that a couple of pictures for the press wouldnât cut it. weâd have to make it look real.â
your voice sounds less cutting this time. âiâm a great actress, yâknow.â
a scoff leaves his mouth. âi donât doubt it.â
âso whatâs on your mind?â you ask, fingers itching with the growing urge to crack him open. maybe itâs the fact that heâs not scared to speak his mind, not afraid of a little honesty â itâs a hard quality to find in the people around you these days.
âweâd be exclusive for three years. no under-the-radar affairs, they always get out.â
all you do is shrug.
he pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. âand your dadâs completely fine with you living in the same house as a man nearly twice your age?â
his choice of words cause you to tilt your head. âwell, he wasnât the biggest fan of the idea. but itâs the company above everything else, at the end of the day. besides,â you push a little, âiâm sure youâll behave like a perfect gentleman, wonât you?â
thereâs a soundless chuckle rolling past his lips. he answers your rhetorical question with a simple nod of his head.
not like you expected a different answer from him anyway.
you get up from your seat, extending your hand to him. his dark eyes swiftly look you up and down fully now that heâs got you standing in front of him in all your glory.
he rises from his seat, drawing your attention to his striking height and broad shoulders. when he shakes your hand, both of you maintaining eye contact a little longer than necessary, he wonders what the hell that prominent feeling sitting deep in his gut is â or more importantly, why youâre making him feel it.
thanks for reading! x
this is currently a work in progress. if youâd like to be tagged once the full fic comes out, let me know in the comments <3
đŽ preview. âWell,â Wonwoo takes a deep breath, meeting your gaze. âYou see, before I was Mister Tech Entrepreneur, I went to high school with this girl. She was kind, always so kind, to everyone, even me. And she was smart, way smarter than she gave herself credit for. And for some stupid reason, she was with this bonehead of a quarterback. I know that was ten years ago, but I guess part of me has always wondered: what if? Now youâre here, right in front of me, and against all of the anxiety inside of me that is screaming for me not to tell you this, I suppose Iâm wondering if, after all of these years, maybe youâd be interested in giving me a chance.âÂ
tw/cw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism (fucking in a classroom in a deserted school during a high school reunion), trying to be quiet during sex, sex on a desk, clothes on sex, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, manhandling, pleasure dom!Wonwoo, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, etcâŚÂ I pet names: (hers) pretty girl.
đš rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5kÂ
đ aus. Slice of life au, high school reunion au, nerd high schooler to sexy tech entrepreneur adult. etcâŚ
âď¸ mlist + an. We love a nerd who is obsessed with you in high school, then becomes super rich and fucks you at your ten-year reunion.Â
Prologue:Â
The football field is full of students, newly graduated, their whole lives ahead of them. Yearbooks are being absolutely defaced with notes of good wishes, and all sorts of multicoloured pens scribble kind words and hopes of the future.
Youâve been here for over an hour, saying goodbye to classmates and hearing about summer and university plans. But there is one person youâre keeping an eye out for; Wonwoo has been your math tutor for two years now, and without him, your grade point average may not have been high enough to get into your dream school, so you refuse to leave today without saying one final thank you to the nerd who made your future attainable.
Heâs an elusive guy, the kind of dude who doesnât really have many friends, keeps his head down, and is always the top of the class. You suppose youâre not surprised heâs missing from the football field; crowds have never been his thing, but then, you spot him by the bleachers.
Excusing yourself from your friends, you head over to Wonwoo. âHi!â
âOh, hi.â He looks up at you, glasses slightly crooked, closed yearbook in hand.
âCan I sign that?â you ask, motioning to his book.
âOh, yeah, sure.â
You take the yearbook from him, and when you open it to the first page, you find it empty. Your heart drops. Although Wonwoo has always been the studying type, youâre sure it must hurt to have not one note written in his yearbook.
Wonwoo has extreme social anxiety, but heâs a kind person, and he was more than patient with you when he was your tutor.
âWonwoo, thank you so much for helping me with math. Iâm not sure what I would have done without you. Youâre the smartest person Iâve ever met, and I know youâre going to go extremely far in life. I can see you being a CEO at some biotech company or running Silicon Valley. Donât ever stop using that amazing brain of yours, and Iâd say good luck, but I know you wonât need it. Xoxo y/nâ
You give the yearbook back to him, and as Wonwoo looks down at your note, a hand wraps around your forearm.
âCome on, babe, everyone else has already left to go to the fair.â Itâs your boyfriend, Seungcheol, his varsity jacket draped over one arm.Â
âOh, sorry, I was just finishing up.â You swallow thickly, looking back at Wonwoo. âA bunch of us are going to the fair if you want to come.â
âItâs more of a football team and their girlfriends sort of thing,â Seungcheol interjects quickly.
You sigh. Itâs no secret that your boyfriend can be a bit of a bully, especially when it comes to the more nerdy types, and while youâll swear up and down that Seungcheol is a good guy deep down, he sometimes has a funny way of showing it.
âItâs okay, I donât really like crowds,â Wonwoo says quietly.
You open your mouth, wanting to say more, but Seungcheol tugs on your arm again. âHave a great summer, Wonwoo,â you blurt out, overwhelmed by the urgency your boyfriend is exhibiting. âAnd I know youâll kill it at MIT."
One:
âOkay, so little black dress, or the blue?â you ask, holding up each option so your high school friend Sumi can see it through FaceTime.
âIt depends. Are you trying to get laid at our ten-year high school reunion?â Sumi laughs. âI heard Seungcheol is single again.â
âYeah, and he has an ex-wife that sued him for half of what he made when he was in the NFL before he tore his ACL and had to retire at the ripe age of twenty-five,â you scoff.Â
âOkay, maybe too much drama,â your friend acquiesces. âGo with the black. Getting laid or not, we both have to look super hot.âÂ
âIt will be fun to see what everyone is up to,â you nod, putting your chosen dress in your suitcase. âI canât wait for us to be in the same city again.â
You and Sumi had attended university together, but then youâd gone your separate ways, chasing job opportunities in different cities.Â
âOur Airbnb is a no-boy zone, though, I hope you know,â Sumi teases.Â
âWeâre not going to the reunion to hook up with ex-classmates,â you agree.
âSpeaking of ex-classmates who would want to fuck us at the reunionâŚâ Sumi grins into the camera. âIs Wonwoo coming?â
âWait, Wonwoo was into you?â you ask.
Sumi lets out a laugh. âNot me, you ditz. Wonwoo was always clearly into you.âÂ
âWas he really?â
âIt was so obvious!â Sumi insists. âBut you were with Seungcheol, and everyone knows Seungcheol kind of bullied Wonwoo. I think he was jealous that Wonwoo was smart enough to help you with classes where you struggled, and Seungcheol couldnât.âÂ
You frown, memories of high school flooding back.
Wonwoo was always adorable, but his lack of social skills made it difficult for him to get close to anyone. You had a soft spot for him back then, but you were in love with Seungcheol before you parted ways for university, and he dumped you in the first week when he joined a frat.Â
âHey, Iâve gotta run,â Sumi sighs. âBut I will see you at our Airbnb in twenty-four hours.â
âI wouldnât miss it for the world,â you smile, saying goodbye to your friend. As the call hangs up, you do a Google search for Wonwooâs name.
Youâre a reporter now, and part of the reason youâre so good at your job is that youâre curious.Â
Thereâs no harm in looking up an ex classmate.
Two:
The first thing you find about Wonwoo is that he made the Forbes top 30 under 30 list, which nearly knocks you off your bed. The man in the picture is no longer the nerd who helped you with his homework. Adorned in a dark suit, Wonwoo looks regal in his photographs, and youâre shocked at how handsome heâs become.
It seems he launched a startup after graduating from MIT and has since founded his company, which runs out of Silicon Valley.
It takes you a few minutes to wrap your head around this information, because⌠well, youâd guessed this was his career path when you were a teenager. Although youâd known he was capable, you never expected him to actually follow through with his talent.
From Forbes, you find a few news articles. They describe Wonwoo as an elusive visionary, a master of all things related to computer science, the man to watch.Â
Thatâs when you find his TED Talk, and you spend the next twenty minutes watching this gorgeous nerd talk about AI, tech, the language of computers, and things you canât even wrap your head around.Â
This man, who once hated crowds, who once dreaded doing presentations in class⌠heâs come so far, and it makes your heart melt with happiness to see that Wonwoo is doing well.
You love the way his lips still quirk into this silly grin when he speaks, the grin that says âI know way more about this subject than you, but thatâs fine because I will teach you so you can understand what Iâm talking about.âÂ
It feels like youâre graduating high school again. Possibilities seem endless when you listen to Wonwoo talk. He makes the seemingly unattainable feel within reach.
God, you are so extremely proud of him.
Three:
So far, the reunion feels a bit lackluster. You spend the first half an hour dodging Seungcheol, and another half an hour listening to ex-classmates talk about all the children theyâve been having. The baby pictures are endless.
You finally pull away to get a breather, stepping outside the gymnasium to escape the scent of perfume and sweat that is beginning to overtake the crowded space.
It feels so weird to be back at your high school, and you take a moment to consider how far youâve come. When you graduated, life seemed like a clear shot. You would go to university to become a teacher, marry Seungcheol, be a wife to an NFL player with a long career⌠funny how none of that ended up happening.
âY/N?â
You whip around and come face to face with your old tutor⌠your now extremely hot and successful old tutor.
âWonwoo?â you gasp.
âThought that was you,â he smiles, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
âI-â you swallow thickly. âHave you gone inside yet?â Youâre pretty sure he hasnât, because youâve been looking for him the whole time.
âNo, I got a phone call when I arrived and had to manage something, and then, well, then I wondered if going inside would be worth it.â
âOh.â You canât help the dejected feeling that washes over you.Â
âI wasnât sure youâd be here,â he continues.Â
âMe? I wasnât sure you would be,â you laugh. âMister Silicon Valley.â
âI suppose youâre not surprised,â Wonwoo smirks. âYou guessed this would happen.â
âYou were the smartest guy I knew in high school, and I wouldnât be shocked if youâre still the smartest man I know now.â
âI wish Iâd had the confidence in myself that you had in me back when we were students,â Wonwoo admits, releasing a sigh. âMaybe things would have been a little different.â
You tilt your head to the side, trying to understand him. âWhat kind of things?âÂ
Wonwoo shrugs, his tailored suit showing off the broadness of his shoulders. âI guess it doesnât matter now. Anyways, youâre a reporter, huh. Thatâs not the career I would have envisioned you in.â
âNo?âÂ
So he looked you up, too.
âYou always used to talk about being a teacher, dating a successful man, having kids, that sort of thing.â
âWell,â you consider his words, âI was young then. Being a reporter allows me to share information with a wider range of people, and I learned that I didnât need a man; I could be successful all on my own.âÂ
âAre you happy?â
âIâm very happy. And you?â
Wonwoo cocks his head, opening his mouth, then closing it. âThereâs a lot about my life that makes me happy, but there are also a few things⌠missing.â
âI can understand that,â you nod, not wanting to pry even though pushing for information is your job. Youâre not on the clock right now, and you want to provide friendship to a man who is probably used to intrusive questions.Â
Wonwoo studies you. âSo other than being a reporter, what have you been up to? Sounds like youâre not with the âstar quarterbackâ anymore.â
A laugh immediately escapes you. âNo! Itâs been almost ten years since I dated Seungcheol.â
âOh?â Wonwoo grins. âYou always seemed so confident that you two would be together forever.â
âI started dating him when we were fourteen. When we graduated a couple of years later, I had no idea what real life would be like.â You shake your head, hating how naive you were. âHow about you, Mister Tech Entrepreneur? I bet all the girls are trying to slide into your DMs.â
âIâm single, very single, unfortunately,â Wonwoo laughs awkwardly. âI guess lately Iâve been thinking about the one that got away.â
Your body surges at the notion of gossip. âOkay, I was trying not to pry before, but now I have to ask. Tell me the story.âÂ
âWell,â Wonwoo takes a deep breath, meeting your gaze. âYou see, before I was Mister Tech Entrepreneur, I went to high school with this girl. She was kind, always so kind, to everyone, even me. And she was smart, way smarter than she gave herself credit for. And for some stupid reason, she was with this bonehead of a quarterback. I know that was ten years ago, but I guess part of me has always wondered: what if? Now youâre here, right in front of me, and against all of the anxiety inside of me that is screaming for me not to tell you this, I suppose Iâm wondering if, after all of these years, maybe youâd be interested in giving me a chance.âÂ
Your heart is racing in your chest. For the first time in a very long time, you donât know what to say.Â
Youâd always thought Wonwoo was adorable, and he treated you so well. He was patient and gentle, and he never got exasperated with you over math homework. He was quiet, but when he did talk, he was always insightful. Wonwoo always allowed you to be completely yourself, free of judgment, and he cheered you on for every math test, watching your grades improve as a result of his encouragement.Â
A part of you had known you were interested in him, even back when youâd thought your life was figured out with Seungcheol.Â
âIâd be lying if I said I hadnât thought about this too,â you admit.Â
âAnd?â
âAnd⌠If we donât take this chance⌠maybe weâll continue to regret it.â
Your words hang thick in the air, and you can see Wonwoo digesting them. He swallows thickly, taking a step toward you.Â
Youâre drawn to him, and you also close the distance, until thereâs only a foot between you.
Heâs truly become so handsome, but heâs still just Wonwoo, your Wonwoo. Thereâs something special about the fact that you knew this man before his worldly successes, that you knew and cared for him when he was the dorky nerd who ate lunch in the library and had only your signature in his yearbook.
You still feel bad for him, for the way his high school years panned out, but look at him now.Â
Thank God that Sumi told you to wear your sexy little black dress.
âIs it bad that I want to kiss you for the first time here, of all places?â Wonwoo asks with an awkward chuckle.
âOddly enough, it feels right,â you laugh, taking his hand and guiding it to your hip. âIf Iâd never been with SeungcheolâŚâ
âLetâs not even think about the past like that,â Wonwoo sighs, tugging you flush to his body. âWeâre here now, thatâs what matters.â
You nod, and then you lean forward, pressing your lips to Wonwooâs for the very first time.
Itâs like a jolt of electricity surges through you, and nothing has ever felt this right.Â
His lips are so soft, and he holds you in such a careful way, as if heâs afraid this is a dream.
But this is not a dream, that much is clear from the way your panties are already sticking to your core.Â
You press yourself closer, one hand grasping the nape of his neck as the kiss deepens in the most delicious way imaginable.
Wonwoo definitely knows how to kiss. Itâs not an obnoxious style, no, heâs careful, calculated, but his movements still betray the fact that heâs been longing for you for ten years. Itâs as if heâs dreamed of this moment a million times, and now youâre actually here, and heâll be damned if he fucks it up.Â
His tongue gently glides against your own, and you stifle a moan at the feeling, your body tingling delightfully.Â
You thread your fingers through his hair, wanting him even closer, although your chests are pressed together and thereâs no room between you.Â
You want to feel him, all of him, and the realization makes a shiver run through you.
âWonwoo,â you gasp, breaking the kiss.
âYeah?â
âI know a place.â
âYou know a place?â he laughs.
âFollow me.â You grab his hand, chasing your fantasies as you lead him to a door that takes you to the rest of the school. Running through the halls with Wonwoo feels like a fever dream; itâs as if you remember every locker, every linoleum tile that paves the hallways that echo with each footstep.
âWhere are we going?â Wonwoo asks, a chuckle escaping him.
âThe math room.â
âWhy are we going there?â
âBecause thatâs where I realized I liked you as more than a tutor, more than a friend,â you tell him, your voice bouncing off the walls like a tantalizing reverie.Â
You canât believe youâre doing this, but thereâs no turning back now, and you wouldnât want to either.
You whisk Wonwoo into your old math classroom, and the memories come flooding back. Your teacher would allow Wonwoo to tutor you here when the library wasnât available, and you spent many hours alone with the handsome nerd in the confines of these four walls.
Maybe Seungcheol did bully Wonwoo because he could see what you were blind to until recently. Itâs clear you had a connection with your tutor, one that was lost on you at the time.Â
âDo you remember this?â you ask, turning to face Wonwoo. âAll the time we spent here?â
âLike it was yesterday,â he laughs.
âI thought you were the smartest, cutest guy Iâd ever met,â you tell him, leaning back against one of the large tables.
âAnd I thought you were the kindest, most gorgeous girl Iâd ever know,â Wonwoo retorts, approaching you. His hands make contact with the desk on either side of you, blocking you in while you look up at him.
His eyes are twinkling with joy, and youâve never seen him this happy. He was handsome before, but now, heâs absolutely radiant, and you grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours.
Itâs a frenzied kiss, both of you pouring all of your longing into the meeting of your mouths. You thread your fingers through his hair, and Wonwoo reaches down, lifting you onto the table. Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him flush to your body while a whimper escapes you.
Wonwoo grins, one of his hands slipping up your thigh and under your dress.
Confidence is radiating off of him, and itâs the sexiest thing you can imagine. His thumb strokes the waistband of your panties, and you wiggle your hips, a wordless invitation.
Wonwooâs fingers make contact with your core over your panties, and you gasp.
âYouâre soaked, pretty girl,â Wonwoo tells you, and your whole body shivers at his words.
âI want you,â you confess, swallowing thickly.Â
âYou have me,â Wonwoo promises, rubbing your clit while his lips move to your throat.
You groan, throwing your head back and tugging gently on his hair. You love being worshipped like this. Most of the men youâve been with have been self-centered in bed, but you suppose nerds always have something to prove.
Or maybe itâs just that Wonwoo actually cares about you, even after all this time.Â
You grind down against his hand, moaning louder when he applies more pressure to your sensitive bud. âJust like that,â you tell him. âFuck, it feels so good.â
âIâm Mister Tech Entrepreneur,â Wonwoo says in your ear. âI type code and use my fingers for a living.â
God, why is that so hot?
He pushes your panties to the side, and two of his fingers enter your drenched pussy.
Wonwoo sucks your earlobe into his mouth as he curls his digits, immediately finding your G-spot.Â
âRight there!â you tell him, clenching your eyes shut.
âBe a good girl for me and try not to be too loud,â Wonwoo warns. âIâd hate for anyone to walk in on this.â
Youâd kind of forgotten that youâre in a math classroom at your old high school during a reunion. Itâs not like people are roaming the halls, but if Sumi were to come looking for you, or even SeungcheolâŚ
You shiver at the idea of your ex walking in on this. Thereâs something so exciting about exhibitionism with Wonwoo, especially in a classroom that holds so much history for the two of you.
His palm makes contact with your clit, and you slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, whimpering desperately.
âGood girl,â Wonwoo praises you, and your core throbs from his words.
His lips find yours again, and you kiss him eagerly, wiggling your hips to grind against his hand while he works you up.
He definitely knows how to use his fingers, and each targeted stroke of your G-spot takes you closer to the edge.
Your heart is racing in your chest, your mind is fuzzy with lust, and your body is beginning to feel like itâs swelling with pleasure.Â
Your whimpers are muffled by the meeting of your lips, but as your orgasm approaches, you break the kiss. âWonwoo,â you whimper, stroking the nape of his neck and looking into his eyes. âPlease.â
âYou can cum for me,â he assures you. âIâm not into orgasm denial.â
You canât help but laugh, but your giggle quickly turns into another moan as he finger fucks you even harder.
âKeep your eyes on me,â Wonwoo tells you. âI want to see you cum.â
You bite your bottom lip, trying to force your eyes to stay open even as your orgasm builds. You continue to wiggle your hips, grinding against his palm while his fingers coax you to the edge.
Finally, you canât hold back anymore, and your orgasm slams into you. Your back arches, lips parting as a cry escapes you. Your pussy clamps down on Wonwooâs fingers, your entire body flooded with pleasure. With curled toes and muscles that are screaming, you do your best to keep your eyes open, your attention fixed on his handsome nerd, who seems to know exactly what to do to make you feel ecstasy in a way no other man has.Â
âThatâs it,â Wonwoo grins, watching you closely. âYouâre such a pretty girl when you cum on my fingers.â
Another wave of pleasure erupts at his words, and you twitch, core absolutely throbbing as he continues to work you through your orgasm.
As your high subsides, Wonwoo pulls his fingers out of your soaked pussy. You watch with bated breath as he licks them clean, groaning sinfully. Then, he grabs the back of your neck, drawing your lips to his so you can taste yourself on his tongue.
You reach between your bodies, cupping his cock as it presses against his pants.
âFuck me,â you instruct. âI need you.â
âIf you only knew how many years I waited to hear you say thatâŚâ Wonwoo lets out a shaky breath. âThis is going better than I expected⌠I didnât bring protection-â
âIâm on birth control,â you laugh. âAnd Iâm assuming weâre both clean.â
âAs a whistle,â he confirms
God, heâs so stupidly adorable.Â
You lean forward, letting your lips ghost past his ear as you whisper, âThen fuck me.âÂ
âWhatever you want, pretty girl.â
Wonwoo reaches for his belt, and the two of you make quick work of it. Then you push his pants and underwear down.
âIâm not usually a fan of clothes on sex,â you tell him, swallowing thickly and pushing your panties to the side. âSo youâll just have to make it up to me later.â
Wonwoo laughs, grabbing the base of his cock and giving it a pump. âIâm not usually a fan of exhibitionism,â he muses. âSo I guess weâre both outside of our wheelhouse tonight.â
âItâs worth it,â you insist as he lines his tip up with your core. âAnd it feels grossly fitting that this is where weâre having our first time.â
âGrossly fitting?â he prompts as he pushes into you.
âYeah, sex on a desk in a math classroom, weâre being delinquents,â you groan, falling back against the table as inch after inch of cock invades your most sensitive area.Â
âI guess so,â Wonwoo chuckles, fully sheathing himself inside of you.
You let out a sigh of relief, loving the full feeling. Wonwoo isnât the thickest cock youâve ever had inside of you, but heâs long, and heâs curved slightly, his tip nudging against a sensitive spot that makes your toes curl.
âFuck,â you whimper, lifting your dress so you can reach down and rub your clit. Your body jolts, still sensitive, but fuck, it feels good, and you can tell Wonwoo likes the way your core clenches around him because he releases a groan.
âYou feel amazing,â Wonwoo tells you.Â
âIâll feel even better when you start to move,â you counter, feeling cheeky and desperate.
Wonwoo laughs. âYou got it, pretty girl.â
He grabs your hips, anchoring you to the table so he can begin to fuck you.Â
His cock glides against your inner walls deliciously, and you close your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wooden table with a soft thunk. You continue to rub your clit, muscles twitching at the pleasure thatâs already beginning to blossom inside of you again.
His pace increases, and your whimpers fill the classroom. Your free hand moves to grab your own breast through your dress, and you hear Wonwoo let out a shuddery breath.
Heâs bewitched by you, and it makes you feel powerful, alive, in a way you havenât felt in a very long time.
You open your eyes and look up at him, loving the rosy tint to his cheeks. His tie is loose, and he looks frazzled in the sexiest possible way.
You rub your clit harder, your core squeezing Wonwoo like a vice as you work yourself closer to the edge, loving each drag of his cock inside your core.
âJust like that,â you tell him, biting your bottom lip to focus on the pleasure.
âYou gonna cum for me again, gorgeous?â Wonwoo lets out a half-chuckle, but you can see the effort heâs putting in to remaining composed.
âIf youâre lucky,â you tease.
âIf Iâm lucky,â Wonwoo repeats, his pace slowing as he shakes his head. âThought you said youâd be good for me.â
He pulls out of you suddenly, and you squeak as he drags you off the table, flipping you so your back is to him. Then he pushes your upper body onto the desk, dropping your panties to your knees and lifting the skirt of your dress to slide back into your core again.
âTry to be cheeky again, I dare you,â he says, his breath hot against your bare shoulders.
You shiver, wobbling a little in your high heels, but his hands on your hips pin you to the desk. âIâll be good,â you promise, loving the dominance thatâs radiating off of him.
âThatâs what I like to hear.â Wonwoo lets up a little, allowing you to slip your hand between your thighs again. Itâs an awkward position, your arm pressed between your body and the table, the fabric of your dress a mess, but you manage to rub your clit again, and you both groan desperately.
âI want to cum with you,â you tell him, loving the feeling of the cool wood against your hot cheek.
âThat can be arranged.â
Dominant, confident, and oddly formal in a very sexy way⌠this is crazy.
He begins to rut into you again, but this time, you know heâs not holding anything back. Your hips repeatedly push against the edge of the table, and it hurts a little, but thereâs pleasure in the pain, pleasure in the knowledge that Wonwoo is coming completely undone.
Heâs groaning more now, and the sounds are music to your ears, egging you on to rub your clit harder, to chase the orgasm that heâs clearly on the brink of.Â
âDonât stop,â you whimper, clenching your eyes shut, your muscles tight and ready-
Wonwoo suddenly grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing your head back. âI wouldnât dream of leaving you unfulfilled,â he tells you. âNow cum on my cock, pretty girl.â
His words are the last prompt you need, and your pussy explodes around him, throbbing desperately while your guttural moans fill the classroom.
Wonwoo lets out his own groan, his thrusts becoming erratic. You feel him filling you up, his cock throbbing deep inside of you as your walls milk him for every drop that heâs worth.
Your heart is racing in your chest, and you struggle slightly, which is when he releases your hair, allowing you to collapse against the cool table again.
His hands find your hips, and his motions stop.Â
You lay there, your upper body flopped on the desk, while you both recollect yourselves.
Finally, Wonwoo clears his throat. âIâm sorry if I got a bit rough at the end there.â
âNo, I liked it,â you assure him.
âUsually, if we were in my own home, Iâd clean you up in the shower, and give you proper aftercare-â
âWeâre at a reunion, and Iâm not planning on showering in the girls' locker room by the gym, no worries,â you laugh.
âI have a penthouse suite at a hotel nearby,â Wonwoo continues. âHow about we say our goodbyes to everyone, and I take you back with me.âÂ
He pulls out of you carefully, lifting your panties back into place as you begin to feel his cum dripping out of you.
âYou did promise to fuck me without our clothes on.â
âWithout the exhibitionism,â Wonwoo agrees with a laugh.
âLetâs do it,â you decide. âWe live in different cities now, and even if itâs just for tonight⌠letâs make the most of it.â
âI hope itâs not just for tonight,â Wonwoo chuckles awkwardly, helping you off the table. âBut let's talk about that later, thereâs no rush.â
Itâs interesting, there hadnât been a rush for ten years, but the moment you saw him tonight, you wanted things to speed up. He may say thereâs no time constraint on considering a future after this, but your mind is already spinning with possibilities. You feel like a love-struck teenager again, but now, youâre not as naive as you once were.Â
It will be interesting to see where tonight leads, but you suppose you just have to be patient. You waited ten years, one more night to figure things out wonât hurt you.
âď¸Â mlist + an. thank you for reading! This fic kind of gave Sapiosexual vibes with the whole smart businessman thing. Killed me to make Seungcheol a bully but it had to be done for plot!
đ support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!Â
đŽ preview. His thumb finds your clit, and you throw your head back, spreading your legs wider for Wonwoo. Thereâs nothing remotely alluring or seductive about the numbers heâs spitting out aggressively on the phone, but his voice just does something to you, and as always, he knows how to use his fingers.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, oral (pussy eating & blow job), handjob, exhibitionism, foreplay, foreplay while Wonwoo is on an important phone call, dirty talk, multiple reader orgasms, fingering, praise, etc⌠ I petnames. (hers) pretty girl.Â
đšÂ rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.4k I teaser wc. 130
đ starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader
bonus
Some days you wake up and wonder if youâre still dreaming. Youâve been with Wonwoo for two years now, and life has changed in the most magical of ways. As much as you enjoyed being a successful woman who didnât need a man, becoming aligned with Wonwoo has shown you that sometimes, having a partner who is equally - if not more driven - than you are, can be the biggest blessing.
You live with him in his swanky house, and he supports you as you build your career as a reporter in San Fransico. Heâs still the CEO of his own company, and you both pour yourselves into work, which fulfills both of your spirits and allows you to be your best selves when youâre together at home.
âď¸ to read the full fic AND 2.4k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here
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đŽ preview. âWell,â Wonwoo takes a deep breath, meeting your gaze. âYou see, before I was Mister Tech Entrepreneur, I went to high school with this girl. She was kind, always so kind, to everyone, even me. And she was smart, way smarter than she gave herself credit for. And for some stupid reason, she was with this bonehead of a quarterback. I know that was ten years ago, but I guess part of me has always wondered: what if? Now youâre here, right in front of me, and against all of the anxiety inside of me that is screaming for me not to tell you this, I suppose Iâm wondering if, after all of these years, maybe youâd be interested in giving me a chance.âÂ
tw/cw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism (fucking in a classroom in a deserted school during a high school reunion), trying to be quiet during sex, sex on a desk, clothes on sex, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, manhandling, pleasure dom!Wonwoo, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, etcâŚÂ I pet names: (hers) pretty girl.
đš rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5kÂ
đ aus. Slice of life au, high school reunion au, nerd high schooler to sexy tech entrepreneur adult. etcâŚ
âď¸ mlist + an. We love a nerd who is obsessed with you in high school, then becomes super rich and fucks you at your ten-year reunion.Â
Prologue:Â
The football field is full of students, newly graduated, their whole lives ahead of them. Yearbooks are being absolutely defaced with notes of good wishes, and all sorts of multicoloured pens scribble kind words and hopes of the future.
Youâve been here for over an hour, saying goodbye to classmates and hearing about summer and university plans. But there is one person youâre keeping an eye out for; Wonwoo has been your math tutor for two years now, and without him, your grade point average may not have been high enough to get into your dream school, so you refuse to leave today without saying one final thank you to the nerd who made your future attainable.
Heâs an elusive guy, the kind of dude who doesnât really have many friends, keeps his head down, and is always the top of the class. You suppose youâre not surprised heâs missing from the football field; crowds have never been his thing, but then, you spot him by the bleachers.
Excusing yourself from your friends, you head over to Wonwoo. âHi!â
âOh, hi.â He looks up at you, glasses slightly crooked, closed yearbook in hand.
âCan I sign that?â you ask, motioning to his book.
âOh, yeah, sure.â
You take the yearbook from him, and when you open it to the first page, you find it empty. Your heart drops. Although Wonwoo has always been the studying type, youâre sure it must hurt to have not one note written in his yearbook.
Wonwoo has extreme social anxiety, but heâs a kind person, and he was more than patient with you when he was your tutor.
âWonwoo, thank you so much for helping me with math. Iâm not sure what I would have done without you. Youâre the smartest person Iâve ever met, and I know youâre going to go extremely far in life. I can see you being a CEO at some biotech company or running Silicon Valley. Donât ever stop using that amazing brain of yours, and Iâd say good luck, but I know you wonât need it. Xoxo y/nâ
You give the yearbook back to him, and as Wonwoo looks down at your note, a hand wraps around your forearm.
âCome on, babe, everyone else has already left to go to the fair.â Itâs your boyfriend, Seungcheol, his varsity jacket draped over one arm.Â
âOh, sorry, I was just finishing up.â You swallow thickly, looking back at Wonwoo. âA bunch of us are going to the fair if you want to come.â
âItâs more of a football team and their girlfriends sort of thing,â Seungcheol interjects quickly.
You sigh. Itâs no secret that your boyfriend can be a bit of a bully, especially when it comes to the more nerdy types, and while youâll swear up and down that Seungcheol is a good guy deep down, he sometimes has a funny way of showing it.
âItâs okay, I donât really like crowds,â Wonwoo says quietly.
You open your mouth, wanting to say more, but Seungcheol tugs on your arm again. âHave a great summer, Wonwoo,â you blurt out, overwhelmed by the urgency your boyfriend is exhibiting. âAnd I know youâll kill it at MIT."
One:
âOkay, so little black dress, or the blue?â you ask, holding up each option so your high school friend Sumi can see it through FaceTime.
âIt depends. Are you trying to get laid at our ten-year high school reunion?â Sumi laughs. âI heard Seungcheol is single again.â
âYeah, and he has an ex-wife that sued him for half of what he made when he was in the NFL before he tore his ACL and had to retire at the ripe age of twenty-five,â you scoff.Â
âOkay, maybe too much drama,â your friend acquiesces. âGo with the black. Getting laid or not, we both have to look super hot.âÂ
âIt will be fun to see what everyone is up to,â you nod, putting your chosen dress in your suitcase. âI canât wait for us to be in the same city again.â
You and Sumi had attended university together, but then youâd gone your separate ways, chasing job opportunities in different cities.Â
âOur Airbnb is a no-boy zone, though, I hope you know,â Sumi teases.Â
âWeâre not going to the reunion to hook up with ex-classmates,â you agree.
âSpeaking of ex-classmates who would want to fuck us at the reunionâŚâ Sumi grins into the camera. âIs Wonwoo coming?â
âWait, Wonwoo was into you?â you ask.
Sumi lets out a laugh. âNot me, you ditz. Wonwoo was always clearly into you.âÂ
âWas he really?â
âIt was so obvious!â Sumi insists. âBut you were with Seungcheol, and everyone knows Seungcheol kind of bullied Wonwoo. I think he was jealous that Wonwoo was smart enough to help you with classes where you struggled, and Seungcheol couldnât.âÂ
You frown, memories of high school flooding back.
Wonwoo was always adorable, but his lack of social skills made it difficult for him to get close to anyone. You had a soft spot for him back then, but you were in love with Seungcheol before you parted ways for university, and he dumped you in the first week when he joined a frat.Â
âHey, Iâve gotta run,â Sumi sighs. âBut I will see you at our Airbnb in twenty-four hours.â
âI wouldnât miss it for the world,â you smile, saying goodbye to your friend. As the call hangs up, you do a Google search for Wonwooâs name.
Youâre a reporter now, and part of the reason youâre so good at your job is that youâre curious.Â
Thereâs no harm in looking up an ex classmate.
Two:
The first thing you find about Wonwoo is that he made the Forbes top 30 under 30 list, which nearly knocks you off your bed. The man in the picture is no longer the nerd who helped you with his homework. Adorned in a dark suit, Wonwoo looks regal in his photographs, and youâre shocked at how handsome heâs become.
It seems he launched a startup after graduating from MIT and has since founded his company, which runs out of Silicon Valley.
It takes you a few minutes to wrap your head around this information, because⌠well, youâd guessed this was his career path when you were a teenager. Although youâd known he was capable, you never expected him to actually follow through with his talent.
From Forbes, you find a few news articles. They describe Wonwoo as an elusive visionary, a master of all things related to computer science, the man to watch.Â
Thatâs when you find his TED Talk, and you spend the next twenty minutes watching this gorgeous nerd talk about AI, tech, the language of computers, and things you canât even wrap your head around.Â
This man, who once hated crowds, who once dreaded doing presentations in class⌠heâs come so far, and it makes your heart melt with happiness to see that Wonwoo is doing well.
You love the way his lips still quirk into this silly grin when he speaks, the grin that says âI know way more about this subject than you, but thatâs fine because I will teach you so you can understand what Iâm talking about.âÂ
It feels like youâre graduating high school again. Possibilities seem endless when you listen to Wonwoo talk. He makes the seemingly unattainable feel within reach.
God, you are so extremely proud of him.
Three:
So far, the reunion feels a bit lackluster. You spend the first half an hour dodging Seungcheol, and another half an hour listening to ex-classmates talk about all the children theyâve been having. The baby pictures are endless.
You finally pull away to get a breather, stepping outside the gymnasium to escape the scent of perfume and sweat that is beginning to overtake the crowded space.
It feels so weird to be back at your high school, and you take a moment to consider how far youâve come. When you graduated, life seemed like a clear shot. You would go to university to become a teacher, marry Seungcheol, be a wife to an NFL player with a long career⌠funny how none of that ended up happening.
âY/N?â
You whip around and come face to face with your old tutor⌠your now extremely hot and successful old tutor.
âWonwoo?â you gasp.
âThought that was you,â he smiles, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
âI-â you swallow thickly. âHave you gone inside yet?â Youâre pretty sure he hasnât, because youâve been looking for him the whole time.
âNo, I got a phone call when I arrived and had to manage something, and then, well, then I wondered if going inside would be worth it.â
âOh.â You canât help the dejected feeling that washes over you.Â
âI wasnât sure youâd be here,â he continues.Â
âMe? I wasnât sure you would be,â you laugh. âMister Silicon Valley.â
âI suppose youâre not surprised,â Wonwoo smirks. âYou guessed this would happen.â
âYou were the smartest guy I knew in high school, and I wouldnât be shocked if youâre still the smartest man I know now.â
âI wish Iâd had the confidence in myself that you had in me back when we were students,â Wonwoo admits, releasing a sigh. âMaybe things would have been a little different.â
You tilt your head to the side, trying to understand him. âWhat kind of things?âÂ
Wonwoo shrugs, his tailored suit showing off the broadness of his shoulders. âI guess it doesnât matter now. Anyways, youâre a reporter, huh. Thatâs not the career I would have envisioned you in.â
âNo?âÂ
So he looked you up, too.
âYou always used to talk about being a teacher, dating a successful man, having kids, that sort of thing.â
âWell,â you consider his words, âI was young then. Being a reporter allows me to share information with a wider range of people, and I learned that I didnât need a man; I could be successful all on my own.âÂ
âAre you happy?â
âIâm very happy. And you?â
Wonwoo cocks his head, opening his mouth, then closing it. âThereâs a lot about my life that makes me happy, but there are also a few things⌠missing.â
âI can understand that,â you nod, not wanting to pry even though pushing for information is your job. Youâre not on the clock right now, and you want to provide friendship to a man who is probably used to intrusive questions.Â
Wonwoo studies you. âSo other than being a reporter, what have you been up to? Sounds like youâre not with the âstar quarterbackâ anymore.â
A laugh immediately escapes you. âNo! Itâs been almost ten years since I dated Seungcheol.â
âOh?â Wonwoo grins. âYou always seemed so confident that you two would be together forever.â
âI started dating him when we were fourteen. When we graduated a couple of years later, I had no idea what real life would be like.â You shake your head, hating how naive you were. âHow about you, Mister Tech Entrepreneur? I bet all the girls are trying to slide into your DMs.â
âIâm single, very single, unfortunately,â Wonwoo laughs awkwardly. âI guess lately Iâve been thinking about the one that got away.â
Your body surges at the notion of gossip. âOkay, I was trying not to pry before, but now I have to ask. Tell me the story.âÂ
âWell,â Wonwoo takes a deep breath, meeting your gaze. âYou see, before I was Mister Tech Entrepreneur, I went to high school with this girl. She was kind, always so kind, to everyone, even me. And she was smart, way smarter than she gave herself credit for. And for some stupid reason, she was with this bonehead of a quarterback. I know that was ten years ago, but I guess part of me has always wondered: what if? Now youâre here, right in front of me, and against all of the anxiety inside of me that is screaming for me not to tell you this, I suppose Iâm wondering if, after all of these years, maybe youâd be interested in giving me a chance.âÂ
Your heart is racing in your chest. For the first time in a very long time, you donât know what to say.Â
Youâd always thought Wonwoo was adorable, and he treated you so well. He was patient and gentle, and he never got exasperated with you over math homework. He was quiet, but when he did talk, he was always insightful. Wonwoo always allowed you to be completely yourself, free of judgment, and he cheered you on for every math test, watching your grades improve as a result of his encouragement.Â
A part of you had known you were interested in him, even back when youâd thought your life was figured out with Seungcheol.Â
âIâd be lying if I said I hadnât thought about this too,â you admit.Â
âAnd?â
âAnd⌠If we donât take this chance⌠maybe weâll continue to regret it.â
Your words hang thick in the air, and you can see Wonwoo digesting them. He swallows thickly, taking a step toward you.Â
Youâre drawn to him, and you also close the distance, until thereâs only a foot between you.
Heâs truly become so handsome, but heâs still just Wonwoo, your Wonwoo. Thereâs something special about the fact that you knew this man before his worldly successes, that you knew and cared for him when he was the dorky nerd who ate lunch in the library and had only your signature in his yearbook.
You still feel bad for him, for the way his high school years panned out, but look at him now.Â
Thank God that Sumi told you to wear your sexy little black dress.
âIs it bad that I want to kiss you for the first time here, of all places?â Wonwoo asks with an awkward chuckle.
âOddly enough, it feels right,â you laugh, taking his hand and guiding it to your hip. âIf Iâd never been with SeungcheolâŚâ
âLetâs not even think about the past like that,â Wonwoo sighs, tugging you flush to his body. âWeâre here now, thatâs what matters.â
You nod, and then you lean forward, pressing your lips to Wonwooâs for the very first time.
Itâs like a jolt of electricity surges through you, and nothing has ever felt this right.Â
His lips are so soft, and he holds you in such a careful way, as if heâs afraid this is a dream.
But this is not a dream, that much is clear from the way your panties are already sticking to your core.Â
You press yourself closer, one hand grasping the nape of his neck as the kiss deepens in the most delicious way imaginable.
Wonwoo definitely knows how to kiss. Itâs not an obnoxious style, no, heâs careful, calculated, but his movements still betray the fact that heâs been longing for you for ten years. Itâs as if heâs dreamed of this moment a million times, and now youâre actually here, and heâll be damned if he fucks it up.Â
His tongue gently glides against your own, and you stifle a moan at the feeling, your body tingling delightfully.Â
You thread your fingers through his hair, wanting him even closer, although your chests are pressed together and thereâs no room between you.Â
You want to feel him, all of him, and the realization makes a shiver run through you.
âWonwoo,â you gasp, breaking the kiss.
âYeah?â
âI know a place.â
âYou know a place?â he laughs.
âFollow me.â You grab his hand, chasing your fantasies as you lead him to a door that takes you to the rest of the school. Running through the halls with Wonwoo feels like a fever dream; itâs as if you remember every locker, every linoleum tile that paves the hallways that echo with each footstep.
âWhere are we going?â Wonwoo asks, a chuckle escaping him.
âThe math room.â
âWhy are we going there?â
âBecause thatâs where I realized I liked you as more than a tutor, more than a friend,â you tell him, your voice bouncing off the walls like a tantalizing reverie.Â
You canât believe youâre doing this, but thereâs no turning back now, and you wouldnât want to either.
You whisk Wonwoo into your old math classroom, and the memories come flooding back. Your teacher would allow Wonwoo to tutor you here when the library wasnât available, and you spent many hours alone with the handsome nerd in the confines of these four walls.
Maybe Seungcheol did bully Wonwoo because he could see what you were blind to until recently. Itâs clear you had a connection with your tutor, one that was lost on you at the time.Â
âDo you remember this?â you ask, turning to face Wonwoo. âAll the time we spent here?â
âLike it was yesterday,â he laughs.
âI thought you were the smartest, cutest guy Iâd ever met,â you tell him, leaning back against one of the large tables.
âAnd I thought you were the kindest, most gorgeous girl Iâd ever know,â Wonwoo retorts, approaching you. His hands make contact with the desk on either side of you, blocking you in while you look up at him.
His eyes are twinkling with joy, and youâve never seen him this happy. He was handsome before, but now, heâs absolutely radiant, and you grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours.
Itâs a frenzied kiss, both of you pouring all of your longing into the meeting of your mouths. You thread your fingers through his hair, and Wonwoo reaches down, lifting you onto the table. Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him flush to your body while a whimper escapes you.
Wonwoo grins, one of his hands slipping up your thigh and under your dress.
Confidence is radiating off of him, and itâs the sexiest thing you can imagine. His thumb strokes the waistband of your panties, and you wiggle your hips, a wordless invitation.
Wonwooâs fingers make contact with your core over your panties, and you gasp.
âYouâre soaked, pretty girl,â Wonwoo tells you, and your whole body shivers at his words.
âI want you,â you confess, swallowing thickly.Â
âYou have me,â Wonwoo promises, rubbing your clit while his lips move to your throat.
You groan, throwing your head back and tugging gently on his hair. You love being worshipped like this. Most of the men youâve been with have been self-centered in bed, but you suppose nerds always have something to prove.
Or maybe itâs just that Wonwoo actually cares about you, even after all this time.Â
You grind down against his hand, moaning louder when he applies more pressure to your sensitive bud. âJust like that,â you tell him. âFuck, it feels so good.â
âIâm Mister Tech Entrepreneur,â Wonwoo says in your ear. âI type code and use my fingers for a living.â
God, why is that so hot?
He pushes your panties to the side, and two of his fingers enter your drenched pussy.
Wonwoo sucks your earlobe into his mouth as he curls his digits, immediately finding your G-spot.Â
âRight there!â you tell him, clenching your eyes shut.
âBe a good girl for me and try not to be too loud,â Wonwoo warns. âIâd hate for anyone to walk in on this.â
Youâd kind of forgotten that youâre in a math classroom at your old high school during a reunion. Itâs not like people are roaming the halls, but if Sumi were to come looking for you, or even SeungcheolâŚ
You shiver at the idea of your ex walking in on this. Thereâs something so exciting about exhibitionism with Wonwoo, especially in a classroom that holds so much history for the two of you.
His palm makes contact with your clit, and you slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, whimpering desperately.
âGood girl,â Wonwoo praises you, and your core throbs from his words.
His lips find yours again, and you kiss him eagerly, wiggling your hips to grind against his hand while he works you up.
He definitely knows how to use his fingers, and each targeted stroke of your G-spot takes you closer to the edge.
Your heart is racing in your chest, your mind is fuzzy with lust, and your body is beginning to feel like itâs swelling with pleasure.Â
Your whimpers are muffled by the meeting of your lips, but as your orgasm approaches, you break the kiss. âWonwoo,â you whimper, stroking the nape of his neck and looking into his eyes. âPlease.â
âYou can cum for me,â he assures you. âIâm not into orgasm denial.â
You canât help but laugh, but your giggle quickly turns into another moan as he finger fucks you even harder.
âKeep your eyes on me,â Wonwoo tells you. âI want to see you cum.â
You bite your bottom lip, trying to force your eyes to stay open even as your orgasm builds. You continue to wiggle your hips, grinding against his palm while his fingers coax you to the edge.
Finally, you canât hold back anymore, and your orgasm slams into you. Your back arches, lips parting as a cry escapes you. Your pussy clamps down on Wonwooâs fingers, your entire body flooded with pleasure. With curled toes and muscles that are screaming, you do your best to keep your eyes open, your attention fixed on his handsome nerd, who seems to know exactly what to do to make you feel ecstasy in a way no other man has.Â
âThatâs it,â Wonwoo grins, watching you closely. âYouâre such a pretty girl when you cum on my fingers.â
Another wave of pleasure erupts at his words, and you twitch, core absolutely throbbing as he continues to work you through your orgasm.
As your high subsides, Wonwoo pulls his fingers out of your soaked pussy. You watch with bated breath as he licks them clean, groaning sinfully. Then, he grabs the back of your neck, drawing your lips to his so you can taste yourself on his tongue.
You reach between your bodies, cupping his cock as it presses against his pants.
âFuck me,â you instruct. âI need you.â
âIf you only knew how many years I waited to hear you say thatâŚâ Wonwoo lets out a shaky breath. âThis is going better than I expected⌠I didnât bring protection-â
âIâm on birth control,â you laugh. âAnd Iâm assuming weâre both clean.â
âAs a whistle,â he confirms
God, heâs so stupidly adorable.Â
You lean forward, letting your lips ghost past his ear as you whisper, âThen fuck me.âÂ
âWhatever you want, pretty girl.â
Wonwoo reaches for his belt, and the two of you make quick work of it. Then you push his pants and underwear down.
âIâm not usually a fan of clothes on sex,â you tell him, swallowing thickly and pushing your panties to the side. âSo youâll just have to make it up to me later.â
Wonwoo laughs, grabbing the base of his cock and giving it a pump. âIâm not usually a fan of exhibitionism,â he muses. âSo I guess weâre both outside of our wheelhouse tonight.â
âItâs worth it,â you insist as he lines his tip up with your core. âAnd it feels grossly fitting that this is where weâre having our first time.â
âGrossly fitting?â he prompts as he pushes into you.
âYeah, sex on a desk in a math classroom, weâre being delinquents,â you groan, falling back against the table as inch after inch of cock invades your most sensitive area.Â
âI guess so,â Wonwoo chuckles, fully sheathing himself inside of you.
You let out a sigh of relief, loving the full feeling. Wonwoo isnât the thickest cock youâve ever had inside of you, but heâs long, and heâs curved slightly, his tip nudging against a sensitive spot that makes your toes curl.
âFuck,â you whimper, lifting your dress so you can reach down and rub your clit. Your body jolts, still sensitive, but fuck, it feels good, and you can tell Wonwoo likes the way your core clenches around him because he releases a groan.
âYou feel amazing,â Wonwoo tells you.Â
âIâll feel even better when you start to move,â you counter, feeling cheeky and desperate.
Wonwoo laughs. âYou got it, pretty girl.â
He grabs your hips, anchoring you to the table so he can begin to fuck you.Â
His cock glides against your inner walls deliciously, and you close your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wooden table with a soft thunk. You continue to rub your clit, muscles twitching at the pleasure thatâs already beginning to blossom inside of you again.
His pace increases, and your whimpers fill the classroom. Your free hand moves to grab your own breast through your dress, and you hear Wonwoo let out a shuddery breath.
Heâs bewitched by you, and it makes you feel powerful, alive, in a way you havenât felt in a very long time.
You open your eyes and look up at him, loving the rosy tint to his cheeks. His tie is loose, and he looks frazzled in the sexiest possible way.
You rub your clit harder, your core squeezing Wonwoo like a vice as you work yourself closer to the edge, loving each drag of his cock inside your core.
âJust like that,â you tell him, biting your bottom lip to focus on the pleasure.
âYou gonna cum for me again, gorgeous?â Wonwoo lets out a half-chuckle, but you can see the effort heâs putting in to remaining composed.
âIf youâre lucky,â you tease.
âIf Iâm lucky,â Wonwoo repeats, his pace slowing as he shakes his head. âThought you said youâd be good for me.â
He pulls out of you suddenly, and you squeak as he drags you off the table, flipping you so your back is to him. Then he pushes your upper body onto the desk, dropping your panties to your knees and lifting the skirt of your dress to slide back into your core again.
âTry to be cheeky again, I dare you,â he says, his breath hot against your bare shoulders.
You shiver, wobbling a little in your high heels, but his hands on your hips pin you to the desk. âIâll be good,â you promise, loving the dominance thatâs radiating off of him.
âThatâs what I like to hear.â Wonwoo lets up a little, allowing you to slip your hand between your thighs again. Itâs an awkward position, your arm pressed between your body and the table, the fabric of your dress a mess, but you manage to rub your clit again, and you both groan desperately.
âI want to cum with you,â you tell him, loving the feeling of the cool wood against your hot cheek.
âThat can be arranged.â
Dominant, confident, and oddly formal in a very sexy way⌠this is crazy.
He begins to rut into you again, but this time, you know heâs not holding anything back. Your hips repeatedly push against the edge of the table, and it hurts a little, but thereâs pleasure in the pain, pleasure in the knowledge that Wonwoo is coming completely undone.
Heâs groaning more now, and the sounds are music to your ears, egging you on to rub your clit harder, to chase the orgasm that heâs clearly on the brink of.Â
âDonât stop,â you whimper, clenching your eyes shut, your muscles tight and ready-
Wonwoo suddenly grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing your head back. âI wouldnât dream of leaving you unfulfilled,â he tells you. âNow cum on my cock, pretty girl.â
His words are the last prompt you need, and your pussy explodes around him, throbbing desperately while your guttural moans fill the classroom.
Wonwoo lets out his own groan, his thrusts becoming erratic. You feel him filling you up, his cock throbbing deep inside of you as your walls milk him for every drop that heâs worth.
Your heart is racing in your chest, and you struggle slightly, which is when he releases your hair, allowing you to collapse against the cool table again.
His hands find your hips, and his motions stop.Â
You lay there, your upper body flopped on the desk, while you both recollect yourselves.
Finally, Wonwoo clears his throat. âIâm sorry if I got a bit rough at the end there.â
âNo, I liked it,â you assure him.
âUsually, if we were in my own home, Iâd clean you up in the shower, and give you proper aftercare-â
âWeâre at a reunion, and Iâm not planning on showering in the girls' locker room by the gym, no worries,â you laugh.
âI have a penthouse suite at a hotel nearby,â Wonwoo continues. âHow about we say our goodbyes to everyone, and I take you back with me.âÂ
He pulls out of you carefully, lifting your panties back into place as you begin to feel his cum dripping out of you.
âYou did promise to fuck me without our clothes on.â
âWithout the exhibitionism,â Wonwoo agrees with a laugh.
âLetâs do it,â you decide. âWe live in different cities now, and even if itâs just for tonight⌠letâs make the most of it.â
âI hope itâs not just for tonight,â Wonwoo chuckles awkwardly, helping you off the table. âBut let's talk about that later, thereâs no rush.â
Itâs interesting, there hadnât been a rush for ten years, but the moment you saw him tonight, you wanted things to speed up. He may say thereâs no time constraint on considering a future after this, but your mind is already spinning with possibilities. You feel like a love-struck teenager again, but now, youâre not as naive as you once were.Â
It will be interesting to see where tonight leads, but you suppose you just have to be patient. You waited ten years, one more night to figure things out wonât hurt you.
âď¸Â mlist + an. thank you for reading! This fic kind of gave Sapiosexual vibes with the whole smart businessman thing. Killed me to make Seungcheol a bully but it had to be done for plot!
đ support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!Â
đŽ preview. His thumb finds your clit, and you throw your head back, spreading your legs wider for Wonwoo. Thereâs nothing remotely alluring or seductive about the numbers heâs spitting out aggressively on the phone, but his voice just does something to you, and as always, he knows how to use his fingers.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, oral (pussy eating & blow job), handjob, exhibitionism, foreplay, foreplay while Wonwoo is on an important phone call, dirty talk, multiple reader orgasms, fingering, praise, etc⌠ I petnames. (hers) pretty girl.Â
đšÂ rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.4k I teaser wc. 130
đ starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader
bonus
Some days you wake up and wonder if youâre still dreaming. Youâve been with Wonwoo for two years now, and life has changed in the most magical of ways. As much as you enjoyed being a successful woman who didnât need a man, becoming aligned with Wonwoo has shown you that sometimes, having a partner who is equally - if not more driven - than you are, can be the biggest blessing.
You live with him in his swanky house, and he supports you as you build your career as a reporter in San Fransico. Heâs still the CEO of his own company, and you both pour yourselves into work, which fulfills both of your spirits and allows you to be your best selves when youâre together at home.
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đŽ preview. âWell,â Wonwoo takes a deep breath, meeting your gaze. âYou see, before I was Mister Tech Entrepreneur, I went to high school with this girl. She was kind, always so kind, to everyone, even me. And she was smart, way smarter than she gave herself credit for. And for some stupid reason, she was with this bonehead of a quarterback. I know that was ten years ago, but I guess part of me has always wondered: what if? Now youâre here, right in front of me, and against all of the anxiety inside of me that is screaming for me not to tell you this, I suppose Iâm wondering if, after all of these years, maybe youâd be interested in giving me a chance.âÂ
tw/cw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism (fucking in a classroom in a deserted school during a high school reunion), trying to be quiet during sex, sex on a desk, clothes on sex, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, manhandling, pleasure dom!Wonwoo, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, etcâŚÂ I pet names: (hers) pretty girl.
đš rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5kÂ
đ aus. Slice of life au, high school reunion au, nerd high schooler to sexy tech entrepreneur adult. etcâŚ
âď¸ mlist + an. We love a nerd who is obsessed with you in high school, then becomes super rich and fucks you at your ten-year reunion.Â
Prologue:Â
The football field is full of students, newly graduated, their whole lives ahead of them. Yearbooks are being absolutely defaced with notes of good wishes, and all sorts of multicoloured pens scribble kind words and hopes of the future.
Youâve been here for over an hour, saying goodbye to classmates and hearing about summer and university plans. But there is one person youâre keeping an eye out for; Wonwoo has been your math tutor for two years now, and without him, your grade point average may not have been high enough to get into your dream school, so you refuse to leave today without saying one final thank you to the nerd who made your future attainable.
Heâs an elusive guy, the kind of dude who doesnât really have many friends, keeps his head down, and is always the top of the class. You suppose youâre not surprised heâs missing from the football field; crowds have never been his thing, but then, you spot him by the bleachers.
Excusing yourself from your friends, you head over to Wonwoo. âHi!â
âOh, hi.â He looks up at you, glasses slightly crooked, closed yearbook in hand.
âCan I sign that?â you ask, motioning to his book.
âOh, yeah, sure.â
You take the yearbook from him, and when you open it to the first page, you find it empty. Your heart drops. Although Wonwoo has always been the studying type, youâre sure it must hurt to have not one note written in his yearbook.
Wonwoo has extreme social anxiety, but heâs a kind person, and he was more than patient with you when he was your tutor.
âWonwoo, thank you so much for helping me with math. Iâm not sure what I would have done without you. Youâre the smartest person Iâve ever met, and I know youâre going to go extremely far in life. I can see you being a CEO at some biotech company or running Silicon Valley. Donât ever stop using that amazing brain of yours, and Iâd say good luck, but I know you wonât need it. Xoxo y/nâ
You give the yearbook back to him, and as Wonwoo looks down at your note, a hand wraps around your forearm.
âCome on, babe, everyone else has already left to go to the fair.â Itâs your boyfriend, Seungcheol, his varsity jacket draped over one arm.Â
âOh, sorry, I was just finishing up.â You swallow thickly, looking back at Wonwoo. âA bunch of us are going to the fair if you want to come.â
âItâs more of a football team and their girlfriends sort of thing,â Seungcheol interjects quickly.
You sigh. Itâs no secret that your boyfriend can be a bit of a bully, especially when it comes to the more nerdy types, and while youâll swear up and down that Seungcheol is a good guy deep down, he sometimes has a funny way of showing it.
âItâs okay, I donât really like crowds,â Wonwoo says quietly.
You open your mouth, wanting to say more, but Seungcheol tugs on your arm again. âHave a great summer, Wonwoo,â you blurt out, overwhelmed by the urgency your boyfriend is exhibiting. âAnd I know youâll kill it at MIT."
One:
âOkay, so little black dress, or the blue?â you ask, holding up each option so your high school friend Sumi can see it through FaceTime.
âIt depends. Are you trying to get laid at our ten-year high school reunion?â Sumi laughs. âI heard Seungcheol is single again.â
âYeah, and he has an ex-wife that sued him for half of what he made when he was in the NFL before he tore his ACL and had to retire at the ripe age of twenty-five,â you scoff.Â
âOkay, maybe too much drama,â your friend acquiesces. âGo with the black. Getting laid or not, we both have to look super hot.âÂ
âIt will be fun to see what everyone is up to,â you nod, putting your chosen dress in your suitcase. âI canât wait for us to be in the same city again.â
You and Sumi had attended university together, but then youâd gone your separate ways, chasing job opportunities in different cities.Â
âOur Airbnb is a no-boy zone, though, I hope you know,â Sumi teases.Â
âWeâre not going to the reunion to hook up with ex-classmates,â you agree.
âSpeaking of ex-classmates who would want to fuck us at the reunionâŚâ Sumi grins into the camera. âIs Wonwoo coming?â
âWait, Wonwoo was into you?â you ask.
Sumi lets out a laugh. âNot me, you ditz. Wonwoo was always clearly into you.âÂ
âWas he really?â
âIt was so obvious!â Sumi insists. âBut you were with Seungcheol, and everyone knows Seungcheol kind of bullied Wonwoo. I think he was jealous that Wonwoo was smart enough to help you with classes where you struggled, and Seungcheol couldnât.âÂ
You frown, memories of high school flooding back.
Wonwoo was always adorable, but his lack of social skills made it difficult for him to get close to anyone. You had a soft spot for him back then, but you were in love with Seungcheol before you parted ways for university, and he dumped you in the first week when he joined a frat.Â
âHey, Iâve gotta run,â Sumi sighs. âBut I will see you at our Airbnb in twenty-four hours.â
âI wouldnât miss it for the world,â you smile, saying goodbye to your friend. As the call hangs up, you do a Google search for Wonwooâs name.
Youâre a reporter now, and part of the reason youâre so good at your job is that youâre curious.Â
Thereâs no harm in looking up an ex classmate.
Two:
The first thing you find about Wonwoo is that he made the Forbes top 30 under 30 list, which nearly knocks you off your bed. The man in the picture is no longer the nerd who helped you with his homework. Adorned in a dark suit, Wonwoo looks regal in his photographs, and youâre shocked at how handsome heâs become.
It seems he launched a startup after graduating from MIT and has since founded his company, which runs out of Silicon Valley.
It takes you a few minutes to wrap your head around this information, because⌠well, youâd guessed this was his career path when you were a teenager. Although youâd known he was capable, you never expected him to actually follow through with his talent.
From Forbes, you find a few news articles. They describe Wonwoo as an elusive visionary, a master of all things related to computer science, the man to watch.Â
Thatâs when you find his TED Talk, and you spend the next twenty minutes watching this gorgeous nerd talk about AI, tech, the language of computers, and things you canât even wrap your head around.Â
This man, who once hated crowds, who once dreaded doing presentations in class⌠heâs come so far, and it makes your heart melt with happiness to see that Wonwoo is doing well.
You love the way his lips still quirk into this silly grin when he speaks, the grin that says âI know way more about this subject than you, but thatâs fine because I will teach you so you can understand what Iâm talking about.âÂ
It feels like youâre graduating high school again. Possibilities seem endless when you listen to Wonwoo talk. He makes the seemingly unattainable feel within reach.
God, you are so extremely proud of him.
Three:
So far, the reunion feels a bit lackluster. You spend the first half an hour dodging Seungcheol, and another half an hour listening to ex-classmates talk about all the children theyâve been having. The baby pictures are endless.
You finally pull away to get a breather, stepping outside the gymnasium to escape the scent of perfume and sweat that is beginning to overtake the crowded space.
It feels so weird to be back at your high school, and you take a moment to consider how far youâve come. When you graduated, life seemed like a clear shot. You would go to university to become a teacher, marry Seungcheol, be a wife to an NFL player with a long career⌠funny how none of that ended up happening.
âY/N?â
You whip around and come face to face with your old tutor⌠your now extremely hot and successful old tutor.
âWonwoo?â you gasp.
âThought that was you,â he smiles, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
âI-â you swallow thickly. âHave you gone inside yet?â Youâre pretty sure he hasnât, because youâve been looking for him the whole time.
âNo, I got a phone call when I arrived and had to manage something, and then, well, then I wondered if going inside would be worth it.â
âOh.â You canât help the dejected feeling that washes over you.Â
âI wasnât sure youâd be here,â he continues.Â
âMe? I wasnât sure you would be,â you laugh. âMister Silicon Valley.â
âI suppose youâre not surprised,â Wonwoo smirks. âYou guessed this would happen.â
âYou were the smartest guy I knew in high school, and I wouldnât be shocked if youâre still the smartest man I know now.â
âI wish Iâd had the confidence in myself that you had in me back when we were students,â Wonwoo admits, releasing a sigh. âMaybe things would have been a little different.â
You tilt your head to the side, trying to understand him. âWhat kind of things?âÂ
Wonwoo shrugs, his tailored suit showing off the broadness of his shoulders. âI guess it doesnât matter now. Anyways, youâre a reporter, huh. Thatâs not the career I would have envisioned you in.â
âNo?âÂ
So he looked you up, too.
âYou always used to talk about being a teacher, dating a successful man, having kids, that sort of thing.â
âWell,â you consider his words, âI was young then. Being a reporter allows me to share information with a wider range of people, and I learned that I didnât need a man; I could be successful all on my own.âÂ
âAre you happy?â
âIâm very happy. And you?â
Wonwoo cocks his head, opening his mouth, then closing it. âThereâs a lot about my life that makes me happy, but there are also a few things⌠missing.â
âI can understand that,â you nod, not wanting to pry even though pushing for information is your job. Youâre not on the clock right now, and you want to provide friendship to a man who is probably used to intrusive questions.Â
Wonwoo studies you. âSo other than being a reporter, what have you been up to? Sounds like youâre not with the âstar quarterbackâ anymore.â
A laugh immediately escapes you. âNo! Itâs been almost ten years since I dated Seungcheol.â
âOh?â Wonwoo grins. âYou always seemed so confident that you two would be together forever.â
âI started dating him when we were fourteen. When we graduated a couple of years later, I had no idea what real life would be like.â You shake your head, hating how naive you were. âHow about you, Mister Tech Entrepreneur? I bet all the girls are trying to slide into your DMs.â
âIâm single, very single, unfortunately,â Wonwoo laughs awkwardly. âI guess lately Iâve been thinking about the one that got away.â
Your body surges at the notion of gossip. âOkay, I was trying not to pry before, but now I have to ask. Tell me the story.âÂ
âWell,â Wonwoo takes a deep breath, meeting your gaze. âYou see, before I was Mister Tech Entrepreneur, I went to high school with this girl. She was kind, always so kind, to everyone, even me. And she was smart, way smarter than she gave herself credit for. And for some stupid reason, she was with this bonehead of a quarterback. I know that was ten years ago, but I guess part of me has always wondered: what if? Now youâre here, right in front of me, and against all of the anxiety inside of me that is screaming for me not to tell you this, I suppose Iâm wondering if, after all of these years, maybe youâd be interested in giving me a chance.âÂ
Your heart is racing in your chest. For the first time in a very long time, you donât know what to say.Â
Youâd always thought Wonwoo was adorable, and he treated you so well. He was patient and gentle, and he never got exasperated with you over math homework. He was quiet, but when he did talk, he was always insightful. Wonwoo always allowed you to be completely yourself, free of judgment, and he cheered you on for every math test, watching your grades improve as a result of his encouragement.Â
A part of you had known you were interested in him, even back when youâd thought your life was figured out with Seungcheol.Â
âIâd be lying if I said I hadnât thought about this too,â you admit.Â
âAnd?â
âAnd⌠If we donât take this chance⌠maybe weâll continue to regret it.â
Your words hang thick in the air, and you can see Wonwoo digesting them. He swallows thickly, taking a step toward you.Â
Youâre drawn to him, and you also close the distance, until thereâs only a foot between you.
Heâs truly become so handsome, but heâs still just Wonwoo, your Wonwoo. Thereâs something special about the fact that you knew this man before his worldly successes, that you knew and cared for him when he was the dorky nerd who ate lunch in the library and had only your signature in his yearbook.
You still feel bad for him, for the way his high school years panned out, but look at him now.Â
Thank God that Sumi told you to wear your sexy little black dress.
âIs it bad that I want to kiss you for the first time here, of all places?â Wonwoo asks with an awkward chuckle.
âOddly enough, it feels right,â you laugh, taking his hand and guiding it to your hip. âIf Iâd never been with SeungcheolâŚâ
âLetâs not even think about the past like that,â Wonwoo sighs, tugging you flush to his body. âWeâre here now, thatâs what matters.â
You nod, and then you lean forward, pressing your lips to Wonwooâs for the very first time.
Itâs like a jolt of electricity surges through you, and nothing has ever felt this right.Â
His lips are so soft, and he holds you in such a careful way, as if heâs afraid this is a dream.
But this is not a dream, that much is clear from the way your panties are already sticking to your core.Â
You press yourself closer, one hand grasping the nape of his neck as the kiss deepens in the most delicious way imaginable.
Wonwoo definitely knows how to kiss. Itâs not an obnoxious style, no, heâs careful, calculated, but his movements still betray the fact that heâs been longing for you for ten years. Itâs as if heâs dreamed of this moment a million times, and now youâre actually here, and heâll be damned if he fucks it up.Â
His tongue gently glides against your own, and you stifle a moan at the feeling, your body tingling delightfully.Â
You thread your fingers through his hair, wanting him even closer, although your chests are pressed together and thereâs no room between you.Â
You want to feel him, all of him, and the realization makes a shiver run through you.
âWonwoo,â you gasp, breaking the kiss.
âYeah?â
âI know a place.â
âYou know a place?â he laughs.
âFollow me.â You grab his hand, chasing your fantasies as you lead him to a door that takes you to the rest of the school. Running through the halls with Wonwoo feels like a fever dream; itâs as if you remember every locker, every linoleum tile that paves the hallways that echo with each footstep.
âWhere are we going?â Wonwoo asks, a chuckle escaping him.
âThe math room.â
âWhy are we going there?â
âBecause thatâs where I realized I liked you as more than a tutor, more than a friend,â you tell him, your voice bouncing off the walls like a tantalizing reverie.Â
You canât believe youâre doing this, but thereâs no turning back now, and you wouldnât want to either.
You whisk Wonwoo into your old math classroom, and the memories come flooding back. Your teacher would allow Wonwoo to tutor you here when the library wasnât available, and you spent many hours alone with the handsome nerd in the confines of these four walls.
Maybe Seungcheol did bully Wonwoo because he could see what you were blind to until recently. Itâs clear you had a connection with your tutor, one that was lost on you at the time.Â
âDo you remember this?â you ask, turning to face Wonwoo. âAll the time we spent here?â
âLike it was yesterday,â he laughs.
âI thought you were the smartest, cutest guy Iâd ever met,â you tell him, leaning back against one of the large tables.
âAnd I thought you were the kindest, most gorgeous girl Iâd ever know,â Wonwoo retorts, approaching you. His hands make contact with the desk on either side of you, blocking you in while you look up at him.
His eyes are twinkling with joy, and youâve never seen him this happy. He was handsome before, but now, heâs absolutely radiant, and you grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours.
Itâs a frenzied kiss, both of you pouring all of your longing into the meeting of your mouths. You thread your fingers through his hair, and Wonwoo reaches down, lifting you onto the table. Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him flush to your body while a whimper escapes you.
Wonwoo grins, one of his hands slipping up your thigh and under your dress.
Confidence is radiating off of him, and itâs the sexiest thing you can imagine. His thumb strokes the waistband of your panties, and you wiggle your hips, a wordless invitation.
Wonwooâs fingers make contact with your core over your panties, and you gasp.
âYouâre soaked, pretty girl,â Wonwoo tells you, and your whole body shivers at his words.
âI want you,â you confess, swallowing thickly.Â
âYou have me,â Wonwoo promises, rubbing your clit while his lips move to your throat.
You groan, throwing your head back and tugging gently on his hair. You love being worshipped like this. Most of the men youâve been with have been self-centered in bed, but you suppose nerds always have something to prove.
Or maybe itâs just that Wonwoo actually cares about you, even after all this time.Â
You grind down against his hand, moaning louder when he applies more pressure to your sensitive bud. âJust like that,â you tell him. âFuck, it feels so good.â
âIâm Mister Tech Entrepreneur,â Wonwoo says in your ear. âI type code and use my fingers for a living.â
God, why is that so hot?
He pushes your panties to the side, and two of his fingers enter your drenched pussy.
Wonwoo sucks your earlobe into his mouth as he curls his digits, immediately finding your G-spot.Â
âRight there!â you tell him, clenching your eyes shut.
âBe a good girl for me and try not to be too loud,â Wonwoo warns. âIâd hate for anyone to walk in on this.â
Youâd kind of forgotten that youâre in a math classroom at your old high school during a reunion. Itâs not like people are roaming the halls, but if Sumi were to come looking for you, or even SeungcheolâŚ
You shiver at the idea of your ex walking in on this. Thereâs something so exciting about exhibitionism with Wonwoo, especially in a classroom that holds so much history for the two of you.
His palm makes contact with your clit, and you slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, whimpering desperately.
âGood girl,â Wonwoo praises you, and your core throbs from his words.
His lips find yours again, and you kiss him eagerly, wiggling your hips to grind against his hand while he works you up.
He definitely knows how to use his fingers, and each targeted stroke of your G-spot takes you closer to the edge.
Your heart is racing in your chest, your mind is fuzzy with lust, and your body is beginning to feel like itâs swelling with pleasure.Â
Your whimpers are muffled by the meeting of your lips, but as your orgasm approaches, you break the kiss. âWonwoo,â you whimper, stroking the nape of his neck and looking into his eyes. âPlease.â
âYou can cum for me,â he assures you. âIâm not into orgasm denial.â
You canât help but laugh, but your giggle quickly turns into another moan as he finger fucks you even harder.
âKeep your eyes on me,â Wonwoo tells you. âI want to see you cum.â
You bite your bottom lip, trying to force your eyes to stay open even as your orgasm builds. You continue to wiggle your hips, grinding against his palm while his fingers coax you to the edge.
Finally, you canât hold back anymore, and your orgasm slams into you. Your back arches, lips parting as a cry escapes you. Your pussy clamps down on Wonwooâs fingers, your entire body flooded with pleasure. With curled toes and muscles that are screaming, you do your best to keep your eyes open, your attention fixed on his handsome nerd, who seems to know exactly what to do to make you feel ecstasy in a way no other man has.Â
âThatâs it,â Wonwoo grins, watching you closely. âYouâre such a pretty girl when you cum on my fingers.â
Another wave of pleasure erupts at his words, and you twitch, core absolutely throbbing as he continues to work you through your orgasm.
As your high subsides, Wonwoo pulls his fingers out of your soaked pussy. You watch with bated breath as he licks them clean, groaning sinfully. Then, he grabs the back of your neck, drawing your lips to his so you can taste yourself on his tongue.
You reach between your bodies, cupping his cock as it presses against his pants.
âFuck me,â you instruct. âI need you.â
âIf you only knew how many years I waited to hear you say thatâŚâ Wonwoo lets out a shaky breath. âThis is going better than I expected⌠I didnât bring protection-â
âIâm on birth control,â you laugh. âAnd Iâm assuming weâre both clean.â
âAs a whistle,â he confirms
God, heâs so stupidly adorable.Â
You lean forward, letting your lips ghost past his ear as you whisper, âThen fuck me.âÂ
âWhatever you want, pretty girl.â
Wonwoo reaches for his belt, and the two of you make quick work of it. Then you push his pants and underwear down.
âIâm not usually a fan of clothes on sex,â you tell him, swallowing thickly and pushing your panties to the side. âSo youâll just have to make it up to me later.â
Wonwoo laughs, grabbing the base of his cock and giving it a pump. âIâm not usually a fan of exhibitionism,â he muses. âSo I guess weâre both outside of our wheelhouse tonight.â
âItâs worth it,â you insist as he lines his tip up with your core. âAnd it feels grossly fitting that this is where weâre having our first time.â
âGrossly fitting?â he prompts as he pushes into you.
âYeah, sex on a desk in a math classroom, weâre being delinquents,â you groan, falling back against the table as inch after inch of cock invades your most sensitive area.Â
âI guess so,â Wonwoo chuckles, fully sheathing himself inside of you.
You let out a sigh of relief, loving the full feeling. Wonwoo isnât the thickest cock youâve ever had inside of you, but heâs long, and heâs curved slightly, his tip nudging against a sensitive spot that makes your toes curl.
âFuck,â you whimper, lifting your dress so you can reach down and rub your clit. Your body jolts, still sensitive, but fuck, it feels good, and you can tell Wonwoo likes the way your core clenches around him because he releases a groan.
âYou feel amazing,â Wonwoo tells you.Â
âIâll feel even better when you start to move,â you counter, feeling cheeky and desperate.
Wonwoo laughs. âYou got it, pretty girl.â
He grabs your hips, anchoring you to the table so he can begin to fuck you.Â
His cock glides against your inner walls deliciously, and you close your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wooden table with a soft thunk. You continue to rub your clit, muscles twitching at the pleasure thatâs already beginning to blossom inside of you again.
His pace increases, and your whimpers fill the classroom. Your free hand moves to grab your own breast through your dress, and you hear Wonwoo let out a shuddery breath.
Heâs bewitched by you, and it makes you feel powerful, alive, in a way you havenât felt in a very long time.
You open your eyes and look up at him, loving the rosy tint to his cheeks. His tie is loose, and he looks frazzled in the sexiest possible way.
You rub your clit harder, your core squeezing Wonwoo like a vice as you work yourself closer to the edge, loving each drag of his cock inside your core.
âJust like that,â you tell him, biting your bottom lip to focus on the pleasure.
âYou gonna cum for me again, gorgeous?â Wonwoo lets out a half-chuckle, but you can see the effort heâs putting in to remaining composed.
âIf youâre lucky,â you tease.
âIf Iâm lucky,â Wonwoo repeats, his pace slowing as he shakes his head. âThought you said youâd be good for me.â
He pulls out of you suddenly, and you squeak as he drags you off the table, flipping you so your back is to him. Then he pushes your upper body onto the desk, dropping your panties to your knees and lifting the skirt of your dress to slide back into your core again.
âTry to be cheeky again, I dare you,â he says, his breath hot against your bare shoulders.
You shiver, wobbling a little in your high heels, but his hands on your hips pin you to the desk. âIâll be good,â you promise, loving the dominance thatâs radiating off of him.
âThatâs what I like to hear.â Wonwoo lets up a little, allowing you to slip your hand between your thighs again. Itâs an awkward position, your arm pressed between your body and the table, the fabric of your dress a mess, but you manage to rub your clit again, and you both groan desperately.
âI want to cum with you,â you tell him, loving the feeling of the cool wood against your hot cheek.
âThat can be arranged.â
Dominant, confident, and oddly formal in a very sexy way⌠this is crazy.
He begins to rut into you again, but this time, you know heâs not holding anything back. Your hips repeatedly push against the edge of the table, and it hurts a little, but thereâs pleasure in the pain, pleasure in the knowledge that Wonwoo is coming completely undone.
Heâs groaning more now, and the sounds are music to your ears, egging you on to rub your clit harder, to chase the orgasm that heâs clearly on the brink of.Â
âDonât stop,â you whimper, clenching your eyes shut, your muscles tight and ready-
Wonwoo suddenly grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing your head back. âI wouldnât dream of leaving you unfulfilled,â he tells you. âNow cum on my cock, pretty girl.â
His words are the last prompt you need, and your pussy explodes around him, throbbing desperately while your guttural moans fill the classroom.
Wonwoo lets out his own groan, his thrusts becoming erratic. You feel him filling you up, his cock throbbing deep inside of you as your walls milk him for every drop that heâs worth.
Your heart is racing in your chest, and you struggle slightly, which is when he releases your hair, allowing you to collapse against the cool table again.
His hands find your hips, and his motions stop.Â
You lay there, your upper body flopped on the desk, while you both recollect yourselves.
Finally, Wonwoo clears his throat. âIâm sorry if I got a bit rough at the end there.â
âNo, I liked it,â you assure him.
âUsually, if we were in my own home, Iâd clean you up in the shower, and give you proper aftercare-â
âWeâre at a reunion, and Iâm not planning on showering in the girls' locker room by the gym, no worries,â you laugh.
âI have a penthouse suite at a hotel nearby,â Wonwoo continues. âHow about we say our goodbyes to everyone, and I take you back with me.âÂ
He pulls out of you carefully, lifting your panties back into place as you begin to feel his cum dripping out of you.
âYou did promise to fuck me without our clothes on.â
âWithout the exhibitionism,â Wonwoo agrees with a laugh.
âLetâs do it,â you decide. âWe live in different cities now, and even if itâs just for tonight⌠letâs make the most of it.â
âI hope itâs not just for tonight,â Wonwoo chuckles awkwardly, helping you off the table. âBut let's talk about that later, thereâs no rush.â
Itâs interesting, there hadnât been a rush for ten years, but the moment you saw him tonight, you wanted things to speed up. He may say thereâs no time constraint on considering a future after this, but your mind is already spinning with possibilities. You feel like a love-struck teenager again, but now, youâre not as naive as you once were.Â
It will be interesting to see where tonight leads, but you suppose you just have to be patient. You waited ten years, one more night to figure things out wonât hurt you.
âď¸Â mlist + an. thank you for reading! This fic kind of gave Sapiosexual vibes with the whole smart businessman thing. Killed me to make Seungcheol a bully but it had to be done for plot!
đ support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!Â
đŽ preview. His thumb finds your clit, and you throw your head back, spreading your legs wider for Wonwoo. Thereâs nothing remotely alluring or seductive about the numbers heâs spitting out aggressively on the phone, but his voice just does something to you, and as always, he knows how to use his fingers.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, oral (pussy eating & blow job), handjob, exhibitionism, foreplay, foreplay while Wonwoo is on an important phone call, dirty talk, multiple reader orgasms, fingering, praise, etc⌠ I petnames. (hers) pretty girl.Â
đšÂ rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.4k I teaser wc. 130
đ starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader
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Some days you wake up and wonder if youâre still dreaming. Youâve been with Wonwoo for two years now, and life has changed in the most magical of ways. As much as you enjoyed being a successful woman who didnât need a man, becoming aligned with Wonwoo has shown you that sometimes, having a partner who is equally - if not more driven - than you are, can be the biggest blessing.
You live with him in his swanky house, and he supports you as you build your career as a reporter in San Fransico. Heâs still the CEO of his own company, and you both pour yourselves into work, which fulfills both of your spirits and allows you to be your best selves when youâre together at home.
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husband!toji taking care of you after you give birth âĄ
you finally understood the importance of the type of man you marry.
your whole body was weak, aching, and sore all over after giving birth. for the first couple days afterwards, you were pretty much bedridden at the hospital. but through every agonising hour, toji was by your side, refusing to leave, glued to an uncomfortable chair beside you.
after day two, you finally regained some energy and movement. the nurses suggested you try to walk and take a shower, get your body back into commission. toji refused to let anyone else help you, practically shooing the nurses away as he helps you out of bed, one strong arm around your waist as he walks you to the bathroom.
you limp a little, wincing still at the lingering pain between your legs. "canât you just carry me like you usually do when iâm tired?" you whine, holding onto toji for dear life as you pad closer to the bathroom. "yâcan do it, baby. few more steps, atta girl," he encourages, supporting you effortlessly with those strong arms.
honestly, you were dying for a hot shower. and to get out of the bulky pads youâre wearing to stop you from pissing yourself.
toji flicks the shower on, then turns back to you, carefully unfastening your maternity gown and letting it pool at your feet. he smiles gently at your still swollen belly, covered in stretch marks, rubbing it with two hands and feeling how empty and soft it was now. "gonna miss this bump."
you place your hands on his shoulders as he helps you out of your underwear, discarding the used pad with his bare hands like it wasnât covered in all types of bodily fluid.
without an ounce of judgement, he sits you down on the toilet, holding your hand as you relieve yourself, gritting your teeth through the burning sensation. once you finish, you hold onto one of his arms as he wipes you gently, careful not to cause you any discomfort. âstill sore?" he asks, leaning in to kiss your forehead.
you nod slowly, letting toji walk you to the shower, the warm droplets beginning to cascade down your skin. you look at him expectedly as the steam begins to fill the small bathroom. "yeah, iâm comin" he says, taking his own clothes off to join you.
your husband steps in with you, pressing his chest to your back, hands steady on your hips as he presses soft kisses to your neck. you sigh in relief, finally able to take a second to breathe after all the chaos.
toji takes the soap from your bag nearby, lathering you in it, then takes a soft sponge and washes you. heâs extra careful, hands unhurried as he cleans you, praising you with that low, gravelly voice. "been so strong these last few days, mama.â
he moves on to your hair, washing and conditioning it thoroughly, doing everything in his power to help you feel refreshed again. once heâs done, he holds you close once more, hands on your soft belly, chin resting on your shoulder.
it was pure bliss â serenity. you both stayed there for a while, enjoying every quiet moment you can get whilst the nurses took your baby for its checkup.
when you exit the shower, heâs already grabbing you a soft robe, helping you into it and grabbing you a fresh pad and pair of underwear. "hold onto me, there yaâ go," he says, slipping your underwear on, up to your knees and sitting you on the lid of the toilet.
he hadnât even bothered to dry himself off yet, or grab a towel; you were his priority. always.
toji crouches in front of you, sticking your large pad to your underwear. you watch him with a smile, so careful, so focused. he then layers the pad with soothing compresses before helping you back onto your feet, pulling your underwear up and fastening your robe.
"feel ok?" he asks, tucking a stray, damp strand of hair behind your ear.
you smile and nod, too exhausted to dry or brush your hair. you limp back towards your bed, toji follows close behind you in case you fell â quickly grabbing a towel beforehand. he helps you back into bed, pulling the blanket back over you.
"need anythinâ else, baby?" he asks, perching on the end of your bed, hand over your thigh.
"a kiss before i nap for like another ten hours?" you smile, closing your eyes. without having to be asked twice, he leans over, kissing you softly â once on your cheek, once on your lips. "love you," he murmurs."
"mm, love you too."
the room grows silent as you settle in, resting your mind and body. he stays sat with you, rubbing your thigh, still shirtless and dripping wet.
"you better put a shirt on before the nurses come back," you mumble. "on it," he responds with a low chuckle, heading back towards the bathroom.
a/n; just a toji blog atp LOL
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