If you've found yourself here, welcome to the soft, quiet readings for your evening. I want my blog to be a place where you can unwind with my stories and find comfort and peace.
So grab a cup of cocoa or tea, and get ready for a sweet story. Or spicy if that's your thing~
── A bit about me and my blog!
Thank you for tuning in to my blog! It means a lot to me even if you're just reading with no notes.
My name is Lumi! My pronouns are they/them and I am nineteen years old as of writing this post. Please keep in mind as you read this and my other posts that I tend to be very busy. I work two jobs in real time and don't typically get days off. So most of my writing is in my down time when I have a story come to my brain.
This is just a place for me to practice my writing skills and really just write niche fanfiction. Mind you most of my stories will be about seventeen, they're my ult group and I prefer to write about them.
I will be taking requests! But please keep in mind I am a functioning adult in society. It may take me a minute to get to your requests. But I will do the best I can to acknowledge and write your requests, because I enjoy writing for people!!
Note: This will probably be updated as time goes on. Eventually I'll get to a point where I make a navigations or a masterlist. For now, enjoy my writings!!
Probably thought I'd update you all seeing as I went awol for a good few months 😭
Life has been a little hard between two jobs and taking cate of my family. I haven't had time to work on any fics as of recent. My work schedule is 24/7.
With that being said, thank you so much for the love on the one joshua fix I have LOL
My requests are open if you want to file in anymore, I'm going to try and discipline myself a little more to get some more writing done and open up new fics.
You didn’t fall in love with Jeonghan all at once.
You sank.
Slowly. Quietly. With both hands open. Before the blood, before the whispers, before you learned his name meant finality, there was just a man who listened to you like your words were holy. He remembered how you took your coffee. He noticed when you were tired before you said anything. When he touched you, it was gentle—reverent, even—as if you were something fragile he’d waited a lifetime to hold.
You told yourself that men like that couldn’t be monsters.
You were wrong.
Now you stand in his penthouse, rain stitching silver lines down the windows. The city glows beneath you—alive because of him, dying because of him. Because of you.
Jeonghan adjusts your coat like he’s done it a hundred times before. His fingers linger at your throat. Not to threaten. Never to threaten. He doesn’t need to.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.
You want to say it’s cold. You want to lie. But he presses his forehead to yours, and your breath stutters like a confession.
“You’ve been thinking about leaving,” he says softly.
Your heart breaks at the tenderness in his voice.
You don’t deny it.
Jeonghan exhales, slow and patient, like this hurts him. That’s the worst part—he makes it feel like you’re the cruel one.
“I never wanted to cage you,” he whispers. His thumb brushes under your eye, wiping away a tear you didn’t notice falling. “I wanted you to stay.”
“I don’t know how to live like this anymore,” you say.
He smiles, small and sad. “Neither do I.”
He takes your hand and places it over his heart. It beats steady. Unafraid. The heart of a man who has never doubted his right to exist exactly as he is.
“Do you remember the first night you stayed?” he asks.
The memory comes uninvited—his bed, his warmth, the way he held you like you were something worth keeping.
“You told me you felt safe,” he continues.
You did. God, you did.
“You still are,” he says. “With me.”
The room tilts. You think of locked doors you stood beside. Of screams you learned to tune out. Of how he never asked you to do anything—but always made sure you understood what would happen if you didn’t.
Jeonghan kisses your knuckles, slow, loving. “If you leave,” he says, almost regretful, “you’ll carry everything alone.”
Your chest tightens.
“If you stay,” he adds, eyes dark and earnest, “I’ll carry it with you.”
That’s when you understand. This is his romance. Not escape. Not redemption. Shared guilt. Intertwined ruin.
You let him pull you into his arms. He holds you immediately, securely, like he knew you’d give in. Like he always knew.
Later, you lie beside him, his arm draped possessively around your waist. He sleeps easily. Peacefully. A man content in his love.
You stare at the ceiling, counting the ghosts that press in around you.
You loved him once because he made you feel chosen.
Now you love him because he’s made you unleaveable.
And as the storm fades outside, one truth settles deep in your bones:
Jeonghan didn’t destroy you.
He loved you until you were shaped exactly like his shadow.
hello cozy crew! nobody has asked, but I'm still updating. The Jeonghan fix will be coming out soon, promise! I've been working on it but it.. is turning out to be longer in length than I intended 😃
Hoping to have it out to you this weekend or early next week! Promise!
Also, if you have any specific fics you would love to see—Please request! I would love to see it.
I also may have written an oddly crazy ot13 drabble at 3am.. So if you wanna see that, lmk.
The city learned our name the way people learn the shape of a scar-by touch, by pain, and by screams.
They call them monsters and kings. Yet they are also the reason entire districts go quiet after midnight.
To me, they are mine.
—----------------------------------
I knew what they were the first night Hongjoong pressed a gun into my trembling hands and told me softly, “If you pull the trigger, I’ll burn the rest of the world for you.”
His smile was dangerous, sharp, yet his eyes…oh God those eyes…they were gentle despite the violence he commanded. He leads like a man already planning the ashes and I know that as long as his arms are around me, the end will be beautiful.
—----------------------------------
Seonghwa watches me the way a priest watches confession-he’s patient, reverent, yet so fucking terrifying. Blood never stains his suits for long; he’s meticulous, graceful, and cruel only when necessary. When my nightmares leave me gasping, he holds me and wipes my face with the same hands that have ended lives.
“Sleep,” He murmurs. “I’ll keep watch.” And despite the alarms, I believe him. I always do.
—-----------------------------------
Yunho laughs too loudly for someone who breaks bones so easily. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, spins me through candlelit rooms where men once begged for mercy. His joy is dangerous-he loves too hard, fights too fiercely, and when someone makes me flinch, Yunho doesn’t ask questions. He just disappears with them. Silence follows him as he comes back with specks of blood on his cheeks like paint splatters.
—------------------------------------
Yeosang is quiet. That’s what makes him the scariest. He listens, remembers, and when enemies underestimate him, they never get a second chance. At night, he sits beside me on the balcony, cigarette glowing between his fingers as he gazes at me with desire and love. When his hands find mine, it’s a promise written in the stars: I would erase cities before I let you suffer.
—-----------------------------------
San is hunger and lust in human form. His devotion is feral, unashamed. He kisses like he’s afraid I’ll vanish, like the world might steal me if he loosens his grip. When I cry, he looks ready to kill God himself for allowing it. “Say the word,” he whispers into my neck. “I’ll make it stop.”
—-------------------------------------
Mingi is thunder. He’s loud, reckless, and brutally honest. He brags about his crimes like they’re love letters meant only for me. But when I’m scared, when my body trembles, he sits on the floor at my feet and talks until the fear dissolves. He would turn the city upside down just to hear me laugh again.
—------------------------------------
Wooyoung is chaos wrapped in charm like a beautiful present. He smiles while knives sparkle with a scarlet tint and makes jokes as blood paints the floor. He’s jealous, dramatic, and possessive. He reminds me constantly that the world is ugly-and that we’re allowed to ruin it back. “They don’t deserve you,” he says sweetly against my lips. “We do.”
—-----------------------------
And Jongho…Jongho is inevitability. The last thing people hear before everything goes dark. He doesn’t raise his voice. He stands behind me, solid and unyielding, I feel untouchable. He is the wall no one gets past.
—-----------------------------
I am not innocent, not anymore.
I sit at their table, drink their wine, wear their blood-red promises like jewelry. When the city burns-and it does, often-it’s never power, never for money.
It’s because someone looked at me wrong.
Touched me without permission.
Tried to take what they decided was theirs.
They don’t ask if I want this world saved.
They ask if I want it gone.
And when I say yes, they smile-soft, terrible, yet undeniably devoted- and set it all on fire.
Warnings: Subtle mentions of Death, mature themes.
“Devotion is a closed casket”
They never warned you that loving Jeonghan would feel less like a choice and more like a sentence handed down quietly, with a smile.
You met him before you knew what he was.
That’s how he prefers it.
A private club. Soft lighting. His jacket draped over your shoulders when you said you were cold. His fingers brushed your wrist—apologetic, lingering—and something in your chest folded inward. You remember thinking he felt safe. You remember the laugh you shared, the way his eyes stayed on you like nothing else in the room existed.
By the time you learned his name carried blood in its wake, it was already too late.
Jeonghan doesn’t court people. He studies them. He learned your habits, your fears, the exact tone your voice takes when you lie to yourself. He never rushed you. He let affection bloom naturally—late-night conversations, soft confessions whispered over wine, his hand warm at the small of your back like a promise.
“You’re different,” he told you once, brushing hair from your face.
And you believed him, because you wanted to.
When he kissed you the first time, it was slow. Careful. Almost reverent. Like he was afraid of breaking something precious.
That was the moment you belonged to him.
You didn’t notice when your life began orbiting his. Not when he asked for small favors. Not when your name stopped appearing on certain records. Not when people went quiet around you.
Jeonghan never ordered you to do anything cruel.
He just made sure you were present when cruelty happened.
Tonight, you’re back in his penthouse. The city bleeds neon beneath the rain. He stands close—too close—adjusting your collar with intimate familiarity. His touch is gentle. Loving. That makes it worse.
“You’ve been restless,” he murmurs.
You don’t answer. Your pulse betrays you.
“You’re thinking about leaving,” he continues softly, thumb brushing your jaw. “I don’t blame you.”
You laugh shakily. “You wouldn’t let me.”
His eyes darken—not angry. Hurt.
“I would,” he says. “If you truly wanted it.”
The lie is beautiful. You almost fall for it.
He takes your hands, pressing them flat against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat—steady, calm, certain. He lowers his forehead to yours.
“I love you,” he whispers.
The words settle like a blade between your ribs.
Because he means it.
Jeonghan loves the way you look at him, the way you justify him, the way your silence has become second nature. He loves how you flinch at gunshots now, but never walk away. He loves that you’ve learned not to ask questions.
Love, to him, is permanence.
He guides you to the window. The city feels impossibly far away.
“Tell me,” he says gently, “if you disappeared tomorrow… how many ghosts would follow?”
Your throat tightens. Faces surface uninvited. Names you helped erase. Doors you held closed.
Jeonghan kisses your temple, slow and tender.
“I carry mine with grace,” he says. “You carry yours for me.”
You realize then that this is his romance. Not flowers or freedom—but shared damnation. A bond sealed in complicity.
He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, smiling softly. “If you leave, you’ll drown in what you’ve done.”
Your knees weaken.
“If you stay,” he continues, brushing his thumb beneath your eye, “you’ll never be alone again.”
Outside, thunder rolls.
You cling to him like he’s a lifeline. He holds you immediately, arms strong, familiar. Protective.
Victorious.
Later, when you lie beside him in silk sheets that smell faintly of iron and cologne, you understand the truth with terrifying clarity:
Jeonghan didn’t trap you with fear.
He loved you until you became unfit for any world that wasn’t his.
And as he sleeps beside you, breathing even and peaceful, you stare at the ceiling and wonder—
You find the flyer folded into your pocket without remembering how it got there.
SEVENTEEN — Auditions Tonight.
No address. Just a time circled in red ink.
By the time you realize how strange that is, you’re already standing in front of an old practice building at the edge of the city. The windows are dark, the kind of dark that swallows reflections. Music seeps through the walls—soft at first, then layered, overlapping, thirteen distinct rhythms somehow moving as one.
Inside, the air smells like dust and sweat and something faintly metallic.
They’re already waiting.
Thirteen men stand in formation, backs straight, expressions calm but too still. The lights flicker, and when they do, their shadows lag half a second behind them.
“Welcome,” one of them says. His smile is perfect. Practiced. “You’re just in time.”
The door locks behind you.
They introduce themselves—names you recognize instantly, though you don’t remember learning them. Each voice feels familiar, like a memory borrowed from someone else’s life. When they move, it’s beautiful. Hypnotic. Their synchronization makes your chest ache.
“Watch closely,” another says. “This is important."
The music starts.
At first, it’s just choreography—sharp turns, fluid lines, precision so flawless it doesn’t feel human. But as the song builds, something begins to slip. Their smiles strain. Their movements grow jerky, as if pulled by invisible strings. One of them stumbles, and when he looks up, his eyes are wrong—too dark, too deep, like a stage with no exit.
You blink.
There are more of them now.
Not physically—still thirteen—but the room echoes with extra footsteps, phantom breaths, voices singing harmonies that don’t exist. The mirrors along the wall show reflections that don’t match reality. In one, a member is missing his face. In another, all thirteen turn to stare directly at you, though their real bodies keep dancing.
“Do you hear them?” one whispers as he passes you.
“Hear who?” you ask, your voice trembling.
“The ones who wanted this,” he says. “The ones who watched us until they disappeared.”
The music cuts abruptly.
Silence crashes down, thick and suffocating.
“You came because you wanted to belong,” the leader says gently. “Everyone does.”
The lights flicker again—and suddenly you’re standing in the formation with them. Your body moves without permission, joints snapping into place, feet hitting counts you somehow know. The mirrors change. They show you smiling, eyes empty, mouth singing words you don’t remember learning.
“Don’t stop,” someone murmurs in your ear. “If you stop, you’ll wake up.”
Panic floods you. You try to break formation, but their hands grip yours—cold, strong, unyielding. Their smiles widen, stretching too far.
“Thirteen is never enough,” another says. “We’re always missing one.”
The room spins. The music crescendos. Your vision fractures into lights, shadows, applause that sounds like screaming—
—
You jolt awake in your bed, gasping.
Morning light spills through your window. Your heart pounds. It was a dream. Just a dream.
You sit up—and freeze.
Your legs ache like you’ve been dancing for hours. Your phone buzzes with a notification you don’t remember subscribing to.
SEVENTEEN — New Member Announcement Tonight.
Attached is a photo from a practice room you recognize instantly.
In the mirror behind them, you see yourself—standing in formation, smiling perfectly, waiting for the music to start.
Hello, can I request something?❤️ Jeonghan has been making me feral🫣
Could you do a frenemies/acquaintances to lovers for fuckboy with a heart of gold!Jeonghan x shy, less experienced!reader where they have some mutual friends but haven’t really clicked w/ each other yet since she thinks he teases her to get her flustered and swears she couldn’t fall for a guy like him, but then the friend group goes on a vacation together and they become closer?
Consider it done 🤭🤭 I may or may not be half way through the writing.
I totally understand you though, Jeonghan being my ult bias and all 😍 man drives me absolutely UP THE WALLS. It should be done sometime soon, so keep your eyes peeled!!!
My thoughts? They're fucking insane, and I love them. Smoke and dance buddies GET THEM A STAGE NOW!!! Best oc duo we have besides whatever Clay and Ira have going on
⤷ ゛FOR HIM, ALWAYS ⭑.ᐟ ˎˊ˗ ❛ 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. ❜
⎯⟢ pairing: yoon jeonghan x f!reader
⎯⟢ synopsis: Bound by loyalty and stained by sin, you were made for Yoon Jeonghan, and in the end, you’d burn the world for him, always.
⎯⟢ wc: 16.1k
⎯⟢ tags: mature themes, explicit sexual themes, mafia!jeonghan, mafia!f!reader, dark!jeonghan, dark romance, childhood best friends to lovers, porn with plot ⸝⸝ 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 don’t.), 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 (you’ve been warned!)
.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.⟢ ݁˖ sel speaks ⭑.ᐟ i haven’t posted on here for a while and i apologize, i have been busy with my main blog :/ i promise that i’m 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 🤭 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 Jeonghan’s.
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 family’s 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 other’s 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 all— survival.
iii. THE LOVE THAT ISN’T 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.
You’d always found your way back to laughter, to shared glances over burning cigarettes and unfinished whiskey, to quiet understanding that didn’t need words.
Inside the business, you had each other’s backs.
Outside of it, you were just as inseparable.
Jeonghan could be halfway across the room, and you’d 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.
You’d also talk about the dumbest things, which of your men had the worst aim, who had the best poker face, what kind of food you’d eat if you weren’t always surrounded by alcohol and bloodstains. You made fun of him for being too pretty to be intimidating, and he’d 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 girl— 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.
You’d 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 “girlfriend” 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.
“Hey, have you heard?” he shouted near your ear.
You opened one eye lazily, swirling your drink before glancing at him. “Heard what exactly?”
Joshua grinned, eyes gleaming in the flicker of the strobe lights. “About Jeonghan and his new girl.”
You furrowed your brows, the corners of your mouth twitching. “I should care because?” you asked flatly.
“Because they seem to be hitting it off,” Joshua teased. “They’re together.”
You scoffed and leaned back. “I don’t see your point. Jeonghan has hooked up with other women before, how is this news?”
Joshua only smiled wider, like he’d been waiting for that reaction. “’Cause he introduced her as his girlfriend.”
That made your eyes open.
You turned to look at him fully this time, disbelief coloring your expression. “What? Are you sure he wasn’t just high?” you snickered, taking another sip of your drink.
Joshua’s grin turned smug. “Are you sure you aren’t in denial?” 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. “Speak of the devil.”
You didn’t turn right away, but the sudden shadow that fell across your table told you enough. Jeonghan’s 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 didn’t reach her eyes. She looked like she didn’t 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.
“You already met Shua,” Jeonghan started, gesturing lazily toward Joshua before turning his attention to you. “This is my best friend in the whole world,” he said, and you caught the faint curl of his lips when he said your name.
“This is Narin.”
The woman smiled, holding out her hand toward you. “His girlfriend,” 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. “This is new. You never introduce any of your girls to us before,” you said, laughing lightly. “What’s this, are you getting married?”
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.
“I’m surprised you didn’t tell her first,” Joshua said, looking at Jeonghan. “You two talk about everything.”
You picked up your shot, tossing it back in one clean motion before answering. “We talk about important things, Josh.” You emphasized the word, leaning into it just enough for Jeonghan to notice.
Then, you turned to Narin, waving your hand casually. “So, how much are your rates?” you asked, deadpan.
Jeonghan said nothing. He simply took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the haze above you.
Narin’s smile faltered. “I’m not an escort,” she said, her tone clipped, offended.
“You’re not? Are you sure?” you asked, giving her a slow once-over.
“I’m a dancer,” Narin shot back sharply. Then, with a raised brow, she added, “And you? Aside from being my boyfriend’s best friend, what are you?”
A smirk curved your lips. “I pay your bills,” you replied coolly.
Joshua burst out laughing, reaching for Jeonghan’s 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.
“Jeonghan is my boss,” Narin said firmly.
You smiled, slow and dangerous. “Oh, you poor innocent soul.” 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.
“She’s my right hand,” Jeonghan said as he watched you go, voice calm, almost fond. “She could honestly be my left as well. So yes, she’s your boss as much as I am.”
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 didn’t care enough to have a problem with her, and Jeonghan didn’t care enough to pretend he did.
Still, from that first meeting, something in Narin’s 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 Jeonghan’s arm a little tighter when you walked past, the tension in her jaw when he spoke to you first instead of her.
It would’ve been funny if it weren’t so predictable.
You told yourself you didn’t care.
Maybe you didn’t.
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 didn’t 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 Narin’s hatred burned where yours didn’t 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 could’ve made her untouchable anywhere else. But here? She was standing in the wrong arena. And in her head, you were the opponent she couldn’t beat.
Because she saw it.
Everyone saw it.
You had Jeonghan in every way she didn’t.
Sure, she had the title— 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 didn’t 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 Jeonghan’s equal.
Narin’s 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 else’s.
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 didn’t even look up from your notes.
“No,” 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.
“You heard her,” he said. “It’s a no.”
The lieutenant tried to argue, “But boss, if we—”
Jeonghan cut him off with a single raised hand. “She said no.”
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, she’d insisted on sitting in on a smaller meeting. You’d let her. Jeonghan didn’t object, mostly because he didn’t care enough to stop her.
Halfway through, Narin spoke up. “Maybe if we tried negotiating first, it wouldn’t have to come to violence.”
The entire room went quiet.
You slowly turned your head toward her, eyes blank.
“First, he brings you,” you said, voice flat, “and now you’re voicing unsolicited opinions as a non-member?” You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “Control your pet, Han.”
The silence that followed was sharp. Jeonghan didn’t even flinch at being scolded. Instead, his gaze slid to Narin, cold and warning.
“You said you wanted to watch what I do,” he told her, voice low. “So watch.”
Narin shrunk into her seat, eyes darting away from his.
That was the day she stopped showing up to meetings.
But the resentment didn’t 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.
“Han,” she’d said casually while they were alone in his office.
Jeonghan’s head snapped up, and the look he gave her was enough to make her flinch. “Don’t call me that.”
She blinked, confused. “But she calls you that.”
“That’s because only she can.”
The words hit like a slap.
He didn’t even look up again after saying them.
Their fights started not long after that.
Every single one of them— about you.
“You don’t even hear yourself anymore!” Narin shouted one night, her voice echoing off the walls of his penthouse. “It’s always her! She does this, she said that—”
Jeonghan sat on the couch, calm as ever, pouring himself another drink. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic! You talk to her more than me, you trust her more than me—”
“Of course I do,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s my second. My best friend. I trust her with my life.”
Narin’s voice cracked. “Do you even hear yourself?”
He looked at her then, eyes flat and almost bored. “You’re insecure, Narin. That’s not my fault.”
“I’m insecure because you give me reasons to be!” she yelled, voice breaking. “Because you’re always defending her! Because it’s always her—”
“Because you keep bringing her up,” Jeonghan snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through hers. “You think I want to talk about her with you? You’re the one obsessed. You turn every conversation into a reason to talk about her. Maybe you should ask yourself why that is.”
“I’m not obsessed—”
“You are,” he interrupted smoothly. “You hate her so much you can’t stop thinking about her. You can’t stop comparing yourself to her. She doesn’t even talk about you to me. She’s not the problem here, Narin. You are.”
She stared at him, disbelief and hurt twisting her face. “You’re gaslighting me.”
Jeonghan laughed softly, almost pitying. “If you say so.”
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 choose— he’d 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 Jeonghan’s 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.
“You pulled the manifests from the past twelve weeks?” he asks.
You tap the tablet and bring up a screen full of rows and columns. “Every 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.” You push one of the printouts toward him. “On the tenth week, shipment A-42 registered at the inland terminal, then the GPS shows the truck route cut. The driver’s 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. “Precursor chemicals and packaging,” he said. “That keeps the north routes running for weeks. If that disappears, the network dies.”
“Exactly.” You kept your voice flat. “Either an outside handler with high-level access, or someone inside with procurement privileges. The way the manifests were changed shows inside knowledge.”
Jeonghan folded his hands. “Options.”
“Lock down custody now,” you said. “Two-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.”
He nodded. “And if they try to change the system?”
“Bait them,” you answered. “We 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.”
Jeonghan’s mouth tightened. “Interrogations?”
“You start with the peripheral crew,” you said. “Drivers, 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.”
He looked up at you, eyes steady. “Keep the council out.”
“Keep the council out,” you repeated. “A purge without proof will fracture loyalty. We do this clean and fast. I’ll run the audit on access logs and vendor payments. Joshua will handle physical ops. You keep security ready and clear the channels.”
“Call Joshua,” he said, standing. “Get the decoy manifest in motion. I want tracers on those pallets by midnight.”
You pulled out your phone and started dialing, “I’ll start the audit now. Interviews begin after the first sweep. If one of them cracks, we follow the ledger. We control the narrative.”
Jeonghan pushed his chair back and stood, the leather creaking faintly. “Good work as always,” he said, voice quiet but sure. “You caught what the others didn’t. That’s why I trust you with this.”
You didn’t look up right away, pretending to be absorbed with your phone as you scrolled through the contact list. “I’ll call Joshua,” 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.
“Where are you?” 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.
“We’re missing shipments again. Han wants to run a decoy load tonight. You’ll oversee. He wants tracers on every pallet and your team ready by eleven.” 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. He’d 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 weren’t just physical, and he’d always known that.
But it wasn’t just that anymore, not to him. He knew he shouldn’t look at you this way, shouldn’t 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.
“Yes, I’ll brief Soonyoung and Jun. Make sure the men on guard rotation stay alert tonight,” you continued on the phone. “I’ll send you the file in ten.”
Jeonghan barely registered Joshua’s 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 weren’t aware of his stare, not fully, and maybe that’s 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.
“Joshua’s got it handled,” you said, your voice steady, though your heart didn’t match it. “He’ll start preparing the tracers and rerouting the drivers.”
“Good.” Jeonghan exhaled smoke to the side, slow, deliberate. “You’re efficient. Always have been.”
You raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile. “You say that like you’re surprised.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Just reminded.”
His tone was casual, but the air between you wasn’t. 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.
“Reminded of what?” you asked, half amused, half curious.
“How you make everything run,” he said. His gaze didn’t waver. “This place. Me.”
You let out a quiet breath through your nose, masking the way your stomach flipped. “You’re being dramatic, Han.”
“Am I?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. “You tell me.”
You tilted your head. “You’ve had too much caffeine.”
He chuckled, soft and low, before taking another drag. “Or maybe not enough of something else.”
The words hung there, casual on the surface, dangerous underneath.
You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away. “I know I’m distracting but you have to focus, boss,” 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.
Jeonghan’s gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Careful,” he said quietly. “People might start thinking you enjoy this too much.”
You met his stare without flinching. “Who says I don’t?”
He smirked then, that slow, knowing kind of smirk that had gotten you both in trouble before. You didn’t move, didn’t need to.
Everything unspoken already hummed between you, alive and dangerous.
Jeonghan’s eyes, dark and fathomless, held yours. There was a weight there, a heat you’d 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 you’d nervously asked him to “show you how to kiss”, 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 didn’t kiss you.
Instead, he parted his own lips and exhaled sharply, forcing the smoke he’d 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 wasn’t 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. “I… I need to go. I still have a lot of things to do.” The words sounded breathless, unconvincing.
“Go?” 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.
“You’re not going anywhere,” 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.
“Han…” you breathed, the protest weak.
You didn’t sound guilty.
You sounded wrecked.
“Mmh?” 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. “Tell me this is wrong. Tell me to stop.” 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. “It is wrong,” you managed, your own voice husky. “You have… your girlfriend…”
“She doesn’t matter,” he cut in ruthlessly, his hand squeezing your breast, his hips grinding again in a rhythm that was becoming unmistakable. “Not here. Not now.” He rocked against you, the friction deliciously maddening even through clothes. “Not when I’m buried deep inside this ache I’ve had for you since we were fucking teenagers… and since when did you care about what’s wrong or not?”
He punctuated his words with another sharp thrust of his hips. You moaned, your head falling back against his shoulder. “Jeonghan… God…”
“What’s wrong?” he taunted softly, biting your earlobe. “We’ve done worse, haven’t we, bunny? We’ve put bullets in skulls for less.” His hand on your abdomen slid lower, fingers dipping below the waistband of your trousers, seeking the heat beneath. “We’ve watched men beg for their lives.” His fingers brushed the top of your mound through the damp silk of your panties. You gasped, bucking against his touch.
“This?” 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. “This little sin? This is nothing.”
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.
“But… she’ll…” you tried again, the thought fragmented by pleasure.
“She won’t know,” he growled, his voice guttural with need. He pressed his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “No one has to know about how wet you are for me right now.” His fingers pushed aside the barrier of your panties, sliding through your slick folds with a groan of pure greed. “Fuck, look at you. Soaked. All for me, bunny.” 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. “Oh God! Hannie! Yes!”
“That’s it, baby,” 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. “Take it. Take what you’ve always wanted from me.” He added a third finger, stretching you, fucking you with his hand while his cock pressed hard against you from behind.
“We deserve this,” Jeonghan rasped, his own breathing harsh. “After everything… after everyone we’ve buried… we deserve this pleasure.”
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.
“Come on,” he commanded, his voice rough with strain. He bit down on your shoulder blade. “Come for me. Show me how good it feels when I finally touch you like this.” He curled his fingers harder, pressed his thumb down fiercely. “Let go for me, baby. Let me feel you come around my fingers.”
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.
“Perfect,” 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 they’d 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 Jeonghan’s 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 friend’s face that he wouldn’t be letting you go anytime soon… and you weren’t 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 organization’s missing shipments, you and Jeonghan found yourselves in his penthouse for a “debriefing” 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. “Fuck, finally,” he growled against your skin, his hips bucking up, driving his cock impossibly deeper where your bodies joined.
“I’ll 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. “You feel like fucking mine.”
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 “debrief” 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.
“Look at us,” he rasped, his thrusts jarring you against the unyielding surface. “Look at this fucking city beneath us. It’s ours. You’re mine.” He leaned close, his lips brushing your ear. “Every girl I fucked... every single one... I picked because they had your eyes, or your hair, or the fucking curve of your waist.”
A harsh laugh came out of Joenghan’s mouth, “Narin only lasted because she looks the most like you in the dark. But she’s a fucking ghost compared to you. A bore. She could never be this. She could never be you, baby.” He punctuated each word with a brutal thrust.
“Never feel like this.”
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.
“F-Fuck– Hannie.”
“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice thick with exertion and lust. “Tell me you thought about me too. Tell me you touched yourself imagining this.” His fingers dug into your hip. “All those nights... my hand wasn't enough. Had to find pale imitations... echoes of you.”
He leaned over you, his chest pressed against your back. “But they were never enough. Only you. Only fucking you.”
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. “Let them see,” he challenged, thrusting harder. “Let them see how pretty you are and how good I make you feel.” His hand slid down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough circles.
“We've killed for territory, for less than this thrill,” 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 wasn’t 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.
“Hear that?” he murmured, his lips against your ear, his hips snapping against your ass. “That's the sound of our world. Loud. Demanding.” He slid a hand around your front, fingers dipping into your wetness, then circling your clit. “But this... this silence between the shots... this is where I find you.” His thumb pressed hard. “Where I own you.”
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 weren’t listening, not really. All you could think of was how good it would feel if you were riding your best friend’s cock right now while he’s 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, “Ah– f-fuck, you feel so good inside me, Hannie.”
You could do this for the rest of your life. The feeling of Jeonghan’s thick cock sliding inside of you whilst his warm hands caressed your body all over made you moan harder, in fact, you didn’t 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 boyfriend’s dick and making him feel good which is why when Jeonghan’s phone started ringing you immediately breathed out and eyed Jeonghan.
“Answer it.”
Jeonghan eyed you up and down for a a few seconds before he chuckled and pulled his phone up to his ear.
“Narin,” 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. “Mmhm. Fine. Whatever you think best.”
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. Jeonghan’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained chillingly indifferent. “No. Not tonight. Tied up.”
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, “…Jeonghan? Are you even listening? You’re so busy these days, I rarely see you.”
He met your gaze, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. “I said I'm busy, Narin. Don't call again.”
Jeonghan ended the call and tossed the phone onto the table with a clatter. The cold indifference vanished, replaced by feral heat. “Fucking ride me faster, bunny,” he snarled, bucking his hips up, his hands clamping onto your ass. “Let them hear you scream through the fucking walls.”
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.
Jeonghan’s 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.
You’d 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 him— Mark.
He’s 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. He’s 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.
“We had a problem,” he says. His words are not a question. “Shipments went missing. Our routes were compromised. That is not acceptable.”
You watch how the room inhales.
Nobody moves.
They all know what missing product means in a business that runs on precision and reputation.
“We tightened custody,” he continues, voice slow and deliberate. “Two-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.”
Jeonghan stops, lets the accusation hang. And then he names what you already suspected, “We 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.”
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.
Mark’s surprise finally reaches his face when a hand locks behind his neck and he’s 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.
“Mark,” Joshua says, voice low enough to be private and loud enough to cut through the open air. “You want to tell them why you helped move a shipment out of our chain of custody?”
Mark lashes out with panic. “What? I didn’t, I swear! You’re crazy! It wasn’t me! I didn’t do anything! I swear—” His words tumble, pleading, the bravado all collapsed into raw denial.
Jun presses a knee near his shoulder to stabilize him so Mark can’t lever himself up. “It’s not a game, Mark,” Jun says. “Don’t make it worse.”
You watch Mark’s face like you read pages. He’s good at pretending confidence, bad at making it last. Around you there are faces you’ve 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.
Jeonghan’s voice cuts through the tension, measured, cold. “We made this decision because we didn’t want the council to panic.” He lets the phrase sit. “We 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 didn’t move product for his own pockets. He moved it for somebody who wanted it whole and unmarked.”
Mark splutters again, “You don’t 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 swear—” His voice is raw now, fear pushing out the cockiness.
“Who paid the courier?” You asks, voice neutral.
The question is not rhetorical.
Mark’s face goes blank. He looks like a man who really doesn’t know the answer and yet he knows the consequences of admitting that. “I don’t know. It was a burner. I just handled the load I was told. I swear.”
You catch Narin at the edge of the crowd. Her hands twist the strap of her purse. She’s supposed to be composed, the girlfriend who invited herself into a world she cannot control. Instead she’s plainly frightened, eyes darting between Mark’s bound form and Jeonghan’s 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. “We 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 isn’t lying, then whoever used him will lead us to a larger network.”
Mark screams again, a higher pitch now. “It’s not me! You have to believe me!” 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. “You're wasting time, Mark,” Jeonghan says, his tone flat and unyielding, like a blade scraping against stone. “Who paid the courier? Give us names, routes… don't make this drag on longer than it has to.”
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. “I told you, I don't know! It was just a job, some anonymous drop. Please, man, you gotta believe me!”
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.
“Ahh,” 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. “You're lying through fucking your teeth,” Jeonghan growls, his words clipped and precise. “We have the manifests, the GPS logs. Talk, or this gets uglier than you.”
Mark's voice is a desperate whine now, “I'm not lying! It was a setup, I swear on my life! Just let me explain!”
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, “Here, take a fucking hit. This shit's too good to waste.”
Joshua smirks at you, that crooked grin flashing across his face, and grabs the bottle with a firm hand. “Appreciate it,” he replies, his tone laced with dark humor, before tipping it back for a sip.
“Damn, that's smooth,” 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. “I don't know anything else! Please, just stop!”
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.
“Alright, Mark,” you say, exhaling a plume of smoke that wafts towards him, “let's cut the bullshit. Who helped you? Who fed you the orders for those shipments?”
Mark's breathing comes in ragged gasps, his face flushed and sweaty, eyes darting around like a cornered animal. “I-I don't know what you're talking about! Nobody helped me, it was just a mistake!” 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.
“Mistake, huh? That's cute,” you reply, your tone mocking, almost bored. “We both know that's horse shit. Spill it— who's your contact? Give me names, routes, the whole fucked-up mess.”
He's trembling now, ropes creaking as he strains against them. “Fuck you, bitch! I don't have to tell you anything! You think you can scare me?” 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. “Scare you? Nah, I'm just getting started,” you say, your voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Who helped you, Mark? Don't make me ask again.”
Mark's eyes are wild, his voice rising in a desperate plea. “Please, just leave me alone! I didn't do it! I'm not saying shit!” 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, “Come 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.”
Mark's response is a broken sob, “You can't prove anything! I swear, it's not me!” His words tumble out faster, laced with fear, “Just kill me already! I'd rather die than rot in some hole!”
You pause, letting his words hang in the heavy air, then lean in, your voice cold and unflinching. “Oh, you'd rather die than tell the truth, huh? Not scared to die, are you? Don’t want to rot in a hole? That's rich, coming from a rat like you.”
Mark glares up at you, defiance flickering through the fear. “Yeah, that's right! Do it! fucking kill me! I ain't fucking talking!”
You straighten up, taking another drag of your cigarette, the ember flaring brightly. “How about if someone dies in your place?” you say, your tone casual, like you're discussing the weather. “Maybe that'll loosen that tongue of yours.”
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. “What the fuck—let go of me!” she screams, her voice high and panicked, struggling against your grip, her feet scraping the gravel as you drag her. “Stop! Ow, you're hurting me, get off!”
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. “Sydney? No, leave her out of this!”
You lean in close, your voice a menacing growl. “Oh, 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?”
Mark's pleading now, his voice cracking. “No, please! She's got nothing to do with this… you can't!”
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, “Oh God, no– please, don't!”
Mark yells, “Stop! Don't hurt her, she's innocent! You fucking monster, let her go!”
“You know what to do, Mark. All you have to do is talk.” You reminded him.
But Mark calls your bluff, his voice shaking but defiant. “You 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!”
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, “Aaaah! Oh fuck, stop!” 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, “There, she's still got working hands, doesn't she? She’ll die when I want her to. She will live if I want her to. She’ll 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.”
You aim the gun at Sydney on the ground, her sobs mixing with the wet sounds of her pain, “She's bleeding out, but hey, techies are a dime a dozen.”
Mark breaks, his face crumpling, voice frantic. “Okay, 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!”
He spills everything, words pouring out in a rush as everyone listens, the crowd's silence unbroken. “They 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!”
You smirk, holstering your gun with a satisfied grunt. “Good, that's more like it. See? That wasn’t so hard,” 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. “One last thing… who else did you work with in here? Who's the other rat?”
Mark hesitates, then whimpers, “I-I don't— it’s just me, I swear that's all!”
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, “No... please... I didn't... ahh, no, it hurts so bad...”
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, “You fucking bitch! You killed her, you goddamn monster!”His 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.
“I'll kill you for this! You sick fuck—ahh, fuck you! Let me go, you fucking coward!” He thrashes wildly, gravel scraping under his knees, his words tumbling out in a frantic, hate-filled barrage, “You're nothing but a lapdog for Yoon Jeonghan—piece of shit! I'll make you pay if it's the last thing I do!”
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, “That'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 it’s all your fault. You're next if you don't start singing.”
You emphasize each word with a slight wave of the gun, the metal glinting in the sunlight, your tone dripping with disdain, “You had your chance to play straight, but no, you had to be a dumb fuck. Poor Sydney died knowing it’s your fault that you dragged her into this mess. Hope it was worth it.”
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, “This 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.” You pause, letting the words sink in, your eyes boring into his, “Don't fuck this up again. Who's the rat besides you?”
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. “Ha! 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!” His laughter turns manic, echoing in the courtyard, “You're all talk and blood—fucking psychopath! I hope you choke on it!”
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, “Figured you'd say that, you stubborn prick. Always the hard way with you fucking people.”
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, “Guess there's no use for you anymore, huh? You're just dead weight now… literally.” 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, “What the fuck do you mean? You crazy bitch, don't you dare! I'll fucking end you—ahh, get away from me! You're a sadistic whore, that's what you are! Psycho killer—let me go, you cunt!” His voice rises to a scream, spittle flying, “You're nothing without Jeonghan, you fucking lapdog! I'll haunt you, you hear me?”
You take a long, deliberate swig from the whiskey as he rants on, his words blurring into a furious tirade, “You think you're tough? You're just a thug with a gun! Fuck you and your boss!”
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, “Oh, shut the fuck up, you whiny piece of trash. Thought you'd never stop yapping… and I thought you wanted to die?”
But as Mark starts cursing again, his voice hoarse and enraged, “You filthy bitch, I'll rip your throat out if I get free!”, 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, “Ughh—fuck!”, 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, “I want to be the last thing you ever see, Mark. Remember this face, it's the one sending you to hell.”
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, “Fuck, you're incredible.”
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, “Aaaah! Oh God, no—fuck! It hurts, fuck, help me! Aaaahhh!” His body convulses, the flames charring his skin, the sickening sizzle of flesh filling the courtyard as he thrashes, “Make 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, “Fuck, you're everything I wanted, always have been, baby.”
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, “Oh fuck, Hannie, harder, yes!”, your nails digging into his shoulders as he grunts with each thrust, “Ughh, shit, you're so tight, take it, baby.”
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.
“God, you're perfect for me,” he groans, his thrusts deep and rhythmic, “Moaning for me like that—ughh, fuck yes, bunny.”
You arch your back, gasping, “Ahh, Han, don't stop, fuck me harder!”, the counter shaking with the force, your juices mixing as he drives you to another peak, his grunts growing louder, “Take it all, you dirty whore—ahh, fuck!”
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, “Aaaah, yes! Hannie, I'm yours!”
He pounds you mercilessly, his hands gripping your hips, “You're mine, all mine. Fucking made for me—ughh, so good, baby,” 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.
Joshua’s 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 Jeonghan’s gifts like armor, the one who had been so visibly fragile during Mark’s 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 foreman’s phone had pinged through the same relay node that had forwarded a payment to a shell company with links to the Park family. Jun’s 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. Narin’s 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 men’s voices, and fed them through your enhancement software. A name broke through the static, a courier alias that matched the burner number in Mark’s 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. “I should have known the second you brought it up months ago. I should have trusted my gut and killed her there and then.” His words hung heavy in the room, each one a blow to Narin's shattered dignity.
“I'm sorry! I’m sorry, babe!” She cried, the desperation in her voice thick. “I was just jealous of her, I was blinded by anger... I didn't do anything more than that!I promise!” 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 Narin’s pathetic excuses. She wanted to be one of them so badly that she sold them out for a taste of power. “Please, don't kill me,” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “I'm sorry… Jeonghan, babe, I’m sorry. Please!”
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.
“Everybody out!” 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.
“Han,” you said, your voice sultry and dripping with an almost childlike demand. “I want to show her... I want to show Narin that you're mine.”
Jeonghan's smirk was instantaneous, a low chuckle escaping him as he looked at you, his gaze appreciative. “Dirty fucking girl,” 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.
“You've been so good to me, Hannie,” you whispered against his skin, your hand slipping down to stroke his growing erection through his pants. “Let's show that bitch just how good you can be for me before she fucking dies.”
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.
“Fuck, just like that,” Jeonghan groaned, his hands finding their way into your hair, guiding you with a firm grip. “You're such a good slut for me, aren't you? Sucking my cock like it's the best thing you've ever tasted.”
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, “Tell her, Hannie. Tell her about all the times we've fucked behind her back. Make her hear it before she can't anymore.”
Jeonghan's eyes locked onto yours, a wicked glint dancing in them. “Narin,” he called out, his voice laced with lust and triumph. “Do 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,” 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. “Yes, Han,” you moaned, “I love you too—so fucking much. Now fuck me like I know only you can.”
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. “I'm going to come, baby,” 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.
“Agh! F-Fuck—Han…” you threw your head back.
“Look at Narin,” he growled, his hand reaching around to wrap around your throat, pulling your head back so you could see her dying eyes on you. “She's watching her boyfriend fuck his best friend. Isn't that a beautiful sight?”
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.
“I'm yours,” you gasped, “I'm yours, Jeonghan. Only yours. Always have been.”
“And I'm yours,” he grunted, his hips snapping against yours with a frenzied pace. “Always yours, my dirty girl.”
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.
“Perfect,” you whispered, turning your head to press a kiss against Jeonghan's lips. “It was perfect, just like I imagined it would be.”
Jeonghan's smile was wide and content as he looked down at you. “Anything for you, angel,” he said, his voice full of adoration. “Anything at all.”
You sit there, tangled in Jeonghan’s 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, Narin’s 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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PAIRINGS: Childhood best friends, roommates, Joshua x AFAB!reader
WORDS: 3k + some change
WARNINGS: MINORS DNI!!! Straight up smut, sex toys (f. receiving), oral (f. receiving), very light choking, no protection (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!!)
SUMMARY: Joshua comes home from the bar to your shared apartment and finds a very... tempting sight before him. Before he can make any rash decisions, he hears the sweet calls of your voice. And oh... he is only a man.
It was a regular Saturday, a Saturday that should have seemed like no other. Except today was the first day you'd had off in weeks. Not only was it your off day, but your roommate was out for a few hours having some drinks with his friends. So today was bliss for you.
And your bliss? It finds itself wrapped in pretty pink silicone driven between your legs with ten levels of glorious vibration and several modes of suction. Perfect for your day off to give yourself some rest and relaxation.
Despite your few one night stands here and there you had been too busy to date, too busy to enjoy a good fuck and flee, and surely too busy to even please yourself. Let alone being able to do any of these things would mean finding a day where your roommate was also busy.
It's not that you don't enjoy Joshua's presence, you do. That's exactly why you moved in with him. The economy has failed so hard that living with your childhood best friend seemed like your only option. However, telling your childhood best friend that you have had the hots for him since you were in high school? That would make or break your friendship, you weren't exactly ready to make that jump in the water.
Which brings you to the situation you currently found yourself in. Your breath heavy, unregulated as the heels of your feet dug into your plush mattress. Each breath fading into a whimper as you felt your release crawling slowly up your spine.
You felt the silicone toy press deeper into your folds as you let out a choked moan. You couldn't count on your fingers and toes how many times you've cum, or how long you've been pleasing yourself. All you know is there's a deeper itch to scratch because you couldn't get yourself to the high you were chasing.
Immediately your thoughts shifted to Joshua, and you let out a whimper when you thought about him between your thighs. His tongue roaming around your slick folds, lapping up all the juices that spilled from. It made your walls flutter thinking about it.
"Shua.." You whined out as you pressed the vibrator harder against your swollen clit. Practically begging for a figure that's not there.
You thought about his cock, if it was as big as you imagined it. Fucking you relentlessly as you whined, begging him to go faster, pleading for him to fuck you so hard you couldn't walk.
"Shua, please" You cried out as you bucked your hips against your new toy. The toy you wished was him. The toy you had imagined was your best friend. Fucking you dumb.
You were so deep into your own thoughts, you didn't even register that your roommate had come home. Shuffling through the front door with a slam.
He wasn't drunk, but he had a few drinks with his friends. Joshua surely wasn't as crazy as Jeonghan and Cheol made the night out to be. Luckily he picked up dinner on the way home, hoping that the two of you could enjoy a wind down movie night for a calming Saturday.
But when you didn't answer the door, he cracked it slightly only to see a cinematic masterpiece within itself. You whimpered and whined, gripping your own sheets as you played with yourself. Your nipples stiff in peaks and your slick pussy on display in front of him.
His face felt hot as he felt embarrassment creeping up his neck. Staring as you fucked yourself with the toy, your lewd noises filling the room.
"S-Sorry, I'll just uhm.. I-" He would be too embarrassed to admit the tent growing uncomfortably in his pants currently as he stared at you. Everything about this felt wrong.
But just as he turned to shut the door and leave, he heard you. He heard you calling for him. Practically begging for him to break his own don't fall for your best friend code.
"Shua, please.. Fuck–" He heard you cry out. He wanted to tell himself no.. but the hard problem in his pants had other ideas. And he couldn't resist you.. Not when you were practically calling and begging for him. It was all he needed to hear before he shut the door behind him and practically threw off his jacket.
From there he let his liquid courage drive him. Drive him to do things he would never do. Drive him to help you, to take care of you.
"Hey baby.." he whispered, crawling up into the bed and finding himself hovering over you.
When you opened your eyes to find your best friend staring down at you. His eyes filled with the emotion you need from him. You couldn't help but whine, you damn near thought he was a dream.
"Shua, I–" You choked out a whimper as his hand reached down to replace your grip on the toy.
"Poor, sweet baby.." He cooed as his lips found their way to trail over your jawline, dragging up to your ear as he whispered "Let me take care of you."
His words and tone were enough to make you cum. And before you knew it, your hands were trailing over his arms and gripping at the sleeves of his shirt. Joshua was lost in the taste of your skin alone, his tongue pressing against your pulse point before sucking down on your subtle skin.
You cried out as you felt him pressing the vibrator against your clit, gently wiggling it around to make your whole body shiver.
"Fuck, you have no clue what you do to me," he groaned against the curve of your neck. He turned the vibrator off before tossing it to the side, letting his fingers explore your slick. You whined as you felt him press two fingers inside you with no warning.
"You're so wet, so pretty.." he praised you as his eyes found yours again. "Tell me what you want princess, use your words" he asked as his fingers pumped in and out of you, curling against your sweet spot.
"You.. You, I need you–" You choked out a moan as you felt your walls flutter around his fingers.
And with those words he pulled his fingers away from you, licking the juices that ran down his digits. He groaned softly, "You taste so sweet.. s'good for me.." he said before peeling his clothes off.
He sat up between your legs. His fingers gently trailing over your skin before he reached for his belt buckle. He stood up, earning a whine from you as you watched him undressed.
"Shh, baby.. I'll be just a moment, then I'm all yours" he practically tore his belt apart before pulling his pants off. You gasped as you watched his erection spring to life in front of you. It was bigger than you thought it would be, which only made the heat between your thighs worse.
You went to press your thighs together, begging for any friction to please your rising heat. But Joshua wasn't having that.
As he climbed back onto the bed his hands found your knees, gently parting them to get a good look at your pussy.
"You're so pretty.." he muttered, almost to himself as he found himself leaning down. Pressing gentle kisses from your knees down to your inner thighs, hooking your legs over his shoulder. He mumbled praises to you, worshipping your every movement between kisses.
"I dreamed about you.. I've thought about you so fucking much.."
"Fuck, y/n, you don't know what you do to me.."
"I wanted you so badly. I needed you."
"I should've said something, M'so sorry baby.."
"I'm all yours for now and forever"
He praised you before kissing your swollen cunt. You cried out his name as tongue pushed its way between your folds. Your thighs automatically closed around his head and you felt him moan against you.
"Fuck.. Fuck, fuck!" You cry as his tongue draws quick circles over your clit. Your hands were shaking as you reached out for him. As your fingers tangled in his hair, his tongue only moved to work faster.
"You taste so good.." he moaned against your slick heat, earning loud whimpers from you as you bucked your hips against his face. "Good girl.. Good girl, that's it pretty"
The vibrations of his words against your cunt felt so good. You felt a knot forming deep in you, this felt better than any toy you've ever pleased yourself with.
"Shua.. Joshua, 'm gonna cum–" you cried out as you continued to buck your hips against him.
He groaned softly, gripping onto your hips enough to bruise your skin. "Such a good girl. Cum for me, baby" his words vibrated against you before sucking down on your clit. Which was enough to push you right over the edge, shaking violently as your climax gushed all over his face.
Joshua didn't complain, in fact he loved it. He lapped up your sweet juices before sitting up. And the sight before you was enough to make you cum again.
He looked pussy drunk off you. Your legs shaking against his shoulders as he shamelessly licked his lips, eyes half lidded and he stared at you. You were worse than any drug. He would drown in your pussy if he could. He used his fingers to wipe your cum off his face, before sucking it off them. He never took his eyes off you when he did.
"You taste better than I could have imagined," he huffed before pushing himself up further and flushing your bodies perfectly against each other. He pressed his lips to yours gingerly, as if you were going to shatter underneath him.
You felt his cock twitch against your core, smearing precum over your belly. With the little strength you had left in you, you gently wrapped your hand around his cock. Your thumb brushing over the tip and he let out a soft moan against your lips. You pressed your tongue past his lips and let your tongues melt together in a dance for dominance. You knew you wouldn't win, but it was fun to try.
He pulled your hand away from him and held it, breaking the kiss to stare into your eyes. Joshua's fingers laced between yours, rubbing his thumb into your palm.
"Tell me no.. Tell me no, and I'll walk away now and we can pretend this never happened.." He whimpered, staring into your eyes.
And as you stared at him, he was like a deer in headlights. He just stared at you with his big soft eyes. Like he wanted you to tell him no, but he was dying for a yes.
"I need you, Shua.. Please, I need you so bad" You whined as you pulled him back down against you. "Please, please don't leave"
And from there, it was over.
His mouth crashed back down against yours, tangling tongues like it was his sacred right. His one hand traveled its way up your body, finding itself planted on your breast as he gently pinched and rolled your nipple between his two fingers. While his free hand guided his cock inside you, earning a groan from you both.
"Fuck.. you're so tight, so warm" he praised against your mouth, stretching you out further with his cock. The length of his made your head spin.
As soon as he bottomed out in you, he pulled back and slammed against you making you cry out in pleasure. Your hands found their way to grip on his shoulders.
Soon the sounds of your uncontrolled moans and skin slapping were all that filled the apartment. With each snap his hips met yours.
You would have never believed that your childhood best friend would have you split on his cock. Legs tight around his waist with your ankles dug into the curve of his back. Your face was contorted, like your muscles couldn't control themselves. Your mouth fell open in an O shape as your eyes stared into his.
"Look at you.. falling apart on my cock," He laughed softly, his hips snapping flesh against yours. Hitting your g-spot perfectly, the curve of him moving in and out of you made you whimper. Like you were trying not to be loud. "Fuck—Fuck! You're so perfect, Even when you look fucked out, you're so perfect."
You felt one of his hands grip into your hip, his nails digging sharply into your skin as he fucked you deeper. His free hand trailed up your side, traveling through the middle of your body. Gently brushing his fingers between your breasts, and gently lingering against your neck. He leaned down and swallowed the gasp that fell from your lips when his hand tightened. Your lips moved in perfect sync, gently biting on your lower lip to make you gasp once more. He laughed softly, smirking only slightly as his tongue tangled with yours.
Your hands trailed over his back, and gripped down as you felt your core tighten. You started breathing heavier, arching your back to press further into him. Joshua pulled back from the kiss and trailed his lips down your jaw, past your neck and against your collarbone. You couldn't help but continue your whining, moans choking in your throat as you tried to keep quiet.
The hand that was once tightened around your neck curved against the back of your neck as he brought his head up to make eye contact once more. "C'mon pretty.. Let me hear you, tell me who's making you feel so good."
"J-Joshua-" You cried out, moaning louder towards the end. You couldn't gather your thoughts or words together when you felt his pace quicken. "Joshua! Please– Fuck!"
His hips snapped deeper against you, and you felt the tip of his head press against your g-spot relentlessly.
"So good! Y-You feel so good," You cried out as your nails grippy his skin, trying to hold on as you felt your orgasm build in your core. He moaned as he felt the pressure of your nails in his back, causing you to cry out his name.
"Fuck.. You're so tight. You gonna cum princess? Let me feel you cum around my cock.." He leaned down, sucking dark hickeys into your neck. "Let the neighbors know who you belong to"
"Joshua!" You screamed, hiding your face against his hair. "Joshua, I-I can't–"
"Yes you can, yes you can baby. Let me feel you princess.." He groaned, feeling your plush walls squeezing around him.
"Joshua!"
You moaned loud enough you thought the walls shook as your body locked up, dragging your nails down his face while you shattered beneath him.
You felt his pace falter as he moaned loudly right behind you, "Fuck! You're so perfect, s-so perfect–" he whimpered against your skin before slamming his hips against your one last time.
You cried out loudly as you felt his cum fill you up to the brim and your eyes squeezed shut. The last of your strength squeezed tightly around him.
Your back locked up, nails practically tore up Joshua's back, your legs were trembling around his waist, and you felt your world go fuzzy. Everything felt like you were underwater. Your ears were ringing, your body fell completely numb and your world went completely black.
You were practically gasping for air. When you opened your eyes they were half lidded and Joshua was gently flipping you two around so that you were lying against his chest.
"You good, beautiful?" He asked. Moving your hair away from your face, stuck to the sweat on your forehead.
You hummed approvingly in response, his thumb running gently across your cheek to wipe away the tear you hadn't realized was there. Using the tiniest bit of reserved energy, you laid your head in the crevice of his neck.
"Get some sleep, princess" He hushed you with a kiss to the forehead. Gently rubbing your back while watching your eyes flicker shut. Waiting until your breath swallowed before he fell asleep himself.
BONUS!
You woke up to the feeling of your body completely numb. You winced slightly, struggling to get comfortable after waking up.
As soon as you struggled to move around you felt his warm arms tighten around you. Groaning as he started to wake up.
"Hey, hey," he shushed you as you whined in pain. "Just relax," he cooed in your ear.
Just as he spoke his relaxing words, everything hit you all at once. The toy, fucking yourself numb, Joshua railing you to sleep. You groaned and pressed your face into his shoulder.
"Did that really happen or was it a dream?" you asked softly, voice groggy from practically screaming his name. To which he chuckled as you, pressed a soft kiss to your temple.
"If it was a dream, I'd hope we never wake up" his eyes found yours as you gazed up at him. A soft smile curled on your face to match his. He leaned down and closed the distance between you. Swollen lips entangled in something softer than passion.
When he pulled back, he brushed a few strands of hair that were sweaty stuck to your face and laughed a bit.
"How about I run a bath with some epsom salts?" He rubbed soft circles into your back, "I'll get you cleaned up and properly cared for, maybe it'll help with the pain"
You hummed in a positive response as he pressed more kisses to the top of your head.
"Then I can heat up the food I brought back, and we can cuddle through the night, sounds good?" He purred.
"What did you even do to me last night?" You groaned, pouting and furrowing your brows earning another laugh from him.
"Started something neither of us had the courage to do, and finished something you couldn't," He gently sat up and attempted to pull you up with him. "So how about that bath, hm?"
You just grinned in response. You couldn't be happier waking up in the physical numbness of sex. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Hello everyone! Lumi here, low-key I was putting off posting this until I got my JiHan series out. However, plans change LOL. The series is taking me a little longer to write, and this has been sitting in my drafts soooo... enjoy this. I didn't want my first post to be holy smut but ykw if the shoe fits where it. Hope you guys enjoy it!
