#taegeom

Probably took a wrong turn, probably wrestling a feral cat in an alley somewhere, probably already in deeper shit than you. Which was saying something.

“Screw it,” you muttered, and twisted the throttle.

The warehouse rose out of the heat haze like a concrete tumor. You killed the engine and coasted in, your boots crunching on gravel that had never seen a landscaping crew. Tae-geom was already out of the car, unfolding himself from the driver’s seat with that slow, deliberate menace guys practice in mirrors. Built like a refrigerator that had gone to anger management and flunked out. Allen stayed in the backseat, a pale smear behind the window, probably Googling “how to dispose of a body” or whatever the hell his job was.

You parked the bike, swung your leg off. “How’s it being Baek-jung’s bitch?” you said. “Pay good? Benefits package include knee pads?” Tae-geom’s face went through a fascinating color spectrum. Red to purple to that special shade of crimson a guy gets right before he does something his lawyer will later call “a momentary lapse.”

He came at you..

You snap-kicked him in the stomach with a roundhouse that folded him like a bad hand of poker, then followed up with a right cross that turned his nose into a faucet. Blood sprayed across the dust in a Jackson Pollock pattern. You wound up for another kick, the kind that ends conversations, but your balance was a quarter-second too slow and he snagged your thigh with hands like cinder blocks.

The world spun. Sky, gravel, sky, gravel. You hit the ground hard enough to taste your own spine.

He loomed over you, boot rising for a skull-crushing stomp, the kind of move that turns memories into closed-casket funerals. You barrel-rolled left and his heel cratered the dirt where your face had been. Gravel peppered your cheek. You kipped up, cat-quick, dusting off your jacket like he’d spilled a drink on you at a bar.

“Oh, baby,” you said, wagging a finger. “You gotta move a bit quicker than that. My grandma is faster than that, and she’s been dead six years.” His nostrils flared. A bubble of blood popped. “Does your mouth do anything else but talk shit?”

He threw a punch, a big looping hay maker meant to take your head off. You read it easy. Too easy. Because it wasn’t the punch. The punch was the distraction, the magic trick, the look-over-here. His real payload was the kick that slammed into your ribs like a steel girder with a grudge.

Pain detonated up your side. You felt it in your molars. You didn’t give him time to admire his work. You closed the distance and detonated a fist into his already-ruined nose. Cartilage crunched like celery. He staggered back and you buried another one in his gut, folding him forward, setting up the grand finale like a choreographer from hell.

“Night-night, sweet prince.”

Your foot connected with his groin with the kind of precision that would make a neurosurgeon weep. The sound he made wasn’t human. It was a squeaky-toy frequency, a dog-whistle of pure existential regret. He went down sideways, curling into a fetal comma, hands clamped protectively over the family jewels like he was praying to a god that had clearly abandoned him.

You stood over him, fist cocked for the knockout stamp on the envelope, feeling like a golden god in a leather jacket. Then your whole left side lit up like someone had plugged you into the national grid.

Fifty thousand volts went joyriding through your nervous system. Muscles you didn’t know you had seized up and screamed. You jerked around, the movement all wrong and puppet-like, and there was Allen, holding a taser against your ribs with the casual disinterest of a man checking his phone. “Fuck,” you managed, your tongue thick and useless. “I forgot about you.” Then the lights went out.

Your face snapped to the side like a whip crack, and the bright explosion of pain jerked you back into the world. "Ah, fuck," you croaked, tongue thick as a sock. Your eyes swam into focus. Allen's face was right there. Inches away. Nose to nose. You recoiled, chains rattling overhead. "Ew. Why you up in my face? Back the hell up."

He didn't move. His eyes were jittery little marbles, darting between you and something behind him. Nervous. But not for himself. For you. Which was worse somehow. Much worse. Your arms were hoisted above your head, wrists bound tight to a pipe running across the ceiling, and you were balanced on your tippy toes like a ballerina from a snuff film. The strain in your shoulders was a low, constant scream.

Tae-geom materialized from the shadows, stepping into the weak pool of industrial light. His nose was still a crime scene, crusted black with dried blood, swollen sideways like a failed renovation. You couldn't help yourself. "Ah shit, you should ice that. Maybe see a specialist. That's gonna heal ugly."

He smiled. It was a slow, deliberate thing. Then he backhanded you hard enough to make the chains sing. "Damn," you said, spitting a thick rope of blood onto the concrete. It landed with a splat that sounded too loud in the empty space. "And here I was being nice. Genuine medical advice. Wasted."

Tae-geom pulled up a chair, the metal legs screeching against the floor like something alive and wounded. He sat down in front of you, close enough that his knees brushed yours. His hands found your hips, fingers pressing into the bone like he was testing fruit for ripeness. "Allen," he said, not looking away from your face, "set the camera up."

The words landed in your gut like a swallowed stone. You followed his gaze to the corner of the room where Allen was fumbling with a tripod, adjusting a lens that glinted like a dead eye in the dim light. "What the fuck are you doing?" Tae-geom's thumbs traced slow circles on your hip bones. The gesture of a man who already had a plan for you. "Just gonna give Gun-woo and Woo-jin a show."

Something cold and primal dropped through you. You kicked out hard and your boot connected with his face with a wet crunch, snapping his head back. Fresh blood erupted from the wreckage of his nose. "Fuck! Allen, hold her!" Allen scrambled over, his hands clamping onto your hips from behind, fingers digging into the bruises already blooming there. You thrashed, chains shrieking, but physics was physics and leverage was a bitch.

Tae-geom rose from the chair, blood streaming down his chin and dripping onto his shirt in bright red coins. He moved with a new kind of stillness now, a deliberate calm that was infinitely more terrifying than rage. From his belt he pulled a knife. 

He pressed the flat of the blade against the side of your neck, the steel cold as a confession. His eyes locked onto yours and there was nothing in them. Nothing at all. No anger. No sadism. Just a vast, empty patience. "Give me a fucking reason not to slice this pretty neck open."

His voice was soft. Almost gentle. The blade kissed your skin. A single bead of blood welled up and traced a hot line down your throat, and you felt it go all the way down, and the room had gotten very quiet, and Allen's hands on your hips were trembling, and the camera's red light blinked in the corner like a pulse.

The knife whispered through your shirt. Then your jeans, the denim splitting open, peeling away from your legs like a skin that wasn't yours anymore. You were down to your bra and underwear. The air hit your bare stomach and it felt like something breathing on you.

"Oh, matching." Tae-geom's voice came from somewhere above the blade. "This for someone? Gun-woo or Woo-jin?" His hand landed on your chest. Heavy. The knife trailed down. Down. The tip kissed the top of your underwear and rested there, patient as a lover.

"Let's see what we have here."

The blade bit. Your underwear fell away. Then your bra. Cold air on your breasts. Cold air everywhere. And the scream that tore out of you wasn't a word, wasn't a no, wasn't anything human. "Stop. Stop. Stop." Screaming. Shouting it into his face. The words bounced off him like stones off water.

He grabbed your chin. Fingers sinking into your cheeks, mashing them together, making your lips purse out like a fish. He pulled your face close to his. So close you could smell the iron in the blood still crusted around his nostrils. So close the world was nothing but his eyes.

"I don't want to."

Said it soft. Soft as a lullaby. Then he shoved you backward into Allen. His hands found your breasts immediately. Kneading. Fingers spreading, squeezing, thumbs circling. You bucked, thrashed, tried to throw him off, but the chains held you and your toes barely scraped the concrete and there was no leverage, no angle, no way to make it stop.

Then fingers pushing inside you. Then a tongue. Wet and hot and searching. Your breath hitched. Seized. Became something you had to fight for. Allen's other hand wrapped around your throat, holding your head still, holding you there, making sure your face was pointed at the blinking red light in the corner.

Tae-geom pulled his fingers out slowly. Then something else replaced them. Cooler. Harder. The handle of the knife. He pushed it in and your body betrayed you by accepting it.

He started to fuck you with it, slow at first, then faster, his eyes never leaving yours. Never blinking. The handle going in and out with a wet sound that filled the warehouse like music. "Still got so much fight in those eyes."

You looked at him. Through him. Into the nothing place he came from. "Fuck you." And you spit in his face. He wiped it off with the back of his hand. Didn't even flinch. But your body was doing something now. Something you couldn't control. Something building low and hot and monstrous.

"Oh." His voice went sing-song. Mocking. "Are you gonna cum? From me fucking you with a knife?" He laughed, a bark of genuine delight. "Shit, I didn't take you for such a slut."

And you came. Came around the handle of a knife while a stranger held your throat and a camera recorded every second. Your body arched. Shuddered. Became something that wasn't yours. When it was over he pulled the knife out.

"Allen. Move."

Allen released you. You sagged forward, chains groaning. Tae-geom stepped behind you, grabbed your hips, bent you over. Your arms stretched above you, twisted now, shoulders screaming in their sockets. Facing the camera. Facing the red light. Facing them.

You heard his belt unbuckle. The zipper. The rustle of fabric.

"Don't you fucking dare. I'll fucking kill you. I'll kill—"

He pushed into you. The scream that came out wasn't yours. It belonged to someone else. "Allen. Bring the camera close." Allen's footsteps. The lens moving in. A glass eye that never blinked, never looked away. "Make sure you get her pretty face."

Tae-geom laughed. His grip on your hips was a vice. Bone grinding on bone. You'd have bruises for weeks. You'd have bruises for the rest of your life. "Such a tight cunt." A grunt. A thrust. "We should let Baek-jung have a go." Laughter. His and Allen's.

"Gonna fuck my cum into you and you're gonna fucking take it. Right, babe?" You felt him empty into you. Hot. Foreign. A poison taking root in your cells. Your legs would have given out if not for the chains. You'd have been a puddle. A stain. A thing that used to be a person.

He pulled out. The sound of him fixing his pants was the worst sound in the world because it meant this was over for him. This had been a task. A chore. Something to check off a list. "Allen. Send that video to Gun-woo."

"No. No, don't. Please. Please don't."

The word please tasted like vomit. Like surrender. Like the last thing you had. "Why not?"

Allen nodded. Task complete. Message sent. Somewhere, right now, a phone was buzzing. Somewhere, right now, Gun-woo was about to see what the inside of his friend looked like.

Tae-geom unchained you. Your arms dropped. Useless meat. You collapsed onto the cold concrete, naked and shaking and full of someone else. "Come on." His voice was casual now. Almost friendly.

"Baek-jung wants to see you."

It was on purpose, the way I was getting on his nerves. I’d been told a million times to stop, but it was just too much fun. Being Baekjeongs sister, I could get away with quite a lot. So when I was assigned someone to look after me- something about me getting in too much trouble lately- I made it my mission to annoy the person off of the job. Everyone who knew Baekjeong knew Taegeom, it had been like that for a while. So naturally, I knew him too. It was frequent that I’d hear that his men are off limits, especially his right hand man. So when I managed to get him, a guy I’d been pinning over for ages, to he assigned to me- I was astatic.

Honestly, the only reason I was assigned was my habit of partying. I heard something Baekjeong said about it not being safe? I didn’t really listen. But now I was staring in the mirror in my room. Taegeom was right outside the door, sitting on my living room couch. I was brainstorming in my head about how I’d manage to get to this party tonight. Once I finally got sick or staring at my red dress I step out of the room. I slightly regret even the thought of the party when his eyes land on mine. His eyes narrow, “if you think you’re going to a party, you’re not” I frown and cross my arms, “my brother never said I couldn’t go to a party, he said you’d have to go with me”

“My job is to keep you safe, you’d be most safe staying home” he stands and approaches, “go back in your room and change.” I drop my hands to my sides. “C’mon, it’s a house party thrown by some friends, please?” He was a bit younger than my brother but still about ten years older than me, but honestly, it had never stopped me before. I give him big puppy dog eyes. I knew that alone wouldn’t worked, he was trained to read people, to not respond to their bullshit. But then he sighs, “fine” I smile big, “you mean it?” “Shut up before I change my mind.”

He looked bored out of his mind, but he refused to not have a hand on me the whole night. At the moment, I was sitting on a couch, talking to a friend while I was cradling a drink in my hand. He sat beside me with a hand around my waist while his eyes were on anything and everything that could pose a threat to me. Some guy eventually sat close by, I didn’t know his name but I’d seen him around campus and I knew his tendencies to be a creep. I didn’t say much to him, keeping up my conversation with my friend. I feel a hand tighten on my waist when the man began to speak.

My interest in the conversation voids and I sit there silently, waiting for him to leave but he never does. I sip on my drink silently, leaning back on the couch, and therefore Taegeoms arm. The guy looks up from his conversation at me, “What, you like older guys” he looks between me and Taegeom. I hold myself back from rolling my eyes but I can’t contain the scoff that falls from my mouth, “would I matter if I did?” The guy smirks, “I mean, I’d say I’m probably older than you”

“Fuck off” Taegeom says from beside me but the guy doesn’t take the advice. I stand to my feet, ready to leave and Taegeom follows suit. But the guy stands as well, my friend now wandered away. I don’t notice him until he grabs my arm to spin me around. I’m about to say something, about to tell him off, but before I get the chance, he’s knocked to the ground from a punch to the jaw. I gasp and take a step back, the guys mouth fills with blood as he cradles his jaw, Taegeom taking a step back as he shakes off his aching knuckles.

The care ride home was silent and so was the walk back to my apartment. Once inside, he closes and locks the door like he always did. I kick off my shoes, mentally and physically exhausted. I turn around when he sighs and runs his hands through his hair. He wasn’t mad, I couldn’t tell that much, he looked frustrated. I lean my weight back and forth on my feet, “look, I’m sorry-“ “don’t” he cuts me off as he takes his jacket off. I silently sit on the couch, placing my head in my hands.

He sits next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder before pulling me into his side. “M’sorry for putting you into that position” I can almost hear him laugh. “I’ve done worse for less, it’s my job to hurt people.” I knew he was right, I was being dramatic. All he’d done was punched a guy, but I knew he had killed people just because of a simple order. I don’t say anything else but my interest spikes when I feel his biceps twitch and then a moment later, I’m in his lap. I don’t get a chance to ask him anything before his lips are on mine.

“No more parties” he whispered between kisses. The only thing going on in my head was how my brother would have his head if he knew his was happening. He pulls away when he notices my hesitation, his thumbs brushing my jaw. “My job is also knowing how to read people” I bite my cheek. He was right, he’d seen right through me. I lean back into the kiss. When our lips touch again, his hands wander up the back of my shirt. I let him take it off of me, my brain tripping away from my worries as the shirt is pulled off of me. His lips trail down my jaw and collar, his hands reaching behind me to unclip my bra.

My hands move up to tangle in his hair instinctively when I feel his teeth graze and begin to leave marks on my skin. I tilt my head back and let out a soft moan, his mouth trailing down to pull one of my nipples into his mouth. My fingers tug at his hair at this. His mouth moves to give my other breast the same attention, his hands moving to my waistband. I manage to pull myself together enough to tug his shirt over his head. The second I get it off, his hands resume tugging my pants off, my panties coming along with it. If it were any other circumstance, any other person, I’d try to cover myself but I don’t bother with him.

He looks up at me as if asking for permission and instead of answering with words, my hands move to his belt. His hands drop to his side to give me room to rid of it and eventually tug off his pants. I go back to my position on his lap, my lips finding his again. His hands find their way on my hips, I lead one between my legs as his tongue finds its way into my mouth. A smirk tugs at his lips as he pulls away momentarily, “you’re soaked” I shiver as a response, his mouth going back to mine. Despite just pulling it there, I push it away, eager for something else.

He takes the hint and lines himself up, grasping my hips to pull me down on him. I choke out a moan, my head falling onto his shoulder. Instead of letting me do anything or take control, he moves my hips against him. I almost fall limp against him, not giving myself to chance to stop my moans as he thrusts up into me. It began to be too much, my arms coming up to grasp his biceps. My hips twitch and he gets the hint. Instead of dragging it out, teaching me a lesson like I would’ve expected him to, he keeps going, leaning to whisper in my ear.

“Come for me, baby, I’ve got you” his words push me over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me. His grasp on my hips borders on painful but I don’t have the courage to tell him as my legs shake. He doesn’t stop either, continuing his thrusts. Now I was fully limp against him, my cum creating a ring around his cock. He only stops when he pulls me off of him, his own cum coating his stomach. He gives me a moment before lifting me to stand up. My legs were jelly, so he leads me to the bathroom himself.

When I look in the mirror I gasp at the sight of the bruises and hickeys he left over me. He notices me staring and his lip quirks, “gonna have to cover those up, hm?” He turns on the faucet to the bath. I look at him through the mirror, my eyes narrowing on him but I can’t stay mad when he smiles the way he does. He wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder, “I’ll get you everything you need to cover them, hm? And I’ll get you flowers, chocolates, maybe even take you out to dinner.” I shake my head, “my brother is gonna kill you.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder, “entirely worth it”

~

Baekjeong

~

Sfw

-100% toxic, he only listens to what he himself wants or thinks is correct

-still loves you, just horrible at showing it

-date nights consists of a fancy dinner, nine times out of ten cooked by him

-keeps you close, hardly ever has you out of his sight but if you are, he’ll have someone watching you with or without your consent

-he’s not against hitting you if you misbehave

-will leave bruises, doesn’t care if people see

-no one besides him is allowed to look at you any kind of way, let alone touch you

-he’d kill someone if you asked

Nsfw

-again, not afraid of hitting you

-if you’ve misbehave, he’ll leave black and purple bruises (by his hands or his lips)

-definitely will leave bite marks as well

-loves denying orgasms

-with his job, quickies are frequent

-he isn’t always angry, though- after winning a match or getting a lot of bet money, he’ll take his time with you

-only on these special occurrences will he give you proper after care

-will tell you he loves you while holding you close, making sure you know even after he’s ruined you

Taegeom

~

Sfw

-the sweetest at heart but always tried to act tough

-dates consist of activities you like, even if he hates them (movies, painting, etc.)

-keeps you close as well but isn’t very controlling, if he is- it’s to keep you safe

-would never lay his hands on you if he’s mad, would rather punch a wall but the majority of the time he can keep his cool around you

-if you’ve met his daughter, in his head you two are practically married

-his ideal days are being able to be with the two of you for hours

-biggest fear is losing you, especially since his past

-would also kill someone if you asked

Nsfw

-majority of the time, he has patience- likes to take his time

-in these times, missionary is his favorite, loves to look at your face when he’s inside

-wipes away tears with his lips while he whispers about how much he loves you

-if it’s been a long day, he’ll lay on top of you with his head buried in your neck

-while he’s against hitting you out of anger, if you ask him to during sex, he’d never deny you

-if he’s had a long day or needs a way to get rid of his anger, he’ll put you in a mating press

-his after care is perfect, he’d clean you up with a warm rag while peppering kisses on its trail, then will hold you in his arms

Baekjeong

- when he sees you getting comfy with one of his men, he’s immediately pissed

- he doesn’t care what you have to say, he’s convinced he knows what he saw

- he’d yank you right away from that man- not caring about the looks he was getting (if he noticed anyone giving him any look, they’d have their face caved in)

- ropes, chains, handcuffs all of it

- if anything, your pleas egg him on more

- he’ll go all night, depending on how mad he is

- overstimulation, even on normal nights, but if he’s jealous- he won’t stop until you’re incoherent and unable to walk

- after care isn’t usually his thing but just because you’re in his bed, he’ll clean you up- but definitely not gentle about it

- the next morning you’d over hear that the person you were talking to never showed up for work

“Shouldn’t have looked at him like that”

Taegeom

- when he sees you smiling big at one of the men he worked with, his heart almost fell right out of his chest

- not necessarily angry, more upset- can hardly even handle the thought of being left alone again :(

- a million times worse if you’ve met his daughter

- he’ll wait until you’re alone to pull you away

- he doesn’t talk about it, even after the million times you’ve asked him what’s wrong

- he’s rougher than usual but not mean, he’s already afraid his career will scare you off, let alone his roughness

- praises you more than usual, peppers kisses wherever he can reach

- missionary 100% but the moment he fesses up what it’s about, he lets you be on top (reassurance)

- he’s usually good with aftercare but in times like these, he’ll run a bath for the both of you, basking in the reassurance you give him

“Just stay with me” he whispers, “don’t leave me and her alone”

~