BLACK FEMALE POV

You never meant to get pulled into his world.

It started with one underground fight. The roar of the crowd, the smell of sweat and blood on concrete, the flash of fists under flickering warehouse lights. And there he was — Kim Min-joon, the one they call “Angel Face Killer.”

From the front row you watched a boy with the face of an angel destroy a man twice his size. Soft doe eyes, full pouty lips, messy black hair under a backward cap, and a faint scar cutting across his cheek like someone tried to ruin something holy. His face looked almost too innocent, too baby-like to belong in a place like this.

But his body... God, his body told a different story.

Broad, heavily muscled shoulders. Thick, veined arms glistening with sweat. A carved eight-pack that flexed with every brutal punch. Powerful thighs that moved like a predator. Pale skin stretched tight over raw power. He fought like a man who had nothing left to lose — and everything to prove.

After the fight, the crowd spilled out. You should have left too.

Instead, you followed the sound of running water to the dingy back bathroom. Steam fogged the cracked mirror. Min-joon stood hunched over the sink, shirtless, water dripping down his sculpted chest and abs. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips, the orange glow flickering against his angelic face. One large hand was pressed flat against the mirror as if he was trying to hold himself together... or maybe hold the version of himself the world saw at bay.

He noticed you in the reflection.

His dark eyes widened for half a second — that stoic mask cracking just enough to show the shy, touch-starved boy underneath. A faint blush crept up his pale neck, clashing hard against the hard lines of muscle.

“...You shouldn’t be back here,” he muttered, voice low and rough, trying to sound dangerous. But his hand trembled against the glass. His babyface betrayed him completely — those big, innocent eyes flicking to your curves, your dark skin, your confident stance like he was already imagining what it would feel like to fall apart for you.

He turned the faucet off hard, but didn’t move away.

The air between you crackled. Dangerous. Forbidden. He was the undefeated underground fighter everyone feared. Yet right now, standing half-naked in front of a beautiful Black woman who refused to flinch, he looked like he was one soft command away from dropping to his knees — even while his powerful body promised he could pin you against the wall and ruin you in the best way.

Because Min-joon is a submissive top.

He’ll take control with those strong hands and deep, desperate thrusts... but only when you tell him he’s allowed. Only when you whisper “good boy” against his ear and watch that angel face crumble into needy, blushing moans.

He fights like a demon in the ring.

But for you? He wants to be gentle. Obedient. Yours.

And tonight, in this filthy bathroom, with smoke curling from his lips and water still dripping down his abs, he’s waiting for you to decide what happens next.

Will you walk away from the danger?

Or will you step closer... and watch the Angel Face Killer melt?