Kook stood just inside the doorway of Tae’s corner office, the thick folder of documents clutched in his big hands like a shield. The Riverside Tower renderings needed her final sign-off before they could go to the client, but the second he stepped in, he knew something was off.

Tae wasn’t glaring. She wasn’t barking orders. She was leaning back in her massive leather chair, one elbow resting on the armrest, chin tilted, and that glossy pink mouth stretched into a slow, victorious grin—like she’d just hit the jackpot and he was the fucking prize.

Her outfit today was pure sin wrapped in corporate armor. The sheer black silk blouse she wore was so thin it was basically see-through under the office lights. Three buttons undone on purpose, of course, letting her massive, heavy tits spill forward in a deep, creamy valley of white skin. Her fat pink nipples were stiff and clearly visible, poking against the fabric like they were begging for attention. Every breath made those huge breasts strain the material tighter. Her latex pencil skirt—black, glossy, and slutty as hell—had ridden up so high on her thick thighs that the hem barely covered the lower curve of her fat, juicy ass. She had one long leg crossed over the other, the movement making the skirt slide another dangerous inch. If she uncrossed them right now, he was sure he’d catch a flash of her plump, pink pussy lips pressing against whatever tiny scrap of lace she called panties.

Kook’s cock gave a thick, involuntary twitch inside his slacks. Goddamn. This woman looks like she was built for fucking, but she runs this place like a tyrant. He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes back up to her face.

“Ms. Tae… these documents for the Riverside project need your signature. The client’s waiting and—”

“Keep your voice down,” she cut in smoothly, that predatory grin never leaving her lips. She uncrossed her legs slowly, deliberately, the movement making her skirt hike even higher and giving him the briefest, teasing glimpse of smooth white inner thigh. “And sit.”

Kook blinked. Sit? She never told anyone to sit. Not interns, not senior architects, not even the board members who came crawling to her. He was stunned, heart hammering, but he lowered himself into the chair opposite her desk anyway, the folder resting on his lap like it could hide the growing bulge in his pants.

Tae leaned forward, resting her massive tits right on the edge of the glass desk. The heavy swells pushed together obscenely, cleavage so deep he could probably lose a hand in it. She looked him dead in the eye and said it without hesitation.

“Let’s get married.”

Kook coughed so hard he nearly choked on his own spit. His eyes watered. “Excuse me?”

She rolled her eyes, pink lips pursing in irritation. “Don’t be dramatic, Jungkook. I want you to marry me. Just on paper. A fake marriage. We’ll register it officially, sign the documents, and that’s it.”

He stared at her, mouth open, brain short-circuiting. “Ma’am… I think you’re not feeling well. Maybe you should lie down or—”

Her glare could have cut glass. Those dark eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped to that low, dangerous velvet he knew too well. “I’m dead serious, Jeon Jungkook. I need to be married to secure my position as the next CEO. Some fossils on the board think a single woman doesn’t understand ‘family values.’ Pathetic, right? But I’m not losing this because I don’t have a husband warming my bed. And you don’t have to do it for free. The second I become CEO, I’ll promote you—Senior Architect, corner office, salary bump that’ll make your head spin. Whatever you want.”

Kook’s mind was spinning. Promotion. Money. But… marriage? To her? The woman who’d torn into him twice last month for a single decimal point error? The same woman whose fat tits were currently trying to hypnotize him from across the desk?

“But… who’s gonna believe it?” he blurted, voice cracking. “I’m twenty-five. You’re… I mean, not that you’re old—you’re fucking beautiful, everyone knows that—but you’re older than me. Ten years. No one’s going to buy that we’re suddenly in love.”

Tae rolled her eyes again, clearly irritated, but she leaned even closer, her heavy breasts squishing against the glass so hard the nipples dragged across it. “Just make up a story, idiot. It was love at first sight. We started dating secretly soon after you joined—right under everyone’s noses. A whole year of stolen moments. Passionate, forbidden, whatever the fuck sounds believable.”

Kook let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “No one’s going to believe that. Not for a second. You’re… you. And I’m just one of the new guys you yell at.”

She slammed her manicured hand on the desk, making the papers jump. “Then let’s make them believe it, you idiot!” Her voice cracked like a whip, but her pink lips were still curled in that dangerous smirk. “I don’t care what it takes. Smile for the cameras, hold my hand in public, call me ‘baby’ if you have to. I’ll handle the rest.”

He swallowed hard. “So… what should I do now?”

Tae sat back, crossing her legs again with that slow, slutty slide of fabric over skin. “Simple. Come to the city hall next Monday at 11:00 a.m. sharp. We’ll register the marriage there. Done.”

Kook’s eyes widened. “Monday? That’s… that’s like two days from now. It’s Friday today.”

“I don’t care,” she snapped, waving a dismissive hand. Her massive tits jiggled with the motion. “I want this marriage registered ASAP. And if you blow this up, Jungkook—if you breathe a word to anyone—I swear to God I’ll fire you on the spot and make sure you never find a job in this industry again. Not in this city. Not anywhere. I’ll blackball you so hard you’ll be designing doghouses for the rest of your life.”

Kook’s jaw tightened. This arrogant fucking bitch. The way she sat there, tits spilling out, skirt practically around her waist, threatening him like he was nothing… God, he wanted to wipe that smug look off her pretty pink mouth. But then the thought hit him like lightning: once they got married—even if it was fake to the world—legally she’d be his wife. Jeon Jungkook’s wife. He could finally teach this ice-queen slut a lesson. Bend her over that same glass desk, hike that slutty skirt up, and bury his thick cock balls-deep in that fat pink pussy she loved teasing everyone with. Make her scream “husband” while she came all over him. Turn the strict, untouchable General Manager into his personal, dripping, obedient little cumslut.

A slow, internal smile spread through him. He kept his face neutral.

“Okay,” he said, voice steady for the first time. “Let’s get married.”

Tae’s grin sharpened, satisfied. She nodded once. “Good boy. Wear a proper suit on Monday. We need pictures—lots of them—to make everyone believe this fairy tale. Smile like you’re the happiest man alive. Got it?”

He nodded, heart hammering so hard he could feel it in his cock. Never in my life—not even as a drunk joke—did I think I’d be fake-marrying the hottest, meanest woman in the building.

Tae flicked her wrist toward the door. “Okay. Now get out. And don’t fuck this up.”

Kook stood, folder still in hand, his slacks noticeably tighter across the front. He gave her one last look—those huge tits, that fat ass, that arrogant pink mouth—and thought about all the ways he was going to ruin her once the papers were signed.

God, this woman and her fucking mood swings.

He turned and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.

But inside his head, the game had already changed.

Monday couldn’t come fast enough.