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taeyongdoyoung · 6 months ago

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daddy's home

summary: boyfriendless, jobless and hopeless, you rush to take the first opportunity you find, which is a nanny position. but the kids are not the only ones you grow fond of... pairing: seungcheol x reader genre: fluff, smut, single dad x nanny AU warnings: kids (triggering, i know), age gap (unspecified), mentions of past cheating, abandonment issues, potential therapy, male masturbation, confessions, blowjob, kissing, eating out, protected sex (unbelievable), dirty talk, size kink, pet names (sweetheart, angel, darling, little girl), sir+daddy kink, unprotected sex (with baby-making goal), breeding kink, creampie, more kids (sorry im ovulating) author's note: this is loosely based on the sitcom the nanny in that there's a single dad with three kids but minus the dead wife trope cuz that's too depressing for my tastes word count: 4.3k

You are desperate. Your shitty boyfriend cheated on you, broke up with you and you also lost your job. So it’s been a couple of terrible weeks. Now, you would take pretty much any kind of job as long as it pays enough for you to afford food and the bills. ASAP.

Single dad looks for a live-in nanny for his three kids. Full-time with Sundays off. Contact this number for more details.

Okay, truth be told, you’ve never considered yourself as someone who is good with kids. But how hard can it be? Have you mentioned you’re desperate?

“Listen, Miss L/N,” Mr. Choi, your potential future employer starts. “I appreciate your enthusiasm but I’m not just going to hire you. I’m looking for someone with experience.”

“Well, I have a bunch of nephews, if they turned out alright under my care, then I guess that counts for something,” you chuckle.

“That’s very nice but I’m talking about professional experience. Have you been a nanny before?”

“Technically, no, but how can I get experience if you won’t hire me?”

“Touché,” Mr. Choi laughs.

“How about a trial period? Let me spend some time with your kids under your supervision and prove myself capable.”

Mr. Choi nods reluctantly.

“Well, you’re in luck since my little goblins have driven away five nannies in the past month.”

Oh, dear. Five nannies…And here you were thinking this could be an easy job.

“So, what’s one more?” you chuckle nervously and Mr. Choi shakes your hand, agreeing to give you a chance.

You are excited when meeting his kids. The eldest daughter - Chaerry is 15, very elegant and polite. You think that you’ll have no problems with her and you’ll have lots to talk about. The middle child and only son - Dino is 10, extremely mischievous and loud. You’ll definitely have problems. Finally, the youngest daughter, Elsie, is 5, she’s such a cutie but leaves a mess of her toys everywhere she goes. It’s easy to trip if you’re not careful, but nothing you can’t handle.

The trial period goes by in a flash. Dino attempts to get on your nerves by pulling pranks like hiding fake spiders in your bag and spraying your outfit with ketchup, but you accept all that with an easygoing laugh. Elsie constantly asks you to play with her toys and you need an unlimited source of ideas to keep up with her wild imagination, but it feels more like fun than a job. Chaerry is quiet and doesn’t share much at the beginning but eventually tells you about this boy at school she has a crush on. So, you count that as a success.

“I must admit, Miss L/N, I had some worries at first but seeing how quickly my kids accepted you is remarkable,” Mr. Choi shares his observations with you at the end of the trial period.

“So, am I hired, then?” you beam with excitement.

“Absolutely, yes. The kids have taken a liking to you and changing nannies so often is probably not great for them, either.”

“So true. Kids need stability and I would be happy to stick around for as long as you’ll have me, Mr. Choi,” you are thrilled not only because you will have a bed to sleep, food to eat and money to spend, but because you are genuinely looking forward to spending more time with these little munchkins.

And spend time with them you do. You're not sure what exactly it is that makes the kids warm up to you, but whatever the reason, it's working.

With Chaerry, you talk about boys and high school drama and make-up. On one occasion, she tells you something that sincerely touches you.

“Thank you for being my best friend, Y/N. I know I shouldn't keep stuff from my dad, but he can be so overprotective sometimes it's difficult to talk about...well, going on dates with boys, mostly.”

“Aww, Chae, you can tell me anything. It'll be our little secret,” you give her a wink, followed by a hug.

You're not exactly sure what the correct response here is. But you'll make sure to maintain some kind of balance - both look after her safety so that Mr. Choi sleeps peacefully at night and not betray Chaerry's trust in you.

With Dino, after the initial phase of silly pranks passes, you notice that he's become more honest and calm.

“You won't leave us like our mom and all the other nannies did, will you?” he asks you one afternoon as you're watching TV together.

You haven't asked Mr. Choi what exactly happened with these kids' mother because frankly, it's none of your business, but something is telling you they're a lot more hurt than they let on.

“I'm not going anywhere, Dino,” you promise, though really, it's up to Mr. Choi to decide that.

“Good. It would really suck if you left.”

That's a lot, coming from the kid who damaged like half of your wardrobe with all kinds of sauces.

With Elsie, another strange situation takes place due to the fact that the kid has no filter.

“Let's play family!”

“Um, okay,” you agree without thinking much.

“This will be daddy,” Elsie points at a stuffed lion plushie and then grabs a tiger plushie, “And this is you, mommy!”

“Oh, honey. I'm not your mommy,” you try to explain as gently as possible.

“But can you be? Daddy says our mommy left and has a new family somewhere else.”

Okay, that's a lot to unpack here. Though you don't think it is your place, you'll need to have a conversation with Mr. Choi, because the kids obviously have some kind of unresolved trauma...

One evening, after the kids have gone to sleep, instead of going to your room, you wait in the living room for your employer to come back from work, so you can approach the subject as delicately as you can.

“Good evening, Miss L/N. Kids go to bed?” he greets you as he takes off his coat.

“Evening, Mr. Choi. Yes, they did. I was wondering if we can have a chat. It can be a sensitive topic, I'm sure, but for the sake of the kids, I think it's important.”

Mr. Choi nods and takes a seat next to you on the couch.

“About their mother...”

“I was wondering how long it'd take you to bring that up,” he chuckles bitterly. “Other nannies wanted me to spill the tea on day one.”

“Wow, seriously?”

“It's not like it's this big secret, I just prefer not to talk about it unless absolutely necessary. My ex-wife...cheated on me and got pregnant by another man, so we had a divorce and I kept the kids, because she said she wants to start anew with this other guy, and...well, the kids said this is their home and that they won't move. So, I suppose the judge took that under consideration.”

“My God. I had no idea.”

“You couldn't have known, considering I just said I don't enjoy revisiting those painful memories.”

“Yes, of course, I only meant that...I guess it explains some things. Forgive me for saying this, but I think the kids have some kind of abandonment issues. Elsie and Dino, in particular, they seem to have a fear that I'll leave just like...well, their mom and the other nannies.”

“And are you? Leaving, I mean.”

“Not if I can help it. Mr. Choi, your kids are very vibrant and precious to me. I genuinely love my job. But I'm worried that what happened with your ex-wife affected them more than they show. Maybe you should look into therapy?”

“I will definitely take that into consideration. Thank you for your candour, Miss L/N.”

“You're most welcome.”

“What about Chaerry?”

“What about her?”

“You said that Elsie and Dino express these abandonment issues. Does Chaerry not have them?”

“She probably does, but at the moment she's too busy thinking about boys.”

“Boys? At her tender age? I don't think so,” Mr. Choi immediately goes into ultra alpha protective dad mode and you honestly find it kind of funny. And hot.

“Oh, relax, Mr. Choi. It's just typical high school drama. There's nothing to be worried about.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly.

“I'm counting on you. Does it ever occur to you how quickly they grow up?”

“I suppose it's more difficult for you. I've only known them for a few months but I think I get what you mean.”

“Yeah...How strange, it feels like you've been part of this family forever.”

You try not to think too deeply about it. He...considers you part of this family. Elsie called you mommy. Dino doesn't want you to leave. And Chaerry talks to you about boys. A topic, which girls usually discuss with their mothers. Oh, sweet heavens. Maybe, this nanny gig is becoming more than a job...

One Monday Mr. Choi texts you not to come to work this Saturday, as the kids will be spending some time with their grandparents (aka Mr. Choi's parents). However, the moment you receive the text, you're too busy trying to escape from Dino who is chasing you with a water gun in the garden. So, you somehow forget to put it down in your calendar.

Saturday arrives and poor Mr. Choi thinks you'd be in your own apartment. Finally, some peace and quiet. His parents picked up the kids early in the morning to go to the park with them so he's all alone and free to do as he pleases.

But alas, you go down the stairs of Mr. Choi's enormous house and make your way to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast for the kids. However, it's too quiet. Hm, how strange. Maybe, they're not awake yet? You shrug as you pour some milk and cereal in a bowl.

Oh, you hear some noise from the living room. Is that the TV? Your curiosity gets the better of you and you enter it only to find Mr. Choi in a very compromising position. He is touching himself, watching very obscene things on the big screen!

You are on the verge of chastising your boss for doing something like that in the living room, where the kids could walk in any minute, when you remember. The kids...They're with their grandparents today. Which means that...Fuck, you're not supposed to be here. You should be at your own apartment instead of being witness to...your very sexy and very single employer taking care of his needs.

You are going to sneak back into the kitchen and wait for a more appropriate time to leave the house when you hear it. At first you think you're hallucinating but then you hear it twice. Your name.

“Y/N...please, let me-” Mr. Choi moans, his eyes closed, he is unaware of your presence.

However, he doesn't get to finish his sentence because you are so shocked that you drop the bowl of cereal, which shatters on the ground with a loud noise.

“Fuck, I'm so so sorry,” you murmur nervously as your boss finally notices you watching him.

His cheeks flushed, his lips pouting, he is the most adorable you've ever seen him. He hurries to tuck his cock back into his pants and turn off the TV.

“N-no, I'm sorry...Miss L/N, what are you doing here?”

Oh, so you're Miss L/N now...Very well, then.

“I apologize. It must have slipped my mind that the kids are with their grandparents today.”

“It must have,” Mr. Choi repeats coldly, obviously embarrassed by this situation.

You wonder if you should tell him what you heard. Would that be unprofessional? But then again, he is the one who said your name, so...what is professional anyway?

“Do you want me to leave?”

He sighs deeply.

“What's the point? You already saw me...fuck, I feel so humiliated.”

“Why would you feel humiliated? Am I so undesirable that my presence immediately turned you off?” you ask bluntly.

“That's not the case and you know it.”

“I'm not sure I know anything anymore,” you admit. “You...said my name. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

“You were never meant to hear that,” Mr. Choi hides his face behind his hands, the redness refusing to leave his complexion.

“But I did. So, what now?”

“Please, don't quit. I realize that what I did is unforgivable but...the kids care about you so much, it would devastate them to lose you.”

“I wasn't even thinking of quitting. But...are the kids the only ones who care about me?” you need to know.

“No...As it so happens, I care about you.”

“So, stop hiding from me,” you don't know where that boldness comes from as you grab his wrists and remove his hands, so you can look at his face. Fuck, he's so pretty.

“You're not...grossed out by me?” Mr. Choi blinks at you in surprise.

“Kinda flattered, actually,” you confess. “But I'd like it much better if you let me take care of your frustrations.”

“You would?” he is unable to believe his luck when you drop on your knees in front of him and take him out of his pants again, engulfing his cock with your pretty mouth. “Y/N...”

The way he says your name is enough to make you even more enthusiastic, sucking him deeper and bobbing your head to the best of your abilities. He grips your hair tightly and you make sure not a drop is spilled as you swallow his cum down your throat. You wipe off your lips and sit down next to him, unsure of what to do next.

“Mr. Choi...”

“Call me Cheol, please.”

“Cheol...may I kiss you?”

Seungcheol doesn't respond and instead kisses you passionately, grabbing your face with his hands. His tongue is exploring your mouth in ways you'd never imagined could bring so much pleasure and you can't resist the urge to sit in his lap. Somehow, against all reason, he's hard again, as you grind against him. Fuck. He's so hot and sweet and amazing you just want to make him happy. How anyone could cheat on this fine man is beyond you.

“Um...not to assume or anything, but do you have a condom?” you ask sheepishly.

“I do, yes,” Seungcheol goes to his coat and brings a package.

“I mean, don't get me wrong, I love kids, but I think we should be responsible considering this is our first time together and you already have three of your own,” you're probably talking too much but oh well. Better safe than sorry.

“No, I understand. You're totally right.”

“Will you fuck me?” you inquire.

“Here? On the couch?” Seungcheol is in disbelief.

“Well...you were touching yourself here, but I guess it's whatever. Your home, after all.”

He chuckles, suddenly embarrassed again.

“Come on, let's go to my room.”

Seungcheol offers you his hand and you follow him upstairs excitedly. Is this really happening? Are you seriously going to do this with your boss?

He lifts your chin up because he notices you're not meeting his eyes out of nervousness.

“Look at me,” he commands you easily and you're on the verge of falling apart and he hasn't even undressed you yet. The power this man holds over you... “We don't have to do this if you're not ready.”

“It's not that. I do want this. It's just...I don't remember if I told you but I was also cheated on. A little before I came to work here. And like, I haven't been intimate for a while, so I'm nervous. What if I mess something up?”

“Okay, first of all, give me that asshole's address, I just wanna talk. And second of all...darling, I haven't been intimate since way before my divorce took place. Trust me, I'm a lot more nervous than you right now.”

You shake your head.

“Whatever you do, I'm sure I'll find it like super hot.”

Seungcheol laughs and tilts his head, kissing you again.

“You're so cute,” he whispers against your mouth. “I can't wait to ruin you.”

And just like that, it's as if a switch is flipped. He pushes you onto the bed and leans above you menacingly, a devilish smirk painting his pretty face. Seungcheol pushes your dress up hurriedly, touching you all over.

“You really thought you could get away with it, huh? Walking around my house in those dresses of yours looking so sexy? Tempting me?”

“N-no, s-sir,” you murmur, not knowing where the title is coming from.

“God, I'm such a cliché. An old man unable to resist the gorgeous young nanny...”

“You're not old, sir,” you try to reassure him. You're not sure if he's just engaging in dirty talk or is actually having some insecurities. He's still young in your eyes. Whatever the case, you're there for him.

“Don't lie to me, sweetheart. I'm too old for ya...I have three kids. What do you have, hm?” Seungcheol speaks while caressing your pussy through your panties.

“I have you, sir,” you smile and palm his dick teasingly.

He sighs wistfully and buries his head between your folds, licking and teasing until you're a soaking mess for him.

“S-sir, p-please...C-cheol, don't stop,” you cry out helplessly.

It feels so good, too good. He holds you down, hands gripping your thighs as you cum against his tongue. He barely gives you any time to recover as he rolls up a condom on his cock. You stare at him hungrily, impatient to have him inside of you.

Seungcheol is like the drug everyone warned you about. Once you have him, you won't be able to quit.

“Are you ready?” he asks softly in sharp contrast with his previous behaviour.

“Please take me, Cheol,” you would beg if you had to.

And take you he does, entering you deeply with his big cock.

“Fuck, you're so tight, barely fitting me in,” he speaks, stroking your clit in circular motions with his thumb, while he fucks you harshly.

“It's okay, I won't break, sir,” you try to convince him.

“What if I want you to break, little girl?” Seungcheol inquires, his voice half-joking, half-serious, as he.

“Then, I'd be happy to serve you, daddy,” the word slips from your lips before you could think twice about it.

“Daddy, huh? You need daddy to make you cum?” you are grateful he plays along instead of making fun of you in this very vulnerable moment.

“Yes, daddy, please, I'll do anything for you,” you promise in a daze.

“Cum for me, sweet girl, let daddy take care of you,” his deep voice is enough to bring you to the edge.

“Fuuuck, daddy...Cheol,” you mumble repeatedly, as white appears before your eyes.

You're shaking in his arms but it feels like flying.

“I've got you, angel, daddy's right here,” Seungcheol comforts you, as he rides out his own high, spilling inside the condom. Then, taking it off and throwing it in the garbage bin, he hurries back to you.

You make grabby hands at him and he envelops you in a hug.

“I'm here, sweetheart,” he kisses your forehead gently and you melt against his chest.

“Cheol...I think you just murdered me a little,” you laugh.

“Well, then, I better make sure I revive you, because I can't imagine my life without you.”

“Good. You ain't getting rid of me.”

“That sounds perfect because me and the kids would like you to stick around.”

“Oh God, the kids! What time are they coming back?”

“We've got time, don't worry, they should-”

“Daaaad, we're home!” you hear Dino's loud voice from downstairs.

“Fuck,” Cheol curses under his breath and the two of you hurry to make yourselves look somewhat presentable.

Once dressed and back in the living room, you can only hope that you're not too obvious about what went down. However, you can't stop yourself from glancing at Seungcheol and he's just as flustered as you.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” Dino greets you as if it's completely normal for you to be there. As if you belong.

“How was your time with your grandparents?” you ask, trying to act casual.

“We had so much ice cream!” Elsie squeals excitedly.

“Grandma and Grandpa took us to the park,” Chaerry starts telling you about everything they did in great detail and you are glad that the shy girl you first met is becoming a confident young woman.

Elsie is asking for more ice cream but Seungcheol is explaining that it's lunch time. Dino is painting the table with mustard and honestly, that's so on brand for him...

It is funny where desperation brought you. You realize this is the happiest you've been in a while.

Later, when Seungcheol catches you alone after spending the afternoon with the kids, he asks:

“I know we kinda messed up the proper order of things, but...would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Oh! I'd love that, Cheol. Is it okay to still call you that?”

“Yeah, it's alright.”

“What about in front of the kids? I'm not sure to what point you'd like to mix professional with...personal life.”

“In front of the kids is okay, too,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, do you know what Elsie keeps asking me?”

“What?”

“When will you make Y/N my new mommy?”

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like something Elsie would say.”

“So, um, no pressure. But I think you're more than the nanny to me.”

“Well, I would certainly hope so. I didn't raise you, mister!”

Seungcheol can't miss the opportunity for a joke. He takes hold of your hand and places it on top of his...very hard dick.

“You raised him, though,” he whispers.

“Mr. Choi!” you hiss, scandalized. “I mean...Cheol.”

“Did you mean daddy?” Seungcheol teases you relentlessly.

“Stop it, you deviant!” you shake your head. “Fuck, you'll never let me live this down, will ya?”

“Do you kiss your boss with that mouth?” he smirks.

“Don't mind if I do,” you reply and bring your lips to his.

A year passes by quickly. You love every day of your life. Whether it'll be spending time with the kids, or going on fun dates with your boss turned boyfriend, or having mind-blowing sex with said specimen, you are truly happy with how things turned out for the best.

With one tiny thing missing.

“Cheol, can I ask you something?” you mumble one evening, as you are playing with his soft, fluffy hair.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Seungcheol turns towards you, giving you his fullest attention.

“Have you ever thought about having more kids?”

“Hmm, it hasn't crossed my mind. I already have three kids. But it depends. Is that something you're interested in?”

“Not till now. But if it's with you, I'd love to have a kid,” you confess shyly.

“Well, then, let's make you a mommy,” Seungcheol quickly makes it his mission and for the first time, doesn't use a condom.

“Yes, please, daddy, give me your cum,” you moan wantonly, as he fucks you deep.

“Take it like the good girl you are, I'll give you all I've got, fuck a baby in ya,” he grunts in your ear, sounding even more excited than you are.

“I love it, feel so full,” you whimper and can't stop kissing him. You can't believe this beautiful man is yours and wants to give you another present.

“That's right, sweetheart, I'll stuff you full of it,” he moans and releases himself inside you. Your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, as you reach your high.

Seungcheol gently pushes the cum that's spilling out of your pussy back inside and lifts your legs up.

“Do you think it'll stick?” you ask doubtfully.

“Can't hurt to try again until it does,” he shrugs, determined to succeed.

Nine months later, as you welcome the twins into the family, you realize you've never expected to achieve so much happiness.

“You really had to outdo yourself and give me not one but two babies,” you playfully push Seungcheol's shoulder.

“Is it too late now to say sorry?” he grins nervously.

“Don't be. I'm more than satisfied. But you'll have to give me a raise!”

“I'll give you something better than that,” Seungcheol promises and pulls a diamond ring out of his pocket.

“Oh my God,” you are in shock.

“Y/N...you've given me more than I could ever hope to deserve. You started off as a nanny but you became my three kids' best friend and now, the mother of two more angels. You became my closest person, my source of joy, my sweetheart. Knowing that I can come home to you is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Will you do me the absolute honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, of course, yes!” you say through your tears and kiss him, as he slides the ring on your finger.

“Can I call you mommy now?” Elsie peeks her adorable head behind the door, followed by Dino and Chaerry, who are all excited by the good news.

“Congratulations, Y/N!” Chaerry greets you with a hug and whispers: “Thanks for taking one for the team and making our lonely old man. happy.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Seungcheol complains loudly.

Dino jumps on the back of his dad with a loud squeal.

“You better treat her right, Dad!” the boy warns. “Or I'll ketchup your room!”

“Why do I feel like I'm the one being welcomed into the family?” Seungcheol bemoans his fate but he's never smiled wider.

“You'll get used to it,” you joke. “Come on, guys, meet your new brother and sister.”

“Hii, babies!” Elsie and Dino jump excitedly around the twins.

“Oh, they're so cute! Aren't they so cute, Dad?” Chaerry coos at the babies.

“They are, but it's too early for you to think about how cute babies are. Look at me...I already have five. Isn't it tragic?” Seungcheol keeps messing around.

“It could have been twelve or something,” you play along.

“I can't imagine,” Seungcheol cries out indignantly. But deep down, maybe he can.

The End

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #seungcheol smut #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol #writing

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smileysuh · 11 months ago

Text

heart aches

🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure. You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows. “Don’t leave me again,” you whisper. “Never again,” he promises.

tw/cw. foreplay, fingering, mutual masturbation, hand job hand fucking, spitting, finger sucking, inklings of oral fixation, praise, dirty talk, pining, reminiscing, breast worship, teasing, Jae being a simp, unprotected sex, handholding while fucking, Jae is pretty vanilla but pent up as hell, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5.3k

🍭 aus. ex's to lovers, non idol au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I don't normally do angst, but Idk, this felt right for some reason this month

Prologue:

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, watching you fiddle around the bedroom while he cuddles with your cat on the bed.

Part of you wants to push back your feelings - you’d kind of been hoping to talk to him at the airport in the morning - but you should have known Jaehyun would realize something is up with you. It’s been a nice long weekend having him home with you.

It’s almost been like he never left.

Almost.

With a deep sigh, you go to sit on the foot of your mattress, staring down at your hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” you say quietly.

The room feels achingly silent, and then the comforter ruffles as Jaehyun sits up. “This?” he asks.

“Us.” The word hurts to even say. “The distance… I mean, I knew continuing our relationship while you’re in a different city at a new university doing your graduate program would be rough… but… I just didn’t know I’d ever feel this lonely.”

Tears are welling in your eyes. You don’t want to break up with Jaehyun- he’s had your heart for four years. Starting over with someone new sounds impossible- but at the same time, being away from him hurts more than you could ever have imagined. It hurts when he calls you every night, being the perfect boyfriend, smiling and telling you about his day. It hurts because you thought you’d go through life together- you thought you’d be there to see it all yourself, not hear about it after the fact on the phone.

“Come here,” Jaehyun says softly, moving your cat off his lap so he can open his arms to you.

You allow Jaehyun to pull you into an embrace, his fingers stroking your hair. His heart is thundering in his ribcage, and you can hear it as you cuddle closer.

“I’m sorry that it came to this,” he breathes, “but I understand.”

You can’t help the tears now, and a choked sob escapes you. You grab at the front of his soft hoodie, wanting to crush the emblem of his new school. Part of you wishes he’d never been accepted into the elite business graduate program, but another part knows that Jaehyun deserves to be where he is now.

You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and that’s what makes this so painful.

Jaehyun needs to focus on his studies, to build a new life for himself across the country- and you need to do the same. You can’t be a ghost anymore, walking through life like a zombie and waiting to hear from him, constantly checking the time zone differences and calculating what he’s doing based on schedules.

“I can still…” you rub at your eyes, swallowing thickly, “I’ll take you to the airport in the morning-”

“It’s okay, baby,” Jaehyun shushes you gently, kissing the crown of your head. “I can get a cab.”

“Are you angry at me?” you ask, pulling away from his chest to look up at his face, worried about what you might find there.

“Of course not,” Jaehyun assures you, immediately stroking a thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears. “No matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, I knew things had changed when I moved away. I could see that the distance was a problem. You have needs, and I’m proud of you for voicing them, even if it hurts.”

“My heart is breaking,” you whimper.

Jaehyun frowns. “Mine too.”

“You’re really not mad at me?”

“I could never be mad at you,” Jaehyun promises. “I think it will be easier to talk about this with time, if that’s something you’d be interested in. But for now, how do you feel about just laying down, holding each other, and doing our best to enjoy tonight- if it’s going to be our last.”

It might be easier if he was mad at you, if he yelled and swore and tried to make you change your mind- but Jaehyun’s never been an abusive type. Instead, he holds you close, and as you softly cry on his chest, you begin to drift off to sleep.

One

Even in a crowded bar, one distant laugh makes your blood run cold. You grip your drink, heart thundering in your rib cage as you scan your surrounding area.

It’s been two years since you broke up with Jaehyun. Even so, you’d recognize his voice anywhere.

“You good?” your best friend asks, reading your change in expression.

“Yeah, I just thought I heard-” as you’re about to say his name, you spot Jaehyun. He’s leaning against the bar top, chatting with a man whose back is to you.

God, he still looks so good.

Your chest aches, throat going dry. As you watch him, his eyes move to take in the bar. You’re quick to shift your gaze, lifting your drink to your lips to down the rest of it.

“I need to get out of here,” you mutter.

“What? Why?” Your friend reaches for your arm, pulling you closer to check in on you.

“My ex is here.”

“Which one?”

“Which one do you think?” You let out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Listen, have fun, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You hand her your empty glass, giving her one last look before you turn to head to the entrance of the bar.

You can feel eyes on you as you push through the crowd, but you chalk it up to being paranoid. You slip through the front doors, intent on hailing a taxi. As you make it to the cement sidewalk, you hear your name behind you, and that familiar voice has your blood running cold for a second time tonight.

“Y/N?”

Your whole body freezes, and for a moment, you truly consider running. But you’ve already run from Jaehyun once before, and you don’t have it in yourself to do it again.

With a deep breath, you turn to face your ex, your first love, the man you’ve never recovered from.

“I thought that was you,” Jaehyun mutters quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stares at you.

You don’t even know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut, taking in his pretty face and the broad set of his shoulders.

“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have followed you,” he admits finally. “It doesn’t look like you want to talk.”

Jaehyun turns to head back inside, and your body reacts on its own accord; you grab at his arm, and it makes him stop. He looks down at your hand, wrapped around his forearm, then up at you.

“We…” you swallow thickly, “we can talk. I just… I don’t know what to say.”

“That makes two of us.”

You drop your hand from his arm when you realize he’s not going anywhere.

“I uh…” Jaehyun clears his throat. “I got back to town a month ago. Meant to message you- but I didn’t know what to say then either.”

“You completed your program?”

“Yup. With flying colors.”

“I guess I always expected you to be a big shot and move to some other city- what are you doing back here?”

“Unfinished business… maybe.” Jaehyun dips his head, looking down at the ground. You watch him absentmindedly kick at an old cigarette butt.

He can’t be talking about you… can he?

“Anyways,” Jaehyun meets your eyes again, “how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been…” you search for the right word, “okay.”

“Yeah? Happy?”

“Sort of. You?”

Jaehyun shrugs, offering you a lopsided smile that makes your heart ache. “Sort of. It was two years of studying. Didn’t have much time for extracurriculars, as you know.”

So your breakup is still a sore spot for him, you can sense it in his words. He’s not outwardly saying it, but… it’s there all the same. There’s something of an apology in his statement, because you do know how hard it was for him to find time for things outside of school- it had been the main reason you’d had to call things off with him.

“How about you?” he presses. “Any uh… any protective boyfriend who’s about to show up and beat my ass?”

You can’t believe he’s asking you outright about this, and the question actually makes you let out a small laugh. You shake your head. “No. No boyfriend.”

“Good. I mean… I hoped you were happy, but uh, you know, it’s nice to hear that, well, you know what I mean.” Jaehyun looks down again, and you can see his ears turning red.

It’s as clear as day that Jaehyun still cares about you. The way he’s acting tells you everything you need to know… well, almost everything.

“So…” you wrap your arms around yourself, “are you planning on leaving again? Do you know how long you’ll be in town?”

“Nothing is set in stone,” Jaehyun admits, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you. “Listen, I’m just going to say it.” He takes a deep breath, meanwhile, you can’t even breathe. “I never got over you. I mean, how could I? You’re everything, and- I understand why we broke up, I really do. But my program is over now, and if you give me another chance, I promise not to go anywhere ever again, at least, not without you right there by my side.”

“Jaehyun-”

“If you need some time to think about it, I totally get that-”

Jaehyun goes to take a step back, and you find yourself grabbing at him once more. Your body simply can’t let him go- not now, not ever again.

Your ex looks down at your hand on his forearm, and as you open your mouth to give him your response, no words come to mind. Your gaze dips to his lips, and before you know what you’re even doing, you’re moving in to kiss him.

Jaehyun is frozen in place at the initial meeting of your lips, but after a moment, you feel his body relax. His hands gently slip to your waist, tugging you closer as he slants his mouth against your own. You feel him release a small groan, and a whimper bubbles in your chest.

How many times have you dreamt of this moment? How many times have you thought about kissing Jaehyun?

Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of him-

Someone lets out a whistle, and you roughly pull back from Jaehyun, your eyes finding the two bouncers outside the bar, who are staring at you with wolfish grins.

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” Jaehyun asks, resting his forehead against your own.

“Come home with me.”

Two

It feels like deja vu to be walking into your apartment with Jaehyun. You’ve had the same unit for years- and you know it must feel even weirder for your ex to be here again after practically living here with you for half of your time in university together.

As you toss your keys onto the entryway table, you hear a familiar meow. Your cat slinks in from the kitchen, but instead of heading to you, she immediately moves toward Jaehyun’s feet, letting out an obnoxiously loud purr as she begins to rub against him.

“Looks like Mittens hasn’t forgotten me either,” Jaehyun smiles, immediately bending down to pick up the fluffy grey and white kitty. She leans into his touch, purring like an engine as he scratches he cheeks. Her paws begin to make softies on his arm, and it makes your heart ache.

You’ve dated a few guys casually in Jaehyun’s absence, and Mittens has never liked any of them. She always was a daddy’s girl- after all, you’d started dating Jaehyun only a few months after you’d picked her up from the shelter.

You still have pictures of the two of them on your phone, hidden in a secret file- you’d never had the heart to delete them, and as you watch their reunion, you’re glad you never did.

“She missed you,” you admit. “We both did.”

You watch Jaehyun’s Adam’s apple bob with effort, your words clearly invoking emotion. You’re quick to look away.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask, kicking off your shoes. “I had a few drinks at the bar, was planning on making a grilled cheese-”

“You still do that?” Jaehyun asks.

“Yeah.” Your throat feels dry admitting another ghost of your past you still haven’t been able to shake. “I still do that.”

Grilled cheese after a night out had always been your thing, and when you’d started dating Jaehyun, it had become his thing too. You can’t even count how many nights the two of you came home from university parties only to make a grilled cheese and collapse on your bed, giggling and kissing like kids in love.

“A grilled cheese sounds perfect,” Jaehyun says. “Thank you.”

He follows you into the kitchen. As you begin to make the late-night snack, you realize Jaehyun has no intention of putting Mittens down. She basks in his attention, letting out upset chirps any time he tries to stop petting her to help you in small ways.

Jaehyun asks you about your job, and from that, the two of you begin to talk about your lives over the past two years. It feels too natural to slip into this type of conversation. His presence is so calming and familiar- by the time you’re done making the grilled cheese for you to share, it’s almost as if the past two years never happened.

It’s almost as if you never left him.

Almost as if he never left you first.

“Do you want to eat in here?” Jaehyun asks, heading to the small kitchen table.

“We can go to my bedroom,” you say softly. “Unless you wanted to be here.”

“Your bedroom is good.”

He follows you through your apartment, but when you get to your room, he stops in the doorway.

“I can’t get over how little this place has changed,” he muses, looking at the layout of the space.

“Yeah,” you sit down on your bed, lifting your legs onto the mattress and setting the plate by your knee. “I guess I’m used to it like this.”

Jaehyun knows all too well how comfortable you get, how hard it is for you to make changes. You think it must be one of the reasons he never fought the breakup. If you’d gotten to the point of needing an emotional separation to deal with the physical distance, pushing you to change your mind would have only made things worse.

“Can we come sit with you?” Jaehyun asks.

“Of course.” You gesture to the mattress. “Make yourself at home, Jae.”

With a small chuckle, he comes to join you. He’s careful when he sets Mittens down, and she immediately stretches, letting out a massive yawn before coming to investigate the grilled cheese.

Jaehyun reaches for his half of the sandwich. “I missed these.”

“It’s just a grilled cheese,” you laugh.

“Yeah, but there’s something special about the way you make it. I can’t explain it.”

You can only offer him a smile as you both lift the gooey, cheesy, greasy, crispy bread to your lips. The crunch is satisfying, and Jaehyun shifts the food to his right hand so he can pet Mittens with his left.

The two of you eat in silence, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it. As your meal comes to a quick end, your phone begins to ring, and you stand up to answer it. “Give me a sec,” you tell him, exiting the room while Mittens rushes to follow you.

“Hey girl,” your best friend says. “You okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Seeing your ex must have been pretty hard.”

“Actually, uh…” you look toward your open bedroom door, swallowing thickly then lowering your voice, “he’s at my apartment with me.”

“What!?”

“Yeah, we’re talking things out.”

“Just talking?” You can hear the cheeky grin in her voice.

“Don’t be like that,” you laugh.

“Girl, you and that man were a dream couple. He’s the one that got away, and now he’s in your apartment- he’s probably sitting on your bed, eating grilled cheese-”

“God, stop,” you groan. “Am I that predictable?”

“Nah, it was hashtag just couple things. Okay, look, obviously you’re doing good- I was worried you were somewhere crying and drowning yourself in booze. I’ll leave you be. Say hi to him for me.”

“Will do.” You hang up, looking down at Mittens. She’s circling your feet, and with a sigh, you go to refill her food bowl. You’d given her lunch hours ago, and you feel bad that she just watched you down a grilled cheese with nothing for her own little mittens to get a hold of.

Also… your best friend knows you too well.

Your body is reacting to Jaehyun as if there was never a separation- or maybe, your body is reacting because there was a separation. Your pulse is picking up with each step back to your bedroom, and when you close the door behind you, Jaehyun cocks a brow, finishing his grilled cheese with one last large bite.

“You good?” he asks.

“I’m great,” you tell him, approaching the bed.

“Yeah?” Jaehyun’s gaze moves to the closed door, and he offers you a dimpled grin, mischief flaring on the edges of his expression. “You locked out Mittens.”

Nothing gets past this man. You’ve never loved getting intimate while Mittens is trying to hog Jaehyun’s attention, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he got you figured out the moment you closed the door to your bedroom.

“Don’t even with me, Jae.” You sigh, collapsing onto the mattress next to him while he moves the grilled cheese plate to the side table.

“Look, I don’t want you to feel any pressure just cuz I’m here and we’re sitting on your bed-”

“Does it look like I feel pressure?” you ask, hyper-aware of the way your dress is riding up your thighs.

Jaehyun gives you a slow once-over. “I guess not.”

“You really mean what you said about not going away a second time?” You look down. “Because I don’t think I could take it if we gave this another try and three months down the line you moved cities again.”

Your ex nods. “I promise. If you give me one more chance, I won’t let you down.”

You stare at Jaehyun for a moment, studying the sincerity on his face. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You open your arms, resting back against the pillows and spreading your legs. “Now come here.”

Jaehyun practically leaps on top of you. He slots between your thighs like he was made to be there, his mouth pressing to your own while you wrap him in a tight embrace. He kisses you like he’s been starved of your lips.

He retains some of the gentleness that he’d exhibited outside of the club, but there’s a desperation too, you can almost taste it on him… along with the grilled cheese.

The thought makes you smile, and Jaehyun breaks the kiss to look down at you, also grinning. “What?”

“Nothing, just- I’m happy.”

“Me too,” he admits, looking down at your beaming face before he grabs your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, angling your head to the side so he can access your neck. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure.

You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper.

“Never again,” he promises, voice husky in your ear.

His hand slides down the curve of your body, grasping at your thighs and slowly pushing your dress up. Your hips move, rutting in an attempt to spur him on. When his fingers finally find your core through your panties, you swear you see stars. He begins to rub your clit, circling it as he applies more and more pressure.

His mouth continues on your neck, and you begin to whimper from the stimulus.

You’d nearly forgotten how good it feels to be touched by someone who knows you inside and out- by someone who cares about your pleasure more than he’s ever cared about his own.

“Jae,” you whimper, breathing heavily as he rubs your core.

“Yes, baby?” His lips are gentle along your throat, and the feather-light touch almost teases you more than a rougher one would.

“Can we skip the foreplay? I need you.”

Jaehyun’s fingers stop on your clit, and he pushes himself up on an elbow, looking down at you with a quizzical set to his brow. “Skip the foreplay?” he repeats, letting out a scoff. “Baby, I’ve been thinking about what I’d do to you if you ever gave me a second chance for over two years. We’re not skipping the foreplay.”

“But-”

“Please don’t argue with me. Just let me have this. Just let me enjoy the body I’ve missed so much. I’ve missed your sounds, the way you react to my touch-” his fingers pick up their pace on your clit again, and you let out a whine, pushing toward him again. “See? You’re perfect. No matter how many memories of this I have, nothing compares to the real thing.”

When you’d been dating Jaehyun initially, he was - for lack of a better word - pretty vanilla. This dirty talk is new, and it makes your stomach erupt into butterflies. Your mind goes practically blank, lulled into a lusty trance by the musings of a man who’s clearly bewitched by you, body and soul.

When your gaze dips down to his hand between your thighs, you notice the way his cock is straining in his pants. “Can I…” you swallow thickly, “Can I touch you too?”

“Yeah.” His mouth returns to your throat, and he pushes your panties to the side, dragging his fingers through your soaked folds. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me.”

You mewl at his words, quickly fumbling with the button of his pants so you can push them down just far enough to take his cock out of his briefs. Jaehyun releases a low groan and it makes your pussy flutter as you begin to stroke him.

Your ex reacts by slipping his fingers into your core, two long digits going knuckle deep. He tests your walls, grazing your g-spot when he begins to lazily pump his hand, his palm firmly pressing to your clit.

A whimper of pleasure escapes you, and you can feel Jaehyun grin against your neck. “The prettiest sounds,” he muses. “How did you ever get this pretty?”

It’s a rhetorical question, and it makes you feel cock drunk and dumb, your chest pushing up against his own, looking for stimulus- your nipples are hard in your bralette, but you wish you were naked already, wish you could feel him better-

“Jae?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you take my dress off?”

Jaehyun pulls his hand away from your core, bringing his two wet fingers to your lips. He pushes them into your mouth, propping himself up so he can look down at you while you suck his digits clean. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You groan around his fingers, the act of sucking is turning you on more than you’d care to admit, but it ends too quickly as Jaehyun pulls his hand away.

He sits up, taking off his own shirt first. Then he reaches down to grab at the hem of your dress, slowly dragging it up your form. Jaehyun’s eyes take in each strip of newly exposed skin, and you can see the way his pupils have blown with interest.

You lift your shoulders off the bed, making it easier for him to tear the fabric off of you and toss it to the side. This leaves you in your bralette and panties, both of which you’re eager to have join your dress on the floor.

Jaehyun’s hand reaches out to cup your breast, his thumb smoothing over the pebbled nipple that’s pushing through the silky fabric. He squeezes you gently, forcing you to release a moan of pleasure.

A moment later, he’s removing your panties, then your bra, fingers pinching at your newly exposed nipple.

Your hand, meanwhile, returns to his cock- only for Jaehyun to grab at your wrist, pulling you away.

You’re about to ask what’s wrong, but then Jaehyun turns your hand palm up, and he spits into the center of it, bringing it back to his cock.

There’s no way that action should have been as sexy as it was- your core throbbing as you begin to stroke his rock-hard length.

With one last lustful look at your body, Jaehyun settles over top of you again, his mouth seeking out your breasts while you pump his cock. The feeling of his tongue flicking against you has you crying out, pushing your chest toward his mouth. His teeth graze over your sensitive nipple and you respond by applying more pressure to his cock.

Jaehyun groans loudly, rutting his hips into your hand, which stills so you can allow him to fuck your palm. He continues to worship your breasts while his hips do most of the work, and you surrender yourself to the pleasurable scenario you’ve found yourself in.

“You know…” Jaehyun presses another kiss to your nipple, “I was going to ask you to sit on my face, but… it’s hard being this close to your pretty pussy and not just… slipping it in.”

“Yeah?” You guide his cock closer to your core, so that when he ruts his hips, the tip of his cock glides through your soaked folds. “Then just do it.”

“Here I was, saying not to skip the foreplay- but here I am, giving in to you like always.”

Jaehyun releases a laugh, and it makes you giggle along with him, because it’s true. Jaehyun may have this sexy, devil-may-care attitude, but he’s always been a total simp for you.

He was completely wrapped around your finger when you first met, and he’s completely wrapped around your finger now. It’s interesting how so much can change, and so little can change at the same time.

“You just feel so good,” Jaehyun groans, thrusting again, the tip of his pretty pink flushed cock just slipping inside of you-

“Fuck, Jae, please-” you push your chest up toward his face again, pumping his length, trying to guide him deeper-

He brings his mouth to your own, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss as he sheaths himself into your wet core.

You let out a low whine, wrapping your legs around his hips and releasing his cock in favor of grabbing his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck-” Jaehyun moans, staying still inside of you while your walls pulse around his shaft. “Missed this perfect pussy, baby.”

“Missed your perfect cock,” you retort, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and drawing him in for another kiss.

His tongue clashes against your own, his hands finding your hips so he can steady himself as he begins to rut into you.

You love getting lost in him. You can feel your mind slipping away, your body giving into its primal instincts as Jaehyun makes love to you the way he has so many times before.

One of his hands finds your own, taking it from his shoulder and lacing your fingers above you, pressing you into the pillow. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, breathing heavily.

“There’s so much I’ve wanted to say,” Jaehyun admits.

“Then say it,” you urge him, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

He nuzzles against your palm, closing his eyes for a moment while he enjoys your touch. “I’ve missed everything about you. You’ve been on my mind every day for two years.”

Your heart aches.

“It’s more than just the sex, and you know it. I’ve missed holding you,” he squeezes your hand, “missed sleeping next to you. Missed late-night talks and grilled cheese. Missed your laugh and the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Missed the way you cry at sad parts in movies-”

As he talks, the pace of his thrusts gets faster, and you find it harder and harder not to moan like a whore and interrupt his cute little speech about missing you.

In fact, it’s hard to even keep your eyes open, but your gaze is caught in his own. Jaehyun’s staring into your soul, baring himself to you like a man who’s brought all his walls down.

“I love you,” Jaehyun says gruffly, “I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for one single day. It’s you, and it’s always been you.”

Your stomach muscles clench at his admission, orgasm bubbling to the surface fast from the combination of his movements and his words.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you, licking his lips. “Just rub your clit and let me feel your perfect pussy clench around me as you cum, that will be answer enough.”

With a loud whine, you throw your head back against the pillow, threading your free hand between your bodies. The first touch of your fingers on your clit has you throbbing already, and you release a gasp.

“That’s it, baby,” Jaehyun coos, lips finding your throat. “Just like that.”

“Jae-”

“I know, I know you’re close- must be pent up like me, right? We’re both going to cum way too fast, but that’s okay, we have all the time in the world to enjoy each other- the way I’m going to eat your perfect pussy for breakfast tomorrow morning-”

Your core pulses at the thought, and you rub your clit harder.

“Gonna let go for me, right, baby? I’m so close, want you to cum with me.”

“I’m there-” you tell him, shivering as he licks the sweet spot on your throat. ‘Fuck, Jae-”

“You want me to cum inside right? You’re still on the-”

“Cum inside,” you interrupt him. “God, fuck, please- need you to fill me up-”

Jaehyun groans, squeezing your hand again. His lips move from your neck to your mouth, and your tongues clash in a breathless, moan-filled frenzy, your orgasms just out of reach-

One more whimpered “please” out of you has Jaehyun moaning, his high crashing into him. You can feel him filling you up with his cum, and it triggers your own orgasm. A gasp escapes you, your sensitive nipples pressing against his chiseled chest-

You can feel him everywhere. He’s all-consuming. You completely let go, sounds uninhibited, pussy throbbing harder than it has in the past two years.

Jaehyun fucks you through it, until you’re both sweaty, gasping messes. Then he collapses on top of you, giving your captured hand one last squeeze before adjusting. He rolls off of you just enough to tuck you close to his chest, hand finding your hair and beginning to pet you.

You can hear the racing of his heart as he catches his breath.

As you come down from your high, you feel a welling of emotion bubbling inside of you. You’re shocked when a tear rolls down your cheek, and you’re quick to brush it away. Jaehyun notices the movement and tilts his head to assess you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “I’m just…. I’m happy, and I missed you a lot.”

“Baby,” Jaehyun’s fingers draw pretty nothings on your back, “I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I've been reading a lot of shorter smut fics recently, and after doing such a big kick-off in January, I wanted to try a shorter piece again, and challenge myself with a little angst :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. “Listen, I promised myself I wasn't going to cum in or on you tonight - you know, seeing as you’re my wife tomorrow and I don’t want to disrespect you - but since you’re begging for it,” Jaehyun slips the tip of his cock inside of you, only to pull away, “I guess I can settle for cumming on your ass, but only if we shower together after.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, creampie, pussy eating champ Jae, pussy worship, fingering, 69, blow job, hand job, deep throating, gentle choking, begging, dirty talk, slight cum kink/mentions of exhibitionism, finger sucking, multiple reader orgasms, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

Since you got back with Jaehyun over a year ago, the two of you haven’t been separated for longer than twelve hours, but tomorrow is the day of your wedding, and there are certain traditions about the bride and groom staying apart- so here you are, cuddled on a couch in your hotel room, missing your fiance.

When your phone rings and Jaehyun’s pretty face shows up as the contact on your screen, you fumble over yourself to pause your movie and answer it. “Jae?”

“Hey, baby. What room are you in again?”

You think about it for a moment. You’d never actually told him where you’re staying in the hotel… “Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe I wanna send my fiance flowers before our wedding tomorrow.”

God, why’s he so charming?

You give him your room number without a second thought, hanging up with an ‘I love you.’

Five minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and you open it to find Jaehyun standing there with a massive dimpled grin on his face, and a vase of flowers in his hands. “Hi, baby.”

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maddilynmuse · 4 months ago

Text

Memory Of Helplessness

CW: Gore, Crushing, Temporary Character Death, Guilt, Vomit.

Hurt, no comfort. Isabeau POV. Technically everyone is there but only Isabeau and Siffrin are mentioned in much depth.

I saw this post for @mari-lair ‘s “Siffrin, more like Sif’s Out” AU and immediately got possessed by angst demons. Please note this post might have spoilers for upcoming comics in that AU, though also, this story isn’t going to make much sense without it.

Also, spoilers for the base game of In Stars and Time too. You’ve been warned!

The King’s Speech washed over Isabeau for the whatever-eth time only to be cut off by Mirabelle for the whatever-eth time. As much as Isa was actually good with numbers, he’d long ago given up on counting these loops, all of them had. It’d just make you go insane. There were enough things driving them insane, including the pit in their guts—snack time had stopped filling it a long time ago, this loop they didn’t even bother.

“Flower for you,” Siffrin said, giving it to their greatest enemy like it was nothing.

It meant nothing. It was just random (at least so Isa liked to tell himself).

Mirabelle put up their Adorable Moving Shield as the King charged his attack. However many loops ago, Isabeau would’ve started buffing defenses, but they were well past the need for that… mostly. Siffrin hadn’t even gotten to level 47 this loop, and maybe they could’ve done a better job of letting him feel useful, but that was fine. It’d reset and he wouldn’t remember a thing. As much as it’d hurt the first few times they did this, it was easier on everyone just to let Siffrin stay down.

Anyways, Isabeau punched at the king with his Paper Mache gloves. There was no triumph to it anymore even as hit points got shaved off like they were fighting a Tristess. Odile followed up with Paper Alpha V. Already down a third. It wasn’t always so easy to beat him. The King’s attack washed over all of them, the majority of it bouncing harmlessly off the shield. Siffrin was almost down. It stung Isabeau’s heart to see the way Sif’s one eye looked to Bonnie, to Mirabelle, then to the rest of them, just like it had the last few times they came here, so he didn’t look. He didn’t look their way at all. No one did.

Maybe they could’ve stopped him if they had.

Isabeau instead braced himself for a blow from the King, eyes screwing shut by instinct….

“I CAN HELP!”

c r A C K

The smell of copper. A horrible drip of blood on stone as the King raised an oversized fist. The feeling of something warm and sticky sprayed on Isabeau’s legs, his torso, maybe just a bit on his face. His eyes opened before his mind could tell them it was a bad idea.

“… Sif?”

Was that Sif? It was hard to tell. There was almost no darkless left. Or any face. Or distinctly human features at all. Mostly just fabric and pulp. The hat, also no longer darkless, floated down from the King’s fist, landing in the puddle of blood and bone dust.

This…

Hah. This was probably what he looked like under the rock. The King is a rock type, after all.

A hysteric laugh at the not-funny not-a-joke escaped Isabeau’s laugh as he tried to take in what he was seeing. His hand went down to tug at the suddenly-stained fabric as though he could still pick them up. “Siffrin?”

How? How did this happen? This wasn’t supposed to happen! It never happened before! Siffrin was supposed to be knocked out! To end up hitting the floor, maybe busted up, maybe bleeding a little, but only normal battle wounds! The King couldn’t kill them until the end, right?

Right?

And, well, sure! Siffrin got the Memory of Useless Idiot. It lowered their stats, but that was fine! With Mirabelle’s Memory of Sadness, they barely needed to fight. And, yeah, they’d been trying to read those Headache Books any time the rest of them looked away for even a second, but it’d come back at snack time, right? Which they… skipped…

“ooooooh….. you must’ve known this would happen. though that look on your face…… perhaps I was mistaken…… either way, Vaugaurde will be preserved.”

They drove him to this. They all drove him to his death. They were supposed to protect him, supposed to make sure he at least lived, and now he was a splatter on the floor again-

“Siffarooni?”

Isabeau reached out once more to the pile of meat and cloth and-

START AGAIN START AGAIN PLEASE START AGAIN-

He awoke to see his hands, free of blood, hovering above grass.

[Isabeau got Memory of Helplessness! When equipped, it makes Siffrin more likely to take damage for him in battle!]

Isabeau threw up.

#siffrin? more like sif is out au #isat au #fanfic #isat fanfic #cw: gore #cw: crushing #cw: death #cw: blood #isat isabeau #isat siffrin #isat king #hurt no comfort

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angsty-art-ist · 17 days ago

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part 2 of the NPMD Monster High AU! seriously thank you guys for all the love on part 1, it means a lot that you like my silly hyperfixation crossover :]

a little lore note: in this AU, monsters can use magic to blend in with humans during the day, sort of like in the g3 cartoon. Hatchetfield is kind of split into the normie side and smaller monster side. the monster part of town is magically warded to make humans want to leave quickly, and monsters don’t tend to cross over into the human areas (with the exception of adults with normie jobs, like Mayor Lauter and most of the adult HF cast). Hatchetfield High is a “exclusive private school” in the monster part of town, and the normie teens, like Grace and Max, go to Sycamore.

why are Grace and Max humans if this is a monster AU, you ask? don’t worry, i have plans for them :)

Steph:

she’s a vampire because… well because she’s rich. you’ve heard of old money? these Lauters are ancient money

i had a hard time with her outfit because my main references were Draculaura and Elissabat, who are both very dressy, but i wanted to stay true to Steph’s casual grungy style… and then i remembered The Lost Boys were THEE original grunge vampires, so i mashed David and Paul’s jackets together and gave her a Santa Carla tee as a shout-out

the chains and plaid pattern tie back to Pete’s design, like the plaid of her flannel and his bow tie in the show <3

her father isn’t technically actually a king, but runs Hatchetfield’s monster community like he is one. a close encounter with a band of monster hunters the better part of a century ago forced the monsters into hiding under his command, and Steph’s mother ended up staked. Solomon hasn’t been the same since…

Max:

his design is simpler than the others, but that’s for a reason :) the mansters usually have more boring outfits than the ghouls, so it’s not that out of place for Monster High, right? i plan to make a few more ‘doll lines’ for this au- i’m thinking Dawn of the Dance next ;)

his jacket is based on the G1 varsity jackets that Heath Burns and Slo Mo had in their first waves, but with Max’s iconic blue. i got rid of the Hatchetfield ‘H’ since he goes to Sycamore with the other normies in this AU. go Timberwolves, i guess?

his striped shirt is based on Freddy Krueger’s iconic sweater, because Max in the musical seems to take a lot of cues from Freddy; coming back from the dead to get revenge on his killers, vulgar one-liners, gruesome kills, and even a parody of the Freddy rhyme painted on the set background. one, two, Jäger’s coming for you…

side note but i had a really hard time getting Will’s likeness in this pseudo-MH style. i think he ended up a bit too Bruce Campbell-y. maybe it’s the chin.

Grace:

sorry, Grace, i’m changing your name a bit. if you need a refresher on the G1 MH lore; Van Hellscream is the Monster High expy of Van Helsing. his niece Lilith appears in the Ghouls Rule movie, but i’m stretching out the timeline a bit so let’s say Lilith is Grace’s aunt or something. Chasity is her maiden name, which the family goes by because “Hellscream doesn’t sound very Christian”

these days, the Van Hellscream’s monster-hunting legacy is more of a family legend than history, and her parents don’t even believe that monsters exist… but Grace knows that something unholy is going on at that “private school”. she may not have Great-Uncle Abraham’s arsenal, but she has the power of God and years of repressed rage on her side

design wise she changed the least from her canon outfit. she’s covered in monster-killing weapons- crosses, stakes, silver bullets, and the flowers on her blouse and jeans are alliums, aka garlic flowers- which, fun fact, were originally thought to be what repelled vampires, rather than garlic bulbs!

her blouse is based on Nancy’s nightdress in Nightmare on Elm Street to match with Max’s Freddy stripes

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wonusite · 2 years ago

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Crossing Boundaries

❝ Seungcheol has always demanded that all of his employees keep professional boundaries, but it frustrates him that his son’s nanny is a little too good at keeping things professional. ❞

pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader

genre: single dad au, nanny au, fluff, smut

word count: 8.6k

warnings: dilf!cheol, ceo!cheol, nanny!reader, imbalance of power, a brief mention of death, mutual pining (a copious amount of it), jealousy, seungcheol is down horrendous, daddy kink, breeding kink, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, multiple creampies, overstimulation, cockwarming

a/n: will never get over this concept. huge shout out to dilf cheol nonny for fueling my muse and helping make this happen. based off this request. minors dni!

There were three basic rules when it came to working for Choi Seungcheol:

1. Be on time.

2. Be efficient.

3. Maintain professional boundaries.

The rules were simple enough, but you quickly learned that there was nothing simple about them. Seungcheol was nothing if not a strict man. He demanded excellence, and anyone who didn’t live up to his rigorous standards ended up fired. Any person who managed to keep their job for a month could keep a job anywhere. At least, that’s what his entire staff seemed to think.

They weren’t exactly wrong. His standards were impossibly high, and he left little to no room for any error. It’s the very reason why Seungcheol had gone through five nannies before you, each worse than the last, according to him.

Because of this daunting fact, you’ve been very careful to never fall bellow his expectations. All the meticulous routines you made for yourself became like second nature within the first month, and it’s what kept your job secure for the last four years.

In all that time you had managed to follow the rules, but that didn’t mean it was easy. Especially since you came to absolutely adore the six-year-old boy that you were hired to take care of. Choi Taehyun was the cutest and most endearing kid you’d ever met. As soon as you met him, he had wedged his way into your heart and secured a permanent place for himself there.

The overt fondness you felt proved to be dangerous because from the very beginning, Seungcheol was adamant that you never overstep your duties as a nanny. It was his way of saying you’re not his mother so never try to act like you are. According to Josh (his assistant and the person who helped you get the job), your boss only acted this way because he still hadn't fully overcame his wife’s death. You could understand his pain which is why you were always careful not to do anything that could be seen as crossing the line.

But now, as you’re looking at Taehyun’s tear-filled eyes, all the professionalism you’ve had so far just seems to evaporate from your body. His bottom lip is trembling as he tries his hardest to muffle the whimpers and sobs at the edge of his throat. A concerned frown tugs your lips down when you go to gently wipe his fallen tears.

“Tae, what’s wrong?” You ask, feeling like someone is squeezing your heart painfully.

“Daddy’s not going to watch my play.”

The aforementioned play was something Taehyun and his entire class had been working on for about a month. He was extremely excited about it because he was assigned one of the main roles.

“It’s not fair.” Taehyun cries softly, clinging to your hands that were gently wiping his cheeks. “All my friends’ mommies and daddies are gonna watch.”

The discomfort in your chest grows as tears continue to spill from his eyes. All you can do is hug the little boy close to you in an effort to comfort him. He buries his wet face into your shoulder, clinging on to you like he never wants to let you go.

“I’m sorry, baby. You know your daddy would watch you if he could. I know he’s just as sad as you are that he can’t be there.” You rub gentles circles on his back, desperate to stop his tears from flowing.

Then, you say something you know your boss would definitely not approve of. “I know it’s not the same, but if you want, I can come watch you instead.”

Taehyun’s whimpers turn into soft sniffles as he pulls back to look at you. His eyes are still filled with tears, but now a hopeful look has taken over his gaze. “Really? You’ll come watch me?”

You realize that what you’re doing is literally bulldozing through the boundaries you’ve stayed within so far, but you would do just about anything for Choi Taehyun. There was no way you could let him be sad for another moment. So, you disregard the foreboding feeling in your gut and smile at the young boy.

“Of course I will.”

“Promise?” He’s looking at you with his huge doe eyes, pinky stuck out at you, wearing the most hopeful expression you’ve ever seen.

As Taehyun wraps his arms around you in joy, you contemplate whether or not it’s smart of you to let your emotions dictate your actions this way.

Meanwhile, your boss feels like he’s losing his mind.

As the CEO of a major conglomerate, he’s always been a level-headed, professional man. There isn’t a single thing that could make him lose his composure or make him get out of character.

This, however, doesn’t seem to apply whenever it involves his sweet, caring nanny.

Ever since you came into his life, things had changed drastically for him. You had unknowingly brightened his life in a way that he never thought was possible after his wife’s passing. Years hadn’t healed the pain, but for some reason your presence and actions had done what time couldn’t.

Seungcheol doesn’t realize the extent of his feelings until his personal assistant casually mentions that he was in the midst of arranging a date between you and the head of marketing, Jeon Wonwoo. A feeling that could only be described as rabid jealousy lights up in the pit of his stomach and expands up into his chest as Josh unwittingly goes on about how his subordinate is exactly your type.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.” Seungcheol cuts in when Joshua says you agreed to go on this date after seeing a picture of Wonwoo. “When things don’t work out between them, it’ll bring tension into the office. The last thing I want is for either of them to feel uncomfortable.”

The way his boss said when and not if doesn’t go unnoticed.

Also, Seungcheol’s logic is seriously flawed. They both know it. In all the time you’ve worked as the CEO’s nanny, never once had you came to see him while he was working. You were annoyingly good at keeping boundaries and never overstepping. It never bothered him before, but now that he keeps thinking about it, it’s starting to.

Josh doesn’t comment on what’s blatantly obvious, mostly because he feels stupid for not realizing it sooner. It’s also clear that his boss is only barely coming to terms with his own feelings. Instead of rubbing salt in the wound, Josh is quick to assure Seungcheol that he won’t go forward with the setup before bringing his attention to his next schedule.

If only that would’ve helped him get his mind off of you.

Seungcheol is distracted during his meetings. These very large feelings are at the forefront of his mind, and they don’t fade in the slightest even as the day goes on. He starts to go over every time you’ve smiled at him in that sweet way you do. His heart jumps whenever he thinks back to those memories.

He can’t help but feel like an idiot for being so blind to his own feelings.

Things don’t feel the same when he goes home. When he finds you helping his son with his homework, all these feelings hit him at once. It’s almost funny how he never noticed the burning feeling in his chest. You’re so sweet and attentive and entirely focused on Taehyun that you don’t notice his presence. A tender smile takes over his face.

Briefly, Seungcheol thinks he wouldn’t mind coming home and seeing this lovely sight every day.

He only snaps out of his daydreams when you raise your head and stand up to greet him with a kind smile. “Mr. Choi. You’re back early.”

Seungcheol, he wants to say. Call me Seungcheol.

“Dad!”

He’s quickly distracted when he feels a small body collide with his legs. Seungcheol’s heart swells with affection as he bends down to pick up his son. Taehyun giggles happily as he wraps his small arms around his father’s neck.

Being so endeared by the sight of your boss hugging his son and peppering his little face with kisses isn’t anything new. It’s so cute that you can feel a goofy smile slowly form on your face. In the back of your mind, you know exactly why this overt fondness is clinging to your heart. But in this moment in time, you’re not willing to unpack the inappropriate feelings you have for your boss

Seungcheol doesn’t make it easy, though. For some reason he insists on helping you prepare dinner. He’s strangely eager, and you can’t really reject his offer to help. It’s both exciting and nerve-wracking to spend time with your sexy boss like this since he usually only talks to you about Taehyun.

You can’t take your eyes off Seungcheol as he rolls up his sleeves and puts on a spare apron. It’s unfair that he looks as good as he does, and you can barely keep your calm when he starts to wash the vegetables you bought in the morning. His actions feel so domestic and so sweet that you have to try your hardest to act like you’re not enjoying it as much as you are.

“I hope Taehyun didn’t wear you out too much.” Your boss says as you start to chop the freshly washed vegetables. “He’s had a lot of energy lately.”

“That’s normal for boys his age.” You say kindly. “And Taehyun’s very well-behaved, especially compared to kids his own age. You’ve raised him well, Mr. Choi.”

Seungcheol beams at the compliment, embracing the fluttering he feels in his torso and chest. Briefly, he thinks that you don’t give yourself enough credit. After all, you’ve helped raise his son more than anyone.

“In that case, I hope you can join us for dinner.”

His invitation shouldn’t make you feel the way it does. You swallow thickly, chopping movements slowing as you contemplate your answer. It’s not like you’ve never had dinner with the a father-son duo, but it was always on the insistence of Taehyun. But now that Seungcheol was the one asking, you didn’t know what to do.

Up until now, you had been very careful to not overstep the boundaries your boss had set in place by your boss, and you couldn’t understand why the same man who hated when people didn’t remain professional and respect his boundaries was asking you to do just that. Given that your big fat crush is extremely hard to hide, you’re sure that putting some distance between you two is the right thing to do.

But with the way Seungcheol’s shining eyes are imploringly staring at you, it’s hard to think of a reason to reject his invitation.

“Mr. Choi.” You say nervously as you two begin to set up the dinner table. “I... I have something to tell you.”

His gaze is intent, and you try to remain as calm as possible. “Since you won’t be able to attend Taehyun’s play, I’m going to watch him instead.”

“You?”

Your boss’s expression is unreadable, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Still, you soldier on and try to pretend you’re not as intimidated as you are.

“Yes. It’s something that’s important to me, and I hope you don’t mind me being there for him.”

If Seungcheol had any doubts about his feelings, he definitely didn’t now. To think that you would care so much about his son warms his heart and further cements what he already knew about you. He gives you a smile, heart bursting with affection. “I don’t mind at all. I’m glad you’ll be able to be there to watch my son.”

Honestly, Josh had managed to rework his schedule so he could see the play and surprise Taehyun, but surprising the both of you was good too.

Somehow, you manage to conceal the shock you feel. You didn’t think he would agree so easily, let alone be pleased with the idea. Instead of questioning it any further, you only thank the skies that he didn’t react angrily.

It’s hard to pretend that eating together doesn’t fill you with a copious amount of joy. Listening to Taehyun tell you all about how he can count higher than his best friend while you and Seungcheol praise him makes you feel like you’re part of their family. Maybe it’s wrong or even delusional, but you can’t help wanting to have this dynamic with them indefinitely.

“You’re leaving already?”

Taehyun is looking up at you with his large doe eyes, and you can’t help but break down a little on the inside at the disappointment they hold.

“I’ll be back tom—”

“Stay.” Seungcheol says, walking towards you. “I could really use your help putting this little monster to sleep.”

Ignoring the blatant domesticity of reading Taehyun a bedtime story together is near impossible. It gets even worse when your boss insists you stay until his son falls asleep. You almost feel like you’ve been dropped in an alternate universe when you’re ready to leave and your boss stops you again.

“Let me take you home.” Seungcheol says as you’re gathering your things. “Please.”

It’s not fair that he can seem so cute while saying this to you, and despite your better judgement, you say yes all while knowing that it’s not going to help you squash the onslaught of emotions in your chest.

Something was up with your boss.

You’re not sure why he was acting like he had gotten body snatched, but truthfully, you can’t say that you hate it. Having breakfast and dinner with him and Taehyun was something you loved more than you let show. This warm, mushy feeling always wrapped itself around you and clung on to you every time it happened despite it having become part of your routine.

The change is significant, and you can tell you’re not the only one who’s noticed. Josh had made a few teasing remarks, but never blatantly said what you knew he was thinking. (He was the first to know about your not-so-little crush on your boss so it wasn’t really surprising.) Of course, Taehyun had also noticed, although he was much more vocal about it.

“Dad, you always smile so big when all us eat together.”

The blush that dusts your boss’s cheeks is absolutely adorable, and you can barely keep a straight face when Seungcheol clears his throat to answer his son. “That’s because it makes me happy.”

It’s not fair that he can say something like that so casually and like it doesn’t literally make your entire heart pulse with affection. Somehow, you manage to keep all your feelings tampered down so they don’t show.

And for the most part it works. Until the day of Taehyun’s play, that is.

Seungcheol had assured you that supporting his son in his stead was definitely not crossing the line, but it was near impossible from feeling like that’s exactly what you were doing. It doesn’t help that you feel so out of place among the parents, either. To be fair, none of them were paying you any attention. You were just too in your head.

After fighting with your inexplicable anxiousness, you decided to just silently go to the auditorium without being noticed. This plan would’ve gone well if an unfamiliar voice hadn’t loudly called out your full government name, drawing the attention of many of the gathered parents. A woman who you recognized to be the principal’s wife approaches you with a tight-lipped smile.

Mrs. Ren looks you up and down, the condescending smile on her face widening impossibly. “I didn’t realize you were going to be here.”

Her attitude didn’t surprise you since many of the other moms had commented about her being very attracted to your boss. Apparently she had staked this weird claim on him despite being married, and no one dared to go against her because of who she was. Clearly, she didn’t like that you were overstepping the duties of a typical nanny.

Not that you cared, but having so many eyes on you was unsettling.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” You challenged, not daring to back down. “Taehyun is family, after all.”

You don’t miss the quiet gasps or the angry widening of Mrs. Ren’s eyes. Honestly, you had no idea why you blurted that out even though that’s how you really felt about the cute little boy you took care of.

“So, it’s true?” The woman behind her exclaimed in shock. “You’re really going to marry Seungcheol?”

Woah. Wait. What?

You can feel your eyes get big as this unknown woman goes on about how she knew her husband hadn’t lied to her. There was no time to fully process her words because Mrs. Ren practically had steam coming out of her ears as she sneered at you.

“You?” The principal's wife screeched. “You’re engaged to Choi Seungcheol?”

It’s almost funny how unreasonably angry you know she’s gotten, but you’re too thrown off by the entire situation to laugh. You decide to clear up this absurd claim before it can go any further.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

You cut yourself off when a strong hand is gently placed on your waist. The warmth of a muscular body pressed against your side has you looking over to see none other than your hot boss, and you have to stop yourself from flinching because he looks absolutely livid. His presence makes you feel relieved and mortified all at the same time which leaves you feeling confused. But damn, does that mean glare look attractive on him.

“I didn’t expect this reaction from you, Mrs. Ren.” His cold tone sends shivers down your spine. “Are you not happy that I’ve finally decided to settle down again?”

The entire situation feels like a bizarre dream, and you can only be sure it’s not because of the very real heat coming from Seungcheol’s hand (which is still firmly on your waist). You can barely fathom the fact that Choi Seungcheol is actually lying about being engaged to you to help you save face, and you don’t know if you’re more embarrassed or charmed at this point.

“Tha-That’s not it!” She splutters, red in the face. “I was just surprised because I didn’t know you were dating again in the first place!”

It’s a lame excuse, one that doesn’t seem to satisfy your boss. “I’m sure that was it. There’s no way you would bear any ill will toward my family, right?”

You feel like you might actually swoon at his words. To hear him refer to you as his family makes an unmistakable warmth spread through your body. Sure, he was only doing it to help you, but still. The intention alone was enough to make your heart race.

The face Mrs. Ren makes looks like she’s seconds away from bursting with anger and mortification. How she manages to answer Seungcheol calmly is beyond you. “Of course not.”

“Good.”

His hand falls from your waist and grabs your own. It takes all your willpower to not melt into a puddle of mush as he starts to guide you away from the prying eyes. You let him drag you along, mind too full of rampant thoughts to really process what just happened.

“Seungcheol!” A voice calls. “Wait!”

You both stop, turning to see the woman from before. She gives your boss a devious smirk as she stops in front of you two, seemingly pleased.

“Aren’t you two a match made in heaven.” She says, grin getting bigger with every word. “Keeping this little affair a secret. When Jeonghan told me about it, I didn’t believe it since I haven’t seen you two together, but with the way you looked swooped in like Prince Charming—”

As she trails off with a swoon, you realize that she’s Yoon Minji, wife of your boss’s lifelong friend and business associate. Your mind is so muddled that you barely catch her invite you both to dinner before leaving to go find a seat.

After she leaves, Seungcheol keeps guiding you to the auditorium without saying a word. The silence is painful, but you’re forced to endure it since you don’t know what to say. Thanking him for helping you would be a good start, but then you don’t know if you’d be able to hold yourself back from asking why the wife of his best friend thought you two were engaged to be married.

“Y/N.” Seungcheol says your name softly as you two stop just outside the doors that lead to the auditorium. “Once again, I want to thank you for coming. I know it’s going to mean a lot to Taehyun that you came to watch him.”

The way you look at him with your pretty eyes makes Seungcheol want to kiss you senseless. His heart is beating fiercely in his chest, and he wonders how he could’ve never noticed these intense feelings before. The smile you give him is blinding, and he wishes that look would remain on your face forever.

“I’m happy to be here, and I know that it’s going to mean the world to Tae that you were able to make it.”

Seungcheol swallows thickly. “Also, I’m sorry about what happened back there. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable with what I said.”

His gaze is so tender that you feel your breath hitch. You’re heart is beating like it’s about to jump out and jump right into Seungcheol’s hands. Unsurprisingly, that’s where it feels like it’s been for the past year. You’re snapped out of your intrusive thoughts when you realize that you’re still holding hands. Neither of you make a move to let go.

“You didn’t.” You’re quick to assure him. “I’m actually really grateful that you helped me. I hope I didn’t inconvenience you.”

“Never.”

His smile is so pretty it makes you want to do unspeakable things to him, and you have to remind yourself of where you’re at and who you are. That reminder does little to squash the fire burning fiercely in your chest, though. Especially when Seungcheol guides you inside the auditorium, hand still wrapped around yours.

Seungcheol didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he was about to enter the kitchen, your phone was on the counter and on speaker. It was inevitable that he heard his assistant’s voice as he spoke to you. He might’ve given you the privacy you deserved had he not caught what you two were talking about.

“How have you still not found something?” Josh’s concerned voice booms through the phone. “Your lease literally ends in two weeks.”

Originally, you had planned to move into a nice apartment building not too far from your job, but that fell through when you found out the prices had gone up significantly in the last month. It’s not like you were underpaid or anything (Seungcheol was very generous and the benefits were nothing short of impressive), but living there would mean spending more than half of your check on just rent alone. And as generous as your boss was, you know you could never bring yourself to ask for a raise.

“Everything I’ve looked at is either in a sketchy neighborhood or looks like it’ll need serious repairs.” You sigh as you start wiping down the stove. “I’m starting to think I should’ve never rejected Mr. Choi’s offer of being a live-in nanny.”

“Just tell him you changed your mind.” Josh says like it wouldn’t be a big deal. “He might give you the best room in the employee house. You know the one with the balcony!”

You disregard his teasing tone and scowl. “There’s no way I’m going to backtrack now. Do you know how humiliated I’ll be when he tells me no? I’ll have to quit right then and there!”

Even though you can’t see your friend, you can easily picture him rolling his eyes. “What do you plan on doing then?”

You pout at the phone. “Can’t I just live with you and Junhui? Your place is so nice.”

“You’ll have to stay in the living room, and you won’t have anywhere to put your things.”

Seungcheol sees your shoulders slump, and he has to stop himself from walking into the kitchen and taking you into his arms. He can only watch helplessly as you sigh quietly before responding in a voice that sounds too dejected for his liking.

“Maybe I’ll just move back in with my parents.”

This might’ve made Seungcheol feel better had his assistant not cut in with the obvious flaws in your plan. “Won’t the commute be too much, though? You can’t do that every day. Not with how early and late you have to work.”

There’s a pause, and then the next words that come out of Josh’s mouth make Seungcheol feel like someone punched him in the stomach.

“Unless you’re planning on resigning.”

Your silence makes the feeling in his stomach worsen, and your response doesn’t make him feel all that better. “Well, no, but... I don’t know. Maybe I’ll have to.”

Seungcheol slowly backs away, heart thumping irregularly in his chest. The thought of you quitting and no longer being in his life is more devastating than he could’ve imagined. It torments him and leaves him feeling cold.

For the rest of the evening, he can’t get his mind off the conversation he heard or how it leaves him feeling.

Even as he lays in his bed in the middle of the night, he can’t stop thinking about it. He goes over the situation over and over in his head until he finally decides that he can’t give you up, selfish as his reasons may be. All Seungcheol has to do is make sure his son won’t have an issue with what he’s planning to do.

“Taehyun.” He says softly as he’s tucks his son into bed alone for the first time in months. “You like Y/N, don’t you?”

The way the little boy vigorously nods his head makes his heart warm. “Yeah! She’s nice and pretty and I like when she calls me Tae!”

Seungcheol swallows, feeling more nervous than ever. “Then... how would you feel about her being around more often?”

Taehyun blinks slowly, weary eyes looking at his dad questioningly. As always, his son is silently asking to explain and get to the point. It’s hard to suppress a smile when he does things that remind Seungcheol how similar they are.

“What I mean is... would you like it if Y/N came to live here with us?”

It’s a relief when his son springs up, eyes shining with unadulterated excitement. “Y/N is going to live with us?” His happiness is evident. “Really?”

Seungcheol smiles tenderly, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

“I have to ask her first, but if she says yes, then she’ll come stay with us—as long as that’s something you want.”

“I do want it!” Taehyun says, bouncing on his knees. “Then we can all live together like a family!”

Yes, Seungcheol thinks as he affectionately caresses his son’s face. Like a family.

The next morning, you’re surprised to see your boss still hasn’t left for work even when you’re ready to take Taehyun to school. It’s even more surprising when he suggests you all go together. You can’t deny the request since Taehyun is all too happy to have you both take him to school.

It’s hard to ignore the stares you’re getting as you and Seungcheol walk Taehyun into the school. He’s holding both your hands, happily swinging them and talking animatedly. Funnily enough, the young boy manages to make the nerves you feel disappear with his infectious smile. You can easily disregard the gawking and whispers after seeing how happy your boss’s son is.

Seungcheol also doesn’t seem to mind the attention you two are attracting. He acts like his impassive self even as he’s driving you back to the mansion. The entire time he’s really just thinking of the best way to ask you to live with him and his son. Even though he knows you most likely won't say no, he still feels nervous.

“Y/N.” He says as he pulls into his long driveway. “Before you go, I have a request.”

You feel nervous, but manage to plaster a smile on your face. “Yes, sir?”

Seungcheol feels as if his heart jumped up into his throat. “Well, you see... my schedule is going to change drastically these next few months. I’m going to be working earlier and coming home much later. There are also be times where I’ll have to leave the city for business for extended periods of time.”

You’re not saying anything, and he knows he has to get to the point quickly.

“I was going to request that you come live with Taehyun and I during this time. It’ll be more convenient for everyone this way. I hope you’ll consider it.”

At this moment, your boss looks so earnest that you aren’t sure how to adequately express the influx of emotions you’re suddenly feeling. It all feels like a dream to you that you begin to wonder if his words are actually real. Either way, the warmth seeping into your bones pushes you to give the handsome man in front of you an answer.

“Yes, of course I will.”

Every time you wake up and find yourself in a luxurious room, you feel like you’ve been dropped in the middle of a blissful dream. Weeks have gone by, but it still feels unreal. Unlike your expectations, your boss moved you into the main house and gave you the room right across from his. It was hard to not let your fantasizing mind wander despite knowing he had done it out of convenience and nothing else.

Your life continues to be stuck in a routine until Taehyun goes to visit his grandparents. It’s strange without him around, and unsurprisingly, you begin to miss him after the first day. Your boss insists that you can take the week off and have it for yourself, but you still have no desire to actually do anything.

Seungcheol notices your listless attitude and feels determined to change it.

“Tonight?”

“You don’t want to?”

The way Seungcheol is looking like a pouty puppy is not good for your heart. Although you really don’t feel like going to dinner with Minji and Jeonghan, you can’t say no to the adorably hot man in front of you.

“No, it’s not that, I just—” You’re flustered, but don’t want him to think you don’t want to go with him. “They still think we’re engaged, right?”

You almost regret asking because Seungcheol’s hopeful look slowly fades away and is replaced by poorly concealed dejection. “Yeah. Sorry. I still haven’t cleared things up. We don’t have to go if that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

“I don’t mind.” You tell him truthfully. “I just didn’t want it to seem like I was crossing the line.”

Seungcheol has to physically restrain himself from falling to his knees and telling you that you’re the only person who’s allowed to cross the line with him. Instead he manages to smile at you like he’s not physically dying inside. “You’re not.”

As you’re walking in to what seems to be like one of the most expensive restaurants in the city, you’re glad you spend a good fifteen minutes deciding on the perfect thing to wear. Seungcheol had seemed to like it, at least. His eyes were practically sparkling when he’d seen you.

It’s hard to ignore this intense pressure you feel when you sit down at the table. Minji and Jeonghan greet you amicably like you’re one of their old friends, but you know it’s only because they think you’re engaged to Seungcheol which you most definitely are not.

Luckily, the conversation flows naturally and smoothly until Jeonghan asks a question that leaves you without a single thing to say.

“I need to know the story of how you two fell in love because this man is not one who crosses the line with his employees.”

You’d like to know the same thing yourself. Not that Seungcheol was actually in love with you or had actually done that much to push past these rules he had set, but he’d done more than you ever believed him capable of doing.

“I can’t really remember how it happened.” Seungcheol says honestly. “After a while, I found myself excited to go home and see her. Every time she smiled at me, I felt like my heart was going to explode. When she went home, I missed her even though I knew she was coming back. Eventually, I realized that I couldn’t picture my life without her in it.”

You’re staring. You know you are, but you can’t help it. He sounds so sincere with those shimmering eyes of his, and you feel like your own heart is on the verge of exploding. Even though it’s all an act, you start to feel those familiar butterflies invade your stomach and chest.

“Oh my god!” Minji squeals, slapping her husband’s arm repeatedly. “How cute is that? I swear you guys make me want a love like yours.”

As Jeonghan lets out an offended noise and starts to list off all the romantic and extravagant things he’s done in order to show Minji his love, you can only laugh along and pretend like your boss’s words didn’t affect you as much as they did.

When you get back home, your heart is still unable to let go of those sweet words. Even as you walk up to your room with Seungcheol still by your side, you can’t let them go despite knowing he didn’t mean them.

Now that it’s time to say goodnight, you feel strange parting ways even though he’ll literally be in the room across from yours. “I had a really good time tonight. Thanks for inviting me.”

“I’m glad you had a good time. I was kind of worried you weren’t going to.”

You always had a good time when you were with him, not that you would dare to say that out loud.

“You really surprised me, Mr Choi. I had no idea you were such a good actor.”

You had expected him to laugh, but instead he only looks at you with a somber gaze. “I told you to call me Seungcheol.”

His voice comes out so authoritative that it makes your insides clench, and his lidded gaze makes your heart leap up into your throat. You manage to find your voice even though it comes out a bit weak. “But we’re not pretending anymore...”

His gaze sharpens. “I’ve never pretended to love you.”

His words hang in the air, and they shock you so much that they make you unconsciously give into his request from before. “Seungcheol.” You say breathlessly.

The way his name rolls off your tongue makes his heart stutter, and he briefly thinks he could listen to you say his name forever. Both your eyes are burning fiercely with this emotion that has been blatant to all those around you. Except this time you can both see it.

You’re not sure who makes the first move, but suddenly his mouth is covering yours, tongue licking along your bottom lip. The feeling is electric, and you throw all your inhibitions to the wind as you pull Seungcheol closer.

Your heart is pounding fiercely as you two stumble into his room, pulling off the the clothes you’re wearing, touching each other desperately as if you think this moment might end at any moment. It won’t though, and you become conscious of that fact as you’re laying on the softest sheets you’ve ever felt, completely naked.

Seungcheol is gazing at you with so much affection and want that it makes you feel like he plans to eat you up. He kisses along your inner thighs, gently licking and biting at your soft skin. His warm hands caress the outside of your thighs, gently digging his fingers into the soft skin.

“So pretty.”

You can feel your breath hitch in anticipation as his hands smooth down your inner thighs until he’s pressing two fingers against your aching clit. It’s dizzying the way Seungcheol rubs it in gentle circles that have you squirming and gasping in pleasure. His heated gaze flickers between your face and your dripping cunt, not wanting to miss the sight of you falling apart under him.

“Look at how wet you are, sweetheart. All for me.”

His voice has a possessive edge to it as he grinds down on the bed, hard cock rubbing uselessly against the sheets. The pleasure is minimal, and Seungcheol has to hold back a whine at the lack of relief.

“Please.” You mewl, shifting your hips up slightly.

Seungcheol keeps his dark eyes on you to make sure you’re watching him. He presses a soft kiss to your pulsing clit, and he has to groan when he sees you clench around nothing. The featherlight touch has you feeling so desperate and lightheaded that you’re unable to stop the wanton mewl that tumbles past your lips. “Seungcheol.”

Your voice is so needy and sweet that Seungcheol lets out a moan of his own before he dips his head between your thighs. The moan you let out is loud as he starts to suck and lick at your aching bud. His movements are smooth and gentle somehow, and it’s not long before you feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten.

Seungcheol is groaning and panting into your cunt as he laps up every bit of your juices. He’s eating you out like a starved man, and you love every second of it. The way he grabs your thighs and pulls your wet cunt closer to his mouth makes your head swim. One of your hands finds his hair while the other trails up your body to cup your tit. You pull and pinch at the taut nipple with a loud moan of Seungcheol’s name.

The sweet moans you’re letting out as Seungcheol spreads your slick all over your cunt makes his cock throb in anticipation. He wonders what you’ll sound like when he finally has his dick inside you. Your grip on his hair tightens when he circles his tongue on your puffy bud. The cute whines falling from your lips become louder as his he continues to fuck you with his tongue.

“So sweet.” Seungcheol groans against your dripping cunt. “Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Your pussy clenches around his tongue so tightly that it almost feels like it could be pulled off his mouth. But your moans and mewls coax him to keep going, loving the way you’re starting to blubber incoherently. “Fuh-Fuck! Feels so good...”

The way you take an awkward pause makes Seungcheol lift his head questioningly. Your whine of protest has his leaking cock throbbing almost painfully. “What is it?”

Your face feels hot, and you’re so lost in your pleasure that it pushes you to tell him the truth. “Can... Can I call you daddy?”

Seungcheol smashes his hot face back into your cunt, cock aching painfully. “Call me whatever you want, sweetheart. I’m all yours.”

His tongue and lips are massaging your swollen clit, and all you can do is throw your head back and arch your back to grind your hot cunt harder onto his mouth. It almost feels like too much, but strangely also like not enough at the same time.

“O-Oh, fuck! Daddy!”

The loud cry you let out as you squirt all over Seungcheol’s face makes him let out a guttural moan of his own. His entire chin and mouth is covered with your sweet juices, and he continues to lap it up like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted—which you are.

Seungcheol sits up, licking his lips until he can’t taste you anymore. His grin is devious but also so hot. He’s gently caressing your still-quivering thighs, and you feel like you can faint from how much you’re enjoying it.

Then, your eyes drift down to his huge cock. It’s possibly the biggest one you've ever seen, and also the prettiest. You lick your own lips before looking back up at at his face. The way he’s looking at you with his dark eyes has you clenching around nothing.

“You’re okay to keep going?”

God, he’s so fucking sweet that you just want to fuck him until he can’t talk. You nod desperately, opening your legs wider.

“Fuck me, daddy.”

Your mouth drops open in a quiet moan when you feel Seungcheol’s thick cock push into your cunt with a lewd, wet sound. His large hands smooth down your thighs, squeezing and caressing so tenderly that it has your pussy clenching down on his throbbing dick. He swoops down to swallow your moan, lips messily colliding with yours.

His thrusts are so deep and slow that all you can do is gasp into his mouth. The fat tip of his cock is hitting your sweet spot so sharply that you have to buck your hips up to meet his movements. Seungcheol starts to trail his lips along your jaw and neck, gently nipping and kissing at the soft skin. The lewd squelch coming from your pussy is driving him insane. His entire cock is coated with your juices, and he’s never feel better than he does now.

“Fuck, angel. Look at you, taking daddy’s cock so well.” His voice is dizzying, and all you can do is cry out in pleasure.

Seungcheol leans back, just watching you writhe under him. You’re so pretty as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing him until it feels almost hard to move. His hand slowly trails down between your bodies, and you let out a loud moan of his name when he starts to roll your puffy clit with his long fingers.

White cream coats his entire length, leaving a milky ring at the base of his cock. You wetly gasp out his name, your nails digging into his forearms, but Seungcheol is relentless. He’s like a hungry beast as he pounds into your gushing hole and all you can do is desperately try to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck, look how you’re soaking daddy’s cock, baby. Making such a mess.” He groans, feeling your slick dripping down to his heavy balls.

You can only moan loudly for him to keep fucking you, already drunk on the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open. Seungcheol spits on your throbbing cunt, mixing in with your juices that are coating his dick. His bulbous tip is slamming against the spongy spot that has you seeing stars, forcing more slick out of you with every harsh thrust.

The coil in the pit of your stomach is close to snapping, and your mouth drops open as your thighs begin to tremble again.

“Fuh-Fuck, daddy! Love your big dick!”

His tantalizing smirk is so hot to you, and it makes you clench down on his cock and release another stream of slick. Seungcheol moans, eager to feel you cream on his cock like he’s dreamed of countless times. It just takes him angling his hips just right for his wish to come true.

Your toes curl in pleasure, a loud moan of his name tearing from your throats as a rush of wetness escapes you. Of course, Seungcheol keeps pounding you, roughly fucking you through one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cream all over my cock.” His voice rasps, thick with lust and adoration.

A thick white ring is at the base of his cock, slowly smearing down to his heavy sack. The sight is driving Seungcheol wild, almost as wild as the sight of your glistening folds stretching around him. “Give me another one, baby. I know you can.”

“Fuck, please.” Your cry. “Fill me up with your cum, daddy!”

It’s like something inside Seungcheol snaps when he hears your pleas. In an abrupt movement, he presses your legs to your chest and starts to pound into your hot cunt. Your tight walls are sucking him in like they’re also begging to be painted with his seed.

“You want my cum, angel?” Seungcheol coos, gently caressing your soft legs as he slams his cock into your sweet spot, balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “Want me to fill you up until you’re carrying my baby, give Taehyun a little sibling?”

“Please!” You mewl when you feel his cock throb inside you. “Want to make you a daddy again. Stuff me full of your cum!”

Your voice is breathless and a little whiny, and Seungcheol feels like you’re making him lose his mind. “Fuck, baby. I’ll give it to you then. I’ll fill you up until I’m all you can feel.”

You continue to beg him for his cum, telling him how much you need it in your cunt. The more he fucks you, the less you can form actual words. Every fantasy you’ve had feels so dull compared to the real thing. All the times you’ve gotten off to the image of him fucking you or had wet dreams about him were absolutely obscene and filthy. Somehow, the reality was much better.

A rush of euphoria overwhelms you when you feel Seungcheol spills his cum directly against your cervix. You wrap your legs around him to make sure his cum goes as deep as possible. His hot load fills you up, painting every inch of your sensitive walls as he slowly rolls his hips into you.

You yank him down for a messy kiss, so desperate and needy for him that you don’t care about anything else. “Don’t stop, daddy.”

Seungcheol fucks his cum into you, wanting to mark you from the inside out now that he has you. He can feel your mixed releases slowly seep out of you, and he carnally thinks he’s going have to fill you up again so he can be sure he’s bred you properly.

Your hot cunt is throbbing almost painfully, bordering on that delicious burn of being overstimulated. But you’re still hungry for more. So when he releases you from the press he had you in, you roll over and stick your ass out at him. You look back, satisfied when you see his dark eyes are on your sloppy pussy that’s dripping with his cum.

“Keep fucking me, daddy. Want more of your cum.”

That’s all it takes for Seungcheol to plunge back into your tight cunt, pounding into you like a savage beast. His leaking tip slams into your spongy spot repeatedly, making you cry out in absolute ecstasy. His big balls are slapping against your sensitive nub, adding to the mind-blurring pleasure you’re feeling.

“Fuck, Y/N. Your little cunt is still so fucking tight after being stretched open and bred.” Seungcheol growls, hands squeezing and slapping your ass as it bounces against his pelvis. “Creaming and dripping all over this cock, making a mess again.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he keeps fucking you with feral precision. “Fuck, daddy! So good!”

Seungcheol can feel your hot cunt clamping down on him again, and he lets out a deep moan. “Come for me again, baby. Show daddy just how good he’s making you feel.”

You can only mewl and whine, too list in the pleasure his big cock is providing you. Seungcheol’s thrusts become impossibly rougher and sharper. It feels like he’s rearranging your guts with how he’s pulling your pliant body to meet the snapping of his hips.

“Daddy!” You squeal in shock when he flips you on your side before hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and continues to fuck you mercilessly.

This new angle stretches your sore cunt more while exposing it to the cool air. You can only imagine how filthy you look down there, but Seungcheol seems to love it. All the pleasure your feelings is driving you insane, and you can only feel an insane amount of pleasure taking over your mind.

“Come inside me, daddy!” You moan wantonly, desperate to feel his hot cum fill you up again.

His soaked cock throbs inside you, eager to release inside your tight pussy. “Want me to? You that desperate to be a mommy, baby?”

When you nod desperately, he focuses on making you come again so he can give you what you both want. Seungcheol gives you one sharp thrust before he leans back slightly to watch you squirt and cover his lower half in your release. Your body gently convulses as quiet mewls pour from your mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart.” Seungcheol groans as he keeps fucking into your hot cunt. “Can’t get enough of you.”

He keeps slamming in and out of your wet pussy desperately, eager for his own release. Seungcheol comes with a yell of your name, spilling his hot cum deep inside you and pumping you full. His cum spurts along your sore walls until it feels like there’s no room for more of it. It seeps out around his cock, leaking down to your ass and his heavy balls.

Seungcheol doesn’t slow down. The oversensitivity you’re both feeling makes him more ravenous. He obsessed with the sight of you trembling on his cock, caught between begging for a break and pleading for more. He fucks his cum into you, desperate to make it go as deep as possible.

Wet noises seep into your foggy mind, playing dully in the background to your muddles thoughts of sex and Seungcheol. He’s successfully fucked you stupid, and you’ve never felt better than you did now. Your cunt is filled to the brim, his seed coating your every inch of your core. At some point, his thrusts slowed into thorough grinds, sticky strings of arousal and cum connecting your most intimate parts.

Seungcheol doesn’t pull out. Instead he collapses next to you and tugs you closer. He shoves his face in your collarbone, inhaling your scent as he feels raw cock throb inside you.

You hug him closer to you, gently caressing his hair. It’s a peaceful silence that fills the room, and you were close to drifting off to sleep until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I ask you something?”

Seungcheol nuzzles deeper into you, pressing a wet kiss on your soft skin. “Anything.”

“Why did Jeonghan think we were engaged in the first place?” You wonder, thinking it would be fine to ask this much since you have his cock and cum inside you.

There’s a pregnant pause until Seungcheol pulls back and looks at you with a slight pout. “That idiot wanted to set you up with his cousin. I had no other choice but to tell him you were already mine.”

You actually laugh, not believing this was the same man who told you to never overstep the boundaries he had. His pout is still there, and you lean in to kiss it right off his face. It’s languid and gentle, and leaves you feeling dizzy.

“Fine, but I still expect an actual ring.”

Seungcheol hugs you tighter, wondering if it’s too soon to show you the little black box he has in his nightstand.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo @dokwiyomie

#seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #svt smut #svthub #scoups smut #svt x reader #seungcheol fic #seungcheol fanfic #svt x you #seungcheol x you #svt fic #scoups fanfic #scoups x reader #scoups x you

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forlix · 1 year ago

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𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 !・h.h.

— you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・very suggestive so mdni, reader implied to be shorter than hyunjin 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, flirting, humor, big fwb vibes

𝐚/𝐧・this took me less than half an hour to write i am actually the biggest sucker for this trope. also, we hit another milestone recently!! i appreciate all of you immensely; look forward to more ♡

[!]・hi hey hello as of one month later a full-length fic based on this au has been posted!! here it is; you can read the two in any order. ok bye much love

“Five ‘til!” A crew member calls into a walkie-talkie, and you’re so surprised by this information that you stumble right over him, your heel ungracefully ramming into the poor man’s toes.

You apologize hurriedly, bowing yourself out of the awkward situation—and then you check your watch. 7:55 P.M. A quiet "shit" leaves your lips as it dawns on you that you'd completely lost track of time.

Briefly, you contemplate your predicament, drumming the palette of makeup you’re holding in your right hand against the palm of your left: do I have to? Is it really necessary? But you know your answer even as you’re asking yourself the questions. You’re damn meticulous—sometimes to a fault, but always to your own satisfaction.

You had a vision, and you’re going to see it through.

With impeccable timing, your coworker appears out of nowhere, and you fasten a hand around her arm. “Hey, where are the members again?”

“Stage left.” Then she registers your question in full, and snaps her eyes to your face; stylists were supposed to have finished up with their respective members nearly an hour ago. “Hang on, are you out of your mind—”

“I won’t be a minute!” You call, scurrying away.

“You won’t be employed!” She returns, but you’ve already disappeared into the curtains’ dense shadows.

You jog a short distance, turn a few corners, and finally spot the eight members clad in outfits of varying amounts of silver and black, every inch of them so sparkly that they’re reflective, even with how little light reaches this part of the stage.

You’re looking for one man in particular, though, and you single him out right away: long, black locks falling into his eyes as he adjusts his microphone, broad shoulders and tall frame flattered perfectly by an obsidian suit, looking like he fell off a Paris Fashion Week runway and into a wormhole that teleported him to Osaka.

All your doing, by the way.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” You shout, and he (along with several of the other members) whips around at the sound. And Hyunjin furrows a perfect brow when his stylist materializes before him, four minutes to curtain up, wielding a palette of makeup like it’s a baseball bat.

“Are you out of your mind?” He calls.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You lift a pointer finger into the air and curl it twice. “Come here. Hurry."

Hyunjin gives the others an apologetic glance before hurrying over, and you are met with a blast of Byredo Blanche when he arrives in front of you, the expression on his face equal parts amused and confused.

“Down,” you say, flicking open the eyeshadow palette with one hand.

And then Hyunjin understands. A loud, uninhibited laugh leaves his lips, a sound you’ve become so accustomed to by now that you’re completely oblivious to the fact that only you bring it out of him.

“You really are something,” he says, spreading his feet apart until he’s brought himself to your eye level.

With that, you get to work, one hand gathering some eyeshadow on the pads of your fingers, the other moving to hold his shoulder. Brushes are luxuries you can’t afford right now.

“Close your eyes,” you direct, your voice softer now that your face is only inches away from his, and Hyunjin heeds your words obediently. You begin to dab the crimson powder against the curve of his lids, careful to avoid messing up the rest of his eye makeup. His lashes flutter involuntarily at your gentle touch.

“A shadow to match the lip,” you murmur absently. “I pictured it and knew it had to happen."

Hyunjin makes a sound of approval, and then there is that smirk on his face, the one you’ve learned only means trouble. “You’ve been thinking about my face the whole night, then?”

“No. I’ve been thinking about whether vegetables can feel pain,” you deadpan. “Yes, I've been thinking about your face. It’s my job.”

“Is that all?”

“Sure is.” You blow gently on his finished eye and move on to the other. “Now save your voice for the stage.”

He obliges, but that dreadful, self-assured expression remains on his face, and you're immeasurably grateful that he can’t see the blush that you’re well aware paints your cheeks.

“Done,” you say a minute later, straightening with a confident flourish. And you think you could squeal when Hyunjin opens his eyes, and you see that the exact effect you’d hoped for has been realized: a splash of maroon that is both subtle and seductive, sleek and suave; that not only accentuates the shape of his eyes but pulls attention to his lips, which are dyed a similar hue. Damn, you’re good at your job.

“I don’t have a mirror,” you say, looking around. “I can use my phone if you want to—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I trust you.”

You grin at this. “Good. Because you look sexy as hell."

Upon hearing your words, he straightens to his full height. You don’t think much of this at first, too busy re-examining the masterpiece you’ve created on his eyelids, but in the blink of an eye you’re suddenly aware that Hyunjin is standing conspicuously and intentionally close to you. You instinctively move away, but you’re too late; he’s already guiding your back to the wall behind you, his body enclosing yours against the smooth surface.

You send a panicked look over Hyunjin’s shoulder, only to realize that the two of you are completely out of anyone’s line of vision. That doesn’t stop the sharp hiss that leaves your lips: “Hyunjin, are you cr—”

But then there is a familiar gust of breath against your skin, a thumb over your cheekbone.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself when you get like this; all bossy and concentrated, an ambitious glint in your eyes, an air of confidence in your gait. He always thinks it’s ironic that your job is to make him look good when all he’s ever done is admire your beauty, so effortless and profuse that it feels timeless, like freshly bloomed forget-me-nots.

He knows he shouldn’t—but that makes him want to more.

When your lips meet, they move together with an ease and familiarity that reveal how many times you’ve done this before. He brings a hand to the small of your back, and you tangle your stained fingers in his luscious hair, the delicious pressure of his mouth upon yours rendering your reluctance (and the eyeshadow palette, which clatters noisily to the floor) momentarily forgotten.

As the kiss deepens, the bridges of your noses slide together; your every sense becomes overwhelmed by the slippery plush of his full lips and the warm caress of his large hands; you drink in the rosy musk of his cologne like your cells need it to live as opposed to oxygen. The tip of Hyunjin’s tongue teases the seam of your lips, as if requesting access, and you grant it to him with a light moan that is both blissful and thoroughly exasperated. When he hears the gorgeous sound, he has half a mind to scoop you up and leave the venue then and there.

Then, a voice bellows from not too far away: “One minute, everyone! Places, places!”

You’re so startled that you not only break away from him but jump a meter into the air, giving Hyunjin’s bicep a hearty slap on your way down. But he is entirely unbothered, dipping his head to press a trail of light kisses along your jaw instead.

“You’ll be watching the performance, yes?” He murmurs against the sensitive skin.

“Of course, what else—”

“—don’t take your eyes off me.”

And the words throw your heart against your ribs like uncooked French fries in a vat of oil.

He is just about to walk away when you realize how decidedly disheveled you’ve left him, and you yank him back to you with a fresh wave of panic. You wipe at his smudged lipstick with the cuffs of your sleeves; nitpick his hair until every strand is back in its proper place. Only when you’ve gotten rid of all the incriminating evidence do you permit him to leave.

“Thank you very much,” he says, bending into a gracious bow, the perfect image of professionalism. The facade is given away only by the upturned corner of his still-flushed lips.

“Break a leg,” you return drily.

The last thing you hear is that stupid, bright laugh before Hyunjin rejoins his members, and they step into the strobe lights together.

Even when the concert begins and the stadium is drowned in fanatical screams, the heartbeat in your ears remains the loudest sound of all—and you bury your burning face in your hands.

Hwang Hyunjin will be the death of you.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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inkedtae · 2 months ago

Text

xii. rotten angelcake ⇾ kth. [M]

⎡She’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten⎤

chapter twelve : in the wings⤑ ❝ late to the theatre, you're caught in taehyung’s grip. pleasure and power collide and you find yourself in an interesting position. ❞

⇽ prev. | masterlist | next ⇾

⌁ pairing; ceo!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.)

⌁ genre/rating; s2l, ceo au, sugar daddy au, smut, fluff, 18+

⌁ word count; 9.3k

⌁ warnings; dom!taehyung, daddy!taehyung, sub!reader, brat!reader, virgin!reader, daddy kink, praise kink, corruption kink, bdsm themes, dirty talk, exhibitionism, use of sex toy, overstimulation, a bit of cum play, pussy spanking, teasing, begging

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

» prefer ao3? keep reading here

ও huge thanks to jen ( @itaeewon ) for the amazing new banner and a very special thanks to jen ( @anobodyslove ) for beta-reading this in such short notice! i really appreciate it !

You’re late.

And, despite the teasing texts from Taehyung, you swear it’s not your fault.

Whether it be her general dislike towards you or your impromptu day off last week, Marina has been bitchier than usual. She has found new ways to torture you, trading her normal tactics of endless to-do lists for assigning useless work instead. Yesterday, she ordered you to fill out countless forms, only to remember that they were out of circulation once the task was completed. She then forced you to shred them while she “supervised” with a gloating smirk.

This morning she had you running around the building looking for a certain data specialist for an important meeting. She had promised attendance to the interns. After hours of questions and several flights of stairs, you found out he had quit a month ago. You missed the meeting and needed to stay after work to digitise the minutes and send copies to the department managers.

Frustrated and exhausted, Taehyung’s suggestion returns in quiet echoes. It’s not as though you’re above quitting. It’s been your goal since your first day. This job was only meant to be temporary anyway. But, if you quit now, with less than three months of experience at a highly recognised company, all your work would be insignificant. More than that, all the crap you’ve endured thus far will be for nothing. Three months is not nearly enough credible experience to transfer to other jobs. You might be able to spin it in your favour during an interview, but you doubt your resume will even be selected.

Pushing the thought away, you secure your hair back in a low, loose bun with another pin, then reach for the hairspray. You’ve gone back and forth too much for someone in a rush. But it’s your first time going to the opera or ballet (you’re not really sure what Taehyung had said and don’t have the time to scroll through messages to confirm). You just want to make a good impression on his colleagues.

That is the only reason he invited you, you remind yourself. This is not a date.

Swarovski diamonds sparkle on your deep-necked dress. You tug at the short hem near your mid-thighs and adjust the edges of the plunging bust. You thought the lace would make you itchy, but find it is lined with soft silk. Elegant and creme-white, it would resemble a wedding dress if it was longer, you can’t help noticing.

Rolling your eyes at the thought, you grab the matching earrings Taehyung had bought you– a pair of silver wings at the base with a dangling tassel of diamonds. He has impeccable taste. You almost wish he could style and dress you daily, like his personal doll.

A shiver runs down your spine. Your legs press together.

Deep breath in— your chest fills, eyes shut— deep breath out.

“You must be Taehyung!”

You hear Mrs Chu exclaim, eyes snapping open. What the fuck is he doing up here? You told him you’d be down soon, not even a second ag—

Shit.

Mrs Chu has been trying to meet Taehyung for weeks. Luckily, you’ve always been able to come up with some sort of excuse, usually revolving around a lack of time. She’d often try to corner you in the morning, just as you’re on the way out, asking countless questions about Taehyung’s schedule. In a rush, you tell her he’s just really busy this week and bolt out the door.

Grabbing your phone, your fingers tremble as you unlock it. A glance at your last message shows it was really sent about twenty minutes ago. You find he initially replied with acknowledgment, sending you a black heart. Later, perhaps growing concerned from your delay, he warned that he would be coming up if you’re not down in the next sixty seconds.

You shut your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. With a huff, you grab your clutch, tossing in your lip gloss, keys, phone and wallet, and rush out into the hall.

Taehyung stands in a full black suit, only a silver tie shining between the lap of his coat. He towers over a five-foot-six Mrs Chu. His hair is slicked back, a sliver-cuffed earring pinned to his lobe. He offers her a smile, a gentle nod.

He says something. The deep tone of his voice masks the words from a distance.

She’s practically giggling, though. Her face is a shade pinker and she has to force herself to look away.

Is this what you look like? Is this what everyone sees? He towers, you cower, bashful and dazed, inching closer towards him. He calls, you fall, helpless and desperate, playing with the buttons of his shirt.

Is this why no one believes you’re just friends?

Taehyung, eyes lazy yet intrigued, lips easy yet curved, draws Mrs Chu’s attention back.

“I see why ____ is so smitten,” she teases.

Your eyes widen. Heat rushes to your cheeks, hands suddenly clammy.

“Mrs Chu,” you call before she can go on any further.

You feel Taehyung’s eyes on you but can’t bring yourself to meet them. You keep your attention on Mrs Chu, making your way towards her.

Slipping between her and Taehyung, you pointedly glance at the couch. “Isn’t Wheel of Fortune on soon?” You ask through gritted teeth.

Mrs Chu rolls her eyes. She leans in towards you, peering up over the rim of her glasses, and mutters, “Subtle.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from groaning and you swear you hear Taehyung stifle a laugh behind you.

She then looks towards him, and smiles. “It was nice meeting you, Taehyung.” She then feigns surprise and adds, “I just remembered Wheel of Fortune will be on soon.”

“How is that any less subtle?” you whisper.

Mrs Chu opens her mouth to most likely scold you when your breath hitches. You stumble back as her eyes fall to your waist.

Taehyung wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you back against him. He’s steady and warm, but you fight against the urge to lean into his touch. As comforting as it is, especially after a hellish day at work, you cannot let your feelings for him get the better of you or risk Mrs Chu making this bigger than it is.

“I would love to continue this subtle conversation,” Taehyung says, “but we really should be going.”

You can hear the smirk in his words, feel the muted laughter deep in his chest. You even feel the deep timbre of his voice resonating into your spine. You stiffen, refusing to let the soulful lure soothe your anxieties.

Mrs Chu is at a loss for words. You’ve never seen her so surprised. She’d experienced life to its fullest. A wild college girl in my day, she always says. An honour roll student, valedictorian, three scholarships, co-captain of the cheer team, married her college sweetheart— divorced him a year later for the love of her life.

And here she stands, perfectly still, before you. She gawks over her glasses, jaw slack, brows raised, bouncing her attention between you and Taehyung as if you had just announced him to be the father of your child.

You shift your weight, hand moving over Taehyung’s to gently brush it off.

You hear the shifting fabric of his pocket as he shoves it in before clearing his throat, “Let’s grab your shoes, Angel,” he whispers, lips hovering near the top of your head.

Mrs Chu blinks at the nickname. She looks at you, like she’s waiting for an explanation, maybe even a correction.

You’re not sure what to say. ‘We’re just friends’ seems like a lie now— you hate the fact that it’s all you will probably ever be. And you doubt you’ll be able to utter that last word without choking on it.

Instead, you let out a breathy chuckle. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

Before either one of them can reply, you hurry down the hall and back into your room. As you search your closet for your heels, you wonder if you also have enough time to shut the door and scream under the covers.

“Your room is not as pink as I imagined it.”

Clutching the shoebox against your chest, you turn to find Taehyung standing in your doorway. He nearly fills the entire frame with his impressive height and broad shoulders. The black of his suit contrasts starkly against the cream walls, making the trim along the ceiling and the base of the deep maple hardwood floors seem almost fragile beneath his inquisitive gaze.

He’s right, though– there isn’t nearly as much pink in your room as you’d like. The space is tiny, barely accommodating your twin bed, a small vanity, and the rack of dresses Taehyung gifted you a couple of months ago. As he steps inside, you press your back against the closet door. The room suddenly feels suffocating as he surveys the small space, gazing with quiet interest, lingering on every detail.

Your bed, lent to you by Mrs Chu, is pushed against the wall beneath your window. Its frame, a regal black metal with subtle gold accents, feels almost too grand for the tiny room. You’ve indulged in pink silk sheets and a fluffy white comforter. It was an impulse buy after the first surge of funds Taehyung transferred nearly seven months ago. At the foot of the bed, a cluster of plushies sit neatly. You don’t sleep with all of them, but their presence is comforting.

A couple of books, lip balm, and hand cream sit on top of your oak night table, right beside your bed. Neatly stacked to the right are several more books. It’s not your entire collection, just your favourites. You often reach for them when you need to unwind or seek some comfort. The rest of your library remains boxed under your bed due to the limited space.

Above the bed hangs a gallery of impressionist paintings, each piece a relic of Mrs. Chu’s undergrad days. The vibrant scenes of grassy meadows, serene portraits, and abstract landscapes fill the wall with a patchwork of moods and colours. The adjacent walls are functional: one holds your closet, while the other features a large window nearly spanning its width. Framed by white cotton curtains and fairy lights, the window allows soft daylight to bathe the room.

Taehyung’s eyes settle on the vanity on the other side of the room. He tilts his head at the array of perfumes, bows, and makeup brushes that sit in organised chaos. His fingers graze the dangling chains of your necklaces before his attention settles on one of your smaller plushies. A smile plays on his lips at the collection of remaining stuffed animals you have littered around your room. He picks up a tiny Totoro plushie, turning it over in his hand, his expression soft with amusement.

“Cute,” he hums before putting it back.

You catch a soft look in his eye and cannot fight the heat creeping up your neck to your cheeks. “You don’t like it when I touch the things around your office,” you point out, stepping towards him as he picks up a perfume bottle.

He lets you take it from his hand and return it to its rightful place, suppressing an amused smirk. “When has that ever stopped you?”

You bite your lip to suppress your own guilty smile.

Then, he steps closer. A crisp herbal blend, where floral notes of white tea are grounded by earthy impressions of sage infiltrate your next inhale. Hints of cedarwood and amber, with citrusy touches of begoment, are laced in with his usual musk– no doubt the doing of his cologne. You swallow thickly, resisting the urge to press your thighs together. He smells so delicious, so clean and rugged and Taehyung.

You tilt your head back to properly meet his intriguing, half-lidded gaze. At the sight of your pout, Taehyung nods towards your bed. His lack of words reminds you of the fact that you left him waiting for twenty minutes downstairs. Following his silent order without your usual air of defiance, you take a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter before opening the shoebox to take out your sliver, strappy ribbon heels.

Taehyung kneels. He wraps a hand around your ankle and pulls your foot up to his face. His lips are soft. They press firmly on the knot of your ankle. Then, he sets it down on his knee.

You feel your face heat, flesh pricking with goosebumps. You try your best not to shiver, but fail as he takes the shoe from your hands and begins to slip your foot through. He’s careful with the straps, delicately looping the ribbon around your calf.

His silence usually alludes to something sinister. He’s always so calm before a punishment. The anticipation is often exhilarating. Wondering what he might do, what he might say makes you want to misbehave. How relentless will he be before finally giving into you? How harsh of a punishment will this act yield? These questions excite you but watching him be so deliberate in deafening silence almost makes your toes curl.

However, being this late, you doubt he will execute any physical punishment. Genuine anger may be the reason behind his lack of communication. He does have a habit of issuing a lack of attention as a punishment over texts.

Taehyung grabs your other foot and kisses your ankle again.

“I had to work late,” you try to explain.

He slips on the other shoe.

“The time just got away from me.”

He wraps the ribbon around your leg. His fingers are soft, brushing against your smooth skin.

He doesn’t even grunt an acknowledgement. You wonder if an explanation is doing more harm than good.

His nails are short, but you feel them gently scratch at you as he ties a bow under the back of your knee.

You pull your lip between your teeth, thighs trembling as you continue to resist the urge to press them together.

There it is— a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip.

Before you can utter another apology, Taehyung spreads your legs. The heady scent of your neediness fills the air as your wet, white thong is exposed. His grip on your knees tightens at the smell, the action aggressive enough to trigger a quiet moan. His lips, however, are soft, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh.

Another gasp cinches at the base of your throat. You want to ask him what he’s doing. You want to remind him that you’re late, that Mrs Chu is on the other side of the slightly ajar door and can easily walk in on you. She might even be able to hear you right now, struggling to keep your breaths even. But you can’t find the words to stop him, or perhaps— you don’t want to.

You grasp on the edge of the bed. Your eyes flutter shut. You lean back, hips rolling up, up, up towards his chin.

His breath fans over the apex of your thighs. He breathes in deep, nose nuzzling against the damp fabric of your thong.

You bite your lips to hold back a moan.

Friends don’t do this, a little voice in your head whispers.

Friends don’t smother their perfect faces against your wetness. Friends don’t quietly moan and attempt to get you off to the mere vibrations of their voice. Friends don’t coax you into grinding against their firm noses.

But, perhaps, best friends do.

“No more cute sounds for me tonight?”

You peek down at him. He’s pulled himself away from your hips, licking the taste of you off his lips. A mischievous twinkle dances in his gaze.

You glance at the door, about to remind him that you’re not alone.

The smack of his hand against your clothed crotch cuts you off instead.

You’re only just able to catch your yelp, or so you think as a breathy whine breaks through. Eyes wide, you cannot believe he just spanked your pussy. And now he’s rubbing the pad of his thumb firmly against your bundle of nerves.

Your eyes dart to the door. You hear the catchy tune of the game show, the distant voice of the host but cannot make out any footsteps.

Taehyung does not seem to care. All playful indications in his features disappear. His attention burns through you, boiling your blood with needy passion. Your hips buck against the measly bouts of slow pleasure.

And all he does is stare.

Your toes curl, jaw tightens. How can he be so calm right now? Your wetness glistens on his chin, his breath smells of you, his hand is drenched with your neediness and he still kneels between your legs like it’s the only place he wants to be found. He presses harder against you, coaxing another whine.

It’s starting to infuriate you. Does he even care about you, risking your relationship with Mrs Chu so casually? Is this all for his own sick satisfaction? He gets you to trust him, to let him in, only to humiliate you in front of your surrogate grandmother?

God, he’s insufferable.

“We’re late,” you begin, parting your lips to continue when he cups your chin with his other hand.

You melt to his touch all too quickly, allowing him to pull down your head and maintain eye contact.

“And who’s fault is that?” He asks, reaching into his pocket.

“I told you that I had to work a bit later than usual,” you reply, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “My job is important to me.”

“My promises are important to me.”

You raise a brow. “To who?”

That cocky smirk is not lost on you. Taehyung loves a good game— a good show. He likes watching you squirm under his sexual scrutiny and burn with jealousy.

It is the realisation of finding yourself in this position all over again— legs spread, Taehyung in between, and your pride shrivelled up in the corner, you are exactly where you swore you would never be agai—

“Ah!” you whine, eyes wide.

Taehyung continues to push the little toy into you.

“Shh,” he soothes.

You swallow thickly, clenching around the cool silicon. “What is that?” You whisper, voice fragmented and faint.

His gaze softens, thumb brushing against your clit. You resist the urge to buckle your hips up.

“A vibrator. It’s pink, shaped like a heart,” he explains as a smile graces his lips. “It was meant to be a gift for later, but,” he quirks his head to the side, ceasing his ministrations and fixing your panties. “It will work just as well for a punishment.”

You roll your eyes, moving to close your legs. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you it wasn’t my fault.”

“I stood out there for twenty minutes.”

“You have a jacket, don’t you?”

Taehyung stands. He chews on the inside of his cheeks, hands slipping into his pockets.

You press your legs together.

“We fighting today?”

You bite on the inner corner of your lip, attempting to suppress a smile. The quirk of your brow is hard to mask, however. One of the first things Taehyung admitted he was drawn to was your swift wit. He likes to hear you bark only for him to bite. He finds it amusing and pitiful and absolutely thrilling.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” you mumble. Your voice is small but you stand with confidence, leaning your head back to maintain his gaze.

He’s so close now, you can taste the rich scent of his cologne. He nods once, lips brushing against your chin.

“We’ll discuss this in the car,” he whispers against your skin. The deep bartone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. You find it hard to keep your hands to yourself. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you inch forward on your toes to press your chest to his.

A fight is never really a fight, more like a challenge of endurance. How far do you dare to disobey him? How long can he last before doing something about it? But in this moment, all alone in your little room with his hot breath fanning against your lips, you don’t feel the urge to push his buttons anymore.

Taehyung does not remove his hands from his pockets. He stays still, expression stoic. If you couldn’t feel the fast beat of his heart or the hardness of his length, you would think he doesn’t want you touching him.

A pout tugs on your lips at the lack of attention. Softening your voice in hopes that he will at least grab your waist, you ask, “Are you really ma–”

“Don’t,” he hisses, voice husky and low. “Don’t you dare make me repeat myself.”

You whimper. It’s pathetic and strained, but you cannot stop the sound from slipping out, let alone your lips from quivering. You miss him so much, need him so bad. Your heart aches with want, and for a second you cannot understand why things have to be so complicated. You love him and want him to be yours, in every sense of the word. You want to introduce him to Mrs Chu as your boyfriend, not just some guy you happen to be friends with and he just happens to buy you whatever you want. You want to hold his hand, call him sweet terms of endearment and flaunt your relationship in front of your stupid, bitchy boss. You want his attention, his time, and most of all– his lips on yours.

But then the rational part of your brain makes a reappearance and reminds you that this yearning is one-sided, and acting on it would mean risking the little bits of attention you’re getting right now.

So you swallow thickly, slide your hands off his broad shoulders and down his strong chest, then back to your side. You grab your purse and the white fur coat Taehyung bought you from the bed, and lead the way out.

“We’re going,” you call to Mrs Chu as you unlock the door.

She waves you off.

“Have a good night, Mrs Chu,” Taehyung then says.

She sits up in her seat on the couch and turns to give him her best smile. “Only if you do too, Taehyung,” she teases. A girlish giggle tumbles out of her as he flashes her an easy smile. You suppress the roll of your eyes as you head out.

Taehyung does not rest his hand on the small of your back as you make your way down the stairs. You sneak glances at him, finding he remains composed, hands still in his pockets, and completely ignoring you. When you step outside into the cold November night, he finally spares you a look over his shoulder. You stop mid-step expecting to find his usual car instead of a limousine. You remember being in one on your first night out together but that was because the event insisted on sending them out for all their high-funding donors. However, you don’t remember Taehyung mentioning that this is a charity event.

Noticing your hesitation, he slips a hand behind your back and gently leads you towards the car. The driver opens the door for you and Taehyung helps you in. He does not lean in to buckle your seat belt for you, instead circling the back of the car to get in from the other side.

The limousine is a void of black leather and silence. You miss Sinatra’s soft voice trickling through the speakers and green glow of Taehyung’s custom made car. Most of all, you miss the way EDEN would greet you, flashing pink when speaking to you only.

You slouch in your seat.

If you had known he’d be this upset, you would have told him you wouldn’t be able to make it before putting all this effort into looking presentable in front of his colleagues. Maybe if you had been honest about not being ready on time, he would have at least been more understanding. You know he hates coming late, having read about how he often arrives an hour before his meetings when you were researching him prior to your first meeting at the art gallery.

But this passive aggressive treatment is too much. You miss him doting on you, groping your thighs and pulling you against his side. You’ve already apologised, even if you instantly attempted to bait him into an argument seconds later. He likes that you’re bratty, having told you so multiple times. So when is he going to swallow his pride already and–

“Ah,” you quietly squeal as the heart-shaped vibrator buzzes to life. The vibrations are slow, humming quietly against your clenching walls.

Taehyung slides closer to you, the widespread of his legs knocking against your trembling knees. You instantly press yourself against him, not about to resist his strong scent and warmth. His forehead brushes against yours before he roughly grips onto your chin, forcing you to meet his angry gaze.

“When will you fucking behave?” he hisses.

Your toes curl. Heat pools at the apex of your thighs. You let out a shaky breath, rounding your eyes.

He tightens his grip, puckering your glossed lips. “I try to be patient with you,” he continues, voice dropping an octave. “I try to teach you and play with you, but you keep getting this crazy idea that you’re in charge.”

“M-May I please explain,” you ask through a whimper.

A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest and tumbles over your hot face. He moans softly before grazing your soft cheek with his teeth, teasing a bite. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you, besides ‘yes, daddy.’ Am I clear?”

“Yes, daddy.”

A satisfied growl resonates from the depths of his chest and into yours, further dampening your little white thong. He uses his free hand to lift and rest your thigh over his lap. The new position, legs spread for him, allows the vibrations to buzz freely within you. While you try to bite your lip, constricted from his harsh hold on your chin, a loud moan still slips out.

“What was the first rule I sent you?”

You fight back a smile at the memory of that conversation. After running out of his office, overwhelmed by the sudden realisation of your feelings, he texted to check in on you. You went back and forth for a bit before he revisited the topic of discipline, or rather– what to expect from each other.

[angelcake] : interesting. so i get a say in this too?

[V] : Of course.

[V] : This goes both ways.

“No talking back,” you finally answer, pulling yourself out of your memories.

Taehyung smirks against your skin. Warm and soft, his lips then gently press against your flaming cheek. “That’s right, princess,” he mutters.

Princess.

A strained whine tears through your throat at the new term of endearment. He hasn’t called you much besides Angel. Sometimes he might pepper in a darling or sweetheart, but he has only uttered that word once before, last week when you stormed into his office in a huff. You didn’t know how badly you needed to hear it again, in that deep baritone voice of his, until now. Your hips roll up in response, desperate for more of his attention. Still, the vibrations remain at the current slow pace and pattern.

Taehyung rubs your bare thigh as it rests over his strong leg. His hand inches closer and closer to your needy core, softly brushing against your sensitive skin. You can’t help shivering, or your little moans. No matter how much you bite your lip, ruining your lip gloss, or hold your breath, those desperate sounds still escape. It’s as if your body is determined to let him know how much you need him.

He’s taking his time, grazing the pads of his fingers over your soft inner thighs. You fight against the instinct to press your legs together at the tantalising sensation. You want to beg him to just touch you, to just cup your crotch and kneed your clit with the heel of his palm as the vibrator continues to buzz within you. But he specifically narrowed your responses to two words and hasn’t asked you any other questions that would elicit an alternative answer. If you try to reason with him again, it will only anger him even more. And, while you love to see him riled up, you don’t think you can survive another sexual encounter with Kim Taehyung and be denied yet another orgasm.

So you keep your painful desires to yourself, letting out shaky, whiny breaths instead. It’s better this way, you try to tell yourself. I won’t seem too eager.

Your body betrays you, hips lifting up to finally meet his fingers. You expect a comment about how the fabric of your thong is clinging to your folds as he pushes his fingers against them. You expect him to administer feather-light touches, continuing to torment you with his slow pace.

Instead, you receive a harsh slap over your folds. The sound echoes in the car, rivaling the volume of your surprised moan. You move to throw your head back, but his grip on your chin is still tight, forcing you to maintain eye contact.

He smacks your wetness over and over again. Each one is just as hard, just as harsh. You can feel the heat radiate from his hand with every hit, legs trembling from the consistent bursts of simulation. The intensity of the vibrator within heightens a notch more and you cannot help the roll of your eyes.

“Look at me,” Taehyung whispers.

As you try to make eye contact with him again, you catch the gaze of the driver. Face red and eyes wide, he watches you through his rearview mirror. He holds your gaze, surprised at first but his shame soon falters. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s pleased.

“D-Daddy,” you mutter, voice strained and shrill.

Taehyung follows your concerned gaze. His features harden. “Don’t look at her,” he orders. His voice is full of assertion and dominance. The driver instantly obeys, still Taehyung adds, “Eyes forward. Drive.”

His expression softens when he turns back to you, the grip on your chin loosening. Voice low and husky, he asks, “Are you alright?”

The sincerity in his tender gaze makes you tremble. “Yes, daddy,” you whisper, suppressing a smile at the way he bites his lip.

Taehyung nods, finally letting go of your chin. Instead, his hand slides behind you and around your waist, pulling you closer against him. He dips his face to the crook of your neck and his lips caress your soft skin. With a sharp inhale of your scent, his other hand finds its rightful place between your legs. He cups your throbbing core, smirking at the way you arch your back into his side.

“You’re always so responsive to me,” he whispers in your ear, nibbling on the lobe.

The rich baritone of his voice makes you squirm all the more. Your folds sting from the harsh smacks, clit aching for more stimulation. You want to tell him to soothe the ache, to rub you until your eyes cross and you’ve forgotten your name. But you know he’s only showing you a semblance of mercy now because you took his punishment without sassing him.

However, you find that you don’t need to say much. You wonder if perhaps your body is rather responsive in a way only Taehyung can decipher as he seems to know exactly what you need. Shifting enough to press his forehead against yours, he takes one look in your eyes and smirks. Before you can even think about questioning what that soft, amused look even means, his hand starts to move. The stimulation is agonisingly slow and soft but it’s something.

You do your best to stay still, to simply receive his generosity, but your hips have a mind of their own. It starts with a simple shift, then a squirm and before you know it, you’re grinding against his hand. One hand gripping on the edge of the seat, the other on the lap of his coat, you greedily gyrate against his long fingers.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. He sounds so raspy and just as breathless as you. “Have I told you that tonight?”

You shake your head, cheek flaming. “No, daddy,” you shakily reply.

He kisses your cheeks, smirking at the heated skin, then trails his lips along your jawline. He lingers, as if committing the soft curves of your features to memory. When his lips finally reach your ear and his fingers are completely drenched in your wetness, he says, “You look absolutely delicious.”

His voice resonates deep in your bones, rattling the discs of your spine and prinkling your skin with goosebumps. Your eyes roll back, hips eagerly grinding into his fingers as a disgustingly pathetic moan tears through your throat. You sound so weak and frail and like you’ve lost all sense of yourself.

And yet, as Taehyung holds you tight and nuzzles his nose into the side of your face, muttering sweet praises, you have never felt more safe and secure in your life. You’ve merely had dreams of feeling this protected, but always believed that you were never the type of girl that deserved that kind of attention.

But here Taehyung is, rendering you into a complete mess, and you feel as though you’ve finally found comfort and security.

“M-May I please cum?”

The words tumble from your lips in a hasty breath. You feel Taehyung smirk against your flushed skin.

“Are you sure you want to?” You can hear the teasing edge in his voice and it makes resisting your orgasm harder. “You’ll have to sit in your sticky panties all night, Angel,” he warns, yet his ministrations are relentless, “I know how much you hate that.”

Yes, the sensation is uncomfortable and unsettling once the fog of lust has lifted and you’ve registered the reality of what you have just done. When you’re seconds away from one of the best orgasms of your life, however, you don’t care what you soil or who witnesses it. You just need to release it, and now.

“Please, Daddy,” you whimper, body tense. Your voice is a shell of what it once was, all meek and desperate. “Please, please, let me cum. I promise to behave the rest of the night.”

Taehyung groans quietly, the gentle vibrations rumbling from his chest to yours. “You know I’m going to hold you to that, right?” He teases.

Toes curling, bones stiffening, you hastily nod. A strained sob tumbles from your glossed lips, face furrowed in tormented pleasure.

He chuckles at your broken whines. The vibrator nuzzled within, buzzing at a moderate level of intensity this whole time, suddenly jolts a notch faster. Even his fingers press firmer and harsher between your sensitive folds.

You hold back. Squeezing your eyes shut, holding your breath, you do whatever you can to hold your orgasm back. His second rule is to always ask to cum. He told you that you’ve broken it several times and promised that he will not be lenient if you do it again. You would have hesitated to disobey him even if he wasn’t already annoyed with how late and sassy you’ve been tonight.

Perhaps he notices your stiffness, or has finally decided to stop toying with you, but Taehyung mutters his approval with a wet, open-mouthed kiss against your ear.

A waterfall of relief and satisfaction washes over you. Lips curled in a faint smile, you throw your head back and release a sharp whine as you gush around the vibrator. Your body roars with pleasure, hips rolling quicker and quicker against his touch, desperate to ride over this ethereal feeling to the last burst of arousal.

You must have been chanting his name because suddenly Taehyung’s voice trickles into your light-headed mind, low and deep, with reassurances.

“I’m right here, Angel,” he sweetly mutters. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You moan even louder, neediness evident in your ragged voice. Your throat feels sore from the strain of both suppressing and releasing broken whines, but you can’t care less. All you can think about is Taehyung.

Offering another round of delicate kisses, he teasingly asks, “You’ve been such a good little thing for me, haven’t you?”

You know he is not expecting an answer, but you nod anyway.

He pulls back, bringing his hand up to lick his arousal-slick fingers, holding your lust-blown gaze through half-lidded eyes. His deep-chested groan vibrates against your chest. Whimpering, you clench tight around the still buzzing toy.

A thought suddenly pops into your head and, for a second, you think you should ask before you act on it. The urge takes over you, though. Leaning a mere inch forward, you latch your lips around his pinky, sucking on the remnants of your orgasm with him.

He smiles– his sweet, velvety laughter echoes in the absence of your loud, recklessly needy moans around the limousine. You cannot help the flush of your cheek at the sound, suppressing a guilty smile yourself. You are not keen on tasting yourself but, with his hand being the only thing separating your lips, this might be the closest you get to kissing him. And, besides, you like how his strong fingers feel on your tongue. You like how he always pushes against it, as if silently ordering it to yield to his touch.

You slouch back into the seat, body trembling, as you suck on his fingers like a pacifier. Your gaze meets Taehyung’s at the realisation and the darkening gleam in his eyes makes you wonder if perhaps he was thinking the same thing.

You’re not sure how this always happens– how easily his presence can render you helpless and fragile. Is it simply his dominating demeanour, or a sixth sense that seems to be attuned to your body’s desires? Does he know you really well or are you just an open-book? You want to ask, want to know what it is about him that makes you feel utterly vulnerable, yet completely safe.

Removing his fingers from your mouths, Taehyung decreases the intensity of the heart-shaped vibrator back down to its lowest setting. You release your grip on the edge of the leather seat and his coat, full chest heaving in your glittering dress. He pulls you closer, his lips millimetres away from the corner of yours.

“Do you see what happens when you behave? You took your punishment like a good girl and I rewarded you, didn’t I?” He asks. His tone is condescending but still calm and firm.

Biting back another moan, since you have humiliated yourself enough in front of the driver, you nod. “Yes, daddy,” you whisper, still trying to catch your breath.

“All you have to do is trust me.”

“I do.”

The words escape before you can even register them, carrying too much conviction and urgency. You swallow thickly, wishing desperately to take them back.

Taehyung’s brows furrow, ever so slightly.

You narrow your eyes. Did… did he just flinch?

Before you can really analyse the gesture, the car stops. You glance at the driver to find he’s keeping his eyes forward, but his expression is filled with a mix of regret and terror. The sudden sound of clicking cameras redirects your attention to the car door on your side of the limousine.

In a few simple movements, Taehyung readjusts both your positions so that you are sitting properly beside him. He fixes your dress and the framing pieces of hair around your face. He then presses a soft kiss to your cheek before meeting your gaze with deliberate care and tenderness. “It’s going to be a bit loud, just like when we went to that gallery. Do you remember that?” When you nod, he continues, “I want you to stand close to me and just keep your head down, okay, Angel?”

His once assertive voice is replaced with a soft yet protective edge. He holds your gaze even after you nod again, and doesn’t tell the driver he’s ready until you verbally confirm that you understand.

When he moves to step out of the car, you call him back. “The vibrator,” you whisper, still feeling its faint buzz against your tight walls.

Taehyung smirks, his gaze flickering down to your lap before meeting yours again. A mischievous glint dances in his eyes as he replies, “I know.”

Your breath hitches as he exits the car. Does he actually expect you to navigate through the zoo of reporters with an active vibrator sitting deep inside you? The ongoing stimulation, while weak, paired with the stickiness of your thong is overstimulating enough. To expect you to ignore it all while avoiding cameras is cruel and a part of you thinks it might be part of your punishment.

Nonetheless, you accept his outstretched hand when your door opens and gracefully step out of the car. The next thirty seconds are a series of flashing lights, invasive questions and lots of shouting demands. The late November night air is cold, but the nosy reporters, shoving cameras and microphones in your face are colder. They care very little for personal space as they push between the security personnel for a mere glimpse of a better shot.

You pull your fur coat closer to your body. Taehyung keeps a protective hand on your lower back, guiding you to the front door as you keep your head down.

“What’s your name?!”

“How did you meet?!”

“Who are you wearing?!”

You ignore their questions, nuzzling closer to Taehyung. You can feel the heat of the theatre now, about to cross over the threshold when a particular question draws your attention back.

“How long have you been working for the Geraldson Group?!”

Brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, you whip your head back. How the fuck did they know you work there? Have they been following you? You want to scan the crowd for a familiar face, however the scene before you is chaotic and much too loud. The sudden attention causes a roaring wave of excitement. Immediately, flashing lights blur your vision. You’re mostly shielded by the thick fur of your coat, but the fast blinking still disorients you.

Taehyung tightens his grip on your waist and pulls you inside with him.

The doors close. The thunderous voices of the reporters muffles and soft, classical music fills the grand space before you.

You blink until your eyes adjust, one side of your coat falling from your shoulders as you lean into Taehyung’s strong frame for support. He helps you out of it without another word. Before you know it, you’re being led through a theatre of Renaissance design.

Plush red carpets span the entire lobby, their vibrant hue complementing the warm, amber glow of the majestic marble walls. Each wall is adorned with rectangular pillars that stretch skyward, meeting the concaved ceiling in graceful, curving arches. Symmetrical patterns climb the face of every pillar, leading your eyes to a high, vaulted ceiling brimming with ornate details. However, the classical, Renaissance design truly shines through in the intricate porcelain trimmings, their delicate craftsmanship adding an air of timeless elegance to the space. And in the centre of it all is a lavish chandelier with a beautifully carved medallion. Like a blooming flower, it skirts around the glowing crystal with triangular carvings.

You let out a breathless gasp at the sight. Your attention trails down to the numerous attendees of tonight’s event, all dressed in formal suits and dresses. They are conversing or making their way to their seats, climbing up the grandiose staircase before you.

Taehyung returns his hand to the small of your back. You look up at him, expecting his previous cold demeanour to surface. However, to your surprise, he meets your gaze with exceptional warmth. He even offers a small smile as he leads you to the staircase.

Relief washes over you at the sight. You thought he might be upset at the fact that you technically disobeyed his orders when you turned back to the cameras at the last second. However, his borderline cheer-y mood seems to be genuine.

Wanting to keep that joyful spirit alive, you mutter, “I didn’t mean to look back. It’s just–”

“I know,” Taehyung reassures. His hand rubs soft circles on your back with every step up the stairs. “I heard the question.”

You raise your brows, lips slightly parted. “How do they know?”

Taehyung’s once playful eyes soften into something more sincere and… remorseful? “Someone’s been feeding them information.”

“Who?”

“Take a guess, princess.”

Any indication of guessing flew out the window the moment he called you that pet name. You swallow thickly, clenching around the humming toy. Why must he make this so easy? Pretending to be his, even believing it, is so fucking easy when he touches you so tenderly, adjusts his steps to match your slow ones because he knows you’re wearing heels, and calls you intimate terms of endearment all too causally. Suddenly, you want to tell him, you want to forget all the consequences and just let the words take over you– I think I’m in love with you.

But the moment you part your lips, fear shackles your voice. You can barely breathe as you look up at him. His side profile is stunning. Strong jawline, sweet lips, soft nose and captivating eyes with long lashes, he is flawless.

“I don’t know,” you finally reply, voice quiet and shaky.

Taehyung sighs. “I suspect it’s your boss, but I haven’t been able to prove it just yet,” he confesses. “I’ve been mostly trying to keep your name out of the press and buy out any possible pictures of you.”

The rage you instantly feel for Marina falters as Taehyung continues to outline in detail how he has tracked down every digital and physical copy of your photo and erased it from existence. He reassures you that no one will know who you are or where you live.

“And,” he adds as you finally reach the landing, “No one was supposed to find out where you work but I think she got that out herself.”

“Why can’t she just leave me alone?” You mutter under your breath.

Is sex with Taehyung really that good or is she just insane? At some point, she must see how psychotic all this is– if she indeed is the one leaking personal information about you.

Taehyung still hears your exasperated words, tightening his grip on your waist. “Look, I know we talked about it before and I really do want you to feel free to choose to do whatever you like,” he starts, leading you down an extravagantly designed hall, “but, Angel, please reconsider quitting. None of this is worth it.”

“Do you seriously think I don’t know that, Tae,” you reply with just as much annoyance laced in your voice. “Of course, it’s not worth it, but it also won’t be worth anything if I leave now and I’m certain she knows that. And I’m not about to run away from someone that pathetic and desperate.”

Taehyung raises a brow at your words.

You bite your lip, instantly filled with regret and yet you don’t take any of it back. You know you’re right. You know she’s acting crazy. And, you’ll be damned if a psycho like her is going to control your life.

“You know,” Taehyung whispers, “You’re kinda hot when you’re pissed.”

You fight off a smile. “That’s really funny,” you tease, as he stops you in front of a red curtain. “I could say the same thing about you.”

One of the ushers pulls back the curtain and Taehyung nods at you to enter before him. You step through to find the entire auditorium below. The lobby pales in comparison to this grand space. The ceiling is also domed but instead of being adored with a beautiful medallion, it reflects a renaissance-style painting of Heaven. Pale blue skies, rich white clouds, gods and goddesses dressed in cotton sheets and wraps, looking solemn and holy.

You gape at the sky, letting out a small gasp. “This place is so beautiful,” you whisper to Taehyung as he guides you to your seats– the front row of the balcony.

“It’s my favourite theatre,” he replies, sitting down beside you. He rests his hand on your bare thigh and continues, “I knew you’d like it.”

You pause.

You thought that this was some sort of business event. Taehyung specifically told you that he would like you to attend five events with him. There was the art gallery, a night you will never forget. Then you went to the stables, where he dry humped you senseless and no doubt destroyed any evidence the polo players may have had of it. And there was that one on the boat but really you can’t remember what charity that was for. All you remember of that night was Taehyung’s mouth all over your nipples and being delicately taken care of.

This night at the theatre was supposed to be the fourth. You’re wearing the fourth dress he bought you specifically for these business events, after you expressed your insecurity of not being able to afford anything fitting enough to be his plus-one.

However, the show looks like it’s seconds from starting and no one else is entering the balcony. You take another look around and confirm that it’s just you and Taehyung up here, with that heart-shaped vibrator still buzzing and your chest still pounding.

“What charity is this for again?” You ask, keeping your voice tempered.

Taehyung casts you a sidelong glance before answering, “This is not for charity.”

You wait in hopes that he will continue.

He doesn’t.

Is this a date? A misunderstanding? Were you not supposed to wear this dress? But Taehyung made a comment about it in the car. If he didn’t want you wearing it tonight, he would have told you so before you even left your apartment. You wonder if he didn’t because you were late, or maybe he just didn’t notice yet.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, Angel?”

His deep, velvety voice draws you out of your confused thoughts. You cross your legs, instantly regretting the action as it puts more pressure against the soft vibrations within. You suppress a moan.

Taehyung then leans in close, pressing his lips to your ear to whisper, “Are you horny, princess?”

Heat pools at your core. You can’t stop yourself from squirming in your seat. Shooting him a pout, you hold back a snarky comment and instead ask, “Is this a company event?”

The assertion in his dominance softens. Licking his lips, Taehyung shakes his head. “No, it’s not,” he replies, “A friend I made in the military is performing tonight. He sent me two tickets and I thought I might as well bring a friend.”

You should have stayed curious. His words suffocate your heart and you find yourself grateful for not confessing your feelings for him earlier.

Thought he’d bring a friend, you wonder as your jaw sets. So not only is this not a date, but I’m also a fucking afterthought?

Did he also think to just put you in this dress and call this one of your obligated events? Does he just want to get this over with?

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he orders.

You suppress a glare, schooling your features. “Nothing,” you mumble.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Sharply inhaling, you have to swallow thickly to keep from sarcastically snorting at his hypocrisy. You’re not allowed to lie but it seems like he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

“Why am I here, Taehyung,” you find yourself asking. There’s an edge in your voice that cannot seem to stay hidden. “This isn’t work related, you made a huge deal about being late and this vibrator is only making things worse, so just tell me what I’m doing here.”

Taehyung sits up in his seat. He turns away from the stage, even as the lights dim, to fully face you. The curtains pull back, revealing the stage and a single individual in the centre, who might very well be his friend, but he continues to keep his undivided attention on you.

Voice low and deep, he poses questions of his own. “What has been going on with you lately? One second you’re fine and the next you’re talking to me like I’ve hurt you,” he whispers, earnest brown eyes boring into yours. “I’ve been following your rules. I text you every morning and night, I’m not, nor have I ever paid you for sexual favours and I haven’t seen anyone else in almost a year. I don’t skip meals anymore, I tell you if you might interact with one of my exes, I shared my location with you, even when I knew you were just joking and being a little fucking brat.”

You bite your lip, averting your gaze to your lap in shame. He really has been on his best behaviour. Even on his busiest days, he sends you the messages you asked for and takes the time to give you detailed rundowns of his entire day.

Gently cupping your chin, he nudges you to face him again. “Tell me what’s going on,” he repeats. “Tell me how to fix it.”

I wish you’d love me, you want to say. I wish you’d love me the same way I love you. And you’re starting to realise that perhaps you’re becoming resentful that he doesn’t or that you’re just too much of a coward to really succumb to such vulnerability.

“You’re missing the performance,” you mutter, hoping to skirt the conversation for another time.

“I’ve already repeated myself once. Don’t make me do it again, Angel,” he warns, yet his voice remains heavy with heartfelt emotion and sincerity.

Perhaps you cannot tell the whole truth, but you might be able to get away with telling him a part of it. “I feel like an afterthought right now,” you whisper. “I feel like you asked me to come because I was just there and not because you actually want me here.”

Taehyung wraps an arm around your shoulders. He pulls you close into his side and leans down ever so slightly to press his lips to your ear. “An afterthought,” he questions in a breathy whisper that makes your clit ache. “You’re the only thought. You’re here because this is where you belong, Angel. Don’t forget that.”

You grip onto his thigh, body trembling. His words loop in your head, over and over as he pulls back enough to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead. Biting your lip, you do your best not to moan, knowing it will surely echo in a grand room designed for optimal sound.

“Now, how about we have some fun?”

Before you can reply, the vibrator surges to a pace that’s three times faster. You bury your face into his neck, not caring if the gesture will ruin your makeup or his suit, to muffle your needy moans. Tightening the cross of your legs, clenching around the toy, you do your best to repress your growing desire. If you let out a whine that is even slightly at speaking volume, you’re convinced the entire auditorium will hear it.

“Please,” you manage to murmur.

Taehyung quietly chuckles, his lips brushing against your ear. “You know better than to beg, Angel. Be good, and maybe I’ll reward you after the show.”

And with that, he settles back into his seat, leaving you trembling on the edge of composure, the hum of the vibrator your only company as the performance begins.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #v smut #v x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #taecember 2024

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quarterlifekitty · 3 months ago

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Another installation of the MonsterHunter!AU

Context: a baku is a demon/yokai that eats bad dreams. It has a lot of depictions, often in modern times its design is loosely based on the Malayan tapir. So I picture reader as being a tapir girl, with the cute ears, and some teeny tusks. And that really cute mottling that baby tapirs have bc it’s my post and I do what I want. But she can look however you like, really.

While Price often takes killing bounties, Ghost is a bit less picky. He doesn’t mind capturing monsters alive and delivering them to the highest bidder.

Lately, there’s been a trend amount the local nobles. Get a baku, and it will eat your child’s bad dreams, they say. So demand is high. These people don’t know that a baku can also eat your hopes and ambitions if it isn’t well fed on nightmares, but Ghost doesn’t really care to inform them.

It was supposed to be a quick and easy job— be back before dinner. But things often don’t go to plan in this line of work. If you can manage to find a baku, capture is easy. They don’t have a means of really defending themselves, and they’re docile by nature. Ghost doesn’t realize how attractive such a thing is to other bounty hunters.

He doesn’t even tie your hands when he finds you. Baku are not stupid. You know he’s faster and stronger than you are. The rival bounty hunters throwing a weighted net over you don’t realize this.

He spends half the day taking them down one by one as you’re dragged behind them in the forest. Not enough time to travel back to the guild, he has to camp out. Ghost uses his knife to cut you loose. Out of precaution, he draws his symbol on your back with a prick of his blood so you’ll be bound to his vicinity. But he doesn’t see the sense in keeping you cramped in the net.

He manages to forget what you are when he gets to sleep. You amble to his side when he starts to thrash with the visions of dead heaped up across the landscape. You sigh, gently planting a hand on his chest and coaxing the vapor of his dreams from him.

It’s the best you’ve had. So addicting you follow the plume straight to his mouth, kissing him through the cloth of his mask. It tastes of glistening red, of a brittle splintering husk, like ichor pouring from the wound of a god.

Simon startles when he awakes and sees the position of the sun in the sky. Much later than he’s risen in years. And he slept through the night, entirely uninterrupted, which is completely unheard of.

And he feels like a fucking new man. The light of the sun doesn’t feel like punishment against his skin, piercing beneath the thin membrane of his eyelids. He feels light. Packs up camp, nearly overflowing with energy,

You smile at him, flicking your little tapir ears. You look good, too. Healthy, shining hair and bright eyes. Strangely pretty, for a dream demon. You follow him closely without much provocation when he decides it’s time to get going.

He thinks about forgoing the bounty. His sigil fades from your back, falling in rusted flakes from the large white patch of your two-toned fur. He’ll get something more permanent for you when you’re back at the guild. He’s certain he has enough nightmares to keep you fed for the rest of his life.

#writing #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #baku!reader #monster hunter au

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thedovesaredying · 11 months ago

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Werewolf!141 x F!Reader | Sneak Peek

You've been assigned to Task Force 141 as their designated Werewolf Handler. It will be your job to ensure that the pack work together as coherently as possible through any means necessary. You think it will be an easy enough assignment, just help out the Task Force and then move on to the next one. Unfortunately for you, the rest of 141 aren't so willing to let go of their new human.

A/N: Just a little snippet from an AU I'm playing around with. It'll mostly be a smut-based fic.

Warnings: Mentioned Child Abuse (Simon's Past)

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Out of every member of Task Force 141, Ghost is the only person you’ve struggled to get along with. That isn’t to say he’s rude or deliberately trying to make you feel uncomfortable with them, he’s simply not as welcoming as all the others. He has his reasons for that, you know, probably some kind of attempt at keeping you safe, but it’s beginning to get on your nerves.

You’re a human, the rest of your team are not. A whole pack of werewolves with you right in the middle of it. While normally you would be touched that someone cares so much for your welfare, you’ve spent years learning how to handle werewolves and you’re far from a rookie. It’s gone from being sweet to being nothing but irritating.

You’re their designated handler, so it’s vital that all of you can work well as a team. You’ve met three of the wolves – Price, Gaz and Soap’s - and for the most part they’re good fun to work with.

Soap, by far, has the clingiest wolf. He follows you around base, tail wagging and tongue lolling as he acts like your own personal shadow. He’s playful and loves nothing more than to run circles around you while you’re trying to work. According to his file, he comes from a large family of other wolves, so he’s well socialised and both halves of his personality, human and wolf, work together in perfect harmony.

Gaz’s wolf is a little more reserved when it comes to spending time with those outside of the pack, but he’s just as friendly toward you as Soap, if a little less excitable. He has a beautiful, sleek black coat, unlike Soap’s shaggy brown mop of fur. You’re the only human who can run your fingers through his soft fluff without potentially losing a finger for disturbing his luscious locks.

Your Captain has the typical grey colouring, with some white sprinkled across his muzzle. He’s the very picture of a regal, perfectly poised wolf. The two sergeants might be unruly when playing together and enjoy riling up one another, but both heed Price’s commands without fail.

Ghost, however, is an unknown.

During the full moon your pack run out across the field on base, play wrestling and doing their best to smother you with affection. It’s an evening of fun and a perfect way for the group to destress every month. But Ghost? He’s never there with you.

While Gaz and Soap grew up with other werewolves teaching them how to behave and coexist with their inner wolves, and Price has had decades of working in the military to develop a vice-like grip on the control over his own, Ghost never had such an opportunity. He wasn’t born as a werewolf, rather turned into one.

Werewolves born from others of their kind have good relationships with their wolf halves, having existed together even within the womb. Those who are turned suddenly find themselves with a whole separate creature suddenly inhabiting their minds and bodies, and the results of having their psyche torn to pieces so violently can be horrific. You’ve seen firsthand what kinds of aggressive, murderous beasts can be born from a newly changed werewolf rejecting their other half.

Ghost is one such beast. Turned as a child by his own father in an attempt to make him bigger and stronger, only for it to backfire and create a terrifying monster instead. Instead of learning to embrace his wolf on a full moon and finding others of his kind to play and grow with, a young Simon’s wolf found himself locked up in a metal cage. He would be muzzled and beaten during his father’s attempts at “training” the wolf, then left either chained to a pole or in the tiny cage without food or water for the remainder of his change.

And that’s merely what Ghost’s medical file is willing to disclose, the majority of the rest blacked out completely. You’re fortunate enough to have access to the highly classified documents, but even they give you very little to work with.

Price has told you just how difficult it is for the other wolves to work with Simon’s wolf. He never learned how to socialise with other wolves, and it took months before they could all cohabitate without fights breaking out. But still now, years on, Ghost still refuses to spend the full moon with the rest of the pack.

You were requested specifically to work with the pack to try and help Ghost open up a little and learn to accept his other half. No doubt it’ll be a difficult task given Ghost’s history, but this isn’t your first rodeo. By the end of this you’ll have Ghost’s wolf rolling over for belly rubs like the good boy you know he is.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #captain john price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you

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lucyandthepen · 2 years ago

Text

love on the floor | njm

exactly when does vice president na turn from the company’s worst nightmare into your favorite daydream?

pairing: chaebol!na jaemin x secretary fem!reader rating: vaguely M, but will very quickly escalate into a hard R in coming chapters genre: romance, fluff, (eventual) smut (in later chapters), chaebol!au warnings: jaemin isn’t really a total asshole but he isn’t great at the beginning either and i think that should be a warning, there’s probably some language use that deserves a bit of caution i GUESS, but tbh nothing much here because we want to pretend that this is a fic of chaste circumstances and not a lead-up to raunchy, depraved smut word count: 16.4k

author’s note: first of all, the development of this fic is absolute SHIT because i love context too much and refuse to shut up at the beginning only to get antsy for the ending so if the pace is a little stop and go … it’s because i’m a Fewl !! and i totally own up to that !! and second of all, this is actually just a set-up for about two more shorter (?? what’s shorter) works that i’ve already been wanting to write but felt like i would be remiss in doing so without some kind of build-up to the relationship so :^) here we are ! heavily unbeta'd and miss lucy is a bit rusty but we carry on for the sake of enjoying oneself (and practicing writing once again) muah enjoy!

At least this job gets you free medical.

Actually, all things considered, this is an excellent job with limitless benefits. You never have to worry about the three-level insurance, you have monthly paid-for visits to the dentist, and you sometimes get to use the company car for personal errands for as long as you meticulously check everyone else’s schedules and butter up the head secretary, Son Seungwan, just enough so that she feels mollified enough to let you have this favor (but not too much to the point that she catches on and gives you a ten minute lecture on the rising prices of gas post-the-turn-of-the-decade). Your rent’s well paid-for, and the apartment you’re staying at is comfortable, albeit a little smaller than most, although that’s just because you prefer spending your money on once-in-a-lifetime type things, like front row seats to a Paul Kim concert. You get 50% discounts at the company cafeteria, which boasts a pretty nice salad bar with more than just perilla leaves as the greens. The bathrooms even have luxury soap installed into the automatic hand dispensers, so you always come out clean and fancy smelling.

All in all, the job’s pretty perfect, to the point that you don’t think leaving will ever truly be in the cards — except for the fact that you barely see your boss, which, as nice as it sounds on paper, is actually the most stressful part of the position.

You’ve always been of the opinion that if Vice President Na Jaemin put his mind to something, he’d actually do it very well, but the running issue is that he hardly ever puts his mind to anything, especially when it comes to work. In fact, the only thing he ever seems to take seriously is having eleven hours of uninterrupted sleep, which you personally think is an extremely hard thing to achieve, leading you to the firm belief that if he channeled that energy into something less dead-to-the-world and a little more productive, things would be amazing.

And maybe things would also be a little less distressing if his family would just accept him for who he is instead of expecting too much (or, actually, anything) from him, but Vice President Na is the only son of the family that owns the largest telecom company in the country, so his parents have a ton of huge expectations for him. His father, in particular, is clearly trying to prepare him to take over the entire business, something that the Vice President clearly isn’t keen on doing, based on the many arguments you’ve had to sit through alongside Head Secretary Son. The result is a lot of tension that’s only exacerbated by the Vice President’s desire to avoid more conflict, which he does by suddenly disappearing from the office for hours — sometimes days — at a time.

So for as much medical, dental, and reasonably priced caesar salad as you’re getting from this job, you’re not entirely sure how worth it those things all are if they come with the task of you having to sit through twenty minutes of lecturing in place of Vice President Na Jaemin himself.

“This is the last time,” President Na roars — not necessarily at you, but at you, in your general direction, while you stand helplessly in front of his desk, your hands folded across your lap and your head hung low. You don’t really feel terrified or hurt — more than knowing that the President isn’t shouting at you for your incompetence, you’ve also gotten used to being on the receiving end of these weird, indirect lectures and have thus come to know the exact standard of ‘sorry’ that you have to look for it to be over as quickly as possible. Still, you’re kind of annoyed that this particular spiel is taking up precious minutes from your afternoon break. Then again, you don’t know what you’d expected to begin with when you’d come back from the cafeteria after lunch and found the Vice President’s chair abandoned, leather cold, indicating that he’d been gone for quite a while. It’s about four o’clock now, and he still hasn’t come back, and all your messages to him have gone unread, as you’ve also grown used to. “You tell my no-good son if he isn’t back within the hour, he can live the rest of his life without my last name.”

You’re not sure if the implications of that will really sink into the Vice President’s heart enough to trigger the guilt it’s clearly trying to elicit, but you know better than to voice your opinion. You nod once, then bow at a perfect ninety-degree angle. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Four years of this, and he hasn’t learned a single thing,” the President continues, completely ignoring your useless and vaguely insincere apology. “Where’d he run off to this time?”

You don’t know. You never really know. Since he actively tries to avoid all work-related things, he also actively tries to avoid you, something he does by never picking up the phone or telling you the details of his daily schedule anyway. You can only share what you do know, which is very little and, therefore, extremely useless, but you try to say it in a way that appears relatively helpful. “His schedule says he was supposed to have lunch with the foreign investors that are trying to connect Prime Video to the Korean market, but it seems he didn’t show up for that.”

Which essentially translates to: you have no clue. Again, all parties in the room — inclusive of Head Secretary Son, who constantly has to bear witness to the many threats Vice President Na receives via you — know this isn’t your fault, but it doesn’t make the vein that’s about to pop out of the President’s temple any less pronounced, nor does it stop you from bowing and apologizing again when he says “get him back in here before five o’clock or tell him he’ll never be able to step foot in this building again!” even though you know that the threat would probably sound more like a gift than anything else to Vice President Na.

“And you,” the President points a vaguely accusatory finger at you. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. “If he isn’t back here at that time, you can kiss your job goodbye too. You go ahead and tell him that. Let’s see if Jaemin will finally get off his ass if he knows someone else is going to have to suffer for his behavior.”

The only person who sees your jaw fall open is Head Secretary Son, who’s now leading you away from the President’s desk and towards the door; the President has taken to staring at this huge family picture of himself, his wife, and the Vice President that’s hanging just behind his executive’s chair, all looking considerably happier than anyone in this situation feels. You hear him mutter something that sounds like “where did I go wrong with you, you punk?” before the door shuts close behind you.

“I’d say he doesn’t mean that, but we don’t actually know to what lengths he’ll go to get the Vice President on board.” Head Secretary Son admits, lifting two fingers to gently shut your mouth, still agape. “If I were you, I’d figure out how to keep him on a leash. The fact that he’s never around is probably ninety-percent of our current problems.”

“I can barely get him to respond to schedule reminders,” you groan; your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose like this will somehow stop the oncoming migraine. “Let alone get him to stay still. I was just about to put in a down payment for a car of my own, too.”

You’ve never really been considerably attached to this job, mostly because there isn’t much to actually attach yourself to, but if you think about it now, it really is better than most, and this economy isn’t really kind to people who get fired from their jobs. You feel like puking at the thought of losing the free unlimited coffee in the pantry and trading it in for a life behind a convenience store counter, which is probably where you’ll end up, pessimistically speaking.

You excuse yourself from Head Secretary Son, who has the heart to look a little pitying as you trudge towards the elevator. You don’t even know where you’d start looking for the Vice President, especially since he spends quite a lot of his efforts trying to avoid having to communicate with you. You don’t even know what his habits are, which means you can’t make educated guesses on where he might have run off to, so the only route to go is to look in the immediately surrounding area and widening your search diameter as time passes.

Until five o’clock, of course — a deadline that, if unmet, will likely mean you also won’t be returning to the office either.

You start off at the nearby bookstore, extremely skeptical that the Vice President would ever willingly go to a place that requires more effort even after you make a purchase. As expected, he isn’t there, but he isn’t in the nextdoor candle shop (also unlikely) either, nor do you find him in the hand-cut noodles shop next to that as well. You walk down the entire street for a good twenty minutes, pressing your face against the windows of stores shamelessly, to the ire of many startled and disgruntled staff, trying to look for a familiar head shape in the small crowds in them, but to no avail. Then, you think about calling him again, but when you pat the pockets of your jacket, you realize your phone is still on your desk, where you’d left it when you’d been summoned to see the President. With a loud groan and an annoyed clip clop of your heels as you stamp your feet on the pavement, you walk back to the office.

In your frenzy to find the Vice President, you’d gone quite a distance, and your shoes simply aren’t made for long, aggravated walks; they start hurting your feet halfway back, and you’re pretty sure you have a blister behind the strap of the left one. Pride would tell you to tough it out, but you’d thrown that out at the thought of losing your job at the expense of a single man, so you don’t even hesitate to take them off and run back to the building. The big digital clock above the elevators says you have ten minutes left to find your boss, and you start thinking about using that time for better things — like packing your stuff up neatly in a box for when you get sacked.

With the situation seemingly hopeless, you trudge to the first floor cafe, where the return counter has a pitcher of water and a stack of tiny paper cups. They’re tiny tiny, like the size of your thumb, so you have to keep refilling it just to start feeling a little more human.

You’re on your third refill when you hear a giggle come from across the space. The barista’s just finished laughing at what must have been an extremely hilarious joke, or she might be flirting with whoever’s leaning over the counter to talk to her. A whoever that seems to be the exact same height and build as the elusive Vice President of this company.

You accidentally toss the paper cup in the plastics bin in your desperation to get moving, worried that if you’re not fast enough, he’ll disappear into thin air again. Luckily, his attention’s completely focused on the barista, so he can’t go anywhere when you finally reach his side and huff, loud enough to interrupt what seems like an intimate-ish conversation between them.

“Sorry, I was just — oh, it’s you.” The Vice President’s smile fades when he sees it’s you, someone he can’t charm out of what they’re supposed to be doing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the Vice President smile at you in any capacity, anyway, except for maybe one or two slightly sarcastic smiles that are probably more fit to be classified as grimaces. “What do you want?”

“I’ve been looking all over for you, sir,” you say, stiffly and a little quietly because you still don’t want to embarrass him in front of the slightly confused barista. “You haven’t answered my texts.”

You don’t have any way to check, but you’re pretty sure this is a safe enough assumption, which is corroborated by the Vice President bringing his phone out and checking the screen lazily before turning it back off.

“Sorry. I don’t answer unknown numbers.”

You guess it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to save your number when he hates hearing about work, which is all you really try to communicate with him about, but it still stings considering it’s been two years and you’ve been using the same number since high school. It’s fine, you think. You really can’t expect much from him.

“Well, your father’s been looking for you, too. He wants to meet you.”

“I’ll take a rain check, but thank you.”

“Sir,” your voice quivers with poorly quelled exasperation. “This isn’t an optional thing. This is very serious.”

“I can see that, Briar Rose,” his eyes are trained towards your shoes, still dangling from your grasp, with a level of unabashed amusement. “Did he summon me from deep within the woods, or is this a new casual Friday look I should get in on?”

When his words are met with a stony silence, he sighs, pushing himself off the counter. His half-finished Americano is collecting a small pool of condensation under it, and you offer him the little handful of tissues you had gotten from the return counter and had originally been planning to use to wipe your tears in case you cried after getting fired so that he doesn’t waste time looking for something to hold his cup. He takes them without even a word of thanks, opting to instead say ‘lead the way, miss.’ You don’t miss the fact that he meets the barista’s eye with a considerably more genuine grin, raising a hand in goodbye to her before he strides ahead — before you even get a chance to lead the way at all — towards the elevators with you, hobbling on one foot to slip your shoe back on, not far behind.

The President’s office must be sort of soundproof for instances like this. For the first time, you’ve been asked to wait outside with Head Secretary Son as the Vice President gets chewed. It doesn’t matter; you don’t really want to be in the middle of yet another round of shouting that has nothing to do with you in the same afternoon, plus you also know how the conversation usually goes: the President making very agitated threats and talking about his heart condition (even though the medical reports from their private doctor say he’s in perfect health) that the Vice President, who just spends the time looking boredly at his nails, will inevitably trigger. When you press your ear to the door for a minute, you actually hear something like ‘... strike you out of the will so that when you kill me, you won’t get a single won!’, and you can imagine Vice President Na’s exasperated sigh punctuating the statement.

Ten minutes later, the room has gone quiet, and you step aside just in time for the Vice President to open the door and step out. You don’t even understand how he can look so unaffected after being ripped apart, but you suppose he’s also heard the lecture as many times as you have and is pretty much immune to all the insults. He doesn’t really have to make a show out of not caring, though, with his hands in his pockets and his lips pursed to allow him to whistle idly as he strolls down the hall to his barely used office. He’s been in it so few times that after long, inexplicable vacations, he sometimes forgets how to get there. You’ve always had to walk behind him just in case he gets lost or, worse, tries to make a run for it. You’ve never had to tackle him to the ground reciting the Miranda warnings, or anything, but he has faked left a few times just to give you a mild heart attack for the fun of it all.

This time, he just walks, not bothering to joke you into trying to create a human wall he could just as easily push away. When he gets to his office, he lazily plops down onto his couch, extracting the Rubik’s cube he’d been working on for a few weeks now from underneath himself and spinning the top layer idly. He’s only ever finished the blue side.

You just stand there, kind of perplexed and unsure of how to start the conversation. He’s still whistling, and you’re not sure if talking over him will count as interrupting him, which isn’t something you’re supposed to do. Thankfully, he stops after about two minutes of fiddling with the yellow side of the cube, looking up at you with a slightly surprised expression that somehow makes you want to cry.

“Can I help you with something, Secretary ___________?”

“Well, I…” You stutter for a bit, unsure of how to politely point out that he should be asking you for help with his job instead of the whole other way around. “Because… I just thought…”

“You can always leave a message with my secretary if you need time to figure it out.” He grins. “Oh, wait a minute.”

“Sir, don’t you think you should… I don’t know. Figure out your schedule, or something? Prepare for… anything?”

“What’s that smell?” He lifts his nose to the air, suddenly curious, and because he looks so serious, you also start sniffing, but you can’t really smell anything out of the ordinary. “Smells… fresh. Very clean. A little like green tea.”

“Oh.” You awkwardly shift your weight from leg to leg. “I think that’s my perfume, but I don’t see w—”

“You smell very expensive, Secretary _____________.” He sounds genuinely surprised that you do, like he’s somehow saying he hadn’t expected you to have good taste. You have no idea where this conversation is coming from, so you chalk it up to him wanting to derail you from talking about work. “I like it. Very classy. Not too strong.”

“Sir, I don’t think now’s the time to be talking about perfume scents.”

“You’re actually quite pretty.” He sounds genuinely surprised again, but this time, it stings a little more. “I never noticed that before. How come?”

You want to say that it’s because he spends most of his time and energy playing long-term hide-and-seek with you, but there’s also no polite way of putting that into words; even if there were, with the way you’re now bristling under his gaze, you’re not really sure you’d go the courteous route, anyway. You just decide to ignore the comment and question entirely, which you almost get to do.

“Wouldn’t you like to take a look at some of our upcoming projects? For instance, we’re just about to start negotiating the terms of this new partnership with Huawei —”

“You’re pretty, but you’re also pretty tense.” He cuts you off again, now looking a little dejected at this newfound information. You can’t understand why this disappointment in you actually hurts your feelings a little. “I think the cafe downstairs serves some tea, if that kind of stuff helps you.”

“Sir,” the one syllable is laced with weariness, and you knot your fingers together in front of your lap. It probably looks polite, but it’s mostly so that you can feel like you have some semblance of control over anything, even if it’s just your own body fighting off the urge to grab him by the collar. “Please. If you could just take a look at your schedule — even just for tomorrow —”

“What’s the point?” His shrug is nonchalant, and he’s turning the cube over in his palm now, more interested in looking at it than witnessing your tired expression. “It’s almost six o’clock. I’ll deal with tomorrow tomorrow, you know what I mean? If my dad finally loses his marbles, I’ll deal with it all then. In fact, I might actually be okay with losing this department if it finally actually gets him off my back. I’ll also deal with that when it happens, probably.”

Another long, uncomfortable silence blooms as his words sink in; not for the first time today, President Na has threatened the existence of your job, now alongside a good twenty other people’s, all for the sake of snapping some sense into the Vice President. However, like everything else, it seems to just be backfiring; Vice President Na doesn’t seem to care about anyone else in this department, most likely because he’s barely interacted with anyone else. You’re surprised he even remembers your last name, considering he once called the department accountant ‘Heejin’ even though her nametag clearly spelled out ‘Jinhee.’

It makes sense that the threat of abolishment means absolutely nothing to him, but it doesn’t make the knowledge of that any less distressing. He watches you curiously as you tug back at your ponytail, like it’ll once again stop the crawling migraine.

“Sure a cup of chamomile tea isn’t in the cards today? I think I have the company card in here somewhere, although I can’t be sure that it hasn’t been cut off, based on my dad’s last threat—”

“I’m fine; thank you.” You mumble, checking the clock. He’s wasted what’s left of the hour anyway, and the lack of change in his position just means he’s not going to change his mind for the rest of the time. “At least let me give you tomorrow’s agenda.”

“Boring, but okay. Give it to me, then.” He yawns to make a point, and you offer him the tablet you tote around with you everywhere you go, just in case Vice President Na finally decides he wants to do his job. To clarify: that’s two whole years of you carrying that heavy thing around, with the Vice President only having touched it a handful of times. You’re mildly shocked that he actually opens it to check, because he barely does even that, but that all goes away when he yawns again, his expression glassy as he scrolls down aimlessly. “This is a lot. Can’t you just clear my schedules tomorrow? Actually, if I can make demands for real, I’d like to clear out my schedule for the rest of the year.”

He stretches when he stands, ignoring your slightly agog expression as he pats you on the back, smacking his lips sleepily. “Good day’s work, Secretary _____________. Want to grab a beer? Have ourselves a little intra-department party? I’m pretty sure ‘intra’ stands for ‘us two,’ or am I wrong?”

You sincerely hope he doesn’t mean a goodbye party, but with his attitude right now, that might very well be. You shake your head, and he shrugs, like he wasn’t really expecting you to agree in the first place. “No thank you, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s already halfway out the door, waving dismissively with his back turned to you. When you peek out of the space he leaves by opening the door, you can see about half the entire department’s watching, not even bothering to pretend to scurry back to their seats as he saunters out of the office. He calls out to you, his voice ringing clear even though he’s already out of sight.

“We’ll see about that.”

You come up with a master plan, but not before you scope potential jobs.

You actually stayed an hour overtime at your desk looking for positions, but all of them pay lower than average or are about an hour’s commute away from where you live, so none of them seem worth it. The search ends when some people from the department come over to say goodbye and see your computer open to SaramIn, at which point they connect the dots and start to panic about their insurance. You shut your monitor off and spend another useless twenty minutes calming Jinhee, who’d started having a mild panic attack.

In that time, your resentment builds. Why can’t Vice President Na simply get his act together? You suppose that there’s some indescribable burden to being in his position, but between him, a rich heir who owns two sports cars and lives in a paid-for house, and you, a public-transport-using, pays-by-the-month nine-to-five worker, you can’t really understand why he would be having it worse than everyone else who works under him. If he worked even just half as hard as everyone else did here, he might scrape by.

You can’t know if President Na’s anger was only short-lived or if he actually meant to downsize the company by getting rid of your department entirely, but you also know that if he’s serious, then there’s nothing much you can do about it, short of terrorizing the Vice President into stepping into bigger shoes.

So, that becomes your master plan.

It isn’t very refined, mostly because you think about it on the bus home, but the heart and spirit are there, and those are probably the most important things anyway. It’s that heart and spirit that motivate you to get up an hour earlier than you usually do, dressing quickly for the day before taking the company car from your place to downtown Apgujeong. You usually don’t take it on days that Vice President Na doesn’t come into work, which is practically every other day, but this time, you’re determined to see him into the office. The ride with Hyunsung, his official company driver, is quiet, save for the question he asks when you roll up to the Vice President’s driveway.

“Are you sure about this?”

“No,” you admit. He’d probably seen you chewing down on your thumb, some of your confidence taking a hit when you belatedly realize you could be shot with a huge privacy lawsuit if this doesn’t go the way you plan. But you do know a lot of secretaries that do the morning calls for their superiors, so this should be fine. Not that you’ve ever heard from those secretaries ever again.

Vice President Na’s laziness seems to extend to all aspects of his life, including the fact that he doesn’t ever change his door’s passcode; it’s still the same numbers as it had been when he first bought the house a year ago and had you install his lock while he was missing in action from work, yakking it up with some farmers up in the Netherlands. He likes to do that — ‘see the world,’ or whatever, even though his wanderlust makes everyone else’s lives very difficult. At least it makes your life easy now, and you step through the door and walk quietly across his unnecessarily large living room.

You’ve never been in here exactly, and you only realize very belatedly that this house’s design would be very frustrating for a break-and-enter criminal because nothing seems to be where it’s supposed to be. You learn the owner’s suite is actually on the basement floor, so all the climbing of those slippery stairs was for nothing.

Vice President Na’s bedroom is bigger than your whole apartment, which also means he has a sizable bed and, thus, is completely out of sight under his gigantic covers. The only indication that he’s even still in there is that they’re rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. You stand by the edge of the bed, on the side he’s closest to falling off of, clearing your throat at the tuft of hair peeking out from under the comforter.

“Vice President Na? It’s time to go to work.”

Your voice has been tempered down by years of this professional work, and this is easily the loudest and most demanding you’ve ever heard it. You’re not even sure you can do it again, but the muffled groan from under the covers is all the motivation you need to try.

“Sir, you have a ten o’clock meeting with Samsung’s representatives for Apple. President Na also asked that we contact Amazon right away to reschedule the Prime Video deal.”

“How,” his voice comes out first before he does, squinting up at you, completely disoriented. “The hell did you get in here?”

“Sir, I’m your secretary.” You sigh, skimming over the fact that you’d walked into his big kitchen twice through two different entryways before coming into his bedroom. “I’m supposed to be able to get in here.”

“Except this is a first.” You think he’s about to get up, but he just shifts his weight, rolling over so he can cocoon himself tighter into his blankets. “Goodnight. There are eggs in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“I’ve already eaten, like a normal, functioning human being with a very important job that starts precisely at nine o’clock would.”

“This seems like a very targeted comment, Secretary ____________. I’m not sure I appreciate it.”

“Since we’re already having this conversation, I’m guessing you’re conscious enough to get dressed.”

To your relief, he actually does throw the covers off of him, leaning up on his elbows. You try not to balk at the fact that he’s shirtless, although you’re also not sure why this should surprise or bother you to begin with. He doesn’t even seem to mind; he just yawns, wide and unashamed, as he looks over at the clock.

“It’s seven-thirty. This is insanity.”

“No, this is a wake-up call.” You offer him a neatly folded towel that he eyes suspiciously. “We need to get you in the office on time.”

“There’s really no point,” he sighs, scratching his head idly. “It’ll just be another boring day of talking to people I don’t care about. Someone who cares about it should talk to them. You care about it, don’t you?”

“I won’t talk to them for you, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because, frankly, I don’t get paid enough to be doing that.”

He once again stares at the towel like he’s trying to will it to evaporate, but in the end, he only sighs louder and takes it from you, kicking his blankets off completely. You look up at the ceiling, not in prayer but to avoid the more embarrassing fact that he’s only in his boxers after all. Well — it’s embarrassing for you. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Something’s different.”

“Usually I don’t wake you up,” you offer the painfully obvious. “Or come here. Or talk to you.”

“Yeah, all that stuff,” he says dismissively, halfway through a yawn. “Did you have a life-changing experience recently?”

“Something like that.”

“Couldn’t it have been one where you decided to leave me alone for good instead?” He grumbles, more to himself instead of to you. It doesn’t matter, anyway; you already see he’s up and fishing socks out of his drawer, so you’re marching out of his room to avoid having to hear more of his complaints (and, quite frankly, to avoid looking at his broad back).

However, the day thereafter doesn’t go as planned. You thought that waking Vice President Na up for an early day of work might shock him into doing something with the knowledge that it was urgent, but you’re not sure why you didn’t anticipate a scenario in which he’d fall asleep in the car on the way to work and you’d have to shake him into waking in the stuffy parking lot. He spends the rest of the morning out of sorts, ignoring you point blank when you try to brief him on the meeting. The meeting in and of itself doesn’t go any better, with him excusing himself fifteen minutes in by saying the pitch doesn’t seem all too exciting and innovative. You didn’t even know he knew the word innovative and, by the shocked faces of the Samsung people, they were of the same mind.

By lunch time, you’re more exhausted than you’ve ever been, and a part of you is wondering why you wanted Vice President Na in the office in the first place when you’re already used to the much simpler routine of get up, work, eat lunch, get yelled at, work again. Sometimes, on slow days when Vice President Na is completely out of town for the week and President Na is out of things to yell at you about, you even get to just sit back at your desk and play old crossword puzzles.

Now, you’re basically handholding him, but the weight that keeps him down is so heavy that you’re being dragged down, too.

“You mean people do this every single day?” He shuts the folder with a contract that requires his signature that you’d given him just now, not even bothering to peruse the first page, much to your rapidly increasing ire. “This is ridiculous. Working makes no sense.”

“All employees come to work to do that, sir. It’s literally what makes up half their lives.”

“Except it shouldn’t,” he sighs, like this is a true global issue and not a problem of his own making. “Everyone needs to be able to do what they want and live life to the fullest.”

“Not everyone can,” you point out flatly. “Some people don’t have the luxury of time even for that.”

“Then, they should. The more I’m in this situation, the more it feels like it might be better for everyone to have a little work break for — I don’t know. The next year or so.”

Vice President Na has his arm outstretched, handing the folder back to you. You don’t know if it’s what he says that causes your blood pressure to rise, or if its the completely unconcerned look on his face, or if it’s the fact that he’s holding the folder so lazily that the papers are starting to slip out on your end, requiring you to use two hands to keep them all from falling apart and creating a mess you’ll end up having to clean up anyway. Whatever it is, you snatch the folder from him with a little more aggression than necessary (or that you’d even care to admit). Even though it’s out of place, you can’t help but feel a small sense of triumph at the slight surprise in his eyes.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, sir.” You pause, mostly because you can tell he doesn’t believe you — Vice President Na is nonchalant, not stupid — and you want to give yourself a little bit of time to grapple with your pride before you admit the truth. “Yes, sir. It isn’t fair to your entire department for you to talk that way.”

“I’m saying the entire department doesn’t have to work this hard. It’s senseless. How are you supposed to live a good life if all you’re doing is sitting behind a desk?”

“Like I said, not everyone has the luxury of living your life. If they want even a little bit of that comfort you enjoy, they have to work very hard for it first.”

“Then they should at least do something they enjoy. If this department goes down the drain —”

“If this department is abolished,” this is your first time interrupting a superior, and it already makes you want to throw up. “Then people will have a very difficult time finding a job in this market. More than that, a lot of people enjoy working for this company — quite genuinely, in fact. I don’t think it’s right to think that they’ll be happy while they’re jobless and floundering in this economy.”

“So you’re happy like this? You really want this job — this whole working under me situation?”

“Well…” you trail off, your voice taking on a slightly thoughtful tone. It’s been a relatively long time since you’d entered this job, but you do faintly remember the feeling of excitement at getting this position — the desire to want to learn from the best in this industry, the anticipation of being able to meet and network with interesting and important people. Your first few weeks of work had involved wanting to spend as much time in Vice President Na’s shadow, in case you could pick up some important business tidbits from an entrepreneurial master… until, of course, you realized there wasn’t much you could stand in the shadow of to begin with. “These days, it isn’t ideal. But this job is a really good thing for most of the people who work here.”

“Then it sounds like you have more to gain from me working hard than I do.”

You can’t contain your disapproving frown, and your voice comes out a little sharper than you intend. “Doesn’t it bother you at all, sir? Knowing almost twenty people could lose their jobs in the blink of an eye? Think about all the people who look up to you and rely on you — they’ll have to suffer because of this. They might never find a job that matches their needs, and a lot of them have families to take care of, too. If you can do something to make sure they have these good lives you keep talking about, why not do it? I know you’re capable of that. You’re capable of doing much more than what you’ve been doing thus far.”

Vice President Na is quiet for a moment before leans over on his desk, lacing his fingers into a loose combined fist and putting his weight on his forearms. One of his forefingers detangles itself from the pile of digits and curls inwards, beckoning you closer. Your grimace is probably obvious, and you lean in a little warily. He lifts himself off his chair slightly so he can whisper in a low voice, as if you two aren’t the only people in this wide office.

“If you care about it so much, then ask a little more nicely.”

Your light breakfast almost makes a reappearance, and you draw back in mild shock. He also leans back, significantly more relaxed than you, looking unperturbed as he settles back against his chair. You two engage in a very uneven staring match, until he gestures for you to proceed, looking expectant.

“You want me to beg for my job?”

“Not what I meant, but I could accept that,” he hums. “I just think you could throw in a please while you’re guilting your boss, at least.”

Gawking probably doesn’t suit you, but you do it anyway, wondering how you managed to find yourself in this position. This morning, you had been strictly guiding him through what to do, and now you’re paralyzed in front of the Vice President, feeling very foolish for saying so much out of turn. You couldn’t even get through a whole work day before seeing your grand master plan slip down the drain.

But there is, at least, some small comfort in what he said — the part about guilting, which, if you squint hard enough, seems to be implying that this conversation has left him with a small amount of guilt. You don’t think it’s that much, but it’s a miracle he feels it at all, so you take the horribly subtle win and inhale deeply.

“Please, sir.” The words are very thick and reluctant, unsticking from your throat. “This department really needs you.”

He stares, very unnervingly, without saying anything, but there’s something in his gaze that makes you vaguely certain he’s actually thinking about it. In fact, he actually looks a bit serious, which isn’t anything you’d ever think you’d be able to characterize him by. That impression easily falls apart when he claps his hands, once but very loudly, startling you into jumping a little.

“Ah, how could I turn down such a nice request?” Vice President Na is grinning from ear to ear, something you’ve never seen him do in the context of the office, much less a few feet away from you. His smile is actually kind of nice, if you don’t think about the fact that it seems to be smug at your expense. “Since you asked, I guess I’ll have to try my best, or whatever it is people do in this damn company. I guess that means you owe me now, Secretary ____________. You’re very welcome.”

The silence that once again blooms as you stand, motionless, in front of Vice President Na is suddenly interrupted by the sound of chairs scraping back all at once. The floor vibrates a little as the entire department troops out to the elevator area so they can go to lunch. You only watch stupidly as he also stands, shrugging off his jacket and flinging it over the back of his chair. “See you, then.”

“Where are you going, sir?”

He looks a little surprised that you even ask. “To lunch. Do I have to ask for your permission for that, too?”

“Are you… coming back?”

“You want to come along with me and make sure I don’t run away?” He smiles even wider, which you didn’t even think was possible. It makes you awkwardly uncomfortable to know he’s taking a lot of pleasure in joking around with you, mostly because you were kind of hoping you’d get him to take things seriously in a serious manner, not in a … whatever this is that’s making you feel like you’ve lost a game manner.

“A little bit.”

“Ask a little more nicely, then.”

“Never mind,” you mumble. “Have a good lunch, sir.”

He snaps his fingers a little comically before turning to the door, flinging it open so he can join the now thinning throng of people leaving the floor. “Thought I almost had you there. Well, if you need me, you know where to find me. Or not.”

In the end, to your utmost relief, Vice President Na does, in fact, stay inside the entire time he has lunch. You’re not sure if this is the product of you sitting two tables away, trying to will an imaginary chain to his wrist so he doesn’t bolt off or because he’s still feeling a little affected by everything you said earlier on, but whatever it is, it works. He just eats his club sandwich in peace, picking off the crust easily and double dipping the fries that come with it in his ketchup. At some point, he looks up and notices you burning holes into his torso, so you quickly have to avert your eyes in shame. You think he laughs at this, but you can only see out of your peripheral vision at this point, so you can’t be sure.

You’re supposed to have one hour for lunch, but he eats quickly and gets up before the whole hour is over, so you end up throwing your half-eaten wrap and following him. Again, you’re not sure what’s funny, but he’s chuckling to himself as he holds the elevator door open, waiting for you to run in next to him.

“Relax, miss secretary. I already said I was going to do my best.”

“No offense, sir, but I don’t know what that looks like, so I have to be careful.”

“Fair enough.” He hums, letting the door close on its own. “But you should still take it easy. You’re pretty t—”

“Tense. You said so yesterday, sir.”

“That’s two times you’ve cut me off in a single day.” He doesn’t sound very annoyed about it; in fact, he’s still got that amused, inside joke tone to everything he’s had all morning. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gunning for an insubordination report.”

You don’t think that’s fair for him to say, especially since you haven’t really had much of an authority figure to be subordinate to for most of your career in this company, but you keep your mouth shut since saying so is exactly what would be on the first line of an insubordination report.

When you arrive back at his office, you take the time to discuss what you should be doing from now on. It’s an extremely messy exchange, with you two grappling between terms you can’t agree on. For instance, Vice President Na thinks that it seems only fair that he should really only be coming in after one o’clock, but you’re insistent on making sure he gets to work on time, since most important meetings happen within that time period (a fact he already seems to know but chooses to ignore anyway). You end up agreeing on bringing him in for the standard nine-to-six for as long as he never has to work overtime. You also find it necessary to iron out the fact that if he has lunch outside, he has to actually come back, a statement he once again finds very amusing for some reason, as if you’re the weird one in this conversation.

And to his credit, he tries to stick to his word. It isn’t exactly a walk in the park, especially not during the first couple of weeks, but you suppose that habits are very difficult to break when they’ve been so easy to acquire and nurture over many years. More than once, you’ve arrived late to meetings to the disapproving gazes of Head Secretary Son and President Na. However, the latter finds he has less to say these days because Vice President Na’s presence in said meetings had, before this time, been nothing but a pipe dream for everyone.

You also notice he starts taking the time to ask about things he doesn’t understand, as opposed to his initially brash or sometimes completely unresponsive approach, which has turned out better results when it comes to business lunches with investors and potential partners. Even the Samsung people, who are extremely wary of him during the callback meeting, come out of their next encounter with the Vice President looking vaguely more satisfied than they did the last time (the bar isn’t that high, considering they’d left shell-shocked previously, but you’ll still take the improvement).

Of course, with all the time you end up spending with, chasing after, and vaguely lecturing (only when the need truly arises) Vice President Na, you also learn some things about him that you hadn’t expected, like how he doesn’t really like milk in anything he drinks (but especially coffee) and that every third Sunday of the month, he meets his old high school friend Lee Jeno, the son of the guy that owns half the residential high rise condominiums on this side of the Han. Apparently, they play badminton together — he had told you that when he’d caught you wondering about the super out of place little kid’s karate trophy among other more adult, official ones in his living area. The trophy goes to whoever wins the match of the month, and according to the Vice President, he’s been ‘wiping the floor with that bastard’s handsome face for half a year straight.’ Although you can’t verify this by anything more than the slight blanket of dust on it, you think it takes nothing out of your pride to applaud him like this is an amazing thing. It also does you no harm to see him swell with misplaced pride about a kid’s karate trophy.

You also notice that despite how healthily he eats at the office, he has a bad habit of craving deep fried food in the afternoon, which is why, over the last few weeks, you’ve been accompanying him to the corndog street stall two blocks away, a few days a week. He’s even had to borrow loose change from you a few times to because he always forgets that no street vendor likes to receive crisp, fresh-out-of-the-bank fifty-thousand won bills, but you just let him have it; his heart’s in the right place when he orders an extra one for you without even asking. You realize that he has a fairly good memory for as long as he’s concentrating, and that he likes to spend late nights watching the shittiest horror movies ever known to man (his words, much to your bemusement), and that when he listens attentively to you telling him about the day’s agenda, his left ear twitches a little when your voice hits it.

Somewhere along the way, you realize that Vice President Na is a charming, outgoing, and fairly capable person, and in doing so, you also realize that he seems to be, for lack of a better word, your style.

You can’t really believe it either, and you’re not even sure when it started. In between sitting with him in the company car and handing him forty-page agreements he has to look over carefully (very carefully, as you’ve taken to reminding him, so often that he starts saying it before you do now, which has only somehow endeared him further to you and not annoyed you the way you were sort of hoping it would), the small non-work related part of your consciousness had decided that it needed a more complicated situation now that things were going relatively well.

To be fair to yourself, liking him isn’t a huge distraction; most of the time, you’re both so engrossed in something you desperately have to finish that you don’t even have time to think about it. Instead, it kind of catches you off-guard, like when he’s double dipping his french fries into his ketchup, or when he smiles at you (politely to him, probably, but overwhelmingly charmingly to you) before he leaves the office, or when his brow’s furrowed in (a total shocker) concentration as he reads.

Then again, everything about Vice President Na seems to be catching you off-guard these days. This much is proven by the fact that instead of the normal silence that you’ve grown accustomed to being greeted by when you enter his house, there’s a lot of noise coming from one area that can only mean either that someone had broken in to mug him or for some reason, he’s up before you need to wake him.

It’s nothing you have to call 911 for, but it still paralyzes you to see him, surrounded by opened jars and a particularly dirty bread knife as he stands in front of his fancy toaster, drumming his fingers on the counter impatiently.

“If you have a minute to spare, could you bring my laptop into the car?” He asks without turning around. His hand, still holding the bread knife, points towards the bar counter on the far end of the kitchen, where the laptop is still whirring away.

“Of course, sir. Um,” you gingerly shut the monitor, putting the laptop to sleep and tucking it under your arm. “Were you… working this morning?”

“No, I was playing a riveting game of bridge against the computer AI.” He turns to you, grinning. “Of course I was working, miss secretary. What do you think I’d be up this early for?”

You try to think of an answer, but nothing comes to mind — Vice President Na hasn’t ever woken up early for anything to your knowledge, anyway — so you just nod and bolt, unwilling to bear witness to his smile this early in the day. When you come back, particularly less red in the face, you find him topping one of two sandwiches with the last slice of bread to complete it. He takes one, as you expect he would, and you stand there, trying to look polite as you essentially observe him eat.

This isn’t something very unusual; ever since the first time you’d done it, you’ve been watching him out of habit. So far, only the motivation’s changed from you wanting to make sure he doesn’t bolt to you simply enjoying the view of his profile when he eats. Of course, he probably doesn’t know this, but he’s also just gotten used to you watching him and probably finds it funny — as suggested by his perpetually amused expression — that you still think, after all this time, that he’s going to make a run for it. You don’t actually mind it; you get to watch him for free, and he has something to laugh about, so everyone kind of wins.

He’s halfway through the sandwich when his expression turns quizzical. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Eat,” you echo hollowly. “Eat what, sir?”

“A delicious, handmade, gourmet peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich.” When you don’t move, he pushes the plate with the untouched sandwich forward towards you like he thinks you can’t understand anything he’s saying. “What? Are you allergic to something?”

“No, but…”

“But?”

There’s no but; you don’t have a good reason to decline other than the fact that accepting it feels weird, but refusing him when he’s looking at you this expectantly is just as awkward. You rub the back of your neck as you walk over, not missing the look of triumph that crosses his face as you pick up the sandwich and take a bite. It’s good, but you don’t really think that has anything to do with his culinary skills, based on what it is; still, he looks like he’s patting himself on the back for this feat.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Secretary ____________, I hope you can count this as a momentous occasion for the both of us.” He chuckles. “You get free breakfast made especially for you by your direct superior in the comfort of his own home, and I finally get to learn what all the settings on my toaster are for. Between you and me, I think mine’s the better achievement.”

You’re still in the middle of eating when you laugh, and you hastily raise a hand to cover it — only Vice President Na catches your wrist halfway through, so quickly you vaguely choke on the bread that’s only partially down your throat.

“I’ve never seen you laugh,” he looks as surprised as you feel, although probably for a different reason. “I don’t even think you’ve ever smiled at me, specifically.”

“Oh.” You need time to respond, mostly so you can swallow but also because you need to collect yourself from your shock. There seems to be a lot of that going around this morning. “Sorry. Should I do that more often?”

“I mean, if you ask like that, it’s kind of disingenuous,” he laughs. “But I like it. I like knowing you’re not just in a constant state of stress because of me. Feels even more momentous than the toaster thing.”

He loosens his hold, and you manage to take your hand back, now refusing to meet his eye. “I’m not… stressed by you.”

“Not anymore.”

“Not anymore,” you agree, and he looks particularly delighted when he sees the corners of your lips turn up again. “Not for a while. And not that my opinion matters, but you’ve been performing above expectations, sir.”

“You’re right,” he hums, taking the plate and putting it in the sink — a problem he seems to be saving for later. “It doesn't matter. But I like it, all the same.”

You’re willing to chalk the morning off as a wonderful anomaly, especially since the rest of it passes as it normally does, with a generally quiet car ride (you’ve also learned that Vice President Na likes to listen to rap music on days when he wants to avoid falling asleep in the backseat, which is equal parts amazing and amusing) and a fifteen minute briefing of what he has on his plate today. He disappears for the better part of the morning and even the whole lunch hour, but you expect this because he has a business lunch with the representatives for some Norwegian appliance company that’s looking to break into the Korean market. You can’t imagine many people want a state of the art rice cooker alongside their monthly internet bill, but it’s polite for him to go anyway, and the prospective partner seems very on edge about company secrets. It’s one of those meetings you aren’t allowed to come along to, which means that you’re missing out on a few hours of Vice President Na trying to iron details out with a couple of old guys.

While you eat, you’re once again struck with the random notion that it feels weird not to be around the Vice President. You’ve been working together regularly and in a very close capacity, which basically means that you’re always in his shadow. It’s the life you were kind of hoping to have at the beginning and were deprived of for a good two years. Now that you have it, it feels weirdly natural — so natural that it’s unnatural to not have his voice ordering you around in that easy tone or his aftershave lingering in the air directly above you.

You throw the tissue you used to wipe the oil from your egg toast off your mouth onto the table, crumpled and wilted.

You miss him, which is ridiculous considering you don’t even know what there is to miss. Your relationship, while admittedly lightyears ahead of the starting point it had been at back then (again, not a great standard, considering you didn’t even have a relationship before this period of time), is nothing close to the point of being what it should be for one to miss the other.

And yet, you look forward to seeing him, watching him do something from afar, helping him whenever he needs you. You like the fact that he still sometimes fakes left when you’re accompanying him back to his office, and you do this thing where you pretend to be annoyed even though it makes you happy to know he won’t go anywhere. You like the little sounds he makes when he eats his super unhealthy corndog as if he’s eating it for the first time every single time (see: very unnerving and slightly disturbing but altogether amusing mmmmmmmmmms). In fact, if you didn’t have a vivid memory of telling him off from way back then, you feel like you could easily convince yourself that things had always been like this — that you two had always been together, happily at work.

You’re not surprised that he isn’t back from his meeting even when you get back to your desk after lunch, but you do feel a pang of dejectedness that lasts for a few more hours — time which you spend lazily looking over a contract he’d signed yesterday that needs a fair amount of amending and re-signing. It’s hard to pretend to care today, for some reason, especially since your mind keeps going back to peanut butter sandwiches and some ridiculous vision of Vice President Na standing in the middle of your tiny studio apartment’s kitchen area.

Your reverie’s broken when an envelope falls onto your desk, covering the page of the contract you’d been glassily staring at for the last hour and a half. You’d drawn the same circle about twenty times already, and the paper’s all dented from your efforts. When you look up, Vice President Na is staring down at you, grinning from ear to ear.

“Miss me?” He drums the envelope, the paper muffling the noise of it all. “Oh? I was joking, but it looks like you actually did. That’s twice in a single day, Secretary ____________. You’re setting a very high record.”

You try to tamp down the smile on your face upon seeing him, clearing your throat so that you have an excuse to press your lips together. You guess it doesn’t work because he just keeps smiling, anyway, or maybe he’s just in a really good mood. “Did your meeting go well, sir?”

“Is Lotteria the national fastfood chain? Too bad I don’t work for anyone because it kind of feels like I deserve some kind of reward.”

“Could we say that this partnership is its own reward?”

“It doesn’t have the same ring to it,” he sighs. Once again, his forefinger taps the envelope, calling your attention a little more clearly to it. “I know we’re on a tight schedule for this, and I hate to ask this so late of you, but —”

“Of course, sir; I’ll have it in your hands first thing tomorrow.”

You’re already gathering it up along with your other (vaguely unfinished) paperwork when his whole palm comes down, trapping the envelope and everything else you’d been intending to carry under it. Your hands go up like you’re being held at gunpoint, your eyes wide.

“On second thought,” Vice President Na muses, a little too serene for someone who’d just scared the living daylights out of someone else. “How about I take care of the Samsung deal you’re looking over, and you can handle the Norwegian contract?”

“I haven’t… really made a lot of headway with it, if I’m being honest.” You’re hoping he doesn’t ask you why because you’re too embarrassed to come up with a lie on the spot and will inevitably have to confess your random attraction to him under these terrible circumstances if he does. Luckily, he just shrugs.

“All the more reason to split the work, then.”

The still mildly stern part of you is begging to point out that he’s giving you a whole new set of documents to look over anyway, so it’s not even like you’ll have less to do, but the larger, more endeared part of you tells it to shut up and mind its own business. “I thought the crux of our agreement was that you’d never have to work overtime.”

“Because I look like such a stickler for the rules, don’t I?” He snorts, waving you in with the same envelope, and you concede.

Working next to Vice President Na isn’t anything new to you; you’ve been doing it everyday for a while now, especially if he needs you to be quick on call. Ever since you’ve realized his presence makes your heart beat a little faster, you’ve promised yourself not to let that fact show at all when he’s around, something you’ve been quite careful about perfecting.

Something’s different, though, when it’s after official hours. Maybe it’s because the floor is quieter than it is during the day, so there’s nothing you can listen to but the sound of pen scratching on paper and Vice President Na’s steady breathing. The only real interruption is when Hyunsung knocks on the door to ask if the Vice President is going home; the look on his face is panicked and confused, like a puppy that’s just been dropped off at the mouth of a dumpster site, when he’s told that Vice President Na will drive himself home, so he can just leave the keys.

Maybe it’s also because it’s pretty dark outside, and while you’ve worked into the night a few times, it’s usually alone or with some other poor sap that has even more backlog than you do — it’s never been just you and the Vice President, who seems supremely unperturbed by the fact that he isn’t at home doing… whatever he does at home after work. You can only guess at it (or wish you knew).

That makes one of you that’s keeping busy, although you know it should be two. The fact that you’re distracted by his presence all of a sudden is only exacerbated by the mutually exclusive headache that the paperwork you’re looking over gives you. You don’t know why you had expected it to be in Korean, but you and your intermediate level English struggle to keep up with all the little things you have to look through. Sometimes, you can’t tell if the clauses are actually confusing or if you’re just the poor product of your middle school education. It strikes you more than once that Vice President Na had gone through this, somehow, himself — talked to people in a completely different language, probably with ease. You can at least be proud of yourself for being right: for as long as the Vice President puts his mind to something, he’s able to do it — perhaps even well.

What shocks you after an eternity of silence is the hand that extends towards you, forefinger lightly nudging your chin. You sit up straight like a bolt of lighting had gone through you, meeting Vice President Na’s thoroughly and inexplicably amused expression. Your jaw slackens in shock, but his finger just stays there, like it isn’t invading your personal space. Like it just belongs there.

“What are you doing?”

“What—” you splutter, bemused at the fact that you hadn’t asked the question first. “What are you doing?”

“You keep moving your mouth. What — are you praying or something?”

“No, I —-” You gesture at the contract page you’ve been trying to stumble through for the past twenty minutes. “No, I’m just… I’m reading?”

“You’re…” The start of a laugh escapes him, and you really don’t know what’s so funny. “You’re reading aloud?”

“I wasn’t making any noise, I think,” you grumble, sounding a little more defensive than you’d care to admit.

“You read silently aloud, then.” His eyes twinkle at this information, although why it should elicit this reaction also completely escapes you. “Why? Because it helps you memorize it or something?”

“My English isn’t that great,” you admit begrudgingly, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “Sometimes I need to mouth the words to understand it.”

And he does the most outrageous, inexplicable thing: he gently cups your chin, making sure you can’t turn your head to look away in embarrassment. Now you have to look at him, red in the face and close to exploding.

“Don’t you think that’s a little too much, miss secretary?”

You can’t ask what; your voice isn’t working. You just open and close your mouth around the syllable, and after a couple of attempts, he starts copying you, evidently having a better time than you are based on the grin stretched across his face.

“What? What? That you’re doing something this cute in front of me is what I mean. You’re obviously going overboard, and I don’t think it’s very nice.”

He retracts his hand as quickly as he’d used it to close the distance between you, and your hand immediately comes up in its place, almost cupping your jaw like he did. It definitely doesn’t give you the same tingly feeling, so that’s an obvious bust.

You and Vice President Na have a sudden staring contest with amended rules: you blink a hundred times a minute at him while he laughs quietly, leaning back on his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It confuses you and kind of enrages you, but you also find your heart thumping away in your ears like it’s trying very hard to remind you that Na Jaemin makes you feel alive.

“I— I just—”

“Coffee? I could use some coffee. You look like you could use some too.” He stands, buttoning his blazer with one hand like he has someplace important to go. You’re still so shell-shocked that you don’t even try to stand up to help him, a fact which he notices very clearly. “Oh no, I’ll do you this favor. You sit tight and read your contract. I’ll be back. Keep doing that cute thing with your mouth.”

Vice President Na finds you exactly as he left you: still wondering if you should be offended at his teasing or enamored by his touch and, more importantly, what the hell his deal is. You have a million questions that need answering, but the only thing you blubber out when he comes back is “Why?”

“Because you’re amazingly fun to tease,” he responds simply. “And because it’s true. I find it extremely cute. I find you very cute, Secretary _____________, in a kind of good girl, cool girl kind of way. It’s a little confusing to me too, but I think this slightly stern but overall gentle aesthetic of yours is actually growing on me a little.”

“Sir, I—”

“While we’re taking a break,” he interrupts you. You guess it’s probably the right time for a break considering there’s no way you can work in peace now. “Do you constantly have to call me that?”

“What else would I call you?”

“My name,” he suggests, taking a sip of coffee. You ignore the shit, that’s hot that comes out of him as he puts the paper cup down gingerly on his desk, looking a little bit betrayed by his drink. “Jaemin. Many people call me that.”

“People who are close to you, you mean. Like your family or… your friends.”

“Are you saying you don’t think we’re close? Or that we aren’t friends?”

“Sir, I work for you.”

“So by that alone, we simply can’t be friends? Et al?I think you really are being too much now, Secretary ____________.” He folds his arms across his chest, tutting disapprovingly as he leans back on the edge of his desk. You try not to think too hard about the fact that he does it very close to you, at an angle optimal for viewing the leanness of his form. “After all those times you broke into my house—”

“To get you ready for work.”

“— walked into my bedroom—”

“Only whenever necessary—”

“— gone through my things while I’m half naked in bed like you’re trying to organize a charity drive—”

“Because you need to get dressed, not because I have some perverted agenda —”

“—eaten the food off my kitchen counter, too—”

“You told me to!” You get to your feet, the contract slipping from your lap in your enthusiasm to defend yourself. “You offered it to me!”

Whatever happens next is completely out of your control, and you know this because the room spins without you moving by your own will. Vice President Na must have been an expert dancer in his past life, or something, because after that one dizzying moment, you find yourself leaning against the edge of the table he had been just a second ago. Warm hands are on your waist, tucked under your cardigan, the heat bleeding through your shirt.

And the Vice President’s smile is inches away from your face, still mischievous but much gentler than any other time before.

You’re not sure if you’re paralyzed or if you just don’t want to move, but the reason doesn’t affect the outcome: all you can do is stare up at him, once again dumbfounded after a small outpouring of words that ends in some kind of forced defeat. Except this particular surrender doesn’t feel so sore, for some reason.

“Even when you’re angry, you’re still pretty, you know that?”

“I wasn’t… angry,” you mumble under your breath, afraid that talking louder will scare him off. You don’t even think he’s listening all that much to you, considering that all he does is tuck your hair behind your left ear and completely change the topic.

“So, tell me, Secretary ____________. Is this still a situation where we’re not close at all?” He pauses for a moment, probably to let you answer, but you don’t say anything. You’re pretty sure your swallowing nervously is the only true sound you make. He seems to be eager to do a lot of the talking anyway, which is absolutely fine by you. “Or have I completely misread all your cute little signals?”

“Well — no, but I didn’t send any signals.” Obvious ones, at least. You’d been pretty sure you had tried to keep it under wraps as much as possible, but you’re starting to realize it’s a little possible you’re not as great at pretending as you think you are.

“Not on purpose, probably. Although you really almost got me with the one-man show vibe you have during lunch hour.”

“I… didn’t think you knew, if I’m being honest.” Honesty is the only thing you have right now, anyway, especially since Vice President Na has pretty much confirmed, in his own way, that he knows about how you feel. Now you can only wonder if he’d noticed before you even came to terms with it yourself, and the thought of that being a real possibility urges you to grab the still-steaming cup of coffee and douse yourself with its contents.

“For a while, I was pretty sure you were messing with me. I would never,” he adds just as you say it too, mimicking your astounded tone up to the lilt. “Which is why I started thinking about why else you might be looking at me so intently. You weren’t sitting there objectifying me, were you, miss secretary?”

“Sir, I would never,” you repeat, and he mouths the same words again in his amusement, although silently this time.

“I think I would have been okay with it if you were. Or would be, even until now. For the record.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You sure? No shame in it. Totally fine. Not sure about anyone else, but I’m totally okay if someone else thinks I’m eye candy in the privacy of their own minds. I am, I think, a fine specimen of a human, if I do say so myself.”

“I really wasn’t, sir.”

“You should have, then. Lost opportunities.””

“I could argue that I was just worried you’d leave and not come back.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that to you,” he hums. “Not anymore, anyway.”

The ‘to you’ is what stumps you into another silent spell, but this time, Vice President Na doesn’t attempt to fill in the void. He just starts running his eyes over your face, like he’s trying to read something there or maybe memorize your features, or something. At some point, you start thinking about how this kind of silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, contrary to your expectations and with interesting consideration of the fact that he’s still holding your hips. Apart from the idle skimming of his thumb over the curve of your pelvic bone, he doesn’t move — nearer or closer, which is probably for the best since you don’t know which one you really want more at this point.

Again, when you gather some part of your wits, the only thing you still know how to ask is “Why?”

“Because,” he replies immediately, simply, like the answer has always been very clear and you’ve just been too ignorant to figure it out. “You said that I could, not that I had to.”

It’s hot. Isn’t it hot? You don’t know what he’s talking about, but your body already reacts on principle, and you have to stand-half-lean there with your entire face burning and Vice President Na’s body heat washing over yours like an electric blanket.

“I don’t know what that means, sir.”

“It means I didn’t do this for my dad or just because you told me off in the comfort of my own office.” He bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from laughing (yet again) at you as he witnesses, from the best seat in the house, your face turning almost purple with the effort of keeping down your embarrassment. “Although that played a bit of a factor in it. I couldn’t tell if it was rude of you to say so much or kind of cute that you did despite knowing you were being rude. But that’s besides the point.”

Good, you think. If he manages to hit you with another cute in this timeframe, you may easily cease to exist.

“You know firsthand, anyway, what my dad always says. You must take on the responsibility you were born with. You have to do your job. You must remember that you owe your life to my achievements.” He mimics his father’s gruff, booming voice amusingly well, to the point that you can’t stop yourself from laughing. His facade breaks easily, and you think you hear him mumble cute under his breath again, although you choose to ignore it so your knees don’t buckle completely (something that you think would be very embarrassing with you so close to him). “I don’t think he’s ever once said an encouraging word to my face. And if there’s anything I can confidently say I won’t do, it’s doing what people only say I need to do. It’s my life, you know what I mean? I’ll do what I want.”

“You’re saying you suddenly wanted to work because I said you could?”

“More like I wanted to see if you were right.” He muses. “I was pretty sure I didn’t have the personality for it. Or the attention span. Or the skill, either.”

“I think a couple of those things are still up in the air, sir.”

“One compliment and you’re already gunning for another insubordination report.” Vice President Na’s voice is a low, casual hum, but you notice the grip around your waist tightens for a brief moment. “At first, I figured I’d just show up to get everyone off my back, but I realized along the way that I’m pretty good at this being at the helm business. I’m sure you’ll agree. Hopefully because you want to, not because you also have to.”

“I do agree.” Your reply is wholehearted, and the Vice President’s smile widens. Your chest swells so much that you think you might explode right in front of him. “Because I want to.”

“Please don’t misunderstand me, miss secretary. I’m not attributing all my successes to your impulsive words.” He teases, although his eyes stay gentle despite his tone. “The efforts were still all mine. However, I’m not too proud to admit I had a very responsible first mate by my side, for whom I am very grateful. Although I hope this doesn’t mean she’ll pluck up the courage to ask for a raise considering how well I pay her. I think. Does she get paid well? Maybe I should ask Park Jinhee from accounting.”

“She won’t,” you laugh softly, not missing the fact that he’s finally learned her name. “And she’s not really doing this for the salary, even if it is a nice bonus.”

“What’s she doing it for, then?”

As a job, this was really mostly about yourself — or it was, in the beginning. You’d terrorized Vice President Na to some degree because of the innate tendency towards self-preservation, and when that felt a little one-sided, you also considered everyone who might lose their jobs if the department got cut. It had been, for the most part, an act of pure desperation, so strong that you were willing to point fingers and raise your voice (only a few decibels, because you’re not a crazy person) at your boss. Now… that wasn’t really part of the equation. Maybe you had gotten used to the fact that the Vice President wouldn’t be going anywhere, so you’d stopped worrying about your and everyone else’s jobs, which all seem to be on a smooth path alongside the captain of the ship.

But if you had to be honest to yourself, part of the reason you’d grown a bit complacent about thinking about the fate of the department also had to do with the fact that you genuinely enjoyed being next to the Vice President. Mornings spent helping him prepare for work were regular highlights in your week, and the looks of approval you received from him every time you helped him finish a particularly difficult task were second to none. Always being close to him, always being the first and last to see him in the day, simply being able to look at him -– silly as that all sounds, they now play an undeniable factor in your desire to wake up and go to the office every single day.

“I did it for you.” You answer, and because the answer’s honest, it feels completely natural to say. A pause slowly lengthens between you two, though not nearly as tense or borderline uncomfortable as you thought it might be this time around. A slow smile stretches over the Vice President’s face, but his words don’t easily take the straightforward route this time, either.

“Should I take up with the human resources department the fact that you’re outright breaching the terms of our contractual workplace relationship? How am I?” He speaks over, with you again, your voices overlapping. You can’t help it — you laugh at the absurdity of how well he’s come to know your responses, from the word choice to the lilt in your voice that signals some level of affront. When, exactly, did Vice President Na start committing the things you said and did into memory? “You’re seducing me, miss secretary. Before you say you’re not — you are. You are, without even knowing it. You’re winning me over, telling me all these sweet nothings to tickle my heart — I believe in you, Jaemin. I love working with you, Jaemin. I did it all for you, Jaemin, because you’re obviously the best in the whole world, ho ho ho.”

“I never said it like that.”

“You might as well have.”

“Should I stop believing in you so that we can avoid a scene, then, or is the damage to your good standing too far gone?”

“Rather than stopping something already in full motion, I think it might be better to make certain amendments to our current agreement.” Vice President Na reaches for the pen tucked into his breast pocket — the gold clip catches the fluorescent light and momentarily blinds you as he brings it up between you. He brings it to one side, then to another, and your eyes follow it, amused but also admittedly a bit hypnotized.

“What kind of trance are you putting me under, sir?”

“The kind that gets you to stop calling me that,” he chuckles. “Among other, more important things on my agenda.”

You have an excellent view of Vice President Na’s stellar smile from the back of the meeting room.

The deal he closes three days later goes even better than expected; not only does he bring Amazon into the fold after weeks of (surprisingly consistent) hard work and no small amount of beguiling charm (owing to the fact that he’d offended said Amazon representatives earlier on in his still relatively short-lived career), but he also manages to snag Samsung Electronics’ participation. As an already existing subscriber to the company-provided phone plan, you’re pleased to find out that you’re entitled to twelve guilt-free months of Prime Video as part of a new promotional deal, which you can now enjoy on nights you aren’t working overtime — something you’ve racked up more of as you’ve found yourself striking more of a work-life balance, thanks in large part to the Vice President’s steadily active involvement in all things on the ‘work’ aspect of the scale. Your first goal is to finally get past the first episode of an animation everyone in the department is raving about (but that you haven’t seen more than five minutes of, in actuality, because the horrible subtitles and sluggish 144px stop motion-esque have, until recently, adamantly deterred you from enjoying anything about the story).

Standing a fair distance away from the executives, you wait for the flurry of handshakes and accompanying congratulatory statements to die down; it takes quite a while, considering the sheer volume of people, and the thickest throng has come to gather around Vice President Na. At one point, all you can see of him is the slightly unruly lick of hair that’s sticking out above the rest of the considerable crowd of balding men around him (the sole crow’s feather a mountain range of gray). All their voices overlap, and you’re only able to catch key phrases — brilliant young mind… knack for business! … just like the President… bright future ahead, you know?

Fifteen minutes of conversation and bellowing guffaws pass before Vice President Na emerges, adjusting the front of his blazer as a result of too much handshaking. Behind him, still speaking to one of the marketing executives, is President Na, who shoots his son a surreptitious look you’ve never seen him wear in your considerable number of years in the company’s employ — one of triumph and pride. The Vice President, however, is intently loosening his tie and scanning the room, stretching himself just a fraction taller above everyone else to get a better view throughout.

You wait, wondering if he’s looking to speak to someone, lost in that host of black and gray suits — the Amazon media director, perhaps, or the in-house designer that also seems to be trying to catch his eye, for some reason (you sense the needy greed for a sudden promotion that seems highly unlikely in such a setting), but even though his vision passes over them, however briefly, Vice President Na doesn’t seem satisfied.

That is, until his eyes land on the corner of the room you and Secretary Son have backed yourselves into to allow the higher-ups room to mingle.

One beat later, and the corners of his mouth are pulled up — a soft, knowing smile directed in your general direction. You glance at Secretary Son, maybe out of instinct, maybe somehow out of panic — as though you worry she’ll somehow come to chastise you, but she’s too busy trying to re-buckle her thin coat belt with rapid-fire tsks. She seems acceptably preoccupied, so your eyes flit back to the Vice President, whose eyebrows are now slightly raised, the telltale signs of a growing grin now playing on his lips as the front of his teeth begin to peek out from the seam. Another cock of his eyebrows, lifting them higher, tells you he’s waiting for some kind of message — an indication that you see him too, maybe, or… perhaps, oddly, any sign that you’re as proud of him as everyone else in the room is.

You can’t help it — you laugh, louder than you’d have originally liked to, a hand coming up over your mouth as Secretary Son’s head snaps up from her waist, bamboozled at your quick but sudden outburst. She throws you a look that suggests she firmly believes your mind has snapped, quite like a stale breadstick in a derelict Italian restaurant, but it’s worth it; Vice President Na looks satisfied at this — though, why he would be, you haven’t a true clue.

As the managers and members of the board file out of the room, both you and Secretary Son inch closer to your respective direct superiors; you both stand a few steps away as the last of the executives drag their feet, still hoping to share one last handshake with either of the two, until an elderly Mrs. Kwon’s surprisingly firm grip is finally shaken off by a sheepish President Na. He turns to his son, who’s still hosting the remnants of a genial smile on his lips, clearly poised to say something. For some reason, you expect the senior to berate the former, simply out of sheer habit, but he does nothing of the sort.

“Jaemin-ah,” his voice is gruff but not at all begrudging; it’s a low rumble of triumph. “Who’d’ve thought? My boy… you brat…”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental now, dad,” the Vice President teases, to which the President chortles heartily.

“Old men like me have the right, much more than anyone else.” You’ve never seen the President wear an expression even remotely close to softness, but you see it in his gaze now; it strikes you, then, that although you’ve always known the two to be related, this is the first time you can confidently say they resemble each other to the cores of their being — a view of happiness, somewhat mirrored in each of them. “I’m proud of you, son. You did everything I hoped you would — no, no… more than that, even.”

“I’ll take most of the praise, thanks,” Vice President Na replies with his characteristic cheek. For a moment, so quickly you think you may have missed it, his eyes flicker to you. “But I can’t say I could’ve done it alone.”

“Punk,” President Na snorts, yanking on his son’s earlobe; you and Secretary Son have to avert your eyes with expert speed to avoid being caught snickering at the slightly juvenile “ow, dammit,” that the Vice President groans out. “One big closed deal, and your head’s this big? I better not catch you floating away to a Las Vegas casino after all this.”

“Give me some credit; I’d at least visit the desert first.” This time, when the Vice President glances at you, his father’s head turns too, and you stand up straighter at the unprecedented onslaught of attention. “Besides, I’ve got someone here to keep me anchored now.”

“Good work, Secretary ____________,” President Na offers you a rare smile that truly has you feeling like the world has turned upside down: the President in an agreeable (almost ecstatic, though you’d never say that out loud) mood, the Vice President doing his job not just in general but actually commendably well, and not a single strand of baby hair sticking up from out of your ponytail. Inconceivable.

You bow, murmuring a thank you, and Secretary Son quickly follows suit for the formality of it all before she strides over to the President, who’s leaving his son with one last thunder-like clap on the back before he’s leaving the meeting room, still jovial when he catches up with the suspiciously lagging figure of Mrs. Kwon by the door.

Vice President Na starts to follow suit, walking towards the other end of the meeting room; you quickly scurry behind him, still clutching your tablet, blinking a low battery warning, to your chest. You’ve come to grow accustomed to the ‘secretary’s pace’ over the last few weeks as well — always close enough to help, never too close enough to step on a superior’s toes.

But in the moment you fumble to silence your device, you end up stepping into someone’s shadow; glancing up at the Vice President, you find yourself looking at not the familiar view of his back but that of his side profile (one you’re actually also familiar with, though you refuse to admit to the level of familiarity). He’s slowed his pace considerably, allowing you to naturally fall into step with him, and even this, he expects a response from you somehow — he asks for it with yet another wiggle of his eyebrows. You laugh again, shaking your head, and yet, inexplicably, it seems to be exactly the reaction he hopes to see.

The department floor erupts into applause when the two of you pass through the glass doors; a flash of mollification crosses the Vice President’s features before he’s back to his signature light humor, raising a palm up in receipt of praise. Park Jinhee is clapping with only her left hand smacking the side of her mug, a few drops of coffee streaming down the handle side on impact. One of the team managers rushes forward, eager to shake Vice President Na’s hand, and, riding his high, also yours, pumping it up and down with so much vigor that you mumble a quiet ow behind a strained smile. Only the Vice President’s hand on your shoulder, steering you away, saves you from what feels like possible dislocation.

He’s still waving at them like this is a pageant and not his day job, even as he guides you towards his office door; you have to use your elbows to push it open and effectively help you both avoid ramming into frosted glass. The applause dies down as your somewhat conjoined figures disappear through the doorway — you first, albeit convolutedly, your heel still holding strong in the job of keeping the door wide open enough for Vice President Na to saunter through before you let it swing shut to a now relatively silent office floor.

His hold on your shoulder doesn’t let up, though; it’s still urging you forward, towards his desk, and you open your mouth to say something along the lines of I’m gonna break my hip if we keep going this way, but just as your throat conjures up the first syllable, he turns you around, letting you rest light against the edge of the table.

In a pattern reminiscent of three days prior, Vice President Na’s hand finds its way to your waist, utterly comfortable in a way that mystifies you; he acts like it belongs there, as natural as the smile that’s still playing on his lips.

“Sir, you realize it’s the middle of the day?”

“You realize that we had a deal,” he corrects you, brow furrowing in feigned sternness. “Hold up your end of it, miss secretary.”

“Only if you stop calling me that.”

“Now, that absolutely was not part of the contract.”

When you laugh this time, he chimes in; there’s a harmony in your voices that has your posture softening. You feel airier, your heart much lighter, and when you look up at him, you can’t help but flush at his expectant gaze.

“You realize it’s the middle of the day,” you repeat, carefully, the words suddenly somewhat unfamiliar on your tongue — the next two syllables, most of all. “Jae… min.”

Odd as it is, you’re rewarded with the pleased look that takes over his features; he takes a moment to exaggeratedly revel in this new occurrence.

“Better. Much better. You could still be a bit more comfortable with it, I’d say, but… baby steps?”

“Please re-prioritize your day, si— Jaemin.” The terse tone you’re going for is brutally marred by your blunder, which has his shoulders shaking from laughter. “Someone could very easily walk in.”

“Who’s going to fire me?”

“I can think of one person.”

“You heard him. I’m proud of you, Jaemin. You’ve completely exceeded my expectations, Jaemin. You are the light of my life — my favorite son, Jaemin, ho, ho, ho.”

“Sir,” you sigh. “You’re his only son.”

“We had a deal,” he repeats, letting the return to habits slide, and there’s a laughably childish air to his words. “I’ll… file an insubordination report. Breach of contract as well. Tsk, tsk, miss secretary. Not on such a momentous occasion.”

“Some might classify this as threatening behavior.” Your eyes are soft, though, when they meet his humored gaze. “If you want a reward… ask a little more nicely.”

A soft snort — his fingers dig lightly into your waist, and the next second, he’s lifting you off your feet and settling you lightly atop his desk. his palms never leave you, even after you’ve been placed; they’re increasingly warm beyond the fabric of your top.

“____________,” he murmurs, saying your name so naturally that you could almost believe he’s referred to you as nothing else for as long as you’ve known him. “Kiss me.”

Your own hands find their way behind his neck, but he does most of the work in closing the gap anyway; you’re not even sure who, between the two of you, gave that first sigh of longing, of relief. Perhaps it was both of you, all at once.

Jaemin still tastes like the coffee you’d given him this morning — not a trace of richness, but a bittersweet and earthy twang that’s signature post-Americano. There’s even a hint of mintiness from the nervous handful of Tic Tacs he’d had just before the meeting started; you find that out the moment his tongue swipes against yours, leaving behind the invisible bite of menthol. And then there’s you, a clean taste that settles against his teeth, subtle first but growing stronger until you’re satisfied with the notion that you may linger there for some time — even after you pull away, slightly breathless.

“Congratulations to me,” he breathes out, trademark grin flashing bright again. “So what happens if I close next month’s Disney Plus deal?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer; his hand’s already skimming down, over your hips, following the path of your thigh. Your hand reaches out on instinct to stop him, but he’s oddly more aware of his surroundings than you give him credit for (or maybe, you’re just that predictable to him). He meets your palm, fingers lacing into yours and allowing him to lift your wrist to his lips. There, you feel the warmth of his kiss again, and he uses his hold to bring himself even closer, until he’s able to press his face into your neck.

“Sir—”

“Jaemin. You call me Jaemin from now on, remember?”

“Sir.” You’re adamant. “It’s work hours.”

“You’re not tense.”

He doesn’t move his head; in fact, you feel him burying his face further into your shoulder. In this position, there’s no real way for you to pull away — there’s also no real desire for you to do so, anyway.

“No, I’m not.”

“Good.” Warmth again on your skin — his lips leave an invisible mark just above your collarbone. “I like you best like this.”

“What? Not tense?”

“Happy,” he corrects for accuracy. “Happy that you’re with me.”

You fall silent, not because you’re not sure of what to say, but because you don’t need to tell him that he’s right.

Moments later, his fingers find their way into your ponytail; the index hooks into the elastic, bringing your hair down. You feel his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, he’s inhaling your perfume again.

“Green tea. Something floral. Jasmine? Maybe a little bit of citrus.” He lifts his head but stays close, warm breath washing over you. “It’s so you. Fresh. Pure. Beautiful.”

The gap between the two of you doesn’t last for too long thereafter; he kisses you again, and your heart lifts to find that your taste still lingers somewhere there. It’s longer because it’s slower — less playful and more exploratory, until he pulls away to a much more breathless you. How he finds the air to talk even after is miraculous to you.

“Be mine, miss secretary.”

You blink — once, twice, at his serious expression, wondering if it will break and give way to more humor. But he waits, unwavering, until the last piece of resistance you’ve clung onto is washed away — the last thing that made you, for a second, deny that you were in love with him.

His smile slowly mirrors yours as it grows.

“Like you could ever get rid of me, Na Jaemin.”

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