#chemistry cupid

[alvinmichaelmurphyseville]

“So google has this new game where you figure out which element you vibe with and then make matches.”

“I got Oxygen and Netta got Nitrogen, so we matched together!!!”

[alloythekeyboardman]

guys

do you fw chemistry cupid??? the Google doodle?? can we make a fandom?? PLEASE??

[ghostcrebs]

cupid hanzo doodle

[squidfreak]

romance is DEAD, and it's the ALLOROMANTICS WHO KILLED IT!!!

[whosectype]

which @/s do you consider to be your friends

oh! Well @/ratwizz, @/magnusthepuppet, @/boo-topia, @/lunarshadow04, @/cups-and-pentacles, @/shortcakelils, @/cupid-shortcake, @/mintythecup,@/4ce-of-2pades, @/momentomorii, @/potatoreak, @/fizz-wizz-dizz, @/carlarosenakilah, @/fresacake, @/mimuo-no, @/winterleaf, and @/creator-of-monsters!

so pretty much everyone in the better casino, along with a select few!!

EDIT: IM SO STUPID I FORGOT @/ablsoblume!!!!

ABSOBLUME PLEASE FORGIVE ME IM SORRY

EDIT 2: IM SO HORRIBLE I ALLSO FORGOT @/m0use-brained!!

AUGHGHGHHGHGHG

I probably forgot more ppl I’m so sorry if I did pls call me out 😔

[ambrosiallkiss]

Keith is a new fave and I really enjoyed his route. He was perfectly loveable as a roguish?gentleman (those hand kisses!)⚘💞

[stickers-on-a-laptop]

have we tried kissing him

[chalkrevelations]

Well, gdi.

I’m 2 eps into Manner of Death, and I’ve spent the past - year? year and a half? - poking around in bl being all, ‘yeah, yeah, MaxTul, whatever,’ but you guys weren’t kidding, and this is going to send me down a MaxTul rabbithole, isn’t it?

Anyway. Bun, even before he so blatantly tried to stop you from investigating, I was guessing your friend with the mustache was the killer. Anybody with that facial hair is up to no good, plus he’s related to the local magistrate, so we’re gonna get some good corruption and coverup, I bet. Also, i don’t yet know how this ties into Natty, but I suspect the bitemarks on both bodies are not only related but are also related to the way Mustache Guy was trying to haul Jane bodily out of the party. The only thing that makes me doubt it’s him, at this point, is that y’all are telegraphing his creepiness, and it’s kind of early to be tipping your hand, so I’m wondering if this is deliberate misdirection by the show. Plus, Inspector M, or whatever his name is, from the police, is also a creepfest and does a really good job of reminding me why i don’t trust cops, so there’s also that possibility, I guess, although I’m more surprised M hasn’t roofied you, yet, Bun, and threatened your virtue. I kind of thought he was getting you sloppy drunk with a purpose in the first episode, but I guess not yet?

As for you, Tan, you could stand to be a little less of a creep, yourself. I realize this drunken stranger kissed you out of nowhere after you two shared some sort of Moment When Your Gazes Met, but hitting on him in his hospital bed with his friend - your apparent girlfriend, who you seemed perfectly willing to cheat on with him before she turned up dead - barely cold ... you can see how you look a little skeevy, right?

Bun, you are beautiful and perfect and have never done anything wrong in your life (except completely forgetting about Oat - who are you, Kinn Theerapanyakul?), and I am charmed by your self-appointed calling as speaker for the dead. You and Frank Pembleton, man.

[forsakenmissives]

anytime i have to refer to arthur as a killing machine or someone who's always known how to kill or has always had to be a warrior or whatever i just want to scream and cry and throw up

[arminsumi]

continuation here

i have... i have thoughts of tattoartist!geto suguru... swimming in my mind... 🫠

tattoo!artist geto suguru's busy giving your friend a tattoo on her back and she's trying to play cupid, asking him if he's single and then following with "oh my girl here is single too!" and you just bat your lashes at her to tell her to shut the hell up, but now suguru's got a sultry eye on you — and now he's trying to steal as many glances as he can without ruining his façade of nonchalance, or ruining the ink that he's putting into your friend's skin. just by the way you talk, he's got to know more about you.

"so... ever considered getting a tattoo?" he asks.

"... it's not for me." you reply.

"didn't think so."

"what's that supposed to mean?"

maybe he gives a lil' wink, a very subtle lil' wink, "you look too sweet."

and his heart is beating harder and he's thinking of that one hozier song and doing flips in his mind thinking she's too sweet for me

your friend just keeps trying to pair you two together, maybe she's joking or maybe she sees the potential chemistry — so she outs you, admitting that "oh, suguru, you're just her type. she's all about bad boys like you. kidding! not kidding... are you blushing?" and this just makes his mind LIGHT. UP. but he's still maintaining that façade of nonchalance.

once he's done, and your friend is waiting for her payment to process at the checkout, you're lingering among the studs and gauge earrings that they sell. suguru comes up to you, trying to be lowkey about flirting, "so was she joking, or am i your type?" he asks — and he's just dying to hear a positive answer.

[textmel8r]

[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( fifth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , mommy kink , drug + alcohol usage , smut drabble , submissive toji , soft sex , profanity

୨୧˚ an; guys… i don’t know what took over me when i wrote this one….im sorry ,, also yes drabble time, you all knew this would happen eventually don’t act surprised 🙄🙄🙄

come over and show me then

The last message Toji had sent you. He was bold, heart racing just the slightest bit when he thumbed that frightening, little arrow icon to send a text that would most likely change his whole relationship chemistry with you. You, the kind hearted woman who graced him with your undying benevolence and wealth. 

You, the woman Toji called mommy not even twelve hours ago during an idiotic, drunken stupor. 

You, the woman who graced his bed, peering up to him with the softest gaze Toji’d ever been observed with. It was an odd sight–you splayed on his mattress. Dawning a lavish top; silken, Toji absentmindedly recognizes the fabric ( then proceeds to grimace at the fact that he can actually discern between different breeds of fabric. Your lifestyle was rubbing off on him ) and thinks you look out of place. An expensive jewel among the dank cave of his shoddy bedroom.  

Toji crawls in after you, winding up your side, clinging akin to a baby koala bear. Still, he doesn’t speak, preferring to let the sounds of sheets sliding against each other fill the gaps of silence. You take his hulking body in those loving arms and break the quiet. “I’m not buying you for the night.” You cradle his cheek; you make him look up to you and Toji nods under your hand. “You know that, right?”

He nods again. “Sure,” and for once, it comes out without a modicum of sarcasm. Because Toji believes it when you tell him that you’re not looking to gain access to his body through flimsy transactions. Your sincerity is displayed through the months of torturous anticipation. Months of him on the cusp of begging–and Toji Fushiguro has never begged for anything in his goddamned miserable life. Your sincerity is displayed through the gingerness in which you hold his face. Because how could someone with such gentle hands ever tell a lie? And your sincerity is displayed through your words. You tell Toji things that nobody has ever told him before. Nice things, reassuring things despite his insistence on being an asshole to you.

Toji pushes his torso to be propped up on an elbow before he leans in. It’s not a tame first kiss by any means; Toji is mammalian in the way his teeth gnash yours and his tongue laves your cupid’s bow. “Slow,” you whisper in the short absence of his lips. “Slowly.” A command that he feels inclined to follow like some kept mutt, swapping out the animalistic pace with a more refined, controlled tempo. Your face was swallowed by two massive hands; they clamped on either side of your jaw, calloused and dry and forcefully pulling you closer. “Just like that, Toji.”

The way you say his name… Fuck. Toji grunts, swinging a heavy thigh over your own to situate between your legs. “I’ve never,” there's a pause when he leans in to suck the tip of your tongue, “been so desperate to be inside a woman.” His thick tongue worms back into your mouth, pushing smoky saliva down your throat. You were writhing; your hand slides over his, the one still tending to your cheek, and you guide it lower. He let you drag his hand down the smooth slope of your neck, over the hill of your delicate chest, across the plain of your soft tummy to meet the waistband of your designer pants. 

Your head tilts, something devious glinting in the colored rings of your eyes that have Toji so enchanted. He plucks at the brass button of your pants, nudging the point of his nose to the high of your cheekbone. Breathing in the luxury branded perfume that overpowered the cigarette stench still lingering in his room from his morning smoke; evidenced by the stub crumbled in the glass tray on his wobbly nightstand. “What about the girl…Girl from last night?” 

Toji smiles at the breathy question. “What girl?” He hums cheekily against your mouth, letting his tongue slip back through the seam of your delicious lips. You slap his face rather playful, but his breath hitches all the same.

“Dick.”

At last, he pops the button. The acrylic of your nails sink into the meat of his forearm, legs widening, ass shifting; all of the signs that Toji hyperfixated on. The way you tell him to keep going without so much as saying a word has him hotter than anytime another woman has begged for his touch in bed. Toji kisses you as he dips beneath the ajar slacks, then those sheer panties, slipping down to where you needed him most. You’re wet, he notes to himself. Wet, squelching and red hot when his thick middle finger sandwiches itself between the labia. 

Both pairs of legs tangled together amidst the desperation. While Toji touches you, you’re hiking your leg up–the one snuggled between two of the man’s built thighs. It presses to his clothed crotch, and you reach around grab a handful of his ass. “Hump it,” you dictate, using his ass cheek as leverage to pull his hips down against your awaiting thigh. Toji jolts; never had his ass been grabbed like that, but he thinks he likes it.

So he grinds. His groin crashes against your leg with rough enthusiasm, so rough that it should be a threat to your poor femur bone. But he doesn’t let up. Toji’s arm tenses and shakes with exertion as he fingers you, forearm burning from the intensity at which he moves. But he doesn’t let up.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Fuck.”

What is he, some kind of dog? Chasing his high against a leg, licking your neck, barking obscenities into existence. Had you been anyone else, Toji would have had them bent at the waist over his bed, forcing their face into his lonesome pillow and taking what he needed. But you had this certain authority–you’d always had–as if you owned him. Not that you would ever admit that, nor did you believe it, but Toji did. You pay for his living quarters, his meals, his clothes, his car, hell, his time. The leash was cuffed at his throat, leather digging into his flesh, and he fucking loved it. Toji would wait for your instructions like a well behaved puppy. 

“Take my pants off,” you utter, and it’s only then does Toji realize that the both of you hadn’t bothered shedding any layers, taking favor in rutting clothed bodies together like a couple of immature teens. His hips pause their humping, and his tongue finds one long, last lick to your jugular before pulling back.

Two thumbs hook beneath both layers of material at your hips. “Can’t believe you made me wait this long,” he mutters offhandedly, dragging your pants down. 

You’re bare. His mouth waters at the sight of glistening moisture between your legs, encapsulated by a dusting of hair. Toji stares, nestled on his knees, straddling your thigh. He just stares.

“I told you my reasons,” you say.

He doesn’t respond to that. “I want to fuck you.”

Your chest rises. Are you arching for him? “Ask me.” When he cocks a confused brow, you lightly elaborate. “Show me some of that respect I taught you and ask me nicely.”

The sole of your foot caresses his pec over the black tee shirt he sports, a gentle notion that he is allowed to take his time. Toji doesn’t need time though; he’s got your twisted little request all figured out. It’s funny, he shouldn’t have expected any less. To him, respect didn’t exist in the bedroom, but Toji would make an exception. “Will you let me fuck you tonight?” You’re not letting him get off that easy, your pointed eyes say it all. So, in an uncharacteristically piteous voice, the man adds “please, ma’am” and strokes your calf for good measure.

That does it. 

Your legs spread, arms racing up to coil around the thick post of his neck. He lets you pull him down, lets you kiss him tenderly, lets your tongue curl behind his teeth. Toji groans, reaching a sticky hand down to clumsily shove his sweatpants around his ass. “You have no–” kiss “idea what you–” kiss “you do to me–” kiss, kiss “when you call me that.”

His length drags over your core, hot and heavy and thick and raw. He doesn’t move to grab a condom knowing damn well there’s a box that sits in his nightstand to the left of them. A box that has been forgotten, left untouched in the waking months of his realization that he doesn’t want to fuck other people. Why would he? When you take such good fucking care of him, what’s the point in sleeping around anymore?

“Be grateful,” Toji husks, rubbing up against the warmth beneath him. “‘M never this nice in bed.”

“I’m not, either.”

He throbs at that. A small hand snakes behind his head, weaving into the raven shag of his hair, and tugs. “I really never meant for this to happen.” Toji narrows those steely eyes at you. “To end up in your bed, I mean. I thought I had more resolve than this.”

Too bad money can’t buy resolve, he thinks inwardly. Hand still between bodies, Toji jerks himself slowly, soaking his tip in your entrance. His gaze is glued to your face, flitting amidst all the gorgeous features it had to offer. “I knew I’d get you here eventually,” he speaks with a lilt of confidence, prodding the point of his nose to yours. And then he pushes inside without warning. You’re gooey; a hot, wet heat encasing his body from head to toe. He feels you shudder, feels nails in his nape. He feels your sticky breaths on his cheek, feels your pillowy thighs squish against his hip bones. Toji serves you the entire length in one slow thrust, holding himself inside. “Fuck.”

“Slow,” you warn once more in a broken voice. His hair was grabbed again, you used it as a makeshift handlebar to yank Toji’s head down. His handsome face plummeted into the divot between your breasts, still gift wrapped in that undoubtedly overpriced shirt. His nose pressed to your sternum, taking deep inhales. 

Slow. 

Slow sex was unfamiliar territory to Toji, one among the list of foreign concepts you had introduced to him during your time together. Fucking was animalistic practice between two people, fast-paced and greedy and surprisingly lonely. Toji fucked with the intention of climaxing; intimacy is irrelevant. Was irrelevant. 

Toji slips a hand beneath your back, locking a grip on the underside of your shoulder to weld your chest to his face. Slow, timely thrusts met your cunt, watery squelches filled the room. “Oh, fuck.”

Your hands wander. Crawling down the base of his spine, breezing over his tail bone, clutching his bare ass. Guiding him in a way, and he doesn’t entirely mind. “My boy,” you moan in the throes of pleasure, a free hand blindly feeling for the back of his sweaty neck. Fingers stroke the precious skin there, sensitive flesh that nobody has ever paid attention to, not even himself. Toji trembles.

“Take it,” he whispers back, as if he still had any semblance of control. But you let him, and he thinks you’re too fucking nice for sparing his pride like that. “Take it, goddamn it.”

“Yes, my sweet boy.”

Idiotic. He is no longer a boy, nor does he even slightly compare to anything sweet. God, if you knew him. If you knew what he did for work… How many people he’s gutted and bled like livestock for quick cash… You would leave. He knows this to be a fact of life, you’re simply too moralistic and caring and selfless to keep in contact with a monster like him.

“Let mommy take care of you.”

Oh Jesus Christ, he’s done for. You wax praises so sincere that Toji starts to let himself believe he’s good. He pretends he’s worthy of being here with you right now in this bed, with your lithe fingers petting his damp hair and your breasts against his cheek, and fucks you harder. The toes of two socked feet bury into the mattress.

You successfully conquered his flimsy pride. “Mom… my…,” Toji breathes out, stifling down the impending whine caught at the back of his esophagus. He bucks deep inside, pubic bone to pubic bone, and grabs a handful of tit. So fucking soft even under this stupid shirt.

The sex plays out this way until the very end. A gentle tango that reminds Toji he hadn’t actually fucked in missionary position for some time. But at last, you came around him. “Toji, baby I’m here.” As if you were charged with electricity, you twitched and jumped beneath him. Toji fucked you through it, grinding his hips in a trajectory that caught your clit with his pubic hair. The friction was passionate, and you came with your jaw unhinged on a silent yelp.

“Give it to me,” he rasped, tongue lolling out to lick at your cleavage through your shirt. Drool rolled down the palate, collecting into a small puddle and dampening the fabric. A messy puppy, drooling all over you like that. Toji fucked harder, much too hard to be considered ‘slow’ anymore, but you didn’t stop him.

“Come on.” A hand dips beneath the collar of Toji’s tight shirt, scratching the ever loving fuck out of his upper back. “Cum baby boy.”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck.” The thrusts halt abruptly; Toji rams himself deep inside and holds onto you for dear life. There’s a brief pause before he empties himself into the deepest depths of your pussy, twitching as he does so. You coo, talking him through it with an inoffensive hand raking his bangs back. They stick, his sweat acting like a sort of natural gel, and Toji’s forehead is on display. You drag him up and press your lips to it—he flushes and drops back onto you, hiding in your neck.

Toji gasps on his come down, gulping in air through his nose. He’s weak and it’s strange. Despite the stupid amount of strength trapped within that Herculean body, Toji cannot find it in him to hover anymore. His entire weight drops onto your much tinier frame, but he hears no objections so he keeps himself there.

“Worth the buildup?” You ask at last, rubbing soothing circles into the plates of his shoulder blades. Your voice is a little strained, no doubt the effects of a two-hundred-and-something-pound man crushing your lungs, but Toji likes the funny grate of it in his ears.

“You already know the answer.” It’s written in the way your cum mixes together and wets the crease of his inner thighs. He’s not exactly going to say that was the most intimate and passionate sex i’ve ever had, but he’ll show you how much it meant to him by letting you cradle him to your chest.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

tags . • @4imhry @sugurubabe @mastermasterlist1p1 @mikisspeak @fluttershyfangs @iluv-ace @xstom @bratbby333 @mizzfizz @sserafin @wo-ming-bai @maexc @r0ckst4rjk @aesukuni

[piosplayhouse]

Round Five

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Mix Sahaphap gets to perform (and has the performance chops to perform) in a style that I’ve never seen any other male actor get to embody. Mix gets to unironically play the #strongfemalecharacter. The Beatrice, the Elizabeth Bennett, the Jo March. Strong-willed, emotional, kind-hearted.

Not only do the plot points line up, but Mix, more than any BL actor I’ve seen, fully leans into the embodiment of this archetype. In his roles, he rolls his eyes, pouts, banters flirtatiously, softens his posture and expression at small details. He doesn’t over-exaggerate and imposition other characters but his face also doesn’t hold back his character’s thoughts and judgments. And when the moments arrive, he lets all the hurt and anguish pour out in shatters of tears and visible heartbreak—the star-counting scene, anyone????—in a way that harkens to the operatic emotionality of well-done melodramas, soap-operas, and their contemporary Thai equivalent of Lakorn. It’s only that these have never been men’s roles in those.

It’s no surprise that one of Mix���s roles—Cupid’s Last Wish—is explicitly a gender body-swap, and Tian in A Tale of Thousand Stars is (albeit explicitly denied within the show) heavily connected to gender body-swapping. What Mix specializes in as an actor, and does exceptionally well, has been defined as feminine. To depict a kind of queer expression in this style is novel because it’s not camp, it’s not okama, it’s not a soft or femboy, it’s not a BL twink (Mix has been mostly excluded from the schoolyards and quads of the BL universe except for a role as a senior crush in Fish Upon the Sky). It’s too sincere and too adult for any of that.

In Moonlight Chicken we get to see, without the pretense of gendered mysticism, this performance style’s seduction, warmth, wit, and explosiveness within the framework of a general gay form of expression. It says that this kind of femininity might just be a gay thing. Not all gay men exhibit it, obviously—queer men aren’t a monolith. Still, it gives us something to consider about how we observe performance of queerness on screen, especially in front of an audience that puts so much more emphasis on ships, heat, and pairing chemistry to assess how well they perform a BL role. Could we look for other features to judge performance of queerness instead of how well they kiss?

Seme and uke roles would be the major performance style categories loyal BL fans assess actors with, yet even within the archetype his character’s fill within BL narratives, Mix’s performances differ from the typical uke depiction in BL because he really doesn’t perform them as passive. Rather, Mix’s characters and his portrayal of them are dynamic and demanding. It certainly fits certain stereotypes of ukes (Gilbert!) and their gay stereotype equivalent of bottoms as pillow princesses and brats. Mix’s characters, though, have more drive, agency, and compassion than that, and he plays them with all of those currents running underneath.

We certainly have openly gay writer/director Aof Noppharnach to thank for writing this kind of queer character for Mix to play in Tian and Wen. But for Mix’s specific commitment to the performance starting off with his (debut!?) role in ATOTS, we first have Earth to thank for believing in Mix’s ability and recommending him to portray the role of Tian, and then Aof’s acceptance despite his differing initial expectations for the character. Mix, Earth, and Aof have all been open about how Mix in his personal life and nature holds a lot of similarities to both his role as Tian in ATOTS and Wen in Moonlight Chicken. Some people might knock points off his performances because he’s like them. But his relationship to the characters, rather than dampening my enthusiasm for Mix’s performances, helps me appreciate his willingness to give an authentic performance in a style that hasn’t been encouraged on screens previously. It’s made more impactful that he chose to risk vulnerability to bring something personal that had previously been excluded from screens because of its gender deviance (and in broader society explicitly condemned). This doesn’t make a claim on Mix’s actual identity, but simply shows his willingness to understand and perform the expressions of his queer characters with an effort at empathy that many other actors would feel challenged to bring.

Some actors are chameleons, but some actors have a gift of a type within which they can explore depths and range that no one else can best. For me, that’s what Mix does in his work when directors and casting understands his talent. There’s a BTS video of Mix actually fainting during a scene while in Earth/Phupa’s embrace on the mountain that immediately brought to mind the wildly famous final scene in the film Camille where Greta Garbo as Marguerite dies in her lover’s arms.

For Mix, it was a serious incident due to regrettably extreme conditions and requiring the on-set paramedics, but these levels of theatrics, for me, are emblematic of what Mix is capable of as a performer, as well. After all, he had to faint in Phupa’s arms multiple times on purpose. It’s the kinds of Old Hollywood and heightened sentimental romance realms Mix takes his performances to! Then he can turn around and make it look easy to take that same character into grounded quips or dedicated everyday tasks. It only takes writers, directors, and audiences willing to see that men can feel this way and act this way. Mix has paved the way.

[astonmartinii]

astonmartinii’s masterlist

if you would like to support me or send me a coffee, please go here ko-fi.com/astonmartini !!

max verstappen 

teacher’s pet 

babysitter duty 

play date 

pen pals 

study bug 

college 

teddy bear 

into the arms of another part two part three part four 

worlds biggest fan part two 

behind the camera 

we don’t play about halloween 

passion for fashion

bite the hand

charles leclerc 

big reputation | part two

home ties

all is fair in love and war 

birthday wishes  

the student life part one / part two 

love languages

motormouth 

cat mom 

author 

big girls do(n’t) cry 

tight knit 

friendship bracelets 

you and me got a whole lotta history 

angel baby, devil child 

undercover verstappen

nonsense... or is it? | a very nonsense christmas

oscar piastri 

rookie love

a spoonful of sugar

cherry lip balm 

i am the rockstar, girlfriend 

witchy business 

peas in a pod

southern charm 

kiss it better

nothing good ever happens at the work christmas party

daniel ricciardo 

ric number three 

cooking up a storm 

rockstar 

wedding bells 

big apple lovin’ 

ultimate wing man 

i don’t wanna be funny anymore 

lewis hamilton 

raw chemistry 

doggy day care 

get the bag 

top secret 

signed up for life 

spice up your life

sebastian vettel 

racing royalty 

family ties 

pierre gasly 

we never go out of style 

final(ly) girl 

mick schumacher 

summer breaking 

opposites attract 

lando norris 

lonely hearts club 

suck up 

team bonding 

best friends 4 ever

frost bitten 

dj got us falling in love 

big time rush 

loving on a sunday

head in the clouds

reluctant cupid

bad blood (lando's version)

ballad of lovebirds and puppy dogs

just add water

george russell 

george russell’s the type of guy 

first impressions matter

esteban ocon 

always the ones you least expect 

carlos sainz 

journalist 

old money 

are you going to be my girl?

toto wolff 

falling for you 

alex albon 

nine lives 

careful what you wish for

yuki tsunoda

guess who?

logan sargeant

pick of the crop

lance stroll

brother's best friend

mamma mia 

mamma mia  

no more ace to play 

honey, honey

age of no regret 

a wonderful thing 

a very mamma mia christmas

if you need me, let me know, gonna be around

guilty as sin masterlist

[pucksandpower]

Playing Cupid

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: convinced that you and Max must be the most oblivious people on earth, the rest of the grid decide to take matters into their own hands

“Hey, I bet I can beat you to the debrief room!” Max’s voice carries through the paddock, his familiar smile in place.

You roll your eyes, a smirk playing on your lips. “You always say that and yet here we are.”

He chuckles, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face, “Optimism, it’s just part of my charm.”

“You mean your delusion?” You tease, nudging him with your elbow.

There’s a pause as you both make your way, the chatter of crew members a steady background hum as Max’s laughter and your shared jokes create a bubble around the two of you.

“You two are like the dynamic duo of Red Bull,” Daniel pipes up from where he’s leaning against the wall with his signature grin stretching across his face. “Batman and Robin vibes.”

You glance at Max, raising an eyebrow. “Batman and Robin? More like Tom and Jerry.”

Max snorts. “Which one am I?”

“Definitely Tom. Always chasing but never quite catching up.” You stick out your tongue playfully.

Daniel shakes his head with a laugh, “The chemistry though! It’s electric. The entire grid sees it.”

You look puzzled, glancing at Max whose face mirrors your own. “What are you on about, Danny?”

Before he can reply, Max’s race engineer joins in, “He’s not wrong. It’s like watching two magnets circle each other, not knowing they’re meant to connect.”

Max shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed at GP’s observation, “We’re just good friends. Teammates. That’s all.”

You nod in agreement. “Exactly! Just because we joke around doesn’t mean—”

“—there’s anything more,” Max finishes for you, the two of you so in sync it makes GP and Daniel exchange amused glances.

“Whatever you say,” GP chuckles.

The day wears on, filled with the usual press conferences, race strategies, and banter. But now, there’s an underlying hum, a question that seems to have spread among the drivers and teams: what if?

In the evening, as you’re about to make your way back to the hotel, Lewis sidles up to you. “You and Max, huh? That’s something. The fans will love it.”

You blink in surprise. “We’re just teammates. That’s all.”

He winks. “For now.”

You just laugh it off, not sure how to respond.

Later that night, you and Max find yourselves in a private corner of your hotel restaurant, both tired but satisfied. “Did Lewis say something weird to you too?” Max asks, sipping his drink.

You nod. “About us. I mean, we’re close, but all this talk ... it’s a bit strange, right?”

He sighs, “Yeah. Just because two people get along doesn’t mean they’re ... you know, together together.”

You chuckle. “Exactly. We’re friends. Best friends. That’s all.”

***

“Truth or dare!” The booming voice with an enthusiastic Australian accent echoes across the lounge where a few of the drivers have gathered post-qualifying, hoping to unwind.

Max groans from beside you. “Do we have to? Every time it ends up embarrassing at least one of us.”

You nudge him, laughing. “Oh, come on. Scared of a little dare, Verstappen?”

Daniel’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Exactly. What are you so afraid of, Maxie? Maybe revealing a certain ... secret?”

Lando, lounging on a sofa, chips in, “Or maybe singing a serenade for a certain someone?”

Max’s cheeks turn a shade redder while you feel your own face heat up. “I think Danny and Lando are in cahoots,” you whisper to Max, who chuckles in agreement.

“Alright, alright,” Max concedes, “Truth or dare. Bring it on.”

Daniel’s smile widens even further, a clear sign that he’s up to no good. “Okay, Max. Truth or dare?”

Max hesitates for a split second. “Dare.”

Daniel rubs his hands together with a surprisingly convincing evil smirk. “I dare you to serenade ...” He deliberately drags out the suspense, glancing around the room before pointing directly at you, “... your lovely teammate here.”

The room erupts into laughter and teasing. “Oh, this is going to be good!”

Max looks at you apologetically but there’s a playful glint in his eye. “Alright, alright. What song?”

You shake your head, already giggling in anticipation of what is to come. “Surprise me.”

Gathering courage, Max stands up, clearing his throat dramatically. He looks right into your eyes, a playful glint in his, and starts singing “I Want It That Way” … mostly.

“Tell me why … I keep crashing into walls. Tell me why … I can’t seem to win them all. Tell me why … I never want to hear you say, box box box box box.”

You laugh so hard that tears stream down your face. The room is filled with laughter, claps, and a few playful boos (mostly from Charles who seem partially traumatized by the mention of boxing).

“That’s officially the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you say, sarcasm dripping from your words.

Max takes a bow, still red-faced. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

As the night winds down and the group starts to disperse, Daniel sidles up to you. “Soooooo …. did the serenade work?”

You laugh, “It was entertaining, to say the least. But Max and I ...” You trail off, not sure how to put your relationship into words.

“It’s alright,” Daniel nods understandingly and for a moment you actually think he might stop scheming to get the two of you together. But then he winks, “Sometimes the best things take time.”

***

“Formula 1 is as much about connections off the track as it is on,” Lewis begins, his voice smooth, measured, a practiced art in front of the cameras during the press conference. Flashbulbs click and reporters scribble notes. “Sometimes those connections are ... more than what meets the eye. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You raise an eyebrow. Next to you, Max shuffles slightly awkwardly.

Before you can answer, Lewis continues, eyes glinting with mischief, “For instance, teams with two drivers who might be ... more than just teammates?” His gaze flits subtly between you and Max, a tiny smirk playing on his lips.

Max laughs it off. “Talking about you and George? Or was it back with Nico?”

A ripple of laughter flows through the conference room and you bite back a smile, appreciating Max’s deflection.

Lewis grins, completely unfazed. “Good one. But no, I’ve heard some rumors about another team ... one that rhymes with Bed Rull, perhaps?”

Now you feel the need to intervene, “Rumors are just that, Lewis. Rumors. Max and I are teammates, good friends. Nothing more.” You keep your voice light but firm.

“But isn’t it interesting,” Lewis ponders aloud, “how two people can spend so much time together, share so many experiences, practically think with the same brain, and still not notice a ... deeper connection?”

Max’s eyes meet yours briefly, a momentary search for an answer, a reaction perhaps. But as quick as the look is, it’s gone.

After finishing up with media, Charles shoots a dimpled smile your way. “Quite the interview by Lewis, huh? He’s not usually one for gossip.”

You laugh. “Trying to stir the pot, I guess. Maybe he’s bored? Everyone loves a good love story.”

Charles nods, his gaze a bit more serious. “But sometimes … sometimes rumors are built on a foundation of truth. Even if you don’t see it.”

You mull over his words but before you can respond, Max joins the conversation. “Is everyone becoming a relationship expert these days or something?”

Charles just shrugs with an impish grin. “Maybe we all just want to see our friends happy.”

The comment gives you pause. Is that all this is? Friendly teasing? Or is there something more you’re missing? Something right in front of you that you’re not seeing?

But for now, as you and Max head back towards the Red Bull motorhome, you push those thoughts aside, determined to focus on the upcoming race and the challenge it presents.

***

“Fancy seeing you here!” Your team principal greets you, his tone feigning surprise as you walk into the upscale restaurant.

Max squints at him suspiciously. “You invited us both here, Christian.”

“Yes, a lovely team dinner. Just the three of us,” Christian confirms with an overly innocent smile as he guides you both to a table by the window.

The setting is intimate, with soft lighting and plush seating. A live harpist is serenading diners. It’s definitely not your typical “team dinner.”

“Christian,” you muse aloud, “this place looks a tad extravagant for a casual dinner, does it not?”

He shrugs, a smile still in place. “Consider it a treat for the team’s recent successes.”

Before you can continue your line of questioning, a waiter approaches to take your orders. You and Max share a conspiratorial glance.

“I’ll have the lobster bisque to start. With extra lobster,” Max begins, deciding to indulge.

“I’ll take the osetra caviar. You can bring the entire tin. With extra blini,” you add, grinning as you see Christian’s eyes widen.

Christian clears his throat. “Well, I actually just remembered an urgent call I have to take. Enjoy the meal, you two.” And with that, he hurries away, leaving you both chuckling.

Max leans in with a whisper, “Do you think he’s up to something?”

“Absolutely. Let’s make him pay ... literally. He did say it’s on him.”

Safe to say that you both enjoy the finest dishes the restaurant has to offer. “At this rate,” you joke as the waiter opens your second bottle of ridiculously expensive wine, “Red Bull is going to break the budget cap because of catering. Again.”

Throughout the meal, you and Max discuss the recent upgrades to your cars, dissecting each detail with genuine interest and passion. The conversation flows easily but is entirely centered on racing.

Unbeknownst to you both, scattered around the restaurant are various team members and drivers in disguises, watching your every move. From Daniel donning a fake mustache as he pretends to be a waiter to Yuki wearing a chef’s hat peeking out of the kitchen, they’re all there and all invested in the outcome of the evening.

From his spot behind the bar, Lando, sporting a terrible wig, groans. “They’re just talking about tire degradation! This is so frustrating.”

Charles, disguised as a saxophonist with a carefully trimmed goatee, chimes in, “I thought this would be it. This setting is perfect.”

Back at your table, you raise your glass. “To another successful season and having amazing teammates.”

Max clinks his glass against yours, laughing. “Cheers to that!”

As you leave, completely oblivious to your undercover audience, the collective sigh of exasperation from the team members is almost audible even over the live music.

***

“What’s this?” You lift the elegantly wrapped package from your locker, examining the tag which reads: From Fernando - Enjoy the relaxation.

Max, peering over your shoulder, also pulls out a similar package from his locker. “Looks like we both got gifts.”

Ripping open the delicate paper, you pull out a luxurious pamphlet. The cover boasts a serene image of a spa, complete with candle-lit rooms and peaceful landscapes. Max’s eyes widen as he realizes he’s got the same one.

“A couples spa retreat?” Max reads aloud, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Really?”

Fernando, passing by at that exact moment, grins cheekily. “Thought you two could use some relaxation and a day off the track.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” you reply, peering up at him skeptically, “But why a couples retreat?”

Fernando shrugs, the picture of innocence. “It had the best reviews. Just trying to be a good friend.”

Max laughs, rolling his eyes. “Well, thanks for the ... thoughtful gift. Might as well use it.”

And so, you find yourself at the spa, wrapped in plush robes as the gentle hum of soft music and flowing water fills the air.

Max, his feet soaking in a warm tub and a clay mask setting on his face, looks over at you. “You think this was another one of their schemes to get us together?”

You laugh, dipping your toes into the fragrant water. “At this point, nothing would surprise me.”

The day goes on with various treatments — massages, scrubs, and mud baths. But instead of talking about personal lives or diving deep into emotions, you both end up discussing the possible benefits of the treatments.

“You know,” Max muses as he receives a deep tissue massage, “this technique might help with muscle fatigue after long races.”

You, getting a foot massage, nod in agreement. “Absolutely. And the mud bath we took earlier? Might help with detoxifying after particularly sweaty race weekends.”

The spa therapists, used to couples sharing intimate moments, are clearly bemused by your discussions.

Later, as you both relax in the sauna, Fernando sneaks a peek through a small window, hoping to catch a romantic moment. But to his chagrin, he finds you both animatedly discussing the aerodynamics of your cars.

“Did you notice the slight drag on the left during the last turn?” You ask, wiping away sweat.

Max nods. “I’ve been meaning to bring that up. We need to discuss that with the team.”

Fernando sighs, leaning against the wall outside the sauna. “They’re hopeless,” he mutters to himself.

He approaches you both later, looking slightly defeated. “So, the spa day? Did it perhaps help ... bring you two closer?”

You smile, patting him on the shoulder. “It was amazing for our driving techniques. Thanks, Fernando.”

Max nods in agreement, “Best spa day ever. We’re thinking of making it a regular thing.”

Fernando groans, realizing that his plan, like all the others, has somehow backfired. “I give up. You two are impossible.”

***

“Beach volleyball? Seriously?” Max raises an eyebrow, looking at the makeshift court that Lando and George have set up on the sand.

George grins, passing a volleyball between his hands. “Thought it’d be a fun way to unwind. And we’ve set the teams so it’s fair and ... interesting.”

Lando winks. “You and Y/N are paired up, of course. We thought you two could use some quality time together.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smirk that forms on your lips. “Let me guess, another one of your schemes to play matchmaker?”

Lando feigns shock. “Us? We would never.”

You laugh, pulling Max towards your side of the makeshift court. “Alright then, let’s do this. Prepare to be schooled, boys.”

What was meant to be a friendly match quickly turns intense. Max and you make a formidable team. The chemistry on the track seamlessly transitions to the sand, both of you equally competitive and always anticipating the other’s next moves.

“I didn’t know you two were this good!” George pants, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

You wink at him, taking your position. “There’s a lot you don’t know about us.”

Neither you nor Max are willing to give an inch. Diving saves, powerful spikes, and clever feints — you both are in it to win it.

Lando, gasping and covered in sand, mutters to George, “This was supposed to be fun. Not an Olympic match.”

The final point arrives, with you and Max at an advantage. Lando, attempting a weak serve, sends the ball perfectly to you. With a powerful run-up, you spike the ball back directly towards him. It’s fast, precise, and ... it ends up hitting Lando square in his balls.

He collapses on the hot sand, groaning. The surrounding crowd winces empathetically but you and Max? You both burst into uncontrollable laughter, falling to your knees for an entirely different reason.

“Lando!” George rushes to his side, a mix of concern and amusement on his face.

Still on the ground, Lando whines, “There go my chances of ever having kids.”

Max, between fits of laughter, manages to say, “Sorry, mate. But that was ... epic.”

You nod in agreement, offering Lando a hand. “Next time, be prepared if you’re going to challenge us. We don’t do things by halves.”

Lando takes your hand to pull himself up. “Noted. No more volleyball with you two.”

***

“Whoa,” Max blinks, staring at his phone screen. “Did you just text me?”

You frown, looking up from your own phone. “No, why?”

He shows you the screen where a message pops up, supposedly from you:

I’ve been meaning to tell you

I think I have feelings for you

Your eyes widen in shock. “I definitely didn’t send that. Wait …” You check your phone, finding a similar message supposedly from Max:

Ever since we became teammates, I’ve felt something more

Do you feel the same?

Confused, you show Max the message. The two of you exchange bewildered glances. “What is happening?” He asks, genuinely perplexed.

You shake your head. “Someone must think it’s funny to play a game with us.”

From a distance, behind the pit wall, Pierre Gasly is trying hard to suppress his laughter, watching the two of you. He nudges Charles who is next to him. “Do you think they bought it?”

Charles grins, “Knowing those two, they will probably figure it out. But it was worth the shot.”

Back at your spot, Max raises an eyebrow, “Did you by any chance get a new number recently?”

You nod. “Yeah, last week. Remember I gave it to you when we flew in? But only the team and our friends have it. Who would pull such a prank?”

Max smirks, “I have a few suspects in mind.”

You both decide to play along, typing away furiously. Max’s smirk grows wider with every passing second. “Let’s see how much our prankster likes the cards being reversed.”

Minutes later, Pierre’s phone buzzes. It’s a message from Max:

I’m so relieved you feel the same

How about dinner tonight?

Somewhere private?

Pierre’s eyes widen in surprise. He quickly checks your supposed response:

Of course I do!

Can’t believe we waited this long to admit our feelings

See you tonight? Let’s meet in the lobby for drinks and maybe dessert if you’re lucky ❤️

Pierre gulps, shooting a panicked look at Charles. “I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”

Charles snickers. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Later in the day, Pierre approaches with guilt basically stamped across his forehead. “Look, about the texts you got …”

You grin. “Figured it out, did you?”

Max chuckles, clapping Pierre on the back. “Nice try but despite what you may think, we’re not complete idiots. ”

Pierre sighs in relief. “Honestly, I thought I might have ignited something real for a moment there.”

You laugh, “I would hope any grand confession of love I receive happens through something other than sneaky texts.”

Pierre nods, smiling sheepishly. “Fair enough. But hey, if you ever do decide to go for a romantic dinner, let me know. It’s on me.”

Max grins, “Deal.”

***

The paddock is transformed. A massive screen is set up, loungers and bean bags are spread around, and fairy lights dangle from above as a large screen and projector take center stage.

“Rom-coms?” Max squints at the list Charles is holding, a collection of the cheesiest, most cliche romantic movies available.

Charles grins, unashamed. “Best way to set the mood, right?”

You laugh, “Still trying to make Lestappen happen?”

Charles blushes. “That was one time! Besides, I have moved on to more ... realistic goals.”

Lando pops up from behind a popcorn stand, “Like getting you two to finally see what’s right in front of you.”

You roll your eyes, playfully pelting a handful of popcorn at his head. “Enough with the matchmaking.”

The movie starts and it’s clear that every spot has been strategically taken, leaving just one chair available. Daniel points to your teammate with a deceivingly innocent expression, “Why don’t you sit on Max’s lap? Save space.”

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “Or you could give up your seat and come sit on my lap yourself.”

The surrounding drivers erupt in laughter as Daniel smiles widely, conceding the point. You both end up squeezing into the chair somehow.

As the movie plays, instead of getting swept up in the romance, you both start dissecting it.

“Why would she run in the rain after him? That’s just asking for pneumonia,” Max comments as the heroine dashes through a downpour.

You nod in agreement, “And those heels? Totally impractical. She should have changed into boots.”

Charles groans, burying his face in his hands. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

George pats his hair sympathetically, “You tried. That’s what matters.”

As the movie reaches its climax with a grand chase through the airport, you muse, “You know, airports have strict security. How did he even get to the gate without a boarding pass?”

Max nods, “And the plane? Totally off. They used the wrong model. That one can’t fly long-haul.”

Charles jumps up in exasperation. “That’s it! No more movies. You two are ridiculous.”

You grin, throwing an arm around Max. “Oh, come on. Admit it … you love us.”

Max chuckles, “Thanks for the movie night. Learned a lot about airport logistics and practical footwear.”

Charles sighs but a smile tugs at his lips. “We’re really not being paid enough for this.”

***

“Team-building exercise?” Max echoes. Both of you are seated in Christian’s office, a mysterious smile playing on the team principal’s lips.

Christian nods, gesturing to the woman beside him. “This is Dr. Amelia Foster, a top relationship expert.”

You exchange a hesitant glance with Max. “Relationship expert? But we’re not a couple.”

Dr. Foster chuckles, adjusting her glasses. “I’m not here for romantic purposes. I help partners of all kinds communicate better. Even teammates.”

Max leans forward. “So, what’s the plan?”

Christian clears his throat. “A simple session. See if there’s any room for improvement in your communication. I mean, you two are already a great team. Imagine if you were even better?”

Dr. Foster nods, opening her notebook. “Let’s start with a basic exercise. Max, describe how you feel when Y/N makes a risky move.”

Max thinks for a moment. “Concerned, I guess. I trust her skills but I also worry about her safety.”

You smile, touched. “And I feel proud when Max nails a difficult maneuver. He has an instinct during races that is unmatched.”

The session continues, delving into how you view each other’s strengths, weaknesses, and driving styles. As the conversation flows, Dr. Foster introduces various communication techniques.

“Now, let’s practice active listening,” she suggests. “Y/N, tell Max something, and Max, you’ll repeat it back in your own words.”

You nod. “Alright. Sometimes, when we’re racing side by side, I wish you would give me a tiny bit more space.”

Max considers then responds, “You’d like me to be a bit more cautious and ensure you have enough room during close races.”

Dr. Foster claps her hands. “Excellent! See? It’s about mutually understanding and validating each other’s perspectives.”

By the end of the session, both of you are genuinely engrossed in the exercises, seeing the potential benefits for your on-track dynamic.

As you both leave, Max turns to you, excitement in his eyes. “That technique where we visualize the other’s perspective? That could be a game-changer during races!”

You nod in agreement. “Absolutely! And the active listening can help during debriefs. Ensure we’re always on the same page.”

Christian, waiting outside, is initially hopeful upon seeing your animated discussion. “So, did the two of you ... connect?”

Max grins, “Oh, we did! I think our communication on the track is going to be better than ever.”

Christian sighs, realizing his matchmaking attempt has gone astray once again. “Not quite what I had in mind but I’ll take it for now.”

***

“I swear, rain at a race weekend is the universe’s way of telling us to slow down,” you quip, leaning back in your chair as the rain pours outside.

Max chuckles from his seat next to you. “Or it’s just weather. But I prefer your explanation.”

The sound of the rain has already lulled a group of mechanics to sleep. There’s an unexpected calm with the usual bustle of the race on hold.

You pull out your phone, browsing your music. “Let’s trade favorite songs. Bet I can surprise you with my taste.”

Max opens his own music app. “Challenge accepted.”

You play an indie track that has become your recent favorite. Max listens thoughtfully, “Never pegged you for an indie fan.”

You shrug, “Life’s full of surprises. Your turn.”

He selects a familiar classic rock track that makes you grin. “Bohemian Rhapsody? Really?”

He smirks, “Told you, surprises.”

“I’m mostly just surprised it’s not 33 Max Verstappen,” you tease.

As the afternoon stretches on, the music transitions to shared stories. You talk about your childhood, the early days of karting, the struggles, and triumphs. He shares his own tales, moments that shaped him, the highs and lows of his journey.

“Remember our first race as teammates?” He asks, a soft smile playing on his lips.

You laugh, “How could I forget? You almost ran me off the track.”

He chuckles, “Defensive driving. But you held your ground. Earned my respect that day.”

“And you earned mine,” you reminisce. “Not just as a driver but as a person.”

The atmosphere shifts, the mood turning contemplative. The stories become more personal, more intimate. You share your fears, dreams, and hopes. The raw honesty of the moment creates a bridge, a connection neither of you realized was missing.

Max looks at you, his gaze intense. “You know, despite all the teasing from the others, the setups, and the jokes, I never stopped to really see ... us.”

You nod, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I’ve been so focused on the track, on our partnership as teammates, that I never paused to consider the possibility of ... something more.”

He reaches out to gently take your hand, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. “Maybe it’s time we did.”

You look into his eyes, seeing your own emotions reflected back, and smile. “Maybe it is.”

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you both step onto the podium. The last race had been intense, with both of you claiming the top spots. Max, in first, and you, a close second. The excitement is contagious, the air electric.

Max turns to you, the gleam of victory in his eyes mirrored by another emotion that has been growing since that rainy day. Without another word, he pulls you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that feels like a victory all on its own.

The crowd goes wild, cheering and whistling. But what draws your attention as you pull away, breathless, is the reaction of the grid below.

Lando jumps up, punching the air. “Yes!”

Charles grins, clapping his hands together. “Told you it’d happen on the podium!”

Daniel, laughing, shouts, “Pay up, everyone! I had this race in the betting pool.”

Confused, you turn to Max, who shrugs, just as out of the loop.

Later, as the celebrations continue, Pierre pulls you both aside, showing a clip on his phone. It’s a video from a few months ago, all the drivers and Christian huddled together, placing bets on a whiteboard labeled When Will Max and Y/N Finally Stop Being Blind?

You laugh, watching the clip. “Of course you all managed to turn our love life into a game.”

Max wraps an arm around you. “Well, they do say racing is all about strategy and timing.”

Lando approaches with a pout. “You couldn’t wait a bit longer? I was two races off.”

Daniel, counting his winnings, smirks. “Better luck next time.”

Christian shakes his head with a laugh but pulls both of you in for a hug. “Never thought I’d be so happy to lose 50 quid. Congrats, you two.”

Surrounded by the people who spent most of the season trying to make this happen, you realize that love, like racing, has its own unpredictable course. Because sometimes, the best races aren’t on the track. They’re the ones that lead to unexpected, beautiful destinations.

[moonscriptsx]

Daylight || 01 (M)

PART 2

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

SYNOPSIS:  Between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.

PAIRING: CEO!Wonwoo x Assistant!Reader [with appearances by Mingyu (a self-proclaimed Cupid extraordinaire), Soonyoung & Joshua as supportive besties, Seungkwan & Seokmin as the life of the party, Seungcheol (a menace), and a brief glimpse of Chan.]

GENRE: Coworkers→Friends→Lovers!AU – Fluff + Smut [minors dni]

WORDS: The entirety of both parts is 27.1k. Part 1 is 15.4k and part 2 is 11.6k.

WARNINGS: Slowburn, pining from both ends. Reader is constantly in a silent crisis when it comes to feelings, and Wonwoo is possessive (both in and out of the bedroom). Mentions of alcohol, cursing, and grinding on the dancefloor. Wonwoo is a slightly hard!dom but talks you through it so sweetly it'll make you melt. Oral (both recieving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), messy orgasms. Slight choking, dirty talk, alludes to squirting. Wonwoo is a pussy fiend.

A/N: Shoutout to the plethora of billionaire CEO books that I've been reading recently that ended up inspiring this piece and subsequently pulled me out of a three, almost four, year writing drought. But now I'm finding out that Tumblr has this stupid fucking character block limit that's not letting me post the fic in its entirety so it'll be split into two parts. Annoying ass rule. Anyway, It's good to be back! 🫶🏻

PLAYLIST: daylight by taylor swift // poison ivy by hemi moore // violet chemistry by miley cyrus // play with fire by sam tinnesz // ruin my life by zara larsson // tonight by zayn // middle of the night by elley duhe // worst behavior by ariana grande. // so it goes by taylor swift

The bustling street of people has you grumbling underneath your breath as you weave in and out of the crowd, the soles of your heels clicking against the pavement as you walk the last two blocks to get to your office. The early morning traffic of business men and women alike are already getting on your nerves as they take their time getting to their own jobs, taking strides small and slow enough that you’re ready to wring every single one of their necks as you bypass them while juggling the carrier of coffee in your hand.

A string of obscenities is falling from your mouth as you stumble inside the office building, clutching onto the coffees for dear life as you manage to make your way to the elevators without spilling the cups. Pressing the top floor, you’re heaving a sigh of relief as the elevator ‘dings’, a grumble escaping you as your heels click against the floor with each stride you take. Scattered murmurs around the office have you straining to hear the morning gossip, your eyes curiously peering around at the worried faces of your coworkers.

“He’s miserable today.”

Whirring around, you meet the wide smile of Mingyu, the head of finance and Wonwoo’s right hand man. You roll your eyes at his words before grabbing a coffee from the carrier and handing it to the man.

“When is he not miserable?” You counter, making Mingyu chuckle.

“When he’s around you,” he teases, making your face flush.

“Shut up,” you hiss, glaring at him. “He’s always miserable around me. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he hated me.”

He scoffs at your words before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Oh please,” he grinned. “You bring order and excitement to his life. Two things which he desperately needs.”

You shoot Mingyu a pointed look as you grip the last two coffees in the carrier, your head gesturing towards his office as your spin on your heel.

“Get back to work, Mingyu.”

The taller man grumbles, his lips forming into a pout as he calls behind you.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Ignoring his response, you make your way towards your desk. Placing the carrier down, you set your laptop bag onto your desk before unwrapping your purse from around you and setting it on your chair. Grabbing your coffee in one hand, you grab the remaining one in the carrier with your other hand before turning towards the open door behind your desk. He hasn’t noticed your presence yet, the man still immersed in the papers he’s reading.

Leaning against the doorframe, you let a smirk grace your lips as you gazed at your unsuspecting boss. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and he’s frowning as he reads over the words on the paper. Along with his serious and reserved nature, he was devastatingly handsome. Sharp eyes, high bridged nose, and lips that curled into a feline smirk when he was feeling cocky enough. His looks paired with the strong build and tall statue made him look nothing less than a god.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you break yourself out of analyzing your boss as you announce your presence.

“You know it wouldn’t kill you to smile every now and again.”

The sound of your voice has the man’s head snapping up to look at you, sharp eyes shooting you a pointed look as you grinned at your boss. Pushing yourself off of the doorframe, you walk over to him and place the other coffee cup down onto his desk, biting back a laugh as he stares at you with a blank look on his face.

“Now I understand why women get annoyed when people tell them to smile.”

His deadpan response only makes your smile grow wider as you take a seat in one of the chairs in front of him, your own cup of coffee nestled in your hands as you take a sip.

“I’m just saying,” you hold a hand up in defense. “If you keep frowning, your face is going to get stuck like that. And you’ll get wrinkles”

“Maybe then people will leave me alone,” he grumbled.

“Unfortunately, you’re a CEO, Mr. Jeon,” you point out. “You’re going to have to meet with people whether you want to or not.”

Wonwoo hums before he leans forward to grab his coffee.

Thick rimmed glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, his sharp eyes devoid of any amusement.

“If I asked you to cancel all of my meetings for today, would you?”

You splutter into your coffee cup at his question, eyes widening at the serious look on his face.

“Please don’t tell me you’re serious,” you whined, shoulders slumping in defeat. “It’s already eight thirty and your first meeting is in half an hour!”

Wonwoo purses his lips, eyes glinting under the fluorescents.

“I’m sure they would understand,” he reassures.

It’s then you catch him biting back a small smile, realization washing over you as your lips part in surprise.

“Are - are you – making a joke?”

Wonwoo shrugs, this time letting his lips curl into a feline-like smirk.

“Not a very good one, apparently,” he chuckles, making you let out a laugh of surprise.

“Look at you, Mr. Jeon,” you beam. “You can smile every once in a while.”

Shaking his head at your words, Wonwoo folds his hands on his desk before leaning comfortably against the back of his chair.

“Were you able to set up the meeting with Seungcheol?”

You nod, crossing your legs as you adjust your posture on the chair.

“He’ll be meeting us in two weeks,” you informed. “Mingyu and I are already working on the numbers and stats as well as putting together the powerpoint to present.”

Wonwoo nods in acknowledgement, his glasses slightly sliding down the bridge of his nose at the movement, and you try to ignore the muscles in his arm as you watch him push them back up.

“Good,” he praises. “I expect nothing less than perfect with the two of you.”

You swallow thickly at the praise, adjusting your legs once more as you try not to shrink under his gaze.

“Right,” you murmur, avoiding his eyes. “I should get to work.”

Smoothing out your skirt as you stand up, you turn to walk away from Wonwoo when he calls out our name, your head turning back to look at him as he gestures towards the coffee.

“Thank you,” he calls out. “For the drink.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not quite sure why he chose now of all the times to thank you for the drink you bring him everyday.

“You’re welcome.”

Pushing aside the confusion, you turn back around and get started on your day.

“(Y/N)!”

Soonyoung’s whine reverberates from the speaker as you wince, masking it with a smile as you look at your friend on the screen.

With your busy work schedule, you haven't had much time to see or hang out with your friends, gaining you whines and groans of ‘We miss you’s!’ from the group whenever you have a chance to Facetime them.

“Hi Soonie,” you greet, beaming with a small wave. “Happy almost birthday!”

Soonyoung’s grin widens at your words, the blonde bouncing happily on the other side of the screen.

“Thank you, honey!” He responds. “I was actually calling about that. We’re going to the HYBE Club on Friday for my birthday and I wanted to see if you were able to go.”

Pursing your lips, you perch your phone up against the corner of your computer screen as you toggle around the apps, pulling up your calendar and scanning over the dates. The empty space for Friday’s date stares back at you and you almost want to cry out of relief at the sight of a rare day off, your lips curving into a bright smile as you peer down at Soonyoung’s face on the screen.

“Believe it or not,” you started, grinning at your friend. “I’m off.”

A joyous cheer escapes the blonde, muffled shouts in the background indicating that your friends had heard the whole thing and were collectively celebrating at the fact that you were able to join them. Soonyoung beams at the camera.

“We’re going to have a blast, (Y/N)!” He says, excitedly. “Meet us at HYBE Club around five! We’re going to start out with dinner and drinks!”

“And dancing!”

Dokyeom’s shout echoes in your airpod and you can’t help but to giggle as he and Soonyoung wrestle over the phone, the former’s bright smile coming into view as he grins at you through the phone.

“Hi (Y/N)!” He greets, his infectious smile making you beam back at him.

“Hi ‘Kyeomie.” you coo, blowing him a kiss. “I miss you!”

“We miss you too!” He whines, pouting. “You’ve been working too hard lately.”

“I know I have,” you frown. “But I’m excited to be able to have a night with you guys.”

“We can’t wait (Y/N)!”

Joshua and Seungkwan shout from the background and you can’t help but to laugh as the four of them wrestle over the phone. You were so preoccupied in watching the chaos unfold amongst your friends that you hadn’t noticed the presence that stood behind you, the deep timbre almost making you jump out of your skin.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You’re clambering to hit the end button, heat flooding your cheeks as you place the phone face down on your desk as you swivel your chair to face Wonwoo, your boss standing behind you with his arms folded over his chest. Butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach as you catch the playful glint in his eyes as he leans against the doorway.

“N – not at all, Mr. Jeon,” you stuttered out. “I was just finishing my lunch break.”

Wonwoo nods, a small frown on his face as his gaze trails over you.

“Ah,” he responds, and you catch the slight slump of his shoulders at your words. “I was actually coming to see if you wanted to grab lunch with me.”

Your heart stilled, the butterflies multiplying tenfold as you mirror his frown.

“Oh,” you mutter, dejectedly. “I’m sorry, sir. If I had known –”

“It’s alright, (Y/N),” he brushes off your apology with a wave of his hand. “Now I know for next time to catch you a little sooner.”

Offering you a small smile, he bows his head in your direction before walking off to the elevators. You’re still frowning as you watch his retreating form, your heart tugging regretfully in your chest, a small sigh escaping you as you slump back defeated in your chair.

“Yikes,” a voice chimes from behind you. “Break his heart, why don’t you?”

Your eyes narrowed into a glare as your head snapped to look at a smirking Mingyu, his tall stature leaning against your desk.

“Shut up, Mingyu,” you bite out, making the man laugh.

“The man just wanted to treat you to a nice meal and you turned him down,” he tuts, shaking his head. “That’s cold.”

“I already ate!” You defended. “I wasn’t going to just sit there and watch him eat.”

Mingyu purses his lips, shoulders shrugging in thought.

“Maybe he likes that,” he grins. “Maybe he just wanted to be in your company.”

You roll your eyes at his words, waving him off as you turn to your computer.

“I’m in his company enough,” you muttered, making Mingyu snicker.

“Maybe he wants more than your company.”

Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly, chortling with laughter as you chuck a pen in his direction.

“Leave me alone, Gyu!”

“I’m just saying,” he grins, holding his hands up in defense. “It’s something to think about.”

“It’s nothing to think about,” you grumbled. “Go back to your office and mind your business.”

Mingyu’s laugh follows him as he walks away, leaving you to mull over his words as your mind fills with the image of you laying in your boss’s arms, heat flooding between your legs at the thought of your bare body pressed against his silk sheets.

Ignoring your increased heart rate, you’re turning back to the computer and grumbling under your breath.

Go to hell, Kim Mingyu.

Tongues and teeth clash together in a bruising kiss as you’re clambering to sit on the desk, a whimper falling from your lips as hands rip open your blouse, buttons flying everywhere as your chest becomes exposed. There’s a growl against your lips, teeth clamping down onto your bottom one as greedy hands encase themselves around your covered breasts. If the bruising kiss hadn’t left you breathless, it was the rough kneading to your bra-clad mounds that had your lips parting in ecstasy. Frenzied lips leave a hot trail down the expanse of your neck as you’re perched on the desk, legs wrapping around lean hips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he grits out, tongue sweeping over the valley between your breasts. “Perfect for me and only me. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You moan at his words, back arching into his touch as he reaches behind to unclasp your bra.

“Only you, Mr. Jeon.”

A salacious smirk crosses his lips as he peers up at you from between your breasts, glasses haphazardly sitting on the bridge of his nose, and he’s tonguing at your flesh as he slides your bra straps down your arms, mouth ghosting over a pert nipple before taking it fully in his mouth ��

And then chimes are going off.

There’s an obnoxious ring filling the air as you bolt upright in bed, heat pooling in between your legs as you try to grip onto your surroundings.

Much to your dismay, you’re in your apartment – alone – filled with nothing but the remnants of your burning arousal. Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration, a string of curses falling from your lips as you’re fishing around for the obnoxious ringtone that had disturbed your scandalous dream. Peering down at the screen, you glare at the caller, mentally condemning them into next week as you press the answer button.

“You’re a dead man.”

Your words are harsh as you answer the call, a whine falling from the receiving end as you glare into the empty room.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu apologizes, making you scoff. “But it’s an emergency.”

You grit your teeth as he speaks, your body refusing to get up from the bed as sleep and arousal still swirls in the pit of your stomach.

“I swear to god, Mingyu, if someone is not dying –”

“The presentation got pushed up.”

Your threat falls short, lips parting in shock as your eyes widen in alarm.

“You’re joking.”

“It’s bad, (Y/N),” he says quietly into the phone. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”

A heavy sigh falls from you as you gnaw at the inside of your lip.

“Does he want anything?” You ask softly. “Coffee? Breakfast? A hammer to destroy his office?”

Mingyu chuckles on the other end.

“Coffee is always good for him,” he pauses, taking a deep breath. “A blowjob might work too.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, and Mingyu bursts out laughing at your response. “Give me an hour to get ready and I’ll be in.”

“Hurry, please,” he whines. “He’s doing that thing where he stares catatonically into nothing and it’s starting to scare me.”

You snort at that, shaking your head at Mingyu.

“Just give him encouraging pats on the back,” you joked, grinning. “And tell him he’s doing a great job.”

“He’s not going to like it if I do it,” Mingyu grumbles. “He only likes you.”

“Suck it up you big baby,” you tease. “You’ll be fine.”

Not waiting to hear his response, you end the call with a huff as you flop back down onto your pillows, staring up at the ceiling. The intense burn that had ignited between your thighs had simmered to a dull ache, the arousal from the very vivid dream a now distant memory. Clenching your thighs together to soothe the remnants of your desire, you ran a hand over your face before reluctantly rolling out of bed.

On a normal day, most of your coworkers would have still been half asleep, dragging their feet around the office as they fought off the remnants of slumber. The morning hours were usually somber, few words spoken between each other as they tried to finish their morning coffees.

Today was not one of those days.

The second you step out of the elevator, you’re met with utter chaos of chatter and frantic pacing — almost like they were chickens with their heads cut off. You’re frozen to the spot as you watch the group around you shove papers into each other's hands and point in the direction of the copier, demands upon demands being yelled at to one another.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.

Clutching the carrier of coffee in your hand, you weave in between the frazzled group as you make your way straight to Wonwoo’s office, not even bothering to drop your stuff on your desk as you push his door open. Mingyu sits with his back to you, head snapping up to look at you with a sigh of relief as you make your way into the office. Across from him sits your boss who, true to Mingyu’s word, was staring into the abyss with his hands folded on his desk.

Cautiously you’re walking over to Wonwoo and placing a gentle hand on his back, your other one putting the coffee on his desk as you offer a soothing pat to his broad stature. Wonwoo had abandoned his glasses, the specs splayed out carelessly in front of him, and his sharp eyes are settling on you as you rubbed his back. As your gaze met his, you were reminded of the dream you had before Mingyu had so rudely interrupted it.

The image of Wonwoo laying you out on this very desk, mouth on your breasts and hands resting somewhere a boss’s hands shouldn’t be on their assistant. Heat fills your body as you watch him lean into your touch, his stern expression softening, and he’s graciously taking the coffee from you as he grabs your hand in his.

“Thank you for this,” he accepts, graciously. “You always seem to know when I need it.”

From out of the corner of your eye, you see the smug smirk on Mingyu’s face and you fight back the urge to kick him in the shin as you offer your boss a small smile.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” you reply, squeezing his hand in reassurement before pulling away. “I am your assistant, after all. It’s my job to know these things.”

The brief softened gaze on his face hardens once more at your words and he’s watching in silence as you move to the opposite side of the desk to take a seat next to Mingyu. His sharp gaze falls over the two of you, eyes scrutinizing your every move, and you push away the heat blooming in between your legs as you cross them.

Mingyu peers between the two of you, an eyebrow quirked attentively before he’s leaning forward in his chair.

“Do you want to break the news or should I?”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched, his expression stony as he looks at you.

“Seungcheol asked me to push up the deadline,” he pauses, and you catch him gritting his teeth in aggravation.

“How soon?” You ask, nervously taking a sip of your coffee. Wonwoo doesn’t miss a beat.

“This Friday.”

The coffee almost splutters from your mouth as you choke in surprise, eyes widening as you look between the two men.

“That’s in three days!” You exclaim. “Not to mention I’m off that day!”

Mingyu offers you a pitiful expression while Wonwoo remains stoic, the difference between them comparable to night and day.

“Not anymore, you’re not,” Wonwoo denies, and you feel your heart clench. “We need you here.”

Resentment begins to build in your body as you shoot your boss an incredulous look, anger boiling in your veins.

“Why did you even agree to this?” You asked harshly, making Wonwoo tense up. “You could’ve asked him to give you until at least Monday.”

Wonwoo’s lips press into a thin line and you just know he’s holding back from scolding you in front of Mingyu.

“It was out of my control,” he shrugs, and the nonchalant response has you rising out of your seat as the anger inside of you bubbles.

“Bullshit!” You bite back, and Wonwoo’s face hardens.

“Watch yourself, (Y/N),” he warns, making you scoff.

“I’m allowed to be angry, Mr. Jeon,” you point out. “Very rarely do I get a day off and the one time I do, you make the decision to take that away from me.”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched are your words, his sharp eyes glinting with fury as he looks down the bridge of his nose at you.

“You are my assistant, Ms. (L/N),” he bites out. “When I’m here, you’re here.”

You were certain that if you had been a cartoon character, steam would’ve been emitting from your ears as you glare at the man in front of you.

“I have plans,” you grit harshly. Wonwoo doesn’t bat an eye.

“Reschedule them.”

Mingyu can only watch the two of you with an open mouth, utterly shocked at the exchange happening before him.

In your last attempt to make him change his mind, you grit your teeth as you shoot your boss a look of fury.

“I have a date.”

The air between the three of you stilled.

You watched as Wonwoo’s shoulders tensed, a flash of jealousy in his eyes as he glowered at you from his desk. Mingyu’s eyes bugged out of his head, the businessman immediately pushing himself out his seat as he held his hands up in defense.

“I — I don’t think this concerns me,” he excuses himself, brown eyes glimmering in worry as he shoots you a look. “Come find me later when you’re both ready to talk about the presentation.”

You and Wonwoo stay silent as Mingyu walks out of the office, the door slamming shut behind him, and it’s then that Wonwoo stands up from his desk. His tall stature towering over the wood, a move he made with clients when he was trying to intimidate them — a move you’ve watched him make with everyone but you.

“I’m sure whoever it is will understand that your job comes first,” he pauses, his voice cold. “That I come first.”

You stand your ground, your furious gaze borrowing into his.

“Are you insisting that I don’t deserve a personal life?”

Wonwoo doesn’t back down in the slightest.

“I’m saying that this is your job,” he reiterates. “You’re my assistant. I’m your priority. When I’m needed, you’re needed.”

“So you’re telling me that any plans I make or have planned already have to be flexible so that I can accommodate you?”

“Precisely.”

A sharp inhale comes from you, angry tears threatening to spill over your cheeks as you fight them back. Your fists clench at your sides as you send your boss a menacing glare. You knew there was no way around this, you knew that no matter how much you defended yourself Wonwoo wasn’t going to back down.

You exhale slowly, keeping the tears at bay.

“It seems I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” You concede, trying to stabilize your shaky voice.

Clutching your coffee in your hand, you move to walk away from him when his warm hand encloses around yours, the hardened gaze he had kept focused on you softening as he caught sight of the tears pooling in your eyes.

“(Y/N)…”

Ripping your hand away from him, you shoot daggers towards him as you walk towards the door.

“I’m taking a walk,” you spat, voice quivering with emotion. “Don’t come after me.”

With that, you’re storming out of his office, making sure to slam the door behind you.

Hot tears are spilling over your cheeks as you frantically press the elevator button, your head hung low as you try to mask the sight of you crying as you wait for the doors to open, your body trembling with angry sobs as you bite them back, gritting your teeth in anger as the elevator dings. Stepping inside, you turn to face the lobby and catch the sight of a concerned Mingyu watching you as you press the close button.

As soon as the doors closed and you’re heading down, you’re pulling your phone from your pocket and dialing Soonyoung’s number, the blonde almost immediately answering the FaceTime call with a shocked look on his face.

“(Y/N), honey? What’s going on?”

His caring tone draws a fresh batch of tears in your eyes as you step outside of the elevator and walk into the lobby, making a beeline for the bathroom as you lock yourself in a stall. Defeated sobs wrack your body as you try to catch your breath.

“Soonie,” you cried, hastily wiping your tears. “I’m sorry I’m calling you like this.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, concern in his eyes as he stares back at you through the screen.

“Don’t apologize baby,” he reassured, softly. “We’ve all had bad days.”

Wiping your nose, you sniffle quietly as you nod, acknowledging his words.

“What happened, honey?”

“I think I’m going to have to miss out on your birthday, Soonie,” you say quietly, making Soonyoung whine.

“What?! Why?!”

“That big presentation that wasn’t due for two more weeks got pushed up to this Friday instead.”

“Oh, what the fuck?!” He groaned. “Aren’t you supposed to be off anyways?”

A bitter laugh escapes you at that, your teeth gritting together in anger as you nod.

“Keyword is supposed to,” you bite out, rolling your eyes. “But my boss said that I now have to come in. Actually — he pretty much said that I’m not entitled to a personal life.”

Soonyoung’s mouth opens in shock at that, his eyes widening.

“Are you fucking serious?” He asks, flabbergasted.

“I wish I wasn’t,” you affirm, sadly. “He said that since I’m his assistant – anywhere he is, I have to be right next to him. Plans or no plans, off of work or not.”

The blonde scoffs, eyes narrowing into a glare.

“That’s bullshit,” he spat, and you can’t help but to laugh without humor.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I said the same thing.”

You watch as Soonyoung purses his lips in thoughts, a hopeful look crossing his features as he looks at you through the phone.

“The presentation shouldn’t take that long, right?” He asks. “Like you can skip the dinner and then just meet us right at the club instead!”

Your sullen expression morphs into a hopeful one as you consider his words, your head slowly nodding in acknowledgement as you offer the blonde a bright smile.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” he teases, making you scoff playfully.

“Whatever you say, Soonie,” you jest, making him laugh. “I should get back upstairs…”

Soonyoung smiles at you through the phone, offering you a gesture of encouragement as he grins.

“Deep breaths, honey!” He chimes. “Don’t let that asshole get to you.”

Smiling at him, you both exchange your goodbye before hanging up. A heavy sigh escapes you as you take a deep breath to compose yourself once more before unlocking the stall and walking to the sink. The pitiful expression that rested on your features made you want to sink down to the floor in embarrassment, your gaze flickering over the mascara that had streaked your cheeks from the waterfall of tears. Grumbling to yourself, you reach for some paper towels before wetting it under the sink and cleaning off the remnants of your breakdown, mentally cursing Wonwoo into oblivion.

Once you were set, you took an extra minute to collect your thoughts, trying to settle your still enraged mind as you made a silent vow to ignore the man you called your boss for the remainder of the week.

Should be easy, right?

Wrong.

With the silent vow in place, you had walked into the office the next day with every intention of ignoring him.

Until you catch sight of the vase of roses that sat on your desk.

The beautiful red petals bloomed in the crystal casing, the fragrance filling your senses as you leaned down to smell them. A solemn expression crosses your features as you pluck the card from between the petals, lips pursing in thought as you stare down at the writing.

‘I can’t do this without you.’

Your heart feels like it’s tearing at the seams as you look down at his handwriting, the messy scrawl of his admittance sending your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies, and you’re peering into his opened office door to see his sharp gaze awaiting your reaction. The gesture was sweet, sure, but you were also human – a human with feelings and a life. So instead of thanking him, you’re pushing away those damned butterflies and turning your head away from him as you silently set up your desk.

You didn’t look back at him once.

Despite other numerous attempts to gain your attention, you had successfully managed to give Wonwoo radio silence until it came time to get the presentation together. And, even then, you still sat tight-lipped as he and Mingyu went over the details of what’s to come within the next few hours as the three of you awaited Seungcheol’s arrival.

Your pen glides over your notepad as you jot down last minute ideas and thoughts, your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth in concentration as you work quietly at the table. From the left of you, Mingyu types away at his laptop, quietly cursing at the powerpoint in front of him as he fixes the last minute details. To the right of you, you can already feel the pointed gaze in your direction from your boss as he sits silently beside the two of you, sharp eyes lingering on both yours and Mingyu’s forms as the two of you work diligently.

Wonwoo purses his lips, trying to bite back the amusement as he looks over at you two.

“I think this is the hardest I’ve ever seen you two work.”

Simultaneously, yours and Mingyu’s heads snap over to look at your boss, your eyes narrowed in an accusing glare while Mingyu’s twinkle with humor.

“We wouldn’t be working so hard if you hadn’t agreed to pushing up this damned meeting.”

Your voice comes out harsher than you intend to, but it doesn’t deter Wonwoo one bit.

“Ah,” he smirks. “She speaks.”

A menacing glare is shot towards him as you scoot your chair closer to Mingyu, trying to shift your attention back towards your notes, but you’re frozen in shock as Wonwoo grabs the back of your chair to slide you back closer to his side, sharp eyes gazing sadly at you.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, and you hear Mingyu cough awkwardly, trying not to watch the two of you as he types away at his laptop. “(Y/N), please.”

As much as you wanted to make him grovel a bit longer, you knew from the gifts and gestures he’d been giving you the past two days had been enough of an apology. So, reluctantly, you’re lifting your eyes to meet his brown ones, your breath catching in your throat as you hold his softened gaze. You can feel the butterflies begin to awaken in the pit of your stomach as your heart sped up in your chest, lips parting slightly as you stared at the devastatingly handsome man.

Reaching over, he’s gently grabbing your hand in his, all the while keeping his eyes on you.

“I’m sorry for making you come in on your day off,” he apologized, quietly. “I’m sorry for never giving you one to begin with.”

Wonwoo’s teeth grit as he tries to keep his expression neutral, his thumb gently soothes over the back of your hand.

“And I’m sorry for making you miss your… date.”

Date..? Oh – oh.

Your hardened gaze softens into one of understanding and you’re offering your boss a small smile, your hand turning in his as you clutch it.

“I forgive you,” you relent, squeezing his hand in reassurance. “And - I, uh, didn’t actually have a date.”

From out of the corner of your eye you see Mingyu’s head snap towards you, eyes wide as he looks between you and Wonwoo. The latter keeps his gaze on yours, the corners of his lips quivering ever so slightly as his sharp eyes trace for any sort of fabrication he can find. And then he laughs – a full, throwing his head back and cackling kind of laugh. One that sends your heart into overdrive as he grins widely.

“So you just wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet by yourself?” He asks, teasingly.

“No,” you deny, frowning. “I really did have plans, or rather, I still do after this. I’m going out for my friend’s birthday.”

Wonwoo’s eyes shine playfully as he pats your hand.

“It’s okay,” he grins. “As long as you forgive me and we get this presentation over and done with, you’ll be out of here in no time.”

As Wonwoo finishes speaking, the conference door all but flies open, a mass of blonde hair and a dimpled smile coming into view as Seungcheol walks through the door. The three of you stand simultaneously, nervous but warm smiles plastered on your faces as you greet the businessman. Wonwoo stands glued to the spot next to you as you watch Seungcheol greet Mingyu, the two shaking hands as they joke amongst themselves. It’s then that the severity and importance of this meeting finally hits you, your palms growing clammy with nerves as your brain clutters with what ifs and possible negative outcomes if everything fails between the two companies.

From behind you, Wonwoo must’ve noticed the sudden tension in your stature as he leans forward, a gentle hand placing itself on the small of your back as he leans in to brush his lips against your ear.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, his other hand reaching to squeeze yours in reassurance. “It’s going to be fine.”

Yet the warmth of his breath and the close proximity of his body pressing to yours as his cologne fills your senses does absolutely nothing to help your nerves. You squeeze his hand back in silent acknowledgement before dropping it as Seungcheol rounds on you, a bright smile on the blonde’s face as he offers you a hand.

“Ms. (Y/N),” he greets, beaming. “It’s always lovely to see you, beautiful.”

You can feel Wonwoo tense at the compliment and you fight the urge to rip your hand from his as you shake it, a tight-lipped smile being sent his way as he bowed your head.

“Nice to see you, Mr. Choi,” you greet. Seungcheol’s gaze falls between you and the man standing behind you, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

“Wonwoo you have yourself a dime here,” he compliments, smirking. “She has been nothing but amazing when it comes to the communication aspect. Not to mention she’s brilliant.”

Wonwoo keeps his hand on the small of your back while his other is outstretched towards his friend, the two shaking hands with a fierce grip as Wonwoo’s gaze hardens at the blonde.

“That she is,” he agreed. “I’m lucky to have her.”

Heat floods your cheeks at the competitive compliments between the two businessmen, a pleading look that screams ‘Help me’ is being sent towards Mingyu who stands behind Seungcheol with a puppy-like grin at the exchange, the taller man laughing quietly at your expense. Rolling your eyes, you break the silent competition between the two CEOs as you gesture towards the table.

“Shall we get started?”

Five hours. The presentation lasted for five fucking hours.

Between the glitches happening within the powerpoint and the constant stutter of your voice, you were positive that Seungcheol was going to stop the three of you halfway and just walk out – but he didn’t. Instead the blonde sat with a grin of amusement as you and Mingyu presented the possible numbers and outcomes of the two companies coming together for the project. Wonwoo sat stoic beside him, sharp eyes glued to you as you closed out of the final slide, anxiously awaiting his friend’s response as you clasped your hands together behind your back.

Seungcheol is beaming at you, dimples protruding from his cheeks, and he’s turning towards Wonwoo as he points in your direction.

“I like her,” he begins. “She’s got a strong head on her shoulders.”

Turning back towards you, Seungcheol leans on his elbows as he gestures towards the presentation.

“Despite the small hiccups from the technology, you did great, (Y/N),” he continues, praising you. “Both you and Mingyu did so well putting all of this together. I appreciate the dedication and hard work you’ve done for this, truly. Both of you would be an incredible asset to my company and I would absolutely be a fool to turn down the offer of working with both my friend and his amazing team.”

Surprise floods your features as you and Mingyu shoot each other identical looks of shock.

“Is – is that a yes for the project?”

Seungcheol laughs, nodding his head in affirmation.

“That’s a definite yes,” he beams. “It was a yes from the very first email you had sent me, if I’m honest. I just wanted to see what ideas you all had in mind – and I wanted to see this one sweat it out a little bit.”

You stifle a laugh as the blonde points to the stoic man behind him, Wonwoo grumbling under his breath as he rolls his eyes at his friend.

“So you just wanted to see me suffer?” Wonwoo asks, no emotion in his voice.

“Pretty much,” Seungcheol beams with amusement.

Wonwoo shakes his head as he stands up from his chair, his broad stature cracking with the release of tension as he stretches from sitting for so long.

“That’ll be it for today,” he dismisses, shooting Seungcheol a pointed look. “I think we’ve all been tortured enough.”

A wave of relief washes over you as your shoulders slump slightly, the tension being released from your body as you clean up the remnants of the presentation. From beside you, Mingyu is shooting you a thumbs up, silently praising your efforts before he’s packing up his laptop and zooming out of the room. As you zip up your bag and turn to leave, Seungcheol is gently grabbing your wrist to stop you, a playful look in his eyes as he offers you a small smile.

“You’re an extraordinary woman, Ms. (Y/N),” he compliments, and you feel your cheeks heat up as you fight to keep eye contact. “I have half a mind to steal you from Wonwoo and make you my own assistant.”

You open your mouth to retort when you feel the warmth of your boss press behind you, and you don’t even have to look up at him to know that he’s glaring daggers at the blonde.

“She would never leave me,” he dismisses, voice cold. “If there’s one thing I admire the most about Ms. (Y/N), it’s that she’s loyal to those around her.”

Wonwoo never breaks eye contact with Seungcheol, the two glaring daggers at one another as they stand tall and proud.

“Right, sweetheart?”

You swallow thickly, rolling your eyes at the ego exchange between the two of them, and you playfully hit Wonwoo’s shoulder before grabbing your things.

“Both of you need to relax,” you jest, playfully. “Mr. Choi, I appreciate the compliment but I fear that this one needs me the most.”

Seungcheol smirks at that, a knowing look in his eyes as he looks between you and Wonwoo.

“I’m starting to see that,” he responds, coolly.

Wonwoo stays silent as you make your way to the door, a weary glance thrown between the two of them before you’re opening it with a call over your shoulder.

“Try not to let your ego’s get the best of the two of you while I’m gone, please.”

And with that, you’re out the door before you can see Seungcheol wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at Wonwoo, the latter sending a glare of warning at the blonde who now caught on to the situation.

“(Y/N)!”

Your gaze lands on a beaming Soonyoung as you make your way through the crowd of bodies, a matching grin dancing across your lips as you reach where he stood. His arm lazily drapes around your shoulder in a half hug, the man’s infectious giggle ringing over the blaring music. Returning the embrace, you hug him in greeting before breaking apart. You can feel your friend vibrating with excitement as he grabs your hand and pulls you over to the roped off section where the rest of your friends were occupying. As soon as you cross the threshold, there’s a glass of champagne being placed in your hand and Soonyoung is tugging you towards the group.

“Look who finally showed up!”

Happy cheers of your name echoes amongst your group of friends, glasses being lifted in your direction as they greet you in unison. Lifting your glass in response, you beam at the group before downing the glass, warmth filling your body from the alcohol. From beside you Soonyoung cheers as you chug, the man wasting no time before shoving another drink into your now empty hand before scurrying off to the others. A chuckle falls from you as you watch him pull a half wasted Dokyeom to the dance floor, Seungkwan hot on their heels as the trio pulls out an abrupt dance routine.

Shaking your head at their antics, you take a seat next to Joshua at the table, the man offering you a gentle smile as he scoots to make room.

“It’s good to see you, (Y/N),” he greets. “It’s been too long since the last time you’ve come out with us.”

“I know,” you agree, regret washing over your features. “Work has been crazy lately. I haven’t really had much time to do anything else besides be at the office or trying to get some sleep.”

A look of sympathy flashes in his eyes, Joshua nodding in understanding.

“I get it,” he reassured you with a bright smile. “It sucks being an adult sometimes, doesn’t it?”

You laugh at his words before taking a sip of whatever it was that Soonyoung had given you.

“That it does, Shua. I sometimes wish we were kids again without a care in the world. No bills, no schedules — nothing but free time to do whatever we want.”

“Or until we get caught drinking in the school parking lot at midnight,” he points out, laughing.

“That’s different!” You say, taking another sip of your drink. “We would’ve never gotten caught had Soonyoung not brought out the Bluetooth microphone and started singing.”

Joshua’s head rolls back as he laughs louder, shaking his head at the memory.

“He really tried to get the cops to fall for his serenade,” he chortled. “We almost got locked in a cell for that one had it not been for me.”

You smile at the memory, gently tapping your glass against Shua’s.

“Thank god one of us had a brain that night,” you grin. “Otherwise we would’ve been screwed.”

Amusement twinkles in Joshua’s eyes and the brunette opens his mouth to speak before his gaze falls on a figure behind you, a deep voice cutting off his train of thought.

“Sorry we’re late, everyone.”

Your hand tightens around your glass at the voice, eyes widening in shock as your head snaps to look at the two figures towering over your table. The two familiar faces are night and day; one stands with a beaming smile, eyes shining and body bouncing to the beat of the music like an energetic puppy. The other is stoic, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks while a pointed gaze rests underneath the thick rims of his glasses, his intense gaze sweeping over the group until it lands on your shocked ones.

Your lips part in disbelief, a string of curses tumbling incoherently from your mouth, and you straighten your posture as your boss stares back at you, dark eyes glinting with curiosity.

“You made it!”

Soonyoung’s boisterous voice booms over the loud music, the blonde drunkenly placing a glass of champagne in each of their hands before wrapping both of his arms around their shoulders and hugging them into him. From his right, Mingyu laughs boisterously, leaning into the embrace as he hugs his friend back.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he apologized. “We were finishing up at the office.”

From the left of Soonyoung, Wonwoo stays silent, his piercing gaze locked on yours, and you catch the briefest sight of his jaw clenching as Soonyoung gestures towards you.

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever met her before,” he begins, beaming from ear to ear. “But this is (Y/N), my best friend since we were in diapers.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the beat echoing in your ears and drowning out the music as you stare at your colleagues. Mingyu’s face falls into pleasant surprise before he’s letting out a laugh, muscular arms crossing over his broad stature.

“Small world,” he comments, shooting a look between you and your boss. Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a weary glance swept over the three of you.

“What do you mean?” The blonde asks curiously.

The scrutinizing gaze of your boss has you wanting to sink into the cushions of the booth and disappear, heat flaming your cheeks as the already too tight dress you were wearing somehow feels as if it’s melting into your skin, and you try to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat as Mingyu spoke once more.

“We work together,” he clarifies, a knowing smirk on his face. “She’s Wonwoo’s assistant.”

There’s a brief pause, realization sinking into Soonyoung’s features, before he’s turning towards the man on his left and smacking him on the shoulder.

“You’re her boss?!” He asks incredulously. “You’re the asshole who’s never giving her time off for a personal life?!”

Your eyes widened at his words, hands raising in defense as you move to kick Soonyoung in the shin.

“Soonyoung,” you hiss, glaring at the blonde.

Mingyu howls with laughter at that, his tall frame doubling over as he laughs at his friend. You’re mentally cursing at Soonyoung three times over as Wonwoo’s lips press into a thin line, the man sending a look of disapproval towards Mingyu who was holding his body up against Soonyoung, trying to calm himself down from the amusement. Your body grows hot with embarrassment as you run a hand over your face, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow you up.

“Yes,” Wonwoo finally says, deep voice rumbling with no amusement. “I’m the asshole boss.”

Soonyoung lands another playful tap against his friend’s chest, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Give her a break, Wonu. She needs a vacation,” he pauses, looking between the two of you. “You both do.”

With one last love tap from Soonyoung, the blonde all but bounces back to the dance floor, Mingyu and Joshua in tow – leaving you and Wonwoo alone.

The tension in the air makes your throat dry, your shoulders sinking in embarrassment as you offer your boss an apologetic look.

“Mr. Jeon –”

“Your asshole boss, huh?”

Wonwoo’s harsh tone makes you want to crawl under a rock, shame filling your body, and your gaze sinks to the floor as you guiltily break eye contact.

‘He’s gonna fire me…’ You thought to yourself, trying to keep the panic that was seeping through your body at bay. ‘He’s going to tell me to pack my desk up and to never step foot into the building after tomorrow. That he’ll find a better assistant - one more compliant and who doesn’t talk back. Someone who says yes with no questions asked –’

“I suppose I deserve that.” Your head snaps back up, eyes wide with surprise, and there’s a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, brown eyes glinting in amusement. “Especially after all I’ve put you through this week.”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, completely taken aback by the compliment, and you struggle to conjure a reply in your scattered brain as you stutter in response.

“I –” you flush, embarrassed at the lack of words you can conjure. “Mr. Jeon –”

“Wonwoo,” he corrects.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he takes a step closer to slide across from where you sat in the booth.

“At the office, I’m Mr. Jeon,” he smiles softly. “But when we’re outside of work or if it’s just you and I, it’s Wonwoo.”

Oh, fuck…

There’s heat pooling in your stomach at his words, thousands of tiny butterflies fluttering in its depths, and suddenly it’s a thousand degrees hotter in the club than it already was. Your palms are clammy, sweat beading at the nape of your neck, and you manage to send him back a small smile as you nod in acknowledgement.

“Okay,” you concede, lifting your glass to take a sip. “Wonwoo.”

There’s a sharp inhale on his end, broad shoulders stiffening for a millisecond, before he offers you a kind smile. You watch as he takes a sip of his champagne, his gaze never breaking from yours.

“So you’re the unfortunate one who’s had to deal with Soonyoung for all of these years,” he smirks, teasingly. You can’t help but to laugh at that before shaking your head at his words.

“He’s really not as bad as you think,” you defend. “In a way it’s almost as if I’m taking care of a child.”

A beautiful, melodic deep rumble escapes him and you’d be lying if you said that the low timbre of his voice didn’t send a wave of heat straight in between your legs, instinctively making you subtly shift to crossing them underneath the table.

“Perhaps that is enough reason to offer a compensation for your efforts,” he drawls. “Maybe even a raise.”

You quirk an eyebrow at that, sending the man a playful glare.

“Don’t tease me,” you warn, grinning. “I might just take you up on that.”

Wonwoo smirks, butterflies erupting in your stomach as your eyes glanced down at his lips. A wave of desire rushes through you as a fleeting thought of what they would feel like against your skin runs through your mind, your throat going dry as an image of you and Wonwoo tangled in bedsheets flashed in your mind. Immediately you’re clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away, shame flaming your cheeks as you take a sip from your drink.

“How do you know Soonyoung?” You ask, making Wonwoo smile at the question.

“I had a project with his father in the past,” he explains. “Soonyoung was just starting out as his assistant and was learning the ropes of his father’s company. Naturally, I took him under my wing and became his business mentor. I know how hard it is to work in a company that’s family owned. Our fathers don’t go easy on us despite us being their sons.”

“From what it sounds like,” you began, smirking at him. “It seems to me as if you also need to be compensated as well for your efforts.”

Wonwoo laughs, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose slightly as he leans forward.

“Maybe Soonyoung’s right,” he grins. “Maybe we both need a vacation.”

Your eyebrow quirks at that, eyes glinting in curiosity as you peer at him.

“Are you offering me time off?”

“Maybe someday,” he teases, eyes shining mischievously. “The best I can offer you right now is a dance with me.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and the butterflies take flight once more, your eyes widening in surprise before you catch yourself. Clearing your throat, you take another sip of your drink before looking up at him teasingly.

“I didn’t realize you danced,” you jest.

Wonwoo pushes himself out of the booth before holding his hand out to you, silently offering. The warmth of his hand enveloping yours has electric shocks running down your spine as he helps you up, his hand cautiously placed on the small of your back as he leaned down towards you.

“I usually don’t,” he affirmed, a wild glint in his eye as he leaned closer to your ear. “But I can make an exception when it involves certain people.”

Had he not been guiding you, you were pretty sure your knees would’ve buckled from his comment, heat flooding your cheeks as you let him move you towards the dance floor. Playful banter and teasing comments had always been a part of the dynamic, given the frequent amount of time the two of you were around each other, harmless flirting here and there wasn’t unnatural. But this is the first time you were seeing him – that you were really looking at him – outside of an office setting.

The normal Wonwoo who was holed up in his office all day; barking orders and commands to his staff, the man who gives you endless tasks left and right, the man who sat rigidly by your side in countless board meetings and projects. The man who you thought was nothing but a ball of stress stuffed in a business suit now stood in front of you with nothing holding him back as he pulled your body flush against his. He’s carefree, a warm glow in his eyes, and he’s offering you the sweetest smile as the pair of you settle within the crowd. The usual long sleeves of his button down are rolled up neatly to his elbow, his broad frame nearly making the buttons protrude from the seams, and you’re silently wishing the heavens above to give you even the slightest peek of toned skin beneath the fabric.

His hand rests comfortably on your lower back, slender fingers almost gripping the fabric of your dress as the two of you danced amongst the crowd of people. The dim lighting casts his face in an exquisite shadow, the defined angular shape of his jaw accentuated in the low lights, making his sharp features appear even more striking beneath the thick rims of his glasses. He’s beautiful, almost godly like, and the heat of his toned body against yours is making your head spin.

For the first time, you’re seeing him.

Your hand is clasped in his as he twirls you out, then back into him, a devastatingly beautiful smile painted on his lips replacing the usual scowl he wore in the office. You can’t help but to mirror him, beaming in delight as the two of you dance.

“Who would’ve thought Mr. Jeon Wonwoo, big bad CEO, would be such a great dancer,” you tease him, relishing in the low rumble of his laugh. You watch as his nose crinkles with the action, your heart blooming in your chest as he leans in closer towards you.

“That’s not all I’m good at.”

If his words weren’t enough to send a flood of heat through your body, it was the goddamn wink he sent you that did it. You can’t even articulate words as Soonyoung beckons the two of you over to dance with the group, Wonwoo reluctantly letting you go as the two of you made your way over to them.

You weren’t sure when the exact moment was that the line between you and your boss had begun to shift into something else, something far beyond a workplace partnership — but after tonight, it was an inevitable change.

And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious to see where it went next.

You felt the presence before they had even uttered a word, your gaze shifting from your computer to the smirking face of the man in front of you as he leaned against your desk.

“So,” he began. “Are we going to talk about it?”

You gave him a blank stare.

“Talk about what?” You asked, even though you knew what he was hinting at.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” Mingyu whines, standing upright to bounce on his feet. “We can’t not talk about what happened the other night.”

You purse your lips at his words as you rub your temples in annoyance. You knew you couldn’t avoid the situation in its entirety, but you also knew that addressing it would imply that there was something… there to begin with — and there wasn’t. At least, not yet.

“Nothing happened,” you reply curtly. “I was out with friends.”

Mingyu scoffs, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gives you an incredulous look.

“So we’re not going to talk about how the two of you were practically fucking on the dance floor.”

You blanched at that, eyes widening in surprise, and you’re casting a weary glance towards the open door behind you. Wonwoo sits idly in concentration at his desk, the man scribbling something down on his notepad.

“Lower your voice,” you hissed at Mingyu once you turned back towards him. “He’s right there.”

“You didn’t deny it,” Mingyu beams.

“We were just dancing!” You defended. “It was harmless. And innocent, contrary to popular belief.”

“Innocent?” He mocks, raising an eyebrow. “He doesn’t just dance with anyone, (Y/N). Especially not like that.”

You try to ignore the sudden presence of fluttering in the pit of your stomach, the butterflies flying freely through your body as your mind flashes back to the dance you had shared with your boss. The warmth of his body against yours, the gentle brush of his lips against your ear, the teasing words exchanged… It had all been too much to process in one night — and, yet in the same breath, not enough.

“Well whether it was or not, nothing’s going to come from it. Nothing can come from it.”

A look of sympathy flashes across Mingyu’s face at that, his round eyes narrowing with pity.

“You never know,” he reassured with a gentle smile. “There’s always a chance that something could happen.”

You scoff at that, rolling your eyes as you turn back to your computer.

“Not as long as he’s my boss,” you muttered.

Mingyu opened his mouth to retort when a throat clears from behind the two of you. Almost immediately you’re whipping around to see Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe of his office, an accusing glance being thrown towards you and Mingyu as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Is there a problem?”

Wonwoo’s voice is harsh, sharp eyes shifting between the two of you before he’s zeroing in on your gaze. His shoulders are straightened in a tension and you bite back a whimper as you watch the taut muscles of his chest strain against the confinements of his button down.

“N- no, sir,” you stuttered out, shaking your head. “Mingyu just had a question regarding the merger with Mr. Choi.”

Wonwoo’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw clenching as his gaze shifts to Mingyu, the aforementioned man peeling himself from your desk as he straightens his posture.

“That’s right,” Mingyu agrees. “I had a quest —“

“The next time you have a question about anything regarding business matters you come see me,” Wonwoo cuts him off with a harsh glare. “Ms. (Y/N) has enough on her plate. She doesn’t need you bothering her too. Nor do I appreciate you distracting her from her work.”

There’s a brief flash of shock dancing across Mingyu’s face, his big eyes widening at his friend’s words, before realization takes its place and he’s grinning like a kid in a candy shop.

“Oh,” he beams. “I get it.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow in a scrutinizing gaze while you stare at your boss, mouth slightly ajar from his earlier statement.

“Mr. Jeon it’s really not a big deal —“

“You’re dismissed, Mingyu. (Y/N), my office. Now.”

The contrast between the Wonwoo you had seen at the club compared to the one that was in front of you now was like night and day. The other night he had been carefree, lively, and sweet. The man that stood in front of you now was cold. The playful twinkle in his eyes had completely vanished, instead, replaced by a harsh glare as he all but stomped back into his office.

You’re completely ridden speechless as you watch your boss’s retreating form, a painful tug at your heartstrings has a frown forming on your lips.

Mingyu lets out a low whistle.

“I seem to have awakened the beast.”

Your head snaps back to look at his smirking face, a knowing glint in his eyes as he nods his head in the direction of Wonwoo’s office.

“Maybe true love’s kiss can melt his cold heart.”

Without thinking you’re reaching for your pen before chucking it in Mingyu’s direction, a bark of a laugh escaping him as he’s running away. Grumbling under your breath, you make a mental note to get him back later when a shout comes from behind you.

“(Y/N)!”

Your blood runs cold at the harsh call of your name, worry flooding your body as you hastily push yourself from your desk to make your way to Wonwoo’s office, panic running through you as you cross the threshold.

“Close the door behind you,” he orders, head nodding in the direction of the door, and you’re on high alert as the open barrier becomes sealed, leaving the two of you in his office. Alone.

Nervously you’re taking a seat in front of him, your ankles crossing as you sit with your shoulders tensed up. Wonwoo’s stare makes you want to curl up into a ball and hide, the intensity of his gaze sending goosebumps of anxiety up the nape of your neck.

Wonwoo inhales a sharp breath, nostrils flaring as he exhales, and he’s gritting his jaw as his hands fold in front of him on his desk.

“Is Mingyu bothering you?”

Confusion sweeps over you as your eyebrows furrow.

“Bothering me?” You ask, and you watch as Wonwoo’s knuckles turn white from clenching his hands together.

“Bothering you,” he says again. “Flirting with you? Asking you on dates? All of the above?”

Your eyes widen at his questions, your hands coming up in defense as you shake your head.

“No!” You deny. “None of the above. Absolutely none of the above.”

There’s a slight release of tension in his shoulders but his stoic face remains the same.

“If he was you would tell me, right?” He asks, giving you a pointed look.

“Of course,” you affirm. “If anyone was bothering me I would let you know.”

Wonwoo’s gaze stays locked on you as he digests your words, the man slowly unclenching his hands before he nods in response.

“Good,” he relents. “I wouldn’t want to lose one of my best employee’s because he doesn’t know how to control himself.”

You can feel the heat dance across your cheeks at his implication, embarrassment filling your body as you sink into the chair further.

“It’s never been like that,” you reassure him. “Only friendly banter.”

Wonwoo nods, accepting your words.

“I believe you,” he reaffirmed.

A tense silence falls over the two of you, the air thickening around you as you swallow the nervous lump that had formed in your throat from when he had called you into his office. His intense stare has you breaking eye contact in an effort to gain your composure, a ragged breath escaping you as your gaze zeroes into a random plank of wood on his floor.

“Is that all you needed from me?” You ask meekly, not lifting your head to look at him.

There’s a brief silence before Wonwoo responds.

“How’s the project going?”

Right… the project, of course.

Straightening your posture, you reluctantly lifted your head from the floor and met Wonwoo’s gaze once more. Those damned butterflies return instantly when you see the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile.

“Good,” you breathed out. “I’m finishing up the presentation for our next monthly board meeting. We’ve been making a lot of progress since we met up with Mr. Choi —“

“Have you eaten yet?” Wonwoo cuts you off, making your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden question.

“Not yet,” you respond. “I was planning to work on a few more things before I took a break.”

“You should join me for lunch,” he offers a gentle smile, a complete contrast to the frown he had when you had first walked into the office.

“I — I have so much to do, Mr. Jeon —“

“I’m sure it can wait,” he reassures you. “Besides, you can’t work on an empty stomach.”

Pushing himself away from his desk, Wonwoo stands up and throws his blazer on as he nods his head in the direction of the door.

“As your boss, I’m requesting that you have lunch with me.”

You frown at that.

“That’s not fair,” you mutter. “You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Precisely,” Wonwoo grins as he helps you up from the chair.

Your lips pursed in thought as you stared at the man before you. Not even ten minutes ago he was a huffing and puffing mess, anger flaring in his cold dark eyes. Now he stood in front of you with that same mischievous glint in his irises like the other night. The constant back and forth between his emotions is giving you a metaphorical whiplash.

“Fine,” you concede. “But you’re buying.”

Wonwoo doesn’t smirk in response, nor does he wave you off. Instead he’s tipping his head back and letting out a hearty laugh, the deep rumble making your heart pound in your chest as you stare dumbfoundedly at the man in front of you.

“I can work with that,” he agreed, beaming. “We can discuss more about this presentation as well.”

The dimly lit restaurant you’re taken to does nothing to rid you of the untamable butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach as you sit across from Wonwoo. You can feel the nervous jitters in your body as you try not to tremble beneath your boss’s gaze while you try to keep your attention focused on the menu, your teeth biting into your bottom lip as you stoically stare at the page.

The romantic ambience of the restaurant is telling of itself; low lighting, soft music playing, and a waiter filling a glass of wine for you — a glass of which Wonwoo approved for you to drink despite you being on the clock. A drink which, also, did absolutely nothing for your nerves.

“See anything you like?”

Wonwoo’s deep voice pulls you from your inner turmoil and you’re reluctantly breaking your gaze from the menu to look up at him. His glasses are perched comfortably on the bridge of his nose, his lips offering a gentle smile, a smile that you can’t help but to let your gaze fall on as you stare at the curve of his Cupid’s bow.

“A few things,” you murmur, nodding at him. “There’s so many options.”

“Well,” he pauses, gesturing towards the menu. “If you trust me, I’ll order for us.”

Your eyebrow piques in interest at that, a teasing look dancing in your eyes.

“Yeah?” You muse, humming softly. “You think you know me that well?”

Wonwoo smirks as he places his menu down, his sharp eyes giving you a once over that sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“I’d like to think so,” he responds, giving you a knowing look.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you give him a playful look back as you lean against the cushion of the chair.

“What’s my favorite color?” You ask.

His smirk doesn’t falter at your question.

“Purple,” he answers. “More specifically, a light purple. Like lilac or lavender.”

You blanched at that, not expecting him to actually answer, let alone know the answer.

“Oh,” you said quietly, blinking in surprise.

“You mentioned to me once that the colors represent kindness and innocence. Two things which you felt represented both yourself and what you wanted people to gain from you.”

Your heart soared in your chest at his words, a feeling of gratitude sweeping over you as you offered him a shy smile.

“You remembered,” you murmured, making Wonwoo smile in response.

“I remember a lot of things about you.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. His response had rendered you speechless and you were utterly grateful for the waiter’s timing as he came back to your table to take your orders — which Wonwoo took care of. You could barely register what was exchanged between the two as you stared at your boss in admiration, completely melting on the spot from his response.

Your eyes are still locked on the beautiful man in front of you as the waiter takes both of the menus, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage as the two of you are left alone once more. The flickering flame of the candle casts a shadow along Wonwoo’s face, the dim lighting accentuating his strong jaw and sharp eyes as he leans forward on his elbows.

Blinking out of your daze, you swallow the lump of nervousness before clearing your throat.

“So the project is going well,” you began, taking a sip of your wine. “Mingyu has been working on the potential projections of the outcome and I’ve got the PowerPoint almost finished. We’re a little past the halfway point now.”

Wonwoo says nothing. He only offers you a small smile in response.

“I think we can really pull this off,” you continued. “Between your brilliant business mind and Mr. Choi’s ability to persuade pretty much anyone, the two of you are in the midst of creating something amazing.”

There’s a mischievous glint in Wonwoo’s eyes as he looks at you, the smile on his face not faltering once.

“You think I’m brilliant?”

You flush at his words before shifting nervously in your seat, lifting your glass of wine to your lips as you take another sip.

“I mean,” you purse your lips, giving him a knowing look. “You wouldn’t be the CEO if you weren’t.”

You spot the slightest clench in his jaw as his soft features harden at your words.

“I’m the CEO because my father stepped down,” he pointed out. You frown at that.

“Mr. Jeon —“

“Wonwoo,” he cuts you off sharply.

His brash tone deters you for a moment, hurt flashing in your eyes before you mask it with confusion.

“What?” You ask meekly.

“Do you remember what I said at the club?” He asks, the harsh tone still evident in his voice. “Do you remember anything from that night?”

“Of course I do,” you defended yourself. “I wasn’t even tipsy.”

Wonwoo’s jaw sets as he grits his teeth.

“Then you should remember that I said to call me by name when we’re alone.”

And just like that the butterflies are back with a vengeance — only to multiply tenfold when he leans across the table to grab your hand in his, lacing your fingers together before resting it back onto the table.

“Wonwoo…”

His name falls from your lips in a hushed voice, heat pooling in your stomach as he squeezed your hand in reassurance.

“You’re nervous,” he points out, smirking. You frown at that.

“Can you blame me?” You ask incredulously, gesturing towards your linked hands. “I’m holding hands with my boss.”

“You’re holding hands with your friend,” he corrects. “A friend who just so happens to be your boss. A boss that you’re also on a date with.”

Your mouth slacks at that, eyes widening in shock as you make a move to draw back only for him to tighten his grip so you can’t move away from him. His thumb sweeps over the back of your hand in an effort to soothe you but it only makes the heat in your belly spread to your lower body, your thighs clenching in response as you look away bashfully.

“I thought this was a business lunch,” you mutter, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Wonwoo lets out a low chuckle.

“Did you not want this to be a date?”

Your face falls at that.

“It’s not that I don’t want this to be a date,” you reassure him. “It’s that… this can’t be a date.”

“And why not?” He asks, eyebrows raised in question. You blink at him.

“You’re my boss,” you reiterate. “Whether we’re friends outside of work or not you’re still my boss, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo stares back with a blank look on his face.

“I fail to see your point, (Y/N).”

Before you could reply, the waiter had returned with both of your plates of food, placing them in front of each of you before refilling your wine glass. Wonwoo’s sharp gaze is still locked on yours, his grip on your hand refusing to let go, and he watches intently as you take a long swig of the alcohol. Your nerves are completely shot, mind going haywire from the conversation, and the wine is only intensifying the heat between your legs as you try to collect yourself.

And then he’s bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your skin. Your breath hitches and Wonwoo catches it, smirking in response.

“Eat your food, sweetheart. It’s going to get cold.”

The bustling diner is thriving with patrons as you sit with Soonyoung and Joshua in a booth at the corner of the room, the two of them engaging in an animated conversation as you sit idly across from them, your mind completely far off from where you were currently at.

Ever since the night of Soonyoung’s party it’s like your world has been flipped upside down and spinning on its axis. Wonwoo has gotten more brazen in his advances; leaving you flowers on your desk, buying you lunch, fleeting touches of hands brushing as you pass each other in the hallway. The actions are subtle, most of the other employee’s not seeming to catch onto the attraction between the two of you, all except Mingyu who has decided to make it his life mission to get the two of you together.

After finding out that Wonwoo had taken you out to lunch (and called it a date) or much less, finding out that his boss had subtly confessed his feelings to you, he’s taken it upon himself to play Cupid — much to your dismay. Because even though your feelings for Wonwoo were strong, and grew more and more with each romantic gesture, the fact of the matter is, he's still your boss.

A heavy sigh breaks your friends from their conversation, two pairs of concerned eyes looking at you from across the table. Joshua frowns, Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrow. The former leans across the table to place a gentle hand on yours, and a part of you longed for it to have been Wonwoo’s in its place instead.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, (Y/N)?” Joshua asks softly, making you heave another sigh.

“I’m falling in love with somebody I can’t have,” you muttered, making Soonyoung’s eyes widen.

“Honey…” Joshua coos, rubbing your hand in soothing circles.

Your heart twinges with hurt as your face falls, shoulders slumped as a frown forms on your lips.

“I don’t even know how this happened,” you began, pouting. “One day he was my boss… the next he’s the man I want to come home to every night.”

Realization sweeps over Soonyoung’s face at your words, his lips parting in surprise.

“Wonwoo?” He asks, making Joshua’s eyebrows furrow in question. “You’re in love with Wonwoo?”

“How do you know it’s Wonwoo?” Joshua counters, but the look on your face is enough confirmation.

“Wonwoo is my boss,” you clarify. “I didn’t know he was friends with Soonyoung until he showed up to his party.”

“Oh,” Joshua mutters.

“And I’m not in love with him,” you glared at Soonyoung. “Not yet, at least. Although if he keeps getting me flowers and buying me food it’ll be a different story.”

“He’s what?!” Soonyoung gapes, open mouthed.

A wave of heat washes over your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your body as you bashfully look down at the table.

“He’s been getting me gifts,” you admitted softly. “I’ll come into the office in the morning to either a bouquet of flowers or a nice warm meal waiting for me. Sometimes both if he’s in a good mood.”

Soonyoung’s shock doesn’t falter, Joshua gives you a knowing look.

“Sounds like the feelings are mutual,” Joshua points out. “Maybe you should give him a chance —“

“He’s my boss, Shua,” you counter. “That’s a line I’m not allowed to cross.”

“Maybe you should cross it,” Soonyoung cuts in.

“I can’t —“

“(Y/N), I love you. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers, I wouldn’t steer you wrong. So believe me when I say that in the years that I’ve known Wonwoo, not once has he ever gotten a woman a gift, let alone tried to pursue one willingly.”

You freeze at that.

Knowing how invested he is with his job, it makes sense that Wonwoo wouldn’t have time to date nor be able to court a woman. But, in the same token, nobody that gorgeous and down to earth couldn’t have had someone he was the least bit interested in.

“I don’t know if I believe that,” you mutter. “Have you seen him? There’s gotta be women wanting him from every corner of the world.”

“Women may want him, honey, but he wants nothing to do with them,” Soonyoung pauses, a knowing look on his face. “Unless it’s you, apparently.”

Joshua chuckles at that, a reassuring smile on his face as he reaches over to place a hand on yours.

“Just think about it,” he suggests, encouragingly. “Weigh out the pro’s and con’s and go from there.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, you opted to stay silent and focus on the menu instead, pushing away any thought of your boss and his feelings towards you as you ignore those damned butterflies in your stomach.

PROS:

Despite his rigid appearance, he’s quite kind

He listens to me when I have ideas and encourages me to speak up in board meetings despite my lack of status

He remembers things about me – which is still utterly baffling

He’s patient

He’s handsome (unfairly so)

Gift giving as a love language… along with words of affirmation (both a plus for me - dating or not)

CONS:

He’s my boss

The list stares at you with a daunting realization that, yes, the pro’s absolutely outweighed the single con that you could come up with – and, yet, in the same token, so much was at stake if you made the decision to further your relationship with your boss. With every pro that you could list, the thought of ‘He’s my boss’ still outnumbered the choice that your heart had been dying for you to make.

A heavy sigh escapes you as you stare at the word document, lips pursed in thought as your mind flutters back to the conversation you had with Joshua and Soonyoung.

“Maybe you should cross it.”

The line between you and Wonwoo had always been slightly blurred. Between endless flirty compliments and comments and looks that a boss and his assistant should not have been giving to one another, you knew that it had never just been a workplace friendship between the two of you. Not when you would spend countless nights wondering what it would be like to have your boss laying next to you, broad muscly arms enveloping you in a warmth you never wanted to be free of.

And that was what scared you.

“What is that?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Wonwoo’s voice behind you, a shriek escaping you as you click on your email app to pop up instead of the word document, heat flooding your cheeks with embarrassment as you turn to meet the curious gaze of your boss.

“My grocery list,” you reply, lying through your teeth. “I have to pick up a few things on my way home and I didn’t want to forget anything so I wrote it down.”

Wonwoo peers curiously, sharp eyes resting underneath the thick rims of his glasses, and there’s a smirk of amusement on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well I don’t think you have to worry about them tonight,” he replies, coolly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his words.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going out tonight,” he clarified, his smirk widening when surprise floods your face.

“Going… out?” You ask, dumbly. “Going out where?”

“Well, since Soonyoung found out that I’m your boss, he’s taken it upon himself to guilt trip me into not only going out tonight, but to bring you along as well.”

A groan escapes you at that, your hand running over your face with embarrassment as Wonwoo chuckles lightly.

“Oh, god,” you whined. “Mr. Jeon I’m sorry –”

“Wonwoo.”

Your gaze meets his amused one as you lifted your head to look at him.

“Wonwoo,” you corrected, looking around the empty office. “He doesn’t understand the term ‘boundaries’ sometimes.”

“I know,” he grins. “Which is why I told him we would both be there.”

You frown at that, looking back towards your computer as you stared at the word app, your mind fluttering to the list that you had been working on.

“I –” you paused, biting the inside of your lip. “I have so much work to do –”

“Sweetheart, I'm offering you a break,” he laughs quietly, looking at you with an expectant look. “Are you really going to turn that down?”

‘He’s your boss, (Y/N). Say no. You know what can happen if you’re stuck with him.’

“Fine,” you concede, sighing softly. “But I have to run home and get changed.”

If the thought of another night out with your boss didn’t already make your heart race, it was the words he whispered to you after that definitely made heat pool between your thighs.

“Why?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re beautiful already.”

Your eyes widened at his compliment, your throat tightening, and you swallowed the lump that had formed out of nervousness before waving him off.

“If you say so,” you dismissed, shutting down your computer. Wonwoo only beams, nose crinkling with happiness as he offers you his arm.

Wonwoo was glued to your side the moment the two of you had stepped into the club, his hand resting on your lower back as he carefully guided you through the crowd. Bodies were pressed against each other without a care in the world, the party goers dancing without thought as they enjoyed their night, and a part of you envied them — envying that they didn’t have to think about the man currently pressing you against him as he shuffles the two of you towards your friends.

The heat from Wonwoo’s body completely engulfs you as he pressed himself against you, the hand that was on your back now sliding to the dip of your hip as he pulls you into him. The scent of his cologne fills your senses and draws you to him, your body molding into his as he leans down to press his lips against your ear.

“Soonyoung is right there,” he points, gesturing towards the bubbly blonde now dancing with Seungkwan. “I’ll meet you over there. I’m getting us drinks.”

Before you can say anything, a chaste kiss is being pressed to your cheek. Your eyes widened as your boss slithered through the dancing bodies, shock filling you at the gentle brush of his lips on your skin as your mind tried to wrap around the fact that your boss had just kissed you. Butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach at the gesture, your heart speeding up in your chest, and you can only suck in the shyness of the blush now heating your cheeks before you’re making your way towards your group of friends.

Joyful cheers erupt from the bunch as you come into view, glasses being held up in a toast as they acknowledge your arrival. You’re met with Soonyoung’s beaming face as you take a seat beside him, the bubbly blonde wrapping an arm around you as he gives you a one armed hug.

“From now on I’m just going to force Wonwoo to hang out with me,” he says, jokingly. “That seems to be the only way I can get you here!”

A small laugh escapes you as you shake your head at your friend, rolling your eyes playfully.

“It was a low blow, Soonie,” you reprimand, giving him a look. “You can’t boss him around just so that we can accompany you while you’re out.”

Soonyoung pouts, batting his eyes.

“But you’re my friends,” he whines. “And the two of you work too much! It wouldn’t kill you to be somewhere that’s not the office or home every once in a while!”

“He’s got a point, honey,” Dokyeom interjects, looking distractedly behind you. “Wonwoo has you working crazy hours day in and day out. You need a break to decompress.”

“He’s right.”

The deep voice rumbling behind you makes you lift your head as your gaze falls on a smiling Wonwoo, the man placing your drink in front of you before sliding next to you in the booth. Your breath catches in your throat the moment his leg pressed against yours, the heat emanating off of him like he’s your own personal furnace. His sharp gaze is locked on yours as he reaches to lazily drape his arm around you, and you don’t have to look at Soonyoung to know that he’s sitting there smirking as he and Wonwoo lock eyes.

“Nice of you to join us, Wonu,” Soonyoung piped up. “I almost would’ve thought (Y/N) came here alone.”

“Now what kind of man would I be if I let my beautiful assistant come here by herself?”

A chorus of snorts falls upon the group, identical knowing looks on each one of their faces as they gazed upon you and Wonwoo. Heat floods your cheeks as you look down at the table bashfully, biting back a smile as Wonwoo pulls you into him.

Soonyoung can’t help but to smirk as he watches the two of you, a knowing glance being thrown towards your boss as he chuckles.

“I’ve never seen her so shy before,” he coos, making you groan in embarrassment. Wonwoo grins.

“Come to the office and you’ll see more of it,” he teases, and you playfully tap his shoulder in response.

“Stop,” you whined, pouting. “It’s not my fault you’re a shameless flirt.”

Wonwoo’s grin doesn’t falter, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Only with you, sweetheart.”

A unanimous coo falls from the group as they beamed at the two of you, taking in the flirty banter between you and your boss before deciding to give the two of you some time to yourselves. Soonyoung and Dokyeom are making a beeline for the dance floor while Joshua and Seungkwan head towards the bar, and you can already feel the nervous fluttering of those damned butterflies as Wonwoo’s soft gaze peers into yours.

A feline smirk is on his lips, his gaze resting underneath the thick rims of his glasses, and he’s leaning down towards your ear, lips brushing the outer shell and sending a wave of heat through your body.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

His voice is quiet, the low tone reverberating against your body, and you can’t help but to shiver as his breath fanned against your skin. You take a sip of your drink before turning your head to look at him, eyes shining playfully.

“You sure you don’t want to dance with anyone else?” You asked, half teasing half serious. “I’m sure there’s plenty of women who would gladly take you up on it.”

Wonwoo’s face hardens at your words, jaw clenching as he gives you a stern look.

“I don’t want anyone but you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at that, lips parting slightly in shock, and you peered into the earnestness of Wonwoo’s eyes as he reaches to grab your hand. The butterflies multiply tenfold as he lifts it to his lips, gently pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he’s wordlessly sliding out of the booth and pulling you up to him.

A protective arm wraps around your waist as your chest presses against his, his gaze never leaving yours as he rests his palm against your cheek.

“Dance with me.”

It’s a soft murmur rumbling from him and the intensity of his gaze can only make you nod in silence before allowing yourself to be willingly pulled to the dance floor.

Strong arms enveloped around your waist as you’re tugged into his broad chest, your arms looping around his neck, and the sultry song playing in the background does absolutely nothing for your nerves as your bodies move to the beat of the song. Wonwoo’s heated gaze is locked on yours, his sharp eyes framed underneath his glasses, and the intensity of him renders your mind thoughtless as a wave of heat flows straight to the pulsing core of your thighs as his body rolls into yours.

A soft mewl falls from you as you mirror his movements, your hands fisting in his hair as your hips swayed against his. Wonwoo grits his teeth as he leans down closer to you, his nose grazing yours as his hands clutched at the fabric of your shirt.

The heat between the two of you grows several degrees hotter as Wonwoo turns you in his arms, your back now flush against his chest, and his head dips to rest in the crook of your neck as your ass rolls into his groin. There’s a broken moan falling from him and he’s gripping onto you for dear life as he grinds his body into yours. Your hands are still fisted through his hair as his teeth graze against your skin, a whine falling from you as you tilt your neck to give him more access.

“Wonwoo…”

The sound of his name falling from you sends your boss into a frenzy, his hands clutching your body to him as he rolls his clothed cock against your ass. His teeth bite down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he sucks the skin into his mouth, marking you with a soothing flick of his tongue.

“Be mine,” he murmurs against your skin, drawing you out of your lust-filled haze. A frown paints itself across your lips as you try to turn in his arms, only to have Wonwoo tighten his arms and lock you in place.

“I can’t…” you whisper, and Wonwoo shakes his head as he nips against your collarbone.

“Don’t think about tomorrow, sweetheart,” he responds. “Think about now. Think about how we’re two people who very clearly care about each other.”

Your brain is screaming at you to pull away, to not risk anything more than what has already happened, but when his hot breath is fanning across your skin and his hardening cock is pressing up against your ass it’s hard to pull away. So, instead, you’re gaining the strength to turn in his arms and pull his head back down to your neck, fishing your hands through his hair as you arch into his touch. Wonwoo growls against your skin as needy hands drop to the curve of your ass, squeezing the flesh as your bodies grind to the beat of the music.

Everything around you all but disappears as the two of you melt into one another, not a care in the world as Wonwoo mouths hotly at your neck, tongue and teeth marking any visible inch of skin that he can latch onto.

‘Just for tonight,’ you thought to yourself. ‘I can indulge myself just for a night.’

If only it was ever that easy.