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ahundredtimesover · 3 months

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I Want You to Stay (05) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: I deeply appreciate all the love and messages (and anticipation for uh, stuff) but again, it's a slow burn! Thank you so much! 🥰

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the couch in his office, his iPad in hand as he goes through the Board report for the nth time these past five days.

Manager Lee and Chin-sun have put together the logistics, construction, and design departments’ reports with the VP’s and Jungkook is supposed to sign these off for submission to the CEO today, who then approves it for submission to the Board members. They have until Friday to review it in time for the meeting happening that same day.

This consolidated report was finalized last Wednesday and Jungkook has been reviewing it everyday since then, including his presentation, making minimal comments and then taking notes on things he’s unfamiliar with. Granted, he’s reporting about the quarter when he’s only been Vice President for a month, which makes you incredibly instrumental in his preparations. As the executive assistant, you have the information that Jungkook needs from Hoseok’s time, and so you’ve also been spending everyday since Wednesday answering all of Jungkook’s questions.

You don’t mind, really, as they’re details you know by heart. It also allows you to show him how involved and meticulous you were under Hoseok’s leadership, and Jungkook’s hums and mumbles of appreciation have helped you gain back the confidence that you lost.

Even if your self-esteem decreased this past month because of the very person sitting in front of you, the fact that Jungkook’s been showing - in his own ways - his trust in you is enough to lift your spirits. He did admit last week that he needs you - something you hadn’t expected him to say - and you could tell it took so much from him to be able to verbalize it. But you suppose you needed that honesty, too; you needed to know that after all that frustration and anger during the first few weeks, there was that realization on his end that you have his back, and you’re just as capable as what everyone has been saying you are.

“What information do you need from me, Mr. Jeon?” You finally ask.

It’s been a good five minutes since Jungkook had asked for you and you’ve just been standing in front of him while he scrolls through the screen, perhaps giving another final look before he finally sends the document to his father.

“Nothing,” he sighs, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. “I just… I just need someone to tell me to stop reviewing this report. I need this out of my sight but I can’t stop checking to make sure everything is okay.”

You look at him intently while he speaks. The tension in his entire face and body is visible, you can even feel it in the room. You feel for him, as he tries to hide the anxiety and desperation. You can tell that he just wants to do well so badly. With the amount of time he’s been spending just going through this, his perfectionist tendency surfaces, and you’re at least thankful that it hasn’t turned him back into an asshole. At least not yet.

“You need to stop reviewing the report, Mr. Jeon, and let it go,” you say as instructed but with sincerity in your words. “You’ve been on this for days. Manager Lee and Chin-sun have reviewed it, and so have I. CEO Jeon could still suggest changes and we won’t know them until he’s reviewed it, but we at least have the details ironed out. If I may suggest, you can send the file to him in the next hour so you can now focus on practicing for your presentation. That may be a better use of your time.”

Jungkook opens his eyes and turns to you. There’s assurance in your words and your voice and like what he told himself he’d do, he’ll trust you and the team. He’s seen how hard everyone has been working for this - Manager Lee and Chin-sun have done so well in consolidating and cross-checking everything; Do-hyun’s presentation is simple yet effective, and Yohan, who’s back from the hospital, has been adding in all the needed details. And there’s you, making sure that everything and everyone is on track, even as you prepare for Jungkook’s upcoming events.

“Okay, then,” he exhales deeply. “I’ll send it in the next half hour.”

Knowing he has a meeting set at 2PM, you ask him if you should order him lunch.

“Yes please,” he answers, saying he wants some braised beef from the restaurant on the next block. “Order for yourself as well, and the rest of the team. You can all get anything you want.”

The silence prompts Jungkook to look at you, and he’s met with a questioning gaze.

“Is there a problem?” He asks.

“N—no,” you answer. “I’d like to confirm again that I’ll be ordering lunch for you and all five of us.”

“Yes, Ms. Cho. That’s what I said.”

You remain unmoving as you wait for him to correct himself. This is the first time that Jungkook has offered to treat the team to a meal. Not that you’ve been waiting for it, but Hoseok took you all out to dinner on his first day as a welcome and a thanks in advance, and once you picked up that Jungkook wasn’t the type to engage with his staff much, you just didn’t expect anything. So takeaway lunch from a nice restaurant is definitely surprising.

“Okay, sir,” you say. “I will do that. I’m sure the team will appreciate it.”

Jungkook merely hums, his eyes focused on the screen now as you bow and head out.

You go meet the team and as you expected, everyone looks at you in shock.

“Did the real Mr. Jeon get abducted?” Do-hyun asks. “Because treating us is something he wouldn’t do.”

“Yah! It may be a month late but let’s just be thankful, okay?” You frown at her. “He can see that everyone’s been working hard and I’m sure he appreciates that, and he may not be able to say it but he can at least show us.”

“While he’s at it, he can maybe at least say thank you or you know, smile every once in a while,” Chin-sun sighs.

“We’ll get there. He knows he needs to do better and he will, I’ll make sure of that,” you assure them, thinking about the conversation from last week.

Jungkook wants you to help him and for his sake and everyone else’s, you’ll make sure that you do.

“Well, is he better to you?” Do-hyun asks, her face in a pout because she’s seen you skip meals several times and even cry, and she’d wanted so many times to just hug you, but she knows it’s not something you openly receive.

“Yes,” you say, knowing it will drive your point. “I’d like to think that the worst is over and I can just focus on doing better and helping him. It would be great if the rest of us could do the same.”

“She’s right,” Manager Lee chimes in. “We grow when we adapt, and much more when we’re able to move on and learn from our experiences. It hasn’t been the best month but it’s also just been a month. So let’s be grateful for the meal and just continue with the good work we’ve been doing, okay?”

You give them the warmest smile you can muster, hoping this would be enough.

It seems to be, as they all excitedly give their orders, which you and Yohan pick up from the restaurant. You return and after giving Jungkook his food, you head to the other room to eat as well.

The team enjoys the meal, with Do-hyun dramatically stating that it’s the best beef brisket she’s ever had. And you agree; there’s a reason why Jungkook gets this every week.

Jungkook can hear laughter and satisfied hums from the support team office, with Do-hyun, he supposes, claiming that it feels like Christmas. Yohan says it’s a much-needed post-recovery treat, and even Manager Lee - who’s often serious - cracks a few jokes. Jungkook can pick out your sound, too, noting the joy that emanates from it. He allows himself a small smile, knowing that given how he’s been to everyone this past month, he at least could give his team this highlight of their day.

He stands by the door, initially going unnoticed, until Chin-sun catches sight of him and alerts everyone that he’s there. The room goes silent, and Jungkook looks on as his staff quietly munch their food and bow to him in greeting. The teasing and laughter have gone; worried eyes are what he sees instead.

Your initial surprise at seeing him melts away. He rarely drops by for anything, even for a greeting or to just check up on the team, unlike Hoseok who liked to come here often to de-stress after long meetings. But you sense Jungkook’s awkwardness at the silence, with his hands in his pockets and his blank gaze, so you smile at him and hope that eases the tension a bit.

“Lunch was great, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “Thank you.”

“It was,” Manager Lee pipes in. “The roast pork was so delicious. The potato salad was very good, too.”

You look at the others and encourage them to say something as well, and they hum in agreement and say their thanks.

“The beef brisket was heavenly,” Do-hyun raves. “Thank you! I hope it’s not the last time.”

She awkwardly chuckles, realizing that her boss isn’t one she should be joking with, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to take offense, as he purses his lips - perhaps to hide a smile, revealing a tiny dimple that catches you off guard.

“It won’t be. And uh, it was a month late, so I’m glad you all enjoyed it,” he replies, a tinge of disappointment now painting his face.

There’s another moment of silence and you observe him, hands still in his pockets, looking around awkwardly, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“It’s greatly appreciated, sir,” you assure him once more. “We hope you had a good lunch as well.”

“I’m just about to have it, actually,” he says. “I sent the report to the CEO and he must’ve been waiting for it because he read it right away and called to give feedback.”

“Oh? How did CEO Jeon find it?” Manager Lee asks.

“He said it was good. There are just minor things he asked me to change but I can do them on my own,” Jungkook answers. “I appreciate everyone’s hard work. Now, we can focus on our upcoming events and the Arts Center.”

The team immediately starts packing and swallowing their food, and Jungkook has to stop them.

“Not right now,” he clarifies. “Continue with your meal. And don’t stay too late. We’ve got another busy week ahead.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” everyone says in unison.

Jungkook nods and starts walking away, leaving all five of you with confused looks, as Jungkook has never spoken to the team in such a calm and friendly manner. It was always firm and professional, low and stoic.

You scurry out the room and follow him. Jungkook gives you a questioning look when you enter his office shortly after he does, and you pick up his untouched lunch from the table and inform him that you’ll heat it up, knowing he doesn’t like to eat his food cold.

You go back to the pantry then return to Jungkook’s room, his beef brisket dish now properly placed in a bowl. He gives you a nod, his form of acknowledgment and thanks, you suppose, and you ask the question you’ve had since his earlier stop at the team’s office.

“Are the edits really just minor?” You wonder, knowing that CEO Jeon is meticulous and quite particular with these board reports.

Jungkook takes a moment to respond. He should know that you’ve done this a few times and are probably used to how his father is already, which means you’d see right through him as well.

“Well, they’re not major,” Jungkook says. “I mean, they’re not trivial corrections. The details are all good but I need to change some terminologies and framing and some construction of the sections based on the Board’s current concerns, especially about the Arts Center. They’re not that substantial but it’ll still take me an hour or so.”

“Why did you tell the team that they were minor, then?”

“So they won’t offer to help.”

“But they would. I would,” you tell him. “It’s our job.”

“I was going to ask, but it’s your break time. Everyone was enjoying their meals and each other. First time I’ve seen that, actually. I know it doesn’t happen when I’m around.”

“It’s just that you’re not—”

“Hoseok,” he finishes for you.

“Not someone they’re comfortable being themselves around,” you correct him.

“Yes, not like Hoseok,” he pushes.

“You said it the first day, Mr. Jeon. You do things very differently from your cousin. Your personalities are very different, too. We had him for three years and for Yohan and Do-hyun, he was their first boss,” you explain. “They’re just not used to you yet.”

“What about you? Are you used to me by now?”

There’s sudden tension in the room as he looks at you with the desire for honesty, and it’s what you give.

“I’m not quite sure.”

Jungkook doesn’t really know what he expected, as the question just slipped past his mouth before he could pull it back, so he just nods and proceeds to take his late lunch, wanting to forget that he’d asked at all.

You take this as a signal to head out, which you do, before reminding him that he can ask you for help if he needs another pair of eyes before he submits his part again. Jungkook just nods once more, and it’s later in the day, after the third cup of coffee that you take to his room, that he says his father’s already approved the version he sent after you went through it upon his request. You know that’s just half of what he needs to do though, as he’ll still need to present it to the Board this coming Friday.

“You may go home, Ms. Cho,” he says after he signs some documents for you.

“How about you, Mr. Jeon?” You ask.

It’s been a long day, an extension of an even longer weekend because he’d been at a work event and then reviewed the report as well.

“I’ll probably stay back and go over the presentation. Maybe practice a little.”

You purse your lips, holding something back.

“Should I not?” He wonders.

“Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a proper rest tonight,” you advise.

“I’ll think about it. It’s gonna be a tough one on Friday and I want to be prepared.”

“I understand,” you smile. “I’ll go ahead, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook holds your gaze for a while before he nods and returns to his screen, going through the presentation slides and the notes he scribbled on his iPad. But try as he might, the graphs and the words just go over his head.

He does need to rest, he thinks. He hasn’t really taken a break all weekend. His hookup from last night was the only relief he got, but that was to expend all the negative energy from the anxiety and stress, and he realizes that he probably doesn’t know what proper rest is, like what you suggested he have. He wonders if you’ve ever had one, or if it’s something you stopped having ever since you started working for him.

Taking your advice, he heads out. It’s only been 30 minutes and he assumes you’re already on the bus and on the way home. He sits in the passenger seat, letting Mr. Ri’s choice of music fill the car as Jungkook’s mind wanders to you - how you laughed at the team’s antics, how you got them to assure him, how you read him well, how you were patient and helpful, and how you seemed concerned about how tired he’s been.

He’ll chalk it up to you doing your job and helping him as he asked you to do; he always will. He can’t ever think that any of your actions mean more even if deep down, he wishes they do, only so he knows that you don’t hate him, that you’ve forgiven him for things he never apologized for, that you’ll stay for as long as possible. There’s something about your honesty and calm presence that stabilizes him, that makes him take a pause.

Jungkook’s worked hard on his career for the past decade and it’s all he focuses on; it’s all he thinks about. But when you’re there, he’s forced to stop and think about you. He’s noticed that just this past week - when you’re around, he listens; when you’re close to him, he breathes. Ironic, really, considering that every time you close the distance - when you fix his tie or look at his screen over his shoulder or help him retrieve portfolios - he remains still, his heart stopping and his throat drying up, afraid to take in your scent or to know just how fast his pulse would race or what words he’d say that he won’t be able to contain.

He’s afraid to know you, only because what he’ll learn might make him want you. And Jungkook knows that he can’t let himself feel that about you in any way.

He sighs as he looks out the window - cars in line to cross the intersection, people walking to their destination. He thinks he’s hallucinating as he sees your smile, but a bus blocks his view and Mr. Ri steps on the gas.

Outside, you smile to yourself as you wait in line. You were held up at the lobby because Bitna caught you in the elevator and didn’t want to let you go just yet, so you left the office just minutes ago and were waiting at the bus stop when a familiar car showed up and you saw Jungkook looking out the window. He opted to leave early, too; you can only hope he’ll take your advice and rest tonight.

But the thought that what you said prompted him to take a pause from work stirs something within. Maybe it’s because he’s finally listening to you, or that it seems like he trusts you now. Whatever it is, for as long as it makes your job bearable, you’re all for it.

It doesn’t take away from the moments you’ve shared where it seems like the world stops for a bit as you hold each other’s gazes for the shortest of seconds. There’s tension where there shouldn’t be, and there’s something different in his eyes when there used to be disdain, one which you can’t read nor identify. It leaves you still for the briefest of moments, unguarded and a little bare, as he seems to tell you something with just a look and you just don’t know what it is.

As you find a rare seat in the bus, you let the musings go. Jungkook is a man who holds in him a million thoughts a day and those moments with you seem to be his only reprieve; perhaps they’re also just instances of temporary lags or the rare silence and stoppage of everything. In some odd way, it allows you to see him as the human that he is - exhausted, unsure at times, but seemingly yearning for something.

There’s always an emotion or a thought or a word that he holds in, and you can only wish - as your relationship with him improves - that whatever it is he’s holding back, he’ll find a way to express it.

“Do you have any advice for the Board meeting?”

Jungkook slides the question in before Hoseok heads to the elevator and off to an event. They’ve just finished having a check-in with CEO Jeon, who wanted to make sure that the two of them are well-prepared for this Friday, given that presenting during these meetings and contributing to policy and strategy are crucial in their roles as President and Vice President. Jungkook won’t admit that it caused him a bit of anxiety, but he’ll surely take the chance to ask his cousin for tips on how to make sure that he doesn’t screw up.

“I do,” Hoseok answers as he holds off on pressing the button. “Ask your assistant. And then listen to what she says.”

Jungkook visibly sighs. “Hoseok, I mean it.”

“I mean it, too,” the older man replies. “If it’s anything about our strategic plan or policies, just take my lead. And it’s your very first so you’re expected to still be adjusting. If it’s about the presentation, let ___ brief you about it. She’s been with me every single time I had to present. When I was focused on what I had to say, she was focused on how the Board was reacting and how those translated to the questions they eventually asked. She’d know what you’ll need to emphasize on or who you need to be wary of.”

There’s an unsure look in Jungkook’s eyes, and Hoseok knows it isn’t about trusting you. It’s about him.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Hoseok asks. “What are you afraid of, Kook?”

“You know what they think of me,” Jungkook sighs. “I don’t want to screw up and give them more reasons to doubt me because they already do. And they’re definitely gonna ask about the Arts Center. What if they bring up my disappointing social skills? I don’t wanna end up feeling inadequate and embarrassing father.”

“Keep thinking that way and you will,” Hoseok huffs. “Look. Our family owns the company. You and I were trained to run it after my sister and your brother decided they didn’t want to. The Board knows this. They’ll either stay in our good graces or plot against us. Your father knows that, too, and that’s why he’s being hard on both of us because he knows what we’ll have to face. That also just means he’ll always be on your side. He’ll always be on ours. The Board could be intimidating but we still hold the power. They’ll impose or question or cast doubt because they want to feel that sense of control. It’ll only affect you if you let them.”

“Okay” is all that Jungkook manages to say, a tinge of resignation on his face as he takes in his cousin’s words.

“You’ve managed worse people than them,” Hoseok assured him. “Just focus, stand by your project, and engage them. Simple as that.”

“Yes, it’s very simple,” Jungkook chuckles with a shake of his head.

“Like I said, your assistant’s there for a reason, Kook. This is when I get to tell you that it’s her job. We would prepare together and debrief right after, and it always helped because she fills in gaps and informs me of things I missed. Trust me. Trust her.”

The thing is, Jungkook does; he doesn’t need to be reminded that he should trust you because he’s learned to do that, despite it seemingly impossible given that you both started off on the wrong foot. It’s the thought of spending more time with you, during a time when he’s still trying to get used to you and how you affect him, that makes him worried about this. But it’s not something he can talk about with Hoseok. It’s not something he can talk about with anyone.

“Fine,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Good. I’ll go now. Have dinner at home tomorrow, okay? And I’ll see you when I get back.”

Jungkook waves the older man goodbye and then returns to his office, where he finds you dropping some files off for signing.

“Payment requests for the event,” you explain, earning you a nod from him as he walks to his seat. “How did the meeting with your father go, Mr. Jeon?”

“As I expected,” he huffs. “A bit of encouragement, more of the pressure. He’d slide in reminders of what the Board thinks of me and how I should present myself.”

“Is the pressure helping?” You ask.

“A little,” he sighs, sinking into his chair and exhaling deeply. He rolls his head back and closes his eyes, allowing himself a few seconds of peace. “But I still need help. Hoseok said I can get it from you.”

“You know, he oversells me sometimes,” you manage to laugh, prompting Jungkook to look at you now. “I know I’m competent. But I don’t know about being your source of help for a Board meeting any more than providing you with data.” Jungkook likes to do things on his own after all, you think to yourself.

“But you’ve been to as many Board meetings as he has.”

“Yes, but only for his presentation.”

“And that’s what I need help with,” he says. “I just need direction, I guess. Or affirmation that how I’m doing it is the right way. Or tips on who to woo or who to not take seriously.”

Jungkook has been to a few Board meetings but he’s never had to present anything. He’s also never had to engage with the members so he didn’t pay much attention to them because he didn’t feel the need to. These appointments were all a few years too early, and while he’d had a critical position in the Southeast Asian headquarters, everything had gone through his uncle who headed the office then.

This is the first time that Jungkook feels the magnitude of all his decisions, and that every move he makes is being assessed. And even with his father and Hoseok giving him guidance, they have their own teams to manage and an entire company to run, just like him. Somehow, with all the people around him, Jungkook still feels alone.

You, with your perpetual presence and surprising warmth, are the only one who makes him feel otherwise. And it terrifies him more than anything.

“Well, I’ve picked up a few things along the way,” you hum. “I can maybe go through my notes and share them with you.”

“Good. I’d like to do that over lunch, since I’ll have you and Manager Lee watch me practice the presentation around 2.”

Jungkook picks up the slight fall of your face. “Is that a problem?” He asks. “Did you have lunch plans?”

“Nothing more important than assisting you, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a change of expression indicating that you indeed had prior commitments that you’re putting off because of him. “I’ll inform Manager Lee about meeting with him after.”

You head out and return to your desk to work on your remaining tasks for the morning until lunch time rolls by and you accompany Jungkook to a nearby restaurant as he’d asked. You try not to get too excited about the meal in front of you and then control yourself from letting out orgasmic sounds from the succulent piece of salmon that’s melting in your mouth. This check-in seems too important for Jungkook and you want to support him in any way you can.

“How was Hoseok during his first Board meeting?” Jungkook starts.

“Nervous, a little rattled. His sister left him behind with a lot of work and she was abroad for most of the time so they weren’t able to meet up,” you share. “But he got up there and presented all the office’s gains for the past months and then explained his plans moving forward. He had all these good ideas on policy and strategy and he articulated them well. He had to take over multiple small projects and he showed how he planned to manage all of them. His charms sort of hid away the anxiety he was feeling and I guess that eventually helped him get rid of it.”

“Well, that’s one thing I can’t claim that I have,” Jungkook sighs.

He looks at you to see your reaction, and the awkwardness on your face makes him internally laugh.

“I can lie to you if you want me to,” you say, and he chuckles, surprising you both, though he acts like he doesn’t mind.

“I’d actually want you to be as honest with me as possible, Ms. Cho. I don’t want you, of all people, to suck up to me to get on my good graces.”

“Great, since I wasn’t on it in the first place,” you trail, earning you another laugh, and you wish this could at least lessen the pressure he’s putting himself under.

“That’s true,” he says, holding your gaze. He turns to his food before he gets sucked in your gorgeous eyes even more. “But I mean it. I don’t exactly know how to charm people, much less the Board. I don’t want to add to the narrative they already have of me having terrible social skills. But I also don’t want them to think I’m being fake or pretentious.”

“If I may, you’ll botch that aspect if you keep thinking about it,” you advise. “Perhaps you can just focus on what you’re good at. Delivering a presentation, regardless of what it’s about, is a skill. You have all the information and I can add some more if you’re not confident with them. You also tweaked some existing processes and you can build on it. But also, the Arts Center will definitely be their focus, so talk about it the way you would with your father and the team… and me. You let us envision it with your words and your visuals and those are all you need.”

“Okay then. I’ll just imagine they’re all vegetables or something so I can focus.”

“Mrs. Doi likes making eye contact because she wants to feel like you’re conversing with her,” you say. “Mrs. Seo asks a lot of irrelevant questions but you have to answer as if they’re important. Mr. Ong likes being acknowledged every time he says something or even nods. So I don’t recommend acting as if they’re inanimate. Maybe just with Mr. Wang because he falls asleep in everything, but don’t take it personally. I think it’s a medical condition.”

Jungkook’s amused look encourages you to continue.

“Mr. Mun doesn’t really get design and building terms so you’d have to explain them at least twice. Mr. Bong tends to act all mighty but he doesn’t really know much. Same with Mr. Im and Ms. Hwa. The rest are fine,” you say. “Mr. Saito is very thoughtful. He’s a designer so his insights would be good. Ms. Cheng is unproblematic and overall just supportive. Mr. Yeon is just… there. They’re quite intense when it comes to profits and the company’s image but if you stand by what you know, they won’t really say much.”

“Wow, that’s… that’s a lot to take in. And also very informative,” Jungkook states. “I never noticed any of those.”

“Well, you had your reasons to be in those meetings and maybe you didn’t have a reason to pay attention to them,” you shrug. “I do. I thought it was an added way that I could help Mr. Jung. Assistants are asked to sit on the side of the room so we can be easily signaled for anything and I thought I could use that position to observe the Board members and see how they respond to the presentation. It helped for the succeeding ones and it took the pressure off him in terms of needing to appease them.”

“Makes sense,” Jungkook hums. “Worrying about how they’ll react or what they’ll say is half of the pressure.”

“It is. I couldn’t help Mr. Jung for his first time because it was mine, too, but he picked things up quite easily. He knew who to pay attention to.”

“Well, considering that I don’t seem to be ideal for this relationship-heavy position, I’ll have to pay attention and appease all of them, it seems.”

“If I may, Mr. Jeon, you can take it as a challenge,” you advise, feeling more comfortable in being honest now. “I may be just a humble assistant but I’ve seen things. With all the praises for Mr. Jung - which are deserved, of course - I’ve witnessed his moments of distress, which is perfectly normal for anyone. A-yeong had to remind him of how good he was everyday because he needed that push and it helped him. It also helped that he was trying to prove something and that he was always told that he had all the qualities to do that.”

“Not everyone has a supportive wife like him though. Or like my father,” Jungkook laughs dryly.

“They had supportive assistants,” you offer, trying to be optimistic. “I had to fill-in as Mr. Jung’s sounding board and I was always in awe at his approach to things.”

“Which is very different from mine, I know,” Jungkook says unintentionally, the sigh making you feel like he’s tired of the comparison, and you feel a bit bad at having to seemingly remind him of that.

“And which isn’t bad at all,” you try to assure him. “Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it’s not right.”

Well, it wasn’t right to treat you the way I did, he wants to say, but the words stay in his head and at the tip of his tongue.

“That’s… comforting,” he says instead.

“I was trying to be assuring but comforting is fine, too,” you chuckle. “But I mean it, sir. I know there are all these expectations and I won’t be able to truly understand what the pressure is like but if you allow it to challenge you, you might even surprise yourself. And then you’ll end up surprising them, too. But do it for you. At the end of the day, they’re just the Board but you’re the Vice President. And you’re you. You’re all you can control.”

There’s a beat of silence as Jungkook takes in everything you’d said. You have this persistence about you that’s reflected in the way you carry yourself and in the way you relate with others, especially towards him despite how he’d treated you not long ago. Regardless of what you said, he thinks you know exactly what he feels when it comes to dealing with pressure. He supposes that working for his family can do that to someone, especially when it’s him.

“Such moving words, Ms. Cho,” he finally says.

“I didn’t mean to give unwanted advice,” you shake your head in disappointment.

“I needed it though,” he surprises you. “Other than Hoseok or even Yoongi, who are both busy themselves, I only have you as a sounding board. And as support. So, uh, thanks.”

He says his gratitude with a soft tone, almost embarrassingly. You can tell it’s something he doesn’t say that often, but you take it, as you think it’s another step towards him trusting you even more. And you need that trust for now; it’s this peaceful and honest dynamic with him that’s making your job bearable.

Lunch continues with Jungkook asking more questions about some of the Board members and you dishing some dirt on some of them as what you’ve heard in the office washrooms, perhaps the only gossip you don’t take with a grain of salt. He’s amused, and you think this is the most expressive you’ve seen him.

You proceed to meet with Manager Lee in the conference room where Jungkook goes through each slide presentation, asking both of you for more information he thinks he needs and about how he’s carrying himself, his tone, his pace, and his engagement. It’s good enough for a first run-through, Manager Lee says, and Jungkook decides to dry-run it again on Thursday.

The rest of your day goes by a little stressfully. There are multiple events that you have to organize and coordinate with other offices, and those are what you work on until you clock out on time.

Jungkook stays behind for only half an hour before deciding he’s had enough of looking through his notes and will return to them tomorrow. He takes the elevator and nods when Yoongi enters.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets. “How are the designs for the Changwon mid-rise?”

“It’s 6:00. I don’t wanna talk about work,” Yoongi whines.

Jungkook knows this. It’s also why he likes to tease his friend about it.

“Fine. We can just stand next to each other awkwardly until we have to get off,” Jungkook says.

“Hmm,” Yoongi hums. “Or, we can talk about how my lunch plans changed because someone asked my lunch partner for a meeting.”

The tension immediately rises and Jungkook hates how affected he is by Yoongi’s teasing.

“Ah, so it was you. Well, she did say it wasn’t as important as what we were meeting about,” Jungkook hits back.

“True. It’s about the Board meeting after all. It’s a pretty big deal.”

Jungkook starts to feel hot all over, as the thought of you and Yoongi conversing about your thwarted lunch plans because of him plays in his head. It’s a mix of frustration and disappointment. While the meeting was in no way confidential, he just hates the idea that it was something you shared with Yoongi. Perhaps it’s just after the fact, considering that Jungkook thinks it was a good lunch. You clearly enjoyed the dish - he could see how you tried to control your reactions to it - and your conversations went by smoothly. You were honest and supportive; he was open and all the more surprised with how well you were able to calm him down. It’s as if someone else was privy to that moment you both shared, even if Yoongi wasn’t there.

“Huh, I thought you were over her,” Jungkook says, the bitterness slicing through. If his friend picks it up, he doesn’t say anything.

“I am. We were just gonna have lunch at this noodle house because she was craving it,” Yoongi clarifies. “I told you, I’m her only friend here. It’s nice to share a meal with someone who cares about you every once in a while, you know? It’s hard being a working adult and we all need a bit of a break and a companion sometimes. It didn’t mean anything more than that.”

Jungkook chooses not to respond and Yoongi could tell why. There’s this look of annoyance painting the younger man’s face, which makes him a lot more transparent than he wishes he was.

But Yoongi can see right through his friend. It’s not something he raises though, but he won’t be surprised if Jungkook dwells on this. He just hopes it isn’t to your detriment again.

The ride home wasn’t as terrible last night, and after your elder neighbor gave you some stew because she cooked too much, you had a satisfying dinner and an even more satisfying slumber.

You feel like the end of the week isn’t too far ahead - although there really isn’t anything exciting for you except for a date with your bed - and you just want to get through all your tasks for the day and get that jjajangmyeon that Yoongi said he’ll get for you today so you can eat it for dinner. You were initially upset at having to pass up on him for yesterday’s lunch, but you’d be the first to admit that sharing that meal with Jungkook was still worthwhile.

Not only was the dish you ordered one of the best things you’ve ever eaten, it was also nice to see Jungkook loosen up a bit after feeling tense all morning because of his presentation. You liked that he’s being open to getting support from you, as it seems that he sees you now as more than just the assistant who’s there to serve him. He seems to appreciate your thoughts and didn’t even act bitterly when you gave him unsolicited advice. You feel even more that your relationship improves daily.

That is, until you enter his penthouse this Wednesday morning with barely a look of acknowledgement from him. Going through your routine, he doesn’t say much; he stays silent the entire ride to the office as well.

When you enter his room to serve his coffee, his furrowed brows have returned and his jaws are clenched as he types away on his desktop.

“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, his voice stern once again.

You turn around to face him, wondering what has happened since you left the office yesterday.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“I just wanted to raise that while I understand you have personal relationships with other employees, I do not appreciate you divulging the topics of our meetings with them. Even if they’re my friend as well.”

His last sentence gives away who he’s talking about, and the conversation with Yoongi after you canceled your lunch plans with him rings in your head.

It was a harmless statement, you want to say; you didn’t share any more than it being a meeting about his presentation. There was no ill-intent in you telling Yoongi why you couldn’t see him for lunch. But you choose to pass up on reasoning with Jungkook. He builds his wall up even more when you do, and you don’t want things to be that way again, not when they seemed to be going okay already these past few days.

So you nod and concede. “I understand, Mr. Jeon, and I apologize. I won’t do it again.”

Jungkook can’t help but just look at you, internally smacking himself as your face falls further and as you, once again, feel far away because of his own stupidity.

“Is there anything else you need, sir?”

He shakes his head no, and you bow in response, heading out, with the sadness in your eyes as the last thing he sees.

Jungkook is unable to focus on his emails and the conference call he takes part in. The words and thoughts are all jumbled when he practices his presentation, as his gaze constantly flits to your spot just outside where you sit, doing your tasks while looking detached and dejected.

He assumes you didn’t come to work expecting to be called out the way he did with you, which in hindsight, didn’t seem necessary, especially knowing how it’s affecting you right now. Things were going well between both of you after all - he’s being more open and you’re being more comfortable. Information was flowing smoothly, and communication has improved. And he just went ahead and screwed all that up.

Jungkook starts to feel stuffy. He’s been in his office working on things for the Arts Center and practicing most of the day, with you only coming in to bring the lunch he’d asked Mr. Ri to buy and his cups of coffee. You’ve avoided his gaze and haven't said much to him, too.

He decides to take a walk outside. The outdoor space on this floor has nice benches and a small garden that overlooks the Han River. He’s seen the team eat there sometimes, and while the weather may be a little too hot for it, he’d much rather breathe in the air than his humidifier.

But as he takes his time to open the door, he hears a familiar voice from outside.

“Fine, if you won’t take the sandwich, at least take the noodles,” Yoongi says. “You’ve been craving that all weekend.”

“Not anymore,” you huff, seemingly annoyed.

“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Yoongi asks, calm and understanding in tone, traits that Jungkook could only hope to have.

“No… I don’t know,” you sigh. “Just that, whatever I talk to you about or mention, other people don’t need to know them, okay? No matter how harmless they are. Let’s just… not talk about work stuff. Especially in the office. That’s it.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

“What do you—”

“Mr. Min,” Jungkook calls out, fully opening the door now. “I have design guidelines I need you to go over. I need them by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, Jungkook,” Yoongi bitterly replies, knowing what’s happened. “Just send them over to me.”

“Ms. Cho will do that right now.”

You nod in acknowledgement of Jungkook’s instruction and remain focused on your desktop. There’s silence in the air and tension that you can’t deal with right now.

“Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Min?”

“Nah. If I do, I’ll check with your boss first if I can ask you for it. Don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”

You finally look up at him, a tinge of annoyance painting his face, a rarity since Yoongi doesn’t seem to ever be irate about anything.

“And I’ll just take this jjajangmyeon if you don’t want it,” he adds, taking the container that’s on the ledge of your desk with him, before walking out of your area.

You can’t help the pout that forms on your lips. You really love that noodle house’s version and you’ve been craving it for days. It’s where you and Yoongi were both supposed to have lunch yesterday but Jungkook spoiled it, and it wouldn’t have mattered as much, until it became a reason for him to be upset with you again. You’re not exactly sure why, but much as you want to question your boss this time, you don’t have the energy for it. It doesn’t seem worth it, but it also doesn’t change the fact that Yoongi might have said something to Jungkook, and that’s a dynamic you’re still unsure how to read or deal with.

Your gaze shifts to the man himself, who looks less annoyed than he did at the start of the day. You don’t know how his practice has been going, since he hasn’t asked you to run it with him, but you suppose he’s doing alright. He’s been in his room all day doing that and taking calls in between.

Jungkook looks away and heads out. He lets the summer air clear his mind a little before he goes back inside. It’s 6PM by the time he emerges from his room, surprised at seeing your face still buried in piles of papers.

“Ms. Cho, I’ll be heading to Hoseok’s for dinner,” he says, getting your attention. “Anything that needs my signature or approval can wait tomorrow.”

He hopes you’ll read through his words, as he wishes you’d take a rest yourself, like you advise him to do.

“Finance needs your expense reports first thing tomorrow morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a little too stoic than he’s used to. “These can be signed tomorrow when you arrive.”

Jungkook just nods, knowing there’s not much he can do if you don’t want to go home yet. But he does leave you with a reminder.

“Ms. Cho,” he says before leaving. He’s met with curious eyes that he tries not to fall into. “Make sure to eat a proper dinner.”

He walks out too quickly, not wanting to see your reaction.

You’re too tired to react, but that just pushes you to finish all your work and head to the pantry for some biscuits. It’s then that you see the paper bag with a note on it.

For ___. Do not touch!

At the back, Yoongi writes, I’m sorry. Here’s a man who knows how to apologize, you think to yourself.

The bowl of jjajangmyeon is inside, as well as a container of gimari. The scent reminds you of how hungry you are, so you heat up the noodles and inhale your dinner as you stand by the table. The empty office and the faint sounds of the air conditioning make you think of how alone you really are - working past your hours on a Wednesday evening, a takeaway meal from a friend you’re pushing away, and a stressful trip back to your empty studio apartment.

You rarely ever feel lonely. You don’t equate being alone with that specific emotion or state. There’s certainty and clarity you get from being on your own. But on certain days, you let yourself crack a little and be vulnerable. On certain days, you let yourself admit that being alone makes you feel lonely, and that at this precise moment, it’s exactly what you feel.

You send Yoongi a message of thanks but don’t extend the conversation after he replies. You know it isn’t his fault, and knowing him, he wouldn’t have deliberately said anything that would’ve put you in this position. It could just be Jungkook misconstruing things, but you’ve been caught off guard and you don’t feel like dealing with anyone right now.

Resuming your work, you do your last review of the expense report and leave it on his desk for his signature in the morning - a struggle considering how messy it is, which is also a rarity, as he always likes to keep things organized. You can tell how stressed he is just by this, and the thought hits you again that it’s the Board meeting in two days, and he needs you to be your best for him; he needs you to be calm and stable for him.

Whatever you’re feeling can be pushed to the side until next week. You’ll talk to Yoongi after all this is over, you tell yourself; it’s more important that you focus on your tasks and just act as professionally and as unbothered as possible.

That proves to be easy early the next morning. You go about preparing Jungkook’s day in his penthouse, going over your coordination and organization of the upcoming events and acting as if what happened yesterday doesn’t bother you, with him not acting out of the ordinary, too. It’s easy when you get to the office as well. He signs off on the expense reports and you go to finance with only minimal clarifications needed.

But when you return to your desk and Jungkook calls you to his room, you feel the tension start to build as you find Yoongi seated on the chair, his face turning sullen at the sight of you.

You nod at him but look away immediately, shifting your gaze towards Jungkook.

“What can I help you with, Mr. Jeon?”

“Deciding on the pieces to be displayed in the event halls of the Arts Center,” he replies. “Artist Lee Jaemin gave us her portfolio for us to choose from. And I’d like you and Yoongi to work on it together before lunch.”

This prompts you to look at Jungkook in surprise. He just told you off about the things you told Yoongi - which, to your defense, wasn’t even anything substantial - and now he’s making you work with the man.

“What about the run through of your presentation, sir?” You ask.

“I’ll do it with Manager Lee. His feedback will be adequate,” Jungkook replies. “I need your options because I’ll be speaking with her tonight about the chosen pieces.”

“I…, uh,” you stutter. “In what way can I be of help, Mr. Jeon? Wouldn’t Mr. Min be enough to make those decisions?”

“You hold the budget, Ms. Cho,” he reminds you. “We need to make sure we follow it. And you and Mr. Min understand my vision more than anyone and I need both of you to bring that to life with those artworks. I’m packed with meetings today so I don’t have time to sort through all of them. I trust that you’ll make the best decisions.”

“Of course we will, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, a bit of bitterness laced in it. “___ and I work well together. It isn’t the first time.”

Jungkook merely nods, and you feel the tension build up even more as both men share hardened looks that you can’t particularly decipher.

“I… I’ll go ahead and prepare the conference room. I shall see you there shortly, Mr. Min.”

You exit the office and breathe a sigh of relief from being out of there. You don’t know what their friendship is like, so you’re unsure if the tension is a sign of something serious or if it’s just a normal thing for them. You choose to brush it off for now and prepare for the meeting, walking to the pantry for a cup of tea before you do.

Back inside, both men remain unmoving, their gazes not faltering away from each other. Yoongi’s look of displeasure is a contrast to Jungkook’s somber, almost guilty face.

“Driving a wedge between us is kind of an asshole move, you know?” Yoongi finally says. “I don’t know what your deal is but this isn’t how you make it up to her. You don’t get to be nice one day then just decide you’ll be jealous and irrational the next without her even knowing what she did.”

“That’s… that’s not what I was trying to do,” Jungkook reasons.

“Then what were you trying to do?” Yoongi scoffs. “I was the one she turned down to have lunch with you. Actually, it was her plan, because she’s been spending so much time alone and she just wanted to hang out with a friend. And not only did you hinder that, you also made her feel like she did something wrong when all she said was that you had to talk about the Board meeting. No one would even bat an eye. Now she can’t even talk to me properly without fearing it’ll hurt your fragile ego.”

The truth is a huge slap on Jungkook’s face, and he feels it sting. He’s seen your comfort around his friend a few times. He also knows that Yoongi has been looking out for you when you fail to take care of yourself. And because of that jealousy and his fragile ego, you might just end up pushing Yoongi away, and isolating you is the last thing Jungkook wants to do.

He tries to say something but his throat dries up, knowing that verbalizing anything would prompt him to face feelings he’s trying so hard to suppress. He hopes Yoongi sees right through him, and the sullen look of the older man says he might.

“You’re not a bad person, Jungkook,” Yoongi says. “I don’t know what about her makes you like this. But if all you’ll do is find fault in everything she does, you’re gonna lose all the progress in your relationship. And you've got to know that’s not fair to her. You know she doesn’t deserve that.”

“She doesn’t.”

It’s the way Jungkook says the words that Yoongi knows his friend regrets what he’d done, perhaps not just yesterday but the other times as well. There’s this emptiness in Jungkook’s eyes that Yoongi hasn’t seen before; he doesn’t want the younger man to drown and lose himself in it.

“I’m… I’m, uh—”

“I know,” Yoongi interjects, knowing how hard it is for Jungkook to verbalize what he feels. “And I forgive you. I suggest you find the words and say them to her. Yeah?”

Jungkook merely nods, knowing that would be difficult for him, not because he won’t mean it but because they mean so much more. With you, it always does.

“I’ll head to meet with her now.”

“Please fix it,” Jungkook almost pleads. “I think she needs you.”

Yoongi gives a look of understanding then heads out to the conference room where he finds you seated already. The lights are dim, allowing him to see Lee Jaemin’s art pieces projected on the wall. You’re focused on your laptop screen, not budging even as he opens the door and sits next to you.

“Are you still mad at me?” Yoongi asks, urging you to look at him.

“No,” you say softly.

“Then why do you act like you still are?” He asks sullenly. “You know I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault though,” you reply, finally turning to him, your own soft eyes mirroring his. “You shouldn’t be apologizing.”

“But I want to. Because I know it matters that you hear the words even if they’re not from the person who needs to be saying them.”

“You know he doesn’t do that,” you sigh, knowing exactly who he means.

“He’ll have to learn how to. Or just stop having a reason to apologize in the first place.”

“We’ll see about that,” you shrug. “But I’m sorry, too. I just didn’t know how to act yesterday and earlier. I just didn’t want any more drama.”

“I know, and it’s okay. It’s not your fault either. I had to call him out for it.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I called him an asshole.”

“You–what?”

“Well, sort of. He had to hear it, and it seemed like he knew it, too. That's why he wanted me to fix things. Not that anything was broken, as far as I know.”

“Is that why he made me meet with you?”

“Yes, about something that he and I could easily do over coffee or a meal,” Yoongi chuckles. “But like I told you before - he tries. It’s usually just a misstep or something more complicated than actually saying sorry.”

“It’s hard for him to say, I guess. Maybe he just has his own ways of saying them.”

“It’s still not an excuse to be an asshole though.”

“At least you’re there to call him out for it,” you chuckle.

Yoongi laughs along, knowing it’s a role in Jungkook’s life that he wouldn’t mind taking. And just like that, the tension between the two of you is gone. He throws in a few jokes in there that take seconds for you to process, and it’s his crinkled smile that makes you smile and feel comfortable as well. It’s the icebreaker you need before getting to work, and it takes you both until lunchtime to decide on which of Lee Jaemin’s pieces you think would fit well in the event halls that Jungkook wants to put them in.

It’s a different experience for you, as you’ve never made decisions like this before. You wouldn’t say you’re artistic in any sense, but Yoongi’s approval of your choices and agreement with your reasoning make you feel that you aren’t as design-blind as you think. And while Jungkook has the final say - you’re not even sure if your choices would make the final cut - it’s still satisfying to see the empty spaces come to life on your screen with artworks that you chose with Yoongi, while still being within budget.

You both walk back to your work area where you see Manager Lee, and he tells you that Jungkook seems ready for tomorrow’s Board meeting. You enter his office with Yoongi, presenting what you’ve come up with - the greens and pinks common in her pieces give the room so much life, and the imperfections of her subjects leave viewers with much to admire. From the tropics to intimacy, the bright yet muted palette of the images elicits both joy and loneliness.

Jungkook goes through them while you and Yoongi look on.

“I’ll check each piece again later,” Jungkook says. “But these look good; I’d choose these myself.”

“___ chose most of them,” Yoongi says, earning him a glare from you.

“Is that so, Ms. Cho?” Jungkook asks.

“Mr. Min helped. And those pieces just spoke to me, I guess,” you answer shyly. “They’re beautiful pieces, Mr. Jeon. But I don’t have any arts or design background so please feel free to change them.”

“We’ll see,” he says, looking at you with a kind of affirmation that you’re not used to.

You nod in response and check the time. He’s got another meeting in an hour and he should be having lunch soon.

“What would you like to eat, Mr. Jeon? I can get it for you,” you say.

“No need. I asked Mr. Ri to get me something. I figured you might have lunch plans,” Jungkook responds, glancing at you and then Yoongi.

You look at the man next to you, who motions towards the door and you get what he means immediately.

“Okay, Mr. Jeon. I’ll go take my break now.”

You walk out with Yoongi who asks you what you’re craving, and sweet and sour pork comes to mind. He chuckles at your excited face, and you grab your purse and head out, turning back once to catch Jungkook watching you walk away.

Maybe this is his apology. In whatever form it is, you’ll take it. You find sometimes that the silence in place of words means a lot more, in ways that feel more.

The rest of your afternoon again feels like a blur, as you meet with the support team about the upcoming events and make sure everyone is on the same page. You spend an hour on the phone with Lucas about some Singapore and Malaysia-based Korean artists who are flying for the project launch in a few weeks while Jungkook goes from one virtual meeting to another.

It’s 5:30 before you know it, and you’re working on your spreadsheets when Jungkook walks out of his office, saying that he’s meeting with Lee Jaemin later in the evening and that he’ll just update you about the final pieces.

You acknowledge him and wish him goodbye, but he stops on the way, at the entrance towards the hallway, making sure he remains present while unable to see you.

“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, surprising you.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“About what I said yesterday, I apologize,” he says, almost stuttering. “Especially if it caused a rift between you and Yoongi. I didn’t intend that.”

You’re too shocked to say anything, much more process the words that you can’t believe he’s saying. But he really is apologizing; he really is trying.

“It… it’s okay, Mr. Jeon. I understand.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re left to observe him from this angle - jaws clenched, head bowed down.

He deeply exhales. “I’ll go now. No need to stay late; you can go home when you’re able.”

“Okay, sir. Have a good night.”

He finally leaves, and the silence engulfs you. Sometimes, words in any form truly matter. You could only hope that Jungkook knows that.

The suit that you choose for Jungkook for today’s big day is a dark gray textured piece. He looks immaculate as he stands before you, and you try your best to even your breathing as you fix his tie like you do every morning. There’s something about him today that makes him more handsome than usual - a quality that you’ve found yourself admitting and accepting more easily as the days go by. He exudes a certain kind of confidence and power with his attire and his parted hair. There’s determination in his eyes as he stands tall, ready to face the day.

And you’re there, admiring the way he carries himself just inches away.

You fix the collar of his suit and make sure that all creases are flattened. You meet his eyes and the confidence melts away a little.

“Do I look respectable enough?” He asks, a little less serious than you expected. It’s when you see the nervousness in his eyes that you know how important today is for him.

“Yes,” you assure him. “You also look ready to impress the Board members with your presentation and get them on your side. I’m sure your vision about the Arts Center will make them believers.”

“Ah, well, that’s asking for too much, I guess,” he laughs dryly. “But I was on the call with Lee Jaemin last night and she was so excited for the launch. It would get her to visit Seoul often, she said, and that made me realize that artists like her and the consumers, the ordinary people, the ones who the Center is for - they’re the ones who matter. It’s their interest and appreciation that I value, not the Board’s.”

“That’s a good realization to come to, then, Mr. Jeon,” you smile, suddenly feeling like you’re seeing a different man - someone who cares about meaning and the power of art. “I suppose if that’s your mindset coming into the meeting, then you’ll definitely do well.”

“I think if there’s at least one other person who ends up believing in the value of the Center, that would be enough for me,” he says, holding your gaze for a while before turning away. “But uh, today is more than that. You and I both know they’re there to assess my capabilities - social and otherwise - and definitely point out what I lack, or probably tell me I’m not cut out for this job or that I’m terrible or something. I mean, you would know, right?”

His eyes, focused downward, slowly shift to you. You know what he means, and given that he isn’t the type to admit to things, this is probably the only other time that he comes close to acknowledging how he was to you.

“Mr. Jeon, if you’re indeed terrible, I would have quit after a week. Or… well, after the second day,” you admit.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I couldn’t afford to,” you chuckle to ease the tension. “But also I… I saw the change. And that’s always a good thing. Lacking something is normal. We all have things we need to work on but that doesn’t make us terrible people. That just means we need a bit of understanding from others. And that also means we just have to keep trying to be better.”

There’s a sullenness in Jungkook’s eyes but there’s acceptance and understanding, too. Perhaps it’s the most sincere you’ve seen him look, and of all the days that he needs assurance about how he’s been, today is when he needs it the most. Sure, there are still things about him that you wish he’d work on. He’s still not the best person in the world. He could still be a bit impulsive with you and can sometimes be irrational in your eyes and definitely needs work on dealing with his emotions. But he’s trying. That always counts for something.

“We do,” he nods.

“Your father believes in you. Hoseok believes in you, so does Yoongi.” Holding his gaze, you add, “so do I. So trust in yourself. If you can’t do it for you, you can do it for us.”

“Is giving pep talks part of the job description?”

“It should,” you giggle. “But I’ve given several of them to Mr. Jung. I’ve learned that during stressful moments or just when we’re a little overwhelmed, it makes a difference to hear the things we already know from someone else.”

“I’m a little stubborn, but I hope you continue doing that for me. For as long as you think I deserve it.”

Jungkook doesn’t know where the honesty and vulnerability are coming from. But he’s found that with you, it’s natural - difficult because they’re things he rarely is around other people, but natural. He doesn’t want to question it anymore for fear of learning what else is instinctive for him when it comes to you. But with the way his insides melt with how you sweetly and assuringly smile at him, he realizes that his defenses against you are not that strong to begin with.

“Well, we don’t have time to pass by a cafe for a nice breakfast so I asked Mr. Ri to get some instead,” you announce, changing the subject now.

You walk towards the dining room where he follows, and you present a spread of pastries, walnut tarts, and sausage rolls alongside a large cup of coffee.

“I don’t really eat before a big meeting,” he says, frowning a little. “I’m sure Lucas told you that.”

“He did, but I’m a little stubborn, too,” you counter. “Breakfast is important before a big meeting, Mr. Jeon. It’ll help you focus, even if that’s just one tart or half a danish or a quarter of a roll. Eating will improve your energy levels and lift your mood. It might help ease your nerves somehow.”

“Fine, but I’ll just have half a roll.”

“No worries. You can always eat some more throughout the day,” you say.

Jungkook ends up finishing the entire roll and a walnut tart, while you finish a danish and settle for tea. You pack up what’s left, and he instructs you to give the rest to the team.

The car ride is quiet, save for the gentle sound of his pencil gliding through the pages of his leather notebook. He seems to be channeling his energy in a way that allows him to be calm, you think, and that’s a good thing.

You arrive at the building and Jungkook goes straight to his office while you excuse yourself to go to the conference room to help the other assistants prepare it. You don’t see Jungkook until an hour later when he enters, and you lead him to his seat then serve his coffee afterwards. It gets busy quickly as the Board members arrive, and you help in ushering them to their seats and catering to their needs. Before you know it, the assistants are heading out, leaving them and the executives to discuss confidential matters that none of you are required to know.

It’s another two hours before the presentations start, but Jungkook won’t go until after lunch. So you settle in your desk and work on various things, unable to fully focus because your mind constantly goes to him.

This is normal, you convince yourself; you had the same nervous energy for Hoseok the first time he did this. But then again, it was your first time, too. Perhaps it’s knowing how much it means to Jungkook and his own worries that makes you feel uneasy.

You understand the feeling of wanting to prove oneself, and not always being able to fully express that desire to others. He’s been honest with you recently, and sometimes it can feel quite isolating when no one is there to share the burden, which is why you’ve been trying to cheer him up and encourage him, in hopes that he’ll feel supported, that whatever happens today, he knows he has you on his side.

You proceed to the function hall for the catered lunch where you meet Jungkook. He shares the table with Hoseok and Bitna, as well as Ji-woo and her assistant, and you engage in conversation with them like old times.

Jungkook watches you speak to his cousins casually but respectfully, and he doesn’t miss the inside jokes and personal details that you all share. You still look a little reserved, but there’s this comfort in the way you express yourself around people who trust and care for and respect you.

He’s always known Hoseok and Ji-woo to be great with the employees, and a part of Jungkook envies that they’re able to just share parts of themselves with others, that they’re able to expend their time and energy being around them, something that’s always been difficult for him. He likes his privacy, likes his own space; he revels in the silence to battle the noise in his head. He’s protective of his thoughts and his feelings; he’s particular with who uses his time and energy on; he keeps his distance because it’s always easier - to not be involved, to not be invested, to not be known at all rather than be judged because of what people know.

He also thinks it’s quite isolating. Outside of his family - whom he keeps his distance from as well - the only person who knows him enough is Lucas, but it’s as shallow as just knowing his preferences and his technical opinion on things, not his dreams or fears or everyday thoughts and emotions.

Jungkook isn’t someone that people go to for advice or for encouraging words; he’s not someone that people ask about how he’s doing; he’s not a person that others seek for comfort or warmth. He’s just a man who does his work, that people serve, that people want approval from for their own gains. He’s not someone they’d go through lengths for. He just takes up space that others orbit around but he’s not the center of their world; he isn’t anybody’s.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Jeon?” You disrupt his thoughts. “Is there anything you want?”

“Chocolate milk,” he says too quickly. “Uh, only if there is.”

“Hot?”

“Yes.”

You call the server and ask if they have any, but the man says they don’t, so you decide to head to one of the stalls at the food hall downstairs.

“You don’t have to,” Jungkook says, pulling your wrist in reflex as you stand up.

You’re caught off guard and so is he, and he immediately lets go and apologizes for it. The guilt in his eyes is similar to the one you saw at the restaurant when you’d admitted that he made you feel uncomfortable, and something about it makes you feel moved.

“I mean, uh, it’s okay. It’s not urgent,” he adds, looking away.

“If it’ll help, then I should get it for you, Mr. Jeon,” you insist. “It won’t take long. I’ll be back before lunch ends.”

You don’t wait for a response and head out, leaving Jungkook with curious looks from his cousins.

“So, I see you’ve warmed up to her already,” Ji-woo hums, smiling.

“You could say that,” Jungkook shrugs, acting nonchalant.

“Well, it’s about time you did,” Ji-woo shakes her head. “She works incredibly hard and she’s very reliable.” At the younger man’s nod in agreement, she adds, “you just had to give her a chance. There’s a reason why uncle and Hoseok wanted her around for you.”

“I guess,” Jungkook hums. “She’s… she’s a good person. I don’t really know if I deserve that but she is to me. She’s required to be, I suppose.”

“Or she sees you as a human being who needs a bit of warmth and joy in his life,” Ji-woo suggests. “Kindness goes a long way, you know? She’s said before that there are people who have extended it to her and maybe she’s just doing that, too.”

“Or maybe she sees something in you,” Hoseok says now.

“Like what?” Jungkook scoffs, knowing himself that after he’s treated you, there’s no way you’d see something in him, whatever that is.

“Like an emptiness, or yearning. Something she feels, too,” Hoseok responds. “Maybe she’s unknowingly making you feel something that she wants to feel herself, you know? I had A-yeong, my sister, my parents, my friends... Seeing her now with you, she didn’t pay attention to my every need the way she’s doing now, and that’s not a criticism of her. Perhaps she just knew that I had other people to do that.”

“And I’m the lonely, single, friendless man that she’s stuck with,” Jungkook laughs dryly, although he’s not offended. Deep down, he knows it’s true.

“Sort of,” Hoseok chuckles. “But what I really mean is that she knows what it’s like to not have someone to look after her like that. You may think it’s just her job but I think it’s her not wanting you to feel like there’s no one there for you. Maybe if you see it that way, you wouldn’t think you don’t deserve it. Then you can accept it and maybe you can do the same.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jungkook counters, given that keeping his distance is exactly what he plans to do because any closer would just lead him down a path that he won’t be able to escape from.

“It’s not that deep,” Ji-woo says. “I think what my brother is saying is that it’s okay to be friends, you know? Or just allow her to be nice to you and then return the favor. It’s a much better dynamic. I mean, I’m sure he’s told you but things are just gonna be more challenging down the road, once you’re past the adjusting phase. You’ll need her like you’ve never needed anyone before. I do mean that professionally, but that also requires a kind of relationship where you know and trust and respect each other. It goes both ways.”

Jungkook takes in his cousins’ words, knowing that they speak from experience, and they’ve been doing this longer than he has. He already knows he needs you. That itself terrifies him. He also knows he has to rely on you, and maybe that entails allowing you to care for him in ways that no one - not since Chaerin, at least - has ever done before. That means letting you come close, allowing you to know him, letting you be there for him. Doing the same for you isn’t a question of whether he wants to or not - he’ll probably be denying it to his grave, but it’s about whether he can remain within the boundaries he set for himself, knowing already how you affect him without even doing much.

The thought gives Jungkook a headache, but it’s not something he can give attention to right now. He’s got a presentation to do in less than an hour. He’ll be scrutinized and questioned and probably judged and then he realizes it again - he needs you through all that. He already knows you’ll be encouraging and supportive; you’ve shown that in the past week especially, and he’s appreciated and hated every single moment of it.

The hurried footsteps signal that you’re back, and you take your seat next to him.

You’re panting as you place the cup on the table. “Here you go, Mr. Jeon. I’m not sure if it’s as milky as you want it but the really good cafe downstairs said it should be good. Oh and uh, wrap your hands around it,” you instruct, earning you a curious look. “Your hands are very cold.”

Jungkook does as you say, feeling the warmth of the drink through his skin, even more when he takes a sip and finds that it tastes just as he wanted.

“This is good. Thank you,” he utters, not wanting to meet your eyes.

You exhale a sigh of relief. You know how he has particular tastes and you just went with a hot chocolate even if he specifically said he wanted chocolate milk. There’s a brand he likes from Lucas’ list and you didn’t have time to actually get it or even store the office pantry with it - which you realize now you should do, and you make a mental note of doing an inventory so you could request for more of the things he likes later on.

“You’re welcome,” you reply. “I… I hope it helps for the presentation. Or the nerves. Or just in general.”

“It has,” he confirms, humming with every sip.

Not long after, everyone is instructed to head back to the conference room so the meeting can resume. You take your seat with the other assistants at the side after you’ve ensured that the presentation is ready while Jungkook heads to the front. You watch him go through his notes a final time, and when he sets them aside and looks up, his eyes find yours.

They’re still tainted with worry, you can tell even from several feet away. So you give him a comforting smile, knowing it’s what he needs. You gently nod and give him a double thumbs up as if to say that he can do it, and he nods back, as if to say that he’ll do his best.

And that’s exactly what he does.

The presentation goes for a quarter of an hour, and while he does give a good rundown of the achievements of the past three months, it’s his pitch of the Arts Center that really makes him shine. The visuals are good to begin with. He did those blueprints himself and the designs give life to his vision, but he explains every aspect of the project with just enough detail to enable the audience to imagine how it looks and what it makes them feel. He took into consideration earlier worries about profits and brand reputation, as well as anticipated questions and points of attack, so he goes ahead and addresses them to the point that he can’t be scrutinized for anything that’s lacking. He keeps in mind the qualities of each Board member, so he makes eye contact if he needs to and acknowledges side comments and builds on them.

He’s definitely added more - and improved - since that first runthrough you did with him, and he looks very confident and very respectable. You can tell that he values not just profits but art itself - its creation, its appreciation, and the various ways it can be experienced. As someone who yearns for that kind of passion for something, seeing him like this is quite moving.

It doesn’t help that he looks as good as he does standing up there, and it’s a thought you let yourself have before dispelling it quickly.

He gets approving nods from most of the Board members. The rest still look a bit doubtful, but you suppose they wouldn’t directly criticize Jungkook and his plans in front of everyone after a presentation like that. You also take a peak at CEO Jeon who’s unable to hide how proud he is of his son. Hoseok and Ji-woo exchange smiles as well. But Jungkook remains focused, ready to answer any questions or comments from the Board.

Mr. Mun is the first to commend him and doesn’t ask much. Mr. Im surprisingly praises Jungkook after admitting his reservations, and Mr. Saito, as you expected, asks clarificatory questions that just builds on what was earlier presented. Jungkook’s readiness and creativity are highlighted as well, and you can tell that the older man is extremely excited for this project.

The hour is up before you know it, with only minimal questions and a few comments from the attendees. Ji-woo and Hoseok raise points to help with marketing and earning profit, and you take note of all those for discussion and debriefing next week.

Jungkook thanks everyone before returning to his seat, and you see the breath he lets out after, seemingly glad that that’s at least over. You catch his attention again, and you can’t help your smile. He acknowledges you with a nod, and he turns his focus towards Hoseok as the next presenter. The afternoon goes by like this, with Ji-woo going last and CEO Jeon closing out the meeting.

There’s some time before the fellowship dinner, which is spent with side conversations and check-ins. Mr. Saito goes to Jungkook right away and you see the latter’s face light up a little, although you don’t miss the sniffing and the throat clearing that he does. You think that his cold hands earlier weren’t due to his nervousness; perhaps the last month has finally caught up to him because you truly believe that this man does not rest.

You head out to return to your desk, knowing you’ve got several things to do before the dinner that assistants are invited to. You fly through your notes from earlier and some administrative tasks before heading back to the event hall where you find Jungkook talking to Mrs. Seo and Mr. Ong this time, two people who’d most likely be critical of him so you’re glad that he’s at least forging some relations, if their animated way of speaking is any indication.

You see him excuse himself to head to the washroom, and you take this time to order a cup of ginseng tea for him. It arrives just as he returns to his seat, and when it registers why you’d ordered it, he nods and mumbles his thanks.

“If I may, perhaps you shouldn’t stay long, Mr. Jeon,” you suggest. “It’s been a tiring week and you need to rest.”

Jungkook hates being told what to do, but he’s also never had someone tell him to rest because he needs it, much less even know that he’s not feeling alright.

“I need to engage with the Board,” he reasons. “I’m sure that’s what father would like. I can rest during the weekend.”

“Okay, sir,” you sigh, knowing he’s also right. Perhaps he’s accepted that this is a critical part of his new role as Vice President. “Just let me know if there’s anything more that I can help you with.”

“I will.”

You sit at the table where the other assistants are, engaging in hushed conversations as you talk about the Board members and how tired you all are. It’s nice being around them, as you all share the experience of stress and isolation, of knowing too much sometimes, of security and stagnancy. They know what you’re going through, partially at least - unlike you, they have people to go home to and proper hobbies that excite them. They have loved ones close by and things they look forward to during the weekends. So while they do make you feel understood, you also can’t help but be a bit jealous.

Your thoughts are suspended when Bitna offers to take you home. It’s well past 9 and you’re not keen on staying longer to drink with the rest of the big bosses here. You glance at Jungkook who has a wine in hand, clearly trying his best to keep up with the conversations he’s a part of. He looks incredibly tired - much more than usual - and you feel bad that this isn’t something you can help him with.

You take Bitna’s offer and you both head to your respective bosses to bid your goodbyes. Jungkook nods and mentions his meeting with the artist last night that he says he’ll discuss with you on Monday. There’s more you want to say, but you worry he’ll think you’re nagging about his health - which, you remind yourself, is also part of your job - and you don’t want to end the week on a sour note.

Jungkook watches you leave the event hall and he immediately feels your absence. Even when you spent much of your time apart, he could feel you there, partly because of the ginseng tea that you ordered for him twice at your insistence and partly because the knowledge that you’re around is enough. And now you aren’t, and he suddenly can’t stand any more of the socializing he has to do.

But he powers through it for another hour. When he bids his father goodbye, the older man commends him for his presentation earlier and the way he handled himself throughout the fellowship dinner. It’s assuring, but he knows there’s so much more work to be done so he doesn’t revel in it any longer than a few seconds.

The drive home is quiet. His soft groans as he massages his temples are the only sounds in the car. When he arrives at his empty penthouse, he grabs a bottle of whiskey from the counter and sits on the couch - a glass in hand, necktie and buttons undone, feet on the coffee table, and head rolled back as he reminds himself that he survived the day, that he did a good job, and that he changed some of the Board members’ minds about him.

And much as he tries to keep away the image of you, he’s unable to - there you were in the room, on his side, cheering him on. He didn’t miss the satisfied smile on your face once he finished his presentation, nor your look of worry after the ginseng tea was placed on the table.

You’re just good at that - making him feel like someone looks out for him, that someone else minds that he succeeds, that someone cares that he’s not well and that he should rest.

The smile on his face fades once he’s reminded that you’re supposed to do all that, and that he isn’t anyone special, nor should he be. It’s the thought that keeps him behind the lines - you’re unattainable in so many ways, yet he’s also glad that you are. It’s easier to be mindful of his place like that; it’s easier to accept that you’re you and he’s him, and it’s easier to do his job when he knows you’re just doing yours.

At least, that’s what he hopes.

But when he gets a call from reception the next morning about a package that you dropped off, all that wishful thinking seems pointless. And as he stares at the bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him, all his thoughts from the night before come crashing down.

Why is everything so hard when it comes to you?

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worldsover · 13 days

Text

Professor Knows ft. Arin

(5.5k words)

You’re seated at the front of the lecture hall, and you’re not sure if you’re in class, or a movie theater with an actress playing a prank for some hidden camera, and here comes the host ready to pop out at any time; hold in your jaw, please. But no, that’s Professor Arin, and everyone here thinks it’s normal that her white pinstripe dress shirt and her gray skirt are both short enough to reveal so much skin that you’re already picturing her naked so that if you were to be saying a speech in front of a thousand people, that’s 1/1000th down to make the task easier.

That’s Professor Arin, teaching passionately, and you don’t give a damn about what you’re learning because this isn’t your campus, and you just wanted to get to graduation already—well, those are the excuses. You don’t give a damn because you’re drooling at the so-called professor dressed more like a slutty schoolgirl/pornstar emulation of one, or at least you have to hold back from drooling.

You are mesmerized by her perfect hourglass figure, and her heels—goodness, those heels. In her knife-thin heels, she’s rocking an entire lecture hall like she’s that one summer fling that got away, stabbing at hearts and bleeding them dry. How do your classmates do it? How can they concentrate with those hips swaying, and a pencil skirt so tight you can read a book on her ass? How can you focus when she bends over to pick up a dropped pen, and you’re one millimeter away from seeing the absolute territory? You’d call it collective self-control of an entirely different level.

It could be how friendly and bubbly she is. Overtly touchy with all her students, she treats everyone like longtime personal friends, casually grabbing arms and shoulders, patting backs and heads, and no one minds because why would they. The only one minding is you since she doesn't treat you the same way. You would often shift in your seat as the fabric of your pants becomes taut against your honesty whenever she catches your gaze.

And whenever she catches your gaze, for a beat, your heart stops. But then she smiles impassively and continues her lesson without any chalance. You exhale, relieved she didn’t read your mind.

That’s how it goes on for the entire semester: hell on earth, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Or so you believed. Arin, as it turns out, is omniscient or psychic or maybe just some hair-level more observant than an average student like you—she's the one at the front of the class after all. She knows everything she's doing to you. She must. You hope. Pray. Beg.

Arin calls you into her office one day. This is it. The rumors. She’s a total nympho, a freak, down for anyone half good-looking, and you’d say you’re not so bad yourself.

She's sitting down in her leather chair, her crossed legs revealing just a hint of lace-adorned thighs; you lose your cockiness the moment you're inside the room. You're captivated by the soft, warm lighting that illuminates Arin's flawless features. Her lips are a shade of red that begs to be tasted, and you wonder what those luscious curves must feel like against your own. You swallow a dry lump in your throat, mentally willing your erection to subside.

"Sit down," she purrs, her voice as sensual as silk against your overheated skin. Her eyes never leaving yours, she uncrosses her legs and recrosses them in a way that makes her skirt ride even higher. That's more of her thighs. Less of your sanity.

Your fingers clench into fists at your sides and then you take a seat in the chair across from her, acutely aware of the space between you.

"So, Mr. Lee," she begins, raking her eyes over you, "I've called you here today because I've noticed something... interesting about you." Her voice trails off, and she leans forward, resting her elbows on the table separating you. You swallow hard, fearing and praying for what she might say next.

"Interesting?" you manage to croak out, cursing yourself for sounding like a lovesick puppy. Arin has reduced you to a puddle of hormones with a single look.

"I’ve noticed your… attention in class," she says, removing her glasses, and you're done for. "I want to make sure all my students are participating, fully engaged."

"I am, Professor," you whine.

"Just call me Arin," she says.

You blush. "Arin, of course."

Space becomes even more of an attention hog; the room feels like it shrunk a thousand times its size now, every one of your heartbeats echoing off the four walls, the bookshelves as your eyes follow her fingers, which now travel up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher. Your breath catches in your throat as she uncrosses her legs, revealing just so the white fabric of her panties. Arousal hits you like a ton of bricks, your cock throbbing in your pants. You swallow hard, trying to moisten your mouth as she gets up from her chair and sits on her desk instead.

Then, she touches you for the first time, like she's your classroom crush, finally noticing your feelings, and you can believe that easily, the woman at most a few years your senior. It's a simple touch, a brush of her index along the back of your hand and wrist, yet it's enough to spike the little hairs onto ends like you're touching a Van de Graaff generator. The moment she lets go: there's the blue-white snappy little spark. At this heightened state of awareness, your eyes are flies or bumblebees or hummingbirds, your heart the latter's. You can't make sense of anything else but her.

"I think we both know why I called you in here, don’t we?" she asks, her voice husky.

Now, it's your turn to speak up. Choose your next move wisely.

You say, slowly, "I need to… learn. My lesson."

Arin nods, hops off the edge of the desk. Her smile turns from sultry to goofy. (How’d she do that?) "Exactly!" She pushes a couple of papers in front of you. "Practice these cast studies, I’ll have you read them for the class next lecture."

You were about to get hit by a truck, didn’t get hit by a truck, and felt disappointed that you didn’t get hit by a truck. You take the papers, nod, and leave with your head down. She waves bye when you look back.

Fast forward to the next lecture. You’re a hot mess. You didn’t sleep, rehearsed those damn lines a hundred times as if you were some damn actor. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can’t for the life of you stop staring at her high heels and gym-toned midriff, showcasing themselves like they were on display.

Your turn comes around, and Arin nods at you to read aloud. You take a deep breath, step forward, and start reading. Your voice is shaky at first but soon, you find your rhythm. Her encouraging looks don’t help, her leg bouncing up and down playfully. Occasionally she’d take her glasses off, chew on the end of them...

Your mind starts to wander into dirty places you'd rather not mention here, but suffice to say, your pants are a little too tight now. It has you stumbling over words when you thought you had it. You force yourself to focus on the text in front of you, but it’s near impossible when she leans in and whispers in your ear.

"Mmm. Getting warmer," she says.

Your voice cracks a little as you try to regain control of your senses but it was no use; you were all hers now. Arin has successfully reduced you to putty in her hands with just one sexy whisper-purr hybrid thing she did so well.

You finish the rest of the reading, and when you look up, you see her staring at you, eyes hooded. It means nothing; you’ve learned this quickly. There’s no truck to be hit by, just the ghost of a promise of one.

You’re in the club later that night, and your balls are ocean/sky/blue-raspberry blue. You down your fourth shot of vodka, determined to forget about it all. There are a lot of girls here. Your friends are going for it. Good for them. They’re all from your old campus, so they would have never met Arin. That adds up.

"You okay, man?" Dongwoo asks, patting you on the back.

You down another shot. "Fine, just fine," you slur.

"She was something, wasn’t she?" he asks, grinning like an idiot. You can only assume he was talking about some girl you must’ve hit on.

"Arin?"

The world tilts on its axis as Dongwoo whips his head around so fast you fear for his neck health. "How do..."

"Long story." You wave him off and order another round, beer this time. "Tell me more."

Dongwoo leans in and starts spilling, but all you can think about is the way Arin looked at you today in class. And how her voice curled itself around your cock like a python around a deer and squeezed just as tightly.

You think about it so much that when you get back to your dorm on campus, stumbling around, world spinning, you make your way to that very lecture hall.

And then you sober up, real fast.

Moans fill the large room. Thick, throaty, oh-god-yes moans.

"Fuck," you gasp, covering your mouth as you peek through a small crack in the door. "She’s..."

Arin, your perfect goddess of a professor, is on the floor, skirt hiked up, glasses askew, as her fingers work in and out like engine pistons.

Your heart pounds as you watch Arin pleasure herself on the lecture hall floor, her soft moans filling the room. She arches her back, her free hand groping her breasts through her silk blouse as her fingers delve deeper. You can't tear your eyes away from the erotic display, mesmerized by the way her body writhes with each thrust of her fingers.

A quiet whimper escapes your lips, and Arin's eyes suddenly lock onto yours through the cracked door. At first, she tenses up, but then, her face softens, and she’s smiling. Then she’s frowning and shaking her head. You know this, understand this, are running through the whole gamut of emotions yourself. You’ve heard the rumors are true, to an extent. She has indeed slept with every professor, male and female, that she’s deemed decent enough. Never crossed a line with a student.

You're frozen in place, unable to move as Arin saunters over to the door, her fingers still wet with her juices. She smells like sex and orchids, two of your favorite things now that you think about it. She closes the door behind you, then laughs at you.

"You smell like booze," she says. She’s wearing that same outfit, the skirt so short you’re ready to go all-in on temperance, whip the ruler out, have her punished for wearing something so scandalous if whatever lord above smite her now, you don’t blame His lightning. Her thighs are a juicy steak—the juice is a trail of something clear.

You look down. "Y-you… you smell like…"

Arin doesn’t know what to do with her hands like how you don’t know what to do with your hands. She also lowers her head. "Fuck. I really, really shouldn’t do this."

Two breaths, heaving, yours and hers.

"You’re right. I’m sorry, Prof—"

She presses her index finger against your lips, and you get a close whiff of her taste. "Why are you apologizing? It’s my fault. And… Arin."

"Can I call you Noona?"

Arin giggles. "Sure."

"Noona," you mumble, your heart in your throat, "I shouldn’t have—"

"Then why are you still standing there? If you’re going to apologize, at least do it right."

"A-apologize?"

Arin rolls her eyes and pulls you toward the seating. When she sits down, your spot, front of the class, she brings you to the floor, where you can see her skirt hiked up even higher. "I was so close, but fine. Apologize for interrupting me by…" She inclines her head toward her wet panties. "You know what to do, right?"

You never thought you’d be kneeling where you pay halfhearted attention to useless studies, but sure, this is church now. Pray. Pray at the altar of the space between Arin’s thighs which heaven envies for lack of same glory, or the idyll garden where the cuff of her socks squeezes the ample flesh. You hesitate, taking in her scent. It’s so much stronger here. So much more Arin.

"Hurry up. Don’t make me regret this." Her fingers in your hair—oh, you won't make her regret this, no, no. You press your lips to her thighs, kissing your way up her inner thighs with a fervor that would make the most devout jealous as you lick-suck-peck at the bare skin and taste the sweat on your tongue, delicious and tangy and a hint of that musky flavor. Oh, she’s been dripping for a while.

Your cock reacts, throbbing in your pants like you haven't had a single drink tonight, as you finally reach the holy of holies.

Arin’s thigh-high clad legs are wrapped around your head, depriving you of basic breath, but you don't care. This is the rapture, and you’d die for her right now and be satisfied. You slide your tongue between her folds, lapping at the nectar she so generously shares as her moans spur you onward. You can hear her panting above you, feel her rocking into your mouth in time with your ministrations. She tastes better than any woman you've ever been with, salty like the sea and as sweet as honey.

"Fuck," she gasps, and you faithfully redouble your efforts. Her grip tightens on your hair as she grinds against your face, and it’s a miracle you don’t pass out from oxygen deprivation or an erection that won't quit. "Yess," Arin hisses, her heels digging into the ground.

"Fuck!" Her juices flood your mouth in a tidal wave of orgasmic release as you swallow every drop like a good little student. She squeezes your face tightly between her thighs, forcing every last drop out of her before finally letting go with a shudder.

"Fuck…" she breathes out, combing her fingers through your hair. "That was unexpected."

Arin blushes, and you smile into her crotch. Reluctantly, you pull away, then return to your seat as Arin adjusts her skirt and glasses, straightening her hair. As you lean back on your heels, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, proud and embarrassed by your performance."Did I do good, Noona?"

Arin laughs out a low and throaty sound. "Oh, you did more than good. But I think it's my turn to apologize now."

"Why?" you ask.

She smiles slyly, reaching down to grab your hand and pull you to your feet. "Because I've been teasing you all night." Arin leans in, her warm breath dancing over your ear. "And I’m not one to leave a task half-finished."

Led by the hand, you follow her into her office, leaving the empty classroom behind. The door closes with a resounding click, sealing you both inside. So this is where the real lesson begins.

The office is a complete one-eighty from the cold, sterile environment of her classroom. You didn’t realize it before, too focused on her to see anything else. Warm, rich colors greet your eyes, and the scent of vanilla and sandalwood fills the air. Arin's desk is a sea of piled-up papers and knick-knacks, but she clears a space for you as she pushes them aside.

"Sit," she commands, motioning to the plush leather chair in front of her desk at as she locks the door behind you with an audible click. The sound of the lock engaging sobers you up at once.

Arin, your professor, just had her way with your mouth and now you're about to... what? Your mind reels with possibilities as she saunters around the room, slackening her black tie and unbuttoning her blouse one button at a time. Each button revealed another inch of porcelain skin, bared for your hungry eyes only. Her dress shirt hangs loosely on her now, just like her tie, and now you can see how her lace panties match her bra. You wonder if this was all planned or a serendipitous coincidence. Arin shimmies out of her panties, then turns around, which lifts her skirt just enough to show off her ass. Arin’s ass is a sort of cryptozoological being that earns hushed whispers at the end of lectures—did you catch the crease of her cheeks when jumped to pull down the blackboard, or did you see how it jiggled when she jumped to pull the blackboard down? But here, in the bare flesh, with its goosebumps and every trajectory, a hushed whisper is too quiet for Loch Ness or Bigfoot’s more famed sight. Her ass makes your mouth water. It makes the desert water. The sun waters. If there were a shape to describe it… yet circle, then perfect, then slappable each inch ever closer to an apt description as apt as the appleness of oranges—now there’s another inch closer: Arin’s ass is juicy. Yet, you can’t even render anything above mute: porcelain skin glowing in the dim light and that pussy... that enticing wetness between her legs, glistening with arousal.

"You must be hard," she says, academic, as though stating fact off a lecture slide or textbook.

You might not graduate with any particular honors on your diploma. Where is honor or prestige and how could it be written down: you have your professor on her knees under her desk, grasping tight on your cock; this can't go in the transcript. (Magna cum loudly—that’s how. If it were not written, lest the porn titlers monopolize this for themselves.)

"You don't know the half of it," you say, and she smirks because she knows more than you, with the proof in her fingers, uncoiling you free.

Digits that hold red pens and chalk and sheaves of paper are now working their magic on your straining erection, already at full mast, but here the flag might fly further such that flagging no longer can belong to that cloth the flaps in the wind because it would not be so accurate a description. Arin watches you squirm, her eyes glinting with mischief and something else you can't quite place. Pride, maybe? As if she's always known this day would come and has been waiting for it.

You're so hard her grip doesn't even feel particularly tight, but when she looks up at you through those glasses, that impassive facade in tatters? That is the tightest leash your heart has ever worn. Her lips are a soft pink, colors you might see on her dress on occasion, and she parts them—the colors you see are a hot white flash, how did she get you down so quickly, and good lord if he were good you’d need his help to last. There is no way she’s this skilled at this unless she’s been practicing like it’s a side job. Her head bobs up and down, each movement accompanied by a moan that vibrates along your cock. She looks up at you through her glasses, more spit on them now, impassive as a hurricane. You make eye contact; it’s all you can do to avoid cumming right then and there, however paradoxical since her glare is saying all you need to hear. Don’t cum. Don’t cum or I fail you. Don’t cum or you’re punished—well, that doesn’t sound so bad.

Releasing and letting out a sharp gasp, Arin lets your erection flop into your stomach, spit-messy and begging. "Good boy. You pass."

As all she speaks, this too is a truth: you pass—into the next life—no time to process how she rips open a packet of latex with her teeth, places it into your length with her mouth, pushes you down onto the desk, one knee on either side of your thighs as she hovers over you.

"I’ve wanted this," she says, grinding against your tip, "since the first day you walked into my class."

"Oh, really, professor?" you manage to croak out, and damn it all if she doesn’t laugh, sexy and low in her throat.

"Don’t call me that right now." Arin sounds so stern saying that, stern like you've never heard her before. Then, in a smooth motion, she sinks herself down, takes all of you in one go, and moans out "fuck me" not nearly so severe. Her inner heat grips you more than the condom could hope, and her soft groans and profanity drain the office of its dry air as if it were never there. Well, the draining is less the sound, and the dry less the extant, both because of what surrounds your cock.

You hold on for dear life as Arin rides you like she's trying to break something, but with no handles to save you, nor any mercy in her movements—up, down, side to side, her black tie and open shirt flapping about—you can only grip her hips and hope to keep up. It’s nothing new for how new it is. This is just like how she treats you, how she treats the class. Just like the rumors. She’s in charge, knows what she’s doing when she has you under her—the metaphorical thumb becomes the literal body; the pretense becomes past tense—and fuck, her body.

The sounds of slapping aren’t your work (yet); that’s her thick thighs and ass smacking against your crotch, hard enough to make her pleated skirt fly wildly. Then, her adorable tits, clad in that black lace, call out to you, have you leaning your head forward in some desperate maneuver to capture them in your mouth.

"Touch me." Arin guides your hand to where she's dripping wet, where her clit throbs impatiently. She arches her back at the simplest circle your fingers can manage, and you’re feeling more at home here, less regret. You’re also palming at her breasts over cloth, and she abates her rhythm to unclasp her bra, letting you have a taste of her nipples, firm and delicious in your gentle teeth and lips. That’s another handle, her breasts a needy handful to be kneaded.

You don’t have the right to command your professor, nor the will. The closest thing to a request is how you grab her loose tie, earning a pleasured squeal, and a harder ride. Hard enough her glasses might fall off. As always, she knows you and your wishes, no need for words: nails dig into your thighs, fingers run through your hair, hands explore all over your body. The touch sends you way too close to tripping off a cliff in a car crash that ends in explosion that might fill latex to its brink, so you do end up with a command, albeit expressed physically as you grab her waist to peel her off you.

When she pouts, she truly looks more like the schoolgirl in your fantasies than the professor who has your graduation at ransom. And how is it that you're the one with any sort of leverage in this situation? Maybe you can tell by her eyelids, falling close, mouth, falling open. Whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it right. You flip her over onto her stomach, pressing her into the cool, smooth surface of her desk with a resounding thud. She whimpers, arching her back and presenting her still-slick pussy to you like an offering. But instead of sliding your cock inside right away, a recipe for disaster and early nights, something else calls out to you. Her asshole, like a forbidden fruit, beckons you to your knees, and you spread her cheeks apart, flipping her skirt up and bringing her tight entrance into full view of your face.

You start with a kiss on the pale skin. "May I? Noona?"

She giggles, no semblance of a mind in the airy noise. "Please."

Continuing with more pecks, tender and loving on her beautiful behind, some kisses along her thighs where they’re squished by thigh-highs, then you get closer and closer until your mouth is around her asshole. While you undertook this sabbatical to let your furious erection and imminent orgasm simmer down, the first taste of your tongue inside of her ass does no favors for your arousal. Tangier, saltier, and hotter than you could have imagined, Arin's tightness envelopes your tongue in a way that makes you groan, the vibration resonating through her. Her fingers grab at the edge of the desk as she moans out your name, or maybe it's "fuck" and "yes," but either way, you know you've struck gold.

You lace your fingers through her folds while you deepen your one-sided French kiss, tonguing her anal passage.

"Oh, god. Yes, right there!" she squeals between pants, rocking her hips back and forth.

As much as you'd love to continue this exquisite torment, there are other needs to attend to. Withdrawing your tongue from her ass, you see a strand of her pussy juice connecting her thigh gap. You stand up, lining up your latex-covered length with her cunt. "Ready for me, Noona?" you ask, though you already have the slick cheat sheet answer on your fingers.

As you press your hardened cock against the velvet folds of her intimacy, you position yourself to plunge into her waiting warmth. However, instead of granting that eager penetration, you ruthlessly tease her entry with the rugged tip before pulling away prematurely. As though left bereft in a hollowness only your presence could fill, she instinctively chases after your ghostly retreat. She gasps out impatient words underscored by carnal desperation, "Don’t tease me. Fuck me already!"

The sharp crack of your palm on her round ass cheek echoes in the small office. A blossom of pink blooms on her fair skin.

Bunching her cheeks apart with strong fingers, you terminate all playful actions as snug heat engulfs your cock.

Each rhythmic thrust into Arin is executed with a savage fervor that serves to claim dominion over every inch of her, to take all semblance of control. Take everything she knows and transform that knowledge into this snapshot crackling sensation that’s reducing her to sobs and groans. Fuck the unspoken implications and the quiet tension built up throughout the school year. You thrust into her like loud is the only path forward, and this path of volume is where Arin follows you. A single tug on her makeshift ponytail prompts her grip at the edge of her desk, and whimpers turn to screams, screams that might hazardously fill the hallways. When she glances over her shoulder, you can see her whole face pleasure-wracked. It takes one or two more plunges for her to surrender completely, tight contractions traveling rhythmically over your engorged cock. Trembling through spasming ecstasy, her whole body reacts, but especially her substantial thighs. Despite how tight she gets, you don’t stop pumping until she’s flowed through her entire orgasm.

After you pull out into much cooler air (the condom covered in her nectar), Arin recovers from climax with a surprising quickness, bewildered half-laughs at her own highs. "You might be my favorite student now."

Even though she says it playfully, you still take it to heart, feeling a delighted warmth in your chest. So you thank her with all sincerity.

Rising to her feet, she takes hold of your erection with a lip-bite. She leads you cockwise toward her window, looking back at you through her glasses with a smirk that steals air. One moment she looks cute, the next she’s a succubus, a natural-born seductress.

Once Arin turns around, her palms seize contact with the cool glass window, presenting herself to you for another round. As though framed by the night herself, Arin couldn't be more exposed if she tried. Although it's late at night, the possibility of someone catching sight of Professor Arin, compromised and partially clothed, lingers in your mind. These moments are when and where and how rumors are born. But you refuse to let that hold you back.

Once again, you piston into Arin, fucking her standing. The darkness turns the window into a mirror, reflecting Arin's expressions of pure bliss. Watch the tantalizing bounce of her breasts in her open shirt, the glistening beads of sweat navigating downward across her lithe abdomen, how she’s forced onto tiptoes to thrust right back into you—it’s sensory overload.

You grab each of her wrists and pull them back, getting all the leverage you can to fuck her like a ragdoll manufactured for taking all the punishment you can give, skewering her body to the windowpane with your cock. Her face and glasses push against the window with each firm thrust, and how she’s given into you, it’s time to steer off the edge.

"Gonna fucking cum," you tell her, your hips working at a fiery pace, your pulsating cock gripped over and over by her insatiable pussy.

"Yes! Yes!" At this moment, there is no professor and student, only two creatures consumed by instinct. She is nothing more than a debauched schoolgirl in her uniform (only halfway so), eagerly taking everything you give her. And you give it to her.

Withdrawing just long enough to strip off the barrier between you both, you offer yourself hand-guided satisfaction, as you reward Arin with sticky shots of cum onto her lower back, each dimple and dip soaked by pools of your load. Some of it gets onto her cropped

The two of you laugh as you both stumble back into her desk. She gets tissues and hands them to you, so you clean the evidence.

Steering yourself onto the creaking chair leather, you’re soon joined in cozy proximity by Arin who nestles comfortably into your lap, her head into your neck’s crook.

"So does that mean I get free grades, Noona?"

She slaps your arm—and that familiarity is enough to picture domestic life with her as your partner, the sort of casual delusion she engenders. "Don't even joke about that!" Arin giggles, pretty and unabashed like everything else about her.

You scoff. "That's where you draw the line?"

Displaying rare seriousness, she narrows the gap between familiar lips so close it feels like sharing a breath. "You still smell like soju, you know." Her hand moves up to your hair, taking stock of you in your ruin and bliss. "God, you're so cute. I shouldn't be doing this."

"Well, you did," you point out.

She nods, and nods, and laughs, until nothing separates lips anymore, sealing the context between professor and student, which somehow fits perfectly... like missing puzzle pieces that finally found each other, or a story that’s found its climax in this moment. The intimate tangle in her office chair goes from tongues to jaws to lower and intimate. Arin kisses the muscles of your chest, and you kiss the valley of her breasts.

"Why do you wear stuff like this?" you ask as you hold open her cropped shirt.

"Because I can," she says with all earnestness, and you believe her; it’s just as you figured.

Looking down at her thigh-highs, you tell her, "You know you look like an amateur camgirl."

"Ooh, now that’s an idea." Arin goes for your throat in literal and other ways.

As you make out with the straddling Arin, you return the favor with her own hickey, which you notice at class the next morning. You're proud of the little purple thing there on her skin, the opposite of proud of the whispers they cause. But like all things Professor Arin, these pass. And like all things Professor Arin, she winks, and you too pass.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

#oh my girl smut #kpop smut #male reader #reader insert

1K notes · View notes

soobnny · 10 months

Text

classmate au | lee heeseung

❝ hey, i’ll go ahead. i have to walk (name) home. ❞

look…. i know this says classmate au

BUT but but but hear me out

he’s your senior

maybe a year or two years older

AND he’s your neighbor, next door neighbor lee heeseung

do you see where i’m going with this

he walks you home to school every morning and every after class

your parents r also pretty close so you’re always hanging by each other’s house

THO he’s more of like an unattainable senior so handsome 😞😞 yall dont talk much when you’re having that little family get together

he tries talking to u tho … but you run away pretty fast

it’s always that awkward sitting beside each other while your parents talk to each other

…. awkward eye contact

SO YEAH he walks you to school every morning and after class by your mom’s request

heeseung always walks by the side of the road like the gentleman he is

will pull you by the waist when you attempt to even walk on that side so he can switch you two

and always waits for you outside your class or by the student council office to walk you home

sometimes 💔💔💔💔 during basketball practice … he does that thing where he goes home ahead so he can walk u home

the moment you walk into the basketball gym, wide eyes searching for heeseung ?!

he’s already dismissing himself .. saying goodbye to his friends and the couch and slinging your bag on his shoulder

you think he only views you as a little sister this SUCKS !!!!!

ah you are so wrong.

oh also lee heeseung student athlete and face of the school, just thought i’d mention

sometimes, he even appears in your classes to assist the teacher like what CAN’T he do

the teacher encounters some tech difficulties with the powerpoint???

“hey (name), can you call heeseung?”

you quietly slip out of the classroom and hurry to his

(he gave you his class schedule in case you ever needed anything… so you know where to find him…)

“excuse me, mr. hwang is looking for heeseung?” you’d tell the teacher

and their whole class would burst into SCREAMS and teasing as heeseung is pushed towards the door

“hey, you okay? how was your day?” he’d always catch up with you in that small time

dear god please have mercy.

he’d have a hand on the small of your waist to guide you along the hallways too

AND TUTORING

Lee Heeseung who is naturally good at everything is also smart

he tutors you at his house after class when you’re having a hard time

as a reward, sometimes, you guys would play video games

you ended up falling asleep at his house once and heeseung had to tell his mom to call yours so she wouldn’t worry

you wake up to blankets draped all over you and heeseung sleeping on the floor i’m so sad

karaoke is always fun in these family outings bc your family always makes you sing duets

atp you guys have every disney and broadway duets DOWN and memorized

though it does make you blush and all giggly when he makes intense eye contact while seeing to you

“now she’s here, shining in the starlight. now she’s here, suddenly i know. if she’s here, it’s crystal clear, i’m where i’m meant to go.”

he is a fantastic singer and he makes you forget to sing your parts sometimes

ALWAYS ENDS A SONG IN A HUG while your parents violently clap in the background

during the sports festival, the teachers ltrly let him join all the sports and he just accepts 😭😭

if he’s not playing, he’s facilitating

“do you have an event for this year’s sports festival?” he’d ask one night as he’s walking you home

“oh no. i’m just joining the cheer contest with sunoo on the first day.”

“do you think you could cheer for me?”

HE’S ASKING YOU TO CHEER FOR HIM

of course you say yes

and his eyes are on you in every sport he plays

basketball… volleyball… badminton… you name them all!

he’d look to you before serving the ball and point at you when he shoots a ball in bkb

heeseung would win every game for you

because the thrill in your smile is too wide to disappoint

and also because he has a big fat crush on you

goes to hug you after every game

“my good luck charm” as he liked to call you

BYEEEEEE bye leave me alone please

you’re HIS good luck charm

you pretend to be annoyed because he’s sweating so he teases you by hugging you even more

he lets you hold his spare shirt AND lets you wear his spare jersey ……

by the end of the week, he wins a shit ton of medals and a trophy for being the MVP

lets you wear some of his medals 😭😭 honestly maybe even all of them

would come to you after the awarding and take off his medals to put it around your neck too

OBLIGATORY SPORTS FESTIVAL PICTURE WITH YOUR CRUSH

you guys hold the trophy together … he has an arm around you … like he ltrly has the poses thought out already

asks you to be his girlfriend on the walk back home

handcrafted you a medal already in case you’ll say yes

engraved on it is “best girlfriend”

damn you’ve only been together like a few hours and he already awarded you best girlfriend

honestly congratulations

you bagged face of the school and student athlete senior lee heeseung

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! i just thought it looked rly cute and coherent. let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

3K notes · View notes

sunboki · 2 months

Text

— KEEP IT BUSINESS. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss? au (hehe), domestic/soft minho, fluff

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out, inexperienced kissing, annoying coworkers

WORD COUNT. 6.9k words

AUG'S NOTES. so glad to have finally completed this!! it’s been rotting in my drafts for weeks and i just had to write a happy ending for these two grandparents 🫶🏼

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

“Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

Minho : Okay, I’m leaving, follow me in thirty minutes

Glancing up, you watch your counterpart lift his brows your way and call out his departure, sifting through the doorway, cross body bag thumping against jeans.

Hyeongmi was downstairs, which, as awful as it sounded, was great not having to endure her nosiness.

This was how you stayed unbothered. He’d leave, and thirty minutes later you would too in order to (for now) avoid Mrs. Song (and Hyeongmi’s) pestering.

It couldn’t have taken the clock longer to reach 4:30PM. So by the time the beloved minute hand struck 4:29 you practically lurched from your seat, almost tasting sweet freedom before a face showed up right before you slipped through the exit.

Hyeongmi’s face.

What she’s talking about you can’t seem to understand, mind trained on escaping and escaping alone.

“C’mon now, you two are the only two in this building without a date. It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!” Hyeongmi emphasizes, dizzying your head the longer she shakes your shoulders.

“You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right? I’m telling you, it’s a sign—“

“Sorry Hyeongmi, I really have to go-“

Fastening your bag tigher across your body, you make a mad-dash as far away as possible, pretending to ignore the “use protection!” she shouted before the crisp evening breeze nipped your nose.

Use protection my butt, you grovel, ushering the scarf further above your chin as if to secure as much warmth possible.

She doesn’t know anything, not about how you took him under your wing as your apprentice the first year he joined, not about how much Minho loves cats, or how the keychain on that crossbody bag of his is a keychain you bought for him.

Simply placing it, she’s a person lead by the assumptions of others and adopting them as her own.

It irritates you.

Veering to your right, you thank his decision to house nearby, arriving at the foot of his porch after a mere ten-minute walk.

Delivering a few knocks on the townhome’s doorway, you note the paint chipping, colorful exterior worn from the sun’s rays.

Everything from the few cracks in the sidewalk to the relatively invisible stain of coffee on his doorknob lay memorized by frequency—his property second nature to you.

“Never have I hated being single this much,” You whine, slumping onto his couch after hurling your bag atop a hook in the foyer.

And despite the lack of response, you can tell Minho heard you. The faint, breathy chuckle enough evidence of his presence.

Perched on a chair he’d likely dragged from the kitchen, a feline companion occupies his lap, both comfortably relaxing on the patio, wine glass in hand.

Accordingly arranged on the countertop is another glass (you presume as yours), that you pour the vinegar-tinged substance into.

“I mean.” Slightly struggling to haul a neighboring chair to his side and simultaneously avoid splashing wine everywhere, you eventually find an equilibrium.

“It’s not like I asked to be single, I’m just too busy to consider a relationship, y’know?”

Minho absentmindedly hums, urging you to take a much-needed sip of the orchid-colored liquid.

Finally, you sigh out the last of your evening’s thoughts.

“..Hyeongmi caught me on the way out.”

Nor does this occasion need a reply either, the man’s suppressed giggle suitable enough.

“Mm.. I’ve got an idea.”

Carefully allowing the elongated glass to clink atop a translucent table, you cross and uncross your legs, welcoming the rustle of life around you into your eardrums, easing the cluttered space of your brain.

“Shoot.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze flitting to the emerging moon overhead.

“If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.“

Making a surprised sound to yourself, you break into unadulterated laughter, about to call him hilarious before taking into account this is Minho you’re referring to, and the likelihood he’s joking on any matter is unlikely.

Sure it sounds cliché, but it’s Minho, why not?

…And perhaps that decision was made with a few glasses of wine in play.

“I’m in.” You grin, returning his outstretched hand by bumping your glasses before downing the remaining gulp, cheeks aglow, alcohol ridding your breath a distasteful stench.

Tipsy. Minho is charming normally, but especially when he’s tipsy.

He’s got this way of speaking that could get any unsuspecting girl reaching to unzip his pants in a second, sultry, half-lidded eyes drinking the person in front of him, talking like he has sugar lining his lips.

When Minho is tipsy, he’s tempting. You didn’t need four years to teach you that.

That, and the spare pajama set folded in his top drawer reserved solely for you on nights like this—too gone to go home.

Although, as you rise to your feet and head to the bathroom, pulling said silk pajama shirt over your head, Hyeongmi’s words reverberate again.

You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right?

Hm. Minho was always a recluse though. And with your history, obviously he’d have some liking for you.

It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!

Turning to stare at yourself in the mirror, you sulk, head hanging low.

What if you did something tonight? Something risky, something testing the limits this friendship borderlines. You’re both drunk, likely willing.

Then again, does Minho want this too? Did he ever intend to “let loose”?

Anxiety plagues you, hurriedly scurrying your pants over your legs and exiting to find Minho still seated in the same spot, appearing all the more tempting without having to do a thing.

You blame the alcohol.

Stamping forward as if you prepared a speech, you stop just behind his chair, mustering any ounce of liquid courage manageable.

“Minho.”

He grunts.

“You’re really pretty.”

Let loose. This is letting loose when it comes to Minho.

What, you thought you were gonna fuck? Yeah, that’s a funny one.

Winding himself around to see you, his lips wind into a sweet smile, urging you closer with a mere look before he reaches forward and taps your nose, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty too.”

And perhaps, caught in a trance from his glittering stare, something did happen those four years you’ve been together after all.

You blame the alcohol.

The impulsive part about this “date at twenty-five” pact you had forgotten to consider was the fact both of you were twenty-four, meaning in less than a year whatever plan Lee Minho had stirred up after plenty glasses of wine would oil it’s gears into motion.

Thankfully Valentines comes and goes, and Summer creeps dangerously close, the longer hours of daylight and lingering sunshine enough to make every work-day feel extra laborious.

First day of summer, Minho texts you, asking if you want to join him on a walk.

Mind you, it’s 10AM in the morning, an hour you couldn’t fathom waking up at on the first day of summer.

You groan and flop back down, shutting off your phone and slamming the pillow over your head in a pitiful attempt at falling back asleep.

Only for your doorbell to ring twenty minutes later.

Over.

And over.

The urge to screech compels your barely-awake form, legs wobbling out of bed to feebly reach the doorway in a sleep-ridden haze.

Of course, lo and behold, Minho lies responsible, clad in running shoes, a pair of shorts, and a black nike zip-up.

He’s evidently pleased—whether from how disheveled you appear—or that he actually got you out of bed in the first place by the lingering smile tugging at his lips.

You hate to say it, but he’s annoyingly attractive, there’s no denying.

“Caught you at a bad time, hm?” He tips his head down to make eye-contact, peering through wild hair and lidded eyes at your half-alive self.

All you can manage out is a minuscule grunt, about to close the door before Minho jars his hand in, inviting himself inside much to your dismay.

Like instinct, he heads straight to your closet, surveying the chaos his insistent door-bell ringing caused before fetching a sweatshirt to pull over your head and a pair of socks from your drawer.

Though, as you wake up a tad bit more, you hurriedly keep him from putting your socks on for you as he bends down, shying away with an irritated whine.

“If this is what dating you is like I’m calling off the pact,” You mumble, stomping toward the door with Minho pushing you forwards without chance of escape.

He giggles, seeming to contain utmost glee witnessing your temper tantrum.

“Oh trust me sweetheart, the fun never ends.”

He’s hopeless too, apparently.

Lucky for you, your friend’s visits occurred sporadically, meaning the 10AM wake up calls weren’t a daily routine of headaches.

In contrast, summer passed by in a flash, and you were shoved head-first into a packed schedule for a second time as the autumn leaves shriveled into crisp browns and oranges.

Autumn was always welcomed. It meant the chilling cold was approaching, yes, but it also signified apple cider being added to the downstairs café menu and—on those especially chilly mornings—bundling your neck in the scarf Minho bought you last christmas.

As for him, he frequents pointed shoes and straight-legged pants, his fudge-colored hair perfectly complimented by pumpkin scented fragrances and dusky red backdrops.

Brisk mornings call for thinking. And as you walk, you come to the indefinite conclusion apple cider fits Minho. Sweet, but not saccharine. Warm to the touch, reminiscent with a charming aftertaste. A silhouette that comes and goes as it pleases, leaving soon enough for you to crave it back again.

Regarding summer, he was sort of like a beach day. A vacation in the midst of roaring deadlines, the comfortable lull of waves buzzing your mind into a hazy, salty escapade.

Although as December plucks each oak of its splendor, a call on Sunday morning truly marks the season of winter.

“..Y/n?” Minho murmurs, his voice groggy, hoarse. You make a sound of acknowledgment in response.

“I think I’m sick, can you drop off some meds at the door?”

Pressing your phone close to your ear, you debate on your desire to scold him, remind him each time he gets a winter cold he should dress warmer.

Of course, your lips stay shut (just like they always have for the past few years), and you reply with a “Be there soon, hang tight” before ending the call and gathering your belongings.

At the supermarket you check out seaweed soup, multivitamins, and allergy relief—things of which you hope will alleviate some of his symptoms.

Eternally grateful for the spare key you’d been given a while back, you enter the home, calling his name until an exasperated sign of life was heard (more like coughed) from the bedroom.

Inside lay Minho, a distressing array of tissues scattered in all directions, clustered beyond belief. His nose is soured pink from incessant stuffiness, lips cracked and dry. Dark circles sag beneath tired eyes, worn disposition evidence of his condition.

Quick on your feet, you scour the bathroom for a thermometer, the device’s loud beep signifying a blaring fever as you hover by his bedside.

Watching the bowl of instant soup spin aimless circles in the microwave, Minho’s call knocks you out of your daydream, worriedly padding to where he lays.

“Come here.”

You oblige, arriving to his right, about to ask the matter until his fingers link with your own, bringing the back of your hand to his jaw, resting there.

If you had been warm before, an entirely new definition to sweating has been reached at this point.

“You’re warm,” He whispers, rubbing his face against your hand like a needy cat wanting attention.

How unfair a human can be this round.

Practically bounding from the inside, you use the excuse of the microwave beeping to race off, hurriedly disappearing into the kitchen while remaining ignorant to the way Minho’s gaze follows you.

Returning with a soup platter meticulously carried between your tight grip, you sigh with relief upon sitting the steaming concoction down. Oh so slowly, a frown grows at your face upon noticing the expectant stare boring into your head.

“Yes?”

He juts out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy from your nonplussed tone, nudging the covers over himself till only those calculating eyes peek out.

“I’m not feeding you.”

Minho all but whimpers, and you suppress the urge to smother him with a pillow right then and there, hating how easily he sends goosebumps prickling the back of your neck, heat scalding your ears.

“No.”

“Y/n.”

You quite literally feel like the cruelest person in existence because why is he looking at you with that face, saying your name like that.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you begrudgingly collect a spoonful, bringing the utensil to his already pursed lips.

Spoonful by spoonful do you feed him as if he’s a dependent toddler, his satisfied hums earning a stern glare in return.

Only when he finishes eating do you get up, reprimanding him on taking his meds without much bite to your words.

“And don’t take too many of these, alright? If it gets really bad, call me again. Otherwise, try getting sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And of course he has to be endearing.

Such a pain.

You’ll stop by tomorrow.

If Minho was the apple cider in autumn and beach days in the summer, he’s the prettiest of snowflakes in the midst of winter.

Memorable, fleeting. Melting in your touch.

The annual Christmas party the company hosts steadily approaches, your coworkers ringing your phone insistently with noticeable anticipation.

Though just like autumns chill, December soars past idly, reigning in a new year and a new digit added to twenty when asked your age.

Your winter premise only heightened the anxiety compiling in your gut, a feeling you hadn’t recognized until the following day—the first day back to work in January—dawned.

January 1st’s introduction means you’re both officially twenty-five, and you’re not sure if it’s the fact Minho hasn’t texted you yet or the valentines pact in itself setting you on edge.

What would it be like to date Minho? Would he kiss you, the same way male leads in K-dramas did? Hold you as you sleep, wish you goodbye with a kiss to your cheek?

The mere thought sends rivets of electricity blazing your fingertips, feeling like an utter fool for imagining such scenarios.

Now you’ve haunted yourself for worse, leaving only dread in tow.

Arriving at the office the first day back, you attempt at making yourself look as collected as possible, definitely not bothered.

Worse, the root of your troubles walks in unbothered as you’ve been trying to do for the past few hours, the room working in deplorable silence before a note wedges itself behind your keyboard, Minho slipping past in its wake.

It takes all your will-power to ignore the crumpled piece of paper as best as possible, your index itching to unravel whatever lay inside.

Noon is when you finally give in, lungs failing to produce air upon reading the contents, practically choking on nothing.

Come over to my place after work.

What is this, his way of declaring your pact officially in action? What if he calls it off, saying it was only a joke glasses of wine granted?

As Hyeongmi said before, everyone has the hots for him, so why don’t you? Why does the thought of him calling it off put you on edge?

Or maybe you do. Maybe you do have feelings for—

Woah. Stop there.

Luckily, your internal chess match went unnoticed, leaving only the buzzing of your ears and the ticking of the clock loud.

A certain fondness sat between either of you from the start, since becoming acquainted you’ve instantly clicked—sly remarks and playful teasing merely one more thing keeping you alive (minus coffee).

So when something crossing the border between friends and lovers arose, a sort of nervousness bubbled in your gut.

Minho was a shoulder to cry on for you, but was it like that?

You could rely and depend on each other whenever, but could those feelings ever turn into love?

Of course they could, and they likely would’ve if it weren’t for either of you being so work-oriented—making you even more worried.

Although, you can’t simply flee. You’re an adult.

..And Minho will find you in a heartbeat if you decide to run.

Never had you been hesitant to leave office until now, and trodding one foot in front of the other causes your legs to turn into jelly.

Minho probably isn’t this nervous. He’s probably in a great mood, treating the occasion like it’s just another casual day.

Never before was it difficult, whether difficult is referred to as placing a key in a doorway or walking inside, everything seems so.. eminent.

Like when you walk through this door, an entirely new side of Minho will show face. A romantic side of Minho.

Yet, there’s no rose petals lining the hallway, nor scented candles scattered here and there.

What is there to expect with dating in your twenties anyway?

Plus, Minho’s well, Minho. If he wanted to, he likely would’ve flat-out asked already.

Something you’re surprised about, however, is the triangular string decor swooping from the ceiling, the party hats by the sink, a single birthday candle placed in the center of a cupcake. Simple, perfect.

Although, the perfect factor came with the man responsible, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bracing himself on the countertop with a particular glow in his irises—whether it be from the lit candle you aren’t sure—that sets your stomach into a garden of butterflies.

A surprise party. He threw you a surprise birthday party.

And it’s then as enter the kitchen, brain barely recognizing each advance forward, you realize it.

You really, really want to date him.

And you really, really don’t want to screw this up.

Staring at each other, you rise up on your toes to place a careful, feather-light peck on the smooth, flushed skin of his cheek.

Slowly, he turns his head, a conniving smirk revealing the outline of his teeth whilst investigating your breathlessness.

“Someone’s daring,” He mumured, cocking a brow amusedly.

You poke his side, groaning that he shouldn’t look too far into it before he nudges you, your frown returned with a subtle nod—directed at the forgotten cupcake.

“Well you already gave me a kiss, so wish for something else.”

“Choke,” You respond, but there’s still no bite to it. Some things never change.

Minho gently holds your hair back for you, allowing you to lean over and blow out the candle. No bite.

Your wish?

Let Minho and I go well. I like us.

Every bit of it was the truth.

Hopefully this wish of yours can come true.

Maybe.

Seated on the living room floor do you finally relax, your shoulders slumping down after hours of monstrous tension. Seems you’d forgotten he was your best friend before anything else.

“So.. how does this work?”

‘Work’ as in, the dating deadline’s here, what’s next?

He purses his lips—a habit of his—blinking rapidly.

“Like friends? Except we get the kissing and sex pass in between, right?”

You smack his shoulder. He smiles, childishly extending his pinky out to you.

Linking yours, you press the pad of your thumb against his. An unspoken gesture.

“Together?”

Through thick and thin. Your way, as it always was, always had been.

He has stars in his tawny-globes for eyes.

“Together.”

Minho’s hands are warm in the midst of frigid temperatures.

Spring isn’t too far off, but the bitter winds remain ceaseless and unrelenting, whipping your hair every which way, scattering a plethora of goosebumps along your skin.

Never had you held hands like this with someone before, nonetheless Minho, and yet, a connection lies inside the initial awkwardness. The silent assurance, whether it’s his thumb smoothing your palm or occasional squeezes, telling you he understands, that you’re not alone, or how he patiently waited by the door the entire time you were getting ready, claiming he didn’t want to dirty your place with his shoes.

It’s sort of revitalizing. Curious and inquisitive in his lingering touches, additional notes—reminders on your coffee cup, questions asking whether you want to stay over afterward, if he can give you a kiss on the cheek.

One in particular you recall:

I miss you. Scribbled in bleeding ink.

Your introduction as lovers had been a field day of trials and questions for the two of you, though when it came down to the public’s knowledge, you began debating on the “curiosity killed the cat” theory.

This morning, catching a glimpse of the company’s logo in the distance, you assign yourself as the cat. Too interested, now suffering the consequences.

Granted, you wouldn’t take back moving to relationship status, but it was a lot easier to brush off comments if you were Minho.

Hyeongmi being the main one responsible for said comments.

Morning passed by seamlessly, prioritizing work above all else, too busy typing away to for any interruptions.

..Until a midday conference.

Seated right next to each other, his fingers slowly thread with yours beneath the table, sending the man a perplexed (and slightly nervous) expression in response.

More so, the comforting casualness caused you to barely recognize Mrs. Song reaching below to fetch her fallen pen, a gasp of surprise stilling the conversation at her realization.

“Are you- Are you two holding—?”

Panicked, you smack his hand away, stomach plummeting.

Not expecting him to stubbornly grab your hand again, a miniature frown draws across his perfectly rose lips.

Pouting.

Lee Minho is pouting because you’re not letting him hold your hand.

Unbelievable.

If the situation could escalate further, the she-devil herself (Hyeongmi) throws her head down to spare a glimpse, allowing you to fully accept your demise. A demise that, one way or another, needed to happen.

This was simply an early death.

“You’re kidding! No way you guys are a thing?” The eccentric girl mouths the last words, eyebrows drawn to her hairline.

And just like that, your relationship with Minho ventured out of your pocket and into a brand new wilderness.

“So…what’s it like living everybody’s dream?”

Headed to the bathroom, Hyeongmi stops you, leaned over the mirror, carefully inspecting her plum-colored lipstick.

“What?” You pique, confusedly glancing between her and the empty stall you’re trying to nonchalantly slip into.

“I mean, the entire company’s talking about it. Tell me, are you guys actually official? Or is this all just for the attention? No offense, but-“

“I...”

Want to punch you in the face.

You keep it to yourself.

“I’m gonna go.”

Synonymously, both your bladder and your appetite completely disappeared.

Although, she doesn’t leave you alone.

You’re frantically searching for excuse after excuse, speed-walking and taking the stairs any chance available.

Unfortunately for you, she’s everywhere. At some point you’re certain a tracking device is hidden somewhere on your clothes.

Almost there. From silently pleading help with your eyes to legitimately hiding in your workplace, today couldn’t have been more of a joke.

Or so you thought.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hyeongmi?”

“With Minho,” She nervously fiddles with her earrings. “You don’t have to tell me but.. how’s the bedroom?”

Apparently, it can go lower.

Before you can respond to her shamelessness, a grip fastens on your shoulders, cologne distinct enough you can tell exactly who it is.

Your beach day.

“Hyeongmi, you do realize that’s rude, yeah? Let’s not cross boundaries we shouldn’t cross, got it?”

All the while Minho smiles, this cloying, “I dare you” sort of attitude no one can argue with.

Averting her attention, she speedily raises up, humorlessly laughing off the tension while excusing herself from the room.

“You okay?” He whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Yeah, there’s no getting used to this.

“Yep,” You say, though there isn’t much sincerity it.

He knows.

“Wait for me here, let’s walk home together.”

Ah. You want to kiss him.

“Minho.”

He turns on his heel.

Kiss me.

You’re holding his collar now, the option on the tip of your tongue, his lips a hairbreadth from yours.

Close, closer.

No. Not yet.

Either way, what do you know about kissing? What if you screw up?

Not yet.

“..Okay.”

Your gaze flits down to his lips if only for a second. A small, cheeky grin adorning his face as he follows your movements.

It’s hard to focus when he leaves, because all you can think about is the possibilities. What if you had kissed him? Would he have kissed you back?

By the way looked at you, the logical response would be: yes. Most people don’t stare at someone like that without the intent to kiss them, right?

Though somehow, you can’t help but feel unprepared, a complete novice in this battlefield of love.

Where Minho took you afterward was a mystery, merely happy to be away from the confines of your desk—letting his eager hand guide you wherever he pleased.

Shielded beneath the shade of two trees, your destination, Yeouido Park, is a spectacle during the transition period of winter to spring. You’d oftentimes spend hours here, basking in the relief a break grants. A spectacle where you two first truly met.

“Alright, be honest with me.”

He spins you around till you’re face to face, carefully analyzing your facial expression.

“Are you really okay? After Hyeongmi said that, I couldn’t stop thinking..”

Oh. That careful crease in his eyebrows, sympathetic.

He’s breaking your heart.

You realize now why everyone falls in love with him.

“Of me?”

The words come out involuntarily, a step forward in the newness, paving light through the darkened abyss.

“Yeah..” He says, a little winded while doing so.

Minho cares, he always had, yet, it’s your first time hearing it aloud.

“Y/n.”

Blinking yourself back into reality, your face grows warm, not intending to deliberately space out right in front of him.

He leans forward, causing you to shrink back into your skin as a kiss is planted right atop your nose, the man wearing a satisfied grin.

“Hey- You can’t- It’s not Valentines yet—“

“And why would I wait until Valentine’s day?”

Another deeper red burns your cheeks, and you scorn the way he gets under your skin—a way that makes every insult dissolve like powder on your tongue.

He notices, but decides not to prod further, lightly bumping your hip with his own as a signal to follow.

“Tomorrow is the day, y’know,” You mumble, kicking rocks with the tip of your shoe.

“Are we gonna turn into those couples?” He asks, pretentiously puckering his lips, eyes squinted shut.

You burst out laughing.

“I would break up with you first, sorry Minho.” Said puckered lips transform into a playful scowl.

“What? No treat for valentines?”

Blinking babydoll eyes up at you, you wrinkle your nose, coming to recognize what “treat” he was implying.

Earlier you would’ve kissed instantly, but an inkling of stubbornness kept you from giving into him this time.

Sneaking behind you, he ducks down, voice low enough for only your ears to hear.

“Didn’t seem you were too against it earlier.”

And with that, he races off, entirely too happy with himself and not likely to live down your reaction. Because you can’t disagree.

Since when were Lee Minho’s lips so kissable?

Knock.

Your attention strays from the mirror at the sound, wondering if it was simply a figment of your imagination only for the sound to ensue.

Knock. Knock.

Who would be at your door at this hour in the middle of the week?

There’s a name on your tongue, but you don’t contemplate any longer, tiptoeing to the doorway to peer through the peephole.

And the sight before you makes every ounce of suspicion worthwhile.

Minho, holding a bouquet of roses and things unknown behind his back, is reciting.

He’s staring at his shoes, bouncing back and forth on his heels nervously.

Lee Minho is nervous.

Wanting just to stand there and watch him rehearse, you finally give in after a third knock scares you out of your wits—hesitantly opening the door and trying to placate the most surprised expression possible.

His eyes round as saucers, you literally watch the gears in his head turn in real time, extending the flowers out to you.

“Happy valentines. These are uh, for you.”

And his ears are red.

You’re going to implode from how cute this is.

Attempting to stave down the alarming amount of happiness you’re experiencing, you hold the flowers in one hand, awaiting whatever lie behind his back.

Although, as the outline of a box of chocolates appears, so does… a shampoo bottle.

What.

Bathing in a long silence, you can’t help but wonder you’re genuinely hallucinating. Glancing from his face to the literal shampoo in hand, he mirrors you, confused for a reason you’re trying to figure out as well.

“Is that… a shampoo bottle?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were running low the last time I came here.”

…

You’ve never received a valentine before, but this automatically took the cake.

Is it possible to fall in love after you’re given a shampoo bottle as a gift on valentines? Apparently so.

Nonetheless, work flashed past, barely able to register a thing between the many congratulations you received and the absence of Hyeongmi (assumed to be due to the brown-haired charmer beside you).

For now, you savor the freedom of the day, finally able to escape the pains of before and wallow in a new kind of excitement. Love.

Love delivered by Minho himself in the form of mini scraps he’s folded into hearts, slipping heart after heart onto your desk at any opportunity to the point you bump his leg beneath the table in warning.

He cheekily smirks in return, stupidly innocent face scheming with malice.

He’s getting an absolute kick out of this, and you hate to admit you enjoy it just as much.

As usual, you wait behind for him to catch up on your daily commute home—an activity you did long before any romantic feelings became involved.

That’s it. Minho’s pinpoint of romance.

Shampoo bottle, walks home, extra coffee, notes.

Minho doesn’t openly express his love, not unless he feels either adventurous or obligated. Instead, he studies. Your habits, the things you enjoy, your actions, preferences. That particular coffee order you liked, how you had ran out of shampoo.

Oh how you love him.

Though, rounding the sidewalk to your place, Minho grabs ahold of your wrist. In response, as soon as you turn your head, you’re mere centimeters from his face, simply standing there, proximity willing either of you not to move.

Initial words dying out, he slightly edges to the side, cocked in a way that has your mind racing.

Nose, cheek, but never lips.

No.

Your hands act before any other part of you, blocking his lips from yours.

“We-“

The look he’s giving you, shock.

You feel a hundred degrees hotter.

“We need to go inside,” You excuse yourself fast, the man tailing behind, grip still loosely attached to your wrist.

Quickly shutting the door behind you, it’s an immediate embarrassment flooding your frame that allows you to speak, words bursting outward in an uncontrollable cacophony.

“Minho I’m so sorry I have no idea what I was doing, I shouldn’t have done that, it was a stupid idea. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“

“Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

His tone serves as the much needed breeze fanning your face, cooling you down enough to articulate sentences properly.

“I’m sorry, we’ve just never kissed on the lips and I feel like I’m gonna be horrible and kill the mood. This is stupid, I know, just.. bear with me please?”

His eyebrows furrow, forming together the equation piece by piece.

“You’ve.. You’ve never had your first kis—?”

You hush him furiously, slumping onto the couch dejectedly.

Yet, Minho doesn’t laugh nor pick fun regardless of how hilariously idiotic the occasion is. He’s quiet, concerned almost.

You add that to your long list of things you love about him.

Inhaling gradually, your focus flits to the window, collecting yourself, easing the frantic rush-hour traffic rampaging in your skull.

If you were one of those paper hearts he made, he’s pulling apart each careful fold in this very moment. Unraveling the layers till your bare self is exposed in all its anxiousness.

“I hate it. It feels like a part of that teenage youth everyone talks about is something I’ll never get to experience. I was too busy caring about school, and now I feel like I’ve missed out.”

Soaking in a quietness, you jump when he places a hand over yours, softly tracing the skin of your knuckles, glossy as he watches, carving each perfect aspect of you into memory.

“Well you may not be seventeen, but you’re never too old to learn to kiss.”

One hand cupping your jaw to garner your attention, you’re met with a glass-like visage.

Gentle.

“And I can teach you how.”

It’s always been business, you’ve always been business. Which is why, now confronting what feels to be the highest peak in your love life, you’re left a completely blank canvas. No rules, no instructions.

It’s terrifying.

“Min- Minho, I really haven’t done this before.”

You hastily pique, scooting backward in the cushions.

Curse the shakiness of your voice.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me. We won’t.”

You quickly shake your head.

No, you want this, you’ve wanted this too badly to back out now.

“Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

It’s horrifically awkward at first, a tiny peck, then a bit longer till your arms creep over his shoulders, his fingers once holding your jaw steady now resting on your neck.

Best word to describe it? Messy.

“Breathe through your nose.”

“Minho— I’m suffocating here—“

You sputter back, quite literally heaving for breath.

Yes, it was otherworldly kissing him, and he was an insanely good kisser, but did this really require your lungs to practically burst?

“Are you teaching me how to give a blowjob or kiss?”

His smile transforms mischievously, a sneering laugh slipping past. You already know he’ll make a sly comment.

Minho winks. “We’ll get to that later.”

“I lost my urge to date you. Bye.”

“Noooo Y/n~” He whines profusely, warm hold on your waist beckoning another kiss filled with hushed giggles and incessant jeers from either party—ensuing a halfway unbuttoned shirt and quite possibly the most greedy ten minutes known to man.

Out of breath, he pulls back from your stomach, the ticklish feather-light kisses planted there earning a stifled giggle from you while he blinks upward, seeming to be focused on something.

“Minho?” You question, ignorant to how unbelievably obsessed with you he is, more than ever in this moment.

From your damp, sweaty skin to the few hairs stuck to your forehead. Your swollen lips, the way you laugh, your stomach dipping with the action. He doubts he’ll ever get tired of this.

Reaching forward as if caught in a trance, he tenderly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, voice barely audible upon pressing his forehead against yours.

And in the seclusion of your living room, tangled up together on the sofa, it’s just the two of you existing in this world.

“I hope you know I really meant it when I said I thought you were pretty too.”

Ah. He remembers. All that time ago.

Of course he does.

Kissing you for a time you can’t remember, you begin to wonder if that birthday wish of yours had came true after all.

Your feelings for Minho had always existed somewhere inside of you. Your head, your heart. A tiny inkling into something more, a could be. Two individuals wishing, waiting to make a move.

It seems the Valentines Pact sealed the deal.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @gimmeurtmi @jisuperboard @porang-poranglinos @palindrome969 @stayceebs97 @inniescandy-01 @idklin0

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zvaigzdelasas · 3 months

Text

[The Economist is Private UK Media]

Making someone do porridge (or “eat rice and beans”, to use the Korean expression) for expressing their political views is [...] not generally associated with [South Korea]. Yet Lee Yoon-seop, a South Korean poet, is currently languishing in prison for just this. The 68-year-old was sentenced to 14 months in November for threatening South Korea’s “existence and security”. His crime? Writing a poem in praise of the North.

The law used to prosecute Mr Lee, the National Security Act (nsa), is designed to protect South Korea from spies and traitors. But it also bans South Koreans from visiting or making contact with the North, reading or watching North Korean media or saying anything good about Kim Jong Un’s [...] regime. Though South Korea replaced its former military dictatorship with a democracy in 1987, such restrictions on free speech show that some of the generals’ autocratic tendencies endure.[...]

The NSA was modelled on a law designed to quash pro-independence activities during Japan’s occupation of Korea from 1910 to 1945. Since 2003 there have on average been more than 60 NSA prosecutions a year, often for pretty clear espionage cases. A businessman and an army officer were arrested for allegedly selling military secrets to North Korea. Soldiers in the South have been prosecuted under the act for endangering morale by distributing pro-North propaganda.

But the NSA is too often used to prosecute satirists and raid the homes and offices of leftists. Some cases have been ridiculous. Kim Myeong-soo, a PhD student, received six months in prison and a two-year suspended sentence for selling books on North Korea that were widely available in public libraries. A South Korean woman was given a two-year sentence, suspended for four years, for owning recordings of 14 North Korean songs.

This is not Mr Lee’s first offence. But the claim that the sexagenarian posed a threat to South Korea is absurd. His ode was published on a North Korean website. Access to such sites is banned by the NSA and forbidden from a South Korean IP address. [...] It consists of a list of South Korean problems that Mr Kim, in the poet’s view, would instantly solve given the chance.

Mr Lee’s real offence appears to have been believing his own nonsense. By contrast, police decided not to investigate a man under the draconian law for selling shirts with a smiling Mr Kim and the slogan “Walk a flowery path, comrade”. That was OK, officials said, because he was selling them to make a buck.

Worse, the issue points to a broader authoritarian tendency in the South. Its president, Yoon Suk-yeol, often demonises his political opponents by calling them “anti-state forces”, a phrase lifted directly from the NSA. Unfavourable press coverage is routinely labelled “fake news” and the offices of offending outlets have been raided. The administration and its allies have sued more press outfits for defamation—which in South Korea can be a crime even when the offending words are manifestly true—in Mr Yoon’s first 18 months in office than any of its three predecessors did in total.

Yet even a more liberal government would be unlikely to remove the NSA’s illiberal clauses. No administration has made a serious attempt to address it in 20 years. There is no significant political support for scrapping the law [...]. The current administration at least flirted with allowing South Koreans access to North Korean media, but recently abandoned the idea. [...]

Mr Yoon talks often about South Korea’s democratic values. They are at the heart of his pitch for the country to be a strategic link between East and West, developed and developing countries. For that reason alone he should take them more seriously. South Korea is undoubtedly a democracy, but not a terribly liberal one so long as it locks up old men for their dotty opinions. Reforming the NSA would be a better rebuttal to the sentiment Mr Lee expressed than banning it.

22 Jan 24

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jenomov · 8 months

Text

Premium Service [l.jn]

wc: 3.8k || mentions of jaemin, smut

synopsis: “did you hire me to clean or to fuck?”

quitting a job is easy, but getting another is not. especially in the area that you lived in, jobs are hard to find, perhaps impossible.

“this is ridiculous, it says here that you are actively looking for someone!” you yelled into the phone, already angry with the lady on the other line.

“i apologize miss, but we really try to make this work as much as possible—“ click. you hung up. you’re fed up, exhausted even. you turned off your phone before entering your car. maybe a car ride can calm you down.

the number of hours you’ve put into job applications isn’t even comparable to the hours you’ve worked at your office job, days turn into weeks, hell, weeks turn into months and you’re running out of patience. the work is tiring, money is getting short by the minute. you’re thinking about going back to your sloppy old job.

seeing your mail app full of rejection letters every morning made your blood boil, but mostly made you rot in your apartment with the feeling of never being able to find anything, until—

Jaem: hey check this out, they’re looking for housekeepers in the area

you picked up your phone, read the message before typing a reply, sighing for what seemed like the hundredth time this week.

do i look like a maid to you jaemin?

Jaem: i’m just trying to help you out lil sis, plus, it seems like a well paid job, you should think about it

you placed your phone down, staring at your ceiling for a few minutes, you thought about it. while this seemed like some work for old retired ladies, you took some kind of interest in it. so, after a bit, you replied back to your brother.

fine

Jaem: cool! here’s his address, he’s doing interviews tomorrow at noon.

———-

the place looked like a movie set, chandeliers were illuminating the entire hallway with golden statues sitting near the front desk. this was nothing but an apartment building but still— you were obviously in the richer part of the city, so you were prepared to see some spoiled, pretentious and overall disgustingly rich man waiting for you in the lobby.

“hi miss, what can i do for you?” you jumped and turned to the receptionist, nervously biting your bottom lip.

“well, i’m here for an interview, but i think i’m at the wrong place.” you trailed off, looking at the bright red couches near the elevators.

she smiled at you. “i assure you you’re at the right place. it’s for the cleaning services right?” you nodded, tapping your fingers on the marble desk. “great! mr. lee is waiting for you, he’s on the 7th floor, first door to your left. you can’t really miss it, his name is on the door.”

“right— thanks.” she gave you a thumbs up before returning her eyes to the screen sitting in front of her.

going towards the elevator, you repeat to yourself the directions the receptionist told you, waiting for the elevator doors to open. pressing the digit, you wait for the ding, walk a few steps before you find yourself at the door, his door. very nervous, you knock on his door, shaking, a few times before feeling your purse buzzing.

Jaem: good luck lil sis! make some money for me

you rolled your eyes at the text before putting your phone back into the bag. just as you were about to knock again, you heard the door open, your feet ready to turn and run away, mentally scolding yourself for agreeing to take this stupid interview.

however, your thoughts came to a stop once the door opened.

“there you are, thought you wasn’t comin’.” the man said, giving you a slight smile.

“we were waiting for you before i could start.” you shook your head, confused.

“we?”

he chuckles, “yes, we. you thought you were alone?—” you nodded. “many people want this job you know, i’m surprised you even showed up, considering you’re the only one who’s around my age here.” he was a little arrogant, just like you thought about earlier while entering the building, but you couldn’t stop staring at him, he was handsome, smelled nice but your attention was caught when he spoke, voice deep and soft.

what have you gotten yourself into?

————

the apartment looked wonderful, big ceiling to floor windows showed the busy city below, the imported carpets were gorgeous, touches of red, yellow and green gave the living room more color, assorted with decorative pillows on the couches you were currently sitting on. the kitchen was a little dull with grey marble countertops and black cupboards, but the large plants made up for it.

you were sitting next to three other ladies, definitely older than you, one of them eyeing you weirdly made you lose your patience. “what are you looking at?” you spat. you knew this job was for those old ladies that are past retirement, but you didn’t think they’d be so rude. “sorry sweetheart, for a young girl like you, we’re wondering why you’re here i mean— she laughed. “why don’t you find a job that meets your criteria?— you’re probably just here to have sex with this man right?” her and the other two ladies grinned at you.

your eye was twitching and shooting daggers at the women in front of you. just as you got up to leave, a voice made your movements come to a stop.

“ladies, ladies. why don’t we all get along? after all, this is a cleaning job right?” mr. lee spoke. his eyes turning into crescents, “we shouldn’t be so heated over cleaning hm?” his kind expression made you come back to your senses, eyes kind and welcoming. and so, you decided to sit back down on the couch, keeping a small distance from the close-to-casket women.

after an hour and a half, the interview came to its end. thinking you’re surely not getting taken— i mean, you’re young and he’s probably picking women with ‘maid material’, you placed your jacket over your arm, getting ready to exit the apartment, while hearing the women talk besides you. “we would invite you to lunch with us but, we know you’ll have to look for something else, so we’ll leave you to that. good luck though!” you rolled your eyes.

after the ladies left, you scrolled through your phone while looking for your older brother’s contact, getting ready to leave the building when a hand touched your shoulder. “how does monday sound to you?” you hear a voice whispering to your ear. you froze, clearly you’re hearing things right? you turned around to check, it was mr. lee.

“huh? what about the other women?” your body was still frozen. his touch felt warm, so warm. you’ve never felt the heat rise up to your ears this fast before, the man was only touching your shoulder, but his hand was burning your body.

his hand slid down your lower back before he spoke up. “i don’t want rude old bitches cleaning my place while i’m gone, the last one kept misplacing my things.” you looked up at him, pushing his hand off your back.

“i’ll think about it.” you tell him, ready to go home more than ever at this point.

“you know where to find me.” he says, giving you a wink before returning inside.

————-

you eventually picked up the job, and mr. lee even invited you to stay at his place since he had an empty room, free of charge, so you could sleep at his place a few times a week. he assured you that you could call him by his name, jeno, and not mr.lee as it felt too formal for him— you declined as you wanted to stay polite.

the past few weeks have been nothing but normal, the job was quite simple and you had a list of things that you needed to do while jeno was gone. only then, his one and only rule was given to you before you could start— and it was to never enter his bedroom, even if you wanted to wash his bedsheets.

———

“what about the bed? how will i wash them?”

“don’t worry about it. i’ll put the sheets in the laundry basket”

“okay… is there any reason i’m forbidden?”

he smiled, taking a last sip of whiskey before placing the glass down in the sink, indicating that you had to clean it.

“privacy reasons.”

———

it made sense, but still felt awkward as you usually kept the door wide open at night while sleeping. (maybe you should close it more often.)

quite a simple rule really, but you still find it quite odd, questioning how you’ll make his bed after cleaning. without thinking much about it, you tossed your bag in the guest room (now yours) before getting to work.

you started to find jeno a little odd, he’d sometimes come home irritated, locking himself in his room until you’d knock on his door to tell him that your work was done for the day. there was a lot of tension between you two, you’d find him quite intimidating at times, especially when you’d catch him staring at your ass a few times, heat rushing to your cheeks.

now, you weren’t the type to let anyone look at you that way, but with jeno you felt different— ever since he gave you your ‘work uniform’, —which was honestly just lingerie and frankly too revealing for you—, something switched inside him that day.

————

first, it started with cleaning the bathroom floor tiles, usually you’d use a mop, but he insisted that cleaning with a rag, soap and some water would be better. without questioning him, you got to work. his plan was working, it was easy to break your unbothered attitude, you were innocently obeying him to whatever task he demanded. he knew you’d caught him staring a few times, swatting his hand away from your chest or ass whenever you cleaned his apartment.

slowly but surely, he was going to make you his little toy to play with.

he watched you clean on all fours, tiny skirt lifting up every now and then, showing your white lacy underwear. jeno groaned and got up, walking towards you before hovering above you, his hand caressing your ass before ghosting his middle and ring finger over your panties—over the place you’ve secretly wanted him the most these past days.

you jumped, looked back up at him, confused. but before you could speak, you felt his fingers pinching your clit through your underwear, earning him a small gasp.

“how come you’re this wet? you like walking around me dressed like a slut is that it?” you couldn’t bring yourself to realize what was happening. trying to get up from your position, you argued. “what? you gave me this stupid uniform- hey!”

“where do you think you’re going?” he asked. you suddenly felt dizzy, his warm fingers were burning on your skin, in contrast to his cold rings. “i never thought you’d be….” he trails off, both hands grabbing your ass, making you squirm under his touch, falling back onto your cleaning position. “…such a slut,” your body was on fire, panties were sticking to your dripping cunt.

“mr. lee, please stop…” you were lying. you’ve wanted him for a while, probably ever since the first time you’ve seen him but everything felt too sudden, everything was going so fast—too fast even, you couldn’t think about anything.

you whined, wiggling your ass to feel more, arousal starting to drip down your legs. he was right there, fingers so close to where you wanted him the most, losing your mind, the strong facade that you’ve put on over the months slowly crumbling away. “stop? i don’t think you want me to stop sweetheart.” his voice was venom, the bathroom was spinning. you knew there was no way out of this.

you let out a gasp once more, feeling his fingers toss your panties to the side. collecting your wetness on his fingers, he tapped your bottom lip, making you open your mouth, sucking on his fingers. “good girl” is all he says before you hear his belt click and pants hit the ground. “w-what are you-“ oh.

you felt his long fingers stretch you open, the metal of his rings brushing your clit ever now and then, making you lose your balance, falling almost face first on the cold floor. you could barely hold yourself up with your arms, too immersed in your pleasure.

———

for the past week, you’ve been working hard, making sure jeno’s apartment was cleaned up from ceiling to floor. he sometimes tried to get you under him for a bit, but you politely declined each time. not forcing you, he chuckled and went back to his room.

it was sunday. usually you’d go back home on the weekends, but strangely this time you stayed with jeno. he never made you do any work on the weekends, and you were exhausted, so you could sleep in.

you quietly woke up and got ready to eat, taking a pan out of the cupboard, trying not to make as much noise as possible. two eggs and a toast is what you usually went for, so you got that. you didn’t hear jeno sit behind you, placing his glasses on the counter. he cleared his throat which made you jump in shock.

“god! you almost burned me!” you yelled. he didn’t look too concerned so he smiled, making you roll your eyes before finishing up your plate, turning the heat off and rinsing the pan, washing the mess around the sink.

“well good morning to you too darling.” he hums, eyes in a crescent moon shape. you sigh. “mhm. good morning, you could’ve made more noise instead of scaring me and being all silent you know.” you scoffed, placing your plate on the counter, wiping crumbs off.

“you know,—he starts. i think you're playing hard to get." jeno says, flipping the page of his newspaper. you stopped, placed the cloth down, dusting your sleeves before staring at him, already annoyed.

“what do you mean?” you cock an eyebrow, waiting for his answer. “you didn't let me do anything to you last week, are you scared of me?” he asks.

you stare at him, if looks could kill, you’d be in the maximum security of a prison by now.

"did you hire me to clean or to fuck?" you scoff.

he looks around for a moment, then his eyes fall to your shaky hands, fingers playing with the hem of your small lacy apron, pulling the loose strings.

"maybe both. who knew i’d hire a cute little thing like you?” he continues. “never thought i’d be so lucky.”’

“i just think that as an employee, it’s wrong.” you state, trying to get out of this conversation as quickly as possible. he looks up at you, grinning. “you didn’t say that when you came all over my floor three weeks ago. you even cleaned it up like i asked you.”

the familiar feeling of heat rising to your cheeks comes back on your face once more, you almost drop your egg on the floor when you hear him say that.

“excuse me? i don’t think you should— he places his hand over yours. "hm. why don’t you love me baby?” he pouts. god, you thought he was so beautiful, you wanted to kiss him so badly but you stood your ground, still wanted to show him that you weren’t interested in any of this, even if you felt your thighs getting sticky.

“i-i don’t love you like that…” you replied. “i mean i’m just here to work, that’s all.” you picked up your plate, placed it in the dishwasher before washing your hands. while you did so, you felt jeno place his hands on your hips, your back facing him.

you did miss jeno’s touch on your body, his wet kisses, his hands, maybe even his dick— even if you thought that was ridiculous— you couldn’t deny it. he placed his chin on your shoulder before whispering to your ear. “i know my baby misses me. you’re telling me that if i pulled your panties down you wouldn’t be wet?” you nod, biting your lip in anticipation. his voice sent shivers down your spine, his hands slid lower and lower until they reached your lower belly.

he hums. “no underwear?”

you shook your head, “i just woke up and got hungry, i didn’t think about it.” your voice was small, you felt defeated and now with jeno caging you in his arms you had no escape.

“liar .”

you suddenly get picked up bridal style, panic on your face. “what? no i’m not! i swear i didn’t think about that— where are we going?” you hit his arm, trying to make him let go of you— to no avail. “we’re going somewhere special, you’ll love it.”

———

his bedroom was dark, you could barely see anything. his bed was large; however, the duvet and scattered blankets were soft under your palms. you heard jeno coming out of his bathroom, as you waited patiently for him on the bed.

“i thought i wasn’t allowed to be here.” you break the silence. he looks at you, hair still wet from his shower, towel—barely hanging— low on his hips.

he chuckles. “maybe i’ve changed my mind, i didn’t think you’d look so pretty waiting for me.” you felt your ears burning again, not sure of what to say. “c’mon, take it off.”

“what?”

“my towel. take it off.”

you do as he says, trembling hands pulling the cloth and letting it fall at his feet. you sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at him, waiting for directions.

“what are you waiting for? show me how good you suck cock.” you frown, unsure if you should get to work, his cock was standing right in front of your face, tip leaking on your top, staining it. he was huge, bigger than those college boys you’ve fucked years ago. you started to worry about the size when all of a sudden he takes your hair in a fist and forces your mouth down his cock.

he groans. “when i ask for something, you get to it, and you do it quickly. i’ve been waiting for that mouth for weeks. i think i deserve it, don't you think?” mouth full of him, you choke a few times before he pulls your hair back, leaving spit and drool down his cock. “fuck, that’s a good girl, but you can do better.” his stare made you feel small, but you loved it, you wanted him, all of him, so you quickly got on your knees and stroked him a few times, making him release a moan. you took him in your mouth once more, this time taking him down your throat as much as possible, feeling the corner of your eyes watering.

you felt him twitch in your mouth after a bit, sometimes teasing him by licking your way up from his base to the tip, kissing it right after. the grip on your hair started to hurt, he was pulling hard on your scalp, but you wanted to please him as much as you can. “fuck…fuck— stop i wanna cum inside you.” he insisted and you released his cock with a pop, obeying him.

he climbed on his bed, back facing the headboard, tapping his thigh indicating you to straddle him, and so you did. you felt scared, he was big, it was already a struggle to take him inside your mouth, but your pussy? not a chance. you took your top off, letting jeno’s hands grab your tits, and pinching your nipples a few times. you whined in pain, but you brushed it off and started to unzip your skirt when jeno stopped you.

“no baby, you keep that on for me.” his hands fell onto your ass, groping it and giving it a few slaps, which made you moan out loud. “hmm, you like it? you like it when i play with your ass?” he asks and you quickly nod, eager to receive more. you grind on his cock for a few minutes, your juices coating his thighs and dick, before you lift yourself up and sink down on his cock, biting your bottom lip at the intrusion.

once he’s fully bottomed out, you both moan in unison. you stay like this for a bit, while adjusting to his size. you placed one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder before you’re ready to start.

“that’s it, ride me baby, show me how much you want my cock.” is all you need before you go faster, deeper, losing yourself in pleasure, eyes rolling into the back of your head, nails digging into his skin. you feel his hands grabbing your ass before he fucks into you harshly. you moan his name like a broken record, his pace almost making you lose balance, big hands leaving handprint on your cheeks. “h-harder please… i want more.”

he laughs. “of course you want more, you’re made for my cock and nothing else, got it?”

you nod. this time, tears are falling down your face. you’re a mess, your thighs are burning from going back and forth, but he just feels so good inside you, you never want it to end.

you don’t even realize that you’re mumbling to yourself, lost in your own pleasure when jeno slaps your face, making you gasp. “you feel so good, you’re so good you’re so—ah!“ he flips you on your back, pushes your legs up to your shoulders, placing you in a mating press position. he slides in cock back inside you, this time making you cry out.

“it’s too much, please.” you grab his biceps, boobs bouncing up and down as he goes harder on your already exhausted body.

“you can take it princess, you’re doing so well already, i guess i should reward you hm?” all you can do is whine, the knot in your stomach tightening more and more, ready to unravel anytime soon.

“my little girl is close, is she? cum with me baby.” jeno’s thrusts are uneven, indicating that he’s close too; and just like that, you both cum together, loud moans and heavy breathing are heard in the dimly lit room. you feel his warm load inside you before he pulls out, feeling cum starting to seep out of you, whining at the stickiness between your legs.

he gives you a small kiss before getting out of bed, showing his signature eye smile while heading to the bathroom.

“you should get back to work, you’ve got some cleaning to do.” is all he says before throwing you a wink.

taglist (those who asked!): @tyxoxo @sexygrass @produmads @jenoslutie @painted-hills could not tag keemburley

#jenomov #jeno smut #jeno x reader #lee jeno #nct dream smut #lee jeno smut

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najenvhs · 3 months

Note

hi:) can I request mark + hair pulling

oh my gosh yes you can ! but office sex (bc i think thats hot)

mdi ! afab reader !

this is how i feel like it would play out—

you go and visit Mark at work, as you walk into his office you close the door behind you making sure it is locked.

“what are you doing here” he asked putting his pen down and looking up from the papers he was working on.

“Oh, me?, well I came here because Haechan called me telling me that it's been a long day for you—“ you responded as you dropped the jacket on the floor revealing a silky black dress underneath “and that you needed some stress relief,” you said tilting your head causing your ponytail to sway with you.

“oh? is that so?” Mark said standing up from his seat, walking around to the front of his desk, leaning against it as he looked at you from head to toe. “and how will you do that?”

“well Mr. Lee, one of two ways—“ you say as you slowly pull the strap of your dress down causing your side boob to show more of itself, you hold the dress close to you with one hand. “we can sit here and just talk,” so say softly

“or?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“or Mr. Lee,” you said walking past the two chairs he had in front of the desk, making it to where you are right in between his legs, you grab his tie as he grabs your waist having to stand on your tippy toes to reach his ear do you say “you can fuck me right here right now against this desk”

and like that is how you end up with both hands on his desk reaching for something to hold on to, as he thrusts in and out of your wet folds. dress pulled up your black lace panties around your ankles, meeting up with the black (and red bottoms) heels you were wearing.

as he was fucking you from behind, both hands on your hips for control, you felt one of his hands drag itself from your hips to your ass and find its resting place on your back, putting pressure and causing you to stick your ass up more.

“a-ah mark, r-right there” you moan out, forehead pressed down against his brown wooded desk.

“Baby, you feel so good,” he says losing himself. “s-so wet”

you moan again just from the words that spill from his mouth, ever since he's gotten this office job this is all you have dreamt of doing. he fucking you, or you going down on him as he sits in his office chair behind his desk.

“m-mark” you sing out.

“y-you like this don’t you?—“ he asks, only causing you to let out a cry. “you’re such a n-naughty girl” Mark grunted out. you felt his hand let up from your lower back.

you were readjusted on his cock, lifting yourself (as much as you could) so your face wasn’t one with the desk. looking forward is when you feel something, something you were not expecting.

“We are almost done baby,” Mark said, as he got a hold of your ponytail making sure his hand had a good grip. just like that he pulls out to where his tip is barely in your hole, pulls your head back by your ponytail, and rams back in.

you moan so loud, knowing that whoever is still in the office, definitely heard you. “f-fuck, yn, you were made for me” Mark yells out.

your hair was how he held you up, chest spilling out of your dress, mark thrusting in and out with long strokes. he has always loved your hair, he would pull on it now and then to tease you at home, or when you were out to get your attention he would kindly tug on your hair to make you look at something he saw. but all of that led up to this moment your soft silky long hair in the palm of his hands being used as a way to fuck you as much as he can.

“i-i love you,” he says as he thrusts in one last time spilling everything he has in the condom wrapped around him.

you scream in satisfaction, as you meet him at his climax. coming down from his high he lets go of your ponytail causing you to fall onto the desk unable to hold yourself up anymore. his hands are back on your hips as he slowly pulls out of you. making you both moan again.

after he cleaned himself up fast, he then helped you pull your dress down, as he helped you sit down in one of the seats you had previously walked past. As you were seated he kneeled in front of you, “Thank you, baby, I love you so much” he said as he brushed your bangs out of your face, then grabbed your hand and kissed it.

“I love you more Mr. Lee” You look over at him with a lazy smile. truly feeling fucked out.

[oo i hope you liked this,,, hehehehe]

leave something in my ask

#najenvhs—ask♡#nct dream #nct imagines #nct headcanons #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct mark #mark lee smut #mark lee

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revehae · 3 months

Text

do you like it, dr. lee?

pairing ↠ haechan, jaemin, jeno × (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, gangbanging, student x professor, reader is early 30s, mentions of infidelity, age gap (18+)

summary ↠ haechan, jaemin, and jeno are some of the brightest, most accomplished students in your class that never fail to make high marks on the exams. but when they approach you one day in your office, your perspective of them changes dramatically.

wc ↠ 5.4k

a/n ↠ part 2/5 of the college-capades series! connected to sexcapade.

don’t like it, don’t read.

it all happened so fast.

one minute, you were chatting with three of your most wonderful students in your office, and the very next, they had you sprawled out on top of your desk.

your heart was speeding. though you attempted to wrestle your way out of their less than gentle embraces, you couldn’t even take one of them, let alone all three. while somebody was keeping your hands still, another was holding you by the legs.

jeno, who had his palm flat over your mouth, only watching your moist, fearfully wide eyes, leaned into your ear and whispered, “scream and we’ll saw your tongue off.”

when he dropped his palm, you sucked in a breath, face tensing with tears as you willed yourself to be compliant. your head was spinning, dizzy with shock. what was happening to you was unfathomable. these boys were some of your favorite students, the ones who never failed to perform magnificently on the exams, and were sparkling in class.

you felt betrayed, in a way. even your worst-performing student wouldn’t stoop this low, and in the midst of your fright, you wondered what you had done to deserve the atrocity that was today. if there was anybody that you could count on to make you feel as if your dedication to this job wasn’t completely useless, it was these boys.

haechan was standing just shy of you, eyes fixed to that knee-length skirt he loved watching you wear. jeno chuckled when he noticed where his friend’s gaze had fallen, because he found himself glancing there too, but usually when you were facing away from your students.

he always thought about getting you naked, seeing your ass without anything to hinder his view. more often than not, jeno fisted himself to the thought of stuffing your ass full of his thick cock, wondering if anybody had ever fucked you there.

snapping out of his imagination, haechan approached you, shoving your long skirt closer to your hips. instinctively, the first thing you did was try to protect yourself, but jaemin grabbed you and ceased all control. you slumped, whimpering defeatedly, “boys, please stop. you know that i have a husband.”

haechan snickered, amused that that was the card you chose to play. “didn’t really look like you cared about your husband when you were fucking my dad,” he retorted.

rather than beat even quicker, it felt as if your heart stilled. “what?”

jeno laughed boisterously. “would you look at that. she thinks you don’t know.”

“that’s right, baby,” haechan replied menacingly, nothing affectionate about his tone, in spite of the pet name. “you run your mouth and we’ll make sure the whole school knows that you can’t stop spreading your legs for my father.”

donning the sweetest tone, jaemin crooned in your ear, “and you wouldn’t want that, right, sweetheart? you wouldn’t want mr. lee to know that his wife isn’t satisfied with just his cock, is she now?”

it felt as if the whole world was crumbling beneath your feet. haechan was johnny’s son, the offspring of the man you had been hooking up with behind your husband’s back, and now he and his friends were threatening to expose your affair if you refused to let them have their way with you.

your lips were trembling. this is all your fault, you chided to yourself. if you could’ve just been a faithful wife, a committed woman, none of this would be happening. they would have nothing against you, nothing that would stop you from reporting to the closest figure of authority. but you had too much at stake.

though you were no stranger to jeno’s short patience, you had never seen it manifest quite like this before, gripping your hair so roughly you whimpered in a blend of pain and shock. he growled, “he asked you a question. i shouldn’t have to tell you that that called for an answer.”

“no,” you replied shakily.

jeno’s grip only tightened and he pressed, “no, what?”

“no, i don’t want him to know…,” you trailed, because it was humiliating to repeat back aloud, but jeno was still gazing at you expectantly. “that i’m not satisfied with just his cock.”

“see, that wasn’t so hard. don’t be a little bitch and make things more complicated than they have to be,” jeno said, releasing his hold on your hair. you would’ve fallen back had not jaemin been there to catch you, only to then grab the little buttons on your blouse. “we’re doing you a favor, really. it’s a three for one deal. a little whore like you should be excited.”

but you didn’t want them, you didn’t even want your husband. you wanted johnny. it made you wonder how they knew of the affair, because haechan seemed oblivious only a couple of weeks ago. he referred to you as some fucking nurse johnny had flirted with, not his molecular biology professor.

for fuck’s sake, you were a solid decade older than them. granted, johnny was at least a decade older than you, though there was a discernible difference between the age gap between the two of you and the gap between you and your undergraduate students.

your button-up blouse finally came undone and jaemin didn’t waste a breath before he snatched off your bra, eager to suck your breasts into his mouth. you gasped out when he did, his tongue darting around your nipples. in the same way, haechan yanked your panties off, cupping between your legs without a second thought.

never in your life had you felt more defenseless, powerless. stripped of all autonomy and forced to let other people have their wicked ways with you. you felt nothing short of violated and it made you sick to your stomach, gut tossing and churning with reproach.

through your stinging eyes, blurry with hot tears, you watched haechan sink to his knees in front of your desk. you weren’t particularly enthusiastic about how exposed you were, your breasts out and your skirt bunched just above your thighs. it felt like the closest thing to walking around the plaza half-naked.

obviously, you felt more watched than you would’ve had it just been one of them, but you were at the mercy of three guys that were paying a godawful amount of attention to your bare figure. jaemin was fixed to your perky chest and jeno was watching haechan situate himself between your legs, holding them open for his friend in case you wanted to be defiant.

“haechan, i don’t want this,” you whined, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

“that’s too bad, baby.” haechan wasn’t even looking at you, gaze locked on your pussy, like that was what you were reduced to. “don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”

you sucked in another gasp when his mouth angled towards your pussy without affording you a notice in advance, your body’s natural instinct being to shut your legs, but jeno was still holding them in place and he was infinitely stronger than you. with the vigorous training that it took to be a member of the campus’ athletic teams, it came to you as no shock, but you were heavily disappointed.

haechan’s tongue singled out your clit while he lapped at you, ravenous. the second he saw you on the first day of class, he knew that he had to have you. so when he found out that you were sleeping with his father, cheating on your husband with haechan’s dad of all people, he became furious.

neither you or johnny were as good at keeping secrets as you thought yourselves to be. on more than one occasion, haechan saw you leaving their house. every now and then, he would see your name on his father’s phone. and it wasn’t fair. if anybody could please you, if anybody could bring you to heaven and back, it was the boy with his head buried between your legs.

as if matters couldn’t get any worse, haechan actually seemed to know what he was doing. though you would never admit it to his face, the way he was sucking at your bundle of nerves had you throbbing, pulsing involuntarily around nothing. you whimpered and whined, but chewed on your bottom lip to stifle the noise.

jaemin chuckled so quietly it was barely audible, but said nothing as of right now, cupping your tits in his palms and squeezing. his patience was much less limited than jeno’s, who was currently shifting out of his boxers, freeing his raging hard cock. you saw him in the corner of your misty eyes, noticing how rigid and thick his cock was, but said nothing.

what you didn’t expect, though probably should have seen coming, was for him to start jacking himself to the sight of you being mishandled. haechan wasn’t the only one that couldn’t stop thinking about from the moment you locked eyes. matter of fact, that mutual pining was the common denominator of this little team.

all three of them were sick in the head, out of their minds obsessed with you. you would have expected some lethal kind of rivalry to develop out of that, but instead, they were much more menacing about it. they were helping each other get what they wanted.

you were a little overwhelmed from all the attention and jeno wasn’t even touching you, but just knowing that he was stroking his cock for you was more than a little unnerving. jaemin’s hands were so strangely gentle, setting a pattern as he groped you, all the while haechan was eating you out vigorously.

“pretty, pretty. so pretty when you cry,” jaemin sang in a way that could’ve been kind, if you ignored the nature of what was happening to you. then, like he knew your secret and was implying that he wouldn’t tell, he whispered for only your ears, “pretty when you lie, too.”

it wasn’t fair. you didn’t want to like this, just like how you didn’t want to be aroused. but when haechan pushed a pair of fingers inside of your pussy you gushed and tightened around his digits. you were so unstill, it drove him mad, prompting him to go harder.

your brain was empty but racing all the while, thinking, this is so fucking wrong. you were fucking his father, for crying out loud, and even that was wrong. you didn’t care then, so according to their logic, it shouldn’t have made a difference now.

haechan and jeno’s grunts blended into one giant cacophony of sound, haechan moaning with a mouthful of pussy because he couldn’t get enough of the way you tasted and your pussy was spasming around his digits, whereas jeno was grunting because he thought you were most right now when you were deprived of all control.

blood was pumping quicker than ever through your veins, your heart screaming for survival. you weren’t even remotely in control of your own body anymore, seized not only by your three reckless students, but the pleasure burning through you like wildfire.

your office, that was typically admirably ventilated, seemed to hot to breathe in. but your breaths became quicker and shorter, as if there was no space in your lungs, and you started to feel the sweat cooling down your back, reminding you of how naked you were.

haechan was so hard, stiffening in his pants the longer he watched you start to unravel, and he could’ve probably gotten off just from making you cum. you were grinding your hips against his mouth, and his long, slender fingers that were surely getting you there. you might not have wanted to confess the truth, but your body couldn’t lie.

“she’s so close,” jeno commented with a chuckle, addressing you as if you weren’t even there. “fuck, i am too.”

a hole of negative emotions opened then and there and swallowed you whole, namely guilt and humiliation. you didn’t want haechan to make you cum, you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure, but that ship had already sailed.

nonetheless, you parted your lips and begged in between shaky moans, “haechan, stop. please, i’m begging you!”

“he’s not going to stop, sweetheart,” jaemin crooned, brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “don’t you see? he can’t get enough of your pretty pussy. you should feel so good about yourself.”

few things in life had ever made you feel this conflicted. on the one hand, this was degrading on way too many levels and you felt forcibly stripped of all of your dignity. but on the other, deep down inside, the sight of haechan with his head between your thighs as he licked and sucked at your cunt was inexplicably arousing.

and that did it for you. you tried to fight it, you really did, but your orgasm completely blindsided you, taking you by the reins and going to town. your lips parted in a cry of haechan’s name, your thighs trembling and heat striking through you like lightning as you gripped onto jaemin for dear life.

haechan continued to go down on you after you orgasmed, just until you finished more or less riding his face, going limp against your desk with only jaemin to keep you upright. you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think. all the blood was rushing to your head and your heart was thumping in your ears.

haechan finally pulled back, licking your arousal off of his lips and the corners of his mouth in a way that made your core throb emptily, then asked, “did you like it, dr. lee?”

your ears burned and you said nothing, because there was nothing that needed to be said. your answer was in the way your chest heaved like unstill waters, your fingers still holding onto jaemin’s shirt. like you thought you would collapse if you had nothing to anchor yourself.

jaemin took one glance at you and scoffed, “i think she loved it, man.”

there was something so smug in haechan’s stare, like he just knew that he had you.

when haechan moved, jeno came between your spread legs, still holding his cock while he stroked himself to climax in front of you. like it would never be satisfied, your pussy continued to throb at the sounds you were indirectly plucking out of him, culminating in one deep, guttural growl when he came, shooting his load on your cunt.

though you were (thank god) on birth control, him orgasming there still made you feel iffy. you could feel it trickling down into your hole and hated how eager it seemed to be filled. for half a second, you were convinced that was the worst that could happen.

imagine your shock when jaemin abandoned your boobs, soft and supple as they were, and shifted between your thighs next. you didn’t know what to expect when you noticed him move, they enjoyed keeping you guessing, but it definitely wasn’t for jaemin to lick at your release-stained pussy.

you gasped, “jaemin!”

the sound of him sucking and licking at your clit was lewd, and there were long, damp lines being made with his flattened tongue. while you were appalled, the other watched in amusement how jaemin unabashedly more or less ate jeno’s cum from your hole in a disturbing licking pattern. because where it was a nightmare for you, it was just one giant game to them.

to say nothing of the fact that you had only just orgasmed, sensitive. your thighs couldn’t handle the stimulation and you let out a breath of relief when his mouth separated from you, only for him to stand and force his lips against yours. you resisted, jolting away from him, but your attempts to evade him were in vain.

jaemin didn’t even need to grab your face to keep you still, because there was nowhere for you to hide. it was a disgusting, messy kiss, given that you were adamant on pushing him off. only so much of it was your fault though. jaemin liked it messy, liked how repulsed you were. he liked the grimace you were sporting and the blend of jeno’s cum and saliva dribbling down your chin. the damp spots of his saliva on your cheek from your attempts to dodge him and where his tongue pressed against you instead.

it was nauseating to you. you could taste jeno’s cum on your tongue, even though his cock hadn’t been anywhere near your mouth. and the the taste just wouldn’t go away.

jaemin, at last, pulled back, though only to laugh at the look on your face. “aw, don’t make that face. you liked it, right?”

you parted your lips to say deny him, but jaemin saw it coming and just kissed you again, not one to take no for an answer.

“okay, move your ass,” haechan said after a minute of watching you squirm. you never realized how strong jaemin was.

jaemin frowned, but moved out of the way. not because haechan told him to, but because he had something equally devious running through his brain.

you were baffled when you noticed haechan returning between your thighs, because he should’ve already had his fill. then, you noticed that he had freed his cock from his boxers in the time jaemin spent sucking on your tongue, and swallowed the lump in your throat.

you let out a cry of shock when they spread you over your desk the long way, carelessly toppling over your belongings, and yanked your skirt off your body completely. you were utterly naked, and there was no bit of you they hadn’t seen.

haechan positioned himself behind you, lining himself up at your entrance. there was so much terror in your body at the moment, scared not only for what was to come, but of liking it too.

“please,” you begged, trying to negotiate once more. “you boys should fool around with someone your own age.”

haechan snickered, as if that was funny. he probably thinks it is. “maybe, but where’s the fun in that?”

your jaw slacked when his first thrust drew a pitched cry from the back of your throat. he wasn’t even half as patient as his father would be to sheathe himself completely. johnny would take his time, wallowing in your wetness just before slowly but steadily filling you, inch by fucking inch. haechan, on the other hand, went straight for the kill.

but to your horror, you were soaked enough for him to slip right in smoothly, to say nothing of jeno’s leftover cum facilitating the process. haechan was girthy like johnny too, in spite of all of their stark differences, and you hated that it was so familiar how he was stretching you out.

“wait,” you whimpered, fingers clamping aggressively against the edges of your desk. “haechan, please. you don’t need to do this.”

irritated, jeno nudged jaemin, groaning, “will you shut her up already?”

“gladly,” jaemin chirped, a devilish little smile tugging at his lips.

you lifted your head up when you heard jaemin approaching the side of your desk that you were facing, watching him shuffle out of his pants and boxers, and you quickly started to flail. haechan grabbed your neck, lowered his head, and hissed, “behave, or we’ll have to tell the class that their favorite professor is just a slutty little whore.”

you stilled, remembering what was at stake. it wasn’t just your career, but johnny’s too. the second it got out that the two of you were involved in an affair, you knew you would both have to answer for your sins.

when jaemin finally got his underwear off, lengthy hard cock standing angrily against his stomach, he positioned himself beside your mouth and crooned, “say ‘ah.’”

“i don’t want to,” you whimpered.

jeno crept over, evidently disgruntled, and there was a resounding smack when his palm landed flat against your cheek. “one more thing from you and your husband’s gonna get a nice surprise in his email,” he warned.

defeated, you silently opened your mouth, letting jaemin push himself to the back of your throat. he let out a pleasant little sigh, eyes fluttering closed, paying no attention to the tears dripping down your cheeks. your mouth was too warm for him to a give damn whether or not you wanted this, to care about what you were feeling.

all the while, haechan’s hands were bruising your hips with the merciless grip he had of them. unlike you, his moans were unrestrained, never shy to reveal the ecstasy making his blood pump and his dick throb. you were so wet, so tight, everything he imagined tenfold. his father didn’t deserve you, not in his opinion. everything johnny could do, haechan was certain that he could do better, even if you didn’t want to confess.

even if he was a lot less caring than his dad would present. you didn’t know johnny, not like you thought. the dark side haechan had didn’t just come out of nowhere. though you would never realize, there was a clear reason why haechan was so sick in the head, especially when it came to you. why he took great delight in forcing you over your desk, stuffing you full of his cock and listening to you cry, struggling to hide that you loved his cock.

“he doesn’t love you, you know,” haechan said none too gently, snickering from between your legs. “i hope you realize you’re just another easy whore. not the first, not the last.”

there was so much going on that you were hoping you could somehow detach yourself from the brutal reality. not only was your body overloaded, but your mind and soul, ripping a hole right through all that you thought to be true.

it was all too fucking much. “your mouth feels so good,” jaemin exhaled, a hand tangled through your hair.

“you should feel her pussy. she’s so fucking wet, dude. and she thinks we’re going to buy that she’s not begging for this,” haechan replied, completely degrading.

jaemin chuckled breathlessly. you were sucking it out of him, against your will or not. “yeah, i can hear how wet she is.”

jeno said nothing, but you were already too overwhelmed to notice his absence in the conversation. he was engrossed in thought, waiting with staggering patience for his own turn. which wasn’t typical for him at all. he swore, when he was done with you, you weren’t even going to think for weeks.

between haechan’s twisted smack of his hips against yours and the way jaemin was unabashedly using your mouth to get off, you couldn’t decide which was more brutal. torture was torture, but if it was meant to be so bad, there shouldn’t have been moans slipping from your mouth uncontrollably. there shouldn’t have been a familar weight sitting in the pit of your stomach, waiting to wreck you.

“i know you love this,” haechan said, maybe project just a little, but the body didn’t lie and he could feel you tightening. “i know you love this fucking dick. wish i could hear you say it, baby.”

“that can be arranged,” jaemin quipped, but it took you by surprise when he actually pulled his cock from your mouth. “c’mon, angel. tell haechan how much you love his dick.”

your face flushed with humiliation, but you knew what would happen if you failed to comply. “i...,” you started, hesitant. “i love your dick, haechan.”

haechan smacked your ass, making you stifle a scream. “again.”

you cried out, “i love your dick!”

“i know,” haechan said, sickeningly confident in himself. “i also know that you’re about to cum.”

it was maddening that your husband of ages could hardly even get you off these days but some students in your class were recognizing the signs in record time. you were also ashamed with yourself for being so aroused, for needing to orgasm this badly, but you forfeited control of yourself moments ago.

jaemin had enough and once his dick started to twitch desperately, he shoved his cock back into your mouth, chasing relief for the raging hard-on you’d given him. rather than you sucking him off, it was more of him relentlessly fucking your throat, not stopping when you gagged.

and it wasn’t long before the three of you ultimately came, like a chain of dominoes collapsing after each other. this orgasm was just as powerful as the one that came before, the room reeling as your screams were muffled against jaemin’s stiff cock. your whole body was a thousand degrees hotter. jaemin’s warm cum releasing in your mouth while haechan’s seeped deeply into your pussy.

although you tried to swallow jaemin’s cum, per his request, some of it dripped onto the floor. you were terrified of leaving evidence of this encounter, wishing you would’ve gulped it all back, but then you felt haechan’s cum leaking out of you and your priorities shifted.

“my turn,” jeno said, though that was a given. you were confused when he started to spread haechan’s cum over your asshole, though for the longest you could feel his stare burning through your backside.

baffled, and maybe somewhat startled, you asked, “jeno, what are you doing?”

“shut the fuck up,” jeno snapped belligerently, smacking his palm harshly against your cunt. you cried out in pain, unexpecting. “i’m tired of hearing your voice. just take it.”

but nothing could have prepared you for what was to come. nothing could have prepared you for the merciless way he penetrated your ass, effectively knocking the wind out of you. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, as if all the air in the sky was stolen and hid in this little box somewhere.

you wanted to scream, you wanted to beg for forgiveness for whatever you had done, but no sound would come from your mouth. there was only instant tears, your hands gripped the rim of your desk for purchase. the makeup you were wearing was ruined ages ago, but it had to have looked despicable now, because you were sobbing harder than ever.

“poor thing.” jaemin frowned, pretending to be compassionate. that was something he was good at, you realized. he had you fooled until you saw how recklessly he fucked your throat, and you came to accept they were all too alike.

“she’ll be, fuck, fine,” jeno groaned, careless. he was the roughest of the bunch, the most antagonistic. “this hole is so fucking tight.”

jeno was pressing you against the desk harder than haechan had, roughly mishandling you. it was obvious that jeno didn’t see you as his equal. when it came to you, all he gave a damn about was passing your class and fucking your ass.

never in your life had anyone ever fucked you there before, and the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. you were so repulsed, choking on your own feelings as they killed you slowly. the pain was unbearable, making it impossible to remain still, but that didn’t matter when jeno had you borderline flattened.

it was almost awe-inducing how he held you down with ease, regardless of how strong you thought you were and how violently you were reacting. it was the closest thing to being split open. pitiful little noises escaped you, but you bit them back, because the last thing you wanted was to get caught. somehow, though, the shock was more agonizing than the pain itself.

your agonized whimpers and jeno’s husky grunts made an awkward cacophony. if there was any of them that got off to your helplessness, you knew it was all of them, but jeno had to wallow in it more than either of them.

haechan and jaemin were stroking their cocks to the sight of you being ravaged to the point of total destruction. there were plenty of times in your life where you felt nothing short of broken, but this was a different variant, a kind from which you knew that you would never recover.

jeno couldn’t believe his thick cock was even fitting into your tight, flexing asshole, though then again, whatever you thought you couldn’t take, jeno would make you do. your body was for his own personal amusement. he leveraged himself deeper and deeper, groaning and laughing, using you to his advantage. because what jeno wanted, he always got. every time without fail. obviously, you were no exception to this pattern, even if it was to your own dismay.

your lip was bleeding from how frequently you were biting. all you wanted was to protect your reputation. you had things to lose, things you knew jeno would steal away from you in a heartbeat, because all he did was take.

“she’s such a damn whore, fuck. she should be grateful i’m fucking her,” jeno hissed, aggressive.

given how much you had heard adjacent statements in the past hour, you were starting to believe them, no matter how disparaging they were. you were accepting the cold truth, that this was your punishment for being unfaithful.

quickening his pace, jeno continued, “i’ve never wanted to fuck that nasty little pussy of hers. not when everybody’s been inside of it. but i can tell she’s never had this ass stretched before.”

his words were hurting more than his cruel movements, and you didn’t understand the science behind that. you whined, “jeno.” please, have mercy, was what you wanted to say, but you knew there was no point.

jeno squeezed your neck, cutting off your ability to inhale, and you felt every nerve in your body start to panic. “for the umpteenth time, shut the fuck up. no one’s fucking talking to you, bitch.”

you quieted, face tensing with delirious pain.

“pathetic if you ask me,” haechan added, breath shaky. “her husband’s dick isn’t good enough for her, so she fucks my dad, and now that we give her three more, she still has the audacity to complain.”

jaemin snorted. “textbook cockslut.”

you wanted to speak, you were desperate to defend your honor and identity, but you had already said enough and you were lucky that they hadn’t already decided to expose you to the whole planet. you had no defenses against them, nothing in your arsenal.

“begging us to stop, but she won’t stop fucking cumming. needy little bitch,” jeno chided, though judging from his breathlessness, he was far from disgruntled.

jaemin chortled, his cock still close to your face, and it was making you mildly uncomfortable. “maybe we should send her back to the husband with some tips.”

“oh, i’ve got one,” haechan said, beaming with his usual mischief. “hold her down and use her little holes until you’re done.”

“yeah, looks like she loves that,” jaemin retorted.

jeno quipped, “we should’ve recorded. maybe showed him a tutorial.”

haechan blew out a contented sigh. “well, there’s always next time.”

your heart was taut with fear at the thought of there being a next time, but the three of your students were grinning with excitement, as if they wholly anticipated reliving this moment in the not so distant future.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum,” jeno grunted, wanting to go even deeper, but there was nowhere for him to move.

haechan hummed, reminiscing over how good it felt to cum inside of your throbbing pussy. how you milked the cum out of him, bled him dry. “shame she’s on birth control. i overheard her and my dad talking,” he replied, nonchalant. “imagine if we got her pregnant.”

“man, don’t talk like that,” jeno groaned.

haechan glanced to jaemin, both of them snickering amongst each other. “dude, i was just kidding. don’t tell me that’s actually getting your dick hard.”

“fuck, i’m gonna…”

the most delicious growl came from the tip of jeno’s tongue when he released inside of your asshole, his brows scrunching together with pleasure. his hips finally grinded to a halt when he met his climax, dumping way too much of his load inside. you could feel his fingertips leaving marks that would indefinitely stain your skin, and you dreaded having to explain them to your husband.

when jeno finally pulled away from you, having had his fill for now, your body went limp against your desk. you could have moved, but you were too exhausted. sweat cooled down your back, chilling you to shudders, but there wasn’t a single thought in your head. all you could do was lie there, used and exploited, hoping that life would return to the way you knew it before they broke you.

because right now, it was bland. the only thing you could feel was the soreness in your legs and the cum dripping from your hole, numbing yourself to everything else.

there was so patronizing about the way jeno turned to you, asking with the slyest grin on his face, “did you like it, dr. lee?”

#tw: noncon #nct dream smut #lee haechan smut #lee jeno smut #jaemin smut #nct smut #nct dream hard hours #haechan smut #jeno smut #revehae fics

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yanderemommabean · 3 months

Text

Yandere red room idea

The Red rooms. It’s not something He really thought he’d find himself using but here he is, walking up the corridor with a key card in his pocket. It’s definitely a secret society type of deal, code words, secret hand gestures, one use keys, all the security one could imagine. The first time he even heard of such a place like this, he assumed it was dark internet fetish mumbo jumbo.

But after he found you, well, the right people found him and led him to the right place. Not a room of pain, but one of pleasure, to show his darling all of his intense love and emotion and then some.

He hasn’t even booked a room yet, he’s here as a sort of consultation visit. To see if he really has the balls to do this and show that yes, he adores you, and that his love outweighs anyone else’s.

Sliding the card into the door brought him into an empty room besides a desk, a few chairs, and two large filing cabinets. He takes a look around, quickly surveying the area, before stepping inside fully and sitting in the chair facing the large office chair in front of him. Before he can let his shoulders relax, a man follows in behind him, followed by a woman as well, both dressed professionally and seeming very…happy.

“Ah! It’s good to see you, Mr-”

“Lee, you can just call me Lee. And you are?” He asks, gesturing to the woman standing beside the man in the suit as he begins to open a manilla envelope, spreading the papers out on the table.

“Victoria. We can leave it at that. I can tell that you know secrecy and customer privacy are our top priority with this business” She says with a knowing smile, sliding the papers over to face them towards the doctor.

“Now, Lee, What we have here is a very basic outline of what we can do for you and that love bug you’ve found yourself. We celebrate rather than punish our loved ones here, and want them to understand that to their core! We find that the red room experience helps!” The man exclaims with excitement, but has yet to really introduce himself.

Lee was told to expect that however. The leader behind this all was kind enough to reach out but he wasn’t to expect anything too personal. “All business” was his very aura, and Lee could respect that. He nods along as Victoria took the reigns, explaining some of their core beliefs before getting to what Lee really wanted to know.

“We can make the room however you please, lease it for up to four days at a time with personnel who checks in every four hours with their own special keys, for the darlings sake. As much as we wish to fully trust our customers, we will not take the risk of them dying or being seriously injured in any way. As stated, this is a way to show love and we give you the tools to do so! “ Victoria then spreads apart the papers, pointing here and there as she explains a bit more, intriguing Lee with every bit. “We have romantic layouts like at a hotel, we have BDSM specialist rooms, we have very highly rated toys and devices that we inspect and clean before each room is ready, and we have a live stream option if you’re the type who thinks everyone should see the pleasure you’re darling is receiving! I personally recommend the tribbing machines with the black rose theme if you prefer the dom and sub type of vibe, but we can personalize however you like!”

Huh. Wow. They’re very thorough aren’t they?

The business man nods, sitting back in his seat as he adjusts his tie. “I started many companies in my life, all based on bringing smiles and joy, and it’s my personal belief that there needs to be a company looking out for your lover! Love, adventurous or more mellow, is a beautiful thing that our darlings need to be showered in as much as possible. If you’d like, this can also be set up in a way to just calmly express your love to your darling, but I will clarify that it isn’t guaranteed to go well…I advise getting our crews to pick them up and deliver them for you, with every person being given a background check of course! Safety and security is what comes first for your darling”

Lee was a bit flabbergasted to say the least. They talk so professionally, have such a strange ethic to them, and they act as if he’s about to buy a company or large house rather than finally get ahold of the love of his life. It’s…Odd but charming. He can’t say he’s turned away from this, in fact he has a few ideas for his own red room.

“Are they CPR trained and do they have basic first aid knowledge?” Lee asks as he looks over some more of the photos, liking the array of toys they had up for use to add to the room, each one costing extra of course but for what he had planned…it wouldn’t be too bad.

Victoria smirks, laughing lightly in amusement “I can see we’ve caught even more of your attention. We can make sure these personnel are trained for the pick up, but our permanent staff are already trained in first aid help and some, even small surgical emergencies. You know, always needing to be prepared and all”.

They talk a few more things out, Lee deciding that if these people were serious, then he could trust them. If they crossed him in any way, he’d easily rid at least a handful of them. He didn’t get that gut feeling he usually does when people are lying to him however. This felt thorough and legit and well…Professional.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you Mr Lee. We’ll be getting in touch with you shortly! You wont regret setting this up-” the business man says with a firm handshake, smiling in an almost uncanny way. “And remember, when you’re in a bind, one of our smiles will ease your mind"

-Mommabean (This was so silly but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!)

#yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #mommabean #yandere CEO #yandere red room #yandere male #Victoria my oc #CEO my oc #Dr lee my oc #Doctor lee my oc #lovely smiles corps

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seokgyuu · 4 months

Text

growing up with heeseung, jay and sunghoon you never once imagined them being anything more to you than your childhood best friends - and to some extent you're correct: they remain your gross boy best friends up until college, when suddenly things start to feel different. with all of them.

✧ heeseung x fem!reader, jay x fem!reader, sunghoon x fem!reader ✧

✧ childhood friends to lovers, fake dating trope, college setting, story begins in childhood and leads us through all the important phases ✧

✧ this work contains: intended lowercase, poor tries at comedy, simp!hee, simp!hoon & simp!jay as well as very oblivious reader, jake as the first ever boyfriend, hanni, chaewon and beomgyu have a cameo ✧

✧ warnings! mentions of bullying, smut (MDNI), more to be added if needed. ✧

hi! for my very first enha fic I have decided to open a taglist! You can join it by sending me an ask, so that I can keep track.

taglist: open

current word count: 4k

estimated word count: 15-20k

posting date: tba

taglist: @kgneptun, @deobitifull, @lovelickies, @tinie03, @moon4moony, @sousydive, @jebetwo, @haechology, @wooziswife, @havetaeminforbreakfast, @vannabanana1995, @nctislifue , @wiley199, @lovgfrd, @heegyuwrld, @caravm, @adoredbyjay, @notevenheretbh1

teaser

the principal's office could really use an interior designer, you think. or just a whole renovation at this point. the ceiling is showing signs of leakage, there is paint peeling off the walls behind the desk. and the desk itself, jeez, principal higgs should have gotten rid of it ages ago, you keep telling him!

“how many visits will that be for the week?” he doesn’t even look up from whatever he was writing as he says this. you shift on your seat and look to your left where jay is tapping his fingers on the armrest of the uncomfortable chair and heeseung next to him is just staring at the principal’s receding hairline. meanwhile sunghoon to your right is silently plotting your death.

since none of the boys speak up, you clear your throat.

“the fourth, sir,” you say with a smile you think is charming but it actually isn’t. principal higgs sighs and puts his pen down as well as his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“thank you, miss y/l/n,” he replies, “and how many more times are you planning to sit in these horribly uncomfortable chairs this week?”

“none, sir,” you continue, the smile still playing on your lips. the older man behind the desk closes his eyes for a second.

“you say that every time and yet here we are again. so, what did you do this time? did you accidentally fall and hit mr. park in the face again?” he looks at jay, who rolls his eyes at the reminder, “well, he doesn’t look like he got a black eye. so, what is it?”

when even you don’t respond, avoiding the principals eyes as he opens them again and the boys are all hopeless cases anyways, mr. higgs takes a deep breath and puts his glasses back on.

“fine. let’s see,” he pulls on the stack of papers he has gotten from his secretary and looks at it with his lips pursed. all four of you shift on your seats now.

“alright then. mr. lee, as it seems you… put several worms in mr. sim’s locker?” higgs eyebrow pierces up and heeseung coughs.

“and mr. park, jay, you… sabotaged mr. sim’s chair so that he fell on to his backside and then told him to “go suck it”?” jay snorts, still tapping against the armchair and not looking at the principal. higgs takes a deep breath.

“mr. park, sunghoon,… you held out your leg for mr. sim to fall over… almost twenty-three times in one day.”

sunghoon has to concentrate not to look too proud of himself.

“and finally, miss y/l/n. you yelled at mr. sim in front of your whole class, saying, and i quote “you’re a stupid asshat anyways, i hope you trip and break your butt, you ugly little worm”.”

you smile innocently.

“you also kicked him in the shins, as a grand ending gesture, as mrs. james was kind enough to write down for me.”

he puts the notebook down and looks at the four of you.

“come on you guys, i know you like to play harmless pranks on teachers. like to make one joke too many in class. but this? if mr. sim’s parents hear about this, and they will, there could be consequences that even i can’t hold back.”

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #heeseung x reader #sunghoon x reader #jake x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen imagines #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha smut #enha fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen au #enha au #enha imagine

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nak4m8to · 4 months

Text

Big Boss (18+)

corporate! au l rivals to lovers! l nsfw smut mdni!

summary : mingyu, a charismatic and ambitious executive, finds himself in a tense professional relationship with the reader. The reader, harboring a deep-seated dislike for mingyu, navigates the cutthroat corporate world with a determination to outshine him at every turn. As the two clash in boardroom meetings and compete for promotions, the ceo forces them to collaborate on a high-stakes project.

content : executive chef! mingyu, mixed! reader, mingyu being an asshole a lil bit + eavesdropper conversation SMUT! office sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (m. and f.) degradation , praise, bigdickmingyu!, filthy and messy ass sex, cocky! mingyu, jealous! mingyu, jealous! reader, seungkwan and yeri gossiping,

wc : 8,649 k ( damn)

an : finally out! hope you’ll like as much i liked write it. Let me know what you think ! sorry in advance for any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language.Thank you for all the likes and the sweet comments <3

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One thing you specifically hate about him is how his smell lingered everywhere he went. The strong musky smell with the additional smell of his strong freshly pressed coffee. It was his signature fragrance. Every time, you smelled that strong coffee it reminded you of Mingyu. It might be one of the reasons of the loathe towards him, you can't get him out of you mind. This aversion, perhaps intensified by the constant reminder of him, was further fueled by the intense competition for the significant promotion your boss had put forward.

You also hate the way he was getting into your nerve every time he gets the chance too, it also felt you both have the same brilliant ideas in some of your projects. You hated his perfect face, the different moles on his face, you can even know where they are located. On his left cheek, on in his forehead and on his nose. His striking appearance in that perfectly tailored suit irked you. You hated how his long hair makes him look even better than he already is. You hated how small and intimidated you felt next to him even though you're not that small specially in those heels and how confident you are.

Although, he hated you too. He hated the sound of your heels clicking on the floor, he knows the sound of it better than the back of his hand. He hated the way your curls were surrounding your face, he hated the fact that you never came without your infamous lip combo, he might even know the products that you used, he think it's fenty ? hot chocolate something ? he hate the way you've smiled to every colleagues except him. He hated that you like to show off your body, either with those short skirt, long enough to be corporate appropriate but short enough to tease him, your glowy tan legs always makes you look ethereal or even when you wear those shoulder showing shirt.

Entering the new company building, you present your business card at the automatic gantries and exchange greetings with the receptionists. While waiting for the elevator, Mr Lee surprises you with a cheerful greeting, mentioning that the boss wants to see you for a presentation.

Entering the elevator and he press the button to level number six. "Really ? I hope he needs me to do it though it'll help for the promotion" you said winking at him. You start checking yourself through the mirror just to make sure your hair is in place until you see a silhouette coming from afar. Tall, large shoulders, long hair. Fuck that asshole, you said you to yourself.

"I don't know how you manage with all these project without a burn out reader" Listening to Mr. Lee as the frustration build up, you focus on the elevator buttons, you press them repetitively, not wanting to be near that man.

"Me too, I don't know how I manage, I just like competing against Mr.Kim I guess" hearing the brown hair man chuckles next to you but your attention is fixed on avoiding Mingyu.

As the elevator doors close, you flash a fake smile at Mingyu, successfully leaving him behind." I can't bare him" "I think everyone can see that reader ... You know one day you'll need to cooperate with him for work" "hopefully this day is not coming soon" You sighed while checking your e-mails in your phone. The small ding of the elevator makes your head to look up and the door opens. "After you Mrs. Reader" said Mr.Lee letting go out first."Thank your Mr.Lee" smiling at him. While walking towards your office, you felt eyes burning in your back, mostly your ass. Let's said that the dress you wore gave you justice. Did Mr. Lee let you pass so he can stare at your ass ? Did he ? He didn't right ?

Installing your bag in chair, you send a greeting to Seungkwan, sitting across of the open space, busy talking business with a client on the phone. "Hey! Ready to start the day ?" Yeri said to you "Girl have you seen the bags under my eyes ?" you give her a dead plan face expressing how tired you are but you can't show it to your superiors like Mr. Lee or even worse to your boss otherwise they would stop handing you important cases for the company due to the lack of sleep. Securing the promotion is essential to give recognition and reward sacrifices you've made so far, you deserve to be paid well. And bonus, Mr.Kim will not be your supervisor anymore. Well technically, he's still be your supervisor but he will not have that much authority anymore. Yeri start to rub her hand in your back to soothe the soreness due to the stress that your body endured. You start to printed out an important file that you supposed to handle to Mr.Jeon later so he can complete the remaining task by himself. Sighing in front of the computer, not prepared of what is waiting for you to be done at the end of the day

After a few hours, you finally get up and take the file with you. "Good luck reader ! You got it, Mr.Jeon will love your work anyway you're brilliant!" Seungkwan said trying to reassure you. "Thanks but he's kind of having that scary aura though" you said rubbing your neck trying to calm the anxiety down. "He does but you just need to seduce him a little a bit" Yeri winking at you making you laugh and relax a bit "I heard that he's a boob guy either way you have your chance, show a bit of cleavage and voilà" Seungkwan exaggerated the cleavage motion making you giggle even more, as you playfully hit his shoulder with the file. "You are both insufferable" "Perhaps we are, but you look less stress now"

You knocks firmly at the door, you hear a small "Enter", you pushed the door. Mr.Jeon smiled faintly at you as you enter his office. Always with his infamous specs resting on his nose. Someone already occupying the chair across from him, even from behind you recognized who is it. "Hello Mr.Jeon, here is what I found" handing the file to Mr. Jeon, who is seated at his desk."Thanks Reader, I'll try my best to continue what you've done""And me ? I don't deserve a hello ? after what you've done earlier" You meet his brown-eyed gaze, the intensity of it makes your thighs clench involuntarily. He sits in front of you, manspreading, his face propped up by his hand. As you observe him, the urge to wipe that irritating smirk off his face intensifies, especially with that damn suit. Surprisingly, you realize you might have a thing for men in suits, you didn't know that it was possible to have one. "What did I do? I don't recall anything " one of your eyebrows raised. He shift in his seat ready to answer you but Mr.Jeon interrupted him before its start to get hectic."Thank you again for working with me reader" "No problem, see you later" and you exit without giving a chance to Mingyu to reply. His tongue glides over his lips "Feisty" Wonwoo gazing on the file that you handed him. " I like em' like that"

Lunch time finally arrived, you rise, stretching your arms while waiting for Yeri to conclude her call. "Damn, that client didn't want me to finish with her" "Yeah I've heard that, let's go grab some lunch I'm starving, Seungkwan will join us"

Grabbing food in the restaurant's company, you ate your lunch while Yeri is talking about how she found the new recruit cute. You don't really recall his name. "Reader ! He's here oh my god look at him ! how the shirt hugs his arms" whisper-shouted, pointing at a tall, blond man with a mullet. Mr. Lee was showing him around. "He seems really cute, what's his name again?"

"Chan, you don't listen when I talk, right?" "Not everything, not gonna lie" "Something must be occupying your mind ? What is it ? Did Mr Jeon didn't like your work ?" "No, he didn't say anything about it" Little did you know that a pair of ears were eavesdropping your conversation with your favorite colleague. "You remember the guy that I met at the bar the other night ?" "Yeah, what about him" "He's cute but he was awful in bed" "Damn you have no chance at all" "The only way to make me feel better after those agitating weeks is literally having sex, and even that I can't have it" "I'll help you to find another guy that will make you cum I promise" putting her hands on your naked shoulder. "I can't even trust you anymore, do you know how long I didn't fucking cum ?!" whispering-shouting in your turn. Mingyu couldn't believe what he was hearing, you were mainly acting like a bitch towards him, particularly these last weeks, because you hadn't cum ?!

He felt betrayed and pleased simultaneously—betrayed because other guys had the chance to feel your skin under their touch and pleased due to the fact that you didn't get any pleasure from it. A demonic smirk adorned his face, he left the place not wanting to know more about it.

"Gossip of the day girls !" Yeri and you turn your heads in sync after hearing seungkwan's voice. "Well, one concerns you, reader. Why didn't you tell us that you closed the elevator's door in front of Mr Kim's face this morning ?!" "Reader ? Seriously?" Yeri uttered. "I was already pissed from that terrible weekend, I didn't want to interact him that early! I didn't know that Mr Lee is a snitch though!" "I think half of the people that work here kinda know that" "What's the second gossip of the day?" "The new hot guy will work with us" "No fucking way !" Yeri squealed like a teenager girl. "We were literally talking about him" "Yeri you better fuck him by the end of the year" "Don't listen to him, it'll be weird in the office if you guys have sex. Don't mix business and pleasure"

"Reader, you're boring ! We want drama! We want thrill in our life !" "Hey, look at that girl twirling her hair while talking to Mr. Kim." Your eyes follow the scene in front of you, capturing the interaction. The blonde girl is giggling at whatever Mingyu whispers in her ear, her laughter echoing in the air. One of her hands confidently grabs his biceps, creating an intimate connection that sends a pang of jealousy creeping into your chest when your eyes lock with Mingyu's. The atmosphere is charged with unspoken dynamics, and you notice the subtle shifts in body language between them. Mingyu's charismatic smile, the girl's playful gestures "I bet that joke wasn't that funny," Seungkwan remarks, rolling his eyes, sensing the tension in the air.

Adjusting your smudged lipgloss after the meal, you receive a message from your boss, Mr. Choi, instructing you to visit his office in fifteen minutes. Is this related to what Mr. Lee mentioned earlier this morning? "Guys, Boss wants me in his office. We'll catch up later for a break?" "Yeah! Good luck, reader! Think about the promotion." "I will."

The echo of your boots against the carpet prompts a smirk from Mingyu, signaling his awareness of your presence. Spotting him waiting for the elevator, you find yourself doing the same, unable to resist staring at how his suit accentuates his broad back. Catching a whiff of his distinctive scent, you unconsciously bite your lip, even with a layer of lip gloss applied.

As the elevator dings, coworkers exit with polite smiles, and you and Mingyu exchange nods with them. Inside the elevator, a subtle nervousness creeps in with him standing so close. Your fingers hover over the button for the ninth floor when you feel his rugged fingers brush against yours, both selecting the same floor. Startled, you withdraw your hand and fix your gaze on the closing doors, trying to feel indifferent to this sudden contact.

He breaks the silence, saying, "You know, there's no need to keep such a distance. I don't bite unless it's asked." "Don't worry, I just prefer to maintain a certain distance from you" responding to him while trying to distract yourself with your rings wrapped around your fingers. He start to shamelessly checking you out, causing your body to heat you. His eyes couldn't resist to your exposed back shoulder and neck. His weakness was really how that dress tightly embraced your hips and accentuated your ass. He start to think what you'd look like bent over on his office's desk with the lower part of the dress bunched up in your waist and the upper part exposing completely your tits. His thoughts were lost on what if you are wearing a bra underneath this god damn dress. You mentally cursed yourself why did you wore that thick dress, but you really like how you looked with it . The material was not appropriate for a Mingyu situation.

Ding, the door finally open and you unconsciously released the breath that you've been holding and star to lead the walk. Confused you still feel him following you, is he not going somewhere else ? Halting just outside Mr. Choi's door, you abruptly turn to find his equally puzzled expression. "Why are you following me?" "I could ask you the same. I have a crucial meeting with Seungcheol; he informed me about a last-minute project. I don't think you'll be needed, reader," he says in a manner that implies only a supervisor can handle such situations, making you feel inferior.

"Mr Kim, could you stop being so full of yourself for once?" The door unexpectedly swung open, surprising you both, revealing a blond concerned Mr. Choi. Did he died his hair ? Well, he looks hot blond. "I was waiting for your arrival. Enter; we don't have much time." You both approach his office, and he guides you to sit on the chairs across his desk while he takes his place.

"So, I've gathered both of you because I have a last-minute meeting in 3 days with SM Inc." "I thought it was planned for next month." "They advanced it." Mingyu's muttered curse makes me realize the severity of the situation. "Jeonghan is already handling a mission in Japan, and I have to go help him because he's facing difficulties. That's why I'm asking you, Mingyu. You're a good negotiator and a wise man," Mr. Choi says, looking at him. "And Reader, in just a few months, you've proven to the whole company how much you can do. You're my best asset, and you can come up with good arguments."

"But Mr. Choi, I can't even think of one argument right now. I'm not suggesting you to reconsider someone else, but Mr Kim and I have two distinct ways to work, so-" "I already know that. That's why I'm asking both of you to do it." You feel cornered because it's a critical issue and mostly because you need to cooperate with the asshole next to you.

Fingers running through his hair, Mingyu is thinking how he can complete a month's work in just 3 days. "We will offer them to take 12% of our shares, no more or less, and try to come up with good arguments." You start biting your lips out of nervousness. "Put your differences aside and work together for the company's future."

"I can work with her, but I don't think she can. She's quite temperamental," Mingyu says, turning his head towards you. Your eyes shoot daggers at him. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Kim? Are you implying that women cannot control their emotions?" As you size him up "I'm not saying women, I'm just saying you. Don't generalize it." "Hey, calm down, you two! This is crucial!" Wanting to roll your eyes, you resist the urge due to the fact that you have too much respect for your boss.

"If it helps, the one with the best arguments will be promoted." "I'm on it then." "Same!" "That's the spirit!" your boss claps his hands together. "But you're on the same team, okay? Don't make it too personal." Someone enters the office without knocking. "So, you've told them?" You turn your head to the man with short blond hair who just came through the door. What’s up about them with dyed blond hair ? Start to question yourself. "Yeah, I think they're both ready to work on it." The blonde man smirks at you, sensing his gaze. He approaches, takes your hands, and presses his soft lips on them. "I don't recall meeting you before. I'm Kwon Soonyoung, but you can call me Hoshi." Startled by his persona, you mutter a small "nice to meet you" out of respect. The dark-haired man on your side felt a pang of jealousy. More of possessiveness, why those men throw themselves at you. You're supposed to be exclusively his and only his he wondered.

"If you have more questions, ask Hoshi; he knows SM.Inc quite a lot." "Seriously, I should trust him," says Mingyu with an unserious smile on his face. "For that case, I think you should." "That pretty much it, thank you for your implication on it"

Rising from your chair and quitting Mr. Choi's office, Mingyu follows your every move. Suddenly, his calloused hands grab your wrist, and he instructs, "Reader, meet me in my office in 20 minutes." Instinctively pulling your arm away, you assert, "Firstly, don't grab me like that, and don't even think about putting your hands on me. Secondly, why in your office? I can work in my own and send you the arguments I've gathered." His hands release your wrist, and he explains, "Seungcheol mentioned that we need to collaborate, and we'll finish more early if two brains work together. Besides, my office offers the privacy and calm." He said implying the loudness of your open space with your noisy colleagues. You sigh, acknowledging the truth in his words but choosing not to admit it due to your pride. "Well, I need to call my client, inform her that Yeri will handle her mission alone, and I need coffee." Mingyu raises an eyebrow, "So thirty minutes will be enough?" suggesting the time required for your meeting. "I think so." "Now, if you excuse me," he passes closely by you, his body brushing against yours. Stunned, you can't help but flutter your eyes, too surprised to respond. "I thought you two were about to rip each other's throats out," Hoshi comments, accompanying you to the elevator. "I almost did." As the elevator doors close in front of Hoshi's and your face, you see Mingyu smirking, muttering, "Now we're even."

"No fucking way!" Yeri exclaims in shock as you deliver the news to her. "That mean I have to withdraw from the other case that we started, sorry" you said to her filling a bit upset. "Don't be sorry ! I'm more shocked that you will be working with Mr Kim!" "Who's working with who ?!" Seungkwan chimes in abruptly sipping his iced coffee. "Reader and Mingyu have a last-minute project that Mr Choi handled them, the presentation will be given in 3 days" "And now I have to meet him in 15minutes" you checked your phone " Wait, wait, wait" Seungkwan interrupts, making you both stop " So you're telling me that you'll be in the same room as Mr Kim by yourselves for the next 4 hours ?!" "Yeah, why ?" "Someone will be dead tonight" "Either him or her" "Or something else could happen"

You finish your call with your client, grabbing your laptop as you leave. "Please do not kill him; he's too hot to die young," Yeri jokes. "Like I care." "She seriously hates him." You confidently stride to his office, knocking on the door before entering. It feels like your first time stepping into his cold office, adorned with a small, expensive brown couch and a coffee table that looks as pricey as your rent. The closed blinds provide a cozy atmosphere, you can see throughout the blinds the beautiful view of the city from the windows. But it can't beat the view that you had of him. His attention is absorbed by the computer and scattered papers on his desk.

"I thought you'd never come," he remarks. "Well, here I am." His scrutinizing gaze lingers on your body unintentionally. "Here, come sit." Mingyu gestures towards a comfortable chair across from him, creating a necessary distance. You don't think you can focus with his buff body beside you. Seated, you open your laptop, both of you diving into your tasks, surprisingly the silence was comfortable and not a single moment of awkwardness happened. Focused on the critical situation and driven by competitiveness for the upcoming promotion, you find yourselves working together more smoothly than anticipated. As you can hear him shift on his chair. You glance in your rearview mirror, catching Mingyu as he takes off his suit jacket. Unable to resist, your eyes fixate on the muscles bulging beneath his shirt, particularly his pectoral muscles straining against the fabric. The desire to feel those muscles under your nails intensifies, and your mind starts to wonder about how he could manhandle you. Mingyu senses the intensity of your gaze, creating an unspoken tension in the air. "You like the view" Startled by his question "You really have a nice view of the city" avoiding the real question.

He smirks, nodding at your reply, and decides to tease you further. "If you ever need help with anything else, feel free to ask," referring to the overheard conversation from noon. Oblivious to the context, you assert, "I don't think I'm struggling with anything right now." Unaware that he's alluding to your earlier discussion about difficulties reaching climax with your partners.

Ding, your phone buzzes with a message. "Is it from the guy who couldn't make you cum?" Mingyu remarks, causing warmth to spread across your face and deep within your torso. Feeling humiliated, you scold him, "Where did you hear that?" With a nonchalant tone "You have to be careful about those discussions in the office, it's not really appropriate" "You’re quite a pervert to listen to women's discussions" Not knowing what to response to him. Uncomfortable with his prying, you open your phone to check Hoshi's message, attempting to avoid Mingyu's gaze.

Rising from his chair, Mingyu walk towards you, positioning himself in front of you. He locks your gaze with his, one hand securing the armrest of your chair and the other under your jaw. His touch feels warm, and you can't help but bite your lips as his whispered words about helping you echo in your ears. "I was not joking when I said I could help you with that" While Mingyu was thinking how you look with your mouth stuffed with his heavy cock, with your puffy, glossed lips surrounding his dick. You resist moaning by biting down harder on your lower lip. Attempting to excuse yourself to retrieve the file with Hoshi, you start to get up, but Mingyu's body remains an obstacle. His hand settles on the lower part of your back, making your knees weak. You feel the heat rising from your hands resting on his pecs, eyes still locked. However you can't help to feel something heavy poking on your lower tummy due to how squished your body's on him, fuck he's big big. "I really need to go," you plead, meeting his eyes, and he relents, allowing you to escape his touch. "You can't avoid it forever, Mrs. Reader," he warns, and you promise to return."I'll be back"As you leave, the rhythmic pulsing in your head makes you feel foolish. Surrendering to him so easily leaves you unsettled. You know just with this contact, you feel your thong dampened.

"Hey, Reader, here's the file that could help you for SM. Inc. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay?" "Just a little bit stressed." "Come take a break with us." You sit yourself next to Mr. Lee, who was discussing with Hoshi before you came. "I would make you a coffee; you'll feel better," says Hoshi. "Is working with Mingyu really that bad?" Your voice sounds tired. "He's quite special, let's say it like that." Hoshi is back, giving you an espresso, which you kindly accept. You sip it while Hoshi explains what will be beneficial for SM to take part of your action. As you take a look at the folder in front of you, Mingyu enters the same room as you. "Do you need me already, Mr. Kim?" All heads turn toward him. Even other coworkers in the open space are looking at him; well, some of them are devouring his veiny arms exposed by his folded shirt's sleeve. Some of them, including you, of course. "You said you would pick up the file, not discuss with Hoshi," his eyes are going back and forth between you and his colleagues. You felt everyone's eyes trying to follow the discussion between him and you. "Well, I have it, but he was just advising me." "I thought you didn't need any help," implicitly talking about your previous conversation with him, but nobody knew what you were talking about. Then the same blonde woman from lunch came and asked, "Mr. Kim, do you need my help? I think I'll be a better help than Mrs. Reader." started to provoking you, the only reaction you gave her was rolling your eyes. However, she was almost about to grab his arm that you get up, and you do it instead, which makes Mingyu look surprised about your sudden reaction. Are you jealous? "I think Mr. Choi insisted that only Mr. Kim and I are required in this project, but thank you for your kind offer." You smile fakely at her and drag Mingyu into the quiet corridors. Hoshi and Dokyeom start to look at each other, thinking if this scene really happened in front of them.

"That was... something," Hoshi comments as you and Mingyu leave the room. "I think 'something' is quite the word to describe what happened in front of us." said Dokyeom to his colleague.

The two of you walk down the quiet corridor away from prying eyes. "What was that about?" you ask Mingyu, curiosity and a touch of irritation in your tone. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replies with an innocent look, though his eyes betray a hint of mischief. "Oh, please. The little show you just put on in there," you retort, not buying into his act. "You seem a bit... possessive," he smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Don't flatter yourself. I just don't appreciate unnecessary distractions." Rolling your eyes, you continue down the corridor, leaving Mingyu to follow your lead. The tension between you two hangs in the air, a silent agreement that this project is going to be far from ordinary. Before you even enters his office, his hands pinned you against the wall of the hallway. Both of his hands on attached to your hips. "What the-" You didn't even finish your sentences that he smashed his lips into your glossy one. You can't help feel shocked

As Mingyu's lips press against yours, you're momentarily stunned, caught off guard by the unexpected intensity of the kiss. His actions are bold, and you find yourself torn between pushing him away and succumbing to the surprising rush of sensations. The hallway, usually a space of quick transits and business-like exchanges, transforms into a inappropriate scene

His hands, which initially held you firmly, start to explore the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine. One of them groping your ass firmly making you unconsciously moan into his lips . While the other one is firmly cupping your jaw. Your initial shock evolves into a mixture of confusion and something else—a strange, electrifying connection. Both of your hands are secured in shoulder too stunned to used them. His lips start to tingle due the lipgloss you applied earlier.

Just as quickly as it began, Mingyu pulls away, leaving you breathless and disoriented. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, and the unspoken tension lingers in the air. "What the hell was that?" you manage to stammer, trying to regain your composure.

Mingyu, usually so confident and composed, appears somewhat disheveled. A flicker of uncertainty passes through his eyes, but it's quickly replaced by his signature smirk. "Consider it a reminder, Reader. We may have to work together, but it doesn't mean I'll play nice."

Before you can respond, he steps back, leaving you against the wall, heart pounding. The quiet corridor bears witness to the unexpected encounter, and as Mingyu heads into his office, you're left grappling with a mixture of emotions, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and irritation.

You try to pluck up one's courage and enter his office, locking the door behind you, which makes his head lift with a perplexed look. Determination fuels your steps as you stride towards him, reaching out to grab him by his tie. The air in the room thickens with tension as your eyes lock onto his, silently daring him to react. As you close the distance between you two and share a heated kiss. The taste of lingering coffee and the electrifying chemistry between you both intensify the moment. The world outside that office seems to fade away as the kiss deepens, blurring the lines between rivalry and desire.

The other hand gripping the back of his neck, wanting to feel the texture of his hair. Mingyu picks you up easily as you legs secure themself around his waist. Both of his hands are grasping your asscheeks. "I hate you so much" you mutters on his lips. He chuckled making your pussy clench on nothing. "Well if you came here kissing me then you want my help do you?". You nods at his words which he didn't like it. "Use your words and tell me what you really want" Your nails are grazing the skin of the back of his neck making him shivers. "I want you to make me me cum" you said still looking at his eyes, and the corners of his lips curl into a smug smile. "You hate me so much, yet you desire me," he remarks, his hands sliding down your back, sending shivers down your spine. He puts you down on his papers scattered desks. "Why should I help you?" he teases, pulling away slightly, but your grip on his hair tightens. The scent of his cologne envelops you, adding to the intoxicating mix.

"Because," you breathe, your voice laced with frustration and need, "I can't stand the thought of you being the reason I'm left unsatisfied." Mingyu smirks, his fingers tracing teasing patterns on your waist. "You're quite the complex woman, Reader," he says, his lips dangerously close to yours. Felling his hot breath in your neck, with how close he is. "But if that's what you want, I'll make you beg for it."

Mingyu's hands trail along the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. His lips find their way to your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses til you right shoulder, that ignite a fire within you. Your hands tangle in his hair as you guide him,your mind conflicted between hatred and the throbbing need pulsating between your legs. The fabric of your off-shoulder dress becomes a tantalizing barrier, amplifying the heat between you.

The tension in the room intensifies as desire and rivalry intertwine, creating a palpable atmosphere. As he slowly guides the top of your dress under your tits. "No bra ? You're such a tease" You didn't had time to answer him that his hot mouth engulfed your brown aerola making you moan while his other hand firmly played with your other tit. What a view you thought to yourself, Mingyu sucking at your tits was not in your bingo card. "Most of beautiful tits I have ever seen"

Mingyu's hands, strong and demanding, explore the contours of your tits with a familiarity that surprises you. The cool surface of his desk meets your back as he lays down you effortlessly, the contrast of the polished wood against your heated skin sending a shiver through your body. His teeth grazing your nipple makes you elicits a moan, and you instinctively tighten your grip behind his neck. "Mr Kim ... please don't leave any trace." Mingyu smirks, his eyes locked onto your pleading expression. "Well, You're mine now," he asserts, pulling away from your chest to capture your lips. As his hands work to gather the fabric of your long dress around your thighs, you respond with a sigh on his lips. Attempting to assert dominance, you bite his lip, only to succumb to the overpowering sensation of his hot tongue invading your mouth. Wanting to feel him more, you spread your thighs to let him a place between them. Allow your hands to glide along his back and powerful biceps. You can't help to whimper feeling his muscles twitch under your touch. The soft hum of approval escapes his lips, when you start to rub your hands to his semi-hard. You can't help try to size up how big he is.

He grap both your wrist and pinned them down on his desk. He breaks the kiss, observing your curly hair framing your face, your eyes lost in pleasure.

He turns your around, placing you on your stomach, as your tits pressed against the desk. At this moment, he couldn't care less about the paper. The sight you present him with your ass makes his tongue glide along his lips with hunger. Flipping your dress to your waist, he's gifted with your round ass, the only barrier being your wet thong hiding your pussy. Feeling his cock growing even harder. He wish he could take a picture of how docile and how you offer yourself to him.

Cocking an arrogant grin, Mingyu leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Now, that's a delightful view, don't you think?" His hands slide sensually over your ass, teasingly grazing the edges of your thong. "I could have everything I want right now, but I enjoy seeing you squirm." You clench your fists, frustration and desire intertwining. "Don't push your luck, Mingyu."

He chuckles, the sound low and provocative. "Oh, now it's Mingyu ?" He smooths his palm on you ass and spank you just right after. Your body flinched after the impact with a whine leaving your lips. "I plan to push it as far as it can go. But for now, let's focus on what you asked for, shall we?" His fingers played with your thong as he takes it off slowly still teasing you. "I like it when you say my name" He started to caress you everywhere except your pussy, you can't help to squirm to show your frustration.

“If you want me to help you, you'll have to ask nicely," he murmurs, a devilish glint in his eyes. You can't help yourself to surrender to him, “Mingyu touch me” Pang his palm hit you ass makes you want to cry but deep down you loved the way he treated you and he knew that just by the way your pussy's lips are puffy and how your hole keep producing more wetness. He knew that you were completely aroused about this situation so was he. His hard on start to feel more painful as he continues to playfully provoke you, he takes pleasure in observing your reactions to his every move. “I said ask nicely, slut” He can even see how your hole clenched around nothing. “Please Mingyu, touch me with your fingers” You begged him desperately wanting his thick fingers inside you. “That's how you’re supposed to beg slut” One of his finger enter your pulsating walls as you twitch from the intrusion. “Who would've thought, you bend over on my desk begging me to fingering you. Everyone thought you hated me but in fact is quite the opposite. You’re just an attention whore” as Mingyu pronounces those degrading works, your velvety walls clamped even more on his fingers. “Please Mingyu- more” moaning desiring more. Fuck he can't say no to you and inserted one more fingers making you whimper again. Mingyu being drunk on your moans start to rub his confined dick to your ass. More he added fingers the more you clench on it. “Let me prep you for my cock” He picked up the pace and start to massage hastily your walls creating a mess on his hand, leaking on the carpet of his office. “Fuck I'm about to cum”.

He retract his finger rapidly not wanting to climax now “Mingyu are fucking serious I was about to -“ He cut you off by plopping you on your back. Pushed his drench fingers by your nectar in your mouth tasting yourself. The sight that Mingyu had of you almost made him cum, your hazed eyes, your tits out and your pussy drenched. He desired to be the only person granted access to this filthy sight. “Let me eat your pussy” . You nods vividly and push your thigh apart. “So obedient” he coos at you while he pushes your knees against your chest. The way your pussy was drooling on the desk makes him wanting to devour you even more. He start to flick your clit between his fingers.

“Mingyu-ah please don't tease” “Sorry baby” him growing soft for you as he approaches his mouth to your puffy pussy lips. The first time his lick make him realize that he can't get enough of your taste. He start flicking your clit with his tongue which make you squirm. He firmly locked your plush thighs with each of his hands to not letting you move. “Fuck… Gyu..” he start to lock his gaze into yours which makes you even more excited. Your fingers start to lock itself on his long dark hair, tugging them softly. He hums on your pussy creating more vibrations. You let a muffled scream surprised by his action. “Not too loud, they might hear us” slapping your inner thighs, his chin was completely wet of your juices mix with his saliva. He dived back again, eating with all of his willpower making you want to cry even more. Your climax approach faster than before as you felt wave of pleasure in your lower stomach. The slurping noise were too dirty to be heard in this professional location.

But you don't even care, too lost in how Mingyu's tongue was feasting on your pussy. “Mingyu keep going please” you cried. Motivated by your beautiful voice he start to give you even more pleasure. You close your eyes feeling the wave of your orgasm taking your body as your legs start to shake and your vision start to become white. He continued until the last drop. Too pussy drunk, Mingyu was still eating you out addicted to your sweet taste but you were starting too feel the overstimulation coming. You hands on his black strands started to pull him away from your pussy but he had too much strength so he didn't move an inch. Only giving you a devilish grin. The fact that you were half naked expoed to him and him still fully clothed made you even more vulnerable.

Your eyes start to tear up and pleading him stop but he kept going, entering his hot tongue in your hole. No one ever ate you out that way in your entire life. Feeling your heartbeat in your cunt start to accelerate.Your body start to heat up even more creating a small layer of sweat. Suddenly you felt a second wave of orgasm coming out as you push his face even more further into you trying to ride your orgasm. Mouth completely agape, no sound coming from you mouth as feel the wave throughout your body.

Finally he stop as you try to catch your breath. He gave open kisses in your inner thigh as he comes up at your level with half of his face completely covered of mix of your cum and his saliva. He reached out for your face, as you kiss him in a more tender way. Tasting the mixture in his mouth made the experiment even more intimate. If he eat pussy like this you might start falling in love with him. “Your pussy’s taste is fucking addictive” you smirked at him as he helps you to get down from the desk still holding you close to his body. You pushed him to let him set on his chair as you get down on you knees, your eyes filled with greed.

Wanting to feel his cock your start to unbuckle his belt as Mingyu smirks arrogantly and says, "Having trouble there, sweetheart?" Ignoring his arrogant remark. He's still wearing that smug expression, you manage to unbuckle his belt, maintaining your confident demeanor. Mingyu, still trying to assert his dominance, smirks and says, "You really think you can handle someone like me?" Your eyes meet his, and with a subtle laugh, you reply, "Oh, I can handle more than you think, Mr. Kim." you told him playfully using his formal title.

As you proceed, the tension between you two escalates. Mingyu, caught off guard by your boldness, finds himself in uncharted territory. The power dynamic shifts, and for the first time, he's met with someone who not only matches his arrogance but exceeds it. The air thickens with anticipation

As you take out his cock you were quite surprised by the size of it. When you felt him a few minutes ago you thought he was big big but this is fucking huge. Everything is big on him, his body, his muscles, his fucking ego and of course his fucking cock. Fuck, maybe you were too cocky. It rest hot and heavy on both of your palm. The tip was already smeared of his precum. He's definitely the biggest you ever seen. As he ravished you just a few moments you wanted to do the same to him. As you take his tip on his mouth while your hands occupied the rest of his shaft. Your start to taste his salty precum. You start to jerking him off while looking at him . One of his hand behind his head while the other on top of your head. You can't help to think that's he's even more sexy like that. Determined to make him flinch. You spit on his cock to create more lube to help you take him. You wrapped your smudged lips around him trying to take as much as you can. Bobbing your head up and down trying to find a good tempo. You graze with your tongue the underside of his cock and give extra attention to the veins on that part of his cock. "fuck" he stuttered applying more pressure on the back of your head.

Even in his most dirty dream, Mingyu has never imagined this would happens. Your round tits out of your dress, mouth full of his cock while your hands are jerking the rest off. He's trying his best to not emptying himself right now in your mouth. As you try to take him as much you can, you gagged on him when you felt his tip caressing the back of your throat. Making him groan at the sound. "You look even better with my cock deep down in your throat"

His words made your thighs rub's together. Your eyes started to cry due to the lack of oxygen, you force yourself to breath with your nose and continue your ministration on the handsome man. You mouth let go of his dick, needed to breathe. Still managing to massage his length with your hands. He take his dick with his hand and start to smear the wetness of precum on your lips. Suddenly you felt his heavy dick slapping on you right cheek indicates you to open your mouth. You opened your mouth while poking your tongue out making him smirk at your action.

He start to slap the tip of his cock on your tongue. One of you hands were playing with your folds. Abruptly he forces his dick down your throat making you gag on him. You love being full of my cock don't you?" you hums approving what he said as you look at his eyes filled with lust. "Cute " he muttered thinking you didn't hear him. He’s even more handsome like that you didn't know it was possible. As you continue to close your throat around him, you start to massage his balls to help him finish faster. He groans as he places his both hands on your neck accelerating his hips movements. Feeling the tears coming down your cheeks.

Both of your hands steadying yourself on his legs. He continue until he released a deep groan. As you felt his hot salty cum in your mouths, he said to you "you better swallow everything, you've already made a mess on my carpet" locking his hands on your neck and jaw. Most of his cum we're already down you throat but a little bit tried to spill out of your mouth. Resulting, Mingyu’s finger collecting his cum from your chin to put it back in your mouth. "filthy slut"

Grabbing you by your waist , he manhandled you back into his desk. He plopped you to your stomach as he bend you over by pushing you back even more into the wood surface. His cold fingers run to your side until your ass, he spread your ass cheeks with his hands. "You're so fucking wet" "I'm gonna take you like that cuz I don't think you'll be able taking me in missionary" he said knowingly that your ass will hide a few inches of his dick. Try to remain as confident as possible. " I can take you in missionary, Mingyu" he smirked while giving his dick a few stroke, poking his tip to you clit making you shudder. "mmh, we'll see about that"

His align himself your entrance, entering only his tip making you moan. He suddenly grab you hair and start to spit next to you "You better be quiet or I stop" you nod, too scared to not cum on his thick dick. He continue to enter you, feeling the stretch burn your tears welled up. Your tight pussy was bullied by his girth. Not wanting to make any noise you start to bite on your arm. "Fuck, relax a bit. You're squeezing me" he said massaging your hips. Mingyu felt your raw velvety walls pulsating around his dick and sensed a suffocating pressure. He kept massaging your lower back and ass helping to relax so he can penetrate even more. If he don't start to move he think he'll cum right away. "Gyu... more" as you start to beg him while moving in your hips. "you're tight as fuuccckk" He's now deep down in your guts and you can't think anymore. The only thing in your mind is his big cock. "I thought I prepped you well but you're sucking the life out of me" you felt his dick throbbing in you as you keep begging for more and more. Too lost in your own pleasure. He began to quicken the pace while groping your hips and ass. Your frustration grew as you longed to see his face and feel him beneath your touch. "Want to touch you ...Gyu…" you start to utter between the moans. The sounds you made were utterly pornographic that almost made him cum. Taking his dick smeared of your juices out of your pussy. He flipped you, being on your back. Your arms locked around his neck as your lips finally collide. Struggling with the button of his shirt, you desire to feel him even closer, you start to taking off his tie. As you grapple with the fabric, he laughs softly against your lips, eliciting a smile from you like a teenage girl. The warning echoes in your mind not to fall for him, but the soft kiss on your right cheek makes it challenging. He rises from your body, and you instruct, "Be fast; I need you right now."

As Mingyu swiftly removes his shirt, you scan him, absorbing the sight of his body. The defined, tan muscles of his upper body come into your eyes— from his broad shoulders to his well-defined chest, the subtle ridges of abdominal muscles hinting at his underlying strength. The play of shadows emphasizes every contour, making the scene more captivating. Your gaze lingers, captivated by the visual spectacle he presents. You can't help to play with yourself in front of this sight. "You're making me so wet Mingyu" " I know baby, come here" saying this while taking both of your legs on his shoulder. You grab him by the neck as you kiss him again, finally feeling the warmth that he radiates from his body to your epidermis. His hand on your neck while the other align his dick to your entrance. " Tell me if it hurts too much sweetheart" Suddenly, everything becomes more intimate, and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach as he treats you with care, his every touch deliberate and gentle.

He enters your pussy making you hiss at the intrusion. "Fuck, you feel even more bigger" trying to grip yourself to his bulging biceps and your nails start to dig on his back. "I told you" as he start to quicken his pace. You moan start to get louder as the rhythm starts to become faster. He squeezed enough your throat to reduced your airflow making you feel even more delirious about all the sensations. It also helps to reduce your moan, which was a miracle nobody interrupted you yet. His mouth kept worshipping the rest of your body and whispering filthy words in your neck. Knowing that you'll not last longer you told him as he acknowledge it, he rubs your clit rigorously helping to reach your climax faster. He can't help himself to stare at where you're both connected to see a white ring of your cum around his cock that makes him whine. His hips start to become more sloppy as your walls clamped down on his cock. You kept chanting his name, your mind completely bathed in lust. Nails ripping off harder his back and his biceps. Him enjoying the small pain that you inflict on his skin. Feeling climax coming "Yes — fuck, I'm coming, I fucking love your dick mingyu" completely ecstatic on his dick while you felt tears coming down in your cheeks. He kissed away the tears while his hips are sloppier than ever, feeling his dick twitched inside you follow with the sensation a hot semen filling you up to the brim. His cum starting to ooze out of your pussy while he take his dick out of you, creating even more mess between your legs and the carpet underneath both of you.

He kissed you softly as he said " you're my slut now"

————————————————————————

Taglist: @ishireads @asyre @thepoopdokyeomtouched @mansaaay

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evermoresqueiswriting · 1 month

Text

dance the night

"Baby, you can find me under the lights Diamonds under my eyes Turn the rhythm up, don't you wanna just Come along for the ride? Oh, my outfit so tight You can see my heartbeat tonight I can take the heat, baby, best believe That's the moment I shine"

summary: barbie date and an invitation from clarisse you can't refuse

pairing: clarisse la rue x f!reader

word count: 3.4k

tags: fluff fluff fluff

series masterlist 2/?

You were getting more and more comfortable at camp. You were getting along very well with your siblings. Especially Lee and Cornelia, who explained everything – sometimes twice – to you. They also explained to you that if you wanted to leave camp during the summer, you needed to get an authorisation from Mr. D. And Clarisse knew, so she told you to get it since it was your idea to go see that movie. Your siblings told you he rarely gave them away.

“Mmh. I accept this challenge.”

“It really wasn’t,” Lee said. “It was a piece of information at best.”

You walked, determined, to Mr. D’s office. You didn’t have many arguments, but Cornelia did tell you Mr. D was always looking for campers to give him alcohol even though his father, Zeus, forbade him to drink any. Mr. D was playing cards with Chiron. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, you hesitated before Chiron looked up.

“Yes?” he said, putting his cards down.

“Mmh,” you froze before staring at your camp director, “I needed to talk to Mr. D, please.”

Chiron turned his face to look at Mr D, and he took off his sunglasses before looking at you.

“What?”

“I need authorisation to leave camp for one day,” you explained firmly. “Please.”

“And why would I give you that?”

“Because I need it. For next week, the 21st,” you begged.

Mr D stared at you, bored. He was ready to take back his cards, when you shouted, desperately.

“I–I’ll give you alcohol in exchange!”

“No you will not!” Chiron gave you a hard stare. “Zeus–.”

“I’m desperate, so yes I will.”

Mr D was still silent.

“What is this about y/n?” Chiron asked. “Why do you need to leave camp?”

“I– I asked Clarisse on a date. Well,” you faltered. “It’s not exactly a date I don’t think, it’s more like I won a bet, and what I asked for was for us to go see a movie together. So maybe it is? And it would suck for me if I can’t go, when I won the bet you know.”

Chiron and you were both looking at Mr. D, and you had your best puppy eyes for him.

“Still a no for me,” Mr. D took his cards.

“Please, please, please, please, please!”

Mr. D shook his head. You sighed, thinking about what to say to try and convince him to let you go.

“That’s–,” you hesitated before blurting out “such a homophobic thing to do in 2024 to refuse to let us go on a date! Which is what that is… a date, with us girls.”

“What?” Mr. D muttered confused.

“And during pride month? You have no shame. It’s–.”

“Fine, if I give you this authorisation, will you shut up and leave?”

You nodded vigorously. And Mr. D sent you a flying paper with the snap of a finger, and after reading the paper to make sure it was legit – which did take a few minutes – you ran away in case he changed his mind. The first person you ran into Luke and asked him if he had seen Clarisse. He pointed at the Ares cabin, and told you he saw her go in.

You walked to her cabin, and knocked, shouting Clarisse’s name over and over again. The door flew open, revealing an annoyed Clarisse.

“Hi,” you smiled.

Her face softened slightly at your sight, but she still looked at you annoyed, with her arms crossed.

“What?”

“Guess what?” your hands were in your back, hiding away the piece of paper you got earlier.

“Your boyfriend called your mom to ask her why you ditched him?”

“What?” you hesitated. “No. First, I don't have a boyfriend, they were all losers in my school. And no girlfriends either for the same reason.”

“Good,” she nodded. “So what was the news then?”

The paper was still held behind your back, you held her gaze a few more seconds before showing her proudly the paper. She looked at the paper, frowning, and then took your paper. You stood there patiently, swinging on your feet, waiting for her to finish reading it at her own pace.

“How did you get Mr. D to agree to this?” she puts the paper down.

“It’s a secret. But I’ll tell you if you want to know.”

“Of course I do, no one here in years got one of these,” she shook the paper in front of you.

You held up your index, and made a ‘come closer’ motion with it. She came closer, and you put your face even closer, her nose almost touching yours. Clarisse was taller than you – taller than most campers actually – and your face was facing up. And having her this close to you, it was as if time had stopped. You smiled.

“I promised him alcohol,” you whispered.

“What!” she stepped back. “Do you know Zeus–.”

“I know, I know, Cornelia told me. I don’t remember what I said after that,’ you lied, “I guess he just likes me.”

“Okay,” Clarisse smiled, “liar.”

Clarisse and you stood there, at the threshold of the Ares cabin for a few more moments, just enjoying each other's company before her siblings ran in, pushing you toward Clarisse. Your body slammed against hers, her arms wrapped around your shoulders to steady you. You would have been upset if it weren’t for the outcome. But Clarisse quickly let go before grabbing the shirt of her brother – Mark – and made him stop in his tracks. You didn’t hear what she said, but you saw Mark nodding vigorously before walking away.

“Let’s get out of here,” Clarisse grabbed your arm and led you outside.

“So,” you started when she stopped under a tree and sat there. “Do you know what you’re going to wear?”

“No. Do you?”

“Uh obviously! I have the perfect outfit for Barbie. I actually planned this before coming here, minus the ‘going to camp half-blood’ cause I didn’t think I’d end up here. It’s all pink, and cute and oh, should I also do my nails? Should we do our nails all pink?” you beamed at the idea.

“No.”

“True, yours do look very good in black,” you nodded. “Oh, we could cosplay Barbie and Raquelle. But it’s not going to be accurate, Raquelle hates Barbie.”

“I think it’s pretty accurate,” she shrugs.

You slapped her arms playfully before laying your head on her lap. The weather was nice, the sun was out and the leaves were shading you from it, the perfect combination for you to take a nap. And then Clarisse started to run her fingers on your arm which made it for you. You were asleep in no time.

“Wake up sunshine,” Clarisse pinched you lightly on the hip. You jerked awake.

“What?” you mumbled, standing up.

“I have to meet up with my brothers and sisters for the next Capture the Flag strategy.”

“Can I come too?” you yawned.

“We’re not on the same team, remember.”

“I won’t tell them anything.”

“Nope,” she walked away, “don’t follow me,” she turned around, walking backwards.

I’d follow you everywhere you go Clarisse La Rue.

“I won’t,” you said instead.

The night before the date, you laid out your outfit neatly before washing up to go to bed. Cornelia was your bunkmate, with the bed above yours. But before going to sleep, you loved updating each other’s day.

“So tomorrow huh,” Cornelia sat on your bed. “I never thought I’d live to see Clarisse being friendly with anyone other than her siblings.”

“I think she’s funny.”

“Sure, if funny was a synonym of mean. Wait– do you even have money to spend on tomorrow’s activities?”

“Actually I do. Mr. D did tell me he wouldn’t give me any, and thank gods I found a load of cash in my backpack. My mom gave it to me. I mean she did write it was for any expense that I would have to make on my way home, but I have other priorities.”

“Clearly,” she rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re gonna regret this in August.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Like before any exciting day, it took some time to fall asleep. Anxiety and excitement mixing together, making up the worst and best scenarios. What if Clarisse is just messing with you and forgot? That can’t happen, you just saw her a few hours ago talking about it. What if you annoyed her so much with it, she’d stood you up? What if she doesn’t like everything you planned? Not a single positive and happy ‘what if’ comes to your mind.

“Wake up!” someone shakes you awake. “It’s 8 already, you're going to be late!” Cornelia said.

“Fuck!” you ran to the washroom.

You rushed through your routine, before rushing back to your bed and grabbed your outfit, and put it on. And all of that only took 28 minutes. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a final check up, before opening the door. Clarisse was already there. Her curls free, just like the first time you saw her. It felt weird not seeing her in her usual orange tee, but she still looked pretty. She wore a simple short brown tank top with blue faded jeans, with her beaded necklace still hanging from her neck.

“You look really pretty today,” Clarisse smiled shyly, holding her arms around her.

“Thanks,” you approached her, putting your hands on her arms and leaned in, “you look pretty every day.”

“Don’t come home too late,” Lee interrupted, appearing just next to you.

“Don’t worry, but also don’t wait up!”

You grabbed Clarisse’s hand and dragged her away from your cabin. A taxi was waiting for you outside of the camp, and in no time you were at the local theatre in the middle of nowhere. And lucky for you, the people of this town weren’t going to see the 9:30am slot for Barbie. Except for that one couple sitting in the back. You dragged Clarisse in the middle, and sat with the popcorn and sodas. You ate in silence, watching the trailers.

Well that was not fun. The worst ‘what ifs’ from last night came back immediately making you anxious. It was not supposed to be like this. What if she wasn’t enjoying herself. What if she was mad because she ate a salty popcorn when you asked for the sweet ones. What if she was disappointed—

“Ouch,” you looked at her, frowning, rubbing your arm. “Why did you do that?”

“You were ignoring me.”

“What? Oh I– I didn’t hear sorry.”

“I asked you, what’s the deal with Barbie anyway? Why are you so excited about a blonde, white, plastic doll?”

“W– Barbie is not– ok. She is a plastic doll, and she may not look like us but it’s the idea of Barbie, the idea that us women can be anything we want. And how in Barbie Land, it’s all about girls and women being able to be whoever they want, and have whatever jobs they want. Barbie is literally a doctor, a pilot, a model, a chef, a fashion designer, a business woman, a teacher – she has every job in the world. And there is no one telling her that she can’t do that because she’s not a man. And also, the Barbie franchise is my childhood. The movies, they deserve an Oscar honestly–,” you stopped. “Sorry, I talk too much.”

“I asked,” her attention went back to the screen. “So did you have any barbies?”

“Of course! I had Barbie's dreamhouse, and so many barbies and outfits. I’m surprised I didn’t end up being a writer with all my imagination. Did you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“My mom wasn’t the kind to buy me anything. And certainly not dolls.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t feel sad for me, I’m fine,” she gave you a quick glance.

“I’m not!” you frowned. “So you never watched Barbie and A Christmas Carol? The best Barbie movie ever?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, we have to change that. Mmh. But phones and laptops aren’t allowed though… Maybe if I bring my mom’s DVD player next summer.”

“Already planning on your next move to woo me?” she teased, approaching you.

Your eyes widened, your cheeks were hot.

“I– No! I– I– I don’t.”

“Relax sunshine, I’m kidding,” she laughed.

And just then, the lights went out and the movie was about to start, thank the gods. Because you did not know what to say. The movie was incredible, you shed a few tears at the end, and sang Dance The Night with Clarisse laughing and cheering you on. It was a great experience, and it was even better to have watched it with Clarisse.

“Did you like it?” you asked her when the credits started rolling.

“Yes. It was great.”

“And you’ll love the other Barbie movies because they are way less depressing.”

“So, what’s next?” she stood up.

“It’s almost time to eat, what do you want?”

“Whatever you want.”

“No you choose, I insist,” you smiled.

Really you were just very indecisive. Clarisse settled for a burger place not too far away from the cinema. There weren't many people inside, so you were able to choose where to sit – a table next to the window. It was a booth seat, so you had your own booth each, facing each other, menu in hand.

“So, what are you choosing?” you asked her.

“I’ll take the Highwayman. You?”

“The Roadhouse looks good.”

Clarisse raised her hand and weaved at the waitress, when you grabbed her hand.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“Can you order for me please?”

She furrowed her brow, but nodded. You smiled. You only waited ten-or-so minutes before the waitress came back with your food. Like always, you checked the inside of your burger before eating it, you picked out the onions and the tomato.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t like these.”

“Couldn’t you have asked the waitress to take them out.”

“No…”

“Give me your tomato then,” she opened her burger bun.

You were the one entertaining lunch. Clarisse asked questions about your life and you told her – you told her stories about your childhood, your school, your mom and she listened, nodding along. Once you were done, you took a cab and decided to go to the mall.

“We don’t have any money,” Clarisse stopped you when you were going to step into the mall.

“I do. Remember I paid for the tickets, and the food.”

“Yeah, but I thought you only had enough for these.”

“Nope. Well, remember how I said my mom is an opera singer. It was you fifty percent talent and fifty percent nepotism and generational wealth. Meaning I’m rich, I mean my mom but her love language is sending me money for not raising me,” you joked.

She stared at you, concerned.

“I’m kidding,” you grabbed her hand, “let’s shop.”

Clarisse refused to accept anything you’d set eyes on for her.

“Well, at least try on some of them, just to see.”

She agreed to it, which was a mistake because now that you knew her size, you could buy her everything she laid eyes on. She was trying on this dark green simple long sleeve tee shirt, and after she put it back, you took it with you.

“What are you doing?” she tried to grab the tee shirt back.

“I might want it for myself!” you hid it behind your back.

‘Doesn’t look like something you’d wear.”

“My style changes, it depends on my mood. Maybe I want us to have matching clothes.”

“Then why is there only one in your hand?”

You quickly grabbed another one. And then it was settled. You’d buy her things and then another copy for you – everything went, from boots to tee shirts to pants, and jackets. Then you went to a jewellery shop. You needed new rings because yours flew away from your hands during the last Capture the Flag – they were obviously a tad too big.

“Did you find anything you like?” you asked her.

“No, they aren't the most useful things to have.”

You pouted, and threw a bunch on the table.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting these back on the shelves, cause I chose half of these for you,” you sighed dramatically.

“Oh,” she took a look at the jewellery.

Various rings and bracelets.

“They’re great, I love them.”

“No you don’t.”

“You picked them out so yes, I do.”

“You don’t have to, it’s fine,” you sighed.

“Maybe you don’t have to buy all of it, just one of each.”

You nodded, and picked one ring for her, and two bracelets for each of you. You gave them to the seller to wrap them and left to look at other items. Clarisse soon joined you and soon enough the seller gave a little bag, you paid and left. Your hands were full of shopping bags, and before leaving you needed a little bit of rest so you two sat on the chairs in the resting area. Thankfully the mall wasn’t too crowded as it was still early in the afternoon on a random Tuesday.��

“Huh!” you gasped pointing at something behind Clarisse.

“What?” she turned around swiftly, not seeing any threat.

“A photobooth!” you smiled.

You stood up, grabbed all of your bags and walked to the booth, hoping Clarisse was following you. You turned around, and Clarisse was still sitting still, legs crossed, leaned into the chair, staring at you. You held your hands together, and motionned her to come. She didn’t move for a good minute, but seeing how you weren’t going to move, she caved in and stood up.

“Sunshine,” she put her hands on your shoulders, “you can look at me for free, I won’t charge you, don’t worry.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling.

“You’ll thank me in a few years because of this. Pictures are the best kind of souvenirs.”

Clarisse got in first, the space was a tight fit, and you were glued to Clarisse, but you two fit in the frame so it was good. You put the coins inside, and waited for it to take the picture. But that was not good enough for Clarisse – she put her arm around your waist and scooped you onto her lap.

“Better?”

You nodded, staring at her.

“Better,” you confirmed.

You went to take a pose but too late, the four pictures were already taken.

“It’s fine, we’ll take another one.”

Another turned into another few more and you ended with a ton of pictures. By the time you left the mall it was already pretty late. Almost time to go home. But neither of you wanted that, so you went to the beach instead – main beach in the east. It was empty – people at this hour were all eating. You two sat on the sand, far from the shore.

“Did you have a great time?” you asked.

“Yes,” she looked at you, “did you?”

You nodded enthusiastically.

“Aren’t you glad you lost that bet against me?”

“Mmh,” she shrugged, “my option would’ve been just as good for me.”

“Well, I am glad I won. I prefer this option much better.”

Clarisse started to lay down but you grabbed her arm.

“Sand will get in your hair.”

“I’ll wash it tonight, it’s fine.”

You shook your head, and took off your blouse and laid it on the sand, behind Clarisse. She tried to protest, but you were quicker.

“I don’t want this day to end,” you admitted, staring at the waves. “I don’t think Mr. D will give us another authorisation anytime soon,” you laughed.

Clarisse stared at you, not saying anything. You arrived at camp only a week ago, and yet you two were already closer than she was with any of her siblings. You were nice to her, always rooting for her, and you were a great friend. Not many people were these things to the Ares kids.

“There this field trip around October,” Clarisse sat up again, “I suppose you’re not staying around the whole year. But it’d be great if you could come.”

“A field trip? To where?”

“It’s something we do once a year at camp,” she explained. “A trip to Olympus.”

You thought about it.

“Are you asking me to meet your father? I didn’t think we were already at this stage so early on."

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