I Want You to Stay (07) | 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: 15.4k
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: One of my fave chapters! I hope you like this one! And just a heads up that intervals between posting days will be longer as the chapters get longer, too. And bc u know, life... HAHA but again, thank you so much for all the love for this like??? HOW. PLS you've all been so nice so thank you! 🥰 Also… JK in that SNTY suit.
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
Mr. Ri loads the luggages in the trunk and you double check that all bags - which you helped pack yesterday - are complete. You enter the car right after and head to the airport where Jungkook will fly to Singapore for a few meetings and to attend Seokjin’s alcohol launch party.
It’s been over a month since the Arts Center event and so much has happened since then. Jungkook went to Jeju to meet an artist and then to Japan over a weekend to meet another two. He’s been on calls with a few more with plans to meet in their country of residence in the next months, and he’s gone around different local towns to meet with craftspeople for souvenirs and future exhibitions. He’s also touched base with various national and international Korean arts and culture organizations for promotion and joint projects. The event opened doors for a new network that he hoped for. There are now proposals for other collaborations and side engagements that’s doing a lot for the company’s brand and expansion.
To say that Jungkook and the team have been busy is an understatement. You went back to work after those few days of recovering with everyone overwhelmed by all the things they had to do but like you expected, you all managed and got things organized. There are still multiple things to handle all at once, but everyone’s just been on top of everything and showing how competent you all are as individuals and as a team.
Within that period, Jungkook has stopped by the team’s office and the pantry more times than those first months. He also managed to laugh at Do-hyun’s unfiltered remarks a few times and even slipped his own that got the team giggling. He’s seemed a lot more relaxed and so has the team. Lunch meetings have been regular given all the work you all have to do. Yohan and Chin-sun even say that they’ve gotten to know Jungkook a little better through their visits to the Arts Center. And while they do think he’s still a bit detached and catch him in his own world sometimes, he’s a lot more engaged and is actually way smarter than they’d initially thought.
Jungkook checks his phone and sighs, prompting you to turn to him.
“Seokjin says the party is an intimate event but there’s gonna be over two-fifty guests so I don’t know about that,” he shakes his head, showing you the restaurant bar where his friend will be launching his alcohol brand. “For some reason, he expects me and Tae to entertain guests on his behalf.”
This was another development you hadn’t expected. Since that morning when Jungkook sent you food when you were unwell, your relationship changed. It’s still professional but there’s more openness now, as if that prompted both of you to be comfortable around each other.
There’s more trust and honesty, too - he lets you make decisions, lets you handle the team when he’s away, and asks you for your unfiltered opinion. You feel like all the time you spend together has allowed you to learn how he sees and understands things; you even finish his sentences sometimes.
He’s also loosened up a bit and allows himself to laugh and smile more. They’re still rare occurrences but you never point them out, not wanting him to feel awkward and then stop. They often catch you off guard so you haven’t been able to fully appreciate them but at least he feels comfortable around you, enough to even talk about non-work stuff and things that fill his mind, like random questions or small concerns.
You’re unsure if he notices how uninhibited he’s become but you don’t point it out either. He still has his moments of living in his head, his faraway thoughts rendering him quiet and observant, and his perfectionist attitude means he’s still critical sometimes. But he doesn’t take anything out on you - not his frustrations nor his fears. He’d usually keep to himself and talk to you once he’s cooled down and you’d take that any day, so long as you keep your sanity and are able to do your tasks as instructed.
In return, you let yourself be the same. You’ve fully restored your confidence and that’s allowed you to show just how capable you are. You’ve been more vocal with your thoughts, too, and don’t take it personally when he doesn’t agree. You smile a lot more, joke with him even, and have been more generous with words of encouragement and affirmation. They come more naturally than you expected, and you appreciate that he doesn’t turn you away whenever it happens.
He’s actually okay to be around when he’s not being grumpy or difficult. You suppose that the situations he was put in - and how you responded with patience and understanding - allowed him to see that you’re truly on his side and that let him put his guard down a little. You’re past trying to please him for the sake of making your job bearable; there’s actual joy in it now, and while the search for who you are outside of all this continues to ring in your head, you think that sticking around for now isn’t so bad either.
“Perhaps Seokjin has seen how good you are with entertaining guests now and deems you worthy of being an extension of him,” you respond to Jungkook’s earlier musings. “And he wouldn’t be wrong. You’ve become really good at it.”
“You know, I think you oversell me sometimes,” he chuckles.
“Hmm, I think I don’t,” you counter. “If I may say so, Mr. Jeon, it's just that the bar was pretty low so the improvements are quite striking.”
“Fair enough,” he laughs, not taking offense.
“You can still do better at charming people. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from Seokjin and Taehyung,” you push.
“Those two flirt, they don’t charm,” he playfully rolls his eyes.
“Well, I completely disagree, sir. I mean, I’ve seen it firsthand. And I’m not one who’s easily charmed.”
“Fine, I’ll see what I can pick from them, then,” he concedes.
“Kidding aside, I think you’ll be fine, Mr. Jeon. Plus, it’s unrelated to work so there’s no need to impress anyone,” you state.
“True,” he hums. “But just thinking about these next few days is already making me tired. Tae rented a yacht for tonight. We have Seokjin’s launch tomorrow, and to celebrate, he’s throwing another party the day after.”
“Hmm, must be that you’re getting old,” you tease, earning you a hum in agreement. “But you’re used to that though, right? They always said that was your life back in Singapore.”
“It was. I had less responsibilities and people to manage but back then, everything seemed too much,” he shares. “I took the weekends seriously and really just did whatever I wanted. I haven’t done much of that these past weeks because I’ve been so tired and I feel like I’m under the microscope when I’m here. So yeah, I’ll probably just take advantage of being back there and just enjoy it.”
“As you should,” you say. “You’ve worked hard and you deserve to spend your weekend however you wish. Just, uh…”
“What?”
“Probably give Lucas a heads-up in case a half-naked woman greets him in the kitchen on Monday morning.”
The silence is deafening and you think you’ve crossed a line with this one. You turn towards him and he looks stunned at your unfiltered remark.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in apology. “That was too personal.”
“It’s okay,” he responds after a beat of silence. “I guess I deserve that. I mean, I never apologized for the morning when you experienced exactly that. And for when you found that underwear on the floor, which I forgot to clean up. So, uh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, too. I got over it,” you assure him. “And if anything, I’m pretty sure she left that on purpose so she’ll have a reason to come back.”
“That’s exactly it,” he groans. “She saw me again and wanted to go to my apartment so she could get it. I told her I threw it away.”
“How brutal,” you tease again.
“Not my finest moment but yeah, I’m sorry to put you in that position. Must’ve been tough seeing proof of all the washroom gossip.”
“You know about those?” You gasp.
“I’ve heard about them,” he sighs. “Mr. Ri’s got eyes and ears in the office.”
“It’s hard to defend so I just don’t try,” the older man shakes his head. “Not like you deny it anyway.”
“Not like I really care,” Jungkook shrugs. “But even then, I guess it wasn’t the best start for us,” he tells you.
“Perhaps not, but I’m not one to judge, Mr. Jeon. That’s all in the past now, and that feels like a lifetime ago.”
“It does,” he hums.
It’s during these casual exchanges when you get to see a bit more of Jungkook as the person that he is, beyond the perfectionist executive who still harbors fears and worries about his new role. He’s still a human being who finds ways to deal with the stresses of life, someone who needs time to step away from his burdensome responsibilities, someone who seeks intimacy and connection and finds ways to attain them in his own ways. The doubts and worries are still there, but the foundation has stabled a bit. Somehow you think that you’ve created a space safe enough for him to talk about them, to apologize, and to try to be better. You hope he gets to create that for himself, too, and if that’s what you’ll leave him with by the time you decide to step away from this job, you think you’d be satisfied.
Silence engulfs you both and like he often is after being vulnerable with you, he keeps to himself once again. You wait a while before running through his meetings for today and next week and inform him of what the team will be working on while he’s away. Jungkook responds with a few last-minute instructions, especially about the tasks he needs done in time for your team meeting on Monday. You’re both back to professional talk and you don’t really mind; there’s something about being honest and open that could be a bit disarming.
The car stops and Mr. Ri exits to retrieve the luggage from the trunk. Jungkook, in his navy blue suit, gathers his things and says goodbye. Before he can close the door, you call out his name.
“Yeah?” He asks, his one hand carrying his bag and the other, on the roof of the car as he bends to look at you.
“Happy birthday,” you say. “I know you think it’s just an ordinary day but I hope you celebrate well.”
“Thank you,” he says after a few seconds, basking in the softness of your smile for the short moment that he can.
Jungkook steps away then closes the door. He heads to the airport lounge before taking the 6-hour flight to Singapore, spending it on reviewing reports and design proposals. He goes straight to the office when he lands, settling down in his room where he responds to emails. He munches on some dumplings for lunch, thinking he’s missed the ones from the restaurant across the street, but then Lucas enters and sets down a bowl of seaweed soup.
“Ms. Cho asked me to get this for you, Mr. Jeon.”
Jungkook is caught off guard but manages to dismiss Lucas and tastes the dish. It’s nothing like his mother’s, but then again, he hasn’t had it in years. When Jungkook moved here, there were no celebrations apart from getting drunk at a club, which is also why he’d stopped thinking of his birthday as anything special. There were no traditional meals or well wishes or birthday cakes.
He’s here again. There’s that yacht party tonight but it won’t feel like a celebration. Somehow, with this bowl of soup, this does. You’re a thousand miles away but even then, he still feels your presence. Even then, he feels more cared for than he has these past several years combined.
Jungkook wakes up the next morning with a splitting headache. His neck feels a bit strained, given that he’d slept in an awkward position wearing his clothes from last night. He also barely remembers much. One minute he was drinking with a woman around his arm and the next he’s… here.
He shifts and lays flat on his back, groaning as last night’s happenings manifest in the soreness of his entire body. The yacht was fancy, as he’d expected from his best friends. There was overflowing food and drinks, the music was great, and the guests were honestly too many for his liking. There were familiar faces and new ones, but he mostly stuck around with those he knew. What he also remembers is not being able to taste his cake. He’s definitely calling Seokjin to complain.
Suddenly hit with the thought of not knowing how he’d gotten home last night - or with whom - Jungkook sits up and groans once more, the incoming call adding to the ringing sound in his head.
“Mr. Jeon,” Lucas answers on the other end. “How are you feeling today?”
“Terrible,” Jungkook says, now finding the strength to get off the bed. “Did you take me home?”
“Yes, sir. You wanted to leave so Mr. Ri and I took you to your penthouse,” Lucas answers. “Your valuables are on the table.”
Jungkook sighs, knowing it was one of those nights. Removing his clothes, he sees the fresh marks on his chest. Wanting to prepare himself before finding some stranger in the other room, he asks his assistant if he’d brought someone home with him.
“No, sir. It was just you. She, uh, she asked to come but you told her you were too tired so she stayed behind.”
“Oh, good,” Jungkook exhales in relief, not wanting to deal with any of that this morning, which is one reason why he always asks them to leave. “How long do I have until I have to get ready for tonight?”
“About five hours,” the younger man replies. “You have a scheduled dinner with your friends at 5:30 and then the event at 8. I’ll be there before that to help you get ready.”
“Alright, thanks. I’ll just workout to deal with this hangover.”
“Medicines are in the cupboard, sir. Please just let me know if there’s anything more you need.”
“I will.”
Jungkook hangs up and presses on his temples as if that’ll do anything. He retrieves the medicine as advised and thinks of something else he needs - a cup of lemon ginger tea. Ever since you’d prepared one for him that one morning, he’s been having it after every night out. He calls the butler to have it prepared for him, given that he doesn’t have the energy to do so himself.
It arrives, and coupled with the aspirin, he’s starting to somehow feel better. He knows that heading to the gym will do the trick, as it always does, but it still makes him think that he shouldn’t have drank as much as he did last night.
For someone who’s not particularly fond of people, even Jungkook sometimes wonders why he goes out and parties as much as he does.
He wasn’t always like this though. His weekends used to be spent on food trips and travels, but after the breakup with Chaerin, those days became free, and he’d stay out late so he could sleep the rest of the next day. The women were to make up for the loneliness; the alcohol was to forget why he needed them in the first place. He hates loud and unnecessary sounds, but the music and the chatter started to become white noise for him; they’d become a companion to help deal with the noise in his own head, or the lack of it.
Years later, the remaining thoughts in his mind were just all about work, and he’d revert to the same habit for relief - the women became his thrill; the alcohol was so he wouldn’t remember them.
And it works. The ecstasy lasts only through the night. It’s fleeting as his desire for them is. He doesn’t recall names, just that they made him feel good and that they felt the same; they often try to hook up with him again after all, seeking him in the clubs they know he frequents. But he rarely entertains them; a second time leads to a third, and he can’t be assured that they won’t ask the same tiring questions he hates hearing - why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Why doesn’t he want to commit to anyone? Does he see himself settling down and having a family? What’ll make him want that?
It’s happened a few times, during the rare instances that there’s a lull in between and they take advantage of his brief period of vulnerability to make him open up. He never does, and it’s not because he thinks it’s a weakness to do so, but he just never really let the moment linger to find out.
After a light meal, Jungkook heads to the gym and spends three hours expending his energy so he could get it back.
This is his other means of dealing with his stress. Working out makes him focus on something else and it helps in releasing all his anger and frustration. As he stares at his bare body in the mirror right after - the marks from last night still visible - he scoffs at himself.
He’s so stereotypical, it makes him sick. He’s allowed himself to let his life revolve around the shallow and fleeting sensations of pleasure to counter the permanence and inevitability of his job. This is his world and he made it this way. And while he drowns in the nothingness inside the walls that he created, he still thinks it’s better than being outside; somehow he thinks it’s lonelier and more burdensome out there. At least in here, he’s all he has to deal with; he’s all he can disappoint.
But there are still moments when he wonders what it could be like if he just dared to live differently. Like when he watches Seokjin animatedly explain the history and creation process of Korean traditional alcohol during the product launch that evening and how his passion is moving and infectious. Or when he observes how Taehyung freely moves around the club and makes connections with others as deep as his smile.
Jungkook thinks about all this as he glances at the woman next to him later that night, bare under the covers like he is, her body curled into a cocoon as she takes a break.
She’d caught his eye earlier because she wasn’t trying to get his attention like the others were. She spoke less and screamed more, let him do what he wanted but touched him softly as she pleased.
“You’re a good lover. Why do you waste yourself with something temporary like me?” She’d asked.
It left him speechless and he shrugged - a change from his usual dismissal - but there’s really nothing to say.
Why does he? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to.
But it’s at this moment that he tries to imagine what it would be like if it were the same face he saw next to him every morning, if it were the same hand he held everyday, if it were the same warm body he curled into every night. His mind wanders too far, into the depths of a place it can’t go to, beyond boundaries he can’t cross, and the sight is both terrifying and calming.
It’s safer where he is.
So when she wakes up from a short nap, she looks up at him, her soft eyes wishing for something she knows she shouldn’t.
“You should go,” he says, the softest he’s ever uttered the words.
“Okay,” she whispers in submission.
She gets up from the bed, finds her stray clothes on the floor, and puts them on. Jungkook follows her to the door, a first for him. Maybe it’s her gentleness, or the unspoken understanding between them, or maybe because she doesn’t ask for more even if she seems to want to.
But though he contemplates pulling her back to try to feel what that’s like - seeing her in the morning, holding her hand, curling into her embrace - he doesn’t. He knows even that desire would end; it’s fleeting just as everything around him is.
He holds open the door. She turns around with a smile.
“I hope someday you find someone you’ll ask to stay,” she says, surprising him again. “I’m sure they would.”
You walk around the store in awe of the luscious plants displayed on the shelves, your eyes as bright as the lights that shine over them. There are so many to choose from, and though you have an idea of what you want to have, it’s tough deciding which ones to get right now. The money tree is a must, so is the Chinese evergreen. But do you go for the orchid or the peace lily? Can you keep up with a spider plant? How many of the asparagus ferns should you get?
Your eyes flit from one plant to the next, eventually deciding on getting everything on your list then placing them on the cart for payment.
Jimin chuckles next to you. “Since when were you a plant mom?”
“Since she got that aloe vera from Yoongi and she was convinced that she has a green thumb after it didn’t die,” Soomin deadpans next to you as you frown at her sarcasm. “That’s also after my weekly reminders to water the plant because ‘no care’ doesn’t actually mean it’s going to survive on its own.”
“Oh, shush,” you scoff at her. “You told me I was doing a good job.”
“You’d send a photo every few days, hun,” she laughs. “What else was I supposed to say?”
“True. I needed the encouragement,” you shrug, paying for your haul. “But also, I’m a plant newbie. Yoongi said that I probably need some of them at home and in the office for positive energy and he’s not wrong. All the frustration from months ago just accumulated in my apartment and I need a change.”
“So… Is Yoongi a plant dad, too?” Soomin wonders.
“No. He just knows about a lot of things,” you reply. “Plus, he’s an architect and a designer. He knows a thing or two about plant decor.”
“Why isn’t he here with you, then?” She arches an eyebrow.
“Because I’m with both of you, duh,” you roll your eyes. “And before you say anything more, I don’t really like mixing my work friends with my personal friends. It’s different.”
“Well, I’m glad we could join you on this new phase of your life,” Jimin tries to be encouraging. “It’s like turning over a new leaf.”
You scold him over his terrible pun but laugh anyway, enjoying the comfort and playfulness that only your best friends could bring. They picked you up from work last Friday then you all headed to a club after dinner. You spent yesterday at a beach at their insistence then stayed in during the evening. It’s now Sunday and you’re dragging them around as you run errands before saying goodbye to them again, and it’s not a normal day without Soomin mentioning Yoongi. Perhaps it’s because of all the guys you’ve mentioned that have taken interest in you, he’s the only true green flag; he’s also the only one you didn’t entertain at all. You suppose that’s something she’ll not really get over.
The three of you head to a nearby cafe. Jimin excitedly talks about the latest menu item in their chain of restaurants while Soomin groans about the stuff she has to deal with as she manages her family-owned shipping company that’s the biggest in the port city of Busan. They turn to you and ask how the rest of your week is going to go, with slightly surprised looks when you don’t talk about work with as much disdain as you used to. There’s excitement, even, something that Soomin points out, and when you mention that Jungkook is on an overseas trip, she assumes that’s the reason why.
“Not really,” you clarify. “He arrives tomorrow evening, but the week’s packed - we’re visiting the Arts Center for inspection and then I’m doing an ocular with Chin-sun for the VP events we’re holding in the next few months. I mean, I won’t be buried in files nor will I be in meetings all week. So yeah, it’s not bad.”
“That’s good,” Jimin beams. “At least it’s nothing like how it used to be. Right?”
“It’s a lot better, I told you guys,” you say, reminding them of a similar talk you had the last time they were here, which was a week after you’d gotten sick. “Jungkook is… rational, less grumpy and impulsive; he also listens to me and trusts me. He’s even smiled a few times.”
“Wow, he really set the bar low for you, huh,” Jimin chuckles, earning him a nod.
“Does that also mean that he’s now completely bearable and no longer your type because he’s not an asshole anymore?” Soomin chimes in, being the blunt and bold one among the three of you.
“He never was my type in the first place,” you scowl. “Plus, he’s literally my boss, Soo. That’s like, not some flag, it’s a whole ass brick wall that shall not be crossed.”
“Right. That’s why Mr. Min didn’t make the cut,” she points out. “Told you you should’ve just quit your job so you could date him.”
“And I also told you that wasn’t the only reason why I didn’t want to,” you remind her. “Yoongi’s exactly the type of person I need in my life, and being more than friends is the surefire way of making sure that doesn’t happen. Like, why would I risk a good friendship for something that may not work out? Whether I break his heart or he breaks mine, it’s pain I can’t handle. There’s just no going back from there.”
“Right, that is your biggest fear,” Soomin replies softly, the sympathetic tone in her voice telling you that she does understand where you’re coming from. “I mean, it���s still possible that you wouldn’t hurt each other but I get it. It just sucks, I guess. The good ones often start as your friends.”
“I know. And I’d rather have them and be single than none at all,” you sigh.
The thought is simpler than it seems. You won’t deny that you’ve thought of how things would’ve been if you gave Yoongi a chance, but the fear of what you’d lose always trumped that type of possibility.
There’s a kind of pain you don’t want to experience, one of a broken heart caused by losing someone you’ve given your all to. It’s how you think you love, after all; you can’t give any less. But it’s also why you’ve never done it. No one’s inspired that kind of devotion for you.
Soomin has pointed out before that it’s probably also because you don’t open yourself up to the possibilities as you should. Maybe you’ve just been too focused on other things. But maybe you also just haven’t felt the kind of all-consuming desire for someone who would be worth it, one you’d want so much that you’d willingly face the fear of paralyzing heartbreak just to be with them.
You suppose that’s the difference. That’s the irony, too. You’re scared to love because you’re scared of the pain, so you keep your distance to keep yourself safe but it’s also why you haven’t found someone you’re willing to crawl out of your walls for.
There’s not much you feel passionate about in life. Maybe it’s love. But you’re too cautious to feel it, to look for it, so you don’t really know. Maybe it’s something else completely, and working in the environment that you do hinders you from discovering it. You’ve kept your distance from a lot of things over the past years and the thought that one day, you’ll be able to feel free from all the burden you carry because of a past you couldn’t control, makes you look forward to the day when you get to walk away from all those and hopefully, find whatever it is you’re looking for.
Jimin nudges you after you zone out, and you switch the subject and ask about the latest gossip in their hometown. You enjoy living vicariously through their social life back in Busan. They not only come out here to Seoul to see you but also to take a break from all the drama that they can’t really escape from, given the type of people in their circle of friends. You always thank the heavens you got lucky that at 10 years old and making a new life in a new city, you found Soomin and Jimin, perhaps the only other people aside from your mother who make you feel safe and protected, a feeling you don’t take for granted.
They indulge you and share some stories, but when Soomin goes through her social media feed to show you something, she gasps instead when she realizes that the men in her friend’s Instagram post include Jungkook.
“Did your boss just go there to party?” She asks, showing you the photo.
“Partly,” you reply. “His best friend hosted the launch of his alcohol line there but there are a couple more parties because it’s his birthday weekend. Your friends went?”
“Yeah, some of them are Kim Seokjin’s friends, apparently,” Soomin says. “Small world. But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Seoul and Busan socialites attract each other.”
“Why aren’t you there, then?” You chuckle.
“We’re choosy socialites,” Jimin clarifies. “Or like, pretentious. We just act like we are but we really aren’t, just to say that the Park and Cheon kids are interesting and sociable like the rest of them.”
“Who says they’re interesting and sociable?” Soomin states incredulously. “My eyes roll to the back of my head every time I’m in those shitty events. The lack of self-awareness of rich people repulses me. And I obviously don’t count us in.”
“And you shouldn’t,” you confirm. “I attract good people, I guess. I’m glad you’re not like them.”
“Well, what about Jungkook’s friends?” Jimin asks. “How are they like?”
“What I can say about the Kim brothers is that they’re nice people,” you say. “Very charming, ridiculously good-looking... And they sound like good friends, too. I can’t say much else. Their dating game is pretty strong though.”
“I’d assume. I mean, when you look like that, how could you not be?” Soomin states. “I mean, even Jungkook’s on point. That’s some hot girl he’s got.”
She shows you a couple of Instagram stories from her friends posting about the launch party. It turns out, there were a lot of Korea-based personalities who were invited. You spot Jungkook immediately, wearing the all-white ensemble that you packed for him the other day. His hair is a bit curled and the knitted top underneath the simple coat highlights his taut physique. There’s also that gorgeous woman around his arms, and if what you know about him is enough, you’d guess she’s probably one of those he seeks for a good time.
The sight of him loosening up a bit and enjoying himself is something you appreciate. He’s always stressed when he’s here and you’re glad he could spend a few days partying elsewhere without having to think about work, especially during the week of his birthday. You don’t know how much of this aspect of his life he enjoys, but he does seem a bit free yet still somehow detached. You suppose that’s something he’ll always be - a man trying to live his life while separating himself from the meaning of it. You’re unsure of how he does it but perhaps it’s not that different from how you are, too.
After lunch, Soomin and Jimin do a few more of your errands with you before dropping you home and then heading back to theirs. You spend the rest of the evening arranging your plants in your tiny apartment and feeling like more life is breathed into it with every one of them finding their home in a corner or on a shelf. Oddly enough, you feel a bit less lonely. That’s how you think you’ve been doing things, after all - finding substitutes for the kind of company you’re yearning for, for the kind of relationship you’re so afraid to have.
Jungkook wakes up that Monday morning feeling a lot better than he did the days before. For one, there’s no ringing in his head nor the feeling of dehydration. Bare under his soft covers, there also aren’t any fresh marks on his chest that signify the kind of night he usually has. In fact, he remembers most of it - he stayed by the bar and briefly chatted with the women who’d approached him.
Suzy was there last night, too, the only one he’s hooked up with more than once, and probably the only one he’s had proper conversations with, given that she’s a landscape designer. She’s been away on business trips and had just gone back, her bluntness about going back to his apartment that she’s too familiar with being met with a rejection that she didn't take personally.
“Has Seoul changed you?” She asked, her eyebrow arched in anticipation of his reply.
“Do you think a place would do that to me?” He laughed.
“No, but a person would,” she shrugged.
“None of that,” he shook his head. “There’s no one. I’m too busy, too tired.”
“But not too lonely?” she asked. “It’s the only reason why you would call me.”
There was no bitterness in her words but still, he asked. “And why did you always come, then?”
“To see if each time would be good enough for you to not make me leave.”
The conversation took a turn that he didn’t expect, the usual honesty in her words being too honest for him. He fumbled for something to say but she shook him off, claiming that she knew what she was getting into every time he took her home and that constantly hoping for something doesn’t guarantee that she’d get it one day.
He drank a couple of glasses of whiskey after she left but managed to call his butler for a sandwich and lemon ginger tea in time for his arrival at his penthouse. The meal did the trick, as he’d slept soundly after a warm bath without a splitting headache and regrets the next day.
It’s Monday, after all, and it’s back to work as usual. He has a few meetings to attend before flying back to Seoul, one of which is with the team. He gathers the energy to get off the bed for a half-hour exercise before getting ready. He eats the breakfast that the butler orders for him then heads to the office where he briefly meets with Lucas.
Settled on his desk, he proceeds to virtually meet with the team, who all promptly greet him from the conference room. He asks how their weekend was, with most of them looking surprised because he rarely asks them about it, but they answer anyway. That’s when he notices that you’re not around, prompting him to look for you.
“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you answer off camera before appearing on screen with a candle-lit cake in your hands.
He’s surprised when the team sings him a happy birthday, your eyes fixed on him as you mouth the words with a soft smile on your face. Do-hyun giggles at his silence, saying that he probably forgot it was his birthday or he maybe didn’t expect that they’d prepare something for him.
“We like you now, Mr. Jeon,” she teases, earning him a nudge from Chin-sun but she doesn’t seem to mind and neither does he.
It’s what makes him laugh, hoping that the pink on his cheeks aren’t visible on screen. He hadn’t expected this. He also knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he’d bet that you had everything to do with this.
“You’ve probably been too busy to celebrate but we haven’t forgotten. More like, Ms. Cho made sure we remembered,” Manager Lee chuckles. “We hope you enjoy this little something we prepared.”
“It’s an ice cream cake so it’ll just be in your refrigerator and you can have some when you return,” you say.
“Thank you,” he finally manages to say. “You didn’t have to but I appreciate it. I’m looking forward to having some when I get back. Ms. Cho should also buy another one big enough for the team to share.”
You nod in acknowledgment of his instruction before starting with the meeting. There’s a lot to talk about, given the Arts Center construction and activities, as well as the upcoming year-end events that they have to organize and coordinate. It goes on for over two hours and it ends with your gentle smile after he says goodbye.
The rest of the day feels too long for Jungkook, especially during the late afternoon flight and eventual ride home. He stares at the photo you sent of the cake, making sure he sees the greeting on it.
“Get home safely, Mr. Jeon,” you text him after he says thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With the reminders of the impermanence of things and people this weekend, Jungkook finds comfort in the stability that you provide. It’s in your smile, in your reminders and organization of his life, in your thoughtfulness and patience. It’s in the assurance that tomorrow is another day, one in which he gets to see you once again.
The cake is simple but sophisticated. The mint chocolate flavor is exactly how he likes it and in ice cream cake form, it’s really delicious. He’s glad he gets to have this all for himself, as the team was able to enjoy one yesterday as per his instruction, and you’d sent a group photo of everyone enjoying it to him, the small smile that formed on his face no longer surprising him.
For one, the comfort is there. He’s seen just how much better the team is working together because of it - they’re more open to giving him feedback and receiving his, any moment of frustration is easily mended with laughter, and his encouragement and affirmation have been motivating them as well. In the midst of it is you who makes sure that communication flows smoothly and that everything is on track, acting as the glue that keeps everyone together.
He sees firsthand just how good you are at handling things, and how despite all the stress, you manage to get him seaweed soup and a cake for his birthday. It’s more than just the details regarding work that you’re on top of; it’s also details about his life, and how he’s responding to it tells him that maybe, whatever change there is like what Suzy observed, a big part of it is because of you.
“I’m glad you like it, Mr. Jeon,” your voice cuts through his thoughts.
He looks up and sees you with a portfolio in hand, motioning towards the cake that’s now one fourth eaten.
“Ah, yeah,” he says, not denying it. “I feel like I haven’t had sweets in a while. Where did you buy this?”
“Oh, uh, I asked the baker who made desserts for the Arts Center event if she could make a customized ice cream cake,” you explain. “Fortunately she could. And thankfully it’s delicious. She enjoyed working with us so she gave us a discount.”
“You… had this made for me?”
He’d expected it to be store-bought, but learning you made the effort to reach out to someone reminds him once more of your thoughtfulness, of your care.
“Yes, I, uh, I just assumed you’d receive a few and I thought to give you something a little different.”
“It’s the only one I got actually,” he says, catching you off guard. Your face falls a little so he follows it up. “Like I told you, I don’t celebrate my birthday so I don’t let people know about it. And the ones who do also know that I don’t make a big deal out of it so they don’t really give me anything.”
“Oh,” you say, feeling a little sad.
You’re not one to have big celebrations but you do have a bit of it. For your 30th birthday at the start of the year, Jimin and Soomin threw you a little party in your humble home in Daegu where they performed some of your favorite songs and enacted your favorite drama scenes to make you happy. There was no need for anything fancy - just your loved ones and your mom’s and Min-woo’s amazing cooking.
But even before that milestone, your friends always made sure to at least get you seaweed soup and a birthday cake; they want you to remember that there are lives impacted because you were born. You can’t really say that Jungkook’s impacted your life the same way but you still value his existence; a small cake is just a little something to celebrate that. But the idea that his family and friends pass up on the cake - and perhaps the gifts, too - makes you think that there’s really not much in Jungkook’s life he feels he could share with others, that there’s not much he could give and receive in return.
“I hope I didn’t cross a line if it’s something you don’t like people knowing,” you continue. “I just thought… it would be nice to receive something from us.”
“It actually was,” he admits, his voice soft and low. Turning away, he says, “it’s been a while since I actually thought about my birthday as anything other than ordinary. It’s nice to be reminded sometimes. So thank you, Ms. Cho. For the soup, too. I appreciate it.”
Perhaps it’s his honesty that does it, but you can’t help the smile that forms on your face. If learning how to express gratitude is something you could teach him, you already feel accomplished.
It’s the next day when you find yourself back in Jungkook’s office, staring at the potted plant in your hands. You’ve gone from debating on whether to leave it on his desk or the coffee table, to even giving it at all. You won’t lie and say you didn’t know what you were thinking when you passed by the plant store after work last night to get this specifically for him. You did - you wanted him to feel that joy of receiving a gift, which you suppose doesn’t happen, especially for someone who can literally buy anything he wants.
But still, it doesn’t mean that your good intention will be received well. You’ve given Hoseok a small gift every year for his birthday, partly because he likes receiving them and also because it’s your way of saying thanks.
You want to give this to Jungkook as a form of gratitude, too. Despite how you both started, the amount of things you’ve learned from him and continue to have somehow made up for it, and you also know that he’s learning from you as well. He’s given you agency to make decisions. He’s also given you events and small projects to manage, making you realize it’s what you really enjoy doing. Seeing things come together the way you envisioned it is so satisfying. Perhaps without intending it, Jungkook’s showed you a way out, a path that you want to explore so much that you’re willing to let go of all that you know in this company for something new, for something that feels more like you.
Your thoughts have completely digressed and with the time you took debating and reflecting, you hadn’t heard his footsteps, and so you jerk a little when he calls out your name.
Turning around, you bow in greeting, remembering at the same time that you have something that you’re not 100% sure yet you want to give right now. But as always, he calls you out on it.
“Is that a snake plant?” He asks, walking towards his seat.
“Yes.”
“Is that the one on your desk?”
“Uh, no, actually,” you laugh dryly, knowing you can’t turn back from it now. “I… I meant to give it to you, sir. I just thought that, uh, the money tree on the shelf might be too lonely so I got you a desk plant. I heard it’s good for positive energy and to filter the air.”
“It is,” he hums. “Is that why you got yourself one?”
“I suppose. I figured it could help improve my mood. Yoongi suggested it before but I just kept pushing it back. I finally got some for my apartment last weekend,” you explain, just so he knows it didn’t come out of nowhere.
“And you think this will improve my mood?” He arches an eyebrow.
“Maybe,” you shrug. “We’ll probably need a dozen of them here but we could start with one.”
He matches your soft laughter with his own, which you’re thankful for. He reaches out for the plant, nonchalant like you when your fingers brush against each other.
“Hopefully this will work,” he says as he places the small, white pot next to his desktop.
You leave him so he could prepare for a conference call while you’re set to meet with the marketing team. Jungkook gazes at the plant and notices the little note attached to the string around the stem.
Happy birthday, it reads.
This wasn’t just something to match the money tree that Hoseok left for him that he hasn’t been caring for much. This was a gift for him. You probably assume that if he doesn’t receive birthday cakes, he wouldn’t be receiving gifts, either. And you’d be right. His best friends just throw him parties. And once he left Seoul to obtain his MBA in Singapore and stayed to work in their Southeast Asian headquarters, the distance between him and his parents grew. They’d reach out but he didn’t bother much, so he’d stopped expecting anything. After he broke up with Chaerin, he stopped receiving anything at all. This is the first time he’s gotten something from someone after a long time.
It’s simple in its meaning and honest in its intention, and he doesn’t hold back the smile that forms on his face.
You watch the realization dawn on Jungkook from outside. You’d remembered the silly note you left right as you sat down and didn’t have time to take it back, which really wasn’t much, but you suppose it’s enough to tell him that the plant indeed is a gift. You don’t know if someone like him even receives them, or would even appreciate something so cheap and humble, but the gentle smile he has on tells you that he probably doesn’t get much, but that this is something he welcomes.
Your smile follows soon after but it feels different this time. There’s pride somehow that your little gift could elicit something so rare out of him. There’s also a bit of awe; this is the softest he’s ever looked, with that tinge of gratitude and yearning, a complete contrast to what you know of him, to how you’ve always seen him. It’s… it’s actually beautiful.
And this is when things start to get confusing, especially as your phone beeps with that SMS from him.
[From: The Boss] Thank you, ___.
It’s the non-work message. It’s the use of your name. This is personal for him and you acknowledge that it’s the same for you. Perhaps there’s a reason why you made the effort to get the gift last night, why it mattered to you that he received something to celebrate his birthday, and why seeing him appreciate it the way he does is making you giddy and satisfied at the same time.
Maybe it’s the care you’re starting to feel for him that’s beyond just wanting to make your job bearable. You’ll dissect what that truly means later on, but right now it’s just you, him, and the glass wall in between the both of you. There’s distance, there’s a boundary, but there’s a transparent barrier that allows you to see what’s on the other side, one which allows you to know who he is behind the man you’ve come to know. And you admit, he’s not so bad after all.
The construction of the Arts Center is going better than expected. Given some of the delays due to the wrong materials delivered and some permits that took a while to get, the workers were able to make up some ground, largely due to Jungkook’s supervision. When you both visited a few weeks ago, there were many things to work on, and he managed to identify the priorities and find ways to get the project back on track.
It was during those few days of constantly being on site that you saw how efficient and effective he really works. You admired his precision and attention to detail, how he instructed the team leads and project managers and laborers, how he put together the design of one of the rooms just as he’d envisioned it.
He was commanding and decisive, and you appreciated his thorough and simple explanations that allowed you to keep up with him. He’s said that he wants you to understand what’s happening so that you’re well-informed should you need to communicate to others on his behalf, and what initially intimidated you turned into something you became interested in. Since then, you’ve been watching design shows to help you further. The challenge was welcomed, and now you feel like everyday, you’re learning something new on the job.
His instructions from that time were followed, and you’re back today to inspect the rest of the spaces. Everything is so massive, and with one half of the wall of the performance hall already done, you can clearly see the upgrade. The details are impressive, and the way that the traditional designs merge with modern elements is a feature itself.
You’re immersed in the intricacies of the ceiling, walking towards the wall to get a closer look that you don’t immediately notice the workers walking past you with a massive slab of marble. The moment that you do, you step back too quickly, tripping on your heels, and just as you brace yourself to hit the ground, you instead feel your back against a firm chest, with hands on your elbows breaking your fall.
You sigh in relief, even leaning your head back because nothing could be more embarrassing than falling on your ass in front of many people, including your boss. That is, until the familiar scent of jasmine and bergamot wafts through your nose and you realize that what you just did is debatably more embarrassing than what could’ve happened.
The familiar clearing of the throat is what finally does it for you, and with wide eyes, you turn around and face him to apologize.
“I’m sorry, sir. I—”
“Was so much in awe that you didn’t notice the workers passing by,” he finishes, his slightly teasing smile calming you down.
“Ah, well of course. The details are too pretty,” you reason, stepping back only a little. You look at him shyly. “But thank you. I was about to fall.”
“I know. And I was about to lose it if my assistant got injured on the job.”
“True. It’s bad publicity, I guess,” you shrug. “And distractions could cause delays. And that’s bad, too.”
“Or you know, I simply just can’t have you injured, simple as that,” he says with a little frown on his face.
“Imagine if I didn’t see them? They could’ve dropped the marble and I would’ve completely lost it!”
“Why?” He arches an eyebrow.
“That slab is like, two months’ worth of salary, Mr. Jeon.”
“It’s actually more but that’s not the point,” he fully frowns now. “If you didn’t see them, then they could’ve hit you, and then you would be whining in pain right now. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, ___.”
His voice is firm and low, and you nod in acknowledgment because you also know he’s right. The workers’ vision was limited but yours wasn’t; you were just too distracted and if you hadn’t pulled early enough, that marble really could’ve done damage to you. And if it wasn’t for Jungkook catching your fall, then something bad still would’ve happened to you.
“But are you okay? You didn’t twist your ankle or anything?” He asks.
“No. Uh, the heel’s just a bit loose but I’m fine,” you reply, still trying to wrap your head around how he’d said your name - informally, in this setting, as he told you that you could’ve gotten hurt. Maybe you weren’t imagining the worried tone of his voice earlier.
“Okay,” he sighs. “You have to be careful next time.”
“I will, sir,” you reply.
You step aside and Jungkook sees you from his peripheral vision as he returns to assessing, staying put and only glancing at the ceiling unlike earlier. He’d seen you marvel at the design of the hall earlier, and while he was initially doing the same, seeing you wide-eyed and impressed caught his attention more.
Many times, he’s seen you look dejected, frustrated, angry. He’s seen your moments of focus and joy, too, but this is the first time he’s seen you be in awe. There was this softness on your face that was still filled with emotion, and he’d been drawn to you enough to see that you were about to fall. He’s glad he has quick reflexes and was able to get to you in time, the worry he felt at the thought of you getting hurt in any way was quite overwhelming for him. And while it’s partly because you’re his responsibility in this case, he also knows it’s more than that.
He gestures moving to another room and you follow him outside, and just as you try to stay close to him, Jungkook also makes sure you’re away from any kind of danger. He moves to your side when there are workers nearby with their heavy equipment and large materials. He shields you from the drilling. He glances at you as you both walk towards the other performance hall. And when you get there, you see the ceiling installation is ongoing, and Jungkook immediately calls for hard hats for the both of you.
He hands you one and you put it on, fumbling with the strap underneath your chin. You groan in frustration when you’re unable to lock it, and that’s when you see him move towards you.
“Let me,” he says.
You stop your movements and shyly nod in agreement, and he waits for you to let go before he fixes it himself.
It’s a little odd being on the other side, since it’s always you who fixes his tie or his coat. But you’re the one watching him now, with his furrowed brows and seriousness in securing this safety gear on you making you feel warm inside.
He steps back then looks at you, trying hard to control his laughter.
“Are you laughing at me, sir?” You pout.
“No. I don’t make fun of people,” he says, turning serious now, but you don’t miss the grin on his face.
It’s unfair that he looks good even with a hard hat on.
One of the project managers calls him and he goes around, with you staying close by. This performance hall is bigger and boasts of a more traditional design, which would hold the cultural performances that the Culture Minister is very excited about. You watch Jungkook inspect the space with thoroughness, checking each wall panel and each seat.
It’s amazing to you just how involved he is with this project even with the project managers handling things relatively well. He wants to be on top of everything, he’s said; it matters too much for him to not know what’s going on.
You see Yoongi enter the room and approach him. Once he sees you, he laughs as well.
“Do I look that bad?” You groan. “Mr. Jeon was laughing at me, too.”
“It’s a little big, and I guess I’m just not used to seeing you in one,” Yoongi shrugs.
“Why don’t you have one?”
“I don’t need it. I’m here all the time and nothing happens.”
“Well, I’ve been here a few times and I almost fell earlier,” you say, recalling the almost-embarrassment.
“I know, I saw it,” he chuckles.
“You were there?!” You gasp.
“No, I was totally in the other room that’s why I witnessed you almost get hit by the marble then trip on yourself,” he deadpans.
“I didn’t see you, that’s all,” you shrug.
“I was by the doors. I checked these spaces yesterday and I just wanted to be around in case Jungkook had new instructions,” he explains. “But I gotta say, you guys were kinda cute earlier.”
“Almost falling on my ass isn’t cute, Min Yoongi,” you scowl. “I could’ve either ruined the marble slab or hurt my bum. Either way, it would’ve been embarrassing.”
“I didn’t mean just you. I meant you guys,” he gestures towards Jungkook. “He caught you, didn’t he?”
“Yes… That was embarrassing, too,” you frown. “What’s cute about that?”
“He looked worried. It’s just not something I’ve seen him be towards other people, that’s all.”
“It’s because an injured employee on site isn’t good, okay? Plus, if I’m incapable, then no one’s gonna be around to make his life easier,” you reason.
Yoongi stares at you for a while before shaking his head. “Wow, you really are dense.”
“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you cross your arms in frustration.
“Forget about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, deciding not to push it.
He’ll tell you another time that he’s glad you’re becoming more of yourself again, that the light has somehow come back, that there’s now comfort you exude around the man you’d once despised. Yoongi feels assured now that there’s someone else who seems to be looking out for you, and that it’s something you don’t seem to mind at all.
“Yah! You’re being all mysterious again!” You pout, something he chuckles about.
“Me? Mysterious? Come on. I’ve always been an open book,” he teases.
You’re just about to nag him again when you hear Jungkook clear his throat, and you turn towards him and ask if he’s already done inspecting.
“There are still a few things I want to run by my design lead before leaving,” Jungkook says. “Please move my meeting to 3PM.”
“That’s noted, sir. I’ll give Mr. Hong’s assistant a call.”
You excuse yourself and step outside, leaving both men alone.
“Angering my assistant, are you?” Jungkook asks Yoongi, the curious yet playful tone in his voice evident.
“Nah, just teasing. That a problem?” Yoongi answers back.
“No. It’s good she has someone she’s comfortable with at work.”
“Could be you, you know? That isn’t so bad,” Yoongi remarks, surprising him. “And it doesn’t cross whatever boundary you’re trying so hard to stay behind.”
“We’re not… on that level. I mean, I don’t know how to be someone other people are comfortable being around,” Jungkook admits.
“I don’t know about that. Seems like you’re already that for her,” Yoongi says. “I was just teasing her about how you guys looked cute earlier, when you broke her fall.”
“You were there?”
“Both of you really don’t notice other people when it’s just both of you, huh,” Yoongi laughs. “But yeah, I was. I saw her relief. And I saw you worry.”
Jungkook merely shrugs, not wanting to confirm. Even if he denies it, Yoongi will still believe what he wants to believe. But the older man knows you well just as much as he knows him.
“You care about her, don’t you?” Yoongi responds to the silence. “And I mean not in a superficial way, or a good boss caring for his employee type of way. Like, you worry when she’s sick or overworking, when she’s hurt or in danger. You want her to always be safe, to get rest. You like having her near. You wanna know that she’s happy.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Jungkook finally answers. “I can’t think of her that way.”
“I know. That’s why you were the way you were,” Yoongi says. “How else do you respond to things you can’t control than through anger and detachment? But just because you shouldn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that you do.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong,” Jungkook counters.
“Well, irrationally calling her out and being angry were wrong, too, and you did those because you weren’t being honest with yourself,” Yoongi argues. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, the least you can do is be true to yourself about how you feel. Because the more you deny, then the more you resist, and when you do that, you end up hurting her. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not.”
“Then just… accept things - what you feel, what you both are, what you can or can’t be.”
Jungkook looks at his friend as if some epiphany had just transpired. It’s been difficult for him to make sense of what he feels around you. There’s always that air of familiarity, but the warmth and comfort are new. There’s the reality that you come from different worlds, but that you both somehow feel and experience and maybe desire the same things. There’s that sense of fear over change and of what he can’t control, yet you somehow provide the calm and stability that he hasn’t felt in a long time.
It’s all these contradictions that have been messing with him, and Yoongi’s right - because of all the times that Jungkook had wanted to create that distance, all it did was hurt you. That’s the last thing he wants, he realizes now. He’s seen you struggle, and even if that’s just a fraction of what you normally go through, it’s enough to tell him that he doesn’t want you to experience that again, especially not because of him. It’s too early to say the extent of his care towards you, and it’s not something he’s willing or ready to explore right now. But just as Jungkook’s about to comfort himself that it’s fine, and that he shouldn’t dwell on it anyway so as not to further nurture it, Yoongi speaks again.
“Just… just a heads up, though,” he adds. “The care that I felt, that’s how it started for me.”
“What started?”
“Me, liking her.”
It’s at that moment when you come back from your call, and you inform Jungkook that the meeting’s been moved and that he has a scheduled one with some of the directors on Monday.
“Alright,” he says, directing you and Yoongi towards the souvenir shop, temporarily disregarding what he was warned about.
“You two looked so serious. Everything okay?” You whisper to your friend.
“Yeah,” Yoongi hums, giving you the most genuine smile he could give.
There’s that sparkle and softness in your eyes that had captured him all those years ago. They dimmed throughout the years and they’ve just been sporadic, illuminating only during specific moments. He’d seen them again a lot more regularly, and even today, as you looked around the halls and admired the designs of the space.
Yoongi doesn’t know if a certain person is the reason for that. He knows you enough that you wouldn’t even notice it, so you definitely wouldn’t know what caused the change. But as your friend, he hopes one day you will, so that if you’re brave enough, too, you’d try to make sure that the light stays.
The inspection ends and you get back to the office at 4. You return to piles of documents you have to sift through and encode, and your original plan of leaving on time changes.
Jungkook spends over an hour talking with Yoongi and the construction lead about the Arts Center, and once that’s over, you see just how exhausted he is. He’s massaging his temples and sighing deeply, and you know that whatever just transpired, he’s going to be thinking about it all throughout the weekend, which he doesn’t really have time for. The gala that one of the Board members throws annually is tomorrow night, an event you’ll be attending with him as well.
You enter his room to remind him about it and to give some forms for his signature. He signs them off, and when you say you’ve got a few more requests that you’ll leave on his desk for Monday, he tells you to just wait until then.
“Go home, Ms. Cho,” he says. “It’s been a long week. And it won’t end until after tomorrow night.”
“What about you, Mr. Jeon?”
“I’ve got some stuff to sort through after inspection. I’ll probably leave in an hour or so.”
You frown, a mannerism of yours that he’s gotten used to seeing. It’s mixed with a pout that often makes him internally laugh because it seems unlike you. It also always means there’s something you want to say that you’re holding back.
“Should I not?” He arches an eyebrow.
“Hmm. Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a rest tonight, too,” you advise. “The gala could be quite draining and it would be good to save your energy for that.”
“I’ll think about it,” he hums.
“Then I’ll think about going home, too,” you answer back.
Jungkook chuckles, knowing you’re always going to counter him in some way. And he’s glad that you do.
“You may go. And get a good rest, too.”
You nod and bid him goodbye, exiting the room to start packing your things. It’s five minutes later when the door opens and you see him with his bag, ready to head home as well.
You smile at his tender doe-eyes as he admits through them that you were right - he doesn’t have a reason to stay behind, so he’ll call it a night and get as much rest as he can.
He pauses by the entryway, and you pick up that he’s waiting for you, perhaps to make sure that you’re indeed going home. You quicken your pace and walk next to him, steps in pace as you both go to the elevator and down to the lobby.
“Mr. Ri can bring you home after me,” Jungkook says. “It’s late already.”
“Not late enough,” you reply. “I’m okay, Mr. Jeon. It’s not necessary.”
He concedes, and you wait for the car to arrive and say goodbye to him again.
There’s a softness on his face as he lingers before he enters. A small smile forms, and it’s what you see until you fall asleep that night. It’s the same one that’s oddly been giving you comfort lately - it’s a little restrained but somehow it still looks vulnerable. Perhaps it represents how Jungkook’s been to you - there are some contradictions, but beyond all that, there’s care.
Mr. Ri happily greets you as you enter the car that late Saturday afternoon to head to Jungkook’s penthouse. He compliments your dress, saying it’s nice to see you in something formal that fits your style - it’s simple yet elegant, and you tell him that your mother wouldn’t stop gushing over you through the screen, nagging you to send full-body photos so she could appreciate you more.
Jimin and Soomin surprised you in the morning to help you fix up, insisting that they wanted to make sure you spoiled yourself for the event. If you wouldn’t, they would, so they treated you to the hair salon and had your nails done. They’re the ones who took so many photos like some formal dance, and Jimin commented that the only downside was that they were sending you off to pick up Jungkook.
Defending your boss the way you did surprised you a little; it surprised them a lot more. You’d said that he bought you the dress, that he’s been nothing but kind, and that whatever negative feelings you had towards him are all in the past. Your friends understood, deciding not to ruin your night and then letting you go so they could eat out and meet you back at your apartment once you’re done.
You chat with Mr. Ri about how things have been at work, your friends, and your family. You also talk about the gala and how it feels a little nerve-racking attending this time, given your experience with Jungkook.
It’s a grand event that the company’s executives attend, and guests are asked to refrain from going solo. For such requests, it’s not unusual for them to bring their assistants. You’re expected to attend anyway, and assistants usually partner up with each other and it always worked. You went with Hoseok last year because A-yeong had a work event, and while you expected that Jungkook wouldn’t care for such request and maintain that he’d go by himself, you also didn’t think that CEO Jeon would insist that his son take you as his date so he wouldn’t be alone.
The elder Jeon had reasoned that business discussions usually take place during the gala, and it would be good for you to be around and be familiar with the new people on the scene. Hoseok had said that they’re expected to stay through the whole thing, and it’s much better for his cousin to have a companion so he could survive the night. That was months ago when things were still a little shaky for you both. You still remember Jungkook’s displeased look when it seemed like he had no choice in the matter, especially since he probably thought that his father just wanted to make sure he’d act accordingly. It feels like a lifetime ago, really, as you think about his soft smile from last night.
You don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, why his gestures or mannerisms suddenly mean something to you, or why there’s excitement when you think about seeing him outside of work. You’re unsure why the curve of his lips when he grins or the deep huff that follows his laugh makes you a little giddy, or why his eyes lingering on you makes your heart beat a little faster than usual.
Just like right now, as they gaze at you while you seemingly do the same.
“You look, uh—” he starts, unable to find the accurate but appropriate term to describe how you look.
“Nice?” You finish, recalling the term he’d used when you tried this gown for the first time.
“Something like that,” he chuckles, earning him a giggle from you.
He playfully shakes his head, perhaps knowing that you’re used to him not making grand compliments or anything. But he does smile after, and there goes that blissful feeling again.
Maybe it’s because for the first time, you’re being appreciated. Maybe just like how it’s been recently, he likes being around you, prefers it, even. And given how you felt so unwanted during his first few weeks here, this is a blessing, as if in his appreciation of you, you’re liking yourself as well.
“Well, in my opinion, you look quite dashing, Mr. Jeon,” you say bravely. “Except your waistcoat seems to be uneven.”
“Exactly what I thought,” he sighs. “I can’t quite align it properly.”
And as you always do, you approach him, your hands immediately going towards his shoulders to flatten the vest, then his sides to pull it down. You adjust it a little bit more then fix his collar after, and suddenly this feels so natural - being close to him, taking in his scent, and smiling as he glances at you.
“Do you need help with your coat?” You ask once you finish.
He nods and you follow him to his walk-in closet where you take the last piece of clothing and assist him in wearing it. He adjusts the lapels while you assess if all wrinkles have been flattened. You watch him look at himself in the mirror and you can’t help but admire him as well. He exudes confidence, which you can say now is strikingly different from the Appointment Dinner where he still looked a bit unsure. But now, he commands respect. The deep black color of his striped three-piece ensemble with his slick hair parted in the middle makes him even more handsome, and you manage to hold in the gasp you were about to release as he faces you for a final look.
“All good?” He asks.
“All good,” you smile, turning around and walking back to the living room.
He follows, and he takes this time to bask in your beauty before he has to act like it doesn’t affect him again.
There’s a reason why he was rendered speechless the first time he saw you in this gown at the tailor shop, so much so that he had to step out to get some air. You look even more stunning now, with your classic but natural-looking makeup and your styled hair. You exude a certain kind of glow that sucks him in, that makes his heart race yet soothes him just the same.
It’s a little dangerous for him, given that he’ll be spending this entire evening with you as his date, looking the way you do while he has to act disinterested, as if his attraction isn’t slapping him in the face and his internal alarm bells aren’t ringing.
But he has to act professional. He has to stay behind the lines even if his mind is yelling all the words about your beauty that he has to ignore. So he gives himself this short moment where he gets to admire you, and when you make it to the elevator and become confined in a small space, he holds his breath as you smile at him shyly, hoping that he doesn’t give himself away.
He’ll get himself together, he orders to himself, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t scare you off.
You make it to the lobby and enter the car. The drive to the venue is quiet at the beginning. It’s technically not a work day so there’s no reason to discuss work. You and Jungkook may have started talking about non-work matters but it doesn’t mean you readily talk about actual personal things. They’re occasional, as it’s not something he seems to do much and you’re often guarded about yours. It took a while for you to open up to Yoongi and even then, there are many things he doesn’t know. You’re comfortable around him, there’s no denying that, but there are still parts of you that you don’t like to share with others, and you suppose that Jungkook is the same.
But still, you ask how his evening was and how his day went, expecting he’d give a basic answer.
“I just stayed home last night and watched soccer over drinks,” he says. “Then I did my workout and went for a swim this morning. I did a bit of work in the afternoon and then got ready.”
“Ah, no party last night and then recovering from it in the morning?” You tease, knowing that’s a usual occurrence for him. Lucas did mention about the Singapore trip and how he’d taken home a passed out Jungkook on the night of his birthday.
“Well, there was a party,” he responds. “There always is, but I passed up on it. I didn’t want to feel out of sorts tonight. There’ll be a lot of new faces and I don’t wanna mess up.”
“Oh, you won’t. You’ve been doing really well, Mr. Jeon. And that’s me being honest.”
“Why wouldn’t you be?” He arches an eyebrow. “Would you tell me otherwise?”
“Well, the me of now, would. The me of a few months ago would want to but wouldn’t.”
Jungkook dwells on your answer. “Hmm. What changed, then?”
“I got used to you.”
He meets your gaze and somehow it feels too long. You don’t really know what prompted you to say it but you felt a little bold, a little too honest.
“In what sense?” he wonders, turning away now.
“I’d say I got used to the mood swings but then again, they haven’t been intense compared to those first few weeks,” you admit. “But surprisingly, it’s the calmness I’ve become accustomed to. And the seriousness and occasional zoning out, but also, the…”
Care, you want to say. Or the thoughtfulness.
“Consideration,” you say instead.
Jungkook’s throat dries up as he finds the words to say. He’s now afraid to look at you because he might give in and say something he’ll regret. He’s been praised before for his work and his designs, but he supposes that no one’s really complimented him for something he does for other people, specifically for you. Maybe that’s why he thinks he doesn’t deserve it; he’s unsure if he’s really considerate by nature or if he just is towards you. It’s why he brushes it off, insisting he just has his moments.
“But those moments could mean a lot to the one it’s shared with or directed to,” you counter. “Even if it was just once. Or even if it was so trivial that you probably forgot already. But the other person doesn’t. Or they would, but something about that moment stays.”
Jungkook thinks about the moments you’d shown him consideration. Or even care or thoughtfulness, but he wouldn’t word it that way to you. There are the big ones - when you showed your support of the Arts Center to his father, when you calmed him down during that first Board meeting, when you gave him the noodles when he was sick, when you stayed with him during his interview with the magazine publications.
When you stood up to him. When you didn’t quit after that first week.
There are also the small moments - the ginger and lemon tea on Monday mornings when he looks like he’d drank too much the night before, the biscuits you serve with his coffee, the affirming looks during team meetings, the comforting smiles from outside his office when he’s stressed.
There’s a lot of those you show him, and he realizes now that he remembers each one.
The silence returns soon after, as you both seem to prefer basking in the soft music that Mr. Ri plays.
It’s 15 minutes later when you arrive at the venue. You get out of the car and meet Jungkook by his door, surprised when he offers his arm that you take.
“This is how they do it, right?” He looks at you questioningly.
“Yes,” you chuckle. “It’s a little over-the-top but the hosts treat this like it’s some red carpet event and I just follow what the others do. Bitna says it’s the one time we could feel like proper ladies or something, whatever that means.”
“Hmm, makes sense. I guess I’ll be a proper gentleman, then. Whatever that means.”
You hold onto him lightly as you both make your way inside. You try to disregard the firmness of his arm and the way it feels under your touch, so you gently let go not long after and clutch onto your purse instead, not wanting to give off the idea that you’re anything more than each other’s dates. You greet the guests and establish your position to those who are unaware in an effort to show that this social event is a work function as well.
Jungkook talks about the Arts Center when he can, and you mentally take note of certain projects, sites, events, artists, and patrons that are mentioned, quickly typing them on your phone for future reference. He talks to you about them in between flutes of champagne and canapes that are some of the most delicious you’ve ever had.
Jungkook laughs as you down another brie and cranberry bruschetta.
“What? I like fancy food,” you pout.
“Yes, your normal people’s taste buds like fancy food,” he teases.
It’s a statement you make often and you smile that he now uses it against you.
Your moments of casual ignorance of what’s going on around you are ones you find yourself enjoying too much. You internally sigh every time a guest approaches him, and even more so when you find yourself with a few others and someone stands a little too close, or has his hand linger on your elbow, or whispers something in your ear as if you’re at a bar and the music is too loud, which it isn’t, so there’s really no reason for this son of some business tycoon to be asking you to head outside “to talk.”
“Don’t you have a date?” You ask after he insists.
“Yeah, some girl,” he shrugs. “She’s kinda boring. Lucky I found you.”
You awkwardly smile, knowing it’s not your place to reject him and make a scene. He looks to be the type who always gets his way and if he doesn’t this time, you’re afraid of how he might take it.
You don’t budge and call for another flute of champagne instead, finishing it in one gulp that has the man releasing a deep breath in front of you.
“So you’ve been working for the Jeon’s for 8 years, you say?” He speaks again.
You nod, looking around to avoid his eyes.
“That’s quite a long time, yeah? I’m sure I can get you a spot at my company,” he brags. “I mean, we sell luxury cars. That’s way more interesting than buildings and shit.”
“I don’t drive,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I don’t know how to.”
“Perfect. I can teach you then,” he smirks.
It’s the look that heightens your level of discomfort, and just as you’re about to make some excuse and run away, Jungkook calls your name that has you immediately turning towards him.
“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”
He’s not too far away; he comes closer yet still maintains a bit of a distance.
“Hoseok’s asking for me but I want to speak to Mr. Saito before he leaves. Can you go to my cousin on my behalf?”
“Of course,” you say, excusing yourself and scurrying away from the scene, sighing in relief at the sight of a familiar pair of faces.
A-yeong gives you a hug and you return it, then you turn to Hoseok and ask what he needs Jungkook for.
“Nothing,” he says. “I didn’t call for him.”
“Oh, okay. Well, he said you did.”
“I haven’t spoken to him since we got here,” Hoseok replies. “You know how this gala goes. So many people to meet. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, just… uh. Well, I just met Mr. Kwon’s son. And let’s just say, I don’t want that to happen again.”
“Oh, ___,” A-yeong sighs, knowing exactly what you mean. “Just stay with us. Or don’t leave Jungkook’s side.” Turning towards the man who’d just arrived, she adds, “stay close to her, okay?”
Jungkook looks at you, his eyes asking a question that you know the answer to but neither of you says anything.
“I will,” he nods.
Both of you stay where you are for a while before heading back to your seats for the sit-down dinner. You converse with those at your table, thankful that they’re all decent and entertaining. After that, Jungkook doesn’t leave your side. It almost seems like he’s your date rather than the other way around, but you appreciate his presence, especially when he calls your attention once you start looking uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I just… I just get a little uneasy when people I don’t know get too close.”
“I understand. I’m the same,” he says, prompting you to look at him. “But I just feel uncomfortable, not unsafe. There’s a difference. And it’s not okay if that’s how they make you feel.”
He knew without you saying the words. It takes you back to that night at the restaurant with Hajoon and how Jungkook had looked the most guilty he’d ever been when you said that his staring made you feel uncomfortable. You supposed then that it was mostly because he thought he was causing a rift between you and Hajoon but you realize now that it was more than that. For all that Jungkook is, you’ve come to see that there are things he can’t stand himself doing; deliberately making you feel unsafe is definitely one of them. Perhaps it’s why at this moment, you feel the exact opposite being around him.
And that’s how the rest of the night goes. He stays close but when he’s caught up in a conversation he can’t get out of, he gives you that look to remind you that it’s okay to step away, that you have the ability to remove yourself from a situation you don’t feel good being in. And you do, and the worry you used to have about being a mere assistant fades away. You never thought that one Jeon Jungkook would give you the permission to do that.
You’re seated on a chair some time later, the hours of walking in your high heels taking its toll on you. You wave to Hoseok and A-yeong, no longer having the energy to walk up to them for a proper goodbye. You sigh to yourself, feeling the tiredness slowly overtake you. It was still a good night, but it took a lot of energy from you, too.
“Hey,” you hear Jungkook call out.
You turn to him, still looking handsome as he stands nearby, his hands in his pockets as he mirrors your exhaustion.
“Ready to head home?” He asks.
“Yes,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh.
You stand up, limping only a tiny bit, but you think Jungkook notices, as he offers his arm just like he did at the start of the night.
“This is what a proper gentleman does, right?” He asks.
“I suppose. Although I might say, Mr. Jeon, that’s what you were the entire time. So thank you.”
Jungkook nods in response, unsure how to receive your gratitude. He knows what you mean, as the first sign of your discomfort had him looking at you constantly. He was worried all night but he supposes there’s no reason to feel that way now, as your faint smile just signifies that you’re tired more than anything.
For the short moment it takes for you to walk closer to him, he basks in your beauty once more. The night will be over soon, and he’s glad he could give you some reprieve this time. He tries not to lose it when you tighten your grip on his arm for support though, but that’s something he can think about later on.
The walk to the car isn’t that long and you let go of him eventually. You head towards the other door then enter, the space in between reminding him of where you both belong - on either side of a line, one that he shouldn’t think of crossing.
You sink into your seat, fighting the urge to curl your body and take a nap, so you sit up straight and hold yourself together after once again feeling Jungkook’s arm under your touch. Most of the alcohol has left your system but perhaps not enough, as you boldly look at him and smile in appreciation. He returns it, perhaps knowing why you are.
You look out the window, appreciating Seoul’s night sky, until the vision starts getting unclear, as the rain falls steadily on the window. The tapping of the droplets on the glass is a sound you’ve come to appreciate, among other things that you used to be terrified of.
There’s just this calmness, as if the rain is greeting you, accompanying you in your thoughts. But the sound of the radio getting louder disrupts that a little bit, and in looking at Mr. Ri in question only to find him glancing at the rearview mirror to see the man next to you, do you realize why he’s doing so.
Jungkook’s demeanor has changed, a complete 180 to how he looked not long ago when he seemed satisfied, fulfilled, almost proud of himself for surviving the night. He’s now cross-legged and cross-armed, with his eyes closed and jaws clenched, as if he’s trying to hold himself together. Or trying his best to drown out the sound of the rain, the way Mr. Ri is trying to do for him.
Your face falls at the sight. You’ve seen Jungkook stressed and angry and disappointed; you’ve seen him anxious, too, but this is different. There’s a bit of fear in there, and with the way he flinches and how he’s clutching onto his arms, you know this comes from somewhere and this was caused by something. If it’s anything similar to what you know, then this was because of something painful.
You want to reach out to him but you know you shouldn’t. You helplessly look back on the road then glance at Jungkook every few seconds as the rain continues. It doesn’t seem like it will be a terrible downpour but it’s stronger than usual.
You try to remember instances in the past where he’d acted this way. A few come to mind, and you think now there’s a reason why he becomes uneasy when it starts to drizzle. That happened the other week while you were on a site visit with him for a small project, but you hadn’t thought much of it, given that he was on his fourth cup of coffee on the way there.
But right now, you wish there was something more you could do; anything is better than nothing. But you feel constrained - by the distance, by your position, by his boundaries that seem to always be there.
By some miracle, the rain weakens, and it’s stopped by the time you arrive at Jungkook’s apartment building. The car halts and with him still in the same position, you think he probably doesn’t realize he’s home.
“Mr. Jeon,” you say softly, gently tapping his arm to get his attention. “We’ve reached your place. And the rain has stopped. It’s… it’s okay to open your eyes now.”
It takes a few seconds but he takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, then looks around. It’s just droplets frozen in time on his window and he sighs in relief. Somehow the assurance that he’s okay means something to you this time; you hate to think of what burden he carries that he hides away.
He opens the door, and there’s a bit of disappointment you feel when he closes it and leaves without a goodbye. You suppose he just wants to get to his place immediately and rush to safety. But you don’t want to intrude, not if distance is what he needs, so you settle with just watching him walk away.
But then he turns around, and with that bit of boldness left in your body, you open the window and give him another smile. You wish he feels the tenderness in it; you wish somehow it’s enough to let him know that you understand, and that he’s not alone.
“Good night,” you manage to say, and he hears it despite the distance.
“Good night, ___. And thank you.”
It’s the use of your name. It’s the softness of his smile and the words of gratitude. It’s the way he lingers as the car starts to drive away and you’re left watching him even from afar.
It lets you know that he knows. And it’s the reason why you sleep soundly that night and why for the first time since you’ve met him, you can’t wait to see him again.
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Reputation, Or Whatever That Is
IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung
IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut
7,063 words
Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities
Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.
Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK
It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself.
You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.
But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?
Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—
Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.
Wonyoung.
It’s all because of her.
She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.
You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.
Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation.
Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.
You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it.
There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—
Remember to exhale.
So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.
A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do.
hey, it reads, you need to—
-
—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it.
There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.
The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands.
You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”
Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.
She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”
Slide your ID card on the counter.
She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together.
She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.
Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.
Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.
“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”
Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.
The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.
Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth.
Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.
Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.
“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.
She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.
Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”
Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.
“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”
You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours.
To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.
“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”
You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.
The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin.
“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look.
Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”
Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.
“Look here, we—”
You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane.
Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.
“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”
You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.
“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”
She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?”
“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?
Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to.
It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.
“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”
Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection.
Deception can’t lead you away.
“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?”
Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.
“You liked it.”
“What?”
She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”
What the hell is she talking about?
You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—
The heart.
Wait.
The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.
Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.
Fuck.
You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.
Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve.
“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.
She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for.
“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”
You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder.
Something else is, too.
“Then, of course, you see me.”
Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.
It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.
“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”
It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.
Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.
“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”
Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin.
You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.
Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”
That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.
You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:
You.
Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that.
And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger.
So, it’s still so wrong.
Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right.
Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service.
“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”
Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.
Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already.
So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:
Blame it all on her.
Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.
“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”
Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game.
She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.
“You’re really out of touch, daddy.”
With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.
“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.”
Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.
She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.
Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.
Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.
The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.
Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected.
Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too.
“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.
She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.
All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity.
That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”
Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.
“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead.
“What’s wrong with you?”
You’d respond if you knew the answer.
Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”
All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.
“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”
You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again.
Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.
It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction.
You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways.
“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you.
Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you.
“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers.
“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs.
Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?
You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.
Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.
The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”
“Shit, god, I can’t—”
Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care.
Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.
Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.
She really could be a good girl.
“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”
Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.
You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”
She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.
She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes.
Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff.
Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.
If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.
“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.
You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent.
Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.
“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”
“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”
You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.
“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”
Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung.
What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.
“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”
“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”
You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down.
You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.
“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”
Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open.
The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good.
“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”
You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.
She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore.
She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.
“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes, fuck yes.”
“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”
“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.
Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.
Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.
She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”
Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both.
She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”
To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.
She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.
“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?”
You can do nothing except nod.
“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”
She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.
Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.
And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips.
“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”
You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had.
“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”
You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect.
You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”
“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”
She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking.
Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker.
You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.
Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.
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Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some.
That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too.
“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting.
“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”
“What happened?”
“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”
Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.
“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”
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