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smileysuh · 1 day ago

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puppy boy

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You have an ulterior motive with Mingyu, but you’d bet your right arm he has one too. Most of the guys you’ve met who are into you don’t bother with getting to know you, or having similar interests. Men in this day and age have - for the most part - lost their ability to engage in the nuances of wooing, but there’s something about this cute, beefy art major that tells you he might just have what it takes to build something meaningful with you.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, masturbation, mention of porn addiction, foreplay, ‘weird kinks’, massaging, breast worship, body worship, oral, pussy eating, blow job, hand job, man handling, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, mentions of voyuerism, degradation, praise, dirty talk, Mingyu is a switchy simp, big cock Mingyu agenda, fingering, etc… I pet names: (his) puppy boy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5.8k

🍭 aus. Svt cam boy au, frat au, university au, perv!Mingyu, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. This is part 3 of a 3 part cam boy svt au. Each story can be read as a stand-alone, but exists within the same universe :) Wonwoo is April, Seungcheol is May, and this Mingyu fic concludes the series. Find the completed masterlist here.

Prologue:

Mingyu had joined the Sigma Veta Tau frat for brotherhood, and at first, everything had been sunshine and rainbows for the Art major. He’d found friends that he knows will be lifelong mates, and it feels as if his family has truly grown at least another twelve members.

However, things have changed since he joined.

Now, two of his closest friends have started dating, and suddenly, the whole ‘Bros before hoes’ thing has gone out the window.

Mingyu’s not mad about it per se, in fact, it’s kind of nice to see Seungcheol and Wonwoo enjoying life- but there are other factors to consider.

The first factor is that Mingyu no longer seems to have gym buddies. Turns out that tonight, instead of their usual Monday workout, Seungcheol and Wonwoo are at a double date business meeting.

Which leads to factor number two. Wonwoo is a notorious camboy, and Seungcheol’s girlfriend is as well, in fact, Seungcheol’s girlfriend is BabyDoll246, who, up until recently, Mingyu used to watch religiously every time he needed to get his rocks off.

Mingyu doesn’t even know what this whole ‘buisness meeting’ thing is about- Seungcheol is probably doing a presentation for everyone about numbers and aesthetics and how to make a ‘brand,’ because that’s what Seungcheol does. Even though the whole scenario sounds boring, for some reason, Mingyu wishes he was invited.

So things are a little complicated.

Mingyu feels jealous, and left out- and horny… there’s only so much distraction free weights can provide, so in order to distract himself, Mingyu begins to look at the people around him.

Since the gym is on university property, there are a lot of cute girls his age. Most are scantily clad in booty shorts and sports bras, and Mingyu thanks god for feminism and the right to bare skin.

Then his eyes find you.

You’re a frequent gym goer, like him, and Mingyu would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you.

You’re in one of those oversized tshirt and booty short combos that drive Mingyu wild- after all, what does your body look like under the fabric?

He’s got a pretty good imagination, and Mingyu finds himself practically drooling as he watches you do some sets on a shoulder machine.

When you’re done, you stand up, reaching for your water. You turn to look at the gym as you drink, and your eyes meet.

Mingyu is quick to avert his gaze, his skin flushing with embarrassment at having been caught staring.

In an effort to further distract himself, Mingyu moves to the lying barbell section, where he begins to put weights onto either end.

“Hey.” Your voice draws his attention, and Mingyu’s heart almost leaps out of his chest to find you standing right next to him.

“Hi.”

“Where are your friends?” you ask, taking another sip of your water.

“My friends?”

“Yeah, those two guys you’re always here with.”

So you’ve noticed him too. “Oh, uh, they’re on a double date tonight,” Mingyu says shyly.

You nod. “Looks like you need a spotter then.”

“I’ll be okay-”

“The girl I usually come with broke her wrist at volleyball last week, so I’ll need a spotter too,” you tell him. “Maybe we can help each other out?”

Mingyu swallows thickly. “Yeah, uh, okay.”

It feels awkward for him to lie down on the bench, adjusting his hands on the barbell while he looks up at you.

He wonders how well you’d actually be able to spot him if something was to go wrong, but he supposes that’s not the point. In reality, he’s going to be helping you while you’re doing your sets more than you’ll be helping him, but Mingyu doesn’t really mind.

He’s never dropped a barbell in his life, and he’s not about to drop it now with a gorgeous girl looking down at him.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” you say.

“Mingyu,” he responds.

“What’s your major?”

“Art, you?”

“Funny, you don’t look like an artist,” you laugh.

Mingyu cracks a smile. “What do I look like?” he asks.

You shrug. “I don’t know, but not an artist.” Mingyu continues his set and after a moment you speak again. “I’m in nutrition.”

“That explains it,” Mingyu says under his breath.

“Explains what?”

That you’re sexy as fuck.

“Uh, that, well, you know, you work out?” Mingyu stumbles over his words. “I mean, if you’re into nutrition, it makes sense you’re into the gym too.”

“I guess.”

Mingyu can tell from your smirk that you can probably guess his real reasoning, and he can feel his palms getting sweaty- suddenly, holding onto the barbell isn’t as easy as it usually is.

Mingyu realizes he may have overestimated his ability to keep things cool while you’re watching over him, and he pauses his set.

“You good?” you ask.

“Yeah, just uh, need water.”

One:

It’s been a couple of days since you met Mingyu at the gym, and you’re surprised to see him during a trip to the pool.

Once again, the beautiful man is alone, and you wait for him to finish swimming a lap so you can talk to him.

“Hey, stranger,” you grin. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You watch the way he swallows thickly, and you can practically see him fighting the urge to look at your swimsuit.

It’s nothing flashy, after all, you’re here to work out, not to show off. But you know Mingyu’s probably wondering what you look like under your baggy gym shirts, after all, he’s a man, so it’s not like he’s hard to predict.

“Hey,” Mingyu says. “Uh, how have you been?”

You shrug. “Been okay. Do you come to the pool often?”

“Sometimes, if my muscles are sore. You?”

“My kinesiology buddy suggested I implement swimming into my routine, a similar thought pattern to you, better for the muscles and the body.”

You see Mingyu’s attitude shift. “I guess a kinesiology buddy would know a lot about that.”

It takes you a moment, but you realize that Mingyu must think your ‘buddy’ is a man, and that maybe you’re taken or on the precipice of a relationship.

God, Mingyu is so easy to read.

“She’s pretty smart,” you note, “my kinesiology buddy.”

Again, an entire emotional shift in Mingyu, and it would almost be laughable if it weren’t so cute.

This man has a schoolboy crush on you, that much is obvious.

“So… where are your friends?” you ask.

“They’re with their girlfriends,” Mingyu sighs, and you get the sense that he’s not too happy about his workout buddies being more loved up than juiced up.

“Maybe we should just be workout buddies,” you suggest.

Mingyu’s eyes light up. “Yeah?”

You shrug. “Why not? We have similar work out schedules already, it wouldn’t be that difficult to sync them.”

“I’d actually love that,” Mingyu admits, and you love how pretty and glowy he looks.

You have an ulterior motive with Mingyu, but you’d bet your right arm he has one too. Most of the guys you’ve met who are into you don’t bother with getting to know you, or having similar interests. Men in this day and age have - for the most part - lost their ability to engage in the nuances of wooing, but there’s something about this cute, beefy art major that tells you he might just have what it takes to build something meaningful with you.

It’s not that you’re necessarily looking for a relationship, but you wouldn’t say no to one either.

Overall, you just want a connection with a man that’s not solely built on him pressing you for a one night stand, and as horny as Mingyu clearly is, there’s a shyness to him too, a shyness that draws you in.

Two:

Mingyu’s at it again. He’s found a new camgirl to jerk over, but even as he watches the pretty brunette stroke her pussy, his mind keeps wandering to you.

You’ve been workout buddies for two weeks now, and God, there are so many instances and interactions that have gone straight into Mingyu’s spank bank.

There’s something about the way you look when you’re sweating- fuck, Mingyu could just lick it up if that wasn’t such a taboo thing to admit.

Mingyu can’t help himself, he puts his computer to the side, closing his eyes and imagining that you’re the one whimpering and moaning.

Mingyu is man enough to admit that he’s a bit of a pervert. He knows it, he accepts it- he’s ashamed of it sure, but in that shame is something that only arouses him further. A certain type of obsession with self-degradation. He’s a bad boy, and being sinful only makes him harder as he strokes his cock.

He imagines you in the pool with water glistening on your skin- and that image turns into you in the gym doing dumbbells, sweat on your brow.

Mingyu groans, pumping himself harder. He can feel the tension building in his balls, the tingling sensation that’s beginning to brew.

He thinks about the way you encourage him to do more sets, the way he teases you that you’re his ‘drill sargent’ and you’ll sometimes aquiesce by telling him to drop and give you twenty-

Fuck, why are you so sexy?

Why does he want you to tell him what to do all the time?

He imagines what it would sound like if you told him to be a good boy and cum for you- and just like that, he pops.

Mingyu cums hard, a groan escaping him as he fist fucks himself through it, his hips shaking, sweat on his brow-

Mingyu can’t even bring himself to care that he’s cum all over his own chest, and as he finishes, he lets out a sigh, his hands falling to the bed next to him.

He’s so into you, and it’s not just your body. You’re an interesting person, and you’d sensed he needed a gym partner. Your presence has made the lack of Wonwoo and Seungcheol feel better, and that’s not something Mingyu will undervalue.

The only problem is… Mingyu’s one of the horniest men he knows, and he’s aware that his extreme sex drive may just be a problem.

Three:

In the three weeks you’ve been working out with Mingyu, you’ve had enough situational awareness to see how other women in the gym stare at him.

And it’s not like you can blame the other girls, after all, you also used to look at him when he wasn’t going to notice.

Mingyu is hard not to look at, he’s just so big and pretty, and his muscles bulge like nothing else when he’s doing sets.

The two of you are going hard today, and you’ve come to an agreement that for every ten sets you complete, Mingyu gets to ask you a question, and vice versa.

He’s asked you some regular run of the mill things, like your favourite movie, what inspired you to do the degree you’re working on- but then, out of knowhere, Mingyu asks, “Why are you single?”

Mingyu must notice the way you falter, your grip adjusting on the machine, and he’s quick to try to remedy it.

“I just mean, you’re pretty, and nice, and all that sort of stuff, so, I’m just confused,” he says.

“Honestly?” You let out a sigh, trying to tailor your response to intrigue the pretty man. “I have a pretty big drive for physical sensation, if that makes sense. It’s why I gym a lot, and it can be intimidating for guys. Also, I’m not into the whole one-night stand thing, and that seems to be all men want these days.”

“Wait, you’re saying, you’re uh… your sex drive is too big for most guys to handle?” Mingyu chokes.

“I’m just a girl with needs who doesn’t put out unless we’re actually dating,” you shrug.

Hook, line, and sinker.

You can see Mingyu getting hard through his gym shorts, and he coughs awkwardly.

“Uh, let’s switch,” he suggests, and you almost want to laugh.

You acquiesce, and in his newly seated position, Mingyu is able to hide his boner from you, but you’ve already seen it, and confidence is now surging through you.

Mingyu does his first ten reps, and you don’t bother to start with easy questions.

“Why are you single?”

You watch the way Mingyu swallows thickly.

“I uh.. Well, I’ve kind of got, sort of, um, weird tastes.”

“Like what?” you ask, and to your annoyance, Mingyu makes you wait for another full set before answering.

“I guess it’s the sort of thing you kind of have to see for yourself, I don’t know how to explain it.”

“But we’re talking about weird tastes in bed, right?”

Mingyu nods, his ears turning red.

“Look, I just told you I don’t fuck around unless it’s going in the direction of something more than fuck buddies or one night stands,” you tell him. “So, I’d love to see these ‘weird tastes,’ but only if you’re actually interested in something with me.”

It’s been three weeks of getting to know each other, if Mingyu’s not sure what he wants yet, then that’s on him. You’re being direct, and you’re not going to feel bad about that.

“I’m interested,” Mingyu confirms quickly.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Tomorrow is usually your rest day, and you’ve never really asked what Mingyu gets up to when you’re not at the gym or pool.

“Tomorow would be great,” he confirms.

“Then it’s a date,” you conclude. “Tomorrow you can show me these weird tastes that apparently make it hard for you to find a woman.”

“And maybe you can show me about this whole ‘drive for physical sensation’ thing you have.”

God, your panties are wet just thinking about it.

Four:

It feels a little odd to have Mingyu in your one bedroom on campus apartment. This is uncharted waters, and the usual social map that you use at places like gym and pool is no longer here to guide you.

The two of you know what you’re here to do, but it’s clear you’re both shy about it as you go to sit on your bed.

Being shy isn’t usually something you experience, but you also haven’t had a legitimate dating prospect in a while, especially not one as handsome as Mingyu, so you’re being careful not to mess anything up.

You find yourself lying next to Mingyu, both of you looking up at your ceiling.

“So… tell me about your weird tastes?” you suggest.

He swallows thickly. “What if you tell me some of yours first?”

You laugh. He’s even more shy than you are. “I guess, manhandling is fun. Feeling small and being able to be thrown around is hot.”

Mingyu nods. “I like that you’re smaller than me too. But… I also kind of like that, when we’re at the gym, you get bossy with me.”

This is an interesting development, and you sit up, resting your elbow against the pillow so you can look at Mingyu while you brace your head with your palm. “So you’re not very dominant?”

“Not really,” Mingyu says shyly.

“More into the whole ‘good boy’ thing.”

You note the way Mingyu reacts, his gaze meeting yours, his breath catching. “Yeah.”

“What else?” you prompt. “There has to be something else for people to consider your tastes ‘weird.’” He stays quiet and you lean forward, letting your lips ghost past his ear. “Be a good boy and tell me.”

Mingyu swallows thickly, and you note the way he’s begun to fidget with his fingers where his hands are resting on his chest.

“I guess… I’m really into porn? Which is horrible, I know it’s bad for your brain and stuff, but I really just can’t help myself. There’s this word for it, where you like to watch people-”

“Voyeurism.”

“Yeah, voyeurism,” Mingyu nods. “I don’t know, it’s like… watching other people, and, you know, touching myself while I watch-”

“Lots of people like porn,” you assure him.

“Yeah, but, I watch it a lot.”

He’s looking at you now with an expression you’ve never seen on Mingyu’s face. It’s as if he’s waiting for something, and after a moment, you realize what it might be.

“You like the way it makes you feel,” you note, “how it makes you feel dirty, but you’re also eager to redeem yourself by being a good boy.”

“Exactly. I think it’s also because I’ve been single for a while, I mean, if I’m in a relationship with someone, I don’t think I’ll need to watch as much.”

It’s definitely an interesting kink.

Sinning by watching porn, then proving yourself to be a good boy by doing sexual favours- or at least, that’s what you assume he means.

Mingyu is really just a puppy boy, and there’s something so adorable and endearing about this large, beautiful man, admitting these things to you.

Well, he’s told you he likes when you take control, so you muster up your confidence to take the reins.

“A lot of people in this university make sex videos,” you note. “If you do well tonight, if things go well between us, maybe one day we can make our own videos.”

Mingyu makes a choked sound, and you note the way his cock is starting to rise in his sweatpants. “Really?”

“Maybe, if you do well,” you repeat. “Why don’t…” you trail your finger across his cheek, “you show me what you’ve learned from all these educational videos you’ve watched?”

Mingyu swallows thickly, and then he sits up a little. “Can I kiss you?”

“You can do anything you want.”

Mingyu is slow about it even though he now has permission. His hand reaches out to cup your cheek, and he leans forward, eyes double checking you’re actually okay.

Even though you’d both known you were meeting up to fuck, he’s still being careful about it, and that makes you like him even more. A man who respects boundaries? Husband material for sure.

You appreciate that he’s testing the waters, but you’re eager to dive right in, so you make the final move.

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his eagerly.

Mingyu groans, cupping your face to kiss you back.

He tastes good, and he’s not too forceful with his tongue, which gently strokes your lip to ask for entrance.

As you kiss, he shifts, slowly moving so he can be on top of you. Your legs open for him, and he slots against you.

You can feel how hard he is already, and when you tangle your fingers in his hair, he moans louder against you, rutting gently for stimulation.

Mingyu’s lips move to your throat, and he also teases your ear a little, which sends a shiver through you.

One of his hands slips under your shirt, and he grabs your boob over your bra, massaging you tentively.

“Take it off,” you tell him, arching your back in an effort to do it yourself.

Between the two of you, you’re able to remove your shirt, and you also remove your bra, making yourself bare to Mingyu from the waist up.

“You’re so pretty,” he muses, sitting up and looking down at you. Both of his hands find your breasts, and he begins to massage you. “Do you have any oil or anything?”

In preparation for this, you’d put a few sexy items in your bedside table, so it’s easy enough to reach for the coconut oil you have hidden there.

Mingyu drips some oil onto his hands, and then he begins to massage your breasts again.

The silky sensation of the oil makes you moan, and you relax against the bed, closing your eyes to enjoy it all.

You love a man who takes his time to worship you, and no one has massaged your chest in a very long time.

His thumbs brush over your nipples and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

When you look up at Mingyu, you find his gaze fixed to your chest, as if he’s bewitched by the prettiest sight he’s ever seen.

You love how big his hands are, how soft and warm-

Even so, you’re eager for more.

You haven’t had sex in a while, and your core is almost starting to hurt with anticipation.

This must be what blue balls feels like- or at least, the female equivalent, and you find yourself wrapping a hand around Mingyu’s wrist to make him stop.

“I know what your hands do,” you tell him, “but what about your mouth?”

You’re almost a little shocked at the confidence you seem to have gained, but being confident with Mingyu just comes naturally.

You know he’s man enough to take commands from a woman, in fact, he enjoys doing what he’s told, and something about that is so immensely sexy.

Mingyu shifts down the bed, and he hooks his fingers in your sweatpants, looking up at you for permission.

“Go ahead,” you nod.

The large, beefy man slowly slides your pants down your legs, and then he situates himself between your thighs. He starts by massaging your muscles, pressing kisses along your skin as he slowly works up to where you need him most.

You can feel his breath through your panties, and you shift against the bed, core throbbing already.

Then, Mingyu kisses you through the fabric, and it’s such an interesting sensation.

He begins to lick, pushing his tongue at your panties.

“Just take them off,” you groan.

Mingyu is quick to do as he’s told, and you lift your legs to make the process easier, leaving you completely bare for him.

Upon returning to his spot between your legs, Mingyu begins kissing your thighs again, and this time, as he slowly makes his way up to your pussy, you know there’s nothing standing in the way of him pleasuring you.

He kisses your clit, and the sensation makes you twitch.

Your hands snake down to grab at his hair, and he looks up at you.

Something in his eyes tells you he really enjoys you having a hold on him like this.

“Show me what your mouth can do,” you repeat, body tense with anticipation.

Mingyu wastes no time now, he dives in, and this time, he holds nothing back.

His tongue pushes into you, hot, puffy lips making full contact on your core as he licks and eats and slurps.

He’s a messy eater, and you actually kind of love it.

You love how lost he gets in it, how his eyes close, his hands gripping your thighs on either side of his head as he groans against your pussy.

Then you realize the rest of his body is moving too, his hips are wiggling, as if he’s looking for stimulus while he eats you out.

Fuck, he’s so hot- grinding against the bed, so turned on from giving you oral that he can’t even help himself.

“Just like that,” you tell him, throwing your head back and closing your eyes to focus on the sensation.

You’d been so wet and needy just from him massaging your breasts, and now that he’s eating you out- well, you know you’re not going to last long.

Some men don’t know what to do with a woman’s body, but Mingyu isn’t one of those men.

It looks like he has actually learned a thing or two from watching copious amounts of porn, which is kind of shocking if you’re being honest with yourself.

Mingyu shifts, and then a finger is pushing into your wet heat, his mouth now giving its full attention to your sensitive clit.

He pumps his digit in and out, and you can feel how wet and slick you are by the ease in which he fingers you.

One becomes two, and he adjusts his hand, his digits crooking up toward your g-spot.

You’re practically squelching now, and moans are escaping you without barriers. You want Mingyu to know how good he’s making you feel, and there’s no use in restricting yourself.

You begin to move, wiggling your hips so you can help him pleasure you, and your motions make Mingyu groan. He sucks your clit even harder, his hot tongue flicking the sensitive bud with more force as he fingers you.

“I’m close,” you tell him.

Mingyu only moans in response, his motions getting faster as he worships your core.

You close your eyes, focusing entirely on the ecstasy he’s providing you.

Your muscles are getting tighter, your body preparing yourself for the orgasm that hits mere moments later.

You let out a gasp, your core clamping down on Mingyu’s fingers as pleasure erupts through you. It hits you in waves, making you moan and whimper at each contraction of your pussy around Mingyu’s fingers.

Your clit is ultra sensitive, but fuck, it feels so good-

Mingyu continues to eat you out as you cum, and it almost boarders on being too good- but you’re not about to push him away for being too good.

Your hips are still wiggling, your body unconsciously wanting your orgasm prolonged- you’re a glutton for punishment and pleasure in that way, but you know Mingyu doesn’t mind.

Finally, you begin to push at Mingyu’s head, and he pulls away, looking up at you.

“Do you want another?” he asks innocently.

You laugh. “Want you inside me.”

“I am inside you,” he smiles, his fingers pushing in and out of you again, making an obscene squelching sound that has your skin heating with embarrassment.

“You know what I mean,” you tut.

Mingyu takes his digits out of you, plopping them in his mouth to suck clean while he groans. When he’s done cleaning himself off, he sits up. “So uh… condoms?”

“I’m on birth control, are you clean?”

“I’m clean,” he nods.

“Then fuck me.”

Mingyu starts by taking his shirt off, and you marvel at his toned muscles. This man works out at least four days of the week, and it shows.

He’s so sexy, you’re pretty sure you’re drooling, and you swallow thickly.

“Suck a pretty puppy boy,” you whisper.

“Puppy boy?”

“Yeah, you’re a puppy boy,” you insist.

He looks at you for a moment, and then you note the way his shoulders relax. “I like that.”

“Here,” you sit up. “Lie down.”

Mingyu does what he’s told, like any good puppy boy would, and you take control.

“Lift your hips,” you instruct next, and when he follows through, you tear his sweats and his underwear off with one rough tug.

The biggest cock you’ve ever seen slaps up against his stomach, and your jaw drops.

“Holy shit.”

Mingyu flushes a pretty shade of pink. Leave it to him to be shy about how big his dick is as opposed to turning into a cocky piece of shit like most men would.

You can’t help but wrap your hand around him, bringing your mouth to his tip to suck on it.

Mingyu groans immediately, grabbing at your bed sheets as you begin to suck him off.

It helps that you’re practically drooling, but even so, he’s so large that you really can’t take a lot of him.

After a minute, you sit up. “Pass me the oil.”

He does as he’s told like the good puppy boy he is, and you coat your hand in the slick.

When you return to blowing him, you begin to pump what you can’t reach with your mouth, twisting and squeezing and teasing.

Mingyu groans louder, and you give the act of pleasuring him your all, as he’d just given you.

When a man treats you well, it’s only right that you treat him well in return, and something tells you that if things with Mingyu continue, there are going to be a lot of moments like this one.

You love sucking on his mushroom tip, teasing him endlessly as he groans and shifts below you.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” Mingyu tells you.

You hum happily around him, and he moans even louder.

Then, you pull your mouth off of him, continuing your motions with your hand. “Part of me wants to just tease you like this for hours.”

“And the other part?” he asks.

“Wants to ride you.”

He swallows thickly. “Can… can you ride me, please?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

You sit up fully, straddling him. But you don’t immediately put him inside of you, instead, you lean forward to kiss him, grinding down against his oil slicked cock so you can lubricate yourself.

You know this isn’t going to be easy getting him inside of you, after all, his cock is massive, but teasing both of you like this will make the process smoother.

Mingyu kisses you eagerly, grabbing the back of your neck with one hand and your hip with the other. He applies pressure to help you wiggle against him, and your oiled breasts make the whole situation extra nice and slippery.

Soon, Mingyu’s hips begin to twitch, and you know you’ve teased him long enough.

You reach between your bodies, grabbing the base of his cock so you can line him up with your core.

You’re gentle with yourself as you sink onto him, taking just the tip at first to get used to the stretch.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, panting already.

“Be patient for me,” you tell him, taking another inch.

Mingyu decides to distract himself by grabbing your breasts, and he begins massaging you again, making you groan as you do your best to take more and more of him.

He toys with your nipples and a shiver of pleasure runs through you.

Another inch.

It’s good to be on top of him for your first time. You’re sure Mingyu would have been gentle if he was on top, but you’re happy to have full control of the penetration speed. Your core is twitching tightly around the massive intrusion, but you’re not someone who gives up. You take inch after inch until you’re finally fully seated on top of Mingyu.

You both groan desperately from the sensation, and you begin to swivel your hips.

“So deep,” you whimper.

“So tight,” he echoes back.

You lean over him again, pressing your lips to his so you can bounce up and down. Mingyu’s hands find your hips and he kisses you back desperately.

God, he feels absolutely unreal.

You pride yourself on being someone with a lot of stamina in bed, so you’re prepared to ride him until your thighs are burning- but then Mingyu begins to thrust up to meet you, and suddenly he’s hitting even deeper.

You let out a deep moan, staying still so he can fuck up into you.

And that’s when you decide you want to know what doggy with Mingyu feels like.

“Shit, okay, fuck,” you swallow thickly. “Want you to fuck me from behind.”

“Okay,” he pants.

You pull off of him, adjusting on the bed while he sits up to get onto his knees.

Your ass is in the air, but your lower body is close to the bed, back arched.

Mingyu brings his cock to your wet hole, and he slowly pushes in. Your core is absolutely soaked, and it’s easier for him to enter you now than the first time.

Soon, his front is flush to your back, and he grabs your hips.

“Okay, fuck me,” you tell him.

Mingyu doesn’t waste any time, he begins to rut into you. His grip is tight on your skin, and he pulls you back to meet each thrust.

He’s so deep that you’re seeing stars. Sounds are leaving your mouth that you’ve never heard come from you before.

Each thrust is magic, filling you unlike anything else ever has.

You’d mentioned you like manhandling, and this is what you were talking about.

You can feel Mingyu’s power in the way that he’s pulling you back and forth like a rag doll. There’s something so sexy about allowing a man the chance to use you, about being the one in control even while he decimates your pussy.

You can feel your orgasm begining to bubble up inside of you again, and you know from the sounds Mingyu’s making that he’s probably close to- after all, you’ve got to cum once, but so far, all of this has been foreplay for Mingyu.

“I’m getting close,” you whimper.

“Me too,” Mingyu admits. “Lay flat for me.”

It takes a moment to resposition, but now you’re on your stomach. Mingyu’s still fucking you, but now he’s laid over your back. His breath is hot against your throat and you turn your head so Mingyu can press his lips to yours.

He’s straddling your closed legs, but your back is still slightly arched so he can enter you easily.

This angle has him hitting spots you’ve never had touched, and it feels like heaven.

Your bodies are fully pressed together, there’s no distance like in doggy, and you love that this will be the position you both come in.

It’s close, but your back is still to him, so it’s not as vanilla and domestic as something like missionary.

Mingyu’s groaning more and more, and you echo his sounds with whimpers of your own.

“Shit,” Mingyu cusses. “I want to cum with you.”

“Then cum for me, I’m so close,” you whimper.

“Fuck,” he groans again, fucking you even harder.

The whole bed is rocking, but that only turns you on more as you get closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m almost there,” you whimper, body tensing on the verge of ecstasy.

“Me too, me too,” he moans.

He presses his lips to yours and that sends you over the edge.

Your core clamps down hard on his cock and Mingyu moans desperately, his cock twitching inside of you before he explodes.

The orgasm is all-consuming, and every sensation is Mingyu.

He does his best to fuck you through it, but you know that he’s overwhelmed like you are.

No orgasm has ever felt this good, and your core continues to milk Mingyu, filling you up unlike anything else.

“Shit, shit-” he groans, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against your shoulder, panting desperately as you both try to come down from your highs.

He lays on top of you like this for a while as you both recollect yourselves, and then, he lets out a sigh.

“Give me like, five minutes, and some time to massage you again, and I’ll be able to do round two.”

He’s as insatiable as you are. Sure, he’s a little weird, but who isn’t. You’re kind of weird too, but at least your weirds seem to work together, and you kind of love it.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! If you're interested in Wonwoo's chapter about No Face, find it here, and Seungcheol's chapter is here.

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🔮 preview. Mingyu had told you about some ammature porn videos where there’s some ‘sir pussy licker’ or something, and how a bunch of his content is just eating out his girlfriend and making her squirt- so of course, Mingyu wants that to be a major part of the content you make.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, sex tape, multiple reader orgasms, oral, pussy eating, blow job, hand job, overstim, squirting, breast worship, body worship kink, dirty talk, praise, mentions of self inflicted edging, mentions of cock rings and other things, big dick Mingyu agenda, etc… I petnames. (his) Puppy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 150

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

You’ve been with Mingyu for about six months now, and true to your word when you’d started seeing each other, the two of you have made a few sex tapes for your eyes only.

Mingyu’s absolutely obsessed with you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way.

The two of you are lying in bed after filming a new thing for the two of you, and Mingyu releases a breath. “Maybe… maybe we should start actually doing the whole cam thing,” he suggests.

“Yeah?”

“You know, make money.”

“How much do you think we could make?” you ask, not fully opposed to the idea.

“I have two friends who do the whole solo cam show thing,” Mingyu admits. “They both bring in a lot of money, but they also do solo stuff. If we made stuff together, our target audience could be bigger.”

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eclipsaria · 3 days ago

Text

Took You Long Enough

Summary // In which a workaholic CEO finds his calm in the form of his respected senior’s daughter.

Pairing:

CEO! Seungcheol x reader

Warnings:

Fluff, slow-burn, romance, engaged, age gap(10 years), mentioned of kids, married, food, cologne and watch brand names, sugar daddy! Seungcheol if you squint, lmk if i miss out any

Side characters:

SVT members

W/C:

12 671

Rating: [ 13+ SFW ]

Note:

@nerdycheol , you are the one that suggested the watch brand and Hermés cologne brand🤣 and you as a cheol's wife, i take anything you said🫡

Song:

Main Masterlist

Seventeen Masterlist

Taglist

Âme Sœur Masterlist

The office buzzed to life every morning by 8:00 a.m. A polished world of swift elevator dings, the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, and the faint scent of espresso lingering near the breakroom. Floors were lined with pristine glass partitions, and employees moved with a subtle urgency, well aware of the silent clock that ticked behind every deadline.

On the top floor, behind a sleek black door embossed with silver letters, was the corner office of Choi Seungcheol, the man who built the company from the ground up. He wasn’t just the CEO, he was the presence. Charismatic, sharp, and composed, Seungcheol was known for walking into a room and changing its air pressure with just a glance. Rumor had it that he could read a financial report faster than most people could skim a menu, and no one ever left a meeting with him without either a promotion, a plan, or a panic attack.

But beneath his tailored suits and impenetrable gaze was a man with a past no one dared to ask about, and a reputation he carried like armor.

Today, as sunlight spilled through the towering windows of his office, Seungcheol stood facing the city skyline, coffee in hand, unaware that the day ahead would shift everything he thought he had under control.

At just 30 years old, Choi Seungcheol had already climbed the summit most people only dreamed of. It was hard to believe he started as a low-level assistant at the age of 20. No connections, no shortcuts, just a relentless work ethic and a vision that burned behind his sharp eyes. He wasn’t born into wealth, nor did he inherit the company. Every step upward was carved with grit and sleepless nights.

Now serving his second year as CEO, there wasn’t a single person in the company who questioned his leadership. Titles didn't need to be old to command respect, not when every project under his lead launched with flawless execution, crushing expectations and setting new industry standards. His name echoed in boardrooms across the city as a young prodigy, the kind of leader who didn't just manage—but rewrote—the playbook.

What made him even more admired, or perhaps feared, was how calm he remained in the face of chaos. Seungcheol didn’t just make decisions; he made the right ones and fast. He listened more than he spoke, observed more than he intervened, and when he did speak, the room listened.

He turned back from the window now, placing his coffee on the desk as his assistant knocked twice on the door.

“Come in,” he said coolly, buttoning his suit jacket.

In a world where soulmates were real, love was less of a question and more of a certainty. The rule was simple. When you meet your soulmate, just one look into their eyes, and you’ll hear wedding bells. Not a metaphor—actual bells. Ringing in your ears like a celebration only you two could hear. After that, everything seemed to fall into place, like the universe giving you a neatly wrapped ending: soulmates meet, fall in love, and live happily ever after.

Well… everyone except Choi Seungcheol.

His friends, his closest circle, were either happily married, halfway through wedding plans, or sending him pictures of their toddlers with captions like “Uncle Cheol, when’s your turn?” The world was moving fast, and for someone like him, who always caught up quickly, this was the one race he couldn’t outrun.

He wasn’t single because he hated love. He just didn’t want to gamble with emotions. Exes and soulmates don’t mix well. What if he fell in love with someone who wasn’t the one? What if he broke someone’s heart only to meet his true soulmate later, and it all came crumbling down? So he stayed away from flings, from love, from anything that could mess with the balance of his life.

Still, it didn’t stop the slow crawl of anxiety. He wasn’t worried about getting married late, he was worried about his parents.

At 27, his mother had set him up on a blind date with someone’s daughter, he showed up out of respect, but came home early with a headache.

At 28, his father mailed out carefully written profiles of Seungcheol to other families with daughters, practically advertising him like some limited-edition luxury product.

By 29, they dropped all pretense and started pushing for an arranged marriage. “Just meet her, see if your eyes ring,” they said. He didn’t.

Now at 30, Seungcheol didn’t know what plan his parents were cooking up, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.

But what could he do? Nothing. And so, as always, he chose the routine that never disappointed him: Wake up. Go to the office. Handle meetings. Review reports. Sign approvals. Go home. Sleep.

It was safe. Predictable and efficient.

It was just another day at work. The usual hum of morning emails and the faint buzz of distant phones filled the air, when Seungcheol’s secretary knocked once before entering, arms full with neatly stacked document files.

She placed them on his desk without a word at first, as he flipped through the last few pages of a report. But then, came a rare request.

“Mr. Shin from Jeonghwa Group has extended an invitation. It’s a masquerade party,” she said, tone light but respectful. “Held by his wife. They’re hoping for your attendance.”

The name made Seungcheol look up, pausing mid-page. “…Mr. Shin?”

She nodded. “Yes. He personally requested your presence.”

Choi Seungcheol blinked once, then leaned back in his chair. Mr. Shin wasn’t just anyone, he was a veteran in the business world, one of the few people Seungcheol looked up to when he first entered the corporate jungle at twenty. Sharp, poised, but known for his warm charisma, Mr. Shin had once told Seungcheol over lunch: “Success is important, but relationships will carry you further than numbers ever will.”

Unfortunately, Seungcheol never quite grasped the latter.

He was never a party type. In his mind, parties disrupted efficiency. Hours wasted in polite conversation, standing under chandeliers, sipping drinks he didn’t care for. He didn’t hate people, he just… preferred structure.

But this invitation wasn’t something he could brush off. Not when it came from Mr. Shin. Refusing could send the wrong message, and disappointing both Mr. Shin and his wife was out of the question.

A soft sigh escaped his lips.

“…Tell them I’ll attend,” he said finally, a faint crease forming between his brows. “Clear the schedule for that night. If there are any clashes, push them back. And set a time for shopping. Something formal. Masked.”

“Understood,” his secretary replied with a slight smile, already tapping notes into her tablet as she turned to leave.

The door clicked shut behind her, and then silence returned. Seungcheol sat there for a moment longer, staring blankly at the papers in front of him before removing his glasses and slowly pinching the bridge of his nose. A heavy sigh followed.

“A masquerade party, huh…” he muttered.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The night of the masquerade arrived with a velvet sky draped in soft stars, the city skyline glowing beneath it like scattered jewels. Seungcheol’s black car pulled up to the venue. An opulent estate on the outskirts of the city owned by the Shin family, known for hosting only the most exclusive circles.

From the very first step inside, the masquerade felt like stepping into another world.

The entrance hall was grand. High arched ceilings adorned with delicate gold filigree, with glittering chandeliers casting warm light across the polished marble floors. Elegant floral arrangements stood tall in glass vases, the soft scent of fresh orchids and lilies lingering in the air. Staff in crisp uniforms glided past with trays of champagne and wine, offering delicate glasses that sparkled like the guests themselves.

And the guests. Each one hidden behind ornate masks, dressed in tailored suits and flowing gowns, laughter muffled by polite conversation and the occasional clink of crystal. The entire ballroom shimmered with motion and elegance, the air alive with quiet prestige.

At the far end of the room, an orchestra played a soft, haunting melody. A waltz that wound through the evening like silk. Violins harmonized with cellos as couples swayed gently across the dance floor, their silhouettes graceful under golden lights. The music didn’t demand attention; it wove through the space, letting elegance speak for itself.

Seungcheol stood at the entrance for a moment longer, absorbing the scene. Dressed in a deep charcoal tuxedo, his mask was sleek, made of brushed silver, perfectly fitted and simple. Just like him.

He adjusted the cuffs of his suit with quiet precision and took a slow breath.

Seungcheol moved through the grand hall with quiet grace, the soft shuffle of his polished shoes drowned by the music and conversation. His eyes scanned the crowd until he spotted a familiar figure near the center of the ballroom. Mr. Shin, dressed in a regal navy suit, silver embroidery trimming the collar of his jacket. Standing beside him, equally elegant, was Mrs. Shin, her mask adorned with pearls that shimmered with every turn of her head.

With his posture poised and his mask adjusted, Seungcheol approached them and gave a respectful bow.

“Mr. Shin, Mrs. Shin,” he greeted formally, voice steady. “Thank you for the kind invitation.”

Mr. Shin turned, a pleased smile stretching under his mask. “Seungcheol! I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t show. I’m glad you came.”

Mrs. Shin offered a soft nod, “You look dashing tonight, dear. As always.”

“I wouldn’t miss this, not when it comes from the both of you,” he said with a light smile, still formal in tone. “The venue is breathtaking.”

They shared a few pleasantries, light jokes exchanged beneath crystal chandeliers. Seungcheol tried his best to blend into the moment, smiling at the passing comments, laughing politely, sipping wine when handed a glass, but the stiffness in his shoulders never quite faded.

And then, as expected, his conversation naturally veered back to what he knew best.

“Actually, just before coming here, we finalized the restructuring proposal for the third branch’s distribution-”

He stopped himself, but the Shin couple only smiled knowingly.

Mrs. Shin tilted her head with a gentle chuckle, “Oh, darling. You can talk about work all you like if it helps you feel at home. No masks are needed for that.”

Her words, though playful, pierced the tension in him like a warm knife through ice. Seungcheol let out a soft exhale, barely realizing he had been holding his breath.

And so, he spoke. About the company. About numbers. About staff growth. About challenges and solutions.

And strangely enough, the conversation didn’t feel out of place. Mr. Shin offered insights, Mrs. Shin listened intently, nodding with that gentle, matronly glow she always carried. The air grew lighter around them, the laughter more genuine, the pressure in Seungcheol’s chest slowly easing.

Then, Mr. Shin placed a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder with a proud smile.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said. “My daughter just returned home after her studies abroad. I think the two of you will get along.”

Seungcheol turned just in time to see her approach.

You wore a pale lavender gown, subtle and elegant, flowing like morning mist. Your mask was delicate, silver trimmed with lace, soft feathers curling at the edges. You moved with the grace of someone raised in soft-spoken confidence, eyes quietly scanning the room until they landed on him.

The moment your eyes met, everything fell silent, except for the sound of wedding bells. Clear and unmistakable. Ringing only in your ears, like the universe had struck a chord, and fate had written the first line of a new story.

Both stood still for a moment too long, unsure whether to speak or breathe. And in the corner of his eye, Seungcheol saw Mrs. Shin’s knowing smile.

The bells still echoed faintly in Seungcheol’s ears, even as the rest of the ballroom returned to its natural soundscape. Soft music, low chatter, the clinking of glasses.

But for Seungcheol, the world had slowed.

His soulmate. He had finally found you. He should have felt relief, even joy. This was the moment most people spent their lives yearning for. The ache he had carried silently for years, the lingering worry behind every family dinner and silent commute, had finally found an answer.

But fate, it seemed, wasn’t going to make it easy.

You are twenty. Young, bright-eyed, and still new to the world. Ten years younger. And worse, you are Mr. Shin’s daughter, the Mr. Shin he had admired for over a decade, the very man who shaped the path Seungcheol now walked. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel allowed.

This couldn’t be happening… could it?

Just as he was grounding himself, still locking eyes with the girl whose existence had just turned his world upside down, Mr. Shin’s voice cut in again, calm and casual.

He reached out, gently patting his daughter’s head as he looked at you with a father’s pride.

“I’ve been preparing for retirement,” he said, almost wistfully, “but before I can step back, I need to make sure she’s ready for what comes next.”

Seungcheol turned to him slowly, blinking.

“I need someone to teach her how to face the working world. Someone sharp, experienced… someone I trust more than anyone else in this industry.”

He turned fully to Seungcheol now, smile warm, eyes firm.

“So before I retire, Seungcheol… can I pass her to you? For mentorship, or practical training. Nothing prepares someone better than real experience.”

The room suddenly felt too warm.

Seungcheol’s grip on his champagne glass tightened slightly, his composed expression slipping just barely for a breath of a second.

Not only had he just discovered his soulmate, he was also being asked on the same night to personally guide you into the working world, into the very fire he had spent ten years learning to survive.

And you would be close every day. His soulmate. His senior’s daughter. His future trainee. His knees almost gave out, but he smiled faintly and nodded, because what else could he do?

“…Of course, sir,” he said, voice steady despite the quiet chaos behind it. “I’d be honored.”

But in his mind, there was only one thought: this is going to be a problem.

As if sensing the moment had grown too full, Mr. and Mrs. Shin politely excused themselves to greet other guests, leaving Seungcheol standing face-to-face with the person who had just unknowingly disrupted the stability he had clung to for years, you.

He watched you for a second longer, trying to find the right words, or any words at all.

You looked up at him too, unsure yet calm. Composed, despite the thunderous sound that only the two of you had heard. And then, gently, your voice slipped out from behind your mask.

“So… I guess we heard it too,” you said quietly, referring to the wedding bells.

Seungcheol let out a short breath, a dry chuckle escaping him. “Yeah. We did.”

A pause hung between you. Heavy, but not uncomfortable, more like the silence that comes when something profound has settled in the space.

“I’m Choi Seungcheol,” he said, dipping his head politely. “But I assume you already knew that.”

You gave a polite little curtsy, unable to suppress a small smile. “And I’m Shin Y/N.” You tilted your head a bit. That earned a faint, genuine smile from him.

The orchestra shifted to a softer tune, one that made the chandeliers shimmer with each drawn note. Around you, the world moved on—guests swayed on the dance floor, laughter floated in waves—but between you and Seungcheol, the air remained still. Electric.

“I didn’t expect this,” he admitted. “Tonight, or… you.”

You let out a small laugh. “You mean you didn’t expect your soulmate to be twenty years old?”

His eyes widened a little, surprised by your boldness, before he shook his head slowly with the ghost of amusement on his face. “Was I that obvious?”

“Just a little,” you teased. “But it’s alright. I didn’t expect my soulmate to be someone my parents literally worship either. So I think we’re even.”

He looked at you, really looked, and saw more than just his senior’s daughter. He saw someone with her own mind, her own spark. Not just someone being pushed into his world, but someone who could make space in it.

“If this gets overwhelming,” he said suddenly, voice a little softer, a little more real, “just say so. I won’t rush into anything. I know this is… a lot.”

You raised a brow, your gaze gentle. “Why do you sound like you’re the one overwhelmed?”

He paused, as if your words peeled away a layer of him.

“…Because I’ve spent years building a life I could control,” he said quietly.

You smiled behind your mask. “Then maybe I’m here to teach you how to let go. Just a little.”

That caught him off guard. A breath of silence passed… and then, he laughed, low and genuine, maybe for the first time all week.

“…I think you might be,” he murmured. And just like that, under the soft music, crystal chandeliers, and masks that hid just enough but revealed just as much. The world had quietly started to change for Choi Seungcheol.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The next day arrived with polished shoes, pressed suits, and a strangely quickened heartbeat that Seungcheol couldn’t quite explain, not until his office door was knocked on, sharp and polite.

His secretary peeked in with a gentle smile, then stepped aside. “Young Miss Shin has arrived, sir.” And then you stepped in behind her.

For a moment, just a moment, Choi Seungcheol forgot how to breathe.

At the masquerade, your mask had hidden part of your face, letting only your voice and eyes do the talking. But now, standing there in the light of his office, dressed professionally yet effortlessly graceful, you looked nothing short of a princess sent straight from a fairytale.

Your features were delicate, your posture refined, and your smile-

God, that smile.

You bowed deeply, a full 90-degree gesture of respect. “It’s an honor to work under you, Mr. Choi.”

That broke something in him, just for a second. He almost gulped, throat tightening as he tried to suppress the warmth crawling up his neck. His jaw clenched lightly, keeping his face composed as always, but his eyes… his eyes betrayed him for a heartbeat too long.

His soulmate was bowing to him like a subordinate, like he wasn’t losing his grip on the damn air in the room.

“Thank you,” he managed, his voice still firm but quieter than usual. “You may begin today.”

He cleared his throat and quickly looked away, standing up and adjusting his cufflinks just to buy time. “You may return to your tasks,” he told his secretary, who gave a small nod and closed the door behind her.

Now, it was just the two of you.

The air shifted again. Quiet, but not cold, just full.

You stepped forward softly, hands tucked behind your back, walking with a quiet elegance that echoed across the floor of his office. You stopped just short of his desk, leaned forward a little, and smiled.

“I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi.”

His heart skipped a full beat. He blinked once, then twice. He internally cursed himself for how fast his chest reacted, how your presence so effortlessly chipped away at the steel mask he had worn for years.

“…Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered under his breath, turning slightly away as he pretended to check something on his desk.

He picked up a pen, but forgot what document it was for. Clearing his throat again, he motioned for you to sit on the chair in front of his desk.

“Take out a pen and a notebook,” he said briskly, avoiding your eyes. “If you want to be the next CEO of your father’s company, you’ll need to start by remembering a few things.”

Still smiling, you sat down and pulled out your notebook obediently.

“Rule number one,” he continued, finally looking at you again, but carefully now, like one wrong glance would unravel him. “No one cares about your title. Earn their respect with competence, not your last name.”

You nodded, scribbling it down.

“Rule two,” he said, watching the way your hair fell slightly as you wrote. “Always know more than you speak. And listen more than you think.”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze and softly replied, “That sounds exactly like you, Mr. Choi.”

His pen almost slipped from his hand. He coughed once more, this time trying to suppress the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Rule three,” he said sharply, eyes back on your notebook. “Stop charming your mentor. It’s distracting.”

You giggled, quiet, warm, and knowing.

He didn’t say it out loud, but deep down, he already knew that this was going to be a long, dangerous, beautiful mentorship.

The first few hours of your mentorship under Choi Seungcheol moved swiftly, on the surface.

He kept his instructions sharp, his tone professional, walking you through key departments, introducing the core team, and pointing out what made his company function like a well-oiled machine. To any outsider, it looked like another day of excellence from the CEO.

But the staff, sharp-eyed and always quietly observant, noticed something was off. It wasn’t something loud. There were no smiles stretched too far, no extravagant gestures. It was the way he stood a little too close.

The way his voice dropped just slightly whenever he spoke to you. The way he’d glance at you longer than he intended when you weren’t looking. And above all, the strange, rare gentleness in his expression when he watched you scribble notes or tilt your head in concentration.

To them, he was different today.

Seungcheol didn’t think so. He was just… doing his job. Guiding you, as Mr. Shin had asked, offering knowledge and sharing insight. So why did standing next to you feel like the only part of his day that wasn’t suffocating?

Every time your shoulder brushed his as you walked beside him, his chest felt lighter, like the years of pressure he’d buried beneath routine and deadlines were slowly peeling away.

He blamed it on the soulmate bond. That had to be it.

Still, it didn’t explain how you made silence feel so comforting. Even when neither of you were talking, your presence carried a calm aura—quiet but grounding.

And for someone like Seungcheol, a man who lived and breathed pressure, your calm was unfamiliar… and unsettling.

Not in a bad way, but in a foreign, “how-do-I-function-while-feeling-peace” kind of way.

He was in the middle of explaining their operations team structure when he noticed you looking up at him with that same unwavering gaze. Focused, soft, and admiring, as if he wasn’t just your mentor, but someone you deeply trusted already.

That was when he blanked out. He literally forgot the point he was going to make.

“-and that department handles… uh…” His brows furrowed, staring at the floor plan pinned on the wall like it had betrayed him. “The, um…”

You tilted your head. “The logistics team?”

He cleared his throat, nodding once. “Right. Logistics.”

His voice returned to its usual pace, but internally, panic echoed like an alarm.

Thankfully, a familiar knock on the glass broke the moment. His secretary peeked in again.

“Sir, your meeting is in fifteen minutes.”

A lifeline.

He straightened quickly. “Right. Thank you.”

He turned to you, voice brisk but not cold. “I’ll need to prepare. My secretary will guide you around the rest of the office.”

You nodded politely. “Of course, Mr. Choi.”

And just like that, he walked away, maybe a little too quickly, and stepped into his office, letting the door close behind him.

Only when the lock clicked into place did he exhale. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against his desk for a second, glaring at nothing in particular before muttering under his breath: “…Wake up, Choi Seungcheol.”

He scowled at his own reflection in the black monitor, then sat down and opened the meeting files, anything to distract himself from the echo of your smile in his mind.

The meeting room was sleek and quiet, filled with department heads and key project managers all seated in neat rows around the long conference table. On the wall, the quarterly projections were being presented by one of the finance leads: charts, graphs, bullet points ticking forward one by one.

From the outside, Choi Seungcheol looked the same as always. Sharp suit, steady gaze, and the calm posture as he sat at the head of the table.

But his fingers betrayed him.

They tapped quietly against the table’s surface, then began twirling his pen between them. An unconscious habit. Over and over, the silver pen spun in rhythm, not once slipping, not once faltering. Precision, yes, but not focus.

His eyes stayed forward, directed at the slides, but his mind wasn’t in the room.

It was still in the hallway. Back where you walked beside him, soft footsteps echoing alongside his. It was stuck on the memory of the way you tilted your head, smiling gently. The way your voice sounded when you said, “I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi.”

His heartbeat picked up again.

He subtly loosened the top button of his collar with one hand, hoping no one noticed. A deep breath filled his lungs, but did nothing to cool the sudden warmth behind his ears.

Get a grip, Seungcheol.

One of the department leads directed a question toward him. He caught it, answered professionally and concisely. The pause before he spoke was half a second too long, but not enough to cause alarm.

His pen spun again, even faster now, almost mechanical.

Why was this happening?

He had handled crises, led multi-million-dollar negotiations, turned failing branches into flagship models. He had faced rooms full of foreign investors and government officials. But now, here he was, fidgeting with a pen like some college intern, thinking about a girl with calm eyes and a presence that made his carefully structured world feel… quiet.

Not empty, just quiet. And Seungcheol didn’t know if that was comforting—or terrifying.

Someone called out his name again, snapping him out of his trance.

“Yes?” he responded, blinking back into the present.

All eyes turned to him, waiting. He cleared his throat and nodded slowly. “I agree with the previous point. Let’s move forward with scenario B, but add a contingency plan for client-side delays. I’ll review the proposed schedule by Friday.”

Everyone nodded. The meeting continued.

But even as the presentation resumed, Seungcheol’s hand never stopped spinning the pen. And under the table, where no one could see, his leg bounced just slightly.

He didn’t even realize he was smiling, just barely.

The meeting ended without incident, at least from an outside perspective. Everyone filed out of the room with their notes and laptops, chatting quietly, discussing next steps. Seungcheol stayed seated for a few seconds longer than usual, pretending to review the printed schedule, though his eyes barely read the lines.

When he finally stood, he adjusted his jacket, gave his usual nod to his assistant, and made his way back to his office.

The walk down the hallway was normal. The familiar click of his shoes on polished floors. A few passing greetings from staff. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until he opened his office door. And you were there, seated on the leather guest chair in front of his desk, legs crossed, notebook in hand. You looked up immediately as the door opened, offering him that same disarming smile, the one that had singlehandedly ruined his focus for the past two hours.

“Oh,” you said softly, “welcome back, Mr. Choi.”

His steps faltered, but only for a second. He walked inside with his usual calm, closing the door behind him. “Did my secretary bring you back here?”

“She did,” you replied, standing up as a gesture of respect. “I didn’t want to wander around too long without you.”

His jaw tightened ever so slightly at that sentence.

Without me, huh?

He made his way around the desk, taking his seat while pretending not to notice the way your presence shifted the air in the room. He placed his notes down, but didn’t look at them.

You stood there quietly, notebook still in hand, waiting—always respectful, always composed. He hated how much he liked that.

“Did you find the rest of the office tour informative?” he asked, finally meeting your gaze.

You nodded, stepping forward again, calm and graceful. “Yes. Everyone was kind. But…”

You paused for a beat, then gave a teasing tilt of your head. “It’s a little boring without you.”

His pen rolled slightly across the desk from how fast his fingers froze.

You quickly added, “I meant that you explain things better. That’s all.”

“…Right,” he replied, clearing his throat, gaze darting briefly to the side before grounding himself again. “Let’s resume where we left off then. Sit down.”

You obeyed, smiling faintly as you opened your notebook again. Seungcheol forced himself to focus—not on you, not on your expression, not on the soft perfume that somehow lingered between the pages of your notes—but on his words. Yet, as he began speaking again about corporate hierarchy and strategic positioning, his voice betrayed him. It was softer now, gentler.

He wasn’t sure when that started happening. He only knew it never sounded like that before you arrived.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The sun dipped lower behind the skyline, casting a golden hue across the city buildings outside his office window. The office had begun to empty, lights switching off one by one as employees finished their tasks and bid each other goodnight.

Seungcheol was still at his desk, organizing a few final documents, when your voice cut through the stillness.

“Mr. Choi?” you asked, standing by the doorway, bag slung over your shoulder. “I think my driver forgot to come. I’ve been trying to call, but… nothing.”

He looked up immediately, brows tugging together. “Didn’t your father assign someone?”

You shook your head, looking only slightly bothered. “Both of my parents are working late today. The housekeeper said she can’t leave either. I can wait, it’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Seungcheol stared at you for a moment longer before instinct kicked in. He grabbed his phone and stood up, dialing Mr. Shin with practiced fingers.

The call connected quickly. “Mr. Shin,” Seungcheol said with crisp professionalism. “This is Seungcheol. I wanted to ask if I should assign one of my drivers to send Y/N-”

“Why do you fetch my daughter back home?” Mr. Shin’s voice cut in, amused. “You know where my house is, and I’m sure my daughter trusts you.”

Seungcheol’s brain momentarily stalled.

“I- uh…” His voice cracked before he caught himself. “Yes, sir. Of course. If that’s what you prefer.”

“You’ll be fine,” Mr. Shin said cheerfully, “Good luck,” and then promptly hung up.

The silence in his office was sudden, sharp. Seungcheol lowered his phone slowly, blinking at it like it had betrayed him.

And then, your voice.

“So?” you asked, leaning slightly into the doorway now, your tone light, your smile just a touch too innocent to be unintentional. “What did he say?”

Seungcheol sighed, head tilting back briefly toward the ceiling. A soft groan escaped him, one of defeat rather than irritation. He looked at you, one brow slightly raised.

“Grab your things,” he muttered, already reaching for his coat. “Let’s go. I’ll drive you home.”

You let out a delighted hum, following close behind as he flicked off the lights and walked toward the elevator.

Inside, the air was calm and comfortable, yet Seungcheol’s heart thudded just a little faster. Not because of the weight of responsibility, but because you were beside him again, walking into the kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward.

This day was spiraling far faster than he’d planned… and he hadn’t even started the car yet.

The car ride started in silence.

You sat beside him in the passenger seat, hands resting neatly on your lap, your bag tucked by your feet. Seungcheol, behind the wheel, exhaled slowly as he adjusted the rearview mirror, not because it needed adjusting, but because he needed something to do other than look at you.

He wasn’t used to this.

His soulmate, sitting this close, beside him, inside his car. A space that had always been quiet, strictly for thinking or decompressing. Now? It felt like you were too close, and your presence was too warm. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and then your voice came. Soft, teasing, and sweet.

“You don’t talk much when you’re driving, huh?”

His knuckles went white on the wheel. “I’m focused.”

You chuckled. “Focused on not crashing? Or focused on ignoring me?”

His jaw clenched.

God, your voice.

Light and lilting, floating straight into his ears, sitting there like it belonged. It curled around him slowly, teasing the edges of his control. He prayed to every higher being in the sky that the red light wouldn’t last long, or else he’d melt into the driver’s seat. And then you had to go and say it.

“By the way… I know I didn’t ask earlier, but is it okay that I sit here? In the front?”

He nearly choked on air. What was he supposed to say to that? No, please sit at the back so I don’t lose my mind?

“It’s fine,” he muttered under his breath, eyes locked firmly on the road ahead. “You’re my passenger. Of course you sit there.”

But you weren’t just his passenger, you were his soulmate, and you were looking at him like you could see every thought written on his skin.

He was barely holding it together. His grip on the steering wheel never eased. His heart was pounding in a very unsafe rhythm, and he had no idea what expression you were wearing because he didn’t dare glance your way.

Not until you touched him.

It was gentle, a brush of your fingers over his knuckles, maybe meant to comfort him. But the warmth that surged through his entire arm?

The way your touch somehow seeped into his skin and calmed every frantic part of him?

Too much, his heart skipped a beat, and that was when he almost crashed.

“-Shit,” he hissed as the car veered just slightly toward another lane. Someone honked loudly. Seungcheol reacted fast, jerking the steering wheel just enough to swerve back, crossing briefly into an open lane before easing to the side of the road.

He came to a slow, shaky stop. Only then did he realize, he’d been holding his breath. The exhale that left him was heavy, his hands still frozen on the steering wheel. His eyes wide, jaw clenched, adrenaline coursing through him, and beside him, you were giggling. Not just giggling, you were laughing.

He turned his head slowly, lifting one eyebrow in disbelief.

Your laughter only got louder, trying, but failing, to look apologetic as your shoulders shook.

“Y-You almost-” you hiccuped in the middle of your laugh, “-crashed because I touched your hand? Really?”

He should have been mad, or embarrassed. But instead… he found himself smiling, leaning back against his seat as the tension slowly bled out of him.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, half amused, half exasperated. “Too dangerous.”

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, still breathless. “Sorry! I really didn’t think it’d throw you off that much.”

He clicked his tongue, finally letting out a small laugh of his own. “Don’t touch me when I’m driving, or I might not just almost crash next time.”

You placed a hand over your chest, playfully solemn. “Got it. Hands off the CEO while he’s behind the wheel.”

With a final, lingering look, and a sigh that carried a secret smile, he started the engine again. This time, the drive was calmer, still quiet. But the silence now? Laced with warmth.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The next day, Choi Seungcheol arrived at the office ten minutes earlier than usual. Hair styled neatly, tie perfectly knotted, suit crisp. A plan already mapped in his head.

Today, he told himself, he would not lose focus, he would be composed and professional. Distant, even.

He was a CEO, not some college boy crushing on his lab partner.

And then you walked in. Calm as ever, radiating soft energy like it was stitched into your aura. You greeted everyone with a polite bow, a warm smile that reached your eyes, and when your gaze met his across the hallway, you smiled wider.

He blinked once.

Not today, he reminded himself, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. Stay sharp, Choi Seungcheol.

You followed behind him into his office, as per usual. You placed your notebook on the desk neatly, your voice as honeyed as it was yesterday. “Good morning, Mr. Choi.”

His heartbeat betrayed him again, but he forced a nod.

“Morning. Let’s begin the schedule,” he said, already opening his laptop to avoid your eyes.

But you weren’t done. You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing with playful curiosity. “You slept well after your near-death experience yesterday?”

He stiffened.

You were teasing him, again.

His jaw clenched, and he sighed through his nose. “It wasn’t near-death.”

“It was slightly near,” you said with a soft giggle. “You looked like you were about to write your will in that parking lane.”

He closed his laptop slowly, eyes finally meeting yours. “Are you done?”

You grinned. “Maybe.”

He clicked his pen once, and twice. Trying to stay unbothered and ignore the way your laughter from the day before still echoed in his ears like a favorite song.

“Right,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “Let’s move on to today’s shadowing.”

But you weren’t going to let him off that easily. You had plans. You stayed close, just close enough to keep him aware of your presence, but never inappropriate. You asked thoughtful questions, tilted your head as you listened, eyes always fixed on him with that same soft admiration.

Your voice? Still sweet.

Your tone? Still respectful, but never flat.

He was drowning quietly. And the worst part? He knew you were doing it on purpose.

He tried keeping distance. Told you to observe from the corner during a department discussion. You obeyed, then proceeded to thank him afterward, calling his approach “insightful and clean-cut.”

He told you to grab coffee for a break, hoping you’d step away. You returned ten minutes later with a second cup for him. His favorite, somehow.

He froze when you handed it to him. “How did you know this is what I drink?”

You tilted your head again, the faintest smile playing on your lips. “You mentioned it once. Thought I’d remember.”

He had no words, just sipped silently, while the heat of the coffee failed to cover the warmth spreading in his chest.

By lunch, he was cornered—emotionally, mentally, completely. And then came the final blow.

You peeked into his office again after a quick team session, hands behind your back like a child with a secret. “I finished organizing the files from the budget review. Do you want me to bring them now, Mr. Choi?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’ll do.”

You stepped inside, but instead of placing the files on his desk, you walked closer, slower, and set them gently right beside him, leaning just a bit forward. Then, you whispered, voice like silk, “You're doing great, you know.”

He turned his head so fast it startled even himself.

You stepped back immediately, that same sweet expression never leaving your face. “Just thought someone should tell you.”

He stared at you, absolutely blindsided.

You smiled again. “I’ll get back to my desk now.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, like you hadn’t just sent his heart sprinting through his ribcage.

He leaned back in his chair slowly, dragging a hand over his face, muttering under his breath: “…I’m doomed.”

Per Mr. Shin’s earlier request, Seungcheol knew that as part of your mentorship, you needed to start observing internal meetings, especially the ones that mattered. And this one, definitely mattered.

The conference room was filled with tension the moment it began. You sat beside Seungcheol, with his secretary just one seat away. The opposing company’s team stood at the other end of the long, glass table—well-dressed, well-prepared, and, unfortunately, woefully out of touch.

At first, the presentation was tolerable. Numbers were clean, projections stable, but as soon as they reached the slide titled Strategic Timeline for Implementation, everything changed.

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed.

The speaker on the opposing side continued confidently, explaining outdated timelines and collaborations with partners Seungcheol had long since flagged as liabilities.

He raised a hand, slowly, but firmly.

“Hold it,” he said.

The speaker paused. Seungcheol gestured toward the screen. “This segment. You need to revise this strategy. We’ve already seen instability in those markets. Collaborating there puts the project at risk.”

The man across the table gave a tight smile. “We understand your concern, Mr. Choi, but altering the current timeline may damage our relationship with the local representatives. A shift might send the wrong message.”

Seungcheol’s expression hardened.

“I said it needs to change.”

The tension escalated. His voice was still level, but underneath it was a warning. You could feel the air grow heavier around the table. The other attendees exchanged subtle glances. His secretary lowered her gaze.

You sat there, watching him. His knuckles were turning white, hand clenched against the table. His shoulders stiff, jaw set, clearly holding back the frustration simmering inside.

Should you do something? You hesitated. You’d never seen him this serious before. This cold. It was a side of him you hadn’t met: CEO Choi in full form. Intimidating, sharp, commanding.

But something in you… moved.

Even if he’s your boss. Even if you’re scared. You didn’t want him to be swallowed by the storm he was holding back.

So, gently—barely noticeable to anyone else—you reached out beneath the table, and touched his knuckles.

The tension left his hand almost instantly. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look at you, but he felt it, and it grounded him.

His eyes flicked back to the presenter. His shoulders lowered slightly. And then—calm, steady, dangerous—he spoke again.

“I said the cons of not changing. If you can’t change,” he began, voice slow and clear, “I can already see your company failing, and dragging mine down with it.”

The room froze.

“So I suggest you change it,” he continued, folding his hands neatly in front of him, “or I’ll stop collaborating with you altogether.”

He leaned forward just slightly, voice dropping a notch.

“It’s not a question. It’s a statement.”

Dead silence followed.

The opposing speaker faltered, swallowed hard, and eventually nodded. “Understood… We’ll revise it.”

Seungcheol nodded once, satisfied. “Good.”

The rest of the meeting passed with no further resistance. Everyone suddenly became a lot more agreeable. When it ended, people stood slowly, gathering their notes and trying to pretend they hadn’t just witnessed the CEO version of a guillotine.

You, meanwhile, were still seated, glancing at him quietly.

As soon as the door shut behind the last guest, Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath. Not loud, but deep. Then he finally looked at you. Not cold, not intimidating, just… aware.

“Thanks,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

You blinked. “For what?”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just offered a small, dry smile. “For keeping me from flipping the table.”

You giggled softly. “Glad I could stop a potential lawsuit.”

He laughed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re sneaky, you know that?”

You tilted your head. “Me? I just touched your hand.”

“Exactly,” he murmured, eyeing you. “That’s the problem.”

The heavy oak doors to the meeting room closed with a muted click, sealing away the tension that had filled the space just moments ago. The silence that followed was a welcome relief, wrapping around the room like a comforting blanket.

Seungcheol remained seated at the head of the table, shoulders finally relaxed, jaw no longer set, but he didn’t move, not yet.

He glanced toward you, and then his gaze dropped to your hands.

They were resting gently in your lap, fingers slightly curled, relaxed. The same hands that had grounded him just minutes earlier with nothing more than a simple touch.

His eyes lingered there longer than he should have and you noticed.

A soft giggle slipped past your lips, making his eyes flicker up to your face in mild panic, but you weren’t teasing. Your smile was warm, as if you already understood what he was thinking without needing him to say it aloud.

You shift your seat closer to his, and without asking, without hesitation, you reached out and gently cupped his hands, both of them.

Your palms were warm. Your grip wasn’t delicate, it was steady and secure, like you weren’t just touching him, you were anchoring him.

He stiffened at first, not used to being handled like that. But when he looked up and met your eyes, something cracked inside him. Something quiet.

You smiled at him again, sweet and sure, and then said with the calmest voice he’d ever heard: “Hold onto mine if you want. I’m always here beside you.”

The words weren’t loud, they weren’t dramatic, but God, did they hit hard. His breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers, usually firm and commanding, hesitated, and then slowly, tentatively, curled around yours.

The pressure in his chest eased, the sharp edge of his thoughts dulled, and in its place was only your warmth, quietly settling in his bloodstream, pushing out the last remnants of the anger and disappointment that had clouded him just minutes ago.

It felt dangerous and addictive, but more than anything, it felt right.

He said nothing, still lost in your gaze.

And you? You didn’t ask for anything in return, you simply stood there, smiling as if you had all the time in the world to wait for him to breathe again.

And finally, he did.

“…You’re trouble,” he whispered, lips barely moving.

You laughed, soft and silvery. “You’ve said that before.”

He shook his head slightly. “I meant it even more now.”

But he didn’t let go, not yet.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The day had finally drawn to a close. The last of the lights at the office flickered off, and staff began to disappear one by one. Choi Seungcheol stepped out of the elevator, jacket draped over his arm, briefcase in hand, ready to head home.

That was until his secretary caught him in the lobby.

“Mr. Choi,” she said with a small nod toward you, waiting quietly near the front entrance. “Ms. Y/N doesn’t have a ride.”

He blinked once.

Again?

His eyes drifted toward you. You were scrolling on your phone, humming lightly under your breath, completely unbothered. Just like yesterday.

Suspicious.

You looked up at him at just the right moment, smiling, and all his suspicion melted into a sigh.

“...She’s doing this on purpose,” he mumbled to himself, but louder than he meant to. Still, he nodded toward the car. “Let’s go.”

You fell into step beside him, cheerful and bright even in the evening glow. Once inside the car, you didn’t even hesitate, you walked straight to the passenger seat and slid in smoothly, as if it were your assigned spot.

Seungcheol sat in the driver’s seat, started the engine, and began to drive.

Silence filled the space again, peaceful, but electric in its own way.

He kept his eyes forward, focused, or trying to be. Then your voice—soft, laced with mischief—cut into the quiet.

“Do you want to get late supper?”

The car didn’t swerve this time, but Seungcheol’s grip on the wheel definitely stiffened. He glanced at you briefly.

Late supper? That was not in the schedule.

His routine was sacred. Home, shower, towel-dry hair for two minutes exactly, collapse onto bed, wake up, work, and repeat.

He did not do it spontaneously yet here you were, blinking at him innocently.

At the next red light, he turned his head fully to look at you.

“Late supper?” he repeated, like the phrase was foreign.

You nodded. “I know there are some places still open for people like me.”

People like you? What did that mean? Were you just… casual about life like that? Wandering the streets at midnight, hunting for warm broth and rice with no plan whatsoever?

That was chaos, and dangerous… but oddly tempting. And while his mind absolutely panicked over the idea of shifting his routine by even an inch, his heart was already halfway to the restaurant.

He stared at you. You stared back, innocently and unassuming, completely unaware of the inner breakdown he was having. Or… maybe fully aware.

He sighed heavily, eyes closing for a second. “Key in the address.”

You beamed, tapping in the location into his GPS. He drove through the green light with a defeated grunt. He glanced sideways, catching the teasing glint in your eyes. and for once in his life, he didn’t hate the idea of change.

The city lights shimmered against the night sky, and neon signs flickered above street corners, glowing softly like stars fallen to the ground. The GPS guided Seungcheol through a few narrow turns before slowing to a stop beside a quiet cluster of food stalls tucked between two buildings.

The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat, fried batter, and warm soup broth.

It wasn’t flashy or pristine, it wasn’t anything remotely close to what CEO Choi Seungcheol was used to.

And yet… he was here.

You stepped out of the car with a bright grin, your shoes softly clicking on the pavement. You turned back to face him as he closed the car door slowly, taking in the unfamiliar scene like a foreign landscape.

“First time?” you asked, eyes twinkling under the streetlight.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, adjusting his sleeves. “Very first.”

You giggled, hugging your arms to yourself. “Same. But I wanted to explore, and I figured... food like this probably tastes better when you’re not worried about etiquette.”

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “That’s what everyone says before they get food poisoning.”

You shot him a mock glare. “You’re such a corporate man.”

“And you’re reckless,” he muttered, but followed you anyway.

You led him to one of the stalls with a steaming pot of tteokbokki, skewers glistening beside it. The ahjumma running the stall gave you a kind smile and gestured for you to sit.

The two of you took seats on worn plastic stools under a flickering lightbulb, the table in front of you scratched with time, marked with memories. And somehow, to Seungcheol, it felt weirdly peaceful.

You handed him a pair of chopsticks and smiled. “Let’s try not to act like we just left a board meeting.”

Seungcheol stared down at the food. No plated silverware, no polished wine glasses, just bubbling spicy sauce and steam against the cool air.

It was chaotic and… warm.

He picked up a piece of rice cake, blew on it once, then tasted it. His eyebrows rose.

“...That’s not bad.”

You laughed. “Not bad? That’s it? That’s your review?”

He nodded, eyes focused on the next bite. “Spicy. A little sweet. Soft texture. Good balance.”

“God,” you groaned, “you’re reviewing it like a Michelin judge.”

“You invited a CEO. What did you expect?”

You laughed again, and the sound danced through the night air, making his chest feel far lighter than it had all day.

As you both ate, conversation flowed more freely. You talked about small things: food preferences, random bucket list items, silly high school moments. Seungcheol found himself leaning forward more, laughing softly, even forgetting to check the time.

He didn’t even realize how relaxed he looked. Tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, chopsticks clumsily trying to balance a fish cake skewer.

At one point, you handed him a tissue as he dabbed the edge of his mouth, cheeks slightly red from the heat of the spice.

“Next time,” you said between bites, “we should try grilled skewers by the river. I heard they open till 3AM.”

He stared at you.

Next time?

A part of him panicked again, knowing this was starting to become a habit. But the other part? The one quietly folding inside his chest, heartbeat slow and warm? That part didn’t mind at all.

After the last bite was eaten and the food stall cleared, you both stood up from your stools, stomachs full and spirits even fuller. You reached into your bag for your wallet, already fishing out a few bills to pay, but before you could even lift your hand to the stall owner, Seungcheol moved faster. With practiced ease, he gently pushed your hand aside—not harshly, but firm enough to make you blink in surprise—and handed over the exact cash to the ahjumma behind the stall.

He didn’t even look at you as he accepted the change with a polite nod.

You, on the other hand, were left blinking in quiet disbelief.

No words were exchanged in that moment.

The two of you returned to the car under the soft night sky, sliding into your seats once again. The car’s interior greeted you with its usual scent, clean leather and something that faintly smelled like cedarwood and coffee. As the engine rumbled to life, you turned your head toward him, curious.

“How did you have cash money in you?”

He glanced sideways, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the air conditioning. His lips curled into a lazy smile.

“I’m not always a card guy, okay?”

You let out a playful scoff. “Right. A card and cash money guy who doesn’t know how to relax.”

That made him laugh this time, a sound that was deep and rich and a little too attractive for your heart to handle. But it didn’t stop there.

He turned to say something else, only to realize you hadn’t buckled in yet. His eyes lowered to the strap by your side, then back at you.

“Seatbelt,” he muttered softly, but instead of waiting for you to fix it, he leaned in.

You froze.

The air felt thinner suddenly.

Seungcheol reached across you, one arm brushing past your shoulder, fingers catching the seatbelt smoothly as he clicked it into place. His scent surrounded you, something expensive and warm. He didn’t notice how close he was. He didn’t see the way your breath hitched, or how your lashes fluttered like they were trying to compose themselves.

To him, it was just another responsible act.

To you? It was too close. Too sudden and overwhelming.

He leaned back into his seat like nothing happened, shot you a relaxed smile as his hand returned to the wheel.

“Ready to head back?” he asked, as if your heart wasn’t thundering like a drum in your ears.

You stared at him for a moment longer, lips parting, unsure if you should thank him or scream internally. But eventually, you just gave a small nod, tucking your hands on your lap.

“Yeah…” you said quietly. “Ready.”

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The morning sun seeped gently through the sheer curtains of Seungcheol’s penthouse, casting warm light across his pristine walk-in closet. Rows of crisp shirts, tailored blazers, perfectly ironed trousers, and a curated collection of designer watches lined the walls like an exhibition.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror, a clean white shirt buttoned to the collar, his charcoal grey blazer slung loosely over one arm. His hair was still slightly damp, falling in soft waves over his forehead.

And yet, he frowned.

Something was… off.

His hands moved on their own, slipping off the blazer and replacing it with a navy one. He buttoned the cuffs, stared into the mirror and tilted his head.

No, too stiff.

He tried again. Swapped the navy for a muted sand-colored jacket, loosened the collar slightly, and he looked at himself.

Too soft.

A sigh escaped his lips. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

There was no event today, no company gala, no board of directors flying in from overseas. It was just a regular day at work. But then again… you would be there.

That alone was enough to make his entire closet suddenly feel insufficient.

He wasn’t even sure when it started, this strange habit of wanting to look just a little better each morning, starting from today. All he knew was that your eyes, so bright and attentive, always lingered a little longer than necessary. And the way you smiled at him, as if he was someone worth admiring…

He wanted to live up to that look.

He tried on three different watches before settling on a Piaget brand Polo Date watch. Switched out his usual thin-framed glasses for a bolder pair. Dabbed on a Creed brand cologne. Then he stood back, observing himself fully.

Blazer sharp, tie slightly loosened, hair perfectly imperfect, and a hint of confidence in his smirk, just enough to keep him grounded. Still, he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

“Choi Seungcheol...”

But he didn’t change.

With one last glance in the mirror and a small breath to steady the fluttering inside his chest, he grabbed his keys and headed out.

The automatic doors of the building slid open with a soft whoosh, letting in a gentle gust of morning air. Seungcheol stepped into the familiar lobby, polished floors reflecting the low sunlight spilling through the glass walls. The day had just begun. Staff were slowly trickling in, exchanging greetings and organizing the day’s start.

And then he saw you, standing near the entrance, chatting lightly with the front desk assistant, smiling just enough to make time slow down.

You looked simple—fresh-faced, your hair styled neatly, blouse tucked into a modest skirt—but to Seungcheol, you were breathtaking.

Maybe it was the light hitting you just right, or the soft sound of your laugh, or maybe, it was just you being you. Whatever it was, he was gone the moment your eyes lifted to meet his.

You turned fully toward him, a little surprise in your gaze, followed quickly by something warmer, something curious as your eyes slowly drifted from his face to… his clothes.

You blinked once, and then twice before your lips curled up knowingly.

“Oh?” you said with an arch of your brow, arms crossing lightly over your chest. “New look today, Mr. Choi?”

He tried to act unaffected, adjusting the strap of his watch as if it wasn’t planned, as if he hadn’t spent twenty minutes debating between jackets this morning.

“I just picked whatever was clean,” he said flatly.

You giggled softly, stepping closer, eyes never leaving his figure.

“Well, whatever was clean looks really, really good today.”

He froze, not obviously, but just enough for his breath to catch for half a second.

You looked back up at his face, tilting your head, clearly amused at how his ears turned ever so slightly pink.

“Are you blushing?”

“I’m not,” he deadpanned.

“You are.”

“Y/N,” he warned lightly, though the corners of his lips gave away the smile threatening to break free.

You stepped beside him, walking toward the elevator as he followed. “You know,” you said, glancing at him sideways, “if dressing up makes you this charming in the morning, I might start asking you to do it more often.”

He scoffed gently, pressing the elevator button. “Don’t get used to it.”

“But you did it for me, didn’t you?” you teased, voice low and sweet.

The elevator dinged, and he walked in without responding. You followed closely behind, the space inside suddenly smaller than you remembered. He stood beside you, hands in his pockets, looking straight ahead. You looked up at him with a soft smile. You already knew the answer. And when he caught your reflection in the elevator door, still staring at him with that quiet affection, you saw it: that small smile, breaking through.

The morning had passed quietly. Well, as quiet as it could be when your mentor happened to be the CEO and also your soulmate.

You sat at your desk just outside Seungcheol’s office, sorting through case studies he had handed you earlier. You were almost done highlighting key points when your phone buzzed softly beside your notebook.

It was a message from your mother.

《Mom: Your father and I were wondering if Seungcheol is free for lunch today. Just something casual. We’d love to see the two of you together. I made a reservation already, just in case.》

Your eyes widened slightly at the abruptness. You sighed softly. Of course your mom didn’t wait for confirmation before booking a spot. After re-reading it twice, you got up from your desk, lightly knocking on Seungcheol’s office door before pushing it open.

He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his blazer draped over his chair, sleeves rolled up as he reviewed a report. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of your knock.

“Yes?”

You stepped in, holding up your phone. “My parents messaged. They want to have lunch with you today. Apparently they already made a reservation.”

He turned fully to face you, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “Today?”

You nodded, showing him the text.

He didn’t react much on the surface, but you could tell he wasn’t the type who took surprises well. Still, his expression remained composed, only betraying a flicker of hesitation before he walked back to his desk and pressed a button on his intercom.

“Cancel the team check-in for 1PM. And block a lunch schedule under the Shin family.”

“Understood,” his secretary replied promptly.

He turned to you, expression unreadable but his tone even.

“I assume they picked a restaurant already?”

You nodded. “They did. I’ll send you the location.”

He gave a slow blink, then looked down at the stack of work on his desk, clearly adjusting his internal clock again.

You smiled faintly. “You don’t have to look so serious. It’s not a shareholders meeting.”

He gave a short sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ve met your parents, right? Do they seem like the type to keep things ‘casual’?”

You laughed. “Touché.”

He watched you quietly for a moment, eyes softening. “Are you nervous?”

You paused. “…Maybe a little.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re… you,” you said honestly. “And I know how much they respect you, likewise to you.”

He held your gaze a beat longer, before his lips curved, just slightly. “You make it sound like I’m meeting them for the first time.” then he cleared his throat and reached for his watch.

“I’ll pick you up from your desk at twelve-thirty.”

You nodded, turning to leave, but not before tossing him a cheeky smile over your shoulder.

“You better dress handsomely again, Mr. Choi.”

The only reply you got was the sound of a pen clicking behind you, and a quiet, amused exhale.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The restaurant was elegantly quiet, the kind of place where even the clink of silverware was softened by velvet-covered walls and subtle classical music. The hostess led you and Seungcheol to a private room, where your parents were already seated. Your mother in her pearls, your father sharp in a navy suit, as dignified as ever.

“Seungcheol,” your father greeted first, standing to shake his hand. Seungcheol gave a slight bow, professional but respectful.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr Shin.”

“Likewise. Please, sit.”

You quietly slipped into the seat beside Seungcheol, across from your parents, your hands folded politely on your lap.

The first few minutes were expected. Business as usual. Your father inquired about company expansion, potential collaborations, the trajectory of your training under Seungcheol’s wing. You listened attentively, occasionally stealing glances at your mentor, who answered every question with calm poise and clean, articulate responses.

It was going perfectly. Then the food arrived, and with it, your mother’s sudden ambush.

“So,” she said lightly, reaching for her soup spoon. “How is my daughter in your company?”

Seungcheol dabbed his lips with a napkin before answering.

“She’s attentive. Observant. Quick to adapt. Not many would have the initiative she’s shown in just a few days.”

You blinked, warmth blooming in your chest. The compliment made you sit just a little straighter. But your mother wasn't finished.

“And how is she…” she said, stirring her soup slowly, “…as your soulmate?”

The spoon Seungcheol had just brought to his mouth halted halfway. Then-

Choke.

Not a polite cough or a dignified clear of the throat, no. A full-on choke. You nearly dropped your own spoon as you rushed to grab his glass of water and held it out to him with both hands. He took it immediately, eyes watering as he tried to recover, sipping fast, gulping once, then twice.

“M-Mom!” you cried, cheeks flushing. “Seriously?!”

Across the table, your mother wore the most innocent smile imaginable. “What? I’m just curious.”

Your father turned to her slowly, eyebrows raised. “Soulmates?”

Your mother nodded, sipping calmly from her tea. “I noticed at the masquerade party. They were staring at each other for far too long. I had a feeling something happened. So I made a few… connections.”

You and Seungcheol froze.

Her eyes flicked between the two of you. Him still trying to swallow down the last of his panic, and you patting his back while staring wide-eyed at her like she’d just exposed your deepest secret.

Then she tilted her head. “Am I wrong?”

Silence.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You were too stunned to deny it. Beside you, Seungcheol finally lowered the glass, setting it down slowly on the table.

But he didn’t look up. Not at your mother, and especially not at your father.

His fingers curled slightly in his lap.

You could see the gears in his head… what would they think? A man ten years their daughter, their trusted work partner… now tied to her by something unbreakable, fated.

He was terrified of your father’s judgment, terrified of how this would change everything.

You saw it all in the way his shoulders tensed, and how his eyes remained fixed on the tablecloth. For a moment, the air was still. Then your father set down his spoon with a soft clink and leaned back in his seat.

“…Choi Seungcheol,” he said.

Seungcheol immediately straightened in his chair, gaze still lowered. “Yes, sir.”

Your father’s voice was unreadable. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Seungcheol hesitated. “…Because I didn’t want to risk complicating anything. With your daughter… or with you.”

Your mother looked between the two men, eyes narrowing slightly. You bit your bottom lip, and your father was quiet again. Then, after a moment that stretched painfully long, he spoke.

“…You’re an honorable man, Seungcheol.” Both you and Seungcheol blinked. Your father continued. “I’ve known that since the first time you sat across from me in a boardroom. That hasn’t changed. But now…” He looked directly at Seungcheol. “That honor means something more. It means you’ll protect her.”

Seungcheol finally looked up, stunned.

Your father gave a small nod. “You didn’t choose this, neither did she. But if fate tied you together, then all I ask is that you treat her well, not as your intern, not as your subordinate, but as your equal.”

You stared at your father, lips parted in surprise. And beside you, you heard the breath Seungcheol finally let out. Quiet, shaky, and filled with quiet relief.

“…I will,” he said, voice low but clear. “I promise you. I’ll protect her, sir.”

Your father nodded again, then returned to his soup like he hadn’t just shaken the tension off the entire table. Your mother, watching everything with that quiet knowing glint in her eyes, simply smirked behind her teacup.

“Well,” she said, “now that that’s out of the way, let’s enjoy lunch properly.”

The quiet click of the car doors closing echoed softly in the air, muffled only by the cocoon of silence surrounding the two of you. The engine remained untouched. Seungcheol sat in the driver’s seat, his hands resting lightly on the wheel, gaze fixed on the windshield.

But he wasn’t seeing the road.

He was reliving the moment, the conversation over lunch, the weight of your father’s words, the softness in your mother’s knowing smile. He had braced himself for resistance, for disapproval, for that slight pause before your father might say “But she’s still too young.” Instead, what he got… was a blessing. Permission to be selfish with his heart, to love you out loud.

He swallowed hard, feeling the words echo in his chest like they had carved out space just for you. You didn’t choose this, but if fate tied you together... treat her as your equal.

And god, he would.

He would treat you like a queen. He’d spoil you relentlessly, shamelessly. He’d plan every date to perfection. He’d get you that charm bracelet you’d once said you liked, and for every monsary you celebrated together, he’d add a charm. One for each memory.

The pressure of restraint melted off his shoulders like winter snow beneath the sun. And in its place, something even warmer bloomed: freedom. Freedom to love you.

And so, without starting the car, without breaking the moment, he turned his head, and saw you already watching him.

Lovingly. Softly.

As if your gaze could read the chaos of emotions unraveling in his chest.

You smiled, a small, sweet curl of your lips. “Hi,” you whispered.

That single word, just one syllable, was enough to make his head spin.

He laughed. A real one. Not the tight-lipped CEO chuckle he gave in meetings, no. This one was open, light, carefree. His teeth showed, his eyes crinkled, and you, caught in his joy, joined him with a soft chuckle of your own.

Then the laughter faded into something quieter, heavier, something that made the air between you two spark.

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Mind if I do something,” he said slowly, voice low and a little breathless, “that’s normal for a thirty-year-old me... but might be embarrassing for you?”

You blinked once, head tilted like a curious kitten, but you nodded, without hesitation. And with that, he leaned in.

One hand lifted, fingers brushing past your hair to cradle the back of your head gently. His touch was steady and certain, like he had waited long enough.

And then, he kissed you soft and warm, eyes closed. No rush, no pressure, just him letting everything he had been holding in for days spill into that single, quiet kiss.

You melted against him almost instinctively, lips moving in sync with his—tender, slow, meaningful.

And in that kiss, Seungcheol thought: so this is what peace tastes like, this is what fate feels like.

When he finally pulled back, your foreheads brushed, breaths mixing in the small space between. You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks flushed, lips parted. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it trembled with something sincere.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since the masquerade.”

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The hum of conversation filled the large, sunlit private room in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Laughter echoed off the walls, glasses clinked, and the smell of food already filled the air, even though not everyone had arrived yet.

The door creaked open, and in walked Seungcheol, dressed in a sleek black shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show his watch and veins. Beside him, you entered quietly, but not subtly, your fingers gently laced with his.

Heads turned, every conversation stopped. Then-

“Woooooahhhh- what do we have here?!”

“Wait, is that her?!”

“Cheol brought someone?! Willingly?!”

A wave of chaotic excitement crashed over the room as all of Seungcheol’s friends—his closest circle, the ones he called his brothers—immediately swarmed you with bright eyes and louder voices. Mingyu clapped Seungcheol on the back so hard he nearly stumbled. Soonyoung practically bounced on his heels. Seokmin gave you the biggest, warmest grin.

They were chaos, but they were warm.

You didn’t even have time to respond before Jeonghan looped an arm around your shoulders like you were already part of the family.

“So you’re the one who melted our stone-faced CEO, huh?” he teased, eyes glinting. “God, we’ve been hearing about you without even hearing your name. It’s an honor.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but let out a small, amused chuckle as everyone finally settled into their seats.

The chaos didn’t stop there, though. Once the appetizers were cleared and laughter quieted to occasional giggles between sips of wine, Jeonghan leaned forward with a grin that screamed mischief.

“You know what’s crazy?” he said, pointing a lazy finger at Seungcheol. “This guy’s been dating her for two years and still didn’t bag her. Me? I dated my soulmate for three months. Three. Months. I couldn't bear waiting. A father now, remember those past times?” He flashed his ring proudly.

The others chuckled, some shaking their heads, others rolling their eyes at Jeonghan’s dramatics, even Seungcheol cracked a wide grin. But he didn’t say anything, not yet, because the best part hadn’t come.

After the main course, when desserts were being served and the wine glasses were half-full, Seungcheol stood up slowly, lifting his glass.

“I have two pieces of news,” he said, his voice calm but his smile soft.

Everyone quieted, eyes turned.

He looked at you briefly, then back at the group. “First- Y/N will be officially stepping in as CEO of her father’s company starting this year.”

A round of cheers, whistles, and applause erupted from the table.

“Yah! That’s huge!”

“A power couple, oh my god.”

“Don’t forget us little people when you both own half the country!”

You bashfully lowered your gaze, cheeks warm, mouthing a soft thank you as Seungcheol gently placed a hand on your back.

“And the second piece of news…” he continued, pausing for dramatic effect, “-is that she said yes.”

Silence with confused blinks, then-

“Wait- wait- WAIT- WHAT?!”

“SAID YES TO WHAT?!”

“Oh my GOD!”

“You’re LYING!”

The table exploded.

Mingyu stood up so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. Soonyoung dropped his fork. Jeonghan’s jaw dropped open like something out of a drama. Seungcheol just smirked, then gently reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He didn’t even need to open it. The moment the box was visible, the screaming got worse.

You held up your hand, heart racing, showing the sparkling ring on your finger with a small smile.

“I’m his fiancée,” you said, voice shy but filled with certainty.

“No. Freaking. Way.”

“Since WHEN?!”

“DID YOU DO IT AT WORK?! Was it a boardroom proposal?! TELL ME EVERYTHING!”

The group erupted again, voices overlapping, hands reaching for the ring, while Seungcheol calmly sat down next to you, sipping his drink like he hadn’t just broken the minds of every single person at the table. And in the midst of all the shouting and disbelief, he leaned in close to whisper just for you to hear: “You're mine now. Officially.”

Your heart fluttered. And in the chaos of friends and laughter, you never felt more sure. Of him. Of you. Of forever.

Tagging: @stvrrylove @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee @ateez-atiny380 @reiofsuns2001 @thetjtales @metaphorandmoonlight