FUCKING SIMP EHO FAINTED AT TE MERE THOUGHT OF GETTING MARRIED - Tumblr Posts

woozi as a sugar baby!

— WARNINGS: sugar baby x sugar mommy relationship, recording laber ceo!reader, producer!jihoon, smut, fingering, mention of sex toys & stuff, fucking in front of a window, in your office, in his studio, penetrative sex, marriage, and fanting. — (Seventeen as Sugar Baby's Series)

jihoon was used to the struggle—the late nights in the studio, the endless hours tweaking every sound until it was perfect, and the constant pressure of making hits that never seemed to pay off the way they should. the old CEO made sure of that, always withholding what was owed, dangling the promise of success just out of reach, the guy constantly delayed salaries and left jihoon hanging when the songs he produced didn’t return the money.

but when the label got sold, everything changed, and that’s when you came into the picture.

he didn’t expect you to be any different at first, just another high-powered executive who wouldn’t care about the little guys.

then, one day, while leaving his studio for lunch, he saw you. high heels, a well-tailored dress, and a box in hand, walking toward the building’s garage. he’d never seen you before, but with how polished you looked, he assumed you were an executive from the building next door.

as the elevator doors opened, you stepped in, balancing the box awkwardly. jihoon, always one to lend a hand, offered to help. “need a hand with that?”

you glanced at him, considering for a moment before nodding. “thanks. these heels aren’t exactly helpful.”

he joined you in the elevator, the silence between you comfortable, but his mind was racing with curiosity. as you both reached the garage, he noticed you leading him towards a car that made his heart skip a beat—a fucking mclaren. he didn’t even know people actually drove those in real life, let alone parked them in this garage.

he put the box in the trunk, which was, unsurprisingly, really fucking small. as he stepped back, you smiled at him, a smile that seemed out of place in this concrete underground. “thank you, jihoon.”

his eyes widened. “y-you know me?” he stammered, pointing at himself like an idiot.

you nodded, your expression calm. “yes, i’m new here, but i do know you.”

he nodded back, still processing. “which department are you in?”

you extended your hand, and he shook it, your grip firm, confident. “i’m the new ceo.”

for a moment, jihoon just stood there, staring at you. the new ceo? no fucking way. his brain scrambled to process the information. you, the ceo? the woman who looked like you stepped off the pages of some high-fashion magazine, driving a car that cost more than his entire apartment building?

“i—uh—” he fumbled for words, his usual composure slipping for the first time in a long while. “i didn’t expect... i mean, you...”

you raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “didn’t expect the ceo to be a woman?”

“no, not that!” he rushed to correct himself, heat rising to his face. “i just... didn’t expect someone like you.”

“someone like me?” you echoed, a hint of a challenge in your voice.

“yeah, someone who... actually talks to people and doesn’t act like an asshole,” he finished, his voice quieter, as if testing the waters.

you laughed then, a sound that echoed in the empty garage. “well, let’s just say i have a different approach.”

he nodded, still in a bit of shock. “i can see that.”

“i look forward to working with you, jihoon,” you said, stepping closer, and for a moment, he felt the weight of your gaze, like you were seeing right through him. “i’ve heard a lot about your work.”

“all good things, i hope,” he replied, trying to regain some semblance of cool.

“very good things,” you confirmed, your voice dropping just slightly, enough to make him swallow hard.

you turned to get into your car, and jihoon stood there, still trying to wrap his head around everything. before you drove off, you rolled down the window and called out, “and jihoon?”

“yeah?”

“don’t let the last ceo’s bullshit get to you. you’re worth more than that.”

and you made sure jihoon knew that. almost every day, he’d find a new box waiting in front of his studio. first, it was new producing equipment, then a sleek electric guitar, followed by expensive microphones, headphones, and even a whole computer setup. within a week or two—despite him appearing almost on his knees, begging you to stop showering him with such expensive things—his entire studio was completely renovated.

but you weren't stopping there. if you liked him this much, why not give him a whole new studio? you were already planning to move the company to a bigger, more luxurious building, so why not make sure jihoon’s space matched his talent? when you saw how happy it made him, you realized you were willing to give him anything.

soon, the presents started getting more personal. a high-end watch here, a guitar that had once belonged to a famous musician—a relic he could hardly believe was his. sometimes, you’d send something cute like a teddy bear with Swarovski crystals for eyes.

or when you surprised him with a vip ticket to see his favorite artist—that one was a real game-changer. the joy in his eyes when he got to meet them was unmatched, and in the middle of that fan meeting, with everyone around, he’d grabbed you and kissed you right on the mouth, too caught up in the moment to care. it was instinctual, the way his lips found yours, and it left you stunned, right in the middle of all those people.

later, when you were alone, you asked for another kiss, just to see if it was a fluke. just to see what he’d do, to test if his cold walls would melt. and they did. oh, they did.

he didn’t just kiss you. he pulled you close, his lips pressing against yours with an intensity that had you gasping into his mouth. his hands, usually so precise and controlled in the studio, roamed over your body with an urgency that made your skin tingle.

“you like spoiling me, don’t you?” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. before you could respond, one of his hands slipped under your skirt, fingers brushing against your already wet panties. “i should thank you properly.”

he moved you back until you hit the edge of the desk, his hands steadying you as he pulled you up, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. he kissed you deeper, harder, and you could feel the desire rolling off him in waves.

“jihoon—” you started, but your words were cut off as he slid one finger inside you, his touch skilled, confident, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he added another finger, stretching you, his thumb brushing over your clit with just enough pressure to make you arch into him.

you didn’t even care about the office door or the fact that anyone could walk in. all you could focus on was him—his fingers working you over, bringing you right to the edge. he leaned in, kissing along your neck, your pulse quickening under his lips as he whispered, “let me take care of you, yeah?”

you nodded, unable to find your voice as he continued to finger you, the pleasure building until it was almost unbearable. his free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as you rocked against him, chasing the release that was so close you could taste it.

“jihoon, please,” you gasped, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more, needing him.

with one last kiss, he pulled his fingers out, and you whimpered at the loss, but he was already undoing his pants, his eyes locked on yours. “jump up,” he ordered, his voice rough, full of need.

you didn’t hesitate, letting him guide you as you jumped, your legs wrapping around him again as he positioned himself. he didn’t tease, didn’t make you wait. he pushed inside you with one smooth thrust, filling you completely, and the sensation made you both groan.

his hands were firm on your hips, holding you steady as he started to move, his pace hard and fast, like he couldn’t get enough. each thrust sent a shock of pleasure through you, and you clung to him, nails digging into his back, moaning his name like a prayer.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he drove into you, each thrust hitting that perfect spot that had you seeing stars.

“jihoon,” you whimpered, your voice high and needy, and he groaned in response, his pace quickening, his grip on you tightening as he chased his own release.

he was relentless, his hips moving in that perfect rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of you with an assertiveness that left you breathless. you could feel yourself unraveling, the pleasure building until you were right on the edge, teetering, ready to falll.

“come for me,” he whispered, his voice rough, and that was all it took. with one final thrust, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you, leaving you trembling in his arms, your cries muffled against his neck.

jihoon followed right after, his grip on you almost bruising as he came, buried deep inside you, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath ragged and uneven.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “maybe we should do this more often.”

so often, so fucking often, that you couldn’t tell anymore if it was a habit or something more—an obsession, maybe. your office and his studio, the places where this all started, now felt too tame, too boring to fuck in. jihoon had to be more creative, and so did you.

jihoon made sure to fuck you in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of whatever high-rise hotel you were staying in, the city lights sprawling out beneath you as he thrust into you from behind. the last time, some guest from the hotel across the way didn’t appreciate the show, but honestly? you couldn’t have cared less. not with the way jihoon’s hands gripped your hips, his breath hot on your neck, your moans muffled against the glass.

at every award show, he always made sure to dedicate his success to you first. you, who after a long day of work, would head to his studio, where he’d be waiting. there, he’d produce tracks with one hand on the mouse and the other busy finger-fucking you, fast and relentless, as you sat on his lap, struggling to stay composed.

it became a tradition for the two of you to explore sex shops in different countries. you’d pick out new types of condoms, wild flavors, and textures neither of you had seen before. aphrodisiac potions that had the two of you almost ripping each other apart, desperate to feel more, to push further. there were always those little surprises, like thai sex toys that were so intense you couldn’t even look at them without feeling your knees go weak. jihoon loved trying out new things with you, always pushing the boundaries, always finding new ways to make you both lose control.

and you pampered him, oh, how you loved to spoil him. designer clothes, always checking that they wouldn’t irritate his sensitive skin. you introduced him to new experiences all around the world, things he never even knew he wanted until you made it happen. and when you moved his family to a better house, just down the street from where the two of you lived, it felt like you were finally giving him everything he deserved.

you’d met his family a couple of times—sweet people who clearly adored him, and you, by extension. but on the third visit, something changed.

maybe it was the way his mother beamed at you, or the way his father patted your back with such warmth. or maybe it was just the way jihoon looked at you, like you hung the stars just for him. you didn’t even think, you just knew you had to ask.

“will you marry me?”

for a second, everything was silent. jihoon froze, the piece of kimchi still hanging halfway to his mouth. you saw the color drain from his face, his eyes widening like you just told him aliens had landed in the backyard.

“y-you—what?”

you wondered if you’d broken him. then, his knees buckled, and before anyone could react, he was on the floor, out cold.

“jihoon!”

his family already there, fanning him with whatever they could find, pouring water into his mouth like he was a dehydrated athlete at halftime.

“jihoon, wake up!” his mother shouted, disbelief in her voice. “this is not the time to faint!”

“somebody get him water!” his dad shouted, even though he was already holding the glass right in front of jihoon’s face.

“what did you do to him?!” his cousin accused, though you could see the slight amusement in her eyes.

“i just asked him to marry me!” you defended.

jihoon’s father just laughed, shaking his head. “i knew this would happen.”

finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds, jihoon’s eyes fluttered open. he looked around at all the concerned faces, then up at you.

“i’m marrying you!” jihoon suddenly gasped, sitting up so quickly that you nearly toppled over. his eyes were wide, pure joy. “yes, i’ll marry you!”