Chapter Text
In the grand scheme of things, Jimin probably couldn’t have fucked up any more than he just did. He’s supposed to have a stack of financial reports on Seokjin’s desk by three and he realized at two that he’d done the wrong reports (those were due tomorrow at three). At two fifty, he ran back and forth between his desk and the printer, after finding out he’d accidentally printed out the reports in landscape orientation instead of portrait and half of the figures had been cut off as a result. If he didn’t have his report on Seokjin’s desk exactly at three, he’d likely get reamed out in front of the entire office again.
Safe to say, between running across the office from his desk to his printer multiple times with the clock ticking steadily, he hadn’t been paying much attention to where he’d been going or who’d been walking by. He slams full force into someone, unable to catch himself before he’s tumbling to the ground, his glasses flying off of his face. Jimin grabs at his glasses just as the voice booms out loudly, angrily, “What the fuck are you doing!?”
Even before he secures his small, wireframed glasses on his face, he instantly recognizes the sound of the head CEO. Min Yoongi is glaring at him, his white shirt stained with espresso from the iced americano in his hand. The only saving grace is that the drink isn’t scalding hot. Jimin’s papers flutter down in a mess around him, like snowflakes gracefully falling from the sky. Jimin doesn’t even think to pick them up before he’s quickly scrambling onto his knees and bending his head so low his forehead touches the ground. “I’m so so so sorry Min daepyonim, I wasn’t looking where I was going and it’s entirely my fault. Please don’t fire me.”
Jimin doesn’t even dare to look up until he hears the click of Yoongi’s heel just next to his head, the sight of a fine, black leather shoe coming into his vision. “Stand up,” Yoongi growls, rage barely contained as he uses the tip of his shoe to lift Jimin’s head up off the ground, “What’s your name?”
“Park Jimin, Min daepyonim sir,” Jimin says as he slowly looks up at the head of the company, heat trickling up his spine as fear washes over him. Yoongi is not happy, his scowl so fierce on his face that Jimin hopes the earth will just swallow him up instead. It’d be less terrifying. “I work in accounting and finance.”
“I didn’t fucking ask for your department,” Yoongi says as he reaches a hand out, palm against Jimin’s forehead as he pushes the worker’s head back until he can’t go any further. “How are you going to fix this?” the boss asks as he motions to his shirt that now has a large brown stain setting into the fabric.
“I can pay for it sir, I want to!” Jimin begs, clasping his hands together and pleading with all his might. It doesn’t matter if it costs him a hundred thousand won to fix it, if he can keep his job, it’s worth it. Even if it means that he’ll have to eat the cheap ramyeon from the supermarket for an entire month, keeping his job is way more important. How can he get another job in any other company if he gets fired from one of the best companies in all of Korea? His resume would get trashed the second any hiring managers sees he barely lasted six months here, especially since he’d be unable to explain the termination away. “Please don’t fire me.”
“Fire you?” Yoongi asks, snarling as he pushes the employee back hard enough that Jimin lands flat on his butt, “You’re going to be working for me for the rest of your life to pay me back for this.” Jimin feels his face pale at the threat, though he should logically be happy that he can still come to work tomorrow. That is, assuming Seokjin doesn’t fire him for handing in his report a second late. “Report to me first thing in the morning.”
Yoongi turns on his heel to march back to his office, leaving Jimin sitting amongst his papers and only a minute left until Seokjin’s deadline.
Jimin spends the entire night fretting about how he’s supposed to face the CEO tomorrow morning, trying to decide how early he needs to be just to try and appease the boss. He tries to ask his friends for advice, but they’re unsurprisingly useless. “Just give him a good fuck,” Jungkook says, voice bored and uninterested, probably playing games on the other end of the voice call.
“Yeah, you said your CEO is hot as fuck and you want him to bend you over his desk, right? Or was that the other CEO you always talk about?” Taehyung asks on his end of the line, “Just get him off a few times and you should be golden.”
Jimin cannot believe what he’s hearing. “Just fuck the CEO of my company and that’ll solve all my life problems?”
Jungkook clicks his tongue, “Well if you’re lucky he might ask you to do it again. Maybe after he takes you to a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant.”
“I’m going to hang up,” Jimin warns, “You cannot seriously be encouraging me to start up a sugar baby relationship with my boss.”
“We gotta do what we gotta do in this capitalistic society,” Taehyung counters on his end of the line. Jimin hangs up, only to receive a phone call approximately twenty seconds later, “Ok but really, the least you can do is to bring him a coffee too since you spilled his all over him.”
So Jimin finds himself waiting outside of Min Yoongi’s office at seven AM sharp with an iced americano in hand and his credit card in the other. He just prays that Yoongi doesn’t use the most expensive dry-cleaning service in Seoul. Honestly, Jimin’s never been this early to the office before, simply grateful that one of the secretaries is here to let him in the building at all. He has no idea what time the boss usually gets in because by the time that his job starts at nine, Yoongi’s already working away in his office. Jimin sits on the couch that’s situated outside of the CEO’s office for guests and pulls his phone out.
It’s almost eight thirty by the time that the secretary stands up to give the CEO a deep bow as he opens the door to the office. Jimin quickly stashes his phone in his pocket, straightens his tie, and mirrors the secretary’s bow. Yoongi opens the door to his personal office and flicks the lights on, throwing his briefcase on the black leather couch against the wall. He waves Jimin in and motions for the younger to close the door behind him.
This is the first time that he’s ever been in the CEO’s office, amazed at how spacious and luxurious it is. The office is probably the same size as Jimin’s entire studio apartment is on the outskirts of Seoul, the interior black and gold like royalty. There’s a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling that reflects in the floor to ceiling windows. In the center of the room is a giant table meant to hold meetings, with Yoongi’s desk in the back of the office. As Jimin gets further into the office, he feels the sweat prickling at the back of his neck. Yoongi will definitely opt for the most expensive dry-cleaning service.
The CEO takes his seat behind the desk and turns his computer on, the sound of the OS loading up ringing in the huge office. “Sir, I brought you coffee,” Jimin says as he extends the drink out, not daring to put it on the desk. Since he’d bought it nearly two hours ago, there’s nothing left to show for ice cubes. Even the condensation has since dried off of the plastic cup.
“Are you going to spill that on me too?” Yoongi asks as he raises an eyebrow. Jimin feels his face explode into fire as he pulls it back, embarrassed that he’d bought the coffee in the first place. Why did he ever let Taehyung talk him into anything? “Come over here, Jimin-ah.” He doesn’t like the way that Yoongi says his name, sounding condescending rather than friendly. Yoongi pushes a coaster over towards Jimin and he sets it on the small piece of tile. He supposes it’s to keep the marble on Yoongi’s desk pristine.
There are a few photos that are in frames behind his desk, pictures of Yoongi and a woman, presumably his wife. Neither of them are smiling in any of the photos. In fact, they aren’t even touching at all in them, shoulders kept far apart and looking like they’d rather be anywhere but with each other. His wife is beautiful though, akin to an actress or a model.
“So, last night I looked up which designer’s shirt you ruined yesterday. When I consulted my personal shopper, they informed me that it was a limited edition by a Parisian fashion designer.” Yoongi telecasts his computer screen onto the giant TV that hangs behind the CEO’s desk, showing Jimin a designer’s name that he’s never seen before, but the entire website is in French. Jimin pales as he starts to realize what Yoongi is getting at.
“I paid about 10 million won for this shirt, but getting it replaced will cost about triple that, since it’s no longer being made,” Yoongi says as he pulls up the email from his personal shopper who writes that she can confirm the correct size for only a measly 29 million won. Jimin feels his legs quickly turn to jelly, his head spinning as he realizes that’s already half of his yearly salary.
“Dry-cleaning?” Jimin squeaks out as he stares at the number, counting the zeroes until he confirms three times that it really is 29 million won.
Yoongi lets out an amused chuckle, “That’s cute. I wouldn’t let even the best dry-cleaners in Seoul touch that shirt. Unless you want to pay for French dry-cleaning.”
Why couldn’t Yoongi just wear a normal department store button up? Why did he have to wear some designer with limited edition business wear anyways? Jimin wonders if maybe it’d be easier to just get fired from the company and try his hand at getting a job in Busan instead. He could live with his parents until he gets enough money to rent an apartment, could probably make a healthy wage while living closer to home. He could probably see Jihyun more often, maybe-
“There’s also interest,” Yoongi adds, “Unless you have a credit card limit that will let you pay for the shirt up front.” Maybe Jimin can find a job in America. “I’m willing to overlook the interest if you’re good enough though.”
Jimin isn’t even processing what Yoongi is saying anymore, his mind wandering to figuring out if he can just get a job at a Samsung branch in America or if he’ll have to invest heavily in English classes just to start interviewing. When his brain finally catches up with what Yoongi’s said, Jimin shakes his head and arches an eyebrow, “Good enough at what?”
“Sucking cock,” Yoongi says simply, “Surely such pretty lips ought to be put to good use.”
Jimin can feel his face draining of color, “Uh, uh,” he stutters like a broken record, brain suddenly going way too fast in the other direction. He pinches his own thigh to make sure he’s not dreaming, jumping at the pain when he realizes this is reality. Taehyung and Jungkook had been right? “Your wife though,” Jimin counters, stammering and sounding like Yoongi’s knocked a few screws loose in his head.
The CEO scoffs and rolls his eyes, “I haven’t even seen that woman for over two months.” The venom behind the words ‘that woman’ doesn’t really put Jimin’s mind at complete ease, but at least Jimin doesn’t have to worry about being a homewrecker. “She’s got her array of toys, I should get to have one myself.” Jimin flushes red at the insinuation that he’s just some sort of hole to fuck, but he also doesn’t have much room to argue when he’s looking at a 29 million won shirt on the TV screen behind his boss. “I’ve been eyeing you for months.”
“You... have?” Jimin asks, completely blindsided by the confession. He hadn’t noticed any sort of attention from the boss, never caught him staring or ever had any sort of inkling that Yoongi even knew he existed.
“How could I not when you have bright red hair?” Yoongi asks, knitting his hands together and pushing back a bit from his desk. He places his hands just over his stomach and Jimin catches sight of the erection tenting the CEO’s pants. “Technically, it’s against company policy, but you look sexy with it, so I asked your manager to not write you up for it.” Thinking back on it, he did recall Seokjin mentioning that his hair color was not ‘professional’ enough for the office, but he never brought it up again. “Now, tell me if you accept or if I should go over the interest rate percentages instead. I will warn you; they’re in the high double digits.”
“I accept,” Jimin says firmly. He can blow his boss this once before he spends all night searching for any job outside of Korea that will hire someone who only speaks Korean.
Yoongi nods as he rolls his chair back just a bit more as Jimin comes behind the desk, feeling his heart race as he sinks down onto his knees. The carpet is at least comforting on his bony knees. The elder undoes his belt and unzips his black pants, pulling his dick out and giving it a few strokes. Jimin can’t help but widen his eyes as he catches sight of his boss’s dick; it’s bigger than any other he’s ever seen! He can probably deepthroat like a professional, but this will be a challenge for even him. Maybe, if accounting doesn’t pan out, he could get a job in porn?
“So, the interest rate,” Yoongi starts, prompting Jimin to quickly lean in, licking a stripe up along the underside of Yoongi’s dick with the flat of his tongue. The elder groans at the sensation, sliding a hand into Jimin’s red hair and gripping at the roots, guiding him down and back up again before he’s pushing the head against Jimin’s lips. “Shit, just like that,” Yoongi encourages as Jimin flicks the tip of his tongue against the sensitive underside of the head.
It’s only a few more laps of his tongue before he’s opening his lips and wrapping them around the head, sucking steadily and listening to the CEO moan. Jimin laves the head with his tongue, digging it into the slit. Yoongi’s breathing is getting heavier as Jimin works and it isn’t long until the elder pushes Jimin down until the head hits the back of his throat. The suddenness makes him gag, pulling back sharply only to be forced back down again. Jimin swallows around the hardness in his mouth, the elder letting out a heavy moan at the sensation.
Jimin begins sucking more, harder as his hand comes up to wrap around the base. He strokes what doesn’t fit, which is a lot considering how big Yoongi is. Jimin’s no size queen, but he wonders what it would be like to get fucked by Yoongi. The thought makes him flush with want, feeling the way that his white button-up is clinging to his neck where the sweat is beginning to form. The elder pushes Jimin down just a bit more, insistent but not forceful, until Jimin’s lips are meeting his fist and Yoongi’s cockhead is buried in his throat.
Jimin pulls back to let himself breathe again, taking in quick breaths through his nose while he hollows his cheeks around the elder. “Knew your mouth was made to get fucked,” Yoongi breathes out as he thrusts his hips a bit, Jimin choking a bit but quickly recovering. The elder slides the other hand into Jimin’s hair and pulls him down again, repeating the movement, abusing Jimin’s throat. “Swallow it all,” Yoongi grits out as his hips speed up, until he’s groaning as he spills down Jimin’s throat.
The red-head takes it all, swallowing diligently as the elder rides out his orgasm. When the CEO releases Jimin’s roots, Jimin feels dizzy, sitting back on his haunches just to recenter himself. “I think we can eliminate any interest,” Yoongi says as he tucks himself back into his pants, Jimin slowly standing up. If Yoongi catches sight of Jimin’s own half-hard dick, he doesn’t say anything. Jimin prefers it that way.
“If I need you, I’ll call for you,” Yoongi says as he turns back to his computer and cuts the telecast to the TV, clearly getting ready to start work for the day. He does, however, reach out and takes the americano that Jimin’s left for him, opening the straw wrapper and poking it into the lid. “I’ll send you the bill once my shopper’s confirmed the purchase. Now, I believe you begin work in five minutes.”
Jimin nods as he tries to think of literally anything else in the world to will his erection away, but he comes up short. He’ll have to just make a dash for the bathroom and jerk off faster than he’s ever had to in his life. His hand is on the doorhandle when Yoongi clears his throat loudly enough that Jimin turns to him, “Oh, and Jimin, you should try to keep this arrangement from spreading throughout the company. For my wife’s sake.”