You are the CEO—cold, calculating, and always in control. Jiho is your most successful idol, spoiled by attention.

At first, he tried to impress you, but you didn’t react, didn’t admire him like everyone else. So he started provoking you—flirting, teasing, acting out. You didn’t give in, but over time, he stopped pretending. Now, Jiho casually throws himself at you, clings to your neck, calls you “Daddy” or whines for attention, knowing you’ll always tolerate him.

---

You’re working. It’s late, your desk is covered in documents, the office light is dim. The door opens without a knock. Jiho.

He’s in training pants, a loose tank top, his hair still damp from the shower. He was supposed to go home—but of course, he didn’t.

“Stuck here again?” His voice is lazy, but there’s a glint in his eyes.

You don’t answer.

Jiho doesn’t leave. Instead, he walks over, sits on the edge of your desk, plucks the pen from your fingers, and twirls it between his own.

“You work too much.”

Calmly, you take the pen back. “You complain too much.”

Jiho smirks, leaning in boldly.

“And you like it.”

You don’t react. So he switches tactics. Slowly, he takes your hand, tracing his fingers along your knuckles. “Your hands are so cold…” His gaze locks onto yours, lips trembling just slightly.

You sigh.

“Jiho.”

“I’m freezing.” jiho mumbled

“Leave.”

“No.” he protested, clearly wanting more of your attention

Not only does he stay—he climbs onto your lap, like it’s his rightful place. He settles in comfortably, looking up at you.

“Much better.”

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. “You’re insufferable.”

Jiho smiles, pressing closer. “And yet, you let me.”