Sick And Twisted @manifestobackshot - Tumblr Blog

CLOSING SHIFT — LEE HEESEUNG

Since you’ve started working at Target, you’ve always been scheduled with Heeseung as your closing shift manager. Zone, organize, stock, assist—things that were outlined in your job application and employee handbook. Now, nowhere in your job description did it lay out an affair with your manager, Heeseung.

PAIRING: retail manager!lee heeseung x employee!afab reader

WORDCOUNT: 19.1k

TAGS: smut, (semi)-public sex, oral (male-receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, implied breeding kink, some girl on top action, jealous heeseung, work bestie sunoo, etl jungwon

AUTHORS NOTE: some possible useful terms... ETL: Executive Team Lead (manager) Team Member/TM: employee Zoning: organizing and making an area accessible to customers Tarbucks: Starbucks in target Bullseye: the Target dog “What’s your 20?” : What’s your location/Where are you?

“Girl, fuck it. Put your pleasure first, it’s not that serious.”

“Didn’t you literally tell me, at orientation, to not mix business and pleasure?”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, “Well, that was HR Sunoo speaking. When my apron’s on, I get real.”

“Whatever, just give me my damn latte,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from Sunoo.

“Grande caramel macchiato for… HR disaster?”

“Oh my god, stop,” you rolled your eyes. “I haven’t even done anything worth a write-up—”

“Yet,” Sunoo interrupted, earning him a middle-finger as you walked away from Tarbucks.

You couldn’t help but find humor in the irony of Sunoo walking you through the ins-and-outs of Target from the corporate level all the way down to the unwritten rules during your orientation, just to now tell you to indulge in your desires. For the first week or so of your employment, there was a new horror story from “HR Sunoo” about Target drama prior to your time there.

Retail’s number one rule, don’t fuck your coworkers.

At some point, “HR Sunoo” stopped telling you old tales of hook-ups and dating. Maybe it was him spending more time in his cross-trained department as a Tarbucks barista, or maybe it was the way someone looked at you that made him annoy the shit out of you with questions, all along the lines of ‘got a work crush yet?’

You’d never guess that Sunoo worked in HR the way his eyes lit up the first time you said, “Well, there’s this guy,” a couple months into your specialty sales role. You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he interrupted, “which team member is it?”

“Well about that…it’s Heeseung.”

“Girl. You know you can’t do that, he’s a team lead.”

…Retail’s second rule, don’t fuck your manager. In your defense, he wasn’t your manager, he was just a manager.

You were rarely around Heeseung at work, though. You spent most of your time running around in the clothing departments and in the backrooms. He spent his time in the front by the check lanes and guest services, usually having no reason to interact with you.

It started with glances, continued with greetings, and escalated with conversation. It was hard to forget him when you passed by the front. At first, it was simply because he was attractive to you, just being the hot dude by checkout for some time. Then, you learned his name. You greeted him. He greeted you. You would find reasons to come to the front. He would stop by your section to make conversation.

Before you knew it, Heeseung became the highlight of your shifts, and you’re sure other people noticed too. Sunoo certainly did.

In the beginning, Sunoo would remind you of the rulebook—of what’s wrong and what’s right. But, as with most things, he gave in to the drama of it all. During your 15 minute breaks, during your lunches, during work, outside of work…he always wanted updates, and best believe, he was getting them.

To Heeseung, every gesture or interaction of yours was all for him. Thinking as much was what motivated him to actually give a shit after clocking in.

At first, he tried to fight it—work is work, keep everything else in life separate from it. But, it bubbled and grew to a point where it was undeniable. Perhaps he was seeking a little more than cordiality, and why not play into it? It’s not like he was actually crossing any boundaries with you.

Unfortunately for him, other men were hoping for the same with you. The sleazeballs at the front would talk about you, ogling at the same things Heeseung did, only difference being they vocalized their thoughts.

Heeseung would internally roll his eyes every time a male team member would bring up your different hairstyles, the way you carried yourself on certain days, the way the denim of your jeans would hug your curves… they just didn’t get you the way he did.

Yes, he had the same thoughts. Yes, he hated when they talked about you like that.

Maybe it was delusion, maybe it was reality, but Heeseung would scoff whenever his front-end team members would swear up and down that you ‘looked at them a certain way,’ or that you ‘wanted them.’ In his head, you don’t do that with anyone except him.

In particular, Jake was guilty of indulging a little too much in this coworker fantasy, and it pissed Heeseung off.

“Nah she wants me,” Jake told Sunghoon, “she came into my checkout lane today before she clocked in. In that outfit? She does it on purpose—”

“Does what?” Heeseung chimed, cocking a brow at Jake.

“Dress like that,” Jake breathed, “it’s fucking crazy. Not to be brash but, I’d hit.”

Like what? he questioned, pondering for only a moment before you passed by, as if on cue.

Jake nudged Heeseung, “Like fuck, you get me right?”

Heeseung outwardly rolled his eyes, but inwardly he was ogling at you, possibly even worse than Jake was. He knew that he was down bad because the mere implication of you dressing for Jake or anyone that wasn’t Heeseung raised his heart rate more than he’d like to admit.

He completely drowned out Jake’s horny rambling as he replayed the vision of you walking by in his head. You like your tight tops, you like your cropped tops too, but never have you worn this shirt or anything like it. Heeseung knew he should write you up for a dress code violation, but that would mean you’d never wear that around him again.

All day, he lingered around your section longer than usual, finding any excuse to make conversation, personal or professional. Every time you bent down to fix something or reached up to adjust items, Heeseung watched you like a hawk. Every sliver of skin he got to see made the pit in his core burn hotter.

God, you had to have been doing it for him, right?

You had to have known what that was doing for a man like him—the way you looked at him through your lashes, knowing he can see straight down your shirt at your cleavage, or the way you turned away to pick something up, or simply the way you looked at him.

He hoped that all the effort you put into your looks was for him. The thought of such made him ache, desire bubbling beyond the point of simple fantasy and crossing over into the territory of taking action. Heeseung was not a stupid man, and he could see right through you.

Just like how you could see right through him.

“Honestly,” Sunoo said during your last break, fiddling haphazardly with the milk steamer, “I think you could seduce him without even trying.”

You sipped your drink and stared at him. “Why is that the most dangerous thing you’ve ever said to me?”

“Because it’s true,” he said, swirling a straw in his pink drink. “You’re giving workplace eye candy realness, and he? He literally leaned on the service desk just to show off his arms.“

“He was probably just tired. I think that apron is tied so tight it’s cutting off blood flow to your brain.”

“He was definitely trying to look hot while staring at you near swimwear. It’s his thing.”

You groaned. “I’m not flirting back.”

You tried not to think about it too much—how close Heeseung stood when he asked how your shift was going, or how he said your name in a tone that made “What's your 20?” sound like an invitation.

It didn’t help that every time you walked past Guest Services, he looked up. Even when he was with a guest. Even when he was deep in conversation with a cashier or another TL. Like his eyes were always looking for you.

You chalked it up to coincidence.

Until he started showing up in your section.

The first time it happened, it was easy to rationalize.

“Just making rounds,” Heeseung said, casually glancing at the endcap you were resetting in Women’s Performance like he knew what any of it meant. “You need anything back here?”

You blinked. “You’re doing rounds... in Softlines?”

Heeseung smiled. “You’d be surprised what gets stolen back here.”

Sunoo walked by five minutes later, barely disguised glee on his face. “Oh wow,” he said loudly, “Front End is in Style? Should I call AP?”

Heeseung in the fitting room hallway. Heeseung casually grabbing a damaged tag off a floor fixture that wasn’t even in his department. Heeseung asking you about your weekend availability like he hadn’t seen your schedule a hundred times.

You started noticing the way other people noticed, too.

Jake, mostly.

There was the time that Jake helped you stock the graphic tees, deliberately knocking piles of tees into your arms just so he could brush against you while “catching” them. His timing was too perfect, his movements too calculated to be accidental.

“Whoops.” he’d say, not even pretending to be sorry, fingers lingering on your waist a beat too long as he steadied the falling merchandise. The heat of his palm burned through your red shirt, and you found yourself leaning into the touch before catching yourself. You retaliated by “accidentally” sending a band tee sailing at his head. He caught it one-handed, winking. “Nice throw. But if you wanted me on my knees, you could’ve just asked. No need to knock me out.”

The flirting had become a dangerous game. Jake would find excuses to squeeze past you in the narrow stockroom aisles, his chest brushing your back as he reached for boxes on high shelves. “Excuse me,” he’d murmur, voice low and warm against your ear, staying pressed against you for just a second longer than necessary. You’d started timing your breaks to coincide with his, stealing moments by the loading dock where you could trade jokes and loaded glances without management breathing down your necks.

Then, there was that shift two weeks ago when you were both assigned to work the fitting rooms. Jake had cornered you by the return rack, close enough that you could smell his cologne mixed with that generic retail store scent of fabric softener and industrial carpet cleaner.

“You know,” he’d said, fingertips trailing along the sleeve of your polo, “we could make these boring shifts a lot more interesting.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, and for one reckless moment, you’d almost said yes. Almost let him kiss you right there between the clearance racks and the abandoned shopping carts. But then you heard Heeseung’s voice echoing from the main floor, calling for a price check, and reality crashed back down.

Speaking of Jake—you groaned internally as he sidled up next to you, his nametag crooked.”Hey, did you see the new schedule? Heeseung cut me down to eight hours this week,” the grumbled, arms crossed. “Think he’s got it out for me?”

You remembered other moments, too. The way Jake’s laugh would get a little too loud when you were within earshot. How he’d started wearing that cologne that made your head spin during your shared shifts. The time he’d “helped” you reorganize the jewelry display, standing so close behind you that every movement made his chest brush against your shoulders.

Once, you caught him muttering to Sunoo by the lockers, voice pitched low but still audible: “She’s not even being subtle anymore.”

To which Sunoo, your ever-loyal work bestie, had replied with characteristic bluntness: “Heeseung’s the one who scheduled her closing shifts three nights in a row. She’s just clocking in.”

As you rounded the corner, you passed the Women’s section, where someone had shoved what seemed like every style of jeans Target sold haphazardly throughout the display. You started sorting it properly, muscle memory at this point, when a shadow fell across the display.

“Helping out outside your zone again?”

The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

Heeseung.

You looked up too quickly and regretted it instantly. Why was the lighting in this store so flattering on him?

“Just making sure no one dies in a Universal Thread avalanche,” You said, forcing a smile. “You know. Hero stuff.”

Heeseung crouched next to the cart and started folding jeans alongside you. “You always this dedicated to the greater good?”

“I like my job.”

“I can tell.”

There was something in his voice—not teasing exactly, but thoughtful. Like he was cataloging something. Taking note.

You cleared your throat. “Did you need something?”

Heeseung glanced up at you. “No,” he said. “Just saw you and figured I’d say hey.”

“Oh,” You said, very articulately. “Cool.”

Cool?

Fuck, Heeseung.

The moment you clocked in, you knew it was going to be one of those shifts.

The store was understaffed—as usual—and the Ready to wear department looked like a tornado had swept through it. You were halfway through untangling a pile of graphic tees when Heeseung’s voice broke the silence, calling for you, of course.

Heeseung's voice was calm, professional, but you'd worked here long enough to hear the undercurrent of something else. Something that made your fingers tighten around the hanger in your hand.

You pressed the button. "Ready to wear. Doing go backs."

A beat of static. Then: "Copy. Need you in Shoes for a zone check."

Sunoo, who was pretending to organize the jewelry counter nearby, didn't even bother hiding his smirk. "Oh wow. Shoes. How urgent," he drawled, stirring his iced coffee with exaggerated innocence. "Should I become HR Sunoo now or—"

Shoes was empty when you got there—no guests, no team members, just rows of perfectly stacked shoes and the distinct feeling you were being watched.

"Zone looks fine to me," you said to no one in particular.

"Does it?"

You turned to find Heeseung leaning against the shelving unit, arms crossed, red tee a little more disheveled since the last time you saw him. His gaze dropped to your name tag,then back up to your face. "I think you missed a spot."

You arched a brow. "Really? Where?"

He stepped closer, reaching past you to adjust some boots that didn't need adjusting. His sleeve brushed your shoulder. "Here."

The air between you thickened, the scent of his cologne—something expensive and woodsy—filling your space. His fingers lingered on the shelf's edge, knuckles grazing your hip—contact you unconsciously welcomed.

It felt dangerous, for some reason. Your body’s willingness to accept him and not resist one bit was telling. Yet still, you were speechless at the situation you found yourself in, pinned between your ETL and some shelves.

No movement, no words. A small gasp is all he got out of you, and perhaps he was expecting more. The way Heeseung had you trapped under him, staring you down as if he were going to pounce on you at any moment, made your heart race faster than you would’ve liked to admit.

“Say,” he started, “how observant do you think I am?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Do I make you nervous?”

And again, you were at a loss for words, zoning in on the sight in front of you—he was mere inches away from you, gaze tracing from your eyes, to your lips, and back again. Still, so attentive through his lashes and half-lidded eyes.

In a low voice, he spoke, “I’d like to ask,” quiet so as to not stir attention, “why do I make you nervous?”

You could practically feel his voice dripping with satisfaction, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I…Hey, this is—”

“Do you like me or something?” he prodded, bringing his arms down to again graze your side, almost resting them along your hips as he steps closer, almost pressing his hips against your—

“HEESEUNG COME IN?”

He groaned as he stepped back from you and unclipped his walkie from his waistband.

“Go ahead.”

“Can you please come to the parking lot? Blue Prius just tapped me at 5 to 10 miles per hour,” Sunghoon pleaded.

“Copy,” Heeseung unenthusiastically responded, as he turned on his heels to head towards Sunghoon’s location. “I’ll be back.”

Dumbfounded, you just stood there, questioning what the hell just happened with Heeseung, your ETL. And fuck, you still have to close with him later.

“Are you the only one closing style?” Heeseung asked, speech muffled from the walkie.

“Think so,” you responded, “Jungwon’s here but he’s doing TL stuff in the office. He’s not gonna be in the sections it seems.”

“You doing okay with that then? Need help with something?”

“Sure...”

“Copy, I’ll be right there.”

Truthfully, you were doing fine. You had more than enough time in the past few hours to close all the sections and do a good zone. For once, you wished that some group of rowdy teenagers or a pissed off Karen would come in and wreak havoc in a section. Just so you could potentially see Heeseung fixing it, getting all sweaty and frustrated while organizing.

…And as if Bullseye heard your nasty, internal wishes, Heeseung approached and spotted the world’s smallest, most insignificant section that anyone could attempt to fix.

Instead of doing your job, you looked at Heeseung, his red polo looking too good under the dimmed lights. His top button was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the faint veins along his forearms.

“Alright, all done,” he remarked, quickly continuing to walk the rest of Style. He stopped just inside the fitting room entrance, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Have you cleared these out?”

“Don’t think so,” you replied as you went to grab the fitting room keys from one of the hooks to unlock and inspect all the rooms.

Heeseung started on the closer end of the fitting rooms, working way faster than you were. You worked from the last room to the standard ones. The difference in size made you realize how cramped the spaces were, hardly enough space for you to reach from end to end with your wingspan. You wished you hadn’t taken notes of the double mirrors, allowing you to see both your front and back, or the small bench in the corner, large enough to fit one—maybe two— people.

Your mind supplied images—him pressing you against one of those mirrors, his hands rough under your shirt, his mouth hot on your neck. The way he’d look at you, all dark eyes and bitten lips, as he—

“All clear,” Heeseung said, pulling you from your thoughts. He entered the fitting room you just opened and stepped into, the standard size fitting rooms, small… and now clear.

You blinked. The fitting rooms were clear.

But Heeseung hadn’t moved.

He stood there, watching you, the air between you thick enough to choke on.

In the enclosed space, you took in all of him, from his height down to the way he looked at you. It was like he was waiting on a question from you, his gaze unwavering. His lips slightly parted, as if to say something.

Instead, he closed the gap between you two.

“God, can we just stop ignoring it?”

Heeseung shut the door of the fitting room behind him, admiring your form right in front of him and in all the reflections of the mirrors adjacent to the two of you.

No words were exchanged, yet you felt the tension and ache in your body grow with him so close to you. Right in front of you. Just the two of you, distance closing in.

The moment stretched, thick with tension, as Heeseung’s fingers trailed from your hand to your wrist, his thumb pressing lightly on your pulse point. You felt how fast your heart was racing and you knew he could too.

“Heeseung—” you started, but his name came out breathless, barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” his voice was rough, teasing, as he stepped even closer, backing you against the fitting room mirror. The glass is cold but his body in front of you is warm and solid. “You were saying?”

You swallowed hard. “We shouldn’t—”

“Probably not,” he agreed, but he didn’t move. Instead, his free hand came up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “But I’ve been thinking about this all shift.”

Somewhere beyond the fitting room door, the distant beep of a walkie interrupted— Jungwon’s voice, sharp with annoyance. “Has anyone seen Heeseung? I need him to open the safe—”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening on your waist as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “Tell me to stop,” he challenged, voice barely audible.

You didn’t.

The moment your lips met, the world outside the fitting room ceased to exist. Heeseung’s hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you firmly against him as his mouth moved against yours with an aching hunger that only you could satisfy. Your Zebra clattered to the floor, forgotten, its screen illuminating the otherwise dark room.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, pulling a gasp from you that he swallowed greedily. “Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, fingers tangling in your hair. “I’ve wanted to do this since you walked in this morning”

The walkie on his hip sounded again— Jungwon’s irritated voice slicing through the haze. “HELLOOOO”

Heeseung wordlessly muted the walkie, his eyes never leaving you.

Jungwon was definitely pissed, but you barely noticed, not when his hands were sliding under your red shirt, fingers skimming the bare skin at your waist.

“You’ve never worn that before.” he said, lips trailing down your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse point. “I’d remember if you did.”

Breath hot on your neck, he whispered, “Or, the other guys would’ve told me. They want to eat you up so bad, you know that?”

His hips pressed forward, pinning you in place as his mouth found yours again, hotter this time, deeper. “And I listen to them talk about how fine you are, knowing I’m the only one that could,” looking at you straight in your eyes as he did so.

Heeseung didn’t even pause. Just shoved his hand down your pants, fingers slipping under your waistband with zero hesitation. “You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured, dragging his thumb in a slow circle that made your knees buckle. “All this for me?”

His fingers pressed deeper, teasing, testing, and you bit your lip hard enough to taste copper.

“I like watching you with guests,” he murmured, lips grazing your ear. “So fucking polite. So eager to please.” His thumb dragged slow over your clit, and you choked back a whimper. “You listen so well when they tell you what to do.”

You gripped the wall behind you, knuckles white. “Heeseung—”

“Would you do that for me?” His voice dropped to a rough whisper, fingers working you with cruel precision. “Follow my orders like you do theirs?”

The risk of being caught should’ve stopped you.

It didn’t.

You arched into his touch, breath ragged. “Try me.”

He laughed, dark and satisfied, and finally sank two fingers into you. “Good girl.”

The air was thick with desire and something far more dangerous as Heeseung slowly withdrew his fingers from your pants. His eyes never left yours—dark, hungry, smug- as he brought them to his lips.

The swipe of his tongue was deliberate. Obscene. A performance just for you.

“Sweet,” he murmured, licking the last trace of you from his skin. “Just like I knew you’d be.”

Your face burned, your body still reeling from his touch. You opened your mouth—to protest, to beg, you weren’t sure—when you heard something in the distance.

He didn’t move, just smirked, wiping his damp fingers on the edge of your new red shirt as if to mark his territory.

Your phone buzzed violently in your pocket for the fifth time, the screen lighting up against your thigh as Heeseung’s teeth grazed your neck.

Sunoo don’t make me come find you girl im hungry i gotta go home

You groaned, tipping your head back against the mirror. “Fuck. Sunoo’s gonna kill me-”

Heeseung’s hand slid higher up your thigh as he nipped at your jaw. “Ignore him.”

Your phone buzzed again.

Sunoo GIRL. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH.

The moment Sunoo’s voice cut through the fitting room—”Girl, I know you hear me. My phone’s about to die and I am not sleeping in this jank parking lot.” You jerked back, caught off guard.

Heeseung’s grip tightened on your hip for one delicious, dangerous second—not letting go—before he reluctantly released you with a low exhale through his nose. “Go,” he muttered, voice rough, “before he kills you… or both of us.”

You scrambled to straighten your shirt. Heeseung leaned back against the fitting room door, watching you with an amused expression as you desperately tried to look less destroyed.

Your car's engine wheezed as Sunoo slammed the passenger door. He shoved his third Tarbucks monstrosity—some unholy caramel-vanilla-cinnamon abomination—into the cupholder with enough force to shake your hanging air freshener.

“What took you so damn long?” Sunoo demanded, buckling his seatbelt with an aggressive yank.” I swear you better have a good reason ‘cause I gotta go home and watch White Lotus—”

“Heeseung.” You cut him off, gripping the wheel like it might save you from this conversation.

“What.” Sunoo’s head swiveled toward you so fast that you could feel the migraine from your seat.

“So you interrupted something very important, actually,” you said, half-joking, half-serious.

A beat of silence. Then—

“Okay,” Sunoo’s voice dripped with faux solemnity as he leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief. “So you were fucking a team lead. As a team member cross-trained in HR, I’m obligated to—”

“You’re lucky I haven’t crashed this fuckass Toyota Camry yet,” you snapped, swerving around a pothole hard enough to make the loose change in the console rattle.

Sunoo gasped, clutching his chest. “Wow. Did I make him rip it out of you or something? Not my fault. You should’ve fucked earlier in the day.”

“We were NOT fucking,”

“Okay good.” Sunoo held his hands up in mock surrender. “ I was gonna be HR Sunoo for a sec and consider writing you up.”

You groaned, thumping your head against the steering wheel. “I literally hate you. I’ll just stop taking you home the—”

“NO.” Sunoo’s composure shattered instantly. “ You know the last time I took the bus with Sunghoon, he dropped all his change coming in and the bus driver was so mad he didn’t use his brakes the entire ride.”

“Exactly,” you said, turning onto his street with deliberate slowness.” So keep this between us, copy?”

Sunoo slumped back in his seat, stirring his drink. A long pause. Then, grudgingly:

“...Copy.”

The car rolled to a stop outside his apartment complex. Sunoo unbuckled his seatbelt with a dramatic sigh, then paused, one foot already out the door.

“...Was it at least good, though?”

You flipped him off as he exited.

The fluorescent lights of the employee entrance buzzed overhead as you pushed through the doors, the familiar scent of industrial cleaner and stale coffee hitting you all at once. It was unsettling how normal everything looked—how completely unchanged the world was after last night. The scuffed tile floor, the faint hum of the breakroom microwave, the way Riki, the security guy, nodded at you with the same bored expression he always had.

“Morning,” you said, flashing a quick smile.

Riki barely glanced up from his phone. “Hey.”

That was it. No knowing smirk, no raised eyebrows, no “So, heard you and Heeseung got real cozy in the fitting rooms last night.” Just another day.

You entered your number at the time clock,

Your locker door stuck like always—you had to hip-check it twice before it finally groaned open. Inside: your work shoes, a half-empty water bottle, and a crumpled receipt from last week’s lunch. Nothing out of place. Nothing to suggest that less than 12 hours ago you’d been tangled up with Heeseung in the fitting rooms, Heeseung’s hands leaving marks you could still feel if you thought about it too hard.

You shoved your bag inside, trading it for a walkie. The static crackle of Jake’s voice came through—”Need backup in Guest Services, someone’s trying to do a no receipt return.” and you clipped it waist like you’d done a thousand times before. A quick glance in the mirror: hair messy, lips slightly swollen, the ghost of a bruise peeking out from under your collar. You tugged your shirt higher, ran a hand through your hair, and slapped your nametag on like armor.

Click. The locker shut.

And just like that, you were back.

No one looked at you twice. No one knew.

You took a deep breath and stepped onto the sales floor.

The world kept turning.

On the way to check your assignments for the day, you pass by Starbucks, where you see Sunoo.

So that’s where he was today.

“Rough morning?” you asked, taking the lid off of your iced coffee to stir in more splenda than appropriate.

Sunoo wiped his hands on his apron. “Jake tried to reorganize the pastry case by vibes. I made him fix it, but not before we lost two cake pops to the cause.”

You snorted. “At least it wasn’t—"

The door opened. Sunghoon stood framed in the doorway, his neon vest askew.

“Parking lot incident,” he announced, dropping into the chair beside you.

Sunoo didn’t look up from the caramel macchiato he was arguably ruining. “Do I want details?”

“No.”

“But I will say there’s a very dented BMW out there and the guest is currently arguing with Jungwon about liability.”

The walkie on your hip crackled before you could respond, Heeseung’s voice coming over the gravelly channel requesting you come to receiving.

“Bruh,” you quipped, groaning before spinning on your heels to head towards receiving.

Sunoo yelled, “Ou girl your coffee—”

“Just give it to Sunghoon!”

Sunoo looked at the disheveled man in front of him, “you can grab it if you want…”

Sunghoon grinned, reaching out for the drink and taking a sip. “Finally, one good thing today…I think this is what the BMW driver threw at me actually…”

“Oh, okay. Enjoy?”

The path to Receiving wasn’t long, but somehow it felt like a walk of shame. Every step echoed with yesterday’s incident, the way Heeseung’s hands felt on your skin, the way he looked at you with such desire… And now he was summoning you to the back like it was nothing.

It wasn’t.

You turned the corner by travel and there he was: clipboard in one hand, expression unreadable, pen tapping against his palm like he was trying not to tap it against his own forehead.

“You called?” you said, trying to sound neutral. Professional. Not like your heart was attempting to beat out of your chest.

Heeseung didn’t look up at first, shrouded in an air of arrogant nonchalance. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Inventory’s off. Again. Thought you might have seen something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a euphemism?”

Heeseung finally glanced at you. His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Do you want it to be?”

God, he was annoying. God, he was hot.

“Maybe don’t flirt in Receiving,” you replied, folding your arms. “You know. Cameras.”

“You think I’d flirt?” He set the clipboard down on the steel table between them and leaned forward just enough to make it unsafe. “I’m just coaching. You’re the one who keeps coming to my department.”

“I work style,” you said, deadpan. “It’s adjacent.”

“Mmm. So is HR.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

“Relax,” Heeseung said after a beat, quieter this time. “I just wanted to talk. You good?”

You hated how that got to you—the concern behind the smirk, the real question hidden underneath the teasing. you looked away, fiddling with a broken zipper on a boxcutter pouch.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

A beat.

Your breath caught.

“You should stop,” you said, a little too softly.

Heeseung leaned one hand on the table, voice lower now. “Do you want me to?”

You hesitated. Big mistake. He caught it immediately.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I didn’t say no—”

“But you didn’t say yes, either.”

Before you could come up with something clever, or at least coherent—the heavy roll-up door to Receiving groaned, and in walked Jay, wheeling a loaded U-boat stacked with overstock diapers and absolutely no patience.

He looked between the two of you. Once. Twice. Then raised a brow.

“Oh,” Jay said dryly, pulling out his box cutter. “Am I interrupting a highly professional inventory meeting, or…”

You immediately stepped back. “Nope. All business. We were just—”

“Discussing shrink,” Heeseung said, somehow already composed. “You know. Big shrink. Huge.”

Jay snorted and dropped the first box onto a pallet. “Right. That explains everything. Want me to log this as a ‘Team Connection Moment’ or head to HR now?”

“Jay,” Heeseung warned.

“I’m joking,” Jay said, slicing open the box with a smirk. “As long as you don’t make me write a witness statement. I have four pallets and zero help because Riki’s out there chasing someone with a shampoo bottle in their pants.”

“Again?” You asked.

“Again,” Jay confirmed, deadpan. “It’s like a weekly episode of America’s Next Top Shoplifter out there.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll go check in with him in a second.”

Jay gave you both a long, meaningful look, then turned back to his pallet. “Try not to commit an HR violation on the way.”

As Jay left, Heeseung turned his attention back to you, not that it wavered much through this encounter. He lowered his voice, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. "Seriously, though. I need help in the cooler. Inventory’s off."

You scoffed. "Since when do you care about inventory counts?"

"Since the district manager’s coming tomorrow, and apparently, we’re missing three cases of almond milk." He shrugged, but his eyes were alight with mischief. "Thought you might wanna help me look."

“Fine,” rolling your eyes, “I better get a raise for this.”

Heeseung scoffed, turning to head towards the refrigerated stockroom, “For what? Doing your job?”

“Technically, this isn’t in my job description. No where on my contract did it say ‘check inventory for another department with your team lead’ or—”

“Executive team lead.”

You groaned, opening the refrigerated backroom door with more force than necessary. Upon entering, you turned to look at Heeseung, whose back was against the door, clipboard now sitting atop a random empty rack. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”

He smirked. “You like it though.”

You hesitated.

HR Sunoo’s voice echoed in your head: "...Don’t mix business with pleasure."

You bit your lip. “I do not.”

Heeseung’s smile widened. "Prove it."

The backroom was silent except for the hum of the industrial fridge and the sound of Heeseung’s breath hitching as your fingers traced the hard line of him through his khakis.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, hips jerking into your touch.

You smirked, dragging your palm over him slowly, relishing the way his jaw clenched. “Problem, boss?”

Heeseung’s hand snapped out, gripping your wrist tightly as he jerked you closer. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warned, voice rough.

“Yeah?” You undid his belt with your free hand, popping the button on his pants. “Then why are you letting me win?”

Heeseung didn't answer, instead spinning you around to shove you face first against the steel shelving, kicking his pants down just enough to free himself. Your breath caught at the feel of him, hot and heavy against the fabric of the back of your jeans.

“Tell me to stop,” he demanded, breath ghosting over the back of your neck.

You arched back into him. “Make me.”

Heeseung cursed, one hand in your hair as the other lingered on your lower back. He brought his lips right next to your ear, his hot breath contrasting the cool air, before taking it between his teeth, applying enough pressure just to make you lose any remaining composure.

You gasped as he pulled back, temporarily stripping your skin of any warmth before pressing you back into the cold shelving, this time with his body. His hand released from your hair and made its way down to your side.

Both of his hands found their way to your sides, thumbs tucking into your belt loops before gently pulling your hips back. You shivered as his cold hands moved from your sides to your stomach, fingertips tucking into your waistband with one hand and playing with the button closure of your jeans with the other. Heeseung undid your pants, tugging them down with your panties just enough for you to feel him press against you, skin to skin.

“You want it?” Heeseung breathed, hot against your back as his hands wrapped around to gently trace your waist, then your hips, as to entice you into begging for it. Your soft moan as his cool hands made their way closer to your core was all the affirmation he needed to retuck his thumbs into the waistband of your now-unzipped jeans, pulling them down to your knees.

Heeseung’s laugh was dark, rough even, as the edges of his hands again slid around your waist, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered against your neck, his breath hot as he stroked himself against you, the thick drag of his cock already slick from how wet you were.

One hand shoved your shirt up, palming your breast roughly over your bra before tugging the cup down. His thumb flicked over your nipple, pinching just enough to make you gasp, making your back arch into his touch. “Always so fucking responsive,” he growled, “Knew you’d be like this.”

You whimpered as his other hand slid between your legs, fingers dragging through your folds before pushing two inside without warning. “Christ,” he hissed, curling them just to hear you moan. “Already dripping for me? That’s all it takes? Just a little pressure?

You rocked back against his hand, desperate, but he pulled away with a wet sound, smearing your arousal over the head of his cock before lining himself up.

“Tell me,” he demanded, voice ragged.

“Tell me you want it.”

You turned your head just enough to catch his gaze, lips parted. “More than anything.”

He didn’t hesitate.

Your jaw dropped as he fully sheathed himself inside you with a groan, pressing you harder into the cool metal shelving. You felt the stretch for only a moment before he pulled back, holding himself there without pushing back in.

“Want more?” he asked, breathy and rough, self-restraint slowly dissipating.

You whimpered, parting your lips to answer before being interrupted by the rough slip of him back into you.

“Sounds like you do,” Heeseung groaned, setting an increasingly fast rhythm, hands set on your hips. The shelves rattled with every thrust, the sound echoing through the empty backroom. You could feel him everywhere—the bite of his fingers, the drag of his cock, the way his breath hitched when you clenched around him.

“That’s it.” he panted, fucking you harder, deeper. “Take it—you take it so good”

You didn’t have to use words to beg for more from him. Heeseung knew what you—your body—needed just from the way you pushed your hips back into him, craving more of him. He wished he could keep this image as a screensaver in his mind, watching the way your body pushed and pulled him at just the perfect pace.

You moaned whenever Heeseung hit just the spot—the way he hit your cervix just lightly enough for you to feel it. The slight discomfort made you wince and shiver, overstimulated from the sensation of him relentlessly punching into you. His brows stayed furrowed, savoring the way he’d bottom out inside of you, just to feel the clench of your cunt as he pulled back from you. He could only pull out so far, though, as the speed in which he was fucking you was fast and rough; The passion from last night’s encounter was evident through the movement of his hips.

His hand slid back to your clit, rubbing tight circles just to hear you sob. “Gonna come just like this,” he murmured, lips against your ear.

Heeseung’s thrusts became shallower, making you take more of his length at once as he exchanged speed for proximity, holding your body against the steel frames as he played with your clit, relishing in the way you’d tighten around all of him when he’d pick up the pace. His thrusts synced with the staccato of your moans, with the sound of your skin-to-skin contact following.

On one hand, he wished he could have taken it slow enough for you to hear your breaths sync as he fucked you so, so deep. On the other hand, he didn’t think that he had experienced anything this hot before—the way he could see his and your breath in the chilled air, how he could see when it stopped when his hips left you breathless—making him a crazed man that only you could tame.

“Gonna let me come inside?” he asked, breathy and desperate.

“God yes, please—”

Heeseung’s hips returned to the same punishing speed, taking your breath away. He wasted no time to make you come undone, shattering the ceiling that held your composure intact. You released around him, coaxing him to follow suit as you came down from your orgasm. With a final thrust, Heeseung fully sheathed himself in your walls, twitching as he came inside you.

The backroom was quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the slow, slick slide of Heeseung pulling out of you. His hands steadied you as your legs wobbled.

You took time to catch your breath and regain stability in your limbs before saying a word. Heeseung quickly picked up his discarded clothing, redressing himself and straightening up as best he could’ve.

“Let me help you,” he said, bending down to pull up your jeans and panties from your knees. He paused for a second, smirking upon seeing his essence dripping out of you. He continued, pulling your panties up over your ass, jeans following. “Turn around,” he commanded, guiding you by your hips to allow him to zip and button your pants.

You found yourself back at eye level with him, still trying to catch your breath.

“Ready to go?” Heeseung asked, turning to grab his stuff then head towards the door. You nodded, following him as he made his way back out to the larger backroom.

You shuffled quickly behind him, wanting to make your way out of the back as soon as possible so as to not draw attention to you and Heeseung. Just as the door is in arms reach, you heard the industrial elevator screech open. For a second your heart stops, but luckily it was just Jay.

“How’s it going… again,” he said, this time pushing an overstocked U-boat of diet Cokes and water cases.

“Oh y’know… Inventory’s just crazyyy,” Heeseung said, causing you to roll your eyes in response.

Jay sighed, “Okay bruh,” pushing his U-boat towards the door, forcing you and Heeseung to move out of his way. You looked at Heeseung, mentally thanking Bullseye that it was just Jay to catch you two leaving the backroom together.

Going back to work after fucking your boss made you paranoid as hell. Every time you passed by another team member, or by the front, hell, even Sunoo, it felt like they knew what you were doing back there.

You had to quickly catch up on your tasks—not that you really started on them anyways. You sighed every time you caught yourself sweating while breaking out a z-rack, mentally cursing yourself for putting dick first and Target second. Your style coworkers absolutely noticed how disheveled and discombobulated you were.

The fitting room saw you at your worst. Putting go-backs back on their respective hangers was more difficult than you would’ve liked to admit, mind fully clouded with images of Heeseung, his hands, the sensation of his—

“Yo, you good?” Riki asked, breaking your intense focus. You looked up at his neon green ‘asset protection’ jacket, cheeks red from the reminiscing, only able to meekly nod at him and mutter out, “Yeah, I guess.”

“You know what I saw earlier,” Riki said, making your heart stop for the second time today.

Shit. Maybe he did see.

“Some young couple doing it in the family bathroom. I kicked them out because Sunghoon wanted to use it, and lo and behold…”

You exhaled, tuning out the rest of what Riki had to say out of pure relief. You practically confirmed that he didn’t catch you and Heeseung… You were forced back to reality, “Family bathroom, huh? I assure you it could’ve been worse,” Heeseung interjected, waltzing into the fitting room with a smirk on his lips.

“Bro no,” Riki objected, “you’ve never had to unstick two horny twenty-somethings in the front of a Target.”

Heeseung laughed, “And never will, hopefully,” patting Riki on the back before continuing on his way to god knows where, giving you an all-knowing look over Riki’s shoulder on the way out.

God, that asshole.

Riki groaned, pressing two fingers to his temple and rubbing, squeezing his eyes shut. “He doesn’t get it though for real—whatever. Let me know if there are shoplifters over here.” He leaned off the fitting room counter and gave you a small wave on his way back to the front, which you reciprocated.

You sighed, finding yourself alone once again with your thoughts, which were either of paranoia or of desire, neither of which being helpful to your productivity. You mentally cursed yourself for being so observant, particularly of Heeseung.

You mentally cursed him for looking disheveled in the good way, like he’s begging to be ravaged by you. Waltzing into the fitting room, smirking in reference to your private encounter just that day, knowing that you were the only person who would be on the same page. You hated that his hair was the perfect amount of messy; You were the only person who knew how it got so messy in the first place. You hated that his red tee was thin enough to stick to his skin, teasing and tempting you with the contours of his body. It didn’t help that he had just the slightest sheen of sweat, showing on his forehead and further accentuating the cling that his shirt had on him.

It was like the world was playing a cruel joke on you.

You especially hated that you were assigned to men’s today. Making sure that every pair of pants were hung up just right, assuring the fabric was taut on the front-facing side; Buttoning up fancy dress shirts in different colors, all imagining that you were taking these articles off of Heeseung instead. The only good thing to come out of such was that the time was flying by, making an otherwise eye-twitching shift just a smidge less painful.

But it was like he knew that you were struggling with the thought of him in your mind, greeting you with a sly smile plastered across his lips as he passed by you in the men’s section, hanging up a belt you just imagined taking off of him.

He didn’t leave though, stopping you in your tracks as he continued towards you.

“Take your break,” he murmured. “Now.”

You swallowed. “I still have an hour—”

“I’m your boss. I say when you take your break.” His fingers brushed your wrist, sending a shiver up your spine. “Meet me in the family restroom. Five minutes.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already walking away, throwing a smirk over his shoulder.

The family restroom was empty, thank god. You slipped inside, locking the door behind you just as Heeseung crowded you against the sink.

“Knew you’d come,” he muttered before crashing his lips against yours.

You melted into the kiss, his hands gripping your hips as he backed you up against the counter. His tongue slid against yours, hungry and demanding, and you whimpered into his mouth.

“Missed you,” he growled, nipping at your bottom lip. “Think about you all fucking day.”

You reached for the waistband of his khakis, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. “Yeah? What do you think about?”

“You,” he responded, voice low. You withheld any verbal response, opting to hold eye contact with Heeseung instead. You kept your hand on his khakis, noticing how the fabric below stretched taut under your touch. Heeseung’s breath caught in his throat with the sustained eye contact, wanting more from you.

You removed your hands from his waistband, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, looking up at him. His hands fell to your ass, giving you a soft squeeze. You felt Heeseung harden against your stomach, fabric being no barrier to such.

“I missed you too,” you purred, lifting yourself off of the sink and backing Heeseung against the tile.

“This much?”

“Of course,” detaching yourself from him briefly. Heeseung’s breath hitched as your hands met his waistband again, this time actually undoing his belt. You swore you could hear him whimper when you stopped there, moving your hand to palm him through his pants instead. “I thought about you all day too,” you whispered, bringing your face closer to his and forcing him to bring his eyes from your hand to your eyes once more.

“‘Bout what, baby?”he asked, eyes low.

“Well,” you started, “I was looking at pants just like these.” You reached for the button of his khakis, jangling his undone belt in the process. “And I was thinking how good you’d look in some of them.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement, hovering your fingertips above his now exposed waistband to watch his abs twitch under your touch. You take Heeseung’s face in your palm with one hand, pulling him in for a kiss, observing how his eyes flutter closed upon contact. Your other hands wander south, feeling his hardened cock straining against the fabric of his khakis.

Heeseung moaned against your mouth as you palmed him through the fabric, applying just enough pressure to make him nearly beg for more. You pulled away, keeping your gaze fixed on his face as you dropped your hand from his cheek to drag your fingers down his torso, eliciting a hiss, before dropping to your knees.

“I thought about this too,” as you reached up to unzip his khakis. You pulled his boxer briefs and pants down with a single tug, freeing his hard cock from the fabric. You cursed under your breath, taking in the sight of the v-shaped contour of his hips, a bristly trail tending southwards. His face twitched upon meeting the cold air, this time feeling so different from your encounter in the fridge just earlier.

Heeseung found it difficult to keep his composure, keeping his bottom lip slightly tucked between his teeth, biting down as to not make a noise out of sheer anticipation. “All shift,” you took his length into your hand, gentle with your touch, and brought him to your cheek, “I wanted this.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him, doe-eyed and tantalizing, seeing the heat build within him with every millisecond that passed.

The eye contact you held paused, your focus shifting to bringing Heeseung’s tip to your lips instead. You propped yourself up on your heels, posture proper, as you kitten-licked at his weeping tip, swollen with need. He cursed upon feeling the sensation of your warm, wet tongue on him, a feeling he didn’t know he needed—craved—so badly until he felt it.

He tasted a bit salty, mostly like the sweat from the long workday and your shared morning rendezvous. Without warning, you sank down on his length, softly humming in satisfaction upon hearing him gasp, shocked that you took all of him down your throat in one motion. He remained speechless as you slightly gagged around him, throat constricting around the tip of his cock as he hit the back of your throat.

You pulled back with a pop and looked up at him with glossy eyes, pumping him with one hand. He ran his hand through his hair, amazed at the sight before him—you, on your knees for him, with swollen and wet lips. It felt like his wildest fantasies were materializing, and god, did it make him an utterly weak man.

With a smirk, you kept your glossy eyes on him as you tilted your head to the side, holding his length with one hand as you slowly, torturously even, licked stripes from base to tip. You wished you could have this image in your head for eternity—your boss now turned into a docile, meek man, at the mercy of you and your mouth.

Pulling yourself to his tip again, you took his length into your mouth and sank down to meet his groin with your nose. Heeseung reached down, entangling his fingers in your hair and giving a slight tug. Your hands found their way to his hips, using them as leverage to retract from his base. He whimpered as your cheeks hollowed, bobbing back and forth on his length.

Heeseung didn’t know what to do with himself—the only sounds that could leave his lips were near incoherent expletives and the lewdest of soft moans. His hands followed the rhythm that you set, pushing your head towards his groin and shallowly thrusting to meet your lips. Tears pricked your eyes every time he met the back of your throat, his thrusts showing how needy he was.

You pulled away, gasping and taking breaths through the web of saliva and precome spanning between you and Heeseung’s cock. Languidly, you pumped him with one hand, sitting up. You leaned forward, looking up at his flushed face before parting your lips to spit back onto his cock, using your hand to spread it from base to tip. Heeseung’s eyes fluttered closed as he tipped his head back, lips parted to unabashedly moan at the sensation.

He gasped at your sudden absence—you stood up to again back yourself onto the sink and counter, prompting him to follow, stroking himself as his gaze stayed on you. Open arms welcomed him as you wrapped yours around him once again. You pulled Heeseung closer in to kiss him, freeing his hand from his length to wrap his arms around your waist, smearing himself on the bottom hem of your shirt. Fingertips found their way under, moving the fabric upwards to reach under the bottom edge of your bra, cupping and kneading your breast as Heeseung deepened the kiss.

Your lips parted with a gasp, welcoming his tongue into your mouth. He softly, lewdly sucked on your tongue, tasting himself on you. Heeseung whimpered against your lips, eyes shut and brows knit with pleasure. You removed your arms, giving him a soft push to cease the kiss. He slightly backed away, leaving a string of mostly saliva between your lips. With your thumb, you swiped your thumb on his lips, breaking the thin connection between you.

Reaching for the button of your jeans, “Want you to fuck me,” you gasped.

“Fuck, thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, helping you onto the counter as you undid the button and zipper closure on your jeans. You leaned back, kicking off your shoes and letting Heeseung pull your jeans off of you, placing them on the adjacent vacant changing table. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in and mentally thanking the architect for the height of the counter. You sat with your aching core at the edge of it all, letting Heeseung rub his length against the dampened fabric of your panties.

“Got you all worked up?” Heeseung breathed, observing you beneath him. He leaned over you, pressing his length against the skin of your stomach as he pushed the fabric of your shirt up. He moved the wire and cups of your bra towards your face, exposing your breasts to him.

“You could say so,” you whispered in response.

Heeseung lost no time, hooking his fingers on one side of your panties and pulling them aside. He rubbed his tip against your folds vertically, hissing at the sensation of you. The ache in your core overwhelmed you, pulsing and pleading in need of Heeseung. “So warm,” he huffed, “so wet.”

His hands met your hips to again pull you towards the edge of the countertop. He took his length in his hand, resting it on top of your mound towards your belly button, “You gonna take all of me again, baby?” voice dripping with seduction.

“Yes, please,” you mewled, throbbing at the sight of his thick, hot length resting atop your womb.

Without hesitation, Heeseung drew his hips back and lined up his tip, hot and dripping, at your entrance. Heeseung groaned, slipping himself in in one smooth movement, filling you up entirely. You moaned, slightly wincing at the sore stretch in your core.

“Feels so fucking good,” Heeseung breathed, withdrawing halfway to push back into you again, brows knitting at the sight of the slight bounce of your tits. He grabbed your hips, digging his thumbs into your flesh. He wasted no time taking it slow; He wanted you and he wanted you now.

He fucked into you with enough force to draw yelps from your lips, mercilessly pounding into you like he’s been craving this entire time. The ache in your core was gone, instead replaced with the stretch you had become addicted to. He kept his pleasure no secret, moaning as you gripped around him, drawing him back to your womb with every retraction of his hips. He grew hot with lechery, indulging in what your body had to offer him.

Hooking a finger under, he pulled the fabric at the seat of your panties further to the side, leaning over you to press deeper into you. He fucked you harder, deeper, enamored with your sex.

“Make me yours,” you moaned, begging for more of him, if that was even possible.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck—make me yours.”

Heeseung threw his head back in pleasure, gripping your hips to fuck into you—faster, nastier now. The slap of your skin meeting was obscene, reverberating through the tiled walls. Your insides molded to the shape of him, pounding you into his—fully and wholly his. He hissed at every clench of your cunt, eager to milk him empty.

“Gonna come,” rhythm of his hips rattling his cadence.

“Inside—please,” you pleaded.

You didn’t have to beg again—Heeseung plunged his hips into you hungrily, chasing climax. His. You were his. Primal desire consumed him; His thumbs dug into the flesh of your stomach and hips as he thought about your womb taking all of his seed, desperate to be his and only his.

With a final snap of his hips, he fully sheathed himself inside you, coming against your cervix. You followed, climaxing with a sob and full-body shiver that wrung Heeseung dry, evident from his soft whimpers. He continued to shallowly fuck into you, pressing his come deeper into you.

He pulled out of you, breathless. Heeseung smirked, watching your chest rise and fall as you laid there, completely fucked out. He wished he had the time to fuck you again upon seeing his come smeared in your folds from him pulling out. His fingers tucked your dampened panties back in place, soaking up the remnants of his come with the already ruined fabric. Shaking, you let him hold your hands to help you to your feet to get redressed.

“Let’s tidy ourselves up, yeah?”

The flickering light above the family bathroom mirror hummed like a dying insect as you braced your hands against the sink, trying to steady your breathing. Tiptoeing to examine as much as you could, you groaned. Your reflection was a disaster—hair wild, lips kiss-swollen, the collar of your uniform shirt tugged sideways where Heeseung’s fingers had gripped a little too hard.

Behind you, Heeseung smirked as he adjusted his belt buckle with a click, his own shirt half-untucked. “Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his mussed hair. “We gotta stop doing this at work.”

You shot him a glare in the mirror, turning on the faucet to splash cold water on your face. “Says the guy who started it by getting inspiration from two ‘horny twenty-somethings.’”

Heeseung just grinned, unrepentant, leaning over your shoulder to steal a paper towel . The scent of him—warm skin, cologne, and something unmistakably sex—clung to you both, and you prayed to every god you could name that the bathroom’s industrial-strength air freshener would do its job.

You wiped the smudged lipstick from the corner of your mouth, then froze—shit. There was a bruise forming just below your ear. You yanked your collar higher. “You’re such an asshole,” you hissed, but Heeseung just pressed a kiss to your temple, laughing when you shoved him off.

“Go,” he said, nodding toward the door. “I’ll wait two minutes, then head out. See you later?”

You took a deep breath, smoothed your shirt one last time, and cracked the door open. The store was chaos—a line snaking past guest services, carts clattering, and a guest screaming at Sunghoon over their drive up order being late. Perfect cover.

You slipped out, keeping your head down as you beelined for the nearest display to pretend to straighten it. A few feet away, Sunoo was obliviously scanning a price check, and Riki was too busy patrolling to notice you.

Home free.

Until—

“Hey.” A hand touched your arm.

You nearly jumped out of your skin before realizing it was just Jungwon, his brow furrowed. “You good? You look… flustered.”

You cleared your throat, willing your pulse to slow. “Fine. Just—uh—spilled coffee on myself earlier. Had to clean up.”

Jungwon’s eyes flicked towards the bathroom, then back to you. A beat. Then

“Okayyyyy” he drawled, “Well FYI, your name tag’s upside down.”

You glanced down—fuck. You flipped it hastily as Jungwon walked off, shaking his head.

Behind you, the bathroom door creaked open.

Heeseung strolled out like he hadn’t a care in the world, whistling as he passed you without a glance.

You exhaled.

Back to work.

Pretending to clear the fitting rooms, you gently shut the door behind you to check your appearance, front and back. Apparently, you had a lot of oversights that were essentially circled in red in a full-length mirror. You attempted to pat your hair back into place. You checked your nametag again, making sure it was perfect this time. You straightened out your shirt—

That asshole.

You stared at the spot where he decided to smear himself into your shirt and groaned. You unbuttoned your jeans and tucked your stained bottom hem in to hide the evidence. Sighing, you accepted that you were going to look a hot mess for the tail end of your shift, but it was the best you could do after taking it twice in a day. You grabbed the stray articles of clothing from the fitting room, exiting to go to work, for real this time.

Sore, you were careful to do the rest of your men’s go-backs for the night. Every step, every stretch, made you ache. You moved slowly, eager for your shift to end so you could get some rest and relief from the discomfort.

Then, you were actually at the time to take your lunch, freeing you from the physical work temporarily.

“Taking my 45,” you muttered, hearing your voice echo on surrounding walkies, You turned your walkie off and headed to clock out. Opening the door to the break room, you begin to take off your nametag and head to your locker. You let out a sigh of relief remembering Sunoo worked a morning shift today, leaving no one to question and prod at why your hair was so fucked up, why your shirt was now tucked, or why you generally looked a mess.

Except him.

“Yoooooo, look who it is!” Jake smiled, sitting in an office chair tucked in a cubicle on his break.

Great.

You gave him a “Hi Jakey," and a meek smile, hoping that he wouldn’t notice any—

“Going for the messy look today, I see,” he remarked, eyes raking over your body. You attempted to laugh it off, unsure of how receptive he was to the whole thing. “Kinda hot.”

You brushed him off as you usually do, and proceeded to play with your hair, entertaining it a little. Before Jake could respond, the door opened again, this time being Heeseung and Jungwon. Heeseung gave you a smile and nod, this time surprisingly timid. Jungwon greeted you and Jake before heading to his office with Heeseung, stack of paper in hand.

As Jungwon’s office door clicked close, Jake scoffed, “That fool always tries to act so nonchalant.” He leaned in, lowering his voice, “You know, he actually really likes you. But I tell him all the time, ‘she’s only someone you can dream of having,’ just to piss him off.” He leaned back again, putting his arms behind his head. “Plus, I think you like me more.”

You rolled your eyes, “You play too much,” before turning to clock out and exit to your car in the employee lot. You spent lunch napping, in an attempt to both physically and mentally recover from having your brains fucked out by Heeseung.

Freshly awake, you come back into the office to clock in. You spotted Heeseung and Jungwon at the HR desk, starting intently at the screen in front of them, brows furrowed. Their attention didn’t waver a bit, both laser focused on whatever admin shit was askew and whatever management schemes were supposed to take place the next morning.

Coming back from lunch, you only had 45 minutes until close. Time soared by with you idly doing the same repetitive zoning tasks over and over again. By the grace of Bullseye, your zone looked good.

You questioned why Heeseung didn’t come ‘do his rounds’ with you tonight, but you brushed it aside. You exited through the side door alone, looking forward to the comfort of your bed, especially needing it after this shift.

“Did you see who got fired?”

Your pulse spiked—shit, did they find out about—

“Relax, paranoid.” Sunoo singsonged from behind the espresso machine, not even looking up as he steamed milk into a cup that definitely wasn’t on any menu. “It was just Jake.” He slid the drink toward you, a viscous green that looked suspiciously like the color of his apron. “Here. You look like you’re about to smash your head into the pastry case.”

You scowled but took it. “Why is it green?”

“We’re all trying to be more healthy” He wiped his hands on his apron, smirking. “Besides, Jake’s exit was hilarious. You should have been there. Heeseung said his ‘registers were short’, and that idiot thought it was a height joke.”

You swirled the murky liquid, watching it cling to the sides like swamp water. “This looks like a product of the last time Jake made a matcha.” You muttered, already mourning the loss of taste buds you were about to experience.

“Tastes like it too.” Sunoo chirped, already restocking the syrup bottles.

Sunoo let out a dreamy sigh, restocking syrup bottles with unnecessary vigor. “Man, we’ll never see that particular shade of radioactive algae again.”

You snorted. “Damn. Miss him already.”

“Well, better drink up, champ. Your shift starts in…” He made a show of checking his (empty) wrist. “...three minutes.”

You took a reluctant sip and immediately regretted it. “Jesus. Did you put wheatgrass in this or just blend whatever you could find that was about to expire?”

“Trade secret.” He winked.

“A disgusting secret,” you muttered, jokingly side-eyeing him.

“Speaking of disgusting choices—you’re closing tonight, right? Don’t bother with the ride tonight. Jungwon finally got his hellcat back from the shop.” He paused dramatically. “Which means I can once again experience the luxury of…what do normal people call it? ‘Leaving on time’?”

“Boo, you act like it was more than just one time.”

“Oh, we’re acknowledging that now? Because as I recall, I was ready on time until I had to comb through the entire store to find you while you and Heeseung were ‘zoning’ the fitting rooms.” He air quoted “Which, by the way, would not fly in a conversation with HR.”

You rolled your eyes. “Zoning is a real thing. We were working.”

Sunoo leaned across the counter, syrup bottle dangling precariously from his fingers. “Mhm.

You flipped him off over your shoulder just as you turned the corner—and walked straight into Heeseung’s chest.

His hands came up to steady you, fingers burning through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Late again,” he observed, voice low. His thumb brushed the exposed skin between your jeans and work shirt. “You’re lucky I don’t write you up.”

Heeseung’s gaze never left yours, following behind you in your trail. “Jake’s gone.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Fired him.” He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Funny how his eyes always lingered on something when he worked near you.” His teeth grazed your earlobe—not quite a bite, but the suggestion of one. “Funnier how you always seemed to lean into it.”

Your stomach dropped. Memories flashed— Jake’s fingers accidentally catching your waist when he squeezed past, the way you let his touch linger that one time by these same lockers when you knew Heeseung was watching.

“Tell me,” Heeseung murmured, dragging his nose along your jaw, ”did you like seeing me lose control every time he looked at you like you were his?”

“Uh. I still didn’t clock in yet.”

A beat of silence. Then.

Heeseung stepped aside so suddenly you almost stumbled. “Go ahead.” his voice was light, casual, as if his breath hadn’t been sending shockwaves down your spine a moment ago.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the keypad. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

“Problem?” He tilted his head, all innocent, hands tucked neatly into his pockets. The shift was so jarring it made your skin prickle.

“No,” you muttered, punching your number in.

“Great.” He flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “See you at closing.”

And then he was gone, leaving you standing there, the ghost of his breath still warm on your ear.

The rest of your shift passed in eerie quiet.

You stocked shirts with exaggerated care, stretching just a little farther than necessary when you knew Heeseung was watching. The neckline of your top gaped slightly as you leaned forward to adjust a price tag.

At the fitting rooms, you made a show of testing a lock on one of the doors, hips swaying as you stepped back to admire your work.

Sunoo appeared suddenly, draping a returned sweater over your folding table with a soft thud. “You know,” he mused, voice dripping with false innocence, “for someone who claims they’re not trying to seduce their ETL, you do a lot of taunting him on the cameras.”

You folded the sweater with painstaking precision. “I’m just doing my job.”

You heard Sunghoons voice come through your walkie, - Did anyone else hear a bang from the surveillance center? His voice slightly distorted by the device.

Satisfied, you smirked, but were cut off by Sunoo before you could make any smart-ass remark, “You’re hoping that’s Heeseung, huh?”

“Not true!”

“I literally have never seen that man go into the security office this frequently. Heeseung literally isn’t even asset protection—”

And by the grace of Bullseye, your Zebra pinged, shutting Sunoo up and notifying you that you have an audit due by the end of the night.

“Even my Zebra thinks you talk too much,” you quipped.

“Does your Zebra think the audit is gonna complete itself? Or do you only make ETL’s finish?”

“I haaaaate you.”

“You hate productivity more.”

“You’re cross trained in style too,” you started, neatly finishing the last stack of sweaters on the display, “get your ass in the fitting room with me and help me with the audit.” You placed a hand on your hip and shifted your weight onto one leg.

“Ugh fine,” he complied, walking over to the fitting room. Upon going to the back, the two of you discovered only one RFID scanner.

“Wow, perfect.”

“Nope, don’t even think about it,” Sunoo said, grabbing the RFID scanner from in front of you. “I’m doing you a favor, so you’re gonna have to get more from stock. Have fun!” You scoffed, watching Sunoo leave the fitting room to start his portion of the audit.

You walked towards the stockroom where they kept extra charge stations, Zebras, scanners, and things of the sort. Luckily, it was located by the office, so you could at least grab your lipgloss and touch up your makeup a bit. After touching up, you took out a bundle of numbered keys and fumbled around, searching for the right one as you headed to the stockroom.

Like every other lock at Target, the stockroom door was a puzzle game for any key, no matter how new or old. You sighed and inserted the key, already remembering the crazy amount of pressure you need to apply downwards so the lock wouldn’t jingle-jangle loosely. You wiggled the lock with your other hand, applying the force of your entire body against the door.

After what seemed like an eternity, with a final shove, the door flew open. You grabbed your bundle of keys and slipped into the abyss before you.

I hate this place, you thought, internally cursing yourself for not forcing Sunoo back here instead of you. The search for the light switch was a pain in the ass, with only the light from outside illuminated the stockroom through a crack, which was getting smaller, and smaller…

The stockroom door clicked shut behind you with finality.

You’d only meant to grab more RFID scanners—until the lights flickered and Heeseung was there. His palm slapped against the shelf beside your head, rattling the poorly installed metal shelving.

“Done playing?” His voice was dangerously quiet.

You opened your mouth—

“Don’t.” His free hand gripped your chin, voicing your gaze up. The usual mockery in his eyes had burned away, leaving something ravenous.

If jealousy weren’t the main driving force for Heeseung’s actions, then it would have to be danger. You were in a stockroom that was usually dark, so management invested extra in surveillance. Every single move between the two of you could be recorded, watched, or investigated.

“There’s cameras here,” you breathed, keeping your voice low in case someone were outside, “someone could be—”

“Watching?” Heeseung’s fingers dug into your hip as he backed you against the steel shelving, his breath hot against your lips, “Let them.”

…And like that, you might like the same danger too.

"You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day," he murmured, voice rough. "Every time you bend over to stock those goddamn shelves—"

You arched into him, nails scraping down his chest. "Then do something about it."

His grip tightened, pulling you flush against him. You could feel how hard he was.

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?" His teeth grazed your earlobe. "Letting me fuck you right here in the stockroom like some desperate—"

"No one has to know," you breathed, tilting your head to give him better access.

He let out a dark laugh, lips trailing down your neck. "Thanks for the job security."

Then his mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your moan as his hands slid under your shirt. The kiss was all teeth and tongue, punishing in its intensity, like he’d been starving for it all day. One of his hands fisted in your hair, angling your head back to deepen the kiss, while the other roamed lower, squeezing the curve of your ass hard enough to leave bruises.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were panting. His hair tousled, lips swollen.

“So,” you murmured, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip, “is this going to be a daily thing now?”

He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against yours. “Fuck. You’re gonna kill me.”

“My little surveillance cam show worked on you, hmm?”

“God, you know it,” he groaned, lids softly fluttering as he reminisced on what he saw. Heeseung pulled you a smidge closer, putting your hips in greater contact than before. “Would you believe me if I told you,” he breathed, “I was enjoying every second of it?”

“How so?”

Heeseung smirked, slowly backing away from you to find a seat on an old fold-up chair. “Kneel,” he commanded, to which you complied, placing your folded hands in your lap and softly biting your lip, intrigued. Your face sat between his spread legs, looking up at him in anticipation.

“Like this,” he whispered, keeping eye contact as his hand found his way to his lap, not reaching for his waistband but instead for his hardened cock. You watched, entranced, as he palmed himself, barely rutting his hips into his palm for more friction. “I was in there alone, wishing you were there instead,” he whined, “don’t you feel the same?”

Though it seemed like Heeseung was the one begging, you found yourself under his spell, propping yourself up on your heels to place your hands on his thighs.

“I do,” you whisper, running your hand up his thigh, making him remove his own and letting you provide the friction instead. Heeseung slightly leaned back, putting his arms behind his head to rest his palms on the crown of his head. He looked down at you, lips parted in a near-silent gasp. The room was eerily quiet, with only the sound of you working the fabric of his slacks and your breaths, both desperate, syncing up with one another.

You removed your hand, sitting up and finding your seat on his lap, still clothed. His hands go to your back, supporting your weight with one hand so he could guide you closer, kissing you gently this time. His lips were soft, moving against you with enough balance to both make your heart flutter and your core ache.

The two of you pulled away, cheeks flushed.

“Let me fuck you like this,” Heeseung whispered, looking you in your eyes with glazed eyes. You leaned in to peck his lips, humming affirmatively as you got off of him to undress. You turned around, taking off your sneakers and jeans, hearing the metal of his belt buckle jangle behind you.

You turned back around, nearly bare on your bottom half, to approach Heeseung. He pumped himself with one hand, slacks undone just enough to free himself. You straddled him, feeling the heat of his cock against your core, “Let’s take it slow.” Your hands then met his shoulders, giving yourself leverage to move your hips. Firm hands gripped your hips as you slid your clothed cunt on his length, eliciting a whimper.

“God, you’re so wet,” he gasped, eyes focused on the visual of you straddling him, the fabric of your panties wet and sticking to your core. Heeseung’s tip glistened, precome leaking from his slit. You leaned in again to kiss him again, a little more fervor this time. He moaned in satisfaction against your lips, pressing your hips harder into his.

Pulling away from the kiss, you stopped for a moment, taking one hand off his shoulder and putting the other on the back of the chair. Heeseung’s eyes followed your every move, letting you work your magic on him, following your other hand as it reached down to touch where you met. You hooked a finger under the hem of your panties, lifting it just enough to slip his cock between the fabric and your cunt. A new sensation, he shivered upon making contact, involuntarily thrusting.

His cock slipped against your clit, making you use your hand to press him harder into you. You grinded against each other, going through the motions of sex without actually crossing that line. Somehow, that made it hotter, the “almost” nearly being more alluring than sex itself.

Almost.

Reaching down, you untucked his length, lifting your hips just enough to pull your panties to the side, sliding his tip along your slit, teasing him with the warmth of your entrance. His eyes were glossed over, desperate to feel the now familiar heat of you.

Before he could beg for it, you heard the trill of a phone—Heeseung’s phone.

“Is that for—”

“—My fifth,” he groaned, pulling you in to bury his face in your neck. “Terrible timing.”

He stayed with his face in the crook of your neck for a moment, before pulling back with a sigh. Heeseung patted your hips, “I gotta go.”

You sighed, getting up to adjust your panties and collect your discarded clothes. “You got blue balled by the time clock.”

Heeseung let out a small laugh, “Guess so. Sorry,” standing up to finish putting on his belt. He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you to rest his chin on your head. “But if we both clock out right now…”

“You’re sick.”

“But you like it,” Heeseung smirked, “because if you didn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

You sighed, letting him win this one.

“Nametags,” you reminded him, handing him the two magnetic parts of his nametag, scrambling to put yours on soon after.

He thanked you, quickly snapping the tag onto his shirt. Heeseung picked up the rest of his things and left, opening the door of the stockroom for you on your way out.

“That was risky, y’know?”

“What, clocking out this close to hitting compliance?” Heeseung joked, tilting his head as he walked beside you.

You scoffed. “Yeah sure, that’s what I mean. It’s like you get enjoyment out of riling me up.”

“Mmm, no comment. If it's any reassurance though,” he leaned in, slowing his pace, “I forgot to tell you the cameras are defunct right now.” Heeseung pulled away with a shit-eating grin, causing both relief and annoyance to wash over you. “We can go back after we clock out … if you want.”

“Say less,” you responded, putting a little skip in your step as you opened the office door for the both of you. You two were a little too eager to throw your work belongings—sans your keys—into your lockers. Even more eager to punch out for lunch, no announcement on the walkies or anything.

In your rush to get back to the stockroom, you both failed to heed with caution when exiting, nearly hitting Jungwon with the door.

“Oh god, sorry—”

He gave you both a tight lipped smile, “On your lunches?”

“Yep, just clocked out,” Heeseung responded, normal as usual.

“Enjoy your lunch,” Jungwon said, eyes drifting downwards, “and your nametags…” His voice trailed off and he lingered for a second longer before brushing past, continuing into the office. He seemed unamused, tired, or something of the sort. You and Heeseung stopped outside of the door, hidden away from customers or anyone’s line of sight.

“Wait, on break, shouldn’t have our nametags on—”

Heeseung just stared at your chest, not saying a word, but not how he usually does.

“What? Is it upside do—oh.”

Oh.

To your horror, you looked down, reading Heeseung on your tag instead of yours. You looked up at him, confirming your fears when you read your name on his. You didn’t put on your nametag. You put on Heeseung’s. Even worse, you were unfortunate enough to have someone else notice first, not to mention that someone else being an ETL that wasn’t Heeseung.

You cringed, quickly taking off the tag and exchanging it with your rightful tag before putting it in your pocket. “I…feel like it would be in our best interest to not go to the stockroom now,” you remarked.

Heeseung nodded, demeanor blunted from the encounter with Jungwon, “Probably.”

You shuffled your feet a bit, silence lingering in the air for longer than you would’ve liked. You spoke, “But when—”

“I’ll call for you later. Take it easy, enjoy your lunch—I’ll see you,” Heeseung said, proceeding to walk away to the employee lot. You were hoping that he would be able to shake the encounter off a little easier than you were attempting to, but you weren’t sure of that.

Returning from your lunch break, you returned to the stockroom—not to continue affairs with Heeseung, but rather, to actually grab those RFID scanners you promised—

Sunoo.

Oh god.

Sunoo.

You scrambled out of the small room, speed walking back to the style departments searching for your blond-haired associate. You had totally forgotten about grabbing the RFID scanner, about Sunoo, the moment Heeseung caught you in the stockroom. From afar, you spotted him in the little fitting room window, sorting the rack of customer go-backs. You beelined to him as if the speed in the next 30 steps would make up for the—

“Two hours,” he said flatly, sliding a denim jacket onto its correct hanger with practiced precision.

You winced. “I forgot.”

“It took two hours to come back with RFID scanners,” he continued, finally turning to face you, his expression impressively stoic. “Which, by the way—” He pointed at the device in your hand, “—that one doesn’t have a battery in it.” A beat., “Anyways, I already finished.”

Guilt twisted in your stomach as you watched him resume sorting, his movements efficient and just sharp enough to let you know that he was annoyed.“I’m sorry—”

Sunoo sighed, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “What was it this time?”

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering scent of Heeseung’s cologne on your collar. “I think I gotta tell you about it another time, honestly—do you work tomorrow?”

“No,” Sunoo said, pausing mid-fold to squint at you. ”But you sure girl? You can talk about it if you want…” His tone softened, just a fraction, and you felt yourself relax a little.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you responded, turning to the rack he was working on to help sort and clear it, “I just—I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.”

Sunoo’s hands stilled. “Was it Heeseung?”

You nearly dropped the hangers. “What—Heeseung? Well, yes, but I wasn’t planning on it! It just happened and you just slipped my mind I wasn’t thinking I—”

“Chill.” Sunoo held up a hand, his lips quirking. “I just wanted to know. You need to relax.” He passed you a stack of tops, his voice dropping to a barely audible murmur. “Tell me another time. Honestly, more than anything, I was just worried why you were gone for so long.”

You took the hangers, exhaling. “Okay, okay, I’ll call or text you or something, when are you off?”

Sunoo looked at the nonexistent watch on his wrist before taking a peek at his phone. “In about 5 minutes. So basically, now.”

“I forgot you’ve been here all morning,” you admitted, guilt creeping back in.

“Yup,” he said, popping the P. “And all afternoon doing your job.”

“Hey! Not my fault, I got caught up—”

“No I figured…” Sunoo trailed off, playing with the fitting room key on one finger. You squinted at him, jutting your head towards him, prompting him to indulge more. “I mean, Jungwon was calling for Heeseung ETL on the walkie with no response,” he said, shrugging, “so I figured y’all were together… or something.”

Your stomach dropped. “Am I about to get a talk from HR Sunoo,” you joked, partially serious and wholly worried.

Sunoo rolled his eyes, resting a hand on his hip. “They haven’t scheduled me in HR for over a week, girl.”

You sighed, smiling out of relief. You put the hangers of clothes you’ve been gripping on their correct racks, turning to Sunoo when finished. “Wanna know every detail tomorrow, then?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows.

Sunoo’s nose scrunched in mock disgust. “Actually, on second thought, I am HR Sunoo right now, and yooouuu,” he jabbed a finger into your arm, “are spared from my wrath. It’s 7. I'll see you tomorrow!” With a foxy smile, he turned on his heel, waving over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway.

“Byeee!” you called after him, shaking your head.

You thanked Bullseye Sunoo was joking. If no one else got you, at least Sunoo got you.

Even though Sunoo had your back on the HR front, karma didn’t. The second you finished zoning in Sleepwear and Intimates—every goddamn bra properly hung, every panty drawer properly aligned—you got called to tech to cover a break. Of course. Because the universe had a twisted sense of timing.

On your way out, you managed to pass only customers with questions that had the most painfully obvious answers. “Excuse me, where are the bathrooms?” Right next to the massive sign that said RESTROOMS in three-foot-tall letters. “Do you work here?” No, you just wore this red shirt for fun. “Is this store Target?” You wished you were making that last one up.

After twenty minutes of directing people to things literally in front of their faces, you finally escaped back toward the fitting room. But the retail gods weren’t done with you yet. The walkie crackled to life just as you reached the backroom.

“Team, I need backup at the front. All available team members to check lanes.”

Fucking fantastic.

You trudged up to the registers, getting stuck behind checklane seven, then eventually rotating through three different stations as the evening rush hit. Half an hour stretched into a full hour, which somehow stretched into the rest of your shift. The same robotic script fell from your lips on endless repeat:

Hi. How are you? Find everything alright today? Need a bag? Put in your phone number for Target Circle, sign up, or press ‘not now’. Here’s your receipt. Have a good day.

It was painfully boring to repeat the same customer service script over, and over, and over again, but you kept reminding yourself that you’d take that over a bitchy, entitled customer. You’d take a boring closing shift over one that results in reports, calls, or the dreaded ‘Can I speak to your manager?’

…Though, you should’ve remembered that retail is its own hell, and any sense of normal or boring was bound to be shattered.

Like the sliding glass door that came crashing down at 9:50pm, taking Sunghoon—and someone’s entire barbecue setup—down with it.

The Drive-Up order scattered across the floor in a chaotic explosion: bags of charcoal split open, pre-marinated ribs sliding everywhere, baking soda coating the floor like snow, and bottles of vinegar and bleach rolling in opposite directions. Only at Target would you find your coworker sprawled in what was essentially a chlorine gas starter kit ten minutes before close.

Shit like this only happens to Sunghoon. You could see it in his face as he just laid there on the floor, not even attempting to get up—the resigned acceptance of someone whose retail existence was completely cursed.

He blinked up at the ceiling, completely unbothered by the disaster zone surrounding him. “Huh. That’s gonna be a hazard spill.”

No fucking shit.

From the walkie clipped to your hip, the closing TL’s voice crackled with hardly disguised annoyance, probably wondering why the hell all this noise was coming from the front.

“Anyone got eyes on Sunghoon?”

You watched in horrified fascination as Sunghoon finally peeled himself off the floor, his yellow vest now stained from whatever mixture was all over the floor. The real horror show started when he began casually gathering the scattered ribs with his bare hands, completely oblivious to the fact that the vinegar and bleach were now mixing into something that definitely violated several OSHA regulations.

That’s when you noticed the smell.

“Oh god,” you gagged, yanking your shirt up over your nose. The acrid, lung-searing aroma of mixing chemicals filled the air—sharp and dangerous and absolutely not something you wanted to be breathing. The fumes were getting stronger by the second, creating that telltale haze that meant you were approximately three minutes away from passing out.

Sunghoon paused mid-rib-gathering, finally noticing your panic. “It’s fine, I was gonna clean it—”

“No.” You grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the toxic puddle. “You’re at 39.75 hours. You hit overtime and the district manager is gonna have Jungwon’s ass.”

Jungwon appeared out of nowhere like some sort of management wizard, already herding Sunghoon towards the time clock with the efficiency of a shepherd in a red polo. “Clock out, now. I can’t argue with our DM about why you went overtime for the sixth week in a row again.”

The walkie erupted with static and stress: “I need hazmat cleanup to the front entrance, ASAP. And someone find out if we need to evacuate.”

Sunghoon gave you a weak, apologetic thumbs up as Jungwon practically shoved him toward the lockers, leaving behind a trail of what had to be the world’s worst barbecue marinade mixed with industrial cleaning supplies.

And then there was one.

The front entrance looked like a tornado had hit a hardware store. Broken glass littered under the harsh lighting, chemical fumes in the air, and somewhere in that mess were the remnants of someone’s weekend cookout plans. You were officially the only team member left to deal with this clusterfuck, which meant running back and forth between the front and receiving to grab every piece of hazmat cleaning supplies the store had.

After ripping open a new pack of paper towels, your focus broke upon hearing your name once, then twice on the walkie.

“Go ahead?” you responded.

“Switch to 3,” a voice—Heeseung— demanded.

“Switching.”

“Come to Jungwon’s office, and leave your stuff in a locker.”

“Copy.”

Quickly, you threw away the soiled paper towels in your hand and put down a caution sign and some random traffic cones, hoping that’ll suffice. You mentally apologized to the opening team for your lame attempt at cleaning up Sunghoon’s mess.

You turned your walkie off and mute your Zebra on your way to the office, in case anyone on the night shift for inbound had particularly nosy, observant ears. You made a pit stop at the bathroom, still propped open, to wash your hands clean as fast as you can to not keep Heeseung waiting long.

You turned the knob of Jungwon’s office, quietly shutting it behind you so as to not stir any commotion. Heeseung was leaning back on the desk—Jungwon’s desk—scrolling his phone, which he quickly placed down in your presence.

Jungwon’s office was small, cramped even—hardly more than a glorified closet. It was dark, a dented filing cabinet stood in one corner, stacked with unorganized paperwork. The desk was cluttered with schedules, a cracked monitor, and a coffee cup long gone cold.

“Is that a walkie in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Funny,” Heeseung chuckled, dropping his head a bit to hide the flush on his face. He leaned off the edge of that desk, watching you with a look that made your stomach twist. “Which do you think it is?”

His gaze rose then fell, reigniting the fire in your core that was forcibly extinguished just hours ago. It was like you two never stopped.

You smirked, loving the way he always starts these games with you. A game you love playing.

Heeseung approached you, stopping to look down at you before relaxing himself. He tilted his head, running the knuckle of his curled pointer finger down your sternum, just to hear the switch in your breathing.

With his touch, you were hyper aware of your breathing at this point, focusing on retaining your composure. Somehow, you weren’t sure if your heart had slowed to a near stop or if it was beating so hard that it was now numb. Heeseung looked—and felt—so much more powerful like this, even though the store was now closed and there was nothing managerial to do.

He backed you into the door, his silhouette taking up most of your vision, the small reading light acting as the only form of backlight.

“Isn’t Jungwon going to notice,” you choked out, voice just surpassing a whisper.

“Mmm,” Heeseung responds, running a hand down your side. “Deserves it since he ruined our plans,” he leaned in, cheek passing yours to whisper into your ear, “right?”

“Suppose so,” you breathed, pressing your body against his to wrap your arms around his neck. Heeseung’s arms snaked around your waist. The warmth and scent of his body was familiar, but the thrill was just as addicting as the first time.

“Let me ask you,” voice low, “how much would you let me do to you right now?”

“However much you think you’d think you’d be able to get away with.”

“Yeah?” he reaffirms, pulling you in closer by your waist. “I can get away with a lot, you know?”

“Funny,” you breathed against his mouth, not closing the distance. “I don’t see you getting away with anything yet.”

His grip tightened, fingers pressing into the dip of your waist like he’s mapping the shape of you. The air between you thrums with the unspoken dare—try me.

“That right?” His voice dropped to something rough at the edges, the kind of tone that shouldn’t be used between coworkers. His thumb hooked into your belt loop, tugging just enough to make you stumble forward, until your chest brushes his with every shallow breath. “Tell me, baby—” His lips ghosted over yours, almost there, almost touching. “—you wanna be the one to catch me?”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered the flicker of the security cameras, the distant chatter of coworkers—but all you could focus on is the way his pulse jumped under your fingers when you ran them over his neck.

“Maybe,” you murmured, tilting your chin up. “Or maybe I just wanna watch you try.”

He laughed, dark and delighted, and finally closed the distance.

His kiss was the same, evident with the way he reciprocated the touch of your fingers with his own, tracing your jaw before making their way down your neck. He whimpered into the kiss, desperate from the hours of waiting.

You pulled away to look at his half lidded eyes and parted lips, ready to taste you for however long you willed it. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you guide him backwards into the office chair, standing between his legs so he can look up at you.

“Still gonna let me get away with it?” Heeseung asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“And what did you want to get away with?” You felt the corners of your lips turn up, watching the way he bit his lip as you backed away from him, leaning against his desk. For a moment, he had no intention of answering, and you could tell with the way his eyes raked over your body, as if to recommit every curve, every dimple of yours to memory.

“You know what I want,” he teased, standing up from the old office chair to meet you.

“Then do it,” you teased, sitting on the edge of his desk so that he can slither his way between your legs.

“You always welcome me so eagerly,” Heeseung groaned, “drives me crazy, y’know?” With a chuckle, he reached for his belt to undo it.

“You’re sick,” you breathed, verbally protesting but physically giving in to his touch. Heeseung had you on the desk, pushing away some papers and random office supplies before trapping you beneath him.

“This isn’t even yours, it’s Jungwon’s—”

“When has that stopped us before? It’s after hours anyways, no one’s here. There’s no cameras in Jungwon’s office.”

His thumbs reached for the belt loops of your jeans, inching you closer to the edge of the desk before undoing your button and zipper.

“Plus, I know you like that I’m just as sick as you are,” he smirked, tugging your jeans off of your legs and discarding them behind him.

“Need you right now,” he practically whimpered, sliding the tip of his cock against your folds before entering inside of you.

The searing sensation of Heeseung pushing inside you to a hilt made you wince, but seeing and hearing the desperation laced in his every move made the pain worth it. You wrapped your legs around him, forcing him closer.

“So fucking good,” he growled, briefly pausing to soak in your wetness. His hips met yours, skin damp with a thin layer of sweat. Heeseung reached with one hand, keeping the other on your hip, to put the bottom hem of his red shirt between his teeth.

You couldn’t even be mad at him, the sound of his soft moans stifled by the fabric in his mouth made the lack of sweet nothings. The sight of it all made your chest tight with desire—The furrow of his brows, the sheen of sweat on his torso, the way his muscles contracted with every breath…

The way he fucked you spoke the words he couldn’t himself; The fabric in his mouth was soon no barrier to his moans, desperate and carrying with your sex. His whimpers accompanied faster, sloppier thrusts into you. You watched as the sheen of sweat became drops, trailing and tempting you to where the two of you met.

Heeseung let the fabric fall free from his mouth, pausing for just a moment to pull his red shirt over his head and quickly throw it behind him. He wasted no time diving back into you, this time sheathing himself inside you to hover over your face, thin chain dangling, as if to taunt you.

He pulled your hips back over the edge of the desk, holding your hips at just the perfect angle to fuck you, rough and precise. His thumbs pressed into your flesh, making you arch into his touch. Only near-incoherent expletives and pleads left your lips, drawing out reciprocal pillowtalk from him.

Heeseung’s brows furrowed, lips parting, “Fuck, you feel so good—”

“Yeah?” you breathed, digging your nails into his shoulders, “gonna let me catch you?”

A cocky grin gradually spread across his face as he slowed his thrusts, teasing, “You really think you can?”

You matched his smirk, shifting just enough to tighten around him, drawing a sharp groan from his throat. “I know I can.”

His eyebrows lifted—challenge accepted. In one smooth motion, he pulled out, flipping your positions before you could react. He dropped into the chair, legs spread, gaze locked on yours like a dare. “Prove it.”

You slid off his desk, quickly discarding your shirt and bra in the process, leaving it on the desk. Matching the smug grin on his face, you straddled Heeseung just as you did earlier in the day, core bare this time. You had no patience to wait and tease him like you did in the stockroom. The two of you were equally as desperate, the chaos of the forbidden environment around you fueling the fire of your lust.

Heeseung’s tip prodded at your entrance, soaking wet, smearing and mixing his precome into your essence. He wasted no time to line himself up with you, guiding and pushing your hips down on him to remind him how good, how fucking delicious it feels to fuck you. Your brows knitted together, jaw falling slack as he pushed himself fully into you. The curve of his hard cock ran along one side of your cunt, making him feel so much bigger than before.

The wheels of the old office chair squeaked with the movement, becoming particularly loud when you fully sank down on Heeseung’s cock. He then wrapped his arms around you in a hug, putting his face in the crook of your neck as he continued to fuck you. Heeseung took in the scent of your body, covered in sweat.

He forced your hips into a rhythm, forcing them to roll in a manner that pushed the tip of his cock into your g-spot with every thrust back into you. It was hard to focus on continuing to kiss him when he was fucking you so good; Grabbing your ass with just the right amount of squeeze, working his hips into you, softly moaning when you descended on him.

It was all so, so filthy, but you loved filthy.

Heeseung moaned into your mouth as he fucked up into you rapidly, holding your hips hard enough to force you down on his cock, bottoming out with every thrust. The clench of your cunt made him chase the high of you milking him dry, remembering how much he loves fucking you. With one final push, he held your hips down, shooting his warm come inside of you. You pulsed around him, squeezing his length to fill you with it. His kisses stayed fervent, tongue tasting you desperately.

Heeseung supported your weight on the chair as you laid on him, both sweaty and fucked-out, breathing synced in heavy pants. Your skin, flushed and sweaty, kept the two of you stuck together. The desyncing of your breaths as you both returned to your normal was comforting somehow. Heeseung stayed inside you, not uttering a single word, and you let him.

You broke the silence, “Clean-up?”

“Of course,” he helped you up, holding your hips and lifting you off of him. Heeseung gasped, brows coming together as his gaze was set on your freshly fucked cunt, his seed spilling out of you back onto his still-hard cock. You hover for a moment, also speechless at the sight of you continuously dripping small beads of white back onto Heeseung.

You look at each other, still without any coherent thoughts.

“You… got any tissues in here?” you asked, to which Heeseung meekly nodded.

Dazed, you eased off Heeseung, making way to wipe you both clean of each other. Though you exchanged little to no words, Heeseung helped you back into your clothing. His touch was now soft, making you shiver when his fingertips ghosted your skin. He didn’t have to help you, but you let him anyway. You found yourself reciprocating the same sentiments, fixing his now-messy hair with your fingers as he helped with your jeans.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you asked, twirling a small strand of his with your finger.

“Yeah, but you don’t work tomorrow, I didn’t schedule you,” he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumb.

“You should’veee,” you whined.

“What a diligent employee,” he joked, “you must really love Target.”

The diner booth squeaked under Sunoo’s weight as he slid in across from you, already stirring his iced coffee with the kind of dramatic flair that meant he was absolutely itching to gossip. Outside, the afternoon sun baked the pavement, turning the parking lot into a shimmering mirage. A far cry from the artificial lighting of the Target you two spend most of your time in.

“Okay,” Sunoo said, interlocking his fingers like some kind of evil detective. “Start from the top.”

You took a long sip of your drink, stalling. “Which top? The stockroom? The refrigerator? Jungwon’s office? Oh, and let’s not forget the fucking family restroom.”

Sunoo’s eyes glittered with anticipation. “All of it?”

So you talked. About the way Heeseung’s schedule changes had gotten suspiciously convenient. How Jake had started lurking around the registers like a scorned ex whenever the two of you were on shifts together. The way Jungwon started giving you looks—like he knew something you didn’t.

Sunoo snorted into his fries. “Oh, Jungwon definitely knows. Jake’s been whining to him nonstop.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Between us? I think Jake might’ve said something before he left… against his will.”

You paused, straw halfway to your mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sunoo shrugged, suddenly very interested in the distribution of ketchup on his plate. “Just saying. Jake’s got—had—a big mouth. And Jungwon’s got opinions about favoritism.” A beat. “And also about people hooking up in the backroom.”

You groaned, thunking your head against the table. “We didn’t—okay, once— but it was mostly just—”

“Anyway,” Sunoo interrupted, grinning, “point is, Jake’s probably still salty. Definitely was when I saw him whispering to Jungwon by the lockers like some kinda bitter loser right before he lef—got terminated. Real subtle stuff.” He rolled his eyes. “Like, buddy, if you’re gonna snitch, at least commit to the bit.”

You frowned. “Wait, what exactly did he—”

Sunoo waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing concrete. Just a lot of ‘Hey, isn’t it weird how Heeseung’s always in Style?’ and ‘Did you know they took their breaks at the same time?” He shrugged. “Pathetic, really.”

You exhaled, stirring the melting ice in your cup.

Sunoo flagged down the waiter for the check, swirling the straw between his fingers. “So,” he said, faux-casual, “you gonna survive your next shift with him, or should I start drafting your eulogy now?”

You lobbed a crumpled napkin at him. “Depends. You bringing me a Tarbucks or not?”

“Pfft. Please.” He slid out of the booth, tossing a tip on the table. “I’d make it a venti caramel macchiato with extra espresso shots—so you can haunt Heeseung properly.”

The laugh caught in your throat. Outside, the sun glared off windshields, turning the parking lot into a minefield of blinding light.

Sunoo nudged you toward the door, sunglasses sliding down his nose. “Relax. Worst-case scenario, you get fired and I lose my favorite carpool.” He stopped. “Which can’t happen. I can’t take another ride in Jungwon’s hellcat, he drives that car like he has four warrants for his arrest.”

You flipped him off, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift. Somewhere between the sticky diner booth and the too-bright asphalt, the unspoken truth hummed: Maybe this wasn’t over.

The morning sun glared obnoxiously through your windshield as you pulled into the target parking lot, ten minutes late. You were already annoyed that you were scheduled today, not to mention, scheduled early today. You killed the engine, took a deep breath, and braced yourself for another shift with Heeseung. You wondered where he’d have you today—scheduled or otherwise.

As you walked in, you thought back to the last time you saw him the other night in his office. You wondered what he would’ve done to you yesterday had you been there instead of out and about. He broke the monotony of working retail for you; Heeseung was the thrill that broke your routine.

Though you were excited to break your routines again, you still went through procedure. Wave to Riki at the entrance, greet whoever was working at the tech counter, the daily stuff. Rushing to the timeclock, you clocked in. Like always, you were rewarded with the green checkmark, assuring that your punch was accepted.

You grabbed a Zebra, a walkie, and put on your nametag, making sure that your entrance today was going to be just how you wanted it, how you expected it. It felt a little silly to get ready for another day at your retail job, but at least it had some payoff now.

Exiting the office, you scanned the aisles, wondering if he had his temptation for today set up for you yet. Instead, you came to realize that the store was… barren. Chatter over the walkies were minimal, and foot traffic was also low. The store was quiet today.

A little too quiet.

Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed angrily, and the scent of burnt coffee from the Tarbucks and industrial cleaner attacked your nose.

“So,” he started, resting his chin on his hand, “you heard about Heeseung, right?”

You kept your eyes glued to your phone, thumb scrolling through absolutely nothing as you tried to play it cool. “Heard what?”

Sunoo leaned in, lowering his voice as if he were sharing classified information. “Got fired. Terminated. As in, escorted-out-by-guys-in-suits levels of fired.”

You took a slow sip of your drink, trying to seem nonchalant. “Huh. Weird.”

He smirked. “Weird? Let’s review,” Sunoo said, tapping the counter like a judge sentencing you to death. “First strike: fucking at work. Second strike: fucking a team member at work—specifically in the stockroom during the day—”

“Allegedly.” You cut in, swirling your drink.

“—with footage, by the way,” he continued, ignoring you. “And third strike—”

“But he said the camera was defunct!” you blurted, then immediately wanted to die.

“Not the hallway cameras, babe,” he purred. “Also, you guys were apparently not subtle at all when you ran into Jungwon. Talk about stupid. Neither of you guys could read the nametags?”

Your stomach dropped.

You thought about all the times you’d pass by Jungwon after you and Heeseung had an encounter, thinking that you were going to be able to get away with it forever. Your mind ran through the images of everyone else coming across you and Heeseung, wondering if you put too much trust in your coworkers to not rat you out.

Above all, it stung that for all those months of flirting, you only got little time with him. The thrill was short-lived, and the regret of it began to wear away at you.

What’s worse is you don’t know what happened with Heeseung exactly, and you couldn’t ask him about it either. There were no warnings, only immediate termination.

There was only so much that Sunoo could’ve heard or known about the case, how much evidence they had collected, and what type. Your ears rang, drowning out any and all words Sunoo had to say.

It was over.

It had barely started, and it was already over.

The walkie on your belt suddenly crackled to life, Jungwon’s voice coming through to tell you to switch to channel 3.

“Meet me in the TL office now.”

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