o| The little reading nook |o.
3. The Sugar Daddy Company.
Pairing: NamJin (Namjoon x Seokjin)
Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥
Seokjin lifted his gaze, puzzled, eyes locking with the man in front of him, unsure if he’d heard the question right. The stranger was tall, his silver hair shimmering under the soft golden lights of the upscale bar. Seokjin tried to place him among the elite clientele, but nothing clicked. And yet, he’d grown up surrounded by the rich and powerful—from lavish childhood parties to exclusive galas. Back then, no one needed to ask who he was. It was obvious: Kim Seokjin, son of the CEO of Samsung’s multimedia branch. Loved. Admired.
Now, thinking about it made him smile bitterly. Those days were long gone.
Two years ago, his father discovered the family’s shame—Seokjin was gay. Overnight, he lost everything: house, car, job, even his credit cards. No one in high society wanted a homosexual tarnishing their image. He’d been bouncing from one odd job to another ever since, and tonight he was waiting tables in a luxury restaurant that had taken pity on him. He had two days left before they let him go too.
"— We could assign two servers if that would make your service smoother."
"— No, I meant in life. Are you alone?"
A blush crept up Seokjin’s cheeks before he even understood why. He blinked a few times, bit his lower lip, and let out a small nervous laugh. He didn’t know how to answer or where to look. After clearing his throat, he finally replied, voice soft and hesitant.
"— Oh! No, there’s no one in my life."
The man studied him a moment before pulling out his wallet and handing over a business card. It was black, with gold lettering: Kim Namjoon, CEO of Sugar Daddy Corporation. Seokjin’s fingers fumbled with it, and a small, disappointed "Oh" slipped past his lips as he pieced it together—this wasn’t just a flirt. Namjoon was recruiting.
His tone turned sharper, professionalism fading.
"— I’m not that kind of person, Mr. Kim."
"— Of course you’re not. But keep the card. Just in case."
The rest of Seokjin’s night felt heavier, and the next two days even more so. On the last evening, with his tiny paycheck in hand, he stared at the pouring rain, debating whether to head to the small car he’d managed to buy by skipping rent—he still hadn’t found permanent housing. It was cramped but decent. He stared down at the business card, as if it might speak to him.
At around 10 p.m., he stormed through the doors of the CEO’s office and tossed it at Namjoon.
"— I’m not some random prostitute. All I want is money."
"— One client only. Regular. Two max. And if we’re talking about sleeping, I mean actual sleep. Nothing more."
"— Oh sweetheart, enough to make you forget you spent the night in a stranger’s arms. Man, woman, whatever—the demand is huge. In fact, I already have a client for you."
Seokjin hesitated. His fingers dug into his arm as he sat down, trembling slightly. How had this guy already lined someone up when he hadn’t even agreed to anything yet? Was Namjoon part of the mafia? Had he been followed?
"— I’ve done this for nearly a decade. I know who to approach. I knew you’d come. You needed this."
"— Fine. Who’s the client?"
"— Me. I’ve been looking for someone like you for a long time. You’re perfect. I pay well: there's a villa I don’t use, pick any car you want. Money’s not an issue. You won’t get a salary, but I’ll cover everything. In exchange, I want your company. And, if one day you decide to give yourself to me more intimately... well. That would be welcome."
Seokjin’s hand trembled as he signed the already-prepared contract. He stepped into a world both familiar and strange. The galas returned. Luxurious events, sparkling champagne, high fashion. Months passed. He relearned how to live in luxury, though part of him craved simplicity. Despite the lack of real intimacy, they acted like a couple. Namjoon gave him anything he asked for, in exchange for time.
Sometimes they were just together in his office. Sometimes at parties. Sometimes sharing quiet meals. They both got something out of it. Still, it wasn’t a normal relationship, and that messed with Seokjin’s head. Society expected him to feel ashamed. And maybe, deep down, he did.
The luxury resort on the private island was massive—he had to carry a map just to avoid getting lost. Today marked exactly one year since he’d started his pseudo-prostitution. Seokjin had thought about quitting often but never found the courage.
Glass of champagne in hand, eyes watching the sunset, he seemed lost in thought.
"— What would you like to do tomorrow?" Namjoon asked.
"— Hmm. That sounds interesting."
Seokjin could feel Namjoon’s burning gaze on his nape. A small smile curled his lips. He turned around, dressed only in a robe that slipped open slightly as he stepped closer to Namjoon, who raised an eyebrow.
"— And maybe afterward… we could go shopping and have dinner at a five-star place?"
"— Won’t that go over your package deal?"
"— I’ve decided... to upgrade the package anyway."
The robe dropped to the floor.
He pushed Namjoon gently onto the bed. The man let him, amused by the turn of events. Seokjin straddled him, Namjoon brushing a thumb across his lips as he started undoing his shirt, button by slow button.
"— What made you change your mind?"
"— I don’t know. Maybe… the idea of eating lobster without checking the limit on my deal?"
With a swift motion, Namjoon rolled him onto the bed, taking control. He laced their fingers together as the kiss deepened. Seokjin whimpered beneath him. Everything felt new—the touches, the burning kisses, Namjoon’s teasing tongue driving him wild, his fingers damp against the sheets.
When Namjoon finally reached deeper, Seokjin nearly unraveled. He hadn’t expected this much pleasure in giving himself. Even though it could have been raw and instinctive, Namjoon stayed tender—maybe to keep the door open for more in the future.
"— I’ll need to change my contract."
"— You want to move up a level?"
"— Yeah. I don’t care about the others anymore."
He bit his lip, eyes drifting across Namjoon’s bare chest, fingertips brushing against warm skin. Then he let himself collapse beside him, exhausted. He’d worry about everything later.
For now, all he could think about was lobster and diving. Nothing else.
