Dessert

Sometimes, you hate this job. Case in point, right fucking now.

“There’s not enough!”

You don’t even know what the problem was. You got her the cream puffs she wanted from that one bakery she specifically told you to buy (it was a two hour drive), got her exactly how many she wanted (three), and in the correct size that she preferred (these were cream puffs for fuck’s sake).

You did it all to a tee. Wasted four hours of your life coming and going to the shop, bought the trio of puffs that she was craving for, and brought it back to her just in time for her shoot to end. You honest to god thought she’d be happy having them after it considering she’s been up since five in the morning.

Hell, you wish you could’ve gotten a ‘good job!’ from her, or something along those lines. But this was Jang Wonyoung you were talking about.

To the world, she was one of the best models around. Designer brands, telecoms, alcohol, you name it and she’s probably involved in it. Everyone wants her for all sorts of reasons. For the brand, for the sales, for the eye candy. And everyone would say she’s worth every penny.

To you, she’s the bane of your recent existence. She’s extremely high maintenance, a pain in the ass to handle every time she throws one of her tantrums, and the only reason you haven’t left this job was because the pay was astronomically large, which you quickly found out why.

‘Taking care of her is easy’, they said, ‘You’ll be rich by the end of the year’, they said. They were also gone the week after you joined the team. Leaving you, a bunch of new guys, and a few (two) of the experienced fellows to deal with her.

You heard that some got moved to handle other models, some resigned because of the work environment (it was really just Wonyoung). At first, you thought that was fine, fair even, given the amount of new people they picked up. Now you can see that it was probably a combination of nepotism and networking.

Both of which you seriously wish you had because at the moment, she decided to pick you as the monthly punching bag. And considering that this was your first foray into handling models and nobody in your family was really involved in this type of business, you were pretty much screwed from the start.

You comfort yourself by saying that the pay outweighs all the trouble she’s brought. That and she’s hot as fuck, being the perfect eye candy when you’re doing nothing while she’s getting her pictures taken for some big shot company.

Until she starts stomping towards you in heels (she hasn’t bothered changing them after the shoot), cream smeared all over her lips that were formed in an angry, oddly cute pout, and a half eaten cream puff.

Suddenly the urge to ask for a raise never felt higher.

“What is this?” She stops in front of you, almost shoving the pastry to your face.

“It’s a cream puff–”

“I know it’s a cream puff!” She rolls her eyes. “Do you know what’s wrong with it?”

You give the puff a once over, furrowing your eyebrows. “Not really, Miss Jang.”

“It isn’t full of cream, you dolt.” She lets out an exasperated sigh, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you know what a cream puff even is?”

“It’s cream.” You blink. “In a puff.”

Because what else would it be?

“But this one isn’t filled to the brim.” She points to the insides of said puff, where the inside is half filled with white cream. “And I’m assuming that every single one of what you bought is the same.”

There’s an innuendo there somewhere, you think. But you’d rather not say it out loud in fear of losing your job because this was Wonyoung you were talking to. One wrong word and you’re walking out the door with a need to update your resume.

“I can go back and get you a new set,” you start, already preparing yourself for another long drive to avoid pissing her off even further. “It’ll take a while but I should be back before you meet with the Downy contact.”

“There’s no time,” she replies, spilling on her heel and walking to the nearby table where the rest of her pastries awaited. “Come here.”

You follow reluctantly, though you suppose this is better than driving for the majority of the day. You stop in front of her, where she sits down and starts breaking the puffs in half to see which ones had cream spilling out and which ones weren’t.

“Just one,” she says, putting them all down and letting the cream stain the plate. She lets out a sigh, almost annoyed at what she’s discovered. “One puff worth eating. Do you know how insulting that is?”

You glance down at the mess in front of you, really wanting to tell her that she ate half of one pastry she didn’t like. “At least there’s still one.”

“At least?” she repeats slowly, eyes widening in utter disbelief of what you said. “Do you want to get paid a third of what you make?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. All these comments swirling around your brain since she started hounding you, one of them’s bound to slip out.

Too bad it had to be now of all times.

“A third’s still a lot.”

Your eyes widen at the same time her jaw drops.

“Wait, I didn’t mean–”

She cuts you off with a laugh, leaning back in the chair and crossing her arms. “Cocky little shit aren’t you?”

“I apologize, miss–” You barely started before she holds a hand up to stop you.

“Drop your pants.” She pushes away from the table, the chair screeching as she stands up to face you.

What?

For a second there, you thought you heard her wrong. Or it was some sick joke she was trying to pull on you for being way too cheeky with her when it was possibly—definitely—your job on the line.

“E-excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She leans on one leg and starts to tap her foot on the ground, each click spiking your heartrate. “You want to apologize? Then drop your pants, and fill them up.”

Now you know that this is a sick joke. What does she want you to do–“You…want me to jerk off to cream puffs?”

“Cute, but no,” she smirks, enjoying how uncomfortable you are with all this. Two clicks of her heels and she’s right in front of you with a hand on your belt. “You’d take longer than driving back to buy new ones.”

Your breath hitches as she tugs your belt loose and pulls your zipper down with ease, as if it was second nature to her. You’re frozen in place, letting her do as she pleases because what does a man even do when Jang Wonyoung is pulling your pants down?

“You’re also lucky that I like you more than the rest of these dumbasses,” she adds, yanking your pants down to your knees, a finger tracing the outline of your cock through your boxers.

You swallow, obviously, audibly, trying not to do anything else that could get you fired because if anyone else in your team walked into this, you’d be looking at steel bars and wearing orange jumpsuits. “We’re still new to the team, miss–”

“Yet you’re the one of the few who gets anything done around here,” she adds, her finger toying with the waistband of your underwear. “And that’s why you’re here with me and not with those idiots.”

She slowly, finally,licks off the cream that was smeared on her lips, making for a dangerous view of her licking something else off her lips instead pop into your thoughts.

Your body betrays you, your cock twitching under her touch, from the idea of blowing a load all over that gorgeous face of hers and watching her lick it all up. She catches it, feels it under her hand, and smirks.

“I know what you’re thinking. If you do a good job I’ll make it happen next time.” Next time?

She frees you from the confines of your underwear, and you’re left standing there with your pants down, cock out, and sweat trailing down your temple.