you could definitely say minjeong understood her daddy issues intimately. mostly because she kept sleeping with them.
The first time Minjeong calls him daddy, he nearly pops an aneurysm. Not because she’d said it during sex, no, that would've been a whole different thing. No, she says it while they're standing in the produce aisle of the store arguing over avocados.
“You need the ripe ones.”
“We're eating them tonight.”
“Exactly.”
He stares at her, and Minjeong stares right back, neither of them budge. “You realise you’re not making any sense right now, right?”
She looks at him for a long moment, almost like she’s studying him, wondering if he’d always been this stubborn. Then she sighs, rather dramatically, at that. “Whatever you say, daddy.”
For one long second, the world seems to stop around him as his brain completely short-circuits with the realisation of what she’d just said. No, he must’ve imagined it, she definitely hadn’t just said that, right?
He blinks slowly, the avocado in his hand suddenly forgotten. “What did you just say?”
Minjeong doesn't even blink, just calmly reaches past him and plucks a softer, darker avocado from the pile and drops it into their basket. “I said, whatever you say,” she replies, the tone of her voice entirely too innocent compared to the smirk on her face.
His eyes narrow. “That's not what you said.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Minjeong,” he whispers, glancing around nervously, half-convinced the elderly couple examining oranges a few feet away had heard every word. “You can't just say things like that in the middle of the store.”
“Things like what?” She glances at him, eyes wide and completely innocent. “I'm just deferring to your superior wisdom, daddy. Since you clearly know everything about produce.”
His eyes narrow. “I'm serious.”
“So am I.”
“Minjeong.”
“Yes, daddy?” Her words were full of the kind of confidence he wasn't really prepared for right now.
A nearby shopper immediately looks up from examining a bunch of bananas. He notices, and Minjeong catches him noticing, which only seems to make her smile grow even bigger.
He drags her away from the produce, one hand around her wrist, the other aggressively pushing the shopping cart along into an empty aisle. “Are you trying to give me a stroke?” He sounded almost panicked now. “In public? In front of a bunch of pensioners?”
“Well, isn’t that quite the escalation,” she teases, full of joy. “I’d be more than happy to give you a stroke, but I’m not sure anyone but us would appreciate it, daddy.”
“For the love of God, please stop talking.”
Minjeong pretends to consider his words, a small smirk on her lips, completely unrepentant. “No.”
He closes his eyes. “Minjeong.”
“What?”
“You know exactly what you're doing.”
“I genuinely don't.”
“You absolutely do.”
She tilts her head. “Daddy, are you accusing me of being manipulative?”
Further along the aisle, a middle-aged woman is clearly pretending not to listen as she reads the label of the same cereal box for the third time.
“You're unbelievable.”
“Hey, that's exactly what you called me last night when I was rid-”
He clamps his hand over her mouth. “And we are not finishing that sentence in the cereal aisle,” he hisses, his face burning a shade of red that rivalled the organic tomatoes they’d passed two minutes ago.
The problem, unfortunately, is that she's smiling. He can feel it against his palm, and it’s not a normal smile, it’s a victorious one. The smile of a woman who had just discovered a button and intended to press it repeatedly for the rest of her natural life.
Slowly, deliberately, she licks his palm. He immediately jerks his hand away. “You did not seriously just fucking lick my hand?”
Minjeong has the audacity to look scandalised at his words. “Language, daddy.”
The drive home is torturous. Not because of traffic, or anything else particularly unusual. But because Minjeong spends the entire journey looking unbearably pleased with herself.
She sits in the passenger seat with one leg tucked beneath her, occasionally glancing out the window before catching his eye and smiling to herself. The kind of smile that says she knows exactly what she’s done, and that she'd probably be doing it again and again.
By the time they reach his building, he's already exhausted. “Just, don't.”
Minjeong looks up from her phone. “Don't what?”
He points at her. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
She smiles as she looks back down at her phone again, opting not to reply this time. For now, anyway.
The second the elevator doors open onto the penthouse level, Minjeong immediately perks up. Her favourite place in the world. Well, second favourite. The first is probably his bed. The moment they step inside, she immediately forgets about tormenting him.
Well, mostly.
Every single time those elevator doors open, she feels exactly the same. A little impressed, a little jealous, but mostly? A little turned on. Admittedly, it’s probably a ridiculous response to architecture, but she can’t help it. Success looked incredibly sexy on him.
“You're doing it again.”
Minjeong blinks, his voice bringing her out from her thoughts. “What?”
“Staring.”
“I’m not staring, I’m appreciating.”
He snorts. “It's just an apartment, Minjeong.”
“You know,” she says, wandering deeper inside, “if somebody broke into this place and stole everything, I think my first reaction would be jealousy.”