inbox #22
inbox #22
1. shinee/exo, taemin/kai, taemin is kai's stylist, any rating
2. exo, kris/lu han, you understand the ugly things about me, any rating
3. f(x), amber/others, amber discovers mermaids on her stretch of beach, any rating
4. kim woobin/lee jongsuk, first meeting as models, any rating
5. bangtan, rap monster/jin, friendship date, g-pg-13 ( Read more... )
1. shinee/exo, taemin/kai, taemin is kai's stylist, any rating
2. exo, kris/lu han, you understand the ugly things about me, any rating
3. f(x), amber/others, amber discovers mermaids on her stretch of beach, any rating
4. kim woobin/lee jongsuk, first meeting as models, any rating
5. bangtan, rap monster/jin, friendship date, g-pg-13 ( Read more... )
Taemin doesn’t even feign professionalism when he sees Jongin’s first outfit for the album shoot.
“Fuck you,” Jongin hisses into the curve of Taemin’s neck. He hasn’t slept enough for this. Taemin just keeps laughing, his head down as he fiddles with the ropes running down Jongin’s arms. “You don’t have to wear it.”
“I don’t,” Taemin agrees. He lets go of the ropes, tugging on the clasps experimentally, but they don’t quite reach across Jongin’s chest. “But I do have to work with it.” He gives Jongin’s ass a playful smack. “Get in the chair.”
Jongin winces at his reflection as he sits. The clothes had looked awful on the coordi’s rack--how could they not--but they’re somehow worse on his body. The shirt is threadbare, his skin clearly visible under the studio lights; the chopped up backpack around his shoulders makes him look absurdly tiny. He slumps in his seat, and that ring scrapes his thigh. He did not sign up for this shit.
Taemin taps Jongin’s shoulder with his comb. “Sit up, sleepyhead, you wanna look even worse?” Jongin grunts noncommittally. “It’ll be fine, Jonginnie. I’ll make sure people don’t look at this mess.”
“Really,” Jongin mumbles, but he shifts positions obediently.
“Are you doubting me?” Taemin fluffs Jongin’s hair, smirking at their reflection. “If I was the styling director you’d look fucking amazing.”
Jongin’s never seen Taemin in anything but his black-on-black work clothes, and as much as Jongin likes Taemin, respects him in spite of himself, he can’t imagine someone that forces his interns to upend honey packets into cup noodles has sophisticated fashion taste. He opens his mouth to tell Taemin exactly this, to shut him up so he can practice sleeping with his eyes open, but what comes out is “What would you put me in?”
“Hm?” Taemin grins, catlike, as he starts to comb through Jongin’s hair. “Well, preferably nothing,” he says, and Jongin groans, “but you just debuted, they’d eat you alive.” Taemin laughs at himself, the bastard, and picks up a chunk of Jongin’s hair just next to his ear. “I think...a nice, navy suit, skinny pants, snug around the ass. White shirt, silver jewelry, but classy, not the junk you’ve got on. I’d keep your hair soft, like the first magazine spread we did, remember?” He’s braiding, Jongin thinks, but he’s not paying too much attention. Taemin’s breath is hot on his neck. “And then when the shoot was over, I’d drag us into the coat closet, make you a bed out of parkas, and pull the slacks down just far enough to blow you.” He reaches a hand out, and an intern shuffles forward with a fist full of elastic bands. “Sound good?” Taemin asks, finally, and Jongin fucking shivers.
“I don’t know,” he answers, his voice nowhere near as confident-sounding as he’d like. In the mirror, his face is disgustingly red. “How good are you with your mouth?”
Taemin huffs as he ties up the braid. “Win Music Bank and maybe you’ll find out.”
--
After three hours and several calming breaths, Jongin’s head is covered in perfectly neat cornrows, extensions glued to the bottom of his scalp.
“I’m never letting you dress me, asshole,” Jongin sniffs as Taemin gingerly ties a bandanna around his forehead.
“I said I’d make sure people weren’t looking at your clothes,” Taemin says coolly. Jongin hates him. “I had to follow the theme, see?” He tugs on the jacket. “Your hair reflects the ropes. It’s artistic.”
“It’s terrible.”
Taemin purses his lips, failing to hide a smirk. “To each their own,” He says, pushing Jongin out of the chair. “Now go wow some photographers, Jonginnie, I worked hard on this.”
Jongin swipes Taemin’s freshly-delivered latte as he leaves for the shoot, sighing in satisfaction when he takes the first sip. It’s the least he deserves.
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lol I love how cornrows are Taemin's solution to awful clothing?! They would be. Because he is also awful. Also LOL that your word count is 666... Taemin's powers are so real... The teasing >:( He's so terrible >:(
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