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mochacoda · 3 months ago

Text

python | csc

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x GN!Reader

Synopsis: When you broke up with your boyfriend to work in a different country, you didn't expect to see him ever again. But when you transfer to your company's Seoul branch four years later, the department head is your ex, and he’s made it his objective to make your life a living hell for leaving him all those years ago.

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Exes to Lovers | Office AU

Tags: emotions, miscommunication, heartache, workaholic!seungcheol, insecure reader, drinking, crying, begging, petnames (sweetheart, love), konglish w/ translations, no "y/n," this is for everyone who voted for cheol in the poll, loosely connected to too nice (joshua)

Word Count: 10.2K

“I hate him,” you seethe, your fists balled up, crumpling your rejected proposal. “God, I hate him.”

Your coworker, Joshua Hong, looks up from his cubicle with raised eyebrows. “Who?”

You breathe in deeply, willing your rage to dissipate at the sight of his confusion. Poor Joshua doesn’t deserve your anger. “No one,” you say, clenching your jaw.

Open-mouthed, Joshua blinks rapidly, eyes flitting over to glance at the office you had just walked out of. The door to the room is marked with a name plate that has 최승철 [Choi Seungcheol] in bold, gold letters.

“I’m fine,” you insist, hands uncrumpling the document you had just attacked.

“Uh, okay?” he says with a healthy dose of doubt, elongating the “o” in “okay.”

“I just—” you begin, then immediately shut your mouth. “Ugh, forget it.”

It’s one thing to crumple a proposal up, and another thing to start bad-mouthing your boss out in the open. You throw the tattered outline onto your desk, then plop yourself onto your chair. You rub your temples, and then mutter under your breath, “How did I get here?”

“Good question,” Joshua laughs. “Company synergy?”

You groan, “Don’t ever say that word again in my presence.”

“Mmh,” he says, walking over to your cubicle. “You won’t have to worry about my presence in a few months.”

“Don’t remind me,” you sigh, dropping your head in your hands.

Joshua would be leaving the Seoul branch and transferring to the New York branch in a few weeks.

Curse your company for its commitment to “workplace synergy,” swapping out a handful of employees across all departments in its international branches every few years. If it hadn’t been for this horrible program, you wouldn’t be here right now.

You want to rip out your own hair, at this point.

How did it even get to this? You shut your eyes, thinking back to older times.

When you first got a job offer at the New York branch of your dream company, your initial reaction was elation. Your second? Doubt. Leaving Seoul was almost unthinkable, not to mention the fact that you’d be leaving your boyfriend behind, too.

For the first few days after hearing back from the recruiter, you knew you’d accept, but kept the news to yourself. You’d heard of so many horror stories about long-distance dating, and after a long period of consideration, you wondered what the point was.

You knew your boyfriend—really knew him. You knew he’d make sacrifices for you at the expense of himself, and it was impossible for you to accept bogging him down with a 14 hour time difference. He’d stay up waiting for your calls, instead of getting much needed rest. He’d worry about you all the time, checking the weather in Manhattan instead of Seoul and calling you constantly instead of his family and friends. He’d wait on you for as long as you needed, in an almost obsessive way, thinking it could make up the difference in distance. But he deserved someone who could love him in person, all of the time.

It’d be better for Seungcheol if you just let him go, freeing him to focus on what mattered more to him. Like work.

He loved you too much to break things off with you himself, so it was better that you did it. For his own good.

That’s what you told him, at least.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“Cheol,” you said, teary-eyed. “Cheol, look at me.”

Seungcheol stared blankly at the ground, face frozen.

“Please?” your voice cracked.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t handle?” he suddenly choked out, eyes flashing with hurt. His hands clenched, like he was holding himself back from saying more.

You swallowed thickly, reaching for his arm. “Cheol, I—”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, snatching his hand away from you.

────୨ৎ────

But you had hidden the real reasons for the breakup.

Because, deep down, you had always suspected otherwise. Somehow, everything had just become so complicated. Loving Seungcheol—which had once been something as easy as breathing—had become a dull pain in your chest, clouding your every thought with insecurities.

Even from the start of the relationship, you’d loved him more, anyway. Back then, you didn’t mind it because you loved him so much, and he was always so, so sweet to you. But around the time of the job offer, paranoia had reared its ugly head, kicking your uncertain thoughts into overdrive.

It was obvious that he didn’t really love you anymore. While you were job seeking, he was distracted. Always checking his phone, not really listening to what you had to say. He made time for you, but he didn’t necessarily make you feel like he loved you as deeply as you did him—it didn’t feel like he was the same guy that you started dating.

Something about his actions just felt like he did them to claim that he loved you, rather than because he actually loved you. His actions were laced with a kind of surface level, superficial quality.

He’d take you out to a fancy dinner, open the door for you, pay for the meal, drive you home—all the gentlemanly things he did when you started dating, too. But on the car ride there and back, and while sitting down eating together, he wouldn’t remember the things you had said about the little things happening in your life—a major change, when compared to the start of your relationship.

And sure, he didn’t have an obligation to remember your next door neighbor's name. But shouldn’t he remember your favorite kind of pie, or your closest cousin’s name? Shouldn’t he just know not to check his phone every time it pings with a new email, or leave you to eat your stupid expensive pasta alone as he takes a call outside?

It was almost like Seungcheol had fallen out of love with you, but was staying with you out of some kind of obligation to continue what he had started? That was your only explanation for why he’d spend time with you, but wouldn’t pay close attention to the things you said. Every Thursday was movie night, and in hopes of trying to keep him away from work, you let him choose the movie every time. But what use was that, when he spent more time looking at his phone than the TV—and more importantly, you, for that matter?

You’d been dating a ghost of a man. While you loved him, he tolerated you.

If the two of you stayed together when you went abroad, he’d probably double down on texts, but he wouldn’t really remember anything you’d said if you mentioned details about them in calls.

You didn’t bring any of these fears up to him, because you knew that he would continue to deny it. In fact, you’d imagined it in your head so much that you could see it when closing your eyes to sleep. If you confronted him, he’d deny that he didn’t love you anymore. But he’d be staring at the ground instead of looking at you. He wouldn’t admit that he was only with you because he enjoyed the consistency of your affection, and because he somewhat pitied you—and most importantly to him, because he wanted to prove to himself that he chose correctly when he started dating you.

The pain of watching the love of your life push down his repulsion just to be with you was decidedly more horrifying than the pain of breaking up with him altogether.

Right before ending things, it had occurred to you that Seungcheol might not have ever loved you in the first place, and that just hammered in the idea that you were making the right decision. He’d get over the breakup fast. He’d probably be thankful for it in a few years, even. If you saw him again, you’d both probably laugh, and in his head, he’d realize that he was grateful that you ended things so that he could focus on his real love, his career.

If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that there was a bit of selfishness driving the breakup, as well. There was no way you could handle Seungcheol sacrificing things for you—if he lost sleep over you, if he worried about you, if he was distracted by you—because you knew he wouldn’t be doing it for love.

Because he only ever cared out of a superficial need to prove to himself that he made the right decision in asking you out all those years ago. Not because he really loved you.

Yes, he probably never loved you, and he would never know the real reason why you ended things.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You give up so easily,” he spat out. “Was I nothing to you?”

Tears were running down your face. “Don’t. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Seungcheol laughed, then buried his head in his hands. “God, to think I almost—”

He stopped, jaw tightening, then shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.

────୨ৎ────

A hand comes down sharply on your desk, jolting you awake.

“Sleeping while on duty?”

Wide-eyed, with tear-stained cheeks, you look up to face your ex-boyfriend. “부장님! [Department Head!]”

Upon seeing your red-rimmed eyes, Seungcheol falters.

Swiping at your under eyes quickly, you bow your head to him slightly. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

He swallows roughly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to ask you why you were crying, and your heart drops.

You will crumble if you hear the tone of voice he had used when you broke up with him.

“Excuse me,” you blurt with choked words.

You don’t dare to look at his eyes. Instead, you get up from your seat, then immediately flee to the bathroom.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You can focus on work, now,” you squeaked out.

Seungcheol scoffed again, a cruel sound of disbelief. “What makes you think I give a damn about work right now?”

“Don’t you? Always?” you sniffled.

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite describe. He seemed angry, but not just at you. At himself, too—his hands were balled into fists at his sides, fingernails digging sharply into his palms. His throat bobbed, and you could see the intense restraint he was forcing on himself. He opened his mouth with a sharp breath, then closed it again, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself.

────୨ৎ────

You stare with glassy eyes at yourself in the mirror, trying to calm your racing heart down. It would be alright. You would be alright.

If you just focused on your work, it would be fine.

Leaving the bathroom, you square your shoulders. You’ll draft up a new proposal that suits his standards, and you’ll do it so excellently that he can’t possibly reject it.

Hours later, and you’re standing outside Seungcheol’s office again. Taking a deep breath, you walk in without knocking or announcing yourself.

The stack of papers trembles in your hands as you place them on Seungcheol’s desk. You keep your expression blank, steadying your breath, willing yourself not to let any emotion slip. “This is the revised proposal.”

Seungcheol doesn’t look up immediately. He takes his time flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room is suffocating, thick with words left unsaid from years ago. You stand stiffly, waiting, watching the way his fingers drag across the paper. Finally, he exhales sharply and sets the proposal down.

The room is unbearably silent as the question of approval hangs in the air. Your heart pounds so loudly you swear he can hear it.

He should say no immediately. It would be the easiest answer. The logical one. The one you expect.

But he hesitates.

His fingers curl against the polished surface of his desk, and his gaze lingers on the documents in front of him for just a second too long. It’s subtle—anyone else might not notice—but you do. His mask falters. Just a flicker.

And for a split second, you let yourself hope.

Then, his jaw tightens. His hands retreat beneath the table, as if physically pulling himself back. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady, controlled, and restrained—nothing like the eager, puppy-like man you knew him as when you first started dating.

“We’ll have to decline,” he says, and it’s final. Unshakable. Like he hadn’t wavered at all.

You nod stiffly, as if you hadn’t just watched something slip through his fingers. As if it hadn’t slipped through yours, too.

“Decline?” you blurt.

His face remains impassive. “Yes.”

You blink at him, momentarily stunned. You had anticipated that he would be difficult, but this—it’s too fast, too dismissive.

You steel yourself. “Why?”

“It’s not good enough.”

Your fingers clench around the hem of your blazer. “Can’t you separate private and work life?”

He meets your gaze, eyes dark and cool. “I am.” His voice is devoid of any warmth. “I don’t care. Your proposal is bad.”

The words strike harder than they should, more than just a professional critique. A cruel, deliberate dismissal. You know it’s personal—for the past two weeks that you’ve been at the Seoul branch, it has always been personal when it comes to him. Your blood simmers.

“I see.” You force your voice to remain level. “Would you like to point out what’s wrong with it?”

His lips press into a thin line. “No.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escapes you. “Of course not.”

Seungcheol leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Four years ago, you didn’t choose me. So why should I choose your useless proposal?”

The shift is abrupt, the air sucked out of the room in an instant. Your nails dig into your palms.

“I have never loved anyone more than I loved you.” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, the truth of them ringing through the silence.

He scoffs, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something raw. “You left me,” he says, voice edged with something dangerously close to hurt. “You. Left. Me.”

Your breath shudders. “You left me first.”

He leans forward, eyes searching yours, like he’s daring you to take it back. “How?” His voice is quieter now, but no less intense. “How did I leave you, when I was the one you abandoned in Seoul?”

Your vision blurs slightly. This. This is why it never worked between the two of you. He’s too bull-headed to even consider that he was in the wrong.

You shake your head. “Why didn’t you fight for us?”

His jaw tightens. “Why didn’t you?”

A bitter taste coats your tongue. “You gave up so easily.”

His eyes flash. “No,” he says sharply, “you’re the one who brought up work all the time.”

Your hands tremble. “Because if it wasn’t about work, you wouldn’t talk to me!”

That stuns him. His mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out. His brows knit together, the first crack in his mask of indifference.

You exhale shakily, pressing forward. “Because if I talked about anything else, I knew you wouldn’t listen,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I knew I’d be talking to a man who loved the idea of me more than he actually loved me.”

Seungcheol flinches as if you had struck him. His throat bobs, hands clenched into fists on top of his desk. “That’s not true,” he grits out, but there’s something in his voice—something unsteady, like the words are slipping through his fingers before he can stop them.

“Isn’t it?” you press. His breathing turns uneven, his jaw tightening like he’s physically holding himself back.

“You made me feel like I was a burden,” you continue, the words tumbling out, years of buried pain unraveling in real time. “Like you had to tolerate me between meetings and emails. Like being with me was just another responsibility to check off your list.”

He exhales sharply, like the air’s been knocked out of his lungs. His fingers twitch, gripping the desk so tightly that his knuckles go white. “That’s not—” He stops, biting his tongue, like even he can’t bring himself to finish that sentence.

A bitter laugh escapes you. “You don’t even believe yourself, do you?”

Seungcheol stands abruptly, chair scraping against the floor, his composure unraveling before your eyes. “I worked so damn hard for us,” he says, voice raw.

Your voice is small. “I never asked you to.”

His lips part, and for the first time since you stepped into his office, his expression isn’t blank or cold—it’s vulnerable. And it terrifies you.

His expression cracks, pain flickering through his eyes. “I was trying to build a future for you,” he says, voice raw, desperate. “For us.”

“You were so busy planning a future that you forgot to love me in the present.”

A tense silence falls between you, the weight of the past pressing down on both of you like an unbearable force. His breaths are uneven, his knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping the edge of his desk.

Finally, he exhales, a bitter, tired laugh leaving his lips. He looks down at the proposal—still sitting there, untouched, still rejected.

“This meeting is over,” he mutters, his voice hoarse.

Your heart clenches painfully, but you nod, blinking rapidly to push back the tears. Without another word, you turn on your heel and walk out, leaving behind the shattered remnants of everything you once were.

When you get back to the safe haven that is your apartment, you retrace everything he had said. Or, rather, the accusations he had thrown at you.

“You left me.”

“I was the one you abandoned in Seoul.”

“Why didn’t you fight for us?” “Why didn’t you?”

“I was trying to build a future for you. For us.”

Your heart strangely aches, remembering how shaken he looked when you called out his workaholic behavior. You had blamed him for the end of it all, but it takes two to end a relationship. Why didn’t you fight harder for him, back then?

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

You’re alone now. It’s what you wanted. To be free from the self-doubt that loving Seungcheol had drilled into you.

Your chest constricted so tightly, you couldn’t breathe.

────୨ৎ────

Two days after the disastrous office meeting, you’ve somehow managed to have the misfortune of sitting in front of your ex-boyfriend at a steakhouse for work. The restaurant is dimly lit, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the space. Your body practically vibrates from the tension.

You can see Seungcheol’s gaze turn sharper every time he looks at you, and it makes it all the more insulting when he immediately brightens at Director Chun. You chug another glass of wine, hoping the buzz will numb the annoyance bubbling within you.

“Thank you, Director,” you say, reaching over the table to shake your superior’s hand. “It was a pleasure.”

“No, thank you, Team Leader,” he chuckles. “We’re lucky to have such competent, young people working for us. I’m sure the Brennans will be thrilled to see this project come to a close so quickly.”

Seungcheol laughs. “We’re lucky to have you, Director.”

It’s so fake, you’re itching to get rid of the stupid grin off his smug face.

“I’m sorry I have to leave so soon,” the director continues. “I’ll see you two back at the office?”

“Of course,” you say, standing up and bowing to him as he gets up from his seat.

When the director finally leaves, you can’t help but clench your fists. Wanting to relieve the tension in your poor tendons, you reach for the wine bottle, refilling your glass for the nth time tonight. The rest of the restaurant is loud, but it is far too quiet in your corner of the room.

Now you’re alone with Seungcheol.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension, thick and suffocating. Seungcheol, across from you, has his fingers curled tightly around the stem of his wine glass. His knuckles are practically white, the pressure of his grip betraying the storm raging inside him.

He hasn’t touched much of his food, and barely spoke beyond a few clipped replies to you. He had really only responded to Director Chun all night. But it’s nothing new. You have long learned to recognize this silence; it’s the same, bitter one that had stretched between you in the months before you left him.

You don’t know why you told Joshua you could handle going to this. Why, after everything, did you let Seungcheol pull you into a setting so painfully intimate, so reminiscent of the past? The last time the two of you were in a restaurant like this, he had left for 40 minutes to take a call outside.

Seungcheol swirls his drink absentmindedly, watching the ice shift in the glass before finally speaking. “You look well.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Small talk? Really?”

His jaw tightens, and he sets his glass down with a quiet thud. “Would you rather we skip the pleasantries?”

“I’d rather we not pretend this is anything other than what it is.”

“And what is it?”

You lift your chin. “You tell me.”

Seungcheol exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. He looks at you—really looks at you—for the first time since you sat down, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s the same expression he made when you were in his arms, four years ago.

The one that made you feel like the only person in the world. The one that he used to assure you that he loved you.

And you hate yourself, because you can’t help but remember that he looked so good when he was yours. Worse, you can’t help but notice how he’s still devastatingly handsome.

Only now, his gaze is shadowed with something darker. Something unresolved.

“You know, when you told me you wanted to end things, I could’ve accepted it,” he says, voice steady, but his fingers twitch slightly against the edge of the table.

You swallow roughly.

“I could’ve accepted it if you said you just fell out of love with me,” he continues, “But then.” He takes a deep breath. “But then, you told me it was for my own good. That I wouldn’t be able to handle long distance.”

Your hands grip your wine glass. You want to say something, but you don’t know where to even start.

“You told me you loved me, and then…” he trails, before shakily saying, “abandoned me, because I couldn’t handle it?” He dips his head low, hands joining like he’s about to make a prayer.

“Cheol, I—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

Seungcheol stares intensely at his half-eaten steak, a strand of hair coming down from his forehead to poke at his eyes. Despite yourself, your hand instinctively lurches to tuck it behind his ears, before you quickly jolt it back. A cloud of shame begins to envelope your mind. It’s not fair. Why does your body remember him so well, even after he broke your heart?

He takes a shaky breath before speaking again. “And you know what? That…that wasn’t even the worst part.” Choked up, he takes a deep breath and clenches his hands into fists to ground himself before continuing. “What’s worse, was what you said at the end.”

You furrow your brows, thinking back to all those years ago, right after you told him that he could finally focus on his work, and right before you walked away from him.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you whispered. You didn’t dare to look at him. “I’m sorry I made you miss that convention for my birthday.” You sniffled, voice breaking. “You shouldn’t have had to do that. I’m sorry I made you watch those stupid movies, and that I made you go out when you didn’t want to. I should’ve been more considerate of your dreams, Cheol. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I only realized it now. I should’ve—”

You exhaled deeply, blinking your newest tears away. They fell down your cheeks in streams. “You won’t have to worry about that kind of useless stuff anymore, okay? You don’t need to deal with me anymore. I’m sorry you had to handle all of that for so long. I, I really lo…”

You bit down on your lower lip, blinking desperately to get rid of your blurry vision. “I hope you get into the accelerator, Cheol. I know how hard you’ve worked for it. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

One last time, you smiled at him weakly, not meeting his eyes. “Goodbye, Cheol.”

And then you turned your back from him, walking away from the love of your life, partly because you really did wish him well on his startup journey, and mostly because you knew he was only with you out of obligation to himself—because he never loved you, anyway.

────୨ৎ────

“Oh,” you say, eyes feeling strangely prickly.

“I love—I loved you,” Seungcheol says, clutching his chest. He exhales roughly. “Did you not… see that?”

You blink rapidly.

His throat bobs as he swallows, eyes darting away for a brief moment. “I had plans for us,” he admits, voice quiet but strained.

At the sight of his clear pain, your stomach twists uncomfortably. “Plans?”

He nods slowly, still refusing to meet your eyes. The candlelight on the table flickers between you, casting shadows that dance across his face, highlighting the tension in his furrowed brow.

His mouth parts as if he’s about to say something—something important—but then he stops himself.

You reach across the table instinctively, your fingertips grazing his wrist. “Seungcheol. Don’t do this to me.”

He tenses beneath your touch but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he finally looks at you, and the sheer weight of emotion in his gaze nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. There is so much in his eyes—anger, regret, sadness, and a deep emotion you haven’t dared call love in years. All tangled together in a way that makes it impossible to separate one from the other.

“I was going to propose to you,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitches. For a second, the world tilts, the steady hum of the restaurant fading into white noise. You blink, your mind scrambling to process the weight of his words. “What?”

Seungcheol lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if mocking himself. “I had the ring. I had everything planned out.” He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I was just… waiting for the right time.”

A sharp, painful lump forms in your throat. “Cheol—”

“But you left before I could,” he cuts in, his voice breaking at the edges. His eyes are glassy now, raw with unshed emotion. “You thought…you thought I didn’t love you enough. But I did. I loved you so much I—” He sucks in a shaky breath, his hands balling into fists on the table. “I was trying so hard to build a future for us. I wanted to give you everything.”

Tears burn behind your eyes, and your hands are still on his arm, but they’re shaking. “I didn’t need ‘everything,’” you whisper. “I just needed you.”

His face crumples for a split second before he forces his expression blank again. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Silence stretches between you, thick with everything you had never said to each other. The weight of missed moments, of love given but not received in the way it was needed, settles over the two of you like a monstrous thunderstorm.

You nearly choke on the sob threatening to break free from your throat. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His voice is hoarse, like he has swallowed glass. “Would it have changed anything?”

You want to say yes. You want to believe that if he had just told you, things would have been different. But deep down, you aren’t sure. Because the truth was, you had already been slipping away from each other long before you had walked out the door.

You had told him you were leaving him so he could focus on his work. You had told yourself you were leaving him because he didn’t love you anymore. So, would you have really believed him if he had proposed to you? You’re not sure, but there’s no point in analyzing the hypothetical what-ifs, really.

Because now, looking at the man who had once been your world, you wonder if you had ever really left him at all.

────୨ৎ──── Three Years Ago

It was Seungcheol’s birthday. It hit you while you were at the grocery store, in the fresh produce section.

You saw cherries.

You cried.

Later that day, your finger twitched over his contact on your phone, before falling to your hips.

He was probably busy. He hadn’t texted or called you since the breakup, after all. He definitely wouldn’t want to hear from you even if he wasn’t busy, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” you said out loud, knowing that the person who needed to hear it most wasn’t there. “I miss you. Happy birthday.”

────୨ৎ────

You blink, and suddenly you’re outside. There’s a chilly wind blowing against you, making you shiver. When you try to take a step forward, you find your body is too sluggish to move much.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Seungcheol says concernedly, his warm, strong hands finding an all too familiar spot against your waist.

“I’m fine,” you say, though your teetering body suggests otherwise.

Somewhere between watching Seungcheol laugh at Director Chun’s obviously not funny jokes and trying to give your hand something to do instead of ball into fists hearing his confession, you had drunk far too much of the expensive bottle of wine that the director had bought for the three of you.

Seungcheol says your name like it’s a warning, tone firm.

But you can’t help but laugh. You’re too close to him now. And oh, he’s so warm. Instinctively, your body presses against him, because it’s familiar and comforting and something you’ve subconsciously been craving for the past four years with every fiber of your body.

“I missed you,” you blurt.

Seungcheol swallows roughly.

“Fuck, don’t…” He can’t even bring himself to finish the sentence. “How did you get here? Taxi?”

You shake your head. “Too much money. Subway.”

“I’ll take you home, okay? Where are you staying now?” He squeezes your waist.

“Mmh.” Thinking, you close your eyes, fully leaning into his touch.

Three days ago, the company told you to move out of the original apartment they’d placed you in two weeks ago, and although you’d memorized how to get to your new place using the subway, you had yet to memorize the exact address. You’d always looked at your phone to double check, thinking that you’d be fine if you were stranded, since you’d always have your phone on you. Unfortunately, though, you hadn’t considered that you’d be lost if your phone died.

“That’s not an address, sweetheart.” He inhales sharply, realizing his mistake after it leaves his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, tears welling in your eyes. “Don’t remember.”

Here you were, wasting his time again. You’d left him four years ago because you were a hindrance to his career, and now you’re doing it again. Old habits die hard, don’t they?

You sniffle, “I’ll sober up soon, don’t worry. You can just leave me here. I’ll walk to the subway.”

Seungcheol’s throat bobs. “Hey, hey, don’t be sorry. I got you, okay? I’ll take you back to my place, if that’s okay?”

You nod, your voice small. “Okay.”

He breathes a sigh of relief.

Before you know it, Seungcheol has escorted you into the passenger seat of his car, and you’re on your way back to the house you had called your home only four years ago.

“Did you miss me?” you ask childishly, staring at the driver with sleepy eyes.

His Adam's apple bobs up and down.

For a moment, you don’t think he’ll answer. But then, he says softly, “I did.”

“Oh,” you say, and then you feel your eyelids get heavier. You let them close.

Right before you fall asleep, you catch him whispering something that sounds a lot like, “I missed you so much, sweetheart.”

────୨ৎ──── Six Months Ago

You blinked rapidly. “In the fall?”

“Yes,” Director Chun said. “I’ll be heading over to the Seoul branch as well, for a few months at the very least. I promise you’ll be under one of our best. Department Head Choi Seungcheol is known for being collaborative. I’m sure the synergy will be great between the two of you.”

You froze. Surely, not.

“Choi Seungcheol?” you asked breathily.

“Yes. Do you know each other?”

“No,” you said, far too quickly.

“Ah, I see. Perhaps he was impressed by the work you did with the Jeons,” the director said with a smile. “He requested you directly.”

Oh.

────୨ৎ────

Sleep is supposed to be relaxing, isn’t it? So why does it feel like your chest is going to cave in on itself, like a big boulder has plopped itself down on you?

You open your eyes quickly, only to be met with a mess of short, dark brown hair.

You try to blow on the hair, only to feel it enter your mouth. It’s horribly dry.

“Ack,” you spit.

And then it occurs to you that your hair has never tasted like this, or looked like this, for that matter.

You try moving one of your arms to get rid of the annoying strands, only to find that it has also been rendered immobile. You tense your core, trying to flop like a worm, but it’s of no use.

You furrow your brows, straining as hard as you can, but nothing happens.

For a moment, you wonder if you’re having a nightmare.

And then the boulder moves.

Your eyes widen into saucers. There’s only one explanation for this. You’ve only ever known one man who gives bear hugs in his sleep like this.

“Choi Seungcheol?”

“Fuck,” it groans. “Thought I told you not to call me that, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes, wondering if you’re still dreaming. But when you open them again, you see Seungcheol’s face.

Sleep lines are adorning his left cheek, and he blinks at you slowly. His pink lips are turned down in a slight pout, and the sight of him is so adorable, it makes you want to scream.

“Did you…” you pause, mind racking an explanation. “Fall asleep on top of me?”

“You said you were cold,” he says slowly, eyes half-closed, voice deep.

“Oh,” you say, then flush, feeling heat rush up the back of your neck and reach your ears. Trying to avoid eye contact with him, your eyes stray to your collarbone, and you see that you’re still wearing last night’s clothes. “Wait, did you let me into your bed with dirty clothes?”

“Mmph,” he says, rubbing his face into the crook of your neck.

“Wow,” is all you can manage. He never let you do that when you were dating.

“Go back to sleep, love,” Seungcheol mumbles.

“Can’t breathe, Cheol,” you groan, patting his back. “Too heavy, baby.”

He groans but shifts off of you, then cuddles up next to you, hands finding your waist immediately. “Five more minutes.”

“Mmh,” you sigh contentedly.

And as you close your eyes again, it occurs to you that Seungcheol is your ex, and that the two of you are definitely doing things that exes should not be doing.

────୨ৎ──── Two Weeks Ago

You folded your pride. You extended an arm out to him first.

“Department Head Choi Seungcheol, it’s a pleasure to work with you.”

You spat his first and last name out like venom, knowing all too well that he hated being called by his full name.

He stared at your outstretched hand, then scoffed.

Fuck.

────୨ৎ────

When you wake up again, you’re alone in Seungcheol’s bed. Out of habit, your arm moves to pat the other side of the bed.

For a moment, your mind flashes back to the lonely mornings you had with him four years ago. The days when the first thing you did after waking up was to check the other side of the bed, only for it to be cold. The hope of it all had fractured your heart slowly, but surely.

But today, for some reason, Seungcheol’s side is lukewarm.

Confused at the lingering warmth, you sit up in his bed, rolling back the covers.

Is it possible that he’s still here?

Then, you smell the distinct scent of ramen through the door to his room, which has been left slightly ajar. Planning on checking the kitchen, you move to get off the bed. But before your feet reach the ground, Seungcheol walks in.

He’s holding a tiny desk, the kind made for breakfast in bed. On it is a bowl of steaming ramen and a glass of water.

“Morning,” he says with a shy smile, and oh—oh, it’s so full of endearment and joy and hope, of all things.

God, something about it is just so, so pure and domestic, it makes your chest constrict. Seungcheol had never made you breakfast in bed when you had dated, because he had always been the first to leave in the morning.

But here he is, like he plans on making up for everything starting now.

And with how bright his smile is, your heart is aching to just let him.

“Is this… for me?” you ask in a small voice. Of course, it can’t possibly be for anyone but you, but something in you wants Seungcheol to admit it.

Seungcheol nods.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Ramen’s your favorite hangover meal, right?”

You nod slowly, and Seungcheol grins, like he’s proud of himself for getting it right. But something about it pokes a nerve. What use is there in remembering it now, when you’re not together anymore?

He watches you eat slowly, and you raise your eyebrows at the taste.

“It’s really good,” you say between bites, giving a thumbs up.

“Good,” he says, making intense eye contact with you.

He’s completely focused on you, phone and computer completely out of sight, and it makes you squirm. Now that his attention is on you without any distractions, it’s too easy to see how gorgeous he is.

You flush under his attention. “Stop looking at me,” you mumble.

“Don’t wanna,” he says dreamily, lying on his stomach on the bed, looking up at you with doe eyes.

You giggle, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Seungcheol reaches out to swat your hands away from your face, taking the opportunity to hold your hands. When you look at him again, you’re taken aback by how serious he suddenly is.

Your laughter fades.

He takes a deep breath, and your heart sinks. You already know what he’s going to say.

“Can we… try ag—”

“Cheol,” you gently cut him off, withdrawing your hands from his familiar grasp. “Let’s not… we’re not…”

“Why not?” He looks at you innocently, with wide eyes.

You take a shaky breath. “I can’t do this again, Cheol. It’s not good for me, and it’s not good for you.”

At first, he just blinks at you, as if he misheard. But then, something in his expression hardens. “Who says you’re not good for me?”

“What?”

“Who says you’re not good for me?”

“Cheol,” you say with a sigh. “Let’s not do this again. It’s not gonna work.”

“Who says?” his voice breaks.

────୨ৎ──── One Week Ago

“Again,” he said dryly. “Redo the business model.”

You held back your anger. “Yes, Department Head Choi Seungcheol. Is there anything else you would like me to do?”

“Care more,” he said.

You frowned. “I have my full focus on this project, sir.”

“Care more,” he repeated.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ve changed,” he says frantically. “I can prove it to you, I promise.”

Your chest constricts.

“I won’t ever let you be lonely again, I promise. I won’t let it happen, I swear. I’m so, so sorry I hurt you back then, but I’m not the same man you left. I will never hurt you again.”

You swallow roughly, the ramen leaving a salty aftertaste in your mouth.

“Seungcheol…”

He shuts his eyes tightly, like you’ve wounded him.

“Please, call me Cheol again. Please, I can’t stand to hear you call me that.”

“It’s your name,” you tell him gently.

“No, it’s not. To you, I’m Cheol,” he insists stubbornly, crossing his arms. You have to remind yourself to breathe at the sight. Since when was his body so defined? You have to look away from his pronounced biceps to regain your will.

“Look at me,” he says with a frown. You obliged and he continues, “Sweetheart, please. I promise I will never hurt you again. Please, please, take me back.”

On the bed, he’s kneeling now, hands drawn together as if in deep prayer.

“I won’t let work get in the way of loving you. It was horrible and so stupid of me and I’m so, so sorry but it was only when I lost you that I realized I forgot what the point of working was. It was to provide for you, and I couldn’t do that if you were gone because I didn’t properly show you the love you deserved. I’m so, so sorry, my love. Please give me another chance?”

Seungcheol looks at you with so much sadness, but the history you had with his ghost makes you unsure about what to do.

“I don’t know, Cheol…”

He smiles weakly, resigned. “At least you’re back to calling me Cheol, though. Right?”

You nod slowly.

All of a sudden, Seungcheol lights up, like a last-minute godsend of an idea came to his mind. “If it’s too hard to say yes now, how about taking it slow?”

“What does that mean?” His definition of taking it slow probably isn’t like yours.

“I can take you out on some dates, and then you could decide?”

Your heart sinks. He’s so hopeful—eyebrows raised, eyes wide, mouth parted.

You don’t know if you have it in you to say no.

You press your lips together.

Seungcheol must have sensed danger in your face, because he immediately interjects with a rushed confession before you even open your mouth.

“I love you. So much. I loved you then, and I loved you after you left, and I love you now. There was no one after you, you know?” He looks a bit crazed, hands scrunching the blankets roughly.

Your heart jolts.

He continues, “You were everything to me—and still are. There wasn’t a single day that I didn’t think about you. But I couldn’t bring myself to reach out because I thought you hated me.”

He’s not exactly wrong. You did hate him. Then again, there’s a fine line between love and hate. Both are powerful emotions that require you to care about the person in question.

“I even quit the startup because I realized it had eaten up all my time, ‘cause it had taken you away from me.”

You gasp. This was the answer to why Choi Seungcheol, self-made entrepreneur who insisted on refusing to work for anyone but himself, had strangely become the department head of a company that he never had a hand in creating.

“I was,” he sighs self-deprecatingly, “unemployed for a while. Until I heard you were working here, and then I made it my mission to climb the ranks until I could ask for you to get transferred to Seoul. And when you accepted, I was so…”

Your heart breaks a little for him.

“I thought it was a sign.” Hesitantly, he clarifies, “That you might want to try again.”

You inhale sharply. There he goes, again. Talking so sweetly. Back then, that was all he ever did to show you that he loved you. It wasn’t enough then, so why would it be enough now?

At your silence, Seungcheol hangs his head, and your fingers twitch, wanting to reach out to him.

Except it’s different now, isn’t it? He’s finally doing all the things you once wished he would. Isn’t that what you wanted from him? You don’t trust him yet. But he’s trying, now, and every muscle in your body aches with an impossibly deep desire to pull him into your arms.

You exhale, and out with your breath goes your final worries.

Your lips part before you’ve fully decided what to say.

"Okay."

It’s barely a whisper, but it might as well be a strike of thunder with the way Seungcheol’s head snaps up. His eyes widen, mouth parting like he’s afraid he misheard you.

"Okay?" His voice trembles, cautious, like one wrong move could shatter whatever fragile thing is forming between you.

Your throat tightens. The weight of this—of him—presses down on you, but you nod anyway.

For a second, he doesn’t breathe. Then, his face crumples, and the sheer relief in his expression makes something in you splinter. His hands twitch where they rest on the blankets, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. He’s waiting—because this time, he knows he has to let you come to him.

And you do.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lean forward. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t move away. Your forehead brushes his, a soft press that feels like a heartbeat between you. You feel the warmth of his skin, the way his breath mingles with yours in the inches of space that remain.

Seungcheol exhales shakily, like he’s been holding it in for years. His hands hover near your waist, unsure, unsteady. He doesn’t pull you closer—he’s learned now—but he craves it.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his touch, telling yourself it’d only be for a second. Just long enough to let yourself feel him, really feel him, without the weight of the past crushing you.

His voice is barely above a whisper, breath fanning across your lips. “Sweetheart…”

You could fall apart at the way he says it, so quiet, so reverent—like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he speaks too loud.

Your heart aches for more, but your mind reminds you of how he had left scars in your heart. For now, this form of affection would have to be enough.

After a few minutes in his arms, you reluctantly pull away to check the address of your new apartment on your finally-charged phone. Seungcheol drops you off, walking you to your door. You don’t invite him in, and he doesn’t ask. But something about the way he looked at you, right before you walked inside your apartment, lingers in your mind long after he leaves. He’d looked at you like you’d hung every glittering star in the sky.

Four years ago, you had decided that this gaze was something he’d manufactured while putting up with you. Maybe, you were wrong.

────୨ৎ────

Seungcheol keeps his promise of taking things slow. He’d arranged for you to meet him at a cafe the next day, and he’s already there when you get there. It’s a small, cozy place tucked into a quieter part of the city, the kind with warm lighting and the scent of freshly ground coffee drifting in the air.

You hesitate for a second when you see him through the window, seated at a booth near the back, fingers idly tapping against the ceramic cup in front of him. Then, before you can second-guess yourself, you push open the door.

His eyes meet yours instantly, and for a moment, he looks breathless—like he’s just as nervous as you are. But then he smiles. It’s a tiny, careful thing, but it makes your heart drum a little faster anyway. As you approach, he stands up, hand on his heart.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft, like he’s afraid to scare you away.

“Hey,” you reply, sliding into the seat across from him.

The booth is familiar. For a second, you’re struck by the memory of late-night conversations, of stolen kisses over half-finished drinks. You really were deep in love, back then.

You shake the thought away as Seungcheol gestures toward the counter.

“Still the same order?” he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that isn’t quite a smirk but close enough that you recognize it as one of his signature expressions. You raise an eyebrow.

“You think I’d change it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, tilting his head slightly. “A lot of time has passed.”

You exhale a small laugh. “Yeah, well. Some things stay the same.”

Something shifts in his gaze, a flicker of relief, of hope, before he nods. He waves down a barista and places the order without hesitation—exactly how you like it. When the cup is finally set in front of you, you find yourself staring at it for a beat too long, a strange warmth pooling in your chest.

“Thanks,” you murmur, wrapping your fingers around the cup.

Seungcheol watches you, his own drink forgotten, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he leans slightly forward, forearms resting on the table as he asks, “So, what’s new?”

You take a sip, letting the warmth settle in your stomach before answering. “Well, I have a wedding to go to next month.”

His eyebrows lift slightly, intrigued. “Oh?”

“Yeah. My coworker from the New York branch, Lee Chan, is getting married next month. I gotta fly out for it.” You swirl your drink absentmindedly, watching the steam curl into the air. “It’s kind of crazy. Feels like yesterday he was complaining about bad Tinder dates, and now he’s getting married.”

Seungcheol huffs a small laugh. “Guess he finally found the right person.”

“Yeah,” you say, a little softer. “Guess he did.”

There’s a pause, and you realize that for all the implications, for the way the topic is naturally leading to the idea of a plus one, you don’t bring it up. And, notably, neither does he. The question lingers, unspoken but present. Instead, Seungcheol shifts the conversation.

“You still baking?”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “If you can even call it that.”

He grins. “That bad?”

“Worse.” You sigh dramatically. “I was trying to perfect my chocolate chip cookies, right? Like, I found this recipe online, and it looked completely foolproof. But somehow, I nearly burned down my apartment.”

His amusement vanishes instantly. “What?”

“I mean, not literally,” you backtrack quickly, waving a hand. “But there was a lot of smoke. And my oven might hate me now.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow in concern. “That apartment’s new, isn’t it?”

You nod. “Yeah, company orders. Still trying to get used to it.”

He exhales through his nose, tilting his head as he studies you. “Isn’t it hard? Being in such an unfamiliar place?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, uh, I guess?”

His tone is casual—too casual—but you’re not oblivious. You see the way he watches you intently, the way he’s gauging your reaction. He thinks he’s being subtle, but it’s clear what he’s hinting at. Someday, maybe you won’t have to be in an unfamiliar place. Maybe you could come back home, to me.

You let out a small breath, looking down at your drink. “It’s fine,” you say after a moment. “It’s just an adjustment.”

Seungcheol doesn’t push, but his fingers tighten slightly around his cup. “If you ever need anything…”

“I know,” you say, and you mean it. Because for the first time in a long time, it feels like he actually means it, too.

The conversation shifts again, moving from baking disasters to random anecdotes about work, about old stories that slip out without either of you realizing. And throughout it all, you notice something: Seungcheol is listening.

Not just nodding along, not just waiting for his turn to speak. He’s really listening—leaning in, responding at the right moments, his gaze locked on yours with a kind of attentiveness that makes your stomach flip in a way you don’t want to acknowledge yet.

It’s different. He’s different.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s why this doesn’t feel like a mistake.

Fuck, do you love him, still?

────୨ৎ────

After the weekend cafe date with Seungcheol came the work week, much to your displeasure. Today has been an especially exhausting day. The kind that seeps into your bones, weighing down your limbs, making even the simple act of unlocking your apartment door feel like a chore. You barely manage to kick off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch, groaning into the cushions.

You didn’t even hear your phone buzzing at first. It takes a few rings before you muster enough energy to blindly fumble for it.

“Hello?” Your voice is muffled, with your face buried against the pillow.

“You sound dead,” comes Seungcheol’s voice, laced with amusement but tinged with concern.

“Feel like it too,” you groan. “Long day.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then, softly, “Have you eaten?”

“I had lunch,” you say.

Another pause. Then, decisively, “I’m coming over.”

“What? No, you don’t have to—”

“Too late. I’m already on my way.”

And just like that, the call ends. You blink owlishly at your screen, a bit too drained to call him back in protest.

Twenty minutes later, a knock comes from your door.

When you open it, Seungcheol stands there, hair still slightly tousled from the wind outside, carrying a takeout bag in one hand and a six-pack of your favorite drinks in the other.

“You used to drink these when you were stressed,” he says, holding up the pack as if that explains everything.

Your heart does something funny in your chest, but do your best to ignore it. Instead, you step aside, letting him in for the first time.

Seungcheol makes himself comfortable in your kitchen, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He unpacks the food and searches for utensils without asking you for help. And before you know it, you’re sitting at your small dining table, warm food in front of you, while he nudges a drink toward your hand.

The silence is comfortable. You didn’t realize how much you needed this until now—until the tension in your shoulders starts to ease, until the simple act of eating next to someone who cares about you makes the world feel a little less heavy.

At some point, you sigh, rolling your neck to work out a kink. You hadn’t meant for it to be noticeable, but Seungcheol caught it immediately. Without a word, he shifts his chair closer and places a warm hand against your shoulder, thumb pressing gently into the tension there.

You freeze.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “I got you. Just relax.”

And somehow, without even thinking, you do.

It isn’t grand, or dramatic, really. It’s just the quiet comfort of someone who knows you better than you thought he did. Who is all of a sudden remembering the little things, after all these years. He eases the weight of the world off your shoulders without even trying.

You don’t pull away.

And neither does he.

────୨ৎ────

A week later, and the workday is winding down. But the plans you’ve been looking forward to—a nice dinner that feels like a step forward, another stitch in the frayed edges between you and Seungcheol—suddenly teeter on the edge of collapse.

You’re gathering your things when Director Chun steps into the office, looking around before his gaze lands on Seungcheol.

"Department Head Choi Seungcheol," Chun calls, his voice even but firm. "I need you to stay back for a bit. The New York office just called me about a misalignment between Mr. Han’s vision and the work we submitted to their team. We need to smooth it over before tomorrow morning. I estimate it won’t take very long."

Your breath catches. Director Chun always sugarcoats things. It wouldn’t be just a couple more minutes, it’d be several hours of extra work.

It’s just a few words, a simple request by the director. But it’s enough to send you spiraling.

Because you've been here before.

You know how this story ends.

Your grip tightens around the strap of your bag as a million thoughts flood in, rapid and overwhelming. He’s going to say yes. Of course, he’s going to say yes.

Work will always come first. It always has, always will.

He’ll put you second again, and you’ll be left waiting, just like before.

The words you want to say—please don’t go, pick me, just this once—stick like molasses to the back of your throat.

You can’t stay here to hear him confirm it. You can’t bear to watch it happen all over again.

You walk away before Seungcheol answers the director, your feet carrying you toward the stairwell in a daze. The second the heavy door shuts behind you, a shaky breath escapes your lips. Your fingers press against your temples as you squeeze your eyes shut, willing away the sting that threatens to turn into tears.

Your chest constricts so harshly, you think you might be having a heart attack.

It shouldn't hurt this much.

But it does.

The past and present blur together in your mind—memories of cold dinners, of unanswered texts, of waiting and waiting and waiting. Until you stopped waiting altogether.

Why on earth did you think that things would be any different, now?

The door swings open with a rush of air.

"Sweetheart?"

Your stomach drops.

Seungcheol steps inside, eyes scanning the dimly lit stairwell before landing on you. His brows pull together in concern as he closes the distance between you.

"Hey," he murmurs, reaching out hesitantly. "What’s wrong?"

You shake your head, stepping back before his fingers can brush against your arm. "You don’t have to be here, Cheol."

He frowns. "What are you talking about?"

Defeated, you let out a humorless laugh, gesturing vaguely. "You don’t have to chase after me just to make me feel better about you choosing work over dinner. I get it. I know how this goes."

A pause. Then, softly, "Is that what you think happened?"

The sincerity in his voice makes you falter.

You blink at him, your heart pounding, confusion creeping in through the cracks of your resolve. "What do you mean?"

Seungcheol exhales, running a hand through his hair before stepping closer. This time, you don’t move away.

"I told Director Chun I couldn’t stay," he says, voice steady. "I told him I had a prior commitment, and that I wasn’t going to break it."

Your eyes widen comically. "What?"

His lips twitch into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. "I said no, sweetheart. I told him I had somewhere more important to be."

More important.

Your throat tightens.

"You—" The words catch, and you have to stop yourself from immediately replying, trying to process it. "You said no?"

"I did." His gaze softens, the weight of the moment settling between you. "I told you I wouldn’t let work come between us again."

His voice is quiet, but it carries years’ worth of unspoken apologies.

Of love that had once been misplaced, misdirected, but never truly lost.

Your eyes flicker over his face, searching. And the truth is written in the way he looks at you—open, unwavering, as if he’s willing you to believe him.

And you do.

It’s terrifying how easily you do.

The wall you’d built, the one meant to protect you from this very moment, begins to crumble under the warmth in his gaze.

Your breath shudders. "Cheol…"

His hand lifts, hovering near your cheek, close enough that you can feel the heat of it but not touching. His wide, sparkling eyes look eagerly into yours—giving you the choice, letting you decide.

Your chest tightens at his cute patience, the silent question lingering between you.

The space between you grows smaller.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, you’re impossibly close, the tips of your noses nearly brushing. His breath fans over your lips, and your eyes flutter shut.

He doesn’t move to kiss you, but that’s okay. Because you’re finally ready to cross that line.

Tilting your chin up into him, your lips meet, and the warmth of him grounds you in a way that nothing else ever replaced, or ever could. His lips are so, so, soft, and as he melts into the kiss, he lets out a small content sigh. Everything about him is familiar, and yet, somehow different. It’s charged with a kind of electric buzz, the tension from the past weeks finally coming to a head.

For a moment, the world is still. You only see Seungcheol.

Then, in a voice so soft it almost disappears into the quiet of the stairwell, Seungcheol parts from your lips for just a centimeter, whispering, "I meant what I said. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m 110% for you, I love you."

You close your eyes, exhaling against his skin, relishing his touch. And you say the next words with a full chest, “I love you so much, Cheol.”

Because for the first time in a long time, you believe him.

Masterlist

Author's Note: did u get the title?? seungcheol's the python bc he makes ur chest constrict and love is hard and hurts us sometimes anywayz happy valentines day <3

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone - @fragmentof-indifference - @junniesoleilkth - @woncheecks - @peachypie97 - @viciousdarlings - @11zzyy - @thepoopdokyeomtouched - @dmstoyangyang - @christinewithluv - @snowcake666 - @rjreins - @namk00kie - @homelouisgirl - @slvrstrs - @jimintopiaaaa - @coupshour - @babycaratdeul

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iceiceicecold · 4 months ago

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clark when it’s visit ur bf at work day

#i imagine this at one of bruce’s metropolis offices #doing official businessman business only to be interrupted by ur teammate who is sunshine incarnate #my art #superbat #dc superman #superman #dc batman #batman #bruce Wayne #clark kent #digital art

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jaysbaefie · 1 month ago

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the intern | pjs

synopsis: in which your constant belittling finally pushes your obedient intern too far and he decides it's time someone puts you in your place.

genre: office au

pairing: intern!jay x boss!reader

warnings: bossy!reader, bratty!reader, mean dom! jay, dubcon/noncon, forced submission, spanking, fingering, slapping, hair pulling, oral (m.rec), light breath play, rough and unprotected p in v, light choking? (i think that's it...) this fic is filthy, like so fucking filthy.

wc: 6.7k

a/n: ikik intern didn’t win the poll but i still wanted to write it as a little thank you for 1000 followers!! smth about mean dom jay and bratty reader just tickles my goddamn pickle. anyways, i am officially done with school!! that means more updates ayeeee!!! i start school early may tho so what am i rlly celebrating for.. anyways! notes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. enjoy reading!!

ᝰ

jay could feel his self restraint falling thin, his eyes glaring holes into the stack of papers in front of him.

he began to question if the internship was even worth it after the way you had been treating him for the last few months.

at first you were just cold, never acknowledging his presence and treating him like a nuisance rather than a human being. but then things took a turn for the worse, you had made him into your very own stress relief dummy.

taking out your frustration and anger on him whenever someone had pissed you off. someone mess up the reports that day? jay took the fall. presentations not prepared? jay took the fall. traffic on the way to work? jay took the fall.

you embarrassed him consistently, degrading and belittling him whenever you could. just take this morning for example.

the office buzzed with low conversations as the team gathered in the glass-walled conference room for the weekly status meeting.

jay sat near the front, his pulse quickening as he arranged his notes in an effort to keep his composure. today, the stakes felt even higher—he needed to impress, to prove that his dedication was more than just blind obedience. in a few weeks from now you'd be deciding who stays and gets the permanent position and who doesn't—he needed to impress you.

you swept into the room with an air of undeniable authority. clad in a sharply tailored blazer and high heels that echoed on the polished floor, you commanded every gaze without uttering a word. even before the meeting began, your presence shifted the atmosphere, the tension around you palpable.

jay swallowed harshly, his gaze scanning over your form as you step into the room. you were gorgeous, he'd give you that—but your attitude was foul. his eyes dropping to his files as he begins to mentally prepare himself for the presentation to commence.

he feels his heart drop when he realizes that the one file he so desperately needed, wasn't on the pile he had brought. jay's hands begin to shake, shuffling through the pile of files again as he hopes that it would magically appear in front of him.

he scans the large conference room table, turning to the person next to him to ask if they had seen the file.

as you took your seat at the head of the table, your eyes briefly scanned the room before landing on jay. a slow, knowing smile curled on your lips, as if you had been waiting for this moment. the meeting kicked off with a routine overview, but it wasn't long before you steered the conversation to the pending report—the one that jay was responsible for.

you fixed your gaze on jay, your tone unexpectedly sweet yet laced with a biting edge. "intern park," you began, deliberately using his given name for effect, "what exactly about 'don't speak unless spoken to' is confusing you? or do you just enjoy hearing your own voice?"

a collective murmur rippled through the room. jay's face turned a shade of crimson. he tightened his grip on his folder, his thoughts jumbling as his cheeks burned with humiliation. every eye was now on him, and he felt the weight of public scrutiny crushing his usual determination.

he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, "i—i'm sorry, i thought i had the data compiled..."

your eyes hardened, and you leaned forward, relishing the control. "thought? no, mr.park. you should have it. if you want to be useful here, you need to step up and stop hovering like a lost puppy around every minor detail." your words sliced through the silence, leaving no room for rebuttal.

the room was silent apart from the steady hum of the air conditioner and the clatter of pens against paper. jay's pulse pounded in his ears as he felt his confidence slip further with each of your calculated remarks. he could hear his internal monologue screaming for an escape, a defiant retort—but the fear of tarnishing his only shot at this internship kept his words locked away.

you weren't done. with a casual yet deliberate gesture, you waved a hand toward the clock on the wall. "i expected that report on my desk an hour ago. now, if you've managed to forget the basics of professional competence, perhaps it's time you rethink your priorities and career choices."

the finality in your tone silenced any remaining murmurs. jay's stomach churned with a mix of humiliation and a rising spark of anger—an emotion so raw that it blurred the line between submission and rebellion. the embarrassment stung, yet something deep within him shifted. in that charged moment, surrounded by his colleagues and under your steely gaze, jay realized that this wasn't just about a report or an internship. it was about reclaiming his dignity.

even as he forced a meek nod of submission to placate your immediate anger, a quiet promise echoed through his thoughts: one day, he would stand tall and show you that he was more than a pawn in your relentless pursuit of power.

as the meeting continued, the memory of your cutting words and his silent, seething response—hung in the air.

he clenches his fists as he holds in the urge to pull push the stacks of files off of his desk, his chest heaving heavily as he closed his eyes in attempt to soothe himself.

jay had been sorting through files for the remainder of the day after the meeting, per your orders.

the afternoon was unusually quiet in the office as you strolled into the small workspace where jay was already at his desk, meticulously organizing a stack of papers. he glanced up nervously as you passed, well aware that your mood this afternoon was as crisp as your tailored suit. all because of him, of course.

you held a cup of coffee in your hand, the same cup that he had left on your desk just a few minutes earlier.

leaning over his cubicle, you tilted your head slightly and said in a tone that angered him to his core, "did i stutter, jay? i said triple shot, not double. i expect my coffee precise, or should i send you to a barista school?" your words dripped with condescension, making it clear that he was the reason that your morning was ruined.

jay immediately got up from his seat, rushing to the break room with you trailing closely behind.

you scoff, pathetic.

jay's cheeks flushed as he fumbled with the coffee machine, trying to follow your instructions to the letter. he hurriedly adjusted the settings, his fingers trembling just a bit. you crossed your arms and eyed his work like a hawk. when the machine finally hissed to a stop with the coffee ready, you took a sip and pursed your lips in disdain.

"this is unacceptable," you snapped, your voice low but sharp. "i expect perfection every single time. if you can't handle the basics, perhaps you need a refresher on how to follow orders." the words hung in the air as jay's eyes flickered with a mixture of fear and determination.

you turn away, walking back to his desk with jay following behind you like a lost puppy.

not stopping there, you swept past his desk and reached for a stack of files on a nearby table. with deliberate precision, you began rearranging them into neat, color-coded piles. every so often you'd glance back at jay, as if to remind him that even the simplest task had to meet your impossible standards.

"watch closely, jay," you ordered, turning back to him. "i want these files not only sorted but aligned perfectly. each folder must be exactly centered—no, better than that, flush against the left margin. can you manage that, or is that too much to ask?" your tone was both patronizing and commanding, a mix that left no room for negotiation.

jay nodded, swallowing hard. he scrambled to adjust the folders, his hands moving with a jittery urgency that mirrored the pounding of his heart. every minor hesitation was met with your sharp retort, your authority was over powering in this small corner of the office.

"if you think today's just another day to clock in and float through tasks, think again," you continued, your eyes narrowing as you circled back to his workstation. "i'm watching every move you make. understand that every detail matters, jay. perfection is not just expected, it's demanded."

the air in the workspace grew thick with tension as jay worked to correct his mistakes, each precise movement a testament to his desperate need to earn your approval. while other interns might have been emboldened or defiant, jay's focus remained solely on survival—on not letting you see even a hint of weakness.

as you finally stepped away, satisfied that the files were in proper order for now, you delivered one last cold remark over your shoulder, "good. now, i expect you to handle the rest of today without any more room for error." your voice trailed off, leaving jay alone with the echo of your words and the heavy burden of your expectations.

just as you begin to leave, you pause in your tracks—a smirk gracing your painted lips. "oh, and i want all my files sorted. you're not leaving till it's all done."

and that's how jay found himself sorting and organizing files, greeting his fellow colleges goodbye as he stayed back to finish his work. it was well past the end of his shift, the clock reading 11:04pm as he continued to sort endlessly.

only jay and you remained on the office, with you tucked away in your office typing away who knows what on your computer and jay outside getting paper cut after paper cut.

he could still hear your voice from earlier looming in his head—sweet, sharp, venom-laced in a way only you could pull off. mocking him, embarrassing him in front of the entire team. and now here you were again, heels echoing through the empty office as you strutted out of your office like you hadn't just made him stay hours past his shift for a task that could've waited until tomorrow.

"still here?" your tone was laced with faux innocence—leaning against his desk, arms crossed under your chest. "wow. and here i thought even you would've figured out how to sort a couple files by now. guess i gave you too much credit."

jay didn't look up. didn't speak. his jaw flexed once, twice, like he was chewing on his own patience.

you smiled, pleased with the reaction. "what exactly are you good at, jay? because it sure as hell isn't multitasking. or presenting. or getting coffee. i'm starting to wonder if your daddy pulled strings just to get you here. must be nice, huh? riding in on privilege and still failing."

that was it.

jay stood, slowly, the chair scraping harshly behind him as he pushed it back. his hands were planted on the desk, knuckles white, head still lowered. when he finally looked at you, there was something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. something dangerous. something done.

you opened your mouth to say something else, some cruel remark—but it never made it out.

"shut up," jay muttered, voice low and rough.

your brows lifted, stunned at his words" excuse me?"

jay had never dared talk back to you, taking every word, every complaint, every diss, wordlessly. jay stepped around the desk and you instinctively backed up. the smirk that had been on your face seconds ago beginning to falter.

"you've been treating me like shit for months," he said, walking you backward with each slow, measured step. "and i took it. every order. every insult. every little power trip of yours. because i thought i needed this job. i thought i needed you."

your back hit the edge of his desk and he didn't stop moving. didn't flinch when your eyes widened as he closed in. your hands gripped the edge of the table, your hands getting sweaty as you feel jay's nose brush against your cheek.

"but now?" his hands gripped the sides of the desk, caging you in as his breath fanned against your cheek. "now i think you need to be reminded of what happens when you push too hard."

your eyes widen momentarily when you see the wild look on his eyes, his nose flared slightly almost as if he was holding himself back. you scan his face, smooth and clean shaven with a small scar on his nose—his eyebrows maintained and his gaze sharp. it hurt to admit that he was in fact an attractive man, it was a shame that he was garbage at his job.

you scoffed, trying to sound unimpressed, but your body betrayed you—your breath caught, knees subtly pressed together.

"you forget your place, intern," you snapped, your voice weaker than you intended.

jay let out a humorless laugh. "no. you've just gotten way too comfortable in yours."

then, in one swift motion, he spun you around and bent you over the desk, your palms bracing the surface as you gasped. papers scattered in every direction, your heart hammering as the cold wood met your skin through your thin skirt.

you attempted to push yourself back up only for a hand to be secured at the back of your neck, pushing you back down so your cheek was planted firmly against the cool wood or the desk.

"jay—"

"quiet," he snapped, pressing down on your lower back as his hand slid up your thigh. "you love to give orders, huh? let's see how well you take them."

his voice was low, dark, threatening—but it wasn't just anger that drove him now. it was hunger. months of tension. resentment. control finally slipping from your grasp and into his.

"you want to act like i'm good for nothing?" he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. "then let me show you exactly what i'm good for."

your breath hitched as jay's hands ran slowly up your thighs, his touch rough with frustration, but precise—like he knew exactly how far to push you before you'd break. he yanked your skirt up without hesitation, the sharp sound of fabric dragging across your skin sending a jolt straight through your spine.

a low whistle cut the air, "who knew the boss wore such scandalous items to work, hm? a black lace thong? who are you trying to impress? me?" his hands fondling your butt, a whimper escaping you when he squeezes a little to hard.

you let out a scoff, "why the fuck would i want to impress a good for not—" jay's hand comes down to land on one cheek, a loud squeal leaving your mouth at the sudden sting.

"—you act so high and mighty," he muttered, fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you back into him. "always barking orders, always so smug. but just wait, i'll be having you—" his palm presses firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned to the desk. "—quiet. obedient. and right where you belong."

"yeah ri—" you don't make it far when you feel his hands tangle into your hair, yanking roughly so the top of your head was touching his chest—your back curved almost painfully as jay held you in place.

you bit your lip hard, trying to swallow down the whimper that built in your throat. but he heard it. felt the way your body twitched beneath him.

"don't get shy now," jay growled, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear as he leaned down for you. "you wanted to push me. you loved watching me squirm while you humiliated me in front of everyone. so now you're going to take it."

your hands gripped the edge of the desk as he pressed his hips against you—hard. the heat between you two was suffocating, filthy. his restraint was hanging by a thread, and you could feel the power shift in real time. you weren't in charge anymore. not here. not like this.

"jay," you gasped, your voice suddenly softer, breathier than you meant.

"say it again," he demanded, one hand sliding under your blouse and gripping your side possessively. "say my name like that again and maybe i'll be gentle."

"fuck you," you hissed, defiant till the end.

he chuckled low in his throat, dark and dangerous. "wrong answer."

his hand came down hard on your ass—once, twice—each slap sharp and biting, making you jolt. the sting blended with the burn of desire, making your head spin.

"i've had to listen to you tear me down every damn day," he snarled, grabbing your hair tighter and forcing you to arch your back painfully, exposing the curve of your neck. "now you're gonna listen to me. no interruptions. no smug comebacks. just moaning my name like a good girl."

you whimpered, the sound involuntary. your thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction.

jay noticed. oh, he noticed.

"look at you," he muttered. "so fucking wet for the same intern you said wasn't good for anything. guess you were wrong."

you didn't respond, your pride caught somewhere between your teeth and your rapidly crumbling composure.

jay's hand slid lower again, teasing you through your underwear, slow and maddening. "what's the matter, boss? cat got your tongue?" he pushed the fabric aside and let his fingers slide through your slick folds, groaning at how ready you already were.

he lets your back relax, pushing you face down against the table again making you whine. you could feel his thick cock push against you as he continued to run his fingers down your slit.

"god, you're soaked," he breathed. "you've been wanting this, haven't you? you wanted someone to finally shut you up. tame you."

you gasped when he pushed two fingers into you without warning, curling them just right. your knees buckled, but his other arm was already gripping into your hips, holding you steady, refusing to let you escape. you shook in his hold, attempting to claw your way off the table as jay begins to push into your walls with more strength.

"you don't get to run now," he whispered, voice low and deadly in your ear. "you're going to take everything i give you. every inch. every word. every second."

he pressed his fingers deeper, curling them slow and hard while his mouth traced hot kisses down your neck.

"get away from me," you try to seethe out, attempting to turn around—your arms flailing.

jay only smirks, his fingers now pushing into you in a punishing pace. "we both know you don't want me away, __. look at how wet you are, you're dripping down your legs you filthy slut."

"fuck you," you spit, still thrashing weakly in his grip, even as your hips betrayed you and rolled back into his hand. "this doesn't mean anything—i still think you're pathetic."

jay chuckled darkly, the sound low and smug against your ear as he shoved his fingers in deeper, harder. "you think i care what you say with that mouth?" he growled, biting down gently on your shoulder. "when your cunt's already begging me to keep going?"

you let out a shaky moan, biting down hard on your lip to keep it in, but he noticed. he always noticed.

"so fucking bratty," he muttered, thrusting his fingers deep and curling them until your legs trembled. "running that smart mouth like you're still in charge. but look at you now—folding just like i knew you would."

"you're just some intern," you hissed, your voice breathless. "i could fire you right now."

"do it," he dared, slowing his thrusts until your body writhed for more. "fire me. but you're still gonna cum on my fingers first, aren't you?"

"i won't," you lied through clenched teeth, even as your thighs trembled around his hand.

"yeah?" he leaned in, dragging his tongue up the column of your throat. "then why are you clenching around me like you want me to fuck the attitude out of you?"

you hated him—hated how good he was with his hands, hated the smirk on his face, hated the way your body was betraying you, melting under his touch.

but most of all, you hated how badly you wanted to be ruined by him.

jay could feel it—you were close. your body gave you away more than your mouth ever could, the way your thighs shook, how your breathing hitched with every curl of his fingers. you were right there, teetering on the edge, your pride dangling by a thread.

"fuck, fuck—don't stop," you finally breathed out, voice cracking as your head dropped forward, hands scrambling to find something to grip.

jay froze.

his fingers stayed buried inside you, but they didn't move. not an inch. just deep enough to make your walls flutter, but not enough to push you over.

you let out a strangled noise, turning your head to glare over your shoulder. "what the fuck are you doing?"

"oh, now you want something from me?" he asked, voice full of mock innocence as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, watching your body twitch at the loss. "that's cute."

"don't be a fucking asshole," you snapped, grinding back toward him in desperation. "i said don't stop—"

"yeah, you did," jay cut in smoothly, wiping his soaked fingers on your thigh with a smug smirk. "but you've spent the last three months treating me like shit. barking at me like some entitled princess, calling me pathetic, useless—i'm just an intern, right?"

you seethed, still panting, but he was already stepping back. "you're such a fucking prick."

he let out a low chuckle, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging you upright so your back arched and your breath caught. "and you're such a fucking brat."

he yanked you away from the desk and spun you around, his grip on your hair keeping you dizzy and breathless as he forced you to your knees. the floor was cold beneath you, your chest heaving, your thighs slick and trembling—but you looked up at him with the same defiance in your eyes.

"still think you're in charge?" he asked, thumb dragging over your bottom lip. "because from where i'm standing, you're just a desperate little slut on her knees."

you tried to say something—maybe another insult, maybe a curse—but all that came out was a shaky breath, lips parting as two of his fingers pushed into your mouth.

you breathe heavily as he pushes down on your tongue, essentially tasting yourself.

"you could've cum," he murmured, looking down at you like you were something fragile and fucked up all at once. "but you don't get to cum with that mouth."

he slid his fingers out of your mouth, rubbing your saliva messily over your lips before cupping your jaw—tilting your face up to him. "you'll learn how to ask nicely," he whispered. "you'll learn how to beg."

"now open that bratty little mouth," he said, undoing his belt with slow, deliberate hands. "and maybe i'll show you what happens when you finally stop talking back."

"as if i'm going to let y—" you began, a cry escaping you when your head flys to the side. your hand coming up to cradle your red cheek as you look up at him in shock.

jay's palm was still in the air, his expression dark, unrelenting. his chest heaved once—twice—as he loomed over you, the sharp crack of his slap still ringing in your ears.

"you will," he said lowly, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "because i'm done listening to that fucking mouth."

you stared up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted—shock clouding your mind even as the heat on your cheek throbbed. you would've never thought, in a million years, that jay would have slapped you. it made your blood rush straight between your legs, the sting blooming into something twisted and hot.

jay crouched in front of you slowly, one hand gripping your chin—tight enough to make your jaw ache, tight enough to make you feel how serious he was.

"you think you're in control?" he sneered, thumb brushing over your trembling bottom lip. "you think just because you've spent months treating me like shit, i'd always let you get away with it?"

you swallowed thickly, trying to hold onto whatever attitude you had left, but it was slipping—fast.

"you think you can call me useless, boss me around, make me beg for scraps of respect—and then what? act like you're above me when you're soaking through your panties just from a slap and a few words?"

his thumb pressed into your mouth, forceful, making you part your lips around it as he leaned in.

"go ahead," he whispered. "say something bratty again. give me a reason to make you beg for the orgasm i'm not gonna let you have."

you whimpered, eyes fluttering as your mouth opened wider around his thumb, heat blooming in your stomach despite the sharpness in his tone.

"look at you," he murmured, dragging the pad of his thumb across your tongue slowly. "i haven't even fucked you yet and already, you're falling apart."

he pulled his thumb out and let it trail down your chin, slick with your spit, before gripping your hair again and yanking your head back to look up at him.

"on your knees. mouth open. hands behind your back," he ordered, belt now unfastened, hanging from one hand like a warning. "maybe if you're good now, i'll consider using your throat the way it was meant to be used."

"and if you dare bite," he added, eyes glinting with menace, "i'll remind you exactly who you belong to."

you should've hated him.

but instead, you opened your mouth—tongue out.

jay grins menacingly at your sudden obedience, his cock springing out—hitting your cheek.

"you're gonna be good f''me, yeah?" he drawls, tracing your lips with his tip slowly—teasing you.

when you don't respond he slaps his heavy dick onto your tongue, "i asked you something, sweetheart."

you mewl at the pet name, "y-yes i'll be good."

"good." and with that he pushes into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat before hes pulling out and bottoming back in again.

jay does this a few times, watching his dick disappear into your mouth before hes pulling out fully—snickering when he sees you chase for it.

he stroked himself slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on you as he took his time. he wasn't teasing himself—he was teasing you. dragging it out just to watch you squirm on your knees like the desperate little thing you pretended not to be.

"you've been walking around all fucking day like you run the world," he muttered, voice dripping with disdain. "snapping at me. barking orders. treating me like i'm beneath you."

he stepped closer, and your breath caught as the tip of his cock brushed your lips.

"so what are you now, huh?" he whispered. "my boss? or my personal fucktoy?"

your tongue darted out instinctively, trying to taste him—but he pulled back with a dark chuckle.

"ah, ah. not yet. beg."

your eyes narrowed, pride still flickering behind the haze, but your body betrayed you. your thighs clenched. your breath hitched. your mouth stayed open, waiting, even as your words choked out.

"...please."

jay raised a brow, pretending not to hear.

"louder."

"please," you tried again, cheeks flushed in humiliation. "i want it."

he grinned—cruel, smug, victorious.

"you want what, baby?"

your fingers curled behind your back as you bit your cheek, hating how your voice trembled. "i want your cock."

jay hummed in approval, finally guiding himself forward and pressing into your mouth. not gently. not patiently. he gave you no time to adjust, groaning low as he slid past your lips and hit the back of your throat in one brutal thrust.

you gagged, tears instantly springing to your eyes, but he didn't pull away—just groaned again and cradled the back of your head.

"fuck, that's it," he hissed. "look at you. so fucking obedient now."

he started moving—slow at first, then rougher with each thrust, using your mouth like it belonged to him. and maybe it did. maybe it always had.

your knees ached, eyes blurred, throat burning—but you didn't stop. not once.

he didn't let you.

because this was your punishment. for every eye roll. every insult. every time you called him incompetent.

and now, with spit dripping down your chin and your throat stuffed full of the intern you used to humiliate—now you were finally silent.

and jay? jay was just getting started.

his pace was ruthless and unforgiving, taking out his frustration and anger that has accumulated over the course of 3 months out on you and your mouth. his hands had created two makeshift ponytails, steering you.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you slowly began to struggle for air, unable to breath out of your nose.

"aw c'mon now, sweetheart. giving up on me so easily?" jay grunts, the squelching sounds of your wet mouth and his thick cock filling the room.

you hum, eyes opening as you stare up at him with a dazed expression.

your lips stretched around him, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, chin soaked and glistening. jay growled low in his throat, his grip tightening in your hair as he snapped his hips forward, burying himself deep down your throat.

"fuck," he hissed, sweat beading along his brow as he watched your glassy eyes blink up at him. "look at you. not so mouthy now, huh?"

you gagged again, throat convulsing around him as your lungs burned, but the look on your face only turned more desperate—more ruined. there was no point pretending anymore. not when you were on your knees, completely at his mercy, submitting to him with every choke and gasp.

"this is what you needed, isn't it?" he sneered, pulling out just enough to let you inhale sharply before ramming back in. "some discipline. someone to shut that smart mouth up."

you whimpered around him, eyelids fluttering as the ache between your legs grew unbearable. your hands itched to reach for him—for anything—but you kept them laced behind your back, like he told you.

his thrusts didn't falter. if anything, they got rougher, angrier. you were his outlet now—3 months of humiliation and quiet rage spilling out with every brutal thrust into your throat.

"you use me. treat me like shit. act like i'm beneath you," he snarled, voice breaking on a groan as your throat clenched around him. "but look at you now. fucking begging for it with your eyes." jay could feel the pit in his stomach tighten, his thrusts getting deeper.

with a deep moan, jay's spilling inside your mouth—his cum painting your throat white as he forces you to stay still.

you coughed, a mixture of his cum and your spit cascading down your chest, when jay finally pulled out. your chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes wild and teary, mouth hanging open and glistening.

"swallow it." you do as your told, tongue reaching out to lick away whatever was left around your mouth.

but before you could even speak, his hand cracked across your cheek again, not hard—but sharp enough to make your head snap to the side.

"you don't get to cum," he said coldly, gripping your face and forcing you to look up at him again. "not tonight."

your heart dropped, a soft, broken sound catching in your throat.

"you don't get to cum until i say so. and you definitely don't get to act like a brat and expect a reward."

you blinked at him, trembling, body aching for any kind of release, but jay just stared down at you—cock hard again and glistening, jaw tight, breathing heavy.

"i want you bent over," he muttered. "you're not done being used."

and with that, he grabbed you by the jaw and dragged you into position—because this time you weren't in charge. and he was going to make damn sure you remembered it.

you held yourself up by your forearms, sticking your ass out just the way you knew he wanted. your breath was shallow, heart racing, skin prickling with anticipation as you waited—head spinning from the shift in power you were still adjusting to.

jay stood behind you, silent for a moment. just watching. letting the tension build. letting you squirm.

"look at you now," he muttered, voice dark and low as he ran his hand slowly down your spine. "all quiet. all obedient. where'd all that attitude go, huh?"

you tried to lift your head, to say something smart, something that might tip the balance back in your favor—but all that came out was a whimper as his palm came down hard across your ass.

"that's what i thought," he growled, gripping your hips and pulling you back until you felt the heat of him against you. "you only know how to run that mouth when no one's around to shut it for you."

his hand slid down your thigh, fingers trailing dangerously close before pulling back again, teasing. denying.

"say it," he said. "say you're sorry for being a brat."

you hesitated, biting your lip, heat blooming in your chest from the humiliation—until his hand cracked across your ass again, this time harder.

"say it."

you gasped, trembling under his touch, voice barely a whisper.

"i'm sorry."

"for what?"

"...for being a brat."

he hummed, satisfied, thumbs pressing into your hips as he leaned down to murmur right into your ear, "good. now hold still. and maybe, maybe—if you behave—I'll let you finish."

and with one sharp thrust, he filled you—setting a punishing pace that left no room for doubt. this time, you weren't in control.

he was.

and he wasn't letting go until you remembered exactly who you belonged to.

his grip was bruising as he held your hips in place, each thrust deep and deliberate, his pace merciless from the start. your forearms trembled beneath you, struggling to keep you upright as your body jolted forward with every snap of his hips.

you mewled at the stretch, feeling his thick and heavy cock fill you to the brim as you struggle briefly to accommodate him.

"you wanted control so bad," he grunted, his breath hot against your spine as he leaned over you, still moving inside you without pause. "thought you could treat me like a joke, make me crawl for you. who's the one crawling now?"

you whimpered, back arching instinctively when his hand slid around to your throat, pulling you up just enough so your back was flush to his chest. your head dropped against his shoulder, lips parted in silent moans as he tightened his fingers around your neck—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who was in charge now.

"you like this, don't you?" he whispered into your ear, biting down on the lobe. "being put in your place. being used." you nodded, helpless.

"words," he demanded, his thrusts slowing just enough to drive you crazy.

"yes—" you gasped out, voice hoarse, "yes, i like it."

his low chuckle rumbled against your back. "not so cocky now, are you?"

he pushed you back down, pressing a hand between your shoulder blades as his other reached around and rubbed slow, teasing circles around your clit.

your legs shook, body coiling tight, right on the edge of release. you could feel it. jay could feel it too, your walls fluttered around his girth almost painfully—squeezing him deliciously, so he did what only made sense.

he stopped.

you choked on a gasp, hips twitching back toward him. "w-what...? why—?"

jay pulled out completely, and the sudden emptiness made your breath hitch. your walls clenched around nothing, your body screaming for friction.

"you think brats get to cum?" he asked, his voice dark with amusement, chest rising and falling as he stared down at your ruined, trembling form. "not after the way you've treated me."

"p-please," you whined, all self-respect gone, your voice cracking as you rocked your hips back pathetically, desperate for even the faintest touch. "i'll be good, i swear i'll be good..."

he cocked his head, one brow arching as his fingers traced a slow line up your spine. "yeah? you'll be good?" he echoed, mocking you.

"yes—please, i need it," you gasped, pressing your thighs together for any kind of relief.

he leaned down, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "then give me what i want."

you froze, shivering at the implication. "w-what?"

his hand grabbed your jaw again, turning your head until you had no choice but to look at him.

"you want to cum?" he asked, deadly calm. "then give me the permanent position. say it. right now. say i've earned it."

you blinked, heart pounding—half from humiliation, half from how shamefully turned on you were. "y-you're serious?"

he gave you one sharp thrust, just enough to make you moan, then pulled back again. "dead serious. i'll fuck you until you can't remember your own name—but you don't get to cum until i hear it from that bratty little mouth."

you hesitated, lips trembling. it was reckless. inappropriate. insane. but your body was burning.

"fine," you breathed, eyes glossy, your voice barely audible. "you can have it. the permanent spot. it's yours."

he grinned.

"that's more like it."

then he slammed back into you, deep and unforgiving—and this time, he wasn't holding back.

you cried out when you felt him grip your ass with two hands, making you fuck yourself back onto his cock.

"fuck, look at you. so desperate for my dick, so cock hungry," he sneers softly, relishing in the feeling of your gummy walls engulfing him and the fat of your ass pushing against his pelvis.

"s'good, j-jay," you slur out, desperate for release.

"yeah? so good? first time i've heard something good come out of your filthy fucking mouth," he snickers, fucking into you at a punishing pace.

he could feel you tighten around him, grunting when he realizes that he was just as close as you were.

"m'gonna cum," you slur. "please, let me come."

jay pants, his hands planting onto your lower back to hold you down as he fucks into you deeper—his hips snapping violently.

"yeah? you wanna cum, sweetheart? go ahead then, milk my cock."

just like that you shatter, a high pitched moan leaving your parted lips as your body convulses violently.

jay's high is just around the corner, his pace unforgiving before he himself unravels—unloading himself in you. he lets out a deep guttural moan, spilling his cum deep in you as your body twitches at the sensation.

"fuck—look at that," he murmurs, pulling out of you leaving you empty. you mewl at the feeling, body twitching as you drop your head onto the desk—no longer able to hold yourself up.

jay looks down in awe, watching his cum dribble out of your used cunt before he's swiping his digits through the mess—plugging his fingers in you to make sure you keep his seed in from spilling out.

you shudder at the feeling, to fucked out to realize what jay was doing. jay on the other hand admires the mess he has created, your behind was all shades of pink and red as his cum was spilling out of your hole like a faucet.

he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, "pleasure doing business with you, boss."

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

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lumillsie · 4 months ago

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ೃ⁀➷ being jun-ho's s/o would include ¡!

in which you're romantically involved with the police officer doing his best to find his brother and put a stop to the squid games

a/n : lots of love to my dearest friend @angelseraphines for not only getting me into this brilliantly-written show, but also for looking over my fic to double-check my characterisation and to give me a second opinion on it. if you aren't already following her, please go ahead and make sure that you do so 🙏

also this turned into a full-on fic please just roll with the punches 🙏bit of a cliche first date but I fear that I have very little dating experience so you guys are gonna have to deal with that, I fear.

╰┈➤ it was the middle of winter when you met the policeman for the first time. the air was crisp and frigid, icicles were hanging from rooftops and everywhere you turned you could see colourful outfits in contrast with the white snow and hear the sound of shovels scraping against sidewalks. a kind-eyed man in a reflective green vest caught your attention at the same time a car smacked a young woman and drove off.

╰┈➤ you stepped forward to testify, wanting to help out the woman. she thankfully didn't appear to be in critical danger, save for the bruising on her hip and the apparent fracture in her left hand — and so you headed off with them to the station to give your statement. the woman was allowed to give her statement and leave immediately, due to the obvious state her hand was in and her need to visit a hospital. you were left then with the kind-eyed officer from earlier, who brought you a sizzling cup of hot chocolate and sat down to wait with you until you could sign off on your witness testimony.

╰┈➤ talking with him was so relaxing for you. it felt as if you had known him for years and the banter between you and him felt natural and light. you couldn't remember when was the last time you laughed that much — little did you know that he felt the same way.

╰┈➤ as you headed off to leave, your eyes searched for him amongst the worn-out chairs and stacked files. you wanted a chance to say goodbye, regardless of the dread gathering in your chest at the thought that you'd never see him again. you were disappointed when one of his colleagues informed you that he had to head off back to his post — that was until you were handed a slip of paper with his name and number on it. he was far too professional to make the move himself, but his colleague could see you two liked one another and took it upon himself to push you towards him. with a grateful smile and a glint of unadulterated joy in your eyes, you left the building and headed off to meet up with the friend you'd made plans with that day. you would be a little late, but you were sure she wouldn't mind once you told her about your day.

╰┈➤ admittedly, it took you a couple of days to call the handsome officer, whose name you now knew to be hwang jun-ho. every time you picked up the phone, your legs would become jittery and you'd find yourself pacing around your room. a little seed of doubt took its root within you, but on the fourth day you finally gave in and pressed the call button. once he recognised your voice, his lips curled into a smile on the other end of the line. he was a bit concerned when his colleague gave you his number, but he was glad to see that you weren't put off by it. on that cold winter's night, you talked and talked until you both fell asleep grasping your phones, the line still on.

╰┈➤ these cozy evening calls became routine for the two of you, with him initiating them when he got off work. you learned more about him — that he was close with his mom, that he was set to get a promotion soon and that he wanted to work in major crimes as a detective someday and that he would often look in on his brother when he had some spare time. he didn't talk much about him, but you got the feeling that whatever it was his brother experienced wasn't something you wanted to press him much on — so you didn't. he made the effort to ask you more about yourself as well, so you talked to him about your job, your family, and your friends. you talked to him about your hobbies, the places you wanted to visit, and the things that made you happy. neither of you had ever really felt so comfortable, so quickly with another person — it was a lovely feeling, one that you both desperately latched onto.

╰┈➤ a couple of weeks after you started talking, jun-ho finally managed to get a day off. his tone of voice was dignified, yet dulcet as he invited you to go see a movie and then to dinner with him. you replied immediately and enthusiastically, gripping the phone so tightly in your hand that it almost felt like you could break it if you squeezed it in just a slightly tighter manner.

╰┈➤ like a true gentleman, he picked you up from your apartment on the day of the date and you found yourself glancing at him admiringly as he drove, trying his hardest to keep his eyes on the road and not on you. when you arrived at the cinema, you were surprised to see that the movie he got tickets for was the one you'd been raving to him about for weeks. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to go see it with a friend, but I figured it would make for a pretty good first date" he admitted with a hint of humour in his voice. you responded by telling him you thought it was a wonderful idea.

╰┈➤ the cinema hall was dark, illuminated only by the gleam of the screen as the opening scene of the movie was unfolding. he had to admit that the plot was intriguing, but he found himself glancing down at you every so often. halfway through the film, he found the courage to extend his hand, and you grasped it into yours as gleeful smile made its way onto your face. even as your hands began to feel a bit sweaty, you couldn't bring yourselves to let go.

╰┈➤ on the way to the restaurant, you launched yourselves into a proper conversation about the movie, laughing and joking about its points and twists as the rosy sunset gave way to a melancholy dusk. the staff and guests moved around in a lively manner, as the sound of glass and ceramic reverbated through the room — and the view from the windows was absolutely breathtaking. you could tell that he'd done his best to keep your preferences in mind when he was looking for a place to take you to. you held his hand across the table as you waited for the food to arrive, and you spent the better part of the evening comfortably talking to one another. every so often, his eyes would dart to your lips, but he made no move to reach across the table — not yet, at least.

╰┈➤ his shoes were crunching on the frozen ground as he followed you to your front door, and as you turned back to see your goodbye, he leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips — one which you eagerly reciprocated. he pressed a gentle kiss to both of your hands before he departed, and he called you once again as he got home.

╰┈➤ it didn't take long after that for the two of you to become an official couple. you began to visit him at work when you had the time, and he'd take an hour or two after work was done to slip by and spend some time with you. you would lounge on your couch with a glass of wine in your hand — if he was staying the night he'd drink a few too, and if he wasn't then he'd drink some tea.

╰┈➤ he would feel awful about waking you early in the morning when he had to return to his apartment and get ready for work, but he always made sure to write you a note and find your kettle so you could boil water for tea or coffee when you got up. he always kissed your forehead and whispered a sentence or two of affection before he left. he knew you couldn't hear him, but he felt the need to say them nonetheless.

╰┈➤ realistically, it wouldn't take long for you to meet his mother and brother. jun-ho always made time to visit her, and in-ho had given him his kidney. they were a close-knit family and he wanted the people most important to him to meet the person he was rapidly becoming more and more serious with. his brother seemed quiet and solemn, but he wasn't unkind. save for your greeting and goodbye, you only exchanged a few awkward words — most of which were just polite questions. you got the underlying feeling that he was a very tormented man, and the sight of a family photo on the counter with his arms wrapped around an unfamiliar woman confirmed your suspicions. jun-ho's mother, on the other hand, was incredibly warm and welcoming. she trusted her son's judgement, and she embraced you as if she'd met you a thousand times before. she prepared a fantastic meal, and she showed you photos of jun-ho and in-ho throughout their childhood. your joyous laughter echoed through the room as the younger of the two brothers covered his face with his hands. when it was time to return home, you found yourself hesitant to leave the warm atmosphere of the older woman's apartment — she made you promise to come visit her often. you agreed enthusiastically.

╰┈➤ when you returned home that evening, you asked him about his brother. he opened up to you then, about all the things he'd never really talked about. about the week his brother went missing a couple of years ago, about the death of his brother's pregnant wife and about the kidney he received from his brother. his voice was on the verge of breaking as he uttered out one string of words after the other, and his eyes began to gloss over. you held him close then, and from that moment on it was as if he could tell you anything — trust you with everything. it was the turning point between being two people who truly liked eachother to being partners.

╰┈➤ the change from living apart to living together was pretty seamless. at one point, you both realised that most of his stuff was already at your place and you just ended up moving the rest of it in. from that point on, he never really had to worry about going back to his place or getting up extremely early to get ready for work. you'd stay awake huddled under the blankets with his arms wrapped around you as you kept one another up to date with what you got up to during the day, and what you wanted to do as soon as you found some free time.

╰┈➤ if you're out together and he sensed that the chill from the cold weather outside is getting to you, he'd sneakily slip his jacket around your shoulders and offer you a teasing quip as he zipped it up with a light smirk on his face. your protests of not being that cold would be met with an exasperated look.

╰┈➤ you didn't hear him the first time he told you he loved you. as he kissed your forehead and whispered to you in the morning, it simply slipped out. he didn't realise it until he spoke it out loud. when he returned home that evening, those were the first words out of his mouth — and you said it back. after that, he always made to include his declarations of love in his morning notes, and they were the first and last words on his lips each time you said your helloes and goodbyes.

╰┈➤ you're there for him as he climbs the ranks in the police, and you'll never forget the look on his face when he came home with the news of finally receiving his promotion to detective. he spun you around as he placed kisses on your face, and you leaned in and kissed him with passion to show him just how proud of him you were. he took you out to celebrate that evening, and he took you to the same restaurant where you had your first date. it would go on to become your go-to place for celebrating special occasions. the following day, you went to visit his mother. tears of joy slipped from her eyes as she embraced him, and it wasn't long before she drew you into her embrace as well. it was the first time you saw something that didn't look like grief or sadness in his brother's eyes. you saw pride.

╰┈➤ he definitely wants to get married, and the two of you have talked about it, but both of you want to have a wedding when the entire family feels like they can actually celebrate. the dark cloud of grief that seems to constantly hang over in-ho's head has encouraged you both to wait a while. regardless, you two have already discussed so many of the details — the song you'd like to have for your first dance, the colour palette, the season when you'd like to have it in and where.

╰┈➤ he's incredibly observant, a trait that has helped him in both his private and professional life. he remembers the little things about you — he keeps track of the things you talk to him about, notes the ways in which your features contort when you see something you like or dislike, and goes out of his way to make your life easier in small ways.

╰┈➤ when you are both too tired to get ready and get ready for a proper date, but still want to do more than simply stay inside the whole time, he'll take you for a drive around the city. sometimes you get stuck in traffic, sometimes you get to breeze through the vibrant streets. for these dates, you have two playlists — one made up of both yours and his favourite songs, and another made up of ballads and romantic declarations weaved into music. which one you end up putting on depends on the atmosphere, but the second one tends to be the one you play when you park atop a cliff and take some time to glance at the stars.

╰┈➤ he rarely ever gets jealous, because he's confident in your relationship and he trusts you. that being said, he is incredibly protective — and he's always watching out for you. this bleeds into his affectionate nature, and the hand wrapped around your shoulder when you're out and about means two things. one, that he wants to be close to you and this is his way of expressing it. two, that he's warding off any unwanted attention and anybody who would seek to do you harm. he's a detective, so of course he's great at multi-tasking.

╰┈➤ while he mostly saves flowers for special occasions, he goes out of his way to get you baked goods when he's on his way back from work. you remarked once on how the pastries he brought you from the bakery near his station reminded you of something you ate regularly in your childhood, and he was nothing if not attentive. he didn't always bring home the same stuff — but he kept track of which treats you were craving the most and acted accordingly.

╰┈➤ if you get caught out in the rain, he's the type of guy who will keep his jacket above your head to try and keep you from getting drenched by the rainfall — or at the very least drape it around you, if you're wearing something that becomes see-through when it comes into contact with water. his focus is on your comfort in those moments.

╰┈➤ he finally proposed to you on your three-year anniversary, at the same restaurant where the two of you had your first date. while marriage was something you discussed, he still managed to surprise you with the proposal, and you agreed with tears welling in your eyes and your heart thumping nearly out of your chest. one of the first people you called was his mother, and you made sure to send the colleague that slipped you jun-ho's number a baskets of flowers and baked goods. he left a good portion of the planning to you, as busy as he is with his job, but he always offered his opinion and showed you that he cared immensely when you'd ask him for it.

╰┈➤ a couple of months after you announced your engagement, and with preparations underway — his brother disappeared. this wasn't the first time of course, but it was only the second time he didn't leave a message or let anyone know of his whereabouts. the last time this happened, his pregnant wife passed away, so naturally you, jun-ho and his mother were all worried. a couple of days into his brother's disappearance, your fiancee called to tell you that he was following a lead on his brother's disappearance — something with slip of cardboard with weird symbols and some man his colleagues perceived as crazy. after that, you couldn't get hold of him.

╰┈➤ when he did resurface, a couple of weeks later, he turned up bloodied and with a bullet in his shoulder on some old sea captain's boat. you looked after him then, tending to his wound and making sure that it didn't get infected, redressing it, and helping him with mundane tasks he struggled with now that his shoulder was injured. he was eerily secretive about it at first, and all you knew was the tidbits you managed to get from his coworkers — about some strange island and some sickening freaks making indebted people play children's games and then killing them for sport. you were confused, but you didn't press him until he was ready to talk to you about it.

╰┈➤ in the dark of the night, as he was leaning on the bathroom sink and you were pressing cold ice against the torn and injured flesh left by an unknown man's gun, he started talking to you about it. about following the strange man into a limousine where they doused all the passengers with some sleeping agent, about sneaking onto a ship and strangling one of the workers there, consequently tossing his body into the depths of the vast sea. as he spoke about all the death he witnessed, about the man with one kidney the workers cut up and whose organs they trafficked, about the sickening rich man who attempted to force himself onto him and about escaping the island, only to be tracked down as he attempted to send the proof he'd gathered and was met with horrendous cell signal and a masked man's gun. he didn't tell you about his brother, couldn't condemn him in such a way. that was the only part he kept to himself.

╰┈➤ your habit of staying up together in the night became more frequent than it had ever been. when he did sleep, he was always mumbling something about in-ho and the lines on his forehead and the manner in which he was squeezing his eyes made him look nearly as if he was in pain. you would coax him back from the turmoil he was re-experiencing in his sleep and into reality. neither of you went back to sleep on nights like those, and his grasp on you was so firm as if he was afraid you might disappear if he attempted to loosen it.

╰┈➤ he'd quit his job and went back to handling traffic then, and you understood he needed his time to grieve — a reprieve from death and the most distorted cases that hit the station's desk. you got married soon after, as the realisation that life was far too short to worry about semantics settled in his bones, and the fear of losing him intensified in you after what he'd gone through. you still kept the most important parts of what you'd planned out - the song for your first dance, the place where you wanted to celebrate, the people you wanted in roles of honour. it was a small and private affair, witnessed only by those the two of you felt were most deserving and close. you hoped to hold another celebration once in-ho returned, if he ever did — your husband already knew that he would not.

╰┈➤ once he starts working with gi-hun, he fills you in on what they're doing. he doesn't want you to worry, he couldn't put you through what you experienced back when you didn't know if he was dead or alive. you demand that they let you in, that they allow you to help them look for the man in the black mask. you couldn't stomach the thought of him setting off with you again, to do something so perilous and frightening. he's hesitant at first, and refuses to even consider the idea. upon realising that you don't intend to give up, and that you'll join him for it whether he likes it or not — he relents, but demands you don't put yourself in harm's way.

╰┈➤ on the night of halloween, as you all set out to find whoever is behind the black mask of the games' frontman, you head off with gi-hun. jun-ho worries about letting you go, but he still has faith in his brother not causing you any harm. he doesn't expect you to end up in the limo with gi-hun, as they take him back to the island for another week of twisted, death games.

a/n : thank you so much for reading this! if you find any inaccuracies with the show itself or with korean culture, please go out of your way to let me know how I may improve upon them and fix my mistakes 🙏🙏 I'm grateful to you for taking the time to read this fic, this is actually the first time I managed to finish a fic in a day (as opposed to my regular routine of taking a whole week to wrap up one set of headcanons). as always, I'm tagging other characters to increase my outreach, but the characters I'm tagging are only the ones I also write for — in case you want to request anything for them.

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jincapableoflove · 2 months ago

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the lunchbox delivery | drabble

A PART OF 'THE HOUSEHUSBAND DIARIES' DRABBLE SERIES

pairing: jungkook x (f.) reader

genre: househusband! jungkook, corporate office worker! reader, established relationship, flufff.

summary: jungkook, your soft yet badass househusband, goes on a city-wide mission—apron and all—to deliver the lunch you forgot in your morning rush.

word count: 2.1k+

warnings: flustered husband!jungkook, soft domestic moments, jungkook in a manbun (a warning in itself), office gossip, pda, shy but devoted husband, theyre so in love with each other.

inspired by: the way of the househusband (manga)

a/n: i have so many wips but i had to upload this 😭 i'm working hard on hoc and tggpp i promise. writing this reminded me of jungkook saying he'd make a great housewife while washing dishes in that one weverse live. requests are open for this couple! feel free to send in what ifs and drabble ideas!

the kitchen is bathed in soft golden light as the morning sun peeks through the curtains. it’s quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rhythmic chop of a knife against the wooden cutting board.

"when i see your face… there’s not a thing that i would change, ‘cause you’re amazing… just the way you are…"

jungkook sings along to just the way you are by bruno mars, his voice a little raspy from sleep but still effortlessly smooth. his lips curl into a small smile as he sways lightly on his feet, the melody slipping from his lips as he focuses on the task at hand.

your lunch.

he carefully scoops a mound of warm, fluffy rice into his hands, the heat seeping into his fingertips. with practiced ease, he shapes the grains, pressing and molding them until they take form—two perfect little bear faces, their tiny ears rounded just right. he sets them down gently into the bento box and tilts his head, inspecting them with a critical eye.

something’s missing.

jungkook reaches for a small sheet of gim, the dark seaweed paper crisp under his fingertips. with a tiny pair of scissors, he delicately cuts out little circles for the eyes, a small curve for the mouth. he sticks them onto the rice bears with chopsticks, making sure they align perfectly.

he grins in satisfaction before moving on to the rest of the bento. rolled eggs sit neatly beside the rice bears, their golden layers stacked just right. a handful of heart-shaped strawberries adds a pop of color, followed by small sausage octopuses lined up like tiny soldiers. the finishing touch, a few neatly arranged kimbap rolls, sliced precisely.

he carefully closes the sanrio-themed lunchbox, running his fingers over the pastel blue lid where cinnamoroll smiles back at him. he knows how much you love this lunchbox you picked out, giggling over how cute it was in the store.

jungkook double-checks everything, making sure it’s perfectly packed before setting it on the dining table. he even places a pair of your favorite chopsticks next to it, feeling proud of his work.

"when you smile… the whole world stops and stares for a while…"

bam watches from his spot near the couch, his head tilted in curiosity.

"you think she’ll like it, bamie?" jungkook asks, ruffling the dog’s ears. bam wags his tail once in response.

jungkook chuckles. "yeah, she better."

meanwhile, in your room, everything is quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan mixing with the distant chirping of birds outside. the warmth of the blankets wraps around you, and the pillow beneath your head is impossibly comfortable.

suddenly, your phone alarm blares.

your eyes snap open. there’s a beat of silence and then there’s sheer panic.

"shit, shit, SHIT!"

you bolt upright so fast that the blanket tangles around your legs, nearly yanking you back down. your heart pounds as you grab your phone, squinting at the time.

7:45 am.

OH MY GOD.

your early morning meeting.

the realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water.

you fling the covers off and practically hurl yourself out of bed, making a beeline for the bathroom. toothpaste, face wash, a half-hearted attempt to fix your hair, it’s all done in record time. you throw on your blazer, barely managing to shove your arms through the sleeves as you stumble back into the bedroom.

jungkook, still in his apron over his pajama pants and a loose white t-shirt, leans against the doorframe, watching you with a frown. "you okay, baby?" he asks, his voice thick with confusion.

"no," you groan, hopping on one foot as you struggle to put on your shoe. "i forgot i have an early meeting today—i’m so late!"

jungkook opens his mouth to remind you that you still have fifteen minutes but you’re already dashing past him.

you snatch up your bag from the couch, nearly knocking over the cushions in the process. your blazer is half-buttoned, your hair is still slightly damp from your rushed washing, and you’re 90% sure you forgot to put on perfume.

jungkook barely gets a chance to say good morning before you spin around, eyes wild, and grab his face between your hands.

his lips part in surprise just as you press a quick, rushed kiss to his mouth.

"i love you—BYE!" you say in a single breath, already turning toward the door.

jungkook blinks. "wait, baby, did you—"

but you’re gone.

the door slams behind you, the sound echoing through the apartment.

for a moment, there’s silence. then, with a small sigh, jungkook resumes his everyday tasks, putting on gloves before turning to the sink. once the last plate is set on the drying rack, he moves on to the laundry, gathering the neatly folded clothes into a basket.

woof!

bam, lying on his stomach near the couch, lifts his head and barks toward the dining table. his ears twitch, and his gaze flicks toward jungkook as if expecting him to do something.

jungkook follows his dog’s line of sight.

and there it is.

your cinnamoroll lunchbox, still sitting exactly where he left it. untouched. forgotten.

for a moment, he just stares at it, blinking in disbelief.

then, panic sets in.

"oh, shit."

without wasting another second, jungkook moves. he grabs the lunchbox with one hand and snatches his helmet with the other, practically sprinting toward the door.

within seconds, he’s outside, straddling his harley davidson, the engine roaring to life beneath him. the wind tugs at the loose strands of his tiny man-bun as he pulls his helmet on, securing it hastily before gripping the handlebars.

the city blurs past in streaks of neon and morning sunlight as jungkook speeds through the streets, the deep rumble of his harley davidson cutting through the early rush hour buzz. he leans into the curves with practiced ease, the sharp black of his leather gloves gripping the handlebars as he weaves between cars. the wind tugs at the loose strands of his hair, his tiny man-bun slightly coming undone beneath the helmet. he looks every bit the part of a street racer, dangerous and intense.

except.

there’s a pink apron still tied snugly around his waist.

and strapped to his back? a cinnamoroll lunchbox filled with rice bears and heart-shaped eggs, all carefully prepared for his wife.

the contrast is almost ridiculous but jungkook doesn’t care. his only mission right now is getting this lunch to you before your day gets too hectic and before you end up skipping your lunch due to your deadlines.

a few pedestrians stop to stare as he flies past, some doing double takes at the sight of a broad-shouldered, tattooed man speeding through the city with a pastel-colored lunchbox clutched under his arm. at a red light, an older woman on the sidewalk squints at him, eyes flitting from his dangerous-looking bike to the cute apron still tied neatly around him.

jungkook pretends not to notice.

but when the guy in the car next to him rolls down his window, giving him a once-over and raising an eyebrow, jungkook lets out a slow sigh before muttering under his breath,

"it’s for my wife, bro."

jungkook strides into the lobby of your corporate office, the heavy glass doors sliding open as he steps inside. the sleek modern interior, polished marble floors and employees in crisp suits moving with purpose make him stick out like a sore thumb.

not because he’s out of place.

but because he looks like the world’s softest yet baddest househusband all at once.

the contrast is undeniable. his back boots echo against the floor, tattoos peeking from under the sleeves of his t-shirt, his posture confident. but then there’s the pink apron still tied snugly around his waist, its soft fabric a stark contrast to his sharp jawline and leather gloves stuffed in his pocket. in his hand, a cinnamoroll lunchbox, clutched almost too carefully as if the very fate of the world depends on its safe delivery.

the receptionist, bright-eyed and clearly entertained, has to stifle a giggle the moment she looks up.

jungkook notices.

his grip tightens slightly around the lunchbox as his ears start burning, a telltale shade of pink crawling up his neck. he clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and raises a hand to awkwardly push back the loose strands of his man-bun.

“uh—” he clears his throat again. “i—i’m here for my wife.”

the receptionist blinks, amused. “your wife?”

jungkook nods, shifting uncomfortably. “yeah. y/n, she, uh… forgot her lunch.” he holds up the lunchbox like it’s exhibit a. “can you, um… call her?”

the receptionist definitely giggles this time, eyes flicking between jungkook’s sharp features and the adorable lunchbox in his hands. she doesn’t even bother to hide her amusement when she picks up the phone.

"of course, sir. one moment."

jungkook exhales slowly, standing there, trying so hard not to fidget. his fingers twitch against the strap of the lunchbox, his gaze flicking around the office, avoiding eye contact with passing employees who definitely noticed him.

he swears this is the longest minute of his life.

the moment your receptionist notified you, you practically sprint to the lobby, your heels clicking sharply against the floor as you weave through your coworkers.

jungkook stands near the reception desk, looking utterly adorable despite the fact that he should look completely out of place. his man-bun is slightly messy from the wind, a few strands escaping to frame his face. his fitted shirt clings to his frame just right, tattoos peeking from the sleeve. but then there’s the apron, still snugly tied around his waist, the soft fabric completely at odds with the harley davidson keychain dangling from his fingers.

and in his other hand? your cinnamoroll lunchbox.

your heart melts on the spot.

"jungkook," you breathe, slowing down as you approach him. his big, round eyes lift to meet yours, relief flickering across his face the second he sees you.

"you forgot this," he murmurs, holding out the lunchbox like it’s the most important thing in the world.

something about the way he says it makes your chest ache with warmth. without thinking, you grab the lunchbox and then, before he can react—

you kiss him.

right there.

in front of everyone.

jungkook stiffens instantly, his brain short-circuiting as your lips press against his. it’s quick but firm, filled with gratitude and affection, and when you pull away, his expression is priceless.

his ears are so red.

actually, scratch that—his entire face is red. his doe eyes blink rapidly, mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but can’t.

a few feet away, the receptionist giggles. several coworkers definitely noticed. someone even lets out a low whistle, murmuring, “damn, wish my wife loved me like that.”

jungkook malfunctions.

“i—y-you—” he stammers, gripping the back of his neck. “y-you didn’t have to—uh—”

you grin up at him, amused by the way he’s physically incapable of forming a proper sentence. “i did have to.” you shake the lunchbox playfully. “you came all the way here just to bring me this. what kind of wife would i be if i didn’t thank you properly?”

jungkook sputters, still blushing furiously. “b-but—”

you kiss his cheek this time, just for good measure.

his soul leaves his body.

the moment jungkook steps out of the office, the gossip erupts.

“oh my god, that was adorable.” “who knew your husband was such a softie?” “damn, does he have a brother?” “i swear, that was straight out of a drama.”

you shake your head, grinning as you make your way back to your desk, ignoring the knowing looks and teasing winks from your coworkers. no matter how much they tease, you don’t care because honestly? you love how much they saw. you love that they know just how sweet your husband is.

as you sit down, you run your fingers over the lunchbox, warmth blooming in your chest. jungkook had woken up early just to make this for you, chased you down just to deliver it. it wasn’t just about the food, it was about him, the way he always thought of you, always made sure you were taken care of.

at lunchtime, you carefully open the box, and the sight of the tiny bear-shaped rice makes your heart clench. he even arranged everything neatly, just how you liked it.

with a giddy sigh, you pick up your phone and type out a quick message.

you: you are the best husband in the world i love u sooo muchh 😭💖

a few seconds later, your phone buzzes.

kookie 🎀🐰 : damn right i am. you better eat all of it.

you roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself as you take your first bite, savoring the meal he made with so much care.

yeah. you were so lucky.

taglist open!! lmk ur thots <3

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