#The OC Recording Company | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

s-4pphics · 8 months ago

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candy crush. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you’re too sweet, and ellie hates it.

WORD COUNT: 4.3K

WARNINGS: recordshopmanager!ellie, crumblcookiebaker!oc, hurt/comfort, ellie’s a cunt, ocs too sweet, FLUFF?? FROM ME??? HUHHH, crushing, slight suggestive thoughts

A/N: idk where this came from lol

Ellie’s reorganizing the vinyl selection when a delicate hand lands on her shoulder. “I know your miserable ass doesn’t enjoy company,” Dina hisses in her ear, purposefully hushed, “But you got company.”

Ellie’s eyebrow quirks with confusion, leaving the earplug that blasts Head like a Hole to dangle over her shoulder. Her eyes glaze over the semi-filled shop, narrowing in on every face until she locks eyes with you from behind the guitar displays. The eye contact only lasts about 1.5 seconds before Dina smacks her leg.

“Don’t look. You’re gonna make it weird.” Dina quietly snaps from beside her, occupying her hands with some misplaced records.

“You know her?”

“I see her around sometimes. I think she works nearby,” Ellie catches her smirking from the corner of her eye, “… I think she likes you.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m dead serious. She’s been staring for the past 10.”

“At who.”

“At you, dipshit.”

Ellie can’t help herself. She takes one experimental glance in your direction; discovers you typing away at your device with a black mask pulled down under your chin, bottom lip trapped between your teeth with worry. Your apron and tiny name tag indicates you probably work somewhere close by, but she can’t pinpoint where. You’re too far and her vision is failing.

“Get her numbe—“

Ellie’s head whips to face Dina, “If you don’t shut up, you’re fired.”

“Abuse of power,” She snarks in return, “C’mon! She seems so—“

“D-Do you guys have any acoustics for sale?”

You’re a ninja, for sure. Both girls' heads snap around to face you — who stands a bit too close for Ellie’s liking — phone desperately clutched to your chest and eyes wide as a doe. Mainly locked with Ellie’s before they drop to your name tag.

Crumbl. 2 shops down.

Fuck.

“Why, yes!” Dina says excitedly when Ellie doesn’t reply, “Most of ours have been used, but they’re still in great condition. Are you interested in renting or purchasing?”

“Purchasing… I think.”

“No problem. I can show you some that we have on display, and if you don’t like those, we have some stocked in the back!”

Ellie’s forehead creases. Dina has never been this active in making a sale, let alone interacting with any customers. Ellie is always the one who’s forced to pick up her and Riley’s slack in the shop. She catches the light traces of disappointment that overtakes your expression at Dina’s interjection, but eventually, you’re led over to the guitar displays.

Ellie sighs in relief.

That brief exchange gave Ellie everything she needed to know. She doesn’t find gratification in denying proposals at work, but after months of being hit on by a multitude of customers — the men particularly piss her off— she’ll be as stern as she needs to be to get the point of denial across. Sure, it makes her look like a cunt to the general public, but she’ll take that over being chased after on the clock. No questions asked.

Ellie assumes that you’ve found what you needed because on your way out, persistent stares are thrown in her direction up until your departure. She dodges them with mastery.

She would hate to have to embarrass a strip neighbor.

Three days later, you stumble upon the record shop once more. Dina isn’t here to save Ellie this time, and Riley’s passing time in the break room. Your uniform is lightly dusted with white, presumably flour, and your mask is down, phone clutched to your chest like it holds all your secrets.

Your mouth drops open around a small smile when you approach the service counter, but Ellie interrupts before you can greet her.

“What can I help you with?”

She assumed her annoyance would be guarded by professionalism, but your smile drops at its corners at her tone. A light flinch that Ellie prays is enough to deter you from spending your breaks here.

It doesn’t. Your eyes still shine like the star that you aren’t.

“I, um… I actually wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay—“

“Is it regarding the purchase you made a few days ago?”

Dina slid Ellie a notice on the down payment you made for your used dreadnought since you weren’t able to pay in full. The scolding she received about “taking care of you” whenever you returned made her teeth grind together.

“N-No. I just—“

“I’d appreciate it if we kept the conversation about that,” Ellie uses the scribbles on her notepad as a distraction, “Did you have any questions regarding the instrument? Or if you’re interested in taking part in the lessons we offer, I could redirect you to Riley. She’s in charge of—“

“I just wanted to see if you were… interested in sampling out some cookie flavors I came up with? I’m a baking and pastry student and—“

“Look,” The tip of Ellie’s tongue sharpens into her cheek, irritation evident when you two are eye-to-eye. “I’m not sure where this proposal is coming from, but frankly, I’m not interested.”

The drop in your expression doesn’t stop Ellie’s relentlessness.

“I don’t know you, and I don’t know why you thought I’d be a good candidate for… taste-testing, but I’ll politely decline. No thanks.”

Her declination doesn’t sound polite in the slightest; quite snippy and condescending from your perspective, and it forces your windpipe shut. Only for a second before a strangled gasp leaves your lips. You’re not sure if it’s out of shock or lack of breath, but it aches in your lungs all the same.

Ellie’s glare sends holes through your back as you rush towards the exit, the small bell singing through the store and alarming your leave.

All Ellie can hope is that you got the message.

It’s a new week, and therefore, a new Crumbl cookie line-up. Dina won’t stop raving about the carrot-cake cookie which doesn’t resemble a cookie at all. It's tiered and way too soft and stacked with icing that’s sweet enough to rot teeth from the gum.

It reminds Ellie of you, for some reason; Somehow still managing to be a nuisance without trying.

Even more so now since Dina’s been using her 45 to walk down and see you. To talk to you. Dina has yet to cough up what about — not that Ellie cares. It’s just weird that you two suddenly have so much in common after knowing each other for all of two days maximum. Whenever Dina clocks back in, she tortures Ellie with dramatic retellings of your stories.

It’s Thursday; a quiet day for the shop that Ellie uses to her advantage when the sun is at its peak. Searching through cheap magazines and playing Candy Crush on her phone.

What a time for you to come barreling in. The formerly enjoyable shriek of guitar suddenly sounds like nails on a chalkboard at your appearance. No longer are you in all black. You’re in a sundress. An orange one. You look like a popsicle.

And you bear gifts. Ellie’s mood turns even more sour when she sees two bright yellow gift bags with smiley faces on them and a tray filled with coffee stuffed in your hands.

“Good morning!”

You’re smiling, gleaming, and Ellie’s nose turns up. She plucks one of her earplugs out and closes her graphic novel.

“How can I help you?”

You set your bag down on the display case of her prized arch top, and she sighs in exasperation. Annoyance sparks when she notices one of the bags has her name on it, flowers and hearts and sparkles surrounding the tag.

“Can you not put your belongings on the displays, please? I’d have to clean up after you since none of my employees will.”

You’ve already moved your bags and exclaimed apologies before Ellie could finish her sentence. She’s seconds away from shoving her earplug back in to tune you out, but you’re fast. Persistent. She hates it.

“I’m really sorry about that,” You say gently, and Ellie shrugs you off, “I, um. I-I came to, uh…”

Ellie blinks rapidly, “If you’re here to apologize for last week, don’t bother. It’s not needed.”

“Not at all! Well, I’m just… I wanted to drop by and—“

“You’ve gotten quite comfortable with just… dropping by. Have you realized that?”

Ellie’s squint is harsh and scrutinizing, and sorrow overshadows the light in your pupils.

“Since it’s obvious that you’re not understanding me, I’ll put it like this,” She leans a bit over the counter, front fully pressed against the glass and palms resting on the stainless steel, “I’m not interested in anything you have going on. Stop using your breaks as an excuse to come see me. I don’t wanna go out with you. And I don’t want to do a taste test. Drop it already.”

Ellie watches your lip quiver with a harshness exclusive only for people like you, tears welting in your eyes and your fingers pinching at the hem of your sundress. Insecurity is practically seeping from your pores, and your gaze drops shamefully to the floor.

Ellie’s just about to tell you to kick rocks when the STAFF ONLY door swings open and exposes Riley. Her break ended 20 minutes ago.

“Hey! You’re early!”

Ellie scoffs, “No, you’re late—“

“Not you. Be quiet,” She waves her off and smiles at you, who’s smiling back at her with guised genuity. A complete 180 from the you seconds ago. Since when were you and Riley on speaking terms? Friends?

She jogs from behind the stand, “Dina told me you weren’t coming til 3!” Riley throws her arms around your shoulders, and your hands tremble where they rest on her forearms. “Are those the goods?”

“Yeah!” Your voice sounds heavy. Like you’re guarding a breakdown, “I-I had some time so I stopped by a little early.”

“I got some to spare til Dee gets here. Hang out with m—“

“Actually!” You intervene shakily, “I have some other drop-offs to make. I really appreciate you guys doing this for me.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay? Watch me get my Food Network judge on?” Riley suddenly points in Ellie’s direction, “Who knows. Sourpuss might even pop a grin once she tries one.” Ellie’s cheeks run red-hot.

“Sorry, Riley. Maybe next time,” You’re already wobbling towards the exit, “But, please call and tell me what you think! Dina, too! Any feedback is appreciated!”

“I’m sure they’re delicious, Monster!” Riley compliments playfully, “Text me when you’re home!”

When the door shuts, Ellie sees Riley’s back stiffen at the sight of you frantically wiping your face through the glass.

“What the fuck did you do.”

“I didn’t do shit. She’s loitering.”

“Lo— Oh my fucking god, you’re an embarrassmen—“

“No, she is. Taking up space for no fucking reason to come and see me. She’s loitering—“

“You’re blowing a fuse over fucking cookie samples?” Riley stares at her like she’s nuts, “And not to burst your self-centered bubble, but I told her to come. She’s been asking all the stores on the block if they’d like to taste ‘em.”

Ellie pauses, expression softening only slightly when Riley continues,

“I told her you don’t like chocolate, so she made a peanut butter version for you.” Riley shakes Ellie's special, slightly smaller bag as a means to taunt her, and the freckled girl’s face burns red. Glows even harsher when her friend throws in, “You cunt. She’s a sweetheart. Not everyone is fucking obsessed with you.”

Riley leaves Ellie to simmer in her discomfort, slamming the break door shut. The day seems to drag on longer than usual.

Ellie’s organizing the break room when she comes across her small baggie that Riley left behind. She would’ve expected her friend to take them home after Ellie’s dramatic blow up, but there it sat on the counter, untouched and jeering.

Tempting enough for her to rest the broom against the counter and inspect its contents. Wafts of cinnamon and peanut butter hit her through the small opening of the bag, and her heart gives a squeeze. The cookie is iced to perfection — an entire scenery on the light brown canvas. So many flowers and trees and the blue hues of the sky; almost too much detail. It looks printed on.

You’re artistically talented and the cookie smells divine.

One nibble wouldn’t hurt. She’s sure the damage she caused is already irreversible.

But when she cradles the carefully swaddled cookie, a small note falls from beneath the bunched cling wrap. She knows she shouldn’t. She should really, really leave the neatly folded piece of paper where it lays. Down the cookie. Trash the bag.

She takes the cookie and the note back to her seat at the table. The cookie isn’t what she unravels first.

“thought I’d make you a separate batch. Riley gave me the heads up about your chocolate disdain. I’m too paranoid to ask for your number in person, so I thought I’d use bait instead. I hope it’s convincing enough. Please let me know if it’s decent. Thank you for tasting.”

Signed with your name and a smiling heart with wings. Ellie’s heart shatters, remaining shards dangling from the rim of her ribcage. She can already see her friends glaring through her chest when they visit the apartment to berate her tomorrow morning. She already knows what they’re going to demand from her, but she’s three steps ahead.

She ate the entire cookie in two bites right where she sat. It was delicious. Almondy, not too sweet, gently spiced. Probably the best she’s ever had.

Ellie has never been to Crumbl before.

The viral spot is always bustling — too crowded and filled with loud teenagers with a sugar rush for her taste. Plus, she’s already on the clock when they first open. But the record shop is closed on Fridays.

She put an extra bit of care into her appearance. She doesn’t recall the last time she did her hair. Half of it is pinned up and her button-up is neatly pressed. Jitters rustle in the pit of her stomach and her forehead is a bit damp, mainly because she can see you through the goddamn window.

In uniform, you stand at the register with the same beaming smile from last week, talking and giggling with your coworkers, and Ellie instantly feels guilty. Your day seems off to a great start, and here she is… About to ruin it. She almost turned around at the thought.

But the small bell above the door blares loud, and your bright smile drops once you recognize her, and with that, her stomach. Ellie mentally notes the bags forming under your eyes and the tension in your shoulders. It looks like you haven’t rested for days. Her heart squeezes.

Your movements turn robotic; stiffly perched on the sides of the iPad stand as your thumb works on the screen. You haven’t looked Ellie’s way since. She approaches the counter with her tail between her legs, fidgeting with her middle finger.

“Um… hey.” Ellie’s quiet. Out of place. Afraid.

“What can I get for you?”

Even with the stiffness, you somehow still manage to sound as soft as a cotton ball, but Ellie’s body locks. The scenario hits her like a brick wall; she’s doing exactly what she accused you of doing to her last week. Bothering her at fucking work. She should’ve never come to your place of business to coddle her ego. She feels like a hypocrite. You certainly see her as one.

“Um… A cookie?”

“… What flavor.”

“Uh… peanut butter?”

You swallow thickly, voice hollow, “That’s not on the menu for this week,” You point towards the display of cookies that were big enough to feed a family, “These are the six we’re serving until Sunday. You can also look at the menu on the screen.”

Ellie follows your pointing finger. How the fuck does this place work? Weekly flavors? What the fuck does that mean? She quickly examines the names of cookies that flash across the screen: raspberry cheesecake, pink velvet… Mom’s recipe? Odd name for a dessert but she lets it slide.

“W-What’s your favorite?”

You’re a baker, for fucks sake. You’d have better taste than anyone, better than her, she’d painfully admit.

She watches your fingers clench around the screen, tapping mindlessly.

“Um… raspberry cheesecake.”

“I’ll get a dozen.”

“O-Of the same flavor?”

She shrugs like it’s obvious, “… Yup.”

You give her one skeptic look before tapping at the screen. “It might be a little wait. About 15 minutes. Do you mind?”

“No.”

“Cash or card?”

“Card, please.”

More tapping, “That’ll be $41.65. Swipe or tap whenever you're ready.”

A financial dent over a box of cookies was not on her bucket list. You hand her the receipt, and before you can rush to the kitchen, Ellie exclaims, “When’s your break?”

“Excuse me?”

“W— um, when’s your break?”

Your coworkers are suddenly very interested in Ellie, all four of them eyeing her like venomous hawks. Her cheeks burst into flames.

“Um… I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

And you’re right. Anything involving you is short on Ellie; it was never her business, but a burning in the pit of her stomach desires to learn. Needs to catch you at the right time to give you a proper apology even though she doesn’t deserve the time of day. She doesn’t know what to say.

You use her floundering as a scapegoat and hustle behind the slamming doors. Just as Ellie rushes to leave empty-handed, one of your employees — Abigail reads across her name-tag, keeps professional, but Ellie’s skin burns with the fire in her eyes.

“We’ll have those right out for you,” monotone, but gruff. It makes Ellie wonder if you told any of them about her — she doesn’t doubt it.

“You can wait outside.”

One stiff nod, and Ellie’s booking it until her feet plant on the packed sidewalk, nearly bumping into a couple with interlocked hands. It takes 25 minutes for the box of cookies to be rigidly placed on the lounge table by another employee. Ellie scurries into her truck with a boiling face and pulls out into the road.

When she makes it to her apartment, she eats three mini cheesecakes in one sitting.

She sees why they’re your favorite.

The following week was filled with glares and curses from Dina and Riley — your newfound friends, evidently. They have a way of making Ellie feel like a worthless dunce. They both have rubbed in the tales of you being a thrill to be around; the life of the party whenever they hang out.

It makes her nauseous. And sad.

But her sadness swiftly shifts to bewilderment when she catches you smoking near a lamppost after closing. Still in your uniform with a bag over your shoulder, pants dusted in white, proof of your labor. It’s dark out, the only illumination coming from the light stood tall above you and the orange gleam of your cigarette. The sight shocks her. You didn’t seem like the type.

Maybe that’s where Ellie went wrong with you: constantly assuming… who you are. Your desires, your intentions with her, her friends. She’ll admit her wrongs, of course.

But it has to be to you.

Ellie scares you when she approaches, inhaling the nicotine a bit too roughly because you start heaving. Shoulders hunched and jumping with every cough.

“Uh — fuck, I’m sorry! I-I thought you could see me coming! I didn’t mean — fuck —“

You’re still choking, but you hiss in between, “What the fuck do you want!”

“I’m just — I’m sorry about —“

“You’re not — cough — you’re not sorry! You made your point clear. I don’t why you keep — cough cough — following me. I left you alone like you wanted!”

“I DON’T WANT THAT!” Ellie shrieks in panic.

It’s a heavy-handed admission. A weighted confession that was said too aggressively given your flinching away from her. She takes an instinctive step forward.

“Your cookies… tasted fucking incredible. I’m also an asshole.”

The drag you take from your cig while she rambles is almost comedic. Brows cinched at the middle of your forehead, gauging her. You’re not convinced, but you’re not fleeing like the first time. She takes a leap, and a large step towards you.

“I feel really… really bad,” Ellie’s much quieter, eyes unwavering and the softest she’s ever shown you, “I shouldn’t have… said all that. To you. I’m just so used to being harassed at work. I’m sorry.”

Maybe nicotine calms you. Your body language isn’t as taut compared to when Ellie first initiated conversation, and your eyes soften at her reasoning.

The rasp from your timbre melts her skin like butter. “I didn’t know you went through that. That sucks.”

Ellie shrugs, “I didn’t know you were… nice.”

She made the mistake of attempting playfulness, “Maybe ‘cuz you wouldn’t let me talk.” You snark while ashing.

“I’m sorry.” Ellie implores.

You take one last drag before stomping out the flame. “Me too. For bothering you.”

Ellie cringes at your choice of words, but nods in acceptance. “Are we, uh… okay, now?”

A small smile grows on your face. It’s cute. Makes your cheeks puff out like a hungry squirrel.

“We’re good.” You extend a fist out to her, and she connects her own at the knuckles.

When they drop, Ellie nervously stares at her shoes, “Do you want a ride home?”

“I’m alright, thanks.”

“C’mon, I don’t want you waiting out here by yourself.”

You pause before asking, “What’s the catch?” Your brow arches mischievously.

Ellie doesn’t hesitate, “More of those cookies.”

A giggle escapes you. Soft and airy like a feather. Ellie feels a tight clench in her chest. A thumping from her ribcage. Has your smile always been this vibrant? She mentally kicks herself for not noticing before.

Ellie escorts you to the passenger's side of her passed down pick-up: opens the door for you and makes sure you’re buckled in before starting it up. She learns you’re a metalhead when she cranks the radio to the highest volume.

… How quickly can crushes develop?

Two months. Ellie’s spent two months finding every excuse to spend time with you. She welcomes your visits to the record shop and silently thanks the heavens above when you call after her shift to talk about your day. Listening to your rambles about customers and their weekly cookies has become the highlight of hers.

She’s also found comfort in watching you fail at playing guitar. You’re adorable whenever you strike an incorrect chord or break a string. She’s more than willing to guide you through your trials: late-night invites to her apartment to practice. One of your goals was to learn how to play the entire Vanara soundtrack.

Ellie assumed she simply enjoyed being in your space. She does, but something shifted between you during one specific session. It was past midnight, and Ellie could tell you were getting tired. She innocently suggested for you to spend the night so you wouldn’t have to Uber at such a late hour, and you graciously accepted her offer. When you started to get comfortable on the couch, she tuts in disapproval and invited you to share her bed because it was more comfortable.

What a mistake.

After showering and changing into comfortable clothes, you both crawled into bed and swiftly drifted off. When Ellie’s eyes opened the following morning, her heart immediately traveled up to sit in her throat. If anyone told her she’d wake up with you completely sprawled out on top of her with your warm breath hitting her neck and her arms wrapped around you, she wouldn’t have believed them. She was completely frozen beneath you, but not for the reason she’d assumed.

Ellie was scared to wake you up. Ellie was scared you would move away from her.

She was pulled between waking you up and pulling you even closer. You were soft and warm and you smelled like her cinnamon body wash. A literal human cookie. She caressed your back as delicately as she could, and you nuzzled into her shoulder with every swipe. She hoped the harsh thrashes from her heart wouldn’t disturb you.

They didn’t.

You took a piece of Ellie when you left her apartment that morning. She’s not sure which part you stole, but she hasn’t felt the same since then. A pull towards you that’s electric, sparks her to life, keeps her up at night. Whenever you’re away, at work, not next to her, she’s desperate to pull you close. To breathe in the natural scent of you.

Evidently, crushes develop rather quickly.

“I thought baking was supposed to be fun.” Ellie huffs from where she lays on her bed.

“It is fun! My favorite past-time, actually,” She watches you pace around her bedroom, guitar still strapped securely around your shoulder, “It’s just stressful when you have chefs constantly breathing down your neck. It’s so hard to be creative because they nitpick everything.”

Creating a menu is much harder than Ellie assumed. She’s become the person you’ve come to whenever you’re fired up from classes, ranting and raving about the apparent dickheads that judge your creations. After testing your recipes for as long as she has, how could anyone turn down a dessert from you?

You’re such a hard-worker. Focused, determined… pretty when you’re brainstorming. Pretty when you’re talking… Pretty when you’re smiling. Standing. Staring off into the distance.

“Hm.”

It’s all Ellie can say. She’s been trying to mask her rampant stares at your bare thighs for the past… however the fuck long. They look so soft. So pliable. So easy to stretch and pry and yank at—

Her guilty pleasure went from collecting Pokémon cards to gawking at your legs whenever you wear shorts.

Ellie’s definitely crushing.

Crushing very, very hard.

#mean!ellie #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪#ellie the last of us #the last of us smut

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kookooluvr · 1 month ago

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Teach Me How To Love - Part 2

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

word count: 2.7k

warnings: we meet jk's friends and tae makes his first appearance (we'll be seeing a lot more of him in future), oc is sick with a cold, jk is a simp and drops everything to make her feel better, lots of fluff, nothing explicit in this one, we find out some more of oc's rules, SATC mentioned, some marvel talk, talk of jk having a nice ass, mostly just lots of soft feels in this one <3

author's note: i'm so happy to see the amount of love part 1 got !!! part 2 is a bit shorter, but i think it's important to see their dynamic outside of the whole fwb thing. i'm aiming for the upcoming parts to be longer, i promise. i hope you enjoy all the feels in this one, and don't be shy to send me your feedback 🫶🏻

find tmhtl masterlist here

Jungkook sits at a table in a rather fancy restaurant, half-listening to his friends as they joke about something over dinner. They've been meaning to get together for a while but they've all been so busy with work and their personal lives that it just never worked out until tonight. Well, it worked out tonight because Taehyung practically forced everyone to come.

"Yo, earth to Jungkook."

He looks over at Jimin with raised eyebrows, realizing he was caught staring at his phone in his lap. He knows he should be paying attention to the conversation happening around him, and he knows that it's rude to be on his phone while he's in company, but he hasn't heard from you all day and usually you would've exchanged words (or funny memes) by now.

It's not that he MUST speak to you all day, every day to survive, but it just happens. If he sees a funny video of a cat on TikTok, he sends it to you. If you forgot how to do something on Excel, you text him and he replies within two minutes to explain how to do it. Sometimes he even goes through the trouble of doing it himself, screen recording it and sending it to you to give you a step-by-step guide. That's just how it goes with the two of you.

"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was just asking if there's a special someone in your life," Jimin says with a little grin, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

"Actually, what he asked was if you're still on track to die alone," Namjoon quips, Jimin waving him off with a little "eh, same thing".

Jungkook rolls his eyes, flatly denying any romantic relations. It's not like he's lying. He just can't say that he might have started developing feelings for the woman he's casually sleeping with, so he just settles on, "Naah, I'm too busy with work." It's easier.

They know their friend is a terrible liar, but they also know that he would tell them if he really wanted to, so they don't pry. They've heard your name once or twice in passing, a little comment here and there like '___ likes that movie' or '___ uses this perfume'. As far as they know, you're his work friend. That's it. Even Taehyung doesn't know much about you, and he works at the same university as an English Literature lecturer, which brings us to rule #2.

Rule #2: It stays between us. It's just less complicated if less people know, and Jungkook knows that if his friends knew about it, they'd be pestering him about you all night and he doesn't need that right now, especially when his eyes drift back down to his phone and there's still no text from you.

You're in bed, surrounded by snotty tissues and a sleeping Miso, who really couldn't care less that you just underwent a violent coughing fit. You're about to doze off, when your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You check the notification, and when you see who it's from, you swear you feel your heart rate rise, but maybe it's just from all the coughing.

prof jeon |7:50pm]: hey, you. prof jeon 17:50pm]: haven't heard from you all day... prof jeon [7:51pm]: are you mad at me bc i said sex in the city was boring??? 👀😭😭

You [7:51pm]: first of all, it's sex AND the city 💀 You [7:52pm]: and it's not boring, you're just a nerd who can't watch anything other than marvel

He laughs, knowing he should've expected that response. Your next message comes through shortly after.

You [7:53pm]: sorry for the radio silence You [7:53pm]: i have a nasty cold 😵‍💫 You [7:53pm]: feel like i was hit by a bus You [7:53pm]: took some cough drops and slept for most of the day

He really shouldn't feel the need to immediately rush to your aid, but he does.

prof jeon [7:53pm]: want me to come over?

You [7:54pm]: you don't have to do that, kook You [7:54pm]: i don't wanna get my germs all over you 😕

prof jeon [7:54pm]: don't be silly prof jeon [7:54pm]: i’ve had your bodily fluids on me before, who cares about a little snot 😂😂😂 prof jeon [7:55pm]: i can be there in a little bit

You [7:56pm]: you're gross 🙄 You [7:56pm]: and really nice

prof jeon [7:56pm]: see you in a bit x

He excuses himself from dinner with the excuse of a family emergency and promises his friends to hang out again soon. He grabs his coat and heads out to his car, making a stop at your favourite Thai restaurant for some pho before driving over to your place.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and dragged yourself back to bed as soon as he texted you to let you know he's on his way up. You hear the door open and in walks Jungkook, looking very handsome you might add.

"You're dressed awfully fancy to take care of my cold," you tease with a little smile, your eyes drifting down to the plastic bag in his hand, a bag you know all too well due to countless trips to that specific Thai restaurant. "And you brought food?"

He smiles as he removes his coat and walks over to the side of your bed, placing the pho on your nightstand before sitting down on the edge of the bed, clearly not bothered by the array of tissues scattered around the duvet. Miso sees him and gets up from her spot on the bed, sauntering off to the living room, almost as if she knows her mom is about to get folded like a pretzel again. But Jungkook's not here for that tonight.

"I was actually out at dinner with some friends when I texted you. And I thought you might've been too lazy to get up and actually eat dinner, so I brought soup."

The thought of him dropping his plans with his friends just to come over and take care of you fills you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Maybe it's just your high temperature. Maybe it's the fact that he's just so kind to you. Whatever the reason may be, you're too sick and weak to fight the soft smile tugging at your lips.

"Thank you, Jungkook."

"Don't thank me. I just didn't want you to drown in your own mucus."

Your laugh makes his heart feel funny, even if it barely managed to escape your sore throat.

He opens the lid of the steaming hot pho and holds a spoonful to your lips. If you were your usual healthy self, you would've told him that you're fully capable of feeding yourself, but you're sick and vulnerable and he has that soft look in his eyes, so you let him feed you the soup. It's warm and a little spicy, and it instantly makes you feel better as it slides down your throat. It's just that good. That, and the fact that he bought it for you and drove all this way to feed it to you.

He makes sure you take any necessary medication and even helps you flip over to lay on your stomach so that he can rub some VapoRub on your back, his hands giving you the comfort you didn't know you so desperately needed.

You aren't used to being taken care of by such a gentle man. He blows on your soup for you so that you don't burn your tongue. He wets a cloth with cold water and lays it on your forehead to bring down your temperature. He touches you like you're some delicate porcelain that could break at any moment. When he lays down with you and runs his fingers through your hair, you don't fight it. When he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, you don't protest like you normally would because rule #3 is no kissing outside of sex but you don't even care right now. You let him take care of you when you normally wouldn't. You allow yourself to be taken care of because it feels too good to overthink.

Jungkook feels a bit selfish for relishing in your current state because it allows him to care for you in your time of need. He would do it for any of his friends because that's the type of person he is, but this is different. This is you, and he would drive for hours and hours to get to you if you ever needed him. He would put everything on hold to be there for you. Hell, he would run into a burning building if you were in there. Because it's you.

He props his head up on his elbow and looks down at you, taking in your fevery flushed cheeks, your heavy-lidded eyes, your stuffy nose, and he thinks that no other woman will ever be as beautiful to him as you. He's not Taehyung. He doesn't teach literature and he doesn't have the best way with words, but he could spend hours writing poetry about the sound of your laugh or how animated you get when you're really passionate about something. He could sit and watch paint dry all day if you sat by his side and did it with him.

Jungkook takes the tv remote from the nightstand to turn on Sex and The City, clicking on a random episode from season 6 and getting comfortable next to you.

"What happened to Sex and The City being boring, hm?" you chuckle, giving him a teasingly pointed look.

"What, you want me to turn it off?"

"No, I just thought you didn't like it."

"But you like it."

You turn your attention back to the tv as a smile threatens to break out on your face, your head turned so that he doesn't see how much that simple response affected you.

He barely remembers the characters' names or much of the plot, but you enjoy the show, so he watches it with you, making comments here and there and even asking questions just so he can listen to your voice as you explain why Carrie Bradshaw does what she does. He mentally pats himself on the back for getting through a good handful of episodes before inevitably getting bored.

When you get up to go to the bathroom, he just can't help himself and turns on one of the Avengers movies, offering you a sheepish grin when you come back and see what's on your tv.

You roll your eyes and get back in bed, watching Iron Man perform a monologue for the millionth time. "Captain America's better."

He gives you a look like you just killed his dog or something, and you already know what's coming.

"Are you insane?! Iron Man is so obviously the best Avenger, ___."

"He doesn't look like Captain America, though."

"He doesn't have to," he scoffs, looking back at the tv. "He's got that whole rich CEO thing going for him. Plus, he's like, a genius."

"Nerds defending nerds, I guess," you tease with a faint smile.

He grins, a hint of smugness in his expression. "Are you saying I'm like Iron Man? Because if you are, that's a huge compliment."

"Iron Man's a bit more of a bad boy," you chuckle, narrowing your eyes at him as you try to think of who he resembles in the Avengers. "You're more...boy next door, kinda like Spider Man."

"Wha- excuse me, I can be a bad boy too if I want," he quips, trying to sound offended, but when you mention Spider Man it kinda makes up for it. "I guess I'll take Spider Man. I do have a nice ass."

You laugh, giving him a puzzled look. "Who said anything about Spider Man's ass?"

"He's like, known for having a great ass. Have you seen him in his suit?"

"So, that's it? That's why you'd make a good superhero? Because you have a nice ass?"

"Well...not just my ass. I'd make a great superhero because...y'know...great power, great responsibility and all that other stuff."

You scoff, shrugging like you can't argue with that.

He's quiet for a while, a full-blown fight scene playing out on the tv, his mind starting to wander a bit.

"You'd be Black Widow. You've got that badass, independent woman vibe," he murmurs, looking over at you with a soft smile.

"You think so?"

"Oh yeah. You're smart, confident, you don't take crap from anyone. Plus, you'd look really hot in the tight outfit." He just can't help himself.

You roll your eyes, softly swatting his bicep. "Of course that's what you think of."

He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, feigning innocence. "Hey, what can I say? I'm a man, I like what I like."

And I like you. He can't say it out loud, but acknowledging it is enough for now, and when the cough syrup starts taking effect and your eyes slowly start to droop, he feels content with just having your head on his chest.

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket to see a text from Taehyung, and your eyes are barely open when they land on the screen. You didn't even mean to look, it was kinda just an instinctive thing, but you're not interested in his private texts from his friends. What catches your eye is the photo on his lock screen. It's a photo of the two of you from a year ago, both of you making silly faces at the camera. It's a cute photo. If anyone else were to see it, they'd think you're a couple.

“I didn't know that’s your lock screen,” you mumble, your voice a lot sleepier than it was an hour ago.

“Are you snooping?” he teases with a little scoff.

“I didn't mean to look, your phone is kinda in my face from this angle,” you murmur through a soft chuckle, looking down at the photo.

“I like this photo of us.” He smiles when you tap the screen after it goes black, wanting to get another look.

“Coulda used one that I actually look pretty in,” you murmur jokingly, and as the cough syrup drains the last of your consciousness, the last thing you hear is a soft, “But you’re always pretty, ___.”

The next morning, you wake up feeling a little bit disorientated after taking all that cold medicine, blinking a few times to clear your vision. You slowly sit up in bed and check your phone, seeing that it's 10am. You almost think you overslept for work, but you realize it's Sunday. You think back to the night before, the way Jungkook came over and fed you soup, the way he gently put VapoRub on your back and made sure you were well taken care of. You turn your head to find Miso in the spot that Jungkook was in last night, and you would feel disappointed that he’s not there anymore if Miso weren't so damn cute. It's not like you expected him to still be here this morning. After all, staying the night is another boundary you don't cross, and he respects that, which explains why he left a little while after you fell asleep.

You feel that fuzzy feeling in your chest again when you take a better look at what's on your nightstand. Your water bottle stands tall, which Jungkook filled before he left last night, along with a little note from one of the notebooks on your desk.

The note says, 'Hope you're feeling a bit better. Get lots of rest and drink your fluids. Don't worry about falling asleep, Miso made sure I saw myself out. Hope to see you at work tomorrow xx'

You read the note again, and then again. It's simple but thoughtful. He didn't have to write a note. He didn't have to come over last night to tend to your illness, but he did, and you aren't surprised because he's him. That's just what he does.

You think about last night until you have to consciously stop yourself from smiling so much because your cheeks feel a bit stiff. You grab your phone from the nightstand and scroll to his contact, your fingers quickly sliding across the keyboard.

You [10:23am]: thank you for coming over last night, kook You [10:23am]: i owe you fr

prof jeon [10:25am]: you really don't 🙄 prof jeon [10:25am]: i just wanted to be there for you prof jeon [10:26am]: it's what spider man would've done 👀

You [10:26am]: 👁️👄👁️ You [10:26am]: nerd

< Part 1 || Part 3 >

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts x reader #fic: tmhtl #kookooluvr

620 notes · View notes

fridgemissionmaster · 1 month ago

Text

What They Do When They Miss You (Full Cast + OCs)

Lucifer

Like how you can't teach an old dog new tricks, he turns to old habits:

It’s rather easy to not think of you, after all his brothers and Diavolo make sure he’s always kept busy… for the most part.

But then the night rolls-in.

The quiet always unnerved him, that’s why he usually had a record playing. You never knew this though. After you arrived and changed his world, his life, he didn’t want it. Your voice was far more soothing than any melody or hymn for an ancient, weary heart.

Not always, but on occasion you’d stay up and keep him company. He didn’t care if you talked or not, if you vented your frustrations about school, or if you sat beside him only your soft breaths being heard as you organized some papers in the endless stack between you two. If he had a record playing it’d simply be annoying noise. Yet now he finds sleep eludes him without it playing. You left a mark he can only try to patch.

And on exhaustive nights where even that doesn’t help, he pulls out the bottle, roughly ripping the quark out with a loud pop or even breaking the glass’ neck by mistake, the sharp sound making him flinch and the embarrassment that a human could have such control over him even without a command, making his cheeks flush without his lips touching the blue liquid yet.

At the dead of night, he sits in your room after spending an hour at the tomb or in Lilith’s room. He’d never admit to talking to thin air, about his grievances at the last student council meeting, or his breath shuttering at the thought he truly didn’t know what you were doing, if you were safe or not, if you were happy or not… surely you weren’t, otherwise this tightening of his throat would be a silly feeling, not if you weren’t feeling it too.

Mammon

His sticky fingers get the better of him:

Oh, look at that, the gem on that necklace is your favorite color. He needs it.

That shirt, isn’t it made of that material you found really comfy? He needs it.

The vase over there, it looks rather valuable, he could buy you the newest fragrance from Majolish, The Great Mammon just knows you’ll love it. He needs it.

Geez, you’re such a clutz leaving your room in such a state. Sure, it may look clean, but he knows his human, and the place is just a mess. You’d like it if he tides it up a bit for ya. Like he’d take that picture of you and him on the nightstand, can’t let his brothers accidentally break it, and the clothes from your closet, can’t let them get musty and eaten by moths as well as your sheets and quilts, AND, and there’s also the knick-knacks on your shelves they… get dusty, surely they wouldn’t under his care. He’ll also just be taking-

And then there he was, strung up to the ceiling, for no reason! Doesn’t anyone realize he’s your First Man for a reason!? He knows you better than anyone, and he knows he’s the only one who can properly take care of your stuff! He needs to keep them in his room so he can make sure nobody else messes with em’!

All your stuff, safe in his room. His room where he can look and sort through them all day, every item reminding him of something, anything.

Surely they wouldn’t notice one of your pens was missing, right!? Only he’d notice such a detail. And once you get back you won’t either! So it’s fine! A little something you used to pour emotion into writing or work. It’s always with him, to fiddle with when his mind wanders, the clicking sound soothing.

…

Nobody would notice if he took another, right? You’d want him to look after it, and maybe some other things while he’s in your room.

Leviathan

He hides in a world only made for you:

You’d like this anime, too bad you can’t watch it in the human world. Nothing to do for it but record it. There’s also this new game, too bad they announced it after you went back to the human world, but you don’t need to worry, he’s already preordered a copy for you. There’s also the tie-in book, three for you and three for him.

There’s a lot you’d like actually. It feels like whenever you’re busy THAT’S when all the stuff you’d want comes out. Why did you have the leave him.

W-with so much to do!

Now he has to make a list of all the games he’s preordered for you. There’s also the reviews of all the anime he watched you may wanna know about. Then he needs to-

Most of his time is spent behind his monitor, writing, and writing, and writing away. He used to text you these reviews, recommendations, ect. but then his brothers, especially Lucifer made such a stink about it, about he’s ‘spamming’ you, or it was an ‘unreasonable hour’ to be messaging you. So now he’ll just have to be taking up all your time on your return, their fault really.

If you’d listen to him at least. They can’t just steal you away the moment you get back, right?

…

He dose have your favorite game. And newer games, sometimes need updates! S-so, so while those are downloading maybe he could play that.

There’s another list for you, one he made of everything he likes about the game, from the graphics, the music, there are also some reminders of things he thinks even you wouldn’t know, things to show you when you get back.

Satan

Well, if one has a problem, it’s only natural to find a solution:

He’s tried mastering teleportation, still vexes him that the skill still eludes him. Mammon made travel between the realms near impossible via that paths without Diavolo, Barbatos, or Lucifer interfering.

There MUST be a way though, something he’s yet to find.

Then he could see you any time and life would be perfect.

So what to do, what to do.

Legends could be the key perhaps. He spent the first several months of your absence pouring over the tomes in his room, you never know, perhaps now that he was looking for a method to the human world specifically he’d notice something he missed before.

Unfortunately there wasn’t much.

No matter, there were still libraries to scour through.

And if that didn’t… well…

He’ll find something, he will. He may need to turn his thinking around, quit RAD to pour his all into this search. There IS something he just knows it. He just needs to hunt that method down and take it for his own.

He will see you, he will find you, you’ll both bathe under the sunlight on earth, watch as it raises and sets, no brothers to bother the pair of you. Perhaps even surprise you, show up with a thousand flowers right outside your door. Maybe sneak off for a midnight tryst when you can’t sleep.

Sure you could summon him, but how could he surprise you then, or find you when you’re busy, or see you when he wants and needs you? He’ll find a way, don’t you worry, just wait for him, please.

Asmodeus

Mirrors and screens can only do so much, but it’s better than nothing:

Even his sighs are beautiful, but what do they mean when you’re not here to tell him so, to sooth his worries and hold him close.

Thankfully he took all those pictures of you before you left.

He has one for every occasion, ones of you at RAD when classes are being too troublesome. Ones of your smiling face for… everything really, to lift his mood, to give him motivation to just a little better everyday, when he’s board, when he’s sleepy, when he found that cute new top he just knew you’d love and knew would compliment your complexion perfectly, but double checking your references never hurt anybody.

And who is he to keep all these for himself. Of course there were some he deemed for his eyes only, but he just feels so bad for all those poor demons out there who just have nothing.

His days are mostly spent scrolling through his many, Many, MANY albums of you, searching for just the perfect one to post to Devilgram that day. The world can’t be deprived of such beauty, you must understand.

Soon a trend starts, #(insert number) of days MC has been gone. Asmo always has a new post for the tags for every day, he has enough to last for a few centuries. It’s an okay amount but really you need to get back soon so he can take more.

And don’t you worry, there’s not only pictures of you. Of course, with the tag of how many days you’ve been gone he’s taken 1(0000000000000000000) of himself for each day of your departure, he knows you’ll have missed him, so don’t you worry cuttiepatootie, he’s got you covered.

And so here you’ve left him wanting, looking in the mirror waiting for you to just appear in the empty space he leaves beside himself while he get’s himself ready for the next photo.

Beelzebub

Just as with all of his other feelings, it eats him alive:

For Beelzebub even before food, his family is at the forefront of his mind, and that, includes you. Whether it be the nightmares that plage his sleep, or the joy at hearing his brothers just chatting in the next room over, or the thought of you that’s just as haunting as it is comforting.

When he goes shopping whoever is minding him don’t point out how he doesn’t need to get your favorite snacks. There’s too much free time so he filles it by tripling his workout routine, makes it harder for the mind to wander. He knows it isn’t the safest yet on those long jogs he turns up the volume on his D.D.D., getting lost in your favorite songs. Then, when his belly is good and empty, he can focus on that pain, that gnawing more bearable. He hates seeing your spot at the table empty though.

It's… not a powerful feeling, he can go about his day to day, but it’s-

No, YOU’RE always there.

And it’s nice, in it’s own way. His family is always a part of him.

So he buys your favorite foods when it’s his turn to do the grocery shopping so that should you suddenly drop-in again he can already make the best feast for you. With his workout routine being tougher he has all the more reason to ask for your help like being the extra weight on his back for pushups or having you keep count, and these are very serious jobs so his brothers aren’t allowed to interrupt, just you and him for a time. He could also carry you on his jogs and sing along to your tunes. Finally once the day is getting late and it’s time for dinner he can stuff himself beside you, you and his brothers merrily chatting away filling him more than anything else possibly could.

The sweetest of daydreams to think of while waiting for you.

Belphegor

Miss you, why, when he can see you anytime:

Day, night, sleeping, napping, whatever the case may be, if you’re resting, he’ll be there. Life is easier if you just put effort in the things that matter and don’t bother with anything else, and thankfully that’s never any less true here.

Your dreams are easy to find, practically second nature for the demon. For a being such as he, the ethereal world of mixing, melding thoughts and emotions are almost just as real as the waking world.

So it’s just up to you, sleep, lie down on the couch and meet up with him. Want to go for a stroll on the Milky Way, or perhaps dance on the wind, it’s up to you. Why don’t you just stay, it’s not like there’s anything better to do.

Sleeping’s better than going back to the waking world. It’s filled with nothing but pain and death. It’s cozy, and warm, and safe, and kind here. Why must stupid human bodies always wake up.

And so you leave him.

All alone.

…

You’re very cruel you know, making this place so lovely only to rip it away.

No more dreaming till you come back, there’s no point.

Please come back soon. Sure he’s waiting, always waiting for your return, but if you’re not going to be here by his side to make the waking world warm and kind or the dreaming world safe and cozy then what’s the point of either?

Diavolo

There won’t be a world where he’d ever have to know of such pain again:

Funnily enough, he’s doing better than ever. Sure, life is a lot more boring with your absence, but he

Has.

Goal.

It’s perfect, simple really. With the exchange program having been a success, you’ll have to come back for another, and another, there’s no one better than you to tell the progress of the Devildom in accommodating your people, and when the Devildom dose get to that place surely you wouldn’t mind being the official human representative full time. And with you being such a high standing official and honored guest/resident it’s only natural you’d just have to stay at the royal palace with him.

He just needs to make this world.

It will be a lot of work but it will be worth it. Sure his hands may get bruised, cut, bloodied, broken, dirty, or sore but then, once everything is said and done, surely life would be perfect.

Sometimes motivation does wane and as much as he cherishes your calls and texts, it’s still not the same as having you HERE, to feel the warmth of your hands in his. Sometimes when you’re on call he’ll slink away from this desk, sneak down the halls, and slip into that little room. He tenderly pulls out the albums so you don’t hear anything and ask what he’s doing, he adores your day to day, see how humans, you, go about your life. And as you talk he’ll open one of those many albums, each practically filled to bursting with photos of you and those brothers and the shenanigans you lot would drag him or he drag you into.

Had he ever told you, just how much you mean to him? Just how much you’ve changed his life? How you’ve brought much more joy than even the chaos of his home could?

… What better place to tell you such things than a world where you’d never have to leave again, where you could stay without worry, a world where humans and demons lived hand in hand, surely the rest of his people deserved the kind of joy you’ve brought to him.

Barbatos

Indulging in memories, that’s not a form of time travel, right?:

The day to day is always busy for a butler, but especially the one of the (temporary) Demon Lord. His thoughts are always filled with the most important things, you must understand.

He awakes bright and early before any other creature dare. Standing before the mirror, adjusting the buttons, smoothing out the outer coat, floofing the ruffles on his shoulder as you would in a playful mood, tapping the ends of his shoes to the floor testing if they’re snug enough, and giving his warm gloves one last taught pull before making his way to the Little Ds’ rooms to assign them their duties for the day.

He ties on the apron you bought him. He still doesn’t understand why ‘Kiss the cook’ is such a prolific phrase on the garment in the human world, but who is he to comment when you always take the fabric’s advice upon seeing him in it. It had been a few days so surely the Young Master would be craving some bloody lignin berries with his pancakes. Perhaps some Griffin eggs on the side? Diavolo does have more paperwork than usual so the extra treat would give him the boost he needs to not run off as soon.

The garden also must be tended to for the day. There are the blazing spuds you planted. Still not ready yet it seems. Good, it’d be a shame if you weren’t here when they were at their peak. The Hanging Shivering Fuchsias you watered the last day you were here looked especially lovely in the morning dew. Seemed the pickles could use some extra attention though.

There was the evening shopping too, Diavolo requires the freshest ingredients. You joined him for these shopping trips often. It was always a lovely chance to teach you of some of the local delicacies. He finds to odd now to not be looking to his side and asking your thoughts, if anything caught your eye, or if anything reminded you of home.

It’s natural to be lost in thought, there’s a lot too keep track of after all. However much there is though, every night he’s always left with the same one as he takes off those gloves placing them aside. How strange and charming it was that they always felt so warm after you held them for the first time. Something to look forward too for tomorrow as he planned out the day.

Luke

Well, being a Guardian Angel has it’s perks:

Angels are not to interfere in the lives of humans ever, with two exceptions. One! Father gives the order to do so on his behalf. Something like that hadn’t happened in a very long time though… Two! When acting as a Guardian Angel. Of course there were limitations for what he could do, but it was enough to keep you safe!

One can’t work directly, but there was plenty he could do for you! Like scooching your slippers a little closer to your bed so your feet don’t end up hitting the cold floor or when you’ve lost something if he finds it, he’ll move it to a slightly more obvious place you might have over looked.

It hurts worse sometimes being able to do these little things and not being able to do a thing when the bigger, badder stuff happens. His eyes get misty when you burn your hand on the stove, or get fired, or get into some accident or The EArtH SHAKES!? IS FATHER MAD AT YOU? ARE YOU OKAY!? Then it’s even worse when you act like nothing happened at all like with the SHAKING! You just go around putting away everything that got knocked over! Is he doing a bad job!? Are you just that used to danger that you don’t care!? How can you not care!? His heart practically breaks for you.

Maybe this started before, when you joined the exchange program. He knew he should have kept a closer eye on you! But don’t worry he’s here for you!

There might not be much he can do, and he can’t always be watching over you but he can help. Every bad thing will lead to something good, he’ll make sure of it. Like your burnt hand gets you to take that break you needed, or because you were fired you’ll get an even better job, or from the shaking and cleaning you finally can find that keepsake you thought you lost.

He’d never admit it to anyone, let alone himself but something deep in him does hope you return to the Devildom soon, then you can be together again, and he can protect you, for real.

Simeon

… Is it fanfic if you write about your friend?:

Simeone heard the term from Leviathan once. Fanfiction. He’s not quite sure he’d consider himself your fan perse, yet there he was, pages, upon pages, upon pages of writing about you, about what you and he could be doing together if not for this distance, about what you could be doing.

It felt… wrong? in a way, to do this. This wasn’t one of his characters that lived in his head, facts of things he knows you’re doing. He’s just… making stuff up with you in mind.

He writes of you laying in a field, some place as close to the Celestial Realm as the Human World could get to, you at peace, and happy, watching as clouds roll by.

There’s another of you and he sitting on the beach watching the sun set. He doesn’t actually know what a sunset looks like, but there’s something so enchanting about it, something so human, so imperfect about the idea, something so… something he could only hope to see with you.

He wrote about what he’d say to you, his longing, his fears, his silly ideas, confess his selfishness of wanting to keep you all to himself just for a short while and of you returning those feelings in kind.

It almost feels bad, like he’s dictating your actions, it’s not the same as when you worked together on those plays together, and yet despite this odd growing pit in his stomach, he can’t stop. This being something that calls to him when thoughts turn back to you and they’re too much to bare without doing something.

And so when he has the time, he can’t keep himself busy, or when he tries thinking of Henry and you begin to take his place instead, it’d only be natural to write of you instead, right?

Solomon

Laugh:

Things are so much simpler when you’re in the human world where you belong. No demons, angels, or other such creatures to fight for your attention! It’s amazing!

But fate can be cruel and he finds always, ALWAYS at least one of you is in the Devildom.

Loneliness and Solomon were no strangers, the man knew that feeling all too well in fact, however, you made it hurt worse. He was used to it, the rejection, the being kept at arms distance and him doing the same to others, the fear and disgust in their eyes, yet you didn’t. You approached him, drawing him closer and closer, how could you expect to give a thirsty man water in the desert and not have him on your heels desperate for more.

Yet there are those brothers, and royalty, and angels, and even death fighting for you embrace.

It feels the worst when you’re in the same room and no matter what they consuming you whole.

You’re a human in a new and unfamiliar world, so he’ll look after you.

He can’t help but smile seeing anyone less by your side. At him successfully distracting Lucifer with the question of a pact. He loves it when that one innocuous comment from him sends the rest into a fight giving him the chance whisk you away and laugh at their foolishness. He chuckles when he doesn’t need to do a thing at all and their own follies get the better of them and they don’t even realize what they’re missing out on.

If they knew he was mad or upset they’d feed on it, it’d make them just a bit too comfortable, but an unflappable smile, that can be just as unnerving as a wicked scowl. Then when at last it’s just you and him, and he’s home at last, no longer alone, just you get to see his real smile, one of relief.

Thirteen

It’s easier to hope to not see you too soon:

That thought makes things easier, considering who she is, and what her job is. It wouldn’t be the worst thing for you to go, you could always be by her side then, but it wouldn’t be the same as you are now, alive. It’s much more fun and interesting!

And as boring as waiting can be, she much rather wait for your return to the Devildom than you meeting her scythe for the second time. She would go and visit you, but she only really can when working and it might not be the best idea to have you follow her around and others start spreading rumors of you being cursed or something. Then again… well if she were to invite you along it’d be entirely up to you if you went or not. Maybe that is something to consider for a later date.

There’s only so long one can chase around Solomon though, or go shopping, or try meeting new people, or… there’s a lot the reaper has tried in her long, long, long ‘life’ but the time with you is always the most thrilling. Perhaps not the best life for a human but you at least seem to enjoy yourself despite your… she could never land on if you either had incredibly good or bad luck but, it certainly was something to behold.

It’s easy to pass by the days tinkering, and toying, and fiddling away till her cave was filled with new traps for your perusal, but on occasion she’ll pause. Sometimes it’s to wonder what you’d think. Sometimes it’s how you’d react when she unleashes it upon your reunion. Sometimes it’s just how you’d want to paint it. Inevitability the squeaking of metal or the snapping of wood, or stupid Solomon’s voice brings her back and you’re left to rest for a time. Thoughts of you came back though, they always do. That’s at least one thing she’s certain of, aside from your long life and bright flame. She can wait, there’s plenty of time yet still to burn.

Raphael

Pain is a trial, something to be embraced:

Father is cruel as he is kind, strict and wrathful yet understanding and loving.

This… shallow hollowness, he finds the feeling hard to describe, must be something similar to Father. It took root when his siblings first fell and it never truly went away. Sure there were more important things to think on, to work on, to refine, to improve, it was something he tolerated or tried ignoring. There wasn’t much he could do about the feeling anyway so why bother?

It was different after you though. For his siblings, yes they did wrong, but perhaps, one day Father would see their actions weren’t malicious, they just loved so much and didn’t know how to express it when they were scared for one another. You however… There was no real reason why you couldn’t be together now, to share hellos and see you laters. He could text you maybe, but it wouldn’t alleviate this feeling, just make it worse the longer your time apart is.

He finds it inspiring sometimes. Sitting on a couch unable to decide what to sew or embroider next. The decision is always easy now, what would you like?

During training he’s able to put in this energy he never knew he had that just sat dormant within. His swings are faster, more power can be utilized.

You grow in strength everyday, you could easily surpass Solomon at this rate, something that should terrify him, yet he wants to stand toe to toe with you. How things were going, you’d probably save his life. That wouldn’t do, you have enough people relying on you, if someone was going to be saving the other let him save you for a change. You deserve the break.

So he’ll keep this feeling close and this new part of himself, it hasn’t been causing any trouble so far, so he didn’t see much reason to do anything about it.

Mephistopheles

How dare you, he must curse you in kind, it’s too precious of a gift:

You are no human! You are a curse, a plague! You’ve went and made yourself impossible to ever forget. Do you even realize what that means? Do you truly understand just what you’ve given him? Your short life, and you’ve chosen to give part of that to him so freely! And now he’s saddled with the responsibility of keeping that part of you alive within himself because who knows when you’ll just keel over from how fragile you are!

And now you just expect to keep him waiting. He just has to sit here in anticipation for your return so he can give you the same gift! How rude!

Never again will you be able to doze off without wishing he was beside you. He will make sure your drifting thoughts are of him, and him alone.

He’s planning every moment of your return. Demons live much longer than humans so for him to give you the equivalent of what you’ve gifted him, you won’t be having any free time for a very long time. For you, for him it’s practically nothing, but be sure it will be the most amazing moments for your entire existence! Just recompence in his opinion.

Don’t plan anything, he has date plans for you for a few months. He would have the next few years planned out by the time you see one another again, but it can’t be anything less than perfect. There’s also always something new add. His finger is on the pulse of the Devildom, from the new hole in the wall eatery few have tried but raved about, or the Three Legged Crow’s plans on investing in at home entertainment, there’s always something new to add and see if they fit into his plans.

Why did you do this, take the little free time he had and twist his arm into dedicating them to you. He could be relaxing, but no, the rarer times he’s not busy he finds your life in his mind. Surely a curse most fowl that he will give you one of his own.

Aurum

Writing so you don’t miss a moment:

The evenings in the bar are long, but the days even longer. They lay on the sofa half asleep, one thought on their mind. The nights felt shorter when you visited. He also missed the anticipation he held in his chest, locking up the front doors only for you to pop up and walk him back home. He always told you he didn’t like seeing you out so late, yet you’d just say the same back. At least they had work and you… you were just damn too sweet.

He wondered, but couldn’t just ask if you felt the same, it’d turn awkward if you didn’t and well… His feelings probably hurt you enough already.

But, by chance, if you did, surely you’d like to hear from him?

Mammon raised a brow and questioned how Aurum hadn’t gottn your number yet and practically threw his phone into the man’s face to copy your contact info upon seeing the letter and hearing Aurum’s request for him to play mail boy! The demon still immediately pocketed the letter but, this was ridiculous. Even more so when Aurum refused to copy your info!

Was he perhaps a bit too presumptuous about your relationship? Texting would be a lot more casual than a hand written letter, but they knew how creepy it could feel when someone got your contact info without you being the one to give it out. Thankfully he didn’t have to ruminate on it for long, Mammon calling, saying you had a letter for him!

The patrons thankfully always provided with good stories for the man to share, and you always wrote of whatever misadventures and the brothers got up to. Sometimes Mammon would look over their shoulder, interject about the goings on, usually about you ‘exaggerating’ things he did. He also liked not telling stories, just news, or this off looking tomato he found at the market, and you’d tell him of the day to day in the Devildom, about the ingredients you thought he’d want to try experimenting with or how the library got an updated fae law book you could borrow for him if he wanted.

It was nice summoning Mammon every few days for his visit and trading your letter for theirs. It hurt, but you seemed to get that and would talk more about yourself for a time or just about Mammon. He admitted once, it felt kinda like giving each other a piece of home, these letters, and that he hoped you felt the same.

Matoi

You’re always together, there’s no need for that:

They told you before, didn’t they? The world of yokai and the world of humans are one in the same, intrinsically connected, one effects the other just as much as the past effects the future and the future effects the past. Humans and the Lantern People sewed one another, raised one another, and return to the earth hand in hand. The land may be vast, but the land is still earth, you are both earth, thus you are always connected.

But it’s okay if this hasn’t sunk into your soul and bones yet. You know, even if you don’t realize.

Knowledge doesn’t always sway the heart though.

They whittle. Not the tool carving for the village, or toys for the kids.

They hop through the forests till something catches their fancy. Could be a log, perhaps a branch but it has to be something that screams ‘you’. It’s rarer for them to have a plan for what the item will be. They chip away till the wood begins to take shape and they see what it wishes to be. They sing, ancient songs long forgotten but still they are songs of love, a song for you, one you’d never get to hear. Unless you asked but they wouldn’t on their own, their body always heats up from the embarrassment of being so focused on by one person, let alone you.

These projects, if they hadn’t made Mephistopheles’ cane, they would say each and every one was their magnum opus. Each had thoughts of you poured into them. A paperweight, a figure, some pencils, a chair, the amount of these carved gifts Matoi has given you practically every time you meet, you could not keep track of. They’ve made you furniture as if knowing the House of Lamentation needed a new one, not that was too hard of a guess with how destructive the brothers are. They’ve made you a ring that perfectly fit your ring finger. They made so many things, the only thing you could be certain was that they must spend most of their free time making these for you.

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barnacles34 · 1 month ago

Text

Steamy Mornings and Massages (Winter x Male OC)

7k words

Tags: smut, fluff, office sex, office massage, soulmates, romance, very love-heavy

Chapter 1: The Day After

"Let's just stay here," Minjeong murmured, pressing soft kisses to the crown of Junho's head. The morning alarm had shattered what his typically precise mind had categorized as Optimal Comfort Configuration™, but neither of them had moved to silence it[1].

His face remained buried in the crook of her neck, accepting what his mind reluctantly acknowledged as the only form of comfort he'd ever truly wanted. "Well, my secretary," he rumbled against her skin, the possessive pronoun carrying new weight in the morning light, "on a very important day, doesn't want to go to work?" Despite his words, his arms tightened incrementally around her waist, betraying his own reluctance.

Minjeong's embrace constricted in response, her Busan accent thick with morning warmth. "What are you going to do? Fire me?" Despite the implied challenge, she still continued to press soft kisses on his forehead. He tightened his embrace further, relishing in the warmth of Minjeong.

The challenge in her voice activated something primal in his executive functioning. His teeth grazed her neck in warning, hovering over precisely the spot that would make any low-necked blouse useless to wear for the following days. "Maybe," he murmured, his hand sliding to the small of her back with deliberate intent, dangerously close to the curve of her backside, "I'll fire you and keep you here, all day long, so that you belong only to me."

"That's..." her breath hitched as his hand dropped lower, "...rather unprofessional of you."

He lifted his head just enough to fix her with that boardroom stare that never failed to make her pulse race. "Says the woman currently preventing her CEO from attending his meetings." Her CEO? Something warm raced inside of her—she thought, her ceo? And this time, she wrapped her arms tighter—however much her thin arms could tighten; nevertheless, an affectionate hug.

"I prefer to think of it as optimizing your morning routine," she countered, though her professional efficiency was somewhat undermined by the way she melted under his touch, furthermore when he traced the curves of her backside. "Some things are more important than the Zhang Corp merger."

His laugh vibrated against her throat. "Careful, Secretary Kim. That sounds dangerously close to insubordination."

"And what does the CEO do with insubordinate employees?" The question emerged soft and weaker than intended as his mouth traced a deliberate path along her collar, trying her most obnoxiously.

"That depends," he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made her breath catch. "Are they all as beautiful as you when they disobey direct orders?"

She attempted to maintain her composure, though her hands betrayed her by pulling him closer. "I wouldn't know. I've never seen you like this with other employees[2]."

"No," he agreed, suddenly serious as he raised his head to meet her gaze. "You haven't. You won't."

The intensity in his eyes made her throat tight. "Promise?"

Instead of answering, he caught her mouth in a kiss that effectively ended all discussion of work protocols and proper business conduct[3]. The morning sun painted complex equations of light across their entangled forms, but for once, neither of them was counting the minutes.

—

[1] The first recorded instance of CEO Kim's morning alarm continuing past its initial 0.3-second alert phase, a fact that would require significant updates to the home automation system's behavioral prediction models.

[2] The security system's emotion recognition protocols flagged this moment for what its algorithms could only classify as "Unprecedented Display of Executive Vulnerability."

[3] Later analysis would suggest that certain forms of insubordination yielded surprisingly positive results in terms of overall company morale, though these findings were kept strictly off the official record.

—

"You haven't eaten properly in days," Minjeong observed softly, her fingers tracing the subtle tension in his shoulders that most wouldn't notice. But she wasn't most people—she'd spent months learning to read the microscopic signs of his stress levels[4].

"I've been eating," he defended, though his attempt at authority was somewhat undermined by the way he instinctively relaxed under her touch.

"Coffee and quarterly reports don't count as meals," she countered, continuing her gentle exploration of his shoulder muscles. "I've watched you skip lunch three times this week alone."

He lifted his head to study her face, finding that mix of strength and tenderness that had first undone him. "You keep track of my meals?"

"I keep track of everything about you," she admitted, not backing down from his intense gaze. "Someone has to notice when you forget to take care of yourself."

His hand curved around the nape of her neck, thumb brushing her pulse point. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Consider it an extension of my secretarial duties," she murmured, then gasped softly as he tightened his grip in warning.

"There's nothing secretarial about the way you take care of me," he corrected, voice low and dangerous. "Is there, Minjeong-ah?"

The informal address, rarely used, made her breath catch. "No," she agreed quietly. "There isn't."

He studied her for a long moment, his analytical mind cataloging the flush in her cheeks, the slight quickening of her breath, the way she yielded to his touch while somehow maintaining that core of quiet strength[5]. "You're dangerous," he finally said, “dangerously beautiful, so beautiful,” then a kiss on the side of her neck which, eventually, will turn into a hickey and Minjeong hadn’t the power to resist her CEO’s advances anymore.

"Me?" She replied, out of breath, tremored, brilliantly transformed by her smile—the type of smile men fight wars for, the type of smile sinewy sociopathic CEOs would drop down for. "I'm just trying to make sure Korea's most brilliant CEO—I mean, my CEO, remembers to eat breakfast." Her small hand collected the waves of his hair, the aroma of the shampoo she recommended wafted in the air.

“Minjeong, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Is that a problem?” She pulled back her hand along his scalp, gathering hair, then trailing all down his nape, to his back: the type of affection that says, even if you were insane, I’d still be crazy about you.

Instead of answering directly, he pressed his lips to her forehead, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth—a calculated sequence of kisses that made her melt further into his embrace. "The only problem," he murmured against her skin, "is that you're making it very difficult to want to leave this bed."

—

[4] Her observation logs, never shared but meticulously maintained, included such details as the precise angle of his jaw when overwhelmed, the subtle shift in his typing rhythm when stressed, and the exact tone of voice that meant he'd skipped meals.

[5] The home automation system's behavioral analysis protocols struggled to categorize this new dynamic, where authority and surrender seemed to flow both ways simultaneously.

—

"Three days," Minjeong continued, her fingers finding the knots in his shoulders with practiced ease. "You've had that tension here since the Singapore deal started falling apart." The morning light caught the subtle furrow in his brow as he processed her words, realizing she'd been tracking his stress levels without him noticing. Her touch was methodical yet tender, each pressure point targeted with the same precision she applied to his scheduling.

"I didn't think anyone had noticed," he admitted, then caught her knowing smile. "Except you."

"I always notice," she replied simply. "Like how you've been drinking twice your usual coffee intake, or how your left eye twitches slightly when the board sends those passive-aggressive emails." Her hands moved lower, finding another point of tension. "You hide it well, but not from me."

He caught her wrist, bringing it to his lips. "It becomes…oddly weird when I see you do the things I usually do." The tease in his voice was softened by the way he pressed kisses to her fingertips.

"Consider it preventive maintenance," she countered, not backing down despite Junho trying to hide his habits under the rug, not backing down despite the heat in his gaze. "Someone needs to monitor your functionality levels[6]."

"Functionality levels?" His laugh rumbled against her skin as he shifted to hover over her. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive performance metrics'?" She managed to keep her voice steady even as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "I have spreadsheets..."

"Of course you do," he murmured, teeth grazing her collarbone in retaliation. "My perfectly thorough secretary, tracking every detail."

"Not just details," she breathed, hands sliding up his chest. "I know when you skip lunch to avoid the board members. When you stay late reviewing reports that could wait until morning. When you need..." she paused as his hand curved possessively around her hip, "...someone to remind you that you're human."

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Junho lifted his head to study her face, finding that unique blend of submission and strength that had first undone his carefully constructed defenses[7]. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Someone has to." Her smile carried traces of Busan sunshine. "Besides, I'm uniquely qualified."

"How so, Minjeong-ah?” Another tease.

“Because you love me.” Minjeong stated, matter of factly. And this time, Junho seized her tight, trapping her under him, seizing her two thin wrists. Then, pressed a deep kiss onto Minjeong’s delicate lips. After a while, he released himself from the kiss, the kiss that Minjeong reluctantly let go of—her lips pointing outwards like a duck as he left. Finally, he said, “That’s right, I love you.”

Her stomach stirred with butterflies and more.

—

[6] Her personal files, never shared but meticulously maintained, included detailed protocols for managing various levels of CEO stress responses, from subtle intervention to direct action.

[7] The exact moment of this defensive breach had been logged by the building's security systems, though the footage was classified under "Executive Privacy Protocols."

—

Minjeong lingered in bed, her heart performing calculations that had nothing to do with quarterly reports. The smart home system's sensors detected her elevated pulse rate, though no algorithm could properly quantify the joy radiating from her smile[8]. She stretched luxuriously against Egyptian cotton sheets that still held traces of his warmth, letting herself marvel at the reality of being here, in his space, surrounded by evidence of Junho.

Her mind couldn't help but catalog the endearing chaos around her—academic journals scattered across surfaces, a tablet displaying economic projections that had clearly been reviewed at 3 AM, several coffee cups in various states of abandonment. The morning light revealed what darkness and desire had hidden the night before: Junho's private space was a fascinating contradiction to his public persona, a detail she filed away with all her other precious observations of him.

Rising with practiced grace, she padded across cold hardwood floors, her bare feet gliding across the floor. His dress shirt from the previous night—the one that had hung open as they'd discovered more interesting uses for his mahogany desk—called to her like a siren song. She slipped it on, the fabric carrying traces of his unisex cologne and something uniquely him that made her stomach flutter[9].

Junho emerged from his ensuite bathroom to find her like this: drowning in his shirt, examining his space with that careful attention she brought to everything concerning him. His breath caught audibly.

"That's mine," he noted, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that never failed to make her pulse race.

She turned to face him, letting the hem of his shirt brush against her thighs. "Really? I think it’s mine."

—

[8] The home automation system logged this moment as: "Secondary User Biometrics Indicating Unprecedented Levels of Serotonin. CEO Response: Highly Favorable."

[9] Security footage would later reveal this as the exact moment CEO Kim's usually impeccable morning routine experienced a critical efficiency failure, though no one questioned why that particular shirt never made it to the dry cleaners.

—

"You know," Junho mused against her neck, his hands tracing idle patterns on her thighs, "for someone so concerned about my eating habits, you're being very distracting in my kitchen."

"Me?" Minjeong's attempt at innocence was undermined by the way her fingers kept playing with his hair. "I'm trying to feed you."

"Wearing my shirt. Sitting on my counter." His smile carried equal parts mischief and heat as he pulled back to look at her. "I'm starting to think this is corporate sabotage, Secretary Kim."

She tried to maintain her professional expression, though her lips twitched. "I would never compromise company productivity, 사장님."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow, fingers sliding deliberately higher under his shirt. "Then explain why Korea's most efficient CEO is currently contemplating skipping his 9 AM."

"Poor executive guidance?" she suggested, then squeaked as he nipped her earlobe in retaliation. "I mean... clearly you need better supervision."

"Is that your professional opinion?" His laugh was warm against her skin. "And I suppose you're volunteering for the position?"

"Well," she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently, "I do have extensive experience in handling difficult executives."

He lifted his head, eyes dancing. "Difficult?"

"Demanding," she amended, then added with deliberate sweetness, "High-maintenance?"

"You," he declared, catching her wrists and pinning them behind her back with one hand, "are getting dangerously bold with your performance reviews[12]."

Her answering smile was pure sunshine. "Does that mean I'm not getting that raise?"

"Oh, I'll give you a raise," he promised, his free hand sliding up her spine as he pressed closer. "Right after we discuss your insubordination."

"I have a presentation prepared," she managed, though her breath hitched as his mouth found that sensitive spot behind her ear. "Complete with charts on CEO stubbornness metrics..."

"Using company resources for personal research?" His mock disapproval was somewhat undermined by the way he couldn't stop smiling against her skin. "That's a serious violation of corporate policy."

"And what's the penalty for that?" She arched into his touch, shameless. "More overtime with my boss?"

"Definitely." He captured her mouth in a kiss that tasted like laughter and promise. "Starting now[13]."

—

[12] The home automation system registered this interaction as a significant deviation from standard performance review protocols, though it noted remarkable improvements in overall satisfaction metrics.

[13] Later analysis of the kitchen's usage patterns would reveal this as the morning the coffee maker recorded its latest ever first brew, a delay that would become surprisingly routine.

—

"We're going to be late," Minjeong observed, though she made no move to leave her perch on the counter as Junho's hands mapped new territories beneath his borrowed shirt. The morning sun painted gold across his shoulders, and she couldn't resist tracing the light with her fingers.

"Concerned about punctuality now?" His smile was wicked against her collar. "After deliberately sabotaging your CEO's morning routine?"

"I would never," she protested, then gasped as his teeth found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I'm simply... optimizing your schedule."

"Is that what we're calling it?" His laugh vibrated through both their bodies as he pressed closer, effectively trapping her against the granite. "And how does this particular optimization benefit the company?"

Her fingers curled into his hair as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "Improved executive mood... increased satisfaction metrics... better work-life balance..."

"Very thorough analysis," he approved, his hand sliding higher up her thigh. "Though I think we need more data points[14]."

"준호야..." Her professional composure cracked entirely as his fingers found bare skin. "The Zhang Corp meeting..."

"Can wait." He lifted his head to meet her gaze, his smile carrying that perfect blend of authority and affection that never failed to undo her. "I'm conducting important research."

"On what?" She managed to arch an eyebrow despite her rapidly dissolving coherence. "How to make your secretary lose her mind?"

"Girlfriend," he corrected, voice dropping to that dangerous register as his thumb traced patterns on her inner thigh. "And I believe we were discussing your performance review[15]."

Jun abruptly stopped their performance review midway because the deal was on the line and time was running short. Minjeong was reminded of this painfully by how Jun pulled away from the kiss—she was pouty about it until they reached the office, when her damascus-like resolve kicks in.

—

[14] The kitchen's environmental sensors registered multiple instances of what could only be classified as "Critical Protocol Deviations," though these readings were automatically archived under "Executive Privacy Settings."

[15] HR would later note a curious correlation between the CEO's improved mood and these new "morning performance evaluations," though no one dared to investigate further.

—

Chapter 2: The Meeting

The Zhang Corp representatives sat across the mahogany conference table, their expressions carefully neutral as they reviewed the merger proposals. Minjeong maintained her perfect professional facade, though her pulse quickened every time Junho's hand brushed hers as she passed him documents[1].

"The third quarter projections," she murmured, leaning close enough that his cologne made her thoughts stray to their morning activities. His finger tapped twice against the paper—their private signal that he needed a moment to compose himself.

"As you can see," Junho addressed the room with that commanding presence that made board members squirm, though Minjeong could detect the slight roughness in his voice that hadn't been there before their morning 'delay', "our integration timeline is aggressive but achievable."

She took her seat beside him, crossing her legs in a way that made his pen pause fractionally on the contract. Two could play at this game of professional torture. His response was to rest his hand on her thigh under the table, hidden from view but commanding enough to make her breath catch[2].

"Secretary Kim," he said smoothly, his thumb tracing dangerous patterns against her skin, "would you pull up the logistics breakdown?"

"Of course, 사장님." She managed to keep her voice steady as she reached for her tablet, though her free hand found his wrist under the table, her fingers curling around it in what could have been either submission or warning.

The meeting proceeded with perfect corporate efficiency, though the undercurrent of tension between CEO and secretary created what the room's environmental sensors could only classify as "Critical Atmospheric Pressure"[3].

—

[1] The conference room's biometric scanners noted elevated heart rates in both CEO and secretary, though this data was diplomatically omitted from official meeting records.

[2] Security footage would later require careful editing to maintain professional appearances, particularly regarding certain "under-table activities."

[3] The Zhang Corp representatives would later confess to the fact that they could tell what was happening, no amount of demure leg-crossing could hide it. Though, they ignored it in order to get that deal (which was integral to them).

—

The private office door clicked shut behind them, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across imported marble floors. Junho rolled his shoulders, tension evident in his posture despite the meeting's success[4].

"Come here," Minjeong said softly, recognizing the signs of his post-negotiation stress. She guided him to his leather chair, her hands already moving to his shoulders. "You get so tense during these meetings." Instead of standing behind him and the chair, she stood in front, impending a mount to get ‘better access’ to his shoulders.

"Keeping my hands to myself requires considerable effort," he admitted, then groaned softly as her fingers found a particularly tight knot. "Especially when you keep giving me those looks."

"What looks?" Her innocent tone was betrayed by the way her hands slid lower, tracing patterns down his upper chest. "I was being perfectly professional."

He caught her wrist, tugging her to face him. "Professional? Is that what you call that thing you did with your pen?"

"Taking notes?" She smiled down at him, letting her fingers trail along his tie. "I'm very thorough in my documentation."

"Very thorough," he agreed, pulling her into his lap with practiced ease. "Though I noticed some interesting gaps in the meeting minutes."

"Oh?" Her hands returned to his shoulders, kneading the tension even as she shifted closer. "Like what?"

"Like how many times you deliberately brushed against me," his voice dropped lower as her fingers worked their magic, "or how your skirt kept riding up when you reached for files[5]."

"Maybe," she breathed, her ministrations becoming less therapeutic and more intentional, "your secretary just needs better supervision."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Is that what you need, Secretary Kim?"

Instead of answering, she pressed a kiss to that spot below his ear that always made him growl. His hands tightened on her hips in warning, but she didn't stop her exploration of his neck, her fingers still working the tension from his shoulders even as she created a different kind of pressure entirely.

"The door," he managed, though his hands were already sliding under her blouse.

"Locked," she murmured against his skin. "I'm very efficient."

"My perfect secretary," he agreed.

—

[4] The office's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Post-Meeting Stress Relief Protocol: Executive Override Engaged."

[5] The meeting's official minutes would maintain strict professional standards, though certain observations were kept in much more private records.

—

"You're still tense," Minjeong observed, her fingers tracing new patterns down his spine. The afternoon light painted gold across his desk, where various merger documents lay forgotten. "Let me take care of you properly."

She slid from his lap, moving behind his chair with practiced grace. Her hands returned to his shoulders, this time with more purposeful intent. Junho's head fell back as she worked a particularly tight knot, a sound escaping him that had nothing to do with professional conduct[7].

"That noise," she murmured, leaning close enough that her breath teased his ear, "is definitely not going in the meeting minutes."

His laugh turned into another groan as her thumbs hit a sensitive spot. "Keeping secrets from the board, Secretary Kim?"

"Only the interesting ones," she admitted, her hands sliding lower, tracing the muscles of his back through his expensive shirt. "Like how my very commanding CEO turns to putty when I do this..."

His hand shot up to catch her wrist in warning. "Careful," his voice carried that dangerous edge that made her stomach flip. "You're getting bold with your observations."

"Just maintaining detailed records," she breathed, not backing down despite his grip. "For example, when I press here..." Her free hand found another knot, making him inhale sharply. "Your left eye twitches slightly. And when I do this..." She leaned forward, letting her lips brush his neck. "Your pulse jumps exactly like it did during the merger talks[8]."

The chair spun suddenly, Junho pulling her back into his lap with decisive force. "You," he growled, hands spanning her waist, "are playing a dangerous game."

Her smile was pure innocence, though her fingers were already working his tie loose. "I'm simply being thorough in my duties, 사장님."

"Your duties," he repeated, watching her with dark amusement as she stripped his tie with expert efficiency. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive stress relief'?" She gasped as his teeth found her collar. "Or maybe 'personnel management'?"

His laugh vibrated against her skin. "I prefer," he murmured, hands sliding deliberately up her thighs, "when you stop talking altogether[9]."

—

[7] The office's audio sensors temporarily malfunctioned during this period, a technical glitch that occurred with suspicious regularity during certain "private meetings."

[8] Her personal files contained extensive documentation of CEO behavioral patterns, though certain observations were encrypted under "Private Research: Ongoing."

[9] The afternoon's remaining meetings would require creative rescheduling, though no one questioned why the CEO's mood had improved so dramatically.

—

"You missed a spot," Minjeong murmured against his mouth, her fingers finding another knot of tension in his shoulders even as she shifted closer in his lap. The leather chair creaked softly beneath them, a sound that would forever carry new associations in both their minds[10].

"Did I?" His hands slid higher beneath her skirt, mapping territories that were becoming dangerously familiar for office hours. "Or are you just making excuses to keep touching your CEO?"

She pulled back just enough to give him that look—the one that somehow managed to be both defiant and yielding. "I take my responsibilities very seriously, 사장님."

"I've noticed," he growled, catching her wrist as she tried to maintain the pretense of massage. "Like how seriously you took those meeting notes earlier. Very... thorough."

Her laugh caught in her throat as his lips found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I was documenting important observations."

"Such as?" His teeth grazed her pulse point, making her grip his shoulders for balance.

"Such as," she managed, though her professional tone wavered as his hands grew bolder, "how the great Kim Junho gets distracted when I cross my legs. How your voice drops exactly half an octave when you're trying not to react to me. How you tap your pen twice when you're thinking about—"

He silenced her with a kiss that effectively derailed all attempts at analysis[11]. When he finally pulled back, her dazed expression made him smirk. "Any other observations to record, Secretary Kim?"

“I must’ve forgotten, I usually remember better when you kiss me.” She hinted, and he obliged, letting his lips connect yet again with Minjeong. This time, the endless teasing reached a breaking point that both of them coalesced to at the same time.

He tightly grasped her backside then pulled her up from the executive chair to the executive table. Wherein, she was splayed across the wide table. “We really have to ban tables when we’re around each other.” She joked.

“That’d be a terrible idea.”

“How so?”

“Where else could I splay you across like this, then explore you, centimeter-by-centimeter?”

“Hmm…” she hummed, pleased, "Yeah?"

“Yeah.”

“Then come here, my ceo.”

“My beautiful secretary, whatever shall I do with you?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you find out?” She pulled as tight as she could, locking her arms around his neck.

He obliged, meeting lips with her once again. He felt the softness of her face as he explored deeper into the kiss, forgetting time and everything except what was being shared between them. Journeying his hands further, entangling it into the silken strands of his lover as he deepened the kiss, and she replied with a deep sigh—trembling with a mix of her high register.

“You’re such a good woman for me, Minjeong.” He said before nipping at her lower lip, catching it softly between his teeth with a teasing tug, Minjeong let out a breathless laugh, “you’re devouring me, Junho.” Regardless, he dug deeper, letting his entire body shift into Minjeong’s malleable, petite body—letting his hand explore more of her silken strands, almost saying, yes Minjeong, that is my purpose: to devour you.

Now, instead of every 5 seconds, Minjeong’s soft moans that only served to goad Junho on were musically released into his ears every second. Precautiously, she asked, “how good is the soundproofing in your private room-ah!”

“Not good enough to hide your moans, dear.” He replied, his voice like rough gravel. Her eyes widened suddenly from the need to hide her moans. Yet he dug deeper, letting his loin rub against her wet bottom, daring her moan out loud.

Despite all the regulations, the possible condemnation, their passions only grew more. Mouths moving in sync, gazes meeting momentarily, it wasn’t just kissing anymore—it was a language. The type of language where Minjeong coalesced to his dangerous games and learned to enjoy it, almost as much as him.

“Junho, seriously, I don’t want to be seen as-”

“Minjeong-ah, I don’t give a single fuck if my employees hear you and I.” The teeth that so brazenly tugged on her lower lips trailed down her neck, tracing the soft tendons.

Whispering, in a verbose way, “And as you are my secretary, my extension, my life-line, you’ll follow. Me.” And as Minjeong was getting battered by the gravel-slung voice of Junho—she hadn’t noticed how her blouse was opened, bra pushed down to reveal the breasts that he was so infatuated with—only until she felt the torsion of her nipple.

“Ngh!”

“I love that, Minjeong, scream out. I’ll fuck you until the entire floor hears you call my name.”

And another wet mewl that inspired his further deviance.

Feeling the soft suction of his mouth on her neck, she deduced that it could only mean one thing: another hickey just placed above the collar of her blouse, the same sort of hickey that the Zhang corp executives couldn’t keep their eyes off of—any justification in their minds that it was a skin discoloration was debilitated by how intensely Minjeong and Junho shared those deadly glances, likely to jump on each other as soon as they left—and they were right.

“Junho—ngh!”

“Louder.” He replied, testing her, “fucking. Louder.” Then he pressed deeper, grinding his rough textured pants on the creamy soft bottom of Minjeong.

“Please Junho, seriously.” Was all that she could get out of her bated breaths, her deep moans.

Then suddenly, he stopped, caressing the softness of her cheeks with his, back-handed, knuckles.

“You look so beautiful when you’re all tired and exhausted, did I tell you that before?” Letting the tune of his voice marinate with Minjeong (who was recovering from how hot and bothered she was just a second ago).

However good his intentions were, he wasn’t perfect. The way Minjeong’s body looked splayed against the messy paperwork, her blonde hair all frizzy and stuck to the desk, how her chest went in-and-out catching all the breath she lost—all of it made it impossible for him to resist anymore.

He pounced on her again, connecting lips against her wet, trembling lips that nonetheless accepted him so openly, like a warm cup of milk tea on a winter morning. That momentary pause had changed everything, Minjeong—now fully conquered by him—was begging for that penetrative action that he would give out so liberally to her.

“Naughty woman, bad secretary, what else?”

“Junho’s toy.”

“Fuck.” And in a flash, his belt flew off, then in another flash, his pants fell down.

“Tented much?” She was truly in no position to tease: a strategic error.

He grinned at the statement, finally, teasingly, let his underwear fall inch-by-inch.

Simultaneously, she bunched up her legs then pulled off her panty that revealed the color combinations that he would die for. Though before he could look for longer, she crossed her shins—hiding the cause of Junho’s demise behind her thin legs.

They shared a giggle before Jun hugged her soft body.

“I will penetrate you in this office.”

“Yes. It appears so.”

“No, like, do you consent?”

“Idiot..” Minjeong pulled him in for another kiss. Which, coincidentally, made his tip graze her engorged and swollen core, Minjeong almost came instantaneously from that alone.

And he could tell, laughing, “Seriously, Minjeong?”

“It’s your fault, you trained me like this.”

“This is like our 3rd time.” He said, as if to brush it off.

“This is my 3rd time.”

And Minjeong would be certainly hurt by the thought that Junho’s partners before her made it more than his 3rd time for him—some of them, the girlfriends, she saw.

He caught on the clues before it was too late, “Minjeong, not to compare, but who else have I been so crazy about? Who else did I track for every minute of the day? Who else did I let in my home (his girlfriends didn’t, actually, get to enter his home)? Who else would make me lose composure when they’re out of my sight-line?”

Letting his forehead touch against hers, he could feel her heart rend and beat and do all sorts of bothered gymnastics.

“It’s always been about you, Minjeong. You are the brilliance of my life, the expansion of a born star—bright from millions of light years away.”

And she needn’t say anything or reply. Absolving him by wrapping her arms tighter around his nape, then holding up her head to desperately kiss Junho again and again.

In between all the kisses, he penetrated Minjeong. His length, constricted against her core, travelled softly—wringing out all sorts of noises. Her swollen pussy wrapped around him gently but tight. “I love you, Minjeong.” Was the last thing said before Minjeong’s eyes went into the back of her head—a cute habit—before she orgasmed and creamed all over.

As per her request, Junho didn’t stop. He let his hips move as slow as he could possibly go before it could be called torture. During all this, Minjeong grabbed for stability as she was getting fucked through her orgasm, feeling that intense thrusting from the love of her life as she covered his length in more of her slick.

“Oh f-” He covered her mouth this time, respecting her wish to stay at least a little lowkey in the office, whatever the hell that meant right now. Then, shallow thrusts turned into slow thrusts all the way to the hilt, getting Minjeong to scrunch her face in pleasure, eyebrows knitted in the highest pleasure, her mouth agape with strands of her saliva connecting the roof of her mouth to her tongue.

“I love you, Minjeong. Fuck. This is insane, having sex with you in my office.”

“Ngh~ I - I love you so much,” was all that she could get across before succumbing to her dopamine receptors—eyes joining the back her head. Junho connected lips with her again, letting her legs lock around his waist, then rubbing his pelvis against her engorged core, clitoris and all.

After Minjeong finally got used to the familiar motions, he grasped her thin waist, almost wrapping his two hands around the entire circumference of her tight waist. Then their eyes met momentarily, Junho had the I am going to fuck you through this desk eyes whilst Minjeong had the prey eyes that relentlessly coalesced to him. Though, before he could go wild, he brushed off the stray hairs stuck to her forehead, gave a reaffirming kiss on her forehead before pumping all the way in.

The small of her back surrendered to his tight grip, bending against the pushes and pulls. Her legs tightened the lock around his waist—almost painfully tight, but that didn’t matter to him, who’d get to pummel her soft pussy.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he planted his body against Minjeong’s, pinning her two thin wrists against the stable table.

“You’re fucking me so good, Junho,” Minjeong replied, her rare use of the curse made him chuckle by the side of her head.

“That’s right, baby,” Junho bear-hugged Minjeong, only thrusting deeper and deeper, pelvis rubbing against hers, to make her cum again.

“NGHHH~!” The abrupt moan startled him and herself—however, they didn’t care as much about the employees anymore after indulging in each other’s bodies. Instead of stopping or evaluating the situation—as the rationalists would do—they dug deeper into each other, trying to carve each other with their soft and swollen lips.

Suddenly, he lifted Winter and turned her over. Bending her back against the table before dipping his cock into her pussy again. This time, the entrance was entranced with the soft, tight, wet feeling that he was fully obsessed with. This time, he had more ready access to her soft ass that was so soft and supple that he had to relieve it of its aesthetic beauty: with some redness spread across her ass.

“Oh my god!” Winter squeaked as she reacted against the heavy-handed slap against her ass, loving it, spreading—overflowing—his length with her slick.

Leaning over, he held Minjeong’s chin for the last stretch, considerably slowing down and enjoying each other’s presence.

“How much do you bet the coworkers will give us bad looks?”

“The female workers already give me horrible ones.” She said whilst her chin was held stable by his hand, still moaning against the soft thrusts.

“Hmm, broad generalization. How do you know this?”

“That hickey that you gave that was far too purple and far too above the collar of my blouse.”

“No long-necked turtleneck?”

“No, that’d ruin the point, I wanted to show off the gift my Junho-ssi gave.” That was the moment when he moaned hard, pressing deep inside Winter before releasing all his seed—the seed that Winter felt bounce against her cervix, making her moan out and squeal happily.

“God. Minjeong, you will be my demise.” He sighed before Winter turned around and kissed him, “as long as I get to stay with you, through demise and all,” she said between the kisses.

—

[10] The office furniture procurement department would later note an unusual request for "enhanced stability features" in executive seating, though they wisely chose not to inquire further.

[11] The building's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Critical Temperature Fluctuation - Executive Override Protocol Engaged."

—

Evening painted Seoul's skyline in shades of amber and gold, the office gradually emptying as another corporate day drew to a close. Only the executive floor maintained signs of life, though its usual efficiency had given way to something far more intimate[12].

"We should go home," Minjeong murmured against Junho's shoulder, though she made no move to leave her position in his lap. His shirt had long since been unbuttoned, her blouse delightfully rumpled, both their professional facades thoroughly compromised.

"Should we?" His fingers traced lazy patterns up her spine, his other hand still possessively curved around her hip. "I rather like having my secretary exactly where she is."

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, finding that unique blend of authority and affection that never failed to make her heart race. "Your secretary has plans for you."

"Oh?" His interest visibly peaked. "More performance reviews?"

"Better." She smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm cooking you dinner. Besides, breakfast was skipped."

The surprise in his expression made her laugh softly. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," she interrupted, then added with deliberate sweetness, "Unless my CEO is refusing a direct offer from his girlfriend?"

His hands tightened on her waist. "Using that title to manipulate me now?"

"Is it working?" She bit her lip, watching his eyes darken at the gesture.

Instead of answering, he pulled her into a kiss that suggested dinner might be delayed[13]. When they finally broke apart, his smile carried dangerous promise. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours," she decided, fingers playing with his collar. "Your kitchen needs christening properly."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Just the kitchen?"

"We'll see how dinner goes," she teased, then squeaked as he stood suddenly, lifting her with him. "준호야!"

"Efficient time management," he explained, setting her on her feet but keeping her close. "The sooner we leave..."

She pressed against him, deliberate and knowing. "The sooner you can help me... cook?"

"Among other things," he agreed, already reaching for his jacket. The predatory grace in his movements suggested cooking might not be the evening's primary activity[14].

—

[12] Security logs would note this as the third consecutive evening of "Extended Executive Hours," though the actual nature of these extensions remained diplomatically unrecorded.

[13] The office's automated systems began learning to expect these end-of-day delays, adjusting power consumption accordingly.

[14] The kitchen's motion sensors would later flag unusually high activity levels, though whether any actual cooking occurred remained a matter of some debate.

Fin

I fixed some stuff that I executed poorly before, like the crazy amount of math references; which, in foresight, was far too much.

I really had to get this out quickly. Now, I think it's a good idea to not expect anything from me for an entire month (hopefully not).

hope u enjoyed.

#smut #kpop smut #fanfic #aespa #aespa smut #fanfiction #male oc #kpop #winter smut #aespa winter

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