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doomsdaybby · 1 month

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come on baby, get in

prompt: severely touch starved reader x eddie munson

eddie munson x plus size fem!reader. just you and eddie at lovers lake sharing a joint, and eventually ending up in the back of your car. 18+, purely smut, situationship/overly familiar 'friends'/‘what are we?’, touch starved!reader 🥺 (3.9k)

small cw’s for drug use (obvs), sex whilst high, unprotected sex, creampie 😛

was listening to animals by nickelback when I was writing some of this and became even more inspired. so everyone say thank you nickelback & @blahblahblahs4208

“Did you think this was how we’d be spending time together after y’been busting your ass waiting tables all week?” Eddie says beside you in a gradual exhale, a release of Reefer Rick’s finest greenery slipping past each word in a misty grey haze.

You tilt your head slightly to the left to peer fondly at him, cheek chilly as it presses to the cold rear window of your Ford Escort. His lids are heavy, dark eyelashes almost kissing. Eddie took hard hits, easily managing three of your singular drags at once.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” you smile, all jest and no malice. Eddie chuckles at that, a deep but airy sort of laugh that has your smile stretching even wider. His eyes are glossy, dark brown marbles that reflect the moonlight creeping out of the inky night sky above you.

You want to blame the drugs, why you notice the way they glint in the light, but it’s really just because his eyes are really fucking pretty and you can’t help but stare when you think he’s not paying attention.

Eddie was always paying attention.

You’re both perched atop the trunk of your car beside Lovers Lake, tyres barely crossing the harsh line where grass meets sand, a mere seven feet or so from the gentle rippling of water, passing a rather large joint between you.

You're tucked in on yourself, hands crossed over your sternum, knees pulled up so the heels of your dirtied scuffed sneakers sit snugly on the lip of the trunk. Eddie lays similarly but more slack, one arm hidden behind his head beneath the mess of deep brown hair that's frizzy with the sticky humidity of the faded day.

You sway your legs gently towards him to knock your knees every so often. Purposeful, very purposeful, but he didn’t need to know that. Though Eddie pushes back twice as hard each time on instinct.

Once Friday evening rolled around and you hadn’t even so much as called Eddie like you do ritualistically every other night, let alone seen him since the Friday before that, he had finally decided that enough was enough.

So come this Saturday evening, you’re slinging your worn tote bag over your shoulder as you exit the diner door, the jolly ting ting of the bell above you ringing shrill in your ears after hearing it on repeat since it was such a busy day.

Eddie was waiting for you, which was a welcome surprise, one that has a dusty flush spreading along your chest and collarbones, especially since he had never picked you up from work before.

“Does my pretty girl need a ride?” He would ask confidently with a smirk, swinging the passenger door of your car open with a gentlemanly bow that had waves of hair capsulating his face, unaware of the butterflies that churned in your stomach and crept up the back of your throat.

My pretty girl. Mine. Mine.

He had been charming, all cheery smile lines and bared teeth, not that you really needed much convincing. Especially when a fresh set of clothes sat neatly folded on the passenger seat, your heart swelling double in size knowing that they smelt a little bit like him - musk and discount deodorant. Eddie.

He knew where the spare key to your apartment was hidden, tucked safe and sound into the soil of the sad-looking hanging plant pot that hung beside the door above the buzzer that no longer worked.

Rarely did he ever let himself in, as it was only for emergencies, especially rarely swiped the keys to your car from the paint-chipped console table in your hallways. But in his head, the need to spend some time with you tonight was an emergency, and a dire one at that.

Flash forward exactly two hours later and here you were. Your busy week soon fading into the blanket of twinkling stars above you akin to the blooming puffs of smoke exiting your bodies, mingling in a dance amongst the gentle breeze.

“Make any good tips?” Eddie asks, taking another brief selfish drag before offering it to you. You scoff, lingering on the feathery brush of your fingers with his as you graciously accept the joint.

“What?” his smile was engulfing, eyes creasing at the corners and the cool night breeze dusting his cheeks a peachy hue, “You tryna tell me that a catch like you hasn’t been makin’ good tips?”.

The inhale of your hit sticks in your throat, wheezing over the gentle burn swirling around your tonsils. You sit up a little, propping yourself up on your elbow in an attempt to get some air.

That’s twice in one day Eddie had been awfully complimentary, flirtation poorly disguised as platonic flattery.

“You tryna to tell me something, Munson?” you cough sharp over the words, holding the joint at arms reach in the hopes to lessen the sting. Your eyes brim sparkly at the corners, and Eddie's jaw is tight where he's biting the inside of his cheeks to smother a laugh.

He sits up with you, shuffling that little bit closer on his palms. At this proximity you can smell his cheap cologne - cedar and sage, probably a birthday present at some point, and the weed residue that sticks like gum to a shoe on his signature denim jacket.

"I have no idea what you mean," the lick of a smirk teases the corner of his lips. He reaches for you, more so the near burnt out roll-up still glowing golden between your fingers, wandering eyes gliding over your taut expression.

It was silent then. Nothing awkward or tense, both accustomed very comfortably to the ability to sit together in peace. The cicadas are louder now you notice, shifting to sit upwards so you can wrap your arms around just below the curve of your knees.

Eddie flicks the spent joint onto the dirt beneath you once the cherry red end burns an inch or so from his pursed lips, hissing as he inhales to let the drug weigh heavy in his lungs.

"Tastes like shit," he chuckles as he puffs out, spluttering slightly over the bitter aftertaste that always settles close to the filter. Eddie wasn't much for a filterless jay, he at least had a small shred of decorum.

"Smells like shit, too," you agree when he's shoulder to shoulder with you, clothed skin on skin but he was still pleasantly warm. Eddie smiles, nodding, hand to his chest as he clears his throat over a laugh.

You watch him fondly, eyes round and longing. Eddie had always been flirtatious, exclusively teasing with no weight behind it. But now? he was laying it on thick.

You felt that there had always been something there, stewing and bubbling; overly protective when it came to whatever douchebag (his words, not yours) you decided to entertain next, religiously making ‘did you get home safe?’ phonecalls after your hangouts, and you being the first person to hear every snippet of a new song he had on the go.

You pushed it down, it was easier not to read too far in to it.

“You want another?” Eddie offers, nudging his shoulder with yours before jumping off the trunk with much more grace than you were prepared to give him credit for.

Your nose scrunches, “You do?”.

He shrugs, jaw tucked into the slip of his collarbone and bottom lip pursed.

“You can just say no, sweetheart” he turns to you then, and you lift your arms away from your knees on instinct. You’re at a perfect level now where Eddie can step forward to brace his forearms to your shins, narrowing his eyes and swaying himself forward, a languid motion that nudges you back.

“Well no then. Seems like you’ve had enough for the both of us,” your eyes crease back at him, and you notice then the small sting of rawness that comes with your high. The leather of his jacket is a welcome warmth to the bare skin of your legs, the frayed edged denim shorts he had picked out for you stopping mid-thigh and not providing as much purchase as you wished for at this time of night, the cool air almost biting.

“Pft,” Eddie rattles his lips, your gaze floating there and fixing, “I’m stone cold sober, babe”.

You snort, and that only has Eddie’s grin stretching into pretty little dimples that make him appear more boyish and soft.

“You don’t think I am?” his palms are on either side of your hips, fingers spread and daring, thumbs tickled by the jagged strands of denim.

You lean forward into his space, shaking your head with a downturn of your brows, inspecting him. The soft graze of your fingers along his hairline push his hair back from his face, Eddie’s shining eyes following yours that are taking him in in drawn out contemplation.

Your touch settles right over his ears, nails tucked into the soft roots of fuzzy hair at the scalp, palms partially encompassing the shell of them so everything sounds underwater, but he doesn’t mind.

He’s observing you just the same; tracing the dip and curve of your cupids bow, up and over each full apple of your cheeks, admiring the ripple of skin between your eyebrows from the way you’re peering at him, noting the fiery cherry clouding of your scleras, trailing back down to do it all over again.

“You’re hot,” he whispers, not that he needed to though it was more accidental, the words escaping him without meaning to.

“And you’re high”

“Correct” he muses, a closed mouth low chuckle that bobs over his adam’s apple. He looks endearingly goofy; rosy cheeks and hazy eyes, with a handsome cheesy grin to top it all off.

Eddie sways lightly in the space between your legs and you can feel your heart thumping angrily in your throat. You don’t think you had ever been this close to him, not like this.

Your face screws up, smiling, lifting one palm away from his ear to touch the back of your hand to his forehead.

“You look like you’re about to kiss me, Munson”

“Would you be mad if I did?” his hands pause next to you, studying your expression, thumbs tucked a few centimetres beneath the cuff of your shorts.

The drugs were making you both bold, and maybe it was just because you had missed one another so much, but there was really no other way to quite show the extent of it.

“No,” your voice is meek, trembly soft and the static in your head of your high mixed with the adrenaline flooding your veins is making you feel like you're on the brink of passing out.

Your lips are millimetres apart, tips of your noses graze one another and Eddie's breath is washing in heated deep roves over your beetroot cheeks. You brace your hands on his neck, right at the base where the curve of it meets his shoulders, rolling your fingertips carefully into the skin there.

It’s soft at first, courteous. Plush lips and innocence.

You were the first to push back that tiny bit harder, stroking over his neck with fresh intent, actually kissing him rather than the pleasant gentle press of your mouths.

Eddie reacts immediately, being the first to pull away if only for a second to part his lips, deepening the kiss. He hooks his fingers beneath your full calves, sandwiched between them and the cool metal of your car.

“This okay?” he murmurs against your lips.

You're nodding, laughing so pretty and girlish when his grasp tightens around the backs of your knees, gasping into his open mouth when he drags you a little meanly closer to the edge of the trunk.

"There you are," he hums, wandering hands dragging up and along the full hills of your hips, dipping into the curve of your waist and stilling there.

One palm presses to the side of his face, cool despite the way he’s heating up from touching you like the way he’s always thought about when alone.

You pull him closer and he obliges far too easily, smushing yourself against each other chest to chest. Eddie holds you so tight and he’s fucking giggling against your lips.

It became rather heavy in a hurry, tongue and teeth, beckoning him closer and welcoming every little squeeze and soft caress as he just drank you in. You craved it, and only really from him.

“Jesus, sweetheart” Eddie groans, smirking when you chase his lips, stare heavy and longing albeit sluggish and glazed, completely gone in the whirlpool of your high and his wonderfully suffocating presence.

“I need to feel you” you admit, voice quiet yet confident, not really hiding the fact that you had thought about this since the violent strike of puberty hit you both. When Eddie let his hair grow out and he grew that little bit taller, strong manly hands and lean torso.

You had run it over in your head in the safety blanket of darkness in your bedroom, hand between your legs and the image of him touching you, loving on you, pleasuring you.

“We- we don’t have to do that” Eddie says, squeezing your hips, eyes startling when your expression drops, “I mean I want to, shit, of course I want to,” he’s finding your gaze, chest hurting when he noticed the wobble of them under the slick sheen of threatening tears.

“We’re pretty fucked up and I don’t want you to regret anything when our heads are clearer”.

You gulp, eyes trailing back to the pink sheen of his lips that are sickeningly wet with you.

“I want to, I could never regret doing anything with you.”

“Fuck, okay, fuck it let’s do it.” Eddie rushes before either of you could change your minds, lost in the addicting rush and excitement of it all.

His lips are on you again, near frantic and passionate, silken tongues twirling together and he’s practically lifting you off the trunk and onto his waist, wrapping yourself around him not daring to let go.

It didn’t take long for you to end up in the back of your car after dragging Eddie across the grass and dirt with his collar bunched up in your fist, the other tucked into the hair at the nape of his neck. He almost tripped you as he followed, jacket shrugged off and forgotten, a dog on a leash, chaste kisses pressing to your forehead, cheekbones and each stretched corner of your lips.

There wasn’t much time for pleasantries, not by the way the two of you are panting and groaning pathetically into each other’s open slick mouths.

You had kicked your shorts off before climbing into Eddie’s lap, slowed by your sneakers and he’d chuckled watching you with soft, glittering chocolate eyes as you hopped on one leg, patting the tops of his thighs when you glared up at him.

“Can I?” his lashes fluttered, head dipping lower towards the juncture of your neck, waiting with puppy dog lovesick eyes. Who were you to deny him when he was looking at you like that?

“Please” you whimpered at him, grabbing at the back of his head and drawing him closer, desperate to feel his pillowy lips right over the sensitive skin of your throat.

Eddie moans, really moans as you tug on his roots, squirming in his lap when his hot mouth sucks and licks on you, blooming crimson reds and lilac blues. He has to flatten his palms at the plump of your hips, pressing there cruelly to keep you still since you’re rocking yourself so good against where he’s hardening beneath you.

“You need to stop doing that” Eddie almost seethes through his teeth, a warning though you know he doesn’t mean it to be harsh, heat rushing to your centre from the way his tone drops low and fierce. “Or else i’ll cum in the fucking jeans”.

It was all pent up energy, pitiful pining and taking advantage of the heat of the moment. You were wet and wanting beneath the cotton of your underwear, aware of the sticky sensation that felt foreign against the material when you ground your centre down onto the zip of his jeans.

“Just… just fuck me already,” you almost cringe at how dirty you sounded, far too desperate and you’ll certainly be embarrassed thinking back on it when all things are said and done.

“Holy shit. Yeah, yeah. I’m coming, baby” Eddie shoves a little at the crease of your thighs, his thumbs digging there to sit you back at his knees. The clinking of his belt and fidgeting hands tugging at his zipper has your heart pounding beneath your ribs, breathless gasps escaping you when he tugs himself free.

“C’mere” he beckons you forwards with two fingers, sealing his mouth back on yours with heightened fervour and frantic wanting as he spreads his thighs across the back seat, slouching down to allow a better angle.

Your soaked clothed centre brushes along his shaft when you move, clammy hands cradling his sharp jawline and swallowing down Eddie’s pants and huffed profanities.

His palms wander as you lick in each others mouths, the surrounding soft skin catching twinkly under the moonlight. Eddie kneads into your ass, rough, calloused fingers crude and playful, spreading your cheeks apart to push them back together again.

“Having fun?” you leave merely an inch between you, breath smoky and the smell of bitter weed sticks to his hair that closes around your faces, almost blanketing you from whatever may be lurking on the outside of your cramped car.

“So much fun,” and there was that grin again, painfully wide and you want to kiss each smile line that adores his pretty face.

“Touch me here. Please” your fingers twirl into his, guiding his knuckles up under your hoodie to finally meld to the balmy plump rolls covering your ribs. Eddie’s eyes are saucered, wide and disbelieving, mouth dropped and hanging slack.

He scans the naked buttery soft skin under his touch that is now available to him with your oversized hoodie out of the way, gliding over you with intense abundant delight. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, your palms falling over his when he reaches the soft lace of your bra, nails catching on the hard underwire.

His large hands close around your breasts, cupping and squeezing them just hard enough to have pretty noises catching at the back of your throat but kind enough so it doesn’t hurt. Not too much.

“C’mon, Eds, please” you’re on the cusp of begging, stroking yourself over his cock that’s barely slippery with your arousal through cotton. A rather aggressive moan escapes from the depths of his lungs, clumsy when he takes hold of himself at the base.

You lift yourself up, knees planted wide on either side of him, legs shaking when he’s thumbing at the elastic lining of your underwear to pull it to the side.

If you were both clear of mind, you would rather your first time together be methodical and careful, more paced and tenderly slow. Eddie wanted to shower you with unhurried devotion, not leaving a single inch of your plump skin unscathed. Yearning to leave you kiss bitten and bruised in all of the nice ways.

The first slip of his tip as he enters has you mewling already, lowering yourself down inch by downright devilish inch. You reach for his collar again, his shirt wound tight in your fist and you're prying him into you. Eddie's face smushes into your neck, blissful hot breath fanning over your skin.

You pause when he's fully seated inside you, wisps of his hair tickling your nose as you bury yourself into the crown of his head. You cushion him to your breast bone, desperate for every shred of contact, adjusting to his girth that stretches you out so nicely.

The inside of the car is blazing. Windows dripping and steaming, droplets gliding down the cool glass and disappearing into the well at the base.

It was kinder then, your next actions. Your heart is skipping, the couple inches that Eddie drags himself out to push right back in, knocking some syrupy sweet sounds out of you that he wishes he could keep on tape.

Eddie licks his lips, whining into you, tongue laving over your salty skin with so much rampant fidelity, you never wanted him to stop.

You barely bounce, you didn't need to. Eddie merely has to see-saw his hips into the seat so he grinds up into your heat, groaning and mouthing incoherent sentences mixed with mewls of your name when his cock nudges spots you didn't know could be reached.

Eddie wraps both hands around your back, dipping beneath your pullover and hugging every curve he could grab on to. The initial intensity of it all had slowed into a deliberately slow pace, intimate and sloven.

His gasps tickle the column of your throat, bridge of his nose stuck under your jawline. Not much needed to be said, to be honest it was difficult to form any words when you were both so far gone in the ecstasy of it all, pleasure only amplified by your drug-induced state.

"Eddie" you plead, eyes closed and panting open-mouthed into his hair. He could tell by the clamp of your walls around him that you were close, probing into that sweet spot that blinds you, and it was a good job too since he could feel his own release approaching.

"I've got you, my girl" He releases himself from your grip, your chest tightening at the loss of him, but only for a moment. Eddie's eyes widen when you moan his name, an awe-filled smile shining up at you as his thumb circles over your clit.

Your stomach aches, a coiling wounding tight and pooling right at the pit of it, the promise of an orgasm looming and steadfast. He lays his head back against the headrest, lips swollen and tantalisingly rouge from where he had maimed you.

"Such a pretty girl" he coos and you're right there, his candied goading and sugary praise coaxing your release.

Eddie's eyebrows pinch, rubbing his thumb that little bit quicker, driving his hips up up and up right so he completely disappears inside of you to the hilt over and over again.

"I'm so close, so so fucking close" your whimpers hike, jaw hinging wide and eyes brimming watery under the sheer pressure of it all.

"Come on, baby. Cum with me" he works you right to the edge, dragging his cock in and out just right, and you didn't need any further instruction, eyes locking together as you both come undone.

Eddie ruts sloppily into your sweet wet cunt, gushing into every millimetre of you he could reach, his release dribbling out and onto his navel. Your breath hitches, and Eddie appears like he's in pain with the way you're pulsing around him, milking him of everything he has to give.

You're dizzy with him, putty and pliant over him, chasing that feeling with a slow roll of your hips when Eddie is pressed to you again. He kisses your neck, loving over where you're bruised, travelling up to that sensitive spot right behind your ear.

He makes his way gradually to your lips, caught in one long drawn out kiss as you both breathe in heavy through the nose. There's a quiet lull when you part, your buzzing brains catching up with the events of the evening, paused in each other's embrace.

You're laughing then, guiltless and elated.

Eddie talks first, weaving his hands behind your ears and tucking your hair back, pressing his sweating forehead to yours that's damp and beaded just the same.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #eddie munson x y/n smut #my writing

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eddiesxangel · 10 months

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Redemption| Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: after committing a petty crime, Eddie is forced to work community at a retirement home; what he didn’t expect was the pretty girl at the front desk, you. This is so self-indulgent don't come for me

Word count: 3.8k

Cw: mutual pining, male masturbation, Perv!Eddie, Dom!Eddie/ Sub!reader, unprotected sex, corruption kink? breeding kink, sex at work. (Briefly proofread)

An: after 85 years I finally got around to finishing this! It’s not where I thought it would go originally bc it was just suppose to be a fluff piece but the horny gremlin took over

Boredom wasn't even a way to describe how you were feeling. The phones were dead, the day had been dragging on, and it was not even 12:00pm. The residents of the home were also not doing you any favours. Having to repeat yourself about six times in a row at the top of your lungs was starting to get old; your day had just not been going the way you wanted. Any other day, you'd be happy to help, happy to repeat yourself, but today was not one of those days. You were irritated and annoyed; your work bestie was off today, so you couldn't even complain to her about your shit day.

A sigh of relief fills you when the phone rings, a rare occasion, but today has been so slow you were begging for something to do.

"Sunny Acres Retirement Home! How may I help you?" your customer service voice was overly sweet, too sweet. However you can't seem to turn it off, being the people pleaser that you are.

"Jesus Christ'' You hear mumbled from the other end of the line.

"Hello? How can I help you?" you roll your eyes, having to repeat yourself, but keep up the chipper act.

"Yeah, listen, I was assigned to do community hours at this place, and I need to talk to a manager." Damn, this guy had an attitude.

"Yeah! Sure thing. Can I get your name, please?"

"Seriously?"

What the fuck crawled up this guy's ass?

"It's company policy, Sir." You rolled your eyes again, not wanting to deal with more bullshit.

"Eddie"

"One moment, Eddie, I'll transfer your call." You put him on hold and transferred him to the manager with a good luck warning.

The next day, you were in much better spirits; your work bestie was with you, it was casual Friday, and you were allowed to wear jeans instead of business casual attire.

It was around 1:00pm when you saw Chief Hopper walk in accompanied by someone you had not recognized.

"Hey Hopps," you greet him with a smile.

"Hey, you." He said with a smile.

You and Chief Hopper had a friendly relationship because you're close friends with his girlfriend's oldest, Jonathan.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Brought in another delinquent for you to roughhouse into shape" he steps out of the way.

Your giggle dies as you lock eyes with the prettiest boy you've ever seen.

"This is Edward; he is here to complete two hundred hours of community service, and he will be starting today."

"It's Eddie," you hear him mumble under his breath.

Oh so this is the jackass you spoke to on the phone yesterday... a really cute jackass.

He looked to be around your age, but you didn't recognize him. You'd only been in town since the second half of senior year, hating your parents for making your move to a new school so close to graduating. You have been in Hawkins six years now you're here working 9-5 as a receptionist at Sunny Acres Retirement Home.

"Nice to meet you, Eddie." You introduce yourself and proceed to call the manager to let her know he is here. Once Hopper leaves and your manager shows him around, you immediately call your best friend, Robin's, extension.

"Get over here now! We have a code, hottie," you whisper into the phone. Whenever you see a cute person enter the building, whether it be adult grandchildren, paramedics, or firefighters, you always let one another know when there is one on the premises. No less than two minutes later, she approaches your desk.

"Where are they?"

" There," you point to the dining room directly across from your desk as he is being given a tour of the building.

"Eddie Munson?!" she half yells before covering her mouth.

"You know him?" you ask excitedly.

"Know him? He's the town freak," she scoffs.

"I'm sure he is a freak, alright?" You wiggle your brows at her."

"I'm serious! He's bad news."

"Clearly, he is doing community service hours."

"Seriously? That is what you're into?" she giggles.

"I don't know? There is something about him?" You bite your lip as you check him out from afar. He turns back to walk towards you, and you quickly look away, not wanting to be caught.

You've always been into bad boys, but your golden retriever, good girl image, always scared them away.

Eddie notices you staring at him because you're not very subtle. He isn't mad that he caught you staring because he felt that you were checking him out rather than judging him. Unlike your co-worker standing beside you...

Just his luck, he recognized Robin from high school. She was always neutral towards him and didn't say much, but he knew how the people in this town operated. She would turn you against him in no time.

"Buckley." He nodded.

"Munson," she mimicked back.

You watched the scene play out, hoping she would introduce you. Wrong. She goes straight in for the kill.

"My friend thinks you're cute." She points her thumb at you, and you immediately slap her shoulder as a gut reaction.

"Robin?!" you scold her. Mortified about what she admitted to him just to break an awkward silence, you feel like you want the ground to swallow you whole.

Eddie gives you a cocky smirk before the manager comes back to continue with the tour.

"Why do you hate me? Did I do something? Are you punishing me?" you whine.

"You know I just blurt out things when I get uncomfortable!"

All you can do is roll your eyes, you loved the girl, but she could be really dense.

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about your brief interaction all night. Was Robin telling the truth? Did you really think he was cute? Or was she teasing? He hoped that she had grown up since high school and was telling the truth because he also thought you were cute, like really, really cute. He hadn't seen you before, and Hawkins was a small town; he must have known you from somewhere? He wraps his brain around any memories of your face, but he comes up empty. He had to find out more about you. He needed to know you. Something about you infatuated him so much. He thought about how your body looked in the adorable outfit you had on. He thought about what was under the outfit to... Maybe being forced to volunteer his time at Sunny Acres wouldn't be the worst thing that happened to him after all...

The next day, you were assigned to show Eddie some of the duties he was to do for the residents. Talk to them, run bingo, help them with their phone if the line was giving them any trouble, or their TV if they put in the wrong input, serve them beverages, and get to know them and keep them company. A lot of them don't have families or anyone to come visit them. The staff are their family. That was the main reason you stayed at this job for so long.

Eddie was quiet the whole orientation. The tension from yesterday was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Small talk was not your strong suit; you dreaded it, but you also really wanted to talk with Eddie, so you went for it.

"So what did they book you for? Steal candy from a kid on the playground?" trying to make light of the situation.

"Murder," he deadpans to you.

"Ha ha. Nice try. They don't give community hours to murderers." you couldn't keep your eyes on the task in front of you.

He was dead silent, but you could feel his eyes burning into you.

"Okay, don't tell me; I'll just keep guessing until you do." you gave a cheeky smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Another eye roll was shot your way, but you swore you saw a glint of something behind those eyes.

"So what was it? Trespassing? Vandalism? shoplifting? Public intoxication? Speeding?" you raise a brow at him.

Eddie just smirked and shook his head as you interrogated him. Your bubbly personality was nothing compared to his. He noticed how you would light up the room when you walked in. The residents of the home adored you, and he could see why. You were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen; your eyes sparkled, and he loved how you styled yourself. He wasn't used to being so infatuated by someone so cutesy. He noticed you wore a lot of pink and has yet to see you in anything black. He thought of what you would look like with black underwear... then he snapped back out of his thoughts. He tried to think of something less sexy, but as he was trying to do so, your top slipped down when you went to reach for the deck of cards across from you. He caught a glimpse of the frilly light yellow bra you had on under your top.

Eddie noticed the room was getting hotter, or was that just him? You made him nervous; he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you more than he already has. He felt shame that we had to be waltzed in here by the chief of police, never mind what offence he committed. So he stayed quiet, not wanting the next thing to come out of his mouth to be offensive or crass. So he kept quiet, not saying anything or indulging in the conversation more than he had to.

Another week went by, and you still hardly spoke to Eddie. Work was unbelievably slow yet again. you thought that would give you a chance to speak with Eddie, but you hardly had time to see him because the residents kept hogging him. That was until your manager asked for you to help with the Bingo because everyone decided to show up today. Eddie was in charge of rolling and placing, and you were in charge of announcing and checking.

This was it, this was your chance to speak to him...

"How do you like it here so far?"

"It's fine I guess." He mumbled.

"Everyone really loves you." You smiled.

Eddie gave you a look that said what the fuck?

“No really! … Do you not like it here?” What you were really asking was do you not like being around me?

"Don't you get it? How can I serve these snotty rich people when all they do is look down on someone like me?"

"Eddie, are you blind? The residents love you."

Eddie scoffs at your confession. "I'm serious! When you are gone, Pat always asks where you are! And Linda always refers to you as her boyfriend, and I overheard Martha and June arguing over who got to braid your hair next. You're a real ladies' man around here," You giggle.

"A ladies man you say?" his mood slowly changes as he smirks at you. That made you blush, the heat rose to your cheeks as you looked away bashfully. He was just so pretty… and the way he looked at you like how he is now is making you so shy.

"Yeah, I'm kinda jealous of Linda, if I'm honest." You flirt. You feel like your stomach was in your ass by the time you finished the sentence.

"What's the next number! come on!" Bob yelled from the table. You had completely forgotten about the game.

Small glances were stolen throughout the following weeks. You would feel the heat rise to your cheeks every time he caught you, and you couldn't tell if he found it endearing or annoying. You never got a response out of Eddie after your admission to being jealous over an eighty-three-year-old.

Eddie definitely thought it was endearing and he can't seem to get you out of his head. He would think about you when he was alone in his room at night. He would think about how you always smelled like marshmallows, how your hair looked so cute with the little bow you put in it occasionally, or how you tease him by wearing those short skirts with stockings underneath. He knew you were teasing him. Everyone else bought the Goodie Two Shoes act, but not Eddie. He saw right through it, and he was fed up. He felt like if he didn't have you, he would actually explode.

Eddie had been watching you from afar this whole time. He would sneak around your desk, finding things he could take home with him as a keepsake. Like little doodles you would leave out, or the pen you were using, or your lip balm. The best was when you left your purse out, and he got a chance to take the travel-size perfume that was lying there on top of everything. There was a reason he got booked for defacing public property and not theft. Theft he was good at.

Eddie sprayed his pillow with your perfume and then used your lip balm that smelled and tasted like strawberries, fuck, everything about you was so sweet: your personality, looks and smell, even your fucking lip balm. He thought about how his lips were touching the thing that touched yours as he applied it to his own, and his dick got hard. Then he thought about how your strawberry lips would look around his hard cock.

You were taking over Eddie's senses as he began to tug at his cock. He thought about how he would love to flip up your skirt and fucking you in one of the empty rooms. His imagination ran wild. He thought about your voice, how your tits would look bouncing in that frilly yellow bra he got a peek at. He wanted you in every position, especially under him. He knew you would be the perfect little sub for him. He needed you to be; he was so close to cumming. He thought about you crying from how much you needed his cock to fill you. He thought about how good you would look and feel swallowing his cock. He needed to take what he thought, no needed to believe, was your virgin pussy.

Eddie came so hard that night, the first night he indulged in his fantasies of you with your smell lingering in the air of his room. The mix of your sent with his was too much. He needed you, and he would do anything to try and get you.

"Ok, I can't take this anymore, you need to talk to him." Robin shook her head.

"And say what?"

"Yo Munson, come here!"

"Robin!" You scolded.

As Eddie approached, you felt your heart rate go up; you could hear the blood pumping in your ears. What on earth was she going to say now?

"Okay, I can't take watching you two dance around one another any longer." "She thinks you're cute. Okay..." Robin gestured to you. "Do you think she is cute?"

Eddie didn’t say anything, he just slowly nodded his head.

The tension broke when the shrill of phone ring broke you out of your trance and shook you a little. You just stared at the phone and Robin butted in.

“I’ll take it, you take your lunch” she gave you a wink and you looked to Eddie.

“I could eat.” and he wasn't talking about the chicken they were serving for lunch.

You felt your stomach do a flip-flip; you heard the insinuation in his tone.

"Um, uh- yeah. Okay." You cleared your throat and went to find an empty room for some privacy.

You guided Eddie up to the eighth floor. There were a lot of vacant rooms up there, and hardly anyone went in the west wing since no one was living there yet. The elevator ride up was silent; you felt an awkwardness, like Eddie was looking into your soul even though he wasn't even looking at you... The elevator dinged, and Eddie let you step out first, guiding him to the privacy he yearned for.

809 Eddie read on the door as you fumbled with the lock and key. Finally, you opened the lock and guided him inside. The room was completely empty; it echoed a little as your footsteps filled it.

"So..." You started but Eddie had no time for talking. He wanted you and he wanted you now.

Eddie surprised you by cupping your face and kissing you passionately. No one had ever kissed you like this before; it was strong and hard but also careful.

"You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart." He spoke into your mouth. The kissing got more and more sensual. You ran your hands up his middle before you knew what was happening he quickly turned you around and pressed you up against the wall.

"You think it's cute? Teasing me for weeks with your sweet little outfits?" Eddie's hand was wrapped around your mouth to keep you quiet as his fingers explored you meat of your ass.

"Mmmmmph" You were so scared someone would find you in the empty suite, but it also turned you on more than expected.

"What was that sweetheart? I didn't quite catch that?" His fingers found the waistband of your stockings and pulled them and your panties down with one swift motion. His hand loosened its grip on your jaw so you could speak.

"N-no," You whimpered. This was turning you on way more than it should. You thought you would come up here to talk; maybe he would ask you out on a date. You never thought you would be fucking!

"I don't believe you."

You felt your skirt flipped up and a cool breeze on your wet pussy.

"Tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever filled this pussy?" Eddie asked as he ran a single finger through your wet folds.

"Yes," You admit shakily. You gripped Eddie's wrist of the hand that was clamped around your throat.

Eddie can't say he was surprised that you’ve had men before him. You were beautiful, smart, funny, adorable. It's too bad you had to be with them before he got a taste.

"What a shame you've had to suffer through that before meeting me, babydoll."

"Why is that?" you ask bravely.

Eddie chuckled darkly... "Because baby, I'm about to ruin you for all men."

That made you gulp. You can't believe you were about to fuck your crush in the middle of the work day. You didn't do stuff like this! you were a good girl, a rule follower.

Before you could think anymore about the consequences, Eddie, he slipped his throbbing cock into your needy pussy.

"Holy fuck!" You screamed, and Eddie's hand clamped back down over your mouth to keep you quiet.

Just when Eddie didn't think you could get any hotter, the curse word you let slip from your mouth made his cock twitch inside of you.

"Fuck me, you stretch me out so good," You whine, and Eddie thinks he will bust a nut right then and there. His perfect little angel had the mouth of a whore.

"Yes, you like that, don't you, you dirty little slut." Eddie jerked his hips up into you. It was sharp and hard and hit that delicious spot inside you each time. “You wanna be my good girl? Or my bad girl?”

“Good- oh fuck- good girl. I want to be your good girl!”

“That shut the fuck up and take it like I know you can”

"oh my god, you're so big." Your eyes rolled back into your head as he became more controlled with his rhythm. His hands gripped your hip, and he wrapped his hand in your hair, yanking your head back like he was riding you.

The view Eddie had was your ass bounced off his cock was making his head spin. He knew you would hand a perfect pussy. It was his now and only his.

"This pussy is mine now, understand? Im going to fill this pussy so good you won't know what to do for days. The only thing you're going to be thinking of is me and my fat cock."

All you could do was moan in response. "Yea you like that you dirty little whore. You like that I own this pussy now…” Eddie slowed down, he rolled his hips slowly into your pussy and he swore he saw the light “You have everyone convinced you're a goodgirl but all you are is a cumslut. Tell me how much you want my cum coating your walls"

"I want it so bad!" you cried.

You've never had a dick like this before. Eddie was right, he's ruined you for all men and he hadn't even made you cum... yet. You had full faith that he was able to do so because you could feel it. The warm fuzzy feeling was bubbling up in your core. Eddie had picked up the pace at your omission, and fuck if he wasn’t hitting your g spot with each delicious stroke of his cock hitting your walls.

"Fuck I'm going to cum!" You scream, all caution thrown to the wind, you'd forgotten where you were. The only thing you could think of was Eddie and his delicious cock.

"Fuck yes, babydoll. Come on this cock." Eddie's hand let go of your hair and wrapped it around your throat, pulling you flush to his body.

"More" You whisper.

"Greedy greedy girl."

"Please" You begged. You needed him to touch you.

"There is my good girl." His hand that had gripped your hip slid down and started playing with your swollen clit and your legs almost gave out.

"Next time, I'm keeping my word, and I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy." Eddie growled.

That did it for you; your inner walls squeezed, and you felt your orgasm rush through you. Eddie trusted in you as your body convulsed around him.

"Fuck you're so fucking tight," Eddie grits through his teeth, and he fights off his impending orgasm. He doesn't want this moment to end, he wants it to last forever. What if this is the last chance he has to feel your pussy wrapped around him?

"Please, Eddie, I want your cum! I want your cum so fucking bad, my pussy needs it."

That did it for Eddie, he let go and his hot seed was being shot into you with a roar.

After minutes of silence and heavy breathing, Eddie bent down and pulled up your panties and stockings for you, trapping his cum with it. You turn slowly, afraid to look him in the eyes, but Eddie doesn't allow it. He brings your cin up, guiding your eyes to look into his.

"Don't shy away from me now, babydoll. You're going to go back down to the lobby and finish the rest of your work day knowing my cum is going to be seeping through your pretty little panties, ok?" He ordered, and you dumbly nodded your head, still fucked out by the amazing dick you just received.

"Good girl" Eddie patted your ass, and you walked to the elevator with wobbly legs. Eddie laughed and held you stand straight before letting go before you reached the first floor.

You returned from your break fifteen minutes later than allotted, but Robin covered for you. You couldn't even look her in the eyes, and she knew you got freaky with the freak of Hawkins.

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson smut #perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie x reader #perv!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #dom!eddie munson #dom!eddie Munson x reader #dom!eddie Munson x sub!reader #dom!eddie x reader

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neoneun-au · 2 months

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CAN'T HELP MYSELF; CHAPTER IV: HEAR ME OUT

―PAIRING: wonwoo x fem!reader, mingyu x fem!reader ―GENRE: love triangle au, fluff, mild angst, romantic comedy, suggestive, smut ―CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 11.2k ―CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst, mild language, alcohol consumption, therapy, 18+ only ―STATUS: ongoing

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far, this is really only fun with interaction and it helps keep me motivation to finish !

iv: hear me out

The morning dawns bright and bleary-eyed and you starfish out in bed, stretching your limbs and feeling more relaxed than you’ve felt in months. You take your time getting ready–a leisurely shower, a lengthy scroll through social media, closing and re-opening the same work email five separate times to reassure yourself that this recent project was in fact not due first thing Monday morning. A weekend of peace and freedom–no looming threat of work obligations and marginally less sexual frustration than usual. Pure bliss.

Sounds of life start to filter in through your door from the hallway about an hour after you first wake up; the rest of condo inhabitants up and about after their own late Friday night escapades. You had heard a few of them coming in around 2:00am or so as you began to drift off to sleep but otherwise what time everyone got in and got to bed was a mystery to you. After a few minutes lingering at the edge of your mattress listening to your stomach rumble, you drop your feet to the ground and step out into the hallway in search of breakfast.

Mingyu, it seems, had the exact same plan as you. His door clicks shut behind him just as you close your own and you stand facing each other like you had just run into your long lost lover at a train station someplace far from home.

“Good morning,” he says after a beat, the hint of a smile beginning to creep in at the corners of his mouth.

“Morning,” you reply, feeling the fog of contentment settle back down to reality as you stand opposite him–your hand tugs gingerly at the hem of your old floral nightshirt.

“How did you sleep?” he asks and you can’t tell if there’s an edge of conspiracy in his voice, an ‘I know what you did last night’ gleam in his eye. You’re probably imagining it. You hope to god you’re imagining it.

“Quite well,” you respond, shaking off the thought and stubbornly refusing to give in to the fear that he had heard you in the midst of your fantasies. You cross your arms over your chest in defense–warding off any further psychic connection. “You?”

“Good,” he replies and you nod in acknowledgement. His gaze flitters from yours to the hallway behind you, pointedly avoiding drifting lower than your face and you realise after a second that he has a fairly decent top down view of your cleavage. You let your arms fall back down. “Got any plans today?”

“Meeting up with some friends later, but aside from that nothing, thankfully,” you reply with a shrug. “How about yourself?”

“Not much,” he mirrors your shrug and you worry for a second that you are going to be left repeating yet another stunted hallway conversation. Thankfully he opens his mouth after a breath to continue, “Though, I think Seungcheol is trying to recruit me for some promotional video for his gym. I told him to ask Vernon since Vernon is the actor.”

“But he still wants you to do it?” you ask, closing the shutter on the mental image of Mingyu lifting weights before it can imbed itself in your subconscious alongside his bare nipples.

“Yeah, he told me Vernon has the body of a wet noodle.”

You laugh, the veil of tension that had descended on the pair of you relaxes back into normalcy at the comment and you’re glad for the distraction. “I would say I’m surprised but that tie-dye is pretty baggy…” you trail off with a grin and Mingyu tosses his head back in laughter before turning with you to head down the hallway.

The kitchen is abuzz with activity when you enter, Seungcheol is deep in a lecture aimed directly at Vernon who appears to not fully be listening despite the occasional cursory nod. The distinctive scent of eggs permeates the air and you notice an array of food already laid out on the table in front of Jeonghan.

“Morning you two,” he greets, one eyebrow raised. As usual, seeking out some sort of intrigue. “Late night?”

“Not really,” you reply, shaking your head and refusing to take the bait. You sit down at the table and swipe a slice of bread from the side of his plate; sinking your teeth into it before he can admonish the theft. “I’ve been awake for an hour already, just hanging out in my room before joining you animals.”

“Is that so?” he asks, unwilling to give up the narrative he has built in his head. You knew confessing to him about your micro-crush (if you could even call it that) on Mingyu was a bad idea, but you thought that after the stern warning and lecture he had given you that he might actually be normal about something for once in his life. No such luck.

You open your mouth to reply, more than ready to raise your own sword in this duel, but you’re cut off before you can begin as the rest of the household takes a seat at the table to join you.

“Mingyu, how did that date go last night?” Seungcheol asks, relieving Vernon of his lecture for now. An apparent relief as Vernon immediately gathers up a small plate of food before retreating from the kitchen completely.

Date? The word shoots through the room like a lightning bolt. Jeonghan glances at you, fox-like features alight with malicious curiosity. You stare wide-eyed at Mingyu as he opens and closes his mouth like a trout caught in a net. “Oh uh…I cancelled it, actually,” he carefully avoids your gaze, instead burying his face in his mug of coffee.

“Cancelled it? Why? I thought you said she was cute?” Seungcheol asks, blissfully ignorant to the relay of glances darting around him. He waits happily for Mingyu to respond, grabbing a few slices of fruit from Jeonghan’s plate before he can swat his hand away.

“She was yeah,” Mingyu concedes with a small laugh. You see a faint hint of red starting to colour the tips of ears as all three sets of eyes around the table fix their attention fully on him, all for different reasons. He rubs at the back of his neck and feigns a nonchalant shrug, though it’s plain to see that he could not be feeling more chalant. “I just didn’t think it was really going to go anywhere, so I cancelled it.”

Seungcheol laughs, taking a bite of his prize apple, “since when have you ever cared about it going somewhere before?”

Mingyu bristles, hackles raised at the implication in the question. An uncharacteristic frown deepens in the corners of his mouth, marring his handsome features. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not just a slut. I do actually want a relationship.”

You’re so caught up in listening to the exchange that you don’t notice his eyes darting to meet yours before it’s too late to avoid them. You find yourself locked in his gaze again, a beat too long to go unnoticed by Jeonghan as he chuckles next to you.

You feel the air around you thicken and scramble to your feet to beat a hasty retreat, following in Vernon’s footsteps. With slightly trembling hands you collect a mug and grasp for the box of assorted teas from the top shelf.

Seungcheol, it seems, has given up on ribbing Mingyu about his dating life and instead turns his attention towards you just as you try and make yourself invisible in the corner while you wait for the kettle to boil. “Ready for another jog tonight?”

“Oh, no I uh–” you stutter, “I actually have plans tonight so I won’t be able to.”

He frowns, wide brown eyes shimmering with disappointment and you feel like you just let your parents down. “This isn’t an excuse to get out of training, is it?” he asks and you shake your head, frantic to dispel the thought.

“No, not at all, one of my friend’s is back in the country, she lives in England and she’s only here–”

Seungcheol holds up a hand–flat, open palm halting your excuses. “Say no more,” he says, “we can reschedule for tomorrow night. Friendship is worth the sacrifice.”

“Oh…okay thanks,” you reply, unsure of what else to do with the proverb. The kettle whistles and you pour the hot water into your mug–careful to avoid sloshing it over the sides.

Tea in hand you turn to rush back towards the safety of your bedroom as Seungcheol and Mingyu strike up a conversation about the national soccer team’s prospects. Jeonghan keeps you locked in his sights as you walk by, fixing you with an evaluating look that would be withering if it weren’t mostly just irritating. You snatch his last slice of toast without looking back.

The hum of the sports bar fills your senses, dulling your thoughts (a not unwelcome intrusion).

It’s the sound of pool balls smashing against each other as they shoot across the beer-stained green top of the billiards table. The faint scent of chlorine bleach mixed with body odor and stale cigarettes. The round robin of songs floating out from the made-to-look-old jukebox in the corner. It was as familiar as it was revolting and you found yourself lost in your surroundings, half expecting an old college fling to rear his ugly head up from behind the bar.

It had been Yerim’s idea to visit a few of your old haunts from before she moved away. Some burst of nostalgia propelling her on a mission to hunt down every decrepit pub and restaurant that you had all graced with your presence–pockets lined with scholarship and loan money intended for tuition and books but all too often spent on cold coffee and hot street food.

Most of them had since closed for business (much to her vocal distress), but the few that she did manage to remember and locate had now become items on her itinerary during her visit.

Thankfully work obligations had kept you busy through half of it and she was mostly content with dragging her English friend around with her, but you knew you weren’t going to be able to avoid it forever. And despite the chaos that usually followed her around like a shadow, you did want to see her before she left again.

So now you’re sitting across from Seulgi and Yerim in some sports bar in Itaewon that you barely remember the name of having been unceremoniously thrust upon arrival into the booth next to Yerim’s friend Sam.

He’s tall, lightly moustached, and smells faintly of bargain bin cologne. He greeted you with an appraising nod that made you somehow both appalled and flattered and now he’s talking at a steady monotone into your ear about some observation on the local food or another while you sip on your lukewarm pint of ale. You’re nodding at the appropriate intervals, giving little hums of approval where needed, but your mind is occupied watching the game of darts across the bar and not actually hearing a single coherent word come out of his mouth.

“It’s a rather tepid way to play, I always thought–”

His voice drones on in the background, roughly the same decibel as the ambient noise of the room so it was easy to ignore. You flick your eyes from his face down to the table and back over to the group of men playing darts. You used to be good at darts. You recall the weight of the slim bolt of metal as it would rest in your palm, waiting for your turn while you were already half-cut on happy hour brews and whatever the guy of the moment was buying for you.

“You know, I’ve always admired a woman’s natural ability to–”

One of the darts group strolls over to the bar, trying to catch the bartender’s attention as he leans against the back wall and chats with the sole waitress in the place. She looks young, maybe 21 or 22. She’s probably in college, working to pay her way through school or just for some extra spending money. That ash blonde balayage can’t be cheap to maintain…

“Don’t you think so?”

Isn’t that Wonwoo’s friend? Or boss? Or whatever? That short guy with the black ponytail throwing darts? You vaguely recall him from a work dinner years ago at their company, but according to Wonwoo he was a big homebody so you rarely ever saw him.

“Hello, is anyone alive in there?” Seulgi’s voice cuts through your mental fog and you snap back to attention, blinking the focus back into your eyes as you notice everyone at the table staring at you.

“What? Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew, what were we talking about?”

“Who?” Yerim asks, craning her neck to try and spot a familiar face. None appear in her immediate line of sight and the disappointment is evident on her expression as soon as she turns back around. You’re not sure what her intention was in dragging everyone back here but you wouldn’t put it out of the realm of possibilities that she had brewed up some fantasy of running into a washed up ex-boyfriend and getting the chance to flaunt how successful and worldly she has become over the years. Not that you could blame her for the fantasy, you would probably be doing the same in her position.

She excuses herself to the bathroom and you watch as she slips out of her seat and saunters across the room, head bobbing side to side to make sure that there was no one there that she knew before disappearing around the corner.

“You’re so distracted tonight,” Seulgi states, pulling your attention back to her. She’s eyeing you with suspicion, one eyebrow slightly raised, as she sets her empty pint glass down onto the table.

“It’s just been a long time since I’ve been back here, it’s kind of weird.” You shrug off her suspicion, pointedly ignoring her amused scoff. Someone clears his throat beside you and you’re forced to remember Yerim’s gangly British friend.

When you first met up for dinner earlier, Yerim had pulled you aside while he and Seulgi were discussing the cost of beef in Korea vs the UK to gauge your interest in him and through a series of frantic hand signals you were sure you had successfully communicated that you had absolutely zero interest in this cardigan-wearing man even if he was mostly polite and non-threatening. Yerim pouted for a minute, as she was wont to do, before shrugging and reaching for another slice of pork belly and dropping the matter.

Afterwards, it felt like someone had let the steam vent off on a pressure cooker. You were able to relax and Yerim mostly stopped trying to force conversation between yourself and Sam.

Without Yerim around now, though, you realise how out of his element he must feel. A twinge of guilt for how quickly you had written him off started to creep up inside you. Maybe you didn’t want anything romantic with him but did that mean you couldn’t get to know him a bit? Maybe he wasn’t all that boring. Maybe you could get lost in a nice, simple conversation with someone who didn’t have the full documented history of you or your many neuroses.

“So, did you grow up in London?” you ask and he startles, taken off guard by the sudden attention.

“No, uhh–” he stammers and you watch a slight layer of breath fog up his glasses as he snorts a small laugh, “it’s a funny story actually, I–”

“Oh my god!” Yerim’s voice breaks through his sentence as she rushes back towards the table–cutting him off before you have the time to decide whether it actually is a funny story or not.

“Guys, red alert,” she stage-whispers, crashing back into her seat. She’s panting, eyes wide as saucers–for a split second you wonder if she had done a lap outside in the cold. “I just went to the bathroom and you’re never going to guess who–”

Her voice fades into the background as your vision narrows to a point. Wonwoo’s eyes catch yours from the hallway Yeri had just run back from and you feel your heart plummet to its assured death in the pit of your stomach.

When had he gotten here? He’s half a foot taller than most of the people in here, how had you not noticed him earlier? Were you that painfully oblivious or had he crawled in under your nose?

You sit transfixed–frozen solid at the sight of him–and judging by the expression on his face he’s just as shocked to find you here. You’re sure he hadn’t anticipated running into the girl who broke his heart in a random sports bar in Itaewon.

Everything slows to a stop, like one of those scenes in a rom com where the main characters see each other across the room and everything else goes blurry. It’s just them, their feelings, and whatever indie love song was chosen for the soundtrack. You wonder if the actors in those scenes feel it as strongly as you do now. It would be hard to act when you feel like your stomach is going to fall directly out of your ass.

In the span of a breath, as abruptly as it had begun, the spell is over. The director calls cut, the background actors return to normal, the sounds and sights of the bar rush back into your periphery and you’re stuck frozen in your seat, staring at Wonwoo with your jaw slightly unhinged while your friends exchange knowing glances.

“What’s happening?” Sam asks, his voice pinging off the side of your attention like an errant tennis ball.

“I swear I had no clue he was going to be here,” Yerim starts, an edge of panic coating her words as they spill out of her mouth. You barely hear her. You’re too busy watching in horror as Wonwoo seems to also snap back to reality. You see his eyes flit from you to Sam and back again–he seems to be hovering on the precipice of a decision, wheels turning in his mind as he considers all exit strategies. Or at least, that’s what you would be doing in his shoes.

The horror rises higher and higher in your throat as he starts to grow bigger in your vision. A trick of the mind. The object of so many of your thoughts and anxieties exploding into IMAX sized pixels right in front of your naked eyes, expanding over the whole screen of your view until he seems to loom over you like an omnipresent being. It isn’t until he’s about a foot away from you that you realise this is just because he was walking in your direction.

“Hey,” he greets, caution clear in his voice.

You gape at him, open mouthed and floundering, and Seulgi (blessedly) takes over the interaction in your stead before it gets too awkward and everyone explodes in the wake of your embarrassment. “Hello,” she supplies, “did you just get here? I’m surprised we didn’t see you earlier.”

“Yeah,” he nods, a slight awkward laugh cushioning the word as he speaks. “I’m here with some colleagues from work, one of them is a huge Arsenal fan so he wanted to catch the game down here.”

“That’s cool,” she nods and you feel her nudge your shin with the toe of her boot under the table, forcing you out of your slack-jacked state. You snap your mouth shut and take a sip of your drink, averting your eyes from Wonwoo as you feel heat creep up your neck.

Seulgi, uncharacteristically polite, continues, “do you remember Yerim?” the woman in question smiles at him as her name is said and he nods his acknowledgement, “she’s back in Seoul with her friend here. We’re just catching up. How have you been?”

“Good, good,” he starts and then, thinking better of it, clears his throat to retry, “well, not bad. Work and…everything, you know? How are you?”

“Oh, I’m just great,” Seulgi smiles and boots you again. You take the hint and finally lift your gaze, catching Wonwoo’s eyes as they flicker over your face.

“How are you?” he asks again, voice softer. The question is directed at you and you feel the weight of it sink in as you try and sort through your scrambled thoughts for any semblance of a coherent response.

“Fine uh, yeah,” you nod, head bobbing on your neck like a loose spring. “Good. Long time no–umm…Jihoon, is that? How’s every–? You’re? He’s–work good?”

Wonwoo is silent for a second, processing the tangle of words that had just spilled free from your mouth, before you see him connect the dots. “Yeah, he’s doing well. Work is…well the same as always, really. Not much changes there.”

“Right, yeah,” you nod, a pained half smile stretching over your face. You’re sure you look horrific–terrified or terrifying. The heat continues to rise up your neck and into your head, further suppressing any hope for conscious, articulate thought as you buckle under the weight of Wonwoo’s gaze. Seulgi kicks you under the table a third time and you think you might scream.

“I was uh,” he pauses, chuckling lightly. You can see his fingers clutching at the edges of his sleeves, worrying a loose thread as he collects himself. You watch as he wraps and unwraps the thread around his index finger, twisting the rest of the fabric up in his fist. He’s anxious.

You remember making fun of him once–early in your relationship–for this habit. He was even more shy and reserved back then, unable or unwilling to tell you what he was thinking half the time, and unsure the other half. But you could always tell, once he started tugging his sleeves further and further down his arms–hiding his wrists, then hands–that he had something he needed to say. Something he had been worrying about for a while. Truthfully you found it cute, a grown man with sweater paws like a child in his dad’s clothing, but you couldn’t help but tease him anyway. He looked so sweet when he blushed about it, continuing to tug at the ends of his sleeves. And you just wanted him to tell you. You wanted to know, whatever it was on his mind, fraying the ends of his sleeves.

Wonwoo clears his throat and you refocus your gaze on him, heat slowly draining back down through your neck as you do. The feeling of being hunted for sport subsides as you come to your senses finally. “I was actually going to text you, but I just…” he trails off and you nod, encouraging him to continue. You’re sure the three extra sets of eyes boring holes into him with the laser beams of their curiosity is not helping his anxiety. Your own dangerous cocktail of anxious curiosity was a second away from implosion itself.

“There’s some stuff…at the apartment. Mail and…a few things you left behind. I thought you might want to come and pick them up, but I wasn’t sure if…” he gestures vaguely and you nod again. A strange swell of disappointment starts to creep in. That’s it?

“Oh yeah, of course,” you say, swallowing the disappointment down as quickly as it comes. What else could you have been expecting? “I’ll come and take those off your hands. Just um…text me when you’re free?”

He nods and, after a quick wave goodbye, heads back towards the small group of men that had been watching from across the bar. Your eyes follow his retreating back, watching his hands clasp and unclasp the fabric of his sweater as he does, before turning your attention back to your own group.

“Oh my god,” Yerim exclaims in a stage whisper, eyes saucer wide with glee. “He wants you to come over!”

You frown, the intrusive feeling of disappointment returning, “just to pick up some stuff, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Oh who cares about a bit of old mail, I would have just thrown it out if I were him,” she huffs, blowing a strand of hair out of her line of sight.

“Isn’t that a crime?” Sam asks but the question falls on deaf ears against the wall of possibilities that Yerim is now crafting in her labyrinthine mind of reality tv plots.

“Listen,” she starts, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction and you wonder why you’re being lectured to all of a sudden. You haven’t even fully processed running into Wonwoo in the first place. You aren’t even sure you’re inhabiting a corporeal form right now. “Clearly he’s still in love with you.”

“Oh please,” you start but she shakes her head, resolute.

“Don’t fool yourself, what scorned ex-boyfriend goes out of his way to run into the love of his life in a sports bar accidentally.” She throws heavy air quotes around the word ‘accidentally’ and you just roll your eyes.

“I’m pretty sure it was just accidental,” Seulgi chimes in, the voice of reason.

“Yes, thank you, Seulgi. This is just a weird coincidence,” you sigh, spinning your glass around on its coaster.

“Or fate,” she beams and you want to laugh but the feeling dies before the sound can materialize. It feels too pathetic.

“Strange thing for fate to do, months after I’ve already broken up with him.”

“Wait, you broke up with him?” Sam asks, now invested in the drama despite all lack of knowledge surrounding the people and situations involved. You envy his ignorance.

You sigh and nod, “yes. I broke his heart and then left some reminders of it around the apartment we used to share so he’s asking me to come and take them so he doesn’t have to deal with it anymore.” Yerim opens her mouth to speak but you stop her with a glare, “it is not his way of somehow getting me back into his life, he’s just too nice to throw my stuff out without warning.”

“But what if–”

“No, there is no ‘if’. This is it. I’m going to go there, pick up my mail, say goodbye and that will be it. We’ll never have any reason to see each other again and he can move on and date someone else and I–”

I can too, you think–swallowing the words.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” Sam says, breaking the spell of silence that had descended on the table. “You broke up with him but…you want him back? Or he wants you back? How long have you guys been broken up?”

“I’ll explain later,” Yerim whispers.

“No, no you won’t, because I don’t think you know completely either,” you sigh, angling to face Sam but aiming the bulk of the speech right towards Yerim herself. You glance across the room briefly–a cautionary look to make sure Wonwoo isn’t in earshot.

He’s leaning up against the far wall, pool cue in hand, watching as Jihoon leans over the table to line up a shot. The old Wonwoo would have left the second he saw you here, but there he is. Standing within 15 feet of you without breaking out into a cold sweat (as far as you can tell).

Maybe he has changed, you think. He must have felt you watching him because his eyes meet yours for a split second before you tear your gaze away from him–stare burning a hole into the table next to your hands.

You sigh again, feeling like you’ve aged 10 years in the past hour. “I broke up with him because I didn’t think either of us could give the other person what they needed. It was hard, and I still,” you blink back the threat of tears as they start to form in your eyes. Whether tears of frustration or otherwise you didn’t exactly feel like crying in a bar in front of your ex-boyfriend and some random British dude. “I still love him but I’m not in love with him. I’m moving on and…so is he.” You conclude, remembering the last time you ran into him. The girl he was with. The cold shock of ice water in your veins.

“I still don’t–” Sam starts but Seulgi cuts him off, her radar detecting the potential torrential downpour of anxiety and stress that is clouding your current emotional landscape.

“It doesn’t matter,” she waves the topic away with a swing of her hand, dismissing all further comments on the matter and releasing you of the risk of overexplaining yourself once again. “What’s done is done and whatever will happen will happen and it’s not up to us to decide what the best decision is when we’re not actually involved. So, are we getting another round or should I call a taxi?”

“Ooh, I was hoping we could go get some food now actually, there’s this super cute toast place a few blocks from here that I’ve been following on Insta and I need to get a pic with their neon displays.” Yerim, whether consciously or not, pivots immediately into a spiel about the rest of her plans for her vacation. You exhale slowly, relief sinking into your bones, and mouth a ‘thank you’ to Seulgi before she gets up to pay.

You sit silent, alone with your thoughts for a moment, and trace idle patterns over the wood grain of the table; listening to Yerim ramble as she takes Sam on an Instagram-based tour of all the places she intends on dragging him to for the next few days. Seulgi returns after closing out the tab and everyone starts gathering their things to leave, Yerim excitedly narrating the toast menu as you do.

Before you step out onto the night, you chance a final look across the bar towards Wonwoo to find him in the same position he was when you last dared to look at him. His eyes, slightly obscured by his glasses, were still fixed on you and you wonder if he had looked away at all over the past few minutes. He nods once, a minute tilt of the head, barely registerable unless you were paying as close of attention as you were, and you return it in kind before falling in line behind Seulgi and turning away from him.

It’s not until the cold air hits you that you start to feel the heat of his eyes dissipate into the night.

Minghao sits across from you, glasses perched delicately at the tip of his nose. His brown eyes evaluate you in silence as you adjust your posture in the brown leather wingback chair in his office–simultaneously too aware of your body and not aware enough to find a comfortable position. You finally give up fidgeting and decide to just tuck your wayward hands under your thighs to trap them there, offering him a small apologetic smile which he does not return, but he does nod and that is something isn’t it?

It’s been years since you saw a therapist. The last one was at university, just before the start of the second term in your second year. Right at the cusp of a break up and a full blown anxiety induced existential crisis. The persistent thoughts of ‘oh god I’m ruining my life I need to drop out or change majors or move to Australia and work with the Wildlife Warriors Foundation’ had devoured every sane idea you had until you found yourself in shambles in the Students’ Union all but begging for help.

The counsellor you had seen then had listened to you ramble in near silence before printing out some worksheets on deep belly breathing and anxiety management and sent you on your merry way to figure it out for yourself. So you did, eventually (though your GPA took a bit of a hit that semester), with some help from Seulgi and a TA that had taken pity on you and two years later you were graduating with a Bachelor of Design with a Minor in Print Media and those worksheets were buried somewhere deep in the recesses of your room, unread save a cursory glance.

This time felt different.

Instead of the wildfire of desperation and despair that had propelled you into the office in University all those years ago, you had (of mostly sound mind) reached out to Minghao with a formal request for an appointment and scheduled a time to sit down. For a few days leading up to the appointment you tried to collect your thoughts, formulate a plan for what you wanted to get out of these sessions, and corral your myriad of feelings into a neat script to recite to him—carefully crafted to best convey your current dilemma and also avoid a lot of those little things you did not feel quite ready to face yet.

“So,” he starts, offering you a small smile to ease the tension that always fills the office during first appointments, “let’s start with what you’re hoping to achieve from this session, and any going forward. What are your goals?”

Despite all your careful preparation, your mind goes as white as a sheet of paper. Goals? You ponder the word. Unsure now if you’ve ever had any goals at all or if you’d just been floating along aimlessly this whole time, somehow still alive through mere circumstance.

To be less of an anxious wreck? Sure, maybe that was one. But was it a goal or just a product of your neuroses? Were you even really that anxious or did you just overthink everything too much? Is that the same thing? Did you want to tell him that?

You chastise yourself silently, steering your errant thoughts away from the cliff they always careened off of and trying to remember the lists you had scribbled down prior to this appointment.

“I think,” you start, wincing at the weakness of the verb. How unsure you must appear to him. You glance at his face briefly. It’s carefully composed–no hint of the impatience you’re sure he must be feeling. “I mean, I was hoping we would be able to work on my trust issues and um…anxieties in relationships, find out the roots of those,” you start again, following the script you had mentally prepared, “and maybe come up with some strategies to heal from past relationships and maybe make future ones…easier?”

Good, good, you breathe a sigh of relief. These were not insane things to say. You are a normal person and these are normal goals.

“Okay,” he says, “that’s a good place to start as far as an end goal.” You smile, being careful not to let it grow too big to appear too pleased at the validation. Minghao continues, “when you say ‘relationships’, I’m assuming you are meaning mostly romantic relationships, correct?”

You fool, how could you forget to clarify that!

You feel a rush of mild panic swell up in your esophagus but you stave it off. You nod, clearing your throat, “yes, romantic relationships, exactly.”

“They all tend to overlap in a lot of ways but I just want to make sure we’re on the same page,” he smiles again, that same soft smile, and you worry he noticed you were starting to panic. “Why don’t you tell me about your last relationship?”

An open-ended question, okay okay. We were prepared for this, you coach yourself in silence, flipping through the mental pages of notes. Thankfully this one was easy. You had turned the problem of ‘me and Wonwoo’ in your mind over and over like a rotisserie chicken. You knew it inside and out. Every juicy morsel, every dry bone.

“We were together for three, almost four, years before we broke up, lived together for two. We met through mutual friends at a party and just…it was just us from there. Me and Wonwoo, Wonwoo and I, always together in the same sentence and the same places. It was a good relationship, but I just…I don’t know if we were compatible, really.”

“Well, you were together for 3 years, it’s hard to spend that much time with someone you’re entirely incompatible with,” Minghao interjects and you grimace in spite of yourself. “Is there anything specific that makes you feel like that was the case?”

“Specific…” you hum the word out loud. Despite all of the sleepless nights spent wondering this exact same thing alone, you were having a hard time summoning up any examples. “No, nothing…I don’t know,” you feel your house of cards start to lose its balance, the cracks begin to show.

“Let’s reframe, then,” Minghao suggests, noting the distress beginning to creep into your voice. “What attracted you to him in the first place? What made you think ‘yeah, I do want to date this guy’?”

“He was hot,” you shrug then when Minghao doesn’t laugh at the flippant comment, you backpedal. Embarrassment creeping in at the edges. Clearly your tactic of deflecting with humour had no power here. “I mean, obviously I was physically attracted to him, and since we met at a party that was sort of initially the only thing I cared about. But as I got to know him I think he was just…different.”

“Different in what way? From your usual type?”

“Yeah,” you nod, extending the hands of your memory into the past. Trying to grasp at the Wonwoo you fell in love with in the first place. “He was quiet, and he listened–listens really well. He’s smart, too. Could have been a doctor or professor but he said the amount of school needed for that wasn’t worth it. Which I guess I sort of agree with, it was just a shame.”

You glance at Minghao, who is still watching you from under the rim of his wire-frame glasses. You wonder briefly how he and Mingyu met. Whether or not it had been a good idea to book in with a therapist that was a good friend of your roommate/budding romantic interest. He wouldn’t tell him any of this…would he?

Minghao’s expression betrays no answer to these questions, just a silent cue for you to continue.

You sigh, releasing the thoughts, and do so, “before him, I had always dated really active guys. Guys that liked to be the life of the party, that always had something to say and never second guessed themselves. I was attracted to that confidence. I thought it was nice to be with someone brash and loud. It made me feel less alone in my own loudness and chaos. They never lasted, but they were always fun. Everything was so exciting and I was never bored. Even when it was bad it felt…dramatic. Like a movie. And it was college so I didn’t really ever feel like I had to sit down and ponder why the relationships didn’t last, only that they didn’t. We fought too much, partied too often, the whole relationship was just some drunk fling, whatever. It didn’t matter.”

“But Wonwoo was so…not any of that. He would come out to parties if I asked him to, but he usually spent them in the corner talking about books or petting a cat or following me around. He always wanted to leave early. He was always so eager to be at home.”

“And you weren’t?” Minghao asks and you barely register the question before you’re hurrying along to answer it.

“No, yes. I don’t know. At first I found it quite sweet–like he just wanted to spend a lot of alone time with me. And it was so novel and different that I never stopped to think it might be something I didn’t like.”

“At first?” Minghao clarifies and you nod.

“After a little while, I started to feel like I was forcing him to go out when he didn’t want to. I was being the overbearing, annoying girlfriend dragging him to these parties against his will. So I stopped going to a lot of them, and the ones that I did go to I said I could just go alone.”

“Did you ever ask him whether he felt the same way?” The question brings your thought train to a dead stop. Minghao can see the confusion twisting your brows so he continues, “you stopped going to parties because you thought you were being annoying by dragging him along but did you ever ask if he felt like he was being burdened by these outings?”

“No, I just…he never…he didn’t look like he was having a good time,” you flounder for an explanation, trying to remember what it was that had brought you to this conclusion in the first place. Had you ever talked to him about it? Were you just making all of this up?

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, maybe he really didn’t enjoy them. From what you’re telling me, he definitely does seem like more of a homebody,” he says, but you take little comfort in the words. “I am wondering, though, what brought you to this assumption without him mentioning anything about it. Did he ever say that he didn’t want to go? Or that he wished you wouldn’t?”

“I don’t…I can’t remember…” you say slowly, mind fogging up. A cloud of confusion overcrowding your thoughts.

“That’s okay,” he says but you do not feel like it is okay, actually. Had you ruined everything years ago without even realising? Was scheduling this appointment a mistake? “I don’t want you to overanalyze the specifics, those are often the least important part especially when something is in the past. We can’t change those things, only learn from them. It’s just helpful to know whether or not these trust issues have manifested more internally or because of external situations. To find out where they tend to stem from.”

You nod, the clock on the wall ticks as your thoughts wind through time. You want, so desperately, for there to be some solid memory to tie this all back to. Something from your past or your childhood to point to and say ‘look, there it is!’ A magical moment to blame all your issues on so that you can be born from this session a new person. But sadly nothing was ever that simple, and you couldn’t ever remember not being this way. Were you just…like this? Some untenable part of you broken at birth, barring you from ever developing a healthy, functioning relationship without feeling like you’re sacrificing some integral part of yourself while you do so? Or without feeling like it was all some illusion bound to disperse into smoke and mirrors with the snap of someone’s fingers?

“What are you thinking?” Minghao asks, clearly taking note of the darkening of your expression. The tension creeping into your brow. You don’t want to tell him. Don’t want the confirmation of being beyond help.

Or maybe that’s not it. Maybe it’s the opposite that you’re afraid of. That this image of self as someone floundering through life with all these worries and struggles, someone broken beyond measure, has just been that–an image. Something you made up to keep yourself safe somewhere along the way and really you could just change it all if you felt like that. If you threw off your cape of comfort and accepted the help you’ve so long denied.

“I just,” you start, rubbing at a sore spot developing on your temple. You try to push through the sudden urge to bolt out of his office right now and not look back. “I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid but I feel like I fucked everythig up. Like it’s my fault, and maybe if I could have just talked to him or trusted that he lo–loved me despite our differences…maybe everything would have been okay.” The distinct prickling of tears starts to burn behind your eyes but you blink them away, not willing to give into them so easily.

“Maybe,” he starts and you feel a pang of icy shock at the acceptance of this self-blame. You had expected the same pity and denial you get from Seulgi. You keep your gaze fixed on a small scuff on the top of his nice brown leather shoe, unable to meet his eyes as he continues. “Maybe if you had been able to accept that you are worthy of love from someone, regardless of your perceived flaws, or if you had been able to communicate more openly to be able to meet both of your needs within the relationship, maybe things would have been different.”

He pauses, whether for dramatic effect or to let you process what he’s saying, you’re not sure. You suspect the latter, but considering he’s a friend of Mingyu’s you can’t be completely certain.

“Maybe, or maybe not. Maybe even if you had done everything perfectly and nothing had ever gone wrong you still would have broken up. A break up is not a failure–not of the relationship and not of the individuals within it. There is always the chance that you had just outgrown each other without either of you fully realising it, and that’s okay. We don’t examine our past to further deepen self-blame and pity, we do it so we can learn what we need from them and accept these lessons so we can carry them forward into our future. And that doesn’t mean that we won’t have more break ups or more perceived failures, it just hopefully means we will be able to accept them as part of the process instead of a barrier to it.”

The speech slots itself into your brain, wiggling between long believed ideas and perspectives that had lived in there for years. Forcing its way in between them all. You feel it nestle in, planting its seeds until you can fully appreciate the thoughts he’s offering you. For now, you try to just fend off the part of you that resists everything he’s saying and listen to the (slightly quieter) part that knows you need to hear it.

“Do you–” you start, pausing to clear your throat of the lump that had built up while he spoke. “Do you think I will be able to get to…to that point?”

“Yes,” he nods, decisive. “How long it takes, though, will depend entirely on how willing you are to change. The fact that you’re here meeting with me shows you are at least ready, in part, to begin the process of releasing these old thought patterns. But there is no magic pill, and it takes time and effort. I am here to help, but ultimately it’s only you that can make this change.”

“And if I can’t change?”

“You can,” he says, shutting down the doubt immediately, “if you choose to.” Sensing your next question he continues, “and if you don’t then you continue life as you are and it changes you. The self is an adaptive state–always transforming. With or without my help or your conscious effort, change will happen. It’s just smoother a lot of the time if you can work with it instead of waiting for it to happen to you.”

“This is really too much, Mingyu.”

A plume of steam bursts out of the pot on the stovetop as Mingyu lifts the lid off to taste the sauce. He rears his head back to avoid the heat but still plunges his spoon-wielding hand into the steamy abyss to stir at the bottom of the liquid.

You watch, leaning against the counter behind him, in a state of concerned bemusement as he takes a few minutes to adjust the heat on his various pots and pans.

“What do you mean?” he asks, turning around and mopping the sweat off his brow with the dish towel he had draped over his shoulder. A few stray rivulets of steam trace their way down his neck and disappear into the collar of shirt. You try (unsuccessfully) to avoid thinking about the sheen on his skin as it glints in the light of the kitchen.

“All this,” you gesture vaguely to the arranged on the table, the splatters of food on his well-worn “Kiss The Cook” apron (a gag gift from Jeonghan, apparently). ”I figured we would just…I don’t know, order some fried chicken or something,” you explain but his expression remains puzzled. “You know, just casual. It’s just Seulgi.”

“Does she not like Italian?” he asks, a look of mild panic starting to etch into the corners of his eyes. “I knew I should have asked but I thought Italian would be the safest, most people like pasta but if she doesn’t–”

“No, no,” you cut him off before he can spiral further, “she likes Italian food, I’m pretty sure it’s one of her favourites actually, but I mean like…it’s just Seulgi.”

“But she’s your friend,” he states the fact like it should explain the fresh baked focaccia cooling on the counter behind him or the ludacris wine bill you got a look at earlier in the day. “Do you not like Italian food? If you really want fried chicken we can order some.”

One of the pot lids sputters with the force of steam it’s holding back and you choke back a laugh as Mingyu whips around to stir it back into submission.

“No, no, I love pasta I–” you pause, words dangling on the precipice of your lips, ready to say more, but you think better of it, remembering what Minghao had said at the end of your session about controlling outcomes. “Thank you for doing all this, I’m sure she’ll love it.”

He grins wide, relieved, and you pack away your lingering worries before leaving him to battle the remains of dinner alone.

The living room has transformed over the space of a few hours–soft lighting and soft blankets adorn the area and you’re greeted by the faint scent of grapefruit as Vernon moves around the room lighting a series of candles.

“Are we proposing to her?” you ask, taken aback by the effort put forth by all of your roommates.

“Do you think she’d say yes?” Vernon quips, turning around with a half-smile, and you roll your eyes.

When you had told them you were thinking of inviting Seulgi over for dinner (ostensibly to meet everyone, but more so to have a night with her where you didn’t have to bother leaving the comfort of your own home) they had reacted…minimally. Mingyu seemed excited at the prospect of hosting a dinner party and apparently had run wild with the power of doing so, but you didn’t think the other three had much cared beyond a vague curiosity about your friend. But even Jeonghan, who already knew Seulgi well, had gone to the trouble of purchasing flowers to liven up the living space.

“I just don’t know why everyone is treating this like we’re having an idol over or something,” you shake your head, flopping down on the couch and letting your head fall back against the cushion.

“Well,” Vernon says, taking a seat next to you, “to be honest, it’s mostly Mingyu that insisted on all of it.”

“Why?” Curiosity bubbles up and you take a cursory glance back towards the kitchen where Mingyu is still standing, glistening over the stove top as he maneuvers various dishes and pots around. You knew he was prone to overdoing things like this if your first big meal with the household was anything to judge from, but why would he bother to go to such lengths just to impress your friend that honestly would have been more than happy with a plate of fried chicken and a cold beer.

Vernon just shrugs before pushing himself off the couch into a full body stretch. “Well,” he says, “you know Mingyu.”

I guess I do, you think, curiosity unsatisfied by the lack of answers. You know Jeonghan might give you more insight but whether it was truthful or if you wanted to bear the brunt of his scrutiny for even asking was another question. Instead, you try to just let it go and text Seulgi an inquiry into her ETA while you listen to the clamour of dishes in the kitchen as Mingyu finishes assembling his feast.

Fifteen minutes and three introductions later, you’re all seated around the candlelit table passing around a dish of tajarin al tartufo.

“Where did you even get white truffles at this time of year?” Seulgi asks, sipping gingerly from her glass of Chardonnay (specially chosen for the occasion).

“I know some people in the industry,” Mingyu replies, tone casual–you can still see the glimmer of pride shimmering his eyes in the dim lighting however.

“Oh, do you work in the culinary sector?”

“No, not at all,” he shakes his head, “but I did a bit during school so I kept in touch with some people that way. Plus some of the people I graduated with ended up in the acquisitions side of the restaurant business.”

“Well,” she nods, setting down her glass, “I’m surprised honestly, this is like restaurant quality food. I wouldn’t have been shocked if you told me you were a chef.”

Mingyu brushes off the compliment with another laugh, but his smile again betrays how pleased he is by the validation. “It’s just a hobby, really. I like cooking for people.”

“And we’re happy to benefit from it,” Jeonghan chimes in, “we’d surely be starving if it wasn’t for our private cook.”

“Hey, I can cook,” Seungcheol grumbles, reaching for another slice of focaccia.

Jeonghan pats his arm with a solemn nod, acknowledging his skillset. “You’d get by fine, but these other two?” he gestures vaguely in yours and Vernon’s directions with a shake of his head, “hopeless.”

“Who needs to cook in this golden age of delivery?” Vernon asks, and you nod your agreement.

“Someone on a broke actor’s wage, maybe.”

“Touché,” Vernon shrugs, uninterested in defending himself further. “Won’t be broke much longer though, I booked a gig for next week so get ready for riches beyond our wildest imaginations.”

“Oh congratulations, what’s this one? Another commercial for a dog grooming spa?”

“Nope,” Vernon says, brushing off the light dig at his resume, “a bit part in a drama on KBS. I’ve got a name and a line and everything.”

“Riches beyond our wildest imaginations, hey?” Mingyu jokes, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what your imagination is like. It does pay though,” he shrugs, content to inhale another forkful of pasta.

“That’s actually great, Vernon,” you say, diverting the round of teasing towards something more supportive. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he replies, casual as always, “it's something at least. Saves me from having to go work retail for a bit anyway.”

“Well, if you do need a job at any point after this my cafe is hiring, I just had to fire my last guy,” Seulgi says, setting her fork down at the side of her plate.

“What happened this time?” you ask. You’ve been out of the loop of cafe drama for far too long. You were having trouble remembering if this was the same guy as the one that kept mixing up decaf and blonde roast.

“He got in a fist fight with a customer.”

“What? Like…at work?”

“Yeah,” she replies, dabbing at her mouth with the edge of a napkin. “To be fair the customer he beat up was sleeping with his girlfriend and he hadn’t exactly expected to see him there after finding out but still…it looks bad on me if I let it slide.”

“Still working at the cafe?” Jeonghan asks, “what happened to the start up?”

Seulgi grimaces and you can feel the annoyance seeping through her pores at the mention of her old job, the bitterness from the whole fiasco still running deep in her veins. “It went tits up, and turns out the CEO was embezzling money from the company so there weren’t even any severance packages. Haven’t been able to find anything since then, it’s a nightmare.”

“You work in tech?” Mingyu asks, leaning over to refill Seulgi and your wine glasses, finishing off the last of the bottle.

“Software development,” she replies with a nod of thanks for the wine.

“I might know someone hiring for Samsung, I could ask around for you if you want?” he offers, sitting back down in his chair across from you.

“You know someone that works at Samsung?” she balks and you watch her expression shift to open excitement at the possibility.

“I do,” he nods, “he was a nepotism hire, honestly, his dad is head of logistics but he owes me a huge favour so I could ask.”

“Mingyu,” she says, eyes narrowed to fine points as she stares at him from across the table, “I will give you my first born child in payment.”

“Oh, uh–” he laughs, a tinge of colour reddening the tips of his ears. “It’s no big deal, really. Just happy to help a friend.”

His eyes flicker towards yours in the candlelight and you offer him a soft smile of approval. The look does not go unnoticed by Jeonghan, a slow, sly grin spreading over his features as he drains the last of his wine. Conversation drifts, continuing to flow throughout the hour, as time melts away with the candle wax dripping onto the table cloth.

Once the food is polished off the group moves into the living room to play some games and to no one’s surprise, Seungcheol ends up winning most of the rounds of Jenga through sheer intimidation alone. Seulgi, however, does manage to best him at Uno which immediately results in a half-pouted plea for a one-on-one rematch. Vernon excuses himself to head to bed early for an audition in the morning and Jeonghan lingers behind to watch the match, betting on Seunghceol’s downfall much to the man’s chagrin.

You stay for a minute, watching the cards fly across the table with a vengeance, before your attention shifts to the sounds of running water and clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen. Mingyu took the revenge match as an opportunity to clean up from dinner and a pang of guilt bounds through you at the thought of him doing both the cooking and cleaning for the night entirely alone.

“Do you want a hand?” He’s hunched over the sink as you enter the kitchen and walk towards him–tall frame bending to accommodate the height of the counter, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on a pot.

“You don’t have to,” he replies, glancing over his shoulder, “I can handle it.”

“Mingyu, you already cooked for everyone, the least you can do is let me dry them or something.”

He evaluates you for a moment, confirming that your offer isn’t born purely from pity, before nodding, “alright, these pots are clean already if you want to start there.”

You nod and grab a clean tea towel from the drawer next to the stove, moving to stand hip to hip with him at the sink. You work in companionable silence, nothing but the squeak of soap on porcelain and the distant complaints of Seungcheol as Seulgi hits him with another pick up 4 card.

You had never hosted any gatherings at your apartment with Wonwoo. Not that it was ever something he said he didn’t want, it just never came up. He tended to use his home as a retreat from the world and while you loved a good get together, you weren’t much of a host yourself, preferring instead to just join in when invited. Tonight was your first real, adult dinner party and while you hadn’t actually been much of an active participant in the planning of said party, it still felt like you had some ownership over it.

Now, standing here in tandem with Mingyu, cleaning up while your guest and other roommates were occupied with each other, you had to admit that there was something so comfortably domestic about the whole thing. You were surprised at how natural it felt, and you knew that if you let your mind amble down the path of no return, you would find yourself in this same position over and over again in your imagination. Scrubbing pots next to the man that had just fed you and your friends pasta.

“Did you have a good time?” Mingyu asks, sensing your thoughts and cutting them off at the head before they can get the best of you again.

You pick up the last pot in the stack, letting your hands continue working as you nod, a soft smile gracing your lips, “I did, yeah. It was really nice.”

“Good,” he sighs, letting a soft laugh out with his breath, “I’m glad. Wasn’t too much in the end, then?”

“No,” you reply, soothing the hint of insecurity in his question. “It was perfect. Sounds like Seulgi had a good time as well.”

“That’s a relief,” he says, dipping his hands back into the sink to finish wiping off the last few plates.

“Were you worried she wouldn’t?” you laugh, slightly incredulous at the lack of confidence coming from a man who just cooked you a Michelin star worthy dinner.

“No, I just,” he laughs again, hesitation creeping back into his voice. “I wanted to make a good impression.”

“I don’t think you could have made a bad one,” you mumble, wiping your hands off on the tea towel before hanging it on the cupboard hook to dry out.

“Well, that’s good,” Mingyu says, angling his body towards yours after pulling the plug in the sink drain, “because I…” he pauses, hesitant. You turn to face him, watching as he tugs the hot pink kitchen gloves off his hands and sets them down at the side of the sink. A faint blush is spreading out over his cheeks and for a second you wonder if he might not be feeling well.

“Mingyu–” you start–unsure whether to inquire about his well being or just to prompt him to continue. He raises his gaze to meet yours and you get the distinct feeling that he just made some sort of decision, come to some resolution within himself.

“Listen, I…” he starts and you maintain his gaze, heart picking up pace in your chest as your thoughts fly at a mile a minute trying to guess what he’s about to say. “I’m sorry if this is too forward or something, but the whole reason I went to all of this trouble tonight was for you.”

“Me?”

“I like you,” he blurts the words out without ceremony, stumbling over them as they tumble from his mouth. You stand still, a few feet away from him, in shock as the laughter from the living room fades to a distant murmur. “I think you’re beautiful, and funny, and smart and I would like to get to know you more and I know you’re still getting over a break up so I’m not trying to…pressure you or anything. And I know that maybe this is super awkward given that we live together and everything, but I just needed to tell you before I start to feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Oh.” It’s the only word you can manage. You feel like your brain is stuck on a loading screen as your mouth frantically tries to hit refresh. Nothing happens. You’ve lost connection.

“And if you don’t feel the same now, or ever, that’s okay. But I just needed to tell you that,” he sighs, “that I like you. And I’m very interested in you, and I get the feeling that you are also interested in me but if I’m wrong or it’s too soon then that’s okay. I can wait. Or not. Up to you. But…I like you.”

“I, umm…” You try. Try to form a coherent thought or sentence but nothing comes to you. Internally, you’re screaming at yourself. Isn’t this what you wanted? Haven’t you been pining after this man since you moved in here? What’s the hold up now?

All these questions, self chastisements, and more come spilling forward in your brain. A flood of confusion clouding all your judgement as you stand frozen in the middle of the kitchen in front of a man that is still waiting for you to reply to him. A man that has just laid all his cards out on the table for you to see. No tricks, no reversals, just ‘I like you’ in plain language. No guesswork. And still, all of your fears and worries and anxieties overwhelm you anyway.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” he says, finally, giving up on waiting for your brain to kick in. “But, if you do…feel the same…you know where to find me. And if not then,” he laughs, attempting to clear away some of the awkwardness lingering in the air as a result of your inability to speak, “then I hope we can still be friends and I haven’t…made this too weird or anything.”

A loud uproar booms out from the living room–Jeonghan’s victorious laughter accompanied by Seungcheol’s cries of devastation. Another win for Seulgi. Mingyu glances behind you towards the sound before smiling and brushing past you, leaving you to pick up your jaw from the tile floor.

“I really have to go now,” you hear Seulgi say–closer behind you now as the games draw to a close. You snap to attention, shaking off your temporary paralysis, and turn to rejoin the group feeling like an entirely different person than when you had left them barely 30 minutes ago.

“One more game, all or nothing,” Seungcheol urges, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t think you can afford to lose another one,” she says with a smile, “and I really need to get back home, I’m opening in the morning. Thank you for the dinner, Mingyu, it was great. And I look forward to hearing from you friend.”

“Of course,” he replies, the picture of a good host. He hands her her coat from the hallway closet before wishing her a good night and disappearing towards his bedroom. After some prompting Jeonghan and Seungcheol follow suit.

Seulgi turns to you with a smile, but it falls from her face the second she sees the slightly dumbfounded expression still plastered on your own. “Are you ok?”

“M-me? Yeah, fine, I just…” you pause, wavering on the option of telling her what just happened but the second you get close to the confession you stall. You don’t want to. Not yet. Not until you’ve reckoned with it on your own. “I think I’m just coming down with a cold.”

“You have a terrible immune system,” she says, shaking her head. “Well, good night then. Call me tomorrow, hopefully you feel better after some rest.”

“I will, I will,” you nod, opening the door for her as she slips into her shoes. “Text me when you get home.”

She waves a final goodbye and you watch her walk towards the elevator before closing the door and twisting the lock. With a sigh you lean against the solid wood, grateful for the support as you continue to try to regather your wits. Mingyu’s confession replays, over and over like a highlight reel in your mind.

This is a good thing, isn’t it?

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far !

#caratlibrary #svthub #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt x reader #seventeen scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #chm updates

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iznyangwoni · 2 months

Text

EASY TO LOVE | chapter twelve !

warnings: smut! mdni

After five days of not attending a single class, you finally found the courage to get out of your room. You did indeed fuck things up last friday and that ended up with your phone being smashed on the floor and not being able to leave the house for three days.

If it werent for your mother getting worried about you not replying to her text you would’ve probably stayed there another full week. But now everything was fine, kind of. You were staying at your mom’s house, you had just bought a new phone and Wonyoung and Moka were being sure to stay next to you at all times.

You can feel curious eyes on you as yoh walk in the hallway, and you cant tell if its because you have something on your face or because you’re repeating an outfit.

“Y/n.” You hear Jungwon call you, you turn around. He must’ve just finished practice since he’s still wearing some sweats and his hair and stuck on his forehead.

You dont even have time to say anything as he immediately takes your wrist, taking you with him to the locker room. Thankfully each person of the dance class has a personal locker room, so there’s no fear of anyone getting in. He locks the door and looks at you, you’ve never seen him so mad. “Where have you been?”

“Why do you care?” “Y/n.” You sigh, you’ve thought a lot about what to do with him. You obviously dont feel like playing anymore, so many things ruined this game of yours by now that if Jungwon were someone else you would’ve already let him go. But thats the fact, you cant let Jungwon go. You enjoy his presence and god, the way he kisses you…

“Jungwon i dont owe you any explanation, now can i go to class?” You get closer to the door but Jungwon stops you, his hand going through his hair. “No. Y/n do you understand that i havent heard from you for almost a week? You cant yell at me to not talk to you or touch you and then vanish!”

“You’re getting attached.” You cant even look at him in the eyes, you’re tired of all of this and wish you never spoke to him that day months ago. You need to push him away before this turn out badly. “Dont tell me you arent.” He gets closer to you, his fingers under your chin so you can look at him. “You missed me, didn’t you?” He asks and you chuckle sarcastically at that.

Missed him? You might have missed the way he touches you, but you didn’t miss him as a person. Its not so easy for you to just get attached, especially after what you found out. “You’re only going to bring me even more troubles.” as you say that Jungwon’s hands slowly start to wonder on your body, but you still look at him in the same cold way.

“I thought that was the exciting part.” he gets even closer, his nose brushing with yours before he moves down on your face, giving gentle bites to you. You try not to get distracted, but your heart is already beating so hard its becoming hard to. “You dont know how much i missed your pretty self.” His voice comes out lower than usual, even a bit raspy, it makes your whole body chill.

This is when you realize that he’s not any different from you. You’ve been manipulating and controlling each other this whole time, and now you cant let him go the same way he’s obsessed with you. You close your eyes when he starts biting your neck, his right hand on your thigh.

“Jungwon.. whatever this is… it needs to be over.” But not even you can believe your words, and he’s barely hearing you by the way his hands are slowly going up your thighs. “And what exactly is this, pretty? We’re not dating, we’re barely friends, nor you’ve ever made me touch you properly. We cant stop something that doesn’t exist.”

you feel his lips coming back to your cheek, before he bites your lips. You open your eyes slightly, he’s right after all, theres nothing to stop in the first place. you’re already breathing quite heavily, his hands resting under your skirt. you look at his lips before leaning in, he catches them in a kiss immediately, pushing you back to the door. Your hands on his shoulders meanwhile his grip on your thighs gets stronger. “Good girl. You look so pretty when you listen to me.”

He picks you up, your legs intertwining on his waist, his hands under you ass. He then sits you down on the washer, thank god this school is so rich to afford that. You moan when you feel his teeth sink in your tongue and then bottom lip, one thing about this boy is that he loves to bite. “Tell me if you ever want to stop…” He whispers.

Jungwon slowly goes down, your skirt is short enough that it makes it easier for him to slide his hands under it, his fingers playing with the hem of your underwear. You’re against the idea of doing anything in public, but this is a closed room, with no windows or cameras, you can let yourself relax for now. You feel his bites on your thighs, which makes you giggle a little, he really loves your legs.

Jungwon leaves a couple of marks on the inside of your thighs, your hand on your mouth so that the sounds dont get out too loud. Before you can even register what is really happening, he pulls your panties down and opens your legs completely. Your free hand goes to his hair and he gets up to give you another kiss.

“We dont have time for the full thing..” He says between kisses, his fingers already tracing your opening. Its embarassing how wet you are just from teasing. He then slides his first finger in, making me whine through the kiss, he doesn’t move it immediately, but you can feel his thumb already going to circle your clit. You moan, trying your best to not be too loud, its crazy how he already made you forget what you were talking about.

You bite his shoulder as your head comes to rest on the crook of his neck, he keeps pleasuring you slowly, pumping his finger in and out before sliding in another one. “Fuck.. i can barely fit two in..” You close your eyes, your hands still in his hair meanwhile he kisses your head and cheeks, whispering so much dirty stuff in your ear.

“Jungwon.. am close” He goes faster at your words, wet sounds all over the room, your teeth sinking on his shoulder are most likely going to leave a mark. “Let go pretty, cum on my fingers.” I doesnt take you long before you actually do, his fingers full of your juices. Your legs are still shaking when he puts your panties back on, Jungwon kisses your lips once more before taking a step back.

You take a few seconds to regain your composure, your head still dizzy from what just happened. Jungwon laughs as he sees your red cheeks, finding you very much adorable. “Fucking asshole,” You breathe out, looking at him as he changes his clothes. “I hate how good you are at distracting me.”

He laughs again, shaking his head. You finally find enough balance to get up, Jungwon looks at you, shirt in his hand meanwhile he is wearing none. “Am i distracting you?” “Dickhead.” “You’re gonna run out of insults.” You roll your eyes annoyed, how can he be so damn infuriating and hot at the same time you still dont know.

You wash your face and make yourself presentable again before going towards the door. He looks at you with a smirk on his face, it makes you want to punch him so damn hard. “Call me when you’re feeling stressed, pretty. Looks like it worked taking your mind off of some things.” “Oh fuck off.”

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author’s note hehe today we’re getting two chapters to thank you all for 100 followers!! i didnt even have this account until last week so this is so so crazy to me. Once again thank u all sm for the support <3

TAGLIST @unhakki @firstclassjaylee @en-verse @mxxninthesky @seunghancore @heeseungmyman @jiamini @yoonzns @wonswondrland @50-husbands @leaderwonim @aloloveswonie @f3rraribabez @jwonistic @ribbioniki @kyanmeai @ilovejungwonandhaechan @nat123c @yjwsgf @gyuvision @realrintaro @glxzillx @qettalos @rairaiblog @sakanelli-afc @nodiotter @haohaoshoe @vixensss

#enha #enha fluff #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen smau #jungwon #jungwon smau #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen smut #jungwon x you #jungwon imagines #jungwon x reader #jungwon smut #jungwon scenarios #yang jungwon

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junedenim · 1 month

Text

put your heavy metal to the test

part one part two

if you're fucking him, you might as well take advantage of it

warnings: smut, fluff, facefucking, sex toy, piv

word count: 4.8k

It's Elizabeth's birthday on Friday. This means two things: an office party & a drinking party.

"Do you not want me to go?" Alex asks. He's in your kitchen making breakfast. Repeat: he's in your kitchen making breakfast. These things have started to sneak up on you increasingly—this pattern of waking up in his arms and making breakfast on weekends.

You shrug with your cup of coffee. "You can do whatever you want." That tiptoeing-around habit has continued. There has been no addressing of what this is other than the fact that it's happening and you both want it to happen.

He chuckles as he butters his near-burnt toast. "I know that. She's your friend and I don't want to overstep on your night out."

"Well." You lean over the counter, your arms prop up your boobs showcasing your cleavage on a full display for his eyes to look directly at. "Who's gonna take me home after a long night?"

Alex raises his eyebrows with a smirk. "You want me to?"

You stand from the barstool and walk over to the sink to empty your cup. "There's plenty of options."

You start to walk to your bedroom when his arms wrap around you tightly. "Who? Gunner?" You try to escape but his grip only grows tighter. You're laughing and it's too much but you decide to enjoy a moment when his touch is friendly and means nothing more than a laugh instead of some goal of pleasure. It's too much and just enough.

Elizabeth's birthday cake is a vanilla sheet cake bought by Ed at the grocery store down the street. It looks pretty and tastes shitty but it's the effort that counts and Ed is probably the best boss you've ever had (maybe, second best, but the other one gets disqualified for unfair advantages).

You're sitting in a little group of people eating a slice of cake when Alex sits next to you with a mouthful of cake. "Got enough there?" You ask him. He sticks his tongue with a dusting of his chewed-up food. "Ew."

"Alex," Elizabeth calls from a few seats over. "You're joining our little party tonight, right?"

He nods, swallowing his piece. "That was the plan."

"Fantastic!" She cheers. "Everyone has to buy me a drink, well, unless you got a present for me. Your present is a drink for me."

"Okay."

With the group distracted and returning to their conversation, you lean over and whisper to Alex, "Or you could go halvesies on my gift?"

He looks over, all serene. You don't understand how he doesn't stare at himself in the mirror all day like Narcissus. "Are we at the stage in our relationship where we're gifting things as a couple?"

You giggle softly, covering your mouth. "Elizabeth would rip my hair out if that happened."

"Why?"

"Because she's in love with you."

His jaw becomes slightly agape. "What?"

You stare at him, searching for a sign of trickery. "You can not be that clueless. You're pulling my leg."

He shakes his head.

"Seriously? She stares at you all the time."

"Well, my eyes are busy elsewhere." His browns stare clearly at you.

You roll your eyes. "She's been into you since before all our stuff."

"My eyes have been busy since before all our stuff."

You laugh. "You're full of shit."

He turns away and looks at the last crumbs of his slice of cake. "Maybe you're the clueless one. Did you ever think that?"

You point your plastic fork at him. "No, because you're lying."

"I'm an honest man." He sighs and stands with an empty plate. "Happy birthday, Elizabeth. I'll see you later tonight."

"You're leaving already?" She frowns. "Come on, Ed gave us an extended break for a reason."

Alex waves her off. "I have to work on some things with Ed. I'm lucky he gave me long enough of a break to eat a slice of cake."

"He works you too hard."

"Yeah, well, I like it. Have a good one, you guys." You've learned that Alex works too much. You told him you think he's going to have a heart attack one day for the emphasis he places on work in his life. He told you he doesn't know how to function without it. You told him that sounded sad and he should find ways to relieve that stress. Then, he fucked you and said that was his stress relief. And you said that was good enough.

He sits next to you at the bar, which should be suspicious to your co-workers but no questionable looks are shot in your direction. He's smooth in every way. He shaved this morning and he moves in such a way that you can only call smooth. He moves his hands smooth. He talks smooth. He kisses smooth.

When he put his lips on you outside the bar you could have slapped him because he tempts fate too much and you swear he is trying to get you both fired. But he molds himself to you, shoves his hand into the curve of your back, and doesn't let go for a second. He smiled when he pulled away and you couldn't do anything to that poor face of his. So lovely to look at and so loving in return. He's becoming too sweet and anyone who squinted could see the truth. His thigh rubbing up against yours and you laughing too hard at his dumb jokes but they keep hushed and you hope it stays that way (at least for now).

Elizabeth is double-fisting drinks and she sips one and then the other. You're drinking but you don't want to get drunk because you want to end the night cognizant with Alex. Elizabeth has other ideas...

"Chug your beer with me. Come on! Come on!" She urges.

You wave her off. "I'm good. But I'll watch you."

She whines. "No fun! Alex!" She grabs a hold of his hand from across the table. "You drink with me. Come on! Come on!"

Alex chuckles, amused by the display. He pats her hand and then pulls away, wrapping his hand around his cold glass, caressing it with such care you're jealous of it. "I'm the kind of guy who likes to savour his drinks."

"Boo! No fun you two!" She slurs. Being referred to in a pair gives you tingles. A thing in which you wish to be shoved away through the numbness of alcohol. Feeling it in private is one thing but suffocated in a crowd of people you feel as if your skin could fall off. That you're exposed and they can see right through you with their feelings X-ray scanner. Maybe you're just paranoid.

Elizabeth leans forward, completely intoxicated with liquor and infatuation. "So, Alex, I've heard about this big project you have. I'll admit I'm jealous I don't get to work on it." She's jealous of you for working with him...she's going to kill you if she ever finds out.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you announce.

"Okay!" Elizabeth says, all happy and perky for alone time with Alex.

Should you feel jealous? Probably not, you've always been told jealousy isn't a good emotion. It's weird. You feel an obligation to be jealous but you aren't. Maybe it's because you and Alex are just fooling around in a highly sophisticated we-aren't-going-to-do-this-with-anybody-else-except-each-other-but-we-are-totally-not-a-couple kind of way. Maybe because you know he won't do anything. Elizabeth has been throwing yourself at Alex since she started working here and nothing has come of it. What's the difference now? He's so blase toward anything that it's obvious when he is interested in something.

Like when he walks into the women's restroom.

"What are you doing here?" You're washing your hands and he's by the door, chest pumped out and so heroic-looking with a smolder you could laugh.

"I thought we were..." He gestures between the two of you.

"We were?" You implore him to finish as you wipe your hands clean.

His head drops.

You laugh. "No, I actually did just have to go to the bathroom."

"Well, since I'm here..." Alex trails off for you to get the idea again.

You finish, "Fuck you? No, not really."

"Okay," he accepts. He looks around examining the stalls and sinks as you watch on. "Do you want to leave now and go do it?"

"And have everyone watch us leave together? No thanks." You say as you toss the paper towel.

"We've done it before." He's moving forward suggestively and you'd take a step back if you weren't so into it. Into him.

You move past him, brushing shoulders like it's the greatest romance, something Austenian. "And we won't be repeating."

He moves backward, blocking your exit. "Fine. I'll leave saying I'm loaded with work and in a half hour, you'll say you have a headache and then you'll come to my place."

"I don't want to go to your place," you whine. You're being difficult but your place is closer to here and the drive home from Alex's is always annoying it almost makes you want to stay there forever (solely for driving purposes, nothing else).

"Then, we'll go to your place."

"But if you leave first you'll need a key."

"Then you go first."

"I don't want to leave yet."

"Then I'll use the key in the potted plant." A key you put there for Alex because nobody else visits enough to warrant a spare key.

"So, you're just going to mess about in my flat for 30 minutes."

He shrugs with his hands on his hips. "I'll find something to do."

You squint. "You're gonna snoop."

"You have no faith in me."

"Well, I know what I would do if you left me alone in your place for 30 minutes."

He laughs. "You wouldn't find much." His place generally carries a stark bareness to it.

"I'd find something. Everyone hides something."

"What do you hide?"

You roll your eyes. "You'll have no fun in your snooping if I tell you what I'm hiding."

He raises his eyebrows. "So, you want me to snoop?"

"I want to get out of this bathroom but you're trapping me in here. You're lucky no one has walked in."

"I'm a very lucky guy. You should know this."

Something in his eyes makes flutter and an uncontrollable smile covers your face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs with a wide grin on his face and steps out of the way of the door. His face is endlessly endearing and you could leave if your body would let you but it would be a crime to leave without a simple kiss.

You hold his left cheek, so smooth. You peck his lips. Twice, for a good measure. That grin is still irreplaceable and wider than ever. "Have fun putting your tampon in."

He just gives a light slap to your ass and lets you go. For now.

"I have a wicked headache." You place to palm of your hand on your forehead, cringing your eyes.

Alex chuckles on the other side of the opened door. It's weird having him open your flat's door. He claps his hands together. "Stellar acting. Destined for the stage."

You bow dramatically. "Thank you."

He opens the door more, letting you pass. You toss your purse on the couch, then your body. "It took some convincing. She nearly shoved two Advils down my throat before I was able to leave."

Alex sits beside you. "What about me? I thought my clothes were gonna have claw marks on them."

"Well," you sigh, "don't flatter yourself too much. She was all over Ben when I left."

He snaps his fingers. "Shucks."

You sniffle. "What's that smell?"

"I made dinner."

"You made me dinner?"

"I made me dinner. You came back earlier than I thought you would."

You're quick to grab your purse and smack him with it. He grabs your wrist, then your hips, guiding you to straddle him. You sit on top of him. You can feel him. His every move. Your hands lying on his shoulders. His light touch on your elbows. He kisses your hand and it feels like a holy blessing. Like you're the Pope and he's kissing your ring.

"Did you snoop?"

"I snooped."

"And?"

"You're boring." You erupt with laughter, laying your head on his shoulder. "I didn't look too hard anyway. I didn't want to invade your space."

"It's fine. I invited you to." But you don't mind how caring he is. How gentle he is as his fingertips brush down your clothed spine.

"Okay. I guess that helps because I did find your vibrator."

You hit his chest with your hands. "Ew. Don't talk about that."

"You told me to snoop!"

"Whatever. It's a common thing. Every girl has one in their drawer. We have to use it because guys never get the job done," you reason.

Alex brags, "I get the job done."

"Don't be cocky. I could be faking it."

"Okay," he easily accepts. Maybe because it isn't believable in the slightest.

"You're being cunning. If you think we're going to do some sex thing with it you're out of luck because it's out of batteries."

"Oh, so if it's out of batteries then how are you able to use it after you're done with me."

You pull away from him, standing up, your heels clunking on the floor. "Stop it! That is a personal item. I don't talk to you about your sex toys."

"Mine's just my hand and I'm not really using it much as of late."

You cross your arms. "So, I'm your sex toy. I should be paid."

He raises his eyebrows. "You want to be my prostitute?"

You think about it. "Fair point. Pay me with dinner."

"They're your ingredients anyway."

You shake your head. "No, I mean, take me out to dinner."

"Now?"

"No!" You giggle. "Like this weekend or something. On a date," you clarify. You've slept with the guy. Why are you nervous about a date?

Alex nods and gives you a crooked smile. "Okay."

"You're being cunning again."

"Fuck yeah. You've been blue balling me all night."

You purse your lips. "You haven't exactly returned the favour."

"You have your vibrator for that."

"Oh, okay, sure. I'll just grab some batteries." You make a point, marching over to grab your TV remote and popping it out. He follows you to your bedroom where you stuff them into your vibrator. You turn around, staring at him standing at the edge of your bed. "If you don't mind, we'd like some time alone."

He toots a laugh. "Nice try. Now put the vibrator down and let me fuck you."

"But the vibrator hits me just right," you taunt, all pouty and flirty.

His steps are controlled but powerful. You can feel his shoes thud on the floor and his gaze is controlling like he's mind-controlling you to put the vibrator down. Your grip stays steady even as his hand rounds your back and pulls you closer and closer until his lips are on you.

"Your vibrator do this?" He teases. Your boobs are pressed against his chest and his hand is pushing your head closer to his, keeping you in a kiss.

"They're very advanced these days," you mutter against his lips.

He's kissing you tight and harder. Your knees buckle against your bed as you fall back onto the bed. In some chaos of tugging on clothes before pulling them fully off, Alex takes the vibrator out of your hand. He's kissing you again, distracting you. Your hand travels down the space in between your bodies and you're reaching out, rubbing your hand against his cock.

"How badly do you want me in your mouth?"

"You're presumptuous," you joke.

But he's clearly not in a joking mood as he stops your hand from moving around him. He reiterates, "How bad do you want it?"

"Badly," you tell him.

You can tell Alex wants to tease you more, but he's getting too worked up for verbal foreplay, so he stands up, tugging your head along with him. He grabs you by the throat and pulls you closer, so your head is dangling upside down off the bed, and then roughly shoves his cock down your throat.

"There you go," he taunts, thrusting into your mouth with brutal force. It only takes three hits to the back of her throat for you to gag on his cock, choking on its thickness. He pulls back just long enough for you to catch a breath before he pushes back in. "You fucking love it, don't you?"

You gurgle around him, trying to breathe through your nose as the pace of his pumps picks up. You do love it and wish you didn't have a gag reflex, so you could take all of him without needing a break, but he told you once before he loves it when you choke on him.

He slows his thrusts down a bit and leans forward, palming your breasts. He plays with your nipples knowing how much you love when he does that, especially when you're in a position like this. Your squeak of surprise is muffled by his cock before it turns into moans of pleasure when he grabs a tit, roughly massaging it with his callused hands. He starts to pick up his rhythm again. Your body jerks at the action and he makes sure to shove down extra hard in response. After a few minutes of toying with your tits, his hand travels further down, running a finger through you. "Look at you, so wet for my cock already. You want it so badly, I can't believe you didn't fuck me in the bathroom. You love doing that shit, dirty girl."

You can't get any words out, but you jerk your hips up, trying to get his fingers to press harder or go into you or just do something. You're wet and aching for him. He lets his fingers slip through you a few times, making sure to avoid your clit, before he pulls away from her completely. Without thinking, you bring your hand to your pussy to replace his, but he immediately slaps it away.

Alex asks, "You want me to leave?" You shake your head. "Then, don't play with yourself."

He thrusts into your mouth a few more times before turning you around. He climbs up onto the bed and urges your legs apart so he can kneel between them. The heel of his hand presses against your clit as his fingers slip through you, finding your entrance and pushing two fingers into you with ease.

He fingers you for a few moments before leaving you empty. He positions you properly and lines himself up before plunging into you.

"Jesus," he grunts. He stays inside of you for a moment to gather himself, before he pulls out and slams back into you once, twice, three times, until he's started a steady rhythm of pumps. He pushes on his toes, bending you further, giving him an even steeper angle to pound into you. He stretches, his thighs slapping against her ass loudly with each hit, before it's too much of a strain on his muscles to fuck you at this angle.

He stops and palms your ass cheeks and brings you closer to him. You hear the buzz and can't help but roll your eyes even if you're begging for any pleasure. "Seriously?"

"You want me to stop?" He's playing with you. Dangling a carrot in front of your face and yanking it away in an instant. You're not going to tempt fate.

"No," you answer, trying to rock against him, desperately wanting him to start up again.

He presses the toy against you and you have a hard time holding yourself up. Your arms bucking and taking your face down to laying against a pillow. He bends a little at the knees so his cock is level with your cunt, and then shoves his length into you again until they meet with a smack. He squeezes your ass cheeks roughly before sliding them down your lower back, pulling your body closer to meet every one of his thrusts with as much force as possible.

"Oh, oh fuck," you whimper, you start to clench around him as he holds the vibrator on your clit and bucks into you. You're impressed by his ability to do both at the same time while you can't even hold yourself up. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."

"Come on my cock," he tells you, his hips becoming frantic as he gets closer as well. "You fucking come on my cock. Then, I'm coming in you."

It's all you need to hear before you let go, letting your orgasm hit you in waves. You shake against him. He is still pounding into you through it, and holding the vibrator intensely onto you. Just as you start to come down, you feel him swell against the vice grip you have on him, before he lets go too, spilling into you.

His head falls into the slope of your back but he holds steady with the vibrator on you until you whack at his hand. "Too much," you cry. He looks tempted to push back but he shuts the device off before collapsing onto his back on the side of the bed that is looking more and more like his side of the bed.

You fall on your stomach. Both of you just lie there in thought, trying to find something that will ease the shaking of your thighs and Alex's shallow breathing. "Fuck," you hear him mumble.

You make a sound in agreement but can't figure out how to do more. You feel as though you've been rewired. You feel his touch on your arm before he yanks you over into his arms. You groan, already feeling sore.

He kisses your temple before he gets up from the bed and disappears into the bathroom, returning with a towel. Loving and tender after rough and unforgiving.

It's late and you're in his arms and you feel as delicate as you ever have and feel like you can say anything and he would still hold you in his arms. "I think you should present the project on Monday," he tells you.

You pull your head back. "What?"

"It's really your project. I only supervised and, god knows, Jeff did nothing. It's your thing and I don't think I could—anyone could—explain the project as well as you do."

"That's a big thing."

"I'll practice with you."

"But to present to corporate and all of them. Isn't it out of character for someone like me to do that?"

"Ben has done it before." Ben is higher up than you so it's not exactly an equal comparison.

You lift your head up to look him in his eyes and directly ask, "Are you doing this—"

He closes his eyes and tosses his head to the side. "God, don't even say that. That's two steps away from me trading sex for raises."

"Sorry."

"It's fine but it has nothing to do with that. You're brilliant," he says so earnestly you almost believe it.

"Sure," you say doubtfully.

He shakes his head and tugs you closer. "You'll see. You're the smartest person I've ever met."

You laugh. "You don't have to bullshit me now."

"No bullshitting. All those guys, Ed, corporate are a bunch of showoffs but you. You're like smart smart. Booksmart, streetsmart, emotionally intelligent. We're a bag of nothing."

"You're the smartest person I've ever met. No bullshit."

"I don't believe you."

"That's fine. That doesn't mean it isn't true."

On Monday morning, he kisses you in the middle of the breakroom. It's the closest you've come to nearly exposing whatever this is. It's much more risky than his office and a crowded city street. "Too much, Al," you tell him.

"I'm proud of you," he says. His thumb rubs against the corner of your lips, removing the kiss dribble. "Aren't I allowed to be proud of you?"

"You kiss everyone you're proud of?"

"Yeah, why do you think Ed and I take so long after meetings?"

"Ew!" You push him away from you, sharing a laugh between you.

The breakroom door swings open and Elizabeth walks in. It's alarming how unwilling you both are to move away from each other but she's distracted by her own cheer. "How'd it go?" She exclaims.

"Oh, yeah, she was perfect," Alex boasts, leaning against a counter.

Elizabeth claps her hands. "Did we ever have any doubts?"

"No, never," he says sincerely. You make eye contact with him and he stands up straight. "Well, I should go."

"No rest for the wicked, huh?" Elizabeth says.

"Yeah."

When he leaves she turns to you with a smile. "You better get me on the next project. God, I wish he'd talk about me that way." She's dreamy. A schoolgirl gazing onward at her teacher with her immature crush. You don't feel guilty about you and Alex but you feel shame from hiding it from her as if you're leading her on in some kind of way. But she seems to have accepted the idea of her and Alex as a fantasy. There's doubt she'll accept Alex being a reality for you.

You go into his office later and he's quick to attack. His lips are on you and his hands are heavy on your back. "How fucking good were you?"

You push him back. "You've mentioned it before." Alex exchanges hasty, uncoordinated kisses with you.

"Want me to fuck you?"

"Not here."

Alex whines, you've never heard him do that before. "Quick."

You laugh. "After my stellar performance, you want me to get caught sucking off my boss?"

He seems to think about it for a moment before nodding. "You have a point."

Your arms curl around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you whisper in his ear, "I'll fuck you at my place. We'll fuck the whole night."

"Yeah?"

You pull back with a head nod and a lip bite. "Yeah."

"That reminds me I have your spare key." He moves to pull it out from his bag.

You hold your hand up. "Keep it." He's there half the week. The other half you're at his. You're fucked.

"Keep it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

You don't go back to your place first. He takes you to dinner first. It's nothing fancy but it's a nice enough place that doesn't need a reservation. You drink nice wine and talk about nothing in particular but none of it has to do with work. In some ways, it feels like a first date if you didn't already know so much about him; what moves him, what makes him laugh, what makes him tick. At the same time, you know so little; where he's from, why is he in this business, what hurts him. You suppose it's the same for him with you.

You don't talk about those things. Too heavy for a first date and whatever else you are. You end up in the back of his car with the rain pelting down. You're under him, pushing off layers and wrapping yourself around him, mouth on his Adam’s apple like you mean to take a bite of it. Alex pushes the skirt of your dress up. It’s a messy thing, hasty, a necessity. You make these sounds, hitched gasps and keening moans, rolling your hips up to match the beat of whatever tune his making with the rhythm of his hips.

You press a light kiss on the soft skin underneath his lips, and push his hand down further, placing his fingers on top of your core. You hiss from the coldness of his hands.

His cock moves in and out of you. It's slower than usual. You're unsure if it's from the tight setting you're in or the moment you're stuck in. It's more romantic than usual, even if you're stuffed into a tiny backseat.

Alex is leaning over and pulling you, and covering your mouth with his, his soft lips swallowing your moan. You kiss softly for a few moments. He breaks, letting out, "Fuck."

Finding the angle a bit difficult, he grabs your hips tilting them up more so he can drive into you better. He leans over you and connects your mouths, swallowing each other's moans again.

Your hands thread through his soft hair, massaging his scalp before they drop down to his back, your fingertips trailing delicately along his sweaty skin. You love feeling the muscles in Alex's back straining as he fucks you, the way they tense each time he thrusts his cock deep inside you, hitting you just where you need it, pulling him just where he needs it. Your chests are flush together. You can feel each other's hearts pounding, the redness in your skins turning to fire.

He smiles into your kiss as you hook your legs around him, digging your heels into his ass and pulling him deeper into you each time he barrels down. He can never seem to go deep enough, always wanting more, more, more.

He picks up his pace as he watches you, his hips rocking into you as you both edge closer and closer. "I'm so close," he moans, releasing your lip and opening his eyes to find yours.

"Come for me," you urge.

You buck up into him, desperate to come but even more desperate for him to come. "Oh fuck," he cries out. His thrusts start to get jerky as you tighten around his cock.

He only lasts a few more thrusts before he lets go inside you, something habitual now. He moans as he empties himself, feeling you wrap your legs around his waist and lock him in place as he continues to spill.

You feel yourself come undone and it's uncontrollable as you hold tight onto him, wanting to do everything possible to keep him close. "Fuck," he lets out like a statement. With a chuckle, he tells you, "We couldn't even make it back to your fucking flat."

a/n: so, i think this is a series now because i have like two ideas for two more parts so if you guys want it i'll do it. thanks!

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #junedenim #alex turner

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sturnlova · 7 months

Text

Busy ( M.S )

(Matt Sturniolo x Female reader)

( Warning : Smut, F receiving, new to writing, not proof read all the way, pet names, fluff, angst, i don’t know what else 😭 )

Matt : Blue

Y/N : Pink

Chris : Orange

Nick : Purple

( Word count : 900)

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Y/N POV:

It had been a whole week, 7 days, 168 hours since Matt has been busy with work and ignoring me. Every time i confronted him Matt would always tell me that everything was well and that he was just tired and wanted to go to sleep. I became so enraged with him that I even questioned Chris and Nick, his own fucking brothers, why he was acting so "busy." All they said was that work has been difficult, Matt will get the entire day off on Friday, which is tomorrow. I had no idea that information even existed.

After taking off their shoes and entering the kitchen to meet me, Matt, Nick, and Chris came via the front door. I ignored Matt and waved to Chris and Nick, striking up a conversation with them. I truly couldn't talk to Matt, even though I hated ignoring him.

"Y/N, why are you ignoring me? What's wrong?" exclaimed Matt. I could feel the rage building inside of me; I was on the verge of losing it. “Why do I ignore you? WHY DO YOU DISRESPECT ME? Matt, I haven't spent more than ten minutes with you in the entire week.” Matt attempted to engage, but I interrupted him. “You don't even understand that I've asked your brothers why. I'm sorry, but you don't even realize how much I'm desperate for you. Why do you no longer give a damn? I didn't start dating this person at all. What happened Matt.” i spoke with tears now falling from my eyes. Chris spoke up, "Me and Nick are going to go for a walk, we will be back later.” “ Yeah” as they continued to move toward the front for.

“ Baby “ he knew i loved when he called me baby. “ I never want to see you cry over me. You are aware of my work schedule, but I should do a better job of juggling it with my personal life. Im sorry for being so busy; I really am. I simply got really wrapped up in my own thoughts, and I know it's not an excuse, so I had no idea that it upset you this much. I apologize. Let me make it up to you.”

He grabbed me the waist and patted me by the thighs to jump and wrap my legs around his waist. As i did what i was told he walked us to his room closing the door and ensuring he locked it. He laid me on my bed on top of his silk covers, as i laid on my back he slowly took off my deinem shorts and black Lacey thong, he took of my ( his ) hoodie leaving me fully naked.

He pulled me closer to the edge of the bed as he kneeled on floor face to face with my glistening wet pussy waiting to get touched. He kissed my clit, then slowly started licking a strip up and down my pussy. “ Gonna make you feel so good princess, just lay there and look pretty.” the dirty talk could’ve just made cum there on the spot.

Soon as Matt’s tongue touched you an unsteady breath flew from your lips, your eyes squeezed closed due to the amount of pleasure you felt. He licked from your leaking hole to your clit once again,tongue flat to taste as much of you as possible. he repeated his actions multiple times, Matt moaned at the taste of you, he was pussy drunk at this point. “ You enjoying it so far?” i breathed heavy and moaned “ yes i am baby, feels so good” i’m so close to finishing at this point, he always worked magic with his tongue.

My hips were bucking of the bed bringing my lips closer to his. He started using his tongue and fingers adding the insane amount of pleasure i was already feeling. I tugged on my bed sheets and when i did that he took his fingers out of me and used his hands to guide my hands to his hair. I quickly grabbed his hair and gently tugged.

He started going insanely fast which made me lose it, he instructed me to grab my boobs and play with them, who was i to deny it. “ fuck Matt i’m so close, can i cum, please” he nodded his head against me. The knot in my stomach snapped and i finished all of his fingers and face.

Matt slowly pulled his fingers out of me and sucked them clean. “ are you ok? you did so good sweetheart” i nodded my head in response to tired to move or speak. Matt walked to get a hand towel to clean his face and me. Not too long after we had a shower and changed clothes to walk downstairs to end the night with a movie.

As we sat on the couch Chris and Matt walked in asking if we were ok i responded back with “ more than ok “ Matt giggled at me words and brought his attention back to the movie.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

TAKE CARE OF YOU [3]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 4,501

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It's why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn't look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn't be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: I'm feeling Fridays for the update day, but i'm not married to that idea yet. also thank you for all the love this has seen so far!! I am so happy to know I'm not the only one that would sell my soul to have Joel Miller as my sugar daddy.]

03: YOU THINK MY VOICE IS PRETTY?

"the way his voice sounds, or the words he speaks, i can never decide what pulls me in more." -butterflies rising

‘Morning, sugar’.

You chuckled at the term of endearment and leaned back in your seat. The other people on the bus surrounding you were living their own lives as always. You recognized many of your routine bus neighbors. The woman who ate an onion bagel every single morning on her way to work, the man who still read an actual newspaper rather than use his phone, the brother and sister duo⏤only teens⏤ on their way to school. You wondered how these people classified you in their head.

‘Morning to you too⏤’ You paused. Should you call him ‘daddy’ again? Saying it teasingly was one thing, but typing it somehow made it seem more permanent. Which was a stupid thought to have, but it was the one that plagued you nonetheless. You deleted your words and started again. ‘Morning! How⏤’ Again, you froze. Was the exclamation mark too much for this early in the morning? It was only yesterday that you made this deal with him and it would be sad for you to annoy him so early in the deal. Delete. Repeat. ‘Joel⏤’ Way too formal. Okay. You were officially over thinking this.

‘Hey! How’s your morning going?’

The moment you hit send that dumb little anxiety riddled voice at the back of your head tried to criticize your choice of words and you had to wrestle it back down. Almost immediately you saw the text bubble of dots pop up as he typed.

‘Great. First meeting got canceled. You?’

It was marginally funny to you that the man who owned this huge company seemed so dead set on avoiding meetings. Plus, it was kind of cute that he was more comfortable in flannel than suits.

‘Just on the bus heading to work!’

The text bubble popped up immediately, then disappeared, then came back, then disappeared once more. As you waited for it to return, his name filled the entire screen as he called you. Your eyes widened in surprise. After getting past your shock, you answered, “Uh, hi.”

“Sorry, repeat that for me.” Joel’s voice was nearly drowned out by a bunch of noise that you’d have to guess dealt with some kind of construction. “You’re on the ‘what’ heading ‘where’?”

“Bus? Work?” You replied in confusion.

Joel cleared his throat and he must have been moving since the noise simmered down. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you said, darlin’. Can I ask why?” The sound that left your mouth was a good representation of your broken brain. “Because I’m pretty sure you and I made a deal yesterday. Didn’t we?”

“We did.” You said slowly. “But⏤”

“Darlin’⏤”

“In my defense, I can’t just quit work. I respect Henry too much. I have to at least give him a two weeks notice so he can find a replacement.” You argued. Even if Henry wasn’t someone you considered family you’d still feel obliged to quit the correct way. Still, maybe that was something you should’ve mentioned yesterday before the two of you parted ways. “Sorry, Joel.”

He let out a small sigh. “There’s no need to be sorry. I understand. You’re too responsible for your own good.” You chuckled. “But the bus? The bus?”

You had to resist the urge to laugh at how insulted he was at the prospect of you on public transportation. You glanced over your shoulder out the window to see how far from work you were. “Well, ubers and taxis are so expensive from my house to the bakery. Plus, I have a bus card!”

“Bus card?” Joel repeated. His incredulous voice took an amused tone. “Sugar, you got daddy’s credit card.” Your eyes widened and you felt your entire face burn as heat filled your cheeks. As if somebody would be listening in, you glanced around at the people sitting near you. Joel chuckled, the sound low and deep, “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“I, uh, I⏤ That’s a good point.” You cleared your throat. “It felt silly using the card for something like an Uber or taxi though. You know?”

“Nothin’ is too silly. I want you to use that card. All the time. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“I understand…” Joel repeated with enunciation at the end. Waiting for something. Waiting for…

“I’m on the bus.” You whispered into the phone, in shock, while covering your mouth.

Joel hummed. “Oh, I know. Now. I understand…”

You chewed on your lower lip, glanced around, then whispered into the phone quickly, “I understand, daddy.”

“Sorry, sugar. Couldn’t quite hear you there. Must be because of how loud and hectic that bus is.”

Your lips curled up into a broad grin as your face continued to burn. He cleared his throat to urge you on, and you shook your head with a slight chuckle. You blew out an amused breath and repeated yourself. “Yes. I understand, daddy.”

An older woman sitting to your left shot you a curious glance and you sunk in your seat, and turned toward the window to laugh. You could hear Joel’s breathy laugh over the line as well. Joel spoke up, “That’s better. As for this transport problem,” You rolled your eyes still grinning, “Can you drive?”

“Well, yeah.” You replied and the smile fell as a thought occurred to you. “That is not a reason to buy me a car.”

“Wow, you really think I’d buy you a car right out the gate like that?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. I⏤” You paused then shook your head. “Wait, no, actually I do. I do think you’d do that.”

“You’re right. I would. You got a preference, sugar?”

“Please do not buy me a car.” You blurted. “I… I really don’t like driving around this city. Last time I even got behind a wheel was over two years ago.”

“Fine. No car. I’m gettin’ you a driver then.”

“That still feels excessive.” You replied hesitantly.

“Do it for me then? I’d feel more comfortable knowin’ you’re not ridin’ around with strangers.”

The words were spoken with kindness, actual concern, and a part of you wondered if he was saying what he was because it was expected of him? The deal was for him to take care of you and keeping you safe could arguably fall under that umbrella of responsibilities. You just found it hard to believe he’d care out of the goodness of his heart considering how little time you had spent with one another thus far. It wasn’t a criticism of him at all. Maybe he was just that kind deep down, maybe he did have a bleeding heart. It was the process of trying to apply that thought, those concerns, to yourself that felt silly. At the end of the day, that voice of anxiety just couldn’t fathom a near stranger actually worrying over your well being with no ulterior motive of their own.

Joel said your name over the line, snapping you out of your line of thought, and you forced your smile to return. It wasn’t hard to find. “Alright. For you.”

“Good.” He blew out a breath of what almost sounded like relief. “What time does your shift end?”

“It’s Sunday so I usually close up the shop around 5:30, then pack away all the leftovers to take to the shelter a few blocks away.” You replied. Anytime the shop had any leftovers, which was happening more and more, Henry would donate the goods to the local shelters and kitchens rather than toss it.

“I’ll have my guy there around 5 then. I don’t want you waitin’ on him.”

“Yeah, but now he’ll have to wait on me.”

“I know. That’s the point, darlin’.”

You couldn’t decide which you liked more. Joel calling you ‘sugar’ or ‘darlin’. Then again the sound of your name was equally as intoxicating. Honestly, it wasn’t fair how good his voice sounded in general. The bus peeled off to the side to come to a stop and you hiked your bag up your shoulder to get off.

“I’m at my stop.”

“Say good-bye to the bus. You ain’t ridin’ on it again as far as I’m concerned.” You chuckled and as you walked off you couldn’t help but glanced back at the familiar people you had gotten used to seeing so often. You mentally wished them a farewell. It was cheesy, but it nearly felt like the end of an era. Joel spoke again as you stepped onto the busy sidewalk. “And remember, my guy is pickin’ you up today. No ubers. No taxis. No buses.”

“I know, I know. I promise I won’t make a run for it.”

“Good girl.” Joel chuckled and your face immediately went warm once more. A habit you were beginning to pick up around this man. Joel said quick good-byes, saying he needed to help someone out on site and promised to text you later. You echoed his sentiments and tucked the phone away after hanging up. Wow, okay, it seemed hearing him call you ‘good girl’ won in a fucking landslide.

As it turned out, Henry had come in early to bake for the day, but left it open for you to set out as he hadn’t been feeling well and had to leave before you even got the shop fully open. It was incredibly poor timing because you planned to announce your two week’s notice to him and that seemed like a dick move to do while he was sick. Tomorrow. You’d try again tomorrow. No big deal. What would a one day difference make?

The bakery always had it’s busiest days on Sunday, weirdly, but still it was nowhere near the kind of traffic this place truly needed. Usually days where it ended up being you alone were even more painfully boring, but today had been, well, fun. Joel continued to text you through the day and the conversation was a decent distraction from the dichotomy of doing nothing between customers. Plus, without Henry there, you didn’t even have to pretend like you weren’t playing on your phone the entire time.

The last hour of your shift had gone by without Joel as a distraction because of a meeting. One he had grumbled about twenty minutes prior to it. You were in the process of packing items away when you noticed a black SUV sitting outside on the side of the road. Pausing in your work, you ran your hand down your apron and made your way out of the shop and toward it. You had just planned to tap on the window to get his attention, but you were barely halfway to the SUV when the man behind the driver’s seat jumped out and hurried around with a nod.

“Ma’am.”

“Hi.” You gave a small wave. “I’m⏤”

The blond man blurted your name out with a nod. Of course he knew who you were. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Miss?”

“No, no. I wanted to invite you in! It’ll be a minute before I’m done.”

“It’s alright⏤”

“I insist.” You said firmly. He hesitated once more before going to turn the car off. He was older than you, if you had to guess, and he wore a clean, black suit and a pair of dark aviators over his eyes. If he had a little radio in his ear you’d have him pegged as some kind of secret service guard. “What’s your name?”

“Riley Talbot, ma’am.”

You motioned for him to take a seat at one of the tables with a smile. “Well, Mr. Talbot, you have a muffin preference?”

“Just Riley is fine, and you don’t have to⏤”

“Either you tell me your muffin preference or I’m gonna pick at random, Riley.” You replied then ran through the options you had today. Riley hesitantly told you his preference for the banana nut option and you brought it over for him on a small plate. The man took his sunglasses off, tucking them into his inner suit pocket, and you took note of his very blue eyes. “How long have you worked for, Joel?”

Riley shrugged. “I’ve been working for Mr. Miller for the last five years.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Five years as a driver for Joel? You couldn’t imagine Joel using a driver. The man who preferred flannels over suits seemed like the kind who was adamant about driving himself. Plus, this wasn’t the person who had picked you up yesterday. How many did he have?

“Well, give me a second here and we can head out. I just gotta finish packing up today’s leftovers.”

“Please, take your time.” Riley nodded then motioned to the muffin. “And thank you.”

You left him to enjoy his snack in peace so you could go back to cleaning out the display stand. It was repetitive, simple work that you had gotten very used to doing mindlessly over the years. You were on the last row of cookies when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. Pulling it out you saw it was a text from Joel.

‘Did Riley show up?’

‘Yupp. He’s in the bakery eating a muffin right now.’

‘You didn’t need to feed him, sugar.’

‘Too late. Besides, that’s one less muffin for me to carry now.’

‘Put it on my tab.’

You rolled your eyes, as if a singular banana nut muffin was of significant cost, ‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on your meeting?’

There was a longer pause before you got a response.

‘Touche’

You chuckled under your breath and tucked the phone away once more. After stacking a few of the boxes on top of one another, you shrugged out of your apron to hang it back up on the wall. Riley had risen from his seat and you took the plate from him before he could argue otherwise. You gave it a quick wash before setting it away to dry for the night and when you returned Riley was still standing by the boxes of baked goods.

“I’m almost done. I’m gonna carry these down to the shelter.”

“I’ll help.” Riley replied.

“You don’t have to do that⏤”

Riley gave you a friendly smile. “It’s my pleasure. Mr. Miller was adamant about me helping out where I could.”

Knowing arguing was only going to stretch this process out you nodded and he took half the boxes. At least this would save you a second trip. As the two of you made your way down the street you learned that he was older than you, in his mid thirties, and he had been in the Marines before picking up work with Joel. It was actually through Riley that you learned Joel had a brother who had also been in the military as well. You’d have to ask him about that.

“I’ve been saving to buy a ring.” Riley shrugged as you both got onto the topic of relationships while on your way back from dropping off the boxes.

“If your girlfriend is as sweet as you claim I’m sure she’d be charmed by anything you got her.” You argued. “And how long have the two of you been dating?”

“Three years next month.”

“Aw, congrats!” You chirped.

Riley continued to gush about his girlfriend and how she worked as a kindergarten teacher. The way his voice held so much love for the woman he bragged about to you made your heart ache. You had always thought this was how your last relationship would look like. You and your ex-boyfriend had been on a similar path after all. When he broke up with you six months ago, the two of you had been weeks away from your three year anniversary. For the longest time, he had been the one you thought you’d be marrying.

And here you were today with a sugar daddy on speed dial.

Funny how life worked.

“Let me grab my stuff and lock up and I’ll be right back out.” You said and Riley agreed with a nod before heading to the SUV himself. Maybe you’d text Nima and see if she was busy tonight. It had been a long time since you thought about your ex and letting him slip back into your head had been a dumb move on your part.

Once out, Riley held the back door of the SUV open for you to slide into. He asked for your address which you provided before settling back in your seat. The radio played a soft tune, you couldn’t hear the roaring of the roads outside, the air smelled clean, and you had ample space to stretch out. This was a far cry from the bus. Nima texted you back, answering your request for drinks tonight, but she had to turn it down because she had a date. Though she did follow it up to ask if you were feeling well and that she’d bail if you needed a girls’ night. You smiled at her words, but reassured her that everything was fine.

‘Hang out with your daddy! 🤪’

Despite the teasing nature of her text, she may have been onto something. Riley was getting closer to your apartment complex and you leaned forward a bit. “Hey, Riley?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what time Joel usually gets off of work?”

“It depends. I think he mentioned today he was gonna be working late. That’s why he sent me instead of coming to get you himself.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. It hadn’t dawned on you that Joel wanted to be the one to pick you up and just hadn’t been able to due to his own work. Still, that shot your back up plan in the face. That was probably for the best. You didn’t want to come across as clingy. Though, maybe you were supposed to? Joel said there was no social quota for you to meet, but you doubted the validity of that.

“Thanks, Riley!” You said after exchanging numbers with him and climbing out of the SUV.

Your apartment was nothing to write home about, but it could be worse. It was a simple one bed, one bath on the fifth floor of a complex that had technically seen better days. However, despite the age and general weariness of the building itself, the residents you lived beside were nice, the owner actually cared about the people renting from him, and security was decent. More so than the other places in this area.

After dropping your stuff down and tossing your keys into the bowl near your front door, you pulled out your phone to see you had missed a text from a few minutes ago. ‘You home?’ Quickly, you responded with a positive and thanked him again for sending Riley to pick you up. ‘Good. Don’t thank me, sugar’.

You rolled your eyes. If he really thought you were going to accept things without thanking him he was dead wrong. Hell, you were struggling with the ‘accepting things’ part which was hilarious considering you had chosen and agreed to this deal with full knowledge of what that meant. You set down your phone to clean the work day off of your skin.

A few hours had passed, where you showered, changed into home clothes, ate, and then settled on the couch with a large glass of wine. Despite it only being close to nine you were almost considering chugging the remainder of the wine in your glass and calling it a night. You had work in the morning after all. As you brought the glass to your lips, your phone buzzed off to the side.

The text was from Joel. It was simple, and honestly hilarious to see.

‘You up?’

Your cheeks warmed and you wondered if he knew the connotations of texting a woman that message with no warning at night.

‘Yes lol I am up’

‘Can I call?’

Your eyes widened in surprise at the request. You took another rather large sip of your wine before setting it down on your coffee table and responding to him. The affirmative text hadn’t been sent longer than a few seconds when his name flashed across your screen. You had gotten used to mostly texting the people in your life rather than phone calls. This would take some getting used to.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sugar.” Joel breathed. “Sorry for calling late.”

“It’s hardly late.” You glanced at your clock on the wall. 9:07. “Are you just getting home from work? Riley said you’d be stuck there late.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately. Every once in a while I’m stuck in the office all day like this. At least I got to be on site this mornin’.” He groaned.

It sounded like he was pouring something on his end of the line. You commented on it, “Are you making yourself a drink?”

“Mhmm.” Joel took a sip of whatever it was he had poured, you could hear him swallow and made your throat dry up. “That alright?”

“Hey, I’m on my second glass of wine so I can hardly judge.”

“Second? You have a long day, sugar?” He asked in concern. Again, the sound of it caught you off guard. You could count on one hand the number of people who showed you genuine concern in the last two years. “Everythin’ okay?”

You forced out a chuckle and nodded despite him not being able to see it. “I’m fine.” It was probably a little early to be flooding him with your problems and the history of your ex. Instead, you jumped over it entirely. “I was actually gonna ask if you wanted to get dinner or drinks, but when I asked Riley what time you got off he said you’d be working late.”

“What?” Joel asked in surprise. He grumbled under his breath before speaking up. “Don’t ever let that stop you, darlin’. I always got time for you. Honestly, it would've been a nice surprise and a good excuse to leave early.”

You let out a soft laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“You better.” Joel grunted as he dropped down into a seat. Another tired sigh left his lips and you opened your mouth to suggest that he get some rest, but he beat you to speaking. “Tell me about your day, sugar.”

“It was pretty boring.” You replied. “You’ve seen how empty the bakery tends to get.”

“So? I still wanna hear. Talk about somethin’ at least. Lemme hear that pretty voice.”

You grinned to yourself. “You think my voice is pretty?”

“I think everythin’ about you is pretty. Now, no more stallin’. Hit me with it.”

If he wanted to hear about your boring day you’d be more than happy to indulge him. His words still caught you off guard though. He liked your voice? It was extra funny considering how much you liked his voice personally. You talked about the few customers you did have today, how thankful the shelter had been for Henry’s leftovers, and getting to know Riley.

“Yeah, Riley is a good guy.” Joel agreed. “Figured the two of you would get along. Plus,” He took another sip of the whiskey he had told you he chose as his drink earlier, “I know he’s head over heels for that girl of his so I didn’ have to worry about him makin’ a move on you.” You laughed at the sentiment and Joel let out a small chuckle himself. “I ain’t kiddin’, sugar. I only just got you to agree to put up with me. I ain’t plannin’ on losing you quite yet.”

“Put up with you.” You scoffed. “As if I don’t equally enjoy talking to you.”

Joel chuckled in response then cleared his throat. “How’d it go with your boss? How’d he take the news?” Your smile turned sheepish and rather than answer you picked up your wine glass, now at the end of your third, and took a long sip. Joel sighed. “Sugar?”

“Okay, so, hold on.” You blurted. “He was sick today. Henry left like right after coming in to help me open and I didn’t wanna spring the news on him when he already felt so terrible.” You set the wine glass down then buried yourself into the couch under your blanket. “I’m already worried I’m gonna break his heart.” Joel blew out a sigh and you winced. “Sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t.” Joel responded, but it wasn’t sharp or demanding. He just didn’t want to hear you apologize. “I want you to stop workin’ because I think you’d be happier out of that place, but I’m not tryin’ to shove you into quittin’ if you ain’t comfortable with it yet, darlin’. If…” Joel paused. “If you think you need to stay there a little while longer then I’m not gonna guilt you otherwise.”

His words made your lips curl up into a small, soft smile. It wasn’t that you loved your work there by any means, but you did love Henry. He was family. Plus, that small voice of anxiety was still nagging loud enough that you couldn’t quite fully ignore it. This was still so new. What if Joel got to the end of this week and decided you were more annoying than entertaining. You couldn’t just tear up your roots with no guarantee that this life was fully concrete.

You didn’t know if Joel understood that from the same angle you did, but you did appreciate that he was willing to bend on that topic. “Yeah.” You said quietly then added in a teasing inflection added, “Thanks, daddy.”

Joel chuckled in response, “You’re gonna be the death of me, sugar.”

You remembered a topic you had planned on asking him earlier in the day, and maybe it was the three glasses of wine that had loosened your tongue, but you blurted it out without thinking. “So, hey, I hear you have a brother?” Joel was quiet for a beat and it was only then that sober logic regained control. “I mean, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to blurt it out like that. Riley mentioned he was in the military and that you had a brother who was too. I didn't mean to pick at a sore topic if⏤”

“No, sugar.” Joel chuckled. “Not a sore topic. Just caught me off guard is all. But, yeah, I got a baby brother. Tommy.” Tommy Miller. You tucked the information away in the folder of facts you were learning about Joel. “He was in the Army for a while, but left a long time ago. He actually works with me now at the company. Was with me when we went from small time contractors to whatever the hell we are now.”

“Big deals.” You joked. “If your fancy building is anything to go by.”

“Guess so by someone’s definition.” Joel snorted. You liked that he still felt so grounded and to the earth. It had been part of the reason his proposition caught you off guard because after meeting him you never would’ve suspected him to be the kind who owned a large and very rich company.

“You’re not mad that Riley told me that, are you?” You asked. “Because if you are, I'll admit to wrestling the information out of him.”

Joel laughed. “I ain’t mad, darlin’. Like I said, I’m glad the two of you get along. You’re stuck with him now.” You hummed in confusion and Joel added. “He’s your driver. Anywhere you need to go, any time, just call him.”

“Wait, seriously?” You cried.

“I told you I ain’t letting you get on a bus again.” Joel replied like he was still appalled you had done so this morning. “And since you won’t let me buy you a car…”

“Fine, fine, fine.” You blurted and he let out a soft laugh. A beat of silence stretched between the two of you, but it was a comfortable one. The kind where you just enjoyed knowing he was on the other end of the call even if he wasn’t actively speaking.

You accidentally let out a small yawn and Joel hummed. “You need to get to bed.”

“Nuh uh.” You replied. “It’s only…” You found the clock and your eyes widened. 12:01. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. I’ve kept you up long enough, sugar.”

“I’m not even tired.” You whined and rose to your feet. The stiff movements made you realize how close you had been to just passing out on the couch.

“Sure, you ain’t.”

You meandered to your bedroom, flipping out lights as you went, and shut your bedroom door. “Will we talk again tomorrow?”

“You mean later today?” Joel joked.

You chuckled. “Yes.” It didn’t even matter to you that you may have sounded needy. Being on the phone had not only been fun, but it had been just what you needed to settle the turmoil you had accidentally scourged up earlier. “So?”

“Course, sugar. I’ll text you on your way to work. Riley’ll be there at 6:30 to pick you up.”

“Alright. Night, Joel.” You replied sincerely. “Thanks for talking to me.”

Joel hummed and you could hear him moving around on his end as well. “Should be thanking you.” He added quickly, a tinge or nervousness seeping into his voice. “Hey, do you wanna, uh, you wanna plan for dinner?” Your eyes widened marginally but your lips spread out into another warm and wide grin. “I got a few more busy days, but this Wednesday I’ll be free all evening. Wanna make a night of it?”

“Yes!” You answered much faster than you had initially planned. There went being cool and collected. Joel chuckled. “I mean, yeah. That would be⏤ That would be fun.”

“Good. Get some sleep, sugar.” Joel replied. You wished him well before the call ended and you were left standing in your bedroom feeling like you were on cloud nine.

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