#i need to see them interact after HM!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ressonancee · 9 months

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IS THIS TOO MUCH?

When Mingyu helps you up with your boxes, you don't think too much of it, really, but when he shows up in the hall with a kid in his arms - something changes.

✦ KIM MINGYU - f!reader

✦ Genre: neighboors-to-lovers, daddy!Mingyu (slightly), angsty (slighlty), smut (minors don't interact), a little bit of health problems, oral sex (f! receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this at home), reader has a few insecurities so keep that Mingyu.

✦ word count: 11k+

✦ Title inspired by Carly Ra Jepsen - Too much.

✦ Thea note: Mingyu is so boyfriend coded I want to punch a wall, lately been thinking about daddy!mingyu a lot and how that would look like, but also Mingyu is not an easy character I swear this was a struggle, but here it is - and of course, it has a pussy drunk mingyu scene. Also thanks again @ni-aaaaaaa for helping me with this one 🫶

Moving is hard. Moving places is hard. Moving places almost across the country is harder.

So here you are - struggling to hold the elevator and a load boxes, but then he arrives - a knight in shiny armor or just a fit guy in gym clothes and sweats.

"Do you need help with that?" he asks pointing to the boxes.

"Hi, hm -" You start, and you want to be the crazy strong independent lady who doesn't need help, you listened to Destiny Child for fuck sake, you can pay your bills and load your boxes on the goddamn elevator, but you are so freaking tired. It's the second round of boxes and you will probably need to do more and drive to hand over the moving truck, but all you need and truly want is to take a shower, get rid of the sweat, and lay down with arms and legs open on your bed like you are a starfish. But then you remember, did you pack the body soap in the backpack? Suitcase? Boxes n 03 with bathroom-related things? And the bed sheets? Fuck.

"Do you have more or?" The nice guy with strong arms and gym clothes asks already lifting the three boxes at once, putting them in the elevator and stepping in the elevator door and letting you in.

"I have a few more in the truck but-" You click on the fourth floor button.

"Oh" He says pointing at the button and at you. "We’re neighbors, nice. You’re probably in the Mrs Smith apartment, right? Lovely lady, it was nice that her daughter took her in after she moved." The guy continues and you don't quite follow but hey, he is already unloading and leaving the boxes at the 03 door so you gonna take all the help. "Do you want to put them in or do you want to pick up the other boxes on the truck?"

"You don't actually need to-" You ask trying to be a polite neighbor and not a pushover, but Mr. Nice Guy and nice arms cuts you off.

"Oh don't worry, I didn't do back or arms today, if I don't need to squat too much it's alright" He says, big smile gracing his face as he tilts his head and, oh god ,he is quite hot and he is just so nice and big all over and you’re way too tired so you don't want to take the last few boxes and do a fourth trip to the garage when you can do just two - maybe one if the nice guy with big arms lift more than you think in his everyday trip to the gym. So, you just accept, because he could do what your noodles arms could never: lift more the two boxes at once.

"Look,” You say tidying the boxes near your door because you are a good neighbor and you don't want someone to trip in the hall because of you. "I'm very grateful, and I drove for like, more than ten hours, so I'm taking all the help I can get. And I don't know your diet but I'm so buying pizza after this so if you want you can joy. Like paying for all your service with a half of pizza."

So that's how you end up with nice-guy-strong-arms-buff-chest in your new apartment and learn that his name is actually Kim Mingyu and that he’s a software engineer and that he mainly goes to the gym to see people otherwise he would not get out of the house because he works remotely. So you also give your resume-of-life talk that you worked on rehearsing in that ten hour drive - needed to change cities because working on research isn't easy, new PhD in town, works on gender studies, and has a side hustle with a nonprofit.

"Oh, so you are smart smart,” Mingyu replied with a mouth full of pizza, trying to wash it down with coke.

"Nah,” You reply in the same situation. "Dumb enough to go into humanities actually.”

"Hey! That's nothing wrong with humanities," He says. "Once I wanted to be an archeologist - that goes into humanities, right?"

"I don't really know, probably?"

And you and Mingyu guy don't really turn into friends per se - and that's mainly your fault. He’s easy going and always talks to you in the elevator or hall when you’re going to the university and he’s going to the gym. He tells you to knock on his door for a movie, tells you that you both can go to a coffee shop nearby, and tells you that he knows nice restaurants, but you never quite follow his ideas.

You could say that it was because of your routine. Kind of excruciating; you had a few classes to actually teach, research to plan and execute, and because you were the new one in the department, all the extra winter and summer courses to plan and teach was your obligation. Yey new job!

But the actual reason is that, yes, you are overloaded with your new job, and with the new city, and with new everything. So, when Mingyu asks you just can't bring yourself to actually do it. Part of you thinks he is just being nice, just trying to be friendly, he does have that kinda puppy energy going around him - too big, too excited, too much all over the place and knocking into everything. But part of you is scared that Mingyu nice-guy-all-over might be trying something with you that you can't actually handle right now.

Because sometimes you catch how Mingyu looks at you - eyes lingering.. And God, this works wonders to your self-esteem. Once, when you actually wore your gym clothes and he was in his jeans for a change, you could see him visibly gulping on the hallway. He asked why he never saw you at his gym, you answered the only way possible, you don't go to the gym, you are one of the runs at the park lunatics, and he said it was a pity really, maybe he can start running and going to the park.

Or that time when you had to go to a nice dinner - fundraising and meeting people was the worst part of the job, but hey, you needed the money and the funds to go around interviewing women in politics across the country, so you put the nicest black dress you had and a pair of high heels. And when you leave the house, you scream to the person in the elevator to wait and do the silliest run in those shoes and it was Mingyu – dressed joggers and hair ruffled, contrasting to your polished appearance. "Hot date?" he asked in a small voice head tilting to look at you because even with your highest heels, he was still taller. "I wish, work, and you?" You answered. "Bad day. Gonna pick up some beer." And you left the elevator just to see Mingyu ogling at your ass and getting flustered because of it.

So maybe when he asked you out you always brushed over, never actually said no. But you never said yes either. Because even though you were actually trying to handle all the other things in your life and a relationship did fall into the 'not-now-category' or in the 'probably-will-make-me-insane', you liked having Mingyu there, in the back of your mind, filling up your fantasies and what-ifs. It may be a bitch move, but it was what you could handle right now, because really, handling the new job, in a new city, basically friendless, and almost crying at your kitchen table, because one of the students needed a week extension and that alone was almost driving you insane.

So having Mingyu on the back of your mind was the only thing you could handle right now. Mingyu and his big hands, strong arms and his nice fucking smile, and oh god, he did smell good. Your mind could - and would - wonder when you both got together on that dumb elevator and how you want to climb him like a goddamn tree. And sometimes you let your mind wander and think how everything would go if you said yes. If you went to a nice restaurant, what would happen? Would everything go smoothly and you end up on his sheets? Or yours? How would it feel having Mingyu in your bed? You have all the questions and none of the answers.

So, when you see Mingyu with a mini-Mingyu at his side, arms full of bags, and struggling to close his kid’s coat, you get a little mind blown. You think a little and Mingyu never actually talked about having a son or a daughter you couldn't really tell, and then you blame yourself maybe he didn’t say anything because you never said yes. You never went to the nice restaurant or the coffee shop. And then it fucks you up a bit, because what else do you not know about him - maybe silly things like what is his favorite food? What movies does he like? What in his binge-watch list?

Did Mingyu get married? He’s probably divorced - you think - because you never saw that kid before so mini-Mingyu didn’t live with Big-Mingyu, and also you never saw a woman and you think that if Mingyu was married he would not be looking at your ass in every step of the way down to the garage - or at least you hope not. Oh god, you don’t want to be a homewrecker, but then again, Mingyu doesn’t look like the guy who would do that: hit on you if he was in a relationship. Then it dawns on you, maybe, maybe he was just being friendly.

Right?

But when Mingyu picks mini-Mingyu in his arms, still with too many bags and gives you a big, warm smile, you almost freeze.

“Hey,” He says clicking the elevator’s button. “Going to the Uni?” He asks as you go to his side, Mini-Gyu’s big eyes on your face - so you just give the little kid your best smile.

“Yep, one professor is out of town so I have a few extra classes this week to teach the kids the joy of classical sociology,” You say eyes leaving Mini-Gyu and actually going to Big-Gyu, and your mind gets fucked up a bit, because one, how do genes work? That kid is actually Mingyu's carbon copy and of course, you have not stepped in biology classes in a few years - but you are pretty sure that cloning is not yet allowed - maybe you should check it out in the ethics committee or something. Maybe Mingyu is committing some kind of crime.

“Nice,” And Mingyu finally looks at the kid who is still staring at you. “This is Minseok.” He says kind of rocking the kid up and down trying to adjust the begs on his shoulder. “Minseok and I are going to the park for a picnic date, aren't we, Minseok?” But Minseok doesn't actually answer, Minseok just hides his face on Mingyu’s shoulder, looking a little shy and you smile because he looks like he just got caught staring.

“Do you need help or?” You ask seeing how Mingyu continues to struggle.

“Nah, this little guy will just walk. He is just being shy he doesn’t know how to act in front of pretty girls,” And you can actually feel the pink in your cheeks and now you quite understand Minseok and the urge to hide. And maybe, maybe Mingyu is hitting on you in every damn elevator trip.

"Poor baby," You coo and you can actually see Mingyu's legs giving up a little and picking himself up. Minseok looks at you, hand closed in your direction, you give him an open palm and he shyly drops a little sticker. "Oh! Thank you very much," You say hand closing against your chest, analyzing the little Pikachu sticker.

"Oh god, I'm raising a womanizer," Mingyu says ruffling the kid’s hair. "Did you already feel in love with noona?" Mingyu asks Minseok and strokes his pink cheeks with his massive hands. You actually can't figure out Minseok's age, is he tiny? Or it is Mingyu that is bigger than the average person?

"I'm old enough to be his auntie, Mingyu." You say actually putting the little sticker in your bag. And for once you are the one that holds the elevator door for Mingyu and the scene looks so domestic that makes your heart clench a bit. You don’t even want a kid, you don’t even know if you are ready for it, but why does Mingyu with little Minseok in his arms make you feel jealous? Jealous of the person that you don’t even know, someone who doesn’t even have a face in your imagination.

"Nah, pretty girls are always noona," Mingyu says and you can feel how your cheeks are turning pink because you feel them hot.. "Anyway, good luck with the classes. We would actually invite you over for our little picnic date but I guess you’re a busy girl."

"You know the real professor is always on my ass, Mingyu." You say heading towards your car.

"Well," Mingyu says finally letting Minseok on the floor, Minseok’s hands tiny on Mingyu's and your heart kinda swells because it is a heart warming picture really. Because you know Mingyu is a fine ass man, with a nice personality paired with a mindblowing body, and he just looks like such a father with Minseok on his hand, well it didn't help that Minseok was the cutest kid you ever laid your eyes on, even though he looked a little shy, a little sad. "You know I am always free, so you can hit me up anytime."

So, when you are talking about how Marx and Weber see the society and the conflicts in it you can't quite stop thinking about Mingyu and Minseok and you could actually cry.

Cry, because you somehow, even with all that Mingyu said to you and all the little flirtatious jabs going on you feel like you lost an opportunity. But at the same time, you want to cry because the relationship gets more complicated if a child is evolved. You may be a bitch over the fact that maybe you lead Mingyu on without actually saying no, but a child? You can't lead a child on, you can’t just kiss-kiss peck-peck your neighbor and say hi to Minseok, or even worse, you can’t start a relationship with Kim Mingyu and then break up with Kim Mingyu after being involved in Minseok’s life. You can’t picture going every weekend to the park and then just vanishing because your life is too busy and the relationship doesn’t quite work. You think that you may be a bitch and break Mingyu’s heart - even though you don't think he’s crazy in love with you to you actually break his heart, but you couldn’t break Minseok because his big eyes and small pout is too cute.

And you want to cry because Mingyu is hot. You noticed that when he picked your boxes and his arms bulged against his sleeve. You have eyes so you can see, every time you see him really, or going to the gym, or in his lounge clothes, or when he is a little bit tidy but still in not formal clothes, you stop a little and you think you never actually saw Mingyu going on a date, or in formal wear. And now it makes sense: having a kid doesn’t actually make dating easier.

But now you see another side of him. Mingyu is endearing, he is cute and you suspect that he could treat you well. He looks reliable, he has a good job, and he is a nice guy. But all that went to a new level when he had a kid in his arms, it made you twitch a little. The way that he looks at the kid in his arms makes your heart inflate like a damn balloon and makes you think about all the other things that you don't know about Mingyu, all the little secrets, all the gaps in his personality.

And oh damn. You had a new problem on your hands. Cute dilf Mingyu was the problem.

So, when you and Mingyu see each other in the hall, you breathe deeply. Afraid to say you are a little relieved when Mingyu is kid-less, but still hot in his gym clothes.

"Park today?" Mingyu asks with a gym bag in his hand.

"Yeah, I'm almost near my 10km mark so I'm pushing it a little bit." You say self-conscious tugging on your clothes, fixing your leggings and top. Fuck, maybe you should've put that baggy shirt on. Why the hell you got out of the house looking like a crazy lady without even brushing your hair? Ok, you said to yourself that the run was the last thing before washing your hair and putting a mask on it, but still, you knew that Mingyu was always in the hall.

"Nice. I heard about the run, right? Some people at my gym are going." Mingyu says eyes still on you, making you twitch. And you know is not Mingyu’s fault. He;’s always like that - he looks at you, pays attention, not even once you felt like you were not being heard when you were talking to him, not even when you were bitching because someone left the trashcan open.

"Oh god no, I'm not even close to the run’s entry level." You say tongue itching against your mouth. Mingyu has that quality really, he makes you curious and he makes you bold and afraid at the same time. But even if your mind says no, you still go for it. "So, no Minseok today?"

"Ah," Mingyu scratches his neck, almost shy, almost. "No, he is with his mom, the little guy was sick and had a few days off so no school for him, that's why he was so shy he was actually moody, but he liked you enough to give you his treasured Pikachu sticker."

"Oh yes." You actually pick up your phone and show Mingyu, and you feel a little silly but every time you see the Pikachu behind it makes you smile. "It’s not a sticker anymore, it evolved in the lucky charm category."

"Oh" Mingyu says looking at you and at your phone with an endearing look on his face that you couldn't quite puzzle. "That's actually cute."

"I mean," you shrug.

"Well, I gonna tell him that you treasure his Pikachu. It's not like he doesn’t already have a big crush on you." Mingyu teases looking at you like he wants to see every little reaction, like he wants to put the puzzle of you together like every detail matters.

"Stop, he was just being cute and polite you should be proud." You shove Mingyu but he doesn't even bulge. Damn, he was strong.

"Oh I am, but that's not polite, that's his love language, he even talked about you to his mom." Mingyu says eyes still on you, and you think for a second how funny it is, that he actually makes you feel this way, make you feel opposite worlds at the same time, makes you want to run and hide but and makes you want to stretch and bath of every ray of attention he gives you. "And he calls you elevator noona."

"Nooooooo," you say feeling pretty good that you stole the kid's heart in one elevator trip, Minseok was easier to win over than Mingyu.

"Yeeeees," Mingyu mocks you, and again he looks shy but Mingyu is not a shy person so that makes you think, makes you ponder. "Actually, he is going to be around for a few days so if you want to go to the park or-"

"Are you free today?" You ask, and you can see Mingyu's eyes bulge, his face making sure that you know that he is not understanding what you meant.

"Hun?" He says, head moving almost like a dog.

"Today, are you free? I mean I know that you are going to the gym, but we can go to that coffee shop you said and just chat a little." When the elevator stops, Mingyu, like always holding the door for you.

"Oh, hm-" He looks at his bag, then at the elevator door closing, then at you.

"Don't worry,” You say trying to soothe him, hands gesturing and all. “It was dumb to ask when I know you have plans, we can rain-check it."

"No, no, just-" Mingyu start to pat himself searching for his phone, chest, then front pocket, then back pockets, then looking at his bag. "Let me just call Chan and tell him I'm not going to the gym."

"Noooo," You feel so silly that you almost stomp your feet on the ground like a child. "You can go, we can just meet up or rain-check it, don't worry, you always understand when I'm too busy so-"

"Noooo," He copies you. "I’ll tell Chan that I'm doing cardio today," He starts typing on his phone. "I’m doing so much cardio in the park, running is the best exercise ever."

“Now, you’re just mocking me,” You say trying to push him again but this time he pretends you are strong enough to make him move.

“Nah, not doing anything.”

Mingyu doesn't make a big deal of changing plans - which is so weird to you, a planner and an avid checker of to do-lists. The only detour he needs is to stop at his car because he can't run with his gym bag. And that's how you end up running with Mingyu, and even though you have a good pace, Mingyu's legs are just way too big, so you always end up getting a little behind.

And again, Mingyu is so caring and nice that sometimes he dashes off but when he sees you are not following his pace he stops a bit, running in place waiting for you with a big smile. Damn, you are fucked because you feel like every time Mingyu smiles, a halo of sunshine forms against his figure. You knew he was pretty, you knew he was handsome, and you knew he was hot, but now you know that he may be mother's nature favorite and that is just unfair.

Mingyu has long legs, but you have endurance, so when he is almost dying you are good to go - maybe not so good, but you can keep going for a few more kilometers.

"See you could totally go for the run. You can take a lot more than I do." Mingyu says panting, hand on his waist, bending over.

"Nah, that would make running serious and with a goal, that ruins the fun." You say fixing your hair, tying it in a high ponytail again.

"Sometimes I wonder how your mind works," Mingyu says, seriously, making you stop in your tracks, making your head tilt, and actually look at Mingyu who looks like he is trying to puzzle you. "You say things like that and the way you think is so-" He trails off again, looking at his feet, then at everything but you. "The way you think gives me a new perspective on things."

And you could almost cry. Because at the same time, you feel so seen yet vulnerable. You feel more naked than when you are actually naked with some random guy. And you breath so deeply, because sometimes you run laps just to keep things hidden, you go through mental gymnastics trying to keep things under the rug. And it clicks in your head. Maybe that's why you avoid Mingyu, that's why you always say no because to him, you are so easy to read that actually scares you. So, you do the best you can, avoid.

"Ok Mingyu, you called me weird and now you are paying for coffee," you say storming off in front of him.

"I did not call you weird, don't put words in my mouth," He grins, again next to you because of his long legs. You almost think about kicking him in the shin and storming off. "What I am saying is that we are very, very different."

"And that's a bad thing?" You ask self-conscious, feeling your body actually shrink.

"It's not bad, it's different," Mingyu says opening up the door for you. "We think differently, that's all."

"A latte please and a-" You ask Mingyu.

"A latte and an Americano," Mingyu says.

So, you both get your drinks and sit on a pretty outside table per your request. The weather is good enough for it.

"That's what I am talking about," Mingyu says with a sip. "When I am all sweat what I want is to just be inside with the AC on, you prefer to sit outside."

"I'm sweat I feel sticky in the AC." You shrug.

"You see, I feel sticky outside," he responds.

"Do you want to go inside we can-" you say already picking up your drink and getting up when you feel Mingyu's hand on your arm.

"What I am saying is that we are different." Mingyu gives you a soothing smile. "I am data-driven, you lean towards contexts. I need goals, clear goals, otherwise, I feel unmotivated, but you feel like goals take away the fun. We are different and that's nothing wrong with that, so maybe that's why I feel so interested in you."

"I'm not that interesting," you say, taking only a sip to buy more time. Actually, I'm boring."

"See, you can't take a compliment either! I love compliments, just could play a 24h audio just praising me." Mingyu says shamelessly, making you laugh.

"Yeah, I'm not good on that but I'm serious. Like, there’s not much going on here." You say pointing to yourself.

"Oh, like the poets said, if you could see yourself though my eyes," Mingyu says making you blush and look away.

"Don't say things like that." You complain, pouting like a kid.

"Oh, come on," Mingyu’s smile is big, and you see that he’s enjoying making you shy, making you embarrassed. "It's not like it’s not clear that I'm into you, I even asked you out and you were the one that dumped me."

"I didn't dump you," You say almost kicking his shin below the desk, not because you want to but because you almost had a Pavlovian reaction. "I never said no and I'm truly busy."

"Not saying no is not the same as saying yes. I know that I'm being a little pushover, but I am a simple guy. I don't see why hide that I’m into you or find you hot and interesting. And I know that you know that, and I also know that you are not into me so" He shrugs. "It's not a big deal really."

"I-" You start but you almost freeze. "Fuck, I'm so bad at this," You say to Mingyu giving him your best I'm So Sorry Smile "Look I'm not good at this, I don't flirt, and honestly small talk almost kills me. And I gonna sound like such a bitch, but it's me it's not you?" You say again giving Mingyu that smile, searching for any trace of reaction on his face "You are a nice guy and you are funny, and god you are so good looking like almost unreal good looking -" And you laugh because Mingyu is liking the shower of praises, he is enjoying every step of the way like he said he did. "But, I feel like I'm not that ready, all the changes is making me freak out and it is making me so unsure and I need time to put myself up, and I can’t ask for you to wait-"

"Oh, I’m so waiting," Mingyu says, leaning on the chair, crossing his legs and arms and looking so smug.

"I cannot ask you for that because I don't even know when I will feel ready and-" You continue, behaving like Mingyu didn't say a thing.

"Once a week," He says still looking smug it makes you stop in your tracks.

“Huh?”

"Once a week, we can see each other once a week. It can be a date in a nice restaurant, it can be run, it can be a trip to the market, anything really, just-" Mingyu breathes changing positions, and taking a sip of his coffee. "If you don't feel ready or don’t want me like that I will understand and if doesn't work out at least we can be friends, like you said I’m a nice guy."

And that's how you end up entering in Mingyu's life and letting Mingyu enter yours. That's how you end up on Mingyu's sofa, two weeks later, on a Friday night, chilling, Mingyu's head on your lap, fingers threading through his soft hair, paying more attention to him than the movie really. And that’s because Mingyu was kissing you before you two chose the movie. He kissed you against his door, and gave you a peck when you put your bag on his table, and he kissed you again on the sofa, make you whimper because the way he is holding your hips. But he is a nice guy, and you said you were not ready for all that, so he goes back to his good guy persona and lays on the couch, head in your lap, leg almost entirely off the couch.

And then his phone rings and rings, so Mingyu breathes deeply and annoyed, because who dares disturb his head-rubbing time and sits up.

"Hey," Mingyu says and his face changes so fast you can almost feel in the air "Okay okay, just-" he says already getting up and doing his back pocket tap that he always does to go out. "Okay, just give him some Tylenol, ok? I’m already on my way, I can call when I'm about ten minutes away so you can go down, ok? It’ll be faster."

He stops to look at you. And he looks so afraid that you just know it is about Minseok.

"It’s ok. Go." You say because it is, the change of his demeanor says is something important.

"Fuck," Mingyu says, hands going to his hair and tugging it "It’s just Minseok. We just found out he has Crohn's disease and he is having a flare up. We need to take him to the hospital, he is down with a fever so it’s not a good sign and I should go really."

"I can drive," You say getting up as well.

“Oh no, no you can stay really finish the movie, you can totally feel at home, you can cook something or shit-"

"Mingyu," You say searching for his hand, big against yours. "You are shaking." And you can almost feel the energy trapped inside him, making him tremble all over. "Hey it's gonna be OK, Minseok is gonna be fine. I just need you to calm down. I’ll drive and everything will be OK. Minseok needs you calm."

"Ok, ok. Thank you."

So you guys storm off. You guys ended up in Mingyu's car, you fixing up his car seat and his rear view mirror to make comfortable to you. And every time you stop on a red traffic light you check Mingyu out, breath still fast enough for you to notice, face full of worry. And in that moment, you think you care so deeply about Mingyu, because seeing him like that is making your heart break in tiny little pieces.

Because Mingyu is just not like that. To you, Mingyu is always warm, always full of energy. He’s like a warm soft blank that has just enough weight so you can feel grounded on your bed. Mingyu is a night sky - big but so full of stars, those same stars bright enough to guide you home.

When you finally arrive at Minseok's place you see the little guy in his mother's arm and that makes your heart break all over again. You see Mingyu open the door for them, and he goes to the other side putting Minseok in his little chair, the woman doesn't even look at you, her full attention on Minseok, but still you feel uneasy. Out of place. You feel like you are barging in in a scene that is not yours, like an extra ruining the shoot. But then Mingyu is at your side again, hands on your thigh, big in contrast, and you feel his warmth and assurance, so you just drive.

At the hospital, everything seems kind of hectic, and you again feel out place again, asking yourself if you should be there. In your mind, you know you did the best of the situation: you helped Mingyu, and that should be enough. But emotionally, you feel so damn invisible in it all, and that makes you feel even worse because it makes you feel so egoistic. For God's sake, a child is sick needing a hospital and here are you feeling like you need to cry because fuck you feel out of place? Feeling pathetic about it makes you want to cry too.

So, when you and Minseok's mother are side by side, coffee in hands and Mingyu on the loose searching for food, you want to just get up and leave without giving a proper explanation, but you think you need to be a reasonable adult.

"You see…" Minseok's mother starts. "Mingyu never brought a girl home." And you kinda feel strange what she is saying but hey her kid is on the hospital, she may be going crazy. "I never actually even saw one of his girlfriends, ever."

"Oh, I’m not his girlfriend, we’re just friends." You start, but the taste of the phrase feels weird against your tongue.

"Yeah," She laughs, and you know she is laughing at you, which makes everything worse. "I know my brother and I know how he looks to someone." She says, holding her head, elbows on her own thighs, and she looks so so tired, and that too, makes you want to cry. "But I’m glad that you are here. I may not seem glad because my kid is right now on a hospital bed, but-" she says laughing again, and now you are not so sure why she is laughing, she looks so exhausted she is almost out of it. "But since Minseok's father passed away Mingyu is just giving his all you know? He bends over backwards for us. He picks Minseok on school when I can’t get out of the work on time, he was the one who could actually take care of Minseok the last time he went to hospital because I was too damn busy, and he actually cooks for us and he just goes to my home to leave side dishes. He is doing more than he should. He is doing what a father should be doing." She says and you hear her heart breaking, you almost see the blood, because she is so transparent, so worried, so sorry, and all that don't make sense in your head. "What I’m trying to say is that my little brother is precious, so if you fuck up, I might kick your ass."

"I thought he was-"

"Minseok's father? I know I gave birth to a mini version of my brother, but like, it's a little screwed up you didn’t know. Maybe you guys should work on your communication."

And that stays on your mind. Stays on your mind when it gets too late to get an Uber so Mingyu insists on you driving his car back because ubers can be weird and unsafe. Stays on your mind when he doesn't text you. Stays on your mind when you are at university, yet again lecturing about sociology classics and some passionate kids are debating about communism, and you can't even make yourself worry that you are not that older than the people you call kids. Stays on your mind when you arrive home and you can't quite bring enough courage to knock on Mingyu's door.

But then two days after the whole not-Minseok-daddy’s fiasco, Mingyu is at your door. Looking like a truck just hit him, the same clothes from a few days, body a mess, and you suspect that mind too. So, you let Mingyu in, guide him to your shower, go to his home pick up his clothes, and you roll your sleeve and start making Mingyu dinner. You are not a good cook, and Mingyu is certainly better than you, but still, you try your best. It’s what you’ve been doing all your life really.

You are putting garlic and onions in the pan when you feel Mingyu's arms going around you. He puts his forehead on your shoulder, and you can smell your soap’s scent on his skin.

"I'm sorry I vanished."

"It's okay it must have been tough. I understand."

"I know you do, and I'm very thankful for that but-" Mingyu turns his head to your neck, and you can feel his smell you and his hot breath against it. "I still shouldn't have done it. It was a dick move. You were also worried."

"Yeah, but it’s okay. Is he okay?" You say lowering the fire.

"Yeah, he is already talking about how his mom should give him a better cellphone so he can play Pokémon go at the hospital because everything is so boring."

"See? He’s okay. Minseok is fine." You say turning and giving Mingyu a hug, his head going again to your neck, almost rubbing himself on you.

"Yeah, we just need to pay more attention to his diet." He says still bending to hug you.

"See, Minseok is fine, but you don't look so good sir, so let me treat you to a nice, homemade meal." You say giving his butt a little tap because one more second in Mingyu's and everything will be burned in the pan.

"What I did do to deserve you?"

"A lot of things, Gyu, a whole lot of things."

Mingyu eats, and it seems to improve his energy a bit because he insists on watching a movie with you, even tho you know he looks like he may fall asleep at every minute - he didn't actually sleep soundly for two days and you said that to him, but, being the stubborn guy he is, he still insists. So you two end up in your bed, bodies tangled, Mingyu's head on your chest, your fingers going through his hair - he favorite thing in the whole world he says and that makes your heart bloom, full of tiny little flowers.

You wake up in a different situation. Mingyu's body now pressed against your back, his thigh big against yours, and his hand splayed against your other thigh. Mingyu's strong arms around you, and he is warm against you and surprisingly soft. You squirm a little trying to change position until you can face Mingyu, face soft and peaceful.

And fuck.

Maybe you don't just care about Mingyu.

Maybe, just, maybe you have fallen in love with him. Maybe now, after having him on your bed, you will continuously think about how you want to wake up in his arms. Maybe you will continuously think about how you want to be Mingyu's shelter, how you want to be the place he comes back to when times get rougher. Maybe you want to be Mingyu's night sky clear enough and starry enough to guide him home. And all that makes you feel like you want to cry and weep because maybe you are not ready enough. Maybe you will never be. But you want to be, you want so much and that makes things even harder.

So when Mingyu gives you a peck on the lips when he is going home to change for the gym and you are ready for a day in the university you also feel like crying.

And when Mingyu sends you a message asking you out - on a proper date he makes that clear enough you also feel like crying.

And when Mingyu is knocking on your door because you didn't answer and he saw your car in the garage when he was back from his market trip you are already crying before even answering the door.

"Hey-" He freezes and his demeanor changes. "Hey, what's wrong?"

You just continue to cry, feeling like a dumb little kid, feeling like a pan full of water in the stove, boiling and overflowing.

"Hey, babe what's wrong?" Mingyu says, hands on your cheeks making you look at him. "You’re making me worried."

"I just-" You try to say, cleaning your face but you just hiccup harder.

"Are you feeling unwell? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No, I'm OK." And you say because you see Mingyu's face squirm in agony.

"Ok, ok. Do you need anything? Do you want me to buy anything? Fix anything? Did someone mistreat you?" Mingyus continues to try searching for something in your face.

"No I-"

"You can tell me if it is someone from your work or-" He tries again.

"It is not about work, it is about us." You finally say, not because you summed up the courage, but because the way Mingyu is acting is breaking your heart all over again.

"Us?" Mingyu bends his head to the side. "Okay, what's wrong with us?"

"Sometimes I get too wrapped up in my head and that's not your fault." You say, just leaving him there and sitting on the sofa. And you feel the urge to just tug at your hair and scream. "And the whole I'm not ready thing and your sister-"

"What did my sister say?" Mingyu cuts you, closer to you, arms folded against his chest.

“It’s not because of what she said, she is actually right about it-"

"Look babe, I love my sister to death, I love Minseok to death, I’d die and kill for both of them, but my sister is overprotective so whatever she said-"

"She said we don't have good communication." You blur out at once.

"Oh, for fucks sake,"

"And she’s right because I thought Minseok was your kid right?" You tell Mingyu a little exasperated. "Like we've been hanging out right? And I didn't feel comfortable to talk about it with you"

"Everyone thinks Minseok is my kid." Mingyu says like is not a big deal.

"Yeah but your maybe girlfriend shouldn't and I found out on a trip to a hospital when all the time I was thinking about how worried you were because it was your kid." You say bringing your knees to your chest because all this is fucked up, you shouldn't be talking about this with Mingyu because you have no right to, you were the one that spent too much time not saying yes, and when you said yes didn't even feel like a yes to be honest.

"I was worried, and Minseok is my kid in a way.”

"Mingyu,” You breathe deeply, because you feel stupid, and you feel like you are asking too much "Maybe that's my fault too, I'm not blaming you, that's why I told you that I was not ready for a relationship because I always fuck things up. I get so scared that I fuck things up before people realize I'm not good enough fo-"

"For fucks sake," Mingyu says opening his arms and tilting his head again. And you think is the first time you see Mingyu mad or frustrated, or both at the same time, you really can’t tell. "What the fuck do you mean with not good enough? You are caring, you are smart, and you actually drove me to the hospital and stayed there until I kicked you out. All that when we’ve been seeing each other for two weeks, how is that not being good enough?" Mingyu take your hand that is laying against your knee and caresses it with his thumb. "You make me go crazy every time we are together and I feel the happiest I've ever been in these months fuck this year actually has been a hell for me." Mingyu kicks nothing, and you feel so sorry for bringing it up, for crying, because you can see that this is hard for him too. "So yeah, maybe you are not ready so what? Maybe we don't have communication, yeah sure we fucked up, but if you get out of your head, maybe it’s all because I'm the asshole, I'm the one who loves his nephew enough to want to actually fit the dad shoes because Minseok deserves a father figure. I-" Mingyus says and you can see that his knee almost buckles, making him change positions. "I'm still lacking too, maybe I'm a mess too, fuck, maybe I'm not ready too, but I prefer not being ready together than being ready at the wrong time." Mingyu takes another step, and his hand goes to your cheeks caressing it, making you closer your eyes and just enjoy his faint touch. “So don’t feel pressured ok? You are not in this alone, and I told you I’m all okay with waiting and I’m- I may not seem like it, but I am a mess too, I have my doubts too, and I get into my head too. So when you are getting all crazy and stuff just, just let’s have a talk, ok?”

“Okay, yeah. Okay.” You say catching his hand and kissing his palm. “Can we order food? Can we order Chinese?”

“Of course we can, baby.” Mingyu says with a chuckle.

“And then, " You start unsure of yourself because you still think you are asking too much and giving too little. "Then can you tell me about Minseok? Can we talk about the whole history?”

“Of course, we can” Mingyu says, looking at you fondly again, and for once you feel that being transparent to Mingyu is not that bad because you feel like he understands you need. “I may cry though, so…”

“It's okay, I'm pretty sure you gonna be cute crying.” Mingyu gives you a big smile and that makes you feel alright.

So Mingyu tells you a lot. He tells about Minseok's dad death, he tells about his own father's death and how that impacted him, and how he draws the parallel between Minseok and himself. He talks about how his sister is so protective of him even tho she is half his size, he talks about how his sister always picked his fight. He tells you about Minseok favorite things - Pokémon, ice cream, and dinosaurs. He tells you everything he can think of until you two finish up dinner, and he continues to tell you everything when you are laying in his arms, his hands on your hair, your body over him - legs and arms across Mingyu, because you feel the need to hug his big and beautiful heart, but you settle the need hugging him instead.

And you and Mingyu just fall into a routine easily. You sleeping on his bed or him sleeping on yours, even though his feet always hang on the end of your bed because he is just too damn big and tall. You always say goodbyes at the door, or on the elevator, Mingyu going to the gym, you to your work. Sometimes, when Mingyu has a deadline you stop at your favorite restaurant and order food to cheer him up. Sometimes, Mingyu picks you up so you guys can eat out for a change. But the thing is - its always more than once a week.

So when Mingyu knocks on your door, maybe the fourth time this week (without counting the times you knocked on his door) you are ready to give a pretty and polished version, with heels and all, because Mingyu is taking you to the new fancy restaurant across town.

"Hey-Wow" Mingyu says and you almost throw yourself at him, you almost drool and make a fool of yourself, because Mingyu is wearing black slacks and a white button-down, and god your boyfriend is so hot. "You look amazing babe." He says holding your finger up and making you twirl.

"Thanks," You give him a kick peck and spread your hands against his chest. "You don't look so bad either."

The restaurant is nice, the place is beautiful, the food amazing, and the wine Mingyu ordered tastes so good against your tongue. But the only thing you actually think of is him. His pretty skin pecking out of hir shirt collar, his pretty lazy smile against a few cups of wine, his strong arms and peck against the fabric of his shirt.

When you guys finally settle on the Uber, Mingyu does one of the things he does best - he thinks and conjures in his mind that every damn living thing is in love with you, and it is endearing really. He is so protective and caring and that makes you want to jump him too. He nods to the uber and his big ass hand rest on your thigh, just where the hem of your black dress ends.

And you want to kiss him so bad, if it wasn't for the Uber, you could probably ride him in the backseat. You tug Mingyu's arms making him bend a little in your direction, while your other hand is splayed on top of his, fingers interwind. You kiss Mingyu’s jaw and feel his arm up, god, he is so strong and so hard all over it makes you go crazy, makes you want to merge your body with his, so you just try to get closer to him even if you know it's not really possible.

“You smell nice,” You say almost sniffing Mingyu, hand on his biceps and face on the slot of his neck.

“I smell like I always do?” Mingyu answers you but is more a question really. His hand still on you thigh, but this time giving it a squeeze.

“Yeah, but you always smell nice, baby.” You hands travels up - stopping on his chest. Well, fuck the uber really, he probably sees couples feeling eachother up all the time, so you just paw Mingyu chest.

“Thanks babe but,” He says, holding your hand and giving you a chuckle when he sees you pouting on his shoulder.

“No fun.” You say still trying to get your hand free, to feel Mingyu up in the backseat like a fucking teenager. And to be honest you like the prospect of it giggling a little, feeling dumb, but oh so happy.

“No fun?” Mingyu asks you. “I’m the most fun guy you’ve ever met, I love fun. Fun and I are synonyms.”

“Well, I’m trying to feel you up in the backseat of an uber and you’re not letting me, so, you are the most boring guy ever.” You say on Mingyu’s ear, whispering the words, and you just see his body jerking. He starts to cough, looking at you disbelieved, and you do the only thing possible and laugh.

You take pity on Mingyu's situation, because he is almost choking on the backseat. So you behave like a little girl, hands on her lap, no more touching his boobs, or trying to lick his neck and jaw. But you still think about every other thing you want to do to him. You think about how Mingyu’s hands are big and the way he always put on the small of your back, and you question how it would feel against your neck.

You also want to discover every nook and cranny of Mingyu. Because you love the way he is so reliable in every aspects of adult-life that you struggle a little, he was the one that dealt with the new ac installation in your apartment, but you also love the way he gets so silly and pouts with the smallest and easiest things, and deep down you know Mingyu can do that task, he was big and strong, yet you were the one taking the grasshopper off his balcony.

But when Mingyu is glued to your back, hands on your hips and mouth on your neck on the elevator you think that you settle to discover this version of him today. The version that has you wrapped up in his arms, and the version that has the audacity to feel you up in the elevator.

“You are such a jerk.” You say to Mingyu still latched on your neck.

“Me?” Mingyu asks trailing his hand till they stop on your ribcages, fingers digging in.

"Yes, you." You say trying to get out of Mingyu's embrace but he’s just so clinging, glued to your back, and he is actually keeping you in place with his strong arms. "You can do everything and I can't feel up in the uber. It’s unfair."

"Baby, the uber was right there." Mingyus says guiding you though the hall and stopping on your door.

"Yeah and the crazy lady from the 07 can show up at anytime." You say trying to up your door but Mingyu hands are still on you, now on the hem of your dress, toying with it. "I really shouldn't you let get your way with me today."

"Don't even think about that." Mingyu says, hands again on your hips, this time he starts rutting against your back. "I might die." And you two almost trip when you finally open the door and Mingyu's body weight makes you go forward.

"Yeah, but I’m still mad with you." You say tugging on Mingyu's shirt, his large body pressing you against the wall.

"Baby’s mad?" Mingyu coos, and your legs almost give up because the condescending tone his uses make your brain stop. "What can I do then, hmm?" Mingyu says already lifting your dress up. "What can I do so my baby is not mad with me?"

So you do the only thing you think really, you put hands on Mingyu's neck and bring him to a kiss, it is sloppy but you don't even care, because Mingyu's lip feel so soft, and you can trace the taste of the wine on his tongue. And you are so distracted that you only realize Mingyu is getting you naked when he breaks the kiss to take off your dress.

"Fuck-" Mingyu says actually looking at you, hands on your waist holding you back enough so he can see the way that the black lingerie you bought a few days ago cling onto your skin.

"Come here." You say grabbing Mingyu's shirt again, wanting his mouth back on yours. But Mingyu cuts the kiss short again, leaving sloppy kisses on your jaw and neck. "Babe." You call again, hand going to his hair and tugging.

"I know, I know" Mingyu says kissing your collarbone. "Fuck-" He says taking a step back again and you can feel your body going in his direction, but Mingyu's hand steadies you against the wall. "Just- you look so pretty." Mingyu says looking at you and you’d almost feel shy if you didn't feel so needy. "Look at you." He says hand traveling to touch your boobs so fucking softly you almost melt, fingertips grazing against your lingerie.

"Babe," You whine again, trying to get Mingyu's attention, but he doesn't care, too lost kissing your chest.

"Fuck-" Mingyu says grabbing your hips, toying with your panty line. "Wanna eat you out so bad," He says like almost begging and you need to balance yourself on his shoulders. "You’ll let me right?" Mingyu says looking at you, eyes still against on your skin.

And you feel like your mouth is not working properly so you just give him a nod and it's enough for Mingyu trails his lips lower and actually kneel in front of you. And that alone should be fucking illegal, so when he plants a little kiss on your mound you think you are ready to go straight to hell because you just want to shove his face on your pussy, but instead you just hold Mingyu's face, hands on his jaw.

"I-" he starts, hands on your ass, fingers digging on your skin. When you look at him again he looks so out of it, so lost, so pussy drunk you can almost cry. And when Mingyu actually starts to lap at your pussy, your lingerie still in place you feel actually insane, clenching around nothing and the feel of your wet panties against your core makes you tug at his hair. The way Mingyu looks - eyes closed, hair a mess because of you, eyebrows furrowing in concentration makes your hips buckle against his mouth, but he just keeps going, like there is no other thought in his mind.

"Babe please I need-" You say breathing rapidly, and you feel the urge to cry again, because is so good but at the same time is not enough.

"Hm?" Mingyu says mouth still on you, eyes opening looking at you.

"Need more." You say pathetically, but if you need to beg, you will beg.

"Yeah?" Mingyu asks. "Gonna give to you baby." He says just so he can get his mouth off of you to tug your panties to the side. Then his mouth is on your pussy again, like he can't really spent more than two seconds apart. And you just mew, one hand on Mingyu's hair, and another one trying to keep your body straight against the wall. "Fuck-" Mingyu says again tugging at your panties to the side again, and you can feel it digging at your chest but you don’t care. "How can a pussy taste so good?" Mingyu asks but you doesn't really have an answer, and you feel Mingyu's strong hands on your leg, manhandled your into position, leg against his shoulder, hand splayed on your thigh, while the other one goes to your pussy opening you up. "Pussy’s so pretty fuck, could eat you out for days." He says almost breathless before going back to lap at your pussy, fingers still keeping your open and sucking at your clit.

And everything makes you feel insane. Of course Mingyu's tongue against your entrance makes your knees give up, of course the way he keeps you open for his mouth makes it so dirty, but whats really keeps you going, what makes you reach the edge so fast is the way he hums against your pussy, like it's his favorite thing in the world, the way he is so fucking desperately laps at it, the way the everytime your hips buckle Mingyu just follows the moviment because he can't take his mouth off you for a fucking second and it's what makes you cum. And you actually need to hold Mingyu's head for a minute so he leaves your pussy in other to you catch a breath.

"Need a minute," You say explaining when he looks at you puzzled. "Sensitive."

"Did you just-" Mingyu stops, looking at you and at your pussy making you laugh a little. "Did you just cum?"

"Yeah?"

"Fuck, you are so hot." He says giving the leg that still on his shoulder a bite. "But you can take more right?" He says fingers tracing your pussy, pressing your clit making you jump a little. "You need to take more babe, gonna eat your pussy again, open you up with my fingers," he says fingers on your entrance "and then will you make you come on my cock I know you will take so fucking well-" and he plants a kiss on you clit again. "Pretty pussy taking my cock hm? Gonna make you enjoy it, promise, gonna make you feel good."

And you don't doubt for a second that he will make you feel good, fuck he just made you cum against a wall two steps away from your door, but before you can say anything Mingyu is attatched to your pussy again.

"Wait, babe" Mingyu says. "This damn thing is getting on my way." He says letting your legs fall down and he finally takes off your panties, not even bothering to get really off of you, Mingyu just let one of your legs free while your panties sits on your feet. "God, if you let me, I will eat you out everyday, lick this pussy everyday before getting out of bed." He says like he is telling you about a new habits like drinking water first thing on the morning, or have a juice everyday - but he is talking about how he wants to bury his face on your legs like he is doing now, tongue going against your folders, arm going around your leg and opening you open again for him, while the other one goes to your ribcage keeping your body upright. And you loose track of time really, just focusing on Mingyu's tongue against you, humming all over again. "Fuck, how can a cunt taste so fucking good." Mingyu says mouth leaving your pussy as his fingers tacking its place. "You are making me insane, going to cum at my pants if we keep going like this." And you can actually see Mingyu palming himself.

"We can-" You try to start but he just chuckles.

"Oh no, don't worry about me." He says eyes leaving you and going again to your pussy, and you feel so exposed in Mingyu's hand, his digit finally entering you which makes you whimper, until know you didn't really paid attention on how empty you felt. "Making you feel good is enough for me." He says like he is not fingerfucking you to the second orgasm of the night. And again is not really the actions itself, of course. Mingyu’s longer fingers entering you is so fucking good, the way his thumb goes at your clitoris rubbing it in circles makes you cry, but when you look down and Mingyu barely blinks, eyes on your pussy and licking his lips like he didn't eat your pussy for minutes, is what makes you break, the way he looks so fucked blissed about giving you pleasure like he doesn’t need anything else.

And you come on his fingers and almost melting, but Mingyu lifts and holds you up, giving your ass a squeeze.

"So fucking hot-" Mingyu says his strong arms around you making you move towards the sofa, and you are pretty sure he is just dragging you around because your legs gave up. "Could use my mouth to clean you up-" and you almost scream when he is laying on the sofa, letting himself get comfortable between your legs.

"Babe, I love your mouth," you say tugging in Mingyus shirt, and how the fuck he is not naked. "but really I need your cock, otherwise I might go crazy." And you use your last few working neurons to start open the buttons on his shirt but suddenly stop when Mingyu just shoves two fingers inside you again.

"Hm, but you look stuffed enough baby." Mingyu says lowering himself and giving you a kiss, you feeling the taste of your pussy on his mouth.

"Mingyu, please" You beg. "Please, I-"

"Shh, it's okay, gonna give it to you." He says finally getting off his shirt and you feel so empty you can feel yourself clenching over nothing, and you can see how Mingyu just watches your pussy. "Fuck, baby, don't worry" He says already opening up his pants. "Gonna give to you real good, gonna make you feel so full."

"Oh, thank god." You say making him laugh before getting naked, and fuck, he was pretty and big all over. And you almost drool because, shit, even his dick is pretty. "Can I suck you off?" You ask already crazy enough that you mind-mouth filter just vanished.

"Oh fuck," Mingyu say hips buckling, making his cock sits on your mound, and he looks so big. Thank fuck he stretched you out. "Yeah, yeah not now though, might cum on your mouth."

"That's alright."

"Babe," Mingyus mewls, head resting on your collarbone, looking defeated. "Don't say things like that I almost-" He says hips buckling again. "Wanna fuck you properly."

"Ok, ok, but later…"

"Yeah, you can choke on it later, I won't be against it." And god, you want Mingyu to shut the fuck up because if he keeps talking to you, you’re gonna cum again without his dick inside you. "Fuck, might not last long" Mingyu says, and you almost laugh at him, because he is acting like you are not one step away from being spent just because of your mouth. Mingyu guides his cock with his hand, mouth watering looking at it, and when you feel hime ntering you you actually sees your boyfriend gulp.

And then you think about Mingyu saying how different you both are from each other. How his main sense is his vision, while for you, every touch sends you overdrive. And how both of you are so different but fit so well, because when Mingyu is fucking you, his body against yours, mouth at your jaw and hand holding yours, you feel like earth could collapse and the world could end because you already had the taste of the most important thing in the world; the taste of being loved by Mingyu, and you are sure nothing will come close to it.

You feel the urge to make Mingyu feel the same way, so loved and so cherished. So while Mingyu is fucking you, you try your best, you kiss his jaw - and it's messy and sloppy, but it's the best you can do when his dick is stretching you out. You claw at his shoulder, and you put your legs around his waits.

"Fuck, baby-" You try to speak again but you feel unable to, like your brain are not even trying to put more than two words together.

"I'm so fucking close." Mingyu says with his thrust getting faster, out of rhythm, body more pressed against yours.

And you just let the wave wash over you. You can feel Mingyu getting even more unruly, babbling things that you can't really make sense because, fuck, you are so gone. The way that he fills you up in every corner is just different, the way that he stretches you almost makes you feel like you arrived at a point of no return, and when you cum, clenching around him, Mingyu reaches his breaking point.

"Fuck-" He says getting off of you, and getting his hair out of his face, and his smile is so big, so beautiful and so lazy you could just kiss him if your limbs were working really.

"Hey baby, can you please take my bra off?" You say already turning on the bed but when Mingyu's laugh reaches your ears you are so fucking glad that you moved.

#kim mingyu fic #kim mingyu fanfic #Kim Mingyu Smut #Seventeen Fanfic #Sventeen Smut #Seventeen fic #T: seventeen #t: kim mingyu #t: writting

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tteokdoroki · 8 months

Note

❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜ with isagi and any kink !!!!!!

☆༉ — YOICHI ISAGI: 0-800-HOT GUY-HOTLINE.

line. ❛ i’m sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.❜

extension. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. public humiliation, free-use, voyeurism + fem!reader, nsfw.

things to note. RAAA !!! luna im sorry this is so late but i was excited to do this one pls enjoy i missed isagi saur much !!!! <3

your boyfriend, isagi, is sometimes prone to selfish tendencies.

being the japanese football league’s diamond in the rough and all-star player has meant that all the best and softest parts of him have become more rigged and hard around the edges. he takes what he can get, even if it means leaving other people behind — you have to be selfish to be at the top, it’s something that you understand.

your boyfriend is never selfish when it comes to making you feel good.

if yoichi can help it, he has you creaming on his tongue, fingers or cock at least twice a day when his games are at home. it’s almost double on the days that you visit him while he plays away or accompany him to tournaments. he can’t keep his hands off you, can’t stop himself from needing you or claiming you — his good luck charm. especially after he wins a match, even more so if he loses one. come rain or shine, isagi is selfish with how he teases and uses your body…even in front of his friends and fellow teammates.

“y-yo…yoichi s-stop!” you gasp, face hot and voice strained.

“stop? oh i don’t think so,” isagi growls, speeding up his skilled fingers as they dance over your slit and press his name into your clit. “i don’t think you want me to stop, precious. whatever happened to ‘yes, yoichi.’ ‘whenever you want, yoichi.’, hm?”

choking on your own words, the spit that weighs down your tongue as you drool dumbly from the pleasure — you relax back into your boyfriend, fluttering around the circumference of his leaky cock as it breaches your tight, wet walls. “good girl, relax for me. let me fuck that princess hole open, hm?” he kisses the side of your face, peering down between your soiled shaky thighs to watch the way you selfishly suck him in, your cunt dribbling slick down his shaft and balls. “i love you. so fucking much.”

isagi’s hands slip up your shirt, exposing your perky nipples, all hard for him, to the rest of the van to see. his teammates, your friends. as far as locker room talk goes, all of the blue lock boys know that you and yoichi have a particularly wild and active sex life — but they’ve never been around to see it. except for bachira, and sometimes rin.

from across the van you can see ten sets of eyes watching you as if you’re a fountain of cold water isn’t he middle of a scorching desert — a sweet mirage for them to drink in as if they’re dying of thirst. kunigami respectfully looks out of the window when he catches your teary bambi gaze, though he does nothing to conceal the fat erection he’s sporting. nagi writhes in his seat with pink cheeks and parted lips, the front of his joggers already soiled by his leaking cock. and if you squint hard enough, you can see the way that bachira already fists his painfully hard dick to the rhythm of isagi’s shallow thrusts.

shame intertwines with the lust that simmers in your lower tummy, coursing through your veins and spreading like a cloud over the thoughts in your brain. you like this, you like being watched while your boyfriend ravages you in front of his friends, cream frothing at the base of his shaft as it twitches inside of you.

you’d be absolutely miserable right now if you weren’t getting fucked a million ways to cloud nine — isagi’s hand on your blistering hot mound, spreading your folds and exposing your budding clit to the cold world and cruel stares. “‘ichi,’” you whimper pathetically despite bucking your hips down on him, chasing the delicious burn of his girth stretching out your sloppy walls as his cockhead glides over your g-spot. “i-ichi please…’m embarrassed… they’re watching!”

“what’s that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.” he seethes, teeth sinking into your earlobe as he forces you to listen to the salacious, sticky sounds your pussy makes as he fucks himself into you. “listen to her cryin’ for me, you’re tellin’ me you want me to stop?” you can only imagine how long isagi would keep you on the edge of orgasm if you said yes.

when he was like this, fuelled by his excitement for the next match — he would get mean, toy with you like a cat with a ball of yarn. he twists his fingers along your sensitive clit you, winds you up from the inside and you let him. “you’re so naughty, baby. letting them look, pretty girl. you want them to see what they can’t have. what winners get when they play right.”

gasping, your head falls against isagi’s shoulder — followed by his breathy chuckle. his hands cascade along your body, pinching and pulling, tracing your dips and curves and scars. he might be selfish enough to take you in front of the people who know you more innocently, but he’ll still prioritise your orgasm over his own. he knows just what makes you tick, how to get your pretty hole spluttering and clenching around his thick dick like there’s no tomorrow.

“you gonna cum for me, baby?” yoichi breathes hotly, his sticky fingers, the ones coated in your juices, coming up to grab your neck tenderly — guiding your gaze up to meet his feverish midnight blue stare. his cherry bitten lips slip into a soft smirk while he languidly rolls his hips into you — feeling your arousal slide down your slit, his balls and even between your cheeks to create a slick slapping sound with the intensity of his thrusts. “go ahead, you’re such a good girl. wanna see it, make me proud, ‘kay?”

that’s all you really need to hear before your vision starts to shake and your body siezes up all at once. feathery and high pitched moans bubble up on your wet lips, your hand tangling in isagi’s sweaty dark locks while he rocks into you through your high — your juices splash out against the seat in a never ending stream — only fuelled by the team’s grunts and accompanying moans from watching you cum.

“yoichi…” you whine, back arching away from his chest and hips lifting away from his.

his lips drop to your neck in a loving and reassuring kiss as his hands settle on your waist to pull you back down onto his aching cock. “so good, precious.” he goads condescendingly. “‘m right behind you, keep that orgasm going for me.”

it’s not long before your fluttering cunt is flooded with a pool of thick, white seed — tacky and warm against your ribbed walls. isagi muffles himself by biting down on your salt-licked flesh, panting happily against you as whe rubs approving circles into your hips.

a silence in the van follows, only interjected by the bother boys and their own highs. “s-she just lets you use her like that?” kunigami mumbles, red in the face and embarrassed by the fact that he just nutted to his best friend’s girl.

isagi wraps his arms around you, soothing your fatigue with sweet kisses. “i mean yeah, we talked about. it’s something she likes.” he squeezes you possesively as you drift off. “we both do.”

“lucky,” bachira grins sickly, tucking his own wet dick away. “when do we get a turn, isagi?”

“when you’re dead.” your boyfriend retorts, selfishly, which makes you smile sleepily into his chest. “she’s mine, and will only ever be mine.”

sometimes your boyfriend can be selfish — but you’re mostly grateful for it because it means your chest fills with love and warmth whenever he’s possessive over you.

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lovelyjj · 2 months

Note

I feel like jj would be the type to be obsessed with your butt and he would like slap and squeeze it in front of anybody to remind them who the reader belongs to!!

no because you’re so right!!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

JJ would totally be obsessed with your ass. You would be on the hammock laying on top of JJ, when he would move his hand from being around your waist, to your butt. He would give it a few love taps letting you know he’s there.

You would be out on the HMS pogue in your red bikini. The day on the water being refreshing. The whole crew being there. You were sitting next to JJ, while he drank his beer.

The cooler was in the middle of the boat and you got up to grab a drink. You bent over to reach the beverage when JJ smacked your ass. Your shriek turned into a giggle as JJ said “need everyone to know what’s mine.”

John B shook his head while Sarah laughed. Kiara rolled her eyes and Pope averted his eyes. The pogues were somewhat use to JJ’s behavior.

“JJ!” you warned.

“What? Baby you look so hot!” JJ smirked.

JJ then patted his lap for you to come sit on after you got your drink. You complied. JJ was happy to have you close to him, and you spent the rest of the boat ride wrapped up in each other.

A few days later you were at the château waiting for JJ to get off work. He was waiting tables at the country club. You were hanging out with the other pogues in the mean time.

JJ waltzed through the château in search of you. When he found you in the kitchen he greeted you with a hug. He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you close to him.

“Hi baby!” JJ addressed.

“Hi J,” you mumbled into JJ’s chest.

The both of you shared a kiss. During the kiss JJ’s hands roamed your body until he got to the swell of you ass. He gave it a good squeeze.

“Really JJ?” Kiara voiced from the couch.

“I did not need to see that,” Pope commented.

“What I can’t love on my girl in peace?!” JJ responded after breaking the kiss.

And when you’re at a party most likely at the boneyard, JJ looks out for you. He knows how hot you are and he knows how guys can be. He’s possessive in a good way.

At the rare occasion you’re not next to JJ and some random touron comes up to you, you let out a huff. You turn to look at him and he smiles.

“Hey my name is Brandon, would you like me to get you a drink?”

Your face scrunched up as you said, “Um no thank you.” You shifted awkwardly.

Meanwhile JJ was watching the interaction from afar visibly angered. He decided he needed to step in.

“Come on I can show you a good time,” the touron told you.

“She said no man,” JJ butted in.

“Yeah and who are you?” Brandon questioned.

“The love of her life so you better back the fuck off,” JJ warned.

“Jeez i didn’t know,” Brandon walked off.

“Come here,” JJ beckoned.

You didn’t need to be asked twice. You embraced JJ in a hug and then you placed your lips on his. The kiss was frantic and hungry. JJ grabbed and squeezed your ass, trying to make sure Brandon knew who you belonged to.

Then you and JJ were outside in the yard at the château. You were in folding chairs around the fire. You were sitting on JJ’s lap. JJ moved your hand discreetly to his bulge.

“You’re the only one my dick could get hard for,” he whispered.

“JJ!”

“What it’s true,” he quietly defended.

He gave your butt a few loving taps and then rested his hand there.

Overall JJ was obsessed with you ass and he would slap it all the time. You didn’t mind it that much because you loved him and you thought it was his way of showing he cares.

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tiza0925 · 20 days

Text

Drink it All | 18+

Warning/Tags: nsfw, afab/female reader, intoxicated/drugged sex (consensual), praise kink, pet names, teasing, vaginal fingering, degradation kink, multiple orgasms, dumbification, overstimulation, squirting, finger sucking, mating press, creampie, raw sex, Oikawa is great with aftercare though, SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“All of it, love.”

You listen, tipping your head back as you lift the cup, your mouth open and throat working with a swallow as the liquid pours into your mouth.

You feel your heart racing with nerves, your chest rising and falling rapidly, unsure how your body will react to this.

But Oikawa said you’ll be okay.

And you trust him.

When you let out a wet gasp after swallowing the entire drink, you tip your chin back down to look at Oikawa—vision a little foggy, and your eyes feel hot and wet.

“Good girl,” His smile is serene, syrupy, and slow, and he reaches with one hand to take the cup from you, while his other hand tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear. “You always listen so well for me.”

If this was with anyone else—you would’ve never agreed to this.

Drinking an unknown liquid—because they asked you to—is fucking insane.

But this is Oikawa—someone you’ve been dating for years, now.

And he’s never given you a reason to not trust him—hence, the reason why you’re in this position, to begin with.

Sitting on the bed, back against the bed frame with your legs—that are exposed except for your panties still on—sprawled out in front of you, and he sits in between those spread-out legs, easing you as the liquid takes over your senses.

Your eyelids are starting to feel heavy, your mind slowly being stuffed with cotton, and you blink slowly—feeling the liquid travel and spread heat across your body and between your legs, and you murmur while getting a little drowsy, “Feels weird.”

The expression on Oikawa’s face is soft and affectionate, and his hand moves to swipe a thumb over your plush lips. “I know, baby, you must feel all fuzzy in the head now, hm?”

You nod, your limbs feeling heavy, and Oikawa runs his hands—they’re so rough but warm and heavy—up along your legs, squeezing your thighs as he soothes you. “You’re okay.”

He must’ve noticed how you try to fight whatever drug was in that drink, or maybe he noticed how tense your legs are as he massages them, his voice coming out velvety and smooth. “Don’t fight it, love, it’s okay.”

You let out a small whine—you’re not used to feeling your body lose control like this.

“Just keep your legs open for me,” He murmurs, pulling at your panties to peel it off of you. “I’ll make you feel good, okay? No need to be scared, baby.”

Your breathing quickens, and you feel your cunt throb as cold air fans against it once Oikawa takes your panties off—

“Shit, look at you,” Oikawa groans, brushing the tips of his fingers over your slit. “Such a pretty thing for me.”

You don’t realize just how wet you already are—your entire body is quickly turning numb—but you do hear the wet sounds Oikawa’s fingers make as it toys with your pussy.

“It’s so messy already,” He lifts his head to look at you, and a lopsided smile tugs at his mouth. “You that eager for me to use you, baby?”

You shiver, unable to respond with how heavy your tongue feels in your mouth, only being able to let out silent moans—mouth opened—heavily panting and gasping.

Oikawa chuckles, all low, and one hand grips your chin in a firm hold—directing you to look down between your legs where his other hand is. “See how wet you are?”

As he says that, Oikawa pushes his middle finger inside you until the last knuckle, and you let out a whine as you watch how easily his finger sinks in.

God—you feel so achy, especially in your cunt.

“Look at you sucking me in,” Oikawa keeps his hand on your chin, and you watch the way his finger drags in and out of you—the inside of his palm opened and facing you—the muscles in his hand working as he continuously curls his finger inside you. “Such a needy pussy, love.”

You let out a whimper, sounding a little frustrated because you can’t feel anything with just one finger, and your fingers dig into the sheets beneath you as you mutter slowly, “Tooru…I—”

“You need more?” He already knows without needing you to say it, not with how needy your voice sounds—spurring him on as he gives your chin a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Those drugs already got you all numb that you can’t feel anything, hm, baby?”

You nod, and your suck in a sharp breath when two more fingers join his middle—pushing all three inside your greedy cunt—and your eyes roll back when you finally feel a delicious stretch inside you, and the base of your head lolls back to lean against the bed frame.

“That feel good?”

You gulp, your voice breathy. “Y-yeah—”

But then you gasp, and your words bleed into a moan when Oikawa presses his thumb on your puffy little clit.

“Can you cum for me, princess?” You whine, feeling yourself tighten around his fingers when he calls you that, and you close your eyes—feeling the drugs fully kick in and you’re too weak and numb to even move your head anymore.

But you trust Oikawa to take good care of you—because he never hurt you.

So you let go, feeling him stretch your pussy with his fingers while rubbing your clit to a throbbing orgasm.

All you hear are his words praising you, telling you how much of a good girl you are and how pretty you look cumming on his fingers.

But then—

But then soon after, you feel empty, and you manage to look down with a frown, only to see Oikawa pulling his fingers out—leaking with your juices—leaving your swollen pussy pulsing around nothing.

And he must’ve noticed the little pout you have on because he chuckles—leaning in to give your pouty lips a sweet kiss and murmurs against them. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll fill you up again just the way you like it, okay?”

You sloppily kiss back—too slow and loopy to respond—and you make a small sound as Oikawa moves you to lay down on your back, feeling your body sink into the plush bed while he lifts your legs.

Then you feel him guiding your legs over his shoulders, and something hot and heavy slides over your pussy.

“You just need to look pretty for me,” Oikawa murmurs, voice also getting breathy, and he turns to give your calf a warm kiss, continuing to rock his hips to slide his cock over your leaking folds—making his balls hit your puffy lips.

He does that, making your pussy drool all over his length as his pre-cum leaks over your tummy, teasing your engorged clit with every bump of his tip against it.

And all you do is take it, lying there, moaning and panting until his cock finally pushes inside you—filling every inch of your plush walls—and Oikawa groans.

“Fuck,” He leans down, kissing you because he just needs to, making you lose your mind and moan into the kiss. “So tight, baby, swallowing me like a good little slut for me.”

And god—you throb around him, your arousal dripping everywhere and making a mess as he continues to sink further inside you until his hips are flushed against yours.

But you’re too dizzy and muddled to feel the way his fat cock stretches you—how your pussy hugs him and makes him all wet as you cream all over his girth.

All you feel is this buzzing ache growing stronger and stronger as he sets a pace of fucking you deep and slow—hearing the wet squelches of your pussy to show just how wrecked you are.

All you feel is something thick lodged into you and choking you as he puts you in a mating press.

And he fucks you, murmuring how dirty you are, how you take him like a dumb needy slut that always needs her pussy filled.

All words that are laced with a level of affection where you know he doesn’t genuinely mean it.

But he knows how much you love hearing it.

And Oikawa is just a caring partner that likes to make you lose it every time he fucks you.

Even if that means abusing your tight little cunt while you’re brainless and unable to move to do anything about it.

You whine when pressure is felt on your clit—and Oikawa rubs his thumb in slow circles over your clit, all while his dick thrusts in and out, pulling a trickle of fluid to wet the bed and his legs in the process.

Soon enough—you’re arching your back, crying out a moan, as another orgasm pulses through you with a sudden snap.

“There you go—shit—you were made to take me,” Oikawa fucks into you as you cum, gushing out clear fluids as you make a squirting mess on the both of you.

And fuck—Oikawa loves it when you squirt.

He loves seeing your face contort with pleasure as you make a mess on him—all because of his doing and his cock inside you.

“Fuck—you’re so messy, you must feel all loose and dumb, huh, baby?”

You start to cry, overstimulated from him fucking you through your orgasm, and his thumb hasn’t left your poor little clit.

But you still manage to nod.

And god—Oikawa wants to kiss you senseless at how much he loves you right now.

“It’s okay, love,” He shushes you, wiping a tear on your cheek with his thumb, your lashes flutter against your cheek as you close your eyes. “I just need to cum, okay?”

You shiver, only able to mumble out, “Kay.”

You’re fucked dumb by this point, feeling like a rag doll as he holds you and shoves his cock into you with no abandon.

But he knows how to fuck you to make you cum almost easily—his dick hitting that sweet spot in your walls over and over with every roll of your hips—his balls slapping your sloppy pussy as warmth travels from your core down to your legs, stars shooting beneath your closed eyelids as everything turns white and blurry.

You think you orgasmed again.

You can’t tell.

All you feel is liquid heat filling your bones, a hot and heavy body on top of you, and yourself melting into the bed beneath you.

“Suck on this,” You don’t know what Oikawa is making you suck on—but your mouth opens anyway, almost instinctively, just from hearing the word ‘suck’ from him.

But then you feel his thumb press on your tongue, and you immediately moan as you wrap your lips around it, sucking it as if it was his cock.

“Good baby,” Oikawa drawls, voice low and heavy, “your mouth is too sweet to not use it.”

You just suck some more, letting him hold you down and fuck deep into you until you’re letting out another squirting orgasm—soaking the bed and his stomach—and you hear his groan falter, his pace quickening.

“You gonna keep all my cum inside you, baby?” He asks that, and you whimper with a nod, giving his thumb a slow suck.

“W-want it—”

And that’s all he needs to hear to make that final cord in him cut loose, and he’s grinding his hips against yours as he buries his dick as far as he can—spurting out thick loads of cum deep inside you, making your sore pussy drink every drop.

“Such a good slut for me, baby,” He kisses your lips so gently, lovingly, as the last bits of his sticky cum spill into you—filling you so much that some leaks out while his cock is still inside your cunt.

You grunt, so fucking exhausted and ready to knock out from whatever the hell Oikawa gave you.

And he smiles, sweet and affectionate, kissing you one last time before pulling back, his voice soft. “Let me take care of you now, love.”

And he does.

With lots of praise and kisses.

With a warm bath after wiping you clean.

Even if you feel too dizzy and intoxicated to move properly—Oikawa happily does all the work for you.

He makes sure you drink some water, giving you bits of fruit to eat as well.

He takes such good care of you after treating you like a fuck toy in bed—

And you smile, all dazed and warm, through it all—your heart feeling so full.

End.

> Masterpost

#haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyu smut #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #Oikawa smut #Oikawa Tooru #Oikawa x reader #Oikawa Tooru x reader #haikyuu Oikawa #Oikawa x reader smut #Oikawa x y/n #Oikawa Tooru smut #Oikawa Toru #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #Oikawa x you

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harmonysanreads · 1 month

Note

For darlings who are on the sharper side, I can see them also being compatible with Aventurine/Sunday.

As in those who can see through their social masks, but either: doesn't try to "fix" them or avoids them. If you can see through their social mask it's obvious that being on bad terms or being close to them is a bad idea. I think this also intrigues Aventurine/Sunday and makes them go after their crush.

-💅

Hm.. yes, I can see how that'd work with these two.

In Aventurine's case, I think, you would need to make a strong first impression, something that will get him thinking, looking back and prompt him to seek you out despite your obvious disinterest. Aventurine lives for that thrill and anticipation, the risk that comes with chasing you.

It's quite reminiscent to the probability games he's so fond of ; what kind of excuse will you give him today? What drastic measures will you take to avoid engaging in a prolonged interaction? What will your reaction be if he decides to do something you dread? And many more questions he wants to find the answer to. It's like accidentally catching a fish you didn't want and setting it free, except, it just keeps coming back for more of that bait.

Although the same bait can be cast towards Sunday, you could catch his attention without ever having a direct interaction with him as well. Sunday is observant and perceptive. If he takes a liking to you, he'd first yearn for an opportunity for you two to interact naturally. He's a busy man and he'd really like pieces to just fall into place smoothly. But when that doesn't happen and his interest also shows no signs of dwindling, he'd approach you himself with the biggest inhale.

He's quick to pick up on your aversion from the interaction and he gives it his all in trying to appease to you, saying everything that he thinks you expect him to. Honestly, he's quite disheartened by the end of it, he really just wants to get to know you :( Sunday knows to give you space and return at a more auspicious time. Mistake not though, his patience may be vast but not limitless and who knows what a man of his stature can do once snapped.

One thing they have in common is that they'd immediately know what you're trying to do but the difference is that, one will simply ignore it and the other will try to be respectful till he can't anymore.

#aventurine brainrot #sunday brainrot #──⚝💅anon #yandere aventurine #yandere sunday #yandere aventurine x reader #yandere sunday x reader #aventurine x reader #sunday x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail

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lacedinweb22 · 10 months

Text

daddy's coworker (Miguel O'Hara x reader)

Requested by @thbidkbutok

nsfw 18+

summary: Your father leaves you alone at home with his coworker, Miguel O'Hara, who you've known for years. As he works in your father's office finishing up business, you are tempted to distract him.

warnings: aggressive sex, daddy kink, choking, clawing, unprotected sex (penetration)

ʚ ｡⋆˚ ୨୧ ˚⋆｡ ɞ

He stood tall, his dark brown eyes looking down at me, standing right beside my father. “Y/N, you remember Mr. O’Hara. He’s been working with me at Alchemax for…Jesus how long, Miguel?” my father asked, looking up at Miguel. He combed his fingers through his wavy hair, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. “I want to say… six years soon,” he replied, looking down at me, his hand out for me to shake.

His massive hand enveloped my hand, which he shook firmly while maintaining eye contact. “Of course, always nice to see you, Mr. O’Hara,” I replied softly, slowly beginning to blush.

“Please, call me Miguel,” he replied quickly, nodding down to me.

“Man, just yesterday he was a fresh youngin intern, now he’s made it to the big leagues,” he nudged Miguel, who broke a small smile, “I told him he could use my office for the night since Alchemax’s systems will be down and rebooting for the rest of the night. He has some important algorithms to work on. Your mother and I, however, will be out for the night, unless you care to join?” he asked, looking at me hopefully. “Sorry Dad, I told you I have that stupid pre-lab I really need to work on, but this weekend, I swear I’ll be free,” I assured him, giving him a side hug as he began to back away to leave. “Of course, my love. We’ll be home soon. I trust you’ll be warm and welcoming to Mr. O’Hara, hm?” “Of course, Pa, have fun,” I replied, smiling at both of them as they looked down at me.

I backed away to the kitchen, and began to prepare something to snack on, as my father and Miguel conversed and said their farewells.

I cut up some fruit, stealing glances and watching them interact. Miguel’s voice was deep and echoing, and his rarely seen smile was contagious. I smiled, subconsciously when he would let out a low chuckle at my dad’s embarrassing jokes.

I’d always seen him at Alchemax dinner parties and gatherings throughout the years. He was always chased after at these events, but was famously known as the stubborn, secretive, and genius bachelor who could never give anyone the time of day. I remembered watching him converse with the adults, his dry humor going over all of their heads, as I giggled from a distance.

I remembered when I was fresh in college and he was a fresh intern. I clearly remember the first time we met at my dad’s office. We were so different then. So much has changed. He’s still so handsome, perhaps even more.

He stole glances at me as they spoke. My cheeks burned, as I quickly looked down at the fruit, slowly nibbling at the mango wedges, avoiding eye contact.

Eventually the front door shut, and Miguel walked to my father’s office. He wore a black form fitting sweatshirt, with dark gray dress pants. He walked so confidently, his glasses hanging on his collar, dangling against his muscular chest. His eyes caught mine staring, as he smirked then nodded to me. He turned forward and entered the office, leaving the door open.

I waited a minute then peeked around the kitchen corner, looking through the glass windows to spy on him. He now wore his glasses, eyebrows scrunched as he slid his fingertips across the hologram screens.

I looked down at the variety of fruit laid out, then got an idea.

“Mr. O’Hara— I mean Miguel, would you like a bowl of fruit?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe holding up the bowl. He turned from the hologram, his face lit up by the orange light.

“Mmm, that does sound good. Please and thank you, Y/N,” he replied, softly. I walked up to the desk, sliding the bowl slowly in front of him.

“So, what are you up to these days?” I said, popping a grape into my mouth. “Work, lots of work,” he replied, snapping a piece of apple then biting into it.

“And you? Man, the last time I saw you, a few months ago, I helped you—” “You helped me with that insane final project I was working on,” I finished.

“Yes, how’s school treating you?” “Fine, but I don’t really want to talk about that right now, I mean— not to be rude, but… just curious, what’s the dating scene like for you? As an older man I mean,” “older man, huh? I didn’t know I was considered ‘older’ but I guess to you college kids, your late thirties might as well be your death bed,” he scoffed, biting into a half of an apple. I shrugged, waiting for a real response.

“I don’t date. I'm single. I figured you knew this; the entirety of Alchemax won’t shut up about it, but yes, I’m single. I’ve got Gabriella and you know… I’m a busy man,” he answered, his eyes glued to mine.

“Single, wow, how convenient,” I muttered, stealing a grape from his bowl.

I walked around the desk, coming to his side, looking at the bright screens. I leaned forward on my tiptoes, my hips pushed out in front of him. His eyes remained on me as my eyes explored his scribbles and notes covering the equations and numbers spread across the screen. I looked back at him, he looked up at me from his chair, his eyes darkened. I looked down at the huge bulge in his pants. I scoffed.

“Anyways, sorry to distract you, I have a pre-lab to work on, so I must be going. See you later, Mr. O’Hara. Let me know if you… need anything.” I left the office swiftly and went back to the kitchen to clean up.

I washed the cutting board, as I suddenly felt his hot breath against my neck. “Someone got the message,” I breathed out, as his hard-on pressed against the back of my thigh through his pants. I turned around, my back against the sink, as his hips pressed up against me.

He lowered his glasses, looking down at me, then slowly took them off, putting them down on the counter beside us. He towered over me, stroking my cheek, putting his thumb on my chin. He traced my lips gently, smirking as he pressed his member against my inner thighs.

“Did you think I didn’t notice you staring at me all these years?” he whispered, leaning down to kiss me. “I just didn’t know… you felt the same… tension I felt, Mr. O’Hara,” I breathed out in between his wet kisses. His lips were soft and warm, his sharp teeth, almost like fangs, brushed my lips. “What— your teeth, how—” “Don’t worry about it,” he breathed out against my lips. I pulled away to look up at him, he looked back down at me, then dug his face into my neck, wrapping his teeth around me. “Miguel,” I moaned, as he began to dig his fangs into my skin. “I told you not to worry about it,” he breathed out, as he dug his claws into my thighs. I had a slight idea as to why he was built like a fucking beast, but it wasn’t my main focus.

He drew his lips back up to my lips, still pinning my waist with his claws, tightly against the counter. He began to slide his fingers down my shorts, slowly pushing them down. He bit my bottom lip then slid his hand down the front of my underwear, playing with my clit. "What a wet, pretty distraction," he groaned into my lips. I moaned out from both pleasure and the excitement from finally getting what I had wanted for years.

My shorts were now at my ankles, as I stood pressed against him in just my soaked underwear. He swiftly lifted me up, sitting me on the kitchen counter, as he kissed me hard, and pulled my shorts off from my ankles. He threw them to the floor, I grabbed him by his belt, pulling his hips in between my legs, his boner stabbing against my desperately aching heat. I unbuckled his belt and undid his zipper, then tugged his pants down, revealing his boxers and the massive tent his hard-on had built.

“So hard for me, Mr. O’Hara,” I breathed out, palming his member. His hands rested on the counter on both sides of me, as he hovered over me, sucking on my neck. I continued playing with him, as he moaned my name, his fangs brushing my ear. He then grabbed my ass tightly, digging his claws into my hips, pulling me against his boner. I tugged at his sweatshirt, then helped him take it off as he too pulled my sweater off of me. I was now in just my bra and panties, and he was now shirtless and in boxers. I spread my fingers across his skin. He had scars spread across his figure, and his muscles bulged against his glowy skin. He lowered my bra, and wrapped his hands around my tits, squeezing and playing with them. He lowered his face to my chest and began to suck and bite on my nipples, humming against my skin. I combed my fingers through his waves, tugging at the roots as he moaned into my chest. He squeezed my hips tight, as he traced my chest with hickies.

He stood up straight and slid my underwear to the side, creating access to me, as I pulled his boxers down to reveal his dangerously long and thick member. I wrapped my hand around him, making myself familiar with his length. As I felt him, he dipped two fingers into me slowly, coating himself in my slick, then spreading it along his own length.

He then guided himself against me, pressing up against my entrance. “Are you ready, princesa?” he asked, smirking, revealing his fangs. “Mhmmm,” I moaned, kissing him and pulling his hips against me. He slowly entered, just his tip stretching me out. I moaned out, wincing in pain. “Fuck, slowly,” I whimpered, gripping his back muscles. He dug his face into my neck, as he pushed up and into me slowly but entirely. He was now completely inside of me, causing my insides to stretch and burn. “Fuck, so tight Y/N,” he groaned into my ear. He gripped my hips with both hands, his claws digging into me as he thrusted in and out of me slowly, pulling me onto his length. He began to speed up, I whimpered and whined as I adjusted to the intense pain and pleasure his thick cock was creating.

He kissed me, biting my bottom lip as he continued thrusting into me. He pulled the back of my hair tightly, “Such a good girl for me, sitting up there, your wet pretty pussy stretching out for me,” he growled.

His long cock slammed into my cervix causing me to arch my back to prevent further pain, his dick was now angled hitting my g spot, rubbing against me rapidly, spreading warmth up into my stomach. “You’re going to make me… cum Mr. O’Hara,” I moaned, my lips pressed against his neck.

“What a good girl you’re being for me, mami, you like this?” he breathed out, keeping his rhythm. He wrapped his big hand around my neck, tightly choking me, as he had his other hand on my waist, pulling himself into me. He kissed my shoulder, fucking and choking me simultaneously. His aggressive thrusts caused a wet slapping noise, as his soaked cock continued pushing my slick back into me.

“So this is your idea of warm and welcoming, huh?” he growled, smirking down at my lips. “Do you do this with all of your father’s coworkers, huh? Or am I the lucky one?” he whispered into my ear, his fangs brushing my skin. “You’re the only one, Mr. O’Hara… mmmm fuck, I’m gonna… cum, Miguel,” I whined out, gripping his hand on my neck, and arching my back. “Miguel, fuck,” I whimpered, breathing out as I throbbed around him. He slowed down, releasing my neck, letting me recover from my intense climax.

“I’m not done with you,” he growled, as he lifted me off of the counter then turned me around, and bent me over. He slid my underwear to the side, then pressed his cock against my entrance, slowly entering just his wet tip. He pressed himself in slowly, only warming the tip of his cock repeatedly, creating a wet noise every thrust. He wrapped his hands around my hips tightly, pulling himself into me.

“That man who was just here fifteen minutes ago, that’s your father, I’m your daddy,” he whispered, picking up the pace of just his tip thrusting in and out of me. “I mean, I’m sure as hell old enough to be your daddy,” he scoffed, continuing to tease me with his tip; I groaned into my arms, frustrated.

“You won’t get any more until you call me what I am,” he growled, performing only shallow thrusts. “You’re my– my daddy, Mr. O’Hara… fuck! Please, give it to me,” I whined, pushing my hips further out for more length. “Mmmm that’s better,” he groaned as he entered his entire length into me. We both breathed out heavily as he quickly began to pound into me, rhythmically rearranging my insides. “Mmmm daddy like that, keep going, keep fucking me like that,” I moaned out. “Mmmm ¿como eso mami? You like that, do I make you feel good?” he groaned, his body thrusting into mine, pushing my body into the cold marble counter. I moaned in response, whimpering at every hit.

His claws dug into my hips, drawing blood that dripped down the side of my thighs. I whimpered in pain, but was too distracted by the pleasure of his length to care.

“Cmon, Y/N, you can give me one more, I know you can,” he grunted, angling his hips lower, to directly hit up into my g spot. “Miguel, fuck… don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” I whimpered, feeling my thighs tremble, and my slick drip down my inner thighs.

“God, what would your father say if he saw you bent over the kitchen island for me, huh? Cumming for me?” he growled through his smirk. “He’d be… furious,” I breathed out. “Fucking furious, huh?” He scoffed. “You’re breaking the rules for me?” he asked, squeezing my thighs tighter. “Mhmmm,” I whimpered, feeling myself about to climax. “Mmmmm fuck, your tight little pussy is going to make me cum,” he breathed out, keeping his rhythm. “Keep going, keep going daddy, please,” I whined out as I began to finish.

“Ughhhh mami, like that, mmm like that,” he whimpered into my ear, as he bent down, hovering over me, his large biceps surrounding me on each side. He filled me up with his hot white mess, continuing to thrust as we both rode out our highs, pushing his liquid back into me. “Ay Mami, fuck,” he moaned into my ear, his chest pressed against my back. His cum dripped out of me inevitably, as he lowered his hand in between my legs to spread and rub it all around my slit. The noises of our skin and fluids interacting echoed throughout the penthouse. He slowly thrusted then stopped and pulled out, his huge load leaking out of me immediately. I whimpered to myself, my face resting against my arms on the counter.

His hands explored my back and ass, massaging me as he kissed the back of my shoulder. “Go get cleaned up, Y/N, rápido. Wouldn’t want your father finding out what you did with your new daddy, huh?”

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donutz · 2 months

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Yandere Smiling Critters x male child reader

Request from Wattpad-! Here you go Dracunyan1987☆

An employee escorted you to Playcare, after the train ride and Elliot’s long speech of course. You were a new kid added to the bunch. You’ve been hanging around in Playtime co for a while, so the employees told the upper staff, then they told Elliot.

Elliot instructed them for you to stay at Playcare, so you’re here now. This place was huge. There’s… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... 5 buildings, you counted. You looked up at the ‘sky��, and saw ‘clouds’. Further up, you could see glass, is that the real sky?

The same employee escorted you over to home sweet home, and you were pretty shy, due to you being new to the huge place. The tons of people, toys, big buildings, it's all so new. And kind of scary, due to the big toys. But you do like one.

Kissy… Missy? You think that's her name. She's really sweet.

You entered Home Sweet Home and saw a bunch of kids running around. And… Are those animals..? A dog, a bunny, a bear, a chick—

“Oh, hello!” Somebody greeted you, being out of your vision so you had to turn around.

“You’re new here right?” You nodded your head, being a little surprised by the sudden interaction.

“Ok! I’m PickyPiggy! What’s your name?” You said yours, and she brightened up by that. Even if you were shy, you could at least introduce yourself. Hm. You’re an interesting one.

“Here, follow me! I’ll introduce you to the other critters!” You raised your eyebrows at that, there’s more? How many? You hope there isn’t too much.

Picky took you somewhere, hopefully actually taking you to the critters. She did, no worries.

“Guys! There’s a new kid and—” The other critters were dealing with the kids, not having time for introducing themselves. “Oh.. Uhm..”

Dogday was dealing with telling kids not to be rude. Kickin was trying to get his soccer ball back from the kids. Craftycorn was trying to get her art supplies back from little 5 year olds. Bobby was being crowded by random 7 year olds. Bubba was looking for his math papers, that were stolen by kids. And Hoppy was being dragged around by younger children.

You, as a 6 year old, not knowing what’s going on, couldn’t even take a bit of charge. So you were standing there, waiting for something(other than this) to happen. Picky was getting impatient, so she raised her voice, just a little ^_^!

“GUYS! THERE IS A NEW KID HERE!! YOU NEED TO INTRODUCE YOURSELVES!!!!” It went quiet. Nobody expected for a critter to raise their voice! Picky had no problem though.

“... Oh uhm! E- Everybody gather at your tables and PLEASE resume your activities!” Dogday spoke up, if he could sweat, he would, he’s never seen or heard Picky yell before…

You hid behind Picky, somewhat trusting her more than anybody else at this place. Also you were shy. And new. I’ve said that already, right?

Dogday saw your shyness and reassured you, “It’s okay little one! This place is safe! Even with the chaotic kids… Anyways, we are the smiling critters! I’m Dogday! … Guys, introduce yourselves—”

“I’m KickinChicken! I like sports—”

“ANYWAYSS!! I’m Hoppy Hopscotch! I’m the better version of Kickin!” “HEY!”

“I’m Bobby Bearhug, I do love.. Stuff..”

“I’m Craftycorn! I do art, and accentuate creativity!”

“I’m Bubba Bubbaphant! The ‘smart one’, that’s what the kids call me…”

“I’m sure Picky Piggy already introduced herself to you, right?”

You nodded your head, still being behind her. You were such a cutie!

“Alright! There’s one more, but he’s.. Somewhere… I’m not sure where he is…” You looked around, trying to see if that ‘he’ is in the room.

“D- Do you mean that one..?” You asked, pointing to a high area. It looked like nothing was there, but you could see his white beady eyes in the shadows.

“Oh! Yeah! That’s Catnap!” Dogday said.

You stayed staring at him. Slightly wondering why he was up there and not down here. He seemed mysterious, especially with that purple color.

“Oh and— What’s your name buddy?” You tensed up, you have to say your name… Again?

Picky saw that you didn’t really like speaking that much, so she did it for you. “Okay kiddo! Would you like to do the activities, or take a tour of the place?” Well, you were hungry, but he didn’t state it as an option.

Your stomach spoke for you, saying you were hungry with a loud rumble. Some of the critters giggled from it, “Guys… Anyways, you’re hungry right? Do you want some food?”

You nodded your head. No duh you’d want some food.

After eating, you wanted a tour of the place. There were a ton of rooms, but since you came out of nowhere, there wasn’t really a room ready for you. The critters had a room, so you could stay there when it was time to sleep.

The critters now having an introduction, and a bright smile, you could trust them. For now.

You did the activity with Picky by your side, because you trusted her the most. You quickly did the activity, proving your smarts to somebody. Bubba Bubbaphant. He found you quite the smart kid, and it’s your first day here!

Good job.

For the next few weeks of being at Playcare, you had a lot of reasons for the critters to like you, you were also clingy to them, so they can’t ever be lonely.

They wanted to keep you here, particularly getting a little bit more mad than usual if somebody was rude to you. One time a kid stole your art supplies, Craftycorn got more mad than usual, she was kind of holding back on fully outlashing at the kid.

… You were doing something to them.

They didn’t want you to have your own room. They wanted to keep you in theirs.

Hm. You wanted to meet Catnap, but couldn’t, he didn’t come out at day, he came out at night. And at night, you were asleep. What if you secretly stayed up one day?

“Good night everybody!” Dogday said, everybody said it back, but you didn’t. (Almost) All of the critters noticed this, wondering why you didn’t respond back like you usually do.

“What if I stayed up..? I wanna see uh, Catnap. That’s his name, I think.” The critters looked at each other, communicating whether it was a bad idea. “Well, the workers never come in here. So we won’t really get in trouble..” Kickin spoke up.

They all agreed to stay up, for some time, not pull an all-nighter or something. They’re all talking, while you were silent. Finally, the sound of a door creaked open. There he was! Catnap!

It went quiet again, you got out of ‘your’ bed(Which is Catnap’s) and went up to the cat. You two stared at each other. You didn’t know what to say, Catnap didn’t want to talk. It wasn’t awkward, for you two at least. The other critters didn’t know what to do in this situation.

You let out your arms, signifying you wanted a hug. The other critters were wary about that, Catnap wasn’t really into that stuff, especially when it came to children.

But, he actually hugged you! Everybody in the room was bewildered by this! You really are the chosen one! Yeah you’re staying here.

Forever. Hopefully.

A/N|| I almost broke my back putting in the different colors on my computer🤣🤣

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 3 months

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know me the way you know your childhood scars, like breathing; i wasn't running but if i was i'm glad it was to you.

tz11 x reader: a small town, a fresh start, a shared heart.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling, thigh-riding (this is newish), dirty talk (if you're new, welcome!), mentions of previous relationship being awful, i know i'm forgetting stuff but all my typical things. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: my favorites - i think jd6 getting traded was exactly what i needed in order to write a tz11 character who is actually a nice guy. i call that the best-friend-getting-a-new-best-friend-who-is-named-cam-york effect. anyways, this is long as hell (14k, anyone?), because i have recently been absolutely so over law school guys. i just want a guy who likes to get his hands dirty and actually has friends. too much to ask? okay. obviously, i got so insanely carried away here, as you will be able to tell. we've got about a million side characters, some of which you will recognize, some of which you will not, because i made them up (tell me why i'm so into the matt/bridget dynamic. could write about just them. maybe i will). you guys know that there will be plot holes and dialogue issues and the likes, but you love me anyways, and i love you for that. tz11 should enjoy this, because i know he will inevitably be back in my bad graces soon enough. next up is someone new (!) because i miss when people used to write about tyson jost left and right. hm, what else? tell me what you think, what you'd like to see. my one year anniversary since my first post is feb. 2 (i actually can't believe how fast it went by, and i'm so grateful for you for sticking with me). so, so much love to you and your snakes. go canucks. until next time.

this was probably a terrible idea, you thought, with your suitcases beside you, your head in your hands at the foot of the bed that would be yours for the foreseeable future. one bed of several at a local inn - local to this town, at least, not local to you.

no, you thought, jittery with unknowing and chance and uncertainty, none of this was familiar to you. not this town in the middle of nowhere, hundreds and hundreds of miles from your hometown, your university. not any of the few people you had interacted with, not the uber driver, the inn keeper, the housekeeping staff.

not one part of this place, this experience, not one part was familiar. but that's what you'd wanted, wasn't it? that was the whole point?

you'd wanted to find yourself, wanted to prove that you could take care of yourself, exist on your own, thrive outside of the bubble that was university.

you wanted a fresh start, away from ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend, their betrayal still fresh, a wound scabbing over on your heart. you wanted to breathe deeply and not worry about who was watching you exhale - a place where nobody knew you, where nobody could whisper about the girl whose boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend. for three years. she's so stupid, how could she not have noticed?

well, here, you decided, that's what you would get. a humble job as a diner waitress lined up to start tomorrow, a booked room with no check-out date, not a laugh you'd recognize for miles and miles.

this is what you'd wanted, you told yourself, now, loneliness settling in your mouth the way the powder on sour candy does. this is what you have.

completely exhausted from travel and emotional havoc, you passed out that night amidst dreams of fresh starts and trees too tall to see you behind them.

such a lovely image did not last nearly an hour into the next morning, the first day of your new job, just a block or so from the inn you were staying at.

this was part of the reason you had chosen this place for your self-discovery journey, after all - the urgent hiring, competitive wage, amazingly low price for room and board.

you had worked in your university's coffee shop for a year or two to help pay your tuition, so, honestly, how different could it be?

very different, you realized, almost immediately. they were hiring urgently for a reason, which meant there was practically nobody there to train you. one of the line cooks, of all people, just threw you an apron and a name tag to wear over your uniform-compliant black skirt and shirt, mumbled something about a welcome, enunciated something louder about table three needing service.

and so your self-proclaimed new life began completely unceremoniously, with a name-tag that misspelled your name, the smell of waffles and western omelets permeating the air like some grandmother's perfume in an old living room.

at the very least, the business made the time pass quickly, as you paced from table to table, only pausing briefly to introduce yourself to the line, the host, the several curious patrons who asked about you.

"new girl," some impossibly old man husked, "they not have hot coffee where you're from?" he grimaced as he took another sip. "cold as a winter's -"

"okay, that's enough," his companion said, a woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with blonde hair chopped short. she gave you a sympathetic look, like you two were sharing some inside joke. you liked her immediately. "he's had about twelve cups already. don't mind him."

you felt your mouth tick up in a smile for what might have been the first time this morning as you introduced yourself to her, and her father, who you learned everyone affectionately called "old man peters." you learned that the young woman's name was bridget, and she insisted on giving you her number, in case you had any questions, or wanted to get together, or needed anything at all.

your day was already looking up, you thought, as you lifted your sulking ponytail from you back, loose strands curling at the nape of your neck, around your ears. bridget and old man peters bid you goodbye, and then the young host, a boy who stuttered so much over his name that you still didn't quite know what it was, sheepishly alerted you that he had seated a group at the booth in your section.

your flipped to a new page in your notepad as you walked back to the booth, your gaze quickly being tugged up by a drawl-ish voice blurting out "dibs! i call dibs!"

such as exclamation was followed by several groans and one "not fair, you're the only one facing the door."

your brow was slightly scrunched in confusion when you stood at the head of the group's table, four pairs of eyes faced to you in a way that made you feel like a politician about to give a speech.

you cleared your throat, not quite looking anyone in the face. "good morning," you said, "can i get you guys started with some drinks?"

you looked up from your notepad, clicking your pen against the surface of it, taking in the table of - well, you weren't really sure. construction workers, maybe? craftsmen? the four of them had on heavy canvas-like jackets, worn and worked in, highlighter-bright shirts underneath, callused hands that your observant eyes took note of immediately. they were young, too, probably about your age, which made you blush, only a little. these were not the kind of guys you had met in college, the kind who you would have taken a class on freud with, the kind who thought everything with a woman's hand around it was a phallic symbol.

"just coffee," one of them said, short. he tacked on a please when one of his friends smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

you motioned with your pen around the whole table. "for everyone?" you asked, but the question stumbled out of your mouth when your eyes caught on the last of the four, the one on the bench on the right, closest to you.

that sharp face, high cheekbones and cut jaw, should have been so serious, you thought, like some kind of statue, the kind your art history friends would have fawned over in a museum you didn't really want to go to. he should have been so serious, angular like that, but he was anything but. mirth danced in his eyes, so bright they almost sparkled. his full mouth was fixed in a sort of perpetual smirk, so ready to laugh that he was already halfway there. he had the lines around his eyes that told you his full smile would tear you in two.

you were probably staring at him, you realized, flushing deeper as his smirk broke free into something wider, all over his face.

"see, guys," he spoke, that goofy drawl you had noticed on your way over, nothing like the pretentious academics who spoke in circles. he leaned back in the booth. "doesn't matter that i called dibs. she likes me best anyways."

your face scrunched up in some combination of disbelief and hidden delight. "wait," you began, "when i was walking over here, when you said something about dibs," you fixed him with what you hoped was a glare, "you were calling dibs on me?"

he shrugged off his jacket, drawing attention to his wide shoulders, arms thick even through his bright long sleeve. you snapped your gaze back to his eyes, which shimmered, telling you that you'd been caught. "what's the big deal?"

you scoffed, blew a stray curl from your eye line. "you don't call dibs on people," you said.

"yeah, trevor," one of his friends teased, "what's wrong with you?"

"where to begin?" one of the others said, almost lost in thought.

"c'mon, sugar," trevor said, tilting his head, "'s a compliment, yeah?" his gaze rolled down your frame, almost gelatinous, meeting your eyes again reluctantly. "only 'cause you're so pretty, hm?"

you rolled your eyes, fixed your gaze on the one across from him, the one who looked the least engaged. "but, trevor," you whined, stretching out his name like salt-water taffy, "what if i wanted-" you paused, looked down at the blonde just below you.

"matt," he said, practically bored. you nodded your thanks.

"what if i wanted matt?"

his posture grew even more relaxed as he shifted his knees wider under the table. "oh, what if, sugar?" he mused, his eyes so expressive, never off of you for a moment.

"she's gonna spit in your coffee," matt said.

"how about we cut out the middle man and she just spits in my mouth?" he chirped, smirk so telling it made you flush pink.

you mumbled something about decorum before walking away in a flurry of annoyance and excitement. you couldn't really tell the difference, you realized, as you gave the poor host a pot of coffee and asked him kindly to drop it off at the back booth.

you were not something to be called dibs on, that was for sure, and you were here to find yourself, not anyone else, certainly not some guy. even if some guy had soft-looking hair and a witty mouth. even then.

you took a stabilizing breath and got back to work, noting that the back booth only got coffee, only stayed for about twenty minutes before making to leave, heavy jackets loud as they shrugged them back on.

three of the guys called out their thanks and headed out, leaving only a standing trevor there when you approached to settle their bill. thumbing through his wallet, he grinned down at you when you finally stood in front of him again.

he was taller than you thought, you realized, as he now stood at full height. you had to crane your neck slightly to look him fully in the face.

"thought you'd be shorter," you said, honestly, hoping to knock him down a peg, however mean that might have been. but of course he only smirked.

"get that a lot," he drawled, selecting a bill, putting his wallet back in his pocket with hands you had to force yourself not to stare at. "been told 've got the personality of a short guy in the body of a tall one."

you shook your head. of course someone had told him that.

you couldn't really ruminate on that, though, as he stuck the twenty in the front pocket of your apron, as well as something with a slight weight to it, urging an angry pink to the tops of your ears, the feeling of his wide hand warm, so close to you.

you peered up at him, sucked on your teeth as he pulled out his hand slowly, that ever-present smirk almost faltering at your gaze.

"thanks for the service, sugar," he said, and you probably imagined the way the end of his words sounded strained. "see you around, yeah?"

you didn't break eye contact, only let yourself smile back at him before turning and getting back to work, letting the push and pull of waitressing lull you into a rhythm during which it was practically impossible to think too heavily about bright eyes and broad shoulders.

by the end of your shift, you had been officially tired out. you were sure your hair reeked of coffee, and your ankles ached from standing all day.

going to empty your apron, however, right before you left, your hand settled on the bill from earlier, but also several wrapped butterscotch candies. your face contorted as you stared at them, wondering why trevor had put them there.

exhaustion won over curiosity though, as you thanked everyone for your first day and walked the short block back to the inn.

this won't be that bad, you were thinking to yourself as you walked up the stairs. you already had the phone number of a maybe-friend, after all, and as far as jobs went, this one could be a lot worse. good money, good way to meet new people, maybe even something pretty to look at -

as if summoned by your thoughts, when you turned out of the staircase to your hallway, there trevor was, standing on a ladder, looking into the ceiling, some box of tools on the floor.

you narrowed your eyes, bag suddenly feeling heavy on your shoulder. the presence of a new figure drew his gaze to you, and you had to scold your heart, the way it beat like a teenager at the way he looked at you, then. you didn't know him, after all, and you weren't here for anything romantic.

"you followin' me, sugar?" he asked, stepped down from the ladder, making his way over to you. his voice was slow and tired, from whatever he had done that day. you were shocked at the fact that you wanted to know what that was. his gaze shone as he gently took your bag from your shoulder and slugged it onto his own, fell into step beside you. you let him. "tell me you're following me."

you rolled your eyes, but the small smile on your face wasn't going anywhere. "this is where i'm staying," you explained, "so, if anything, you're following me."

you stopped in front of your door, leaned back against it, suddenly in no rush to lock yourself behind it, alone. not when he was on this side of the door, looking like this.

almost weary with hard work, but not weary enough to sour him, just enough to make his movements and expressions slightly slower, lazier, more indulgent, like they were drenched in chocolate ganache. not when he was here, looking at you like this, like you were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

after years at some preppy, pretentious university, at which ingenuity was the most valuable currency, one you felt you lacked so disgustingly, was it really too surprising that you softened under his gaze? that you wanted to stay in it, just a little bit longer?

"sugar?" he asked, head tilted, and you realized he had been talking.

"sorry, what?" you asked, your voice soft like sponge cake, willing your eyes to focus, your mind to focus harder.

he didn't tease you too badly, though, only let his smile grow sharper with a smirk. "i said that 'm sorry if i hurt your feelings with the dibs stuff," he said, and you were almost confused at his apology. you weren't even upset, and when was the last time someone had apologized to you so quickly after doing something?

your memory cut hazily to your ex, somehow trying to convince you it had been your fault that he cheated on you, that it was something you were lacking that had inevitably led him to do that. you practically shivered, then internally scolded yourself for comparing trevor, whom you had met today, you reminded yourself, to your ex-boyfriend.

"'s fine," you said, waving him off, your back softening further into the door. "didn't really hurt my feelings."

his eyes flashed. "didn't really or didn't, sugar?" he asked, searching your face.

you swallowed, acutely aware of his attention, how it slid down your nose, your cheeks, your jaw, slow and thick as sludge. "didn't."

he gave a nod. "'m sorry anyway," he said, and it came out low. "if you really want to go for matt, i won't stop you."

and part of you wanted to blurt out i don't want matt!

but it was your first day in this place, and honestly, you were still kind of hung up on his apology, and the way it sounded from his chapped lips, and you knew to correct him would be exactly what he wanted.

so you just said "thank you," and were shocked at how gentle it sounded.

"jesus christ, distracted, are we, trev?" the voice of the young inn-keeper called from the end of the hallway. he seemed awfully chipper as he approached, hands in his pockets. "i came up to check on your progress," he said, "or lack thereof, i guess." he looked between the two of you. "now i see who's stolen your attention."

"i'm on my legally-required fifteen minute break," trevor said, half-smiling, turning back to you. "sugar, you know my brother, griff?"

you nodded, suddenly clocking the subtle ways their appearances drew from each other. trevor was taller, griff had a wider face, bigger features. but they had the same eyes, same strong nose, mirroring grins. "he owns my room," you said, dumbly, tiredly.

griff only smiled. "she's had a long day, trev, leave her be."

trevor searched your face again, seemed to find all the proof he needed - your heavy eyelids, drooping shoulders. he gently handed your bag back to you. "i'll see you tomorrow, sugar," he said, as soft as you'd heard him. so soft it startled you. "sweet dreams."

"goodnight," you said to both of them, shutting the door behind you. sleep came easily that night, again, with dreams less so of hiding behind trees and more so of rough hands and laughing eyes.

you were surprised, pleasantly so, at how quickly you fell into a routine in your new home. surprised at how quickly you let yourself call this place that.

maybe it was the way that bridget wasn't just being polite when she had given you her phone number, as she had quickly set up dates to show you all her favorite hiking spots around. your weekly hikes with her became a highlight as she told you more about the town, about her young daughter, about book club, about anything and everything. she was so kind with you that you found yourself so comfortable confiding in her. it felt so easy calling her a friend.

maybe it was the way the town seemed to accept you as one of their own so quickly and genuinely. the line cooks flirted with you in the way only line cooks do (in ways that would not be acceptable outside of a kitchen). they made you food to take home, kept you from starving. the host, harry, began to trust you enough that he asked for your help on homework. the regulars began to recognize you, know your name, ask how you were doing. griff checked in on you, asked if anything was wrong with the room, said you should feel free to use his kitchen anytime (as your room was the simplest kind, and didn't have any cooking appliances). you began to know the names of the streets, the stores, the store owners. your fresh start was starting to feel like just that - a start.

or maybe it was that same group of guys who came in every morning, at the same time, who ordered only coffee and then left in a flush of waves and heavy jackets and called-out salutations. you learned that the one with the curly hair, alex, was the quietest, probably the smartest. his closest friend, cole, was the shorter one, who had the loudest laugh. and matt was warming up to you, you thought. the more you made fun of trevor, the more he seemed to like you.

it was that same group, every day, who came in loudly and left louder, who had paint and dirt smudged on their shirts, their hands. who drank coffee like it was water. who laughed like it was easy as breathing, and maybe that was how it was supposed to be.

and, of course, there was trevor, who, the more you got to know him, the more trouble he became. every day, his "good morning, sugar," would reverberate through your chest, and you would drop a pot of coffee at their table, ask how they were doing, listen for their answers.

some comments about how old man peters' roof is caving in, and he should have told them about it probably a year ago, or about how the police chief's plumbing is fucked, or about how they were going over to fix bridget's sink that day. and, if it was the last one, matt would flush, which would make your eyes widen, would make you pepper him with questions about his crush.

and then, at some point during their morning break, trevor would ask something about you, about how you were, about the way you were wearing your hair, the shoes you were wearing, the book you had been reading the week before. and then, as he left, without fail, he would slip a bill and several butterscotch candies into your apron pocket, each time his hand growing heavier, more significant as it settled so close to you.

it didn't particularly help your small crush that you saw him everywhere. he was always fixing something - in the diner, at the inn, in the park downtown. you couldn't escape him and his deft hands, his working mind, his strong frame and easy laugh and addictive smile.

he was everywhere, so of course he would be here, at the grocery store, after your shift one day. you were roaming the isles, looking for a specific kind of vinegar, your basket hoisted up onto your hip, when a low whistle made you turn. you were met with that lazy smirk, your favorite one of his, the nighttime one, the tired one. he approached you, his work boots heavy on the ground.

"you followin' me, trevor?" you asked, repeating what become something of an inside joke between the two of you.

"maybe," he said, looking down at you, shimmering eyes framed by long lashes. "do you want me to be following you, sugar?"

you hummed, noncommittal, some harmony between the fluorescent lights above, the whir of the fridges the next isle over. you turned back to the shelving, resumed your survey of the contents. "your brother offered his kitchen for me to use while he's out tonight," you said, not looking at him.

"did he?" trevor mused, an almost undetectable bite in his tone.

you nodded, eyes alight with excitement. "been eating pancakes and chicken noodle soup for weeks now," you said, referring to what the line cooks sent you home with. "swear my mouth's watering just thinking about something different." you ran a thumb along your bottom lip, as if checking for spit.

if you had been looking at trevor, you would have see his shallow swallow, the way his eyes tracked your movement, how his gaze hung from your mouth like lacy ribbon. he cleared his throat.

you finally located the vinegar you wanted, on the very top shelf. pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, you reached the tips of your fingers for the bottle, only just out of reach.

trevor only chuckled as he grabbed the bottle easily, took the basket from your hip and into his own hand, dropping the vinegar into it.

"i can carry that, you know," you said, suddenly wishing you had something to do with your hands.

"i know," he said, smug.

you rolled your eyes, huffed a thank you, anyways.

"so, what're you making?" he asked as you led him from aisle to aisle, loading your basket with ingredients.

you explained to him how, in college, this one salad had been your absolute favorite to make when you needed something that made you feel good. something about the combination of arugula, kale, chickpeas, sweet potato, whatever other vegetables you had on hand, sometimes chicken, if you were feeling fancy, something about the simple dressing of oil and vinegar - it was perfect. no meal left you feeling as good as this one did.

and it was how you had made it entirely on your own, too - it wasn't some fancy steak dinner your ex had buttered you up with after a fight, it wasn't boxed brownies shared with your old best friend the night before you found out - no, this was all you.

when you looked back at trevor, there was something molten in his gaze. "sounds amazing," he said, low, like he didn't want anyone else to hear.

you tilted your head, let your smile slant across you face, scrunched up your nose, teasing. "would you want to join me for dinner, trevor?"

his face split into a grin. "i would," he said, "i would want to, please."

and so you found yourself fumbling around someone else's kitchen with an audience, washing kale and peeling sweet potatoes with fingers that twitched towards the figure across the counter, practically irritated that they weren't touching him.

you scolded your hands to behave, which became easier as the night went on, as conversation flowed like cranberry juice, the flavor of it lingering in your mouth just the same.

he might ask you about how the diner was going, to which you would look around as if to make sure no one was there. his eyes would flash. you would miss this.

"harry's been making some real progress in precalc," you would say from behind your hand, speaking of the host, whom you had come to view very fondly. "and you didn't hear it from me, but i think he's going to ask his friend jason to the school dance next weekend."

you would be flushed with excitement and pride, and trevor wouldn't be able to get much beyond that, honestly, the way it lit you up from the inside out.

but then he would clear his throat, and lean forward on his hands, and tell you that if harry needed help asking jason to the dance, he knew exactly the best crew for the job.

"don't tell me you're talking about your rag-tag group of misfits," you would say, cocking a brow as you dressed the kale and arugula.

and he would feign offense, place a broad hand over his heart. "i'll have you know that this group of misfits went 16/16 in high school dance invitations," he would say. "all four of us, all four years."

you might roll your eyes. "real band of heartbreakers, were you?" you would say.

and laughter would shine behind his eyes like christmas tree lights behind store windows, and he would stretch his arms above his head, lazily, comfortably. "'course not," he would say, his voice the sort of raspy that comes with stretching, "only alex."

and this would pull a real laugh from you, as you tossed everything together, the kind of laugh that rung in his ears, that made him pleasantly dizzy.

as the night passed on, time moving altogether too fast and the kind of slow that oozes, you would learn about how he grew up in this town, how he went to trade school, how he had had the same friends his entire life. you would ask questions about if he ever felt the desire to leave (not really), how he got into manual labor (he never really felt like he was that good at anything else), what his family was like (close, but not overbearingly so).

and, in turn, between bites and sips and laughs, you would tell him about how you grew up (humbly), what school was like (hard, but rewarding), how you ended up here (cheap housing, good job, close community). and maybe you would actually tell him about the ultimate betrayal you had faced before you left, why that made you want to be somewhere, anywhere else, somewhere where you had no choice but to make a life entirely for yourself.

at the mention of your ex his jaw might clench, his mouth twitching ever so slightly. he would mutter something about nonsense, and you would smile.

he would ask questions about your family (just your dad and you), your favorite parts of your life here (hikes with bridget, homework sessions with harry, bickering with old man peters).

and he would pout, at that, his bottom lip looking so positively delicious it stole your breath. "'m not your favorite, sugar?" he would plead, joking.

maybe you would really look in his eyes, then, find something hot, tilt your head. "you wanna be?" you would ask, breathier than you intended.

and he would smirk, somehow flipping the dynamic on its head entirely with only a single expression. "you know i do, sugar," he would tell you, low and so loaded you would blush.

it might scare you how easily you let him in, how quickly you were warming up to him. his pretty face might scare you, because pretty faces had hurt you before. there had been no one prettier than your old best friend, after all, and look how that turned out.

so, when the night grew viscous, and the meal was long over, the dishes done, a portion for griff packed up in tubberware on the counter, when he walked you upstairs to your room, both of your steps slow, reluctant, when his gaze lingered on your lips and the smell of him grew distracting, the height of him all-consuming, even then, even though you wanted to, you didn't kiss him. you only bid him a gentle goodnight.

"thank you for tonight," he would say, instead, looping his arms around your neck, hugging you close to his chest. this was so much worse, you thought, as you breathed him in, wrapped your own arms around him and squeezed. the way he held you like he was afraid what would happen if he let go. his hair so messy and his tone so genuine it almost hurt. "sweet dreams, sugar," he said into your hair before pulling away.

even though, that night, you might have dreamed about how his rough hands might feel as they held your soft cheek, how his chapped lips might slot against your glossed mouth. even if you woke up, that next morning, practically sweating. not the sweetest of dreams.

today was your day off. you had plans later with bridget, but you decided to book a haircut and blowout at the salon downtown, since you had the whole morning to yourself. the salon was one place you hadn't been in, yet, and you hadn't had a haircut in months, so you figured now was a good a time as any.

the bell above the door rang when you stepped inside, but no one seemed to notice over the shrill thrum of hair dryers, sinks, and the steady stream of gossip that you appeared to have walked in on.

"she told me her trevor went on a date, julia," one of the stylists said seriously, her eyes expressive as she sectioned her client's head of long curls. "won't stop rambling on and on about her, she says."

your heart jumped in your chest at trevor's name, sunk accordingly. he had been on a date? you weren't sure why you had assumed you were the only girl in his life at the moment, but it stung, nonetheless. you pulled at a thread on your long sleeve, eyes down.

you can't be upset, you told yourself, don't you dare be disappointed-

"oh, honey, how long you been waiting?" one of the stylists called out, making her way over to you and the front desk. "swear you have to throw somethin' at one of us when you come in or we'll never stop talking." she had such an easy way of speaking, a comfortable posture, a genuine face.

"sorry," you said, looking around, still recovering from what you'd overhead.

she just waved you off with a smile. "it's us motormouths who should be apologizing," she said before introducing herself as ginger. "now, what name is your appointment under?"

you told ginger your name, and as soon as you did, her eyes sailed up to meet yours again, wide and bright. she snapped her fingers, getting the room's attention. "you're the doll who stole our baby trevor's heart!"

you blushed furiously, felt the words in your mouth twist and tangle like a toddler's hair. "me? no, that can't be right," you said. there's no way last night counted as a date, you thought. there's no way he's talking about me.

the other stylist just squealed as you were led to a chair. "of course it's you! look at her, julia," she said to the woman in her chair, practically elated, "what a treasure!"

your blush wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

"that boy's been talkin' to 's mama 'bout you, honey," julia said from her chair, her expression knowing. "he's just about smitten, she says."

"and a mother always knows," ginger said, emphasizing her words with hairbrush gestures.

so you spent your appointment getting a couple inches off, hearing about the trouble trevor used to get in when he was younger (apparently alex used to be the biggest troublemaker, though), hearing about how trevor just went around fixing whatever anyone needed fixing.

"swear that sweet boy wouldn't charge a dime if this town'd let him," ginger said as she worked long layers into your hair, "we have to sneak payment into his pockets, and even then he tries to give it back!"

your cheeks burned, your heart heavy with affection as she blew out your hair, leaving it soft and smooth. you paid, said goodbye for about ten minutes, found out just how hard it was to escape salon conversation.

"now go show off for our baby, honey!" someone called out the door after you, making you laugh. you guessed that all the stereotypes about small town hair salons were true.

you went on your weekly hike with bridget, who gave you that understated grin when she saw you. "looking good," she said, bumping her shoulder into yours. "trev doesn't stand a chance."

you rolled your eyes. "didn't get my hair cut for him."

she laughed. "i know," she responded, "but all anyone can talk about this morning is your date last night."

you couldn't help but scoff good-naturedly. "i can't believe people already know about this," you said, "it was literally last night, and it wasn't even a date."

she waved you off. "nobody cares about the logistics. even my girl was moping to me about it. she's got a little crush on her skating instructor."

"trevor teaches your daughter how to skate?" you asked, having never heard of this.

she nodded. "he's the highlight of her week," she said, her eyes soft, picturing her daughter's unabashed smile.

"get in line," you mumbled, covering your face with your hands.

why was everyone so intent on revealing adorable information about trevor to you today? didn't they know he already took up enough of your daily headspace?

"can't somebody tell me he hates animals, or something? or that he's really pretentious about art? or that he has, like, some weird fetish?"

bridget laughed. "sorry, babe," she said, "he's the town's sweetheart."

you were still reeling with all of this information when you got back to the inn, your face rosy from the outside chill, your body pleasantly awake from your walk.

you began up the stairs, humming to yourself, ready to collapse onto your bed, maybe catch up on some reading.

"you followin' me, sugar?"

you looked up, immediately, feeling your pulse in your neck, in your teeth.

there he was, of course, there he was, painting the railing in the stairwell, the sharp smell of paint faint in the air.

all dirtied up from the day, that slouch that only appeared in the late afternoon, that crinkly smile, all of it made him almost too good to be real.

"maybe," you said, like second nature now, after all those times before, his face forcing a tiny smile from your mouth.

you stood just in front of him now, held your breath as he reached up, twirled a strand of your hair around a finger. he let out a low whistle you felt in your stomach.

"lookin' awful pretty tonight," he said, not much more than a whisper as he thumbed the soft ends of your freshly-cut hair.

his words settled like thick caramel on your tongue. "thank you," you mustered, your mind spinning with all of the wonderful things you had heard about him, today.

he bent down to one knee in front of you as you collected your thoughts. "um, what are you doing?" you said, strained, dumb.

he looked up at you through those girlish lashes, smirk heavy on his perfect face. he tugged your foot closer to him. "shoe's untied," he said, gesturing to your sneaker. "may i?"

you blinked at him before nodding, because what alternate universe was this? you tried to imagine any other man you'd known willingly getting on the floor for you, just to tie your shoe. you couldn't.

he tightened your laces with nimble hands.

you cleared your throat. "heard something funny today from the ladies at the salon," you told him, trying to focus on something other than his proximity.

he hummed. "nothin' good, i'll bet," he mused, "ginger loves a good story."

"it was a good story," you said, reveled in the way his expression softened, giving you the courage to press on. he began to tie a double knot. "'bout how you're tellin' your mom we went on a date."

he pulled the bow tight, looked up a you for a second, a guilty, childish grin on his face, caught red-handed. you extended a hand to him, helped him back to his feet.

"oh, yeah," he said smugly, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wall, easy, comfortable. "like how you asked me to dinner, and then cooked for me, and how it 100% was a date-"

you laughed, shook your head. "it was not!" you said, "i never said it was a date!"

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "call it wishful thinking, then, sugar."

and you couldn't focus too much on what he meant by that, so you just shook your head again. "you're too much," you said, wanting it to come out teasing, but instead there was a breathy sort of desperation behind it.

"yeah?" he asked, that smirk present as ever. you had grown so close to him without realizing it, now just a step away. him leaning back against the wall, you right in front of him, looking up at him.

you nodded, swallowed, your blood hot, your skin prickly, alive.

his eyes fixed you in place, teasing. "too much for you, sugar? can't take it?"

you bit your lip to stop any sound from escaping you, because everything seemed entirely too loud, then. you could hear your heartbeat, you swore you could hear his, the radiator could have been screaming at you. you didn't dare think about just how much you wanted to take.

to stop yourself from doing something much more serious, you simply reached your hand forward, swiped at a spot of paint on his face with your thumb.

your touch against his brow bone felt like an exhale, like melting wax. you could feel his warm breath on your hand as you pulled it back, but then he was looking at you, like that, like you were so, so special, like he would have doused his face in paint just to have your hands wipe it all away, and were you imagining the way his gaze grew fiery?

"trev! old man peters says his sink's still leaking!"

griff's voice rattled down the stairwell, smothering the flames in your eyes, if only just. just enough to break the spell, to pull away, to tell him you'd see him tomorrow for his coffee break, for his hungry gaze to follow you up the stairs until you were out of sight.

and so the routine continued, more butterscotch candies slipped into aprons, more pestering his friends, more slyly asking bridget what she thought about matt (she was deflecting, you'd observed, delighted). more helping with homework and reading in bed and cooking and snapping at old man peters to stop leaving his watch behind.

more stolen touches and longing glances and sideways smiles, backwards hats and work gloves stuffed in pockets, damp hair sticking to your neck, the hem of your skirt brushing against your thigh. more flame and softness and sweetness drenching your frame as he said hello, and goodbye, and sweet dreams, and anything else. that coil inside of you twisted tighter and tighter as you wondered what exactly was holding you back, what exactly you were waiting for.

one day, after work, there was a knock at your door. you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little bit disappointed when you opened it.

"you coming?" griff said, "town hall meeting starts in 5."

you scrunched up your nose. "town hall? what, is it required?"

he smiled, kind. "no, but they're usually a good time," he said, "and trevor's going to be there."

you had your jacket in your hand already. "he's not the reason i'm coming," you said, following him out the door and down the street.

"i won't tell anyone," was all griff replied, his smile understanding and gentle.

you had never been to a town hall meeting before. you'd guessed that the closest thing you could imagine was a student government meeting, which you'd been a part of in college.

this seemed much more laid back, though, taking place in the middle school gymnasium. it looked like almost everyone from town was here. you noticed old man peters, sitting with bridget, her daughter buzzing around from person to person. the salon ladies were talking to pretty much everybody. there was harry, sitting next to his mom. you approached bridget as griff went up to talk to the fire chief, one of his close friends.

soon enough, the meeting began, the first issue on the docket being the prospect of a stoplight on the intersection of drysdale avenue and york street.

bridget yawned, "same issue every meeting," she whispered to you. "always divided down the middle." this time was no different, you observed, the parents in the crowd seemed completely for the stoplight, the older crowd significantly against.

"next issue, a write in from the community, quote," the representative began, reading from notecards, "should the implementation of the 'dibs' rule be observed seriously, unquote." he cleared his throat, looked up to the crowd. "thoughts?"

you stifled an embarrassed laugh, held your face in your hands as bridget rubbed soothing circles in your back. "is this actually a real-life discussion topic?" you asked, incredulous.

"just let them have their fun," she whispered in a way that made her smile evident.

"i think 'dibs' is outdated and juvenile," a woman said, "sets a bad example for the kids."

the man up front was taking notes.

"i think it's cute," bridget piped up from her chair.

"me, too!" her daughter giggled, jumping into her lap.

"alright, i've got two for cute, one for bad influence," the man said, "anyone else?"

"i think it's lame," a very matt-like voice said, gruff, short.

"one for lame," the scribe said aloud.

"well, i think you're lame," that goofy drawl called out, making you pull your head up, look around until you spotted him, near the front. he was swatting matt on the back of the head. "and i learned it from alex, so take it up with him."

his curly-haired friend hid a smirk. "it's a high school move," he explained to the crowd, before turning to face trevor. "we haven't done it in years."

"until now," trevor amended, "but you guys understand. you've seen her. you've talked to her."

ginger put her hand over her heart as if swooning.

someone coughed. your face was burning up. bridget nudged you gently.

"she's here, trev," griff said, to which the fire chief let out a hearty laugh.

"really?" he turned to face the crowd, his voice excited, hopeful, searching. "where are you, sugar?"

you raised your hand, of all things, immediately wanted to smack yourself. "hey," you said, mousy.

"hey," he parroted, mocking, but of course not maliciously. his smile broke you apart.

and then you were having a conversation with several rows of people in chairs between you, on a gymnasium floor.

"you're the only one with the dibs curse on you," he said, "so what's your take on it? should we abolish the practice for good? is it outdated?"

you swallowed, were looking only at him as the scribe sat at the front, pen at the ready. "well," you began, "it works, from what i can tell." his smile put you together again. "so it can't be that outdated."

his eyes shone, only for you. "you heard her," he said, "case closed."

"are we actually still talking about this?" old man peters asked, to bridget, but much too loudly.

the rest of the meeting passed, absolutely delivering on laughs and nonsense, as promised.

"last thing before we go," the man said, "does everyone have a ride to the away game tomorrow?"

you leaned over to bridget. "what's that?"

"the rec hockey team is away this weekend," she whispered.

"rec hockey?" you said, confused, "like kids?"

she shook her head. "like kids, yes, but not kids."

"sugar, do you have a ride?" trevor's voice rang clear against the mumbled chatter of the room.

you looked up, met his eyes again. "uh, i don't think i'm going?" you said.

there was a collective gasp, followed by silence. your eyes widened. "babe," bridget whisper-screamed at you. "everyone goes."

you cleared your throat, realizing your grave error. "well, then i don't have a ride."

"you can ride with me, honey," ginger said, sweetly, with a warning in her eye.

"trevor has to go super early since he's playing," bridget whispered from next to you. you nodded, signaling that you had heard her.

"thank you!" you called out.

rides were sorted, the meeting ended, everyone saying their goodbyes, folding chairs scraping against the waxy floor. trevor and his friends caught up with you and bridget on your way out.

trevor slung a heavy arm around your shoulders that you couldn't help but lean into. he smelled like sawdust and something citrusy. "i didn't know you played hockey," you said, looking up at him curiously, not letting yourself ruminate on how good he felt slotted against your side.

he shrugged.

bridget scoffed. "he's good, too," she said, "i hate to pump his tires, but only the best teacher for my baby girl." she pressed a kiss to the cheek of her smiley daughter, whom she had hoisted up onto her hip. "all of them play," she said, a vague gesture to the group. "lit it up in high school."

"not all of them are as good, though," trevor said, which caused some annoyed groans.

"what about heartbreaker alex, over here?" you teased.

"heartbreaker alex has grown up since junior year," alex said, soft spoken. "and it's not my fault my hair looks like this."

the shortest friend of the group, cole, the one with the loudest laugh, whom you had come to rely upon for book recommendations, put a hand in line with his brow bone, as if blocking out the sun to search for something.

"what are you doing?" alex asked.

"oh, me?" cole said, "just looking for all the girls you must be getting, since you've still got all that hair."

alex rolled his eyes, the group laughed.

"what about you, matt?" you asked as trevor held open the door, all of you stepping out into the night air. "i've heard the team's got a perfect record for dance invites. any high school stories?"

matt didn't say anything for a second, but bridget laughed. "you're really telling people that, trev, as if i didn't ask him freshman year?" she nodded towards matt, who was actually blushing, you thought, but the dark made it hard to tell. "was a tough sell, eh? he was so quiet when i asked i thought he pretending that i wasn't there."

"oh, we remember," cole said, tone alight with understanding. "funny how we grow up, but so much stays the sa-" he blew out a breath when matt elbowed him in the gut.

you smiled to yourself. "i'll see all of you tomorrow, for the game, then?" you said, the inn now steps away.

goodbyes rang out, and you made to remove yourself from trevor's embrace, but he only spun you back into his chest, pulling you close, his arms now wrapped around your back, your nose against his breastbone. you breathed in, melted into him, squeezed him back.

"did you mean it?" he said, soft, so only you would hear him.

you mumbled your confusion into his chest.

"when you said it was working? did you mean it?"

your heart jumped, his words so vulnerable you couldn't look at him. "i meant it," you whispered into his bright shirt. "you're working on me, trevor." you felt his lips brush against your hair, featherlight, before he let you go.

"sweet dreams, sugar," he said, and you walked back to your room with wobbly legs and an overactive heart.

the following day, ginger graciously gave you a ride to the next town over. she, of course, chatted you up the entire time, which you welcomed.

"i know i must be super late to the party here," you said, carefully, picking at your nails, "but what's the story behind bridget and matt?"

ginger tsked. "we're a bad influence on you, honey," she said, taking a right. "you're gonna be a big mouth like me in no time."

you laughed. "it's only 'cause matt's so obvious about it," you told her, "they've known each other forever, and i learned yesterday that she asked him to their freshman dance." you trailed off, hoping that ginger would take your cue.

she nodded, smiled fondly. "our bridget was always such a spitfire," she said, "always going for what she wanted. smart as a whip, too, but you know that."

you nodded. you did.

"and she could have had anyone, but she wanted our matthew, and he wasn't a sight for sore eyes then, like he is now."

is matt good-looking? you'd thought to yourself. you surely hadn't noticed. perhaps you were distracted. perhaps your gaze always wandered.

"but bridget marched right up, asked him to the dance, and the poor boy was so stunned it took him a full minute to say yes." she shook her head, lost in the memory.

"did they ever date, like for real?" you asked, enraptured.

she frowned. "no, i don't think so, at least. bridget was always bouncing around flings, trying out guys for a few weeks, then cuttin' 'em loose." her smile grew wistful. "then she had her darling girl, middle of senior year. dad booked it, never looked back. don't think she's been with anyone since."

you frowned, too, hating the thought of someone abandoning your friend, as lovely and wonderful as she was. what a privilege it would be to be a part of her family.

"and matt?" you asked, as the car pulled into the parking lot. you ran your palms up and down your jeans.

ginger whistled. "that boy's been starry-eyed over her since grade five," she said, "but me and the girls aren't surprised he thinks he doesn't have a shot. his self-esteem's never been the highest, not like the rest of 'em."

"not like cole, who swears he could land a plane, if it came around to it?" you said, grinning.

ginger laughed. "exactly. and not like alex, who was never without a girlfriend, and not like your trevor, who's never needed anyone to tell him how great he is."

you sucked on your teeth. "but we do, anyways," you reminded her.

"that we do, honey," she finished, putting the car in park. "let's go cheer on those knuckleheads, shall we?"

the rink was colder than you thought it would be. the walls were practically made of aluminum foil. you wrapped your arms around yourself, blew out a foggy breath, followed ginger to the away section, absolutely packed with everyone you recognized.

as you settled into the stands, your eyes immediately searched for trevor.

"he's number 11," bridget said, coming to stand next to you.

you rolled your eyes. "and what number is matt?"

she shoved you, playfully, but when spoke, it was bashful. "12," she said. "cole's 22 and alex is 39. police chief is 8, fireman spence is the goalie, and griff is the ref."

you furrowed your brow. "isn't that a conflict of interest?" you asked.

she huffed in a laugh. "if anything, it's a disadvantage for us."

the game started, and you realized very early on that maybe trevor hadn't been lying when he said not all of them are as good. he practically flew around the ice, graceful, mesmerizing. and it was obvious that he wasn't looking to show off, either, that he was just playing to have fun, and if he really wanted to, he could run the scoresheet up into oblivion.

you could feel bridget smile beside you. "yeah," she sighed. "it's pretty crazy."

"he could play professionally," you breathed.

she shrugged. "he's happy," she said simply.

cole scored twice, the other team clawed their way back in. griff threw alex in the box for boarding, which old man peters, even with his granddaughter in his lap, would not let go, keeping a one-man ref, you suck! chant going long after the power play was over.

"does he know it's griff?" you asked bridget.

"of course he does," she said. "he'll buy him a beer after this."

such was small town life, you supposed.

in the end, fireman spence made some crucial saves, keeping it tied late into the third. with about a minute left, trevor made an unreal, practically magical pass to matt, who finished it off in a one-timer that sunk into the back of the net.

the crowd erupted. you and bridget jumped up and down, holding each other as the goal horn sounded.

the team went through the line in celebration, then skating by the away section before the next face off.

trevor blew you a kiss. you shook your head at him, but couldn't wipe the smile off of your face.

the game ended in a win, and the town migrated over to the local bar. you busied yourself with harry's mom, telling her that no, she had nothing to worry about, yes, harry was quiet, but he was kind as anything, and that was most important.

everyone cheered when the team walked in. you clapped along with them, feeling a smile tug at your lips as soon as your eyes locked on trevor.

his eyes found yours immediately, that lazy grin following as he squeezed past people to get to you.

you met him halfway, a hazy neon light over your heads, making color dance in his eyes like starlight. his long hair was damp, curly at the ends in a way that made you want to reach up and tug at them.

"speechless, eh, sug?" he teased, shrugging one shoulder with exaggerated arrogance. "i know, my play tends to evoke that reaction from people. i-"

you scrunched your mouth to the side, smacked him lightly in the chest. "god forbid i try to think of something nice to say to you," you said, smiling. you made to pull you hand back, but his warm, wide palm came up to cover it, holding it against his chest.

you exhaled, looked up at him, unsure.

"what was your favorite part?" he asked, those shining eyes careful. "did you like cole's between-the-legs? or maybe my last assist?" he winked. "always a crowd favorite."

suddenly confidence welled up inside of you, a vault. but we tell him anyways, you had said. that we do.

tell him, the overhead lights whispered.

"when you blew me a kiss," you said, reaching your free hand up to cup his jaw, textured under your touch from his five-o'clock-shadow. "that was my favorite part."

flame crept into his gaze abruptly, suddenly, shockingly. he settled his other hand on your hip, pulled you closer to him, his grip making your breath catch. "was it?" there was a roughness to his voice that felt tangible.

you nodded slowly, speaking to his mouth. you weren't scared. you weren't running. you weren't stalling. your skin was humming, your blood felt hot. he was so perfect against you, his hand over yours somehow the most intimate touch you could remember.

he ducked his head to yours, just a breath away, so you could see the gold in his eyes. "let me do you one better," he rasped, waiting for your single nod before finally crushing his mouth to yours in a kiss that felt like early sunrises, slow and meaningful and only the beginning.

you pushed up onto your tiptoes, looped both of your arms around his neck, tugging him closer, closer, as he kept one hand on your hip, the other grasping the back of your neck, keeping you from collapsing into him.

kissing your ex had felt almost robotic, scientific, stiff in an endearing way at best, stiff in an awkward way in reality.

there was nothing stiff about this, nothing scientific about him. this was all feeling, all malleable, all calloused hands and chapped lips. he kissed like someone who had to work for it, like someone who didn't have to prove anything to you but wanted to, anyways.

just that was enough for you to sigh against him, the fact that there were other people around the only thing stifling your soft moan.

he smiled into your mouth, like a low-spoken secret between the two of you. "taste like butterscotch," he mumbled against your lips, pulling away only just enough to make sure his words didn't disappear unheard down your throat, almost drowsily. "you like those candies i give you, sugar?"

your chest rose and fell against his. the low music in the background roared in your ears, the neon light making him look like some stained glass thing worth kneeling for. "like 'em because you leave 'em for me," you said, your fingertips tracing the top of his spine.

his eyes shimmered. "can i tell you something?"

you nodded.

he hummed, gave a guilty sort of smile. "gave 'em to you because i didn't like the taste of 'em," he started, smirk growing wider. "and i wanted to convince myself to hold off on kissin' you. not to rush you, you know."

you understood, and your swollen lips quirked at the story, but your eyes flashed with something like hurt. "you don't like the way i taste, trevor?" even if it was his own doing, you suddenly wanted to brush your teeth.

"that's the thing." he ran a steady thumb along your hairline. "think my plan backfired, 'cause butterscotch's my new favorite flavor." his thumb reached your chin, tilting it up to his mouth again. "can't get enough of it," he murmured, a man possessed, barely audible as he kissed you again, this time with a softness that cut like a dagger.

you swore your head was still spinning the next day. what was supposed to be just another shift at the diner quickly turned into a flurry of questions, of neighbors looking for a side of gossip with their french toast, of line cooks swearing there was something different about you.

it was hard to answer anyone, to do anything, honestly, when it felt like you were floating, like your head was far, far away, up in the clouds.

harry gave you a fist bump when he saw you. old man peters told you in a stern tone that public bars were no place for fornication, to which an ecstatic bridget patted his shoulder and reminded him that it was only a (sort of) innocent kiss.

she pulled all the details out of you, lit up as you flushed and stumbled over your memories.

the police chief made some joke about that boy being a bad influence when you accidentally brought him whole milk instead of soy milk for his coffee.

ginger and the girls were like some insatiable beast that only let you be when you reminded them that if they kept you much longer, the diner would go hungry.

of course, your heart instinctively fluttered when that tell-tale gust of loud laughter burst through the door, along with the drag of heavy work boots, the shuffling of canvas outerwear, the shoving of gloves into back pockets.

you made your way to the table with their regular pot of coffee, met trevor's dancing gaze almost sheepishly.

"morning, guys," you said, smiling at all of them.

they chimed their chorus of good mornings, pouring their coffee into mugs themselves, as they always insisted on.

"so, what's new?" cole asked, his head resting on his fists. "probably nothing, right?"

alex and matt hid their laughs.

you rolled your eyes, smiled nonetheless. trevor had a hat on, today, making his hair curl out from the bottom of the brim. you tucked a curling lock behind his ear, ran your nails soothingly along the hair at the nape of his neck.

anyone watching would have seen the way his gaze melted like milk chocolate, how his shoulders softened, his posture relaxing completely into your small touch.

he looked up at you, eyes so soaked in affection it spilled down his face like mascara-stained tears. "i missed you," he said.

his friends groaned, as if they'd heard this a million times. suddenly, with a blush, you had a guess as to what his morning had been like. perhaps he had been just as distracted as you.

"i missed you, too," you said, because it was the truth.

"he almost dropped a crate on my foot this morning," matt said, bitterly.

you put a hand over your heart. "how tragic." you looked up, making eye contact with your friend across the diner. "hey, bridge! matt almost hurt his foot this morning. has science found a cure for that, yet?"

she huffed a laugh as she approached, shook her head at matt when she stood in front of the table. she held the back of her hand to his forehead, as if checking for a fever. "are you sure you're okay, sweet boy? this sounds serious," she joked.

matt had paled. trevor pulled you into his lap and you hid your laugh in his collarbone.

"'m fine," matt bit out, to which bridget smiled.

"thank god, that was close," she said. her gaze wandered, landed on something out the window. she squinted. "did somebody dig up some of the flowers outside?" she asked.

"dig?" alex mused, "maybe rip is a better word, eh, trev?"

"right. almost forgot." trevor held you in his lap with one hand, reached the other to the side. suddenly several flowers were being held in front of you, thin, spidery roots still intact. "sugar, will you go to the valentine's day skate with me?"

you smiled, wide and toothy, touched one hand to his face as the other grasped the humble, earthy bouquet. "of course i will, handsome," you said, "what's the valentine's day skate?"

"pta event, tomorrow," bridget said, looking on with interest. "whole town shows up."

"this town shows up for everything," you replied.

she smiled fondly. "heart-shaped balloons and fruit punch and ice skates. what's not to love?"

you turned your neck to look back up at trevor. "'m honored to have been on the receiving end of one of your famous invitations," you teased, "even if it's not for a dance." his delight rumbled into your shoulders, the back of your thighs, firm and warm.

cole yawned, stretched. "duty calls, fellas," he said, making to get up.

you reluctantly pushed up from trevor's lap, quickly pouring his untouched mug into a to-go cup. the team filed out with their typical string of thank yous and goodbyes, matt's extra glance at bridget met with a returning smile.

then it was you and trevor, as the morning break always ended, like clockwork, like a bedtime story that was comforting in its predictability. he tucked a bill in your apron, several candies, the weight of them alone making you smile.

"did i tell you how pretty you look today?" he told you.

"no," you mused, your hands clasped behind your back, shifting on your feet.

he hummed. "so pretty, sugar, never been so nervous to ask someone out," he admitted, that smug smile lazy across his face.

you tilted your head. "don't be nervous," you told him. "you're the easiest yes i've ever had."

at your words he ducked his wide shoulders down to you, flipped his hat backwards on his head so as not to impede you in any way, kissed you with a rough palm on your soft face, your hands still behind your back as you met him up on your toes.

a different kiss, one so lovely, still, soft and beautiful, drenched in daylight.

would your head ever stop spinning, when it came to him? would you ever come down from the clouds, again? even if you did, would there not be cumulus tufts in your hair, wisps of cirrus in your lashes?

he was proving it difficult, especially that next day, the fourteenth of february.

you had the morning to yourself, existing slowly and methodically, reading and running errands, finally starting to get ready for your date in the late afternoon.

before you knew it, there was a knock at your door, just as you had swung your jacket on. you swung it open to find him leaning against the doorframe, the picture of ease, shoulders drooping the way they always did after a working morning.

"ready to go?" you asked, making to close the door behind you before pressing up on your toes to kiss him on the cheek. he caught your face in a hand before you could, though, steering your lips towards his mouth instead. you laughed against his lips. "greedy," you taunted, pulling away, letting yourself lean into his warm side.

"got no idea, sugar," he admitted, voice twinged with a day of speaking. you walked together to the high school ice skating rink, only a few minutes away, the brisk february air biting at your nose, your ears. you caught up on the morning, what book you had finished, how annoying ginger's husband was being about the state of his rain gutters.

when you entered the rink, finally, pushing forward the old doors, you couldn't help but smile, and trevor couldn't help but watch you.

everyone was here, of course they were. balloons hung from the top of the glass, streamers decorating every archway and spare inch. a massive table of themed refreshments was just next to the bleachers.

it looked like something out a ninety's film, mixed with the unique small town charm and wintery love you had come to know so personally.

you and trevor quickly got your skates on, all lingering touches and knowing smiles, and headed for the ice.

you were shaky at first, but his hands were so tight on yours, you knew there wasn't a chance he would let you fall. he spun you around the rink easily, twirling you like a ballroom dance floor, ever the show-off, anything to make you laugh.

"hey, harry!" you called out, at one point, noticing your host-friend helping a taller, skinner kid his age onto the ice. he waved, his eyes glittery in a way you recognized. is that jason? you mouthed. harry nodded, smiled shyly. you gave him an impressed thumbs up, trevor whistled.

you asked trevor how he got into hockey, watched how his mind waltzed behind his eyes when he talked about outdoor rinks with his friends in elementary school, how even piled-on scarves and hats and puffer jackets didn't stop that flying feeling.

significance would gather in your stomach, butterflies morphing into something much more serious, the kind of flame you'd find in a living room fireplace, in the hearts of teenage lovers.

you skated by cole, scooping up the snow he had made with quick starts and stops, and alex, whose neck was becoming the new home of said snow.

alex grunted, immediately breaking into stride to catch a fleeing cole, whose bright and clear laugh echoed under the roof like church bells.

the fire and police departments had started a relay race, ginger and her girls had formed a circle close to the hot chocolate.

old man peters held his sleeping granddaughter in his lap, bouncing his knee gently, both of their smiles blissful.

trevor's hand found your far hip, pulling you into his warm side. you sighed, looked up at him as you let your fingers trace along his jaw.

"touchy today, sugar, hm?" he said into your hair, a rumble to his tone that told you he liked it.

you hummed, nodded. "you just look so..." you trailed off, in thought, thinking about what, exactly, you meant to say. he looked what? practically edible? like an ocean you wanted to drown in?

how could you tell him you'd been avoiding looking at his hands, for fear you'd blurt something out about wanting them around your neck?

you just swallowed, cleared your throat. his smirk was a flash of teeth.

"you feelin' okay?" he cooed. "should i take you home?"

you found yourself nodding, even though you hadn't been at the rink for long.

"yeah?" he mocked, taunting, his hand on your hip suddenly firm, burning.

bridget's laugh cut through the sizzling air like a stream of cold hose water. you both turned to look at where she now sat, having obviously fallen onto the ice. she peered up at matt through her blonde bangs. "some teacher you are," she laughed, "i knew trev was the right choice for my girl's lessons."

matt shook his head, a barely-there smile on his thin lips. he offered her a hand, steadily helped her to her feet, an almost undetectable shake in his breathing as bridget grabbed onto his forearm for extra stability. "alright, smart ass," he mused, "no help for you, then."

he made to drop her hands, to leave her on her own, but she latched onto him tighter. "yeah right," she said, "you're not going anywhere, sweet boy."

cole's laugh sparkled at matt's flush.

you and trevor were already on the way out, bidding your short goodbyes, half-assed excuses about not feeling well given and taken with knowing eye-rolls.

he walked you back to the inn, up the stairs, his hands on you ever-so-distracting, his voice a careless rasp, your heart beating heavy in your chest.

you finally made it to your closed door, your back against it as he looked down at you with that heated gaze, his frame boxing you in.

"well, get some rest, sugar," he said, slowly, smiling. "since you're not feeling well." he twirled a strand of your hair around a finger.

you sputtered. "what? trevor-"

his eyes widened in mock-surprise. "oh, is there something you want?" he asked.

you clutched at his shirt with your fist, pulled. "please."

"please, what, sugar?" he asked, so smug you wanted to punch him. "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

"you," you whined, but that wasn't enough.

"oh, is that it?" he drawled, ducking his head down to you, so close, but not close enough, not even a little.

you worked your jaw, so frustrated. "just," you tried, "just please, touch me, trevor, i just wanna feel you."

he smiled, held the side of your face in his palm. "am touchin' you, sugar," he said, "tellin' me this isn't enough?"

you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, groaned at his feigned confusion. "shut up," you breathed, his mouth an inch from yours.

"make me," he bit back, and then you were kissing him. you swore your lips would be charred, later, as if in proof. you reached a hand behind you, twisted open your door, while the other rooted in his hair, tugged him inside your room as he moaned against your lips.

one of his hands grasped the back of your neck, the other a bruising grip in your side, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees felt the blunt edge of the bed.

you barely registered as he reached under you, flipped you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips as he sat down on the comforter, far too caught up in this kiss, somehow still so different from ones you has shared before. so charged you felt the air might combust at any second, that, despite his relentless repairs, there was no way this inn could withstand the way he was kissing you, now. surely, the roof would cave in under the weight of your want, water would sear straight through the pressurized pipes.

he smiled against your mouth when you started to rock your hips back and forth across his lap, just so desperate for something, anything.

your exhales came out short, little pants as you reveled in the little friction you were getting against his firm thigh, covered in his heavy work pants, nothing close to what you really wanted, but something, at least.

mercifully, he moved your clothes aside, rocked you more forcefully, making the sensation practically blissful. you dropped your heavy head to his neck, moaned into it.

"oh, sugar," he cooed, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "so greedy for it, hm?"

you nodded into his neck, the tough texture combined with the heavy weight of his thigh catching you in just the right spot, urging a whimper from your throat.

"makin' a mess of me, yeah? could cum just from my thigh?" he said, almost like he felt sorry for you, but you could hear the smile in his voice. you bit down gently on the space between his neck and shoulder, your small retaliation, smiled at his groan.

you slowed your rhythm, picked your head up, let your chest rise and fall as you looked at him in the face, searched his eyes.

his face was slightly flushed, his eyes only just a bit glassy, but he looked at you like you were a wonder, like some divine power had made her way into his lap.

you pressed a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, loved the way you could feel his smile crinkle and widen under your lips.

"please, trevor," you whispered, your touch so soft around his neck. "please just give me what i want."

you shifted on his lap until you felt him, hard and hot and heavy underneath you. his voice came out with a strain. "anything, sugar," he told you, "just tell me."

you lifted your hips up, could feel how wet you were, could tell you had probably left a trace of yourself on his pants. "wanna cum on your cock, trevor," you breathed, couldn't help your sly grin when he immediately began to tug his clothes aside. "please, please let me. i know i'm so greedy-"

he was nodding like he understood as he angled your hips up higher, shifted you so that you sat right above him as he pumped himself up and down, once, twice, so obviously ready for you. "you are, sugar," he said, so eager it almost sounded like a whine, "but i'll give you anything you want, swear it." his hands found your hips. "just promise you'll only be greedy for me, hm?"

you sank down onto him with a nodded promise, bit your lip at the slow, scorching pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulled at your middle, that you felt in your toes. you blinked, trying to get used to the sensation, trying to muffle the groan in your mouth.

"fuck," he moaned, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like you might float away if he let go, "all the way, sugar, 'atta girl." you huffed a short breath when he was all the way in.

words felt far away, suspended in bubbles that whirled around your head.

"speechless, eh?" he teased, and you had a sense of deja vu. "don't worry, sugar. common re-"

and you could have growled at him for alluding to the fact that other girls had felt this, that there were other people in the world who knew what this felt like, so you fitted a delicate hand over his mouth and rolled your hips up and back on him until he was the speechless one, moans falling from his mouth, his brow pinched in pleasure.

"don't worry," you breathed, your mouth an inch from his ear. "common reaction."

you began to move your hips up and down faster as the stretch gave way to something dizzyingly good, as he began to thrust back up into you. so hard and fast, but he held you like something precious. his rhythm built until your mouth fell open, until sweat shone on the high points of his face, until time melted away, until you were reminded of what you'd mistaken him for when you'd first seen him, all that time ago - some ancient sculpture. a work of art.

he cursed as your clit caught on his pubic bone, the friction so overwhelming, and you clenched down on him. "give it to me, sugar," he said, but the strain in his voice made it sound like a plea. "fuck, let me hear you, yeah?" his tone grew gentle. "been wantin' to hear you for so long."

you tightened around him further at his small admission, let your nails rake down his neck, probably a little too hard. he grunted, thrusted harder, shifted you closer to him.

you moaned his name at the new angle, one you felt in the tips of your ears, your hairline, your tongue.

you were so close, so impossibly almost there. "please make me cum," you whined, "please, need you so bad." your exhale was practically pained as you ran your fingers over the red marks on his neck your nails had left. "don't i deserve it, baby?"

he grunted, and it was different. you felt his stomach and thighs clench, his hips sputter as his head spun with the fact that you'd gone right to begging him, skipped the asking part. he pressed his hand to your lower stomach, let his thumb catch against your clit, sending you over the edge in moments. "'course you deserve it, sugar," he rasped, gravelly, in your ear as you rode out your high, his thrusts growing wild. "been so good."

you clenched down on him, forcing his own orgasm, fast and all-consuming, the smell of him everywhere, mixed with your perfume. your exhales were warm and heavy, transparent clouds that settled on the floor of your room, making it every bit the dreamland it had become in your mind.

he held you so close to him as he pulled you to his chest, leaned you both back on your bed. you stared up at the ceiling.

about time, one of the tiles whispered, holding a crisp fiver.

couldn't have waited another week? the losing tile muttered bitterly.

you smiled as his rough hand found your face, tilted it towards him. he was smiling. your stomach fluttered as you felt your own mouth pull wider.

"what?" he asked, his voice rough, drowsy with use.

you shook your head. "nothing," you said, "just you." your eyes crinkled under the weight of your happiness. "i'm callin' dibs on you."

his eyes lit up as he pulled you in for another kiss, slow and overflowing with meaning. he hummed. "butterscotch," he whispered against your mouth. "my favorite."

fin.

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