#can I be condescending? sure. it’s something I’m working on.

[starredforlife]

sorry I’m just actually sick to death of being told I’m intimidating . I know it’s scary when a woman talks without apologizing for herself constantly but maybe uhhhhh grow up!!!

[strang3lov3]

VS

Summary: Yours and Joel’s newest patrol task is exploring the old mall not far from Jackson. You learn what Victoria’s Secret really is. (She was NOT having an affair with former president of the United States Colonel Sanders) AKA grumpy cranky joel and you get down and dirty in an old Victoria’s Secret.

This is part 1 of my new series “Mall Rats”

Warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, doin it in front of a mirror (thanks gracie!), reverse cowgirl, joel is a dick, joel is condescending, reader is charming just like me, Joel does all the work because reader is a lady and Joel is an asshole.

W/C: 4.7k

“Weird looking stairs,” you mumble as you take in the unique environment. Beneath your feet are metallic steps with deep lined grooves, in front of you is Joel, stepping down the staircase. In the enclosed building, the walls are lined with different shops, there’s a few different seating areas. Old posters, advertisements. Colorfully painted walls are overgrown with roots and vines. 

“S’cause they’re not regular stairs,” Joel says with a gruff voice. “S’called an escalator. Didn’t have to walk up and down the steps, you could stay stationary and it’d move ya up an’ down.”

“Sounds cool.”

“No,” Joel mutters. “Not cool.”

None of this is cool to Joel. In fact, it’s the opposite. 

Tommy and his crew had stumbled across this mall while on patrol. Of course they couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but they deemed it largely safe of infected. He wasn’t sure how picked over it was, but he figured it would be a good task for you and your curious mind. Comb it through for supplies, clothing, entertainment. Take notes and report back to him. 

So what was Joel there for?

To chaperone you, of course. Keep you out of trouble, keep you safe, answer your million and one questions. 

It was Tommy’s sick and twisted idea of a joke. Joel’s new patrol project involved two of the things he disdained the most: Malls, and you.

 Comedy gold.

“No,” you mock his tone with a silly face, “Not cool.”

Joel rolls his eyes and ignores you. When you reach the bottom of the steps, he looks at his surroundings as he reaches in his bag for his flashlight. Turning it on he says, “We’ll start down here and work our way up. Scope everything out, get familiar. Then you can start combing through the stores for supplies and what have you. You stick by me. No wanderin’.”

“Don’t you mean we?” you ask. “We comb through the stores.”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t. S’your job, not mine. I’m just here to keep ya from gettin’ killed.”

Whatever. Joel can bitch and moan about this all he wants, but you’re grateful for the opportunity to explore the infinite wonders of the mall. It’s not like you’ve got much else to do. You’re indoors, safe from the elements and infected. You’re not complaining. 

You reach into your own bag and pull out your flashlight. You turn it on, and the light flickers dimly. You smack it with your palm a couple times before the light finally goes out, then turn to Joel with a sweet smile on your face. “You wouldn’t happen to have a couple extra–”

“You’re lucky I do,” Joel glares at you as he digs through his belongings to find a couple of double A batteries in his pack. You hold out your hand and he begrudgingly drops the batteries in your palm. “Quit fuckin’ around. Be prepared next time.” He’s certainly jolly today. 

You replace the batteries and turn your flashlight on, and begin to make your way through the bottom level of the mall. Joel’s said nothing since giving you the batteries. 

“So what did you do here? Or, not here specifically. Just like, malls in general,” you ask as you make your way through tables and chairs. A big sign on a nearby wall informs you that this area is called the food court. 

“I did nothing. Malls were always packed with people, way too busy. Too many teenagers. Expensive too,” Joel scrunches his nose as he catches a whiff of something foul at an old hot dog stand. “But other people, they’d come here and shop for clothes, get somethin’ to eat. Could catch a movie f’ya wanted.”

“So where’d you get your clothes from?”

Joel shrugs. “Dunno. Just kinda always had them in my dresser, I guess.”

Sounds like Joel. 

There’s a Panda Express, something called Auntie Anne’s that you and Joel are looking through together. He’s eyeing the cooking equipment and you’re baffled as you stare at a five gallon drum of nacho cheese on the floor.

“That cheese is probably still good,” Joel comments. 

“You’re joking.”

“It ain’t the real cheese like we got back in Jackson. Auntie Anne’s was a pretzel shop, lotta people would dip ‘em in that cheese.”

Auntie Anne’s doesn’t have much to offer, so you and Joel move right along. Next stop is Kentucky Fried Chicken. You point to the man on the logo. “Who’s that?”

“Colonel Sanders. He was the president way back when.”

You know better. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Sure he was,” Joel says. “You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

He’s such a dick. You roll your eyes and leave him and Colonel Sanders to their own devices as you walk through the rest of the food court. 

Joel doesn’t realize you’d left. He tells you another Kentucky Fried Fun Fact and when he’s met with no answer, he looks up to find you at Cinnabon at the end of the food court. 

He makes his way to you then kicks you with his boot. “Didn’t I tell you to stay next to me?”

You ignore his question and ask him your own. “What’s Cinnabon?”

“M’serious,” he says. “No more wanderin’.”

“Yeah, yeah. No wanderin’.” you mock his Southern accent once more. But more importantly, you demand answers. “Tell me about Cinnabon.” 

“They’re just cinnamon rolls. Cinnamon. Bun. S’in the name, genius.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t like those much either, then.”

“Actually, they were pretty good. Big and gooey, covered in icing. You were supposed to split ‘em with someone but I never did.”

“Ah, right. You and your sweet tooth,” You smile. 

“I don’t have a sweet tooth,” Joel lies. “Keep movin’.”

So you do. There’s a lemonade stand here and there, but mostly shops now. A bookstore, jewelry stores. Something called “Wet Seal”. You ask Joel what it is, to which he replies “Fuck if I know.”

A shoe store has piqued Joel’s interest. He’s looking for a new pair of boots as you stare out the window of the shop, wondering who the hell Victoria is and what secret she’s hiding. Joel taps you on the arm to tell you to follow him as he leaves the shoe store.

“What’s Victoria’s Secret?”

“Oh,” Joel says. “Nothin’. We don’t need to go there.”

Oof. Bad move, Joel. Now you have to find out what the deal is with Victoria’s Secret. You take off for the store, ignoring Joel’s orders to stick by his side. “Did she have a secret affair with President Colonel Sanders?”

“No, god dammit. Get back here. We ain’t goin’.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t wanna.”

But you do. So you ignore his bitching and approach the store, stopping when you realize exactly what kind of store it is. “Oh.”

Joel catches up to you. “Mhm,” he mumbles. “S’just underwear. Now c’mon, I’m tired of chasin’ ya.”

“No way,” you argue. “I need new underwear. I’m actually going commando right now, so this is perfect.”

 Joel makes a face like he’s in pain and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Boundaries.”

You don’t believe in TMI. 

You enter the store, entranced by the women in the photos and the black sparkly floor. There’s a big table with panties laid on top, drawers underneath that indicate sizing. You open the drawers with your size and begin sifting through the underwear. All different styles, patterns, colors. Way cuter than the few you have back in Jackson. 

You pick out a few different pairs. Brown with pink polka dots, pink with red roses. Some bikini styles, some boyshorts. You hold up a white pair with lace and a little blue flower sewn on the center of the waistband. “Joel, look! Aren’t these cute?”

“Just adorable,” he mumbles without bothering to actually look. If his voice were any more full of sarcasm he’d choke. Joel keeps his eyes firm on the ground, like he’s being intimidated by the mannequins and their threatening panties. You giggle and he shoots you a warning look. 

You look for a few more pairs, then find a few pairs that look a little different. You hold one up, trying to figure out which side you put your legs through. When you look at the nearly bare-assed woman in the advertisement that reads 5 for $20 above you, you realize how it’s meant to be worn. Oh, you think. Neato. You stuff a few of the thongs in your bag. Could be fun. 

Joel’s still behind you, eyes still focused on the floor, off in his own, prudish little world. You wonder what he’s thinking. There’s a fire engine red thong in the drawer, with sparkles and lace. You know, the works. And you know it’ll be just perfect for a special someone. “Hey, Joel. Found some for you.”

“Not interested.”

You loop the thong over your index finger and pull back with your other hand, then shoot it at Joel like it’s a hair tie. It hits him square on his nose and he catches it in his hand, then throws it on the ground as he pouts. “Alright, enough. You’re done. We’re leavin’.”

You shake your head. “Tommy said I’m in charge.”

Joel groans. “Oh, for the love of god. In charge, my ass.”

You know better than to keep arguing. So you just walk towards the bras, ignoring Joel’s voice in the background telling you to get back here. He hates it when you walk away from him when he’s speaking, so he always follows you so that you hear every last word. It works out, though. You get to do what you want, and Joel gets to give you his stern talking-to. How’s that for a compromise?

The bras are set up similarly to the panties, with different drawers for different sizes. Joel’s still going off about how you never follow orders, how you probably don’t even need any of this, you’re just doing it to get under his skin. And it’s working. Something about how when we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to take me off of patrol with y–

You interrupt. “The fuck?”

“What?”

“What does any of this mean? 30A, 30B, 32A, 34C, 34DD?” You hold up different bras and show him the tags. 

“Those are sizes, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, I gathered that, thanks. But what’s my size?”

“Why’re ya askin’ me? Just grab one so we can go. Christ almighty.” 

Men. No help at all. 

Surely a store that specializes in bras must have some sort of sizing chart or something. There’s end caps with different beauty products, you stuff a strawberry flavored lipgloss in your pocket as you search. The register might have something, you guess. And lucky you, you’re right. Under the counter are a few measuring tapes and charts. 

Predictable Joel follows you, of course. He says nothing as you read through the instructions. First wrap around your back, under your armpits and just above your bust. That’s your band size. Then do the same with your bust, and subtract the band size from the bust. There’s your A, B, C, D and so on.

You take off your hoodie and stand in just a tank top, no bra. When you said commando, you meant it. Joel watches you as you wrap the measuring tape around yourself. 

“Sweetheart,” Joel interrupts, and he sounds exhausted. “What are you doin’.”

“Making you a Cinnabon, what’s it look like?” you mumble with your chin smushed into your neck as you try to read the numbers on the tape. 

And Joel thought Ellie was annoying. 

You’ve got the measuring tape twisted and tangled behind you, and you don’t even realize it. The inner contractor in Joel can’t bear to watch any more of this fuckery. “Give me that,” he spits, yanking the measuring tape away from your body. “You’re useless.”

Joel looks over the directions for a moment before tapping your arms. You lift up, he wraps the measuring tape properly around your body. There’s a nearby pen and he scribbles the number down, then lowers the measuring tape, his thumbs skating over the clothed flesh of your breasts. Your nipples harden as his fingers brush them accidentally. 

And you thought the thong you shot at Joel was red. It doesn’t even begin to compare to the shade of crimson Joel’s face turns as he realizes what he’s done. Quickly, he drops the measuring tape and writes down the second number and your bra size. “Ther-” his voice cracks and he clears his throat. “There. Go find your bra. Then we’re leavin’, and I’m not arguin’ this time.”

You smirk at his vocal mishap. “Okay. But I have to try them on first.”

“You never make things easy for me, do you?”

Joel follows you as you look for a few different bras in your size. You pick out a few that match your panties, and a few others. There’s a silky black bra with so much memory foam padding that it rivals your pillow at home. Again, perfect for your special someone. 

Joel’s smelling different perfumes when you sidle up to him and lay the bra on his head, the large cups sitting on either side of his scalp. “Mickey Mouse,” you tell him.

Joel glares at you as he removes the bra and drops it on the floor. “You are giving me a fuckin’ aneurysm.” 

You look pleased with yourself, which only makes him more pissed off. But the table next to Joel catches your eye. There’s a pretty satin babydoll dress, with a matching pair of panties. It’s a nice light pink color, with pretty floral lace. “Hmm.” you mumble, thinking to yourself.

Joel watches your eyes leave his face as you become distracted. “What?” he turns his attention toward where your vision is focused. “Oh. Nope. You don’t need that.”

 “Why not?”

“You said you needed underwear. S’lingerie. All them frills and lace…” Joel trails off.

“I think it’d be nice for a date night.”

Joel’s jaw clenches slightly. “I do not envy the poor bastard who takes you home,” he says. He’s probably just annoyed, at his wit’s end with you. Probably not jealous. Definitely not jealous. “But guys don’t give a shit what you’re wearin’, honey. Just wanna get what’s underneath. S’a waste of time.”

You shrug and grab your size in the lingerie anyway. Then you take off towards the dressing rooms to try everything on. You enter the first room on the right, and Joel sits at a bench directly across, just a few feet away from you. 

You try on a couple of bras and feel pleased when they fit and support you. They make the girls sit pretty, too.

You take off the bra and eye the pretty babydoll and its matching bottom. So you try it on, and it’s gorgeous. It frames you nicely, sits right above your ass to show off the panties. You admire yourself in the mirror for a while before deciding you’ll save it for a date night. Fuck what Joel says. Maybe he doesn’t like lingerie, but that doesn’t mean you can’t. 

Things are going smoothly until you try to unhook the babydoll in the back. It’s stuck or something. You fidget with it for a second, accidentally smacking your elbow against one of the dressing room walls in the process. 

“Y’alright in there?” Joel calls out to you.

“Fine, just uh…” You step out of the dressing room. “Need your help with the hook in the back. It’s stuck.”

Joel looks like a deer in the headlights when you stand before him, clad in your pink satin babydoll and matching panties. You leave the changing room door open, Joel stares at your ass on the mirror attached to it. He’s all flustered, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Lord have mercy.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not a lingerie guy.”

Joel swallows thickly. “I don’t know about that, exactly.”

“No?” You raise an eyebrow. Joel, suddenly a man of few words. How much nicer he is when he’s quiet, you think. “How about you unhook it so I can change?”

“Yeah I could uh…do that.” Joel stands up, then carefully holds the straps of your dress between his fingers. His featherlight touch leaves goosebumps on your shoulders. “Shouldn’t be wearin’ this. It’s very impractical.” 

“I know, Joel. You mentioned that.”

His hands trail lower down the straps, his fingers resting against your skin. “Uh huh. Cheap material…could get torn very easily f’ya aren’t careful.”

And then his fingers are moving up the straps again. He places two hands on your hips and turns you around, fingers skating across your ass cheeks. You feel his body step closer to yours, his hot breath on your neck as he whispers, “M’sure it's not stitched too good. Probably not easy to clean, either.” He catches you off guard when you look at yourself in the mirror. He’s staring intently at the reflection of your body, then his eyes flicker to yours.

“Right,” you agree. 

Joel’s scanning your body again, observing how the fabric falls around your curves just so. He looks hungry, like the moment you peel your eyes from him he’ll devour you.

“Are you gonna take it off of me?” He ignores your question as he pinches the bottom of your babydoll between his fingers, the soft satin tickling your skin as he moves the fabric. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon. I’m gettin’ there. Be patient f’me, now.” Your stomach flutters at the low timbre of his voice, the way he purrs in your ear. Joel absolutely does not like lingerie. Not one bit, god dammit.

His eyes are darkened with lust as he sucks in a breath, admiring the way your breasts sit beneath the clothing, the way it drapes over your stomach and rests on your hips. One of the straps falls off your shoulder and he clicks his tongue. “See? S’no good.”

“Guess so,” you agree, and he places the strap back on your shoulder, his fingers lingering for a moment too long as he contemplates his next move.

“Closer,” he pulls your hand towards himself, and you step backward. He lets his hands slide down your body over the lingerie and you watch him frown in the mirror, his hands stopping when he reaches the bottom of your dress. “N’it covers up all these pretty curves…” Joel lifts up the fabric, inspecting the craftsmanship of your panties. He takes note of the way they’re darkened beneath your core, sticky with your arousal. “These panties…thin, huh?” He traces a finger delicately over the strap on your hip, pulling it back and snapping on your skin. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Joel,” you breathe shakily, “You’re teasing me.”

“M’sorry, darlin’. Just tryna show ya somethin’.” You watch as he trails a finger over your mound, dragging it across the damp cloth and finding your clit over the fabric. He rubs steady circles as he whispers, “See, now look at that. You’re stainin’ em. Makin’ a big fuckin’ mess of yourself.”

You bite back a moan. “Joel, what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like, I’m makin’ a Cinnabon.” Joel mocks you from earlier, but you don’t catch his snide teasing. You’re foggy headed and lost in this moment. “I just said I’m tryna show ya somethin’. Now hush while I’m speakin’.” He pushes your panties to the side, smirking when he feels how soaked your soft folds are as he drags his fingers up and down your slit. Your knees weaken and wobble, and Joel wraps an arm around your waist to guide you back some more. He sits on the bench with you on his lap, tapping a foot in between yours. You spread your legs and your stomach flutters feeling his hardness press against you. You watch him through the mirror as he speaks quietly into your ear, his breath tickling you as two of his thick fingers breach your entrance and push inside. “You said this lil’ number would be nice for a date, right?”

You nod while whimpering, turning your face into his neck. With his other strong hand, he holds your jaw and turns your attention back to the mirror in front of you. “S’matter? Don’t be gettin’ all bashful on me now,” he murmurs.  He’s curling his fingers, swirling them inside you and memorizing every inch of your walls. “Watch how I touch ya.”

You watch his fingers twitch and dance under your pretty pink panties. You peel your eyes away to look at his face, and he’s focused on his hand between your thighs. 

“S’pose it could be nice for a date,” Joel breathes. “You’d wear this, what, under a pretty dress or somethin’?”

You nod again.

“And then when that pretty dress comes off that evenin’, then what happens?”

“I-I dunno, Joel.”

“I know you don’t, sweetheart. I’ll tell you what happens. Your gentleman's gonna take one look at this little getup and rip it right off. Leave it in shreds on the floor and break your poor heart.”

You’re waiting for Joel to do just that. But he doesn’t, he just keeps fingering you under your panties. Two fingers deep inside you, thumb painting circles into your clit. There’s a heat building in your stomach, tickling you from the inside. Joel takes a moment to lift you up, undo his jeans and pull himself out before he begins to rock against you. His head nudges between your cheeks, warm and smooth and hard. How you wish you could see it, hold it in your hand, feel him with your tongue. You squirm against him and find his free arm, hugging it tight to steady yourself on him. Joel chuckles in a low tone.

“But I know you feel pretty,” Joel continues, “M’gonna work around it for ya, baby, but only if you’re good t’me. You know what that means?”

You’re irritated as you shake your head no. Joel’s using his fingers to taunt you, tease you. He knows just how he’s working you up, giving you just enough to keep you squirming but not enough to send you over the edge.

“It means–” Joel pulls his fingers away from your core and you groan. “Shush. Quit your whinin’.” He pushes you up by your hips so he can pull his pants down a little further, then sits you on his lap again, this time with his cock sitting between your folds and your panties pulled as far to the side as he could get them. With his hands still on your hips, he guides you up and down, up and down, coating himself in your arousal. You can just barely make out the shape as his tip rubs against your clit. He continues, “Means no more wanderin’,” he pulls the top of the babydoll down and watches your tits fall out, his both hands leaving your hips and sliding up to play with your breasts. “Y’come prepared for patrol,” he notches his stiff cock at your dripping entrance, “And I’m in charge. Not you. We clear?”

You nod. You’re not sure how he did it, but with Joel’s teasing, he’s seemingly melted away every bit of attitude in you.

“Good girl. Now don’t say I don’t do nothin’ for ya.”

With that, he thrusts up into you, parting your insides. You watch his cock disappear inside of you before throwing your head back on his shoulder with a moan. Joel smirks before using a firm yet gentle hand to guide your head back where he wants it. “Watch,” he coos, reminding you. “You’re pretty like this.”

Joel uses his hands on your hips to bounce you on his cock, then lets them glide up your body. He palms your breasts, squeezing and watching your flesh move and bulge under his fingers. He gropes you a couple of times while pinching and twisting your nipples, enjoying the way your moans change pitch with the action. 

While Joel plays with your nipples, you ride him. Your thighs ache and tremble, knees shaking. You bounce yourself on him a little longer before letting yourself go limp. 

Joel takes the hint, drops his hands to your hips and picks up where you left off. You lean back and let him do his thing. “Gonna make me do all the work for ya, huh?”

You say nothing, just let those sweet sounds fall from your lips as he fucks you. You reach between your thighs and touch what you can of him, unsatisfied with the way you didn’t get to before. Joel makes a noise, seemingly enjoying it.

He kneads your ass as he uses his strong arms to move you up and down, snapping his hips against yours. “Fuck,” he hisses. He lets out breathy sounds, grunts and growls tickling your ear and making the hair on your neck stand straight up. He’s sweating, soaking through his shirt and making your back feel damp. You’ll take what you can get of Joel right now, but you’re wishing you could see him better. Feel him more, his skin, watch his muscles twitch under you. Or above you. You don’t have a preference at the moment.

“Joel,” you moan. “Oh, Joel.”

He smirks, pleased with the noises you make. Pleased with your lack of words, your lack of attitude. How docile for him you are. He would have fucked you long ago if he knew you’d be like this. So well behaved. 

He turns his face into your neck and bites down. Hard. He soothes the marks over with his tongue, whispering nothings into your skin. You find your clit with your hand and begin circling it while Joel fucks into you. You think you have the right. Joel, however, disagrees.

“Hey,” he smacks your hand away. “What’d we talk about? Who’s in charge?” You move your hand between your thighs again, and Joel circles your wrist with his fingers and holds it away from you. “I asked you a question.”

“You are, Joel,” you breathe. 

“S’right. Means I take care of ya,” In the mirror, you watch Joel let go of your wrist and find your clit himself. “Thought you’d know better. Just sit pretty. S’all ya gotta do.”

“Joel,” you whisper, “Let me come,” 

“What’s the magic word, hon?”

“Please,” you beg. “Please. Make me come for you, I want–I wanna come on your cock, please. Please, Joel.”

“Wrong,”

You huff, exasperated and frustrated. 

 “It’s Cinnabon.”

Joel shifts himself on the bench, finding the perfect angle. He continues fucking you, effortlessly finding that sweet spot inside you. He pulls back the hood of your clit, fingers painting the sensitive nub as he begins his work. Your thighs tremble and shake, he keeps you pressed tight to his chest. 

He’s magic. You’re moaning with abandon, eyes darting between the picture between your thighs and his face, and he’s playing with you like he owns you. 

“Right there,” you tell him. “Right there, Joel.”

Soon enough, your moans become breathier and broken, spread out between a medley of curse words and Joel’s name. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Look at you, comin’ so nice on my cock.”

You squeeze Joel’s working arm as you come, nails digging into his hot skin, feeling his tendons and muscles twitch under your fingertips. Your walls pulse and contract with your orgasm, the pleasure built up deep inside you spilling over and coursing through your veins. 

You’re limp against Joel, letting him use you as he chases his own release. He sits you straight up, bounces you harshly for a moment before breathing through his gritted teeth. You pull your attention from the mirror in front of you and focus your vision on your lap, watching as he comes inside you. Watching yourself soak his cock. He keeps you moving, his spend spilling out of you and over your pink panties. 

Joel pulls your body off of him and sits you back down. His spend continues dripping out of you, spilling onto the bench. He gets your clothes out of the dressing room and places them next to you, then stands you up and unclips your babydoll dress in the back. You forgot about that. But he did say he was getting to it, after all. 

He pulls the garment off of you, then helps you out of your stained panties. He helps you into a new pair of panties, the white pair with the little blue flower on the waistband. “So you’re not goin’ commando anymore,” he says. Then he dresses you in one of your new bras, your shirt and your pants. The lingerie lays crumpled on the floor. 

“So you still don’t like lingerie?” you ask.

Joel shrugs. “Keep it. I don’t care,” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You tried your shit on, we’re leavin’.”

That’s fine by you. Next stop is Bath and Body Works. You spotted it earlier, and you actually know what that store is. You’re low on body sprays and you’re gonna make Joel help you pick out some new ones, even if you have to drag him kicking and screaming. 

‘Cause Tommy said you’re in charge. 

Part two here

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Since it came up recently, link to that therapist on twitter 👆 who was discussing Bucky's terribile therapist in TFATWS and how they should’ve been. 

Transcript:

"As a therapist myself I've had a lot of feelings about Bucky's therapist on TFatWS, and have decided I need to rant a little to let it all out. I've worked w/active duty, trauma survivors, and court ordered clients, so here's some therapeutic conjecture on Bucky's therapy:

Aesthetically her office and presentation don't fit for someone who has been through the trauma that he’s been through. A client like this would need something non-threatening and safe- the whole vibe is overly formal and official in an office building, not at all therapeutic.

6 months working together she calls him Mr. Barnes and then James-he has identity issues and is struggling with who he is, so I think that one of the 1st things they would have done is figure out what he is comfortable being called, by whom and what that means for him.

He is still full out lying to her about pretty much everything including PTSD sx—I’m not saying clients never lie if they have good therapists, but if after 6 months he still doesn’t feel like he can be truthful at all then they haven’t built any trust/ solid therapeutic rapport

The pen and notebook thing-that’s clearly a trigger for him, there’s no reason to antagonize him and take notes in session like a punishment, it’s a power play on her part and it only emphasizes his lack of control in being forced into therapy (she should know his hx w/notebooks)

The whole little arm motion she made when she said “they need to make sure you don’t…” – that made so much light of what has happened to him, he probably feels like his arm is only good as a weapon and things like that will not help him accept it as part of his body

The rules, UGH the rules—from how they were talking about them clearly not something he actively created for himself, more like directives that he’s been ordered to adhere to—something fed to him and reinforced, feels like a way to sign off on liability only

THE AMENDS—this is probably my biggest issue. Amends are for people who need to take accountability for their actions and the repercussions of those choices. He had NO choice. He was a victim of horrific crimes against him, and framing it in a way that he needs to make up for

the crimes that others used him for is abhorrent. The lack of trauma informed care as astounding in the way it is being framed that he has to atone for sins that weren’t his. Its clearly reinforcing the idea in his head in ep 2 when he says “HYDRA were my people".

NO, HYDRA were your captors. They were not your people. That type of thinking needs to get deconstructed and challenged. He can dedicate himself to bringing good into the world and righting wrongs that happened WITHOUT taking on the responsibility of those actions.

Her whole attitude and demeanor were condescending and demeaning. I know some people have said “I love how she calls him out on his bullshit!” That’s not what I see happening. I call my clients out on their shit all the time—this was not that.

And I can only do that with clients ONCE we’ve built the type of relationship where it’s going to be therapeutic for them to hear it, and it’s done intentionally and with purpose. She just came off shaming and mean because they don’t seem to have any form of therapeutic rapport.

She said “you have no history, no family”- there is no therapeutic reason for that, and she’s wrong. He most likely has family alive (he used current tense when talking about his sister) and he was close to Shuri and TChalla, his history is vital to understanding him

When she said “Look, I know that you have been through a lot, but you’ve got your mind back. You are being pardoned. These are good things. You’re free.”—Yeah this feels really dismissive and like toxic positivity. “I know you’ve been through a lot BUT BE HAPPY!!??”

He certainly doesn’t seem to feel like he’s free (especially having therapy mandated), and you can’t just tell someone they’re free. I felt like she was pretty much just like, “shake it off, look to the future!” which feels really shitty when you’ve experienced excessive trauma.

HELLO breach of confidentiality, just introducing herself to Sam as his therapist and confirming it to Walker and the whole police station, it doesn’t matter if they know he’s in therapy you do not break someone’s privacy like that, he still deserves some control over his tx.

Ordering Sam into a session, NO, he’s not your client and you don’t know him well enough to know if that’s appropriate or if it would be harmful to either, and you haven’t asked your client for his consent to have another person in his session

Forcing a trauma victim who was stripped of his bodily autonomy for 70 years into a physically intimate exercise with a coworker that he’s barely interacted with in the last several months? NOPE, just reinforcing to Bucky she has control over him the way his handlers used to

To me, I think she is more focused on signing off on his psychological eval that he isn't a liability rather than any actual healing or attention to his trauma. This unfortunately isn’t unusual in the military where “mental health treatment” is focused on being mission ready.

They are making sure he’s ready to be an “asset” w/ mandated therapy, which he shouldn’t even be forced to do as part of his pardon because he shouldn’t have needed a pardon at all because he was a victim of horrific war crimes, brainwashing, and dehumanization for 70 years.

I’m just saying, if that was me he would be on my big squishy couch, bright open windows, bowl of Hershey kisses, random fidget toys, and two therapy dogs laying all over him while we work through that trauma and he builds back his identity and finds the calm he wants so badly.

And yes he would probably need someone who would see through his BS, call him out when he needs it, not be overly "touchy feely", but only if he feels safe and there is trust, where he gets to work on what HE wants, not what others think he needs.

Anyway thanks for coming to my TEDTalk, I❤️my work and I think being a therapist on retainer for the Avengers would've been a fucking trip, they all needed a team of mental health professionals at their disposal 24/7 and things would've been so much better🤣

ps. They can be a good therapist and just not be a fit for the client, that happens regularly. We know when to make it part of the conversation and when to refer out. Nothing good is going to come out of a contemptuous therapeutic relationship, mandated or not.

pps. That whole situation and the scene with Zemo was so rough. I can't imagine how much it brought back the violation, humiliation, anger, and helplessness of when he was the WS. I'm just imagining him having a therapist he trusts and being able to process that afterwards 😭😭😭"

[roanniom]

I’m in love with everything about you. I’ve read through all of you Eddie master list twice now, and I love everything about it.

And I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable writing something about Eddie making the reader squirt for the first time? I imagine a dom/confident/not virgin Eddie being incredibly smug about it. I also imagine they’d both be surprised by it.

You Are

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, fingering, squirting, dirty talk

“Baby, relax,” Eddie coos. You’re wriggling around against the bed, one of his hands spread over and applying pressure to your lower abdomen while the fingers of the other play you like a fucking fiddle. Your body can’t tell if it wants to lean into the pleasure or escape it, hence the wriggling. His fingers prod repeatedly against that spot deep inside you and you convulse, head thrown back against the pillows.

“Eddie, it’s…it’s too much.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Eddie’s voice is condescending in that way that you hate to admit you love. He leans forward to plant a less than innocent kiss on the swell of your breast. It’s meant to be soothing, but the way he sucks on the plush skin makes you arch your back even deeper.

“If you actually need me to stop, you know what to say,” Eddie adds. He might love to overstimulate you and push your buttons, but there’s nothing but trust and respect beneath the teasing surface. His check in somehow turns you on further and you grip wildly at the wrist between your thighs so he won’t pull away.

“No, don’t stop,” you gasp. Eddie chuckles.

“I thought you said it’s too much.”

“It is,” you maintain, though your grip on his wrist remains a vice as you roll your hips to try and ride his fingers more.

“You’re giving me mixed signals, princess,” Eddie hums. He brings the hand from your abdomen down so he can lightly toy with your clit. You positively sob. “Are you a whore or a cry baby? Which is it?”

“Eddie!” you cry out when he adds more pressure to his circular motion. Your voice cracks on a whine.

“Oh she’s a crybaby,” Eddie says in a less than sympathetic moan.

Out of nowhere the pressure suddenly becomes too much. There’s an urgency causing all of your lower muscles to seize and you arch more fully off the bed with a cry. Unable to vocalize your panic at the way the pressure seems to build beyond the normal level of an orgasm. One of your hands grabs at your breast while the other fists in the sheets, your eyes wide and blind at the ceiling, your mouth dropped open.

“Okay. Maybe more whore–,” Eddie starts to joke at your sudden contortion, but then he’s shocked into silence by the way his thrusting fingers become deluged with liquid. The sound is obscene, as is the smirk that expands over Eddie’s face as he realizes what he’s done.

He’s made your squirt for the first time.

“Oh fucking hell yeah,” Eddie groans. He redoubled his efforts, thrusting his fingers in and out of you harder, his other hand moving rapidly over your clit. The wetness splashes him and you practically scream until finally it ends, your body dropping limp to the bed, your chest heaving with pants.

You’re pretty sure you black out for a second, because when you finally get your bearings again Eddie is leaning over you, kissing your face all over.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he says quietly into your ear before kissing you soundly on the lips. You’re still pretty out of it so you blink slowly after he pulls away.

“I thought I was your crybaby whore,” you say weakly. Eddie roars with laughter, kissing the path of your fallen tears on your temple before gathering you in his arms. Despite how sticky you are, he holds you close and you have neither the energy nor the wherewithal to be bothered.

“You are, baby. You are.”

~*~

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Thanks for your kind words about my work!! I hope you enjoyed this ♥️

[anakinsdove]

Sub sam monroe x fem friends hot older sister ❔

𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 | 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞

pairing: sam monroe x older!fem!reader

summary: it’s been like what? 6 years since you saw sammy, he’s still as weird as he used to be, only prettier. After seeing him again you notice there some tension that wasn’t there before.

c/w: nsfw, loser Sammy, blowjob

discord - twitter: anakinsdove. -PART 2-

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Love you

𝘄/𝗰 - 1,352

“What’s that for?” You ask your little rat of a brother why he’s suddenly carrying enough snacks to throw a party.

“Sam is coming over, he’s going to spend the night here” Your brother says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Who?” “Sam” he rolls his eyes “Oh! Sammy, blonde, walks weird?” “Yes…” he’s slightly confused at your description then he realizes you haven’t seen Sam in a while…. A long while?

“He dyed his hair” your brother ads “Seriously?” You say sarcastically clearly faking interest trying to find something worth watching on tv “And he walks normally” “I’m sure he does”

“Anyways aren’t you a little bit too old for sleepovers?” Your condescending tone is very annoying to your brother but that’s what sisters do. “Aren’t you too old for Halloween?” “Huh?” Your brother smirks pointing at your makeup, you respond by throwing the pillow on the couch with enough force it feels like a brick, he runs upstairs

“coward” you mutter to yourself and suddenly someone’s knocking on the door

Someone’s knocking extremely loud

You decide to ignore it as you keep painting your nails but the knocking is very persistent and it gets louder somehow accidentally painting your toe “fucking loser” you curse under your breathe and stand up walking furiously towards the door.

“What!?” Your tone is harsh and the boy takes a step back, Sam looks stupid as he makes sure he’s in the right house “I-is James here?”

“Sam?” You ask softly this time, your anger quickly dissipating from your features, eyeing him up and down… wow.

“Hi Y/N”

You open the door for him to come in as he awkwardly goes through the door, he tries to keep his hips as far he can from yours while walking in, you sigh at the awkward silence

“How have you been-“ “You look very different-“ both of you say at the same time “You look the same” he says “I looks twelve?” God you’re making fun of him

Hes about to answer when your brother comes down running from the stairs “Sorry dude I was taking a shit!” He greets him as you stand aside

“Don’t talk to her Sam” your brother says smirking “Shut up man” they run upstairs and you shrug trying to shake the awkwardness away

You keep trying to distract yourself with tv but it isn’t fucking working

Sam Monroe….

He looked so different from what you remembered, he’s taller, there’s a lot of piercings stuff on his face and you’re pretty sure he was wearing eyeshadow.. his hair now it’s black… funny because you remembered him being blonde and looking like a puppet, you giggle at the thought… Oh! and his clothes, he was wearing a Metallica t shirt, Vintage….

You moan and you realize you been rubbing your clit through your panties this whole time then gasping in embarrassment and closing your legs

What a slut… what if someone saw you rubbing your cloth on your living room, that would be a reason to kill yourself, what if Sam saw you like that?… that however doesn’t sound as bad

Control yourself Y/n

A few hours later the sun has set… you succeeded distracting yourself and as soon as Sam leaves you won’t have to see him again you’ll forget this awkward chapter in your life where you masturbated to the thought of your younger brother’s friend until… “Why me man!?” “Cause I’m about to win this level” “Youre shit at the game” “Shut up!” you hear the boys arguing upstairs “It’s just fucking popcorn Sam” your brother mocks him as Sam sighs coming down the stairs

You can’t help but look up at him “Hey” Sam stops midway “Hey” he tries to sound and look relaxed, but when did your boobs get so big?

“Pop corn?” You asks pointing at the box he’s holding in his hand “I’ll burn them” he says

“It’ll be my brothers fault” you laugh and Sam smiles “C’mon” you guide him to the kitchen and put the popcorn in the stove “You look very different too” he responds to your earlier conversation, you smirk at the opportunity of teasing “Really? I thought I looked twelve” “Fuck no” he suppresses a laugh and you nod playfully “Well, maybe a little” “Fuck off” you push him playfully and his back makes contact with the counter “You still have your dimples when you smile” your heart actually softens at his comment “You don’t look like a puppet anymore” he rolled his eyes “I meant that in some ways you look the same but in other- other ways you look very different” he stares at you collarbone

“Sam?” You take a step forward “It’s mean to look at girls boobs when they’re talking” he freezes “I was not-“ you grab his bicep “I always knew you liked me” Sam is really about to die or kill himself, whatever is option is quicker… instead he grabs your waits and pulls you to him then freezes again “You want to kiss me Sammy?” His gaze switches from your eyes to your lips, to your boobs that look so good in that thank top, then your lips again, his lips hesitantly meet you in a clumsy kiss… but then you find out he’s so hungry for this, teeth clatter and he hums into your mouth, his hands shaking as he holds your waist…. You pull away teasingly as he tries to chase your lips but you have other plans like kissing his neck

“Fuck” he moans, his little sound has you clenching your thighs, you need this boy asap…as you nibble and suck his neck then pulling away again “Sam” “What?” He says breathlessly

“Can I suck you off?” WHAT THE FUCK he nodds shakily and you get on your knees “J-James?” Sam’s says as he watches you unbuckle his belt “Don’t talk about my fucking brother when I’m going to give you a blowjob” “Sorry..” “He’s playing, he wont find out.” You try to reassure this poor boy as he nods shakily “I promise” you unzip his pants and take his boxers down urgently, it’s too much, you hear the popcorn popping, heavy breathe, the waves crashing distantly… his cock slapped against his stomach… Sam looks down at you in awe

You start stroking him, watching the angry red tip leaking already, “w-wait wait I’m gonna c-cum” Sam warns virgins you think to yourself and force yourself to stop stroking him, if he’s gonna fucking cum he’s cumming down your throath tonight “fine” you say angrily and take him down your throat “Fuck!” Sam moans as his shaky hand tangles in your hair pushing you down further “I can’t I can’t I’m sorry” his eyes roll back and his back arches, your wet lips wrapping around his thick cock…. Sucking him sloppy it’s just so much

He doesn’t know why god is on his side tonight but he’s not complaining, he beats himself mentally, he seeing stars, fireworks exploding behind his eyes and all that cringy shit he once heard, now he knows it’s real, he feels your tongue massaging the underside of his cock and you make something with your tongue where it licks at his balls slightly and-

“Fuck!” He yells as he cums…. Thick ropes of cum hit the back of your throath, he tastes salty…

Your doe eyes look up at him seductively as you keep licking his tip, his legs tremble as he spasms, he has to push you away so he doesn’t pass out

You finally release his cock from your mouth “breathe Sammy….” “Fuck sorry I-“ his breathe is heavy “Shhh….” You kiss his lips softly so he tastes his own cum…..

“You’re sleeping here right?” He nodds

“Come to my room at 2:00 AM” he nodds again and you know this boy is completely at your mercy

“Oh and Sammy….. your popcorn” you point to the stove and evident smoke “Shit!” Sam runs and trips over his pants, pulling them up quickly and trying to not burn your damn house.

masterlist 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 © --- all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/ copying will be tolerated.

dividers - @i92-93

(Im very sorry for the absence! I been pretty much busy and a little unmotivated to write but I’ll try to post another fic this week, this was a little bit rushed but I hope you like it)

@anakinsbbgirl

[pantherxrogers]

always be my baby - the8 x fem!reader blurb

❤️‍🩹 pairing: dad!minghao x mom!reader (married w/ a child)

❤️‍🩹 warnings: angst to comfort, reader and minghao argue (but resolve it quickly), fluff, mentions of toxic masculinity (not a representation of minghao AT ALL, pure fiction for this story)

❤️‍🩹 summary: your husband accuses you of babying your toddler. let's just say you aren't too happy about it.

❤️‍🩹 a/n: i finally watched that baby cloud episode with minghao and jeonghan 😭 minghao seems like he'd be on the stricter side as a dad, but also so so sweet and loving.

my masterlist

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent real events or the actual personalities of any K-pop idols mentioned. All characters and situations are purely imaginary. This story is created for entertainment purposes only, and no harm or disrespect is intended toward the idols or their fans. Enjoy!

"minghao, i'm really not in the mood for this."

you know you're being childish. just a minute ago, you agreed it was time for you to talk this out. but, as he tugs you onto his lap, you'd rather retreat and sulk alone.

"i know, baby. but, it's important for us to communicate with each other." his voice is stern yet gentle. deep down, you know he's right.

“i’m just so frustrated with you!” the anger bubbling in your chest is coming to a head. all you can think about are his words from just a few hours ago.

“honey, you need to stop babying him. he’s almost five. let him cry for a little bit to get it out of his system. he’s going to be too soft.”

“excuse me?” you glanced over at your son, making sure he’s unaware of the argument between you and and his father. “i need to stop babying my baby?!” you didn't miss the way he rolled his eyes, huffing at your statement.

“we’ll talk about this later.”

well. later is finally here. your son is down for a nap, giving you both some downtime to sort this out.

“i understand why you’re frustrated.” he adjusts your position on his lap, turning your body to make eye contact. “and i want to apologize. i was out of line for saying it like that.”

“i want to know why you said that. what the hell does “too soft” even mean?!” you gesture wildly, struggling to contain your anger. “i thought we were better than that, minghao.”

beneath all of this, the both of you are hurt more than anything. his condescending words still sting. who says boys can’t be soft too?

little do you know, minghao is still beating himself up over that too. he doesn’t want to be like his father. though he loves him, he rejects his backwards thinking. he's worked hard to reject all aspects of toxic masculinity. he'll be damned if he fails now.

“i know, baby. i am better than that. i said it out of frustration because i just really wanted him to keep his commitment.”

“it’s a karate class! it’s not like he’s getting paid or something.”

despite his best efforts, your husband can't help but laugh at your statement. you catch him biting his lip, trying his best to hold back. you want to be annoyed, but his amusement is infectious.

"babe, i'm serious," you whine between giggles. he nuzzles himself into your neck, soft laughter tickling your skin. you've missed being close to him. it's hard to stay upset.

"i know, honey. i'm sorry." he's quick to straighten up, pulling himself back into serious dad mode. "i know he's not getting paid, but i want him to have a sense of responsibility. when i was growing up, my parents never let me miss karate."

"like, never?"

"never."

the statement makes your heart ache. you picture baby minghao in his little karate uniform. he was just a child, but still values that lesson from his parents. it makes sense that he would want the same sense of responsibility for your son.

"it taught me the importance of making a commitment and sticking with it. plus, this is good preparation for his idol training," he's teasing you now, ticking your waist with his fingers. the gesture makes you giggle, despite yourself.

"okay, let's make a deal. he'll keep going to karate class. but, as soon as he tell us that he's not interested in karate and wants to do something else, we'll talk about it. i don't want to be accused of babying him," your tone is firm and minghao's chest feels warm. you're in full momma bear mode, and he finds it adorable.

"deal. you're a great mom, and i'm sorry for speaking to you that way. i love you and our soft, caring boy. "

"and you're a great dad. i love you, too."

you brings your hands to his cheeks, pulling him in for a sweet peck. he returns it gladly, his body relaxing in your hold. he nestles further into the couch, dragging you with him. the kiss is slow and sweet. you feel content like this.

"i accept your apology. thank you."

"one more thing though."

"hmmm?"

"i thought i was your baby?" he blows raspberries into your neck, causing squeals to pour out of your mouth. you wriggle around, trying to escape his tickles, but it's no use. he has no intentions on letting you go anytime soon.

"ghao, please!" you huff out between laughs, fighting to move further down the couch. his grip is relentless, yet gentle in the way he cradles your body against his own. after a while, you stop fighting him and relax in his hold. his kisses are gentler now, more affectionate and less playful.

"you are my baby. but he's my baby baby," you explain, cuddling further into your husband's arms. "ahhh, okay. makes perfect sense," he jokes with you, softly caressing your back.

glad to have this argument behind you, the two of you enjoy this moment of solace. before long, your son will wake up and capture your attention again. minghao's warmth is comforting, creating the perfect atmosphere for you to drift off into a nap. with droopy lids, your body slumps against his.

"well, you'll always be my baby," he hums to himself, tucking you in closer.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Little From You | Yandere Mori Ogai

The tug at your pants had you looking down at a younger girl—blonde and wearing a bright red dress. With wide blue eyes and a small pout on her face, she actively ignored the others around you who were looking concerned. 

“Will you help me find my father?”

You took a glance at your coworkers who were between watching in awe or had the decency to quickly look away as if they weren’t staring at you both. Retaining a sigh, you send a smile to her before scooping her up. Resting her on your waist you keep your attention on her while you answer. 

“Of course, I will! Where did you last see your Papa?”

The crowd was dissipating and your team was hard at work. Recently you piloted a new organization in Yokohama. Not nearly as infamous as the Armed Detective Agency or the Port Mafia; your nameless group sought to clean up and save as many during the times they were completely enraptured with battle. While you were grateful for the Agency’s tendency to send one of their own to help, you were sure it’d be better to delegate this menial task to a smaller group like yours. 

“I don’t know but I just can’t see him anywhere,” the girl cried into your neck holding you tight. Rubbing at her back there were so many panicked people, panicked parents searching for their little ones. It’d be chaos-inducing to mindlessly call out for a father without a name. Holding her close you lightly stepped forward, making yourself float above the crowd to stand on top of a street light. Giving a comforting squeeze you encouraged her to look at the crowd below.

“Do any of them look familiar to you, little one?”

Her sky-blue gaze lazily darts around—boredly searching within the crowd. You turned to the girl, your intuition steering you. 

“Do you…not want to find him?”

The side-eye the girl gives you speaks loud enough as she scoffs and mirthlessly chuckle into her hand. So much like an adult. She turns to you with a crooked smile and condescending tone,” So observant.”

You’ve dealt with sassy kids before and you had a feeling her disdain wasn’t necessarily towards you.

“Thank you! It’s very helpful for my job.”

She stares blankly as you smile at her. She turns her head away, a blush lightly blooming on her face as she continues to look over the crowd. Speaking of the crowd, it had begun to dissipate now. Dispersing more calmly than before. Which made it much easier to spot the man in a lab coat waving frantically at the two of you. 

“Elise-chan! Elise-chan! Elise-chan!”

The groan from the girl confirms what you suspected and you send a pitied smile at the girl who returned to wrapping her arms around your neck. Securing her to your side you swiftly step down, letting your footsteps float as you take your time to reach the ground in front of the crying man. 

“Oh, my Elise-chan! I was so worried.”

He reaches for her only for the blonde to look disgusted as she tightly keeps herself attached to you. 

“I’m not going with you! I’m going to stay with (Y/n) who actually knows how to take care of me!”

“C’mon Elise-chan! I didn’t mean to lose you, I promise.”

Looking between the two, there seemed to be a stalemate. Stifling your own sigh you shifted the little girl on your waist to look at you, “Elise, what can he do to make it up to you?”

The girl looks exasperated at you, urging her to answer she rolls her eyes before smiling at you. 

“A whole bakery’s worth of desserts and that designer dress and matching tea set I’ve been wanting!” 

You heard a groan from the scruffy-looking man with black hair. Turning to him with a smile of your own, “Can you do that, Papa?”

The man went still at that. Perhaps it was the name. Elise didn’t seem like the type to say such an endearing term and it might have reminded him of something. 

“Yes! Anything for you, my Elise.”

You release the girl, watching as she dodges his attempts at a hug to walk in the direction of the bakery she was referring to her father following behind. It warmed your heart to see the two reunited again. That’s what made your job worth it.

“Stay safe you two. It was nice meeting you both!” 

Your call out had Elise stopping in her tracks, before running into your stomach violently as children often do. Wrapping her arms around your waist, you see her sky-blue eyes filled with tears, “How will we see each other again!?”

The tears caught you off-guard as you reached for your handkerchief, dabbing at her tears. You gave a few more comforting pats before coming up with a solution. Reaching into your coat pocket you pulled out your business card reaching over her to hand it to her father. 

“Here we are! I’ll give your Papa, my business card so you can call me if you like.”

“Yay!” 

Reaching for the card from her father-who seemed hesitant to hand it over-she snatches it the second he gets in range. She sends another wave to you before skipping on her original path, not even waiting for her father to follow. Speaking of, the man turns to you grasping both your hands in his as he seems to fight unshed tears. 

“Thank you! Thank you for protecting my precious Elise-chan!”

You shuffled in your jacket hoping to release the heat that came with your embarrassment. 

“U-u-h no problem! C-c-call me if you need me!”

He nods and stays in his position, still holding your hands in his. His tears aren’t there anymore and his lips are wobbling as though they’d like to say something more. 

“Oi the bakery you promised me is right over there!” Elise a good bit away from him but her shouts making him wince. He releases his hold on your hands to nervously rub at the back of his neck before running after his daughter screaming,” Elise-chan! Wait for me!”

Chuckling at the duo you float back to the crowd and your team is prepared to help the next batch of troubled people. 

It was always nice to help and it warmed your heart when you thought of the memories that would be made today. Thanks to your help.

“Commander!”

“Coming! Coming!”

_____________________________________________________________

Mori couldn’t stop looking at his hands. As though it would help him burn the memory of those soft and calloused hands in his. He smiled wider if that was possible as he brought his hands to his face relishing in the memory being transferred to his face.

“You creep.” The blonde girl sneered at the older man from over her shoulder.

He doesn’t respond, too busy regulating his breath. Finally claiming control once again the doctor donned his typical white gloves; opening and closing his hands. Elise scoffed again, “Those gloves aren’t going to keep their germs on you, Stupid Rintarou.” 

Mori stifled a groan holding his gloves close to his chest. 

“But I can pretend can’t I?”

“You’re disgusting.”

They walked around the fifth corner before stepping into the black car already waiting for them. Settling into the leather seats surrounded by gift boxes and patisserie packaging they let the sound of the empty street fill the silence. 

“Elise…”

“What?”

“Where’s the card?”

“Why?”

“...Elise…give me the card please.”

The blonde turned away from him unfurling her fist to look at the little card. Rubbing her gloved fingers over the paper that etched your name. 

“They gave it to me.”

“Excuse me?”

Elise turned her around to him glaring with a violent intensity,” No! They gave it to me! You can’t take this from me!”

Mori didn’t speak. Staring blankly at the girl as she glowed pink. He ultimately shrugged, exasperatingly leaning against the seat as he looked out the tinted windows. 

“Can I…at least have the handkerchief?”

“No!”

“Awww c’mon Elise-chan!”

He sulked and whined the whole way home.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [29] - Enticing

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: It’s important to have a plan in mind before certain meetings.

Word Count: 2200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Fine, maybe Bucky did have a point.

You were two seconds away from jumping his bones and to annoy you even more, he was so busy with work that you could barely see him.

But thankfully, you had a solution for that.

“Take these home please,” you told your driver as you stepped out of the car, motioning at the multiple bags of lingerie sets on the backseat. “Thank you.”

“Of course ma’am,” he said and you closed the door, then made your way to the building. You took the elevator, then approached Bucky’s office and smiled at his assistant.

“Is he inside?”

“Yes Mrs. Barnes,” she said. “With his father.”

You raised your brows, then heaved a sigh and knocked on the door before opening it. George looked over his shoulder from where he was sitting on the couch and a smile pulled at Bucky’s lips as soon as his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there, am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all, come in!” Bucky said as he walked to you and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making your heart skip a beat. George smiled at you and stood up as well as you approached him.

“Hi honey.”

“George,” you greeted him back and let him kiss your cheek, then sat down next to him on the couch.

“I was thinking we could have lunch?” you asked and he made a face.

“I gotta meet Nat in half an hour sweetheart. Sorry.”

“About the raid issue?”

George raised his brows, looking between you as if he was surprised that you knew about it, but neither you nor Bucky commented on it.

“Well she also lost half a million,” Bucky said. “Needless to say, she’s furious.”

“Everyone is,” George said. “That cousin of yours is an idiot, Y/N. I mean there’s a difference between being new and being an amateur.”

“Stark called for an emergency meeting,” Bucky said with a smirk. “So did Clint, and I’m guessing so will Nat.”

You tried to keep your expression serene and heaved a sigh. “They will eat him alive.”

“Business talk can wait,” George told you. “How is your day going sweetheart?”

Not retorting to the condescending tone he thought he could hide was rather challenging, but you managed to control yourself. There was a time for everything, and you had to make sure not to look not as interested in just how Ian had screwed up, at least in front of George. You exchanged glances with Bucky who rolled his eyes, then turned to George.

“It’s going good,” you said. “I had coffee with Becca, then went shopping.”

“Oh what did you buy?”

All the lingerie sets you bought flashed in your mind and you bit back a smile as you stole a look at Bucky, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Jewelry,” you said, holding up your wrist to show your bracelet. “And yours, George?”

“Enjoying the retirement,” he said. “Something your father can’t do anytime soon, as it seems.”

You scoffed a small laugh. “He likes the job too much.”

“That’s not the only reason,” he muttered and you shot a look at Bucky who smirked.

“Yeah well, bad choice in heirs.”

“Has he talked to you?” George asked and you pulled your brows together, feigning confusion.

“About?”

“About what he’s going to do now that Ian screwed up in front of people that badly?”

“He doesn’t talk to me about the job,” you said. “But I’d say he made his choice. Now he just needs to train Ian.”

“That training was supposed to have started decades ago.”

You hummed. “And yet here we are.”

“If I remember right, your prenup said your second child would have claim on the territory, no?” George asked with a laugh. “Maybe you two should hurry up, Arthur does desperately need an heir it seems.”

The joke made your jaw clench. Of course he didn’t even consider you just like your father didn’t, but he was more than ready to accept your hypothetical child as the heir.

Anyone but you, apparently.

“Father…” Bucky muttered and George held up his hands.

“Just saying.”

“And that’s my cue,” you said, pushing yourself off the couch and George chuckled.

“Y/N, I was joking.”

“Oh I know, I just think it’s a good idea to see if my dad is alright now that you mentioned him,” you said, shooting him a fake smile before walking to Bucky to peck him on the cheek. “See you at home?”

“Absolutely,” he said and you walked out of the office, anger still poisoning your system.

                                       *

Your father’s assistant told you that he was home today, so you went straight there without dropping by the company. As usual, the foyer and the rest of the house were full of your father’s or Ian’s bodyguards and his assistant was by the study door. You waved at her but before you could approach her, you heard your aunt’s voice echoing in the foyer.

“Y/N, hello!”

You tried not to grimace, then turned to smile at her.

“Auntie.”

She came closer to kiss your cheek. “Arthur is taking a call, let’s catch up in the meantime.”

“I’m actually in a hurry, I just wanted to check whether he’s alright—”

“He is,” your aunt assured you as she gently steered you to the living room. “Albeit a bit tense but you know, it happens.”

“Does it though?” you muttered as you sat down on the couch. She waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Ian’s tiny little mistake?”

“I haven’t,” you said. “I have heard about the million dollar mistake though.”

She pressed her lips together.

“He is under tremendous amount of pressure,” she told you solemnly. “Running around everywhere.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Is that right?”

“And I told your father the same thing, I think he’s being too harsh with him lately.”

“Well, a lot of bosses want his head on a spike,” you pointed out. “I’d say he is being quite nice to him, actually.”

Your aunt shot you a glare but you only smiled, making her heave a sigh and clasp her hands in her lap.

“Arthur says people are pushing for a sit down,” she said. “And that Ian must be there for some reason. I don’t know why he insists on it—”

“Because if he didn’t attend it’d make him look even worse,” you said. “No one would take him seriously after that.”

“He’s not the boss!”

“He’s the heir,” you forced yourself to say. “Bosses can take heirs with them to the meetings. Father has a point, he can’t coddle him especially in a situation like this.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” she insisted. “I’m sure Bucky has made them too.”

“He hasn’t,” you said, aware of the proud tone in your voice. “He was raised for this shit, so he actually pays attention. Unlike Ian.”

She clicked her tongue.

“Well you must talk to him,” she said and you pulled your brows together.

“To Bucky? Why?”

“Ian needs someone in that room that will have his back.”

You tried to stop the laughter threatening to spill from your lips.

“And you think Bucky will do it?”

“He will if you ask him to.”

“Why on earth would I ask him to?” you asked with a scoff and she threw her hands up.

“Because we’re family!” she said. “Ian would do the same for you.”

“Ian would throw me to the wolves if the roles were reversed,” you pointed out with a chuckle. “You know it as well as I do. They’d eat me alive during that meeting and he wouldn’t lift a finger, he’d encourage it.”

“You’re being very unfair to him, Y/N.”

“Maybe you just forgot what your son’s personality is like because you barely spend any time with him,” you said calmly and she narrowed her eyes.

“Careful.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue and held up your hands, gesturing surrender.

“Bucky wouldn’t help Ian even if I asked him to,” you said. “He doesn’t take him seriously.”

“And why is that?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m gonna go on a limb and assume it’s because Ian makes mistakes that cost my father and the other bosses millions of dollars.”

“What’s a couple of millions in this business?” she asked with a small laugh. “Nothing.”

You heaved a sigh. “It gives a message, auntie.”

She crossed her legs, sticking her nose in the air.

“Either way, talk to Bucky,” she said. “Everyone says he listens to what you say, so it might be a good idea to put in some good word for Ian before that meeting.”

You arched a brow, but before you could comment on it, your father’s assistant entered the room.

“Y/N, he says he can see you now.”

“Oh thank you,” you said and got up from the couch. “Auntie. Always a pleasure.”

She just shot you a smile and you shook your head slightly, then followed your father’s assistant to his study.

                                           *

When you got back home, Bucky still wasn’t back so you had enough time to put your plan into action. The set you had chosen for tonight was black; the lacy corset matching the garter belts holding your stockings. You were just done with fixing your hair when you heard Bucky opening the front door, so you threw yourself on the bed and grabbed the book on your nightstand to open it.

“Charm?”

“Upstairs!” you called out, turning on your stomach and swinging your legs back and forth lazily, trying to bite back your smirk as Bucky walked into the room, reading something on his phone.

“I have so much to tell you about the meeting today,” he said without taking his eyes off of the screen and went to place his gun on the small coffee table and you hummed.

“What?”

“Nat is furious, and she and Clint actually—” he stopped talking as soon as he raised his eyes from the phone and you looked over your shoulder to see him frozen in his spot.

“She and Clint?” you asked him as if there was nothing out of the ordinary and he blinked a couple of times in complete silence, staring at you.

“Bucky?” you said and he swallowed thickly.

“What the fuck—am I dreaming?”

“Why would you be dreaming?” you asked and rolled over to lean back on your palms, crossing your legs. “We should talk by the way.”

“Oh we’re not talking,” he said, pulling you by the ankle to the edge of the bed and you let out a squeal that turned into a giggle before you pushed at him and got up from the bed. He let out a groan.

“Charm…”

“What?”

“Is this a new way for you to torture me?”

“No, I just think we should talk.”

“I can’t contribute anything to the conversation because I don’t have any blood in my brain right now, it’s all rushing south.”

You rolled your eyes at him and leaned on your hip. “Can you focus?”

“No.”

“Bucky!”

“You’re in a corset and garter belts and you want me to focus?” he asked, taking a step towards you but you took a step back, smirking.

“Calm down.”

“Come here.”

“No because we need to talk first.”

“If this is about who breaks first,” he said. “I broke first, you won, now come here.”

“I’m glad you agree but that’s not it,” you said. “About the sit down, is there a date yet?”

“A lot of people would start with dirty talk—”

“Business talk is my dirty talk,” you stated. “So?”

“Next week,” he said, pulling at one of the ribbons on the corset and you swatted his hand away.

“Ian is going to be there so—”

“Take it off.”

“Good lingerie is wasted on men I swear to God…” you muttered, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a happy flip. “So if Ian is there, I need to be there.”

“Done.”

“The only way—” you batted his hand away again. “The only way for me to be there is if others believe I’m your heir in case of an emergency, because—”

“Done.”

You let out a laugh. “That easily?”

“Sweetheart you could ask me for all my possessions including the company right now and the answer would still be yes,” he said, making you let out a laugh as he wrapped his vibrainum arm around you and easily lifted you up. He carried you to the bed to drop you there and got rid of his shirt, letting you see his muscular before he got on top of you, his lips finding yours. Your eyes fluttered close and a happy sigh left your lips when he pulled back to look down at you.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

You could feel the fire warming your cheeks and a giggle escaped from you before you pushed at him slightly so that you could straddle him. He quickly pulled at the ribbons holding the corset together and you tilted your head.

“So I win?” you asked again and he nodded, grinning.

“You win babe.”

You smirked, then let him pull the corset off of you to throw it somewhere in the room and leaned down to kiss him again.

Chapter 30

[shroomdreams]

Since we’re in monsterfucker territory, maybe could I request gn reader that’s shorter than character of your choice that teases reader a lot about being small

Turns out reader is a shapeshifter who just doesn’t want to waste energy being tall but decides to show them whose boss in the bed >:)

Characters off the bat that I think could work: Aventurine, Sampo, Scar, Kafka, blackswan, Boothill, jing yuan, Kaeya, Lisa, tartaglia, venti,

Sorry that it’s super obvious I’m not as far into the other two fandoms lol

Love To See You Come Undone

Various Sub!Characters x Dom!Shapeshifter!Reader

a/n: oh buddy YOU ARE IN FOR A TREAT! Let's make this a multi-fandom post >:3 btw because the reader is a shapeshifter they'll be treated as gender neutral, but I'll specify if they're topping/bottoming THE SIZE KINK IS REAL IN THIS ONE GUYS

Sampo (Top!Reader)

Sampo, Sampo, Sampo... Even though he follows an Aeon known for their unpredictability, he never expected this side from you. He had fun teasing you for your height, assigning you an array of height-related nicknames whenever you two interacted

He was loosely aware that there's something beneath that visage you wore, but he figured that you'd be easy enough to figure out. What kind of noises can he get you to make? What faces will you show him? Too bad he's imagining the wrong end of the spectrum

When he got you in bed, you had him lay back while you slipped into something more comfortable... His eyes widened as your form grew to tower over him, caging his now smaller body beneath him. "H-heh, guess you can teach this old dog new tricks?" He weakly says as you smirked down at him

Sampo finds himself desperately clinging onto a pillow for dear life while you ravaged his behind, hips clapping against his ass as your cock rubs his walls, his eyes rolling up as he let out breathy moans. Sure, he wasn't a virgin, but he'd never been fucked like this before! Sampo arches his back when you slowed down, thrusting deep and slow

"Mmmggpphhh- Oohhhhhaaaaaa- OoooooohhhfffffffffUUUUCK!"

The fool cums the same time you do, panting as your seed fills his ass. You lean over and inspect his fucked out expression, his eyes crossed and tongue out. You take a moment to snap a picture for your own pleasure later on

After that, Sampo doesn't view you the same anymore. He still jokes around with you, but he whimpers when you remind him who's really in charge

Kafka (Top!Reader)

You're as short as Silver Wolf, maybe even shorter by a few inches. It doesn't matter as Kafka often kidnaps you to dress you up in various frilly outfits. "It's cause you're a lil' dolly, sweetie~" She teases, fixing the bow in your hair.

Really, you tolerated it for so long, but it got on your nerves whenever Kafka condescends to you. So one day, she receives a brown, paper bag with her name written on it. Inside was a lingerie set in her signature purple. When she confronts you about it, you tilt your head with a smile. "It wouldn't fit me, silly."

Intrigued, Kafka drags you to the bedroom so she can prove it. But to her shock, you were correct. In fact, it seems that the lingerie is specifically fitted for her. Kafka clicks her tongue. "Hm. I didn't realize you had it in you, sweetcheeks."

Kafka decides to indulge you for today, sensually caressing her body, the lingerie perfecting hugging her curvy body. However, when she joined you in bed, she noticed the size disparity between the two of you had been flipped... To a greater degree. You seem to sink into the mattress, her body nearly falling into your chest.

In the blink of an eye, Kafka finds herself with her eyes clothes and your tongue shoved in her mouth, moans swallowed by you as you slid your fingers in her panties. She rocks her hips back and forth on your much bigger fingers, tainting your digits with her arousal

Kafka sighs as you bounce her up and down on your cock, playing with her nipples while your cock kisses her cervix. "Mmmph, ahhhh~ Fuck, harder, dolly." Harder? You'll give her harder. You suddenly wrap your arms around her waist and pull her down with you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room as your hips thrust up into her tight cunt with wild abandon. "Oh shit- Ohhhh fuck- Ah! Ah! Ohhhhhh fuuuck!"

You fuck her so hard she squirts, her fluids drenching the sheets as you fuck her through her orgasm. Kafka gasps, twitching as you pull out of her, feeling your cum splatter against her ass.

She still calls you her dolly, but now she knows better than to condescend to you these days

Tartaglia (Bottom!Reader)

Ah yes, the Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers. You caught his eye when he spotted you training with the bow. He challenged you to a duel, which he won with much difficulty. From then on you became somewhat of an obsession of his.

He thinks you're absolutely adorable when you fight, using your small stature as advantage against taller targets. He likes to joke that the only way you could beat him is in bed. Unfortunately for Childe, his jokes inspired devious things in mind

You've actually had a few sexual encounters with Childe, though he never ventured to the treasure you kept hidden within your undergarments. He figured you must have wanted to wait before doing the deed... So imagine his surprise and excitement when you told him that you want to do it for real.

What he wasn't expecting is your taller stature and your much bigger proportions. His pants suddenly feel much tighter as you pin him to the wall, engaging him in rough kisses. "Hey comrade, how come you- mmh- kept this from me?" He pants, watching you pull down his pants

Childe gasps and groans, leaning his head on the wall as you rode his cock. Your much bigger size meant that his poor legs were constantly being bruised, but he loved it so much. "Aaaaaagh! Hnnng- Coming-" You slammed down on his length, watching him cry out as his cum painted your walls. But it wasn't enough

The Harbinger whimpers, his hands futilely trying to keep your hips up as you bounced on his dick, his thighs sticky from the many orgasms you wrung out from him

The unfortunate side effect is that he's now obsessed with egging you on for another duel with him, this time in your larger form

Scar (Bottom!Reader)

THIS MAN. Hoo boy he's been pestering you non-stop to join the Fractsidus. He claims to have felt the energy RADIATING from you, the potential you have to bloom in the organization is something he salivates over.

He's very touchy, nipping and biting at your ears in an attempt to rile you up. Handsy fellow too, he's very intrigued that a small body like yours attracted him to you. He wants to know just what you are, since he's extremely certain that you're just what the organization needs

Indeed he finds out what you are when you reveal your taller stature to him. In this one, you're actually a human fused with a tacet discord through ambiguous means, but Scar will focus on that later. Right now he finds you stupidly sexy and if he doesn't bone you right then and there he's burning all of Jhinzhou to the ground

His mouth hangs open as he inches his cock deep in your hole, the heavenly warmth you exude makes him act up. Rutting into you like a lil' bunny, he can barely reach your chest, laying his head on your stomach as he growls through his lust. You laugh and pat his head.

"S-See? I knew- mmmmph- I knew you'd be perfect!" Scar says in between pants, his hair sticking to his forehead while sweat dripped down his face. You coo at him, teasing the tacet mark on his neck. He groans, snapping his hips into your warmth and creaming deep inside.

But it didn't stop there. Scar continued to fuck himself into a stupor, your warmth so inviting- Like he bit into a fruit so sweet he wanted to eat more. You laid back and allowed him to rut into your heat. You were supposed to be the one moaning, and yet here Scar was, his mouth slack open as he came again and again

In the end Scar did manage to get you onboard the Fractsidus. You know that one pic of a bunny being obsessed with his giant gf? Thats you two everytime you're seen together.

[bratscave]

this blog got me feeling some typa way babesssss

dreaming about a young professor reader who thinks logan is constantly condescending to her when he asks about her lesson plans or curriculum… but he just doesn’t know how to start a conversation with her.

so when she has a bad day and snaps at him about his constant ‘patronizing’ he’s obviously very amused. because he’s honestly been looking for an excuse to chat with the hot, way too young for him piece of ass in a pencil skirt.

bonus points if he bends her over her desk and fucks her like a whore on it. and bonus bonus points if she thinks about it when she comes to her classroom the next day for class to find him leaning on it.

gotta feed the monsters in us i guess

ugh i need to write some logan smut to post already

I LOVE YOUR BLOG ITS SO- *animal noises*

- visionsofcarnality 🤭🫶

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ — a lil' help !

The past few days have been hell, actual fucking hell. You had never imagined that the kids would be so... unnerving. It turned out that they cared a lot less about genetic mutation biology then you would've thought. All you needed was a cigarette and a calm, quiet office for god's sake — no interruptions, especially not logan. “Got your curriculum figured out for next week?” his voice, low and rough, cut through the silence as he leaned against your doorway. You stiffened, feeling that familiar sting of irritation. It was the fifth time this month he’d asked you something like that, and every time, it grated on your nerves. You knew you were younger than most of the faculty, barely in your mid-twenties, but did he have to rub it in with his constant questioning? As if you didn’t know what you were doing. “Yes, Logan,” you replied, barely masking the edge in your voice. “I have it under control.” You didn't like how your words had absolutly no affect on him, he didn't move, didn't budge, didn't back down. It was like he was waiting or searching for something, “You sure about that? You look like you could use some help.” “I don’t need your help, Logan. I don’t need you constantly questioning me about my lesson plans, my missions or my fucking curriculum. I’ve been doing this for years, and I don’t need some — some condescending jackass acting like I’m not capable.” His mouth parted in surprise yet his lips twitched in amusement, "Really? Is that what you think I’ve been doin’? Condescending to you?” You shake your head, looking through the papers for tommorow, you couldn't deal with this today, "Yes, that's what I think." Logan pushed himself of the door frame, his fingers instantly moving to your shoulders like he was trying to reassure you, "You're young. You're new and you're trying your best, but you're feeling a bit...overwhelmed." You took another puff, finally looking up to his face. "I appreciate," the tone you use sounds almost sarcastic, "your concern but I'm getting by just fine." Yet you feel his finger absentmindedly trace over the skin of your neck as you lean back ever so slightly, almost on auto pilot. “Logan,” you said, trying to inject some authority into your voice whilst putting out the cig in a close ash tray but it came out breathier than you intended- His proximity was doing things to you, things you didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone act on. But Logan, perceptive as always, didn’t miss a beat. He didn't decide to comment on the little faltter in your voice, just brushes one of your hair strands behind your ear, the action feels intimate, a bit to much so. His hands work on gently pushing you down onto the desk, your face pressed against the cold surface, his rough fingers work on riding up your skirt. If you're not mistaken you can hear the fabric of your panties ripping as you scoff, "Y'know you could've just taken them off." It sounds more like a statement then a question, not that you'd really be intrested in one when all you could think bout was his dick. "That's no fun," you could faintly make out, the dull sound of his belt hitting the floor also, "You don't even understand how much i've been imagining you, like this — you, and your damn skirts." Your hands clench into fists on the desk, your knuckles turning white as you try to keep some semblance of control as he thrusts into you. He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he pounds into you, his breath hot against your ear. “This what you needed, darlin’?” he growls, his voice rough and strained with his own pleasure. “Needed someone to fuck that stress right outta you?” He’s fucking you like an animal, hard and fast, and it’s exactly what you needed. The desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, with this pace you could perfectly forget about all those kids that make you lose more and more brain on the daily. That's exactly what you think about when you see logan leaning against your desk the next day, all innoccently yet gazing u you like he was about to eat you alive, in front of countless of children.

You could certaintly use his help every now and then — not on the curriculum of course.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Kencanons

Warnings: Kidnapping, Abduction, Major Spoilers for The Barbie Movie, Unhinged Post, Possessive Ken, Ken Just Wants to be Loved, Petnames, Ken Being Condescending, Post-Patriarchy Ken, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except 'You'.

Simply put, you’d charmed Ken. Made his non-existent heart flutter and a feeling he always associated with Barbie to overtake him. Been in the wrong place at the right time. Hence, less than a few hours after your meeting with Kenneth, you were in Barbieland. Sorry - Kendom Land.

You’d made the mistake of asking him for the time, in a rush to make it to work. And, with a twinkle in his eye and a seeming newfound sense of purpose, he proclaimed that “You respect me!”

Dazed and with little else you could say, you shrugged. “I mean…I guess…?”

And that was enough for him.

“I must go – get back to Barbieland – spread the news about patriarchy!”

You'd humoured him, more for the promise of your own safety than actual agreement, and he tipped his hat to you, billowing away in the direction of Venice Beach in a haze of his own world.

You managed to dodge him initially, untangling yourself from his vacant stare and making it to work unscathed.

On your way to lunch a few hours after, however, you were accosted again.

Of course, by none other than Ken Carson.

Who, having put all he’d learnt from his books on horses, the Wild West, and patriarchy, literally lassoed you and threw you onto his shoulder.

“We’ve gotta get you back to Barbieland – the Kens are not gonna believe this !”

On your journey back to this mysterious place, Ken explained to you how Barbies usually rule everything while the Kens are left with nothing.

“But, with you at my side, I’m sure we can make it right!”

You genuinely chalked this guy up to be insane, if at most, an escaped patient.

However, as you traversed 2D landscapes, you were more inclined to believe him. That this fabled Babrietopia did in fact exist.

And, once you get there, you become Patriarchy Ken’s personal servant.

He tells you to “Brewski Beer” him, all the while talking about how his initial conception of patriarchy had been that it was “Horses who ran the world, but it’s actually men — and horses are men extenders.”

He calls you his “bride-wife” or “groom-husband”, which, compared to the other Kens’ long-term distance low-commitment casual partners, seems oddly…endearing. Dangerously permanent.

With no idea how to get back to the Real world, you’re stuck with Ken and his entourage of fellow Kens, the Barbies either indoctrinated into their way of thinking or in hiding.

Speaking of, you are basically Ken’s property.

And he treats you as such whenever one of the other Kens tries to accost your service.

His tone is low, eyes sharp. “(Y/N) is my long-term distance low-commitment partner, not yours, Ken.”

And, to show as much, you get to sit on the floor next to Ken as he watches the Godfather with his Kentourage, talking through the whole thing, commenting on its ingenuity and nuance.

He also makes you stay nearby whenever he changes outfits - which is just him changing into another faux mink coat, pants and headband.

Despite being this new, independent, untethered Ken, he asks your opinion on things which seem largely inconsequential. Still, you sense something unstable. Insecurity, perhaps.

"What about...this coat?"

"Isn't that the same as the last one you showed me?"

Ken looks at your glass reflection in the wardrobe doors. His smile glitches, falters. He replaces it.

"Yeah, course - I was just testing you, seein' if you were paying attention."

Whenever you get a moment alone, away from the madness of the Kens, it’s short-lived. For Ken is never far behind, seeming to materialise in the doorway of whatever room of the Dreamhouse you’ve adopted as your refuge.

“What’s wrong, tiny baby?” He says, sauntering over to you, snake-like.

“I want to go home, Ken,” You tell him, voice racked with sobs, tears in your eyes.

He just gives you a narrowed, confused look, adopting an almost incredulous posture as if to say ‘Why?’

“First of all, I don’t like your tone, Doll,”

He steps towards you. You step back.

“Second of all, why in Kendom Land would you wanna leave ?" Another step forward. Another step back. "This is the dream of any patriarch’s partner to be where you are now; it should feel just like home !” Another step forward, another step ba-

Your legs hit the edge of the bed.

It doesn’t matter how hurt - or frightened - you look. Ken doesn’t listen.

“And besides, do you know how many Barbies would kill to be where you are now ? I know Weird Barbie would.” And he smiles – smirks – as if he’s triumphed you in some way only he is aware of, hands on his waist. The image of power.

Ken tends to test his boundaries when it comes to physical affection.

Seeing as he received none with Barbie, he seems to want to try his luck with you.

And yes, this does include him puckering his lips and staying stood in front of you until one of you caves.

Usually, it’s him, causing him to retract and act as if nothing happened. Which it didn’t. 

But when he really wants a kiss, he can persist for hours.

You timed him. Two hours and three minutes until you relented and pecked him.

“Wow,” he says, every time, as if it’s the first time, his eyes clouded with dreams and what you could only pen as whimsy.

He’s incredibly touch-starved. Show him an ounce of willing and he’ll be overjoyed in his own, new, macho way. Though, he does have a hard time containing a squeal whenever you touch skin.

Secretly, he's entranced by how...human you are. how different you feel and talk to the other dolls in his Kendom.

He's developed an obsession interest with your hands, holding them in his, telling you how small and soft your hands are compared to his.

He squeezes them whenever he gets the chance, commenting on how "Squishy" your fingers are, despite you having a skeleton beneath your skin - a concept that blows Ken away every time you explain it to him.

He also adores hugs. Though, he only hugs you/lets you hug him when out of view of other Kens. He needs to protect his image as the stoic leader, after all.

Loves a cuddle; goes stupid crazy for them.

He favours holding you to his chest and resting his chin atop your head. He finds your warmth a foreign comfort. While you find his lack of a heart – and a beat – a discomfort.

“S’nice and warm,” he says, eyes closed, the image of laxity. "Being here with you."

He mumbles that last part. You know not to inquire further. The Kens consider any form of genuine affection to be a weakness.

It’s in your best interest to just let him stay there and talk about whatever it is he’s fascinated himself with, lest you wish to incur a temper tantrum or the cold shoulder.

Aside from being a fan of hand-holding, he's also a partaker in wrist-holding.

If you ever do something to aggravate him, he tends to grip your wrist hard enough to make you wince, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed.

“Something wrong, Babe?” He’ll say, tone deep with simmering wrath.

You know not to push it with Ken.

Despite how platinum and perfect he is, he does harbour a resentment which, whether caused by you or not, he seems to target you with.

Talked to a Ken for too long, or in a way he didn’t like?

He’s going to embarrass you in front of him. Make you seem undesirable to all who are not himself.

He knows he can’t make you disappear, given the fact that you’re mortal. But he knows he can make other Kens disappear; an idea that, the first time it appeared to him, frightened him, made him confront a darker half he’d repressed. But, as time went on, he’s learnt to harness it in ways you’d never have suspected from a Ken.

Not that you’d know it from the way he treats you, but he does actually care for you.

Perhaps…as much as, even more so, than he does — did — for Barbie.

He doesn’t feel like he’s tethered to any one job or image when he’s with you; his identity is not an extension of yours. But, he does try to treat yours as if it is an extension of his.

“Babe, hurry up with those beers — the game’s about to start !”

He knows you’re impervious to the effects of his brainwashing, given that you’re from the Real World, so he feels that you’re the most genuine person in Kendom Land. Hence he tends to treat you with equal harshness and care.

This also often leads to Ken asking you things about your world. Things he doesn’t yet have the answers for.

His favourite pastime is to lay his head on your thighs while you sit against the headboard of his bed, asking you any and all questions that come to mind.

“What’s your favourite colour?”, “Where does the sun go when it’s night time?”, “What did you do at your job?”

Personal ones like that last one often cause you to tense, and Ken can tell. He tends to refrain from asking you such questions now, seeing as any reminder of your life prior to this cause you to, what he has learnt to call it, cry.

Despite how tone-deaf Kenneth can be, he is actually rather intuitive. Or, rather, considerate.

When you’d told him your favourite colour, he’d painted his bedroom walls in it. Albeit a slap-dash job of it, given how interior design is not in his box description like Interior Design Ken, but he tried !

Despite his small acts of kindness being his attempts to imitate comfort, they do little to calm you. For everything he says, does, discussing a future with you in Kendom Land, changing aspects of his world to cater to your preferences, feel as if you are to take up unwilling, permanent residence here.

And, while you wait and plot for a way to escape, you exist as a perpetual puppet for Ken to mither and berate and order around.

In the real world, a doll has started appearing on shelves – a new range of ‘Misery Barbie/Ken’ dominating the toy aisles of every supermarket and toy store, your visage wrapped tightly in every box.

Tears, an outfit demeaning enough to make a grandmother faint, and the unwavering expression of the need for freedom.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterpost Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter One

Summary:

Your colleague Dr. Ancunin is a smug condescending bastard and you can't stand him. But you also can't get him out of your head.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Tags/Warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, no breeding kink, masturbation, vaginal fingering, vampire bites, modern au, college/university au, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, like the briefest mention of suicide while talking about Hamlet

This would not exist without @zipzoomzaria's gorgeous glasses screenshots because PROFESSOR, PLS. Go follow her bc her edits are out of this world. The masturbation scene is also heavily inspired by @astarionfreak's "Are You Satisfied, Darling?" If you haven't read it what are you doing???

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

There’s something about him that rubs you the wrong way. It could be his arrogance, or the condescending way he peers over his glasses at you and your other colleagues. It might be the overpriced cashmere turtlenecks that hug his figure perfectly or the stupid silver earrings adorning his stupid elf ears. But every time he opens his pretty little mouth you feel a snarl growing deep in your throat.

This is the first university you’ve worked at where the theatre and English departments shared an office. Theatre and music, sure, even theatre and dance. But theatre and English? It feels insulting, honestly. English PhDs are some of the snobbiest people you’ve ever met, and they always speak to you like a child. Is it because they’re unimpressed by your MFA, like it made you less deserving of your position? Who knows. But Astarion Ancunin is no different.

“Grace, would you mind making twelve copies of pages 219-254 when you get a chance?” You hand the administrative assistant the heavy book. “You can leave them in my mailbox, I’ll pick them up later.” Grace opens the book to the instructed page.

“Oh, Much Ado About Nothing! I love that one!” she squeals with delight. “That Beatrice and Benedick,” she sighs, stroking the Complete Works lovingly. You smile at her cordially.

“They’re great, they’re basically the non-problematic version of Kate and Petruchio,” you respond in agreement.

“How tragic that Taming’s writing is better.”

You whirl around to see Ancunin walking in looking at something on his phone. He doesn’t even look up as he inserts himself into your conversation. You glare at his interruption. He looks up at Grace, bypassing you completely.

“Good morning, Grace darling, how are you today?” He sweeps over to her and takes her hand in his, planting a kiss on her knuckles. Gods he’s fucking insufferable. Not to mention unprofessional. Grace, however, blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl.

“I’m doing well, Dr. Ancunin, and yourself?” The tiefling’s voice jumps up about three pitches and her tail starts swishing excitedly.

“Leagues better now that I’ve been blessed with your presence,” he coos at her, voice positively saccharine. It takes every ounce of your patience to keep from rolling your eyes. He casts his gaze to you, and even you need to turn away from those piercing red eyes.

“Good morning, professor. Starting Much Ado with your students, I take it?” he asks with a light smile that makes you bristle.

“Yes, it’s a great way for them to practice switching between verse and prose,” you respond coolly, more than a little defensive.

“Of course, one of his best.” He glances down at the volume still in Grace’s hands and his eyebrows raise, peering over the top of his round glasses. “Going with the Bevington, hmm? Interesting. I’m more of a Norton man, myself.” He runs a slender finger along the binding as you grit your teeth. Is he really patronizing you over your choice of edition of Shakespeare’s Complete Works? Of course, he’s an English scholar.

“The Norton is a great tool dramaturgically, but the Bevington is a much better resource for actors, so, yes.” Your voice is steady but there’s an undeniable venom in it. Can he tell how much he’s bothering you? Probably, he’s almost certainly getting enjoyment out of riling you up. His little smirk would seem to suggest it, at least.

“Well certainly, and who knows acting resources better than our resident classical acting expert?” he intones, voice still dripping with honey. You narrow your eyes at him, unsure if he’s taking another jab at your degree.

“Well, as much as I enjoy standing around and debating the merit of various editions of the Complete Works, I’m about to be late for a meeting. Grace, thank you so much, I’ll be back later to pick up those copies. Dr. Ancunin,” you turn to his smug face and he looks back at you innocently. “A pleasure, as always.” You grab your papers and leave the office, feeling the heat of his gaze boring into the back of your head as you leave.

***

“Yes, Thaniel, come on in, have a seat,” you call out to the freshman loitering in the hallway outside your office. He comes in and drops his overfull backpack next to the teal club chair across from your desk. You close your laptop and smile at him warmly.

“So, Hamlet, that’s ambitious! I think it’s a good choice for you, but it’ll be a lot of work,” you say, glancing at your own copy of the monologue.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” Thaniel says nervously. “I’m fine with the scansion and stuff, that I get, but I still don’t get the actual words. And I know you said how important that is.”

“For sure, I can guarantee all of the bad Shakespeare you’ve seen has been because the actors had no idea what they were saying. Have you used the Lexicon?” Thaniel looks off to the side, embarrassed.

“No, I don’t really get how that works either,” he says, an air of chagrin creeping into his voice.

“No worries, it takes practice. Here, we’ll do a few lines together. So first off, to be or not to be, that’s fairly obvious, right?”

“Yeah, he’s talking about suicide, right?”

“Sure, but what is he actually saying about it? To take arms against a sea of troubles/And by opposing, end them. What’s ‘them’ referring to?”

“The sea of troubles?”

“Right, the aforementioned slings and arrows. So even though you might know what those words mean individually, look them up in the Lexicon to see if they have a different context here. But you’re right, he’s trying to figure out if it’s better to suffer through the shittiness of existence or to take your fate into your own hands and, well, end them.” You highlight the line and lean over your desk to show Thaniel. A voice pipes up from the doorway.

“That’s not exactly what he’s saying, you know.”

The paper crumples in your hand slightly as your fist instinctively tightens. You plaster a strained smile on your face and look up at him.

“Dr. Ancunin, thank you for gracing us with your presence. Care to elaborate?”

He’s leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, face in shadows. Your office is unusually dark because of the storm outside, and so the bright fluorescents in the hallway give him an almost ethereal halo effect

“It’s a common misconception that Hamlet is contemplating suicide here. Life and death, sure, but ‘to take arms’ isn’t metaphorical, it’s literal. He’s contemplating dying as a result of killing Claudius, not taking his own life,” he says, almost sounding bored. You stand abruptly, your office chair skidding backwards.

“How can that possibly be true? He says ‘to take arms against a sea of troubles.’ He’s using the active voice, deciding whether or not to continue his life or end it. To be or not to be. It’s the first line in the monologue. He’s not talking about the consequences of killing Claudius.” You try to keep your voice from shaking. You know that you don't sound nearly as eloquent as him, and it’s pissing you off. He shrugs nonchalantly.

“You’re oversimplifying it, it’s exceedingly more complicated than that. The whole soliloquy is filled with war imagery. He’s at war with himself, the part of him that wants to kill Claudius and the part of him that is afraid to die.” He pushes himself off the door frame and steps back into the hallway. “But apologies, please don’t let me interrupt your instruction.” And like that he was off, leaving you to stew in silence. Thaniel looks up at you and looks back at the doorway where he stood.

“Should I…” he starts, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

“Dr. Ancunin comes at this from a very different angle as an English academic. He’s more interested in the words on the page, rather than how they translate to the stage. But,” you sigh, loathe to give him any credit, “it’s a valid interpretation. We can go down that route, if you want, or we can look at it through this lens.” Thaniel chews his lip while he considers his options.

“I think what you said makes more sense, the suicide bit,” he finally decides. You nod and pull out your copies of the Shakespeare Lexicon.

“Great, let’s go over how to use the Lexicon again,” you say as you flip through the book, looking for the entry for ‘slings.’

***

You drop off your bag and toss your keys into a bowl on the counter. Fucking exhausting day. You unzip your boots and kick them vaguely in the direction of the shoe rack, stretching and curling your toes for relief. You hang up your wet coat and shake rain from your hair. Your eyes dart between the refrigerator, wherein resides a bottle of white wine, and the bathroom door, contemplating how good a hot bath would feel. Both? Both is good.

You pour yourself a generous glass of Riesling and strip your clothes on your way to the bathroom. One of the perks of living alone. Sitting naked on the edge of the tub, you sip your wine as the bath fills.

Fucking Ancunin.

You’re a little shocked at how much he got under your skin today. Normally you don’t think twice about him, excepting the few times you have the misfortune of passing him in the hallway. But today the fates decided to throw you together and your schedules aligned. Well, in your defense, you didn’t seek him out that second time, he was the one who decided to crash your office hours.

You don’t even like Hamlet that much. You certainly don’t care about alternative interpretations of “To be or not to be.” But you’re mostly annoyed because he had a fair point. His read makes Hamlet a more interesting character rather than a cowardly incel romanticizing suicide.

You slide into the bath, hissing slightly as the hot water flows over your chilled skin. Without prompting, Ancunin worms his way back into your thoughts. Hmmph. You take a gulp of wine to try to wash away the taste of the unpleasant image.

Well… not entirely unpleasant. He’s a good looking man, you’d be a fool to deny it. But gods he’s so smug. And interrupting your meeting with Thaniel was wildly inappropriate. Leaning your head against the edge of the tub, you try to focus your thoughts elsewhere. You’re not about to let him interrupt you again, and when he’s not even present, no less.

But there he is, in your mind, crimson eyes looking over the top of those metal frame glasses that you’re, like, 99% sure he doesn’t actually need to see. You take another swig of wine to drown his stupid face. With his stupid cheekbones. And his dumb fucking earrings that you want to bite.

Nine hells, what is happening? You’ve been drinking your wine quickly and aren’t thinking straight. You grab your phone and open Spotify, letting your daily mix play through the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

Now Playing: Hatefuck by The Bravery.

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

By Mystra’s fucking grace, seriously? You growl at the growing heat between your legs. Between putting off dinner and chugging your wine, your head is swimming. You might be better off getting it out of your system.

The wine glass hits the tub edge with a clank as you angrily put it down and sink into the water up to your chin. You are satiating a purely physical need, nothing else.

You still shiver as you slip your hand between your legs, lightly running your finger up your slit. You can see his face, looking down on you through those glasses - those infuriating glasses - and your lips flutter. What does he look like under those sweaters? He’s so thin, but his clothes fit incredibly well. It’s not hard to imagine a sculpted body beneath. You spread your legs further and let the warm water tickle your folds.

His silvery curls would look so good between your legs, slender fingers wrapped around your thighs while he laps you up. At least then he’d shut up. A gentle moan escapes your lips as you run your finger along your inner lips, pretending it’s him. You could grab hold of those perfect locks, yanking on them to control where he can go, fucking his face.

You move your other hand up to your breast and start teasing your nipple, feeling his lips around it. You give it a little tug and groan, just like if he nipped at it.

You imagine sitting on his pretty face, pointed ears flushed and hair a mess. Your hips buck into your hand as they might on top of him and your toes curl. You make gentle circles around your clit, thinking of all the other uses for his silver tongue. You whine and squirm at the sensations of heat radiating through your body. You slip a finger inside and hiss as you can see his pale digits entering you in your mind’s eye. You curl it upwards and gasp, his imaginary eyes looking up at you through those long lashes and a smirk playing across his imaginary lips.

“Are you ready for more of me, darling?” You can hear him murmur into your ear.

“Yes, gods yes,” you reply breathlessly into the cold bathroom air. You slide another finger in and feel that delicious stretch. The ghost of him moans, coming undone at the sight of you. You could leave him speechless, for once.

You reach over the edge of the tub and grab the box of waterproof toys. You frantically sift through your collection of dildos, trying to find the right one. Here. It’s long and svelte like the rest of him, but bright shimmery purple. You suction it to the bottom of the tub and hover above it on your knees. It sways lightly in the water, tip of it teasing your pussy just like you’d love to do to him.

Gods, to see him beg for your cunt. To see him reduced to a babbling mess, pleading to let him inside you. Your breath quickens at the mental image of him pulling on his own hair waiting for you to satisfy him. You sink down onto the dildo and your groan of pleasure mirrors what you’d like to hear from him.

You start sliding yourself on the purple dick, feeling its ridges glide against the walls of your cunt as you continue to finger your clit. You imagine your hand splayed across his chest, your black nails standing in contrast against his pale skin. You claw at the bottom of the tub as you increase your pace, desperate to see the pink raised skin that your nails leave behind. The fingers on your clit speed up as well, and you can feel yourself getting close.

“Oh gods, Astarion, don’t stop,” the words tumble from your mouth unbidden. You will absolutely hate yourself for that later, but right now all that matters is your ecstasy. You bounce atop the dildo, disregarding the water that splashes over the side of the tub as you chase your finish. Your moans increase in pitch and fervor as the various images of him in all sorts of positions flash through your mind. Between your thighs, sitting on his face, riding his dick, even fucking pegging him from behind because why the hell not?

“Astarion!” You cry out his name as you crash over the edge, legs shaking and pussy pulsing. Your orgasm reverberates throughout your whole body as you ride it out. Eventually, your movement slows and the water gently sways around you. You look down at your hand, milky juices swirling in the now tepid tub water.

Shit.

***

The next day at work, you avoid him like the plague. You keep your office door closed, usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary right now. You double check the hallway before leaving to go teach, and then after class you immediately duck back into your office and close the door again. You even avoid the main office for fear of running into him there.

You can’t look at his face right now. You can’t possibly look him in the eye.

When 5:00 rolls around, you glance out into the hallway. Most of the other professors are leaving. To play it safe, you decide to work until 6 so that you can be sure that he’s gone when you leave. You absentmindedly grade performance responses. After you’ve read one paragraph about Miss Julie maybe a half dozen times, you realize that it’s probably time to go.

You slowly open the door and glance out into the hallway. You can’t tell from this angle if his door is open or not. You grab your bag and coat, take a deep breath, and make a beeline for the stairs. As you approach his office you realize it’s open.

Fuck.

It’s fine. You’ll just walk past it and get to the parking lot and then you won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice you walk by. It’s fine. You’ve got this.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as you’re passing his door. Are you fucking kidding? You turn to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even look up at you. Prick.

“Yes?” you ask, not budging from your spot in the hall. He glances up at you over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. You want to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

You tentatively take a step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s still warm and inviting. You can barely see the walls for being covered corner to corner in bookshelves full to bursting. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room - significantly nicer than the university-issued one. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it. There are two chairs facing his desk, much like yours, but a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. You stand there, clutching your bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes you’re not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. You can feel the heat in your cheeks rising. Your mouth goes dry and you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels you to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk, but rather than sitting behind it, he leans back casually on the front of it. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up just below his elbows. He crosses his arms in front of his chest as you stare, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

You blink at him, the conversation not going in the direction you expected. You had been so focused on yourself, that it took you a moment to realize what he was referring to.

“It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leaned back on his hands, stretching out his lean figure to impossible proportions. The grip on your bag slackened and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze over the length of his body. He looks at you quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses.

Now it’s his turn to give you the once-over, and you feel practically naked before him the way he looks at you. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward you, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. You retreat while holding his gaze until your back is flush against the door.

No escape now.

He gets precariously close to you and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s got at least a half foot on you, and he looks down on you with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in your face has fully reached the tips of your ears now, and your breath comes out ragged.

“I’m sure I-” you start, but it comes out thick and raspy. You clear your throat and try again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” you finally manage with all of the composure you can muster. He cocks an eyebrow at you, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t increased by approximately 20 beats per second in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into you. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter comes out of you as you press your thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let you respond.

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my peace and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. You fully feel that he’s giving you an out, that you can both laugh on this as an embarrassing moment and neither will bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand…

“You’re not mistaken,” you choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts your chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command weakens your knees and you wither under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” you say more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time you notice two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains how he could track your heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating.

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing you roughly, hands twisting in your hair and one knee sliding up between your legs. He pushes you against the door and lifts you off your feet slightly. You’re desperate just to keep up as he devours you, hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment you let him take you.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away, and you’re both breathing heavily, air cycling between your lungs. Your head feels full of a thick fog and you can’t fully see straight. His hands are still in your hair, tight but not pulling - yet. You get the sense that might not last long.

He drops to his knees and you nearly double over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of your black denim skirt, inhaling again. Your fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from your fantasy. At this point you’re just trying not to collapse.

He looks up at you, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up your skirt and his thumb runs across your pussy, barricaded by your sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” You bite your lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of your tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, you can’t stop the cry from escaping your throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in your ears. Your knees buckle and he grabs hold of your hips, hiking your skirt up to your waist to get better access to your dripping cunt.

He stands and kisses you again, the taste of you lingering on

his lips. He grabs your ass and digs his fingers into your flesh, spreading them until you gasp into his kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up your legs and wraps them around his waist, carrying you over to that incredible mahogany desk.

He plops you down on the hardwood and you hear books and papers tumbling onto the floor behind you. He presses his bulge into your mound, this time the sound of both of your moans mingling pleasingly. He tears at your chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down your chest as you throw your head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing your top, though you’re certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. You hardly care as you paw wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of you. He pulls the lace cup of your bra down with his teeth and starts sucking on your nipple, pressing his hand into the small of your back. You arch into him, his hands working you like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that you pictured last night. Instead, you’re the one who's been reduced to shambles, begging for satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” you stutter, and those devilish eyes lock onto yours again. He snakes his way back up your chest and bites your lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks your stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against you. You squirm, trying to pull him closer but he’s got your arms locked in his grip. His lips leave yours and ghost over the flesh of your neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across your jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from you in return. By all the gods, you hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement made it clear that he won’t bite unless you want him to.

But holy hells do you want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” you gasp, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get in me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to your own ears, but you’re well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves your panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into you simultaneously, drawing out your cry of both pain and pleasure. You wrap your legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. You can feel his mouth filling up with your hot blood just as your cunt fills up with his dick.

You’re panting as you grow more lightheaded, clinging to his neck. Unthinkingly, your fingers stroke his ears, playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from your neck, looking absolutely feral with your blood dripping down his chin, which only sets you off more. You angle your hips toward him, trying to get him to start thrusting into you. He pushes your back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath your knee high boots. Then he starts pounding into you properly, and you feel like you’re close to losing it. You grab onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching you out as he keeps your legs close to your ears. You can feel the heat mounting in your core and you know it won’t be long before you come. But at this point you’re just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m-” You finish before your sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks your body, if anything, he fucks you harder. Just as you’ve barely come down off your climax, he pulls out and yanks you off the desk, spins you around and pushes your face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from where you had just been. He enters you again, this time from behind, and already you’re working your way up to a second one. Your bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs your hair, pulling your head up and arching your back into him.

For the first time you notice the mirror on the opposite wall across from his desk. But rather than both of you, you only see yourself, disheveled and well-fucked, lips swollen from his abuse. Your hair is pulled up by an invisible force behind you. Another unexpected aspect of vampire fucking.

You desperately wish you could see his face because you can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. You try to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on your hair remains tight. But even if you can’t see him, you can hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in you is enough, and your own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism.

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and you can feel his climax, setting off yours. The throbs of his cock match those wracking your cunt, and you hold onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over you. Once they’ve come to an end he pulls out, and you can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down your leg. You quietly say a thankful prayer for your IUD.

You’re both panting as he collapses onto your back, planting a half-hearted kiss on your spine. You weakly push yourself up off the desk and see the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. You turn yourself around and relish in his appearance. Your blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. You reach up and wipe the remainder of your blood off his chin. He smirks and kisses you, significantly more gently this time.

“That was good,” you murmur through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

[the-travelling-bitch]

i demand an explanation-

act fool act fool act fool act fool

ahem, just imagine…

a deep, melodic voice, brushing right against your ear as his warm breath fans the side of your cheek; he pulls back as you lower your head in embarrassment at the heat flushing your face just from his words alone but he’s not having any of it

with two fingers under your chin he’s tilting your head up to meet his gaze, entrancing eyes swirling with something darker as his other hand on the small of your back pulls you flush against him, letting you feel the bulge in his pants

“you’ll be good for me, won’t you, doll?”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… zhongli, al-haitham, kaeya, draken, osamu, semi, lucifer, malleus

he’s teasing, you know he is, but there’s not much you can do about it; no, not when he has you sat between his legs with your knees hooked over his thighs as his fingers flutter over your skin, dangerously close to where you need him most but never. quite. there.

this is how it has been all day; a fleeting touch here, an amused whisper in your ear there and your thoughts were spiralling out of control just like that, getting more lewd the more you tried to fight them off

and you also know he’s enjoying this, riling you up and acting coy about it later on, biding his time until you give up and give in, begging him to do something; his chuckle vibrates against your back, enough to make you whine out for him again before his fingers finally run through your soaked slit to collect your arousal

“look at you, so worked up all because of a few words? tell me what’s been running through that pretty head of yours~”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… childe, bachira, reo, asmo, belphie, solomon, koko, hanma, ran, suna, oikawa, mattsun, jamil, leona, lilia, ace

soft praise is rolling off his tongue like honey, clouding your head and slowing your thoughts; not that you’d need to think much anyway right now, all that mattered was the feeling of plush lips on yours, biting down on your bottom lip gently before he pulls back, so you can catch your breath

his knuckles brush over the bones of your cheeks and you lean into his touch, basking in the comfort of his warm and familiar embrace; attentive eyes study your features as if he saw them for the first time, drawn to the movement of his thumb swiping across your kiss-swollen mouth

“you’re the prettiest sight i’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. truly, nothing could ever compare”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… kazuha, diluc, thoma, satan, barbatos, simeon, akaashi, kita, chigiri, isagi, inui, mitsuya, riddle, trey, jade, vil, silver

somewhere in the back of your head you wonder if he ever shuts up; he’s been running his mouth since your innocent kiss evolved into something a little friskier, tongues tangling together and your hand gripping his hair tightly

his babbling turned more incoherent the second his hips bucked against yours, in desperate search for friction to relieve the tension building in his stomach; how could you not give him what he wants when the roll of your hips forces a whimper as pretty as this from his throat?

“fuck, you always feel so good, baby; you’ll let me make you feel good to, right?”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… mammon, levi, gorou, hinata, shinichiro, takemitchi, ruggie, idia, kalim

he’s so mean, downright cruel, words not even teasing anymore but already mocking you in that condescending tone; he knows you love it that way though and he’s holding that fact over your head, making white hot shame burn through your veins

as if your sweet whimpers aren’t evidence enough, the clenching of your cunt around him certainly is; with one hand around your throat he’s making sure your looking right at him while he’s making you agree with the lewdest of statements

“what’s with the tears, sweetheart? i thought you liked being used like my personal little cock sleeve? so be good and take what i give you”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… scara, pantalone, sae, kaiser, futakuchi, izana, floyd

stoic and expression unreadable, a few deep grunts and groans are what you mostly get to hear, his actions doing most of the talking instead, big hands splayed on your hips and pulling you back down onto him with every thrust

but then again, his mouth practically moves on his own when you keep whimpering his name, pulling him back in with every flutter of your walls; you don’t think he even knows he’s talking to you, doesn’t even consciously try to make you melt under his touch more; the bluntness of his words is what has your head spinning, the genuine way he merely describes what he sees and feels when he’s got you spread so nicely for him

“this is the spot, isn’t it? can feel your cunt clench, ‘s real tight around me right now, you’re making it so hard to move”

˗ˏˋ– i’m thinking… xiao, nagi, rin, kunigami, beelzebub, rindou, sakusa, iwaizumi

wow, i got way off track, what were we talking about again—

obviously, no character is solely in one category only but these were my initial thoughts, i’ll see myself out now (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[angelwonie]

HIS SMILE || kim mingyu

PAIRING: mingyu x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 20.5k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, slowburn, fake dating!au

SUMMARY: falling in love with your fake boyfriend isn't a good idea, and it's even worse if that fake boyfriend happens to be Kim Mingyu. but you just can't help it — he's got the prettiest smile you've ever seen.

WARNINGS: smut [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), praise, size kink(!), overstimulation, fingering, manhandling, light dumbification] mingyu is strong...

“Oh, poor Y/N, you probably still haven't gotten yourself a boyfriend, have you?”

You can feel yourself tensing up at the words said by your colleague, Karina, her lips formed in a smile that completely contradicts the way she just spoke to you. She's acting as if it's just an innocent question, something she asked because she's genuinely curious – though you both know she said it to humiliate you, or maybe just to make you envy her for getting a loving boyfriend before you did. Either way, she's really getting on your nerves, and from what you can glimpse to the left, your best friend isn't very amused, either. 

“No, of course she hasn't. With all the college work, I doubt she has the time,” One of your other colleagues defends you, sensing the tense atmosphere, and you send her a thankful smile. 

“Right,” Karina says, a hint of amusement that very much pisses you off visible in her eyes. Her smile is so fake, it makes you want to throw up. “I’m glad I have my boyfriend, though, he's so lovely. Last night, when I came home, he'd prepared me homemade dinner and–”

You're growing more and more annoyed by the second when suddenly, Karina's monologue is cut off by your best friend's voice. And that relief that washes over you when Karina stops talking is wiped away the moment you hear what your friend has to say. 

“Y/N does have a boyfriend, actually.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck. What did she just say? Did you hear her right? Judging by your friends’ mouths that are hanging open, you probably did. And you surely look just as confused as them, because in all honesty, you do not have a boyfriend and one look in your best friend’s direction tells you she's already regretting her not thought-through actions. 

“What?” Karina asks finally, this time her tone much more unamused. Is her voice quivering? “You’re joking, right?”

One look at her scandalized expression is enough to make you realize that you can't back out now. Not if you don't want to see her condescending smile every day for the next twenty years. So just grin at them, sending your best friend a sideways glare as she starts rambling about your nonexistent boyfriend.

“Oh, we're not joking,” She assures them, and it takes all of your willpower to stop yourself from hitting her right then and there. “He’s handsome as hell and so kind. Oh, and he's really, really tall.”

“Oh my god, show us a picture, Y/N!” One of your colleagues exclaims and you're suddenly very aware that all of their attention is on you.

“A– A picture?” You look at your friend frantically, but apparently, this is the extent of her helpfulness, because she's looking everywhere but at you. Traitorous bitch. Why’d she spew so much nonsense if she isn't even going to take responsibility for it? “Right, let me find one real quick.”

This is bad. Really bad. And what makes it even worse, is that today, of all days, when you open your phone with trembling hands, the last picture in your camera roll isn’t a photo of you with any of your close friends like it usually is. It could’ve been Soonyoung or even Wonwoo, and just like that, you could’ve introduced one of them as your super handsome boyfriend. But no, fate clearly isn’t on your side today.

No, today, of all days, the last picture in your camera roll is of you and the one and only Kim Mingyu – a guy known on campus for both his looks and his outgoing personality. He's got all the girls swooning over him, and until recently, you've been all but silently admiring him when you're in school – letting your eyes fan over his frame when he plays soccer or resting your gaze on him for a little too long during an otherwise boring lecture. You finally got the chance to talk to him for the first time no earlier than yesterday, but only after making sure there’s enough alcohol in your system to flirt with him shamelessly. 

“Maybe you should give me your number,” You’d said as you were getting ready to leave, batting your eyelashes up at him. “You know, just so I don’t forget who to call when I need someone to change a lightbulb in my apartment.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason?” He’d asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement and handing you your phone back, this time with his number in it.

“Of course I am,” You responded, mimicking his facial expression. “We should take a picture together, too.”

“Why? So you won’t forget my face?”

You smiled at his playful tone – or maybe simply at the sound of his voice. “No. So that you won’t forget mine.”

He chuckled – a sound you still haven’t forgotten even though you were drunk as hell when hearing it – and let you click a few photos, putting his arm around your shoulder as if he really was your boyfriend. And then, when you were looking through the pictures, you felt his eyes on you again – this time different from when you were talking earlier, more intense somehow. Meeting that gaze of his, you were almost worried your knees would give out from underneath you, but someway, you managed to stand on your feet long enough for you to see his lips forming into a small, yet sincere smile and for his arm to leave your shoulder, instead caressing your cheek.

For a moment, you were certain he was going to kiss you – with the way he was leaning forwards slowly, stroking your skin and making your heart beat faster than ever before. And just when you thought he was going to connect his lips to yours, he placed them dangerously close to your jaw instead, his voice low and distracting in your ear.

“I wouldn’t be able to forget such a pretty face even if I wanted to, sweetheart.”

Blame it on the alcohol, but his words quite literally made you go insane and you went home with a giddy smile on your face, happy with how things were going. Now, though, you're putting all of that at risk. 

Honestly, it's kind of your own fault. If you hadn’t decided to have a photoshoot with him while in your drunken state, you wouldn’t have ended up in this situation, with your phone clutched tightly in your hand, ah’s and oh’s leaving the mouths of your so-called friends as they look at the picture you’re showing them. A picture of you and Kim Mingyu, someone who is definitely not your boyfriend. 

“Your boyfriend’s really handsome, Y/N, I’m so jealous!”

Oh, God. This is truly the worst possible outcome of this whole situation, isn’t it? How does one go from finally piquing a handsome guy’s interest to lying about being in a relationship with him in less than 24 hours? 

“Oh, and by the way, Y/N, me and Karina are planning to go to her boyfriend’s soccer game this weekend. You and your boyfriend should come, too.”

You're thrown off guard by your colleague's question – they've never really invited you to things like that before. Guess you're much more interesting now that you have a tall, kind and handsome boyfriend. Correction: now that you're pretending to have a tall, kind and handsome boyfriend. Your friend is looking at you like she wants you to say no – even she is well aware that you're in a screwed-up position right now – but if you tell them you can't make it, you know that you'll be giving Karina exactly what she wants. And there's no way you're going to let her find out about this lie.

“Oh my god, really? We’d love to,” You say, mustering up a smile that turns real when you see the way Karina’s jaw is clenching. 

“See you on Saturday, then.”

—

Okay, so it did feel amazing to see the look on Karina’s face when you told her you have a boyfriend, but you didn’t exactly think it through when you agreed to bring him to the soccer game on Saturday. Because that means that now, you can’t keep this a secret from Mingyu anymore – you have to ask him to get involved. Which is why already an hour after you leave the cafe with your colleagues, you’re calling Kim Mingyu, asking him if he has ten minutes to spare.

“It’s urgent,” You practically beg him on the phone. 

“You missed me that much?” You can almost hear the smirk that’s planted onto his face, and it makes your heart skip a beat in your chest. Only once, though, before you realize you’re probably going to lose all chances of dating him soon enough. “Alright, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

And so here you are – sitting by a small table outside of a cafe, right across from Kim Mingyu. You're kind of just staring at him, stalling, because you're not sure how to tell him why you asked him to come. To your defense, it is a little embarrassing that you're here to ask him to be your fake boyfriend for a day. Much to your surprise, he's not saying anything, either, his eyes on you as you sit in silence. You can't really tell from his gaze whether he's amused or annoyed, but when the waiter brings you your drinks and you hand him his coffee, there is a small smile tugging at his lips and he tilts his head to the side. He's probably expecting you to speak now. 

So you clear your throat and open your mouth, ready to tell him everything. Only you never get that far, because suddenly he's the one speaking.

“You’re different today.”

“What?” You ask, dumbfounded. 

“You’re different than yesterday,” He says, smiling softly – as if more to himself than to you. “More nervous.”

Yeah, that's because there's no alcohol in my system, and you're ridiculously handsome, dumbass, you want to say. 

“I’m not nervous,” You say instead.

“Really? You look nervous,” He grins wider, pointing at the way you're fiddling with the rings on your fingers. Hearing him point it out, you stop immediately. Seeing your reaction, he adds: “Don’t worry, it's cute.”

And a wink. He’s winking at you. You hate him. So much. You hate him, and his stupid flirting, and his stupid smile, because right now, you're trying to ask him for a favour, and here he is, making you feel like there are thousands of butterflies swarming in your stomach. And you can't even look him in the eye, because you're sure that if you did, he would be able to see right through you and how you feel like you're about to faint. But then again, you can’t exactly blame him when you’re the one who told everyone he was your boyfriend.

“Um, okay, so either way,” You start, voice already trembling. “What I wanted to say is that I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend and go to a soccer game with me this weekend.”

As expected, Mingyu’s initial reaction is a very shocked ‘can you repeat that, please?’ and when you do, he raises his eyebrows, opening his mouth to say something. But you don’t let him, because you’re already utterly embarrassed and you just want to get this over with as fast as possible. So you let the words stream out of your mouth, and you explain everything – from how annoying Karina is to how truly sorry you are for dragging him into this whole mess. 

“And I’m really, really sorry, but it’s just like I can’t tell them it was a lie, because they’ll totally-”

You’re babbling and babbling, looking everywhere but Mingyu’s eyes as he interrupts you.

“Okay.”

Your head tilts upwards to look at him instinctively and you’re met with the sight of him resting his chin on his hand, his pearly teeth on display as he grins. “What?”

“Okay, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“You’ll…”

“I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend so that your friends won’t find out you lied,” He repeats, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, before he leans closer to you over the table – an act that makes you pull back with heat rising to your cheeks. “But only on one condition. You have to pay for my meals for as long as we’re dating.”

“Fake dating,” You clear your throat and correct him as he leans back in his chair again, and he only smiles in response, which your heart apparently takes as a sign to start beating like crazy. Why the fuck is his smile so alluring? God really does have his favorites, doesn’t he? If he’s going to keep looking at you like that, this whole fake-dating might end pretty quickly with a heart failure. “Yeah, okay, I suppose that’s fair, since I only need you as my boyfriend until this Saturday.”

“Only until this Saturday?” He pouts and a smile creeps onto your features, despite your attempts at holding it back. “Alright, then, I’ll see you around, Y/N.” 

And he walks off, leaving you feeling a little too excited for someone who needs to pretend they’re dating Kim Mingyu.

—

Soccer. You know absolutely nothing about it, despite having ‘accidentally’ lost your way to the dorm and walked past the soccer field to watch Mingyu play countless times before. That’s why you tried doing research this morning – only that you were so uninterested that all you managed to memorize was that there are 11 players on each team. Way to go, Y/N. Now you’ll definitely impress Mingyu and fool everyone into thinking you’re dating someone who plays soccer. 

“You okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” You say as you see Mingyu’s worried expression. He's really cute when he's looking at you like that – like he cares for real, not just pretend. And that's probably what possesses you to tell him, of all people, why you're nervous. “Just a little stressed, because I know absolutely nothing about soccer, and I’m scared our relationship won’t seem believable.”

Why did you just say that? You literally wanted to impress him by pretending to be a soccer expert and now, you're straight up telling him you're clueless? Wow, you are doing a great job at making this whole thing more awkward than it already is.

“Why wouldn’t it?” Mingyu doesn't seem to mind what you told him though, looking more confused than annoyed. “Look, I’ve been watching my teacher explain algebra over and over again, but that doesn’t mean I get it.”

His words have you snorting with laughter and you can see his shoulders loosen up as he smiles. The look he's giving you is making something turn in your stomach – two days ago, you hadn't talked to him before, and suddenly, he's gazing at you as if you're the most interesting thing in the world. Is this how he gets all the girls to fall for him? If so, you totally understand them. 

“Besides, you don’t need to like all the things I like for me to like you.”

Okay, um, he didn't need to say it like that. You can't stop your head from whipping around to look at him again, heart beating quicker and quicker, so loudly you fear he might hear it. It's like everything is in slow motion – your body's burning up and he's smiling, unaware of how affected you are by what he said. And he looks stunning, with his hair falling onto his forehead, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket and a cap on his head. You hate caps. They're ugly and are only worn by middle schoolers. But Mingyu wears one, and somehow, it only makes your heart beat harder against your chest. 

You chuckle nervously to hide your flustered state, hoping to god you didn't stare at him in silence for too long. “Right, uh, we should get to our seats maybe.”

“Sure,” He smiles again (maybe they should ban smiling from now on, it's proven to cause heart palpitations) and puts his arm around your shoulders. Upon seeing your caught off guard expression, he adds: “We’re dating, remember?”

It's not like he's letting you forget, though. 

The seats Karina reserved are somewhere in the back, but since the stadium is huge and the seats are high up, you can pretty much see everything without much trouble. This is something Mingyu notices right away, completely discarding the idea of introducing himself first in order to praise your colleagues for their seat choice.

“Wow, these seats are great,” He says, gaining everyone's attention. From the corner of your eye, you can glimpse the way some of your friends’ mouths drop open. “Whoever picked them out must know their stuff.”

You can see the way Karina's face lights up at Mingyu’s words and it makes you want to throw up. Not only because she's getting on your nerves, but also because you feel a sting in your chest at the fact that Mingyu praised her. You have no right to feel that way – you're not dating him for real, after all – but it hurts just a little bit after what he said earlier. ‘Besides, you don’t need to like all the things I like for me to like you’. What a load of bullshit. 

“Aww, thank you,” You'd almost forgotten how fake her overly sweet voice sounds. “You must be Y/N’s boyfriend. I'm Karina, her friend since high school.”

Friend is a bit of an overstatement, for sure. All the two of you had in common in high school was crushing on the same guy. Which is, by the way, the guy who’s sitting next to Karina right now, fingers interlaced with hers. Seungcheol – someone you wasted three years of your life obsessing over, only for him to end up with Karina in the end. And you don’t realize how much of a grudge you still hold against him for choosing her over you before Mingyu finishes introducing himself, and it’s Seungcheol’s turn to smile in your direction. 

“Nice to finally meet you, I’m Seungcheol,” He tells your fake boyfriend, before his eyes land on your frame and you feel yourself tense up. “Hey, Y/N, long time no see.”

“Yeah, I guess,” You say with a forced smile, unwillingly taking a step back when he leans forward and holding your breath until you realize he’s just going to shake Mingyu’s hand. Sighing in relief as he sits back down, you silently curse yourself for acting so nervous around him. Still, you can’t help the way it’s like a blunt knife boring into your chest when you lock eyes with the man who cut off all contact with you the moment he met Karina. 

Lost in thought, you almost miss the way Mingyu’s grip tightens on your shoulders. Almost. 

You turn to send him an inquiring look, but he either doesn’t notice or he just brushes it off, and takes you to your assigned seats. He plops down between you and Seungcheol – deliberately or not, you don’t know, but it sure makes you feel more at ease and you relax in his grip. That’s when you realize he still hasn’t let go of your shoulders, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. There’s still space between your bodies, but his knee is brushing over yours and you can smell his cologne clearly. It’s expensive, probably, but it’s not a strong or bold scent. Still, it’s a distinctive aroma – you’ve never smelt it before and yet, you’d have no problem recognizing it after today. 

The soccer game is boring, to say the least. You find yourself almost drifting off to sleep multiple times, and each time, you remind yourself that you’re sitting next to Kim Mingyu and he’ll most definitely be disgusted if you fall asleep and drool onto his shoulder. But even though you stay awake, you give up on watching the game about halfway, opting for looking at Mingyu instead. 

He’s much more entertaining than some random people kicking a ball, anyway. Besides, his expressions pretty much mirror the whole game. You can tell when his favorite team scores a goal by the way he grins from ear to ear, laughing to himself, and you can tell when a good player misses, because he scrunches his nose up and has this disappointed look in his eyes. That disappointment is so bleak that it has you thinking that whoever does something to make him look at them like that is just, plainly put, a bad person. Silently, you hope he’ll never look at you that way.

“You’re quite invested in this game,” You lean over to Mingyu, raising your voice a little so that he’ll hear you through the noise of cheering people.

“Well, of course I am,” He tears his gaze away from the game to look at you, but only for a moment, before he’s watching the players run across the field with excitement-filled eyes. “This game determines who gets to play in the finale.”

“Ah, I see,” You say and Mingyu doesn’t miss how you smile to yourself, lowering your head as you push your hair away from your face. It’s to no avail, though, because it keeps falling down anyway. He smiles to himself, too, at the scene, but looks away before your eyes can meet, seemingly focused on the game again. 

By the time the soccer game is finished, you’re pretty much bored to death – especially since for the past ten minutes, Mingyu has only been talking to Karina and her boyfriend. And for some reason, that makes you really mad. What can they say that’s so interesting? Maybe he should pretend to be Karina’s boyfriend instead, if he likes her so goddamn much. No, Y/N, what the hell? Fake dating has nothing to do with liking. It’s not like Mingyu is here because he likes you. No, he’s pretending to be your boyfriend, because… because, well, because you begged him to. And because you’re paying for his meals.

Still, it kind of angers you that Mingyu has the decency to smile like that at other people than you – since you’ve already been more exposed to heart problems because of that smile, shouldn’t it be reserved for only you? 

“I’m leaving,” You tell them, eager to get home and still caught up in that sense of betrayal – something you don’t really have a right to feel in this situation. But it’s not like you can control your emotions. “Bye.”

Locking eyes with Mingyu for a moment, you sigh before turning around to leave just as your colleagues eagerly say something you can’t quite pick up to your so-called boyfriend. You hear their goodbyes faintly in the background as you start walking down the stairs to the exit, starting to feel a little stupid for just walking away like that – if you didn’t, you could have left together with Mingyu. But he doesn’t seem to mind staying and talking to Karina, so why should you care? You’re starting to think he only agreed to fake date you because of this. 

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!” You hear a voice that undoubtedly belongs to none other than Kim Mingyu and it has you smiling before you can even turn around. God, you’re really starting to feel like those butterflies swarming in your stomach aren’t just from you being nervous about lying to your colleagues. 

You’re feeling so giddy that you don’t really look where you’re putting your feet as you turn around, which results in your foot slipping off of the stair step and you fall onto the stairs with a wince that leaves your mouth in response to the sharp pain that cruises through your ankle. You want to cry out for Mingyu, but before you can even gather your thoughts enough to do that, he’s already by your side, his dark eyes open wide as they scan your face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, but before you get to reply, his hands cup your face, squishing your cheeks together as he tilts your head to one side, then the other, studying you intently enough for heat to rise to your face. Jeez, why are you thinking about the fact that he’s touching you when you literally just fell down the stairs? You seriously need to get your shit together. 

“You’re not,” He decides finally, reaching out to wrap his arms around your waist, and you look up at him in disbelief, prompting him to add: “I’ll carry you.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer or anything, just lifts you up with one arm under your knees and the other under your back like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You think you can hear Karina shout something in the background, but you’re not sure, easily distracted by the feeling of warmth radiating off his body that is now closer to you than it’s been ever before. He’s just your fake boyfriend, but that doesn’t make the loud beating of your heart any less real from where you’re looking up at his focused face, thinking about whether he’s also feeling that small spark of electricity in his body when he touches you. 

“But I think I can walk, though,” You mumble against his shoulder, and mentally curse yourself for feeling your heart speed up when he looks down on you, his nose less than two centimeters from your own. His breath lands on your face, at which you turn away from him, just to calm your racing heart a little bit. 

“Why would you walk when I can carry you?” 

His tone is genuinely confused and you start to think that he must be completely oblivious to the many feelings that stir up inside of you when he starts walking through the alley leading back to the dorms. Words like that are enough to make someone fall in love and yet, he's just saying them like it's something obvious – like it's obvious that since you've hurt your ankle, he has to carry you back home. Even though you can walk. Even though you could take a cab. Even though he's not your boyfriend. 

He continues walking like nothing happened – because, as you've finally figured out, he probably doesn't think anything did happen – and you keep your head on his shoulder, feeling pretty miserable as you smell the scent of his shampoo clearly. You’re almost by the dorms when he suddenly stops, putting you down on a bench and telling you he’ll be right back before disappearing into some store, which you soon understand is a pharmacy. 

“I’ll pay you back,” You tell him the minute he walks out of the store with an elastic bandage in his hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” He says softly, but you wish he didn’t. Can’t he just let you win this one time? It’s like, every time you see him, he proves that he not only doesn’t have any flaws, but also that he has a lot of qualities you didn’t know about before. But what if you don’t want to know about them? It’s enough that he’s making your heart flutter when he’s pretending to be your boyfriend, but now nobody is watching, so why is he like this? Does he want you to fall in love with him?

If he continues acting like this, you fear that might actually happen.

You watch quietly as he kneels down and helps you take off your shoe, wrapping the bandage around it as if he’s done it a million times before. And you don’t say anything, afraid that if you do, you’ll start crying. Not because it hurts when he touches your ankle, but because he looks absolutely beautiful, face illuminated by the setting sun. You’ve seen him play soccer so many times, and each time, you’ve internally screamed about how hot he looked, but this is different. This time, you can’t take your eyes off of him – his brows furrowed in concentration, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. It’s all so humane, and yet so captivating to watch.

Before you can even stop yourself, your hand is alreading coming up to Mingyu’s face and pushing his bangs away from his face, and it’s not before he looks up that you freeze with your fingers touching his cheek, realizing what you just did.

“Your hair,” You blurt out, immediately pulling your hand back and feeling your body grow hot when you lock eyes with him. “It was in your eyes, so I just… sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He tilts his head to the side, and you look down, pushing your own hair out of your face. 

You don’t answer his question – what are you supposed to say? Not even you know why you apologized. Wait, no, you do know. Because you feel like you’re treating something fake as if it’s real. But isn’t that exactly what he’s doing, too? He’s talking to you like he enjoys it, putting a bandage onto your ankle and worrying about whether or not you are hurt. And none of it seems fake when he does it. Oh, you’re definitely going crazy. Good thing this whole arrangement is over now. 

Right. It’s over. With all the stuff that has been going on, you totally forgot that your deal ended right after the soccer game. There’s no reason for you to see Kim Mingyu ever again. You can just cleanse your mind completely, starting tomorrow. 

“Don’t you have any hair ties?”

Mingyu’s voice makes you look up in confusion, only to see him sitting right next to you on the bench. “Sorry?”

“Your hair keeps falling into your face, too,” He points out. “You should put it up.”

“Oh, I don’t really like putting my hair up,”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… I feel like it looks bad on me.”

You feel his gaze on you again, lips pushed in a pout and he looks at you like he’s examining a soccer game. Which partly makes you feel uneasy, but mostly, you’ve grown to enjoy being the center of his attention. Which is dumb. Because he’s just talking to you since you promised to pay for his meals. 

“That makes no sense,” He decides finally with a smile. “It’s common knowledge that if you have a pretty face, you should put it on display for everyone to see, you know.” 

“What kind of bullshit is that?” You scoff, feeling something turn in your stomach. Pretty face. He’s evil for saying it, but you’re the one at fault for feeling like you’re about to float into the air at his words. 

“It’s not bullshit,” He protests. “But it made you smile, so you can think whatever you want. As long as you stop walking around grumpy, because it’s making me feel uneasy.”

“Why is it making you feel uneasy?”

“Because I prefer it when you smile,” He grins, before standing up from the bench. “Come on, we should get going. It’s dark already.” 

One look to the sky is enough to make you realize that it is, in fact, already dark, so you grab Mingyu’s outstretched hand and you let him pick you up, this time placing you on his back instead. You wrap your legs around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder – justifying it by saying that it’s the last time you can enjoy being this close to him. Which is true, but it still doesn’t justify how you’re drinking in his scent and the sound of his breath as if you’re trying to memorize it.

“Are you sure you can carry me all the way to campus?” 

“Yes, of course,” He says before bringing one arm up to flex his biceps. “I’m a strong boy.”

You chuckle at his antics, taking the opportunity to bury your head in his neck, feeling how goosebumps spread all over his skin when your nose brushes over it. “You’ve been a good fake boyfriend, you know. Thank you for doing this.”

“What?” You hear Mingyu’s confused tone. “Oh, right, I forgot to tell you. Karina asked if you and I wanted to join them for bowling tomorrow.”

You sigh. “And what did you tell her?”

“That we would come,” He says and upon seeing your expression, he’s quick to add: “I mean, what else was I supposed to say? That we’re planning on breaking up tomorrow?”

You sigh miserably, knowing that he’s right. It’s not like he could say anything else. 

“Are you mad?” He asks after a while, and you ponder for a bit on that question.

Are you mad? Yeah, you are. But after some thought, you realize you’re not mad that you’re going bowling or that you have to keep pretending that Mingyu is your boyfriend – you’re mad because this means you no longer have an excuse for the way you feel happy in his company, or the way you’re tightly holding onto his shoulders right now. Because it’s not the last time you get to hear his voice, to feel his touch, to see his face, and yet you’re looking at him as if it is. And you have a feeling you’re starting to figure out exactly why that is.

“No,” You reply finally. “Just tired.”

Yeah. Sleep will fix everything. It has to.

—

Sleep doesn’t fix anything at all.

If anything, it makes everything worse, because you dream about Mingyu and his godforsaken smile that he bestows upon you right before he leans down to press his lips to yours. And that’s when you wake up, feeling more miserable than ever. Now you’re really starting to wonder why the fuck you thought it was a good idea to start fake-dating your crush. 

God, Y/N, get your shit together. Are you really so weak that you can’t spend two hours in Mingyu’s presence before you start dreaming about him? In all honesty, though, it’s not your fault that he looks so pretty when he smiles. And when he doesn’t. 

“Shut the fuck up,” You mumble to yourself as you get up. 

Today is going to be a long day.

“Where are the others?” Is the first thing you ask Mingyu when you arrive at the bowling center, where he’s sitting alone on a chair by the bowling track. Your only solace when you thought about meeting Mingyu again and having to deal with his painfully handsome face, was that the two of you wouldn’t be alone, and yet somehow, you’re the two first to arrive.

“Not here yet,” He says, looking up from his phone and pushing his hair back to look at you. “You walked all the way here?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You shouldn’t be walking long distances when your ankle is hurt,” He points out and you press your lips together into a thin line – it’s 1pm and he’s already making your insides turn to mush. Great. “Sit down at least, if you’re gonna be so stubborn.”

You nod and do as you’re told, looking everywhere but at Mingyu. Maybe if you don’t look at his face, you can stop this stupid crush from turning into something worse. It’s naive, but it’s better than having your heart flutter at the smallest of things. Like when he ran his fingers through his hair earlier – why the hell did you get goosebumps from that? You must be out of your mind. 

“Do I make you feel uncomfortable or something?” Mingyu asks suddenly, and it makes you really feel bad for acting like that. It’s not like he’s making you feel like this on purpose. “It’s like you don’t want to look at me.”

Oh, you do want to look at him. You just know better than to hurt yourself like that.

You sigh and turn to him, resting your chin on your hand. “Is this better?”

“Much better,” He smiles cheerfully in return. 

“You’re so full of yourself.” 

And rightfully so, you think to yourself as he giggles softly, before opening up a bottle of water and putting it up to his lips. You’re wishing you never turned to look at him again, because the way the sleeves of his shirt have rolled up to reveal his arms should be illegal. You can see the way his muscles flex as he opens the bottle, the way his jaw and neck are on display when he tilts his head backwards to drink. The way his soft lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle has your mind reeling with images of him kissing you like that, and since the vision is making your whole body heat up, you turn your eyes away, searching for something else to focus on.

You find that ‘something’ on the table in front of you – there’s another bottle of water there and you decide it’s a good distraction, so you reach for it. Everything goes well until you’ve tried to open it three times and the cork doesn’t even move an inch. What the fuck?

“You need help with that?”

Mingyu’s looking at you with a hint of amusement in his eyes, hands already taking the bottle from you without waiting for a proper answer. You give up on protesting and silently sit back, watching the veins on his hand become more apparent as he opens the bottle with ease, before handing it back to you with a satisfied grin on his face. It’s obvious in the way he’s looking at you that opening the bottle for you boosted his ego, and it makes you roll your eyes.

“You don’t have to look so happy, you self-obsessed idiot.”

“Who are you calling self-obsessed?” He pouts, suddenly leaning forward and pinching your cheeks – something that makes your heart beating stop for a good five seconds. “I just wanted to help my cute baby out.”

“I’m not your–”

“Oh my god, you two are so freaking cute!” You’re interrupted by a voice that undoubtedly belongs to one of your colleagues who just walked in, Karina and Seungchoel in tow. Taking it as a sign, you pull away from Mingyu, feeling your heart beat so hard that you’re scared it’s going to beat out of your chest. What the hell just happened? “Sorry we’re late, we missed the bus.”

The fact that you’re not alone with Mingy anymore allows you to pull yourself together a bit, and you’re happy to see that he’s leading the conversation without asking you for any input. Soon enough, Karina wants to start bowling, and you’re divided into three groups – Karina with her boyfriend, Mingyu with you, and your two other colleagues with each other. You’ve never bowled before, which makes you extremely nervous – maybe the fact that Mingyu is watching you plays a part in that, too – and as expected, you totally miss the bowling skittles when you let go of the ball. 

You can hear Karina giggle in the background, which makes you sit down, discouraged. Plopping down next to Mingu, you don’t really pay attention to who’s playing, more focused on counting down the time until you can go home, already tired of all this. You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you almost don’t notice Mingyu’s hand that he rests on your upper thigh. Almost. In an instant, you’re turning to look at him in disbelief, but it’s a bad idea, because he was leaning towards you, too, to whisper something in your ear. 

You freeze in your seat, and so does he, the rest of the world suddenly drowned out. The only sound hitting your ears is his breath, and it’s like everything is moving in slow motion – his dark brown eyes staring into yours, large hand brushing over the skin on your thigh, his skin flushing a delicate shade of pink. You can barely register your own nervousness as you look at his lips – usually turned up in a smile, but right now they’re slightly parted, no trace of cockiness to be seen anywhere. Is it bad that you really want him to kiss you right now? It is, and it’s even worse that you can’t even deny it anymore. 

You should pull away, look away, do something – anything. But you can’t. You’re just looking into his eyes like there’s no one else in the room, letting that warm feeling that stirs up inside of your chest grow. 

“What I wanted to say was that you don’t have to get upset over what Karina says or does,” Mingyu finally whispers, licking his lips and clearing his throat as he breaks eye contact. “Her opinion doesn’t matter.”

You nod slowly, wondering why he looked away – is he nervous, like you? Kim Mingyu and ‘nervous’ are words that you’d never place together in a sentence, but now, he really seems a little hesitant, or maybe even shy. You don’t know. Oh, why is he always so hard to figure out? First, he’s flexing his muscles at you and calling you his baby, and then he’s looking away when you lock eyes with him? His middle name should be ‘mixed signals’ at this point.

“Mingyu, it’s your turn.” It’s Seungcheol’s voice that forces you to turn your attention elsewhere, and you’re half-relieved, half-angry as you watch Mingyu rise up from his seat and take the bowling ball into his hands. Your thigh feels kind of cold without his hand resting on it.

As expected, Mingyu is really good at bowling – just as he is good at everything else – and it seems that his usual mood is back, because before he throws the ball, he’s lifting it up with one arm to show everyone how strong he is, and sending you a wink. It’s just for show, but it still sends a spark of electricity through your body. Though that still doesn’t compare to the way you’re basically drooling over him as he bowles. Hey, it’s not your fault that he looks fucking hot in that black shirt that folds up just enough to reveal a centimetre or two of his abs as he jumps up in thriumph. 

What catches your attention, though, is how you’re not the only one shamelessly staring at Mingyu – Karina seems to be just as drawn to him, looking at him as if he’s her next meal or something. What the hell? You’d think that since she’s got a boyfriend, she’d stay away from someone she thinks is your boyfriend. Once a bitch, always a bitch, you think to yourself as you see her smile flirtatiously at Mingyu when he looks at her for a moment. Okay, that’s enough. 

You stand up, pretty much making all of your colleagues look at you with furrowed brows and walk up to Mingyu just as he’s about to pick up another ball. Surprising both him and yourself with your actions, you grab ahold of his arm, pulling him closer to you. 

“We should get going,” You say to everyone, throwing a fake smile Karina’s way before you stomp out of the bowling center, dragging a very confused Mingyu with you.

Once you’ve stepped outside and gotten a breath of fresh air, it dawns on you that your fingers are still wrapped around Mingyu’s biceps – as wrapped around as they can be, anyway, because for them to fit all the way around his arm, your fingers would have to be like five times longer. You retract your hand as you realize you’re touching him, not even sparing him a glance when you start walking home. Maybe it’s because you feel embarrassed for dragging him away like that, or maybe you don’t want him to see how upset you are, but you figure it’s best if you walk away from him. 

“Hey!” You hear his voice, and not even two seconds later, his fingers are closing around your wrist, forcing you to stop walking. “You okay? What was that about?”

And that’s it for not having this conversation right now, you suppose. You turn around to face him, sighing. 

“Did you really not see how Karina was looking at you?” You ask him and when he furrows his brows in confusion, you groan. “She was totally staring at you for twenty minutes, at least. Like she wanted to eat you or something. Did you really not notice?”

“No,” He shakes his head.

“Wow, you really are ignorant,” You laugh bitterly. Great, so he's probably not even aware that his actions can make someone's heart beat faster, or that the things he does make him seem like he's interested in you. “You’re seriously so unaware of everything.” 

“Well, I’m aware that you’re jealous.”

“Excuse me?” You blink in surprise and he just flashes you a grin before starting to walk down the sidewalk. Does he really not realize he's making you want to rip your hair out? Or maybe he does, and he's just preying on your downfall. Either way, you conclude that you should get rid of him as soon as possible. “Mingyu, wait, you're walking too fast.”

Oh, well. Maybe you're not as strong-willed as you thought.

“It’s not my fault your legs are so short,” He says, but waits for you nevertheless, and adjusts his pace so that he's walking next to you. His hands are in his pockets, a smile on his face and the way his muscles are illuminated by the sunlight has you fighting for your life. “You’re small and cute, though, so I'll forgive you.”

“Do you have a size kink or something?” 

You regret saying that as soon as the words leave your mouth, because now you're not only flustered from when he called you cute, but your mind is also reeling with the thought of him being turned on by you being smaller than him. Which is absolutely wrong of you to think about, since you're not even in a real relationship with the guy. So why are you suddenly feeling a little faint when you look at his strong arms and hands big enough to cover your whole face? And why are you dying to feel them on you?

He's about to reply to your question, when suddenly, you can see his eyes fan to something behind you, and soon enough those arms you were drooling over are grabbing you by your shoulders and he's practically throwing you to the other side of the sidewalk. It's because a car was driving close to the pavement, you realize, and it's such a touching gesture that it makes your heart beat quicker. But you can't even focus on that for too long, because soon enough, you're thinking about the way he basically manhandled you and how badly you want him to do it again. 

Oh. My. Fucking. God. What is wrong with you, Y/N? He's just being a kind person and you're not only developing a crush on him, no, now you're also thinking about fucking him. Talk about the worst fake-dating experience ever.

“Doesn’t he know how to drive or what?” You hear Mingyu mumble and it takes you a second to realize what he's talking about, and another to realize you're staring. Hopefully he didn't notice. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Of course he noticed. 

“Like what?” You decide to play dumb and start walking again. 

“Like that,” He emphasizes. “Like you want to eat me or something.”

He's just teasing you, you realize as soon as he repeats what you'd said earlier about Karina. He probably doesn't even realize just how right he is. And he doesn't need to realize it, either, you think to yourself as you roll your eyes at him to hide your nervousness. Or maybe there's a chance he feels like that, too? He did push you aside so he was the one walking on the dangerous side of the pavement, after all. And he put his hand on your thigh. And smiled at you. And looked at you as if you were the only girl in the world. And–

No. You need to stop doing that to yourself. He's your fake boyfriend, he needs to do these things. But most of these occurrences happened when the two of you were alone.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Mingyu asks suddenly and you whip your head around to look at him.

“Studying for my math exam at the library with Wonwoo. Why? Did Karina ask for us to go somewhere with her again?”

“No. Why with Wonwoo, though?” 

“Because he’s good at math?” You say, eyeing his clenched jaw cautiously. “Why’re you asking?”

“No reason.”

And then he just walks in silence. Why is he suddenly so quiet? Is he jealous? Is it bad that you hope he is? Probably. But you can't help it. You’re so caught up in imagining a jealous Mingyu that you don’t even realize you’ve arrived at campus before you see the school fountain right in front of you, and the university building behind it. It’s still quite early, and the sun lights up the flower-filled grass in a way that makes it look really magical. You smile to yourself at the sight, and turn to look at Mingyu, but he’s nowhere to be seen. For a second, your smile drops, before you feel a hand on your shoulder and Mingyu’s face is smiling down on you, a small, yellow flower in his hand. He must’ve picked it just now. 

“Boo,” He says softly, and it’s like he casts some sort of spell over you, because suddenly, you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, even as his hot breath fans over your face and spreads goosebumps all across your skin. 

“It’s pretty,” You tell him. It’s about the flower, you think to yourself, but it’s really not.

A second passes. Then two. He doesn’t move. He’s just looking at you, his eyes fan over your lips, your nose, then they stare into yours. Deeply. Warmly. Ardently. You don’t want to look away, so you don’t. And neither does he. Six seconds. Seven. He leans in – you can hear him breathe. Or maybe it’s the sound of your own breath? It’s all mixed now, intertwined. Eight, nine, ten. His hand touches your jaw. It burns, but in the best way possible. You don’t want this to end. Fifteen seconds have passed. His fingers tuck something behind your ear. The flower. It’s the flower. Eighteen. Nineteen. A smile that makes you melt.

“Yeah,” He whispers, finger grazing your cheek before he pulls away. “Really pretty.”

And then it’s just complete silence, except for the sound of your heart loudly banging against your chest. Boom. Boom. Boom. You’re in love. 

—

You’ve always felt perfectly content with having a silent, one-sided crush on Kim Mingyu, but now that you’ve gotten a taste of who he is, it’s hard not to wish for something more. Even though you know it’s not going to happen. 

That's what you're thinking about the next day as you sit in the library with Wonwoo, a math book full of things you don't understand in front of you. You've been sitting like this for an hour, and Wonwoo has already filled three pages in his notebook with math assignments, while yours remain empty. Mingyu has been occupying your mind ever since you parted ways yesterday, the way he put the flower in your hair playing on repeat in your thoughts. 

The flower. Oh, you must be crazy, but you could swear that you saw a hint of emotion in his eyes as he looked at you, something that sparked up a hope that you might just have a chance with him. Maybe he has feelings for you, too.

Just as you're thinking about that, your phone buzzes with a message and you pick it up instantly in hopes that it's Mingyu. It's not. 

Hi would u and Mingyu like to come along on a trip w me and Cheol this weekend? We’re going to the seaside resort :)

“Of course you're going to the fucking seaside resort,” You mutter under your breath, catching Wonwoo’s attention.

“What was that?” When you shake your head, he sends you a smile and doesn't press any further. For some reason, that makes you feel out of place. He's so different from Mingyu, who would've definitely investigated you by now. You find yourself missing that, missing him, even though you shouldn't. “Do you want to take a small break and go grab something to eat?”

“Yeah, sure,” You agree, because it'll definitely be good for you to stop focusing so much on Mingyu and the feelings you've developed for him. But right as you're done packing your things, the doors to the library are, to the librarian's dismay, thrown open with a thud and in walks the only person you know who wouldn't care (or know) that you're supposed to stay quiet in a place like this.

“Y/N!” Mingyu’s loud voice tears through the silence, and many students raise their heads to look at what the hell is going on. Some look utterly confused, with their mouths hanging open, and you suppose you look the same as you watch a man who last read a book in middle school walk into the library. “There you are. You guys done studying?”

“I– Uh, no,” You say, suddenly very nervous. “We were going to take a break and eat something. But what are you doing here? I thought you hated the library.”

“I still do, this place is awful,” He frowns for a moment, but not even a second later his signature smile is back on his face. “But I wanted to help you study.”

He what? That just sounds strange coming out of his mouth. Not to mention the way it makes butterflies go crazy in your stomach. One thing is Kim Mingyu flirting with you, and pretending to be your boyfriend – another is him suddenly offering to study in the library with you, even though you know he hates it. Especially since he doesn't have to. It's not like he has to pretend to be your boyfriend right now. 

“You… wanted to help her study?” It's Wonwoo that speaks up first, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Yeah, can't I do that?” Mingyu’s voice is soft, but his eyes that have settled on Wonwoo’s frame emit some kind of coldness that you’ve never seen in them before. Wonwoo seems to sense this, too, because his gaze fans to you and he smiles under his breath at Mingyu’s behavior. “We can go get food later, Y/N, let's finish studying first, okay?”

“But Wonwoo wanted to–”

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ll get food by myself,” Wonwoo says reassuringly and you can glimpse the way Mingyu’s shoulders loosen up as your friend picks up his bag. “I finished the homework earlier, and, to be honest, it doesn’t look like I’m wanted here.” 

And with a wink sent Mingyu’s way, he walks away, leaving you alone with the boy you’ve both been dying and dreading to see. His bangs are in his face – his hair is messy, his eyelids are drooping and his shirt is creased. He must’ve just gotten up from bed, which is such a Mingyu-thing to do, considering it’s already way past noon. Nobody sleeps that long. Nobody except him. Just like nobody except him can make you smile just by simply existing – just by standing next to you in sweatpants, with a can of Redbull in his hand. Looking way out of place, but staying anyway. 

“Hey,” You say it more like a question, but Mingyu doesn't seem to notice that as he sits down by the table where you and Wonwoo were studying earlier. 

“Hey,” He replies and takes a sip of his drink – which, by the way, he's not allowed to have at the library. Though you don’t suppose he cares, since his wide smile is back on his features again, like it never left. “You ready to study?”

You sit down on the chair to his right, feeling your lips spread in a small smile at the way Mingyu’s all up in your business again – even if it mean he’s making your stupid little crush even worse by just being close to you. That thought seems so distant, though, when you see him grin at you cutely despite the tiredness in his face. 

“I am,” You say, getting out your notebooks again. “But I have trouble believing you’re here to study.”

“You got me,” He raises his arms in resignation, flashing his teeth at you as he’s leaning back in his chair. “I’m just here to watch you study and be of moral support.” 

“Right,” You say, eyeing him cautiously. “I don’t think today’s your working day, though, fake boyfriend. It’s not like Karina can see us here.” 

“So?” 

‘So’? What the hell is that supposed to mean? One look at his face is enough to tell you he’s well aware that today, he doesn’t have to hang out with you. And yet he’s right here, in the library of all places, sitting next to you like it’s the most natural thing to do. Does that mean he genuinely likes to spend time with you? 

“So, you are free to leave,” You give him another chance, just in case he’s starting to realize his mistake, though if he left now, you’re not sure whether you wouldn’t just have started crying your eyes out.

“Do you want me to leave?”

He must be dumb for real, you think to yourself as you catch his softly curious gaze. There’s something in his eyes you can’t quite put a finger on – if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was feeling apprehensive to hear the answer. Which isn’t possible, obviously, because Mingyu doesn’t care what people think of him, and he certainly doesn’t give a shit if you tell him to leave. He’ll just find another girl to flash his smile at. Still, something in his gaze tells you not to joke around right now, so you speak your mind.

“No, I don’t,” You can’t help but mimic his actions when he grins and that weird look in his eyes disappears, but before he can start shouting, you add: “But that doesn’t mean you get to bother me while I work. I don’t want to hear a single word from you until I’m done with this assignment.”

“You’re so cruel,” He pouts but shuts up, picking up some random book from the nearby shelf and burying his nose in it. 

You sigh in content, turning your attention to your mathbook. Now you'll really get to work. 

You don’t really get to work, though. Thirty minutes have passed without a single equation being written down in your notebook and it’s all Mingyu’s fault. Technically, he’s not bothering you at all as you work, his eyes firmly planted in the book in his hands. And still, you can’t seem to concentrate at all when he’s sitting next to you, with his long fingers gently tapping the wooden table as his eyes fan over one page, then the other, and he’s bringing his hand up to turn to the next page. 

He doesn’t do any of this elegantly at all – truly, his grip on the page is way too rough, folding the paper each time he turns it over and his eyes keep fanning back up to a previous sentence he didn’t quite catch because he zoned out. It’s painfully obvious he hasn’t read a book willingly before in his life, and yet, somehow, he manages to look utterly beautiful while doing it. His whole existence is a threat to your sanity, you conclude, looking away. You can’t afford to have him notice your staring.

Not even ten minutes later, just as you’ve finally calmed yourself down enough to fill half a page of math problems (the only obstacle in your way being the hair that keeps falling into your face) this temporary peace of mind is torn away from you in an instant when you feel a featherlight touch on your neck, making your head snap up in surprise. 

There are goosebumps forming on your skin when your eyes meet Mingyu’s sheepish smile, his fingers caressing the back of your neck as he gathers your hair in his hands. For a moment, you can’t seem to form words, taken aback by this close proximity, your heartbeat loud in your ears. Then, slowly, you start breathing again. 

“What–”

“Shh,” He cuts you off, as if you didn’t just have to sit there regaining your breath just to ask him the question he’s not letting you ask. “Don’t get distracted. I’m just putting your hair up.”

Just. So this is, like, normal for him? He puts every girl’s hair up in a ponytail when hair falls in her face? That explains why he owns a hair tie. 

“Where did you get that hair tie?” You ask him, a little accusingly, as he finishes putting your hair up in a ponytail.

“At the store? That’s where they usually sell hair ties, you know.” 

“Yeah, but like, why do you have it? It’s not like you need it.”

“No, but you do,” Upon seeing your unconvinced expression, he sighs. “I saw it at the convenience store today, and it made me think of you and how your hair is always falling into your eyes because you won’t put it up, so I bought it. Now you have a hair tie and I get to hang out with you more because you can finish your assignment quicker. It’s a win-win situation, really.” 

For a second you’re left just blinking dumbly, feeling a little giddy for no reason at all. He bought it for you? He thought of you at the convenience store? Is this the part where you start jumping up and down, giggling? No, Y/N, calm down. It's not like he confessed his love for you, either. But you suppose it's close enough. 

“Idiot,” You tell him with a smile so big it makes your cheeks hurt. “Why would you waste your money on that?”

“It’s not a waste, it's a gift. Now finish your assignment, I'm getting bored.”

And as if to prove his point, he leans back in his chair with his eyes closed, resting his arms behind his head. There's nothing extraordinary about the action, and yet it makes something turn in your lower stomach when his shirt rides up a few centimeters to let you catch a glimpse of his abs. His biceps are on full display, too – flexed because of the position he's in, and big. There's no doubt he's spent some time in the gym and God, it shouldn't be legal to look this good because now you're imagining him working out, drenched in sweat and shirtless and it's absolutely not good for your health. 

“Oh, right,” You say to Mingyu, suddenly reminded of something. “Karina and Seungcheol want us to come with them to the seaside resort this weekend.”

“We should go, then,” Mingyu opens his eyes and rests his chin on his hand. “Right?”

“Probably,” You sigh. “It’s the whole weekend, though. Friday evening to Sunday morning. Two nights at the hotel. It seems a little redundant.”

“I don't mind. I don't have anything else to do, anyway.”

You raise your brows in suspicion. “Kim Mingyu doesn't have anything to do on a Friday night except spend time with his fake girlfriend at a seaside resort? I'm finding that a little hard to believe.”

“Yeah, okay, correction: I don't have anything else I'd rather do on a Friday night than spend time with my fake girlfriend at a seaside resort.”

In contrast to his usual playful smile, he's looking quite serious as he says that and you wonder if he means it. You read into the things he says a little too much, you know that, but it's not like it's completely baseless for you to think that he might like you. Oh, this is all so fucking complicated. Fake boyfriend, real boyfriend – where does one draw the line? He is only pretending to date you, so why do his smiles feel so genuine? Why does it feel real when he tells you you’re pretty? 

If he's only your fake boyfriend, why are you in love with him for real? 

“Great. I'll tell Karina we're coming, then.”

——

You are not going to let yourself be affected by Mingyu and his actions today. Not even in the slightest bit. You can’t afford to get your hopes up. Besides, staying indifferent can’t be that difficult, right? He’s not that interesting. His smile isn’t that alluring, either, if you really think about it – there’s nothing fascinating about the way his eyes turn upwards when he grins, pure elation radiating off of him. Nope, you don’t care about him and his stupid smile at all. That’s what you keep repeating in your mind on the way to the seaside resort, knowing damn well it must be the worst lie to have ever been told. 

It’s fine, it’s fine. Even if he does affect you and your heartbeat rate, you can still keep it a secret. You’ve been doing it for the past weeks, so why not this weekend, too? This weekend and you’re done – you and Mingyu part ways once and for all. Sure, you’ll feel miserable without seeing his smile, but it’ll pass after a week. Or seventeen years.

Shit. You’re so fucked. 

And you realize you’re even more fucked than you thought as you enter the hotel at which you’re supposed to be staying at, only to find Seuncheol and Karina already standing in the hallway. But they're not the reason you're fucked. No, the reason is standing next to them in a white, form-fitting shirt and his laugh echoing off the walls. 

Mingyu’s back is turned to you, but it brings you little relief, since you can clearly still see the outline of his back muscles through the thin material of his shirt. It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say he looks godly, and neither would it be an overstatement to say that, no matter how bad you try not to, you can’t help but literally devour him with your eyes from where you’re walking towards them slowly. Partly, you dread the moment they’ll notice you, because you’ll be forced to look not only at Mingyu’s exposed forearms but also his ridiculously handsome face. And even as you prepare yourself for the moment, you still find yourself feeling a little dizzy when Mingyu turns around to look at you.

“Y/N, you’re here,” He says, and the excitement laced in his voice is just a little too real for you to completely get rid of the idea that it’s not just pretend. “I missed your pretty face.”

He then proceeds to trap you in his arms, muffling out all sounds of Seungcheol and Karina laughing as he pulls you flush against his chest. You can’t breathe for a moment – not because his grip is too tight, but because you realize that fuck, you’re actually being hugged by Kim Mingyu right now and it feels way too comforting for your own good. The scent of his cologne hits your nose – it’s the same one he used at the football game, the same distinctive smell that officially belongs to him now – and the warmth of his skin actually works to calm down your heart a little. It’s a contrast to how you usually react to being close to him, but you don’t mind, because this feeling of solace brings you equally as much glee. 

“I missed you, too,” You mumble against his chest, and it’s not a lie at all. “But can you please let go of me? You’re crushing my ribs.” 

“Ah, right,” He chuckles, and when he lets go of you, the whole world falls back into place – reminding you why you’re here and that you’re not alone. “Sometimes I forget how small and cute you are.” 

You scoff in response, feeling your whole body heat up.

One would think you’d get used to these dumb comments after coming dangerously close to heart failure because of him more times than you can count the past weeks. But no, it still affects you all the same and makes your insides turn to mush, even if Karina and Seungcheol are standing right there, which means that his words are most likely just for show. 

It's the weekend, though, and you've been living in a constant state of overthinking the past week, so you don't suppose it's that much of a big deal if you sit back a little and let yourself feel happy when Mingyu shows you affection. It's inevitable, anyway, since you’re in love with the guy. In love. It sounds so serious when you put it like that. And one look at his smiling face reminds you that it is. 

“So,” Karina clears her throat, gaining your attention. “We should check into our rooms now, and then we can go for a walk and ice cream later?” 

Everyone agrees, and so you head to the reception desk in pairs – Karina holding Seuncheol’s hand, and you with Mingyu next to you, your shoulders just barely touching. You get the keys to your room and thank the lady – Mingyu does so with a wide grin that probably just made that woman’s day much better – before you start heading upstairs. There’s only one problem, though – you’ve brought three bags along and now that your uber isn’t helping you carry them, you feel like you’re about to faint from taking three steps with them in your hands – not to mention you have to walk up the stairs with them. 

“I’ll carry those for you,” You hear Mingyu’s voice, and before you can utter a word, he’s taking the bags from you with a smirk. “I’m your strong boyfriend, after all.”

You can’t even bring yourself to protest as he starts walking up the stairs with your and his bags, muscles flexed. Your eyes must linger on his arms a little too long, because soon enough, he’s sending you a shit-eating grin and lifting your bags up and down like they’re weights at the gym. It’s a joke – he’s teasing you – and yet it’s making you feel all hot and bothered. God, you must be crazy. Half-embarrassed, you avert your gaze in order to calm your heart down before it beats out of your chest. 

“You’re enjoying yourself a little too much for someone who’s carrying four heavy bags up a shitload of stairs, don’t you think?” You try to sound composed, but it doesn’t really work. 

“Not at all,” He smiles – you weren’t supposed to look, but it’s not your fault that whenever you hear his voice, all of your attention is on him – yet it doesn’t hide the way his face is reddening and his voice is strained, arms starting to shake just a little from the weight. 

You can’t help but burst into laughter at both his face and his stubbornness – that boy would seriously rather die than admit he overestimated his strength. He doesn’t laugh with you, just sends you a glare and pouts as he finally sets down the bags in your shared room as the two of you arrive. No matter how hard he tries, though, he can’t erase the hint of enjoyment that lies in his gaze. 

It takes Mingyu less than two seconds to plop onto the soft bed and sigh dreamily, like he’s just ran a marathon. 

“Just don’t fall asleep. We’re going for ice cream in half an hour, you know.” 

“Hmm.”

“If you fall asleep, I won’t wake you up,” You warn him, ignoring the way your heart is doing loops at the sight of his sleepy state. He looks so cute with a sheepish smile on his face, nose buried in the pillows. 

He doesn't react in any way, so you add: “Are you really that exhausted from just carrying my luggage?”

That, he hears very well. 

“Of course I’m not,” He jumps up straight away, like someone poured cold water all over him and you can't help but smile to yourself at the way he's – way too obviously – flexing his muscles for you to see. 

“I was just joking, Mingyu,” You tell him, walking over to where he's standing, by the bed. “You’re very strong.”

And before you can think twice, you put your hand on his bicep and squeeze it through the shirt. It takes you less than a second to do that, and another second for your mind to start malfunctioning. Oh, fuck. One, you just touched Mingyu’s biceps. Two, they're big. Big, as in you realize you can't even wrap your fingers halfway around them. Big, as in if he were to hold you in place, there was no way you'd be able to move. 

And finally, three, this one little touch is enough to have you feeling weak in the knees, unable to think of anything but the way his muscles felt under your fingertips. You can't stop yourself from imagining how they would feel without that shirt separating your skin from his, either. Oh, you've really dug your own grave with this one. 

“You think I’m strong?” Mingyu’s voice is soft, but his gaze is intense as you look up at him. 

“I– I mean you carried my bags up the stairs, didn't you?”

“Sure did,” He smiles and for a moment, you think you're safe. “But you didn't have to touch me to figure that out, did you?”

Nevermind that. You're not safe at all. In fact, you feel like all the air from your lungs has dissolved, leaving you breathless. Being in love with Kim Mingyu is one thing – making it so painfully obvious is another. What if this makes things awkward between the two of you? You wouldn't be able to stand that. Partly because it ruins your chance of convincing everyone you have a boyfriend, but mostly because you truly enjoy being around Mingyu, and you don't want this… thing you have going on to stop. You having to live without speaking of your crush on him is much better than not speaking to him at all. 

“I’m sorry,” You say finally, unsure of what else you could've possibly said to save the situation. 

“Why are you apologizing?” He looks at you from above, pushing your hair away from your face before bringing that hand to brush over the part of your shoulder that is exposed by your tank top. You shudder. “I never said that I mind.”

What? 

Did he just say what you think he said? ‘I never said that I mind’ – what the fuck is that supposed to mean? That he liked it when you touched him? That he wants you to? He's got to be messing with you. Right? His eyes don't leave yours, though, and while there's a cocky grin on his face, he's nowhere near laughing. 

“We should, uh, head downstairs. They're probably waiting for us,” You say, heart hammering in your chest.

“Yeah, we should.”

You wait for him to move, but he doesn't. So you don't, either. You're still dangerously close to him – if he were anyone else, you'd say he was invading your personal space. But he's Mingyu, and the truth is that you want him all up in your personal space. That doesn't change the fact that this is making you nervous – the way he's gazing down on you with a look you can decipher, the way his hand lingers just a couple centimeters away from your arm, the way you can hear his breathing clearly. You want him to do something – anything – because the tension in the air is so thick, you could touch it. But you don't want to touch it, you want to touch him.

And you want him to touch you. Does he want that, too? You don’t want to get your hopes up too much, but you also can’t seem to shake the thought that he looks infatuated with you, too, at this moment. His eyes are lidded, tongue darting to lick at his lips. Not once does he look away. What is he thinking about? Suddenly you wish you were inside his head. 

“Y/N, Mingyu, are you guys coming?” Karina's voice from outside the door brings you back to the real world.

Right. You're going for ice cream. Shit, you really need to stay focused. You’re here to have Mingyu pretend to be your boyfriend, not to make him become your real one. 

With that in mind, you start walking towards the door. You don’t even make it two steps before you feel Mingyu’s hand grab your wrist, before pulling you back to him. Surely, he doesn’t use all of his strength, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’d have collided with his chest if it wasn’t for the hand that he places on your hip to steady you. Suddenly you're face to face with him again – well, maybe face to chest is more accurate – but you don’t even get to question his actions before his rip on your wrist fades, and he brings his hands up to brush something off of your cheek instead. Then, he lets go altogether. 

“You had something on your face,” He explains upon seeing your facial expression.

“Is that why you’re looking at me like that?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. What is up with you today? When did you get so shameless? It must be all the endorphins Mingyu’s providing you with speaking. You’re about to take back what you said, but as usual, Mingyu beats you to it. 

“No,” He’s smiling again – running a hand through his hair and flashing his teeth at you. You don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of his smile. “That’s just because I like you.”

And then he fucking leaves. Like he didn’t just fucking make your heart drop to your stomach and then jump right back up, only to start beating at an abnormal speed. Because I like you. You’re about to faint. At least it feels that way. Are you even breathing? Everything seems so unimportant suddenly, the only image in your head being Mingyu and his smile. Because I like you. His words are on replay in your mind, flowing through your whole body until they reach your heart, where they settle down to bloom. Because I like you. He likes you.

Mingyu likes you. 

It’s not a love confession, nor does it mean he wants you to his girlfriend for real, but it’s a confirmation that you didn’t fuck up everything with you reckless actions earlier, and it also means you have a chance. Even if just in the slightest. That’s enough for you. 

Well, there goes the plan of not letting yourself get affected by Mingyu’s words and actions, you suppose. Slowly, you fight the urge to start giggling like a schoolgirl and leave the room to meet the others, who are standing in the hallway, waiting for you. Karina looks annoyed as usual, Seungcheol smiles softly, and Mingyu – oh, you could write a whole about how stunning he looks even in the poor lighting of the hotel – grins when he sees you and you can’t help but do the same. 

“Finally,” Karina groans, and you roll your eyes. You’re about to say something to her, but right then, Mingyu drapes his arm over your shoulders and pulls you close, which erases each and every thought you had before, replacing them with pure elation. He really is driving you crazy.

“Let’s go, then.”

The way to the ice cream shop is merely a fifteen minute walk and it leads through the empty streets that surround your hotel. It’s getting dark already as the four of you head outside, and the cool air is making you regret not putting on a jacket. But hey, in your defense, if Mingyu hadn’t decided to make your whole body grow hot with his actions, maybe you wouldn’t have forgotten about it. It’s alright, though, because Mingyu’s arm around your shoulders is warm and doesn’t leave much room for worrying. Even if he’s just doing it for show. But you don’t need to think about that right now, anyway. 

Inside the shop, it’s cozy and warm, which is something you revel in for approximately five seconds before Karina suggests that you eat your ice cream outside. You can’t imagine what’s going through her head when she says that – it’s freezing cold outside, for fuck’s sake – but Mingyu and Seungcheol don’t seem to share your doubts, so you only follow after them with a sigh as they sit down at one of the outdoor tables. The place is cute and the ice cream is good, but you can’t really focus on any of that with the way the cold air is hitting your poor skin. You don’t want to disturb Mingyu when he’s so invested in whatever conversation he’s having, though, so you don’t mention it. 

“You okay, Y/N?” It’s Seungcheol that is first to notice your state, his voice laced with concern. 

You can see how Mingyu stops talking immediately, turning his head to look at you, too, and you smile apologetically. “What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

Seungcheol smiles at you and starts to take off his jacket, which you’re about to tell him not to do, but Mingyu’s voice cuts through the air before you can even say a word. 

“You’re cold?” It’s a question, but he doesn’t wait for an answer before taking off his jacket – that way also effectively putting Seuncheol’s actions to a halt – and putting it around your shoulders. “Here, put this on.”

“It’s oka–” 

You don’t even get to finish as he lifts up your arm to slip it inside the sleeve of the jacket. As he reaches for your right arm, you help him and slip it inside of the sleeve yourself, and so his fingers come up to zip the jacket up instead. Your eyes find his when he pushes the zipper up to your neck, hand brushing over your skin as he nudges your hair away so it doesn’t get in the way. His gaze glimmers with satisfaction as he finishes putting on the jacket, as if he just solved a very hard puzzle, and your heart flutters just a little when you look at his grinning face. 

“You look cute.”

Well, maybe more than just a little.

“Thanks,” You mumble as you look away, reminded that you’re in fact not alone with Mingyu right now. 

A silence settles over the four of you; Karina’s jaw is clenched as she eats her ice cream, while Seungcheol just looks like he’s feeling out of place. You feel a sting of guilt in your chest – they invited you to hang out together, and you’re making this into a way of interacting as much as possible with Mingyu. It’s not fair for them, not to mention it isn’t very good for you, either, because soon enough, he won’t be pretending to be your boyfriend anymore. You should be getting used to not spending time with him, not the other way around. 

“So,” Karina says finally, her eyes evidently trained on only Mingyu. “How do you guys like the ice cream?”

‘You guys’, my ass, you think to yourself. She’s literally looking Mingyu right in the eyes, and still acting as if the question is directed at everyone? You kind of feel bad for Seungcheol for having to deal with her on a daily basis. 

“It’s really good,” He tells her and Karina sends him her sickly sweet smile. She opens her mouth to say something, but you’ve seen enough of her advances towards Mingyu – though he’s not technically your boyfriend, so you have no right to get jealous. But you do. 

“Really? Let me taste,” You say and before you can back out, you grab at Mingyu’s wrist and lick his mint chocolate ice cream. 

Okay, so first of all – mint chocolate is disgusting. It tastes awful. You suppose this must be how Mingyu feels each time he walks into a library. Second of all, despite the appalling taste, it’s absolutely worth it because the way Karina’s face turns into an expression of pure defeat is probably the second best thing to happen to you today. The best being every conversation you’ve had with Mingyu, of course. 

Speaking of your fake boyfriend – his eyes are set on you as you lean away from him again, something in his gaze sending shivers down your spine. His eyes are wide – you’ve caught him off guard. Good. If he’s going to make your head spin every day, you might as well do the same. 

He doesn’t look away, just keeps gazing at you with an intensity that would’ve forced you to sit down if you were standing up. You can see the way his stare drops down to your mouth and then moves up again, his tongue darting to lick at his lips. There’s something in his eyes – something that wasn’t there before. Something that shoots straight down between your legs. Desire, maybe? But not in the primal way, it’s deeper than that, more tender. Yearning. Longing. Something in between. Want. Yes, that’s the word.

“You’ve got ice cream on your lips,” He says it so quietly you almost don’t hear him – which is weird, since it’s Mingyu we’re talking about here. 

“Really? Where?” 

You’re about to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, but Mingyu’s fingers wrap themselves around your wrist and hold it in place. What is he doing? You look at him – at his parted lips, the hint of a smile lurking on his face, that stare of his that fills you with all kinds of feelings – and your heart stops. He leans forward – you can feel his breath on your face as he looks down on your lips again. 

He’s going to kiss you. And you want him to. 

You want to keep looking at him, at his smile, his beautiful eyes, but you can’t stop your eyes from fluttering close when his soft lips meet yours. He’s barely touching you, the kiss is merely a brush of skin against skin, but it still drives you crazy, sets your whole body on fire. You can’t move, couldn’t have pushed him away even if you wanted to. But you don’t want to. You want this to last forever, the subtle taste of mint chocolate, the smell of his cologne, the feeling of his tongue brushing over the inner corner of your lips – you don’t want it to end. 

But it does end. Far too quickly. He pulls away, with a grin on his face, completely unaware of how badly you want to jump into his arms and kiss him again. 

“There.”

You blink. Once. Twice. What is he talking about? Oh, right. The ice cream. He was licking off the ice cream. Your heart beats against your chest painfully hard, serving as a reminder of the situation you’re in. Seungcheol and Karina are still here, and Mingyu just kissed you. You put the pieces together fairly quickly from there – of course he kissed you, he’s supposed to be your boyfriend. It’s more believable that way. Suddenly the taste of mint chocolate that lingers on your tongue stings. 

“You guys are so cute together,” Karina smiles her fake smile and something turns in your stomach. 

She totally bought it. But so did you. 

“I think that’s all thanks to Y/N,” Mingyu’s laugh rings in your ears as his arm falls around your shoulders again. He’s holding you close, but the air’s colder than ever and the smell of his cologne hurts your nose. Not because it smells bad, but because you like it too much. 

“Speaking of Y/N, what made you fall for her? I mean, the two of you are so different from each other. On different levels, almost.”

Karina’s words feel like salt in a wound. Different levels. Is that true? Mingyu’s grip tightens on your shoulders, but this action that usually would’ve had you feeling warm inside just barely registers in your mind. Focus, you want to tell yourself, you’re not supposed to feel sad now. You’ll only fuck up the whole plan and your relationship with Mingyu in the process. But you can’t stop your thoughts from reeling and your heart from sinking. 

“What do you mean?” If Mingyu knows what Karina’s talking about – which, surely, he must know, since it’s not much of a secret he’s out of your league – he’s doing a great job at pretending he doesn’t. Just like he’s done a great job at pretending to have feelings for you. Almost too great.

“I just don’t get why you chose Y/N,” There it is. “I mean, you could probably have any girl you want.” 

He could. You know that. You’ve always known. He’s Kim Mingyu, for fuck’s sake – who wouldn’t fall for that smile of his? You surely did. Though right now, you regret it. You regret asking him to be your fake boyfriend, you regret forming a connection to him, and you regret letting him kiss you like he meant it. It’s your own fault, really. If you’d just let yourself crush on him silently, if you hadn’t gotten your hopes up, thinking he might like you, none of this would’ve happened. You wouldn’t have had to sit by his side, feeling like the most naive person on earth.

“I don’t want to have any other girl, though,” You don’t want to look at him, but you do. His smile is long gone, and it feels so weird to look at him without it. Not bad or scary, just different. A new side of him. “I want her.” 

Your eyes widen as you look up to meet his gaze. Funny how you’ve spent the last weeks getting to know him, but now, when it really matters, you can’t figure out what’s going on inside his head. He’s looking at you with a shadow of a smile ghosting over his lips, eyes filled with the warmth you’re used to seeing in them, and it doesn’t seem fake at all. Neither did the kiss, or the hug, or any of the signs he’s given you the last weeks. All of it felt real. But what does that matter when it’s all pretend by default, anyway? 

A minute passes by in silence. You have so many things to say, but you say nothing at all. Only after that minute has passed and the feeling of Mingyu’s arm around you is too much for your poor heart to handle do you stand up, making everyone look at you. Mingyu’s arm falls limp onto your chair. He’s about to say something, but this time, it’s you that doesn’t let him. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” You say and leave them at the shop. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s not just for a moment when you start walking down the street that leads back to the hotel. 

You’re still wearing his jacket, you realize, but you don’t take it off. It’s cold – that’s your excuse, but really, you miss him already. Part of you wants to stop walking and see if he’ll come running, but part of you hopes he won’t. You walked away to avoid telling him about all of this – the mess you made by dragging him into this. If you see him now, you’ll end up spilling everything. And he’ll want nothing to do with you ever again.

You make it a whole seven steps before you hear his voice. 

“Y/N! Wait!” And against your better judgement, you stop walking until he catches up to you – breath fanning at you from above, yet you can’t seem to look up at him. “There you are. Why are you walking alone in the dark?”

You should go. Leave him behind like you intended to, break off this whole deal and go home. Pretend like Kim Mingyu doesn’t exist, pretend you’re not in love with him. But your feet won’t move. It’s like every bit of doubt and worry you’ve kept inside of you until now is making its way to the surface. 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Mingyu’s hand cups your chin and tilts it so your gazes meet. His eyes soften – go from a look of fear to tenderness. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?” 

Yes, you made me fall in love with you, you idiot, you think. But you don’t say it out loud. Instead, you sigh and let your head fall against his chest, eyes fluttering shut. You can tell Mingyu wants to say something – his breath is ragged, muscles tense – but instead, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. One, two, three. You calm yourself down slowly, inhaling his scent. Mingyu isn’t a patient man – you know he wants you to tell him what’s going on. And you will. You owe him that much. But you let yourself revel in his presence for a minute or two first, thinking that if everything goes wrong, at least you’ll have the memory of his strong arms protecting you from any pain. 

“Is this about the Karina thing?” You feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest as he speaks and it makes you smile. “You know that what she said is just complete bullshit, right? You shouldn’t care–”

“You’re such an idiot, Kim Mingyu,” You cut him off as you pull away. He looks so shocked at your words that it makes you want to laugh. “You really are. You notice how my hair falls into my face, or how I’m struggling to carry my bags, but you don’t notice the way your words and actions affect me.” 

He probably doesn’t know it, but he always pushes his lips out in a pout when he’s confused, and right now is no exception. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” You take a deep breath. “I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. And I know you don’t feel the same way, but you could’ve at least spared me for all your heart-fluttering gestures, because you’re only making me fall harder.” 

You thought you’d completely accepted your failure, but the way your heart reaches dramatic speed once you’re done speaking proves you otherwise. Or maybe it’s not hope that has you feeling dizzy – maybe it’s just Mingyu himself. You observe him cautiously after you’ve said it, and slowly, but surely, you see his pout and furrowed eyebrows fade into a smile – a soft one that has his eyes crinkling. 

“Who said I don’t feel the same way?” His voice is merely above a whisper as his hand reaches for your cheek, thumb stroking the skin on it. You shiver under his touch, slowly processing his words as his other hand comes to grab at your waist and pull you close. “I like you, remember? A lot.”

“Yes, but you were my fake boyfriend and–”

“Why do you think I agreed to this whole deal, Y/N? I’ve had my eyes on you ever since that party at Soonyoung’s.”

“You agreed because I promised to pay for your meals,” You remind him, heart struggling to beat at a normal speed when you feel his fingers play  when his finger moves from stroking your cheek to your jaw. 

“It’s not like I can’t pay for my own meals. The hair tie, the library, the flower – do you think I do that to every girl I hang out with? Why do you think I spent time with you when I didn’t have to?”

You swallow as his thumb strokes your lower lip. “I don’t know, because you’re nice like that?”

“Nobody’s just ‘nice like that’, baby,” He smiles that ridiculously gorgeous smile of his as he leans forward to connect his forehead to yours, almost making you faint in the process. He might've kissed you earlier, but this is different. Now he knows everything. “When I said I wanted you, I wasn’t kidding.”

Okay, Y/N, breathe, you tell yourself, but it’s easier said than done. Especially when his breath is mixed with yours, eyes shining with emotion as your noses brush against each other. He wants you. Kim Mingyu wants you. Your heart is beating so hard against your chest you fear he might hear it from where he’s standing, merely a centimeter away. It’s like he’s awaiting your next move. Without thinking much, you put your hands on his shoulder and pull him a bit closer. Just so his lips fan over yours, and butterflies swarm in your stomach. Oh, you want him to kiss you so badly. 

It’s like he hears your thoughts, because not even one second later he’s closing the small distance between you and pressing his lips to yours. This time, it’s not just a brush of skin against skin – well, objectively speaking, it is, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s much different from the kiss at the ice cream shop. Now, he’s holding onto you tightly, entangling his fingers in your hair while his lips move against yours fervently. The arm which rests on your waist is pulling you closer, though you doubt you could be any closer to him than what you already are. Your grip on his shoulders is just as firm, the cool air nothing compared to the way your whole body is heating up from his touch. 

Mingyu’s teeth scrape against your lower lip and you open your mouth slightly, gripping his bicep tighter when he slips his tongue inside. You can’t even make out what he tastes like – whether it’s mint chocolate, coffee or anything else – you’re too focused on the fact that he’s kissing you, that his hands are pulling you closer as he moves his lips against yours. His fingers pull at your hair just hard enough for you to tilt your head back and allow him to move his lips down to your jaw, tongue darting over the skin. You want to look at him, but you can’t help the way your eyes flutter shut when he starts pressing open-mouthed kisses against your throat, spreading goosebumps all over your skin and you shiver. 

For some reason, Mingyu takes this as a sign to pull away, leaving you with chapped lips and breathlessness in his arms. 

“Why’d you stop?” It sounds a lot whinier than you’d intended, but who can really blame you? Kim Mingyu just told you he has feelings for you and kissed you, only to let it end this fast – you’re allowed to whine. 

“Because you looked cold,” He says and you scoff. Because you looked cold? What kind of excuse is that? He grins at your facial expression, moving his face closer to yours so that for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you again. “Why? Am I so good at kissing that you need more?” 

“I literally hate you so much,” You push him away with a scoff, thinking that walking back to the hotel might be a good idea since the cold is starting to catch up with you. Still, you listen for Mingyu’s steps behind you as you walk, only speeding up when you’re certain he’s walking, too. 

“That’s mean,” It doesn’t take long for him to catch up with you and walk by your side, shoulder against yours the whole way until the hotel that, fortunately, lies only 100 meters away. “I don’t give kisses to girls that are mean, you know.”

You arrive at the warm hotel fairly quickly and waste no time heading towards your room, acting like you’re eager to crawl under the sheets. In all honesty, you’re more eager to spend time with Mingyu without freezing to death – not that you’ll tell him that. You’ve boosted his ego enough for today, you suppose. Speaking of Mingyu – he walks with you, but you don’t look at him before you’ve entered the room, unable to hold back your smile at the pout that is evident on his face just like it was in his voice earlier.  

“And what girls do you give kisses to?” You ask him as you take off your (his) jacket and throw it on the floor. His eyes find yours as he walks over to wrap his arms around you again, and just like every other time he’s touching you, it makes your heart beat faster. Nose brushing against yours, eyes smiling down on you, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. You want to kiss him again. 

“You.”

“What?” You laugh at his response, almost missing the way his eyes rest on your lips. Almost. “That makes no sen–”

You’re cut off by his lips pressing against yours for a mere second, soft and sweet for as long as you can taste them, and then he pulls away with a wide grin on his face. And you can’t even bring yourself to get mad at him for pulling away when he looks so fucking cute looking down on you, hair falling into his eyes a little. 

“I love you,” He says after a while, and it’s like there are fireworks going off inside of you. You could’ve died from happiness right then and there.

“I love you, too.”

“Let’s go to sleep, baby.”

You nod your head, half in a daze. He loves you. Kim Mingyu loves you. And he doesn’t dissappear when you’re in the bathroom, changing, he’s still there when you come out – sitting on the bed, waiting for you. You smile at him and he smiles at you, hands latching onto your shirt and pulling you down next to him. He pulls you closer, legs entangled with yours under the covers as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

This night you fall asleep between Mingyu’s arms, breathing in his scent and feeling completely at ease.

—

The sunlight shining through the window is what wakes you up the following morning, inviting you to open your eyes only to screw them shut again. It’s way too early for that much light, you decide, rubbing your eyes before you realize it is, in fact, already almost noon. God, you’ve slept in. You almost get the urge to get ready for school, but then you remember – you’re at the seaside resort with Karina and Seungcheol. And Mingyu. You smile as you think of him, reaching to your left to touch him, but you’re only met with warm bedding underneath your fingers.

For a scary second, you worry that he’s left, or maybe even worse – that all the things you remember from yesterday never happened and it was just a dream. Fortunately, those worries evaporate when the door to the bathroom that is connected to your room flies open and none other than Mingyu himself walks out. 

Which is great and all – except that he has a towel wrapped around his waist. Only a towel. 

You try to divert your eyes, you really do, but it’s really fucking difficult when he’s standing two meters away from you with water dripping down his exposed chest to slip under the white towel that is the only thing shielding him from your sight. His hair is wet, too, falling into his forehead until he pushes it away, his arm muscles accentuated by the lighting. God, looking this good should be illegal. It’s not like it’s anything new that Mingyu’s hot, and yet the sight stirs up a heat between your legs, heart beating a little faster as you sit up on the bed, finally forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. 

“Oh, hey,” He catches your gaze and flexes his muscles instantly – something that might’ve just made you laugh if it didn’t shoot straight to your pussy. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, well, um,” You gulp a little too loud when you catch yourself looking down on his bare chest again. You need to focus, you think to yourself, closing your eyes briefly to collect your thoughts. “I don’t usually sleep this long.”

“Mhm,” You see him smile and then the bed bends under his weight as he plops down on it, arms reaching for you and pulling you close with ease. He nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck, lips fanning over the skin and making you shiver softly. All cute and all, except he’s still only wearing a towel and the warmth of his body is making you you lose your mind a little. “And do you usually look at people like that?” 

Like what, you’re about to ask, but the words die down in your throat when you feel his big hands slip under your shirt and rest on your waist, and you know he knows you want him. It’s kind of embarrasing how big of an effect even his slightest touch has on you, but who can really blame you for feeling all hot and bothered when Kim Mingyu is lying in bed with you, his chest against yours and hips only a few centimeters away from meeting his? He smells so nice, too – the scent of his shampoo is making it impossible for you to even think about leaving his embrace. 

“No,” You whisper instead, breath hitching when he lifts you up to place you in his lap. He’s leaning against the headboard now, finger still firmly gripping your waist as he leaps forward to plant a soft kiss to your neck. 

“No?” He says this against the skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his hands travel higher and higher until they fan over the back of your bra, asking for permission to take it off. You give it to him by pushing your chest out against him, hands grabbing at his arms under the excuse of keeping yourself steady. Though, in reality, you just really like his arms, and the feeling of his muscles beneath your fingers only serves to help a throb form between your legs. 

“No, just you,” You basically moan out as his right hand gropes one of your tits, bra thrown onto the floor. 

“Just me?” 

He smiles against you, now pressing a kiss to your jaw, pushing himself up against you to reach more of your skin, and in that way, causing his hips to brush up against yours. Your grip on his shoulders tightens at the contact and so does the coil in your stomach – you might be wearing shorts and the towel is still wrapped around Mingyu’s hips, but that doesn’t change the fact that you can clearly feel how his hard cock is pressing into the side of your inner thigh, mere centimeters from where you want it to be. 

It’s like he reads your thoughts, because in the next moment, he’s lifting his hips again so his clothed cock brushes up against you, and judging from the satisfied smile that settles onto his face when you gasp, he’s doing it on purpose. You can’t even say anything when his hand rests on your hip and pushes you down on his bulge, this time successfully rubbing against your clit. 

God, you’re going to go crazy if the two of you keep pretending this is a normal cuddling session any longer. At this point, you’re positive both your panties and shorts are completely soaked, not to mention how painfully your pussy is throbbing with need – the need for Kim Mingyu to fuck you. 

“Mingyu…” 

“Mmm?” He hums absentmindedly, fingers moving lower until they rest against the waistband of your panties. 

You only whine at him in response, deciding to take matters into your own hands when you see his amused smile, your hips rolling into his and your pussy clenching around nothing when it rubs against his cock. You can feel how his fingers dig into your skin, a soft moan escaping past his lips at the touch and you know you've won. 

“What happened to the cute, shy Y/N?” He’s still smiling as he speaks, letting his hand push your panties aside and hover just a centimeter away from your dripping pussy. It makes you suck in a breath, and Mingyu smiles even wider. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I’m still here,” You assure him, moving your hips just a little forward so they reach his hand. It takes all in you not to outright whimper when the palm of his hand grazes your cunt, the slight sensation enough to make your whole body go limp in his arms, your mouth resting close to his ear. “I just really want you to fuck me right now.” 

And that’s all Mingyu needs to hear before he basically manhandles you so your back is flat against the mattress, the towel slipping dangerously low on his hips as he hovers above you with his chest against yours. You shiver underneath him, nipples pressing against the thin shirt you're still wearing, thighs rubbing together in an attempt to relieve yourself of some of the tension. Mingyu doesn't fail to notice any of that, quick to practically rip your shirt off and play with your tits with one hand, while the other pulls down your shorts and panties so he can press one finger flat against your clit. 

“Mingyu,” You moan out, lifting your hips off of the bed to create some friction. “Please.”

“God, you're so eager,” He grins and runs his fingers over your tits as he starts moving his thumb across your pussy, smiling in satisfaction when he sees how you're practically dripping onto his hand. “And so wet. Is that just for me, baby?”

You can't even give him an answer when he pushes one of his fingers inside of you, still letting his thumb press against your clit. A whimper leaves your mouth when he pulls it out only to push it back in a second later, setting a quick pace pretty quickly. The room is already filled with the noises your cunt makes when he fucks his finger into you, adding another when he realizes you're still bucking your hips up, begging for more. His thumb starts lazily rubbing circles on your clit, and you moan his name, then bite your lip to muffle the noise.

“Don’t,” The way Mingyu pouts is a big contrast to the way his fingers curl inside of you as he pushes them deeper into your wet cunt. “Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make, okay?”

“Okay,” You whimper, tightening your grip on him when the finger rubbing your clit speeds up and he presses wet kisses into your neck, then down to your tits and stomach. 

His hand that isn’t busy fucking you with his fingers settles on your hip as his mouth reaches your inner thighs. He kisses them softly and looks up at you, eyes dark and hair framing his face so nicely, before he dives between your legs, catcing you off guard when his fingers slip out of you, only to be replaced by his tongue that laps up your juices while he continues rubbing your now swollen clit. 

“Feels so good, Gyu,” You say and you can feel him moan against your pussy, the sound sending vibrations straight to your core. It's embarrassing how close you are to cumming already, but in your defense, Mingyu knows exactly what he's doing when he drags his nose through your folds, letting one of his fingers slip through your walls again. You grab at his hair, not trying to hold back your moans anymore as his tongue presses against your clit. 

“You taste so good,” He purrs against you, making you cry out in pleasure when his fingers hit that one spot that makes your toes curl. 

It's all too much to handle – the way his finger is leaving and entering your pussy at a fast speed, plunging deep inside of you as he sucks on your clit – it's got your thighs closing around his head, hands pulling at his hair to bring him closer like that's even possible. You’re so focused on chasing your orgasm, that you almost don’t notice when he adds another finger to pump in and out of your cunt, making you feel so full that your eyes roll to the back of your head and you clench around him repeatedly. 

You don't even get to warn Mingyu of your approaching high in any other way than holding tight onto his strong arms as your pussy clamps down on his fingers, your hips bucking into his face. The intensity of your orgasm has you grabbing at the sheets as you cum on his tongue and fingers, feeling a little empty when he retracts his hand from your heat. 

“Mingyu,” You whine from overstimulation when his tongue laps at your pussy again, licking up all your juices before he sits up.

“Sorry,” Mingyu smiles in a way that tells you he doesn’t feel sorry at all, and waits until you prop yourself up on your elbows so he can kiss you. 

You can taste yourself on his tongue when it slips inside of your mouth, but what occupies your mind more is the way he’s still got the towel wrapped around his hips, and his painfully hard cock is now pressed against your thigh, reminding you just how badly you want it inside of you. It doesn’t exactly help the case that Mingyu’s looking even hotter than before – his hair pretty much dry now, but completely disheveled, chin glistening with your slick. 

Before you can get the chance to back down, you put your hand on his chest and let it trace his muscles until you reach where the towel is tied. Mingyu basically purrs into your mouth when you palm his cock over the fabric, his head falling onto your shoulder. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” He mumbles into your ear and you feel his words shoot straight to your pussy. “You want that, don't you?”

“Mhm,” You tell him as he pushes you down on the mattress again, your hands coming up to finally untie the towel that's shielding him from your hungry eyes. “Want your cock, Mingyu, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

He helps you push the towel off of his hips and groans when his cock springs free – it's a pretty sound that would've totally made you feel even needier if you weren't too occupied staring at him with wide eyes instead. You can tell from his growing smile that you're only feeding into his ego, but you can't really help it – his cock is not only pretty, it's also really fucking big. 

“Aw, are you scared it won't fit?” His thumb strokes your lip and you can see how his arm muscles tighten when he leans on them to align himself at your entrance. “Don’t worry, baby, I'll make sure it does.”

You shiver when the tip of his dick grazes your cunt, his arm helping you to wrap your legs around his hips. His breath fans over your face as he leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, and you feel both butterflies and heat spread in your lower stomach at the action. God, he really wants you dead. The smile on his face doesn't subside even as he starts rubbing his cock across your folds without warning, making you grab at his arms, moans leaving your mouth no matter how hard you try to hold them back each time he comes in contact with your clit. 

To your defense, you weren't exactly expecting him to suddenly start smearing your arousal all over your swollen cunt. 

His movements work wonders, though, and soon enough, you're clenching around nothing with each roll of his hips, dripping onto his cock like he's been touching you'd hours, when in reality, it only took five or so swipes of his dick to bring you to this state. 

“Mingyu, please,” If his goal was to have you become a whining mess, he's definitely reached it, because now, all sense of embarrassment is thrown aside. “I want you inside of me.”

“Are you sure you can take it?” He asks, but you can tell he's just as eager as you when he positions himself at your entrance.

You nod vigorously and that's all the confirmation he needs to drive his cock into you slowly. He's trying to be gentle – you can tell from the way his lips are parted and his big hands grip your waist tighter – but that doesn't change the fact that he's stretching you out like crazy, small whimpers leaving your mouth as you try to adjust to his size. You've barely gotten used to having him inside of you when you realize he hasn't even pushed all the way in. You're already feeling incredibly full, but nothing beats the way you feel Mingyu’s cock deep inside of you when he finally bottoms out, your pussy sucking him in. 

“You’re so tight, fuck,” Mingyu groans and you only clench around him harder at the praise, feeling your mind go a little hazy at how stuffed you are with his cock. “Making me wanna fuck you dumb.”

Do it then, you want to tell him, but then he starts moving and all plans you had of speaking turn into quiet whimpers as you dig your nails into his skin. He’s moving painfully slowly, but it’s still making your head spin when he pulls out only to push himself back into your tight cunt, stretching you out and making you feel every bit of his cock clearly. 

At first, you manage to keep your eyes on Mingyu – the way his abdominal muscles flex with each leisure thrust, making you whimper a little louder than you would’ve otherwise, the way his cock creates a bulge in your stomach when he buries it deep inside of you, the way his mouth falls open in a groan whenever your walls tighten around him. After a while, though, you can tell he wants to go faster and truthfully – you want him to, 

“Mingyu,” You mumble, tapping his shoulder lightly. He only hums absentmindedly in response, but his eyes meet yours, so you continue. “More, please.”

“More?” His eyes light up and he thrusts a little harder this time, experimentally, smiling when you let out a broken moan. “Yeah? Feels good?”

“Mhm,” You mumble, eyes fluttering shut when he draws his hips back only to push into you again, this time deep enough so that you feel him all the way to your stomach. 

Satisfied with your answer, Mingyu positions your leg higher on his hip so he can thrust into you at a deeper angle – something that leaves you seeing stars when he picks up his pace, fucking you into the matress. Your hands grab at his arms to steady yourself while his hand cups your tits, face leaning forward to press open mouthed kisses to your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin softly.

“Feels so fucking good, baby,” He mumbles into your neck, sending shivers down your body and making you clench around him harder. 

The coil in your stomach starts to tighten and your eyes roll to the back of your head as Mingyu hits that one spot that makes your toes curl in pleasure. He doesn’t miss your louder moans, smiling to himself as he continues to hit that spot, sucking marks into your skin. His thrusts are fast but far from shallow, making your mind go foggy, not able to focus on anything but the way he’s fucking you so good. You bury your hands in his hair, forgetting all about being embarrassed and whimpering his name with each thrust that pushes you closer to your orgasm.

“Mingyu,” You say. “I’m so close.”

This only urges him to go harder, now bringing his thumb to rub circles on your clit as well, the action making you almost scream his name, thighs starting to shake. You don’t even have to hold onto him anymore – which is good, because you’re unable to think of anything else than how his cock slips in and out of your sopping cunt – because his strong arms are holding you up, fingers sliding easily across your sensitive clit. Your pussy is clenching around him uncontrollably now, tears starting to prickle at your eyes from the stimulation and you almost don’t register the things he’s whispering into your ear with a hoarse voice. 

“You’re being such a good girl for me, taking everything I give you.”

You nod your head dumbly and clench around him in response, unable to really gather your thoughts to form any sentence, but Mingyu doesn’t seem to mind, hand coming to grab at your hips and push them against him so he can reach deeper into your pussy. This is when you can’t hold it in anymore, a loud moan of his name leaving your lips as you cum around his cock, sucking him in tightly as if you don’t want him to pull out. 

You can feel Mingyu’s smile against your neck as he continues to pound into you as you’re trying to recover from your second orgasm, chasing his own high. Whimpering from the overstimulation, you hold onto him as he twitches inside of you. It doesn’t take long before he’s moaning right into your ear – a sound that makes your breath hitch in your throat – and emptying his cum into you.

“Fuck,” He pulls out of you and you whine at the loss of contact. This makes him smile – his signature grin looking even better on him than usually, with his cheeks flushed and droplets of sweat forming on his exposed forehead. “You did so well, baby.”

You can feel butterflies swarming in your stomach at the praise, face contorting into a tired smile when he lies down next to you, strong arms pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest. His warmth engulfs you and you realize you’d have no problem falling asleep between his arms right now. 

“That was really amazing, you know,” He says and looks down on you.

“I know,” You press a kiss to his jaw. “Round two in thirty minutes?” 

Mingyu’s laughter fills not only the room, but your heart as well. 

“That’s my girl.”

taglist: @fixonbreakoff @httpswonwoosglasses @miniaturegardenerkingdom @xxtingz @yuyusdandelion @listxn @seungkwan-s @doublebunnykoo @gyuwhore @014yyuno @seokgyustudios @idkwhatursayinh @yaysuko @doitlikehoshi @sebongmochi

[beenbaanbuun]

enemies w/ wooyoung

“i can’t believe i have to share a room with you,” wooyoung spits as he dumps his bag on the floor at the side of his bed. he wastes no time in throwing himself down onto the matress, keeping a stern aye on you as you make your way inside, “out of all the people on this trip, its you.”

you scoff as you follow him, slamming the door in your wake. trust you to draw the same colour marble as him. jung fucking wooyoung. number 1 on your hit list ever since the very first time he pulled your hair in junior school. hatred may have been a strong word, but it wasn’t nearly strong enough for the way you feel about him.

and now you have to spend the next week of your life in a combined space with him. perhaps you’ve done something wrong that the universe is punishing you for. maybe it’s a curse, or some evil spirit messing with you. you’re not entirely sure, but either way you’re certain something is out for your blood.

“the couch is available if you want it,” you snarl, barely able to keep a modicum of civility when it comes to wooyoung. there’s just something about him that makes you so inexplicably mad, “you know, if you have that much of a problem with me.”

“i’m fine here, actually,” he puts his hands behind his head in a display of arrogance. it’s difficult not to go over there and slap it out of him as you move to sit on your own bed, “but you can go and sleep there if you want; you won’t find me stopping you.”

you scoff, “what exactly is your problem with me?”

it’s hypocritical of you to ask that, you know. if anyone has the problem, its you. you’re the one who’s always fought against him; eye rolls and back handed comments the only things you give him whenever he’s around you. and you’re the one who’s always arguing with him over the tiniest of things, even if you know deep down that he’s actually right. some days you can’t even find a reason behind your incessant need to hate him, but that never stops you.

he’s just so annoying.

“you’re a stuck up little princess,” wooyoung supplies with that cocky grin still spread across his face. god, what you wouldn’t do to wipe that away and put him in his place; it’s almost a desperate need that you have to knock him down a few pegs.

“anything else, youngie,” you throw the nickname at him like it’s an insult. he catches it effortlessly, chuckling at your attempt to throw him off.

“yes,” he pushes himself from the mattress, sitting himself up straight so he can look at you; look down at where you lay on the bed beside him. so cute, with your arms crossed over your chest in a petulant attempt to act tough in front of him. it doesn’t work, your little act. not with the way your arms push your tits together, making your cleavage look so fuckable. wooyoung’s dick twitches in his sweatpants, “most of my problems are about you, actually.”

cliche, you think as you roll your eyes; of course he thinks you’re the cause of all his problems. just because he doesn’t like you, doesn’t mean he has to blame everything on you.

still, you’re curious.

when he starts talking again, you’re all ears.

“like how you think you’re so tough when you’re being a condescending little brat, when actually it just makes me want to pull you over my lap and make you scream,” the words take a second to sink in, but when they do, your jaw drops. he smirks, “or when you bite your lips when you’re mad; it just makes me think about how pretty they’d look wrapped around my cock.”

you can’t help the way your eyes flicker to the crotch of his sweats. he’s hard, or halfway there at least. fucking huge too, by the looks of it. you dart out your tongue to lap at your dry lips. holy fuck, what’s happening to you.

“and do you know that i see these pretty little things in my dreams?” a single finger brushes gently over your nipple, hard and visible through the thin material of your t-shirt. you suck in a sharp breath, barely catching a moan before it slips out, “wake up covered in my own cum every single time. dream you is just such a good little slut for me.”

the hand that sits gently on your tit begins to move, climbing gently up your chest until it lands on your neck. he squeezes down lightly, your head spinning under the barely there pressure.

“it’s a shame real life you takes a little more taming, hm?” wooyoung drawls as he bends down to your level. warmth spreads across your face as your lifelong enemy blows a stream of cold air over your face, chuckling to himself when you shiver.

how the fuck had you let this happen? one second you’re sure you had the high ground, and the next you have a hand around your throat and wetness leaking from your pussy. part of you wants to fight back. spit in his face and push him away. set a boundary and let him know that this, whatever the fuck this is, will never happen.

what scares you is that an even bigger part of you is begging you to give in.

and it’s a really shame that you’ve never been very good at saying no to yourself. it makes it borderline impossible for you to listen to that ever-shrinking part of your brain that’s telling you to run.

“wooyoung,” you whisper, although youre not even sure of your next words yourself. you haven’t decided whether this is going to happen or not. whether you’re going to let him tame you like he so clearly wants to. you open your mouth, hoping to all that is holy that you make a good choice.

“what do you want, baby?”

“fuck me,” you say.

oh…

“such a good girl.”

[theogonies]

SWEET DESIRE: genshin boys & their kinks

characters: childe, xiao, diluc, & ayato

word count: 1.4k

content warnings: feminine pet names and references to female genitalia; they’re all possessive, just in different ways; breeding kink, corruption kink, mindbreaking/dumbification, overstimulation, semi-public sex, implied dacryphilia (childe); voyeurism and general perviness, somnophilia, implied corruption kink (xiao); overstimulation, restraints, marking, spanking, yandere behavior (diluc); dom/sub relationship, brat taming, dacryphilia, degradation, humiliation, edging, painplay/spanking (ayato); 18+; minors and ageless blogs do not interact

CHILDE

“What’s wrong, ptichka?” He leans down to lap the tears from your cheeks with a smile as condescending as it is kind. “I thought you were ready for this, but we’re only getting started.”

Is it really any wonder that this man has a breeding kink? He’s a family man, after all, and beneath all his bluster, there’s really nothing he wants more than a happy little family of his own to come home to. While he rationally knows that may be out of the picture for as long as he’s a Harbinger, he still can’t help but lose his mind a little at the sight of his come overflowing from your hole. Even better if he gets to fuck it back into you with his fingers to make sure you don’t lose a single drop, humming sweet praises all the while: you're being so good for me, babygirl. Gonna make you a mommy.

Speaking of fingers–Childe is good with his hands. When he really wants to tease you he’ll watch you struggle to drag his gloves off with nothing but your teeth, just so he can use those very hands to fuck into your mouth until you’re a drooling mess, begging for his fingers in your pussy instead. Maybe if he’s feeling nice, he’ll even reward you for your efforts.

He loooooves corrupting good girls. Girls who follow the rules, girls who put responsibility first, girls who take care of everyone else before themselves. He’ll tease you, give you just enough to get your hopes up before backing off and making you plead for his attention. Don’t worry; he won’t break you, at least not on purpose. He just wants to teach you how good it feels to allow yourself to let go and relish in all those dirty, greedy little impulses, the desires that only he can fulfill.

Childe likes it when his partners are vocal during sex, and he’s willing to put in the work to make that happen. He’s a bit of an exhibitionist in general–just another way of making sure there are no doubts in anyone’s minds who you belong to–but it doesn’t matter if you’re in the middle of the Fatui headquarters or some isolated cabin in the mountains, he makes a game out of overstimulating you until you’re a broken, whimpering mess crying his name.

XIAO

“Please–” You can always tell when he’s about to break. He begs so sweetly, his stubborn scowl fading into something soft and needy. “Say it again. Tell me I’m good.”

 It shouldn’t come as any kind of surprise that Xiao is a virgin. He’s so afraid of becoming close to others, yet more and more he finds his mind drifting to all those lewd, forbidden places when he’s around you. It’s obvious, too, the way he stares when you bend over to pick something up or the neckline of your shirt dips a little too low; but all the embarrassment and guilt in the world aren’t enough to make him hold back his voyeuristic impulses.

And oh, the moment you realize what’s going on and decide to indulge him, it’s over for Xiao. He’s obsessed with the way you tease him, your hands brushing against his thigh, or lightly steering him by the small of his back, all while you give him that same, trusting smile as always. This is just what friends do, isn’t it?

It takes a long time before he’s able to build up enough trust to let you touch him, but he loves watching you touch yourself. The way your hands, the same ones that have touched him so innocently so many times before, flick at your puffy clit; all those dirty sounds that fill the air; the blissed-out look on your pretty little face when you finally unravel. Witnessing you, being wanted by you–it’s already so much more than Xiao thinks he deserves.

The only think he loves more than feeling like your loyal guardian as you slumber is fucking you when you’re asleep. Sometimes because you’re having a bad dream; sometimes because he just can’t help himself, not when you’re lying so innocently beside him, filling his mind with impure thoughts.

Even at his brattiest, he always, always, always asks permission before coming. Inside of you, on you, even into his own hand. It’s as much about consent for him as it is getting confirmation from you that he’s earned this.

DILUC

“That’s right, precious,” he murmurs, his sonorous voice so unusually soft that you can’t help but shiver from words alone. “Just sit still and let me take care of you.”

Diluc loves giving oral, and he’s a messy eater, too. It’s like your sweet pussy is an aphrodisiac to him; he loses track of time, swirling his tongue around your tender bud and drinking in your taste until he’s left you overstimulated without even trying. He feels genuinely bad about it, too, every time he realizes just how greedy he’s been, how long he’s made you beg and cry for relief–but it’s not enough to keep him from forgetting himself again the next time he goes down on you.

He’s a very giving lover in general; really, he just wants to make you feel good. And, well, the beautiful sight of your tight little pussy creaming around his cock–that’s just a sweet side effect.

It takes a long time to get him to admit to his more taboo desires, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them. Most of all, he dreams of seeing you strung up; from the frame of his bed in the winery, or even more shamefully, from the rafters of his tavern (long after close, of course–no one else deserves to see something so beautiful). As much as he consciously respects your freedom and independence, there’s a dark part of him that wants to keep you safe and protected, somewhere only he can reach you.

He likes seeing his marks on your skin, too. Hickeys, mostly, but he’s not entirely above punishing you more thoroughly if he decides you’ve been a little too flirty with his patrons or too risky in your adventures. He apologizes every time his hand comes down on your ass, and yet he can’t hide how hard the sight of your soft and rippling skin makes him when it flushes and begins to bruise.

AYATO

“I’m sorry, doll, but you know the rules.” His lip trail gently across the marks left by his own hand only moments ago, reminding you that your master is just as forgiving as he is merciless. “Now, are you ready to be a good girl and do as you’re told?”

Do I even need to say that Ayato is a mean dom? He loves the thrill of the chase, learning exactly what makes his partner tick just so he can break them down. The worst part is how composed he remains through it all, like his twisted desire to see you squirm is just another of his odd little jokes.

His technique in bed is no less refined than his skill with a sword, either; he’s mastered the delicate art of pushing your limits without breaking them, testing your devotion to him with every slap and caress until you’re putty in his hands.

While Ayato demands absolute loyalty from his partners from the start, he doesn’t mind putting in the work to tame bratty subs; in fact, he likes it better that way. The more headstrong and stubborn you are, the easier it is for him to ensure that you’re all his by the time he’s finished molding you into the perfect toy.

He isn’t opposed to using pain as a punishment, but in most cases, he prefers withholding what he knows you want. He’ll edge you until you’re a sobbing wreck, begging for his cock; and as much as he knows he should hate to see you suffer like this, nothing makes him as hard as the sight of your pretty little face streaming with tears. Before he gives you your sweet release, he makes you beg for it, promising him you’ll be good from now on, that you’ve learned your place as his dumb little whore.

Ayato loves putting you in all kinds of degrading positions: cockwarming him in his office, touching yourself while he watches, humping the smooth leather of his shoes as you beg him to touch you properly. He likes knowing he’s the only one with the privilege of seeing you this way: flushed, humiliated, needy. His.