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ja3yun · 3 months ago

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Melting Point | Bonus Chapter

ice skater!sunghoon x gf!reader warnings: smut (mdni), oral (f.rec), pussy muncher hoon is back, unprotected sex, very bad descriptions about ice skating, cheesy and wholesome (not sorry one bit), not proofread, if i missed any lmk! w.c: 12k synopsis: with sunghoon and minhee competing at the winter olympics, you're in the most romantic city in the world. your nerves are strung high for both of them but your boyfriend has a surprise once everything is said and done. masterlist** a/n: hi! my melting point lovers, this is for you and only you! i hit 4k followers on this blog and i thought, what better way than give my lovely people a bc of the fic that got me my first 1k followers! plus, i missed them like crazy and i felt like this was a nice wrap to their story. as always, comments, feedback, reblogs and likes are all welcome.

** if you haven't read mp then this will probably not make sense to you but if you really wanted to, you could read it as a stand alone. this is also dedicated to 🌊 anon bc no one loves mp quite like them 🙏🏻

Kicking your feet, you sit at the edge of the hotel bed, watching your boyfriend pack the last few costume pieces into his gym bag. He looks so pretty in front of you; his dark hair is freshly cut but still long enough that some of his fringe dangles in front of his face. His body is strong and dependable, just like always, and his concentrated look adds cuteness to him despite his typical handsome charm.

The room is filled with the quiet rustle of fabric and the faint scent of his cologne, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. Your heart swells with affection as you watch him, every detail etching itself into your memory - the ripple of his muscles under his shirt, the furrow of his brows, and the gentle way he handles even the most delicate pieces.

"I miss you," you blurt out, the words slipping past your lips before you can stop them.

Sunghoon stops packing and looks up, his thick eyebrows raised in confusion. "Sweets, I'm standing right in front of you," he says, pointing to himself with a puzzled expression and a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

“I know, but we’ve hardly seen each other,” you begin, rising from the bed and approaching him with a slight pout. “We’ve been in the most romantic city in the world for the past four days, and I’ve seen you for a collective twenty minutes.”

Chuckling softly, Sunghoon shakes his head. “I mean, I am competing at the Olympics. That kinda requires my attention,” he explains, though the playful glint in his eyes betrays the lightness of his tone.

“I require your attention,” you counter, sulking slightly, though you’re aware of the unfairness in your complaint. He’s been relentlessly training for the biggest and final skate of his professional career, and here you are, feeling neglected because he is rightfully busy. You should be cheering him on and savouring every moment you get to spend together, especially since the competition is this afternoon.

Despite your unreasonable grumbling, Sunghoon's expression remains warm and understanding. With a gentle sigh, he pulls you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting your head against his chest. You can feel the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat and the slight rumble of laughter he’s holding back, a comforting vibration against your ear.

"Paris isn’t all that anyway. I mean, what is there to see anyway? Nice restaurants? The Louvre? The Wall of I Love You? Sounds awful if you ask me." The sarcasm in his voice is dripping with humour, each word teasing you softly.

You lift your head to look up at him, unable to suppress a smile at his exaggerated complaints. His eyes, filled with a mix of affection and mischief, meet yours. “You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head but feeling your heart lighten.

Sunghoon leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “And you’re my favourite distraction,” he murmurs, his breath warm and reassuring against your skin. “But I promise, Sweets, after this competition, we’ll have all the time in the world to explore Paris. And I’ll make sure to give you all the attention you deserve.”

His eyes gleam with the love he always shows you, but there’s a subtle shadow of uncertainty behind them. Though you haven’t been able to spend much time together since arriving, you’ve been by his side for months leading up to this moment. You understand how much this means to him.

Sunghoon’s training for this prestigious event has been nothing short of gruelling. Hours upon hours spent perfecting his routines, pushing his body to its limits, and honing his skills have left little room for anything else. It was his decision to leave the competitive world of figure skating after the Winter Olympics, shifting his focus to coaching and leading a less hectic life - a choice he is content with. However, this final performance carries immense weight, and the pressure is almost suffocating. Once it’s over, he can finally breathe, but for now, his lungs and heart are trapped in a cage of nerves and anticipation.

“How are you feeling about it?” you ask softly, pressing gentle kisses over his heart, hoping to soothe the tension you know is building inside him.

“Fine,” he replies, but the tightness in his voice betrays him.

You give him a pointed stare, silently urging him to be honest with you. His facade crumbles, and he lets out a heavy sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Shitting myself. If I fuck up, I don’t have a chance to redeem myself. This is what I’ll be known for forever.”

The weight of this final performance hangs heavily on Sunghoon’s shoulders. The relentless drive to be perfect, to deliver a flawless routine, feels almost unbearable. The thought of a single misstep, a minor flaw, is paralysing. He knows that in the world of figure skating, this performance will be his legacy. The pressure to be remembered as a champion, to leave the ice with no regrets, is a relentless force pressing down on him. His heart races at the mere thought of stepping onto the ice, every nerve in his body taut with the anticipation of the moment that could define his career.

“Hey,” you say softly, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to meet your gaze. “You’ve already proven yourself time and time again. No matter what happens, you’ve achieved so much. I believe in you, and everyone who loves you believes in you too.”

He shakes his head, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “It’s not just about what I’ve done. It’s about how I finish. Everyone remembers the ending, and if I screw this up...”

“You won’t screw it up,” you interrupt gently. “You’ve worked so hard for this. You’re more prepared than anyone else out there.”

“But what if I’m not?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly. “What if I stumble, or fall, or miss a beat? This is my last chance to get it right. There are no do-overs.”

You tighten your hold on his face, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “Listen to me, Sunghoon. You’re human. Perfection isn’t the goal, that is still the lingering words of your mum talking; it’s about doing your best and knowing you gave it everything you had. You’ve done that already. You’ve pushed beyond limits, and you’ve inspired so many people, including me.”

He closes his eyes, absorbing your words. “I’m so scared,” he admits, his vulnerability laid bare. “What if it’s not enough?”

“It is enough,” you say firmly. “You are enough. And no matter what happens, I’ll be right here, proud of you. Always.”

It’s not often you see your boyfriend doubt himself like this, not since his mum has been out of the picture and he has actually started to enjoy skating again. But you can understand why he is so nervous and self-diminishing his abilities. This is the Olympics, something that he has been dreaming about since he was a little boy. That would put a weight on anyone’s shoulder never mind it being the definitive.

You lean up and press a tender kiss to his lips, pouring all your love and reassurance into the gesture. He kisses you back, his grip on you tightening as if drawing strength from your unwavering support. When you pull back, you see a flicker of resolve in his eyes, a reminder of why he’s made it this far.

Sunghoon’s expression softens, a gentle smile spreading across his face. He nuzzles his nose against yours, a sweet and intimate gesture that makes your heart flutter. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs, his eyes glistening with affection as they lock onto yours.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, feeling a wave of warmth envelop you. “Well, good thing you don’t have to find out,” you reply, your voice laced with both tenderness and playful teasing.

He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you in a protective embrace, his fingers digging gently into your t-shirt. “I love you,” he whispers, his breath warm and comforting against your ear. “So freaking much, Sweets.”

“I love you too,” you murmur back, letting the words settle between you like a shared secret.

Sunghoon’s smirk suddenly makes an appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Alright, but seriously,” he says, leaning back slightly to meet your gaze with a teasing glint. “Who are you rooting for to win? Me or Minhee?”

The question catches you off guard, and you blink at him in surprise. “I’m rooting for both of you, obviously!” you protest, your tone a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

Sunghoon arches an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Come on, Sweets. Let’s say the stakes are higher. Gun to your head, who takes the top podium: me or Minhee?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, swatting at his chest playfully. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? Minhee is my brother but also my client. It’s literally in my job description to root for him!”

Sunghoon chuckles, the sound resonating deeply from his chest, warm and infectious. “So, what you’re saying is, if it weren’t for your job, you’d be rooting for me?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts to stay serious. “None of you will let this rivalry go, huh? It’s like you both live for these little competitions till this day.”

Shrugging, Sunghoon picks up his bag, slinging it effortlessly across his shoulder. "Old habits die hard," he replies, a sly twinkle in his eye. He reaches out and pinches your cheek gently, his touch light but affectionate. “But I’ll just say you want me to win.”

As you open your mouth to retaliate and defend yourself, he leans in and plants a quick, playful kiss on your nose. The unexpected touch makes your face flush with a delightful mix of embarrassment and affection. You blink up at him, momentarily disarmed by his endearing gesture.

Sunghoon’s grin widens, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Gotta go,” he says, stepping back with a playful wink. “Remember, I’m competing right after Minhee, so try to stick around that area so I can see you. Can’t win without my good luck charm rinkside.”

He makes his way toward the hotel door, his confident stride carrying him with an air of excitement. Just before he exits, he glances back over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and warmth. “I love you, Sweets.”

“I love you more, Hoon.”

_____

The moment Sunghoon walks into the changing room, he is hit by a mix of heat, sweat, and deodorant. It’s not like he isn’t used to it, every sports locker room is the same, even when he used to share it with the hockey boys at the Albion. Sunghoon is a particularly clean person, however, so the sight and scent are still disgusting to his senses.

What is a sight for sore eyes though, is his best friend Minhee sitting under his assigned peg as he ties the laces of his black, shiny skates, his facial expression serious though the task is mundane and easy to carry out.

That’s the thing about competition day, everything is charged to 100 and even the simplest of actions can feel like a monument. And since this has been Minhee’s ambition - even competing at the Olympics never mind winning - he is feeling the pressure like he is a car under a compressor, two seconds away from being crushed scraps and thrown into the heap with the rest of the junk.

Despite that, when he hears someone approaching, he looks up to see his rival-turned-friend-turned-rival for one last day and plasters a smile on his face, hiding the tension in his frame.

“Hey, Hoon,” he greets simply, straightening up to look at him, squinting his eye slightly at the overhead light casting a heavenly glow around the skater. He doesn’t know what watt they have in Paris bulbs but he sure as hell misses the dullness of the Belmore, never complaining about the flickering yellow and burnt bulbs again.

Returning his smile, Sunghoon sits beside him, clasping a hand onto the boy's shoulder and rubbing it slightly, emitting a similar feeling to a brief massage. “Hey, Min.”

“How is my lover this morning?” Minhee winks, enjoying the relief from Sunghoon’s hand. He knew he should have taken up the offer for Wonyoung to give him a full body massage, but he didn’t want to get too loose, or the real reason, fuck her until his alarm blared cruelly in the morning.

Shaking his head, Sunghoon retrieves his hand and sighs, running it lazily through his locks. “Shitting a brick, to be honest. You?”

Spitting out a laugh, your brother nods. “Same. Once this is over do you want to get into construction? I’m shitting enough bricks to build a mansion.”

The sarcastic notion allows Sunghoon to relax and laugh alongside his buddy, the air a little lighter with the ease of the conversation. For Sunghoon, growing up with no friends in this field meant he only had his mum to confide in, who wouldn’t even let him air his worries, stating that it created a negative mindset and would ruin his chances. So having Minhee by his side is a welcomed change.

Your brother and boyfriend have gotten so close since Nationals that you have practically become the third wheel when they are together. You understand, though; as much as you love and empathise with the gruelling training and pressure, you will never understand them the way they do one another.

And with Minhee now crazily in love with not only your boyfriend but his girlfriend Wonyoung, it means you get to spend time with her too. She’s been teaching you how to skate and sharing insights from her own experience managing herself, which has been incredibly helpful for your role as Minhee’s manager. You love having her around, and double dates have become some of the highlights of your life.

Unzipping his duffle, Sunghoon begins to retrieve his handmade costume, looking at it with unfiltered awe. Rina outdid herself this time, the black sheer top with black and red gemstones splattered over it in the shape of a deconstructed heart fits perfectly with his heartbreak-themed performance. You had come up with the idea to skate to a song that signifies farewell but nothing obvious like Adele or Lewis Capaldi, something that people would remember. Eventually, after listening to hours of playlists curated on Spotify, some named after ex-lovers or ‘songs to get over One Direction too’, he finally settled upon Porter Robinson’s Goodbye to a World. It’s not what he is used to, the electronic track a stark contrast to his usual melodic symphonies, but with the song signifying a bittersweet end that promises brighter days ahead, he couldn’t think of a better song.

Once your best friend and Sunghoon’s self-proclaimed stylist heard the song, she came up with this jewelled masterpiece. She felt heartache with a slice of redemption in the lyrics, hence, the heart isn’t broken or whole, it is simply there to feel how it wants to as it trails up his side and over his chest.

Minhee glances over at the top and smiles brightly. “Looks good, man. I’m going to steal her once you retire,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes. He had already messaged Rina the moment he found out she was the one who designed the famous blue National outfit.

“I’m sure she’ll be more than willing,” Sunghoon replies fondly, hooking the top behind him. “She’s changing her final project to costume design. You can be her model. Just be prepared to give her some freebies from those new brand deals you have.”

Ever since you became Minhee’s manager, you’ve done a far better job than your mom did in her 15-plus years of managing him. Brands lined up at the door as soon as Nationals were over, eager to partner with Korea’s number one skater. The initial wave of attention was overwhelming. Your first day on the job was filled with countless emails about potential sponsors and multiple love letters asking you to play matchmaker.

But you made it clear to Minhee that these decisions were his to make. After years of your mom forcing him into deals he didn’t care about for quick cash, you insisted that he choose the ones he genuinely wanted, and you would handle the details. Being the brother you know and love, the first sponsor he accepted was Aston Martin. The promise of a new car to impress Wonyoung was too tempting to resist.

Laughing, Minhee nods in agreeance to Sunghoon’s statement, already planning to steal some cosmetics from the Black Rouge shoot he has in two weeks.

Finishing up his laces, your brother stands and checks the stability of his skates, wobbling back and forth a few times. “I can’t believe we need to get dressed and everything just to wait around for hours,” he complains, thinking about the long wait ahead. The pair have at least 5 hours to wait before they can even take to the ice, and with no practice rink like the Nationals, it’s a waiting game.

“I know,” Sunghoon agrees, beginning to get changed, discarding his casual clothes. “Y/N was hinting at spending some time together this morning. I felt so bad leaving her when I could have taken her to that La Bossue cafe she was talking about on the plane here,” he says regrettably, sleeking his black slacks on.

If anyone understands, it’s Minhee. This is his and Wonyoung’s first holiday together, even though they’re both competing. He wants to spend time sightseeing and kissing her outside Sacré-Coeur Basilica.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he picks up one of Sunghoon’s skates and starts unhooking the strings. This is a trust that had to be rebuilt, especially after what happened between them, but it’s a gesture Minhee likes to do as a constant apology for his previous actions.

“How is my Bubs anyway?” Minhee asks, referring to you. Your absence when he woke up this morning meant he hadn’t seen you yet. It’s not very professional from a client-manager perspective, considering this is the biggest skate of his life, but he’ll let it slide since Sunghoon probably needs your presence more right now.

“Adorably clingy and beautiful as always,” Sunghoon replies, his tone filled with adoration as he recalls your pout when he said goodbye this morning.

The love painted on Sunghoon’s face makes Minhee’s expression fall into fake annoyance. The older skater pretends to gag, a running bit he does whenever you and your boyfriend get a bit too mushy for his liking.

Once Sunghoon has his sparkly costume fully on, he notices Minhee’s antics and rolls his eyes. “Oh, get over it, Min. We’ve been together for over half a year now,” he smirks, snatching his skate from Minhee.

“Don’t I know it? I’ve been stuck watching you both eat each other’s faces for the past four months,” Minhee grimaces in disgust.

“Well, I hope you haven’t been watching me eat your sis-”

“Right, that’s my cue to get the fuck out of here,” Minhee interrupts, raising his hands in mock surrender. The playful banter and easy camaraderie between the two skaters are a testament to how far they’ve come. Sunghoon's laughter fills the room, rich and genuine, a sound that brings warmth to the moment.

“I’ll meet you out there, save me a seat,” Sunghoon says, settling back onto the bench to lace up his skates. His fingers move with practised precision, threading the laces through the eyelets with ease. He glances up briefly, his eyes meeting Minhee’s, a silent communication of mutual respect and friendship.

Minhee pauses at the door, turning back with a mischievous grin. “Do you want anything from catering?” he asks, his eyebrows quirking in a playful challenge.

Sunghoon’s response is immediate. “Yeah, grab me a chocolate muffin.”

Minhee’s expression shifts to one of exaggerated horror, his eyes widening theatrically. “The ones Henrik guards with his life? You want me to die?”

A smirk tugs at the corners of Sunghoon’s mouth, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Minhee laughs a deep, infectious sound. “Give me a kiss and I’ll think about it,” he teases, leaning in with puckered lips, his face comically close to Sunghoon’s.

Sunghoon pushes him away with a playful shove, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Get out of here, you idiot,” he chuckles, his tone filled with affectionate humour.

Minhee backs away, still laughing. “Alright, alright. I’ll see what I can do about that muffin. But if Henrik comes after me, I’m blaming you,” he says, pointing a finger at Sunghoon before disappearing out the door.

Sunghoon finishes lacing his skates, a fond smile lingering on his lips. Talking with his friend like this has helped ease some of the lingering apprehension and doubts in his mind. If Minhee can remain calm, or at least fake it, when this skate means just as much to him, then Sunghoon can do it too.

He’s going to make everyone proud out there, especially himself.

_____

You stand nervously next to Minhee, holding his hand impossibly tight as you both await his first Olympic skate. Honestly, you might be more nervous than him. For months, you have watched him batter and bruise his body attempting to perfect the hardest move in his routine��the Quadruple Lutz.

At Nationals, Minhee did the impossible and landed a quadruple Axel, a feat almost unheard of in figure skating. The moment was surreal, the entire arena holding its breath as he launched himself into the air, his body spinning at a dizzying speed. For what seemed like an eternity, he hung in the air, a blur of motion and grace. When his blades touched down on the ice with a clean, precise landing, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar. It was his greatest achievement, a moment of sheer perfection that few skaters ever reach.

Despite this triumph, Minhee knew better than to put his faith in landing it again at the Olympics. The stakes were higher, the judges more stringent, and any minor mistake could cost him dearly. The fluidity and overall performance were crucial here, and a fall on such a difficult jump could overshadow the rest of his routine. Instead, he had decided to go with the Quadruple Lutz—a move that, while safer than the quadruple Axel, was still incredibly challenging and demanding.

For months, he has landed on his ass, the echoes of his chosen song "Home" by Daughter becoming his laughing track until finally, he was able to do it with some ease. Minhee has a habit of getting his blade caught in the toe before launching, a flaw that Coach Kim has grilled him over time and time again because it is a stupid mistake that can easily be remedied.

That is what is weighing him down. He feels confident in his routine, but that one slip could be the difference between standing on a podium and leaving with his tail between his legs. Resting your head on his shoulder, you offer silent encouragement as you see one of the coordinators come over, signalling that it's almost time.

"Minhee," you whisper softly, lifting your head to meet his eyes. "I believe in you. You've worked so hard for this, and you've overcome so much. No matter what happens out there, you’re already a champion in my eyes.”

He turns his head slightly to look at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of nerves and gratitude. "Thanks, Bubs. That means a lot," he murmurs, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You squeeze his hand gently, your thumb brushing reassuringly over his knuckles. "Remember, it’s not just about the jumps. It’s about the story you tell out there. Skate like you’re sharing a piece of your heart with everyone watching. And if you get nervous, just think of Wonyoung and me cheering you on. We’re with you every step of the way."

“Y/N, you’re not gunning for my job too are you?” Coach Kim interjects with a teasing tone, poking his head from behind Minhee. You were so wrapped up in nerves you almost forgot he was there. “She’s right though, Min, performance is key here, if you think you can’t do any of the jumps, substitute it and we’ll take the deductions. They will be less than if you crash.”

Minhee takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He nods, a determined glint returning to his eyes. "I don’t need to sub, I can do everything,” he replies with arrogance but you can see the tremble in his chin as he speaks, nerves seeking their way out of his body in any way they can.

“You have been spending far too much time with Park, your cockiness is extra heightened.” Coach Kim slaps him on the back, touch lingering there for added assurance. If anyone believes in him as much as you do, it’s Coach.

The coordinator gives the final signal, and Minhee stands up, releasing your hand but not before giving it one last, firm squeeze. "See you on the other side, Bubs," he says with a wink, trying to infuse some lightness into the moment.

You watch as he heads towards the rink, feeling a mix of pride and anticipation. "Go get em’, Mini," you whisper under your breath, knowing that whatever happens, Minhee is ready to give it his all.

He steps onto the ice, and the world narrows down to the crisp sound of his skates carving through the surface and the soft, haunting melody of his chosen song filling the arena. The starting pose is simple yet powerful: Minhee stands tall and poised at the centre of the rink, his back straight and his gaze distant. His arms are extended slightly, creating a frame of elegance around him. The music begins softly, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, drawing in the calm before the storm.

As the music swells, Minhee starts his program with a series of intricate footwork sequences. His movements are fluid and precise, every step and turn executed with grace. His body flows seamlessly from one movement to the next, the choreography reflecting a deep, emotive connection with the music. The audience is captivated by the narrative unfolding on the ice—a story told through every glide, spin, and leap.

Minhee’s first major element is a series of spins, beginning with a fast, clean camel spin. He transitions into a sit spin, his body folding gracefully as he maintains a steady, controlled rotation. The audience watches in awe as he moves effortlessly between the spins, his form perfect and his speed unbroken.

The anticipation builds as he nears the pivotal moment of his routine - the quadruple lutz. Minhee takes a deep breath, his focus sharpening as he glides toward the takeoff point.

He picks up speed, his skates slicing through the ice with powerful, rhythmic strides. As he approaches the takeoff, you can see the concentration etched on his face. The quadruple lutz requires a precise and powerful launch, and Minhee’s years of hard work have led him to this moment. He performs a deep, smooth edge before leaping into the air.

From your vantage point, the moment feels almost surreal. You can see the determination and the slight tension in his body as he completes each rotation. His landing will determine the success of this routine. As he descends, his blades graze the ice with a delicate touch. You watch with bated breath, the entire arena silent, waiting for the impact.

He lands the jump cleanly, his body absorbing the impact with a controlled grace. There is a brief pause as he glides out of the jump, his movements smooth and confident. The audience erupts into gentle applause, filling the arena. Minhee’s face lights up with a mix of relief and elation, his eyes briefly searching the crowd for a glimpse of familiar faces.

When he comes across yours, a blur due to the rapidness of your jumping, he knows he’s done enough to make you proud, which wouldn’t be hard, but it’s nice to see you buzzing with glee now that he has successfully landed his hardest move, giving him enough confidence to finish his performance with intentional but relaxed tension.

As the music reaches its climax, Minhee performs a series of intricate step sequences, his footwork sharp and precise. His movements are quick and expressive, reflecting the emotional high point of the routine. He concludes with a final pose - his arms extended, his body arching gracefully as he holds the position for a heartbeat before the music fades.

The final note lingers in the air as Minhee holds his ending pose. The arena is a sea of applause and cheers, and Minhee takes a moment to soak in the overwhelming response. He smiles, a mixture of relief and pride evident in his expression, as he skates to the edge of the rink to greet his coach and the one person who has been by his side every step of this journey.

You watch with tears of joy in your eyes as Minhee glides toward you, his performance complete. The routine has been a triumph, a testament to his dedication and skill. Whatever the final score, you know that this moment will be remembered as a defining achievement in his career. After all, he had just performed a flawless routine at the Winter Olympics.

Minhee approaches the side of the rink and his face reflects a mix of relief and exhilaration. He bends down to carefully slip on his protective blades. The clinking sound of the skates against the ice seems to punctuate the end of his extraordinary performance. Once he's secured his blades, he makes his way toward you, his steps light but purposeful.

Without a word, you rush forward and envelop him in a tight, joyous hug. The embrace is fierce and full of unspoken pride and admiration. Minhee’s arms encircle you, holding you close as he buries his face in your shoulder. For a moment, the world around you fades away, and it’s just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of shared triumph and emotional release.

When you finally pull back, you can see the glistening in Minhee’s eyes, his smile wider than you’ve ever seen. “You were incredible,” you whisper, brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

He grins, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Bubs.”

“Sure you could have, you’re the Kang Minhee after all.”

“Who is nothing without the Kang Y/N,” he retorts, ruffling your hair playfully as the emotions in his body swirl and threaten to overflow through his eyes. But he holds it together, knowing that he still has to wait for the score, easily the most nervewracking part.

As the scores are about to be announced, you both sit with Coach Kim in the waiting area, hearts racing in unison. The scoreboard flickers to life, and the crowd holds its collective breath. The numbers slowly come into focus, each digit reflecting the culmination of months of hard work and dedication.

You glance at Minhee, who is watching the scoreboard with a mix of hope and anxiety. The realisation that he has done everything he possibly could, that his performance was nothing short of spectacular, brings a surge of pride and love.

The first number flashes, followed by another, and then the total score is revealed: '324.60'. The audience erupts into a thunderous roar, and you can barely contain your excitement. Minhee’s face lights up with an ecstatic grin as he takes in the numbers, a little dumbfounded to believe it.

Your eyes quickly scan the leaderboard, and you see the name Yuga Kagiyama at the top. The Japanese skater has posted an even higher score, placing him just ahead of Minhee. But Minhee’s score is nothing short of extraordinary, putting him in a close second place. The competition is fierce, but Minhee’s performance has clearly made a significant impact, and with only Sunghoon and one other skater to take to the ice, his chances of snagging an Olympic medal are high.

“You did it, Minhee!” you exclaim, hugging him tightly again, overwhelmed with pride. Your brother is about to be an Olympic medalist, something you have heard him go on and on about since you were little, and here he is achieving it with you by his side.

You and Minhee embrace, the weight of the moment sinking in. Your eyes brim with tears of joy as you hold your brother, feeling his heart pounding against yours. Coach Kim wraps an arm around both of you, his normally stern face softened by pride and emotion. The three of you stand there, on a small triumphant island amid the chaos of the cheering crowd.

Coach Kim gives Minhee a shining smile, his voice thick with emotion. "You've worked hard for this moment, Minhee. This is your victory. You've earned it with every drop of sweat and every ounce of effort."

Thankful, Minhee puts his hand on Coach Kim’s shoulder and sighs a final breath of relief, happy to have the pressure off his shoulders. "We did it, Coach," he murmurs, a smile playing on his lips. Coach Kim nods, giving Minhee a firm pat on the back, his pride evident.

After a few more moments of celebration, officials signal that it's time to move. As you're escorted towards the exit, Minhee suddenly stops and jerks his head back towards the rink.

"Sunghoon is on next," he says urgently, his eyes locking onto yours. "He’d want you there. Go be by his side."

You hesitate, looking around. "But they won't let me since I'm not part of his team." The rule is that only managers and coaches can be at the rinkside to see off and greet their skaters, and since you are none of those things, the chances of you being able to sneak back and be there for him are slim.

Minhee shakes his head, determined. "He's only got Coach Lee, trust me, he needs you there with your disgusting puppy love eyes to give him support," Minhee jokes, pushing you back the way.

You laugh despite your nerves, touched by Minhee’s playful yet sincere encouragement. "Alright, alright, I'm going!" You rush back towards the rinkside, heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The official looks puzzled as you approach, but you quickly explain, "My boyfriend, Sunghoon, he’s on next and it’s his last ever skate before retirement and if I’m not there by his side I would be such a shit girlfriend and he would never forgive me and we would break up and then you would be responsible."

The words tumble out your mouth at record-breaking speed, hearing the announcer already calling out your boyfriend’s name through the tannoys. You don’t mean to guilt trip the poor girl but you’re desperate and couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t try. Either this works or you will throw a tantrum until she has no choice.

Luckily, The official nods quite willingly, allowing you through. “If anyone asks, I never let you by,” she whispers in a thick Parisian accent, stepping aside to let you bolt through. With a quick thank you, you weave through the throngs of cameramen and other personnel to find Coach Lee standing with his arms crossed and face serious.

Once he sees you, his expression lightens, and he tucks you in under his arm. "Glad you made it, Kiddo," he says, his voice low. "He'll be happy to see you here. Give him an extra boost."

Sunghoon glides onto the ice, his face a perfect blend of focus and determination. The music begins, his ears infiltrated with the electronic beats as he hears every word, ready to skate his last competition and start a new life, one where you are his main focus and not the ice.

Sunghoon starts with a series of fluid crossovers, gaining speed before launching into a triple axel, landing perfectly with barely a sound on the ice. The crowd gasps and then applauds, already captivated. Without missing a beat, he transitions into a combination spin, showcasing his flexibility and control, his body a blur of movement. He looks regal out there, the gems from his top catching the light and adding another layer of beauty to it.

As the music swells, Sunghoon prepares for his next big element - a quadruple toe loop. This was difficult for him, something Coach Lee had suggested as his power move, which he spent forever perfecting, both in the rink and out. For a few weeks, he even attempted it on a trampoline to get the projection right. He was so dedicated to making this work that you feel his nerves bouncing off each glide on the ice and straight to your chest.

You hold your breath, watching as he launches into the air, rotating four times with precision before landing smoothly, his blades slicing the ice like a whisper. You resist the urge to cheer loudly, knowing it can throw him off, so instead, you settle for the audience etiquette of light applause.

He moves into a complex footwork sequence, his feet dancing in intricate patterns across the ice, each step perfectly synchronized with the music. His expression is intense, every movement telling a story of passion and struggle, triumph and heartache, beginning and end.

The middle of his routine is marked by a stunning triple lutz-triple loop combination, each jump executed with flawless technique. His body seems to defy gravity, hanging in the air for what feels like an eternity before descending gracefully back to the ice.

Sunghoon's artistry shines in the next segment, a series of choreographic elements that flow seamlessly, his arms and upper body movements expressive and emotive. He glides across the ice in deep edges, his body language conveying the emotion of the music, drawing the audience deeper into his performance.

As the final crescendo of the music approaches, he gears up for his closing element, a breathtaking quadruple salchow. He takes a deep breath, pushes off, and flies into the air, rotating perfectly before landing with strength and grace. The audience erupts in applause, unable to contain their awe at the sheer perfection of his routine.

Sunghoon finishes his performance with a dramatic final pose, the music reaching its climactic end as he holds the position, his chest heaving with effort. The arena is filled with the sound of thunderous applause and cheers, the crowd on their feet in a standing ovation.

He bows deeply to the audience, his face flushed with exhilaration. When he straightens up and turns around, his eyes immediately find yours. His expression changes instantly, his eyes widening in surprise and joy. A brilliant smile spreads across his face, mirroring the elation in your heart.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sunghoon skates over to you at speed, his movements as graceful and powerful as they were on the ice. He reaches you in what feels like no time, pulling you into his arms with a mix of laughter and tears in his eyes. It was the perfect passing-the-torch moment, leaving the ice behind to run to you and your future together.

"What are you doing here?" he questions, still trapping you in an iron grip, his voice filled with amazement and joy.

"I couldn’t not be here, it's your last skate," you explain, your voice trembling with emotion. "I had to see it up close. I had to be here for you."

His grip tightens, his head burying into the crook of your neck, grounding himself in your presence. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice breaking. "I’m so fucking happy you’re here.”

You hold him tightly, feeling the rapid thud of his heart against yours. Tears of pride and happiness stream down your face as you soak in the moment, the culmination of all his hard work and dedication. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, and you see the deep gratitude and love reflected in them.

"You were perfect out there," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "Every single moment was incredible. I've never been so proud of you."

“I love you like crazy,” he confesses with the same amount of passion he put into his routine. His lips find yours in a kiss filled with fervour and emotion, the world around you fading away. The noise of the crowd, the flashing cameras, and even the bright lights of the arena all dissolve into a blur as you lose yourself in the kiss.

Sunghoon's hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the heat and intensity of his love. The kiss deepens, each of you pouring all the emotions of the night into this singular, powerful moment. It's a kiss that speaks of triumph, of shared dreams, and of a future together that you both can see so clearly.

When you finally pull back, breathless and flushed, you rest your forehead against his, your eyes locked onto his. "I love you too, Sunghoon," you whisper, your voice full of conviction and tenderness. "More than anything."

Just then, an official approaches, reminding Sunghoon that it's time to get his score. He looks at you, a mixture of reluctance and determination in his eyes. "I have to go," he says, his voice steadying. "But meet me in the hotel lobby at 7pm? I have something planned for you,” he says ominous, a mischievous glint twinkling in his dark orbs.

You mindlessly nod, head racing to come up with conclusions to his riddle. But you know better than to try and guess what Park Sunghoon has in store, instead, you give his lips one final kiss before letting go. “I’ll be there.”

He nods, taking a deep breath as he turns towards the judging area, taking the same spot that Minhee did moments ago. He just had to get in the 310s to get bronze, which is by no means feet. But you know he secretly wants the gold, knowing that it’s the perfect icing on the cake for his career.

You glance up at the board, nervously switching between biting the skin around your fingers and your lip. Of course, you were nervous for Minhee, but he had at least one more shot at Olympic gold, Sunghoon didn’t. That mounts immense anxiety onto your chest, hoping that he can achieve victory the way he wants.

The first number flashes on the screen, followed by another, and then the total score is revealed: "331.75." The audience erupts into a thunderous roar, the sound almost deafening.

Sunghoon's eyes widen in disbelief and joy as he takes in the numbers.

He won…first place.

The realisation is gradual, knowing that no matter how good the next skater is, beating a score like that is near impossible, with their average being 287.20, he knows he’s secured gold. Jumping up from his seat, Coach Lee crushes him in a bone-breaking hug, lifting him so his skates are off the ground.

“My fucking champ! I knew you could do it!” he shouts loud enough that the cameras pick it up and probably has to be bleeped to the millions of viewers on the other end, yet, you know they can probably make out how excited and proud the coach is despite the redacted words.

Laughing, Sunghoon nods, eyes roaming the area for you. He wants you to be the first thing he sets his sights on because, without you, this wouldn’t be possible. Your expression is a mix of gratification and pride, your gazes meeting as they whisper poems of love and adoration, even through the distance.

He owes you his entire life for making him see the joy in this strenuous sport once again, and he is going to do everything in his power to repay you for it, and he has his entire life to do so.

_____

Waiting in the lobby at precisely 7pm, you anticipate the arrival of your gold medal-winning boyfriend. In the time between his victory and now, you’ve managed to doll yourself up a bit. While he and Minhee were training the past few days, you took some time to go shopping, picking up a few bits and pieces. Your brother is generous with manager fees, so you can afford to spend a little extra while you’re here.

Now, you are clad in a stunning black Krysta Tulle Mini Dress, reminiscent of the one you wore at your award ceremony back in August, but this one is a bit shorter and more revealing. Sunghoon earned it, after all, and the least he deserves is some cleavage with whatever he has planned.

Speaking of his plans, you’re still in the dark about what he has in store for you. Your mind wanders to the obvious choices like the Eiffel Tower—perhaps he’s managed to get a private dinner booking like you see in movies, or maybe the Louvre instead. Perhaps he’s planned a romantic walk across the love lock bridge; although you can’t participate and adorn the bridge with a new lock that signifies your love, it’s still romantic to see all the lovers of the past and how their stories are still shared.

Suddenly, there is a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see your boyfriend standing there, looking as handsome as ever. His hair is styled in the side parting you always liked, with that one strand curving over his face, somehow highlighting the bridge of his nose which you love so much. Those freckles mark frequent kissing spots.

You’re glad you decided to dress up because Sunghoon is wearing a fitted suit, chic and beautiful, perfectly matching the city’s aesthetic. He looks like a vision, your mind swirling with love and a hint of desire. You’re just a girl, after all—it’s only natural to see your man in a suit and the first thing you want to do is rip it off.

Sunghoon’s breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes widen, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire world falls away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the softly lit lobby. He’s always known you were beautiful, but tonight, dressed in stunning frills under the gold-hued lobby of this overly expensive hotel, you look breathtaking.

His heart pounds in his chest, and he feels a wave of emotions wash over him - pride, adoration, and a deep, overwhelming love. The dress hugs your curves perfectly, the short length showcasing your legs, and the neckline draws his eyes to your exposed collarbones and the soft swell of your cleavage. It’s alluring without being overt, and he can’t help but marvel at how effortlessly you pull off such a look.

“You look...wow,” he finally manages to say, his voice filled with awe. His eyes trace over you, taking in every detail - the confident way you hold yourself, the sparkle in your eyes that mirrors his own excitement, and how your heart is beating in synch with his.

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want to fuck you so bad,” he whispers, low enough that only you can hear it.

A laugh erupts from your chest before you swat him with your hand. “You are not getting out of taking me out in Paris just because you can’t keep it in your pants. You roll your eyes to convey annoyance but it’s hard to even feign being stern with him when you were thinking the exact same thing about him.

That fuck buddy sex drive you had never left once you got into a relationship, that much is evident.

“Well,” Sunghoon says, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, “I’m not exactly taking you out in Paris.” He turns around, leading you back the way you came from. His sheepish tone is accompanied by an apologetic look flashing across his face as he walks you towards the elevator.

“Hoonie, I swear to god, if you made me get all dressed up just to take me back to your hotel room to fuck, I will be so mad. I-,” you struggle to think of a bargaining chip in this fight. “I won’t let you eat me out ever again.”

Sunghoon stops dead in his tracks, turning to you with wide eyes and an even wider mouth, his free hand dramatically resting over his heart. “How dare you threaten to take away my favourite activity? That is cruel, so cruel, even for you.”

You can't help but laugh at his theatrics but by Sunghoon’s standards, this is actually quite tame considering the cards you have dealt. He can’t go three days without being between your legs so the punishment you would inflict by taking that away from him is worse than any torture interrogation method.

“Well, you deserve it if you think you can just drag me back to your room.”

Smiling and slightly proud, Sunghoon resumes his position, walking you to the lift and pressing the button. “It’s not my room. It’s a surprise. Just trust me, okay?”

Of course, you do trust him, but your heart beats quicker as you realize you really have no idea what you are getting yourself into.

Stepping into the elevator, Sunghoon presses the rooftop button and you eye him curiously. “The rooftop?” you question, but before you can guess further, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Shhh, don’t try and spoil the surprise I worked so hard for,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your neck. His lips trail soft, teasing kisses from your jawline to your collarbone, each one sending shivers down your spine.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, a mix of adoration and desire in your tone. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and the anticipation is killing you. His hands roam gently over your back, pulling you even closer until there’s no space left between you. The warmth of his body and the intoxicating scent of his cologne make it impossible to think straight, any questions about the roof now gone.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Sunghoon reluctantly pulls away, yet a satisfied smirk sits on his lips as he leads you out onto the rooftop.

To your surprise, the usually bustling terrace is completely empty. Instead of the usual crowd, there is a single, elegantly set table for two. Soft fairy lights twinkle around the perimeter, casting a warm glow. A bottle of champagne sits chilling in an ice bucket on the table, and beyond it, the Eiffel Tower stands majestically, its lights shimmering against the night sky.

You walk forward, admiring the view of the city from this vantage point. It’s full of night tourists and young lovers who share the same depth of feelings as you and Sunghoon do. Never has a place taken your breath away. Granted, you haven’t ventured much out of your home country, but this is unlike anything you could have imagined.

Leaning over the stone balcony, you let out an almost inaudible 'whoa' and cherish the view. “Sunghoon, this is beautiful. How did you manage this?”

He chuckles, pulling out the cork of the overly-priced champagne. “I have my ways. Why would I take you to something a million and one couples do when I can give you something unique?” Sunghoon’s pouring skills leave much to be desired, the overflow of the liquid spilling onto the ground, splashing on his shoes.

Although it should slightly ruin the moment, you can’t help but tear your eyes away from the city and laugh at the less-than-aesthetic scene before you. Sunghoon looks up at you with a sorrowful expression and hands you the damp glass anyway.

“You know, I was aiming for elegance,” he says with a playful pout.

Taking the glass from him, you grin. “I’ve learned you can only do elegance when it comes to skating, it’s okay, baby.”

He relaxes, the tension easing from his shoulders as he joins you at the balcony. Together, you raise your glasses, the Eiffel Tower twinkling in the background. “To you,” he grins brightly, tilting his glass to be clinked with yours.

“To me? Shouldn’t it be to your gold medal?” you ask a little incredulously. This night should one hundred percent be about your boyfriend and his deserved win, so why on earth is he cheersing to you right now?

“My gold medal doesn’t mean anything compared to you.” Sunghoon is so sweet with his words, to the point you wonder if he came straight out of a romance novel. But knowing your boyfriend better than anyone, you have a sneaking suspicion about something, more precisely about something possibly around his neck.

Narrowing your eyes, you lower your glass and hold it close to your chest, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re wearing that medal right now, aren’t you?” you challenge, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Sunghoon attempts to play it cool, shaking his head with a feigned look of innocence. “What? Me? No way. I’ve not got an ego,” he says, but the slight twitch of his lips gives him away.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “Sunghoon, I can see right through you.”

He sighs, realizing there's no use in denying it. With a sheepish grin, he dips his hand into his shirt and pulls out the gleaming gold medal, letting it sit in the lights for a moment before tucking it back in. “Fine, you caught me,” he laughs.

You give him a weird look, your confusion evident. “Why are you wearing it under your shirt?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a playful glint in his eyes. “What? I like the way it feels,” he admits, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Not everyone has a gold medal.”

You shake your head in disbelief, eyes rolling as you take your first sip of the golden liquid. With the city of love sprawled out beneath you and the Eiffel Tower twinkling like a thousand stars, the moment feels perfect. Sunghoon wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as you both gaze out at the stunning view, savouring the magic of Paris and the joy of being together.

“You know,” he begins, placing his flute down, “I also like the way you feel,” he breathes out seductively, both hands twirling you to face him. As mesmerising as the city is, the look of need in your boyfriend’s eyes trumps it all.

His hands rest on your hips, fingers gently kneading as he draws you even closer. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “How did I get so lucky?”

You smile, feeling a flutter in your chest, like a million butterflies have just escaped their cocoons and are roaming free around your ribcage. “I’m the lucky one,” you reply softly, tracing your fingers along the edge of his jaw.

Sunghoon’s eyes darken with intensity as he tilts your chin up, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other’s embrace. The night air is cool against your skin, but his touch is warm, grounding you in this perfect moment.

The kiss deepens, becoming more fervent with every passing second. Your heart races as his hands roam your body, caressing and squeezing in all the right places. You clumsily place your glass down beside his, but it’s hard to concentrate because his hands are everywhere - one gripping your waist, the other sliding down to cup your ass. He pulls you closer, pressing your bodies together, his need palpable in every touch.

His mouth moves hungrily against yours, each kiss more intense than the last. You can feel his desire, his longing, in the way he devours your lips. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you can’t get enough of him and the only way to be satisfied is to crawl into his skin. His kisses trail down your jawline, nipping and sucking gently at your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

When he reaches your neck, you gasp, your head tilting back to give him better access. He takes full advantage, his lips and teeth working magic as he moves down your throat. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you against him as he nibbles and licks at your sensitive skin. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps, the sensations overwhelming.

Just when you think you can’t take any more, he drops to his knees in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, and you glance around, worried about being seen. “What if someone sees?” you whisper, your voice shaky with a mix of fear and excitement.

Sunghoon looks up at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Then I’ll make sure we put on a show,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your dress higher. The thrill of his words sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but tremble in anticipation.

He hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them to the side. The cool night air hits your exposed skin, making you shiver. But his touch is warm, his fingers gentle as they slide against your most sensitive places. He looks up at you one last time, his eyes filled with desire and mischief, before he leans in, his mouth pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against you.

The sensation is electric, his tongue teasing and tasting, driving you wild with need. Your hands grip the stone balcony for support, your legs trembling as he works his magic. He’s relentless, his mouth and tongue working in perfect harmony.

Just like the first time he ever tasted you, he’s losing himself in your flavour, manually putting your legs around his shoulders to allow him deeper access to your dripping cunt. The juices that are leaking from your body are better than any gold medal. Each cry that passes your lips is accompanied by more of your sweetness coating his tongue.

You can’t help but grip his hair now, holding him in place as he lavishes attention on your aching clit. He savours your taste, his tongue flicking and circling with expert precision as he laps you up. Long, slow licks are interspersed with quick, teasing flicks, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He knows exactly what you need, and he gives it to you without hesitation.

Sunghoon's mouth moves with purpose, sucking gently at your clit before delving back with his tongue, exploring every inch of you. He hums against your skin, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation that has you arching your back and moaning his name. The heat builds inside you, an inferno that only he can control.

He intensifies his efforts, his tongue pressing harder, his movements more deliberate. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as you writhe against him, completely lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, forgetting that with every mewl of his name, there is a greater risk of this entire hotel knowing what you’re up to. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you.

Finally, the tension that’s been building inside you snaps, and you cry out, your body shaking with the force of your release. Sunghoon doesn’t stop, his mouth and hands guiding you through every wave of pleasure until you’re spent, leaning back against the balcony for support. Sunghoon shoulders most of your weight as you fold in on yourself, your feet still dangling over his broad shoulders.

Sunghoon wastes no time. He gently places your feet back on the ground and rises to his full height, his eyes dark with desire. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, and you taste the remnants of your own release on his lips, mingling with the champagne. It's intoxicating, the mix of flavours and the intensity of his kiss making your head spin.

All apprehension goes out the window as you begin to undo his trousers, your fingers fumbling with the button and zipper in your eagerness. You pull out his cock, feeling its hard length throbbing in your hand. His eyes remain locked on yours, the connection between you unbreakable as you guide him to your entrance. The city lights behind him create a halo around his head, making the moment feel almost surreal.

He pushes into you slowly, and your breath hitches at the sensation. Your eyes remain focused on one another, the world around you fading into the background. The feeling of him filling you is overwhelming, the connection between your bodies electric. The city behind you twinkles in the night, a backdrop to the raw, passionate scene unfolding.

Sunghoon starts moving, his pace quickening as he finds a rhythm that makes you both gasp with pleasure. Your body responds to his every touch, your legs wrapping around his waist to allow him to reach deeper. His thrusts become faster and more desperate, the sound of skin against skin mingling with your moans and the distant hum of the city below.

"God, you feel amazing," he groans against your ear, his voice thick with desire. "I could stay inside you forever."

You grip his shoulders tighter, your nails digging into his skin as you feel the pressure building again. "Sunghoon," you whisper, your voice breathy and needy, "don't stop."

"I won't, I’ll never stop fucking you. I’ll never stop loving you," he promises, his thrusts becoming even more intense, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands roam your back, one slipping down to squeeze your ass, the other tangling in your hair to pull your head back, giving him better access to your neck.

In a moment of heated passion, he takes his gold medal from around his neck and places it over yours, the cool metal resting against your heated skin. He uses the ribbon to pull you closer, bringing your lips together in a bruising kiss. The weight of the medal and the intensity of his gaze make you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

Leaning on the balcony behind you with your elbows, you try your hardest to jerk your hips in rhythm with his, the motion causing him to hiss into your mouth as he tip punctures your cervix a few times, giving him a taste of something more. It’s too dangerous to throw your legs over his shoulders and have you balancing on the edge, he never wants to put you in danger, so he thinks if the next best thing.

Without warning, he flips you around, pressing your front against the cool stone of the ledge. He enters you again from behind, his thrusts more intense, driven by a primal need. The contrast between the roughness of his movements and the serene beauty of the city below is stark, making the moment even more exhilarating.

You brace yourself against the balcony, your moans echoing in the night as he pounds into you with relentless enthusiasm. His hands grip your hips, guiding you back onto him with each thrust, his cock hitting deeper than ever before. The force of his movements sends shivers down your spine, your body completely surrendering to the pleasure he's giving you. The city behind you is a blur of lights and sounds, but all you can focus on is the man who is driving you to the edge once more.

Sunghoon's hands grip your hips with a possessive strength, his fingers digging in as he drives into you with a relentless pace. Each thrust is purposeful, his body moving with a precision born of passion and familiarity. His breaths come in staggered gasps, his face pressed against your shoulder, lips brushing against your skin. The rough stone of the balcony presses into your chest, adding a contrasting chill to the searing heat of his body. The city lights below seem to blur as the intensity of the moment takes over.

"I'm gonna love you until the day I die," he growls into your ear, his breath hot and needy despite the sweetness of his words. The weight of his desire is palpable, sending shivers down your spine. "I can’t wait to make you mine."

His words are a catalyst for the pleasure that courses through you, intensifying with each powerful thrust. Your body is on fire, a taut string being pulled to its limit. You can feel the pressure building to a breaking point, the sensation almost overwhelming as he keeps up his relentless rhythm. The sheer force of his movements pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm yours," you gasp, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own moans. "I’m already yours, Hoonie." Your hands grip the railing tightly, knuckles white, as you brace yourself against the force of his thrusts. The night air is cool against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the burning desire you feel.

Sunghoon’s breath becomes ragged, each inhalation coming in quick, shallow bursts. His fingers slip around your body, finding their way to your clit with a precision that makes you cry out. The touch is electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through you with every stroke. He moves his fingers in tight, swirling motions, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild.

The combination of his skilled touch and the unrelenting rhythm of his thrusts is too much to handle. Your body trembles violently as you spiral into another intense climax, the sensation causing you to scream his name into the night. The release is all-consuming, leaving you feeling as though you’re floating in a sea of pleasure.

The intensity of your release acts as a trigger for Sunghoon, who is lost in the frenzy of the moment. With a final, deep, and forceful thrust, he comes inside you, his body tensing and shuddering as his climax overtakes him. His grip on your hips tightens, his muscles flexing as he rides out his orgasm. He collapses against your back, his breathing ragged, and you can feel his warmth spread across your skin.

Both of you pant heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. The city below remains a beautiful, shimmering backdrop, but the focus of your world is now on each other. The contrast between the intensity of your passion and the serene beauty of the Parisian night is almost surreal.

Sunghoon pulls you gently against him, his lips trailing soft, tender kisses along your neck as you both come down from the high. His hands caress your sides, a soothing contrast to the earlier fervour. “I love you so much, Sweets.”

The confession passing his lips isn’t new and you’ve heard it umpteen times just today but somehow this one means a lot more than previous. Maybe it was the setting or the fact his cock is snuggly inside of you, but either way, you cherish it just like the rest.

“I love you, too, Hoonie.”

Sunghoon’s movements are gentle as he pulls out of you, his touch tender and careful. He reaches for a soft napkin from the table, using it to clean both of you with practiced, considerate strokes. The contrast between the cool fabric and the warmth of his skin creates a soothing sensation, a calming end to the intensity of your shared experience. His eyes are locked onto yours with a depth of affection that makes your heart swell. It’s a gaze so filled with love and tenderness that it feels almost surreal, as if you’re both suspended in a perfect, unblemished moment.

“This was perfect, Sunghoon,” you murmur, your voice soft and filled with genuine appreciation. The night has been magical, a blend of romance and intimate connection that feels like a dream. “Thank you.”

Sunghoon’s face lights up with a beaming smile, his eyes twinkling with an emotion so raw and pure that it almost makes you catch your breath. He shakes his head in a modest gesture, though the joy in his expression is unmistakable. “Believe it or not,” he says with a playful glint in his eye, “this wasn’t what I had planned.”

“Oh?” you reply, your curiosity piqued as you watch him with a mixture of surprise and intrigue.

With a dramatic flourish, Sunghoon reaches into the pocket of his suit and retrieves a small, elegant box. He presents it to you with a blend of excitement and nervous anticipation, his hands trembling slightly. “I have something else for you,” he says, his voice a blend of excitement and tenderness.

Your fingers tremble as you take the box from him, the weight of the moment sinking in. You open it slowly, revealing a delicate necklace with a beautiful ring attached. The ring sparkles softly in the low light, its beauty undeniable. Sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on you, his expression a mixture of hope and love.

“I wanted this day to be unforgettable,” he begins, his voice steady but emotional. “When I first saw you that day, crying in Belmore, I knew I needed to protect you from anything and everything bad in the world. I know, our start was rough and we had way too many close calls that tore us apart. But we did it, we got through it which makes me think we can really get through anything.”

He breathes out slowly, before taking his glass from earlier and downing it for dutch courage, causing you to laugh through the bubble of emotion in your throat.

“I thought now, that everything is done and I’m not going to be Ice Prince Park Sunghoon that I need a new title and that could be Y/N Kang’s husband?” The smile grows on his face as he imagined being addressed in such a way, wearing it as a badge of honour. “So I got you this. You can wear the necklace for now, and when you’re ready to be my wife, you can take the ring off and put it on your finger.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the significance of his gesture. The necklace is elegant, the ring a symbol of commitment that transcends the ordinary. Tears of joy well up in your eyes, and you struggle to find the right words. “I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, overwhelmed by the depth of his love. “This is...it’s beautiful.”

Sunghoon’s gaze remains locked on you, his expression a blend of adoration and nervousness. He watches as you carefully lift the ring from the necklace and slide it onto your engagement finger. The fit is perfect, and as you look up at him, your smile radiates happiness and awe. “What if I’m ready now?” you ask, your voice trembling with emotion.

Sunghoon’s face softens, his eyes shimmering with tears of joy as he reaches out to cup your face in his hands. His touch is gentle and reassuring, and he leans in to press a tender kiss against your lips. “If you’re ready now,” he mumbles against your lips, his breath warm and comforting, “then I’m ready for forever.”

The world around you blurs into insignificance as you both embrace, the enormity of the moment enveloping you. The city lights below shimmer like a vast constellation, their brilliance echoing the love and joy that fills your hearts. In the perfect Parisian night, amidst the twinkling lights and the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower, you and Sunghoon stand together, united by a love that feels as boundless as the city itself. The promise of the future stretches out before you, a journey you’re ready to embark on together, hand in hand and heart to heart.

perm taglist (sorry if you didnt read the series): @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @monstanctiny21 @strawberrysavi @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull @yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm @star-hoon

#enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #sunghoon x reader #melting point #aj writes

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lucysarah-c · 5 months ago

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The door creaked under Levi's weight as he entered his office. His bloodshot eyes surveyed the dim room, a sight that usually offered comfort but now unsettled him deeply.

His mouth felt dry, coated with an unfamiliar taste. He was sweltering in his military uniform, blaming the oppressive heat on the formal attire rather than his own tension. Dragging his feet across the office, he approached the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. He pushed it open, perhaps too forcefully, causing you to stir in bed and twitch involuntarily.

You didn’t wake up, but one of your bare legs shifted higher. On any other occasion, Levi would have grumbled about the wrinkles on the sheets. You always insisted on neatly tucking the blankets only to end up sprawled across them, barely covered. Curled in a fetal position, your smooth, naked legs parted slightly at his noisy entrance. Your light nightgown had bunched around your hips, leaving your body exposed. Lips parted, you breathed softly, your chest rising and falling peacefully as you slept.

It bothered him deeply that you were asleep. This alone spoke volumes about his intoxicated state because, under normal circumstances, he would have been filled with adoration. His gaze lingered between your legs, noting that you weren’t wearing panties. Normally, he might say the view made his pants feel tighter, but the truth was he had been hard since leaving the military board meeting.

Stumbling forward with one objective in mind, he tripped. Even in his drunken state, he felt like an idiot. It was a forewarning of how stupid he would feel the next morning once his full faculties returned. Squinting in the dim light, he saw what had caused his fall: your bags, perfectly arranged at the foot of the bed, ready for your early departure to a girls-only trip by the lake for the weekend.

But in that moment, Levi couldn't care less. He had drunk far too much at the military board's mandatory party. Initially, he was reluctant to have more than a glass or two. But everyone insisted, and drinking allowed him to avoid conversation. When the MPs brought in women, probably paid for, he felt ashamed to be there, especially knowing you were at home. He continued drinking to keep his eyes occupied and his mouth busy. The heat wave made the crowded, smoke-filled room unbearable, and with no water available, he kept drinking.

With too much alcohol in his system, his mind fixated on his most primal instincts. These included frequent bathroom trips and, of course, thoughts of you. He imagined you and him together, sweating—since he was already drenched, it would be better if he were naked and thrusting into you—hearing you moan his name, feeling your body beneath his control.

A small part of his consciousness insisted that his thoughts were wrong. But the other part urged, “Since you're already on the floor, take off your shoes.”

Before he could think clearly, he had climbed onto the bed, positioning himself on all fours above you. His lips found the tender spot on your neck as his hand slid under your nightgown.

"Mmm," you groaned, stirring uneasily under his touch. Your eyes remained closed, but you were slowly waking. Levi sucked and nibbled at your neck with the fervor of a man possessed. "Levi?" you asked, confused, allowing his hands to roam over your body.

Levi simply hummed, pleased that you were awake.

"You're back?" you asked, though it was clear he was there. "Levi, I need to sleep."

"I'll be quick," he promised, his voice slurred, betraying his drunken state. You could taste the alcohol on his breath when his lips met yours.

You pulled back slightly, repulsed, "You're drunk," you muttered, sleepily, as he continued to assault your neck.

"Drunk in love with you," he declared, his words catching you off guard. "I want you," he continued, kissing your shoulder. "I need you."

It was clear he wasn’t thinking straight. "Levi," you protested, his hand now squeezing your breast over the nightgown, and his hard erection pressing against your core, "I need to sleep. I leave early in the morning."

Your complaints were silenced as he kissed you messily, moaning into your mouth, taking your breath away. A thin thread of saliva connected you as he looked at you with drunken, lust-filled eyes. "You don't have to do anything. I'll do it all."

You weren’t sure if it was the idea of a quickie before sleep or his unusually needy state that made you receptive, but you parted your knees slightly on the mattress. You didn’t bother moving from the position you had been sleeping in just moments ago. With your face resting on the pillow, Levi positioned himself and thrust inside you. Your faces were close, sharing the same breath, panting as he eagerly fucked you. It was messy, fast-paced, and though it lacked his usual calculated rhythm, it was intensely arousing and intimate. It felt like being teenagers again, fumbling through quick, passionate sex without knowing exactly how it was done, but enjoying every second of it.

"Ah- mmm!" you moaned softly, too tired to be loud, quiet little kittenish sounds escaping your lips. He was impossibly deep, his heat blending with the oppressive summer air. Sweat dripped from his face, mingling with yours.

"Ah- ah, yeah! Fuck, you feel amazing. Mmm, ah!" Levi was unusually vocal, his eyebrows raised slightly, mouth open. From the corner of your eye, you admired his relaxed expression, completely lost in the moment. "I'm fucking melting inside you."

It felt the same for you. The quick, messy fuck ended with him spilling inside you, not helping to ease the heat.

You usually didn’t mind Levi cuddling you, but this time, it felt unbearable. The air was hot, he was like a living radiator next to you, the sheets were warm and tangled, and you felt sticky and wet all over.

Reluctantly, you slipped out of bed, determined not to miss your trip with your friends. You dragged yourself to the bathroom for a cold shower. Half-lidded eyes tried to focus on the reflection in the bathroom mirror. Gradually, your eyebrows drew together as you noticed the deep purplish marks on your neck and hips. There went your hopes of wearing a bikini around the families at the lake.

"LEVI ACKERMAN!"

The pillow fell off his head as he jolted awake, his upper body shooting up in bed. A terrible decision, as he immediately felt a pounding headache and a wave of nausea from last night's excesses. Groaning, he gripped his head, dreading the day's work ahead. The fallen pillow didn’t help when you hit him with it.

"OI!"

"You RUINED my girl's weekend!"

"My head is killing me," Erwin muttered, his dark circles standing out against his pale, sickly complexion. The scorching sun outside the shop only made things worse. "Levi! We're going to be late!" he complained as his colleague lingered inside the shop.

Levi peeked outside, looking no better. "We wouldn’t be late if you didn’t take so long to get ready. As usual."

Erwin groaned as Levi disappeared back into the shop.

When it was finally his turn, Levi approached the front desk quickly. "What are the prettiest flowers you have?" he asked.

The florist, busy rearranging a bouquet, looked up with a grimace. "Oh boy…"

(I don't know what this was... It just came to my mind.)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthor @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @storiesofsung @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @r3becca_0 @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @hyuckwon-my-husbands @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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r3starttt · 3 months ago

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DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE MP | PALESTINE LINKS | DAILY CLICK | TAGLIST

Dealer! Abby who's got her hands round your neck and stomach, her hips against your ass, rubbing herself like she's the one in need. The ligh in the bathroom almost too Intense for your current state to deal with, the music too loud, making everythinf buzz- and her words, too hurtful for you to even focus on how wet she's got you with it. But she knows- she's aware she's got you ridiculously wet. "Think you can do better than me?" Her lips pressing a kiss right on your earlobe, her breath hitting your skin. "No- Abs, please," all because you accepted some random girl's joint instead of looking for her- who you knew was about to fuck some other girl too. "Shut the fuck up." Thing is, she caught you first.

While your hands keep yourself in balance against the sink, her fingers pull towards your chest, underneath your shirt which she takes with her hand, exposing a bra she very much knew. "Gotta be fucking kidding me" She mocked you. "You're a fucking whore, mhm?" every move accompanied by a wet kiss on your neck- lips sucking and nibbling at your skin with no shame, her reddish eyes looking at you through the reflection. you just blabber in denial, feeling her other hand tightening around your neck, the callouses of her fingers harsh against your skin. "No? you're not a whore?" The vibrations of her laugh hit your skin, almost at the rhythm of the music outside. "Then why're you wearing this, just a coincidence?" she voices almost like a long grown. "Abs-" it wasn't in fact, any coincidence, but she was too mad and annoyed by your stupid voice right now and your drunk-high blabbering to care about any word coming out your mouth that wasn't whimpers. "Shut the fuck up." Her fingers graced over the cups of your bra, tracing its pattern, skimming the lacey material before pulling the cups under your breasts.The reflection in the mirror humiliating. some baby hairs cascading on the sides of your face, quivering brows and a stupid smile half biting- sucking at your bottom lip and your breasts now fully exposed, your nipples begging to be touched. It was giving you a headache.

Her nails wrapped your perky nipples, pulling and pinching until she saw your reflection- that stupid look on your face- as she played with you, the hand on your throat left, going down yoru ass to cup and grip at the flesh, her index finger pulling you from the belt loop. “Think she could’ve made you cum?” she kept the palm of her hand steady against your hip, slowly moving back to your lower stomach, down your zipper until her palm cupped your cunt over the pair of jeans you were wearing, the fabric suddenly too thin yet too thick. You shook your head relentlessly, blabbering quiet no’s over and over again until she’d had enough fun with you.

“Haven't even started fucking you right, you're already drenched" her fingers slid right above your clothed cunt, underneath your jeans. Her fingers rubbing the smallest and slowest circles over your clit. Her other hand left your nipples, all swollen and sensitive- she rather forcing you to look at your reflection, hugging your neck tight enough for you to follow her unspoken command. “You're fucking wet, all cause I'm being mean to you? yeah?" you nod your head, letting her run her thick fingers down the slit of your cunt, aching for her to just pull your panties aside, touch your twitching entrance properly. “Want me to fuck you? want me to use you?" Abby’s eyes were red-ish, half leaded and looking at you pitied, cruel. Your nails hit the cold of the sink, the notion sending and awkward shiver to your whole body. “Please,” she laughs at how pathetic you are, all from just her fingers which she didn’t took long to push into you, they slid with ease, like you were made for her. It was embarrassing for you, but her? the whole scene before her feeding her ego, no one could ever make you this stupid. “see? sucking my fingers right in like the whore you are" you grind back onto her fingers, your walls clenching around them. you could feel your cheeks burning at the sound of your slick folds, the neediness of your hole to be filled. “You're gonna be fucking loud, and say my name when you cum. Let that bitch know who’s fucking you , yeah?”

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humancelltournament · 29 days ago

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Propaganda!

Macrophages (abbreviated Mφ, MΦ or MP) are a type of white blood cell of the innate immune system that engulf and digest pathogens, such as cancer cells, microbes, cellular debris, and foreign substances, which do not have proteins that are specific to healthy body cells on their surface. This process is called phagocytosis, which acts to defend the host against infection and injury. Macrophages are found in essentially all tissues, where they patrol for potential pathogens by amoeboid movement. They take various forms (with various names) throughout the body (e.g., histiocytes, Kupffer cells, alveolar macrophages, microglia, and others), but all are part of the mononuclear phagocyte system. Besides phagocytosis, they play a critical role in nonspecific defense (innate immunity) and also help initiate specific defense mechanisms (adaptive immunity) by recruiting other immune cells such as lymphocytes.

A tumor suppressor gene (TSG), or anti-oncogene, is a gene that regulates a cell during cell division and replication. If the cell grows uncontrollably, it will result in cancer. When a tumor suppressor gene is mutated, it results in a loss or reduction in its function. In combination with other genetic mutations, this could allow the cell to grow abnormally. The loss of function for these genes may be even more significant in the development of human cancers, compared to the activation of oncogenes. TSGs can be grouped into the following categories: caretaker genes, gatekeeper genes, and more recently landscaper genes. Caretaker genes ensure stability of the genome via DNA repair and subsequently when mutated allow mutations to accumulate.[3] Meanwhile, gatekeeper genes directly regulate cell growth by either inhibiting cell cycle progression or inducing apoptosis. Lastly, landscaper genes regulate growth by contributing to the surrounding environment, and when mutated, can cause an environment that promotes unregulated proliferation.

#Macrophages #Anti-oncogenes #poll #polls #tumblr poll #tumblr polls #tournament poll #wikipedia #cells of the human body #science tournament #biochemistry

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 22 days ago

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I've Got You

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 25. Betrayal, "How could you?" Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, f!reader Summary: A night at The Hard Deck takes a dire turn when you realize someone has slipped something into your drink. As the drugs begin kicking in, you turn to your pilot for help. Word Count: 2326 TW: Reader is Hangman's Backseater, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drugged, Spiked Drink, Betrayal, Jake Carries Reader, Fighting, Implied Future Sexual Assualt, Language, NOT ALL TWs LISTED READ AT OWN RISK Notes: Thank you to @ohtobeleah for looking this over 💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

For the third time, you jammed your fingers down your throat trying to expel whatever drug had entered your system into the toilet in front of you. Yet as hard as you tried, nothing else was coming up. You collapsed sideways and dragged yourself over to the back wall. There, wedged between the toilet and the side of the stall, you tried to figure out what to do next. Your head was growing foggier by the minute and your body was becoming so heavy that it was a struggle to even lift your hand or hold your head up.

Using what little strength you had left, you dug your phone out of your pocket, and, with it lying on the floor beside you, you typed the words “help. bathroom. now.” into your last text chat and pressed send. Then all the tension left your body as you slumped limply against the toilet.

You had no idea how long you waited like that, but eventually, you heard a soft knock at the stall door. “Sunshine? You in here?”

“Jake…”

That was all he needed to hear. You only ever called him Jake when you were being one hundred percent serious or the situation was dire. There was a second of silence before the door smashed open, the lock shattering as the full force of Hangman’s foot slammed into the door. He looked around before he noticed you wedged in the corner. His eyes grew wide and his tanned skin paled in the fluorescent lighting as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Oh my god…” He grabbed your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to get a better look at your eyes. “Your pupils are huge. What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

“Drink…” You swallowed and tried to claw your way out of the darkness you were slipping into. “S-someone put something in my drink.”

“Fuck…” Jake muttered, glancing over his shoulder. Then, his attention returned to you as he leaned in, his beer-scented breath breezing across your face. “Who were you drinking with? Sunny, stay with me.” He gently slapped your cheeks to get you to open your eyes. “Who was it?”

You tried to think but the fog rolling through your mind made it hard to focus. Finally, you recalled, “Frogger. Frogger and Screwball.”

“Okay, good.” Jake ran his hand up and down your arm, trying to keep you awake. “We need to let Penny know and have her call the cops. And probably the MPs. I won’t let them get away with this.”

“Thank…you…” you muttered, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of your lips. For the first time since you realized what was happening, you felt safe.

“I’m not gonna let someone mess with my backseater, now am I? Only I’m allowed to do that,” Jake smiled back, ruffling your hair. Then he placed his arms under your arms and legs and lifted your limp body off the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Now, let’s get outta here.”

With your head carefully tucked against his chest, Jake carried you from the bathroom. Your eyes were half-lidded and your vision was still tinged with darkness but at least it wasn’t getting worse and you were no longer fighting to remain awake with everything in you. You were still having trouble moving your limbs or lifting your head, however, it didn’t matter as you were safely gathered in Jake’s arms.

As soon as Jake walked into the main room of the bar, Penny noticed the two of you and gasped. Tossing her bar rag onto her shoulder, she hurried to Jake’s side, placing her hand on your cheek as she asked, “Oh my god! Is she alright?”

“She will be. But you need to call the cops.” Jake nodded towards the end of the bar where Frogger and Screwball were still sitting next to your empty seat. “Those two bastards spiked her drink.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Seresin?” Frogger demanded, sliding off his bar stool as his face grew red. “We didn’t do anything to her! We were just flirting a little.”

Screwball looked like a deer caught in headlights as he glanced from Frogger to you and back to Frogger. “Frog—”

“Shut up,” the other pilot growled under his breath. Then, turning back to Jake, he said, “I don’t care what the bitch says, we didn’t touch her or her fucking drink. You’re not pinning this on us. I’m not going down for something I didn’t do.”

“You were the only ones with her since she got her drink,” Penny snapped, her hands on her hips. “And I sure as hell didn’t drug her when I served her.”

Screwball jumped off his chair and took off for the door, but before he could get more than a few steps, Rooster, Coyote, and Payback blocked his way. All three men had at least four inches and twenty pounds on the small pilot and they all looked out for blood after an attack on one of their own.

Screwball whirled around and pointed a trembling finger at Frogger. “It had to be him! I just wanted to play some darts but he’s the one who insisted we chat up Sunshine. He has to be the one that did it!”

“You son of a bitch!”

Frogger turned and launched himself at Screwball, knocking both men to the floor. Before anyone could react, Frogger began pummeling Screwball in the face as he yelled, “Take it back, you fucking traitor! I didn’t do it!”

The three pilots who had been guarding the door dove into the fray and pulled Frogger off Screwball even as he continued kicking and cursing. Screwball curled into a ball and sobbed, alternating between cries of pain and cries of his innocence.

Penny had momentarily vanished in the scuffle but reappeared back at your side with her phone and a water bottle that she held out to you. “Here, honey, drink this. It’ll help flush whatever they gave you out of your system.”

With her help, you took a few big sips out of the bottle, spilling some of it down your shirt. However, the cool water felt refreshing on your feverish skin and you relaxed into Jake’s arms with a sigh.

Penny smiled, tucking the water bottle between your arm and Jake’s chest. Then she dialed 911 and waited for someone to answer. Glancing at Jake, she asked, “Should I have them send an ambulance too?”

“No, it’s okay.” Jake shifted you slightly so he had a better hold on you, then began heading towards the bar’s exit. “I’ll take her to the hospital, make sure she’s alright.”

“Thank you, Jake,” Penny smiled, the phone still up to her ear. Pointing at him as Bob held the door open, Penny added, “All your drinks are on the house for the next month.”

“I’m gonna make you regret that,” Jake chuckled, then he carried you out into the night.

It was a short walk across the parking lot to his truck. Once there, Jake settled you into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver’s side and climbing in, placing your water bottle in the cup holder. When he started the engine, he cracked your window so you could get a little breeze then he pulled out of the parking lot.

Between throwing up, the cool night air in your face, and the water Penny gave you, you were starting to feel more alert. The world around you was still swimming slightly, but you were able to sit up and lift your head.

Jake must have noticed because he grinned as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Hey there, Sunshine. How you feeling?”

“Better,” you mumbled, blinking a few times to try and clear your vision. Smiling softly at him, you said, “Thank you, Hangman. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“It’s what I do, Sunny,” Jake said. “I’m your pilot. I’ve always got your best interest in mind.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, leaning your head back against the door to get more air. “I guess you do.”

The two of you drove in silence for a few minutes and you were just about to drift off when you realized where you were. Sitting up, you asked, “Wait, I thought you were taking me to the hospital. Wasn’t that the turn?”

Jake shrugged. “Yeah, but they are doing construction down that road. I can turn up here.” He grabbed the open water bottle Penny had given you out of the cup holder and held it out to you. “Here. Drink some more of this. It’ll help.”

Taking it from him, you downed it in one gulp. You didn’t register the bitter sting on your tongue until after you had swallowed yet you recognized it immediately as the same taste that had initially alerted you that something was wrong back at the bar. But you had drunk half the water bottle when Penny first gave it to you without noticing anything off. Which could only mean…

Slowly, you raised your eyes to look at your pilot, the man you trusted with your life on a daily basis. “You wouldn’t…”

A smug grin spread across Jake’s face as he continued to stare at the road in front of him. “You know…I was so sure you had figured out it was me when I got your text. I thought you noticed me slipping the drug into your drink when I came up to the bar to grab my beer and that the game was over before it really even began. But then when I looked at you, huddled there on that disgusting floor looking so pathetic, I realized things had gone better than I hoped. I knew you’d tell someone what happened—probably Phoenix or Bob—then I’d step up to drive you to the hospital. I just never imagined I’d be the one you went to for help. Not when we weren’t on the clock.”

Tears slipped down your face, your voice quivering as you whispered, “How could you?”

“Come on, Sunshine. We both know you’ve been teasing me for months now, just begging me to make a move. Like I wouldn’t notice that perfume you’ve been wearing just for me? How I catch that faint trace of it in the cockpit when you shift in your seat behind me? Or how you always tie the arms of your flight suit around your waist when we’re going through after-training checks, showing off those perky breasts beneath that thin white tank top? Bending over in front of me rubbing that perfect ass in my face? You know how many times I’ve almost pinned you to the side of our plane and had my way with you? But no. You wanted to play the game, so I played the game. Now I’ve won, I’ve got you, and I’m ready for my prize.”

Horrified, all you could do was stare at this stranger with your pilot’s face. This was not the Jake Seresin you had been flying with for the past six months. The one who would flirt with almost any woman who crossed his path, yes, but who would never cross the line or hurt anyone…or so you thought.

Even as your body began to go slack in your seat as this new round of drugs kicked in, you tried to reason with him. “Jake, I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression, but I don’t want this. I-I was just doing my job. I wasn’t trying to tease you or lead you on. And it’s not too late. P-Please, stop this now and we’ll just forget everything that happened tonight.”

“Oh, I know you will.” Jake’s grin took on a sinister edge as the shadows between street lights flashed across his face. “That’s the best part of this drug. You won’t remember any of this in the morning.”

“What?” you breathed, a whole new level of terror settling in at this revelation.

“But don’t worry, Sunny,” Jake purred as he turned into the driveway of a house you vaguely recalled visiting once to pick up some paperwork he forgot to file. “That just means we can play this game over and over and over again.”

He threw the truck into park and jumped out. A second later, your door opened and you tumbled out into his arms. Before in the bar, Jake had carried you so carefully, making sure you were positioned comfortably in his arms. There was no care or regard for your comfort this time. Now, he placed his arm under your knees and shoulders, letting your head hang down loosely and making the world turn upside down as he lugged your body around like a lifeless sack.

Whatever he stuck in the water bottle must have been slightly different from what he gave you in the bar because while you couldn’t even manage to turn your head or lift your finger, your head wasn’t swimming like before and your vision was clear.

Tears rolled up your face and up into your hair as Jake carried you up the driveway towards his front door. You were too weak to call out or struggle against him and, once he got you inside his house, you knew there was nothing to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you.

As he opened the door, you silently prayed that what he said earlier was true. While you knew you needed to know what happened tonight to recognize the monster hiding behind the toothpick and perfect smile you saw in the seat in front of you every day, you didn’t want to remember a second of what he was about to do to you.

Jake stepped into the darkness of his house and the door slammed behind you.

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ihopesocomic · 1 month ago

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You said that I Hope So is not a "My Pride but better", it's an original story of yours. Fair. I don't disagree. But do you really think you're SUCH a better writer than tribble? 😭 Because every time someone PMs you in a way that isn't negative, you start to completely shit on it, and compare it to how you decided to do it differently in your own story and how it's so much better. Hold on there. I just think artists/writers should be careful when they worship and praise their own works too much while shitting on others works that often were born from a similar idea. But I'm not hating, it's just funny tho.

It's not about us "thinking we're SUCH better writers than Tribble", it's more that's your interpretation of what we're saying. I'm willing to bet that if we didn't have this comic, the argument would be more along the lines of 'well, I'd like to see you do better!' instead. This is just the flip side of the coin, I feel.

I say this because you seem to have this idea that she and her writing are untouchable to criticism vs. something like Warrior Cats, (which is where a lot of MP's narrative structure is inspired from), which even the self-admitted fans can find fault in. Still doesn't mean they can't find the potential in those books and make their own AUs or w/e without also suggesting they're better writers than the Erins. (Either way, certain expectations come with being a professional writer.)

Even without the badly-handled topics, her show just isn't written well. Dialogue is clunky and non-conversational, things get mentioned but never get followed through on, character motivations are all over the place. We have a whole three hour video talking about this if you'd care to watch it. But there are other things that I feel make Tribble an objectively bad writer. This isn't us "shitting on her". These are just fundamental factors that go against How to be a Good Writer 101:

Tribble never listened to criticism and she used serious issues as entertainment value. No one can argue that even highly-rated writers can produce incredibly sloppy work when 1) they feel they don't have to listen to criticism and 2) they feel they don't have to do proper research with a topic they want to cover in their work while knowing next to nothing about it.

As well as being a professional in her field, Tribble also had resources at her disposal that most indie creators cannot access. She had an editor and beta script readers helping her. In short, she had plenty of opportunities and guidance to stop and look back on what she had produced and make improvements. She did not and, what's more: she put on a show of doing so via asking for criticism but not taking it on board.

We know this because I tried to give her advice on several occasions, only to be shot down. For example, Tribble was very much aware of some of the underlying issues within the show (i.e. how bad it looked that Hover allowed Nothing to be assaulted by Quickmane in Episode 5 with zero reaction) because we brought it to her attention, she proceeded to not take our suggestions on how to improve things on board for one reason or another.

And I don't think I need to go into how it feels very backhanded that an able-bodied creator is producing a "pro-disability" show and yet refused to take on criticism by disabled viewers. (I would say that thinking so highly of oneself to the point where advice goes ignored even when asked for does not a good writer make.)

I also don't know if you're under the impression that we're tearing into some hobbyist's passion project but that's not what this is. My Pride was a professional production, made by a team and it had a budget of around 140-150k CAD, which was funded by Canadian taxpayers. We've had to repeatedly point this out because Tribble has failed to gone out of her way to make this clear. Presumably so people like you feel bad for her.

So, I'm sorry but it's perfectly fair game to criticise MP and how Tribble went about producing it. She had plenty of opportunities to improve what many deemed to be shortcomings. She did not. She thought she knew better, even better than those who have experienced the actual oppression she sought to depict in an edgy, disrespectful manner.

And that's why we feel she's bad writer. Her fans are free to disagree with us, but I've yet to come across any real argument outside of 'y'all r just mean!', even though we've been courteous enough to not get personal when criticizing her as a writer/director.

Our writing isn't perfect. We've always consistently made that clear. We have had several instances throughout the process of making this comic where readers have made good points that we have brought on to improve the writing. Hell, I've discovered things I didn't even know about my own conditions via some of the readers of this comic. The overreaching lesson is that you should listen to your readers, because they just want you to produce a better narrative. Unfortunately, I feel Tribble did not feel the same way about her audience, and I'm also getting the same vibes from you, anon. Purely by your notion that criticism of a show or not scolding our fans when they say they have a preference like the MP fans do = "shitting on MP". Which is fine but I'm going to have to say I disagree. It's not mean or problematic for me or any of my disabled readers to have strong opinions about a show that misappropriates our oppression.

Or that I think my writing is amazing when it's more that I'm improving what I personally feel needs to be improved. Such as how the disabled are always depicted in mainstream media. And I'll continue to do so. You can come at me with the reductive gatekeeping that is that I - as a disabled person - do not have the right to have an opinion on an able-bodied creator writing ableism badly and how it can be improved all you want, but I think that's ultimately more of a commentary on you than me. c: - RJ

#ask #ask us stuff #rj answers #my pride mention

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jobean12-blog · 1 year ago

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Wild For You

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 1,359

Summary: A new coworker at the bar treats you poorly and it really ruins your day but thankfully you have your amazing man to come home to and he makes everything better.

Author’s Note: Just some more of our favorite soft Biker 😍I missed him this week and since it’s Monday I really just want to plant myself in this man’s lap and never leave! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️ Both dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thanks a bunch Daisy🥰

Warnings: he’s super soft, sweet, and protective, but very flirty and a little bossy (in the best way) and super s-e-x-y and there’s some light angst and i-mp-li-e-d s-e-x-y time

Joel Miller Masterlist

“Oh darlin’,” Joel croons. “Come ‘ere.”

You fall into his strong arms, snuggling into his lap and clutching the front of his shirt. You let out a sniffle as hot tears roll down your cheeks, soaking the material.

“Maybe I’m overreacting?” you question quietly, nuzzling against his chest. “I don’t know what I could have done to make him…”

“No you’re not,” he says abruptly, cutting you off. “Nothin’ you could have done makes what that asshole said to you ok. No one talks to you like that.”

At his gruff response you look up into his eyes now hardened with fierce determination. His large thumb swipes across your wet cheeks, calloused skin gentle and soothing.

Emotion fills his voice as he growls, “he sounds like a real shithead and if he ever so much as looks at you in a way you don’t like again I’m goin’ to end him.”

“End him?” you say as a small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah,” he scoffs, taken aback by your slight amusement. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

“I will never understand how you can be so scary and so cuddly at the same time,” you sigh as you lay your head along his shoulder.

He gently rubs your back as he tugs you closer.

“Did you just call me cuddly darlin’?”

“I did,” you whisper. “So warm and cuddly and strong.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called cuddly in my entire life,” he chuckles.

“Mm,” you hum, kissing his neck. “You better only be cuddly for me.”

“Only you sunshine,” he murmurs before kissing the top of your head.

You stay like that for a while. Just basking in his warmth and comfort. So thankful you have him to come home to after an awful day.

Suddenly your stomach growls.

“Hungry darlin’?” he laughs, his body lightly shaking with the action.

“I guess so,” you mumble into his shirt, unwilling to leave his arms.

“You need to eat,” he says firmly, his fingers pressing under your chin until you’re looking up at him.

“So bossy!” you state as you sit up.

He grins wickedly. “You love when I’m bossy.”

You chew your bottom lip then lower your lashes. “I do, especially when you have me pinned…”

“Don’t distract me,” he warns. “I need to feed you first then we can play.”

Your face brightens as an idea comes to you.

“Can we make cookies?” you ask. “That’s food.”

“As much as I love your baking cookies aren’t dinner.”

You stand and glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine,” you pout. “I’d rather have cookies though.”

“Me too,” he says and quickly follows it with, “but dinner first.”

You frown. “But they’re for your eating pleasure,” you push, raising your brows.

“I’d rather eat you for pleasure,” he simpers. “But…”

You shiver at his words despite your discontent.

“I KNOW! I know” you huff. “But dinner first,” you mock with some sass.

You saunter into the kitchen, sure to put some extra sway behind your hips.

“Bossy, bossy…” you now mutter as you bend over to get a pot from the lower cabinet.

“I heard that darlin’,” he smiles as he follows you into the kitchen, his gaze glued to your ass.

You turn to face him when you feel the heat of him at your back. His eyes are soft as he traces the outline of your jaw.

“It’s been a long day. I want you to eat something good and then we can have cookies and then I’ll boss you around some more…”

His words trail off as he dips his head and steals your lips in a kiss that makes you forget about everything but him. When he pulls away your eyes remain closed and you cling to him, your fingers fisted into his shirt.

“Ok,” you breathe out. “Dinner first.”

“I’m takin’ you to work today,” he say decisively as he watches you get ready the next afternoon.

He’s sitting up in your bed, naked except for the sheet covering his lower half, and leaning against the bed frame with one arm resting behind his head.

You turn to meet his eyes, your gaze running down over his bare chest, lingering on his tattoos before falling to what’s beneath the covers.

“Are you going to be bossy like this all the time now?”

Your question has him smirking. “Well we are in the bedroom.”

“I should call out,” you muse, still staring at him.

He shifts his legs invitingly and pats the bed.

“Joel,” you warn but your lips twitch with a smile.

“Darlin’,” he counters, mischief dancing in his warm brown eyes.

You deflate somewhat as the realization of the reality of the situation hits you. “I can’t avoid this asshole forever. I like my job. He’s not going to ruin it for me.”

Your words seems to spark him into action and he nods grimly. “I’m gonna get dressed while you finish getting ready then we’ll take my bike.”

When you pull up to the bar Joel helps you off his bike, his hand wrapped tightly around yours as he leads you toward the door.

“I feel bad you’re going to sit here and babysit me all night,” you say quietly, stopping and pulling him to the side.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, tenderly pressing his palm to your cheek. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I feel much better being here with you and making sure you’re ok and it’s not babysitting…more I’m like your bodyguard.”

He smiles smugly and you lean into his touch, some of the tension easing slightly when he pulls you close and tucks you into his chest.

“My hot and sexy bodyguard boyfriend,” you giggle. “Who’s also seriously cuddly.”

He mumbles something incoherent and grumpy causing you to laugh, the sound lightening his mood as he walks you into the bar.

He greets Dan and Jade, before he sits on one of the stools and adjusts his leather jacket and scans the room.

Your friend Jade rushes over and hugs you. “How are you?” she asks.

“Doing better. I just hope it’s a good night.”

Jade nods then her eyes shift to Joel. “With Joel here everything will be fine,” she says with an encouraging look. “And honestly, if Jack’s stupid enough to run his mouth again you’re taking it to the boss and Dan and I will back you up! That is…if Joel doesn’t kill him first.”

Jade grins at the thought.

You smile at your boyfriend then give your friend a thankful squeeze.

“I’m just going to the back room to put my things away,” you inform Joel.

He reaches for your hand over the bar, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Ok darlin’,” he answers quietly.

As you start to walk off you see Jack coming around the bar and your shoulders instantly tense. With a swift glance at Joel you see his jaw tick, his teeth grinding as he zeroes in on the source of your dismay.

Thankfully, Jack gets hailed by a waiting customer and you can slip by him without any interaction.

Once you’re in the back room you let out a deep exhale and grab a bottle of water. The sound of the door creaking open draws your attention and you swing wide eyes in that direction.

At the sight of Joel you visibly relax but he can still see the tension riding your shoulders.

“I’m dallying,” you admit, “but I’m going to go out there and do my job and Jack can fuck off!”

“That’s my girl,” he winks.

Joel gives you an affectionate smile that turns naughty as he closes the door behind him and locks it.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he stalks toward you.

Your breathing is shallow as he takes you by the hips and walks you back into the lockers.

“Helping you relax,” he murmurs against your mouth as his fingers trail across your stomach before sliding into the waistband of your leggings.

You suck in a breath, his name a whispered plea on your parted lips.

“Remember to be quiet darlin’.”

@sstan-hoe @blackwidownat2814 @pedritosdarling @beccablogsthings @justsimplevicky @laineyreads @lorilane33 @littleseasiren

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #biker!joel miller #protective!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #biker!joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #biker au divider #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 22 days ago

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I've Got You

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist