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killerlookz · 5 months

Text

Olive Green Couch | Spencer Reid

description: when your best friend drags you to a party to meet a boy she's been fawning over, you find yourself completely bored and unimpressed- good thing you've stumbled upon a strikingly handsome (yet awkward) young graduate student named Spencer who seems equally as unhappy to be there to share your misery with.

pairing: grad school! spencer reid x f! reader

content: uhh mostly fluff, drinking, reader is described as wearing a mini skirt and wearing high heels.

word count: 4,242

If I have to hear one more Weezer song I'm going to be sick. You think as the slow drums of Undone pour out over an all too expensive speaker system for a frat house.

The MIT frats were nothing like you experienced before, they were- for lack of a better term- a complete and utter sausage party. You can't remember the last time you'd seen this many men in a single room. If you weren't so bored maybe you would appreciate this as a reprieve from the usual maintaining "ratio" of the state school frat parties you'd been to. But even now you'd prefer that if it meant you wouldn't have to deal with another sloppily drunk man explaining the plot of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to you. Rich, pretentious, too smart for his own good MIT frat guy or dude-bro, alpha male, business major state school frat guy- it didn't matter; they were the same side of the same misogynistic coin.

You look down at the shot-glass sized solo cup in your hand, staring at the clear liquid inside. Maybe just one more shot and you'd finally start to enjoy the state you were in. You hoped maybe six shots would be the perfect number of drunk to enjoy yourself. You screw your eyes shut and throw back your head as you lift the cup to your mouth. The cheap vodka burns the second it touches your tongue, and you wince as you feel it travel down your throat and to your stomach. Your body shivers involuntarily as the warmth in your belly grows.

You face forward again, looking across the living room for your best friend- the one who dragged you here in the first place. You had suggested bar hopping or trying to get into a club, you didn't buy her a fake ID for no reason. But she insisted on coming here instead. Here- to this sweaty house filled with... well... dorks. She came here looking for some guy- Michael... Matthew... Miles.... shit, you couldn't remember. It didn't matter, you were here now, and she had ditched you to fend for yourself.

You take a step forward and all the alcohol you had drank prior seems to hit you a once, "Woah" You can't help but say out-loud as you catch your balance and wait for the room to stop spinning.

You take a few more wobbly steps forward before acclimating to your new, tipsy state. You make your way through the dimly lit house, trying to find your friend amongst the crowd and rowdy conversations. Observing the bodies that populated the house you suddenly felt insecure, and insanely overdressed- why was everyone wearing jeans and a t-shirt? Maybe a mini skirt was the wrong choice for tonight.

You make your way to a back room of the house, occupied by maybe only 10 people by your inebriated brain's estimate. There's an ugly looking olive green couch in the middle of the room- it' had obviously been through a lot but and you hated to imagine what had happened on that couch over the years, but right now it looked like the most comfortable thing in the world. You walk over and plop yourself over onto the couch, the cushions having a lot less give than you expected.

The beginning riff of Someday by The Strokes plays just outside of the room, and you groan- turning to the guy who you had just realized was sitting next to you.

"Do you know who's Dj-ing this fucking thing- can you tell them to play some Britney or something?" The words fall off your tongue, sloppily.

The boy sitting next to you turns to look at you, a confused look drawn upon his face, "Huh- me?"

Shit. He's kind of cute- In a dorky sort of way. His brown hair is perfectly unkempt, and small curls form at the back of his neck. His jawline is sharp, and his hollow cheeks accentuate his prominent cheek bones. His eyes are dark, and he looks a like he hasn't slept in years- you figured with the workload MIT students probably have- it would make sense if he actually hadn't slept since getting there. Truth be told, all things combined he looked a little sickly- he was obviously lanky maybe scrawny was a better word- his button up shirt seemed a little ill-fitted for his body, and his tie poorly tied. Still- you couldn't help but notice he was hot. The first hot guy you'd seen all night.

"Yes, you, pretty boy." You smirk.

His face reads as even more confused upon your clarification.

"Oh um," He looks down at the half-drunken beer that sits between his legs, shakes his head before looking back up at you, "I-uh I don't know the DJ, and I- um, also don't know who Britney is." He responds, a small nervous tremble in his voice.

"Spears?" You let out a small laugh, "You know like- Hit Me Baby One More Time." You half sing.

"Oh-" He looks off to the side, "No" he faces you again.

"Go figure," You scoff, still, keeping a smile on your face. "Say- are you in this frat?"

He shakes his head, "Oh- no, I'm a grad student."

"A grad student?" You respond, your eyes widen in shock no shot the man you were looking at right now was any older than you. "How old are you?"

"21" He responds, almost nonchalantly- like it wasn't some insane feat. "Well," He clarifies, "I'm actually in my third graduate program, I already have a PhD in mathematics and chemistry, from Cal Tech. I'm working on my engineering one now."

"Jesus," You smile, "So what, you're like some sort of genius, huh?"

"Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified- but I do have an IQ of 187, and an eidetic memory, and can read twenty thousand words per-minute."

You stare at him in awe for a moment, "So, a you are a genius?"

He gives you a small smile in response, "Yeah- I guess." He nods.

You're suddenly intrigued, only twenty-one years old and already a doctor twice over.

"So what brings you here Doctor...uh..."

"Reid," He nods and presses his lips into a line. "Oh! But, don't call me doctor you can call me Spencer."

"Well then, what brings you here, Spencer?" You correct yourself with a smile.

"My friend- uh he wanted me to come with him, he's meeting some girl here and he didn't want to go alone. I kind of got dragged along."

"Well," You grin, "It must be fate that we're here together on this ugly green couch, because if you could believe it- I'm here for the exact same reason except my friend- she's uh, meeting a guy here."

Spencer takes a small sip of the beer he had been holding, wincing as the liquid touched his lips. You figured he probably wasn't much of a drinker, he probably had things much more important on his plate than getting drunk and partying.

"Not much of a partier?" You ask to confirm your suspicions.

"Mhh," Spencer hums, mouth still full of beer, he shuts his eyes tight as he swallows thickly. "No." He shakes his head violently. "What gave it away?"

"Oh!" You bite your lip... "Nothing!" You say, innocently, voice steeped in sarcasm.

"It's okay," He laughs, "I know I look like a dork."

His laugh is infectious, and you can't help but smile in response. And Damn- he's really cute.

"Oh! Don't say that," You swat your hand at him, "I'm sure you get tons of ladies."

Spencer tilts his head to one side, in obvious disbelief of what you just said,

"I don't really appreciate the sarcasm," He says, his eyes narrowing at you.

"Sarcasm?" You pout, "No- I mean it Spencer, what you're like a genius. And I mean- you're not bad to look at," You bite your lip, "Not at all."

Spencer shook his head, "I was a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school, and until now, I've always been way younger than everyone in college- my experience with girls is practically in the negatives."

"Oooh!" You smirk, "Vegas," You raise an eyebrow.

"Mhm," He takes another sip of his beer, his face more relaxed this time.

"You think I'd make a good showgirl?" You wink

"Oh- um," Spencer is suddenly blinking rapidly as his head scans you up and down. You can't help but feel a little bad at the way you have him flustered,

"I'm kidding! You don't have to answer that." You reassure. "Negative experience with girls, hm?"

"Yeah- I-uh, I haven't even had my first kiss yet." He says, looking down at his lap, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"No?" You say, still shocked, even given his prior explanations of his experiences with women, "Well..." You start, pausing for a moment, "If you ever want that to change let me know." Maybe that last part was meant to be a joke, but truth is you kind of really hoped he said yes, right there, right now.

"What?" He looks back up at you, eyebrows furrowed, "No- I don't need a pity kiss. I don't even know who you are."

"It is not a pity kiss, and I'm y/n, I go to UMASS, the Boston campus- like 15 minutes away. I'm 20, and uhhh... Well, the rest you can find out later." You wink, "Now you know me!" You smile, perking up from your spot on the couch.

"Well- uh. Nice to meet you y/n" He gives you an awkward tight lipped smile. "Are you- um- enjoying your night."

"God no," You scoff. "Does that make two of us?"

Spencer nods, side moving his eyes to look around the room. It had gotten significantly more crowded since you'd came in here, you hadn't noticed, you'd been too focused on getting to know Spencer that you kind of forgot you were at a party to begin with. It didn't seem to matter now anyway, you were intrigued beyond belief and wanted to know more about Dr. Reid.

"So, why'd you leave Caltech? The weather is certainly a lot nicer than it is here," Your body physically recoils at the thought of having to go back outside to the brisk New England fall after the party was over.

Spencer shrugged, "You can only get so many degrees at one place before you need a change of scenery. I've been at CalTech since I was like- fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Your eyes widen, thinking about what you were like at fourteen. You certainly weren't CalTech material, that's for sure. "When did you graduate high school?"

"1993," He smiles and nods, "Twelve years old"

Spencer had a charming humility about him, he was the smartest person you'd ever met but he spoke in a way that made it feel like it was every day that someone could graduate high school at 12 and have two PhDs by 21.

"What do you plan on doing after college with that pretty head of yours?" You ask, your slightly intoxicated brain unable to stop you from instinctively reaching out and fluffing his hair. Spencer's eyes flick up towards your hand and he gives you an awkward smile paired with a small laugh.

"Well- I uhh... I've been in contact with this guy- well from the FBI, the BAU... Behavioral Analysis Unit. We came into contact after my second dissertation, he was shocked at how young I was, having done so much- he suggested I come to the academy when I was done with this one." Spencer explained, he talked in a way that made him seem unsure of himself, like he, himself didn't fully understand how it happened.

"God," You muse, "The fucking FBI? Could you get any cooler?"

"You know," Spencer remarks, "I think that's the first time anyone has ever used to word "cool" to describe me." The tone in his voice is light, it's clear he's happy about that fact, but you can't help but feel your heart break at the statement.

"Cool even sounds like a little bit of an understatement to me. But you know... I think I'm a little too intoxicated right now to think of a synonym, so cool it is!"

"Do you have any plans for after college?" Spencer asks, nervously running a finger around the rim of the glass in his lap.

"Nothing as cool as the FBI," You shrug, "Actually, nothing concrete, really. Has me feeling a little inadequate in a room full of geniuses."

"Oh trust me," Spencer scans his head around the room, "Not all of these guys are geniuses."

"Well- they're complete nerds at the very least." You giggle.

"I think I qualify as a nerd too." Spencer smiles back.

"Oh you definitely do," You say, scooting closer to him, taking the beer glass out of his hand, "But you haven't tried to talk down to me about some movie everyone's seen, or some album everyone's heard like I'm some dumb idiot bimbo yet." You huff, finishing what was left of the liquid in the glass with a single gulp. You slam the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, "And even if I was a dumb idiot bimbo- what makes them think I'd care about whatever they'd have to say about OK Computer. We've all listened to Karma Police, big deal!" You realize you're getting a little heated over this and cut yourself off, "Anyways," You smile, "What I mean is you don't seem like some self important loser."

"Oh," Spencer furrows his eyebrows, "Thank...you?"

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"Y-Yeah, Yeah we can go." Spencer nods.

You stand up from the couch, wobbling a little bit as your legs lift you up. The room, is blurry, for a moment all you can see are vague blobs of color instead of people. You shut your eyes tight, blinking them open to fix your blurry vision. You glance over toward Spencer, who's grabbing a tan suit jacket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He slinks the jacket on over his thin frame.

"You alright?" He asks, concern in his eyes. He must have been able to read the drunk all over your face.

"Y-Yeah I'm fine, lets go," You nod, reassuringly. You could handle your liquor, besides you hadn't drank that much tonight.

The two of you head for the door, wherever it is. Spencer was leading the way, and you hoped he had a better sense of direction than you did. The music is suddenly a lot louder as you exit the room you were in, and you suddenly feel a lot drunker. The sudden change in feeling causes you to stumble a little, bumping Spencer in the back. High heels and alcohol were never a good mix.

"Oh- hey," Spencer stops suddenly, turning around to smile at you, "Are you sure you're alright?"

You look around the room, at the hoard of people, the room thick with a combination of weed and cigarette smoke. You've never felt so lost in your life when did it get so crowded in here? The obnoxious yelling of frat guys mixed with the music turned to a volume you were sure would get the cops to show up is absolutely ear-splitting.

"Can you hold my hand?" You ask Spencer, needing his guidance more than you realized.

"Uh, yeah, yeah." He nods. You reach your hand out for Spencer to grab, and it takes him a few times to correctly slot his fingers between yours. You smile a little, watching him try to figure out the perfect hand-holding position. He couldn't be more pathetic if he tried- it was kind of adorable.

Spencer's hand is warm, a little sweaty against your palm. But his grip is tight and reassuring as the two of you walk the rest of the way out of the house.

As soon as the front door opens a brisk wind hits you, nipping at your exposed flesh. Goosebumps already dot up and down your skin, the only warmth you feel is Spencer's hand wrapped around yours, and you knew that warm sensation would end as soon as his hand got cold too.

With a little hesitance, you step outside to brave the cold. Your heels click as you carefully make your way down the concrete steps in front of the house. You stare down at your feat as you make each movement, fearing accidentally rolling your ankle or falling. You'd probably take end up Spencer down with you.

"Hmm," Spencer hums, noticing your trepidation, "Here," Spencer untwines his hand from yours and places an arm around your back, reaching to your other side, but barely touches your other arm, just holds firm enough for you not to fall.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, thankful for Spencer's help,

"You don't have to hold me so far away you know, you can pull me a little closer." You turn your head to look at him, "I mean it is kind of chilly out."

"Oh-uh," Spencer's arm pulls to hold you just a little bit closer, "Better?" His grip is still pretty weak around you, and you sigh.

"You know, Spence, I'm still pretty cold." You frown, staring down the suit jacket he was wearing.

"Do you want to go back inside? I didn't even have a full beer the entire time I was there- I can go get my car real quick and drive you home if you want. It's only a block or so away." Spencer responds, his voice quick, and nervous- it was obvious he was eager to solve the problem of you being so cold.

"No," You laugh, shaking your head, "I'm cold is kind of girl-code for, you should give me your jacket."

"Oh!" Spencer laughs, "Oh- I'm sorry, yeah- here, here have it." Spencer speaks earnestly as he slips the jacket off of his shoulders. He shivers as the loss of the fabric leaves him in only a thin button up and you can't help but feel a little bad for asking him to give it to you. But he hands you the jacket with a smile on his face, which lingers even after you put it on. It provides a marginal amount more of warmth than what you felt prior.

"Better?" Spencer asks.

"Mhm," You nod, "Thank you."

Spencer only gives you a tight lipped smile and a nod in response.

"So," Spencer starts as the two of you begin walking, his hand slipping into yours almost instinctually, it catches you a little off guard, and you feel your cheeks run hot at the gesture. "Where are you headed?"

"Oh- uh, back to Boston I guess," You squint your eyes, thinking, "I usually take the bus, the stop is up that way." You point up ahead in front of you.

"Let me go with you," Spencer says quickly, "I mean- not to your place, but let me ride the bus with you, I don't want you going by yourself."

"Why not? I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." You retort, trying to hide the fact that secretly, butterflies are growing in your stomach at his eagerness to take care of you.

"I just want to make sure you get home okay." His hand grips yours tighter.

"Okay," A small smile draws at your lips, you don't want to fight him on it anymore, truth was you'd love nothing more than to spend a little bit more time with him, even if it was a short bus ride.

The streets of the city are utterly dead, not a sound to be heard except the whistling of the wind and collision of your high heels and the pavement. You wonder what time it even is, how long had you even spent at that stupid party?

The bus is just as empty as the rest of the city. When it arrives, nobody but you and Spencer are on, the two of you sitting patiently under the bright fluorescent lights for the bus to move. The lights are straining on your eyes, and the horrendously carpet-patterned seats might hurt your eyes even worse.

"What stop do you get off at?" Spencer asks, being the one sitting the closest to the button to let the driver know when it's your stop.

"University Drive."

The lights dim as the bus driver pulls away from the stop you'd been picked up at, and you're able to relax your eyes once more. You let your eyes relax until all of a sudden they're closed and then-

"Hey," You feel your head being jerked, "We're here."

"Hmm?" You grumble, slowly opening your eyes.

Your stomach drops, and you're absolutely mortified to see your head is rested on Spencer's shoulder. You whip your head off from where it laid and quickly stand up from the seat.

The bus ride was fifteen minutes, you couldn't believe you fell asleep. Much less fell asleep on some guy you barely knew. You're a mess of worry as you exit the bus, thinking about how awkward you probably made Spencer feel. You're so caught up in your thoughts you barely notice how cold it is as you step outside.

"Hey, look, I'm right over there." You say, pointing to the large dorm building behind you.

"I'll walk you to the door." He smiles, and your panic immediately slides away.

You walk with your head down, looking intently at the sidewalk under you as you head forward to your building, trying your best to keep in a straight line. You had to admit, you were pretty upset your time with Spencer would be ending in just a few short minutes from now. You tried to scheme up a plan to get Spencer to stay longer, but no ideas would stick to your brain. You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest as you approach the front door.

You whip around to look at Spencer who's trailing just a few inches behind you.

"Well," You sigh, "I guess this is it." You pull your mouth to one side in a small pout.

"Yeah- I-uh, I guess so," He shrugs, "I had a nice time tonight, thanks for, making my first party experience a lot better than i was expecting." Spencer's hands are shoved into his pocket, and he rocks back and forth while he talks, unsure of himself as his eyes dart all around you.

"Of course," You grin, letting your hands drop down at your sides, "Say," You cut yourself off, and shove your hands into the pocket of Spencer's coat, fishing, until you find what you were hoping for. You pull out a pen from one of the coat pockets, and grab Spencer's hand. "I want to see you again before you become some big tough FBI agent." You smile, scrawling the digits of your phone number on the back of his hand. "Call me sometime?" You hold his hand up for an extra moment, before letting it drop back down.

"Mmmhm, yeah," Spencer bobs his head up and down vigorously.

"Okay, good. Goodnight Spencer," You smile, giving him a small wave.

"Goodnight y/n" He smiles back, as the two of you turn around to go your separate ways.

You notice as you turn back around that you're still wearing Spencer's jacket, part of you has the urge to call out to him to give it back, the other part of you wants to keep it- if he wants to get it back, he'll have to come see you again.

"Wait! Y/n!" You hear Spencer from just behind you. You frown a little, thinking your plan to keep Spencer's jacket had been foiled and he was calling to get it back from you.

"Yeah?" You whip your head back around.

"Did you mean it when you said to let you know if I wanted to have my first kiss- and that you'd change that I've never um-"

"Uhh..huh," You responded, a little to eager as an uncontrollable smile began to tug at the ends of your lips, "Are you asking me to kiss you Spencer?"

"Maybe," His voice breaks, unable to look you directly in the eyes.

You raise one eyebrow, "Maybe?"

"Ahem. Uh- I mean- yes."

Before you know it, you're tugging at his tie, pulling him close to you. Your lips are on his, just a peck at first, Spencer is hesitant. He is unsure of what to do with any part of his body, his lips move carefully, his hands unsure of just where they should be, they rest on your hips- before they move right under your shoulders. You make the decision to tilt your head and deepen the kiss. Spencer's lips are soft with inexperience, he has absolutely no clue what he's doing, yet you can't get enough.

The two of you pull away slowly, neither one of you wanting to give up the kiss- but you eventually have to surrender to the night and to the cold. You place one final peck on Spencer's lips.

"Now you have to call me." You giggle, unable to hide your excitement.

"Yeah-yeah," Spencer nods, eyes wide, his lips are shiny and his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. "Absolutely."

"Goodnight Spencer." You say once more, before turning around to head inside.

A/N: whew! when I tell you I spent all day writing this i mean all day! that's okay though... im obsessed with grad school! reid. anyways..... thinking about making a (potentially smutty) part two to this ;-)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x f! reader

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whorekneecentral · 9 months

Text

A New Term

Professor!Mark Webber x Fem!Reader

Warnings: age gap (mark is in his 40s, reader is early 20s), taboo content!! - professor x college student, worried mark, sharing a cookie, suggestive behaviour from mark, oral (f!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), bruising but in a sexual context, cum play, finger sucking.

Word Count: 2,379

Author's Note: mark always had professor vibes to me, he's so dilf.

merry smutmas series

You send your professor an email over the winter break and the man wonders why you’re still working, urging you to come out and relax like everyone else.

The end of semester assignment kept you up way past your bedtime, the one question kept you on your toes. Your hand passed through your hair while you searched through your email for your professor's email.

Instead of using your winter break to unwind like most of your classmates, you were cracking out assignment after assignment, trying to get as much done as possible - that way you can focus on the exams when you return from the winter break.

The tab open to send your physics professor an email.

Dear Professor Webber,

I hope you're having a nice winter break and I hope I'm not disturbing you.

I had a question regarding the final assignment you gave out prior to the break; the last part of the assignment doesn't line up with the rest.

I'm not sure if I'm misunderstanding something along the way but it doesn't seem to make any sense. Hopefully you can provide me with some clarification?

Hoping to hear from you soon and again, I do apologize if this was a disturbance to your break.

Thank you,

Y/n L/n.

You shut the tab, sitting there for a bit as you tried to go back over your notes and make sense of the assignment, hoping you could figure it out in case Professor Webber doesn't answer anytime soon.

There's a ping sound coming from your laptop, the screen lighting up as you get a response from your professor.

Dear Y/n,

You're never a bother, you know my email is always open to my students, especially one as sweet and smart as you.

I hope you're getting some rest during this break and not overworking yourself.

As for your question about the assignment, I've looked it over and I see that there are some errors, I will have to email the other students and let them know. Thank you for pointing it out but if you'd still like to go over the assignment, how about we meet up sometimes? Perhaps tomorrow around 4 if you're free? I'll be in town.

Let me know, please do get some rest at some point.

All the best,

Professor Mark Webber,

Department of Physics.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the praise, something that happens often in the presence of your favourite physics professor. You send him back a quick response.

Hi professor,

Thank you for the quick response, I promise I am getting some rest. I would like to finish up what I can over the break so I can focus on exams come January.

Tomorrow at 4 would be great, how about we meet at the coffee shop around the corner from campus?

Thanks,

Y/n.

---

Four o'clock had come and passed, you had been there since 3:30, working away on your assignment. You occupied a booth in the back, your laptop in front of you, backpack tossed next to you and your notes and textbooks scattered all over the table.

Your head was buried in your textbook, searching for a certain passage to quote in your essay. Mark had entered the coffee shop and spotted you in the back corner.

His hand reached over, gently prying the textbook out of your hand. The action startled you for a moment but you relaxed when you saw who was across from you.

"Hi professor," you smiled, closing the tab on your laptop. Mark smiles at you, "please, we're not in class, y/n. You can call me Mark."

You nod, "okay Mark." Your nose scrunched, making a face. "Yeah no, that seems weird," you giggled, watching as he shut your textbook and left it on the table.

Mark says, "have you slept?"

"What?" You asked him, confused.

"You look tired, I hope you're not overworking yourself."

"Oh no," you shook your head, "I'm fine."

Mark nods, "fine, if you say so. Let me buy you a coffee - or rather not, you seem to have already had your coffee fill for the day." He glances at the two empty mugs on the table.

There's a small smile on your face, "yeah perhaps coffee wouldn't be the smartest idea."

"Something else then?" He suggested and you hum, "maybe a chocolate chip cookie? oh and maybe apple juice?"

Mark chuckles, nodding as he slides out of his seat. You watch as he walks the counter, ordering what you wanted and a coffee for himself before returning to the table.

You thank him, eating your cookie quietly as you searched for the pages you had written out with your assignment on it. You catch Mark staring at you, you figured it was just cause you looked frazzled or perhaps you had chocolate on your face.

You hadn't realized that the man was simply looking at you in adoration, you never thought that he'd see you in that way.

"What??" You asked, looking at him. You passed a hand over your lips, "is there something on my face?"

He shook his head, " no, you're perfect.. as always."

You smiled, cheeks flushed red. "Would you like a piece?" You held your cookie out to the man, assuming that he'd break a piece of it off but he leans over, taking a bite of the cookie.

Setting the cookie down, you take a sip of your juice and finally find the pages you were looking for. Mark listens as you explain your concerns to him, the man helping you sort through your issues with the assignment. Mark goes as far as to help you edit what you have so far.

"Is that all?" He asks, watching as you pack your things into your bag. "Yeah, that was it. Thank you so much for your help, professor."

"No trouble at all, sweetheart." He smiles, the two of you stand and head towards the exit. It wasn't until you got there that you realized the rain had come down.

You didn't live far from the coffee shop, about a 10 minute walk but you did happen to forget your umbrella at home that day.

"Are you walking?" Mark asks and you nod, "it's not that far."

"Please, it's pouring, y/n. Let me drive you home."

"I've imposed on your afternoon for long enough, you don't have to do that."

Mark shakes his head, "I cannot, in good conscience, leave you to walk in the rain. Let me drive you home, I'm offering so you're not imposing."

You give in, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you to his car. It's black inside and out, the leather matching the colour of the paint and the smell was beyond manly - exactly like your professor.

With your directions, he drives you back to your place. The rain pouring down on the car, the heavy rain drops make a sound as it hits the glass. "Thank you for the ride," you tell him, glancing over at him.

"Wait a moment, won't you? I'm sure the rain will settle in the moment. I don't want you to get your beg wet and ruin all your work," he says, the words coming out innocently enough.

You nod, watching as the rain drips down the windows. You feel something warm on your thigh, glancing down you see Mark's hand resting there. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts, not noticing his hand slipping a bit higher.

"You know, you really should get some rest, sweetheart. Try and relax. You deserve it after all your hard work."

You nod, "I'll try."

He smiles, leaning into you as you look over at him. "Good girl."

The words hit you exactly where he expected them too, watching you shift in your seat. "Is something wrong, sweetheart?"

"N-no, sir."

He hums, a smirk playing on his lips as he moves closer; you can smell his cologne, the mint of his toothpaste, the coffee from not too long ago. Mark closes the gap between the two of you, his lips meeting yours.

As much as you enjoyed the feeling, you froze - your brain screaming no, big red letters flashing in your head but you ignored them.

Mark senses your hesitancy, pulling away from you. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's.." You pause for a moment, "it's fine. Do you want to come in?" You asked him, hoping he says yes otherwise you'd probably have to bury your head in shame.

Mark nods, the man following you up the stairs and into your apartment. "Sorry for the mess," you tell him as you unlock the door, stepping in to take your shoes off.

He looks around, confused as to where the mess would be. The place was spic and span, not a single thing out of place. Your apartment is decorated like one of those Hallmark movies, Christmas tree in the corner by the window, garland wrapped around whatever it could be, even the throw pillows on your couch were festive.

"Where's the mess, sweetheart?"

You nod towards the one singular mug that was on the coffee table, "I forgot it there last night."

Mark can't help but laugh. "That's a single cup, y/n. Most uni students live in shitty apartments with beer bottles and weed. This place is a palace compared to everywhere else."

You smile, walking further into your apartment. "Would you like something to drink?"

Mark senses your nervousness, resting his hands on your arms. "Relax, y/n. It's fine."

You visibly let out a breath, holding onto the man as he walks you to the couch. He sits you down, his hand now cupping your jaw when he leans down to kiss you.

"Will you let me help you relax?" He whispers against your lips and you nod, not having to think about it for once.

The clothes are tossed all over the living room, you’re leaning on the arm rest of the couch in your panties when Mark kisses you again.

The man drops down to his knees in front of you, your legs over his shoulder and he kisses down your calf, to your thigh before he gets to your pussy. You lift your hips, letting him take your panties off, tossing it along with the other clothes.

His nose brushes against your clit, his tongue licking a stripe up your cunt. Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair.

Mark’s hand on your hip rocks you back and forth slightly, just enough that he can hear his name fall from your lips. “Mark- fuck, there.” You pull on his hair, getting him to do what he did again.

The sound of his name rolling off your tongue was enough to make his cock twitch.

He mimicked his actions again until he could feel your legs shake, your grip on his hair tighter than before, his name strung along with the explicits leaving your mouth.

Mark glances up, your eyes shut and your head tossed back and he can't help but smile; he’s broken you down to nothing but a whimpering mess but he wasn’t done with you just yet.

Your cheeks are red when you see him sit up, the lower half of his face glistening. You also can’t help yourself when you pull him down for a kiss, tasting yourself on him.

You two shuffle around a bit, still on the couch when Mark flips you over; face down, ass up as he settles before you. Your back arches, the curve of your spine evident when he comes up behind you, pushing back against him as you feel the tip of his cock against your pussy.

Mark’s hand grips your hips, pulling you back against him. Your moans are muffled by the couch when you feel him stretch you out.

“God, please Mark, like that,” the words tumble out, begging him for more as he fucks you. His hands squeezing your hips, nails digging into your flesh. You can feel the pressure from his fingers, surely there were going to be bruises tomorrow. Your hand reaching under you, fingers barely reaching to rub your clit.

He pulls you up, his arm wrapped around your middle, your back pressed to his chest. His fingers dig into your side for a moment, squeezing you a bit. “Such a good girl for me, you take it so well.” He whispers to you, kissing under your ear.

“Mhm hm,” you breathe, leaning back against him, your legs felt like jello under you.

Between the angle you were at and his hand sliding down to rub on your clit, your head drops back onto his shoulder, begging him to let you cum.

“Mark, god- fuck, let me cum please,” you ramble out and Mark hums, kissing along your jaw, “mhm I'm not stopping you, sweetheart.”

He lets you drop back onto your arms, back arched for him once again. He feels you cum around him, the wetness covering his cock. It’s not long after, followed by a few sloppy thrusts, that Mark cums too.

The tip of his cock brushing between your folds, spreading his cum all over your pussy.

He pulls away, smiling at the whimper he gets from you. His fingers replacing his cock, covered in his cum when you roll over, he sticks his fingers in your mouth and he doesn’t have to tell you what to do.

“Good girl,” he hums, watching as your tongue laps over his fingers. Mark pulls his fingers away, leaning down to kiss you. A mess of the two of you, not sure where one of you starts and the other ends.

You lay there for a while, Mark on top of you, your leg tossed on his hip as his head rests on your sternum, one of his hands on your tit.

"Next time you need some relaxing, you call me, okay?" He whispers, his finger dragging down your side.

You glance at the man, a raised eyebrow. "You just want to fuck me again, you dirty old man."

Mark laughs, "no, I mean yes but also no. I meant I'd take you to dinner or something, distract you from your work - but if you want to fuck, who am I to deny a beautiful woman like yourself?"

---

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#merry smutmas xoxo #mark webber #mark webber smut #mark webber x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smut

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ladyelissarose · 1 year

Note

Can you do like Hobie smut, your writing is GOOD.

Let it be a jealousy kinda thing I haven't seen much of Hobie being jealous

‘I’ll Show You Jealous’

Hobie Brown aka Spider-Punk x female spider-woman reader. (he calls her ‘webs’)

Trope; best friends to lovers

Warnings; 18+ Smut! NSFW. Jealous sex, it starts quite rough then ends soft. Hobie being Hobie- but jealous ;) slight fingering.. mostly smut y’all .

Summary: Being best friends shouldn’t have any feelings in between right? Especially jealousy when Hobie thinks your hanging around too close to a certain Spider-Man? What does it take for him to come to terms on how he ‘really’ feels?

Authors note; My favorite anon!! I’m sorry it took me a few days to get this out, but I’m glad to say it’s all yours now! I hope you like it, I’ve never written for Hobie before!! Enjoy love!!🫶🏼��

“You see? That’s why I think you’re one of the funniest! You’re hilarious and you get my humor!”

An effortless chuckle left your lips as your hand slipped off of Ben Riley’s back, where it had been first when you patted it.

You two had just come back from a short mission, which was as per usual… putting an anomaly where it belonged, and making sure canon took place as it should. Hobie stood in the distance watching you both communicate so freely and happily, like if you had been best friends, like you were with Hobie. I mean, that’s all you too should of been.. best friends.

But in the pit of his stomach and behind his tough and sarcastic behavior about not liking commitment, all he wanted to do was commit his life to you, and make you more than his ‘best friend’. The only thing was.. he didn’t know how to tell or show you. So painfully he witnessed you give away your laughter and touch to someone else, if not others that weren’t him. So to avoid staring at this heartbreak, he went back to his universe.

Soon you had let Ben go and looked for the one that made you smile the biggest, warm your heart, and give you a certainty of safety and care no matter what crazy shit you two did. But, he was no where to be seen. A frown made it to your lips after you had checked everywhere, you even went up to Miguel’s lair to check if Hobie wasn’t lurking around and stealing his lunch- and yet, he wasn’t there. You sat for a minute and thought that maybe he went home, but… he always waited for you to come back from a mission, so you could eat together and go on a short ‘joy swinging’ across the universes.

Hoping you’d find him at his universe, you clicked on your gizmo and went to his place, falling in love with the aesthetic of it all as you arrived, and it reminding you of every detail about Hobie too. You swung around his home- he wasn’t there. At his favorite hideout clubhouse- he wasn’t there. Even stopped by the stand where he usually took a sweet bread or two without being seen- he wasn’t in sight. Finally stopping to take a break, you thought for a few seconds before it clicked for you.

“What the hell… where could you- oh! I know.”

What concerned you though about the place where he could possibly be, was the fact that you told each other that you’d go there if something was wrong or ‘a talk’ needed to happen, meaning it was very serious.

Upon arriving to the tallest skyscraper in your universe, you let out a sigh of relief as you found him there, playing a soft tune on his guitar.

You walked slowly towards him, knowing he’d feel your presence, as his spider senses would tell him immediately. You slid off your mask as you called out,

“Hobie?-“

Hobie’s shoulders tensed as he muttered immediately,

“Jus’ leave me be… please?”

Worry but you as you heard him, his slightly broken voice,

He’s never told you to leave him alone, instead the opposite, always subtly begging you to be around his presence, whether it was him lurking around with your favorite snack, or playing your favorite songs on his guitar. Hobie was smart, he found out ways to keep you around that didn’t include him actually telling or asking you to be… and so far it has worked like magic.

It was your smile that had him loosening up, the little squeals you let out when Mayday was being extra adorable, puppy eyes at the sight of kittens or his favorite of all time, your mere presence that gave him motive to fall for you.

With you he felt free and safe, he knew he’d give up an entire universe if that meant he could be with you. But lately as you’ve been given more privileges, you’ve been a little too absent for his liking, and he didn’t appreciate how you were hanging around Miguel and Ben Riley more than him.

Trust was something you too have built quite strongly sense the start of your friendship, and he should’ve confided in that trust and believe that you haven’t ghosted him for someone else… yet here he was… sadly plucking on his guitar strings to your favorite tune- ‘Vigilante Shit’… thinking that maybe you have.. but here you are. Speaking out to him as if you were desperate for him.

“Hobie please, I can help-“

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

With a scoff you recalled your guys’ words,

“We said we’d come here for something important.. and today I couldn’t find you anywhere.. so I thought this would be the place.. and here you are. So, what’s wrong Hobie?”

He then stood up and mumbled to himself,

“It’s nothing, I shouldn’t of come.”

Your spider senses heard him clearly tho, so before he was about to walk off you genuinely said,

“Hobie.. you know I’m here for you. Regardless of what it is.”

Hobie turned to you and walked close, watching how you didn’t walk back but stayed in place as his sassed,

“Are you sure? Didn’t think you’d be after being with everyone else all the time.”

You sensed his words, and could feel the weight of jealousy in them, it only caused you to realize that he felt just as protective of you, as you did for him… but you hid your jealousy better. So you took the chance to tease him,

“Are you jealous Hobie Brown-“

Rolling his eyes and crossing his arms he pouted defensively,

“No. Absolutely not-“

You tried to tease him more as you pushed the guitar on his shoulder,

“Then what’s wrong? Looks like you are jealous-“

He sent a playful snap at you so you wouldn’t touch his treasure as he did his best to reassure,

“Tis’ nothin’ webs… I promise.”

His closed off attitude told you it was more than nothing, and you wouldn’t have it.. not his half or full lies about what’s going on. Hobie was about to walk away past you, but you grabbed his arm and insisted,

“Hobie! If you don’t do or say something about what’s going on with you I will explo- MMPH!!”

His warm hands got a hold of your face, pressing a harsh kiss to your lips. Eyes going wide open at the shock his actions caused you, but you couldn’t pull yourself away.

Not when you could see the way he had his shut with force, and the how his long lashes that you were always jealous of brush over his cheeks… you couldn’t deny how much you loved every detail about him. Your heart fluttered at the feeling of the cool of his nose ring press up against your nose, and his soft breathing hitting you, his lip ring marking a place on your lip as he gave you a bruising kiss.

You didn’t realize how long it took you admiring what you’ve always loved about him before you reciprocated the kiss, brining him closer to you by the collar of his jacket. But he slightly pushed you away, and before you could interpret something wrong, he muttered against your lips,

“you think I’m jealous webs?”

With a short chuckle you replied with sass,

“I think you’re very jealous Hobie.”

He smirked and webbed you your hands in an instant, your eyes found his with matching glares, filled with desire. He then put you to lay on the edge of the building, your head leaning off as he growled,

“I’ll show you jealous.”

With expert hands he was able to find your hidden zipper and slide down your pants along with your panties, enough to free your cunt for him to touch. Your hands as they were webbed up, hung off the edge, dangling down, stretching you a bit. Hobie pulled you close to him by gripping your thighs tightly, then he tore the web off your wrists with the pick for his guitar.

You were just about to reach for him, but he pushed you back once again, and laying his pick between your teeth as he ordered,

“Love, you keep that there safe for me.. and these hands.. hold onto the edge… don’t touch me until I tell you.. understood?”

You nodded once, taking all his commands in, wanting to meet them all, but Hobie hovered his face over yours and asked calmly,

“Words love.. do you feel ok and safe?”

You knew if you had a problem with something he’d adjust the universe to your liking, but right now you felt good and desperation. So you worded with the pick in between,

“I feel goo’.. I just wan’ you… I nee’ you.”

Pressing a hard kiss to your lips, feeling his favorite metal pick touch him, it stirred him on to take you now. His fingers found your cunt and stuck two in, going knuckle deep as your were soaking and taking him smoothly. With pride he watched your face contort in pleasure, the most beautiful moans leaving your lips because of him.

Your chest heaved for air as he pumped harder and faster, wanting you to come apart by his hands. The beauty of the city lights below you couldn’t compare to you, you were far too bright and gorgeous, so many things at once you were and yet, you were the most fit and complete person he had ever seen.

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, informing him you were near as your moans turned into cries as well. He teased you a bit as he slowed the pace, hearing you cry for ‘him’ had him groan and feeling his pants tighten more.

“H-Hobie! Ah please! Please-“

“What do you want love-“

“More! More please..”

Your eyes teared up as you cried for him, wanting to feel more of him as he had spurred on your high then took it away. He sucked on his fingers, letting out a moan,

“Sweet as always love.. never doubted you..”

Hobie then kissed your face, letting you taste yourself on him as he took the pick from your lips and he unbuckled his pants, sliding them down as he worded to you,

“C’mere love.”

Latching onto him as your arms wrapped around him, he pulled you up into his lap, sitting where you were at the edge, while looking up to you as your face was almost right at his. You both were breathing hard as you ran your hands through his hair and rested the other on his neck, Hobie’s hands exploring your back and thighs while kissing your neck. It was an all new sensation you both felt, not wanting to end it and growing addicted by the second. Hobie’s cock rested between your thighs, hitting his stomach and leaking precum, it had you reaching for it and playing with the red tip. He pulled you in for a kiss as you began to take him into your hands. His hips bucked up as your hands slid up and down his large length, spreading his cum and rubbing the tip with your thumb. He was getting to his high not so slowly, your hands bringing him on faster than he thought, so he abruptly stopped you with a pleading voice,

“Please love, need to feel you.. ready?”

You were already lifting your hips over his tip as you responded,

“I’m so ready.”

It wasn’t long before you slid down on him, your soaked walls taking him in right away. Once he bottomed out you both knew deep down, that you wouldn’t last long.

He was so deep, his tip touching your cervix, Hobie picked you up as he gripped your thighs tightly, then he slid you back down, groaning into your lips at the pleasure he instantly felt. Hobie didn’t care and wasn’t afraid of the position he was in, as he sat at the edge of the skyscraper, with you in his lap taking all of him. He confided in his strength to withhold you, and make you feel good more than anything. You than began to bounce on his cock, letting out whimper’s and mewls when you slid back down, feeling the stretch overtake you. Hobie helped you speed up as he took control and moved his hips to meet you at every thrust. Warmth began to seep into your core again, but burning more this time. You pulled Hobie closer to you as you begged,

“I need you more- please!”

“I know my love.. me too.”

Hobie needed the same, and fully take control, so he changed positions and laid you on your back, wrapping your legs around his waist. You held onto his hands as they were above your head, and took a deep breath as you prepared for what came. With locked gazes, Hobie pulled back and thrusted into you right away, loving how you responded to him so well by clenching around him and moaning his name. Little by little he picked up his speed, knowing you both needed your much needed release, warmth engulfing you both as well as a passion for more.

Hobie railed into you now as he asked in between pants,

“Who do you belong to love?”

Breathing out a moan when he hit a particular spot, you cried out,

“Y-You! You Hobie!!”

Letting go of your hand to hold your hips down with extra force, Hobie punctuated each word with a harsh thrust,

“You. Sure. Love?”

Hitting your cervix every time had your toes curling and backs arching to him while you whimpered,

“Yes!! I’m yours Hobie Brown!!”

You could feel him throb inside of your walls, as you clenched around him, nearing your release. Hobie could feel the release nearing too, your warm walls taking him in and milking his precum into you. Now all he desired in that moment was for you to let go for him, and only him. Increasing his speed and piercing his grip into you, Hobie demanded with a sweet but firm tone,

“Beg for me love.. t-tell me who it is that is making you co-come.”

Doing his best to hold on a bit longer, Hobie awaited your answer, pleading from his heart that it’d be soon as he wished to claim you already and paint your walls with him. You clawed his back and pulled him closer, kissing his earlobe you then panted and moaned into his ear,

“Only you can Hobie.. please- ahh! Make me come- please please Hobie!”

His jealousy for you along with a new unlocked sensation… possessiveness, had him wanting to here you beg more.

“Beg me to make you come-“

He then lowered his hand to your clit, and began to rub tight circles around your bud, urging you to cry out in a desperate tone, tears evident that you were desperate.

“-AHH!! Oh Hobie! Please- please baby make me cum! Only y-you can!! So p-please!!”

Letting out a deep breath Hobie moaned into your hair,

“Come my love, come wi’ me.”

Feeling him pulsate along with his sharp thrusts, had you coming undone under his arms, coating his cock with your juices. Hobie brought you in for a deep kiss when he came, swallowing yours and his moans as he then slowly rode out both of your highs, wanting it to last a little longer. He was the opposite from how he started, which was rough… but now he gave gentle strokes, only pulling away when you told him it was too sensitive now. You were both out of breath and pulling away at once to catch some air, your chests touching from how close you were but also how much air you were taking in. Hobie gave your forehead a short but meaningful kiss before pulling away, but instead you pulled him in for a hug, hiding your face in his neck as you reassured him,

“I’ll only and always be yours Hobie Brown.. I promise.”

Hobie squeezed you tight and was grateful for your embrace, and he ran his fingers through your hair, as he returned the promise,

“I’ll be yours too love.. forever.”

Your eyes twinkled, as he confessed,

“I’m sorry I never made it clear webs.. but I do love you… very much so.”

With a soft peck you replied,

“I love you too… I always have Hobie.”

In a silence you too held each other, satisfied with your actions, more in love and thriving for more days like this to come.

Maybe this love making session was unexpected and out of the blue for the both of you, but it felt so right, and so good. A little breeze of wind then brushed by, causing you to shiver a bit in Hobie’s arms, a second didn’t go by when he suggested,

“Let’s get us home yeah? Don’ want ya to get cold lovie…”

Carefully he helped you put back on your suit, being extra touchy but extremely gentle as he zipped you up (but he didn’t do this before taking a look at your- his cunt now dripping from his cum.

Soon you too helped Hobie with his pants, and getting his guitar safely back into his hold. Both slipping on your masks, you were ready to swing home, but your legs were a little to wobbly for your liking. Hobie caught the slight stumble before holding you up and telling you,

“I’ll carry you home.. on my back lovie.”

With you tightly secured around him, he took off and swung towards home, going through the city so you could have the last look of the city night lights… as he knew it was one of your favorite parts of being Spider-Woman. Efficiently he swung by a stand full of flowers, plucking one off and easily giving it to you, a smile made it to your face as the rose was given to you with a brush of his hands touching yours. You blushed hard like if it was the first time he touched you, and hadn’t just made love to you on the tallest building of your city.

You never felt fear as you embraced him with the rose in your hand tightly. You trusted Hobie’s skills as you had seen them be incredibly strong and capable of much, while swinging he’d collect something he’d like and hand it to you.. so far you have 3 different flowers and a lollipop. Hobie had sticky fingers.. but you didn’t mind it, he wasn’t selfish with his findings.

It didn’t take long when you finally arrived at your balcony, he made sure your feet were flat on the ground before letting you go. Walking into your dark home didn’t feel lonely and filled with void like before, now you held Hobie’s hand tight as you led him to your room, wordlessly telling him you really wanted him to stay the night, if not forever. You both jumped into the shower wanting it to be quick, your night having been long and you both were craving to lay down in one another’s arms. Hobie’s hands never left your body as he helped you scrub down, he never looked at you like you’re a piece of meat.. but as if you were such a treasure to behold. It didn’t matter about your battle scars or the shape of you, he was now addicted and more in love. You treated Hobie the same way, wanting to show him that you indeed wanted him and him only, asking him questions about how he does his hair and wanting to memorize his steps to keep his styled hair in tact (as you loved how his hair looked) Drying off in fluffy towels, and sharing the air-blow dryer, you too were soon ready for bed. Hobie lifted you up from the thighs and carried you in, laying you down gently and pecking your lips all so romantically, before plopping himself on top of you. A breathy groan left your lips as he cuddled into your stomach, acting innocent and slightly ignoring how he had dropped onto you. He made sure he was in a good spot, not wanting his hair to be in your face, but close enough where you can rub his head. Soft kisses were given on your tummy as he worded again and again, softly yet possessively,

“You’re mine.. all mine. This body, your heart… you. Right baby?”

You could never say no.

“Yes baby.. all yours.. all of me.”

He smiled to himself as he lastly cooed,

“I love you..”

His chest warmed up as he heard your reply,

“I love you more..”

#hobie brown #astv hobie #hobie x you #hobie x reader #atsv x reader #atsv smut #hobie brown smut #spider punk #spider punk x reader #hobie spiderverse #hobie smut #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider punk x you #spider punk smut #asks open #asks answered happily

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weskie · 4 months

Text

O Captain, My Captain! (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

18+ | 2100 words, dubcon, gunpoint blow job, sex fantasies, gender neutral reader, wesker being a little shit but somehow still a lil soft | Fic Directory

original request

You always were his favorite. So smart and perceptive, sharp and witty. Of course you would be the one to find him first. It almost pained him to devastate you in such a way. To see the way your face fell when those words left his mouth.

“I’ve always been with Umbrella.”

The way you whispered his title in disbelief when he pointed his gun at you was… perplexing. He figured you’d have one of your usual wise-cracks to chuck at him. Instead you–

“I trusted you, I–” You quiver, staring down the barrel that could spell your undoing in a mere flash. Your eyes dart back and forth between him and the tank containing the Tyrant. “Please don’t kill me…”

Beautiful, isn’t it? Wesker thinks to himself. He wonders what you must think of his good work. What you must think of everything.

Deep down, he doesn’t want to do this. In fact, it had been his plan to grab you before death could take you in some twisted form or another. You were the only one he wasn’t keen to place in this experiment. He fully intended to run off with you in his arms, play the hero, whisk you away to safety and maybe finally allow some of his affections free to make an attempt at something more. You weren’t supposed to find him.

You’ve certainly dashed his plans. So what now?

“I’ll do anything!”

Of that, he’s certain. Most people staring down the barrel of a gun would say the same. Perhaps…

Now that’s a thought.

“Anything?” He asks with a cock of his head. “And just what could you do for me, my dear?” The corner of his mouth twitches in a small smirk as the term of endearment hits you. He saunters forward, handgun still trained on you. Little do you know he’d clicked the safety on before raising it toward you to begin with.

It’s precious how you shiver under his gaze. Like you know exactly what he’s thinking, or you’re at least partly aware of it.

This situation has obviously ruined his plans to pursue you once the dust had settled. Perhaps he should take what he can get now while he’s got the opportunity. Sure there’s terror in your eyes, but he’s seen the way you looked at him before. The glint in your gaze, the pining glances and shy smiles. Wesker was no fool.

But he is an opportunist.

“I don’t kno–”

“Oh, but I think you do.” He purrs, pressing the muzzle under your chin to force you to look right into his eyes. He glides his thumb across your lower lip, tongue peaking out to wet his own. “Ah, ah… Don’t squirm. You wouldn’t want my finger to slip, would you?” It isn’t even on the trigger. He smiles sweetly as you take a breath to still yourself. “That’s it, sweetheart. Very good.”

You’re adorable like this. Eyes wide, lower lip quivering beneath the pad of his thumb. Wesker leans forward until his lips are next to your ear.

“I want you on your knees, my dear. Think of it like a new training exercise– just you and me.” His breaths fan against the shell of your ear, words shocking your eyes even wider. He can hear you gulp in anticipation before you start to descend. “Show your Captain what you can do, hm?” The sight alone has him twitching in his pants. He’d never admit to the overflowing excitement in watching you kneel before him, knowing full well he was about to have you in a way he’s only dreamt of. God, the thoughts he’s had of you– the way he’s come apart at mere fantasies all because of you…

His breath stutters as you work him free from his pants, halting entirely when you grasp his cock and stroke. He can feel the tremble in your grip, so he smooths his free hand through your hair to coax you to relax. He nudges you forward gently.

He knows you can’t see his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses, but he almost wishes you could. If you could only see the exhilaration in his eyes coupled with the lack of genuine hostility, maybe you wouldn’t be so afraid of the gun in his right hand. Maybe you’d know it was all for show to keep you from getting any bright ideas. And fuck, he could’ve dropped the damned thing the second your tongue grazed the underside of his tip. It’s been so long since he’s been touched by another; he never has the time to even consider it with his double-triple-agent life. It’s almost embarrassing how sensitive he is to the warm wetness of your tongue.

But he needs more.

His fingers curl in your hair to pull you nearer– his signal for you to open wide and take him. He releases a shuddering breath when your lips wrap around him, descending nice and slow. The sensation of you sucking him is simply beyond words, completely and utterly tantalizing in the way it combines with the hot drag of your tongue.

A soft moan works past his lips when that pesky gag reflex of yours makes your throat clamp deliciously around him. He doesn’t let you pull off. He can’t drop the facade quite yet– can’t be too gentle lest you get any stupid ideas.

“Ah, ah… Hold it.” He breathes, fingers gripping tighter in your hair, pushing your head down. “That’s it, dear…” For all of your sputtering below, you manage to resist the need to release him by the time he finally jerks you back.

He gives you a minute to gasp desperately before pressing the gun to your temple. Your eyes flutter open as if you'd forgotten the lingering threat. Your pupils are blown and the way you squirm is all too obvious.

He knew you'd like this.

Somewhere, deep past that layer of fear, there was a part of you so aroused by this that you couldn’t help but let it affect you. Maybe, with his cock down your throat, you realized that this was what you’d always wanted too. That all those sweet little looks you’d hide when he’d turn your way weren’t for nothing. That your lust for your Captain was coming to fruition in an unorthodox way that was still just as delicious as whatever sinful thoughts you’ve kept of him all this time.

“I'm impressed. But you can do better for me, can’t you?” Wesker’s eyes roll when you dive back in of your own accord, suckling and swirling the tip in a way that screams more than mere survival instinct. It takes no time at all for him to give in and start with slow thrusts into your mouth. Paired with the way he controls the bobbing of your head makes it truly like heaven itself. Wesker could damn well forget everything– where he was, all that had happened, even the Tyrant mere feet away meant nothing right now. Your little gags and chokes around his shaft ring like music to his ears, drowning out the hum of machinery preserving his subject, echoing in his mind to wash away every scream he’s heard since this mission began.

There’s just this.

Just you and him.

“That’s– mmh, that’s it!” Wesker’s breaths grow heavier by the second and he presses the muzzle harder to your temple, wordlessly demanding that you keep up with those wicked glides of your tongue, keep swallowing his cock, keep fucking taking him.

His mask begins to slip with every weakening moan that was never meant to make it past his lips until finally– fucking finally– he holsters that damned gun and grips your head with his other hand, hips rolling until that familiar tightening sensation grows and grows and your name chokes breathlessly from his lips. With one last sharp thrust, Wesker buries himself to the base, hands pulling your face flush to his groin as he paints your throat with his release. His thighs quake and he can just barely register your hands grasping to still him.

He tries so hard to be quiet and maintain that perfect decorum of his, but it’s useless to try. Not when he’s balls deep in your mouth, not when he knows he’s claimed you from the inside out. He’s thought of this too many times. Of how he’d have loved to have you on your knees under his desk back in his office. You’d suck him just as sweetly as you’ve done now, one hand stroking the base of his cock while the other smooths up and down his leg. He’d let you get him close– so fucking close. He’d let you get him right on the brink of losing himself and then kick away in his swivel chair and fuck you senseless on the desk. He wouldn’t even care if the rest of the team could hear the sweet sounds you sing for him. He’d fill you over and over again until his come leaks from you. He’d kneel down and eat you clean just so he could fill you all over again.

Every fantasy flashes in his mind as the throbbing bliss tapers away. This absolutely cannot be the last time he has you.

It won’t be.

Wesker pulls out slowly, staring down intently to watch every inch slip free. His thumbs wipe away at your tear tracks before kneeling to your level.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks as if he hadn’t just put you in an impossible situation and made you think your only way out was to let him fuck your mouth. He smiles at you, though, try as he might, he can’t quite manage that same wicked smirk he’d given you earlier. The facade has faded, and he’s back to the same old Captain Wesker who used to hide his smiles at your quips. The same one who now feels the tiniest pang of guilt at how spooked and used you look.

There's one last thing he needs from this moment. He couldn't possibly let it pass him by knowing he may never have the chance again. And, if he's lucky, you'll understand every unspoken word.

Wesker leans forward, hands cupping your face to bring you into a kiss that was far from the depravity he'd shown you mere moments ago. Your squeak of shock is swallowed by him, and it's the perfect opportunity to wiggle his tongue into your mouth and explore to his heart's content– pleased to no end when you reciprocate.

“You've always been,” he pants between wet pecks to your lips, “my favorite of the bunch.” One of your arms loops around his neck, and that’s when it hits him.

Cold steel presses beneath his jaw and he smiles against you, proud beyond measure that you'd pulled one over on him so easily.

“Still trust me?” He asks.

“Should I?” You counter, panting softly against him. He can see the way doubt blends with belief. You’re the picture perfect specimen of indecision and he would just love to see your reaction to this…

“Go on. Pull.” Wesker murmurs. “Trust your Captain.”

When you make not even so much as a twitch to flinch from what you’d expect to be an exceptionally loud mess, he grasps your hand, finger creeping over yours to direct it onto the trigger.

How peculiar that, much like he’d done, you hadn’t even put it on there.

You look at him with wide eyes for the hundredth time since you found him, suddenly looking much more terrified than when he’d first aimed it at you.

“Wesker, I–”

Click.

You flinch for nothing, and Wesker simply gives you a smug grin as he watches you realize you were never truly in danger. You run through a variety of emotions. Anger, betrayal, disbelief, acceptance…

“What's wrong, my dear?” Wesker purrs, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You didn’t think I’d actually kill you, did you?”

The look on your face elicits a deep, amused chuckle.

“Foolish. I suppose you’ll need to be made to understand just how deep my appreciation for you goes, hm?” With his free hand, he removes his gun from your grasp before pushing you slowly onto your back. Your chest heaves in anticipation, though you lack that deer-in-the-headlights look from earlier.

Good.

Wesker removes his glasses, placing them on your head to rest against your hair.

“Remember,” he whispers, leaning down to nibble at the side of your neck. “Trust your Captain.”

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker fanfiction #albert wesker x you #wesker x reader #wesker x you #resident evil #dead by daylight #dbd #request #i hope this is good lol #i do apologize that this took so long to write #its been a stressful ass life these last few weeks but DAMN i love this prompt

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evillemons · 6 months

Text

JUNGKOOK’S IDEAL TYPE (JK pt. 1)

~ a manifestation of his ideal girlfriend. Continuation into part 2 and part 3. Masterlist here.

• Jungkook’s ideal type has been the hardest for me to imagine out of all the members. He is such a curious and adventurous person and seems to lack a level of certainty in his life.

• Because I can envision Jungkook with completely dichotomous types, I’m going to approach his section a little differently than the other members. Here are the two possibilities:

The bad bitch

• ABG vibes. Sexy, mischievous, and a little naughty.

• Appears intimidating on the outside (like JK) and probably also has an intimidating personality (not like JK) (looks like they could kill you, would kill you).

• A little impulsive and a high sensation-seeker.

• May come across as cold to most people, but would show vulnerability around the people she trusts.

• The creative type. They might’ve met during a dance class or photoshoot.

• MBTI: ISFP. Adventurous, artistic, bold, and expressive.

• Her and JK would have a lot in common in terms of their styles and interests, but she would be more brazen and opinionated.

• He’s probably a little intimidated by her but finds her incredibly sexy and alluring at the same time.

• Her style consists of casual streetwear that’s a little edgy, and a love for tattoos and piercings (very Gen Z).

• Leather jackets, cargo pants, chunky boots, cropped t-shirts.

• Potentially a little androgynous looking with her slim figure and dark, baggy clothes.

The good girl

• A good-natured, smart, kind, patient woman.

• Sweet inside and out (looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll).

• While not necessarily a “career woman” like Namjoon's girlfriend, she might have a more traditional 9-5 life.

• She would be very mature and maybe a little older than him.

• He would admire her wisdom and life experiences (like the way he does with RM).

• Generally confident, self-sufficient, and knows how to take care of herself.

• Someone who is friendly and easy to talk to, but not overly loud or extroverted.

• MBTI: ISTJ or ISFJ. Ambiverted, respectful, caring, trustworthy, and dependable.

• They would likely meet by chance during a normal outing or through a mutual friend.

• Feminine and petite. Maybe also elegant and well put together.

• Big, sparkly doe eyes to match his own.

• In the office she would dress modestly and professionally, but would like to wear sundresses on the weekends.

Other notes:

• Like Yoongi, Jungkook is attracted to many different types of people and wouldn’t discriminate based on Race/Ethnicity. Being the youngest, he is quite well traveled and unbiased.

• Sexual orientation wouldn’t matter too much either, but I can see him being a little jealous or insecure if she has dated women or a lot of other men in the past.

• He definitely seems to be attracted to women with some sort of sex appeal. Not too audacious in their sexuality, but not too cute or innocent either.

• He is shockingly independent, and while he would want to feel like he can take care of her, he wouldn’t want someone who is overly needy or lacks self-sufficiency.

• Equally as competitive, perfectionistic, and hardworking as him.

• I do think she would be somewhat athletic or fit, as working out seems to be a priority in his life.

• Even though I can see JK being rather experienced in casual sex, I don’t think he would take choosing a partner lightly. When it comes to a relationship, he would be very picky and want something that is real, loyal would allow him to learn and grow.

#bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jk #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook ideal type #jungkook imagine #bts headcanons #jungkook headcanons

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ssahotchnerr · 7 months

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Do you think Aaron would be a little terrified of having a daughter? He sees all the brutality women face because of his job, and i just wonder if he would break down and not really know how to handle raising a girl in this world

oh absolutely 🥺

but i think rather than letting the idea terrify him, aaron would take it upon himself to thoroughly educate his daughter when it comes to safety and being/ending up in high risk situations. like as soon as he can, he's educating her on stranger danger, and it continuously carries on as she gets older.

and he does so in a way that doesn't scare her, but gets the point across and confirms she knows how important it is. aaron's a strict, but flexible parent. like when she's a teen and wants to go to that party, he'll allow it, but because he trusts her and knows she knows situations can evolve, if that makes sense. she has a smart head on her shoulders, and aaron trusts her to use it.

i think the most terrifying thing for aaron would be understanding/coming to terms that life happens, y'know 🥺 things that he can't control can happen. but that's where the awareness comes in - at the end of the day, he's taught her to the best of his ability, and she's prepared to act when necessary

#the way i had a fic about this kinda concept ages ago and scrapped it 😭#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #katie’s inbox

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spliffymae · 2 years

Text

take a hint, kento nanami

⚠️ she/her pronouns, smut, pet names, bathroom sex, kento is a bit freaky, he is also jealous, established relationship, swearing, possessive nanami, kento is a dom if you squint.

kio’s notes - inspired by this.

⊱ ──────── {.⋅ ✺ ⋅.}──────── ⊰

it was disrespectful, to say the least. the way gojo threw himself at you. how he would sit so close to you with his arm thrown over your side of the couch. how every story he told he had to touch your wrist or arm to grab your attention—despite you making eye contact and actively responding to him.

you two, along with all the staff from jujutsu tech were at a get together hosted by satorou, who just wanted to celebrate the end of the school term with his esteemed colleagues.

but he also wanted to use this party as a way to get to know you better. he had gushed to nanami about how pretty the school’s nurse was. how you were too sweet to him when he would come in to get checked after a mission. he would always tease that “your smile’s the only medicine i need.” which he knew was a stupid pick up like, but hoped you would appreciate his obvious corniness.

gojo was smitten with you. if he wasn’t knocking on your door for impromptu lunch dates, he was running by you every and anything that seemed ‘out of place’—a runny nose, pain in the neck, ache in his toes. gojo pulled out all the excuses he could think of to see you.

and nanami absolutely hated it.

i mean, how could he not?

after all, you weren’t gojo’s girlfriend-you were his.

but alas, nanami was private and didn’t want to put his relationship with you out to everyone. he honestly didn’t see a point of it. the relationship you two had didn’t deter you from still treating him and his students after a mission. or stop either of you from obeying the rules.

“y’know, my students would love a health lesson from you, (y/n). it would be ideal to reach them first aid so they can help themselves and each other in the field, no?”

nanami was sitting on one of gojo’s lounge chairs he kept across the couch, legs crossed with a cup of water in his hand. gojo had offered him a much stronger drink, but he declined. he wanted to throw the water in gojo’s face.

“it would be, gojo. i should speak to other teachers as well. maybe they would like lessons too.” you beamed, and nanami felt the left side of his mouth twitch up. of course, you would act as if gojo wasn’t speaking with an alternative meaning.

“perhaps we should meet another time after school to go over what the students should be taught.” he was persistent, god was he persistent.

you nodded, “that would be smart, but i’m in a rush after school so maybe lunch would do? you could come to the office during the break.”

the way gojo’s lips curled into a smirk made nanami want to break the glass over his head. becauese of course he would think you’re alluding to something else, the sleaze he is.

“lunch would be perfect, sweetheart. thank you. a-and the students thank you too.”

you nodded, a small smile across your lips. you could feel nanami’s burning gaze on your face, but you did your best to not look his way.

“could i use your bathroom?” you asked, clearing your throat to rid you of any anxieties. you were feeling hot, whether it be from gojo or nanami you were unsure, but you were in dire need of a reset.

gojo smiled, “yeah um, my toilet down here is broken so just go up the stairs and to the third door on the right. it’s my masters en suite.”

he was sending everyone else to his general upstairs bathroom. but you? no, you deserved the privacy, absent of people rushing you.

you thanked him before getting up and walking away. despite having his blindfold on, nanami could see gojo staring at your ass. how it swayed underneath the maxi dress he warned you not to wear. the one that had an open back and showed your brown skin that seemed to glow under the roof lights of gojo’s house.

he wanted you dressed in a blouse with jeans but nooo, you pouted and complained about the sweltering summer heat and feigned exhaustion.

“i’m also a grown ass woman and if you want any tonight, don’t tell me what i can and can’t wear, kento.” you had sassed, patting his cheek before walking in to your walk-in closet.

“kento, be honest.” gojo started, pulling his colleague out of his deep thought.

“mm?” nanami hummed in response. it was still heavy on his mind, you and gojo. how insufferable it had been to be around you two. sure, you weren’t throwing yourself at gojo right in his face—but you also weren’t completely shutting down his advances.

gojo scooted to the edge of the couch and leaned in to nanami’s space, an indication he didn’t want anyone to hear but nanami himself.

nanami leaned in to listen, “do you think i’d have a fair shot with (y/n).?”

and nanami really wanted to break the glass over his head.

“m’not sure, satorou. do you know if she’s seeing anyone?” he feigned curiosity. because he wasn’t going to just say no. if he did gojo would take immediate offense and demand for nanami to explain himself. and god he just wanted to leave.

“she couldn’t be. no one dating a woman like that wouldn’t be out with her, having her on his arm. he’d be a jackass, if i ever knew one. that type of woman you keep close to fight off the creeps.” gojo leaned back after, putting both his arms over the back of his couch.

nanami didn’t say anything in return, he couldn’t. he felt his jaw clench in anger. “where’d uh, you say that bathroom was again?”

“hm? oh yeah it’s the second door on your left.” gojo didn’t find it odd nanami didn’t answer his question. honestly he knew the type of man his colleague was—stoic, quiet, to himself. he knew half the time he was just responding out of curtesy, not interest.

but oh, if only he responded.

if he had, nanami would not have gone up and left to go upstairs. he wouldn’t have reached upstairs to see the bathroom vacant, but hear a toilet flush. it came from gojo’s room.

inside, in the en suite bathroom, you had flushed down some napkins you used to wipe away the sweat that you had. gojo’s constant flirting was too much for you but coupled with nanami’s look, you were a nervous wreck!

it had been nice to get away from the party and have a bit of peace and quiet.

when you had finished freshening up, you stepped out to find nanami standing in the bedroom, hands in the pocket of his suit pants.

“kento, hey. oh gosh i’m so glad to see you.” you were relieved, the smile in your face proof of that.

“sure you weren’t expecting someone else? satorou, perhaps.” he walked closer to you. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his question.

“what? no. ugh, i wanted that man as far away from me as possible.” you shivered from the memory. you had been sick of gojo’s advances but he seemed to never pick up the hint.

nanami smiled, “good. because watching you two made me want to break my fist across his jaw.” he clenched his jaw again, the sight getting you to bite your lip.

the thought of him jealous was turning you on. how you knew what would follow when you two left the party. nanami jealous was rare. he was secure in himself and your relationship for the most part. but there would always be those days.

days like today.

“wasn’t even paying him any mind, kenny.” you stood on your toes so that you could be at the height to reach his lips, but kento straightened up some. your lips brushed his instead of kissing them.

“what was on your mind then, love?” he took his hand to cup your jaw, his thumb rubbing back and forth against your soft cheek.

“you.” it was quick. it had to be. you had no time to say anything else because nanami picked you up with the quickness and brought you to the bathroom, sitting you on the counter.

it happened in a flash. the way he choked you back against the mirror as he stood between your legs. he didn’t say anything, he just looked at you.

“you wanted me, hm? to do what? fuck you senseless right out there for everyone to see?”

you didn’t say anything. instead you moaned.

“wanted me to hit him? tell him to keep his fucking hands off you?” he leaned in closer, his minty breath hitting your face.

“kento…” you whined, but he didn’t care. hell, you didn’t even care—you didn’t even know what you were whining for him to do. you just needed him.

“she want me to help, hm? c’mon love,” he stroked your neck with his thumb. the sensual touch got a shiver to crawl up your spine.

you pouted, “kento please. i-i didn’t say anything to him.” and shouldn’t you be rewarded for turning down another man’s advances? especially a man as loaded as satorou gojo?…most women would fall to their knees for him at first glance.

nanami smiled, pulling you closer to him but still keeping hold of your neck. “i told you not to wear this thing, didn’t i? got all that asshole’s attention.” he gripped at the fabric of your blue dress. if he could he’d tear it off you. but he would wait until you two were alone to do that.

“i didn’t want it, kento.” god, you were so pouty. your plush brown lips smeared in a pink gloss just begging for his lips to kiss it. he was close enough to smell the peach scent that came from them. his favorite. “only wanted your attention, kenny. jus’ you.”

you were slowly grounding your hips into the counter for some kind of friction against your clit. you needed him to touch you, to mark you. god, if there was ever a time for him to break out of his shell, it would be now.

but you knew kento. he was timid, shy when out in public with you. yes, he had the confidence of a god when up against a curse, but when it came to you, you had him stuck.

or so you thought.

kento had dropped his eyes to see your movements and chuckled, “you’re acting like a bitch in heat. just wanting anything to ease this, huh?” he pushed your legs open and slapped your clothed cunt. you moaned on impact.

“k-ken.” your lips started to quiver. “baby i was good.” you begged but for what? mercy? for him to continue? to stop?

nanami pulled your body to the edge of the counter. he raised your legs to be propped up on the counter, folding you in what would technically be a mating press if your back was flat.

your underwear was on full display. a bright pink contrasting with the dark brown of your thighs. the was a damp spot that he groaned at. it’s like he became primal at the sight.

“keep your hands here.” he instructed yoh to hold your position as he lowered himself to the floor and brought his face to your pussy.

“kento, i don’t think i can be quiet. i think we should—ohhh.” your head flew back against the mirror as he licked a stripe up your pussy. he began to eat you out through your panties, his hand hiking them up so they would rub against your clit.

“oh fuck, ken please!” your grip on your shins tightened, eyes on the blond strands that moved in between your thighs.

nanami was hungry for you. he had watched you in the dress all evening and could practically hear his cock call out for your tight hold. your ass looked phenomenal, your breasts sat pretty, and he wanted to leave his mark on every part of your body.

he pushed your underwear to the side and fought the urge to roll his eyes back at what laid before him. your pussy dripping in your essence, pulsing around nothing in dire need of him—any part of him. his fingers, his tongue, his dick.

“she is so pretty, isn’t she?” he took his finger and traced your bottom set of lips, dipping his finger in only slightly to caress the inside. they would rub your clit a bit before he’d pull out and hold his finger to your mouth. he loved to watch you taste yourself.

and when you accepted his finger into your mouth, swirling the digit around, he wanted to cum in his slacks.

“when we go home, i’m gonna bury my face in this pussy until i get five orgasms outta you. but for now….”

he took his hand away from your mouth and unbuckled his pants. he pulled them and his boxers down to reveal his tall and hard dick, with a tip leaking precum.

“i want satorou to hear everything he can’t have.” he spat in his hand and rubbed himself, before positioning himself at your entrance.

he pushed only the tip in at first. your body tingle at the feeling. his thumb rubbed circles on your clit, making you wetter as he pushed more of himself inside.

“k-kento.” you breathed out, hand coming off your shin to press against his abdomen. it was a failed attempt at stopping him from bottoming out, but you were really not trying to have all your coworkers hear you.

“i mean, imagine his surprise when he sees it’s me who’s making you moan this way. making his little crush cry tears over my cock. what do you think he’ll say, love?” nanami had buried himself within you successfully, his balls now pressed against your ass.

“aht—no no, baby,” nanami tsked at you as he watched your eyes flutter. he gave your cheeks a couple slaps to alert you, “keep those eyes open or i swear i’ll stop.” he was breathless, and a part of you wanted to call his bluff.

“i asked you a question. what do you think satorou would say if he saw us?” he wanted your answer. because he wanted you to think of how embarrassed you would feel. how flustered and hot you would become from one of your coworkers catching you being used as a personal cocksleeve for nanami.

but then you began to think of how hot it would feel to possibly be caught by gojo. he did have a crush on you, that was clear. and he would have to see you on his bathroom counter, folded in half and getting stretched out by someone who wasn’t him.

“did you just clench around me? fuckin’ slut.” nanami hissed and stared at you in disbelief.

“kento please fuck me. make him know i’m yours.” you begged like your life depended on it. and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t grant your wishes?

his thrusts were slow to start. he focused more so on making you feel all of him instead of delivering fast strokes. it was almost passionate, but there would be a snap of his hips as he’d push back in that would remind you he was going to fuck you. and it was going to leave you either dumb or limping…or both.

when he started to pick up the pace, he put his hand on top of yours, pushing your bottom half more into the counter to get a better angle. “oh, fuck kento!” you cried out.

“have to be louder than that, baby. i need him to hear how loud he’ll never make you.” nanami was aggressive in his thrusts. they were swift, deep, and every other one would have your clit stimulated as it brushed against his trimmed pubes.

“kenny let me touch you, please. i needa feel you, baby please.” you were a teary eyed mess,yearning to feel nanami’s warmth on your body. his hands weren’t enough.

“wan’ kiss me, baby? can’t be satisfied until every part of me is on you?” nanami would normally kiss you right away as you asked. yeah, he was dominant in the bedroom but usually when you asked for a kiss he would be ready to plant one on you instantly. but right now?…oh honey you’d have to work to get those kisses.

“can’t stand seeing him touch you. then talk about you like your some piece of meat.” he fucked into you harder, speaking through gritted teeth. he was pissed at the way gojo responded to his question. how he viewed you as arm candy instead of an individual.

“my beautiful girl. smart and gentle. fucking sweetest pussy i ever had.” he moaned, “he’ll never look at you again without seeing me—without smelling me on you.” his hands came off yours and allowed you to push yourself up by your hands. you were more up straight now, and we’re face to face with your boyfriend, who had his forehead against your own.

“kenny please, m’so close!” you were unapologetically loud. he was snapping into your hips like he hated you, but god did he love you.

he loved the way you put your arms around his shoulders and brought him closer. he loved the way one of your hands gripped his blonde roots every time he stroked in while the other clawed at his shoulder. he loved the way you wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in place.

nanami moaned, head falling back as your walls seemed to clench him just right. his left hand flew out and gripped the door frame while his right held your waist.

“fuck!” he groaned. you peppered kisses along his neck for a second before he brought his head down and captured your lips in a sloppy kiss.

“kentoo,” you squealed. “m’right there, babe.” you repeated it over and over.

“so cum pretty. and let me fill you up so you can carry my cum in that leaky pussy. sit next to gojo with me leaking out you.”

you pulled on his tie as you came, your hips rolling to match his thrusts. he came shortly after you, his cum painting your walls and filling you up.

you were a wreck. kento had slid himself out of you to look at the damage he had done. your knotless braids were sweated out, dress wrinkled with stains of yours and kento’s spit, sweat, and juices. he looked ahead in the mirror to see his shirt was also wrinkled, tie pulled loose and hair ruffled.

kento smiled and stuffed himself back in his boxers, quickly tidying himself up. you on the other hand, we’re leaning against the mirror, trying to recover.

“oh no, love, you’re getting some on the counter.” kento taunted as he looked down at the white liquid that seeped out of your pussy, shining against the marble counter. he chuckled to himself as he bent down and pulled your panties back on. he pressed two fingers to your clit, getting you to jolt and hiss.

“c’mon baby, we aren’t done yet.” he helped you come off the counter and stand on your feet. “may not be in trouble, but clearly i got to show you no one else can do what i do.” he kissed your forehead.

you smiled up at him with doe eyes, not a single thought except him behind your orbs. he did as planned, fucking you dumb and also getting you to limp as you walked.

“i love you, kento.” you mumble into his chest, putting your arms around his torso. part was because you wanted him to hug you, the other was because you needed him to help you stand straight.

“i love you too. now c’mon, you need some food in ya.”

it took a lot to surprise gojo. he wasn’t the naive or gullible type, so he often didn’t get tricked into the ruse’s of surprises. but oh, did he get one today.

he had gone upstairs to make sure you were okay. you hadn’t returned and he worried you had gotten mixed up or side tracked with the conversation you guys had. it didn’t phase him that nanami hadn’t returned.

he went upstairs to find the general bathroom in use, but heard what sounded like a cry from his room. he quickly walked over but stopped just as he crossed the threshold. he froze when he heard the most angelic moan leave your lips.

his cock strained in his pants, but the feeling of euphoria was shortly lived as you choked out, “k-kento…m’right there…”

and gojo swore his jaw hit the floor. kento? as in nanami kento?

he heard nanami demand you cum. he heard his teasing about the counter, and you going back out to sit next to gojo with nanami’s cum in between your legs. and he heard you tell nanami you loved him.

gojo was humiliated.

he was confused.

but worst of all, he was hard.

he remained frozen in place as you stepped out the washroom. he could smell the sex you just had. you looked fucked out, but you were glowing. gojo’s cock stirred as your eyes looked at him and you smiled. “gojo-san, thank you for such a great party.” you patted his shoulder as you passed him on your way out with giggled leaving your lips. you were going to grab your belongings and shoes.

nanami came out after you, ears perking up that gojo was in the room. he walked toward his coworker, tucking his shirt back in his pants. “i told you satorou, you should’ve asked her.” he simply shrugged and walked past gojo, who still stood frozen in shock.

nanami was positive gojo got the hint now.

#🌞🍃spliffymae #jjk⋞〈⏣》⋟#nanami x black!reader #nanami kento #kento nanami x black y/n #kento nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #anime x black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #nanami smut

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cecilysass · 3 months

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Oblivious (1/1)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder had not been convinced that drinks with Bambi and Dr. Ivanov was a good idea, but Scully seemed to enjoy it. She and Bambi shared one side of the table and became so engrossed in conversation that Mulder had to reach across and touch Scully’s wrist to get her attention. She was even content to stay and have a second glass of wine with Mulder after their two companions left.

“They didn’t leave together, did they?” Mulder wondered morbidly, craning his neck in an attempt to see Dr. Ivanov’s retreating chair.

“Mulder,” Scully said with a fond smile, “no. Bambi wasn’t interested in him in that way after all.”

“Oh?” Mulder said, arching his eyebrows. “And how do you know that, Scully?”

Scully shrugged. “It came up.”

“Really?” Mulder leaned forward on the table. “How did it come up? What were you talking about?”

“Mulder,” Scully said in warning.

“She told you she wasn’t into Dr. Ivanov?”

“Well, not Dr. Ivanov per se,” Scully said. “It came up that she wasn’t interested in dating men.”

Mulder’s mouth fell open for a moment, and then he discreetly closed it. He folded his hands in front of him on the table with calm decorum. “I see that I really should have been sitting on that side of the table.”

“We were talking mostly about our work,” Scully said defensively.

“So … how did her sexuality come up, exactly?”

Scully’s cheeks turned pink. “We were talking about there not being as many women in the sciences. She mentioned it was difficult in terms of dating women exclusively. Difficult to meet people.”

“Hold on. Wait.” Mulder made a show of scooting forward in his seat as far as he could. “Scully. You’re in the sciences.”

Scully shot him a disdainful look and sipped her wine.

“Did she hit on you?”

“No,” Scully scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. We were talking about work.”

“Did she give you her number?”

“Yes, but only so we could have dinner sometime if I’m in the area.”

Mulder’s mouth fell open again in deadpan disbelief, and Scully squirmed in her seat, visibly flustered.

“That’s not hitting on me, Mulder. Being attracted to women doesn’t mean you’re attracted to every woman.”

“Scully, you may be surprised to learn that I actually have experience being attracted to women,” Mulder said. He drummed his fingers on the table a second and bit his lip. “So … are you going to have dinner with her?”

Scully eyed him suspiciously. “Mulder.”

“What will you wear?”

She treated him to an unamused glare.

“Come on, I’m asking innocent questions.”

“I’ve seen those tapes that aren’t yours, Mulder. I think they’ve skewed your perception of relationships women might have with other women.”

“You’ve seen those tapes that aren’t mine?”

“Don’t you have one about amorous scientists specifically? Ph Double Ds or something like that?”

Mulder cleared his throat. “Scientist porn is a common genre,” he said. He eyed her slyly. “Actually, you might want to watch a little to prepare for your dinner date.”

Scully downed the rest of her glass of wine in a huff.

“Aw, come on.” He changed directions, smiling winningly. “Don’t take me so seriously. I’m just jealous. I’ve been trying to get her attention, and here you sail in effortlessly and win her over.”

“I don’t think that’s what happened, but I’m sorry to spoil your erotic fantasies regardless, Mulder.”

“Trust me, Scully. This conversation has not spoiled my erotic fantasies in the slightest.”

Her eyes narrowed, and Mulder wondered if he’d pushed it too far. Maybe it was crossing a line to allude directly to her being featured in his sexual fantasies like that.

But her tone was changing. “I’m sorry, really, Mulder,” she said, softening. “I do think she’s a nice woman, and she’s smart and beautiful. I see why you’d like her. I wish you could have dated her.”

“Thank you,” he said, taken aback. He wasn’t sure what to say in response to that, so he found himself shifting uneasily. “Do you want another glass?”

She stared at her empty wine glass contemplatively.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Mulder said. He gestured to the waiter across the room, pointing at Scully’s glass and his own.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Scully?”

“About what?” Her sideways look was suspicious.

“I have a theory about you,” Mulder ventured. “Call it a profiler’s hunch.”

“What comes out of your mouth next could not possibly be complimentary.”

“My theory is that you’re one of those people who’s oblivious to when someone has romantic interest in you. That you never know when someone is hitting on you. That this isn’t the first time. Would you say that’s true?”

“No,” she said definitively. “And I told you, she wasn’t hitting on me.”

“But see, you wouldn’t know. That’s the whole point.”

“I consider myself a fairly perceptive person.”

“Let me ask you this,” Mulder continued, aware now of the jagged little edge of the alcohol in his system. “Why do you think Skip the IT guy hangs around to talk to us in the basement for so long? And why do you think Caroline in requisitions is so nice to us?”

“If you’re implying that it’s because they’re interested in me, I reject that interpretation,” Scully said indignantly. “Personally, I think it’s simply because I’m nice to them. Being civil goes a long way.”

“Come on,” Mulder groaned. “Skip tries to see down your shirt almost every time he’s down there. And he’s made about a thousand thinly veiled references to getting drinks after work.”

“Maybe,” Scully said skeptically. “But Caroline?”

“She gets all tongue-tied when you walk in.”

“When we walk in,” Scully pointed out. “Maybe it’s you who’s having that effect. That’s not exactly an unknown phenomenon.”

“Noooo,” Mulder said emphatically, shaking his head. “She stares at you. Like you’re a beautiful statue. Like this.” He demonstrated by putting his chin on his hands and gazing at Scully, batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly.

Scully rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous, Mulder. If she did that, I would notice.”

“You’re proving my point left and right here, Scully.”

Scully scoffed, taking the new glass of Syrah the waitress handed her. Mulder accepted another beer.

“Admit it,” Mulder said. “In your past there’s a pattern of friends and acquaintances who unexpectedly confessed feelings to you, shocking you beyond measure because you never saw it coming.”

Scully sipped her wine. “Come on. Doesn’t that happen to everyone?”

“No.” Mulder began to laugh. “It absolutely doesn’t.”

“It’s never happened to you?”

“I didn’t say that,” Mulder said, amused. “But I wouldn’t say it was a pattern.”

Scully’s face was flushed just in the apples of her cheeks: the effect, Mulder assumed, of the wine. “That seems very hard to believe,” she said flippantly. “That you’ve inspired so few declarations of secret love, being … I don’t know, the way that you are.”

Mulder’s eyebrows shot up in delight. “Whoa ho, the way that I am? Thank you, I think.”

Scully waved her hand dismissively.

“It only happened to me once that I recall,” Mulder said. “A classmate at Quantico.”

Scully waited for a moment, but he didn’t elaborate.

“How often has it happened to you, Scully?” Mulder asked.

“A few times,” she allowed with a little shrug.

“Give me an example.”

“Mulder, I don’t know…” she groaned.

“Okay, who was the first?”

Sighing, she put her chin in her hand and considered. “Probably tenth grade,” she said. “My debate partner Phil Costello.”

Mulder smiled. “Ah, Phil.”

“He was very serious. Very competitive.” Scully took a generous gulp of wine. “And then one day, he’s stammering and not meeting my eye and asking me to go mini-golfing.”

“Mini-golfing,” Mulder said. “Classic.”

“But mini-golfing doesn’t necessarily imply a date,” Scully said. “I was watching Charlie that afternoon, so I brought him along.”

“Oh no,” Mulder said. He winced and shook his head. “Oh Scully.”

“And I later gathered from friends that I hurt Phil’s feelings,” Scully sighed, swirling her glass slightly.

Mulder thumped his hand on the table triumphantly. “Exactly. Phil had probably been putting the teen moves on you for months.”

“I would argue that story isn’t an example of me being especially oblivious,” Scully said. “I’d argue that it was an example of both of us being adolescents and not skilled at communication. Phil didn’t make the situation entirely clear either.”

“Let’s change the question then,” Mulder suggested. “How often would you say you get hit on?”

“At this stage in my life?” Scully said. “Almost never.”

Mulder rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Why don’t you believe that? What makes you such an expert on this, Mulder?”

“Let’s look at this objectively, like scientists.” He took another large swig of beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re a young woman, at your sexual peak, extremely attractive, in a male-dominated profession, constantly surrounded by men. Looking at it from the outside, doesn’t it seem implausible to you that you would never be hit on? Isn’t the most likely explanation that you’re just not someone who notices?”

Scully didn’t say anything in response, just held her wine glass and stared at him, her face impassive.

“I assume I convinced you?” he said triumphantly.

“I think I’m not hit on as much any more,” she said with precision, “because I’m almost always with you.”

He scowled, and his eyes scanned the rest of the bar for a moment. There were other people there: couples having drinks, some kind of birthday party in the corner, and a group of apparently single men at the bar having an extended happy hour. They were thirtysomething, wore suits, had been joking around all evening. None of them were especially looking towards Scully, at least not after a quick glance. That did seem strange to Mulder. Why would guys like that miss checking out a pretty woman? Why wouldn’t someone try to make an approach? Then again, what’s the point of hitting on a woman who’s already sitting at a table with someone?

“Hmm,” he said. “I admit, that’s an interesting consideration.”

“Do you get hit on a lot, Mulder?”

He looked at her, surprised. “No,” he said. “But that’s different.”

“How?” Scully asked.

“I’m a little more of an acquired taste,�� Mulder said modestly.

Scully startled him by bursting into loud, unrestrained laughter. She threw her head forward as she laughed and let her hair spill over her face as she lifted it back up.

“What?” he said, self-conscious.

“An acquired taste?” she said, still laughing. “What does that mean? Since when is being tall and good-looking an acquired taste? You’re the kind of man single women in bars … dare one another to approach.”

Mulder’s eyebrows shot right into his hairline this time. “Oooh, tell me more, please,” he said, licking his lips. “Would you approach me in a bar?”

“Of course not,” she said dryly. “I know you, and your personality works against the good looks.”

It was a joke. Obviously. She didn’t mean anything by it. But it happened that he’d heard that exact critique from women before, that it was something held to be true about Fox Mulder. Hearing it from Scully—from the lips of his partner, who these days knew him better than anyone else—just really stung. It hurt so immediately he couldn’t quite hide his reaction as it flickered across his face.

“See? An acquired taste,” he said, quickly trying to play it off. “And some people never acquire it.”

She already had a stricken expression. “Mulder,” she said, soft regret in her words. “I was only kidding.”

“Come on,” he said with a smile. “I know. We have to be able to joke about our own flaws.”

“No,” she said, looking down at the table. “No, it was a thoughtless thing to say. I’m sorry. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your personality.”

“I think we both know that’s not entirely true, Scully.” She wasn’t meeting his eyes, still looking at her hands on the table. “There’s a reason they call me Spooky and keep me alone in the basement. There’s a reason I’ve been single for years. Something’s broken, right?” He tapped his temple playfully. “I know it as well as anyone.”

She raised her clear blue eyes to meet his and surprised him by grabbing his wrist.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Mulder,” she repeated urgently. “You could be working anywhere in the F.B.I.. You could be dating anyone you wanted. You just chose another path. You did that because there’s something whole about you, not something broken.”

He stared back into those shockingly blue eyes, moved, not sure what to say in response. He thought about how many times he called Scully on this case, how she drove all the way up to help him, how no one on earth seemed as accepting of his quirks and faults as she was. She was the best friend he’d ever had. No one else was even close.

“I shouldn’t say things like that even as a joke,” she said, her fingers still enclosed around his wrist. “And I shouldn’t get annoyed when you have the occasional flirtation on the job. You deserve to have that.”

“Annoyed?” Mulder repeated. “When were you annoyed?”

She shook her head. “Not important.”

“On this case? By what? By Bambi?”

She smiled a tiny, tolerant smile and withdrew her hand, leaning back on her chair. “Besides, Mulder,” she said, “you may have noticed that they don’t keep you all alone in the basement anymore.”

He smiled slowly, examining his beer glass. “Yeah,” he said. “I did notice.”

They didn’t speak for a moment.

“Anyway, I’ll try to pay more attention,” she said, returning to their previous topic of conversation. “To see if I think you’re right that I’m constantly the object of desire.”

“Obviously I’m right,” he said with a sigh.

“It’s a flattering idea, I guess,” she said. She seemed to immediately regret her words, looking down in embarrassment.

“Yeah, of course,” Mulder said encouragingly. “But you should enjoy it, Scully. You should go out with female friends sometime, go to a bar, let the guys have a chance to talk to you. I bet you haven’t done that for a while.”

Scully shook her head, her cheeks actually turning darker pink. “You’re right. I haven’t.”

She was quiet again, and he tried to imagine Scully actually acting on his suggestion. Maybe talking to some guy at a club—some guy with an ordinary job, a loosened tie, and an empty smile like those men drinking over there at the bar. He knew she deserved this kind of flirtation and fun, but he found, to his ashamed surprise, that he hated the idea.

“I don’t think I will, though,” she said, picking up her glass again. She looked at him over the rim. “That’s not where my head is these days.”

“Yeah,” he said. He immediately pictured their office, his view of her leaning over her work, her hair and a pencil tucked behind her ear, her expression serious and intent. “I know what you mean.”

She sipped the last dregs of her wine as they looked at one another. As he met her eyes, Mulder reminded himself the partnership might not last forever. Most likely, she would answer his calls and do his autopsies right up until the day her head was somewhere else.

“Probably time for us to go,” she said. She smiled and gave him a playfully stern look. “We need to get back to D.C. tomorrow and try to write up your killer cockroach case in some reasonably sane way for Skinner.”

“I’ll write the report,” Mulder agreed. “I’ll just need help with the sane parts.”

“Good thing I’m here,” she said lightly.

***

After Scully finished the last drops of her wine, she excused herself to use the bathroom. The waitress came back and set the check down in front of Mulder.

“Going well, isn’t it?” she said in a thick Massachusetts accent.

Mulder stopped getting out his credit card to look up at her, confused. Arms crossed over her ample chest, she looked down at him, smiling broadly.

“What’s going well?” he said.

“Your date,” she said knowingly. She winked. “She likes you. Trust me. I can tell when a lady is interested, and she’s interested.”

Mulder smiled politely back, putting his card down on the tray. “Oh, it’s not a date,” he said. “We work together.”

The waitress just smirked. “If you say so, sweetie.” She took the tray and shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious though.” ***

#xfiles fanfic #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #the x files #x files #xf fanfic #msr #oblivious #my fic #bambi berenbaum #war of the coprophages #season 3 x files

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Text

Pretty Girl - Eddie Munson x Reader

Note: This is for my darling @munson-blurbs 💚 I told her that if she finished the big project she was working on in time, I would write her anything she wanted. Not only did she finish on time, but she did it damn near perfectly. I am so unbelievably proud of you, Bug. I’m always in awe of your intelligence and work ethic. I hope I did justice to what you wanted, and I hope you all enjoy it as well! Also, I hope that I used the academic terms I included correctly, but if I didn’t, we’re just going to ignore that lol

Request/Summary: Eddie × Bookworm!Reader where Reader is stressed because of a massive project she has to do. And she keeps talking about all of this academic stuff that makes Eddie's head spin. So he does what he does best: fucks his smart girl until she's dumb

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, slight daddy kink

Words: 2.4k

Eddie’s just hanging up the phone as you step into your shared apartment after a long day on campus. Letting out a huff, you drop your backpack down on the kitchen table, and books and papers come spilling out.

“Ugh,” you groan, running your hands down your face. Eddie frowns and walks over to the table as you slump down into a chair.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks as he takes the seat across from you.

With a sigh, you shake your head. “S’nothing.” Eddie raises an eyebrow and tilts his head. You can practically hear him asking if you really expect him to believe that. “Just school bullshit. You’d think people studying for their doctorate would be a little more serious than some people in my class. But you don’t want to hear me ramble on.”

“Uh, yes, I do,” Eddie says, leaning forward on the table. “You know I think it’s sexy when you talk all academic. My girl’s gonna have her PhD.”

The salacious wiggling of his eyebrows has you cracking a smile. Relenting, you sit up in your seat and begin to tell Eddie about the irritants you’ve been dealing with.

“So, we have to utilize these things called literacy based behavior interventions…”

Eddie rests his chin on his fist as he listens to you. He’s picked up a lot over the years and is able to identify so many more words that you say than he used to. Sometimes though, he still gets a little confused.

“Well, then that brought us to the Social Identity Development Theory…”

Nodding, Eddie is almost positive he knows what that is, but he doesn’t want to interrupt you to double check.

“But after all this, he admits he doesn’t really understand qualitative vs. quantitative methodology! I have absolutely no idea how this man even became a BCABA.”

I know this one, Eddie thinks to himself. Board Certified Assistant Behavior Analyst.

“Then he kept saying ‘phenomenology’ instead of ‘pedagogy.’”

Now those, Eddie did not know. He can see you getting more riled up though, so he knows it’s time to intervene.

“Baby, baby, hey.” He reaches over and tugs on your hand, nodding for you to come over and sit in his lap. “It’s okay, you just need to relax.”

Reluctantly, you push yourself out of your chair and let Eddie pull you on top of him. The way he smirks up at you lets you know he’s about to get frisky even before his large hands slide up your thighs. Rough, calloused fingers dig into the plush of your denim covered legs.

“I think my smart girl needs me to take care of her, doesn’t she?” Eddie pouts up at you. When you nod in return, your boyfriend removes one hand from you and brings it back down to deliver a harsh smack to your ass. “Use your words, baby.”

A whimper escapes your throat as you tighten your legs around his hips. “Yes, Eddie. Need you. Make me feel better.”

Tightening his grip on you, Eddie stands up from the chair. A squeal escapes you as you tightly wrap your arms around his neck. A smirk of satisfaction on his lips, he carries you into your shared bedroom. Gently, he lays you down and lets you get comfortable before he’s crawling on top of you. Eddie tugs on the hem of your shirt, and you sit up enough for him to slide it off of you. Then he works down your body, taking off every piece of clothing in his path. Moving back up your body, he goes to press kisses against your neck, but you stop him with a yank on his own shirt.

“Me too?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Yes.” The adorable pout in your voice has Eddie acquiescing, stripping down so he’s just as naked as you are.

“May I continue?” After letting your eyes slowly roam up and down his bare body, you give him a nod of approval.

“You may.”

He chuckles and leans in and presses his lips against the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet. The kisses start off soft and sweet but turn wetter and needier as he moves down to your collar bones. Moving further down your body, he attaches his lips to the underside of your breast. It’s his favorite place to leave hickies on you and from the way his mouth is moving against the sensitive skin, you’re sure that’s what he’s doing now.

As the first moans tumble out of your mouth, Eddie switches breasts to give the other one the same attention. Your hands tangle in the curls that are splayed out over your naked chest, your fingers coming up to scratch at Eddie’s scalp as he continues his journey down your body. His kisses trail down your stomach, to your belly button, then further and further down until he stops just shy of where you most want his mouth.

“So needy,” Eddie says with a chuckle as your hips begin to move, looking for some sort of friction. You let out a whine and give a tug to Eddie’s hair. A guttural groan sounds deep in his throat. “Playing dirty, huh?”

“Need you so bad, Eddie,” you say through a whimper. The way you look down at him with wide, imploring eyes has his cock twitching between his body and the mattress.

“Relax, my beautiful little genius. I’m gonna help you feel better.”

You’re not given a chance to respond as Eddie moves down and wraps his lips around your clit. One of your hands comes out of Eddie’s hair to grip the sheet you’re lying on.

“Fuck,” you moan.

Eddie’s tongue expertly works over your clit, moving at the speed and pressure that he knows drives you wild. Using his hands to spread your legs even wider for him, he nudges his nose against your sensitive nub as he licks at your entrance.

“Jesus, baby, I’ll never get used to how fucking good you taste.” It’s not unusual for Eddie to take his time when he’s going down on you. He likes to ravish you, gathering every last drop from you that he can. The only reason he pulls away from your sopping pussy is to praise you on how sweet you taste or how wet you are for him.

Now, Eddie’s taking even more care than normal to make sure you’re feeling good. Lazy strokes of his tongue over your clit pairs with him slipping two fingers into you. The moment he curves them up inside of you, he’s hitting that delicious spot that has you seeing stars. There are few things Eddie knows better than your body—it’s the only thing he’s ever actually enjoyed studying. He knows it as well as he knows his own body and is able to bring you to the brink on his terms and in his time.

“M’close, Eddie.”

He knows without you telling him, though. You both know that. The way your walls clamp down around his fingers, the way your breaths hitch as you lose yourself in the feeling. With one last rub of his fingers against your inner wall, the wave of pleasure crashes over you and has you whining out your boyfriend’s name over and over again.

“That’s a good girl,” Eddie coos as he works you through your bliss. As your moans subside, he slips his fingers out of your pussy and pops them into his mouth. “Mm, fuck, baby.”

“Eddie,” you whine, trying to catch your breath.

“What, my princess?” He crawls up your body and presses gentle, barely-there kisses along the column of your throat. “You already cock drunk? I haven’t even been inside you yet, sweetheart.”

“Y’make me feel so good.” Your hands reach up, grabbing at any expanse of Eddie’s pale skin that you can.

“I’m here, baby,” he assures you, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Wanna feel you.”

“Aw, does my pretty girl want my PhD?” Eddie teases with a smirk. “My pretty huge dick?” Before you have time to respond, he leans down and slots his mouth over yours, immediately licking into your mouth. Using his other hand, Eddie lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes inside.

Eddie’s mouth swallows your moans as you feel him stretch you out deliciously. Above you, your boyfriend meets your sounds of pleasure with his own at the feeling of sliding into the wet warmth of your pussy.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbles against your mouth. “So fucking tight. This is all you needed, right baby? Just needed your daddy taking care of you.”

Words seem too hard as Eddie pulls his hips back before thrusting back into you again and again. You’re dissolved to whining and whimpering in response to his question, which has him smirking down at you.

“Mm, look at that,” Eddie muses as he grips your hip. “I may not be a genius like you, baby, but this I’m pretty good at. Fuck my smart girl ‘til she’s dumb.” Not only does Eddie know what to do to your body, but he knows just the words to say to get you hurtling towards another orgasm.

Every generous inch of Eddie moves inside of you, the ridge between the head and shaft dragging against all the spots that have you arching your back. A strong hand slides up from your hip, making sure to caress every inch of skin it comes across as it makes its way up to your mouth.

“Open up.”

Immediately, you do as you’re told, and Eddie slips two fingers into your mouth. Not needing to be told what to do with them, you begin to run your tongue around his fingers, swirling it around the tip as you soak the digits.

“God damn it,” Eddie says with a huff of laughter. “You’re gonna make me cum before I want to. Gotta get my girl off again, first.”

A small smirk on your face, you release his fingers with a pop. He reaches down and rubs his fingers over your clit, eliciting a breathy moan from your lips.

“That feel good, baby?” Eddie goads.

“Y-Yes,” you stutter, your eyes closing in ecstasy.

“Want you to cum for me again, my good girl. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “So close.”

“Cum on my cock, baby. Want you to make such a mess of me. Cream my cock.”

“Fuck,” you groan, fingers digging into Eddie’s back as his thrusts become sloppier, a tell-tale sign he’s close as well. “Want you to cum too, Eddie.”

“Oh, don’t worry, princess,” he says with a laugh. “‘Bout to cum so hard in your pretty little pussy. Gonna fill you up so, so good. You’ll feel me dripping out of you for days.”

“Shit,” you hiss, and Eddie picks up the pace on your clit. “Fuck—E-Eddie, I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m coming.”

The clenching of your walls around his cock has Eddie losing his composure, groans and mutterings of your name falling from his tongue.

“Shit, baby—m-me too.”

Your bodies move together as the two of you ride out your highs with each other. Eddie’s head drops down and buries into your neck as his body stills on top of yours. Reluctant to pull out of you, Eddie busies himself by pressing sweet kisses against your skin.

“How was that, my love?” Eddie whispers against your ear.

“Was perfect,” you tell him, a lazy smile on your face. “Don’t want you to move.”

Eddie chuckles. “Me neither. But I was thinking we could get all comfy and I’ll hold you as close as you want me to.”

“Can’t get much closer than we are now,” you point out, making Eddie laugh again.

“Good point. I’m gonna get us cleaned up though, okay?”

Eddie forces himself to get out of the bed and brings back a warm washcloth. Gently, Eddie cleans you up before working on himself. He leaves the room to throw the washcloth in the hamper, but you figure he gets sidetracked because he takes longer than expected. When you see him balancing a bowl of popcorn and two bottles of water as he walks back into the room, you see why. He sets the snack down on the bed and rolls one of the water bottles your way.

“I was thinking,” he says, turning his back to you and walking over to the television resting on your dresser. “We should watch a movie.” It seems like he already had one in mind as he plucks one from your small pile of VHS tapes. Eddie pops the tape into the VCR and strolls back over to the bed. He holds the popcorn bowl so he doesn’t knock it over while he gets situated. As soon as he lifts his arm, you’re cuddling up into his side. Sweat sticks to both of you even after you’ve cleaned up, but you tuck yourself into Eddie’s side regardless. He places the bowl of popcorn on his thigh closest to you as you rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo brings a smile to his face and a feeling of warmth and comfort settles over him.

“Oh, you put Tommy Boy on!” Your face lights up in glee as you point to the television, as if he didn’t know that you were referring to the movie on the screen.

“I know how much you love it,” he says, a smile on his face at how happy it made you.

Cuddling up to his side, Eddie grabs a few pieces of popcorn and holds them up to your mouth. Giggling, you eat them out of his hand like a horse being fed hay. The two of you lazily feed pieces to one another as you watch the movie. When the bowl is empty, you nuzzle your face into Eddie’s neck. The smell of sweat, weed, and his minty shampoo floods your senses and has you more relaxed than you’ve felt in days. Only a few minutes later, Eddie can feel your breath against his neck as it comes out in long puffs. A smile grows on his face at the realization that you’ve fallen asleep.

Carefully, Eddie moves the empty bowl of popcorn to the bedside table and slowly maneuvers himself so he's laying down, keeping you held in his arms. He pulls your body as close as he can, keeping his promise of holding you as closely as you’d like.

“Goodnight, pretty girl. I love you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #Eddie Munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #request

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scaralvr · 2 years

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test me. scaramouche x immortal!gn!reader contains :: religious themes, angst, 3.3 archon quest spoilers

synopsis: you have been scaramouche's faithful & loyal assistant since he was graced with the title of balladeer, but your acts of dedication towards his great being go unnoticed by him each time. however, you would never give up on your God. it is him you worship, not the tsaritsa. when he replaces you with haypasia, you refuse to live without another to serve under.

notes :: songfic based off of melanie martinez's song test me! i haven't written in awhile so it may be a little rusty :')

at first, you weren't quite sure what to think of the almighty sixth you would serve for the rest of your life as a fatui recruit. bearing a cryo vision, you found no use for the doctor's delusions, but the sixth himself requested you use one, for whatever reason you aren't aware of. the sixth of the eleven had a temper that you didn't mind, but still didn't deem his behaviour tolerable. he acts like a brat, expecting everything to be handed to him on a silver platter by his pathetic inferiors.

it sickens you to the core. how could you serve someone as cruel and disgusting as him? questions like these flood your mind but a specific one stands out from the rest. why do you serve him? with such joy and enthusiasm, too. you're fully aware that the other fatui have been stirring up some trouble with scandalous rumors they spread around, fixating on how insane you must be to enjoy working under the balladeer's orders.

you're not deranged. a little eccentric, scaramouche would say. he doesn't mind your passion as his assistant, if anything, he prefers to have someone like this rather than a timid and quiet person who has to be told twice to finish things up. you don't even talk his ear off but instead, abide by every single demand of his and choose to stay silent when he says to. he calls you a, 'smart one,' considering the fact that his past assistants had to face the consequences you were avoiding.

you found the happiness you rarely had in serving him, enjoying the way he sadistically looks into nothing while going on and on about his sinister plans to overpower his creator through his birth of a God. he'd been planning this for quite a while and you were there through all of it. you stole for him, risked your life for him, took lives for him, and what did you get in return after years of your service? your knees feel weak and you suppose it's from kneeling to him all of the time.

they grow even weaker and the breath is knocked out of your throat at his words. "your assistance was tolerable and i'll be dismissing you. this is where your job ends, (y/n)." his words pound at your head and repeat like a broken loop, reminding you over and over that you're not needed. the God that you love and cherish is abandoning his divine angel. his fallen angel. you don't know why, but tears spring to your eyes as you step forward with a hand against your chest. you open your mouth to speak in a small voice, "but, my lord, i'm afraid you do need me. who will come along with you on your way through your journey of Godhood?"

scaramouche doesn't spare you a single glance and chooses to look out the window. "a researcher i've come across in sumeru has proven her worth to me. and don't get me twisted, you have proven your worth as well. she is... simply better in terms of everything and if you can't handle that truth, i don't care. do as i say, since you worship me so much," a wide smirk stretches his lips and you catch sight of it in the reflection of the glass window. the light in your eyes go out in sorrow as you percieve the fact that your God replaced you.

hey, God, i'll be the jester. entertain you, to the best of, my ability.

you wander sumeru with a blank expression, still registering the moments that previously occured. you cut ties with your family and loved ones for him and going back there wouldn't do you any good, as they've already deemed you as scum for joining the fatui all those years ago. your immortal state makes it worse, since you figure living without a purpose is much worse than death itself. while walking with your head down, your shoulder hits something. a person. you turn your head and your eyes meet those of a dashing gold. a fairly handsome man with long blonde hair tied in a braid appears astounded. not too far, a fairy with white hair floats next to him.

"sorry, i wasn't looking where i was going."

at that pathetic apology, you narrow your eyes. what type of person puts the blame on themself when they know very well it's the other's fault? curious, you place a hand on your hip and comment, "your attire... it's not from here. may i question you?" the fairy excitedly claps her hands, "oh, we were about to question you, actually!" you raise a brow, "really? whatever for?" the man kindly smiles and explains the situation to you in a tone like he's known you forever. scaramouche has known you forever. he's never shown such kindness like that to you.

you have no one to serve. no one to follow. all of your sacrifices were a waste, for the very man you put everything on the line for, threw you away like a worthless piece of trash. as you listen to the voice of the mysterious traveler, you feel a hope light up within you again. maybe, just maybe, it'll be different. this time, it will. when he finishes his brief explanation, you instantly shoot your shot. "the balladeer, you say?"

in the meanwhile, scaramouche is left to his own gadgets within the solace of his temporary room. temporary, because he knows he'll be on the move again. he always will be, now that he's turned his back on her majesty, the tsaritsa, and ran away with one of her treasured gnoses. he stares out the window, just like he did a few hours ago, and realizes the time. the sun is beginning to set and usually, you would enter the room with a tray of tea for both him and you to share as he discusses his plans.

it's not too long before scaramouche remembers he already removed you from the plan. your company and assistance have brought him this far, huh? he lets out a sigh that makes him realize he was holding in his breath for quite a bit now. he places his elbow atop the window sill and rests his chin in his palm. it's gotten a little boring since you left, hasn't it? it hasn't even been a day. scaramouche grits his teeth and groans in frustration. it seems like he doesn't enjoy the feeling of being alone, either.

but it's whatever! you're his faithful assistant, maybe if you put some thought into that robotic and tiny brain of yours, you'll be smart enough to come back because both you and scaramouche know you could never survive without him. yeah, you'll be back. the moon rises in the sky and scaramouche tightens his clutch on the wood of the sill. you'll definitely be back...

when i suffer, more fragility, when i answer. came here for a reason.

for the next few days, you spend it with aether and his friend, paimon. he easily opened up to you about his lost sister and the nations he previously went to in hopes of finding her but to no avail. you pity the poor male and choose to make his time in sumeru more enjoyable before he goes off to confront the balladeer. ah, it wasn't too hard to tell him that you're the balladeer's assistant. paimon was a little jumpy at first, but he, he was understanding... someone worthy of worshipping.

bit by bit, scaramouche can feel himself breaking. every little thing irritates him. the sound of the wind's harsh currents, the feeling of something rough against the supple skin of his hand, the crippling isolation of his room. with a determined yet firm frown, he remakes a brew of green tea for the several time this week. it doesn't taste right. no matter how much sugar he adds (which he never enjoys in his tea but he's trying), he can't recreate the taste of the way you made it.

little does he know, you're making the same tea, yet it's for another man. "(y/n), this is very well-made!" aether exclaims with a grin and you feel yourself flush red. "is it?... thank you," you mutter, turning away to pour some into a tea cup for paimon. aether chuckles, "you've done alot for me and my traveling companion, (y/n). and i've been wondering about something for sometime." you notice the way he fumbles with the tea cup in his hands from the corner of your eye. "go on," you say, putting aside the tea pot and facing him. aether confidently adds, "i'd like for you to join me on my journeys, if you'll allow it. considering the way the balladeer did all of that to you-"

ah. you uncomfortably shuffle your feet in your position and paimon notices the tense situation. "h-hey, it's alright, (y/n)! aether's a really nice guy, huh? we would never do something like that to you!" paimon says, trying to lighten the mood. you let out a soft sigh, "i... thank you. will you let me think about it?" aether pauses and eagerly nods, "of course. take as much time as you need." and that's how you ended up wandering in the vast forest of sumeru. no matter which way you shift your thoughts, it always ends up drifting back to the indigo haired harbinger.

you delicately hold a sumeru rose in your hands and tilt your head to inspect the flower. suddenly, an anger rises and before you realize it, you're tightly clutching the flower, completely destroying its petals and stem altogether. you loved him. he was your everything. you guess he didn't feel the same for you. because he is a heartless, wretched and brutal — the silent time to yourself was interfered with another person's barely audible gasp. you're quick to whip around and wield your sword, finding the sharp end of it against someone's neck. scaramouche is unfazed, content, even.

"still on guard as ever," he murmurs, using his finger to guide your sword away from his throat, but the pressure of your blade creates a small slit against his flawless skin and you draw blood. you slowly withdraw your weapon as he traces his fingertip along the wound. "what has my little ex-assistant been up to as of late? i don't think you have any business in sumeru, do you?" scaramouche casually asks while impotently wiping the blood on his attire.

you knit your brows together and as much as it hurts to do so, you speak without using your usual endearment, 'my lord,' for him. "you cease to exist to me, balladeer," the way it rolls off of your tongue is foreign to him, it even surprises you. scaramouche has no time for petty feelings, but he lets them get in the way. his pupils are blown with anger as he seethes, "who do you think you are? just because i've abandoned you like the hindrance you are, it doesn't mean you get to treat me with such... inferiority!"

"but you're wrong, balladeer. i can and i will." with those words serving a final blow to his non-existent heart, you turn on your heel to find the blonde traveler with the answer to his question bound to escape your lips that used to say nothing but praises to the sixth.

just stop complaining, all have our seasons, it's not just a joke or a lesson to live through.

scaramouche watches your form disappear in the distance, only then, can he fully consume the fact that you aren't coming back unless he asks. stubborn one, aren't you? always playing hard to get. he deludes himself with this, believing that you still want to serve your one and only God. right, he's owned you from the start. he owned you the moment you agreed to be his assistant. you can't just get up and leave like that, no, your work is far from done. scaramouche agrees that it was rather trivial to dismiss you like that and he sees his mistake. why can't you understand that he needs you back?

but the cherry on top is the way you stand before his godly form, alongside the traveler. you're not supposed to be here. scaramouche is struck with shock when he sees you enter the scene with aether. the moment is swept away just as quick when he laughs. he laughs like a crazed man, hands on his stomach as he catches his breath. "oh, this is rich, (y/n)! you're so worthless, you really had to find another to serve after i ditched you. you're nothing but a weak follower and i plan on making you take that role to the grave," his tone drops to that of a condescending one and various emotions surge through his veins.

the immense adrenaline pumping through his system can't compare to the pain he feels when buer seizes his gnosis. this can't be happening. he's done so much to make it this far, only for all of it to come crashing down before him. his mother, his friend, the child, you. you've left a scar on him that he'll never forget. he hates it. you must be smirking to yourself as he falls from the large mech. he misses when you were still by his side, always smiling even when he ordered you to commit something so atrocious as murder.

he acknowledges it now. scaramouche realizes that you were there from the beginning and despite his cruel doings, he was your God. he never needed to go this far, because he was yours. what is this feeling, he wonders. well, it's too late now. scaramouche can only accept defeat, falling, until... he hits something, but it certainly isn't the ground. his eyes can barely stay open from how visibly exhausted he is yet he manages to make out a figure looking down at him. you steadily hold him in your arms and aether rushes to you. "are you sure you want to do this, (y/n)?" he queries. you nod in response, "i'll look after him."

every which way in second, there's a breakthrough.

scaramouche, now being the wanderer, loiters within sumeru with no purpose whatsoever. with no place to go or stay, he explores and occasionally helps the traveler with some of their needs. but it still hurts. even if he's occupied himself with other things, he keeps on thinking about you. it was always you. yet the searing pain makes him wail at night, recalling the way you looked at him like he was... a stranger.

"(y/n)!" for the first time in forever, he genuinely smiled. he was happy that at least, he still had you through this whole wreck. scaramouche had the guts to apologize. coming to think of it, it was a stupid thing from the beginning. he was thankful that you stayed loyal to him and still were at that time, considering the fact that you took care of him when he was unconscious. when nahida informed him of it, he couldn't be more relieved.

you turn at the exclaimation of your name and instantly back away in confusion. "aether, who is this?" your words put scaramouche's movements to a stop and his smile drops. "wh-what do you mean? traveler, what do they mean?" he hurriedly asked, voice cracking in between some words. you furrow your brows together and aether muttered, "they don't remember you,"

he felt the heaviest weight bring itself onto his chest. it's hard to breathe. that's right, he erased himself from the memories of many people, including you. how could he be so blind back then? all he needed, wanted, was someone that could stay by his side forever and love him unconditionally. he knew very well you were immortal, so he wouldn't have to worry about your lifespan. he also knew how much you worshipped him, so he wouldn't have to worry about the potential chance of betrayal, either.

why did he let such a beautiful and caring little thing like you out of his sight?

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hongjoongspoetry · 3 months

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Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Part 3 – You Know You're On My Mind

⛸️ Summary: Would you rather A) represent Seoul at the Spring Championship, B) find the answer as to why Mingi was ignoring you or C) stay in your shared flat for the winter holidays? How smart of you to go with option D) none of the above.

⛸️ Genres/Tropes: College AU, non-idol AU, rivals to lovers but it's more like one-sided resentment, hockey AU, figure skating AU, angst!!!

⛸️ Warnings/Tags: Female reader, no use of (Y/N), explicit language, brief alcohol consumption, petnames (princess, beans), a lot of tears and crying, probably incorrect use of hockey terms, fist fight, blood, verbal fight, Mingi is really mean but also aware he's being a douche, Dasom is a good friend, more side characters!!!

⛸️ Wordcount: 16.6K

⛸️ Author's note: I freaking love angst 😈 Hence why I've looked forward to the third part of Cold Hands, Warm Hearts! A warning, I have absolutely ZERO knowledge about hockey so the things you'll read concerning the hockey game may or may not be wrong idk. I've tried watching a lot of hockey games on YouTube, but they move so fucking fast I can barely wrap my head around what's happening lmaooo.

I also wanted to write my own comments for the chapter (something I should have done since the first part tbh), but I've been home with a fever for some days now and I honestly can barely sit up, let alone write extra stuff so I'm sadly skipping out on that. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this part and don't be shy to tell me your thoughts 🩷

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Click on me!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is NSFW and not appropriate for minors as it contains explicit scenes, not just sexual content but descriptions of both physical and verbal fights, as well as adult language. Minors and ageless blogs, please, refrain from reading or interacting with this work or my blog!!!

December 9th, 2024.

The day was marked in Mingi’s little red calendar he kept away in his backpack — not that he needed the reminder, the day was practically burned into his mind — and the fanciest suit he owned was ironed three nights prior with the help of his best friend and roommate, Jeong Yunho. One would think it was an important day — as to explain why he woke up at a presentable hour with enough time to spare for a few errands and a brunch with his roommate — an exam determining his final grade or something to do with his hockey, but no it was just the day of your competition.

Currently sitting in a sandwich shop, thumbs twirling and eyes set on the flower shop across the street, Mingi contemplated whether bringing a bouquet — maybe roses or those tulips, they were quite popular nowadays — would be too much or not at all. The two parts of his brain clashed and before he could make a decision Yunho came back with their orders, a teriyaki chicken sandwich for Mingi while he ordered something nasty looking with a really fancy and long name that Mingi couldn’t bother remembering.

“There you go.” Yunho settled in the seat across Mingi and dove right into his food, letting out a moan of approval. “Best sandwich in town, no kidding.”

“Do girls like flowers?”

Caught mid bite, cheeks coated with crumbs and mayonnaise, Yunho looked up at Mingi who already had his eyes set on him with a seriousness that rarely outshone his happy and goofy exterior.

“Uhm, I suppose. I mean the girls I’ve given flowers to liked the gesture. Why? You looking to impress someone, Mings?” A teasing smile quirked at the edge of his lips. “Is it a quick fuck?”

“Dude?!” Mingi hissed and quickly threw a glance around the room making sure no one overheard their convo and labeled them as creeps.

“Oh, come on, we’ve talked about worse things than some sex deets.”

“It was a simple question, Yunho-ya. Do flowers equal happy girls? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, cool.”

Sensing this wasn’t a topic Mingi was all too keen to talk about, Yunho gave him some space and took another bite of his sandwich. Then he remembered their conversation three days ago and how Mingi begged him to help him iron his suit and teach him how to properly handle a tie, and if that wasn’t enough of a reason then he could always use the we’ve-been-friends-since-diapers card and pry whatever information he wanted out of him.

“Is this about that figure skating girl?”

“Absolutely not… Do you think she’d like roses or tulips?”

Mouth full of bacon, tomato, lettuce and bread, Yunho mumbled out a barely audible answer. “Roses. Definitely roses.”

“I’m just saying if Hyunjin brings you roses I’ll jump in front of the ice resurfacer!”

Keeho laid flat on your bed, legs dangling in the air and chin propped on both palms as his eyes burned holes on your back. While rummaging through your closet you threw a random shirt over your shoulder, purposely aiming it at him and you knew it was a success as he let out a surprised ‘ack’.

“That’s what you get for being noisy,” Dasom chirped and rolled over him, her feet hitting your pillow and arms reaching the end of your bed.

“You guys promised to help me pack! I’m so going to be late.”

An empty duffel bag sat on your bed beside the entanglement of limbs that were your friends. Despite waking up a whole twelve hours before your planned departure, you were running late or would be if you didn’t leave in the next fifteen minutes.

“Fine, but I’m just helping because I know you’ll make it big one day and I can use it to be a multimillionaire influencer. Yoon Keeho, best friend of the South Korean Olympic figure skater. It has a nice ring to it, no?”

Another shirt hit him in the face, this one coming straight out of the dirtied piles of clothes in the corner.

“No more throwing shirts!”

“Up we go, Kyo.”

Dasom repositioned to sit criss-crossed in front of your bag and began neatly placing necessary things inside; towel, spare change of clothes, bobby pins, hairspray, your skates.

“Where’s your suit?” She asked while zipping the bag.

“My coach still has it. Something about seeing it before the comp would bring bad luck or whatever. Like it’s a competition not a wedding and Keeho, get out I need to change.”

“I bet a round of lamb skewers Hyunjin is proposing after the comp– I’m leaving, I’m leaving, put that down!”

As the door closed you quickly stripped and threw on a sweatsuit bearing the logo of Tiny University printed on the front and back. Knowing you were practically working on autopilot while your nerves skyrocketed, Dasom didn’t want to step out of bounds and send you into a potential spiral of panic and stress but she was also very curious, and her greed won over her morals. With a soft call of your name she asked the million dollar question.

“Did you only invite Hyunjin?”

You froze with your hands in your hair, a bobby pin between your fingers and an extra in your mouth as your gaze fell on her. Flashing you a derpy yet reassuring smile that warmed you up like the sun on a summer afternoon filled with sugary strawberries and pink lemonade.

“No… Not just Hyunjin, I actually invited Mingi too, but I… don’t know why.”

You plopped down beside her and played with your fingers. It all felt so silly and you didn’t even have the time to think about him or Hyunjin or anything boy related overall. Not that it was a bad thing, in fact it was great, but that meant your mind was completely occupied of nailing your choreo, imaging everything that could go wrong and to not let anything go fucking wrong.

“Maybe it just felt right,” she whispered, as if the words were made of steel and you were of twigs that would break at the slightest contact.

Sighing, you nodded and fell back on your bed with Dasom in tow. There wasn’t much left to say. You couldn’t remember what drunk-you thought when inviting Mingi nor did you want to know. All you knew was that your heart did that little leap thing before violently kicking at your rib cage when he said he’d be there and that was concerning but not more so than your competition taking place in a few hours.

If Mingi showed up, great.

If he didn’t then that was great too, is what you forced yourself into believing.

Mingi stood before a body-length mirror and kept running his hand through his neatly made hair. Yunho placed a palm over Mingi’s shoulder and the shifting motion immediately subdued only to proceed as the hand withdrew.

“Stop moving around dude, you’re making me nervous!”

Taking a step back, Yunho quietly assessed Mingi, searching for creases in his black suit or stray hairs standing up funny. There were no faults, his tall friend — that was still slightly shorter than himself — looked perfect appearance wise. It was the slight twitch of his finger and sweat collecting at the nape of his neck that gave him away.

“Why are you so nervous, Mingi-ya? It’s just a figure skating competition, nothing more nothing less.”

Taking a hold of the perfectly wrapped bouquet of heart-colored roses he paid a good penny for, Mingi pouted and shrugged his shoulders as if a toddler being put on the spot for doing something bad.

“I don’t know.”

“You want me to come with?”

Yunho, dressed in an old tattered shirt and bright red basketball shorts with his naturally dark hair growing at the roots and taking on the look of pudding, was ready to drop everything and jump in his brand new suit planned for their graduation if that’s what Mingi needed.

“No, no. I’ll be fine, it’s just… Don’t you think it’s too much? Flowers, a suit? It’s a figure skating competition not a wedding.”

“Does it matter? Personally, if it were me, I’d rather see the girl I invited put in the effort even if it means wearing nice clothes over something raggedy. This shows you care.”

“I guess…”

Mingi jumped as Yunho reassuringly landed his hands on his shoulders, giving him an encouraging squeeze and smiling so his cheeks puffed up. “Come on, let’s get that tie fixed and then I’ll give you a lift.”

“Ah, the privileges of not having a driver’s license.”

“You mean the privileges of being a passenger princess?”

“Yah, Yunho-ya!” Came the whine as Mingi followed his friend like a kicked puppy on a rainy Monday morning.

The arena was packed and while it wasn’t an unusual sight for Mingi — always being a witness of how the bleachers slowly filled up during his warm ups — it was weird seeing it from an outside perspective. Everything seemed so much smaller and compact compared to when he was on the ice squinting past the blinding headlights to barely even catch a glimpse of the audience. Other than practice and hockey game, Mingi had no reason to visit the arena. There was no other sport that piqued his interest enough to stand in line, pay an overpriced entry fee and freeze his ass off on a plastic chair. He’d usually just enter through the changing rooms and skip all that yet there he was, all glammed up and standing behind a family wearing shirts with the name of some random chick printed in big bold letters.

Thinking about it, Mingi couldn’t actually give less of a fuck about figure skating and months ago he didn’t care who represented Seoul or if they were even capabale to compete with the other cities.

“All my friends are going to be there.”

“Nice friends you have.”

“We are friends,” you said matter-of-factly, your ‘S’ coming out with a lisp. “Alllll my friends are going.”

“You want me to come to your competition princess?”

“You’ll come?!”

You slinked your arm through his and squished it against your chest, cheek pressed to his bicep as you looked at him. One would believe Mingi hung up each and every single star individually in your name for you to look at him that way.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I’ll be there.”

It was your stupid yet endearing eyes that did it all. The little shining glint that completely vexed him and before he knew it, the promise slipped off his tongue and was spoken into existence. Mingi didn’t get to indulge more in the memory of the beauty that was your face as the lights dimmed and an enthusiastic voice boomed through the speakers, welcoming everyone and announcing the start of the preliminary that would determine the female representative of Seoul at the annual Spring Championship.

Honestly, Mingi didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know a lot of things; how long this would be, what time your performance would start, was he supposed to find you after or before they announced the winner? It also didn’t help that he was sweating through his dress shirt despite the freezing temperature inside.

Performance after performance passed and he was yet to catch sight of you. Honestly speaking, Mingi was growing impatient. The numbers weren’t anything extraordinary — he had seen you do much better even when ending on your rear — and he wasn’t here to watch some mediocre ladies flip around to classical music. The weight of his phone burned in his suit pocket and he was itching to reach for it. He was three taps away from dialing Yunho and making the taller man pick him up again. Oblivious to the curious and soft eyes peering at the bouquet in his lap, Mingi stared at the ice rink with a far away look on his face and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Those are beautiful,” a voice came from his left. It was comforting and full of kindness.

Snapping his head towards the person, Mingi faced a woman looking old enough to be his mom. The compliment pulled at the corners of his lips and soon a full blown boxy smile took over his face as his eyes creased into crescent moons.

“Thank you.”

Mingi contemplated whether to hand her the darned flowers and leave while you still hadn’t caught sight of him, that way his money wouldn’t go to waste and the flowers wouldn’t end up in the bin outside the venue.

“I’m Chaeryeong’s mom.”

“Song Mingi,” he curtly answered with a little bow of his head.

“Are those for your girlfriend?”

As kind as this woman looked she sure was twice the amount noisy.

“No, they are for a… friend. She’s competing today.”

“Oh, when is she up?”

At the sight of his uncertainty, she handed Mingi a pamphlet with several numbers followed by first- and last names of the competitors. Quickly scanning the sheet of paper he landed on your name in last place and with the twenty-ninth performer taking her starting pose right as Mingi looked back up again. The urge to squish his face against the pamphlet was immense.

“She’s last.”

“Oh! That’s Hoseok’s kid. She’s amazing and if it weren’t for my Chaeryeongie I’d root for her.”

Pride swelled in his chest and heat nipped at his cheeks. He tried suppressing the fond smile forcing its way out but failed.

“It’s actually my first time watching her perform but yeah, she’s pretty… p-pretty cool!”

“Really? Well, it’s better late than never.”

Why Mingi was getting flustered was beyond him. Not wanting to think about it and eventually fall down a rabbit hole he always did when thinking of you, he nodded and took the praise with the lady leaving a pat on his shoulder.

“Mmm, you’re smiling! Are you sure she’s just a friend?”

Mingi lowered his chin and avoided the teasing eyes of Chaeryeong’s mom. No way was he talking about girl problems with a random lady at a figure skating competition.

“Would you spare my seat? I just need to go to the restroom.”

“Of course, son.”

With one last bow he ran up the stairs leading to the main hall and straight for the male restroom which — to his delight — was empty. Mingi released a breath of unease and stopped by the sink hoping to wash away the sweat collected on his hands. Looking at his reflection in the oblong mirror, he pursed his lips and splashed cold water on his face before lightly slapping his cheeks.

“It’s easy. We hand her the flowers, tell her she did great and then we leave.”

Mingi couldn’t remember the last time he was this nervous over talking to a girl. Thinking about it, he talked to you all the time. Yes, most of it was hidden behind jokes and teasing remarks, but it still counted as talking.

“Welcoming our last performer of the night…”

The booming voice of the announcer echoed through the whole building and with a quick ‘shit’ falling from his lips, Mingi dried his hands off his expensive pants and ran back into the arena receiving weird stares from other people, but he wasn’t about to miss the start of your performance after waiting for over two hours. In sync with you gliding out on the ice he flew past the double doored entrance and caught himself on the metal railing. Mingi realized there was no need to go back to his previous spot, not when he had a great view of the whole ice rink from where he stood and a great look of you posing in the middle, one arm elegantly thrown over your head and the other following the length of your figure and stopping midthigh.

Stunning, gorgeous, beautiful, angelic, breathtaking, enchanting, marvelous and other adjectives wouldn’t do the justice to describe how truly captivating you looked.

The first thing that caught his attention was your costume. It was a long sleeved dress transitioning from dark to light blue with sparkly beads going down your chest, across your abdomen and arms in a tilted motion as if the foam of multiple waves. Your costume had a tiny skirt which Mingi was sure would swirl prettily when pirouetting and twirling in the air. The upper part of your dress took on the shape of a heart and went down your back in a v-form leaving your collars, shoulders and back completely exposed. Your hair was styled in a sturdy updo matching the elegance of your suit and while Mingi couldn’t see your make-up, he assumed it would reflect the colors of your dress and accentuate your facial features in just the right way.

The starting notes of your chosen song erupted from the speakers and Mingi’s breath got caught in his throat as you glided across the ice, his heart beating in rhythm to your every landed jump. You moved with grace and for once the teasing nickname he reserved just for you had no malice objective behind it. You surrendered yourself to the music and allowed it to guide you, your body resembled the elements of nature and became an entity that was no longer your own. Moving like the ripples of a wind, flowing and rising as though you were water yet curving fiercely as a controlled fire and flourishing like a sunflower yearning for light.

It was beautiful. You were beautiful.

Mingi would rather have spent two hours watching you skate than those other amateurs and he was slightly bitter your number only lasted for four minutes. 240 seconds of no breathing or thinking, just existing to admire you as if you were a painting exhibited in the most famous art museum in the world.

As you were entering the last moments of your performance, the music picked up and you mentally prepared yourself to do the main stunt. There was no turning back now and with confidence pumping in your veins, you inhaled and propelled yourself off the ice. Time slowed down and magically you could somehow hear the amazed gasps of the audience. Your body spun, and spun and spun and you felt the start of gravity doing its work. As if caught in a sense of Déjà Vu, the sharp point of your skates chipped the ice and threw your landing off course, and before you knew it, you landed on the outer side of your thigh. The crowd gasped again, the tone much more horrible than a few seconds ago, and all you wanted to do was continue to lay on the cold surface, but the show was yet to be over. In hopes of saving your score, you recovered with a double-axel which wasn’t nearly as appealing as the one you failed, but at least you landed it.

The performance ended with you posing in the middle — much like you practiced — and waiting for the last piano notes to run out. Despite your big fail the arena erupted in chaos of applause and whistles. Thanking the spectators with three respectful bows — each facing a different side — you skated off the ice with shaky legs and a heart hammering in your ears falling right in the arms of your coach. Mingi didn’t move until you rounded the corner towards the locker rooms and disappeared from his sight.

A short static echoed in the hall as the AUX was rather harshly unplugged from your phone, making you lose your footing and fall on your ass.

The ice beneath was hard and cold, and it numbed your whole left leg except for the burning pain that flared up in your backside. You had to physically hold back tears as you stood back up on shaky legs.

“Majestic as always, princess, but I’ll have to deduct ten points for that eye captivating fall.”

A chorus of laughter and gloves pounding against the plexiglas averted your attention for a split second, and the picture of an audience watching wasn’t much of an imagination as the whole hockey team stood by the entrance of the rink.

Mingi sighed at the memory and stalked back to his seat where the kind family and bouquet of roses waited on him.

“You missed her performance!” Chaeryeong’s mom exclaimed and handed him the flowers.

Mingi smiled shyly, then scratched the back of his neck. “Ah no, I watched from up there.” He turned and pointed at the spot he was standing in not even thirty seconds ago. “It was a better view so yeah…”

Chaeryeong’s mom smiled tenderly with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “What a relief! You got me worried for a minute but I should’ve known you wouldn’t miss it.”

“She was amazing,” Mingi stated and received a smug look from the woman.

“Mmm, I told you so. It’s a shame she fell. Well, we’re going out for a breather but we’ll be back so please save our seats for us.”

You sat in one of the locker rooms, head in your hands and feet tapping on the floor. The performance couldn’t have been more perfect, all for it to go to shit in the end.

All the hours, sweat and energy put into practice was a waste and you didn’t have to wait for the winner to be announced to know whether it was true or not. It was ironic really, despite being in a competitive sport, you hated the concept of competitions. The idea that there could only be one winner always got to your head like a parasite planting eggs of anxiety. Your number was great, but your fall made the other girls as good if not better and that really got you spiraling.

Not to mention neither of your parents could make it, the timing clashing with their working schedules besides driving back and forth from your hometown was too exhausting for one day. Keeho and Dasom weren’t there either, occupied with work or school projects making it unreasonable for you to be angry with them. You also didn’t spot Hyunjin or Mingi in the audience which wasn’t that much of a surprise as you could barely make out the people in the front row, but nonetheless, the lack of support was weighing on you. That’s why in these situations, you were so grateful for Mr. Jung. Not only being your coach, but for stepping up as a ten man army of supporters.

A series of knocks snapped you out of your thoughts followed by Mr. Jung’s voice on the other side.

“You ready, star? They are announcing the winner.”

“Oh, look! I think they are announcing the winner!” Chaeryeong’s mom exclaimed as she sat back down in her seat.

The competing figure skaters went back out on the ice in a neat row, all dressed in various shimmering suits creating a palette of multiple colors. The whole crowd quieted down as the announcer asked for silence and simultaneously caught everyone’s attention. Not Mingi’s though, no his eyes were set on you who — together with the other girls — lined up behind the host.

Hands trembling and breath caught in your throat, you didn’t allow yourself to think of anything. You felt like your head was underwater. It wasn’t scary or suffocating, but not a great feeling either as you couldn’t hear anything clearly thanks to the blood pumping in your ears. Somehow you could make out the distant voice of the man holding the mic, but no words were being registered. Focusing on the white translucent puffs of your short inhales and exhales, you didn’t hear the thick voice announcing the winner. It all happened incredibly fast. One second everyone was at the edge of their seats — you imagined them to be nibbling their nails like in the cartoons — and the next thing you know, the whole arena exploded in cheers. You were so out of it you hadn’t even heard the announcement of the winner. Although it didn’t matter, because a second later the call for a girl who wasn’t you sounded through the speakers as she was welcomed up on the podium.

“Everyone! A round of applause for Seoul's representative of the Spring Championship 2025!”

You felt yourself sink deeper and deeper into the ocean as a booming wave of applause and whistles scattered around, shaking you to the core. Tears sprung to your eyes and you silently thanked the makeup artist for using waterproof cosmetics, the last thing you needed was for everyone to notice your emotional breakdown. The winner skated up to the host and he rewarded her with a bouquet of various flowers and a sash reading ‘Seoul Representative 2025’ in gold letters. You imagined him to be wishing her good luck and words of encouragement before letting her shine in the light of attention and praise.

After bowing to the girls, judges and audience you skated out of the rink and threw yourself in Mr. Jung’s embrace who patiently waited by the open board door. His heart smile didn’t hold quite reach its natural form and came out more pained than what he’d like to and his creased eyes mirrored your own sad expression. The flashes of a dozen cameras quickly annoyed you as well as the sound of the gadgets going off and you tried your best ignoring them, but each flicker was like a stab to your heart.

You were supposed to be the winner. The camera was supposed to be on you, not on that girl.

“It’s alright, starshine. Winning is not always guaranteed,” he whispered and hugged you tighter as you started crying harder, hot tears soaking his shirt.

He stayed with you a while inside the locker room. The silence and your occasional sniffles were the only sources of sound, besides the light chattering noise outside.

“I’m still proud of you.”

The simple sentence brought another fresh set of tears to your eyes and you hung your head in defeat, and slight embarrassment.

“I know you think it’s not fair and that you should be the winner of tonight's event, but that would have been too easy and that’s just not something life is… We’ll break down and start again.”

Mr. Jung had always been exceptional at shifting between being a serious and humorous coach, but the current words spoken came from someone who had experienced failure before. From one loser to another, his little words of wisdom helped you get on your feet even if you felt like you were at the lowest point of your adult life. It would still take days to get over your disappointing performance, but you’d be alright. With a pat to your head, he ushered you to wash the blue feelings off.

While you did that, Mingi found himself once again in the bathroom, wet hands combing through strands of hair in an attempt to look less disheveled and more like he had his shit together (he did in fact not have his shit together). He sniffed the collar of his suit jacket and then his armpits, and as he didn’t detect the smell of sweat, but the aroma of his favorite cologne — that smelled of bergamot and lavender — he straightened the jacket and went out to accomplish his mission or rather plan B.

Instead of congratulating you, like he initially planned to, he’d do something else — and what that was, he had yet to figure out — but from his own experience, he’d known better than to give you praise, especially after losing by a few points.

Skipping two steps down the stairs, he stopped by the see-through doors instead of continuing down the hallway with several changing rooms. Mingi didn’t know what room you were assigned to and even if he did, he wasn’t planning on barging in while you were possibly getting dressed or showering. The vision of a soapy you sent heat rushing to his head, both of them, but were quickly discarded as you came out.

You looked different from the girl twirling on the ice minutes ago. Wet hair and dressed in comfy clothes, no fancy make up or extravagant details, but a solemn expression and puffy eyes. It didn’t matter though because you were still beautiful, he thought and fixed his tie out of sheer anxiety, and opened the door. Your name swayed at the tip of his tongue and was just in need of a small push to reach your ears. Eyes entirely focused on you, Mingi missed the boy walking towards him and slinking through the opening created by the taller man.

“Thanks, bud.” Hyunjin didn’t spare Mingi another glance as he headed straight for you.

At a loss for words and frozen in place, Mingi just watched you fall comfortably in Hyunjin’s arms and as if a masochist he stood rooted and felt his heart squeeze painfully as you melted in his hold, your sobs filling the bleak silence taking residue in Mingi’s head.

One, two, three and four seconds later, Mingi headed home, hands stuffed in his pockets and roses left in the trashcan by the smoking area outside. Thinking back to it, he should’ve given them to Chaeyeon’s mom — or whatever her name was — at least then they’d be rotting away on someone’s kitchen table and not in a random bin on the streets of Seoul.

Entering the shared apartment with Yunho nowhere in sight — something Mingi was grateful for — he stripped out of the expensive clothes and pushed them to the back of his closet, saving his future-self from a painful reminder of what did and didn’t happen. Somewhere in the rational part of his mind, he knew not to be angry with you, but the other part, the selfish and angry one, put the entire blame on you. If there was one thing hated more than losing, it was to be made into a fool.

“I can’t believe I lost,” you said and downed a shot of soju.

Hyunjin quickly snatched the soju bottle from beside you before you could pour yourself another shot, your sixth one to be exact.

You frowned and placed your palms against your heated cheeks. “I’m never figure skating again.”

After the little meet up with Hyunjin, he requested (more like demanded) on treating you to food, and while you insisted he admitted he’d do it either way if you lost or won. That was how you ended up in a meat house, sitting around a table for two as Hyunjin grilled the food.

“Don’t be silly. If you give up now you’ll never win.”

You rolled your eyes and the frown turned even deeper. Gazing down at the sizzling meat, your mouth watered and stomach rumbled impatiently. You could already taste the savory flavors just by looking at it.

“I can’t believe you dragged me here looking like this.”

Hyunjin raised a brow, genuinely not understanding what you meant. To him you looked just fine in a pair of leggings and hoodie, and it didn’t matter that your hair was still wet or your face bare of makeup because you were perfect.

“What’s wrong with the way you look? I think you’re cute.”

A fire lightened in your core and rose up to your cheeks, ears and neck, and the air in the restaurant changed too, suddenly feeling as if you were a chicken sitting in an oven. As your heart didn’t do its usual badum-badum-badum, you realized the effect Hyunjin had on you didn’t appear. You were surprisingly calm. Unbothered even and instead of buzzing with joy you were counting down the seconds until it was time to leave.

Not to get you wrong, you loved his company. You’d been dreaming of days like these since the first time you laid eyes on him and now that you had it, all you wanted was nothing more than to jump in bed and just go into hibernation, and forget about the world.

Something was telling you though, that even if you were eating meat and celebrating your win, you still wouldn’t feel the spirit of a winner. Deep inside, you knew the root of it. The reason as to why a gray cloud hovered over you — besides losing — and it all led back to the absence of a certain hockey player.

“Here, try this.” Hyunjin gently hand fed you a piece of beef and other fillings wrapped in lettuce. “It’s good, huh?”

“You good there, princess?”

You reeled back, momentarily stunned by the unexpected presence. Mingi grinned at your reaction and sat back. Very satisfied with his work. As he readied his own computer, you took in his appearance and found yourself growing more irritated. There was no denying that he was attractive. Thick pink lips, a straight and sharp nose and a very prominent jaw. His brown eyes were surprisingly relaxed and didn’t resemble those of a fox. The boy was even blessed with not one, but two moles. His knitted sweater was an ugly shade of moss green but it looked good on him, much to your dismay.

You sighed and sucked through your teeth, “Why are you here?”

Why wasn’t he there?

It was as if the universe was out to get you.

First, you lost a spot at the Spring Championship. Then you failed an assignment that took a month of your life to get done, and if that wasn’t enough, the representative face of Seoul at next year’s championship was plastered all over town. She was even on the newspaper thrown in your mailbox, which you hadn’t subscribed to! If it weren’t for your personal duo of Chip and Dale, you’d skip school just to avoid it all.

To say, you were feeling down right shit would be an understatement, and everyone around you could feel it. That was probably why Mr. Jung canceled a whole week’s worth of practice and you couldn’t have been more relieved.

Figure skating was the last thing you needed right now.

Besides your friends and coach giving you space or peppering you with love, there was another person to be added in that equation. Hyunjin made sure to spend more time with you, always asking to go out for lunch or a stroll in the park that usually ended up with window shopping and eating ice cream.

“Felix and Changbin have been dying to meet you, you know,” Hyunjin stated as he scooped a spoon of chocolate ice cream.

“Really?”

You remembered Changbin solely by his Halloween party and you pushed aside the other memories that came along with that night. The other boy, Felix, you knew a little next to nothing about.

“Yeah, they haven’t stopped pestering me about it, especially Changbin.”

“Mmm, have you been talking about me, Hyunjin-ah?”

The black haired boy grew red at the teasing and nearly choked on the plastic spoon.

“Wh-what!”

It was the first time you’d ever seen him flustered and it sure was a different sight from his usual composed self. Your chuckle filtered between the giggles and chatter of multiple friend groups. It was a surprise to see so many people outside in the snow. Hyunjin eventually calmed down and returned to his natural skin color, and he proceeded with caution at his next question, slightly afraid to walk straight into another teasing trap.

“They are going to watch that hockey game… if you want, it would be a great time to meet them.”

Truth to be told, you had completely forgotten about that sport and it had everything to do with Mingi, the only connection you had to the hockey team of your university. The last time you saw him was a few days before your performance and you hadn’t seen him since, at one moment you thought he disappeared to another country, but Keeho’s confirmation of seeing him on campus debunked that theory. It wasn’t that weird though, considering you hadn’t stepped foot in the ice rink and didn’t share any classes with him, courtesy of majoring in two completely different studies.

You wouldn’t say it to anyone, not even Dasom, but the less you saw of him, the more bored you got. Obviously, you didn’t miss his irksome comments or that stupid pet name he’d use at any given moment, yet the days seemed to go slower without the pain in the ass of a man. Going to that hockey game would maybe change that, and what better excuse than to go with Hyunjin?

“Of course! I mean,” you cleared your throat. “Of course, I’ll check if I’m free and then I’ll let ya know.”

“Great. It’s next Friday and, unluckily, I pulled the short straw so I’ll be driving… So if you can and want, there's space in my car.”

Parting your mouth to answer, the left side of your brain suddenly halted all your speech function as you caught sight of a familiar figure.

In the many places of Seoul, he just had to be in the same park as you. Wearing a blue tracksuit with the slogan of a wolf on the front and running sneakers adorning his feet, told you he was out on a late night run. It was quite unfair how even with his hair sticking to his nape and sweat trickling down the sides of his face, Mingi still looked great.

You and Mingi had never been friends — that much you knew — but for him to just run past you without as much as a nod of acknowledgement had you questioning if something was wrong. His exhausted eyes morphed into a nasty glare as they landed on you, which served as a nail in the coffin to your theories.

“Was that Song Mingi?” Hyunjin asked from beside you.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

“What’s wrong, bean?”

Laying upside down on your bed with feet tucked beneath your pillow and your head a few inches from the edge apparently wasn’t a normal thing to do if Dasom assumed something was going on.

“Nothing, everything is perfectly fine.”

Everything was perfectly fine if you ignored the fact that Mingi was angry with you and was intentionally avoiding you like the plague.

“Mmmm.”

Dasom fell back and mimicked your position, arms thrown out and eyes locked on the ceiling. Some days were like that, spent doing absolutely nothing. Wrapped in big fuzzy blankets laying in either her or your bed, getting lost in space or scrolling endlessly through tiktok until the clock struck the early hours of the morning.

“You still going to that game?”

You huffed, “Yeah. I promised Hyunjin I’d go and he wants to introduce me to some of his friends in return. Is Hongjoong still coming over?”

“He hasn’t rain checked on me yet, so I think so.” She drummed her fingers against her shorts-clad thighs. “Isn’t the game at eight?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Cool.”

You slid down to the floor, brows furrowed and lips titled. “What time is it?”

“Now?”

“Yes, Dasom. Now.”

“Hmmm, it’s currently seven-thirty.”

“It’s seven-thirty!?”

The blood rushed up to your head at your abrupt movement and the whole room spun as black spots clouded your vision. Left with no choice you laid back down and clutched your skull as you tried taking control of your own body again, all while assessing the situation. The game started at eight and you had approximately thirty minutes to get changed and figure out a way to get there before then. The messages Hyunjin sent you earlier today flashed in your mind and you were starting to regret turning down his offer to pick you up, at least then you wouldn’t risk being late and embarrassing yourself in front of his friends.

“Okay, I’m jumping in the shower real quick while you put together an outfit for me that doesn’t scream ‘I spent five minutes on this’ as I walk through the doors.”

Jumping to her feet with an imaginary tail wagging left and right, she saluted. A determined yet excited look on her face. Besides writing poetry in the dim light of your fridge at three AM, Dasom had a big passion for fashion and would always play dress up with you during your childhood days.

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”

A trail of water followed from the bathroom to the bedroom and stopped below your feet. You stood with a towel wrapped around your bare body as you watched Dasom finalizing your outfit. The clothes on your bed were a baggy gray sweatshirt with bold letters spelling out ‘TORONTO’ — borrowed from Keeho and never returned — and a pair of blue jeans. It didn’t give too much, but was still appropriate for where you were going.

“Okay, go put it on. Have you figured out a way to get there?”

Shimmying on the clothes you heaved out a breath. “Nope.”

“Want me to call Kyo?”

“It’s a Friday so I’m sure he’s pre-gaming with Jiung and the others.”

“That’s true… I mean I could always give you a ride on my bike?”

You laughed at that. The bike in question was bright purple, almost lilac-ish with shimmering tinsel handels and star shaped wheel clips. It was cute, but embarrassing at the same time. Plus it would be a shit-show, you sitting on the carrier holding on for dear life while Dasom would do her best not to run people over. She was not the most trusted driver, hence the lack of a driver’s license (that she’s tried for five times and failed every single one).

“As much as I love you, I’d rather be late than arrive on that oddity and risk a broken arm or leg.”

“Hmpf, well if you don’t appreciate Melody then you can walk there!” She crossed her arms and pouted, her lower lip jutting in a show of feigned hurt.

“I don’t really mean it, Dae-Dae, I love youuuuu! I’ll come back with something nice to make up for it.”

The sour golden retriever-looking girl immediately brightened at the mention of a treat and wrapped her arms around you, her chin digging above your sternum.

“Can you buy those shrimp chips that I like?”

“Deal! I seriously gotta go now, I’ll text you when I get there. Kisses and hugs and all that bullshit!”

For once you were grateful not having a car as the parking lot was packed with them and other vehicles. It must have been a big deal if some people just blatantly abandoned their cars on the sidewalk, yellow tickets flapping on their windshields. The match was in full swing and it was everything you could expect of a hockey game. Red and blue blurs of jerseys zoomed past you, the sound of blades against ice, the livid roar of the crowd, cutting blows of a whistle, sticks cracking against the puck sounding like thunder and the thump as an opponent was checked against the boards. Seeing the bleachers full of people wasn’t something you expected when you crossed the entrance. The sides were divided into two parts — red and blue — and while you weren’t about to backstab your own university by sitting with the ‘enemy’ you found no empty seats between the Blue Wolf supporters. The other side wasn’t anything better except for the few vacant seats here and there, and more nude chests and faces covered in paint.

This was everything but your scenery.

Staring through the plexiglas you tried spotting the familiar mop of black and white hair you hadn’t seen since God knows when. You gave up as you quickly realized the gear covered almost the entirety of their faces and body proportions, making everyone look identical to one another, the only thing differentiating them being the numbers and colors of their jerseys that did little to help as you didn’t even know his. A pair of hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders and you jumped at the unexpected touch, hastily turning to see who the culprit was and coming face to face with a grinning Hyunjin.

“Boo!”

“Don’t do that!”

His beautiful laugh reached your ears and emitted a chuckle of your own. He coaxed you into his body and enfolded you in a warm embrace that you reciprocated, chin on his shoulder and arms going around his waist. It was first when the hug broke that you could finally take in his full appearance. His whole attire — suit pants, a tucked in turtleneck and leather boots — were completely black except for the long and expensive-looking jean coat and red beanie showing support for the opposing team.

“Let’s go, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.”

Without missing a beat he took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers as he gently maneuvered you through the crowd. Every few seconds you flinched as the people jumped up from their seats, cheering or groaning at what was happening down below.

From across the rink in the bench area adjacent to the ice, the red and blue players filled the booths closest to their goalkeepers. The game was in full swing with both teams scoring a point each and neither willing to let up on their explosive paces. The substitute players were all buzzing from excitement or nerves — probably a combination of both — as they shouted encouraging words to the starting lineup. Like the remaining defencemen of the blue team, Mingi sat in the middle with his hockey stick high up in the air and shoulders squishing against his fellow position players, but his eyes weren’t trained on the puck flying from one player to another. No, they were set on the pair of figure skaters on the other side of the rink. More precisely, he was focused on their interlocked hands and the subtle exchange of smiles.

A red light and the loud blaring of the goal horn went off in the arena as the opposing team managed to hurl the puck behind the blue goalkeeper and Mingi could argue it was how he felt on the inside seeing you together. The big crowd jumped from their seats, waving their red merch and screaming words Mingi couldn’t hear over the angry voice of his coach.

“Matthew, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Wow… This is really annoying. We’re only ten minutes into the first period and we’ve already received two points,” Jungkook fumed.

It was weird that neither Mingi or Jungkook were a part of the starting lineup, considering they were up against one of the better teams of the season. Trusting that their coach was making the right decision of keeping them off the ice, Mingi didn’t try persuading him to be put in. There were still two and a half periods left of the game, leaving plenty of time for Mingi to change the course of the match if needed to. It also gave him more time to keep an eye on you and simmer in his own rage, if he just hadn’t lost you in the three seconds he looked away. Frantically searching the bleachers for a girl with a blue scarf wrapped around her neck, you were nowhere to be seen.

“Song!”

The abrupt call of his name snapped him out of his search and he was met with the beetroot red face of his coach.

“Are you deaf?!”

“Nu-uh. No, sir!”

“Then get off your ass, you’re going in.” As Mingi stood up, his coach threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in closer. “Remember what we talked about. There are scouts watching and they’ve heard great things about this Song Mingi, so show them you’re not all talk, yeah?”

Mingi pushed in his mouth guard and nodded determinedly.

Coach patted him encouragingly and gave one last pat on his helmet for luck.

“Good, get in there and put a stop to their number three.”

Everything turned to background noise as Mingi leaped over the board and his blades slashed against the cool surface. There was only him and his defending zone, and the fact that you were somewhere in the crowd, probably watching him or getting cozy with that stupid figure skater. The grip around his hockey stick tightened at the image and he hated the effect you still had on him. He should’ve been worrying about being on top of his game and impressing the scouts, and not what you were up to.

Mingi and Matthew held the blue line and passed the puck between each other as the remaining blue players skated around in the offensive zone, searching for an opening to get the puck handed to them. As Mingi slid the puck to Matthew, the bigger defender quickly hurled it to the next player only for the pass to be cut off.

Going backwards, Mingi immediately retreated home while putting pressure on the puck carrier and simultaneously keeping him from having a clear view of the net. He skillfully managed to push the opposing player (without physical contact) to the side in the defensive zone. He quickly realized that he was closed off and sent the puck diagonally backwards to another red player who moved with such speed, Mingi knew he wouldn't be able to stop the additional player in time. Protests erupted from the bench as all fourteen substitute players had a hunch of what was going to happen.

To his aid came Matthew and the two defensemen managed to shut down a possible counterattack. As the remaining players entered the defending zone, the puck was still in the possession of the red team. It landed in the hold of their number three, who was a few diagonal meters from Mingi. The winger locked gazes with the blue defender and sent him a smug smirk, tauntingly saying ‘watch this’ as he winded his hockey stick up to his shoulder and readied himself for a slapshot.

Losing all control of his body, Mingi changed the trajectory of his movements and skated almost backwards while getting in number three’s sight of line. Mingi waited for the perfect timing and when the red player rushed forward to skate past him, Mingi jutted out his hip, flipping the opponent over him and stealing the puck in the process. Cheers erupted in the arena and Mingi soared at the jumbled praises and roars of encouragement.

“This is Felix and that’s Changbin, they attend TOP University. Lix-ie, Bin-ie, this is the friend I’ve been telling you about,” Hyunjin introduced you as the crowd calmed down.

The two guys weren’t dressed in anything over the top, basic hoodies and joggers or a pair of jeans with small accessories showing their support for the Red Tigers which made you feel out of place with Keeho’s blue scarf wrapped around your neck. You recognized one of them as the guy who hosted that halloween party; buffy build, a triangle shaped head, but kind features.

“Hey.”

The deep voice that greeted you didn’t match the sunshine-face of the other boy beside Changbin. A sprinkle of freckles covered his nose and cheeks, his eyes crinkling as he offered you a sun-like smile that matched the color of his hair.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” you gently said and sat in the spot beside the sunshine-boy.

“It’s great to finally see the girl this one’s been obsessing about,” Changbin butted in with a teasing grin and earned himself a slap on the thigh by Felix.

“Just ignore him, he loves to tease.”

“Ah, that’s okay. I know banter when I hear it,” you smiled reassuringly and looked at the game below.

One would think that because ice was your dome, you’d easily understand other winter sports, but you were truly having trouble keeping up with whatever was going on in the newly polished rink. The puck was traveling a hundred miles an hour and the skaters were freakishly fast, you could barely keep up with who was attacking and who was defending. It seemed like the moment one team scored, the other was immediately taking back a point. On top of all, you had zero knowledge about the rules. To say you were surprised when a — what looked to be dangerous and illegal — tackle occurred, would be an understatement. You expected at least someone to jump out of sheer anger, but no one batted an eye. They just kept watching and the players resumed as if it were the most normal thing of the day.

“Do you want to die?” Chan growled as he bumped shoulders with Mingi, getting all up in the defenseman’s face.

The chants of the Blue Wolves’ fans sent another surge of adrenaline through Mingi’s veins, not that he needed it, but gave him an ego boost to return the cockiness to the max.

“I should be asking you that. Don’t think you can get past us just like that. I’ll shut you down, Chan-hyung.”

In any other circumstance and in a conversation with quite literally anyone else, the use of honorific wouldn’t have been out of place, but hearing it come from Mingi wasn’t an indication of respect. It was a ploy to humiliate him and a way to set the tone of the game. In other words, telling him not to expect an easy win. Chan didn’t think anything less.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Mingi scoffed, a smirk of triumph playing across his lips. “I already did and guess what, hyung. I’ll do it again and again, and again. You will not get past me. I’ll knock you down until your ass makes a dent on the ice.”

Returning the ever-so-kind favor of butting shoulders, Mingi pushed past him and stopped right behind his center, ready to receive the puck or defend if the odds played out in the red team’s favor.

“I’m sorry about what happened at the preliminaries,” Felix smiled empathically and placed a hand on your shoulder for support. “If it makes you feel better, I thought you were perfect and deserved to win.”

You forced a smile at the reminder of the event. The wound was still fresh and even though Felix didn’t have any ill intentions with bringing it up, it still didn’t spare you from the bitter taste of winning — if it could even be considered a victory — second place.

“Thank you, but the jury is rarely ever wrong.”

“Tell me about it,” he started and focused momentarily on the game again. “It still doesn’t change my opinion on who should’ve won though.”

Before you could thank him again and express your gratitude to his kindness, Hyunjin joined the conversation. “Oh, I see you’ve found yourself a new figure skating partner.”

Glancing from Felix to Hyunjin and back to Felix again, you pointed at the freckled boy. “You’re a figure skater too?”

“Yup, I've been training with Jin-ie since elementary school. A tick would be easier to shake off than him.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, everyone practically begged you to sit beside them but no, little Lixie the new student decided it would be best to annoy Hyunjin-ie in the back.”

With a witty remark waiting on the tip of his tongue, Felix parted his lips, but was interrupted by Changbin abruptly standing up, hands clasped around his mouth and shouting, “Come on Chan! Don’t let him get away with that!”

Glancing down at the rink, you noticed number three in the red team was pushed against the border with a blue guy towering over him. Both guys seemed to be communicating through their eyes and if it weren’t for their teammates getting in between, you were sure a full on fist fight would’ve taken place in front of everyone.

“You’d think Chan was his boyfriend and not mine,” Felix said to you — more so screamed over the loud cheers and hollers of distress — and watched an agitated Changbin slump back down in his seat, eyes following the flying puck kissing the net of the red goalkeeper.

“Boyfriend?”

“Ah, right, of course Hyunjin wouldn’t talk about his friends. Anyways I’m dating number three in the red team, maybe you’ve heard of him. Bang Chan or Christopher, whatever seems fitting.”

Your mouth turned into an ‘o’ as the puzzle pieces clasped together. Felix never stopped smiling and even chuckled at your reaction. He found you endearing and understood why Hyunjin wouldn’t stop talking about you during their study sessions.

“I take it, you know him?”

“Mmmm, I wouldn’t say I know him but we had a brief encounter at a halloween party.”

“Ah, that’s cool. The world is really small, isn’t it?”

The buzzer beat you to an answer, indicating that the twenty minutes of the second period were out.

“Oh, and that’s halftime,” Felix said and stood up to stretch.

Changbin shot him a deadly stare, as if the figure skater cursed out his entire family. “You know it’s not called that. It’s an intermission!”

“Eh, we don’t keep up with all that in Australia. Halftime is halftime in whatever sport you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were Australian,” you admitted.

“What, really?” He said in English and then switched back to Korean. “All the people I meet point out I speak with an accent so I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, now that you’ve said it I can actually hear like the faintest accent. Oh, that’s embarrassing of me.” You sheepishly smiled and scratched the back of your head.

“Nah, not really. Anyway, Bin-ie and I are gonna get some snacks, you guys want anything?”

“I’m alright, thank you though.”

Felix threw you a thumbs up and looked at Hyunjin for his reply.

“Yeah, surprise me with something good.”

“Gotcha! We’ll be back like a lil’ before they start if we don’t get held up by the bathrooms. Changbin sure does love to take his time there.”

As the duo followed the crowd out, you and Hyunjin fell into a comfortable silence and listened to the chatter of the people around you. For being your first time at a hockey game, you weren’t bored at all, despite being oblivious to the set of rules. Keeho did say something about fights being legal and you sincerely hoped to avoid that. The sport on ice you were aware of was so less violent, flashy and fast paced. It was so different from your figure skating which was more or less art or a story being conveyed by body language.

Nonetheless, you were still having a good time, even though much of it was spent getting acquainted with Hyunjin’s friends.

“So… what do you think of the game so far?”

Snapping from the ice taken over by a bunch of kids chasing each other and falling on their rears, you hummed and looked back at Hyunjin who already had his eyes on you.

“It’s interesting. I mean, it’s nothing like figure skating, obviously, but it’s cool… Do you guys always do this? Watch hockey?”

“Mmm, not always, but whenever Chan has a game we try to show our support just like he does whenever Lix or I have anything going on with our figure skating.”

“That’s sweet of you. That’s actually really cute,” you gushed and the thought reminded you of your own friend group. How Keeho and Dasom showed up at your competitions or the many times you and Keeho attended Dasom’s poetry slam.

Hyunjin leaned closer to you, a playful smile across his features. “I don’t like being called cute, but considering it’s coming from you I’ll let it slide.”

Taken back by the almost flirtatious side of Hyunjin, you bashfully looked away and cheekily covered your mouth, hiding the way your smile expanded at his comment. Hyunjin, attentive as always, took notice of the action and chuckled.

“How, uhm…”

You leaned back in your seat and braided your fingers together as the change of topic went from cheerful to sullen.

“I didn’t want to ask in front of those two, but yeah… How you holding up?”

Still trying to hold up your happy expression, you faced him and tilted your head, and Hyunjin had to physically hold back from planting a kiss on your cute nose.

“I’ve been alright. There’s not much I can do to be honest and I don’t want to dwell on it more than necessary, you know?”

“That’s understandable. Why think about the things that make you feel bad?”

“Exactly. I’ve decided to focus on the more happier things in life.” You grimaced as a hockey player tripped and smacked head first into the plastic glass. “Even if that is watching people get concussions for just 13.000 won.”

Hyunjin burst out laughing, elegantly covering his mouth with the back of his hand and tipping his head backwards. A laugh of your own lingered with his and the multiple cheers in the air.

“Three for three, Jeon Jungkook does it again! The nimble winger of the Blue Wolves can’t be stopped!”

The announcement sounded through the arena a few seconds after the red lights flashed behind the Tiger’s goal and buzzer erupted, nearly rupturing your eardrums. Jungkook was really on a blast tonight, you thought as you followed his retreating figure, making a mental note of remembering his jersey number. Although you had yet to find Mingi, you felt proud for at least figuring out Jungkook and Chan, completely dismissing the fact that you barely knew a handful of players on the ice.

“You’re doing great out there, Kookie.” Mingi dunked him on the back as they retreated to the neutral zone. “Make that into five out of five and I’ll treat you to some lamb skewers.”

The smirk stretched across Jungkook’s face could only be described as menacingly and with him in his element, Mingi knew they weren’t going to go down without a fight.

“Add steamed dumplings into the mix and I’ll double it.”

As the referee held the puck in the air between the red and blue centers, the rest of the players prepared themselves for another brawl over who put the puck behind the opposing net. Mingi was warm all over, and the extra weight of pads and equipment was taking a toll on his body, as well as defending his home base, but each time a player was stopped, the pride was enough to resurrect his energy. Glancing slightly to the side, everything moved in slow motion as he briefly made eye contact with the supporters of both teams. Some were screaming at him out of happiness and others with harmless distaste, angry at his ability to shut down the reds’ plays and advances. Moving further up the rows, it was like a headlight lit up a spot in the crowd, and suddenly, amongst the hundreds of people, he could make you out like a tulip in the middle of a meadow.

The hold around his stick tightened seeing you squished between pretty boy and an unrecognizable face, and Mingi promised he didn’t care. He didn’t care as pretty boy whispered something in your ear and he definitely didn’t care as you flung your head backward, and let out what probably was the most angelic laughter known to heaven. Smoke erupted from his nostrils and the moment the puck was in possession of the red team, the vibrant colored jerseys irked him like a matador irritatnig a bull. As the puck was in play, all sound ceased to exist and Mingi zeroed in on the players advancing forward.

Mingi would describe it as being underwater with all the noise distant and his movement sluggish no matter how hard he tried to lift his limbs, and if he wasn’t so aware of his surroundings, Mingi would certainly think he was losing one of his five senses.

See, although ice hockey was a sport all about seeing and physical contact, hearing was an important part too and if Mingi wasn’t revolted by your presence, he wouldn’t have missed the referee signaling an offside, and he wouldn’t have skated into the first player daring to cross the blue line that separated the defending and neutral zone.

The referee immediately blew his whistle and fully extended his right arm, fist clenched and eyes set on the defenseman, and time turned back to normal as a pop-like sound burst in Mingi’s ears. He barely managed to realize what happened when another body collide against his, pushing him straight into the boards. Chaous ensued as multiple players got involved trying to easen the situation, but the damage was already done and Mingi was sent to the penalty box — purposely avoiding the heavy gazes of the blue bench — along with whichever guy flew into him.

He cursed out loud as he slumped down on the bench. This was embarrassing on so many levels. It was one thing to ram into someone as payback, but lashing out for no apparent reason and after the whistle was (almost) unacceptable. He wanted to laugh at his stupidity; so much for not caring.

“What happened?” You asked no one in particular, surprised at the sudden turn of events.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Ah, that Song Mingi, always up to no good,” Changbin grumbled, more so to himself than you.

You snapped your eyes to the plastic enclosure the blue player was sent off to and sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. Through the year you had known Mingi, you’d never guess he could really use his size and strength to quite literally floor another person. Hockey was a rough sport, that wasn’t news to you, and considering Mingi could use his strength to his advantage, it was probably why he was so sought after. You couldn’t shake away this feeling of awareness. Just now realizing how… big Mingi actually was and you didn't know whether it was relief or pride, knowing that of all the times you pushed him over the edge, never once did he raise a finger at you out of anger or spite.

Mingi may have been an asshole with 70% height and muscle, but he wasn’t a bad guy.

“That’s called roughing,” Felix started explaining. “It’s like… I wouldn’t say it’s an illegal move, but if done out of motive or in a way to really hurt the other player, it could lead to a minor penalty — a timeout — or game misconduct. But it all depends on how bad the situation is.”

“So he won’t play until the end of the game?”

“Nah, he’ll probably be out in like a few minutes,” Hyunjin answered for you and clapped as the red team scored, evening out the score board to five-five.

“Then the blue team will be a player short up until then?.”

“Pretty much,” Felix confirmed and popped a chip in his mouth.

You didn’t see how that could be fair, but then again, ice hockey wasn’t your forthe and as no one in the crowd was making a fuss over Mingi’s penalty — except for pointing out his poor judgment — you didn’t say much else, but hum in agreement. For twelve minutes, you didn’t pay attention to what was happening on the ice, only applauding when the crowd did and slumped back in your seat as the supporters groaned in disappointment. Your full attention was set on the lone player in the plastic box.

Worry, confusion and pity circled your mind and you wondered if this was how everyone felt seeing the placement of your figure skating competition. As soon as the thought made home in your head, you shooed it away, reminding yourself to focus on the happy things and not everything that was blue.

Forcing your eyes from Mingi, the most blue thing in the arena (both clothing and emotion wise) you zoned out and the players blurred into small vivid spots twirling on the ice like flies above a bowl of fruit. You didn’t understand where the worry came from or why it decided to take shelter in your stomach. It probably wasn’t Mingi’s first rodeo in the penalty box and wouldn’t be the last on either, and you recognized his sudden outburst as the one you saw a glimpse of at the party, right before you left him with that blonde police officer.

Mingi never lashed out in anger and if he did, you were never on the receiving end of it despite giving him back a tenfold of insults he greeted you with. Seeing him quite literally floor a guy his size, made your guts twist in discomfort. It was an emotion that didn’t look good on him at all.

The game was growing more intense with each minute passing and the atmosphere amongst the audience was also getting rowdier as the teams were practically neck and neck, neither willing to let up. The second Mingi stepped foot on the ice again, the whole arena blew up with cheers. It was like the almost extinguished torch of hope re-awakened into a bright and lively fire, and you too held onto the light of hope that the Blue Wolves would take it home, definitely because of your loyalty to Tiny University and not the growing affection for a certain defender in said school.

The puck was flying from one side of the rink to the other in just a matter of seconds with all players, excluding the goalkeepers, circling around and cashing the rubber like stone.

“Here, wanna help me hold this up?”

You didn’t know how you missed the big sign leaning against Felix’s legs, but you did. With a nod of agreement, you both took hold of each side of the white cardboard cutout and quickly looked at the glittery blue writing on it.

I am Chan’s #1 fan.

“Don’t judge, I made it like last second.” A blush kissed his cheeks and his eyes squeezed into crescent moons as you read the corny line.

“No, no! I think it’s cute.”

With ten seconds left of the game everyone in the arena stood up which made you and Felix raise the sign even higher. When everyone thought the game would end in a tie, a player from the defending line of the blue team somehow managed to steal the puck from two red players and sent it hurling across the rink, right in the sanctuary of his teammate’s stick who calculatedly launched it towards the red goal and past its keeper. The buzzer went off and chaos ensued. From what you could see all the Blue Wolves players crowded the scorer and dunked the defender who sent the winning assist, while the fans raised the volume through the roof. Whistling, cheers, laughter, even some old fashion booing circulated the arena.

Not all that upset with the outcome of the game, Felix applauded and turned to his friend who seemed to be quite butthurt. “Song really is crazy good, isn’t he Bin-ie?”

“Whatever, he’s lucky Jake sprained his ankle and couldn’t play today or he’d have them all eating ice. Ha! Get it, cause they’re playing on i–”

The rest of the conversation was tuned out as you focused on the celebrating team, trying to catch sight of eighty-nine. Your eyes traveled from one bulky player to another and then, as if your prayers were answered, the player came right into view.

Mingi walked beside a shorter guy clad in blue and you assumed it was Chan by the sole way he pointed up at you and the other guys. Your suspicion was confirmed as the helmet was removed and Chan’s face was illuminated by the strong lights. You could just make out the faint movement of his mouth, saying something to the giant beside him.

“Good to know your girl is cheering for the right team, Mings.”

Mingi followed the invisible line leading to where you stood and scanned the group of friends. He immediately recognized Hyunjin and the buff one, and he didn’t even manage to take a proper look at the third boy as his eyes found yours. Beautiful as ever, he thought and admired as much of you as possible. Your face, clothes, make-up and everything about you was perfect, and the passive aggressive comment was almost brushed to the side until he zeroed in on the paper in your hands. It was in that moment that the rose-tinted glasses slipped down his nose, jealousy quick to seep into every corner of his existence and he remembered why he’d been avoiding you for weeks.

Before he could send you a sharp (and unjustified) glare, he redirected his anger to the guy beside him.

“Oh, don’t be like that. She was the one to look at me first.

Mingi wasn’t a violent person, he really wasn’t, but there was no acceptable excuse for why he did what he did.

As if born ready for this day, Mingi used his teeth to tear off his gloves and pounced on Chan. One hand grabbed around the collar of his red jersey as the other was colliding with his cheek. He managed to get in two more punches — the first successfully collided with Chan’s jaw and the second just barely missed the bone of his nose — before Chan used his own limbs to defend himself. The red winger grabbed hold of Mingi’s helmet and snatched it off his head, and seized the chance to send a fist flying in his face, returning the punches he received from the blue defender. Red bruises quickly littered across their knuckles and warm blood covered their skin, the thick liquid pouring from both Chan’s nose and Mingi’s lip.

The crowd was going wild, the whistles of the referees were being ignored and it didn’t take long before the remaining players of each team were trying to separate the two brutes.

“Oh my God!”

Felix and Changbin flinched at your gasp.

“He’s fucking crazy. Hey! What the hell?!” Changbin jumped between the seats and rocketed down towards the ice with the rest of you hot on his heels.

The silence was deafening. Everyone was curious as to what was going on and why a fight ensued now that the game was over, usually the nose breaking happened on ice and not off. Whispers and rumors spread like a wildfire, some claimed it was the aftermath of adrenaline while others thought of something more extreme like hard drugs taking over. Nonetheless, the crowd riled them on, clearly finding joy in the brawl. You weren’t anywhere near when the referees and teammates broke them up, Mingi being forcefully sent towards the locker room as Chan stayed laying on the ground, crimson face and teeth no longer pearly white.

“What the hell, Mingi,” you muttered under your breath and slipped through the mass of people, running to where you assumed he’d be.

Your head was working a hundred miles an hour with the images of Mingi hunched over Chan, fists violently beating the blonde and a lot of blood covering his face. You were sure you’d never get them out of your head and you shuddered at the amount of red that ran down Chan’s nose. For the sake of the giant asshole you grew attached to, you hoped it wouldn’t put a stop to his career, both school- and sportwise. It would by far be his dumbest decision yet. For what even?

A group of reporters stood outside a door you assumed was reserved for the Blue Wolves and if that wasn’t enough of a give away then it was the loud cheers and victory singing echoing out to the hallway. In reality you wanted nothing more than to barge inside and interrupt their celebration — how they could celebrate after that bloodbath was still something you couldn’t wrap your head around — but you did no such thing. The moment the door opened you pushed the reporters aside and flew in with your head first, paying no mind to the perverse wolf whistles and cheers of the adrenaline drunken boys. You didn’t even bother with them as your eyes scanned the room that smelled of sweat and axe deodorant for him. Jungkook, seemingly the most normal one there (which spoke volumes), quickly understood why you were there and approached you with no teasing glint or malice in his gaze.

“Try looking by the abandoned gym on the ground floor. There’s a vending machine there we usually go to so I assume if he’s taken off somewhere it should be there.”

You wasted no time in turning on your heel and practically sprinting down the route you repeated like a mantra. First floor. Abandoned gym. Vending machine. First floor. Abandoned gym. Vending machine.

Lo and behold, he was right there and if it weren’t for the worry growing in your belly you’d go back upstairs and reward the playboy with a big smooch to his rosy lips.

Mingi sat down on the floor, legs up to his chest and forearms folded on his knees. His sweaty forehead was leaning against the skin of his arm and an anxious rhythm of his heart beat in his chest. It was hard to miss the red on his knuckles. Inhaling a shaky breath as if it would steady your own heart, your feet stopped before him falling right in his line of sight. Surprised at the unexpected company, Mingi looked up and got a first row ticket of the concern swimming in your eyes. You didn’t know what to expect going after him, but the annoyed — almost disgusted — scoff he let out cut through you like a knife and twisted as he looked back down. Despite the act of annoyance aimed at you, Mingi wasn’t actually that annoyed with you but rather with himself because after everything he still had the urge to reach for your touch and he hated it. His jaw clenched at the circumstance and his nails dug in the palms of his hands. You weren’t even supposed to be here, it made everything ten times harder than it should’ve been.

Having had enough of his pity party Mingi and the weight of your gaze judging him, he pushed up from his position and walked right past you. No hello, no second glances, just walking as if you were a ghost he couldn’t see let alone feel. His movements halted when you latched onto one of his wrists, knowing that if he truly wanted to get away he’d shake you off like a ragdoll and be on his merry way. Although he was with his back facing you, the fact that he stood rooted to the ground was the approval you seeked to continue with your winged attempt at getting him to speak.

“Mingi, what the hell was that?”

The two of you weren’t heavy on the use of honorifics, but hearing you spit his name out like that surely sent a shiver down his spine. You weren’t pissed off, he noticed, you were actually worried and it was quite amusing. The nerve you had of showing up after that fiasco to interrogate him about his actions. Who the hell did you think you were?

“Huh? Why did you do that?” Shaking his arm, you tried again. “Can you please say something? I’m worried for you and your silence isn’t helping, please just say something.”

Mingi didn’t budge and you were starting to lose it. The avoidance wasn't enough, now he was blatantly ignoring your attempt at helping too.

“What is your problem?! I’m trying to help you, something’s obviously happened so why won’t you tell me!”

Ripping his wrist out of your hold, he turned around and it took every particle in you not to cower at his sharp eyes staring you down.

“You want to know what my problem is?” His loud voice bounced off the walls and punched you right in the gut.

There was so much anger in his gaze, his tone and his body. Everything screamed of anger and you didn’t even know why you were on the receiving end of his emotions. You were just trying to help.

“You! You are my fucking problem!”

“What?”

“As if you don’t know what you’re doing. Acting all nice and cutesy like we are friends, like you’re interested in ever befriending me which now that I think about is so stupid because you and I? What a joke. We’re a fucking joke!”

“What are you even talking about?!”

Mingi scoffed again. He looked to the side, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. There were so many thoughts going through his head and all he could think about was what words to use to hurt you the most. To make you feel the hurt he did.

“First, you invite me to your stupid competition and then you come to my game sitting with him! Was this all a game, huh? To get back at me for all the dumb shit I did to you because if it is then wow, you’ve really proven yourself to be more shallow and boneless than I ever thought. I mean, you’re really going out of your way to get under my skin and act like a fucking–”

Mingi closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut, the veins on his neck were more prominent than ever and his face was almost identical to the red color of Dasom’s hair. He really needed to calm down before he said something he’d regret. Not that it mattered, the damage was already done and he knew the aftermath was already biting him in the ass. Shit, the look of your glossy eyes was quick to make his inside burn with remorse.

Each insult was a poisoned arrow aimed at your heart. The words physically hurt you more than ever before and you weren’t aware just how mean Mingi could be. Your previous bickering never stooped on a level this low before and it brought tears to your eyes but even that wasn't enough to stop his rant. Not wanting to be caught vulnerable in front of the guy who was practically stepping on you with his shoes, you quickly wiped away the tears that managed to escape.

Mingi knew he was taking his frustration out on you and he knew it wasn’t fair because you hadn’t done anything wrong. It all kept piling on his shoulders. All the instances he saw you two together; the joint practices, your embarrassed giggles any time Hyunjin breathed, watching him console you in the hallways like a poor reenactment of a romcom, sitting so close together at his game, shoulders touching a little too close for Mingi’s liking… If that stupid piece of cardboard was a bomb waiting to be activated, then Chan was the flame that set everything off.

“Oh, great. This is really great now you’re fucking crying too. You think some tears are going to make me feel bad? They won’t, I don’t care anymore okay? I’m done with you and your fucking shit. So go back to your prince fucking charming and don’t even bother looking for me, you hear? I’m fucking done!”

You shrunk back at his unwavering and stern voice. Having nothing more to say Mingi stormed away, blood boiling and hands shaking as the final words set in. The last you saw of him before gut-wrenching sobs wrecked your body was the door slamming up against the wall and back the doorframe so hard the walls vibrated. And later that same night when Mingi got home, he wouldn’t even be surprised if you decided to never look at him again, let alone speak with him.

Different emotions tore you apart and it was hard to make sense of anything that happened in the past ten minutes. The questions — what, why, how — were endless and you wanted to go home, preferably dig a hole in your bed and not come out until better days, whenever that would be you didn’t know. Tears burned your cheeks like lava and snot tickled your nose, dropping off your chin and onto your shirt. With the already wet sleeve of your sweater you wiped everything off your face, not in the right mind to care about what Keeho would say about his precious shirt. Like a baby cub seeking its momma bear for comfort, you retreated home yearning for the closest touch of a mother you could find.

“You have reached the voicemail of Choi Dasom. Please leave a message after the beep.”

After the fifth attempted call, you gave up and continued trudging home. Dark clouds hovered over Seoul and the light pelts of rain quickly became a downpour. Being picked up on Dasom’s bike didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Unlocking the front door of your shared apartment you were greeted with Hongjoong and Dasom sitting awfully close on the couch. They jumped apart as you harshly dropped the keys in the fruit bowl and froze at the sight of you; bawling, wet and shivering. Skipping the formalities you wasted no time diving in the shower and by the time you ventured back out, Hongjoong was nowhere to be seen as if the boy was never there to begin with and you couldn’t have been more relieved. You’ve had enough boys for the next ten years of your life.

“Beans?”

It was probably the dumbest thing to cry about, but your lips still quivered and the tears you just managed to stop surfaced at the nickname. The girl caught you in her arms and you buried your head in her shoulder as your cries got louder. Dasom offered you solace with gentle rubs to your back and patiently waited until your labored breathing became even.

“Let’s get you to bed,” she whispered and slowly guided you to your bedroom.

Attentive as always she helped you get under the covers and shuffled in beside you to which you immediately buried your face in her bosom, her hand slank under your neck and connected with the other at the back of your head. You lay there in each other’s presence and listened to the coexisting beat of your hearts. Dasom didn’t try coaxing the troubles out of you and you heaved out a big breath. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at the constant tears and after waking up from passing out of exhaustion, you knew you’d be a victim of an unbearable headache and heavy feet. The whisper of your name was loud in the silent room and you hummed in reply, letting the other girl know you were in fact awake.

“You wanna talk about it?”

The most obvious thing would be to talk about it; talk about why you burst through the door, face wet and not entirely because of the rain. Your mom always told you to never sleep with an empty stomach, a busy mind or a heavy heart and while you didn’t appreciate the advice at the minute, future-you would (hopefully) think back to this moment and thank you for your courage. Dasom followed in tow as you sat up criss-crossed, taking your hands in hers and giving them comforting squeezes every once in a while. By the time she was pulled through the story of your evening — meeting Changbin and Felix, having a good time with Hyunjin, to seeing Mingi beat the living shit out of Chan and then him lashing out on you — the clock struck somewhere between two and three in the morning, courtesy of a few short crying breaks in between. Glancing up at your friend who was still digesting the events, you felt lighter at the thought of having your very own sun sharing warmth and hope wherever she went.

“He likes you,” she eventually said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You sniffled and wiped at your nose again, hands falling to play with the bedsheet.

“He doesn’t.”

“How do you know who I’m talking about?”

You thought you ran out of tears hours ago but were proven wrong as a new batch stung your eyes and eventually trickled down your sore cheeks. Dasom pulled you in another soul crushing hug and held the back of your head, nails gently massaging your scalp.

“Why are you crying, bean?”

Through tears and her thick cardigan you replied. “Because we aren’t talking about Hyunjin, are we? He’s the one we should be talking about.”

“But we aren’t and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

It felt wrong crying over someone who held no significance in your life just a few months ago. The same guy who riled you up like it was his daily dose of sunshine and who set it as his life mission to have you curse him out. The guy who called you stupidly cute nicknames and walked you home at night, offering up his jacket to keep you warm and safe from colds. The guy who didn't turn up to your competition and then lived in your head like an annoying song playing on repeat refusing to disappear. The same guy who shook you to your core with his angry words and fiery gaze.

“Why am I like this?”

“Like what?”

Dasom wasn’t foolish. She knew what you were going through and could only hope you’d come to terms with the unknown feelings rather than to be the one revealing the reason behind your heartbreak.

“Drawn to a guy who’s mean and an asshole when I have the perfect one right there, waiting and catering to my every need.”

“I know I’m supposed to hate him for the things he’s said to you and I do, I really do bean…. so if you think I won’t at least glare him down in the hallways then I’m revoking your position as my best friend… But I’m going to be completely honest with you, bean because that’s what you deserve. I think something else must have triggered him to lash out, it couldn’t just have been because you were simply sitting beside Hyunjin.”

She gently played with your hair as the words sank in.

“He really hurt me.”

“I know, bubs and I’m so sorry. Know that nothing excuses that behavior.”

“Then why do I still think of him even when he’s shit. Why won’t my brain let me be happy with Hyunjin?” You broke from the huge and fell back on the bed, hands gripping the sheets as if they held all the answers to your questions.

“Hyunjin is safe. We all like the safe and predictable, right?”

Your nod of agreement spurred her on.

“But Mingi, oh Mingi, is exciting. He drives you crazy, keeps you on your toes and throws you off course yet you can’t ever really get enough of him no matter how much it annoys you. I see it and I’ve been seeing it for months now and I promise this is the most objective version of me speaking right now.”

“But I like Hyunjin,” you whined, refusing to accept your own feelings.

“And you like me and Kyo too,” Dasom whispered softly, like a breeze passing through a field. “But we don’t fall in Mingi’s category.”

The days leading up to the holidays were spent within the four walls of your room waiting for the time to pass until you’d take your suitcase and haul ass across the country, definitely not because you were afraid to stumble across the very person you were avoiding. After the not so pleasant discovery you didn’t know what to make of yourself or your feelings. You couldn’t just phone him and proclaim your undying love because last time you checked, he explicitly made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you. You from a few months ago would throw a party big enough to think it was for a quinceanera or a sweet sixteen celebration with this information, but the present-you acted like Bella Swan during the disappearance of Edward Cullen just a tad bit less depressing.

Dasom was the first to leave. Her parents surprised her with a vacation to Jeju-island and her flight left the first morning of winter break. Keeho was still in the city but with college out of the way, he took on more working hours than usual. His immediate family lived in Canada and the plane ticket would be more expensive than the salary he’d get over the next two weeks. With your two friends unavailable you passed time thinking about the one who shall not be named and realized how unfortunate the whole situation was. You also realized you probably wouldn’t act upon your feelings as you didn’t with Hyunjin and would just let them flow until evaporating into thin air.

Speaking of Hyunjin, you and him still texted back and forth albeit the conversations were slow and not nearly as exciting as you once found them to be. Your sudden disappearance at the hockey game was covered with a quick lie of ‘not feeling well’, which he immediately believed because, why wouldn’t he? Christmas wasn't anything special. It started with an early message of Hyunjin wishing you a Merry Christmas attached with a selfie of him in a Santa hat and fake beard, and the rest of the day was spent inside with your family watching movies and drinking hot cocoa.

The new year was welcomed on the couch where a bump would sooner or later be formed and that alone was enough to explain the excitement level in the household. You all went to sleep a little after midnight and as you laid in your childhood bedroom, feet almost sticking out of the small bed, you mindlessly scrolled down the explore section of Instagram. A pang of sadness struck you at the picture staring back at you through the screen. It was a post of Mingi and his friend — the golden retriever looking one — posing on a snowy mountain both clad in skiing gear. The taller of the two had an arm slung over Mingi’s shoulder who, in return, sported a boyish grin and held up a peace sign. The split lip had healed perfectly and the only indicator of him being in a fight was the slight plum colored mark under his eye (courtesy of a nice punch delivered to his nose). At least someone was happy with you out of their lives.

Angry, sad and just tired, you exited the app and shoved your phone under the pillow drowning out your scream. You didn’t even know why his post landed on your feed. Wasn’t the explore page supposed to show videos of millennials doing cringy trends and not the most recent activity of the dude that shit all over you.

This continued on for days. While you were decomposing in your room he was updating his Instagram account as if a celebrity. Pictures and videos of him clubbing until the early hours of the morning, pretty girls and tables full of alcohol captured in short stories and then a complete 180; sharing clips of him flying down snowy mountains, doing stunts and whatnot.

If he was so upset with you, why were you the one wasting days self wallowing? It wasn’t like you could party away the worry. Your hometown was the size of a nut meaning A) you knew everyone and their mother, and B) every person in a ten mile radius was well-over the age of forty and the closest thing that came as a party would be the retirement home down the street. Then again, playing bingo with the grannies was better than binge watching gut-wrenching dramas. At least you’d be clearing your ‘to watch-list’.

The weeks passed in a blur and, before you knew it, you were back in the comfort of your apartment with two days to spare until classes started rolling again. Dasom would be home the day after and Keeho was either passed out in his apartment or working his second shift of the day, leaving you to unpack the chaos sealed inside your suitcase. Swirls of snow beat violently against the windows, turning the outside world into a winter wonderland. The heavy weather picked up on your journey home and as you traveled halfway back to Seoul, the ground was slowly being covered in white flakes. You only got so far with your unpacking when a series of knocks rattled against the front door.

“What’s uuuuup?!” Keeho screeched as you opened the door and an equally excited Dasom rolled in with her red large suitcase.

“What are you doing here?!”

They pulled you into a hug. Keeho’s loudness and Dasom’s giggles warmed up the place in no time and you immediately felt better.

“Surprise!”

“I hate you guys!” You exclaimed and squeezed their waists, head resting on Keeho’s shoulder with Dasom’s nose buried against your chest.

“Don’t lie, we know you love us. Now let’s get this bitch started!”

Scurrying to the kitchen Keeho brought back three animated cups; one with Naruto, Totoro and–

“You’re not drinking beer from the cup plastered with a picture of my dead cat!”

“Of course not, that one’s yours. Mine’s the Naruto one and Dasom gets Totoro, for obvious reasons.”

Said girl skipped quickly to the pantry and pulled out multiple bags of snacks. The huge smile on her face got you all curious.

“What’s got you all happy?”

“Nothing, I've just missed you guys! Jeju was fun but it would’ve been better with you there,” she pouted and poured the snacks into separate bowls.

“Pfft, don’t listen to her. She’s been texting that Cruella de Vil boy all winter break.”

Her smile grew and grew until it was a full blown grin and you squealed in delight, genuinely happy for your friend despite the green monster gnawing at the back of your head.

“Tell me everything, c’mon!”

“Ah, ah, ah!” The fun and what would be the start of a girls’ night was interrupted by Keeho. “I should be the one asking you that, little miss I’m in love with my greatest enemy.”

Gasping, you turned to Dasom. “You told him?!”

“So it’s true?!”

He leaned towards you and nearly snickered as your hands covered your mouth — if it weren’t for the serious circumstance — and stared at him with wide eyes. You walked right into his trap and as you told him everything that happened — the good and the bad — Dasom threw her hand out, palm facing upward..

“Pay up, pretty boy!”

“They aren’t even together!”

Dasom, a feral little chihuahua, jumped on him and a wrestling match took place in the middle of the living room. You couldn’t find it in you to be mad or upset. Leaning back against your arms, you watched them with a smile tugging at your lips. This is what you missed back in your childhood home. As much as you loved your family, the one you built in the heart of Seoul was very dear to you.

The ding of your phone snapped you out of your love-struck daze.

Hyunjin [07:16 PM] you back home yet?

You [07:16 PM] yeah, arrived a few hours ago

Hyunjin [07:16 PM] im glad

Hyunjin [07:16 PM] how was it?

You [07:17 PM] Good to see the family again but God did I miss my bed

You [07:17 PM] What were you up to?

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] yeah no kiddin ik exactly what u mean

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] Nothing much, did a lot of practice on the choreo w Iseul

You [07:17 PM] Ohhhh how’s that coming along?

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] it’s good but nowhere near perfect

You scoffed at the reply.

You [07:17 PM] I’m sure you’ll get it down in no time

Keeho harshly grabbed your shoulders, peering down at the screen but not comprehending any of the words.

“And who are you texting?”

“Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin!” Dasom sang, already tipsy from the soju she downed while you were busy typing away.

“And what does Mr. Popular want?"

Hyunjin [07:19 PM] wanna help me practice?

Author's note pt.2: There's one thing I'd like to say regarding this chapter. When it comes to significant others, situation ships, partners, etc do not ever let anyone speak to you in a condescending matter. It doesn't matter how upset they are or what you've done for them to explode, you should never, and I really mean NEVER let anyone talk down to you. The only reason I didn't make MC obliterate Mingi is for the sake of the story, otherwise I'd have her drag him along the streets of Seoul like a dog, lmao. Anyway, if anyone speaks to you like Mingi did to MC in their fighting scene, please either leave/break up or put them in their place. You deserve to be treated with respect and love as much as anyone else.

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