#fucking 203 already
Text
Bed
Summary: König’s new neighbor finds out how comfortable his bed is. König falls quickly.
Pairing: König/F!Reader (civilian)
Rated: T+
A/N: Just some fluff.
Word count: 2947
[Neighbor König masterlist]
It was nice to have his own place. Having been in the military most of his life, König was used to base life. The familiarity of it all was a comfort, but there were some, well, comforts that were always missing. Like his bed. The beds on base were little more than stiff uncomfortable cots, a little too small for him, causing his feet to hang off the edge of the bed. But his bed at home? Large and soft and yet firm enough to hold his weight, with ample room for his height. The pillows were like solid clouds. And the vanilla scented candle on his nightstand would fill his room with its delicious aroma and lull him into soft dreams.
That’s where he was headed now, ready to eat the take out he was carrying, take a nice hot shower and climb into his bed. But as he rounded the stairs to get to his flat, he was met with a slight block on the stairs. A woman was struggling with a box, bracing it against her knee and grunting with every step she tried to take.
“Excuse me,” he started in German.
You jumped, and let out an undignified squeak, when someone started talking behind you. The surprise made you drop your box, thankfully it was already low to the step and didn’t drop on your foot or anything. Still you were sure you heard something break. “Shit!”
With a hand over your heart you turned and had to hold back another startled reaction. The man at the foot of the stairs was big, giant even, and was wearing…some sort of…hood? A mask? What the fuck? It took a second for you to realize he was carrying a take out bag, he must be trying to get past you. “S-sorry, you just startled me.”
He raised his hands, a gesture to show that he meant no harm. “No, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He replied, this time in English. “Do you need some help?”
You smiled politely at the man, “oh. No thank you! I got it!” You chuckled nervously, still a little out of breath from struggling with the box, while you braced your lower back with one hand.
He smiled, not that you could see it, and gestured to the stairs. “Ok. After you.”
Right. Shit, right. You were blocking him, the big guy probably didn’t want to just push past you on the stairs.
You chuckled nervously again and picked up the box, trying to keep your grunts quiet, and heaved it up one more step. You could feel his eyes on you, another step, two more steps, then the landing. Whew! You gently dropped the box and straightened out your back to look up at the rest of the stairs.
You sighed, the little flight you just made it up was the easy part, now the long part of the stairs. The faint chuckling you heard from the foot of the stairs didn’t help either.
“Miss, are you sure you don’t need any help?”
“I mean,” you started with a huff, not out of anger, just an attempt to calm your breathing. “I don’t need help, I can carry it! But, help would be very much appreciated, yes. Thank you.”
He nodded and smoothly moved up to the landing, keeping his movements deliberate. Something he learned to do long ago around civilians, especially around women that were smaller than him, so he didn’t scare them. You showed signs of being wary of him —a good thing as far as he is concerned, as he is a stranger—and took a step back as he neared you. Since his face is covered, he can’t offer a mollifying smile (though he feels himself doing so anyway), and instead simply nodded at you again before he picked up the box.
He chuckled, watching you struggle with the box had him expecting a heavy thing, but, “this isn’t heavy.”
“What!” You squeaked, hands on your hips, “it’s like, fifty pounds!”
Even with his face covered (why?), you can tell just by the way his eyes darted over to you that he is smirking. “Where to?”
“Oh, not far. I’m at 203.”
“Neighbor,” he nodded as he started up the stairs. “I live in 205.”
You turned to him with a kind smile and introduced yourself, “nice to meet you, neighbor!”
“König,” he replied, now at the top of the stairs, and shifted the box so he was holding it in one hand. He extended his right hand to you
“Now you’re just showing off,” you say with an amused smile and shake his hand before leading him to your new flat.
He was surprised when you opened the door without unlocking it first.
“You should lock your door,” he followed you in.
You rolled your eyes a little with a short laugh and spread your arms out in the literally empty flat. “What, you think someone is going to break in and steal my nothing?”
“No. There are other things to take besides your stuff.” He half muttered as he set the box down by the wall.
“Huh?”
He looked at you, with your head tilted slightly as you questioned him, and understood. You were one of those civilians. Innocent. He can’t bring himself to put a damper on this interaction, in the back of his mind he realizes that now he’ll have to keep an eye and ear out for his new neighbor.
“Do you need help bringing anything else up?”
You gave him a strained smile, nervous, if the sound of your voice was anything to go by, and shook your head. “No, no I couldn’t possibly take up more of your time.”
You reached out and touched his forearm, intending to remind him of his dinner that he was carrying, but only drawing your attention to his muscles. “Oh. Wow.” You mumbled under your breath, before realizing that you’re essentially feeling him up and quickly drew your hand back.
König blushed at the soft touch, and again at your mumbled admiration. Not for the first time in his life he was thankful for the mask that covered his face.
“Uhm,” you cleared your throat and focused, “this was the heaviest box! I thought it would be best to start with that one! So I got it, really. Thank you, though.”
You smiled at him again and König decided then that he liked seeing you smile. “The food can wait. I don’t mind helping.” He offered one more time, that seemed to be the pattern with you.
Honestly, why were you even saying no to this hunk of man? Sure, you couldn’t see his face, but the form fitting long sleeved shirt he wore did little to hide just how fit he was. So you hummed and hedge, “I really don’t want to be an imposition-”
“You won’t.”
You smiled again, not a kind polite one like before, but bright and happy. He definitely liked your smile. “Well, in that case, König, I’d love your help!”
His stomach flipped at your words and smile, and he felt himself blushing even harder. He knew why. It wasn’t often that cute civilian women smiled at him like that. It was nice to have the attention of a pretty woman, even if nothing more came of it, as he expected.
“Let me put this down,” he lifted the bag of food a bit and you nodded, “sure!”
Out in the hall he paused and waited for you to lock the door. You scoffed playfully and obliged him, “really, someone taking those broken plates off my hands would be a blessing.”
He smirked but didn’t humor you, he wasn’t going to encourage your carelessness; what if something happened while he wasn’t around?
With König’s help it didn’t take long to bring up the rest of the boxes. The man doubled up on boxes on both trips while you carried light bags and just opened doors for him.
As he set the rest of the boxes down in the living room, you were rummaging through one of the bags you carried up, until you pulled out a wallet. “Thank you so much, König, let me pay you for all your help.”
“No.” He shook his head and raised a hand to refuse your payment, “it was my pleasure.”
Pleasure? Damn, where was this guy when you were moving out too?
“König,” you draw out his name in a small pout. “How can I repay you, then?”
Once again a wave of excitement rushed through him. He couldn’t help the inappropriate thoughts that ran through his mind for a second, that influenced his answer. “Have dinner with me.”
Normally he wasn’t so forward with women, and never with civilian women. But you were nice, and didn’t seem to be scared of him, and besides, he saw you checking him out at least once!
You were a little surprised by the request but smiled nonetheless. “Dinner? Sure, when-”
“Now.”
“Now?” Well now you’re really surprised. “König, are you offering to share your dinner with me?”
He looked around the apartment, the only thing you had were a few boxes, and shrugged. “What else will you eat?”
Oh. He had a point. You’re sure if you dug around in one of your bags, you could find a forgotten energy bar somewhere, but you didn’t have any real food around. “Well, ok. That’s true. Are you sure I can’t pay you? I feel like the person roping others into helping them move is supposed to pay for dinner.”
“No.”
You shrugged, “well, alright then. Let’s go. Oh, unless you want to eat here? I can offer premium seating on the floor!”
He chuckled and moved towards the door, holding it open for you. He once again waited for you to lock the door before leading you to his flat.
205 was a different layout than yours. It was one of the bigger flats with two bedrooms, two baths, a spacious living room and open kitchen. His place was nicely furnished, one of the first things that caught your eye was the big leather sectional in the living room. It was one of those deep couches, which made sense, considering how tall he was.
The table and chairs that he motioned for you to sit at were also clearly chosen to accommodate his size. You practically had to climb into the chair, and could easily kick your feet while he grabbed the food and some plates.
He had been so efficient in helping you, that even with the short delay, the food was still warm. You thanked him again and started to dig in when he set a plate in front of you. It’s only after your first bite that you noticed he was eating by lifting his mask for every bite.
Oh. “I’m sorry.”
He hummed, confused by your sudden apology. “Why?”
You gestured to your face, “you probably take off your mask when you’re alone in your home.”
Warmth bloomed in his chest. You were concerned about him? Of course you were, you were nice. A pretty, nice girl who didn’t want to be an imposition on him, who worried about his comfort, who didn’t lock her door.
He shook his head, “don’t worry about that. It is not a problem.”
There was something intense about his stare as he answered you, so intense that you dropped the matter and quickly finished your meal. He matched your pace, finishing his meal just as you finished yours.
You opened your mouth, you were going to thank him again and bid him goodnight, he was sure, but he spoke first. “Want a beer?”
“Oh. Sure.”
You smiled at him again, causing his blood to thrum in his veins. He wanted to remember your smile for the next time he was on a mission. The other men would brag about their women, and he had no one to think of, but now your pretty smile would keep his mind company.
Once you had your beer, you glanced around the apartment, taking it in. He had nice taste, the furniture was high quality, and even the TV looked like it was on the expensive side. Whatever he did, he was doing well for himself. But your eyes kept getting drawn to the couch. Maybe because you were currently lacking furniture yourself, it just looked so comfortable.
“König,” you started, not looking directly at him, “can I sit on your-”
Face? Dick? Yes, whatever you wanted, “yes.” He answered as you finished your question, “-couch?”
Oh. He deflated and took a breath to calm down. Of course you weren’t asking him to fuck you right now.
You set your beer down and moved to the living room. “It just looks so comfy.” You explained as you sat down and pushed yourself back into the firm cushions. You chuckled to yourself as your feet hovered off the ground when you were seated all the way back. Yea, this couch was definitely meant for taller people.
He grabbed your beer and set it down on the coffee table in front of you, to which you flashed him with another brilliant smile. He grabbed the TV remote and turned it on, “movie?”
You looked at him as he sat down next to you, his knee gently bumping into yours. “Dinner and a movie? Careful, König, I might start thinking this is a date.”
He laughed, boisterously, nervously, but relieved that you laughed with him.
The movie was of no consequence, but he felt encouraged every time you giggled at one of his jokes. By the time he was done with his second beer, he wasn’t even paying attention to the movie, instead he was telling you stories about his missions, nothing classified of course, but the way you stared at him with wide eyes, shining in anticipation as if he were more interesting than the handsome man on the television fueled him. At one point he even rolled up his shirt to show you a nasty scar on his side.
You gasped, eyes wide and looked up at him a little flustered as you asked him if it had hurt too bad.
“Ah, it was nothing! I barely felt it!” He assured you and cleared his throat as he rolled his shirt back down.
“Wow! That’s crazy!” You exclaimed as you shifted in your seat too.
His eyes flickered down for a moment and he noticed the way your thighs squeezed together before you found a comfortable position. You were closer to him now, and when he draped his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing your shoulder, you didn’t move or give any indication that you were uncomfortable. He grinned to himself, nervous adrenaline finding its way into his blood and he had to actively stop himself from bouncing his knee.
And that adrenaline faded as you nodded off to sleep next to him. Well, you had mentioned that you’d been driving all day, moving. So naturally as soon as you were comfortable you fell asleep.
He was only slightly disappointed, it was still a better night than he could have hoped for otherwise.
-
You woke to the sound of your phone buzzing. Your morning alarm. You sighed, you still had time before you really had to wake up, so you snuggled right back into bed. It was so soft and warm, but the temperature in the room was bordering cold, which made the warm and heavy blankets even more inviting. The subtle scent of peppermint and vanilla-
Wait!
You quickly sat up, eyes wide in confusion as you looked around a room you had never seen before. It took a moment for last night’s events to come back to you. Oh! This must be König’s room…but he was nowhere around.
You straightened out the bed, feeling slightly guilty about climbing into such a nice bed in your street clothes.
“König?”
“Good morning!” He called from the kitchen.
You followed his voice, glancing at the couch on the way to the kitchen and saw that there was a pillow and blanket folded neatly on one of the cushions.
“Did you sleep on the couch?” You asked once you were near the kitchen, stopping on the other side of the island counter. Like you, he was dressed in the same clothes as last night, mask and all, probably hadn’t wanted to wake you.
“Yes.”
“You should have just woke me up. Sorry I kicked you out of your room. Did you carry me to bed?”
“Yes. Breakfast?” He asked just as he flipped an egg.
You glanced away and fought down a blush. What you’d give to have him carry you to his room while you were awake!
“No, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I still have a lot of stuff to take care of, I should get started.”
“Oh.” He sounded so disappointed, and even his shoulders drooped a little.
You chuckled, “but thanks to you, I’m starting the day so refreshed!”
“Me?”
“Yea.” You nodded and smiled at him again, just like you did last night. “Your bed is so comfortable!”
“You like my bed?”
“Mmhmm!” You flashed him a devious smile this time, “maybe next time you can join me.”
The clatter of the spatula falling to the floor and him scrambling to grab it, echoed over your cute giggle. By the time he was standing up again, you were already by the door. “Bye, König!”
“G-goodbye!” He stuttered after you, already dreaming of what next time would entail.
#König x reader#konig x reader#no fancy format bc i'm on mobile#and König is just a side piece#no edits bc i'm on mobile#idk how yall who regularly post fics on mobile do it
5K notes
·
View notes
Note
daniel x gradschool reader?? maybe they’re not officially dating but he meets her when he’s in new york and they spend the summer together??
big apple lovin' | daniel ricciardo social media au
pairing: daniel ricciardo x gradschool!reader
sparks fly when daniel visits new york on his winter break
yourusername
liked by yourbff1, yourbff2 and 203 others
yourusername: studying up a storm in the city of my dreams
view all comments
yourbff1 stop being so pretty and so smart
yourbff2 yeah leave some for the rest of us
yourusername omg stopppppp i'm blushing
yourclassmate now zoom in so i can steal some notes
yourusername at least do the stealing urself
danielricciardo
liked by landonorris, redbullracing and 602,785 others
danielricciardo: big city exploring
view all comments
username he's looking so fucking good DAMN
landonorris miss you already
danielricciardo i tend to have that effect
username i'm sad he doesn't have a seat but he seems so much better right now
maxverstappen1 so like none of the pics we took matter?
danielricciardo didn't want to hurt your feelings when everyone ignores you for my sexy ass
newyorkstreetstyle
liked by yourusername, f1wagsupdates and 20,651 others
newyorkstreetstyle: our usual warren street fashion icon has been double trouble recently, obsessed with both.
view all comments
username warren street girl having the best taste in men as well ... mother
username not daniel ricciardo on new york street style do they not know who he is?
username DANIEL CONTENT
username people in the comment section freaking out over the man but warren street girl is the real nyc celebrity here
username warren street girl i do not know you but on behalf of the f1 community thank you for taking away danny's skinny jeans !
yourusername
liked by danielricciardo, yourbff1 and 1,237 others
yourusername: found this stray cat in central park, anyone recognise them?
view all comments
yourbff1 idk who he is but he looks freakishly similar to the guy who hasn't left our apartment in a week
yourusername ah yes now you say it they do look strikingly similar
danielricciardo i won't stand for the bullying here !! y/n stopppppp
username what.do.we.have.here
username i'm totally chill about this rn
yourclassmate1 if he gets us all coffee again he can stay for as long as he wants
danielricciardo finally someone on my side
danielricciardo
liked by yourusername, landonorris and 721,663 others
danielricciardo: wet dream concrete tomato or something like that
view all comments
username i am not okay
landonorris you got a gf WE GET IT
danielricciardo i'll leave you to your thirst traps
carlossainz55 low blow ricciardo
danielricciardo LET ME BE HAPPY
username bf!danny is something so personal to me
yourusername whoa what shade of lipstick is that?
danielricciardo a pretty one :)
yourusername
liked by landonorris, yourbff1 and 4,276 others
tagged: danielricciardo
yourusername: final stretch of grad school with some extra motivation
view all comments
yourbff1 believe me everyone in the apartment can hear the motivation
yourusername THERE ARE KIDS ON THIS APP ACT APPROPRIATELY
danielricciardo sorry not sorry
landonorris so this is who the honey badger is obsessed with
yourusername as he should be
username GRAD SCHOOL? educated wag incoming let's go
nyu
liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 51,678 others
tagged: yourusername
nyu: nyu graduate y/n y/ln has had her graduate study published in the journal of english literature and cultural studies!
view all comments
username so how did danny's dumbass pull a published researcher?
yourbff1 ENGLISH LIT SLAY
yourusername thank you nyu will miss you guys :(
nyu come visit soon!
danielricciardo congratulations smarty pants xx
yourusername love you honey
username she's so mother i can't
yourusername
liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 12,778 others
tagged: danielricciardo
yourusername: grad school ... completed it mate ;)
view all comments
maxverstappen1 congrats y/n !!
danielricciardo love you so much, so glad i met you xx
yourusername thank you for spilling your coffee on my manuscript xx
username they're so cute oh myyyyyyyyy
yourclassmate1 but now we need jobs
danielricciardo
liked by redbullracing, yourusername and 812,673 others
tagged: yourusername
danielricciardo: finally showed the mrs my day job
view all comments
username FULL LAUNCH AT A RACE OH LORD
yourusername so you really are that famous?
danielricciardo who wouldn't be a fan of my face?
yourbff1 so where's our tickets we had to deal with you all spring term?
username she's so fucking pretty STEP ON ME
note: pls enjoyyyyyyy (p.s. there's a lando request i finished but tumblr deleted it from my drafts so i'll get that up asap) xx
#f1#f1 x you#f1 instagram au#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#daniel ricciardo instagram au#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo imagine
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Once in a Blue Moon
One Shot // Dieter Bravo x HotelStaff!F!Reader
Description: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo.
Rating: E (Explicit 18+ Only)
Word Count: 12.9k+
Tags/Warnings: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention
Note: Merry Crisis! This is part of a secret Santa gift exchange and a present for my dearest Syl (@all-the-way-down-here @im-sylien). I hope you enjoy!! Have an excellent holiday, friend ❤️🎄
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 2:00 PM
“We are right in the bullseye for what people are already calling The Great Christmas Storm. Blizzard Warnings remain in effect throughout most of Minnesota until Tuesday morning. Forty to fifty mile-an-hour winds, combined with an anticipated twelve to twenty-four inches of heavy snowfall, are expected to create whiteout conditions, making travel dangerous or impossible in the Blizzard Warning areas. If you must travel—”
You kill the engine and look up through the windshield at Blue Moon Manor. The white exterior of the three-story Tudor Revival mansion seems to glow in contrast to the dark clouds hanging overhead. Some rich guy built it as a family home in 1905. It stayed in the family for over a century before a property management company scooped it up. Now the ornate family heirloom is a boutique hotel. Go figure.
You open your car door and grab your backpack from the backseat, swinging it over your shoulder as you step out of the vehicle. As you walk up the path to the staff entrance, snowflakes start floating down from the gray, low-hanging clouds like teeny-tiny feathers, landing on your cheeks and nose, melting on impact.
So it begins.
You press your security code into the door lock, waiting for the quiet beep-beep-beep of approval before shoving the door open to the back office.
Your coworker Jenna looks up at you when you enter giving you a nod of greeting as she zips up her jacket, “How is it out there?”
“Just starting,” you drop your backpack on the built-in bench and take off your stocking cap, shaking out your hair as you ask, “How’s it been here?”
“Let’s just say I’m ready to go home and drink some wine,” she snorts, “Should be a piece of cake for you, though. 202, 203, and 101 checked out early because of the storm, and the check-in today cancelled.”
“Storm of the century,” you mutter, “Merry fucking Christmas.”
“I hear it’s gonna get nasty. Do you really have to stay the whole time?”
You wave her off as you peel off your jacket, “It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry I can’t cover some of the shifts.”
“Really, it‘s fine,” you insist while hanging up your coat, “Bossman said he’d pay me double time to stay ‘til he gets back to town.”
“You’re goddamn right he’s gonna pay you double time.”
Trying to change the subject, you go over to the daily checklist, “Ok, 202, 203, and 101 are gone,” you frown, running over your mental tally of guests, “So, what? Just 302?”
“Just 302. Lucky you.”
“Yeah, lucky me,” you roll your eyes, then look out the window at the snowfall, heavier now, “You better head out before you get stuck here with me and Mr. Fluoride Mind Control.”
“I suppose,” she sighs, grabbing her purse, “Well, have a Merry Christmas?”
“You too,” you smile and meet her eyes as she extends her arms and beckons you closer. You groan, but accept the hug, face pressing against her puffy winter coat.
When she steps back and starts towards the door, she tells you, “Don’t have too much fun now.”
“I’ll try not to,” you snort, “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” she calls behind her as she opens the door, letting in an icy-cold draft of snowflakes before closing it behind her.
You sigh and wiggle the mouse on the computer. The second you do, the service bell dings.
“Fucking already?” you mutter to yourself as you follow the floorplan through the kitchen, into the formal dining room, then finally arrive at the archway to the parlor.
You find the man staying in Suite 302 leaning against the grand piano, thrumming his fingers on the shiny surface.
Wearing pajama pants and a grubby t-shirt, chestnut curls shooting up every which way, he sighs and taps the call bell again. The shrill ding makes your eye twitch a little, but you paste on an amenable smile, “Mr. Bravo, how can I help you?”
He spins towards you and looks at you over his sunglasses, dark eyes flicking up and down your body before settling on your face, “Can I get some towels?”
“Of cour—”
“And can you do that thing where you fold them into animals?”
You furrow your brow and tilt your head at him, lips parting to ask what he means, but he preemptively answers.
“Some hotels fold them into swans or elephants or whatever. You know what I mean? Towel animals.”
There’s no way he’s not fucking with you.
“I, uhh…”
He raps a knuckle on the piano, then saunters off, calling back, “Thanks, you’re the best!”
You stand there for a moment, mouth agape as you watch him disappear up the stairs, thinking: No fucking way I’m doing that.
And yet, half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back office watching a YouTube video on how to fold two towels into an elephant.
Following along with the step-by-step, you make the legs. Easy enough. The head ends up looking like an uncircumcised cock with wings, though. You set it on top of the legs and take a step back, glancing between your creation and the video’s example. As a final touch, you stick a couple googly-eye stickers on it.
“Good enough,” you sigh and tuck the microfiber monstrosity under your arm.
When you arrive at Suite 302, you pause for a moment, turning your ear towards the door. You hear the old wooden floor creaking as he walks around humming to himself. It smells like paint and skunk spray.
You swallow your buzzing nerves and knock on the door, fidgeting a little as you wait.
Inside, a fit of coughing erupts, and he chokes out, “Hang—on—”
His footsteps squeak across the floor to the kitchen. Clink of glass. Water faucet. The coughing stops for a few silent seconds, then he groans and the footstep squeaks grow closer.
A cloud of weed smoke bitch slaps you when the door to Suite 302 swings open.
He frowns at you, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest as he leans against the doorframe, “Hey, uhhh…”
“I got your towels,” you smile, presenting the towel elephant to him.
His eyes drop to the elephant, then he raises his eyebrows, “What is this?”
“An elephant?”
He glances between you and the elephant, flattening his mouth into a line before telling you, “Looks like a dick and balls with googly-eyes.”
The force you use to hold down your laughter makes you snort.
So fucking professional.
Your eyes meet his. An amused smile graces his lips as he takes the elephant.
“Anything else I can get for you?”
“Yeah, can I, uhhh… can I get some snacks? Something sweet, something savory.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” you nod, peering over his shoulder into the hazy room, “Just a reminder, we don’t allow smoking.”
“Oh, it’s not cigarette smoke.”
“I can smell.”
It goes straight from your brain out your mouth, drenched in sarcasm. So fucking professional.
His eyebrows shoot up in a surprised expression.
“I apologize, Mr. Bravo—”
“Oh, fuck that. Don’t,” he chuckles, waving off your stammering, “Call me Dieter, by the way. Mr. Bravo makes me sound like a fucking… karaoke machine.”
“Ok,” you chuckle, then put your customer-facing demeanor back on and tell him, “I’ll go see what we have for snacks. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”
He pushes off the doorframe, giving you a nod of acknowledgment as he steps back into Suite 302 and closes the door.
You return sometime later with a silver serving tray hosting a variety of cheeses, dried fruit, olives, spreads, and crackers. When you knock, he hollers to leave it outside the door, so you do.
The remaining daylight you spend cleaning.
Blue Moon Manor has eight suites: one on the first floor, four on the second, and two on the third. Working from the bottom up, you rid the recently vacated units of dirty dishes and trash, then collect the linens and haul them up to the laundry room on the third floor.
By this time, the serving tray you left outside Suite 302 has disappeared. The pot smoke, however, dissipated throughout the entire level. It seems even stronger than the last time you were up here. Almost like he completely disregarded your polite reminder of the no smoking policy.
You decide to table the issue temporarily. If he was still smoking by the time you returned to take his dinner order, you’d remind him again.
The prospect of confronting what your boss referred to as “a very important client” intimidates you, though, if you’re being honest.
Not that you’re particularly intimidated by him as a person or anything.
Sure, he has an IMDb page and some awards, but beyond that, he’s just another entitled guy.
It’s more so the influence he has on your employment that intimidates you. Sometimes your feral mouth speaks before your poorly-domesticated brain can articulate a proper response. If you were to say something combative, and this guy complained to your boss, you’d probably lose your job—a loss you cannot afford.
When it’s time to take his dinner order, you gather yourself before knocking on his door, repeating your script in your head as you wait. Then the door swings open and you’re absolutely blindsided.
He answers while wringing his hair out with a towel. It’s one of the two you brought him earlier. You can tell because there’s still a googly-eye stuck to it, pupil shaking around inside its little plastic dome. The other towel clings to life around his waist, parting to show off a slice of his tan thigh.
Regrettably, you follow your knee-jerk reaction to ogle him, looking him up and down before returning to his expectant eyes.
This results in an uncomfortable staring contest, where you’re trying to make your mouth work and he’s trying to figure out what the fuck you want, as made evident when he asks, “Do you need something?”
“Dinner,” you blurt out, then shake your head, “Sorry, I mean—What’ll you be having for dinner, Mr. Bravo?”
“What’re the options?”
“Chicken roulade or salmon.”
He groans, throwing his hair-drying towel over his shoulder.
“Do you guys have any normal food, or does it have to be upscale bullshit?”
You pause to once again gather yourself, and in that two-second silence he decides, “I’ll take the chicken roulade.”
“Dining room or room service?”
He shrugs, looking over his shoulder into the suite, then back at you, “Dining room.”
“Fabulous. While I’m here, can I take your tray from earlier?”
“Let me get it,” he mumbles, closing the door. While he’s gone, you go over the lines you rehearsed, and when he opens the door to hand you the tray, you tell him, “Just as a reminder, we don’t allow indoor smoking—”
“Look, usually I open the window and use a doob-tube, but, uhhh… the weather outside won’t allow it. I don’t want the wind to fuck up the crank windows.”
“But still—”
“And not that it’s any of your business, but I have a medical condition that I treat with cannabis. This is prescribed to me—”
“What? I’m not—”
“Besides, it should be legal—”
“Ok, you know what? Fine! Smoke away, but don’t be surprised when the manager fines you for it, plus the cost of extra cleaning charges.”
He crosses his arms and straightens his spine, “I can live with that.”
“Great,” you snip, taking a big step back, “Dinner will be ready at six.”
He closes the door a little harder than necessary and you stomp down to the kitchen, fuming the whole way.
Lucky for you, dinner prep involves flattening chicken breasts with a meat tenderizer, which helps tame your frustration. As you follow the recipe, sprinkling seasonings and feta cheese onto the breasts and rolling them up like neat little sleeping bags, potential consequences for your outburst run through your mind. Bad review, getting canned, all that.
Maybe if you hadn’t been dealing with this guy’s shit for the past two weeks, you would’ve been able to handle the situation with a level head. But his haughtiness is fucking grating. He can’t just answer a question or make a simple request. It has to be a whole production that makes it clear: he thinks he’s better than you.
By the time you finish cooking, though, you come to peace with the fact that you’ll probably have to kiss his ass to rectify the situation.
When the grandfather clock in the parlor chimes six times, you plate the chicken roulade and bring it to the dining room, slightly surprised to see him already seated at the table.
“Mr. Bravo,” you smile in greeting.
“Dieter.”
“Dieter,” you repeat as you set the plate down on his place setting, “Can I get you anything to drink? We have a Sauvignon Blanc that would pair well with the chicken—”
“I’ll take it.”
You go to the sideboard and find a bottle of wine. As you pour him a glass, he wrings his hands together and glances around, “Anyone else coming down?”
“Just you.”
“What about you, where do you eat?”
You shrug, setting the bottle down beside his glass, “In the kitchen.”
“You could eat out here.”
“Oh. It’s fine, sir. Really, I don’t mind.”
His nose wrinkles up under his sunglasses and he shifts in seat. You study him for a moment, sensing an air of loneliness about him.
“Unless you want me to join you.”
He shrugs, “Seems silly for both of us to eat alone.”
“So true,” you nod, clasping your hands together, “I’ll uhhh… I’ll be right back.”
When you return with your plate, you sit across the table from him. An uncomfortable silence settles in the room. The kind that makes your skin feel too tight and amplifies every little noise. The chewing, the utensils clinking, the wet swallows, everything seems ten times louder than reality.
Clearly, it’s not just the two of you in this dining room. There’s a third guest, the giant invisible elephant wedged between you.
He finishes his glass of wine and pours another, asking, “Do you want some?”
“I… shouldn’t.”
“Uh-huh,” he raises his eyebrows, looking at you over his sunglasses, “Do you want some anyway?”
You consider it, squishing your face to one side with indecision.
“I won’t tell on you, sweetheart, I promise.”
Your eyes flick to his, finding a sort of amused playfulness there.
“Fine,” you smirk and push back your chair, going over to the wine cabinet to grab a glass, “Just one.”
“No one’s twisting your arm about it.”
You return to your seat and reach across the table to grab the bottle, pouring only a small helping.
“Cheers,” he holds up his glass.
You mimic the sentiment and take a big sip, then tell him, “Mr. Bravo—”
“Dieter.”
“Dieter,” you nod, glancing at your wine glass, “I, umm… I apologize if I was rude earlier.” You meet his eyes and shrug, “If I’m being completely transparent, my boss will have my ass if the whole third floor smells like weed when he comes in next week.”
He watches you as he absorbs this, face inscrutable.
“But if you want, I can show you the back patio. You can smoke out there all you want, I really don’t care about that part.”
Leaning back in his seat, he takes a swig of wine, then says, “Fine.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile.
“Uh-huh,” he sets down his glass, wiggling around a little as he tells you, “For the record, you weren’t being that rude. Well, maybe a little, but… I don’t mind. Suits you better than the bullshit customer service thing you do.”
You blink at him, biting your tongue, then return to cutting your food and making small talk, “Well, I hope you didn’t have any big plans for the holidays. Traveling might be tough the next couple days.”
He shakes his head, “Not doing it this year.”
“Not doing Christmas?”
“Nope. What about you? Do you celebrate Christmas? Any plans?”
“You’re looking at ‘em,” you gesture around the room with your wine glass and take a sip.
“No shit, you have to work?”
“I’ll be working until the storm passes. Tuesday at the earliest, by the sounds of it.”
“Yuck. You guys have a staff bedroom, or do you get to stay in a suite?”
“I have my pick of the empty suites.”
He pokes the food on his plate with his fork, “Which one are you picking?”
You chuckle a little before answering. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you detect a certain vibe coming from him. Not only that, but he’s attractive in a way you’re not entirely immune to.
“I think I’m gonna try a new one each night,” you tell him, “101 for sure, maybe 301 and 203. Not 201–“
“Oh well obviously, fuck 201.”
“Obviously,” you laugh, shaking your head.
He smiles at you, sparking heat at your center, then both return your attention to your food. The rest of the meal passes in a much more comfortable silence. Not wanting to overstay your welcome around a guest or veer further into unprofessionalism, you rise as soon as you finish.
“I’ll get out of your hair, but if you need anything, ring the bell. I’ll be around.”
“Sure,” he studies you over his sunglasses as you gather your dirty dishes, his jaw ticking back and forth, then he says, “Hey, thanks for keeping me company. It was nice.”
You want to tell him you thought it was nice, too. Or maybe say something about how it felt like a mildly off-putting but not entirely unsuccessful first date. Not at all what you assumed it would be like.
Instead, you give him a polite smile and nod, “Of course.”
—
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:00 PM
DING
You look up from the cribbage game on your phone at him, just a few strides away but apparently oblivious to your presence. He fidgets with the sleeve of his high-drama fuzzy jacket, shifting his weight from side-to-side. Waiting.
“Hi—”
“Holy shit!” He startles, gripping his chest, “Where the fuck did you come from?”
Before you can stop it, you snort out a laugh, then cover your face reflexively, “I’m so sorry Mr.—”
“Dieter.”
“Dieter,” you nod as you rise to your feet, stuffing your wide grin into a neat smile, “How can I help you, sir?”
“Call me a fucking ambulance for the heart attack you just gave me,” he jokes, shaking his head, then takes a step towards you, “No, uhh… I was gonna step out to smoke, do you wanna join me?”
“Oh—umm,” you chuckle a little, briefly considering the offer before politely telling him, “No, thank you.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” you glance down at his feet, clad in mismatched socks and crocs, “But here, let me clear off the back patio so you don’t have to stand in the snow.”
He shrugs and follows you through the parlor into the dining room, where you tell him, “Just give me a minute, I’ll put my stuff on.”
“Take your time,” he murmurs, going over to the sideboard, “Is this fair game?”
“Help yourself.”
“Do you want one?”
He flips over a lowball glass on display and sifts through the decanters of liquor, plucking out a bottle of finely aged whiskey. A drink sounds good. But the prospect of this virtual stranger fixing you a drink makes you uneasy.
Does he know that it’s just you and him under this roof for probably the next few days? Between the offer to smoke you up and pour you a drink, is he intentionally trying to intoxicate you? Or is he just being cordial?
You realize he’s staring at you, waiting for a response. Heat rises to your face. Shaking your head, you tell him, “I’m fine, thanks.”
He uncorks the decanter and turns to pour whiskey into his glass, so you dismiss yourself to the back office.
After bundling up in winter gear, you grab a shovel, then start towards the dining room. You stop short in the kitchen. The motherfucker walked right past the STAFF ONLY sign and started rummaging through the fridge.
“You’re not supposed to be back here.”
He glances back over his shoulder at you, “Why not?”
“Because—well, because—”
“Can you make me grilled cheese?”
He straightens and closes the fridge door, turning to face you. You, clad in your coat and boots and hat and all that shit, holding a shovel, just blinking at him, mouth agape.
“Right now?”
His jaw shifts to one side as he genuinely considers the question.
“Can I shovel first?”
“Sure,” he shrugs.
“Thanks,” you mutter, then trudge past him into the dining room.
He follows along behind you, through the hall to the back door, asking, “Do you have tomato soup?”
“Probably. Want some with your grilled cheese?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
When you twist the door handle and yank it open, a knee-high snow drift topples over at your feet.
“Jesus Christ,” you hiss and flip on the outdoor light switch to peek outside. A strong gust of wind knocks you back a step, carrying a flurry of shimmering, swirling snowflakes. Your cheeks sting at the icy cold sharpness of it, eyes watering in protest.
What a fucking nightmare.
“Forget it,” you huff, slamming the door closed. You prop the shovel against it and turn to Dieter, pulling your gloves off, “I don’t care, can you just use the doob-tube and turn on the fan in the bathroom?”
“The fan doesn’t work.”
You release a big sigh, tugging off your hat as you lean on the wall and kick off your boots, “Of course it doesn’t. Alright, plan C.”
—
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:45 PM
The range hood’s fan roars to life.
“Have at it,” you tell him as you walk over to the sink and unlock the window, pulling it up a few inches.
Dieter pulls a palm-sized wooden container from his coat pocket and leans back against the stove, twisting the top open. A one-hitter pops up from one of the two barrels of the container. He takes it and stuffs it into the dugout, “So, what, we’re all trapped here until the storm passes?”
You cross your arms in front of your chest and shrug, “Theoretically.”
“Figures,” he mutters, then pinches the pipe between his lips. He pulls a pink lighter from the pocket of his fuzzy coat and brings the flame to the other end. The tip brightens to a glowing ember as he inhales.
“I thought you didn’t have any plans.”
He holds the smoke in his lungs and croaks out, “I don’t,” before turning to blow the smoke into the fan intake.
“Are you upset that you’re snowed in with me?”
“It has nothing to do with you, sweetheart” he glances at you, then takes another hit.
“Ok, let me rephrase,” you shift, casting your gaze to the floor, trying to conceal the warmth blooming beneath your skin, “Are you upset that you’re snowed in?”
He shrugs, “I don’t like being stuck places. Especially another fucking hotel.”
“Whadda you mean?” you frown.
Your question hangs in the air while he takes another hit. He grimaces and steps over to the sink beside you, tapping ash from the little metal pipe with his lighter, then returns to his place at the stove and packs another onie.
“Did you ever watch the documentary Beasts of the Bubble?”
You shake your head.
“Don’t, it’s dogshit,” he snorts and takes another hit. On the exhale, he asks, “You know that I’m an actor, though, right?”
You nod.
“Right, well, long story short… Early COVID days, I was out in England shooting a movie and they wouldn’t let us leave the hotel.”
You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, sensing heavy dramatics on the horizon.
“They wouldn’t let you leave the hotel?”
“My friend—well,” he wrinkles his nose, “Yeah, my friend. She tried to escape, got her fuckin’ hand shot off.”
“Holy shit, seriously?!”
“Yeah, Lauren Van Chance. Pow! Shot right off. Fucking brutal,” he shakes his head and takes another hit. As he blows the smoke into the fan, he coughs a little, then shakes his head, “Anyway—wait, why am I talking about this?”
“Because we’re snowed in.”
“Oh—yeah. I dunno, feeling like I can’t leave… my therapist said it’s a trigger, I guess.”
“I get that,” you search his face, watching him frown at the one-hitter. Apparently satisfied with how stoned he is, Dieter releases a relaxed sigh and sets the onie down on the counter.
“If it’s any consolation, I promise I won’t shoot you if you try to leave. Like… I don’t know, you might need some snow shoes or whatever, but you could—”
He waves you off, “Eh, it’s fine. It’s just a thing, you know? Makes me feel all fuckin’ cagey and on-edge. Restless.”
You lick your lips and nod, glancing at the floor before you look at him, “Anything I can do to help?”
“Bud helps,” he shrugs, “Talking helps.”
“Does grilled cheese help?”
It takes him a moment to understand what you’re asking, but when he does, he chuckles, “Grilled cheese is basically a fucking Xanax.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then let’s get you a grilled cheese.”
—
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 10:00 AM
“The Department of Transportation has declared a state of emergency, and urges people to shelter in place as snow will continue to fall in the Twin Cities and across most of central and southern Minnesota through tomorrow. Overnight, some places received as much as 10 inches, with 40 mile-an-hour winds creating drifts—”
DING
Regrettably, your heart skips a beat.
You tuck your phone into the back pocket of your slacks and cross the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door into the dining room. When you get to the parlor, you find Dieter fiddling around with priceless antiques displayed on the shelves of an ornate built-in bookshelf. He glances over at you, “Hey.”
“Good morning, did you sleep ok?”
Nodding, he pulls his attention away from the bookshelf and takes a step towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, “Did I miss breakfast?”
“No, what can I get for you?”
“Denver Omelet?”
“Sure,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, “Hashbrowns? Fruit? Anything to drink?”
“Yes, yes, and yes—coffee, water, orange juice with pulp.”
“Down here or in your room?”
“Here is fine.”
“You got it,” you smile, walking back to the kitchen. The creak of his footsteps mimic yours on the old hardwood floor, so you think he’s going to sit at the dining room table, but the duo whine of the swinging kitchen door takes you by surprise.
You turn to face him, “Oh, you don’t have to—”
“May I?” He holds up the wooden onie box.
“Sure,” you nod, clicking the range hood on, then go to crack the window open.
The soft murmur of the radio fills the silence while you prep his breakfast and he smokes. You absentmindedly hum along to the Christmas music, dicing a green pepper, an onion, and some ham. By the time you approach the stove to start cooking, he’s tucking the paraphernalia away in the pocket of his pajama pants.
“Have any big plans for the day?” He asks as he goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup.
“Ahhh, well… I think I’m gonna knock out some tasks that are hard to do when we’re busy. Inventory and deep cleaning, things like that. What about you?”
He shrugs, leaning back against the counter, “Gonna try to keep plugging away at painting ideas.”
“Oh yeah? What’re you painting?”
“It’s uhhh… it’s part of a series I’m working on, capturing the essence of interesting hotels across the country.”
“Really? That’s—that’s actually really cool. I love that. And you chose Blue Moon Manor?”
“Well yeah,” he sighs, looking around, “It’s gorgeous. The original features are well-preserved, all the intricate woodwork and craftsmanship. It’s unique, I like it.”
“I agree, it’s a special place.”
“I’m just… I don’t know, I’m stuck at the starting line, not sure what to paint. I haven’t found anything here that feels right yet.”
You look between him and the menagerie of omelet fillings sizzling in the pan, “Have you seen any of the other suites?”
“In pictures.”
“If you want, I can show you around today? All the vacancies are made up pretty. You can poke around and see if you find any… I don’t know, inspiration, or whatever.”
“Yeah?” He grins, “That would be… yeah, fuck yeah, that would be amazing.”
—
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 2:00 PM
You may be in trouble.
Not the kind of trouble punishable by anyone but yourself, but still.
What you mean is that you think you might have a crush on Dieter. Or, more honestly, what you mean is that you know you have a crush on Dieter.
This revelation occurred to you about halfway through your impromptu tour of Blue Moon Manor.
You were standing in the sunroom of Suite 203 while he wandered around, jotting down notes and taking pictures on his phone. The snow fell heavy outside, coming down in thick wet clumps that made it difficult to see beyond the border of the property. Everything blanketed in a pristine, shimmering white.
A deep sense of isolation plummeted your heart to your feet. Christmas Eve, when people all across the world gathered with loved ones, and you were working. Not that your empty one bedroom apartment missed you much. At least if you were there, you could lay in bed eating raw cookie dough while watching your comfort tv show. Throw yourself a proper pity party.
So, there you were, wallowing in your circular loneliness, going around and around the drain of self-pity, when Dieter approached you.
“Hey, you alright?”
You snapped out of your trance and looked at him, finding something very earnest and knowing in his eyes. It surprised you. He didn’t strike you as the kind of person who generally cared about what others were feeling.
“Yeah, just… thinking about how much I’m gonna have to shovel,” you chuckled, brushing off his concern.
“Sorry, you just looked… I don’t know, kind of sad.”
“I’m fine,” you assured him with all the sincerity of someone whose pants were on fire.
“Uh huh,” he studied you for a moment, then looked down at his phone and shook his head, releasing a big sigh, “I think I’m ready to move on.”
“Alright, follow me,” you pushed off the window and walked past him. As you did so, you misjudged your space and brushed up against him.
Pure negligence or subconscious desire, you’re still not sure, but the contact was a static shock. This quick jolt of heat that made you gasp and jump away from him, stammering, “Oh shit. Sorry, I, um—”
He chuckled, a handsome, dimpled smile stretching across his face, “It’s fine.”
“I’m embarrassed,” you blurted out. As if it wasn’t obvious enough.
“Don’t be,” he shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, “Accidents happen.”
“Ok,” you laughed and buried your heated face in your hands, then regained your composure and said, “Ok, let’s see Suite 201.”
“Is that the shitty one?”
“It’s not shitty,” you snorted, starting towards the door, “It’s perfectly fine, just not as glamorous as the rest of them.”
“Uh huh. Like the ugliest Miss America contestant.”
“Sure—”
“Or the uhh… the smallest blue whale.”
“Yeah, I mean—”
“Suite 201 is to this hotel what Def Leppard is to glam rock.”
“Wow, ok,” you laughed, ushering him through the doorway into the hall, “Yeah, I think you got it.”
The whole dumb interaction is all you can think about. It plays over and over again. That look, the accident, Def fucking Leppard. The rush of excitement you feel when you see him or even just think about seeing him.
It is undeniable.
You have a big fat crush.
So fucking professional.
For what feels like the hundredth time, you lose count. You toss your clipboard down on the stack of fluffy white towels in defeat, scrubbing your hands over your face.
Maybe a cleaning project would be more productive. The first floor common rooms need dusting, or you could scrub the floors, or prep dinner, or blah blah blah… god, it all sounds so fucking boring.
Curiosity prods your heart.
You tiptoe through the laundry room, out into the third floor hallway, and linger there for an indecisive moment, listening to the low bass of his humming to himself and the thick pulse behind your ears. A few cautious steps towards Suite 302 reveals a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doorknob.
Rejection takes the shape of a stone in your mouth, heavy and hard and cold as you swallow it down. It settles uneasy in your gut.
Dusting it is.
—
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 6:59 PM
Every minute that drags on feels like an eternity.
The grandfather clock in between the library bookshelves mocks you.
Tick-tock-tick-tock
Begins to sound more like:
He-doesn’t-like-you
You glare at it, then down at your phone, swiping away a low battery warning to continue playing cribbage.
Outside, the wind snarls. Blue Moon Manor groans in resistance, and you wriggle deeper into the sofa cushions, telling yourself: Five more minutes then I’ll check on him.
It’s so dumb.
Really, you know how it sounds.
But not once has he put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. For two weeks, he has been consistently demanding, never letting more than three daylight hours go by without asking for something.
As soon as you let yourself feel some affection for him?
Can’t get far enough away from you.
He-doesn’t-like-you-DING! DING! DING! DING!—
You sigh at the clock.
—DING! DING! DING!
“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter.
The lights die.
All white noise drops except the crackle of the fireplace, howling wind, and ticking clock.
“Fuck.”
Two floors up, something clatters to the ground, then Dieter hollers something unintelligible.
Well, he seems chipper.
You climb off the couch while googling power outages in the area.
Footsteps thud down the steps onto the first floor landing.
“Hello?”
“I’m in the library,” you call, not looking up from your phone as you text your boss.
His steps draw closer, then there’s a light in the doorway.
“This place is so fucking creepy in the dark, Jesus Christ,” Dieter hisses, “What’s the deal?”
You squint up at his dim figure, “Storm took out the power. I texted the manager to see if there’s a genny.”
“Genny?”
“Backup generator,” you turn on your phone’s flashlight, “Sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go see if I can find some lighting if you wanna wait here—”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sir—”
He gestures for you to lead the way, so you start towards the back office with Dieter hot on your heels. Once inside, you go over to the desk and pull open a drawer, fish out a headlamp, and slide it around your head. When you press the on button, a beam of light shoots from your forehead onto the desk.
“Cute,” he teases.
You look at him, unintentionally shining the light in his face.
He steps back and shields his eyes, “Jesus!”
“Ope. Sorry sir,” you stifle a laugh, grab a second headlamp from the drawer, and hold it out to him, “Do you want one?”
Grumbling under his breath, he takes it from you and slides it over his fluffy hair, then turns the light on.
“Ok, this is pretty sweet,” he admits as he starts wandering around the room, “I feel like a miner or something.”
“There should be a tote in here somewhere that has a bunch of candles,” you tell him as you start rifling through cupboards. When the search comes up empty, you try the closet, where you find a big purple tote labeled CANDLES.
“Here we go,” you pull the heavy container out into the room.
“Want me to carry that?”
The offer holds about as much conviction as a drain holds water. He leans back against the desk, plucks a pen from the pencil cup, and starts doodling on your daily checklist. Barely interested.
“No, I got it.”
You lift it and shuffle past him, slightly demoralized, then immediately bump into the doorway, “Oop.”
His headlamp blinds you, making you wince, then he chuckles, “Here.”
Dieter pushes off the desk and steps towards you, laying a gentle touch to your shoulder.
When you forfeit the tote, you notice the dark smudges dried onto his hands and forearms.
“Were you painting?”
“Yeah,” he awkwardly adjusts his grip, then starts back the way you came. You follow behind him, trying to aim your light at the ground by his feet.
In the kitchen, he says, “It smells good in here.”
“Probably the roast I made for dinner,” you pause for him to maneuver through the swinging door into the dining room, “I can get some for you after we get the candles going.”
He holds the door open with his foot and waits for you to pass through the threshold before setting the bin down on the dining room table.
“Thanks,” you say as he steps aside.
The white candles come in three shapes: pillar, votive, and stick. All of them unscented, so when you pop off the lid to the tote bin, the only thing you can smell is wax and dust and old flames.
You grab a half-melted pillar and ask, “Hey, do you have a lighter?”
He rummages through his pockets and pulls one out, then takes the candle from you. The flint sparks into a tiny flame that he holds up to the wick until it ignites, casting a warm golden glow onto the walls and ceiling. You pass him another pillar. The pads of his fingers brush against your hand when he takes it, sending your heart racing.
“Hopefully this isn’t a uhhh… weird or alarming thing to ask—”
“Oh god, what?”
“Is there anyone else here?” He lights the pillar and hands it to you, “You’re the only other person I’ve seen around.”
You take the lit pillar and set it down shrugging, “There, aren’t umm… no, it’s just me and you.”
“Oh.”
Where hyper vigilance should be, that old warning to not take candy from strangers, or not to turn your back on a man you don’t trust, something hungry and loud starts to grow. A devastating need for him to creep closer. For him to cross the boundary of what might be considered moral or right in such a situation. To touch you in ways that inspire heat between your thighs.
He doesn’t, though.
He just helps you light candles and strategically place them around the common rooms on the first floor, uncharacteristically reserved. You both remain quiet while you go about doing this, but the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that feels more like a peace treaty than a punishment.
Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you pull it out, reading the text message out loud, “We don’t have a backup generator.”
“Shit.”
“And power might be out until Tuesday.”
“Tuesday? Are you fucking serious?”
“I apologize, sir—”
“Don’t do that,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “That whole… hospitality voice thing.”
The words come out sharp and bitter.
Your blood pulses hot, and you hear yourself say, “I’m a hospitality worker, exactly what tone of voice do you expect I use?”
“Like I’m a person, not a fucking client or whatever. I’m so sick of that shit, everywhere I go people kissing my ass,” he goes to the sideboard and flips over a glass, pouring whiskey while attuning his voice to a feminine, mocking tone, “Oh, Mr. Bravo, sir yes sir, do you need anything? Do you want a snack or a nap, do you need to be swaddled, do you want your dick sucked?”
He pauses to take a swig of the liquor.
Meanwhile, steam might as well be coming out of your ears. Just fucking boiling with rage, needling the red danger zone.
“I hate it. You all talk to me like I’m a goddamn toddler, it’s so fucking annoying—”
“Oh, fuck off. I’m annoying?”
He leans back on the sideboard and blinks at you, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
Stomping over to the liquor display, you pour a drink and seethe, “Ever think that maybe if you didn’t act like a fucking toddler, people wouldn’t treat you like one? I mean, for Christ’s sake, dude. You literally take a nap every afternoon and demand we cut the crust off your sandwiches. Last week you threw a temper tantrum because we put tap water in your sippy cup.”
“Ok, first of all that was a water bottle. And, have you ever tasted the water here? It’s disgusting. Not to mention the fucking—”
“The fluoride, I know,” you roll your eyes, “I know I know I know. It’s gross and contains fluoride and tastes like blood or whatever the fuck—”
“I did not say it tasted like blood,” he quips, pauses to take a sip, which you mimic, then he adds, “It does, though, for the record.”
“My point is that… If everywhere you go smells like shit, maybe you should look under your own shoe. You dig?”
For a moment, you can’t read him. He stares down into his glass, twisting his wrist around in a way that draws attention to the thick-banded rings on his fingers. Then he glances up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “That’s perfect. Can you just talk to me like that from now on?”
Your head jerks back, and you let out a little scoff, “What, like a bitch?”
“No,” he chuckles, “Like… I don’t know. Real. Real-er, anyway. You seem cool. You, though. Not your toothless, sanitized worksona.”
“Jesus,” you scoff into your glass, shaking your head, “I’m not sure what to say to that.”
“Anyway. I just mean… talk to me like I’m a person, not a fucking guest or whatever.” When you look up at him, he shifts a little and adds, “Please.”
You hold his gaze long enough for your stomach to flip, then chicken out, dropping your eyes to your glass, “Sir yes sir.”
He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, “Uh-huh.”
You appraise the remaining whiskey in your glass, then tip it back, wincing at the burn as you set the glass down.
“Do you want me to bring some candles up to your room, or will you be dining down here?”
“Will you be joining me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yeah, of course,” he shrugs, “If you’re not busy.”
“I think I can squeeze you in,” you tease.
His tongue pokes out to wet the seam of his lips, then his smirk breaks out into a big, boyish smile, “You think so, huh?”
The innuendo makes itself clear. Your face heats up and you snort, “Shut up.”
“Hey, you said it, not me,” he raises his hands defensively, following you as you start towards the kitchen, “Is it cool if I smoke?”
You push through the swinging door, holding it open for him, “I can’t turn the fan on.”
“Uh-huh,” he ambles over to the counter beside the sink and casually hops up onto it, “Is that a yes or a no?”
After taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons, you sigh, “Just… blow it out the window, ok?”
So he smokes while you pull the roasting pan from the oven and prepare two plates, piling on potato wedges and green beans and hearty slices of roast beef. You wrap up your activities simultaneously, then move back to the dining room.
While you set the table, he goes over to the wine cabinet and asks, “Wine?”
You hesitate, once again contemplating the pros and cons of answering in the affirmative. If the wine goes to your head, you could make a mistake. On the other hand, maybe it would help untangle your knotted stomach. Make it easier to converse with him.
“Don’t feel like you have to say yes,” he adds when he notices your trepidation.
“Fuck it, why not?”
So fucking professional.
With his back turned to you, he surveys the bottles displayed in the wine cabinet, “Pinot? Cab?”
“Actually, I was thinking of breaking out the 2016 Cos d'Estournel.”
He looks over his shoulder at you, “The what?”
“Left side, second row from the bottom,” you point to it from across the room, “Dark bottle, white label.”
Once he finds it, he lifts it from the rack and studies it, “Cos d'Estournel. Ritzy stuff,” he sets it on the table between your seats, “What’s the occasion?”
“What is this, a role reversal?”
He grins at this. Then, as if committing to the bit, he strides over to pull out your chair. When you raise your eyebrows at him, he smirks, “Humor me.”
You roll your eyes a little as you sit down, but truthfully, your heart stutters.
Dieter walks back to the cabinet and picks out two wine glasses, “So? The occasion?”
“I don’t know,” you frown, “Well, I mean, I do know, but it’s hard to explain.”
He doesn’t say anything as he twists a corkscrew into the wine bottle and yanks out the cork, then pours the rich red wine into one glass, and the other.
“It’s just… I don’t think I���ve been in a situation like this before. It’s strange. The storm, the holiday, the manor, the-the you.” He smirks, sliding a wine glass over to you, and you give him a nod of thanks, “I feel like anything could happen or nothing at all and I wouldn’t be surprised either way.”
Again, he doesn’t respond, but a thoughtful expression creases his face as he takes the seat across from you. Not sure what to make of it, you ask, “Does that make sense?”
“I know what you mean, yeah,” he leans back in his chair and swirls the wine around in his glass, meeting your eyes from across the table, “The possibilities within the confines of these walls are endless.”
The way he looks at you conjures impure thoughts. Hand between your thighs, nails digging into his back. Bending you over the table and pulling your hair.
You raise your glass in the air, “To the possibilities.”
“To the possibilities.”
—
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 9:30 PM
You sit at either side of the lush Victorian sofa in the library, cashmere blankets draped over each of your legs. Illuminated by the warm glow of candelabras and the crackling fireplace, you flip through a book on palm reading while Dieter draws in a sketchpad.
For a while, he seemed quite engrossed in the project. Brow furrowed, hunched over the pad of paper as he scribbled. But with each monotonous tick-tock-tick-tock from the grandfather clock, he starts to stir more and more.
He finally tosses the sketchpad down beside him, leaning back and letting out a long groan, “I’m so boooorreeeeed.”
“Drama,” you tease, peeking over your book at him, “Can I do anything to help?”
“Can I open another bottle?”
“Go for it.”
Dieter jumps to his feet and clicks on his headlamp. The dancing beam of light fades out of sight as he walks into the hallway.
With a sigh, you look down at the book and try to continue reading, but keep losing your spot. Your attention instead is drawn to the fireplace. Its flickering flames seem to pull you into some kind of a trance, coaxing out bite-sized daydreams and nightmares, trying to predict what will happen when you and your fresh new crush start drinking in the dark.
What happens if we get drunk? Would we fuck? Would we fight? Would he be mean? Or pushy? Would I make a fool of myself?
You sit here for a while, letting these tiny fires burn out in your brain, so engrossed that you barely notice Dieter mosey back into the room.
“Hope wine is ok,” he says as he clicks the headlamp off, then he sets out two wine glasses and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the coffee table.
“Of course, sir.”
He snorts and shakes his head while leaning over to twist a corkscrew into the bottle.
“Sorry. Habit.”
“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” he yanks the cork from the bottle, then pours out two servings, “What’ve you there?”
“Hmm?”
“The book.”
“Oh,” you hold it up to show him the cover, “Cheiro’s Palmistry for All.”
He holds out a glass to you. You set the book aside and take it from him, crossing your legs to get more comfortable.
“Palm reading?”
“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I don’t know, it seemed interesting.“
“Have you ever been to a palm reader?”
Shaking your head, you take a sip of wine. Then another. A warm buzz tingles on your tongue and you ask, “Have you?”
He nods, “Yeah. Well, kind of. I dated this girl who dabbled in divination,” he takes a big gulp of wine, then sets his glass on the coffee table and moves closer, gesturing for your hand, “Here.”
“You know how?”
“I picked up on some stuff,” he shrugs.
Leaning forward, you place your glass next to his and bring yourself closer, extending your hand to him.
He holds it like a fragile thing, gentle but steady, “Is this your dominant hand?”
You nod.
Smoothing a thumb over your palm, he coaxes you to unfurl your fingers. His skin is warm and soft on yours as he examines you, thick fingers tracing the creases of your palm.
It feels nice. Intimate, almost. No thanks to the wine and ambient lighting.
“This side shows your conscious mind. Your life right now,” he clears his throat and says, “You’re perceptive, intuitive, a little moody. Emotions tend to run the show, but you’re also a realist. You have a passion for life and adventure, but often find yourself paralyzed by the reality of your situation, leaving you in a constant state of dissatisfaction. Logical, hard-working. You’re independent. You’ve had financial and emotional hardships. Not many serious romantic relationships, mostly flings. But this doesn’t mean you don’t get attached easily. You do, but tend to put up walls to protect yourself and disconnect before it gets too serious.”
Static vibrates through your skin. An eerie, frantic feeling of being seen too close for comfort. You swallow hard and study his face, too afraid to confirm or deny its accuracy.
“Cup your hand,” he instructs, guiding your hand to do so. Furrowing his brow, he examines the soft fleshy bits on your palm, poking and prodding them, “You have a temper, but you’re shy. You’re cynical. Closed-off. Reliable, because you have to be, but you wish you could just say fuck it and run away sometimes. That’s umm… that’s who you are in practice. Other hand.”
You give him your non-dominant hand. It’s shaky and sweaty and as he takes it you chuckle, “Sorry, I’m… nervous.”
Grinning, he glances up at you, “So I’m doing well, then?”
“Yeah,” you gulp, heat rising to your face, “It’s… yeah. Hang on, can I…?”
You take your hand back and wipe it on your pant leg, then reach over to grab your wine glass, swallowing the remainder of your wine. He does the same, then refills them.
While this is happening, you can’t help but notice the thick current of electricity pulsing between you.
You take turns stealing fleeting glances, and when you return to face each other, legs crossed, you’re much closer than you were before. Your knees meet his, maybe probably definitely crossing the line of what is considered appropriate distance for you to have with a hotel guest. Neither of you seem to mind, though.
In fact, it seems like quite the opposite.
As you extend your non-dominant hand to him, he huddles even closer, so close you can smell the Bordeaux on his breath, and cradles your hand in his.
“This side shows your natural tendencies. Who you are in theory, who you will be if you follow your intuition,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours, then back to your palm as he slides his index finger along a deep, diagonal crease, “First of all, your fate line is strong. If you follow your intuition, you’ll succumb to it.”
“Ominous.”
He frowns and shakes his head, reverentially tracing the sensitive map of your palm, “No, actually. You’ll have a crisis or two. One big one, at least, some kind of a revelation that causes you to upend your life. But it sets you on a path of vitality and happiness and strength. A few smaller ones, not as momentous, but still significant. The hopeless romantic you are, you’ll fall in love hard and fast, but that’s the one that sticks. You freely express your emotions and feelings. It’s… I mean, it seems good. Who wouldn’t want that? Cup your hand for me, sweetheart.”
You do.
He smooths his thumb over the mounts and divots, tilting his head at them, “You’re stubborn and you have a strong sense of self. Hedonistic. Imaginative. You daydream a lot. I don’t think you’re as reserved and shy as you let on. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism you learned along the way.”
You look up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours. A deep longing bubbles up your spine and you feel yourself lean in a little closer. He continues caressing your hand, dropping his gaze to your mouth, and asks, “Do you want my advice?”
“Sure.”
“I think you should follow your intuition. See where it takes you. I think… you need to let go of whatever reservations you have from the past, because it’s holding you back from a beautiful life.”
There’s a part of you that boils red and hot with denial. It screams from the back of your head that this is all bullshit, he’s just trying to fuck you, to use because he’s bored and tipsy.
But really, you know he’s right.
You know you’re dissatisfied with your white-knuckle, fake smile existence. You ignore your desires and inner-most knowing in favor of security. You attribute more weight to the negatives than the positives in every aspect of your life.
“You’re saying I should follow my gut?” you ask, studying his face.
He brushes your palm with his thumbs, “Yeah. I think so.”
You look down at his touch, hesitantly bringing your unoccupied hand to his forearm, allowing yourself to feel his warmth, “But what if it’s wrong? What if I make a mistake?”
“But what if it’s right?”
Meeting his eyes, you recognize the longing in his heavy-lidded gaze. You bring your hand to his cheek, sliding your thumb across his patchy facial hair, heart pounding, nerves buzzing as you close your eyes and lean in.
His soft lips meet yours. A gentle, questioning kiss that flips your stomach upside down. You pull back to make sure it’s ok. He seems to do the same, dark eyes flicking around your face before slipping a hand behind your head and pulling you back in.
The second kiss holds more conviction. A spark that ignites you both, quickly leading to the third and fourth kiss, at which point they start to blend together, a mess of tongues and spit and gasps.
You climb onto his lap, straddling him, pressing your body onto his. Through the fabric of his pajama pants, you feel his hardened excitement and use it to your advantage, rolling against him to gain friction. He grabs your hips and rocks them in sync with your movements, groaning into your mouth.
Heat builds steady at your core, tingling and gushing through your veins, screaming for more more more. Aching to feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you slip your hands under the hem of his shirt and slide your palms up his back, pulling him closer.
He parts from your lips to take off his shirt. You do the same, unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it aside, then reach back and claw at your bra clasp.
“Let me,” he signals for you to turn around. You do, climbing onto your knees with your back facing him. His fingers ghost along your spine, leaving a trail of twitching, hungry nerves in their wake.
“That feels good,” you tell him, arching your back with a whine.
“Good,” he murmurs, continuing the tedious touch, “I wanna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
When he unclasps the bra, you slip it off while he slides a hand around your belly and pulls you back into his lap.
He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, where he stops to massage his tongue against you. A moan erupts from your throat at the tingling, hot sensation it cultivates. His hands roam around your body, over your breasts and ribs and abdomen, activating all those often-neglected nerves, but never staying long enough to bring relief.
“Fuck, Dieter,” you whine, “You’re teasing me.”
“Maybe,” he chuckles, smoothing a palm up your sternum and urging you to lay back onto his chest. You follow the suggestion and recline against him, head resting on his shoulder. Your skin buzzes where it meets his, the warmth of him flooding your brain with feel-good chemicals. He drags his fingers along the soft skin of your belly, making you whimper.
“But it feels good, doesn’t it?”
You nod.
“Don’t you want to savor it?” He cups your breasts and rolls your nipples between his fingers and thumbs, sending a rush of pleasure to your head, “Don’t you want me to show you how good it feels when you finally let go?”
“Yes,” you gasp, nodding, eyelids fluttering closed, “I want it, I want it—”
“Good,” he coos, pinching your nipples harder, “I want it too. Wanna see you fall apart in my hands. Will you let me do that for you, sweetheart?”
“Yes.”
He releases your tits and tugs at the waistband of your pants, “Take these off for me, will you?”
You roll off the couch onto your feet, facing him as you slowly tug at your waistband, teasing every inch of skin you reveal. He watches you with lust-blown eyes, palming himself as he drinks in the spectacle.
“Underwear too?”
He nods.
You hook your thumbs under the soft fabric of your bikini, “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I wanna see it.”
“You wanna see it,” he mutters, chuckling a little, “Ask and you shall receive, Princess.”
He shimmies out of his pajama pants, keeping his eyes on yours as you slide the underwear down your thighs. His thick, hard cock bobs out and waves hello.
“Fuck,” he sits up and rests his warm palms on your hips, glancing between you and your cunt, “Look at this pretty pussy, holy shit. Come here, baby. Come sit on my lap again.”
“If I sit on your lap, will my Christmas wish come true?”
“Maybe,” he smirks and leans back onto the sofa, tugging on your hand to follow. You turn around and carefully lower yourself onto his thighs, his knees between yours. Guiding you closer, he murmurs in your ear, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart, I’ll see if I can make it happen.”
You lay back on his chest, once again letting your head rest on his shoulder, and stroke his cheek as you tell him, “I want you to touch me.”
“I can do that,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead as his hands begin to wander, sliding down your sides to your hips and thighs, between your legs to pry them apart, “There we go, baby.”
When he touches your entrance, you both groan. His cock twitches against your back. He drags his fingers up and down your seam, spreading your slick, hissing in your ear, “Fucking soaked for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
“Uh-huh,” you whimper, nodding, watching him pet your swollen clit so soft and slow it sends sparks of need up your spine, “That feels so fucking good holy shit—”
“Yeah? You like the way I play with your sweet little cunt?”
“Oh my god—I do, Dieter, I do.”
A feral noise rumbles in his chest, and his fingers pick up speed, working in quick, tight circles as he pants in your ear, “I love it when you say my name. Sounds so fucking good on your lips. Say it again for me, baby.”
“I love the way you touch me, Dieter, please don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweetheart. I just wanna make you feel good, make you feel so fucking good—”
You moan when he sinks one thick digit inside you, making your body buzz with pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut and you reach back, blindly carding your fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek, his neck, tugging on his earlobe, anything you can do to ground yourself and somehow repay the ecstasy accumulating thick and hot inside your belly.
He kisses your palm and asks, “Do you want more?”
A sort of strangled noise comes out of you, but you nod in the affirmative, and he obliges, sliding another finger inside you. They rut in and out at a steady pace, keeping tempo with his undulating touch on your clit. Heat branches out at the center of you, coursing through your veins, making your heart race.
You gasp and nod, “Keep doing that, Dieter, don’t stop please don’t stop holy shit—”
“You gonna cum for me, baby, hmm? Cum all over my fucking fingers?”
“Yes yes yes yes yes—”
Your whole body clenches as the feeling grows and grows, reaching a precipice.
“That’s it, sweetheart, let it go,” he pants in your ear, and when you plummet over the edge, whole body twitching with blinding pleasure, he coos, “Theeere we go—”
You whimper and clamp your legs shut, letting out a series of gasping breaths as the waves of your orgasm pulse, then start to peter out. Your tensed muscles go limp, and you open your eyes to look up at Dieter, “Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah?”
He gives you a boyish grin that makes your chest swell with desire. You sit up and turn around to face him, straddling his lap with his cock pressed hard against your wet, throbbing pussy.
Tracing the curve of his lips, you purr, “I have another Christmas wish.”
“What’s that?”
You roll your hips, gasping at the pressure of him against you, “I want you to fuck me.”
He moans, eyelids fluttering and lips parting, head falling back against the sofa as he grabs your hips and silently urges you to keep going. You whimper and start to move to the rhythm of his suggestion, sliding up and down his length.
“Wanna feel your cock inside me,” you breathe, brushing his cheek with your knuckles, meeting his dark, wanting eyes, “Want you to stretch me out and make me yours—”
“Holy fucking shit—”
“Do you want that?” you coo, searching his face.
“God yes, please, baby.”
You situate the tip of him at your entrance and hook your hands behind his head, then lower yourself down.
The stretch of him is exquisite. He activates every nerve ending he touches with an aching, hungry need. Your mouth falls open with gasping breaths and pathetic little whimpers, and you hear Dieter groan, “So fucking tight, Jesus Christ—”
“Feels so goooood,” you croak, closing your fists in his hair.
He sucks in air through clenched teeth, digging his fingers into the meat of your ass, and rocks you back and forth, each thrust rubbing along something absolutely devastating. You blink your eyes open to meet his, all lust-blown and wide with awe, searching your face. His hand slides up to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb against your heated, damp skin.
“Kiss me,” he pants, reeling you in.
You fold over on top of him, meeting his lips with desperate urgency, a frantic exchange of messy kisses marked with gasps and moans. As the heat in your belly grows, you roll your hips faster, and he thrusts up into you, parting from your lips to growl, “You take my dick so well, sweetheart—that sweet pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me, oh my fucking god—”
“Feels so fucking good, Dieter, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding in approval as he grabs your hips and fucks up into you hard and fast, “Oh my god, just like that baby yes yes yes—”
He captures your lips in his and you both moan into the heated, needy kiss, static building and building, spreading hot from your center. It feels so fucking good your eyes start to tingle and swim with tears, and you cry, “I’m gonna fucking cum, don’t stop—”
“That’s it baby, just let go, let it go, let me feel you—”
“So fucking good—Ffffuck—”
The force of your climax steals your breath, ecstasy pulsing liquid static through you, then yanks you down from the clouds and sends you crashing into the earth. Your body convulses and you let out a choked sob.
“Oh my god—oh my god, fuck,” his hips stutter and he pulls out, stroking his cock to completion, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your bodies with a moan.
Both of you remain rigid for a few moments, chests heaving, silently reveling the sweet rush of release before going slack. You collapse on top of him, eyes closed, and release a content sigh as you play with the damp curls at the nape of his neck.
He hums and wraps his arms around your middle, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “How do you feel?”
“Amazing,” you chuckle, “Wow.”
“Wow is right,” he snorts, then pets your hair and asks, “Any other Christmas wishes?”
After thinking about it for a few seconds, your lips part with an answer, but you chicken out and close them.
“Hmm?”
“It’s dumb.”
“Uh-huh,” he pulls back to meet your eyes, “Tell me anyway.”
You chuckle a little, tracing his jawline, “It’s ok.”
He just blinks at you, waiting, so you swallow and shrug, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”
He hums, pressing a kiss into your forehead, then your cheek, “Do you wanna spend the night with me?”
“Is that weird?”
“I don’t think so. Do you?”
You shake your head.
His gaze drops to your mouth, and you lean in to kiss him. It’s warm and soft and sparks hopeful optimism in your chest, like this is something and not nothing.
When he pulls back, a sly smile spreads across his face, “Your place or mine?”
—
MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 8:00AM
When you wake in Suite 203, it takes a moment for the events of the previous night to catch up to you.
The power going out, the candlelit dinner, the palm reading, the best fucking sex you’ve had in your life.
Was it a dream? Did that actually fucking happen?
But when you hear rustling from the other side of the bed, and feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you back into his chest, reality punches you in the gut.
You stay still and wait for Dieter’s breath to fall back into a pattern of soft snoring, then slip out of bed and take a shower. With the power still out and the blizzard still raging outside, it takes a bit of guesswork to navigate the process in the dim bathroom, but you emerge successful.
When you tiptoe back into the bedroom, Dieter is still sleeping. You get dressed and go downstairs to make some coffee and think about your decisions.
For an hour or so, you pace around the kitchen island, ruminating over the things he said to you, the things you said to him, the way he made you feel, and the reality of your position in life versus his.
What felt good and right last night takes a different appearance in the harsh light of day. He could hurt you in so many ways if he wanted to. He could get you fired. He could be using you. He probably doesn’t actually care about you, he was just bored and horny and you were wrong this isn’t something, it’s nothing and you’re no one—
“Hey.”
You freeze and look up at Dieter, standing by the fridge in a soft chartreuse bathrobe.
“Hey,” you flash a nervous smile and wave, “How’d you sleep? Can I get you some coffee, anything to eat?”
He frowns, squinting at you, “Why’re you doing that?”
“Doing what?”
For a few seconds, he just stares at you, letting tension twist your guts to shreds, then he drops his gaze to the floor and nods, “Ok. Ok sure.”
Your whole body turns to cement. Cold and heavy and unmoving.
He walks over to the French press and pours a cup of coffee, “So… you’re having some regrets, and you’re gonna go back to this now? Miss hospitality?”
You swallow down a feeling like fire, avoiding eye contact as your vision blurs with tears, “I don’t know, I’m just… I’m just kind of freaking out, I guess?”
“What’re you freaking out about?”
“I guess it’s just that you were right,” you shrug, wiping at your eyes, “You know, with your palm reading. I get attached easily and, I don’t know… I don’t wanna scare you away because, umm… yeah.”
When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him, finding a warm smile on his face. Surprised at the expression, you sniffle, “What?”
He approaches you, still smiling, “Because you like me?”
Heat rises to your face. You hold his gaze, watching him lean back on the counter beside you, and you mumble, “Maybe.”
His smile grows wider, digging out dimples in his cheeks, “Yeah? Maybe a little bit?”
You shrug.
“And you think that’s gonna freak me out?”
Again, you shrug.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tugging on your hand. A fresh wave of tears floods your eyes when he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back as he assures you, “I like you too.”
“You do?”
“Cross my heart.”
“You’re not gonna get me fired and ruin my life?”
“What? No—I mean, I hope not. Unless your boss somehow finds out you got dicked down in the library—”
You laugh through the tears, “Oh my god, that would be a fucking nightmare.”
He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. You hook your hands behind his head, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, humor fading from your faces, then you whisper, “This is… this is something, though, right? I’m not crazy?”
“I think it’s something,” his eyes flit around your face, and he shrugs, “You know, I’m a lot like you. I, umm… I tend to keep people at a distance, because I fall easy and hard and yeah… it’s scary. But, I don’t know. I have a good feeling about you.”
You nod, glancing down at his mouth, “Intuition?”
“Yeah,” he smirks, leaning in closer. His lips press against yours, giving you a slow, tender kiss that blossoms in your heart.
When you pull back, he tells you, “I do have one immediate problem, though.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how to ask you to make me breakfast without sounding like an asshole.”
“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”
“Wow. That’s it, I’m docking a star from my review.”
“Uh-huh,” you grin, running your fingers through his messy hair, “I cannot imagine what your review of this place would be.”
He takes a deep breath, then puts on an infomercial voice and says, “Four out of five stars. Gorgeous building, the food is amazing. Truly unique place. One of the employees let me eat her pussy for breakfast—”
You snort with laughter.
“—could not recommend enough. Deducted a star because she said I was an asshole.”
“Lovely, but you did not eat my pussy for breakfast. I’m sure I would’ve remembered that.”
“Not yet I didn’t,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, sneaking a few kisses as he herds you backwards onto the kitchen counter.
—
MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 6:00PM
After breakfast—real breakfast, not oral sex in the kitchen, which was a treat in itself—Dieter went up to Suite 302 to finish the painting he wasn’t able to finish yesterday.
On paper, you had a very busy day. Your daily checklist gives you credit for every single item and some extras.
In reality, you cleaned up the messes made yesterday, which mostly involved washing dishes and following a wiki-how on getting cum out of velvet, and put together a charcuterie board for whenever dinner would happen.
With the remaining daylight hours, you laid on the chaise in the parlor, then the bed in Suite 203, and flipped through books of poems, and successfully resisted your many urges to disrupt Dieter’s work.
The snow stopped overnight, but the blizzard continued to howl all day. Strong gusts whirled the freshly-fallen snow through the air like some kid shaking up a snow globe. But when sunlight started to fade, so did the wind. Everything settled in its place, and the thick blanket of white finally became distinguishable from the nighttime sky.
Inside Blue Moon Manor, Dieter completed his painting, then crawled into bed with you. Apparently it had been just as difficult for him not to disrupt his own work.
He said he thought about you all day. He said he wanted to say fuck it and put the painting on pause to spend time with you, but felt he needed to finish it. He wanted to show it to you after dinner.
Naturally, your nerves have been buzzing since.
You insisted on an earlier dinner, blaming the lack of a lunchtime meal, but the look on his face when you made the argument made it clear he could see right through you. He didn’t mind, though. He helped you pour out glasses of wine to pair with the charcuterie board, then the two of you set everything up beside the fireplace in the parlor and fucking demolished it.
Afterwards, you washed the dishes while he smoked pot by the window. You didn’t even care if your boss smelled it anymore. It seemed trivial.
As Dieter tucks away his onie-box in his pocket, you recount the thought to him. He hops down off the counter and scoffs, “I mean really, what would he do? Fire you?”
“I don’t think he even can. There are three people that work here, and I am by far the most reliable.”
“I believe it,” he takes your hand, leading you from the kitchen to the dining room, “Tell you what, if my smoking gets you fired, you get to stay here with me and make his life hell.”
You laugh at this, shaking your head, “Yeah, ok.”
He turns around, “What, you don’t believe me?”
“No, I believe you. I just think it’s the kind of bet someone knows they’ll win.”
“And winning in this case would be, what? You keep working this dead-end job while I drive myself crazy thinking about you?”
“Hey—it’s a good job,” you release his hand and cross your arms in front of your body.
“No, that’s not—” he sighs, glancing around as he shifts his weight from side-to-side, “It’s a fine job, I just mean… I don’t know what I mean. I mean I wouldn’t mind it, you staying with me. That’s all.”
Searching his face, you deadpan, “That’s so romantic.”
“God, I can’t wait for you to see this,” he chuckles, then takes your hand and pulls you along, “Come on.”
You follow him through the dining room into the dark hallway, where you pause to turn on your headlamps, then climb the service stairs to the third floor, coming to a stop in front of Suite 302.
“Alright, lights out,” he clicks the off button on both your headlamps and leads you through the doorway, then the pitch black room.
“Ok, it’s probably gonna look weird in the lighting, but,” he turns your headlamps on, and you gasp.
The canvas shows a sunroom with windows of blinding white light. Suite 203. And there you are, staring out the window, shadows falling over your face.
“Dieter—”
From behind you, he slips his hands around your waist and kisses your cheek, then tells you, “I was taking pictures, you know, on the tour you gave me. And… I don’t know, I saw you there and took a picture because you just looked so…”
“Sad? Lonely?”
“Kind of. More like a, uhh… a palpable kind of longing. Sorrow and isolation. Like you’re looking for something or someone, but you don’t know what.”
You reach back and cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his patchy facial hair.
“I wanted to capture that because it is… exactly how I’ve been feeling for years. Just so fucking lost and alone.”
Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you whisper, “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”
“Neither do you,” he murmurs, “Better yet, people all over the country will see you and know they’re not alone, either.”
You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, your light bouncing around the canvas, then say, “It’s fucking beautiful, Dieter. What’s it called?”
“Once in a Blue Moon.”
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#dieter bravo#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#dieter bravo fic#dieter bravo smut#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo fluff#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo x f!reader
448 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sevika x Reader Masterlist
Well it's about time a did a Masterlist of my Sevika fics, so here it is!
All of the Completed Works are already posted on AO3.
All my WIPs are stuff I've already started working on, but I don't know what to tell you, they've nothing to do with my latest works! I guess I'll keep them here for reference, because I really do want to get to them. I won't abandon my babies!!
I already have a few that are a good ways ahead and I know that I want to get out sooner rather than later, but I'd love to see what you think.
MDNI, please and thank you.
Will keep updating this as it goes I guess.
Completed Works
Who do you belong to?
Jealous Sevika punishing f!Reader.
Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 5.076 words
The Burden of Battle
f!Reader massaging a tired Sevika.
Mature / Suggestive / One-shot / 2.480 words
Again and Again
A drabble of f!Reader making Sevika squirt.
Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 203 words
Over the Edge, or Not
Sevika edging the fuck out of f!Reader. :)
Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 4.847 words
Whatever Feels Right
Sevika with an inexperienced f!Reader.
Explicit / Smut / Multi-chapter / 5 chapters / 17.331 words
Quivering Dance
Reverse cowgirl with both Sevika and f!Reader topping and bottoming.
Explicit / Smut / 2 chapters with a changed perspective / 1.531 words
Mend the Broken
Sevika making love to a f!Reader who's struggling with work.
Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 7.509 words
What She Sees
StoneTop!Sevika's second person POV with a bossy f!Reader.
Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 7.847words
Works In Progress
Sevika slowly eating f!Reader after coming home from work.
Protective Sevika seeing f!Reader getting hurt.
A continuation of my "Over the Edge, or Not" fic, but now Sevika does the exact opposite. :)
Sevika teaching f!Reader how to drive stick. Yes, it's a driving lesson and not a euphemism!
Sevika and f!Reader are exes and getting back together after the "incident".
f!Reader meeting Sevika's mom.
A threesome with Sevika being the third person. Some cuckoldry happening and f!Reader is toxic AF.
Sevika and f!Reader making a sex tape.
AMAB Sevika punishing f!Reader with cockwarming. Thanks sevikasenby for the idea!
Disclaimer
English is not my first language, so writing and editing takes me a lot and I can't guarantee that there aren't gonna be any grammar mistakes, but I'm trying my best.
My WIPs are gonna be out in a month or in a century.
I don't consider myself a writer that knows what is doing.
I'm writing for fun because Sevika has a hold of my poor brain.
Read the tags for each completed fic for any content warnings.
Feel free to bother me! :)
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
daily reminder day 200 (AHH!!): eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he and richie are at a karaoke bar and singing the Piña Colada song on stage. neither of them can sing worth shit, but that’s never stopped them before.
daily reminder day 201: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he’s shaking his ass to the music he has playing while he makes margaritas. he’s in a pair of track shorts and one of richie’s oversized hawaiian shirts with all the buttons undone, sweating bullets because it’s apparently the hottest day of the year according to the news. as you all already know, he hates the damn heat. but at least he has margaritas.
daily reminder day 202: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he and richie are enjoying their sunday out by their pool. eddie tanning with a book and richie cannon-balling into the pool close enough to eddie to splash him enough times to unapologetically piss him off. it’s kinda worth it because richie absolutely adores the vein that pops out eddie’s forehead and the wrinkle of his nose he has when he’s bitching at richie. it’s worth it, especially when eddie jumps into the pool and chased him around until they inevitably ended up kissing by the edge. eddie can never stay actually pissed at him.
daily reminder day 203: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he and richie are at an event for richie’s job. they’re mingling, richie talking to his manager by the bar while eddie is across the crowded room talking to…somebody. he doesn’t know who it is, hes barely listening as he sips his wine, his eyes always finding their way back to richie. richie meets his gaze almost every time, and there’s a moment when it feels like it’s just them. though not even being close to each other to talk, they still manage to have a silent convo, something theyve always been able to do after being together for so long. they don’t even need words to know exactly what the other is saying. and eddie’s cheeks warm as he understands what the look richie gives him means. in other words, it’s time to get ready to leave.
daily reminder day 204: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he’s washing his car. he would go to a car wash but they never gets it clean like he knows he can when he cleans it himself. not only that but it’s the perfect time to be a fucking tease to richie, who he knows is watching from the window of their house. cause why tf not, right? he’s killing two birds with one stone.
daily reminder day 205: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he’s just thinking about how much he loves his husband. he’s staring at richie with his chin in the palm of his hand as richie tries to lick some mustard off to the corner of his mouth away. he looks like a dumbass but he’s /eddie’s/ dumbass and that’s all that matters. eddie ends up wiping away the mustard away for richie before kissing him with an affectionate smile.
daily reminder day 206: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he and richie are enjoying their rainy day cuddled on the couch watching shitty movies, commenting and making fun of how bad the movies really are. it’s a good day.
daily reminder day 207: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he’s enjoying how extra clingy richie is being with him right now.
daily reminder day 208: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he’s absolutely OBLITERATING this greek salad richie just made him. contrary to what people may believe, richie is actually a really good cook and does the majority of the cooking/preparation for them. so when eddie said he was in the mood for something to eat, richie knew exactly what his eddie would want. obviously his di-
(the last part is a joke -👀- richie really did make him a really good greek salad).
daily reminder day 209: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he’s hanging onto richie like a koala bear because richie just got back home from a short tour and he eddie missed him more than he’s willing to admit. but it’s okay, because richie missed him like crazy, too.
daily reminder day 210: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he and richie are dancing together to some fleetwood mac.
daily reminder day 211: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he’s fully convinced richie is cheating right now in their game of monopoly and he’s this close to flipping the game board over and causing a scene.
daily reminder day 212: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he’s dragging richie along on a mountain hike. it took a lot of bribing and some kisses on the side, but richie finally said yes after a while of begging. it was all worth it though, especially with the beautiful view they see once they get to the top.
daily reminder day 213: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now and right now, as much as he wishes he weren’t, he’s going through with a dare given by richie to shave his legs. eddie would curse him on it, but…but like maybe it’s not so much a bad dare like he thought.
daily reminder day 214: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he’s daydreaming about kissing his husband because he misses him.
daily reminder day 215: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now hES REALLY FUCKIN BUSY AND HE CANT TALK RIGHT NOW SO PLEASE COME BACK TMO OKAY THANKS BYE BYE.
daily reminder day 216: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he’s about to pass out from pure boredom in this zoom call meeting, listening to his colleagues go on and on about…something eddie couldn’t care less about. the only thing getting through this meeting is knowing that richie is sitting in their living room and that they’re gonna be going on a date later. god, he loves his husband so much, and now he REALLY needs this meeting to finish so he can go kiss him stupid.
daily reminder day 217: eddie k-tozier is alive and well and right now he’s taking pictures of himself in his new suit so he can send them to richie. richie loves to see him in a suit for some reason, so eddie decides to feed into it some. once sent he immediately gets a message back, richie simply typing back “AWOOOGA!!!!” with fire emojis. it makes eddie laugh at what such a dork his husband is, but also makes his heart warm that even after as long as they’ve been together, richie still goes “AWOOGA” whenever he sees his eddie.
#reddie#richie tozier#eddie kaspbrak#it chapter 2#it chapter 1#clown town#it stephen king#reddie headcanon#eddie kaspbrak x richie tozier#it 2017#it 2019#richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak#eddie kaspbrak loves richie tozier#richie tozier loves eddie kaspbrak#gay eddie kaspbrak#gay richie tozier#eddie kaspbrak is alive#richie trashmouth#trashmouth tozier
77 notes
·
View notes
Note
I hope you have an incredible day I love your writing
Could you do a continuation of thought 203?
Again love your writing have an amazing day !!
Taglist: @talesofurbania1, @shr3ya
Here you guys go!!! If you want to get added to the tag list let me know!! ❤️❤️❤️
Thought 203.2
Warnings: talk of medical procedure, swearing, restraints
Previous
Hero opened their eyes slowly. Their head was pounding and they were laying down on a hard surface.
They tried to move their hand to get their hair out of their face but something stopped them.
They looked down at their wrist and found a leather cuff wrapped around it. The inside was soft and when they pulled against it, it didn't hurt.
At least they're being nice to me.
Hero put their head back down and closed their eyes.
The door to their room slammed open. Hero winced and opened their eyes.
Villain walked in with a smile. "Good morning sleeping beauty. Ready to get patched up?"
"You couldn't have done that while I was asleep?" They asked angrily pulling at the cuffs.
Villain laughed as a doctor walked into the room.
"That wouldn't be any fun." Villain said stepping next to Hero. They smiled down at them and poked at the cut on Hero's forehead.
Hero winced. "You're just an asshole. You know that right?" Hero ground out.
Villain laughed as Doctor stepped to their other side.
"That was the nicest thing you could have said to me." They said putting their hand over their heart.
"Numbing or not." Doctor asked laying out their tools on the table next to Hero.
Villain met eyes with Hero. "Not."
"Fuck you." Hero said pulling at the cuffs harder.
"Villain I am going to need you to hold the patient still as I close the wound on their forehead." Doctor said sharply grabbing what they needed.
Villain nodded and moved behind Hero's head. They grabbed Hero's head and held it firmly.
Hero whimpered as Doctor bent over them.
"Let's begin." They said.
Hero yelped as Doctor started closing up their wound.
---------
Doctor finally set down their tools. Hero had passed out multiple times, and every time they woke back up Doctor was still patching them up.
Villain stood from the chair they had moved to after Doctor was done closing up Hero's head wound.
"Thank you Doctor. I will call you if I need your services again."
Doctor nodded and shook Villain's hand. "You know I'll be there as fast as I can."
Doctor left the room.
Hero shifted and whimpered. Villain turned their attention to them.
They walked to their side and started undoing their cuffs.
"Now you're all patched up."
Hero put their hands over their eyes and took a deep breath.
"So that means I can go?"
Villain laughed and pulled Hero into their arms. "Of course not. I have plans for you."
Hero pulled their hands down and pushed themselves out of Villain's arms.
They stood and faced Villain. "I'm not staying with you."
Villain stepped close to them and Hero raised their fists.
Villain's smile fell. "If you think that you can just walk out of here when I have plans for you." Villain grabbed Hero's wrist and pinned it to the wall behind them. "You must have lost more than blood during that procedure."
Hero jabbed at Villain. Villain moved out of the way and grabbed their wrist pinning it to the wall. They leaned in close until their nose was touching Hero's.
"I can make your life here a living hell." They whispered.
Hero struggled against their grip. "It already has been a living hell."
Villain grabbed both of Hero's wrists with one hand pulling them above Hero's head against the wall. With their other hand they grabbed Hero's jaw.
"I promise I can make it much worse."
#hero#hero and villain prompt#hero prompts#hero x villain#hero/villain#villain prompts#villain#whump kidnapping#restraints whump#whump prompts#whump#whump trope#writeblr#writing prompt#dialogue prompts#story prompt#writing#random thoughts#thoughts#prompt#short prompt#female writers
196 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Secrets in everything: Letters, neighbors, and things only walls will tell you"
Hello everyone! I'm so sorry that i haven't posted a fic in a while! it seems like i only post one every two to four weeks at this point ughhhh anyways ive written this fic for a friend but also for yall as well so i hope yall like it! after this fic im gonna work on an ask then so ill hopefully have that up soon for the person who sent it in! A little picture collage will be coming VERY soon lmao i didn't have time to make one yet. This fic all started when i was having some Minghao brain rot and stumbled upon this prompt about wifi names: "apt 203 is loud as fuck" "apt ??? say it to my face bitch" strangers to lovers and shit ya know? i cannot express how sorry i am that this is late! I put it in my que and since it didn't post when i wanted it to, i tried posting it on my own and it wouldn't let me. in summery: never using que again
anyways here are the warnings/info: cursing, smut, Very heavy on the smut, speaking of sex like it's something you need and not just want if you squint, slightly hinted at romance between hao and reader i guess idk, but you could just as easily read it as friendly affection, Minghao gets drunk and is a wee bit stupid, reader is on top, reader is referred to using they/them pns but has a vagina and tits, and a very nice ass that minghao likes to grab throughout this fic lmao, Minghao is thirsty for reader, reader is thirty for Minghao, Minghao keeps how he made the wifi name a secret from reader but it eventually comes out at the end, mutual masterbation.... through a wall if that makes sense, oral sex (f. receiving) hand job, protected sex (be safe, ya'll), shitty ending lol, friends to friends with benefits, writing out sex dreams? Minghao says something while drunk and can’t undo it although he wants to
~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper”. This is in no way is meant to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone~
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Thoughts lead to desires, desires lead to actions. Thats what kept replaying itself in Minghaos head the second he hit enter on his phone to change his wifi name. He'd heard it when he was a kid. Somewhere he couldn't quite remember. But now, suddenly, it was burning so fresh in his mind he couldn't get it out. He sighed to himself as he put down his cup. Looking down at his phone screen with and various other wifi names popping up bellow the words he cannot believe he just wrote. "apt303isloudasfuck"
He really shouldn't be doing this. This is why he shouldn't drink, he thinks to himself. Especially since whenever he saw you rushing out to work or school, or wherever you carried yourself to each morning. He swears his heart does a flipping routine.
And this? If you found out it was him telling everyone in the radius of your apartments that you're loud? It could ruin whatever you two don't already have. He thinks that maybe he'll just try his best not to be seen by you. Like, ever again. The problem with that though is how you both need to leave at about the same time to get to wherever you're going. And besides, maybe he did kinda want to mess around with you a little bit. Maybe that'll teach you to keep it down. If it wasn't loud music then it was some... other noises. Sounds of you, moaning and groaning. Making a mess of yourself behind his wall. Or, maybe somebody was the one making your words incorrect and moans fall from your lips.
or maybe the latter was your roommate. Cause as much as he didn't want to admit it, he didn't want to believe it was you who was getting pleasured by other people. Cause damn, he really wanted to be the one making you moan like that. He didn't even know you, so who's making you cum shouldn't be any of his concern. And it wasn't! Much. He wants to be the one making you feel good, bringing you to orgasm with his tongue. And he didn't like to think about the fact that other men were making you feel the way he wanted to.
But, none the less, whenever he did hear you, with only the thin sheetrock wall between each of your headboard. Thin enough to where he could hear you so clearly as if you were right there in front of him. He sure did enjoy the verbal show you put him through; fisting his cock until his tears made him bleary eyed and he couldn't take it anymore- his hand drenched with own cum from orgasming a million times along with you but still never feeling relived. So he always kept going until the pain of overstimulation was too much to bare. For you, all for you.
That was when one night he realized he didn't hear anyone else moaning along side you. Come to think of it he never really did. Sure, sometimes but not every night. that meant you were pleasuring yourself? The sounds started so suddenly he didn't have time to react. The thought of your fingers pleasuring yourself, pumping them in and out of you, covered with your slick and rubbing your clit? It drove him crazy, It was music to his ears. He could listen to your beautiful sounds forever.
He didn't even have the time to pause the show he was watching on his phone, taking his other headphone out of his ear so quickly that it landed off the surface of the bed. Where his headphones ended up wasn't really a concern for him. Cause in that moment all he could think about was you. He could always rewind it later. That is, if he ever could stop pleasuring himself to the echoes of your voice, even after you stopped. Cause for him, once he started he could never stop with you. You were too addictive for him. The way to talked, the way you'd always leave a little note with the bundle of mail you'd drop off at his door when ya'lls would get mixed up. Whenever he'd come home to see it he couldn’t have been more glad for apartment numbers to get mixed up and a mail person who did their job a little too quickly at your building sometimes. Albeit he was a little sad he didn't catch you; but he liked the look of your handwriting-- it was cute, he thought.
but fast forward a little later and he’s starting to write back. And not just when you mail gets mixed up, either. Just little sticky notes he taps on your door ending with smiley faces and exclamation points. You start writing him back, too. And before you two know it you’re sharing notes ripped out of full notebooks with arrows pointing to the back because you still have more to say but never enough room. He seems so easy and just oh so caring through this words the more you two find yourselves awaiting the pages you’d put in the others mail boxes. Finding yourselves excited more and more for the familiar hand writing inked on clean white paper. You two talk about anything and everything. But don’t be fooled, cause minghao spends the better half of his dinner time making sure each and every letter in his letters to you are legible. He feels like a little schoolboy trying to impress you with his neat handwritten and well detailed sentences. But he can’t help it; he just wants you to think he’s somebody. Somebody worth spending your time with and talking to. He doesn’t know why but he feels like, especially with the more he’s talking to you, he wants you to view him as someone cool. Great, he thinks. Now he definitely sounds like a little kid.
would you mind? He asks himself. Would you mind that he’s a little desperate for you? So desperate that he lays in bed and stays awake a little longer now because he wants to hear your sweet voice react as you pleasure yourself again for the hundredth time? He hopes not. But, just like that new Wi-Fi name he’s chosen for his router, that’ll stay between him and his apartment’s ceiling. The thing he looks up at in both instances. Sometimes when he gets reminded of what you’d think of him if you if it ever got out that he wrote the “apt303isloudasfuck” and how he doesn’t understand why he still has it up. And the other time he looks up at the ceiling is with his mouth agape, his lips wet from his tongue running over them with each torturing stroke of his hand over his bulge in his pants. The fabric constricting him to were it was painful every time. But not wanting to stop touching himself for long enough to slip down his pants. (The response on the Wi-Fi thing only comes after they talk o each other face to face. “…and when he checked his phone again, looking down at the bright alumina red screen with tires eyes, there was another name quite similar to the one he put down as his one. ‘Apt???sayittomyfacebitch’
he slammed down his phone onto the nearest surface (which just happened to be his lap. Yeah… not the best idea) but believe it or not he wasn’t really thinking about that right now. You responded?? Well, he doesn’t know who would call “apt???sayittomyfacebitch” a real response like oh, I don’t know, “yeah, my day’s going great.” But you noticed? Well then again it would be pretty hard to disregard when your apartment is getting dragged through the mud with a wifi name.
But this made him even more worried. This means you’ve definitely seen it. And based on what you said…. You were probably looking for the person who wrote that. What if you found out it was him? Is this why you were taking an interest in him all of a sudden? No, he believed in his ability to conceal it from you enough to know you’d never find out. That’s when, with this new information clouding his good judgment he just had to grab the neatly folded paper from his bedroom desk and walk out his door. A little potted plant was the only thing separating yours and his places of residence from each other. One put up and watered every Saturday morning. He patted down the backside of his hair as he made sure not to ruin the paper he so neatly folded for you. Realizing he forgot tape to stick it to your door, he was About to go and get some when he heard movement behind the heavy door that lead into your apartment. rustling of footsteps and cloths. And before he knew it your face had appeared in front of him, door swung into your foyer. He couldn’t just leave now. You had seen him. So he tried his best to put on a not awkward smile as your eyes lit up the dim outside hallway he was standing in. Your presence seemed to replace the light bulb that had been missing the fast few days in the overhead lights. “Hey, Minghao. Nice to see you.”
you remembered his name?? His name? The person who let everyone know how loud your apt was? Of course you did. What else? You’d started off almost each and every letter to him with his name in one way or another. Oh great, now he was thinking about all of your letters to him. Everything you had shared with each other from the depths of both of your hearts. How the fucking hell was he supposed to look you in the eyes when you knew how, when he was in high school, he had fallen on his actual face trying to reach his pencil when it had fallen underneath his desk. Leaned too far out of his chair and then boom! Face planted. How was any human being supposed to look someone they considered a friend in the eye when all you two did was trade letters to each other because of your busy schedules? Not to mention how he’d been stupid enough to let it slip that he can barely open a bag of chips without it busting out the bottom too. But, he remembers, it did make you laugh. So maybe he could do this. He’d made you laugh and carried quite deep and just plain old nice conversations with you over letters for months. What was so hard about doing them with you face to face?
He gave you a smile as you slid to the side. “Hi. I was just dropping your note off.” He says. How could you be so cool calm and collected, he wondered. Meanwhile, you were asking yourself the same thing about your neighbor. The neighbor you couldn’t stop thinking about. The way he talked to freely with you, how you two just seemed to click after the first note; bouncing off of each others jokes and becoming friends. You’d considered giving him your number but you kind of liked getting to know him off paper through his best hand writing. You’d never tell him, but you secretly had a pile of folded papers in the top drawer of your desk you’d written out of him. Never sent. And probably, considering the contents of those letters, never will be. He shows you the folded note, this time on different paper, you notice. You take it out of his hands as you gesture for him to come inside. “Are you sure?” He gulps. You looked at him like he was crazy, shrinking back a little. “Dude, get inside.” You chuckled. He wasn’t usually like this. You think back to all the letters he’s sent you. And come up with not much to make you think he’d be like this around you. You certainly didn’t want him to be like that. after all you’ve talked about with each other you’ve come to know someone, even if it is only over paper… someone who you consider a friend. That’s another reason why you could never send him those letters. They had… things in there that two friends wouldn’t never think of the other. Or at least admit them out loud to them. But, with the way he handled himself now, which wasn’t that much different from his letters. But more uptight now that was standing by your coat hangers by the door and bending down to take off his shoes. You didn’t know what, but something was off with him. He was jittery, lol he had just snorted a two cups of sugar on the way out his door. His eyes darted around like he was in an awkward setting. So, you tried you best to make him as comfortable as possible.
you lead him through your apartment and into the living room. He took a deep breath. He wants to tell you that he’s not always like how he is now: palms sweating, and unable to talk much. You just overwhelm him to the point where his mind is clouded and his actions seem off. It shouldn’t be a problem for him though, you talk to each other multiple times a day. Like, full on conversations. But now it all feels just a little too real with you hovering over him as he sits down on your sofa, trying to remember that you’re both friends. He comes back to earth with you weave you hand in his face. You laugh nervously at his distraction. “You didn’t hear a thing I just said, did you?” Shit shit shit. This really isn’t a good look for him. “No,” he hangs his head low for a second, “im sorry I didn’t.” You lean back and seem to relax a little bit. It almost looks like you’re just as in need to relax as he is.
Just didn’t have have the horrible talent of not being able to hide it well. It wasn’t his fault. He was already trying his best not to get hard. Having to not act nervous and flustered over seeing your pretty faces too? That was a lot to ask of Minghao. That’s why he sat down. And why he was crossing his legs in hopes of trying to distract himself from the yearning for you inside him. For him to have all of you. For him to make you sound just like you do when he hears you in your room. God, all he ever dreamed of now was you writhing is pleasure above him as he tongued your clit. Or you wrapped some tightly around his cock he felt like you were trying to choke him and make him cum. “I said my roommate isn’t home.” Oh, so you did have one, “and asked if you wanted something to drink.” It made him feel strangely comforted though, that you also were feeling the same as him.
He agreed readily. Finding it easy to make room to spend more time with you. You came back not a couple minutes later and ploped down next to him, your chin in your palm. You didn’t want to admit it, but fuck he looked so beautiful in person. It made you wanna curl up on your sofa and immerse yourself in him all day. You’d be content with just staying here and doing just that, making up for All the missed times where you could’ve been already. But no, you kept yourselves mostly behind the pen and paper. Scribbles and commas became your only form of sight into what the other looked like. You didn’t even realize how long you’d been carrying out your plan to stare at him until he shifted a little farther back into the cushion. “Is it just me or is that way more awkward than it should be?” He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. And then getting a sickly little whispering reminder of how he was now: drink in hand, phone in reach— was not that unlike the situation where the secret he has to keep from you now came about. But no, he can’t think of that right now. He’s trying to keep his mind free of anything that could jeopardize your friendship. And thinking of the one thing he’ll never be able to tell you might do the trick if he doesn’t stop. But strangely, the idea of you finding out— the idea of you strongly telling him to take the fucking thing down doesn’t do anything but make him want you more inside. You telling him-- no, ordering him to take it down.He didn't know what or why, but it made him reach all new kinds of levals of excitement. Anticipation of what you could do to him. How you’d moan for him and writhe under his touch. The possibility we’re endless and he couldn’t stop thinking up new ones.
There’s an un spoken rule between the two of you… both of you made noise. Noise that neither of you really minded because it brought you so much pleasure. But in all your writings to each other, you’d never talk about it. That was the rule: don’t bring up what happens at night. A Thought Leeds to a desire, and a desire Leeds to an action. So you tried not to talk about it, no you even theirs noting to think about it, was there?
All you needed to do was get through this night. As... friends. Because that was what you two were-- friends. Noting more, noting less. Didn't matter than you imagined him every night you were alone and needed relief. Him and that cute smile of his. Him reaching up to fix the light in your little corner of hallway on your floor of your apartment. The way his shirt rode up, exposing his waist. God, you'd do just about anything to have his skin under your fingers. Feeling the softness of his tummy.
"So you said there's some shows you never got to watch because you dont have the streaming service?" You shook your mind out of its dangerous thoughts. providing an easier environment not to pounce on him; less... tempting when you were thinking of watching tv with him and not being on top of him. His shirt on the floor. He nods, leaning impossibly closer to your already heavy breathing form. Didn't he realize the effect he had on you? You gulped, hopefully not loud enough to hear. You didn't need this to go anywhere that wasn't what normal friends do. "My roommate pays for one of the places that show you were talking about plays on." You look him dead in the eyes as you reach for the remote.
You had planned on just doing so as a question to him weather he wanted to watch anything. But it turned into the most arousing staring contest youd ever been a part of. You looked into his eyes, forgetting to blink. You felt that if you did you might miss commenting about the way they flickered and shone. There was something else in them, though. His pupils were blown wide. somehow making his eyes even darker. You wondered what he could be thinking about. But that didn't really matter, did it? Because what you should've been focusing on was how to move away from him
You were so close you could feel his body heat like a radiator. How was he not sweating? You felt like the sun was right in front of you. Meanwhile, Minghao was wondering the same thing. The ac kicked on at just the right time because he didn't know how much longer he could keep himself from visibly overheating. That was the last thing he needed right now. You got up on your knees to reach for your glass. Why did you have to do things that drove him wild? Did you know deep down that you were torturing him with every move? It was stupid and desperate for him to have to control himself so much after the little you were giving him. It wasn't much, but it was teasing him. It all made him crave more. It was childish and desperate of him to be like this with you. But he didn't really care anymore. After knowing you-- even if it was only from swapping letters, he couldn't get enough of you. If you ever stopped taping letters to his door then he'd beg on his knees for you to continue. He didn't care that it seemed desperate because it was. He was. Desperate for more of you. Just like he was now. So much so that when you leaned forward again to pick up the remote to turn the volume up of a show that he'd been wanting to watch for months, but somehow with you it sounded like background noise. He couldn't pay full attention to it for the life of him because You were Right There. Next to him. Smiling and chuckling and genuinely enjoying what you were watching with him. The smile he hoped beyond compare that youd have when reading his letters. He'd only seen it a few times in person, but, a feeling bubbled up into his chest. The same one he feels every time reading your writings to him.
He felt and aching in his groin. If his eyes weren't as wide as saucers before, then they definitely were now. He didn't even need to look down. More afraid to than anything. If he took his eyes of either you or the tv-- things that he wanted to be real, things that were real... Well, he doesn't know what that'll do but he doesn't want to acknowledge it thats for sure. He really doesn't want it to be real. This cannot be happening. Not here, not right now. but How could he not be half hard when you could lean over and kiss him right now if you wanted and hed let you? How could he not be half hard right now with you looking so god damn otherworldly? When all these plush sofa cushions made him want to do was to bring you on top of him and rub you on his thighs and cock until you made a mess on his sweats? It was impossible. He searched whatever space was left in his near thought cleared, empty and short circuiting brain, using what he thought where his last few brain cells that weren't occupied with you to think of what to do about his problem. His eyes landed on a pillow on the back of your sofa, likely moved out of the way for more room. Quickly as to avoid suspicion, he glided it down from its perch and on top of his growing erection.
Little did he know that you had turned the tv up to drown out your own thoughts. Thoughts you didn't need of him. Never doing you any good other than frustrating you further. Making you desire him more. Nearly an hour later and you two had sunken further into the sofa... and each other. Thoughts lead to desire, and desires lead to action. That was what you had to keep repeating to yourself over and over until youd hopefully get the point to stop thinking of those beautiful, soft looking lips. Didn't help that his tongue was fucking darting out to wet them every two seconds. You couldn't help but stare at them. It wouldn't hurt if you just leaned a little closer, would it? Friends cuddle on their sofas while watching the tv all the time.
And your ac was running a little high. But instead of getting up to turn it down like you usually would have to, I don't know, not waste your money. You stayed just like how you were, grateful for the excuse you could readily have available to you if he asked. But to your surprise he didn't. Although he did press the pillow more firmly into his lap. If you didn't know better you would've thought the pillow was made of gold or something. Like it was his teddy bear or something. You couldn't even think of anything else besides how badly you wanted to push both the pillow and preferably also his shirt off of him and shove him down into the sofa.
This was pathetic, you thought. A new low for you, even. This was your first time spending more than a couple minutes with the guy face to face and... not like it was awkward. No, not at all. You had been friends for six months or so over letters. But being with him. No, being so fucking close to him on this damn sofa was making you desire him even more.
That was it, now! Great, you'd already crossed one line of thinking about what youd like to do to him. Now you were starting to desire it, too. Not much longer and you feared you'd take action on those thoughts and desires. You really needed to make your self think of anything anything that would save you from this self induced peril.
"Did you see that weird ass wifi name?" Your words almost made minghao jump out of his seat. Steadying his pillow over his lap (his stupid fucking boner still hadn't gone away) And clearing his throat, he finally responded. "Oh? That? No, I haven't. What is it?" He tried sounding airy, nonchalant, free as a bird. "You know, that wifi name that had popped up what, about six months ago?" You seemed to ask yourself the question, pausing for a minute before continuing, "Around the same time you and I started talking. It says-- actually, lemme pull it up right now. Its fuckin hilarious." You whip out your phone before he could say another word and before he could even take another calming deep breath you were reaching over him, check pressed up against his upper arm, showing him the wifi name he made but couldn't tell you about. Why does he keep it on there anyways? He doesn't really want to even admit the only to reason he's come up with to himself. One was that yeah, your apartment was loud and it felt nice to have this. Even if you could one day find out and ruin whatever this thing he had with you was. Number two was that maybe it did make him painfully hard to think about what youd do to him if you found out. Use his cock for your own pleasure for hours until he was crying from overstimulation? Tell him not to cum until you tell him to, touching him in ways that'll make him let out embarrassingly loud noises for you, telling him that if he came without permission youd punish him cause he was a bad boy? Everything that could happen? He couldn't get them out of his head
"That's weird." He chuckled, scratching behind his neck, "Never saw it." He seemed nervous. But you were kind of liking his blushing face and puppy dog eyes. But Really? You thought. For some reason, your shitty building interfered with even the best of wifi providers. So most people had to reconnect their devices to their wifis every once and a while. Maybe he was on a part of the building where it wasn't as bad? Or maybe he paid extra for better wifi? It didn't really matter.
A little later at you had gotten up to refill both of your drinks. Little did you know Minghao had followed right behind you. He didn't really know what that said about him, all he knew was that he didn't want to be separated from you just yet. Even if it only was for a few minutes. He hadn't had his fill of you. Though, he doesn't think he ever will. You could feel him behind you. His presence, just like every other time he talked to you, was heavy as lead in the air. You could smell his cologne, too. And you didn't mind that the smell would linger in your apartment and stick to your sofa for longer than he'd be here.
You didn't, however, really pay much mind to how close he was. Nor did he, honestly. Neither of you really could care or complain, though. As when you turned around you came face to face oh so closely with your houseguest. The gap between you was small enough to where the cups in your hands pressed neatly against his chest, making your knuckles dig into his skin enough to feel his body heat. Also close enough were you could feel how much he really enjoyed being so close to you. You backs away, not nearly as fast as someone caught in this situation would usually be like.
Although missing your presence so close to him, he knows he needs to pull away from you. You were probably grossed out because of him now. And yes, maybe one day he would've told you how he feels, this was not the way he wanted it to go at all! He can't believe he just did this-- not remember the thing he's been trying so hard to hide? He wishes he could go back in time and slap himself in the face for even thinking that getting up without something to cover his crotch was a good idea. To his surprise though, you smile at him knowingly. And before either of you has a chance to think about what you're doing, you pull him closer to you. Just like you had been before. Expect now theres no barriers of fear between the two of you.
His hands fall limp at his sides. Yours slide up his torso. Both of you wanted this; to move closer. But it seemed like just as before, neither were going to make the first move. But you liked him this close. And even if noting was going to come of what you had just done besides nervous laughs and turning heads in the future, you would be glad to have his body this close to yours in your memory. His hands ghost your hips. A shiver runs its way up your spine at the phantom touch. "Was that a good sigh?" He asks. Lost in the throw of everything about him, you hadn't even realized you had let one out. "Of course it is." You say, trying to bring him even closer. You see him swallow hard before bringing his lips closer to yours.
It takes all of your willpower-- a source that was already dramatically dwindling once he got here. To not yank him in and smash you lips to his. Something you've been wanting to do for a while. But with his hands planted so wonderfully on your hips: firm but still delicate enough to never crush a flower. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out. He takes the next step: leaning a little closer to you. By now your faces are mere inches apart. "This is bad..." He whispers, his fingers now hooked in your belt loops. Because, he knows that if he gives in now, he'll neve able able to stop. Wrapped around your finger. "Maybe," you whisper, tongue darting out to lick your lips, an act his eyes followed with concentration. You loved the look-- wide eyed and begging, it looked beautiful on him. You wanted more. "But this is the good kind of bad, hm?" You suggest. He nods slightly, still focused on your lips. Not like you aren't with his. As you close whatever gap was remaining between the two of you. Prohibiting you from being as close to him as you wanted. As you desired.
This felt so good, so natural. A blissful feeling you adored with all your heart. Even only a few seconds in. Minghao really wanted to take this slow, take his time with you. But the aching in his pants were starting to become painful. A glorious moment of feeling his lips on yours later and he's pushing you against your kitchen counter. His kisses becoming as urgent at yours. You never really tried to be gentle. After the first kiss-- the first second or two of him kissing you? You would be dumb to hold back.
He pressed himself into you even more. His knee slotting between your legs. His mouth was hot. Same as the growing feeling in the pit of your stomach. He parts his pretty lips-- the same ones youve had dream after dream of wrapped around your clit. You moaned into his mouth when he stopped gasping your belt loops like they were life support and griped your hips with newfound vigor. You deepen the kiss even more, something you weren't sure was possible.
His weight on top of you was driving you crazy. He pulled away from air, breathing heavy into your mouth. Your name on the tip of his lips. You couldn't stand not having them on you again. You felt his body tense when you pull him back to you. But this time your lips only ghosted his, fluttering over them. Only making him want you more. Before moving to the soft skin of his neck, leaving a trail of kisses there that made his body go slack against yours.
Your fingers prickled and tingled as you slid your hands up his bare back, his shirt already halfway untucked. His tongue explored your mouth with vigor. At a time like this you were grateful for the counter to support your weakening legs. Not like you were really thinking of that anyway now, though. All this time you only had one thing in your mind: to make him want you, to be on top of him making him moan for you without let up. But now you weren't too sure if you were going to be the only one doing so. You couldn't hold back anymore. You needed to feel some sort of friction. By now your underwear was soaked ; you could feel the fabric cling to your wet pussy. All you wanted was for him to take them off of you. Pulling them to the side to finger would be just as good. You didn't care, you just need something form him. Anything.
"Fuck--" You inhaled sharply, grinding your hips against his thigh. Your apartment was getting colder no doubt . But even with his back exposed neither of you were shivering. Both too lost in how you made each other feel. You couldn't seem to get enough of him. Even if you've been reading his letters every day. Your fingers made their way to his beautiful, soft hair-- hair only and angel would have. So pretty and otherworldly it seemed unreal under your fingertips. As he moved down to your next. Though his lips never seemed to want to leave yours. He spent a while on your jawline, kissing in the spot where your neck met your face until it was beautifully numb. The good kind of numb that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. The spot would no doubt the tinder later on in the day. But you felt oddly pleased to have a reminder of him on your skin for as long as you could. Even after going a little further down to lick and gently press his pretty lips to the front of your throat, he still chased your lips like a man deprived of your kisses as if he didn't have them a moment ago. But once he fully focusses on his task he is unstoppable.
Every drag of his tongue on your felt like a delicious mix between torture and heaven. The feeling he was making erupt inside you was like no other you'd ever felt. And you never wanted him to stop. Of course, with the first coherent though in your brain for him to never stop, he did. This time his eyes finding yours, having a question in them. You nod. and with that he goes even lower. Your color bone becoming wet and sticky with his saliva. You pull his hair down to keep him there. You're still moving on his thigh. But it isn't enough. Not like it ever was. God, what you'd do in that moment to have his mouth on your pussy. He emerged back up to your face, looking at your with needy eyes. A second later and his lips are on yours. He melts into you, begging looks never forgotten as you flip him around so that now he was flush with the counter. He makes a sound of agreement as you start working on his neck desperately, just like he had done with you. With the thought of his fingers, his thigh was long forgotten by the both of you. Now you didn't think that it could ever do justice when all you could think about is his slender fingers and how they were gliding up your sides right now.
He tilts his neck back to give your more access as he bucks his hips into you. Both things you wish you had thought of sooner. "I-I-" He mumbles, not really knowing what he was going to say anyways. Even with just your lips on his neck, words dying in his mouth, all he can think about is them as you make your way up and down his skin there. All he can think about is ho soft they are. All he can think about is how they'd feel wrapped around his aching cock that was now pressed up against you. And now that all hes thinking about is having more of you he can't help put let out a strangled moan, as it rips from his throat he realizes that it's probably too loud for something as little as you sucking on his neck. But at this point he doesn't really care. He just wants to you to know how good you're already making him feel.
As soon as you pull his shirt over his head was as soon as his expression changed. His eyes seem to focus on reality now, breathing starting to steady. The look of need and pure fucking lust for you stays the same though. You plan on making it stay that way again and again. Even if you don't get to do anything more than kissing with grinded with him. Just to see the look in your eyes would be enough to bring you to your high on your own. "I dont wanna do this here. bed?" he asks with puppy dog eyes. How could you refuse him?
he grips your ass and kneads it-- strong grip, but with a kind of softness you can't deny, as you lead him to your bedroom. More like stumble into it, your lips never leaving each other. Locked with the key thrown away. To involved in the kiss he nearly bumps into the door frame of your bedroom. You jerk him away, finding it endearing when he chases the plush of your pretty lips. He realizes the you’d just saved him a bump on the head. “Well, guess that’s on walking backwards. Maybe—“ no time to think. You grab his hands with a primal, animalistic strangled sound. You needed him. Now. You grind into his lap, trying to find some sort of relief in the fabric of his pants and the flesh of his thigh. “Ah— don’t stop” he whines out, head thrown back like this was the best thing in the world he’s ever felt. At your hands. you almost stop in surprise. But his words have such an effect on you that you don’t think you can. Now you have to keep feeling him.
He doesn't know why or what came over him, but in a flash his hand his wrapped around your wrist and bringing it to his crotch, helping you feel how hard he is through his pants. "Shit— baby. See what you do to me?" Where this sudden courage came from, he doesn't know. But you have to know how crazy he is about you. you have to. He needs you to know. You shiver at the feeling of him beneath your hand. You nod at him, barely trusting your own words. You continued to rock into him, clenching your teeth. He reaches down between the two of you, watching his fingers as they snake right were you need him. Even if still covered in the confines of your pants. (Neither of you thought you could ever hate clothes as much as you did in that moment. They weren't doing you any good.) the wonderful feeling of him on your clothed pussy felt like no other. Now that you had a taste of his fingers, just as before with his thigh and just like a second ago with his hard length, you could never go back to something smaller. It just kept getting better and better. Now that you felt his fingers, noting else could compare. The desire for them was about to lead into action. But you couldn't care less. "I-Is this ok?" He asks. And youre taken aback. Him? Asking if you liked it when you couldn't even think straight enough to keep sucking on his neck like before, resorting to pressing a few kisses there in the meantime.
"You're doing great." You say, trying to keep any shakiness out of your voice. You dont want him to know how much of a n effect he has on you. He searches for your clit in a way that only made you want him more. Was he teasing you or was this real? You couldn't take it anymore: you unbutton your jeans and slide them down a bit, taking his hand and shoving it down to feel your wetness. He audibly gulps. Hard. You doesn't think he could ever move from this position: with his hand warm and damp with your arousal. When he doesn't do anything, his hand just idly underneath you, you say, "What? Nervous baby?" You laugh. Almost condescendingly. He gets the point a second later, shaking himself out of his daze. He wonders what this all says about him-- that he can't function the minute his hand is on your pussy. You grind yourself on his hand, his palm brushing against your clit every time your rock yourself on him. The fucking sounds in the air. Minghao doesn't think he'll be able to last very long with the obscene, almost pornographic squelching and panting he hears ringing in his ears. He finally takes his fingers into your ruined underwear, other hand that was feeling up your ass goes to your face, bringing you in for a hard and passionate kiss when he glides them inside of you.
At this point the kiss doesn't surprise you, you've come to have an inkling that he likes them. Or maybe, he just likes having them with you. It was bad, you knew that, but you didn't really care either way. Too lost in how his fingers curled inside of you just right. You were so warm, so wet and tight. He could just imagine what youd feel like on his cock. Meanwhile you? You didn't think you ever felt something so easily good. Just in an instant, he made you feel like he had everything you wanted and then some. Things you couldn't imagine just beyond your reach. You reel your head back and squeeze your eyes shut tight, trying to focus on not cumming so fast. He bucks his hips up onto your wet heat when he saw your face.
How was he making you feel this good? To the point were you were sighing and groaning and looking so fucking good? If his fingers weren't knuckle deep into your pussy, and his other hand wasn't pressed flat on the skin of your back, he'd pinch himself. Was this real? It sure didn't feel like it. Your hand his still on his wrist, holding him just were you need him. Forcing him to stay there. It wasn't like he'd ever want to leave you thought. He can't think of a single better feeling right now than your warm and tight pussy. He doesn't think the feeling could ever leave his mind if he could ever peel himself away from your bed once this is all said and done. But secretly, there's two things he doesn't know if he should admit yet. One: that he wants you to ask him to stay. He knows its only three in the afternoon... or at least it was when he got here.
(Thats another thing, ever since he go there all sense of time seemed to leave his brain. vanish along with his sanity into thin air.) He doesn't want to have to think about "when this is all said and done" and he has to tredge his way next door to his own bed. His own bed where all he'll have are the memories of you writhing and panting for him. Because of him. The ghost of your around his fingers, dripping onto his palm. And number two: is that your iron grip on his wrist did noting but turn him on more for you. Which, Minghao didn't even think was possible until now. But something about you making him stay right there where you needed him, helping him make you feel good... Something about that made his brain cloud and fog up enough to almost slow his pace inside of you. He guessed he just liked it when you took charge of him. Even in small ways like these. "Mmhm," You sound pleased, your hand never leaving his wrist and the other never leaving his bare torso, almost silently asking him to stay down, "Just like that." And at that moment he doesn't think he could ever feel better than how he does with that look on your face. You needed more. It was stupid, really. To just keep taking and taking and taking. But it looked like he was enjoying himself just as much as you were. "Please--" his beg meets your ears as you look down at him. His smooth skin under your hand, his pretty waist and nipples, everything,
"Eyes open..." For a second he seems lost for words, now desperate in his movements against you "I need to see you." Your lids snap open at his request. You couldn't see any reason to deny him. And it wasn't like you didn't want to take a moment to let his body sink into your mind. You run your hands up and down his torso, feeling every inch of him. Minghao shivers at the contact just like you did him but he doesnt make one move to turn away. How was he so god damn sensitive? And just from you feeling him up, too? But you wanted to remember what he felt like. The dip of his hips to his pronounced collarbone. The way his hair fanned over your pillow like a halo. He really was an angel.
But you felt like he was teasing. Giving your just enough to keep you begging for more. You got the feeling he wasn't doing it intentionally though. No... he seemed too nice for that. But no matter if he wanted to or not it was getting frustrating to have him playing with you like this. No outcome to his torturous actions. "Angel..." You call out to the man with the plush kiss blown lips that made you wanna devour them and then kiss away softly the harshness youve ensued on them. He breathes hard at the nickname, wishing to hear it fall from your lips like a prayer anytime youd have him all to yourself. Just. Like. This. He nods, your eyes never leaving his lips as his tongue darts out the wet them. He's been doing that all day. He had to have known what he was doing. He had confessed in one of his pretty written letters that he always brought chapstick with him. You weren't sure if you were glad he forgot it or mad at him because of how much you wanted to cum. "Don't tease." What was opposed to be heard as a light instruction, came out more like begging. But, to be honest. It wasn't like you were doing anything different in your heart. You wanted noting more than to cum around his fingers. So, just as before, the desires of the heart seep though your carefully tapped up cracks.
Minghao slows his movements, no doubt making you even more mad at him. But whats in his mind now could top anything hes done with you. It's been in his mind for a while now. And, in the end, he was never that strong willed when it came to matters of you. He told your just what he was thinking. though, it terms of trying to keep this friendship a strict friendship he was doing a horrible job at it. But, just as previously stated, a thought becomes a desire, and a desire will soon become an action. But now, he remembers something else from that saying: "it will then become sin." But the thought of you on his face, your thighs suffocating him and nose buried deep in your wetness sounds like heaven to him. The exact opposite. He'd been thinking about it for too long, then for a while he'd been desiring your like that, now he was finally asking. It seemed like it took forever to get out of his mouth. Hopefully like the taste of you on his tongue, refreshing when he licks his teeth. "I need you on my face." His words left you dazed. He finally stops his movements, his fingers still deep inside of you. "Angel, what--" "I need you on my nose." He nods his head once, beckoning you higher up on him. You slide a little further up on him, his fingers coming out of you with a sound he doesn’t think he can ever forget. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take. He fucking needs you on his tongue. Lapping up whatever you give him. Its not like you don't want to. No, it's something you've dreamed about for months. But as you start to get in your head about it, your thoughts turning from excited to worry. A comforting hand runs up your back, effectively letting you know he's right there with you. For you. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to. At all," He assures you. You nod, taking a breath. "Of course i fucking want to." You slide up onto his chest a little more. Shit, he can feel you dripping onto his stomach. How the fuck can he not cum right now? How could anyone not cum when you're on them like this? "Please, I just wanna make you feel good." He whispers.
And how could you ever deny him of his request? With his voice horse like he’d been screaming and his eyes pleading. You bring yourself to his face. His arms hand limp by his sides as if he wasn’t playing with your bra strap two seconds ago. “It’s ok.” You reassure him. He nods. His hands going up to grip your hips, slowly lowering you down onto his face. His tongue already hanging out and read for you. Just like his hard dick still in the painfully tight confines of his pants. He’s so fucking warm and wet. You can barely take the sensation. He starts moving the muscle a second later, giving you no time to adjust for damn great it felt to have him on you. You’ve waited too long for this. Having to control yourself around him and his fucking beautiful face. Him and his stupid body that was so nice all you wanted to do was sit atop it and stay there. His hands and voice that always brought you back to your bed at night. Your roommate was almost never home before you so that gave you the perfect opportunity to get yourself to relax. And also at the same time make him feel just how much of a effect he had on you. You always knew he walks had to have been thin— you could practically hear every other thing the man did on the other side. You always thought that had to be a bad thing. Now you see that it could be just as good.
Even better with how beautifully he responded. Giving you a taste of how he’d sound in person. How he’d be. A melody to your ears and quite the sight to see. In fact, that was exactly what you were thinking as you leaned back, his tongue still working wonders on you just by its slow and steady small mow vents. You could tell Minghao was still just testing the waters. And you’d never dreams of rushing him. No matter how much it felt like he was everywhere you didn’t need him. First on your outer pussy lips. You crying out at his tongue slid up and down your pussy-- rubbing just hard enough in a way he learned that made you clench your fists in pleasure. Then he was dipping the muscle in your needy and clenching hole. You didn’t want to admit it but you didn’t think you ever wanted anything more than to take him in at that moment. You let your hands roam freely on his chest behind your back, stretching your muscles as you felt his soft silky skin run along your finger tips. His tongue runs up and down your folds. It was sloppy, and somehow needy like his kisses. But it still felt like heaven.
Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't feel his skin under your palms anymore because of how mind clouding the sensation was. Did he know was he was doing to you? His eyes were watching your face intently, searching for signs you liked whatever he was doing. He grips your hips even harder, but you didn't care about finger nail marks or bruises when he brought you even closer to his face. Now flush against him, his nose bumping your clit in a way that made your head reel. He gets to work on making your cum. It seems as if his only goal he's ever had now is to bring your to your high. It's all he can think about. Sure, his bare torso was shivering under the coolness of your ac but now it was hot as fire under your touch. He dips his tongue into your gaping hole again, liking the reaction your give him more than anything.
"Stick your tongue out?” A mix of a question and a demand, he happily obliges. You rock yourself onto him. His mouth, his lips, and his tongue. Trying to bring yourself to orgasm even faster. Your thighs locking around his head and cutting off most of his hearing. But he didn't mind. Now that he got a taste of you, he'd let you do anything to let him get it again. But why was he thinking of if he'd ever get to have his tongue buried inside your perfect pussy again when he was just getting started? hes going so fast wit you. too fast. he wants to take it slow (as if having oral sex the first time youre together for more than thirty minutes in person is slow) He wants to take it down a notch. So it doesn't end so fast. He needs you so, so fucking much. But he'll be damned if he can't take his sweet time with someone like you.
He takes charge again, running his tongue in circles around your clit. You tug in his hair to bring him closer as his warm palms slide up your back, playing with your bra strap. He brakes concentration on making little kitten licks along your clit for a second. So fucking good but torture still. He takes a brake to look into your eyes. Even fore a second. A frustrated grunt from you is what follows. "What're you doing? Keep going." You pant out. He keeps going, but no faster than before. Kitten licks turn into leisurely tasting your arousal in his mouth. Not stopping until every inch of him is coated in your slick. His lips and chin must be wet by now; he can feel your slick dripping down from his chin to his neck. it might've just been from all the teasing, but you were dripping this much for him? All for him. He thought. Running that sentence in his head no short of a hundred times and almost tasting it in his mouth. Because, wow. he was finally finally here. With you in your bed. Making you moan. He was finally the one who drew those sweet noises out of you. In the same place where he hears you almost every night. But this time it was him making you loose control of yourself and penetrating the walls with your noises. He could finally see you… and hear you in person. He was in heaven. Seeing what your face looked like when you pussy was getting played with.
Another one of your pretty moans spurred him on, quickening his pace because he thinks he'll die if he doesn't get to hear more of you right now. His tongue slides up and down your folds before getting to your clit again, making you let out a sigh of relief when the wet muscle mets your there. He can barely breath with his nose and mouth pressed so tightly up against you like this. But the wet and perfectly soft but stiff enough to make you go crazy. His fingers ghost up your legs, almost tickleing them, making your spread them wider for him. Fuck, he thought, a few mintutes in and he has already in love with your pussy. You scent, your taste. Everything. Not too far off from what he felt around you anwways. Noting new on his part. But this-- him brining you heat closer to his face so he can better lick and suck at you, that was new. But the good kind of new. A type of new that he wanted to always remain. Not something to try out once then never use again. The specail type of new that only makes you burn for more. Thats all he wanted with you-- more more more. Whateve more you were willing to give him he'd happily take.
The tip of his tongue dips inside your hole again, gaining the same reaction as last time he did so: you moaning his name out like a prayer. "Mmh," You pant, "right fucking there" Your hand that was preciously travailing down to undo the buckle on his pants stop abruptly, you, unable to move with his nose rubbing at your clit just right. He licks a long stripe up from your dripping hole, gathering all of your arousal he can on his tongue, to your clit. "You taste--" he bucks his hips up into the air when your warm fingers reach his hips, wanting noting more than to keep going. He knows he looks desperate, but in all truth he is. He really is. He just can't help himself. "Fuck, ah! You're perfect, so fucking perfect baby." He takes a break from eating your pussy so beautifully to look up at you. His dark eyes glossy and hooded, something primal and needy behind them just waiting to burst. And on other times, you would've shoved his face right back into you to get back to work. But this time all you seemed to want to do was to take in his handsome face. Just take a breath and marvel at it for a second or two. He licks his lips. His fucking perfect lips that are wet and messy and blown wider and have plumped up from all the kissing. And from how hard he had bee practically making out with your cunt a second ago.
Your juices are running down his chin but neither of you dare wipe it off. A reminder of how much he wants you, and how much you want him. You wonder how he's this worked up already. You hadn't even touched his dick. But god, did it make you feel powerful. You almost break into a laugh as he pants, one of the things, along with his heartbeat, that are in sync with yours. You don't really remember how it happened, but it did. And you for sure ain't complaining about it. You can almost hear his thoughts asking you what you're laughing about in his eyes. Then, before you can even say another word, he realizes. And in a spur of the moment decision, an act of bravery on his part, he takes your hand that was rubbing comforting circles on the back of your neck into his, making you bring your hand sliding down to his crotch up with it for comfort, he doesn't complain. "You really don't know how fucking good you taste?" He sounds surprised. Nearly addicted.
You've tasted yourself before, everyone has, right? It was definitely a distinct, flavor, but not really anything good or bad. It wasn't disgusting, wasn't delicious. You couldn't really fathom anyone loving it until Minghao. You had an inkling he had a bit of a oral fixation, you'll keep that in mind for next time, you thought. You shook your head no, and without another moments of hesitation, almost as if the world would collapse if he waited another second, he crashes his lips into yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth. He made your taste yourself on him. It still wasn't the best flavor, but something about the whole thing made you wanna cum on the spot. His tongue explored your mouth, coating you with your arousal still on his tongue. He needed you to understand how worked up you got him. How much he loved you taste. He needed it. He brakes the kiss with a whine, leaving you to chase his lips.
But still, more than anything you want him on your heated core. You want to cum. You snake your hands down to the waistband of his pants once more. "God, you're so good." He mumbles against you, the vibrations of his words that really, neither of you really knew what they meant, because, words like that could mean a millions things but also none, but damn did they sound fucking beautiful in his mouth. The vibrations that rattled your core felt so good that your had to stop yourself from sinking into him. You lean forward, your hands now planted where they were on his chest.
Your compose your self, finally, spitting into your palm a couple times. And he’s bucking into noting by the time you slide your hands down the front of his pants. He shivers when you touch his dick. He's so fucking sensitive from behind in the tight confines of his pants he thinks he'll blow any second. You start to pump him, though torturously slow. He groans again, and you pull him deeper into your pussy by his hair. Somehow it looking messed up like this makes him look even more attractive. And at the moment, you're more than done with the notion that you can't think of him like this.
"D-don't tease." He stutters out, barely being able to fucus now that you're touching him like this. He presses out another sound that makes your head reel. How, even though being as distracted as he seems, he's still able to keep a steady pace on licking you to your orgasm you don't know. The feeling of the weight of him in your hands is unmatched by any other you've felt before. By now, no more spit is needed, he's leaking out of the tip of this cock so much (the same one that you're rubbing your thumb over) to the point where he's making his own lubricant. His pre cum seeping in between your fingers and running down your hand as you pump him slowly. You could tell form the beginning that he didn't need much to cum, that he was trying not to for a while now. But you couldn't just have this time with him and not doing something of the sort, right? You'd be a fool not to take the chance and run with it. If Minghao were standing his knees would've already given out a log time ago. A muffled, "don't stop." comes in a plea from his mouth underneath you. "Wouldn't dream of it, angel." You assure him as you pump him faster. He gives a wet kiss to your clit, making your cunt even wetter and messier than before. He rubs his tongue all over your wanting slit.
You grind into his face again, chasing your orgasm. And he whimpers. A sound so delicate you wish you could bottle it up for youserlf and keep it forever. He's leaking like crazy in between your fingers, and groaning into you. His heart is racing like he'd just run for an hour. The sounds that are coming from him tonguing you are driving both of you mad. It's all just so wet and messy. But neither of you would change that for the world, liking it that way. He doesn't care that his pants are sticky and messy and that if he'd pull them back up all he'd be met with is a sopping wet patch on his on the front side of them And you don't care that your sheets are probably going to be ruined after you're done with him. At this moment in time all you two want to focus on is getting the other off. That's it. Plain and simple. His cock twitches in his pants with the next sound of ecstasy you make for him.
And he can't hold it in anymore. He squirms in your grasp, trying to keep himself focused. Senescing he was on the brink of cumming, you pump your palm around him faster, wishing your other hand could help you touch what you could not reach. You're fast and calculated, running your fingers along the length of him just right. The feeling of your hand, smooth as silk on him, is all too much to bare anymore. He shakes and quivers under your touch as he spilled into your hand. Gripping your waist so hard it feels like fire. He's sorry, he really is. Bu the needs something to hold onto while you're making him feel like it was dead and now being brought back to life. He groans into your cunt, never stopping his licking, trying to taste as much of your as he can as he cums. His voice, although muffled, lets out an unmistakable keen. He tries to still himself but the sensation is too much. You squeeze the base of his cock to ease him though his high. And his hands slide up and down your thighs. If he could he'd hold your arm in perfect place where it was. But when you kept it there anyways he felt like he wanted to give you the world. "G-god, thank you baby You're so good." His head can't stop spinning inside him as he spills his seed into your palm. "I-I" He can't speak. It's warm, and messy, and so fucking wet and it's all over your hand and fingers and you're still fucking him with your hand, not bothered by the thick liquid on you. Somehow that only turns him on even more. The wet squelching sounds picked up right back after they started, this time not from him and his desperate tongue.
"Fuck" He pants, his mouth still agape when you roll on him. Much to his dismay. If it were up to him he’d have your perched like royalty on his face for as long as he could. Your pussy blocking off his air supply as before and your thighs locked so fucking right around his head he can’t hear. Just. As. Before. And just as before he’d like to cum along with you in your bed again and again. Your soft sheets already feeling like heavenly clouds to him under his bare back. He's been dreaming of this, writhing in his sleep and waking up annoyed at himself, and at the situation of you not being there when he opens his eyes. He's been dreaming about you touching his cock again and again. Ever since you started letting him hear you at night by yourself, in your bed, fingers doing what you had secretly wanted him to do all this time.
He'd been imagining your moans-- the ones that he'd hear spill from your lips like fine honeyed tea, that he was the one causing you to sound like that and imagining himself just like how he was with you here: you on his face and his sensitive throbbing cock in your palm. He'd imagined himself making you cum and you squeezing the fucking life out of him in return. Making you cum... making your express beautiful sounds because of him and making you feel good. That was another thing on his mind lately. He stopped trying to make it go away, too. Opting to excuse himself from whatever he was doing and running for the nearest bathroom before anyone could see the tent in his pants. Sometimes forgetting to lock the bathroom stall in his rush to relive the tightness in his pants. It's all he can think about. Ever. Your cum on his tongue. What face you'd make. He already heard the sounds. And oh, did he want to hear more of them. The mere thought of it filled him with a sense of renewed vigor.
He spits on your clit, making the whole thing ever slipperier. Allowing him to glide his tongue up and down you even easier. Coaxing another moan out of you. You want to cum right then and there. He's giving you all you need. Everything you ever needed. The extra pressure on you that he's applying makes you wonder if one of those letters you couldnt send got to him about what you liked. he truth was, that, somehow got throughout the haze of pre orgasm bliss you were giving him, each pump of your hand making him more and more hopeful of the pending high that was to come. And sorted through what made you make the most noise. He wants you to feel good. If he just felt that good from just your hand then whatever he's doing must not be enough. He wonders if he's being selfish for a moment, but then you throw head back as your grind into his face, barely any noise of pleasure coming out because of how good it was all feeling. How good he was for you. And he knew he was on the right track.
"Please, I need it." He groans. Sounding more like a beg than he wanted to. "You feel so god." You wonder how he can reduce you to a whisper just from his tongue alone. One things for sure, you didn't wanna stop. "I-" Your shaky voice surprises even you,, "Right there, minghao!" You grip his hair a little tighter. HE can tell that you're close. Though you sounded even better in person when you were about to cum. This time on the flat of his tongue. "Go ahead," You hear from him, "Please baby. Cum on my tongue." Your high comes when your gazes meet-- fiery and sharp with pierced lust, but also wanting and soft enough to look at and just melt. Melt away everything. Strip away anything that was hindering you from feeling this way on him. Because of him. You moan and groan on top of him, not knowing where to look as his tongue works on you still through your orgasm. Never once stopping, wanting noting more than to collect your arousal on his waiting tongue. The pleasure he's still making your feel-- even as the final shock weaves of you still runs through you. Feeling like you body was being pushed and pulled from him and his torturous tongue moving against you. Because of him and what he's done for you.
He finally stops when you literally have no more to give him. But you still feel so fucking wet, dripping, even. Granted, some of the slick was Minghaos saliva coating your folds. But, for once you're spent. Not able to even hold yourself up. You'd talked a big game before this. Before he sunk the first kiss into your neck and ran his tongue up your pussy. You hadn't known how needy you could be until you saw his torso naked and felt the weight of him in your hand. you certainly hadn't expected for him to take so much out of you. But it was a good kind of tired. Not the kind where you wish fore more to be done but you can't give any (though, in all honesty, you wouldn't mind feeling him on you like this a second time.) Not the type of tired where your muscles ached and you felt like collapsing. But all you wanted to do was to fold into him. You felt tired, but no short of satisfied. When it was just you at night. Just you and your fingers and him on the other side of the wall. You could go on for awhile. Wanting, needing him to hear you. You never wanted to stop until you feel asleep. But with him under you like this... you couldn't quite explain it, but you were satisfied with staying close to him for a moment. And you did-- giving you two a minute to recuperate. Somehow it didn't feel forced. Sure, you were at the edge of your seat to continue with him, but you felt nice. Just taking a minute with him.
He guides you down onto his chest, his hand on your back. Warmth fills you like never before. Starting at the middle of your spine where his palm rested like an anchor, and springing forth to your neck and down you legs. Your hand drags itself away from his stomach and glides up his neck to his handsome face. Your head seems to fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. His mind starts to reel with all the possibilities of what could happen next. Who could say something next. What would you say, if anything? Or would you just lead him out your door? What would he say? But most of all, he thought of how it would be if you'd ever do this again. Maybe going further the next time. He'd die a happy man tasting you, but he still yearns to feel you. How he longs to be inside you.
But, for now. He was perfectly happy with just staying like how you two were-- his arms encircling your back and yours flat on his chest. He wants to stay like this. Not just until the both of you have recovered from your orgasms, but he wants to have you like this again and again and make you let out those beautiful noises until your throat is dry and your fingers are sore from gripping onto the sheets and his hair. He sighs contently. "Don't get too sleepy. We're not done yet."
His thoughts of fucking you again had to fall away, along with the taste of you fresh on his tongue. Something he wanted more and more every day, but something he was son beginning to realize he wasn't going to get, having to settle for the memory of it instead, fisting his cock to it-- and the sounds of your fucking moans. Unlike before though, it wasn't just a far away dream that floated to him whenever he heard you on the other side of his wall. IT was something that was a reality for him. Maybe just for a moment. But it was real and it happened. And now that his desire became a reality... all he could think about was how he wanted to feel you on him once more. Now that he got a taste he doesn't know how he survived without you for so long. God, he was so stupid not to have been having you in bed sooner. It was his new favorite thing. never leaving his mind like a good song he'd never get tired of. Now that it was real inside his mind, something that actually happened instead of a hazy image in his mind for him to dream about, he spun constantly with the thought of you. Over and over, never stopping as a thread in his stream of consciousness,. When he goes next door to his apartment later that day, all giddy and closing the door behind him and sliding against it like a person in a romance movie, he thought he'd never experience a better feeling. That was until, even though, just like the sounds you made for each other remained in the others apartment and never talked about, never mentioned until behind separate closed doors, you'd hadnt ended up on top of him or him in your bed like before... that was until you had come over after one of his letters had said something about him going on a date.
He didn't want to, really. But it had been nearly a month and, to his surprise one of his co workers had asked him out and well-- the truth was he did want to turn them down. HE really did. But they were always to nice to him. And besides, you had talked about setting him up with one of your friends. And as both options felt horrible to him, he'd rather not break the news to your own personal friend that he was never going to lust, and find attractive, and want to go out with anyone but you. He'd rather your friend not have to tell you that. He wanted you to be happy with your decision to set him up, and that if you did he wanted it to work out well. And that was why it couldn’t work: even while thinking of being set up with another person he couldn’t dare think of what that person might like about him, hoping they wouldn't be disappointed by him. But he could only think of how you'd feel if something you'd been working hard to set you failed.
This one, (and very much casual sounding by the look of it) date with his co worker didn't have to mean much right? No strings attached, no commitments. He liked the coffee shop they had suggested, and half prince anything sounded good to him. But here you were, in his bedroom. The same place where he had made that dreaded wifi name. The same name that he had tried to change when he go home from your place a couple days ago, and had been trying since. But whatever he did was to to avail. He was glad beyond compare that you hadn't asked for his wifi passcode. At this point he wouldn't even know what to say to cover it up. And it wasn't like this was something containable, either. He'd heard other tenants laugh about the name, agreeing if they were on the same floor or directly bellow you. What he spread about you? He felt like it was wrong more than anything else now. No longer filled with that sense of "what the fuck am i gonna do if they find out?" But now, his worries become background noise as you stand with your back turned to him, rifling through his closet on a mission to find him some "more self respecting clothes than what You described." Or, at least thats, what you told him in the last letter you taped to his door this morning.
He can barely focus when your gorgeous back, the same one he ran his fingers up and down not many nights ago, is turned to him? And how could he focus with well, all of you standing right before him? Trying to help him. Being so lovely and wonderful. True, just like you have always been with him. At least in his eyes. And all for no good reason anyways, because in all honestly he doesn't even like the person much at all. But, given how much time as passed before youve even brough the time you've spent together up. And how the wall is still separating you, maybe this'll help him to stop hanging onto to you. Even if it doesn't go anywhere, because, he's kind of hoping it doesn.t But still, maybe getting a so called taste of someone else to will bring down his want for you. You noticed something is up with your friend when he hasn't responded for a good couple minutes. You wave your hand in front of his face to get his attention. "Hello! Welcome back to the land of the living." You elongate the ends of your first at last words, hoping to make him smile.
For you? Always. Anytime
He rubs a hand over his face then through his hair, messing it up in the process. Did he really not know how much of an effect he was having-- pulling all this shit on you? "I sure don't feel it." He groans. God, it sends a shiver up your back. 95% Percent of it because your friend is sad, the other five percent he well, you hadn't heard his groans in nearly a month and fuck, you wanted to hear them like that again. You shake the memories from you mind as you place another shirt on his dresser into the "yes" pile, coming over to him. He's splayed out on the bed. A sight to see, really. Using his arm as a pillow and a blanket thrown over half of him, at this point mostly just bunching it up and laying on it. "Whats wrong?" you say in a sign songy voice, trying to make light of the situation. He chuckles, thinking you sound way too much like a mother with your eyebrow raised for your own good right now. "Jus' thinking about about why we've already spent thirty minutes on this. I leave in an hour and a half." Because i need more time with you before you go. "NO, really, what's going on in that pretty little head?"
He shrugs, trying to stay nonchalant. It didn't work on you though. He huffs like a child, rolling his eyes like a brat, flopping into his bed. "Just scared about the date." He says, keeping it simple. And yes, he wasn't lying at all. But he definitely wasn't stressed for the reasons he wanted you to think he was. You scoot a little closer to him. God, any closer and you'd practically be sitting on his lap. No, no. He seriously needed to stop before his thoughts became out of hand. Though, he wondered if it was too late for that. He wanted you to think he was beyond excited for the date-- that, other than his outfit he'd been thinking of it for days and couldn't wait. Now, he was thinking of taking the long way and claiming that he fell asleep or forgot his phone or something. But as stressed out as he was about this, he couldn't be an ass about it. So, he was going to try and make it on time. He didn't want to make his co worker think he didn't care about them. Cause he certainly did... like youd care for a cup of coffee so as to not spill it. But you? He cared for you like his own body. Unfortunately, you didn't fall for his see though crystal lies. "Well, yeah, I knew you were scared. But are you sure you should be?" He looked at you in question, fearing he might've just blown his cover, "Shouldn't you be nervous? Maybe even stressed out. Hell I know I would be, you've shown me their picture." You chuckle, he smiles. His eyes shine with glee like they always do when he smiles. Just like his eyes shone as you lay in bed together in peace. His chin on your head made you never want to leave his arms. You playfully nudge him. "As cute as they are..." You dip your head around to meet his gaze. You're leaning down and around and its an awkward looking position but you don't care.
"Really, Minghao, what's the matter?" "I wanna go on this date; I promise--" "Nobody said anything about you not wanting to go?" You say, your eyebrows raised in expectantly as if to tell him, you're not getting away from this question this easily. The truth was, you didn't really want him to go. You'd much rather have the rest of him in bed with you. But up until now you were going to suck it up because it seemed like he was happy about it. Now it seemed he didn't want to go either. "I'm just--" He sighs, running a hand through his hair just for it to go straight back into place, "What if I'm not into them?" He thinks it best to just tell you. I mean, what's the harm? A lot of people aren't into other people. Maybe now, as much as he didn't want you to have to, maybe you could help him come up with an excuse. Maybe you'd just have to give him one. "Sorry, I can't come because my next door neighbor said they're gonna fuck me lmao catch ya later ttyl" You know, better than that. Thats what he wants. Fuck more than anything. Thats why he'd doing this--- not only because youre his friend and he needs someone to unload that heavy feeling he's got onto someone, but also to give you an opening to hand him an excuse to stay. "What if?" You repeat. In a tone that said: tsk, either you do or you don't. "You're right" He sits up as if this just hit him. "I'm not into them. Like, at all." "Isn't that how it's supposed to work when you first start to 'get to know somebody'?" You ask, head tilted like a puppy. He thinks its the cutest thigh he's ever seen. "Yeah, yeah. You go out with them because you like how they've talked to you, three times and the very vague vibe and because they're cute, then you start to be 'into them', into them." He says. "Hao," He perks up at the name, "Looks like you're not too shocked by what I said. You already knew this, or?" You let your sentence trail off for him to answer. Damn you and you being close enough with him to pick up what he was feeling. It was really barely turning out to be in his favor.
"Maybe i wanna do something different with my time." He says, voice low and sultry, looking no where but your soft lips that seemed to be begging and calling for him, inviting him in with ease. "Yeah?" You ask, your voice for once not taunting but rather as soft and whispering--- only for the two of you to hear, no wall in between, "And what might that be?" He answers you with a kiss-- soft as his lips, it is. Sucking on you bottom lips so gently you can't help but moan into his mouth. His teeth grazing it so lightly it almost feels like tickling. Soothing and calming as you press yourself closer to him, hand reaching over to rest on his hip bone. spreading warmth and rubbing where you had previously squeezed nearly a month before. The two piles are messy and unruly on his desk and you had planned on picking them up by now but right now you couldn't care less. Noting else on you mind besides his lips and how needy you felt because of them. Because of him. You pull away, just for a second, to look at him. He's beautiful. Handsome beyond belief, really.
And it doesn’t take but a minute to get him hard against you, tent in his pants pressed on you just as before. Without a second thought you push him further into the bed and he pulls his shirt over his head. You scan his body. And your core throbs with need when you see him. His mouth hangs agape as you rub his skin as sensitive nipples. He bucks up into you in search of some sort of friction. It probably wasn’t the best idea to be doing this. He has a date, for fucks sake. And here he was getting his neck kissed by you. But right now, you didn’t really want to think about that. More concerned with getting his lips on yours again. He whines as he tilts his head into the pillows, giving you more access to his neck. “God, you’re like a dog in heat.” You whisper against his skin. He chuckles and runs his hands down, down, and down until finally stopping at our ass. Resting his hands there. You start kissing down his soft body. He’s so lost in the feeling of you that he doesn’t think to control the endless stream of consciousness running out his brain like water out a open tap. “I’m sorry. I’m so so so sorry” he whisperers, words barely heard over pants and little groans he can’t help but let out. He wants you to know how good you make him feel. Couldn’t be anyone else.
“whatre you sorry for, pretty boy?”
You raise your head a little to meet his eyes, belt discarded on the floor along with this pants. He doesn’t look like he wants for answer. And you know, as hard as he is, he isn’t that close. You stop all movements of kisses and hickys on his thighs that nearly shake with want for you to go where he needs you. He tugs you up closer to his face but your shirt, the same shirt that a second later he’s pushing up so he can kiss you tummy and waistline. And as good as his lips on your hipbones feel, you can tell there’s something wrong. You move his hand away from your shirt pushed up to your bra. He looks up at you. This time with more that just lust in his eyes. And that worries you. He seems scared, begging. Not for you to touch him, though. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling—“ you cut him off. “No, but I think you’re feeling some type of way and you’re not telling me.” You start to worry that he’s having second thought about this. I mean, he was supposed be getting ready for someone else. He turns his head away. “It doesn’t really matter.” He says. You scoff. “You’re a bad liar. Now tell me.” You speak softly, thinking it may be something you did. After a second, he realizes that he needs to speak what’s on his mind. It wasn’t going to do either of you any good if he just stayed quiet about it. “Please don’t be mad…” he says quickly. You raise an eyebrow at him-- quite the funny sight if he wasn't a little scared.
you move a little bit off of him, still staying close to give him room to breath, straightening out your shirt. “But it was me.” You looked confused. God why did you have to look to cute when you’re confused. It was really messing his apology speech up. “I’m sorry but it was be who made that Wi-Fi you’re always talking about. It tried— you won’t believe how much I tired to get it off but it won’t let me.” His constant rambling turns into background noise for you. He was the one who did that? All this time he was the one who made you worried that you might get evicted because of noise complaints? “Now, I didn’t completely mean it in a bad way! It’s just, well, i-I hear you?” Why was that a question? Either he did hear you and he liked it like how you wanted, or all this time he’d been putting on headphones and canceling your noise for him out. Shit. Did this have anything to do with our nice he was to you? You felt like you were dreaming. Was the serious? He couldn't have, right? I mean, it wasn't like you were particularly hurt, contrary to popular belief because the guy was still rambling on in front of you. You had to grasp his arm tightly to get him to stop. "huh?" He wonders aloud. "Listen, I have no fucking idea why you'd do that, but I don't hate you for it." You start to laugh,
"In fact, it's even kinda funny." His eyes are questioning, inquisitive, wondering if you really mean what you say. "I was pretty drunk... Not like thats an excuse." He said, still sensing how you must've still felt a little miffed. "I think its my time to ask you whats the matter." He puts a hand on your thigh, trying and succeeding in being comforting to you, when a not so comforting silence falls over the two of you. "...None of this was for some sort of compensation, right?" You ask, feeling your stomach sink, not with the anticipation of what would come after his feverish kisses to your hot skin, but now because... what if he couldn't answer that? What if it took him a minute? That was how you'd know this whole thing wasn't a rooze-- a plan to make you think that it wasn't him. In your heart you knew he wouldn't. As little as youve known him and as much as he was a drama queen, Minghao couldn't do something like that. Not to you, not to anybody.
Y/N!" He genuinely sounded hurt by the even mere suggestion. Then, realizing that, well, he didn't have the right words at the time and that, even if he did words alone might not do much. He gets up with a rush. "Wait, here." He nearly runs out the door, almost forgetting his shirt. "Hao--" You chuckle. Why does he seem so excited ? You wonder. But, just like with everything, he was a wonder. He peeks his head back into the room, reaching for his clothes with a shy smile up at you. His whole face seems to brighten. The last thing you hear is the faint clicking of his belt as he hurries out the bedroom door. He rushes back in the same way he came. But now holding a letter. "I wanted to give you this earlier. But this seems like a better time than anything." He explained, "with the date and everything... I just figured it would look stupid." You open the letter and start to read, it looked half finished. But the paragraph inside tells you all you need to know. In synopsis: he views as someone very special in his life. He cherishes you to the ends of the earth. And with what he's written down, it only solidifies how he'd never do anything to hurt you. Your head starts to turn up before you're even done reading. "Listen I was never that concerned--" "Just like old times--" you both say at the same time. "Sorry, I've been thinking about saying that since I started writing it." He mentions. "I thought so." You said. God, how do I know you so well. He knows he's written something else, but he also know sees you haven't read it yet. He doesn;t say anything, though, preferring to leave you to find it on your own when you're ready. He gestures to you like; and you were saying? "Hao," A feel good shiver runs up his spine at the nickname, "I never was that concerned with it. Sure, it stung a little to know that someone complaining about my apartment." He starts to say something, but you cut him off.
"And I know you're sorry. And I've heard horror stories about your wifi provider before." He smiles at you, beath calming down, not sounding like he's run a race as a second ago. He looks unreal. Other worldly, even. So fucking beautiful. You can't think of another word to describe him. Every single one you've tried seems to be a little off. You werent expecting such an actual explanation. And he didnt just leave it at: "Well, I was drunk so you can't blame me." His actually made sense, too. And, from his track record, and even from today. You could tell he was telling you the truth. One look into those deep brown eyes and you knew that if he had the power to he wouldve long changed it. And if he wasn't drunk he wouldn't have made it. "But there's one thing I don't know... I knew you were drunk, but, anything you'd like to tell me that spurred this on?" You sit there, pulling his body towards yours, starting to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. It was on backwards. He shivers as your fingers graze his heaving stomach. "Yeah." HE says simply, "But not how you think!" You chuckle. "What?" You question, "You don't mind the loud music? So... is there, anything else?" You say it like there could be anything in the world that caused him to make a jab at how "loud your apartment is." "Your noise." HE looks into your eyes, referencing how you'd make yourself cum every night. So close but way to far away from him. He wanted to start rambling about how he doesn't mean tot hear it... but, it looked like, but your smirk you wanted him to. You wanted him to get riled up and desperate for hearing you in person. And thats just what he was. "I'm glad you've finally said something about that. Looks like I've accomplished what I wanted for the year." You breath out a laugh.
So he has unsent letters just like you? You think back to your drawer of your nightstand or the shoebox by your desk. There lay, dormant and gathering dust, all unsent letters. Letter deemed a little too early in the friendship to send, letters describing dreams or thoughts youve had of him where he's been gripping your hips as you rock on hid dick, him begging you for release as you chase your own orgasm, even one letter asking him a stupid question about some show you bother watched, you remembered the answer soon after and diced to start a new one on a fresh sheet on paper. But you still kept it and held onto it like it was a precious gem. Your fingers stop their teasing movements the waistline of his pants and tell him to wait there, same thing he told you. You come back with letters, you more than him. His eyes tell you he's interested. But also: "hold on, you too?" He reads them and smile each time he turns to another. Making little remarks and comments here and there. "You know, there's something else in mine as well." He says, flipping to one of the last ones-- the ones with detail after detail of your conscious when it came to him. About how you wanted to have him and what you wanted him to do to you in your bed. Or his, it didn't really matter as long as it was with you. "Fine. Read the rest of mine though." You say, wanting, no, needing him to know what you thought of him when he wasn't beside you. You eyes flicker down to the arrow to the font of the letter in your lap. You flip it around to see his number, clear as day, staring at you in your face. (With a little note that says: how come we never did this before?) and a little, delicate sketch of the first flower pressing he'd ever given to you whine you mentioned something about them neither of you can really remember. You pressed the note onto your thighs, smoothing it down.
"You know i never minded when you sent me pressings, right?" There was noting to make you think he was about to ask, but something told you it was in the back of his mind. He nods, barely listening as he read the letter about the dream you had about fucking him like both of your lives depend on it.
And with the growing need on your pants it sure felt like it did.-- You call his name a couple times but to no avail. “come back down to earth, angel. I’m not done with you yet” you climb back onto his lap
A second later his lips are on yours. "Fuck," He whines, "You really wanna do all that to me?" He doesn’t sound repulsed at all, he now craves the thought, desire pools in his stomach for him to feel you. All of you. Wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock like how you described. He leans on top of you, making you push down into his plush bed, his mouth more eager than the first two times. You didn't; think that was even possible. You pull away, him left chasing the feeling of your lips on his. It felt so god he'd be happy if he died there. "Call them to cancel?" You beam. A moment after he sends them a quick apologetic text, here he is, grinding into your thighs, trying to fuck himself on the pillowy flesh you so lovingly provide for him. “what is it angel? You wanna be inside me?” You ask him, smiling to yourself as he nods, gulping. Your lips are ghosting over his as you slide down on him. His fingers are inside of you and making you cum in an instant when you drop your pants. Curling and pumping just how you said he did so in your dream. And the instant his cock has sprung out of his pants, ready and waiting for you, you're starting to move in a way that makes you feel like heaven is in your grasp as he swallows your moans with a kiss.
“G-god I—“ his words are cut short as he bucks his hips up into you. The stretch you feel inside your cunt feels fucking amazing. Noting like ever before. lips hovering against his once more as you start slow movements on him, the force of them still making you move from his mouth to his eyes. Slower, now but deep as ever. HE runs his hand up your back, his brain too foggy to think to take off your shirt fully like his-- to match him, fully naked in his bed. It's something he's been dreaming about ever since he first heard you moaning from the wall behind him. even though the condom he can feel every inch of you. You’re so warm and wet and so fucking tight and slippery-- the way he glides in and out of you, always drawing pleasured sounds from the both of you drives him so crazy he can barely take his eyes off of his cock disappearing into your pretty pussy over and over again. fascinated by how a ring of your slick starts to form around his cock, sticky and thick. He wants noting more than to see you lick it off of him. Or for him to get a taste. You fuck yourself on him, not like he wants anything else. He rubs circles on your back, your thighs bare as he grips onto them to ground himself. Your hands fault against his chest for leverage, you seem to never tire of the delicious feeling of him. "What're you sorry for?" You ask him, leaning down to his earlobe and nibbling it. Almost as a reminder of how stupid it all is, you chuckle at his inability to speak when you squeeze his cock particularly tight.
The thought had long done turned into a desire, and you couldn’t have imagined a better action for you two to take.
End~
~before you interact, as with all my other smut posts, please put an age indicator in your bio saying you’re not a minor so I don’t have to block you!~
2023copywrightofshutupheathersorryheather©️ do Not repost my work anywhere, translate it, or anything like that even if you give me credit, no one is anyone allowed to do what is stated above
thank you all so much for readin!! Please leave some love like comments and or reblogs if you liked this! Also I will be coming in to edit this a little very soon so I’m sorry if it’s not good at the moment
@jasminexox5 @impuritywritings @jjjzzz @zozjella @mimisxs @itz-yerin @toorauz @daechwitabaddie
(if youre username isnt underlined im sorry that i couldn't tag you! im not sure why but sometimes with tagging it doesn't show up) If you'd like to be a part of my permanent smut and or fluff taglist please comment on this post! if youd like to be a part of my smut taglist please have something in your blog bio telling me youre not a minor thank you! the previous action is not necessary if you want to only be a part of my fluff masterlist. So please specify which one
#minghao smut#seventeen smut#svt smut#minghao fluff#minghao#seventeen#svt#ghosts writing#the8#minghao x y/n#Seventeen x poc reader#minghao x poc reader
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
Human Experimentation or a Delicious Meal?
With Black Butler’s 203rd chapter release, we have more unsettling news for the F.O.L. Kids. I mentioned before that we still don’t know the full bane for the acronym but my suspicion is still leaning towards Funtom Orphanage Lab with the evidence from 203.
And once again our current arc through a sketchy orphanage is bringing up more similarities to another fave manga of mine of which I’ve talked about before: The Promised Neverland.
Continuing from the last post, which you can find here, there are more things that feel the same when compared to the TPN. Though chapter 200 was the start of this mini series, not even 3 chapters later in 203 we have MORE information to compare.
Bases of Operation
The bases of operation are so well hidden yet right under everyone’s nose. If it weren’t for Emma and Norman’s realization they were surrounded by a wall with a gate, or if Snake’s snakes didn’t come along to pick up a scent, they would still be well hidden and right under everyone’s nose. But these kids are smart, they know how to look and use the environments around them
Child Preservation (warning, graphic)
203 and the beginning of TPN aren’t fucking around when it comes to child preservation. When Conny was discovered and now in this case, Ginny, both were found in a not so happy place
However, with TPN we know these kids are being plucked to get eaten where as in 203 we still don’t know what is going on. Racks upon racks of human parts are being stored, for what? Are these parts being used to create dolls? Are they being used to replace parts in dolls that already exist-to expand their life force?
Clearly we’ll learn something in Finny’s upcoming backstory and how this method of extracting parts and pieces of young kids for experimentation. Maybe Finny was a rescued Doll experiment?
Mother Is Always Watching
The Maids/Mothers (Isabelle) always seem to know when the kiddos are afoot and in places they shouldn’t be. Maybe my own mother’s saying “I have eyes in the back of my head” are true in them knowing when exactly to show up. They runt he operation as puppets controlled by a higher power. You better watch out!
The Smart and Eldest Child is Next
Much like TPN when the younger dead child get’s found, the next one to go is the smartest, and eldest child. Like its their prime ripe season of child picking. After Conny’s discovery, Norman was to be “adopted” and in this case Theo is to be “fledged”.
The reason in TPN was because Isabelle knew Norman had information. In 203, if mother’s intuition is correct, they probably already suspect that Theo knows more than he should.
My suspicion in Theo’s case is that R!Ciel is starting to whither and needs parts his age to survive.
Hopefully 204 will give us more answers and maybe some more comparisons, but for now, theories are up in the air.
#black butler#kuroshitsuji#kuro 203#black butler 203#black butler spoilers#the promised neverland#black butler manga
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
WIP Game
Thanks for the tag @funsized-loser !!!! Please, everyone who wants to add on to this post, feel free! I love reading people's WIPs!
This is from the next (hopefully) fic I'm posting! I'm so close to finishing it, I can almost taste it. It's called Tell It To The Bees (and the birds)
There was a bulletin board in the lobby of the building, across from the bank of mailboxes. It was supposed to be for building wide notices–fire inspections, water outages, that kind of thing. Mostly it was full of passive-aggressive notes about the cleanliness of the dog park and the fact that trash bags weren’t supposed to be left in the hallway for any length of time.
Bucky thought about leaving a note inquiring towards the bird coop, but he 1) didn’t want to get someone else in trouble and 2) more importantly, didn’t want to get himself in trouble. He reread a note about someone on the third floor who apparently habitually burned things in the oven as someone stood at the mailboxes.
“Hey, 203,” they called over.
Bucky startled slightly and turned around. His bland, friendly smile fell away as he realized who was there. “Wilson,” he greeted through his teeth. “I thought you worked Thursdays.”
Sam Wilson was in 205, the unit that shared a bedroom wall with Bucky’s bedroom. It wasn’t that Wilson was having rough, hot sex and reminding Bucky that he wasn’t. It was just that Wilson made a million other noises all through the night and then had the audacity to leave notes on Bucky’s door about singing in the shower.
Well. And there was the time Bucky accidentally kind of ruined their shared pipes by washing hair product down the sink. But that was an accident!
“It is definitely Friday,” Sam snorted. He continued to dig in his mailbox, freeing a large envelope that had been rolled and folded to fit into the small metal tray. “Hey, I’ve had gumbo stewing all day, if you wanna come over for dinner,” he added.
That was another thing he had the audacity with. He was always inviting Bucky over like he was some orphan to feed. Bucky didn’t even remember what off-handed, one-time remark he’d made about something smelling good before Wilson was all over him with invitations. It was so underhanded when they already clearly had a rivalry. Bucky could cook. He kept himself fed. Just because everything Sam made really did smell so damn good didn’t mean Bucky was always looking for food.
“Uh, no, thanks,” he said. “I’m actually on my way out to a ther–” Bucky cut himself off. He knew Sam worked at the VA as some kind of counselor, but that didn’t mean he wanted his nemesis to know just how deep his issues ran. Not that therapy was a bad thing. For, like, anyone else. Bucky was different. And Sam would know that. Sam would know exactly what kind of fucked up Bucky was. “I’m going out with friends.”
Sam raised an eyebrow and made a show of checking the watch he always wore. “At four in the afternoon? I can leave it on the stove a while longer. Come over when you get back.”
“Not really the kind of night where I’m planning on coming back,” Bucky lied.
Judging by the way Sam’s eyebrow rose even higher, he also clocked it as a lie. “Alright, man. Don’t gotta brag. Have fun or whatever.”
Bucky nodded, tripped over his feet when he couldn’t decide if he should be going to the building door or back to his apartment. Sam did an admirable job of hiding his snort.
“Later, 203,” he called over his shoulder as he ducked into the stairwell.
Bucky banged his head against the bulletin board and cursed his whole damn existence.
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am happy with that...
-Hey fagot! I'm done with the bathroom, later Jeremy will come to fuck the house, so I had to shave my balls. I made a mess in the bathroom, clean it up and when you're done I don't want to see you outside your room, last time I had your old friends They saw you at the house I had to make up that you were my loser uncle and your wife kicked you out of the house because she found out you were a fag, can you believe it? You and me family? Anyway…enjoy the cleanup-
How long has it been? 2 years ago? I still remember the horrible feeling when I woke up on the cold floor of the gym, I thought I had suffered some kind of dizziness in the gym but instead, this pig stole my body with his damn magic amulet that he always wears around his neck.
And while I was struggling to drag myself with this body full of fat to some machine to lean on it and stand up, he took off his shirt and began to give a show to everyone in the gym, with his disgusting hands he rubbed my dick on my underwear, flexing the muscles that I worked so hard in the gym and then started licking them while everyone in the gym talking about it.
I yelled, cried, and even tried to hit him, but now with this 300-pound body… well I'm really slow. They dragged me away from the gym and my body while I was begging for him to give me back what was mine, I waited for him to leave the gym and I went directly to pray to him on my knees to undo this shit and he with the most perfect and arrogant smile that he had seen in that face he only told me -Maybe... if you behave well FAGGOT! Someday, I will return your body to you... now, why don't you tell me which one is my car?-
Since then, I have been living in this horrible and obese body and the only way I have found to see my family and my friends with the hope of returning to my life is by sharing the apartment with the person who stole everything from me, I don't know if it was My best idea, but it's the best I can do, while he sleeps in the big room I sleep in the small room next door, he uses my room as a closet and to store all the bodybuilding trophies he's been accumulating for some time.
Living with him is horrible, he treats me like his slave and leaves me all the dirty work while he has fun fucking my friends while he screams making sure I hear every one of his ejaculations while I masturbate with my little cock on the other side of the wall, I'm not even gay! But there is something inside me that stops me from resisting getting a boner every time he yells at me or treats me like the trash I am.
I... I already lost hope I don't think he will ever return to my body, but if he allows me to be close to his real body even while I vacuum the pubic hairs from the bathtub, I am happy with that...
VER. ESP:https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dvGaHu0vCZh1AqFr2a1PvSy4c8g_Y0rDzYY3X0B8YYo/edit?usp=sharing
If you want to see more of my stories you can take a look at my patreon page, I have more than 150 exclusive stories you can also contact me on my Discord
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hi I'm making another long post talking whatever bullshit that comes to my mind because I'm insane I guess, this time it's music because I love music. I wanna say before hand, I have 0 knowledge in music so a lot of what I'm gonna describe is just my feelings
You also don't have to read through all of this, you can just listen to the music I've linked and that's enough for me :+]
Anyways I'm gonna be talking about JP songs from the early 2000s or late 1990s (Y2K?) that have this poppy, girly type energy. I'm mostly gonna talk about Serani Poji but I'll talk about other's that I've found too.
Ok so I learned that Serani Poji was originally created for SEGA's (I don't know how they keep finding banger musicians) video game called ROOMMANIA #203, which is crazy because I thought they were kind of an indie group like CAPSULE (I don't even know if that's true) or something. Anyways, a lot, if not all, of Serani Poji's songs were put in their later albums (I believe they're all in Manamoon? But there could be other albums too)
Manamoon by Serani Poji
youtube
What a banger debut album. To be honest, I think the only songs I really dislike is Manamoon, but the other songs really make up for it. Like "Octopus Daughter" and "Which one of the twins ?" are so fucking GOOD. And I think "Spiral Da-Hi!" is a perfect representation of what I imagine the idealization of the future would be like? If that makes sense??? Basically like The Jetsons. Also I really like this album cover art, speaks a lot of it's era. It's other album cover is nice too I think, I know it's very simple but it takes a surprisingly a lot of thought to think about the composition/placement of text and what colors to pick and the sizes (curse you Graphic Design class)
I'll talk about One-Room Survival for a bit, I think it's their most popular album? Though, I think that's mainly because of "Pipo Pipo".
One-Room Survival by Serani Poji
youtube
I think I like this album more than Manamoon? Or at least I think a lot of the songs here are more memorable/addicting to me (but that also may be because I spent more time listening to this album, I only listened to Serani Poji's other albums recently). "One-Room Survival" and "Where is Smiley?" are probably one of my most favorite songs in this album, especially the latter because I love humming the chorus (where is my friend Smiley????? !!!!!). Lovelabor is also really good, I love Bossa Nova type of music. Also I think this is my favorite album art out of all of Serani Poji's Discography? Maybe it's on par with Manamoons because I like it too, but something like this album in it's simplicity is really nice, and a lot of the songs kind of fit it too to be honest. Merry Go Round Jailhouse's album cover is cute too! I think they're all nice in their own way.
Uhmmm I'll talk about Ochamekan briefly since I haven't spent that much time with it
Ochamekan by Serani Poji
youtube
Ok admittedly I haven't heard all of the songs, but I do know that one of my favorite songs #2 Earthling Body(?)/Earth Human Body(??)/地球人のカラダ is in this album. #5 Coffee Shop at Night/夜の喫茶店 is also a really good song by virtue of it being kinda Bossa Nova (or maybe I'm just guessing that genre wrong,,,). Also I think this cover art is very cute!!! Actual blorbo
Ok that ends the Serani Poji section, I'll talk about the other albums I found and maybe mention at least 1 CAPSULE album since I've already talked about them before.
FAKEVOX by Plus-Tech Squeeze Box
youtube
I love this album art JHNGFDJKNGDFB
ANYWAYS this entire album is a lot more... Hyper? Energetic! Upbeat!! compared to the other albums I mentioned. It leans more to like, Cutie Cinema Replay/Nexus-2060 by CAPSULE. Anyways I think #2 Early Riser is such a fun song, I'd love to make an animatic or animation with it. #7 ☆ is also one of my favorites, it's very cute! The ending song "Clover" Is another favorite, I've listened to it probably the most or just as much as "Early Riser", it's very sweet and nice to listen to while doing chores.
SUPER MIRACLE CIRCUIT by Sonic Coaster Pop
youtube
THIS IS THE ALBUM I'VE BEEN MOST EXCITED TO TALK ABOUT. I think out of the album cover art in this post, this has to be my very top (even though you can count every pixel on here). I don't know if this counts because I only started recently liking it, but I really like this type of Y2K visuals and music? IT'S FUN IT'S CUTE IT'S EVERYTHING!! Anyways, I LOVE how all the songs transition to the next one so smoothly. My absolute favorite song here is #3 Super Speed POP☆STAR. Definitely the most listened song on this post, I'd love to make a character design based on this song!!
The songs are pretty long but that's ok, It really helps with the transitions! Also surprisingly, Plus-Tech Squeeze Box has made a remix for them! I think I prefer the original but I love the title "go go EGG mix", that's so fucking silly behavior, let's be whimsical!!
OK so a break, I'll be talking about 2 more albums which are personal favorites. The ones above are a lot more recent albums I've listened to (excluding One-Room Survival) but these last 2 are ones I've had a lot more time with.
Second last album I'll talk about is from CAPSULE, which is the only band here that still makes music to this day I believe? Which makes me really sad, but it makes a lot of the albums here valuable/important, as they're a really good product of their time.
Capsule – L.D.K. Lounge Designers Killer
youtube
A Flying City Plan(?)/空飛ぶ都市計画 is such a great starting song. I really wanted to use it for my Frye Splatfest art for Team Aliens, but I went with the Nexus-2060 song "Space Station No. 9" since I think it and the album itself fit more with the "aliens" theme. Anyways, I believe this album is the most latest one on this post? That's ok, I'll give a pass to CAPSULE any time of my life. A lot of the songs here are more chill, very loungy LOL
Also same as always, I love all of the songs in here, I mean it's CAPSULE. It'd be easier to say which songs are the weaker ones for me, which is #3 Lounge Designers Killer (how come the title tracks are the ones to kinda fall off...), and #4 Twinkle Twinkle Poppp! But not because it's a bad song, I just think it's kind of out of place in this album?? Whatever I still like it, anyways #5 TIC TAC and #1 A Flying City Plan are my most favorite songs in this album. Also the little ending song is very sweet :+] <3
LAST THING TO SAY ABOUT THIS ALBUM, #9 do do pi do reminds me. A lot of Tunak Tunak Tun. and it's driving me kind of crazy because I don't know if anyone else also hears it.
Last album is an album I've listened to the most and one I've heard since I was 12. Maybe my most favorite album ever??
NAGISA COSMETIC by NAGISA COSMETIC
youtube
I am so... Distraught that they only released one album, because I think they've captured cuteness so perfectly?? NAGISA COSMETIC is a duo consisting of a model and designer, Ichikawa Nagisa and the other half of CAPSULE, producer Nakata Yasutaka. I can't express how much this album means so much to me, like I made my first animation to one of the songs here (#6 retort). I LOVE THIS ALBUMMMMMMMMM, and how I found it was through... OSU 😭 whoever mapped Cosmetic Happy, I love you, you changed my life.
And that's all! Thank you if you read all of this, but thank you too if you just went through the music, I appreciate your time :+] I also made a Google Slide of all the little aesthetics and music I like if you'd like to go through that. I need to update it though but maybe I'll do that next year and leave this one as a 2023 diary
Again, thank you for your time 🫶
#diary#etc#i love music so much i cant express how much music means to me#in another timeline where i got into music instead of art. i would be making music like this#long post#Youtube
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Extras:
[201] (Barry's room)
Uuugh... why in Gaia's name is Gadget so... so cute! And pretty! And handsome! And... ugh!
And it's worse! 'Cause it looks like they already have a boyfriend! That... Fintieni! He's so cool looking, and handsome, and pretty too!
Oh my Chaos I would have a chance in hell with either of them, even if they weren't dating! Even if I... wouldn't mind being between th...
Stop! Stop. Stop being a perv for your neighbors, Barry, that's not a good thing.
----------------------------
[203] (Gadget and "Fin's" room)
Sooo... whaddaya think of the new neighbor?
Alright, I guess. I haven't seen enough of them to judge though.
Okay, Mr. "my full name is Fintieni."
Shut up, Gadge. What else was I gonna my legal name? "Infinite" was definitely not what I was gonna go with a couple months after it happened.
Yeah, so of course you just switched around the letters.
The fuck was I gonna call myself then?!
You could've just put down "Fin." Like how I was calling you. And am still calling you.
S-shut up!
----------------------------
[202] (Surf's room)
...
i hope they get along...
#barry's extras#canon#yes this is canon#barry the quokka#sonic the hedgehog#sonic oc#the murder of sonic the hedgehog#sth#unreality#roleplay#gadget the wolf#infinite the jackal#infidget#badget#barrfinite#barrinfiget#crackship#surf the quokka#extras
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
congratulations on your acceptance, spoop, dan, & rider ! please make sure you check the next steps here
parker young, homosexual, male + he/him → isn’t that jack jacobs? i’ve seen them hanging out with the half ghosts. i hear they’re 30, but they’ve only been in alexandria for 3 months. they seem to be amicable & generous, but also gullible & needy.
chris wood, homosexual, male + he/him → isn’t that wendell booth? i’ve seen them hanging out with the humans. i hear they're 29, but they’ve only been in alexandria for a few days. they seem to be bubbly & knowledgable, but also klutzy & stutters. they are not heightened!
carlos cuevas, homosexual, cis male + he/him/his → isn’t that andy alvarez? i’ve seen them hanging out with the sirens. i hear they’re 28, but they’ve only been in alexandria for 2 months. they seem to be optimistic & resilient, but also frivolous & imprudent.
wes chatham, bisexual, cis male + he/him/his → isn’t that fred falkner? i’ve seen them hanging out with the were-creatures. i hear they're 45, but they’ve only been in alexandria for 6 months. they seem to be disciplined & fearless, but also brutal & unrelenting. it’s cool that their animal counterpart is a wolf!
dylan minnette, homosexual, male + he/him → isn’t that owen elwyn? i’ve seen them hanging out with the witches. i hear they're 22, but they’ve only been in alexandria for 2 years. they seem to be intelligent & creative, but also shy & paranoid. it’s cool that they’re capable of molecular combustion & telekinesis!
milo ventimiglia, gay, male + he/him → isn’t that witt magnarson? i’ve seen them hanging out with the gorgons. i hear they’re 170 (but look 45), but they’ve only been in alexandria for 5 months. they seem to be ebullient & imaginative, but also blunt & critical.
theo james, gay, male + he/him → isn’t that leofwyn emrys atwood? i’ve seen them hanging out with the cupids. i hear they’re 453 (but look 37), but they’ve only been in alexandria for 15 years. they seem to be loving & hardworking, but also lovelorn & a stickler (for the rules).
tom hardy, pansexual, male + he/him → isn’t that xzavulon th'sladek frakes? i’ve seen them hanging out with the darklighters. i hear they’re ancient (but look 42), but they’ve only been in alexandria for 280 years. they seem to be charitable & debonair, but also hedonistic & sarcastic.
justin chien, bisexual, male + he/him → isn’t that desmond zhang xin hao? i’ve seen them hanging out with the phoenixes. i hear they’re 2239 (203 in his current cycle, but looks 30), but they’ve only been in alexandria for 1 week. they seem to be daring & farsighted, but also ruthless & deceitful. they have been reborn at least once already (technically 8 times already)!
TWO new wanted connections have been added!
did you hear ricardo reyes (josh segarra), our resident vampire, is looking for their butler/retainer? they’re an UTP year old human or witch who arrived in the chateau 1 month ago. they look like julian morris, gregg sulkin, geau mirchoff or UTP. the mun does require you to contact them prior to filling this out. - looking for the thief who accidentally awoke Rico, was supposed to be killed but spared, and got roped into being his retainer. thinking a dynamic where they try to stop Rico from doing something dumb and they are the one who taught Rico about the world outside the castle, etc. thinking kinda like the prince and the thief vibe (literally). - @beyonddeveil
did you hear fred falkner (wes chatham), our resident were-creature, is looking for their love-hate rival/fuckbuddy? they’re an UTP year old were-creature, vampire, incubus or siren who arrived in the chateau UTP years ago. they look like jonathan tucker, oliver jackson-cohen, peter gadiot, adan canto. the mun does require you to contact them prior to filling this out. - honestly i just want a hatefuck ship where they tried (and will try) to kill each other but ended up fucking, and are in constant headbutts. i'm hoping them to be a lil bit evil so fred can go after that but more so just annoy and manipulate/seduce him. kinda thinking ron swanson and tammy 2 vibe from parks and rec. - @beyonddeveil
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Another Day, Another Plagiarist and Leaker On Reddit
I thought by now people would know I have eyes and ears everywhere. So here I am yet again having to deal with yet another plagiarist. And this one is even worst....they're also a leaker! Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, this dumbass decided to play dumb and pretend they didn't know about my blog until someone else on Reddit told them about it.
Following that, this person tried to make it seem like they didn't take and leak stuff from my blog by including a link to my blog in their post after the fact because they didn't want to get downvoted...HAHAHA HILARIOUS!!!!
I AM FREAKING LIVID!! Let's take a look at plagiarism and leaking at its finest!
Exhibit #1
No one and I mean absolutely no one besides me had came up with the Naksu=Jin Bu Yeon theory. Another dead giveaway this person has been following on Twitter as well as on Tumblr is their usage of "JBY". Most people refer to Jin Bu Yeon as either Jin Bu Yeon, Bu Yeon, or Buyeon. I, on the other hand, sometimes refer to her as JBY.
Exhibit #2
"Mama Jin" is also a nickname I frequently use both here on my Tumblr account as well as Twitter. Word of advice, if you want to get away with plagiarizing someone's work...YOU MIGHT NOT WANT TO USE THE NAME NICKNAMES AS THEY DO...JUST SAYING.
Then let's look at this lovely statement of theirs:
"I feel like once her memories returns (both the body and the soul's) the face will also return but here is where it will get tricky because I dont see JSM going back to AOS2 because of how they are promoting LJWxGYJ like crazy."
Riddle me this, if you came up with your own theory.....why the hell are you disagreeing with yourself?! A person who comes up with their own theory would not be disagreeing with themselves. Why? BECAUSE THEY FUCKING SPENT TIME RESEARCHING AND THINKING AND THEREFORE HAVE THE CONFIDENCE TO DEFEND THEIR THEORY. Jesus Christ.
Without revealing the rest of my post, I will only show you the portion that this idiot decided to freaking plagiarize and leak:
Its amazing....how freaking SIMILAR MY SHIT IS TO WHAT THEY SAID.
Continuing on with this idiot, they also decided to end their post with something that sounds so similar to what I write in my T&A post. They said:
"This is will be for today's theory and analysis. If you have any questions too or counter arguments I would love to see those"
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA WHO IN THE AOS FANDOM USES "THEORIES AND ANALYSIS"....MEEEEEEEE!!! Below is what I included in my AOS2 blog posts.
Again, what they said is nearly identical to what I originally said!
Exhibit #3
And if you think it stops there.....you're in for a treat everyone!!! This person also decided to take my diagram and used it in their header on Reddit...HAHA.
For those who don't know, this diagram was from my TA post for Eps 7-8. You can see it below.
Exhibit #4
In my original post for Eps 23-24, I had said 200 years ago and then in a more recent post on my Twitter, I corrected myself and said 203 years later. See below.
This person also decided to say 203 years ago in a response to another comment. If I hadn't corrected myself when I posted on Twitter...this idiot wouldn't have caught it either.
You can go and see for yourself on Reddit how this person pretended they didn't know about my blog and then took stuff from it. It's quite hilarious to read their comments and responses since they have no clue what they are talking about. There are many things I did not explicitly state in my blog posts because quite frankly I was too lazy to type more than I already had. I'm glad I didn't because it leaves people like this dumbasses unable to fully explain stuff when asked.
Whelp I'm done with my venting and ousting this disgusting human being! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
rant about ph politics bc there is no character limit here and i know that there's no way a b/bm apologist is here :
God the elections is only 4 days away and the attitude of the Filipino people are so fucking disheartening. Misogynists who outright say that they chose a male candidate instead of the overqualified female candidate bc they believe "Women should just be on the bed", grown ass people telling minors to stfu about the elections since they aren't voters yet (as if we wouldn't be one of the most affected by whatever new governance is coming), people left and right calling people terrorists just because they don't agree with them (knowing that people have been killed because of red-tagging) and more.
And at this point, I can say it's just a battle for their pride bc the people i was talking about actually support the son of late dictator, Ferdinand Marcos. They keep saying the mistakes of the father is not the mistakes of the son but you wanna know something too? the son has his OWN faults too. And plus, it's not like marcos jr. even acknowledges the atrocities that has been done during the era of marcos. It's not like he shows initiative to return the money they stole from our country (which amounts to 203 billion php) all he does is provide negotiations where he's all like "once you elect me as [position] I will return the money". And not to mention, they somehow keep saying the sins of the father isn't the sins of the son and yet... the achievements are? Not to mention, even the big classy buildings that have been established by late dictator Marcos were owed to countries abroad. And we are still paying the Marcos Familiy's debt till this day.
And the amount of fake news getting around too is the absolute worst! I saw someone say the Aquinos ruled over the Philippines for 30 years which like??? What alternate universe do you live in??? There were only 2 Aquinos who became president. Cory Aquino and Pinoy Aquino and they both ruled for 6 years only. Therefore the Aquinos have only ruled this land for 12 years. They have been so propagandized holy HECK.
And like, the way the people fighting for first place is either ms. VP Leni Robredo (Formerly a PAO (Public Attorney's Office) member, HOR (house of representatives) Member, and as you can tell : Vice president) and Bong Bong Marcos jr. is SO frustrating. Like it's really either we win BIG TIME with Leni Robredo because her credentials and track record speaks VOLUMES of how she'll actually do what's listed in her INCREDIBLY concise and precise platform, or we'll lose big time with Sen. Bong Bong Marcos who barely did anything with 20 years work in Ilocos Norte's local office and passed ONE bill only as senator. FUCK sen. Leila De Lima who is still in jail rn due to the fact she went against President Rodrigo Duterte's bloody brutal drug war HAS DONE MORE THAN HIM. SOMEONE IN JAIL WAS ABLE TO DO MORE THAN SOMEONE WHO WASN'T. THAT'S HOW BAD WE MIGHT LOSE WITH BBM AS PRESIDENT. Like we could've had a competent vs less competent but okay fight but it just HAD to be competent vs if this guy wins the philippines will crumble apart.
Could've been Leni Robredo vs Ka Leody (my second choice <33), Leni Robredo vs Ping Lacson (I don't like him at all but at least he's got accomplishments and a degree), Leni Robredo vs Isko Moreno (Corrupt, pocketed all the money donated to him the moment the donations weren't something that he could use for manila BUT AT LEAST WE SAW IMPROVEMENTS IN SOME PARTS OF MANILA.) and all THAT but it HAD to be this way huh?
Every single accomplishment of BBM has been fake news, even the fucking little milo taekwondo champion is fake, how're we supposed to expect an honest leader when lies even about the smallest of things??? The Ilocos Norte windmills?? WERE PRIVATE WORKS DONE BY PEOPLE FROM ABROAD. (If i remember correctly, Switzerland and the US??? I think?)
And not to mention his supporters' nasty attitude. I've already stated the misogyny but also they use the whole "The victors write history" AS IF WE DIDN'T WIN IT. AS IF WE DIDN'T WIN THE FIGHT AGAINST MARCOS. AS IF IT WASN'T THE FILIPINO PEOPLE WHO WON. They twisted the phrase into something SO disgusting. I even saw someone say it was one-sided to only believe the victims of the Martial Law! I saw people say that we shouldn't trust the victims immediately! it's DISGUSTING AND I AM TIRED.
And also if this man becomes president? He will completely revise history. They've been revising it since 2016 ("coincidentally" around the time BBM became senator) and it's only gonna get worse for us there. Not to mention I truely believe we'll come back to the days of Martial Law because it was his MOTHER who told him to run. Imelda Marcos who was able to have her fun during Ferdinand Marcos' martial law era. (Also he watched ant man which like. ew. ant man stole money from the rich to return it to the poor, your family stole money from the poor to never return it ever. u and scott lang are not the same asshole)
But I will never understand them for not even trying to ask why so many of the most well-educated people, schools and all that are supporting and endorsing VP Leni Robredo. Like two of the Miss Universes we've had? Pia Wurtzbach and Catriona Gray? For Leni. The most prestigious schools of the country : University of the Philippines, Ateneo, Miriam College, DLSU and more? For Leni. In fact there was a game (Forgot which sport it was) but they all united with the color pink for the first time in history to show support for Leni Robredo. The cheerleaders united in support for Leni Robredo. The audience chanted for Leni-Kiko (Kiko is Leni's selected choice of Vice President). Why is it so hard to ask why the most educated of the educated of this country have their vote for her? Because I would be asking it if I weren't a Leni-Kiko supporter. Not to mention the economists, the environmentalists, the human rights activists, most of them are for the Leni-Kiko tandem. Ask yourself why this is! Find out why this is! It's that simple!
Also more ranting : I can't believe BBM supporters have the audacity to say that Leni can't defend us against China when their candidate can barely even attend debates to defend himself lmao. Plus, Leni's plan on what to do if there's a time China might push aggression towards us is actually the clearest of all the candidates. She understands that even if we fund the military it won't be enough so she'll have to strenghten international alliances. She understands that the moment China starts agression/ there is any sort of agression in a national level then THAT'S the moment she'll fund the military. Not just funding the military forever and forgetting other parts of the gov't (her focus rn seems more on health and education which like THANK the heavens.). Like??? I am just dumbfounded by these apologists
Also the laguage BBM supporters use is also incredibly icky. It's giving... KPop problematic fave ngl. Like the whole "Yeah but at least __" and then the "Cry, you guys will lose on May 9 anyways" Like dude??? This isn't a KPop Award Show this isn't the fucking MMA or MAMA this is the National Elections! Be serious! Keep your ears open! Keep your eyes open! Be vigilant! This is for the //country//. Also the whole "why do you care, it's just my vote anyways" #$@??$@# IT MAKES ME SO MAD. THIS ISN'T JUST YOUR VOTE. YOUR ONE VOTE COULD DO SUCH A BIG DIFFERENCE. YOU COULD BE THE ONE VOTER THAT MAKES THEM WIN AGAINST THE REST!
And that one time I saw a BBM supporter say na aktibista lang naman ung namatay sa martial law (only activists were killed during martial law.).... Like yall don't see other humans with a diff opinion than u as humans don't you? I don't have much to say about this bc it's just genuinely disgusting and blood boiling.
And, to make things lighter now I saw someone say that Kakampinks (what leni supporters are called) saying "why bbm" is toxic and like 💀💀💀. We're just asking a question??? and then they'll flip the script and say "kakampinks don't listen anyways" DUDE. YALL ARE THE ONE WHO DON'T LISTEN. WE KEEP SHOWING U THE MULTIPLE INFOGRAPHICS* DONE AND YALL DON'T READ IT. which is fair honestly there's a lotta words, BUT YOU SHOULD READ IT BC IT'S FOR THE COUNTRY. READ EVERYONE'S STANCES ONTHINGS, CREDENTIALS, TRACK RECORDS AND MORE BEFORE DECIDING ON A LEADER.
*
But yeah that's enough ranting for today
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
I posted 1,503 times in 2022
203 posts created (14%)
1,300 posts reblogged (86%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@skloomdumpster
@rivusa
@blue-aconite
@lilshitwayne
I tagged 1,430 of my posts in 2022
Only 5% of my posts had no tags
#fate the winx saga - 668 posts
#ftws s2 - 189 posts
#saul silva - 104 posts
#rivusa - 100 posts
#aesthetic - 84 posts
#ask games - 65 posts
#nature - 62 posts
#art - 61 posts
#anonymous - 53 posts
#silrah - 47 posts
Longest Tag: 140 characters
#this post is about the evil butler getting a sword and turning into a dilf who's only committed a little manslaughter and is guilty about it
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
for real, one of my v.favorite things was getting to see Saul & Sky's humble home. it was such a sweet insight.
anon I'm still processing but the glimpses of Saul & Sky home life that we got? I lost my mind. Saul taught Sky how to ride a fucking horse. Saul got drunk every night for two years in that house after Aster Dell until he cleaned himself up (or Farah & Ben made him). Stella came over, Saul cooked dinner. Saul had a library in which he studied ancient languages for funsies. He kept his father's sword and gave it to Sky. They had a little house just the two of them against the world.
It just made them much more REAL to me.
Andreas had been to that house. Andreas burned down the house in which he and Saul shared their own young adult memories. Andreas saw Sky's shrine to him and burned it all down anyway--but first he took one baby picture.
119 notes - Posted September 16, 2022
#4
Fave BTS of FTWS Season 2: Rob Edition
See the full post
120 notes - Posted November 4, 2022
#3
picking apart the teaser and besides the Rivusa which I already screamed about:
This looks like Saul vs. New!Rosalind, and he’s wearing an Alfean uniform and not the one he was arrested in. What’s happening there then?
definitely getting the vibes of “I’m the new headmistress, here are the rules, now try to kill each other.” No Flora in this shot so definitely early episode. Marco fights Bloom!
See the full post
131 notes - Posted July 27, 2022
#2
sorry i’m thinking about Saul’s house again thinking about that bookshelf, how much of those were his father’s books, thinking about young Sky listening to electro-otherworld-punk bands, thinking about Sky riding horses through the woods, thinking about Saul on Sky’s tenth birthday giving him a guitar instead of a shotgun, thinking about him putting away the alcohol so he could give Sky the childhood the Burned Ones stole from him and then actually giving it to him, thinking about how Aster Dell could never be worth it but maybe some of it was because it gave Sky a peaceful childhood, thinking about thinking about
191 notes - Posted September 21, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
✨ how it started vs. how it’s going
220 notes - Posted August 26, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#tumblr2022#year in review#my 2022 tumblr year in review#your tumblr year in review#false#long post#the year i went full saul simp sorry not sorry#65 ask games!! wow!!!
10 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
mehblahblah
MehBlahBlah
mapdlily
Untitled
dark-blue-babygirl
Please don’t tell on me?
episentre
F A U L T L I N E S