#i do not dislike either of them it's just i... am not gripped | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

When “GIF” was named word of the year in 2012, Oxford Dictionaries U.S.A. credited Tumblr for pushing the word.

#i do not dislike either of them it's just i... am not gripped

exhaslo · 1 month

Text

Corruption Ch13

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship? SMUT, Oral (m-receiving), grinding

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

One Month, Twenty Days Until D-Day

"Miguel, I said I'm fine now. No need to keep me on a lease," You said with a low whine.

"Every time I let you out of my sight, you seem to get injured. I can't have my little Spider escape again." Miguel grunted.

Hiding your flustered cheeks, you pouted towards Miguel. He could be so stubborn sometimes. Then again, he wasn't wrong either. You didn't want to admit it, but you were still aching in pain from your fight with Goblin.

"Alright," You huffed, resting your head against his shoulder.

Miguel had you sitting on his lap, his arm firmly around your waist. He was absorbed in his work, grunting to your small comments here and there. It brought a smile to your face. Miguel seemed so cruel but cared so much.

"Miguel, how come you don't want to at least take my blood sample anymore? You were so adamant before." You asked out of curiosity.

"Because once I knew it was you, I knew you wouldn't like it."

"Awe~"

--------

What a fucking lie.

"I know how much you dislike my experiments," Miguel continued, sweetening his words, "I wouldn't want my little Spider afraid of me anymore than she is now."

"Awe~ Miguel~" You cooed, wrapping your arms around his neck, "I was never afraid of you! Concerned, yes, but not afraid!"

Too easy.

"Hn, but I do hope you tell me how this happened. I am a scientist, after all, I have a curiosity to feed."

"You have to promise you won't get mad,"

Lord, you looked adorable with your little pout. Miguel couldn't help but give you a lazy stare, holding back the urge to bend you against his desk and fuck you. Miguel was craving you, but he had to wait. He needed to make sure it was safe for him to take his injection.

"I promise," Miguel sighed, already knowing everything.

He just wanted to distract himself from work and entertain you. Grunt lowly as you fixed yourself against his lap, Miguel gripped your waist. These frustrating human urges had to wait. Miguel was giving himself a harsh slow burn at this rate.

"Well, remember that day when your Spiders got loose...One bit me and I accidently killed it. It was the same day I fainted," You whispered nervously.

"Ah, so that's how it happened,"

"I'm sorry," You gave a small frown. Miguel leaned forward to peck your lips,

"I promised I wouldn't be mad, remember? Instead, you can make it up to me by showing me what you could do. A little show,"

Perhaps he should go into acting? Miguel leaned back in his seat, impressed by his own skills. It was either that or you being too gullible. Your love for him blinded you in many ways that Miguel thoroughly enjoyed.

Watching you give him your own little runway show, Miguel couldn't help but chuckle. Your blood was being used right now to make several of his new injections. He was going to use it on more prisoners or willing test subjects. Which ever was the successful injection...

Miguel will kill them.

Only the two of you were allowed to bear humanity's future. Miguel was not going to risk another person poisoning his plan. Only Miguel could rule, with you as his trophy.

"Okay, this part really freaked me out at first, buuuuuut, I got used to it." You chirped, showing your organic webs.

"Let me see," Miguel motioned you closer.

You as his pet. His trophy. His obedient wife. Honestly, Miguel was lucky that it was you and not some random woman. Just the thought of you crying annoyed Miguel. He would have probably made you super powered in that case as well.

"Fascinating." Miguel hummed, holding your wrist.

"W-Wait...I didn't think it...would be this sensitive," You whimpered, trembling as Miguel stroked your wrist.

"Perhaps you just are," Miguel chuckled, watching you fall apart, "I believe I recall you mentioning better stamina? That isn't what it seemed like when my fingers were inside you."

"H-Hah, M-Miguel...Don't say things like that...out loud," You whimpered. Miguel pulled you closer,

"Hm? Are you getting wet just by me saying it? What a naughty girl,"

"Mhm, Miguel~"

"Show me how sorry you are."

Miguel resisted a chuckle as you whined and got down on your knees. He motioned you under his desk and watched you crawl over before undoing his belt. Ah, how perfect you looked. Your lustful gaze just begging for him.

Miguel inhaled deeply the moment you started to stroke his cock. How nice this felt. Returning to his work, Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched the time. Any second now his next meeting should arrive. Oh, how cruel Miguel was.

---------

Was today finally going to be the day? You eagerly got on your knees under his desk and started to please Miguel. He was driving you insane with all this teasing. As you undid his belt, you kept glancing up at Miguel.

Ugh, the eye contact made you melt.

Taking his cock out, you pouted as you started to stroke his shaft. Oh, what you would do to have this inside you. To have Miguel ravish you and make you his. Gosh, you had a dirty and unhealthy mind. This man was straying you from good!

Dazed as you glanced up at Miguel, you swirled your tongue against his cock, hoping for praise. Miguel rested his hand against your head, stroking it as you treated him. Your thumb pressing his tip slightly as you felt him twitch from your tongue.

"Good girl,"

Oh, those words made your panties soaked. Bringing your lips to his tip, you hummed as you twirled your tongue against it. Miguel only grunted in response before he started to type away. This made you frown since you wanted his attention.

Taking his cock in your mouth, you closed your eyes to the bitter taste as you started to suck. As you were getting into the groove, you flinched as you heard the doors open.

"Good morning, sir. I've brought the files you requested."

"Hm, you're late. I should have had these before I walked in." Miguel spat.

You were shaking as you slowly moved your mouth away from Miguel's dick. Why didn't he tell you he had a meeting? Gasping quietly, you felt Miguel's hand press your head back to his cock. Oh, he was mean. Biting your lower lip, you returned to sucking Miguel off.

"Did you get the other thing I requested?" Miguel asked.

"Yes...Sir, not to sound rude, but why couldn't you have gotten (Y/N) to do it?" The man questioned.

You flinched at the mention of your name.

"Are you telling me how to handle my own assistant?" Miguel chuckled darkly, his cock twitching more as you fasten your pace, "(Y/N) is doing something far more important than the task I've given you. Now, I suggest you leave before I get anymore angry."

"...Yes, sir..."

Feeling your eyes water as Miguel's cock hit the back of your throat, you tried to breathe through you nose. You were waiting for the other associate to leave. Hearing the door shut, you whined as Miguel's hand returned your head.

"Now, now. Kept going while I had someone in here, how bold." Miguel teased, moving your head at a faster pace, "I might have to reward you after all."

Ah, those words made you quiver. Wincing as you felt Miguel hold your head down, you moaned as he grunted and cummed in your mouth. You swallowed hard and coughed as you moved your head away from his cock.

"You're....so....mean," You whined.

Miguel just chuckled lowly as he wiped your face. He pulled you onto his lap, adoring how easily you caved for him. How easy it was to turn the city's hero into his little sex doll.

"But, you did hide your secret from me for a while,"

"Miguel~" You cried softly.

Why was he tormenting you like this so much? Grinding yourself against his still exposed cock, you whimpered and begged into his ear. Miguel held your waist, just grunting and groaning to your attempts.

"Now, now. You were just being a good little Spider," Miguel said with a sigh, fixing your skirt, "I'll give you a taste."

You gasped as Miguel placed you on his desk. He lifted your skirt and started to rub his cock against your panties. You knew that Miguel wanted you to wear more skirts, was this the reason? To torment and tease you?

"M-Mig-" You whimpered a moan as he rubbed against your clit.

"Hm? Want my fingers instead?"

"Hah~ N-No~"

---------

Miguel could see the tears in your eyes with every stroke. You were desperate, ready to cum. Miguel was tormenting himself as well. Moving you panties aside, Miguel groaned lowly as he rubbed his cock directly against your dripping cunt.

"H-Hah~ Ah~" You cried out, shaking in pleasure.

Miguel held your legs as he easily moved his hips. The thoughts of getting you pregnant were oh so delicious. Your moans were music to his ears. Just the thought of anyone else being in your shoes angered Miguel.

You were the only one for him.

"M-Miguel~" You moaned, arching your back as his dick hit your clit, causing you to cum.

"Heh, some stamina." Miguel teased once more.

"P-Please, Miguel...P-Please put it inside," You begged.

Miguel had to bite the inside of his cheek. Your pussy was making a wet mess on his desk as it clenched to nothing but air. If Miguel had a condom, he might just give into your advances. Shit, who would have thought that he was now going crazy over you?

"I can't, just behave." Miguel hissed.

Putting you on your stomach, Miguel pressed your legs together and squeezed his dick between them. You gasped and cried out as Miguel slapped his hips against your ass, giving you rough thrusts against your drenched cunt.

He wasn't fucking you, but he was giving you an experience. Miguel held your arms behind your back as he enjoyed the feeling of his dick between your legs.

Soon.

Your moans were filling his office as Miguel kept attacking your clit. Grunting lowly as you cam again, Miguel released your arms to hold your waist.

Soon.

Groaning your name lowly, Miguel took a moment as he cam between your legs. You body still twitching as he moved away, admiring the view.

Soon.

Grabbing some napkins, Miguel proceeded to clean himself up. He then moved onto you, watching you sweat and pant for air. If this was the state you were in now, Miguel couldn't wait to see what would happen when he actually fucked you.

Miguel stroked your cheek, kissing you for a job well done. You were making a mess of him. Once you were clean, you promptly returned to his lap, quietly sitting in place until Miguel requested for your help once more.

--------

Aaron sat in the lunchroom, watching some of the workers acting out. Everyone knew it was the effects of Rapture. It was almost that time of month for those affected associates to get their dosage of Rapture.

"Psst, I've told some of the others. They're willing to give you some of their supply for this month."

"Thanks, that's more than enough to do the job." Aaron whispered back. The other worked scoffed, sitting beside him,

"You're insane for trying this."

"The only way to stop a villain is to give him his just desserts."

"And how will you do it?"

"I'll just have to ask (Y/N) a favor,"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @chaoticlovingdreamer @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @safixiovi @migueloharacumslut @straw-berry-ghoul @daisy-artfield @sukunash0e @undf-stuff @iamperson12280 @nightingale1011 @reader-1290 @mcmiracles @keepghostly @marlyharper @jadeloverxd

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader

303 notes · View notes

heavenlyvision · 5 months

Text

While hell freezes over

Word count: 10.4k

Pairing: Bi-Han x F!Reader

This is a part three to my 'When hell freezes over' series, parts linked in order below :3

part one, part two

A/N: Even longer fic this time guys! I got carried away :3 thank you all for the continued support, kind words and patience! I hope this is satisfactory and lives up to expectations. And well… if you thought Bi-Han went off in the last one, then, I dunno what to tell you about this one. I have a few requests I’d like to get through before I start the next part, if you’ve sent me one and think I’ve been ignoring it, I haven’t, I see it! I have plans and ideas for them. I’ve just been writing 10k words of Bi-Han brain rot but trust me, I’m on it :)

Summary: Someone heard you last night, an embarrassing conversation ensues, and the day doesn’t get better from there. You find yourself in a compromising position and Bi-Han does not appreciate it, he finds himself needing to remind you of who you belong to.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, fingering, p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, squirting, inappropriate use of Bi-Han’s ice powers, possessive!Bi-Han, jealous!Bi-Han, pussy slapping (more like tapping), inappropriate use of Bi-Hans official title, return of mean Bi-Han, slight Soft!Bi-Han, no use of y/n

It’s early when you wake up wrapped up in Bi-Han’s arms, he never gave you the chance to leave last night and now you have to figure out how to get out of the room without anyone seeing you. Carefully, you try to wiggle yourself free from his large arms.

“Trying to sneak away?” Bi-Han’s voice is deeper than usual, thick with sleep.

Looking at him, you can see both of his eyes are still closed. Too tired to be bothered to open them.

“Not really… I mean… kind of?” You reply bashfully at getting caught.

He grumbles softly, too tired to answer you properly.

Waking up in his arms has you feeling some kind of way, he’s surprisingly warm, he makes you feel safe, and the low timbre of his voice is making you feel fuzzy. It all feels so domestic, and it makes you feel like your heart is about ten times too big for your ribcage, threatening to spill out of your chest.

The feeling is foreign, you’ve never cared so deeply for someone, it’s frightening in all honesty. You have no idea what to do with the sheer force of your feelings, so you settle for leaning up slightly and pressing a chaste kiss to Bi-Han’s lips.

His reaction is another soft grumble, before he pulls you closer. Your face resting under his chin. You allow the moment to last, never wanting to leave it but knowing the longer you wait the harder sneaking back to your own room will be.

“I have to leave; someone will catch me if I wait any longer.” You’re trying to convince him to release you from his firm grip.

“Don’t care,” either he really doesn’t care or he’s too tired to try.

“Bi-Han, I came over last night in nothing but my robe.”

He lets out a long groan, an internal battle exiting through it, sharing his disdain for you having to leave but also disliking the possibility of someone seeing you wearing only a robe.

“Jus wear some of my clothes.” He shrugs, rustling you a bit as he does.

“I’m like nowhere near your size and people will be able to tell I am wearing your clothes.” You feel like this back and forth will never end.

He’s smiling, “why are you smiling?” You ask him, this isn’t funny.

“Like the idea of someone seeing you in my clothes.” He’s still not opened his eyes for this conversation, still in the same position, holding you close.

It’s your turn to let out a grumble, “you are the one who initially said no one could know we were sleeping together.”

“Two things can be true at once.” Is his simple, smart-ass reply.

Best bet of getting out of this situation is to distract him, you lean up again and kiss him. He kisses you back, moving his hand down to rest on your bare hip. He pulls your lower half towards his, he’s already hard and that surprises you slightly. It shouldn’t, you swear he could look at you fully clothed and get hard.

Your thoughts are abruptly distracted when the hand on your hip skates down to your leg, pulling it over his hip. His cock slides through your folds, the light contact of it gliding over your clit has you gasping into his mouth. He lets out an appreciative hum at your reaction, this is bad, you think he might be distracting you now.

Pulling your lips from his you tell him, “Bi-han, I really do need to leave.”

He pulls another gasp from you as he continues to rock his hips, eyes open now and heavy with sleep and lust.

“Hmm, that’s funny, I don’t think you need to leave.”

And then suddenly, there’s a knock on his door. Bi-Han’s face immediately scrunches up in annoyance, his distaste at the intrusion makes you smile before you purse your lips; trying to hide your amusement.

He holds a finger up to your mouth, before he whispers to you, “Be quiet.”

You nod your head in response to him before licking the length of his finger, he gives you a heated gaze. Equally annoyed and turned on.

“Bi-Han, hurry up, I know you are in there,” It’s Kuai-Liang’s voice.

He grunts at his brother, “Give me a moment.” He rolls his eyes as he moves to let you go and get himself out of bed. You’re still smiling at his annoyance, he’s a bit of a drama queen, you think.

After he’s out of the bed you flip onto your stomach, pulling the blanket to properly cover your bottom half. Your arms slide under the pillow, pulling it closer, you press the side of your face into it. Facing Bi-Han as he pulls his robe from last night back on, tying it in the front quickly.

You can’t help but watch as he moves to the door, he stands in the way of you before opening the door a crack, shielding your form from Kuai’s sight. From where you are laying you can only see Bi-Han’s back, a very nice view indeed. You flop your head back onto the pillows, neck sore from craning it to watch him walk across the room.

“What do you want?” Bi-Han is straight to the point.

“Good morning to you too, Bi-Han.” Comes Kuai Liang’s unbothered response.

Bi-Han says nothing further but you’re guessing it’s more than likely he’s pinned him with an annoyed look.

Your theory gains more merit when Kuai Liang continues speaking, “It is getting later in the morning, Lui Kang asked to see us today, remember?”

“I remember.” Bi-Han is also unbothered.

You roll your eyes a bit, he has a meeting with the Fire God, defender of Earthrealm, Lord Lui Kang and he’s wasting his time in bed with you. Like meeting with Lui Kang is the least important thing he has to do today. It makes you feel soft and gooey inside, like you’re special and you’re suddenly struck with the realisation that, perhaps, to him you are special.

Kuai lets out an exasperated sigh, already sick of this conversation, “also, Bi-Han, if you’re going to have…” there’s a palpable silence before he continues on, “…guests you should at least try to be more discrete.”

You feel lightening go through you, you shoot up from your position on the bed; now sitting with your knees tucked under you. Eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

Bi-Han grunts a little at his brother, he doesn’t get to ask Kuai Liang how he knows, he’s already telling you both, “You were both, not quiet, and my room is close.” He’s a little bashful as he informs you both.

“Does anyone else know?” You ask Kuai.

“As far as I know, no, I don’t imagine they would. The others rooms are further away.” He considers his words for a moment, not looking you in the eyes, which confuses you. He continues, “Tomas might have heard, but he is usually a heavy sleeper.”

You ruminate on the layout of the quarters for a moment, Bi-Han and his brothers are clumped together, yours are further away from all the men, hence the sneaking through the temple to get here, and the rest of the guys are further from Bi-Han’s room. They’re still in the same area but not as close, which you are grateful for right this moment. You think if Johnny were the one to hear you both, you’d die of embarrassment on the spot, he would not be able to keep it a secret and if he did, it would only be to torture you for his own amusement.

Bi-Han turns around to look at you, his eyes go wide, “cover yourself!”

You look down at yourself and realise the blanket is around your waist, you’re shocked but you also find Bi-Han’s reaction funny.

Giggling nervously, you pull it up over your chest, “Sorry, Kuai Liang.” You’re holding back a smile as you apologise.

“It’s fine.” Kuai brushes you off, a slight pink tinge visible on his cheeks.

“No, it is not,” Bi-Han groans out, “You’re gonna kill me I swear.”

You smile at him, “Sorry, Bi-Han.”

He grunts at you before facing his brother again, “Is that all?”

“Don’t be rude, invite him in.”

You imagine Bi-Han has made a disgruntled face at your words but invites his brother in all the same.

You’re certain Kuai has some questions and considering he was forced to listen to you both last night, answers are the least you can do for him at the moment. Bi-Han shuts the door behind his brother before picking up your robe and moving to face you. He slips your arms through it and closes it over you properly, dressing you while hiding your frame from his brother. Not that it would matter, Kuai Liang is being very polite and looking up at the ceiling as Bi-Han dresses you.

“You can look now,” you tell Kuai gently.

Bi-Han cuts in, “It would be preferable if you stayed staring at the ceiling though.”

“Ignore him,” you lightly poke Bi-Han in the side, and he slaps your hand away gently.

Kuai Liang answers you and ignores Bi-Han’s comment, “I normally do.”

You chuckle at his response, very much brothers, you think. Kuai finds a chair and pulls it up for himself to sit in, both Bi-Han and yourself stay sitting side by side on the bed.

With the way things are going you suspect they would both just stare at each other all morning, engaged in an unspoken staring contest.

You decide to interrupt their wordless conversation, “I am sure you must have questions, Kuai. We will answer any you may have.”

“No, we won’t.” Bi-Han deadpans.

You give him a side eye, but he stays staring at his brother, trying to tell him it is not okay to ask questions.

Kuai Liang carries on anyways, having mastered the art of ignoring his brother, “This is… not the first time you both have…?” He trails off but you know what he is asking.

Bi-Han is quick to hit him with, “None of your business–”

“–It is not the first time, no.” You cut off Bi-Han, answering the question.

“When did it start?” He carries on.

You think on it for a second, it feels like so much longer, but it’s only been, “about a week.”

Kuai considers his next question carefully, “is it just… do you two like each other?”

You aren’t really sure how to answer that, you know you like Bi-Han, and he likes you, but you’ve not actually spoken about what this is between you both, or how you would define it to others.

Surprisingly and thankfully, Bi-Han answers that, “yes.”

His admission of liking you to a third party makes your insides giddy and you smile softly to yourself.

Kuai Liang looks a little shocked by his brother, whether it be his admission or just liking someone in general you aren’t sure, but he says, “I guess that explains why you were staring at her.”

You laugh a little at that, but Bi-Han predictably replies with, “I don’t stare.” You say it in tandem with him, much to his chagrin. “I don’t like when you do that.” Bi-Han directs at you.

You’re still amused, “I don’t like when you don’t admit to obvious truths.”

He rolls his eyes at you, something you’ve found yourself growing fond of. Now enjoying annoying him just to see him either roll his eyes or raise an eyebrow at you.

“We are trying to keep this from everyone else, so it would be appreciated if you didn’t tell the others.” You tell Kuai Liang.

“What she means is, I will hurt you.” Bi-Han threatens.

You jab him lightly in his ribs with your elbow, he is unphased, your action not even moving him.

Kuai nods his head anyways, once again paying his brother no mind, “I will not tell anyone, but it would be better if you both tried… keeping it down.”

You look as guilty as you feel, Bi-Han has no shame though, “Don’t listen, then.”

“It was not intentional!” Kuai looks annoyed and flustered.

“Bi-Han, we should’ve been more aware of those around us.” You tell him quietly.

His face is pulled up in a scowl, he shoots you a dark look, one that tells you something you already know. He likes when you’re loud in bed, and he isn’t going to stop fucking you till you scream. He does not care that others will hear, and knowing someone did hear, changes nothing for him.

You determine that you will have to talk with him privately because you would really rather the others not hearing you getting your brains fucked stupid.

“He can buy some ear plugs,” Bi-Han shrugs.

“Not the issue right now,” you’re incensed with him, he’s being intentionally dense again.

Kuai looks between the both of you, he seems lightly amused by you both. He goes to talk again, “In any case, those are my most burning questions, we have to meet with Lui Kang.”

He makes a move to stand up, “Now, or we will be late, Bi-Han.”

Bi-Han looks irritated, he closes his eyes and huffs out a sigh, “I know, I will be with you both shortly.”

Kuai goes to complain about him being late again, but you stop him, “It’s okay Kuai, I’ve got it.”

“Thank you,” he replies before slipping back out the room, on his way to meet with Lui Kang.

You turn to face Bi-Han on the bed properly, “We were not careful, that is our fault.”

“He should have minded his own business.”

“He did us a favour by informing us, now, get changed properly, you apparently have a meeting today.” You smile up at him, that whole conversation was beyond embarrassing, but you can’t seem to mind right now. The morning had been perfect otherwise and considering the alternatives, Kuai being the one who overheard you both is a blessing in disguise.

He flops back on the bed, “I do not want to go to the meeting, I wanted to stay here, in bed with you.”

“You know I have training today anyways; I would’ve had to leave.” You’re trying to reason with him.

But Bi-Han knows no reason when it comes to you, “fairly certain I could have convinced you to stay in bed with me.” He props himself up by his forearm, the shadow of a smirk on his lips.

Leaning down you quickly peck his lips before getting off his bed, stretching your sore muscles. “You have the biggest ego I have ever seen on someone.”

“Not just my ego that is big,” he retorts.

You ignore his cockiness; it will somehow end up with you back in his arms if you do. Instead, you walk into his bathroom, rinsing your face and using the toilet.

When you emerge, he is half dressed, wearing his pants. He looks up at you when you exit, “I will walk you back to your room,” he offers.

“It isn’t on the way to Lui Kang, you will be late.”

“It will be fine; I’d rather see you get back unseen and safe.” He says as he walks into the bathroom himself.

When he’s back in your view you watch him finish dressing himself, pulling his hair back quickly into his signature bun. He looked breathtaking with his hair down, remembering last night makes you blush. Mindlessly you continue to watch Bi-Han get himself ready.

His eyes catch yours and he walks towards you, leaning down to you he asks, “Why are you blushing?”

“No reason,” you smile at him, kissing him on the nose.

He hums softly, “I’m sure.”

He turns to put his boots on, when they’re on he looks back at you, reaching his hand out. You take it and he pulls you to him, he gives you a heated kiss. The kind he gives you just to take your breath away and leave you wanting more.

When he pulls back, he says to you, “Come on, sweet girl.”

You pull him in for a hug, feeling the need to hold him close for a moment. He allows it, rubbing his hands up and down your back. Soothing you, it’s another intimate moment that has you feeling warm.

When you pull back you say, “okay, I’m ready now.”

He smiles at you curiously but you both walk out of his room and head toward your own, you are grateful for the company on the walk back. You are also grateful that he shows you a path less crowded, avoiding anyone who might be up and around.

Both of you remain unseen, but Bi-Han is particularly alert to your surroundings as you walk back regardless. It makes you feel safe, having him keep a watchful eye. For the first time in a while, you don’t feel like you have to be attuned to everything around you and you’re thankful for it.

Now that you are both alone you broach the topic of being more alert of your volumes while in the throes of passion, “we should be more careful Bi-Han, it’s embarrassing to me that Kuai heard us last night.”

He sighs, “Mmm, you may try to be quieter, but I doubt you will be successful.”

“I will be quieter, next time.” You feel determined now, as if he issued you a challenge.

He hums thoughtfully, “we will see.”

The rest of the walk is pleasant, albeit electric. You want him badly, but you’re aware of what is important right now. He has a meeting, and you have training, you kept repeating this to yourself as a reminder.

In front of your room, you look both ways before leaning up and kissing him, you go to pull away, but his mouth follows yours. He groans into your mouth, deepening the kiss for a brief moment before ultimately pulling back himself.

You’re a touch out of breath as you say, “thank you, for walking me back to my room.”

“You are most welcome, sweet girl.” His hand reaches to your cheek, thumb rubbing your cheekbone. He double checks the area and then leans in again, pressing a quick peck to your lips that you return.

“I will see you later.”

And then he’s gone, walking back the way you came. Yes, this morning had been perfect indeed.

❆˖°

Lucky for you, you are not late to training. Even though you had to spend extra time finding a shirt with a neck high enough to cover the hickey’s you had forgotten Bi-Han had given you. The very orange training outfit sits on top of the borderline turtleneck you’re wearing under it.

As you walk through the Fire Temple, you realise that Kuai would have seen your skin littered with marks earlier and that makes you feel so fucking embarrassed. It’s bad enough that he heard you last night, it’s worse that he saw obvious evidence of it. You try to push it out of your mind, the damage is done now anyways.

Though when you walk into the training area, you are praying that no one asks you questions about the turtleneck, it’s sleeveless so it’s just the neck poking out from under your shirt. You aren’t sure if that’s more suspicious though, maybe you should’ve just worn make up, or are you overthinking again? Probably the last option.

If you’re being honest, this orange outfit is very bright. Not your personal tastes, you feel like a large, well… orange. Or maybe a traffic cone. If you had your own pick, you would be wearing something else, but you also find it cute how you’re all matching.

“Happy morning, boys!” You call out to everyone, is that a phrase people use? Are you too chipper? Do you usually behave like this? You’re very self-conscious after Kuai Liang heard everything last night.

You’ve been taking it like a champ but if you find out one more person heard you, you might cry on the spot.

“Happy morning?” Kenshi asks.

“Yeah, it’s the same as good morning, I don’t understand your confusion.” It’s not something you’ve said or heard other people say before, so you do understand his confusion actually, your nervousness is turning you into a gas lighter.

They all stand there looking at you like you’re boo boo the fool, Raiden breaks the awkward silence, “…happy morning to you too.”

You are going to explode into a shower of blood rain, you need to get it together. You’d think it’s your first day on Earth.

Thankfully, Johnny also brushes right past your weirdness, “you ready to face me today, darlin?”

Ah, you’re sparring against each other today, you had forgotten. Sparring against Johnny isn’t necessarily something you’re worried about, it’s the fact that you got fucked into next week and your muscles are yelling at you. Today is gonna be one bitch of a day.

You don’t falter though, “you know it, I’ll be taking you down, Hollywood.” That felt more normal, pats on the back for you.

You guess Johnny just signed you both up for going first. A new problem has formed of this situation though, if you let him get the upper hand you can bow out while he spars with the next person, which means you could take it easy for the first half of training. However, you are competitive and don’t want to throw the round. Which, if you manage to out manoeuvre him, will mean you continue to spar with the next person.

This exercise is meant to be light-hearted, hand to hand sparring. Learning to get a feel against a real opponent. You’re going to have to make a real attempt to not be so competitive. Afterall, this isn’t a competition. It’s a sparring exercise.

Both you and Johnny move over to a clear area and position yourselves in the official defensive stances you’ve been taught. Something that does not come naturally to you, you’ve had previous fighting experience, and it contradicts the methods you’re being taught while here.

He moves at you first, kicking out and aiming at your side, very predictable of him. You move back at the kick, dodging it. He continues to move closer towards you, a right hook coming at you, you duck down and punch his side, throwing off his centre of balance slightly. You move, rounding him until you’re facing his back. You kick the back of his knee, and he goes down.

His palms stop him from faceplanting into the ground, you step on his back pushing him down further. You drop on him and bring your arms around his neck, putting him in a chokehold. His arms come up to yours wrapped around his neck and try pulling you off. You’re being careful not to actually apply any pressure to his neck but you’re holding firm in your position. Pulling back on him slightly, his back bends.

His hands give up on trying to pull out of the choke hold and instead he flops to the ground properly. He rolls taking you with him, you imagine it’s quite the scene to watch. Laying all of his weight on you manages to loosen your grip around his neck and he takes the opportunity to quickly switch around so he’s facing you.

He has the upper hand now and he’s pinning your arms to the ground by your wrists, “Wanna tap out, sugar?”

Such a flirt, you think, “I don’t think so, sugar.”

It hurts a bit as you do it, due to the fact you were in this kind of position under very different circumstances last night. You reach your legs up, and knee his stomach slightly as you do, giving yourself more room to move. They continue up and through his arms that are pinning you down. Manoeuvring them around his neck and clamping down. Using the momentum, you’ve gained to sway him to the side.

Once you’re on top again, your thighs are by his head, or more accurately, squeezing his neck. You lean your upper half back slightly and grab his wrists in both of your hands, pulling his arms back behind you to pin him to the spot. Thighs holding him in place.

The position is unorthodox, something that you were not taught during your time here, but you didn’t want him to win. Not that you’re being competitive or anything.

You look down at him and he wiggles his eyebrows, “I don’t mind this position.” He has a shit eating grin on his face.

You shake your head at him, “Does that mean you’re tapping out?”

“If I do, can we stay like this?” His question filled with suggestion; he is very bold.

“I am not releasing you until you tap out.” Your gaze filled with nothing but the desire to win.

His grin gets wider, a full-blown smile now, “then I don’t tap out.”

“Johnny, c’mon,” your voice is laced with a pleading annoyance.

He tries to supress his smile but fails, you can hear the guys off to the side groaning too. You look to them for support. “Guys, help?”

Kung Lao looks at you with an apologetic albeit amused face, “I don’t know what you want me to do here, just let him up.”

You make an unhappy face at Kung Lao and look back down at Johnny, “just tap out man, I need to hear you say you concede.”

“I don’t.” He says cheekily.

You roll your eyes at him but then you feel it, the tell-tale sign that Bi-Han is staring at you. A shiver running down your spine, one that you’ve learnt to suppress the outward signs of.

Looking up, you lock eyes with Bi-Han, he’s off to the side, Lui Kang, Kuai Liang, and Tomas with him. He’s giving you angry eyes; you aren’t really concerned with why right now though. You are concerned with winning.

You continue to pin Johnny, unwilling to let him up until he admits defeat, but it’s almost like an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

“Johnny, just say you tap out.” You ask him again.

“He does,” comes Bi-Han’s booming voice from above, cutting off anything Johnny was about to say. He had moved closer surprisingly quick.

“Hey man, I can speak for myself,” he looks up to Bi-Han.

This whole situation is ridiculous, you look over to Kuai and he looks very on edge. Bi-Han’s eyes look like he’s considering various way to commit murder right now.

Johnny looks up at you, ignoring Bi-Han, “I concede.” He smiles at you.

“Thank you,” you sigh, moving to unpin him and get up.

He keeps smiling at you, laying on the floor, “you can stay where you are though if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes at him, “In your dreams, Hollywood.”

When you’re off him, you lean down and offer him your hand, helping him off the floor. You found it all quite funny if you’re honest, but by the look on Bi-Han’s face, he did not. Not by a long shot.

“Alright, who do you want to spar against next, sugar?” Johnny asks.

You laugh, “that’s all you, I need a break after putting up with you.”

He chuckles at your response but points at Kenshi, “C’mon tattoo, you’re up.”

Kenshi lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes at Johnny, already reaching his limit for putting up with him for today. That’s a new record, Kenshi can normally put up with him until lunch.

You walk off to the side and move to stand beside Kuai Liang, Bi-Han follows behind you, and he stops when you do. You’re sandwiched between the two of them right now, you feel nervous, like you’re in trouble with the principle or something. Lui Kang and Tomas are next to Kuai Liang on his other side.

The position you had Johnny in was compromising, sure, you can see that. But on the other hand, you literally had him in a choke hold. You were sparring with him and trying to win, you’re missing something that would make Bi-Han’s borderline repressed rage make sense for you.

Lui Kang breaks the tension, “very impressive, how you took him down, I am sorry to have missed most of it.”

“Thank you, if only he didn’t enjoy it so much, I’d take more pride in it.” You tell Lui Kang, though you’re grateful for the compliment.

You had felt pretty proud of yourself at the takedown of a man larger than yourself, especially when your muscles are sore and achy today, but that was a little undone when Bi-Han was emitting murderous vibes.

“I don’t think he can help himself,” Lui Kang says in reference to Johnny.

You snicker a bit at Lui Kang’s statement, you don’t think Johnny can help himself either, but he seems kind-hearted. The friendships you’ve created amongst everyone here are very important to you, and most important to you is Bi-Han.

Your hand is itching to reach out for him, but you feel like he’s cross with you, and you aren’t up for the embarrassment of him possibly pulling away from you right now. Not after such a good morning with him, waking up in his arms is what has kept you so positive today.

Looking up at him you try and decipher what he’s thinking right now, his face has fallen back into his usual stoic look. Though he is staring at Johnny, eyes alight with thinly veiled anger.

You turn to your other side and look at Kuai Liang, he meets your eyes and leans down to whisper to you, “he has never been good at sharing.”

Oh. Oh.

It’s clicked for you; you knew he was angry, but you didn’t know exactly why. It was just a training exercise, one you were trying to win however you could, but to Bi-Han it might have looked different.

You whisper back to Kuai, “thanks.”

He nods once at you before looking forward again, watching Kenshi and Johnny spar. It is quite the sight, they’re a bit less restrained than what your round with Johnny was. You don’t know if that’s because Kenshi is actually trying to harm Johnny or because you’re a woman and they go easy on you. That stings a little if it’s the latter, you deserve the respect of a proper fight.

You go to move closer to Raiden and Kung Lao, planning to re-join the training but Bi-Han’s hand grabs onto your wrist. Keeping you in place beside him, it makes your heart flutter. He pulls away fairly quickly, not lingering for too long, for fear of the others seeing. But the small action makes you feel a little better, he’s pissed but he still wants you near him.

Johnny loses to Kenshi; you think if he hadn’t fought you first, they might have ended up in a stalemate.

Kenshi points to you from where he’s standing, “you’re up again, sugar.”

You laugh, apparently that’s catching on amongst the group. You can feel Bi-Han stiffen beside you. Not enjoying any of this.

“Gimmie a sec,” you call out to him. Turning to Bi-Han you say, “calm down, please.” You say it softly enough so to anyone else it’s inaudible.

You walk over to Kenshi, ready to spar again. Bi-Han lets you go this time, knowing he can’t make a scene but really wanting to.

You beat Kenshi but only barely, you’re tired and sore. Which you do complain about, but after Kenshi, you stop trying to go so hard. You spar against Raiden and Kung Lao, but you are stuck on defensive, attack isn’t your strong suit and with how tired you are the most you can do is hope to out manoeuvre them, not able to pull anything like what you did with Johnny in the first round. Not unless you want to injure yourself.

If you were using a weapon, you would fare better but alas, you are but a woman who got fucked silly last night and already sparred against two men. And two out of two, is a pretty good score. You take your losses like a champ and take your wins like a champ too.

The rest of training was hell for Bi-Han, you could tell by the way his eyes never left your form. His anger increasing with every hand that was on your waist or flirtatious remark made, ones you did not return. Ones that had him pissed anyways.

He normally wouldn’t stay for this, finding it a waste of his time to watch armatures train but he stayed today. The whole time, he stayed, and he watched you.

❆˖°

There wasn’t a second of the day where you were alone, and not a second you could slip away either. You probably could’ve made an excuse, but you feel that might have been too obvious, mostly because if you had managed a moment to yourself Bi-Han would’ve followed you wherever you went. Meaning any attempt, you made to be inconspicuous would have gone out the window.

Either way, the result was your whole day being spent with everyone, while a very watchful Bi-Han never strayed too far from you. You have only just now been released from the company of everyone, and it’s already evening.

Finally, back in your own room and able to shower, enjoying the hot water running over your body. It’s been a long day, and the heat of the shower is helping to cleanse the hard day off your skin. Muscles completely relaxing under the stream, you’ve been tense all day, partly because of training but mostly because of the eyes watching you.

Your mind drifts to Bi-Han, jealousy looked hot on him, it also looked… deadly. You might have to sneak back over to his room again tonight, to talk with him. Assure him that you want no one else, maybe talk to him about what exactly is happening between the two of you.

Spending the night in Bi-Han’s bed sounds inviting, waking up in his arms tomorrow would be nice. The urge to be domestic with him is growing, something simple, like breakfast together or maybe a date? You think you’d like that, being asked on a date, taken somewhere and doted on. The idea makes your cheeks blush softly, not that it’s noticeable, the water is running hot; your skin already flush. Turning off the water, you exit the shower. Pulling the fresh towel off the sinks basin, you dry yourself off and then wrap it around your body.

When you leave the bathroom the last thing you expect to see is Bi-Han waiting for you, standing in the middle of your quarters; arms crossed over his chest and an angry look in his eyes. It isn’t what you expected to see but if you’re honest with yourself, you could have predicted it. He looked like he wanted to speak with you all day, it’s not shocking that he didn’t wait for you to go to him. He is not patient; you already know this about him.

He just stares at you, like he has been doing all day, so you speak first, “Hello?”

You probably could have picked something more eloquent to say but you aren’t sure of yourself right now. Plus, you feel exposed, he’s fully dressed and you’re in a towel, and you’re damp. Really, he could’ve waited an extra minute or something and you would’ve been more prepared for whatever he’s about to say.

“I am not… pleased,” he’s straining himself trying to express how he honestly feels. It would be amusing if you didn’t feel so self-conscious right now.

“I noticed.” You don’t really know where he’s going with this, so you don’t have anything else to offer in response.

He takes a breath, “Today was a challenge, for me, watching others touch you, flirt with you.” His words come out with empty space between them, empty but filled with his bitten back rage.

You feel bad, honestly but you felt like no lines were seriously crossed, not for you anyways.

“Bi-Han, it was harmless, they are harmless. I am not interested in any of them.”

You can tell he is trying so hard for you, trying so hard not to lose his cool, “That may be true, but they are certainly interested in you.”

“They’re my friends, they are not interested in me.” You tell him because you genuinely believe it.

“They want you.” His upper lip pulls into a scowl.

You shake your head at him, “What makes you think that?”

“The way they look at you,” he says, his arms straining against his chest.

You don’t really know what he means, “they… look, at me?”

“They look at you how I look at you.” His eyes squint at you, adding emphasis to his statement.

You smile a little, “and how do you look at me?”

His head lowers to his chest, eyes harsh as he pins you with a look “with want.”

You don’t really know what to offer him right now, “What would make you feel better?”

“Their deaths,” he shoots back quickly.

You roll your eyes at him, “you aren’t killing them.”

“Then, I want them to know you’re taken.”

You exhale sharply, “But you said–”

“–I know what I said,” he cuts you off abruptly, his eyes emotive.

The room is quiet, you’re giving him time to pull his thoughts together. It’s obvious he has more to say, he just doesn’t know how to. Your gaze wanders over him, his arms, his chest, his neck, lips, eyes, his very pretty eyes.

You go to speak, not able to keep your thoughts to yourself, “Bi-Han, I like you, and I only want you. I don’t know how much that helps, but it’s what I’ve wanted to say to you all day.”

His gaze softens slightly at your words, you’ve offered him at least some solace, “It helps.”

You’re glad it does, “now, I need to change, could you turn around, please?” You ask. Preferring to continue this conversation fully clothed.

He makes a face, like he’s deep in thought, “why would I? I’ve seen you naked before.”

You look at him, unamused. To get dressed in front of someone is a very vulnerable display, you’d rather he just turns around for a minute. Especially since his eyes have a way of devouring you.

He shrugs his shoulders at you, “I wouldn’t bother dressing.”

“And why is that?” You ask.

“Cause I’m ‘bout to fuck you.” He stalks toward you, placing a hand on your hip and the other on your face; his thumb traces your bottom lip. “Gonna fuck you right, enough so you can’t train tomorrow.”

“Should I be concerned?” You ask, mostly to tease but he’s also got the look of a beast hunting its prey. It sends chills through your body, his words making you buzz with excitement.

“Yes.” His eyes look over your neck and collarbones, the marks he left last night still there. They’ve bloomed into dark purples, the softer ones a yellow.

His hand on your cheek slides down to your neck, touching the marks he had left. His eyes have fire in them, pleased with the hickeys he’s left on you. His expression is making your body temperature rise. You don’t know what he’s going to do to you but it’s thrilling, the way he takes you in.

“It’s a shame you hid these today, left them to be seen.” His eyes don’t leave the marks on your skin.

“It was embarrassing enough for Kuai to see them.”

He smiles and looks into your eyes, his smile is humourless, “I don’t care.”

You pout at him, you wish he would, he’s completely shameless. The one who brought up keeping this entanglement a secret but not doing anything to keep it that way.

“Mmm, you’re at my mercy tonight, completely.” He informs you.

That surprises you, “I wasn’t last night?”

His smile turns ravenous, “not even close, sugar.” He spits out the nickname, like it’s burnt him. Showing his disdain for your newly ordained nickname amongst the guys, courtesy of Johnny.

“Don’t call me that.” You don’t wanna be called that, not by him.

“Why not? Don’t like it?”

You shake your head at him.

“Like when I call you sweet girl?” He asks, gently.

Nodding your head at him, you say, “prefer it.”

“’Course you do.”

He leans down to you, lips catching yours, this kiss is languid at first. Searching, he takes his time, working you open slowly. His thumb eventually pulls your jaw down, opening your mouth for him, tongue entering it. He hums against you, always pleased at how pliant and willing you are.

Pulling back from your lips, he says as much, “the virtue of politeness, sometimes think you’d let me do whatever I want.”

“I would.” It’s honest, your words. You don’t mean for them to come out at all, let alone that quickly.

It should concern you, how willing you are. But the man has such an odd effect on you. Nothing has ever felt like this, you’ve had very few relationships, and they don’t even hold a candle to the way you feel for Bi-Han. The vulnerability you display with him makes you feel… well, vulnerable.

His eyes are bright at your admission, loving the way you agreed, “good, sweet girl.”

His face leans into your neck, inhaling your skin. You tilt your head back, giving him more room and he hums appreciatively. He lays gentle kisses against your skin, at least, at first he does, then he bites you. In the crook of where your neck meets your shoulder, he bites down hard enough to leave a mark.

The pain makes jump slightly, a strangled noise coming from you. His tongue laves over the spot, soothing it. His lips kiss up your neck and jaw, before taking yours in a heated kiss. Fervent, filled with need. His kiss deep and long, it pulls a whine from you, a noise you were trying to conceal. You haven’t forgotten you want to try and be quieter.

Bi-Han keeps kissing you, tongue borderline reverent, worshipping your mouth. Swallowing the noises you make against him. Your arms clutching the fabric of his shirt, holding on. Feeling as though, if you were to let go, you’d fall into an invisible pit below you. Your grip on him grounding you, barely.

When he pulls back, it’s to let you catch your breath for a moment. Huffing against his mouth faintly, he takes the opportunity of your mouth being open to lean in again and place more full kisses on your lips, pulling back after each one but they’re all filled with the desire he carries for you.

His kisses are overwhelming you, your eyes wet with need, he’s done nothing but kiss you and it’s setting you on fire. Using the hands on his chest you push him back slightly.

His hands move to cradle your face, one of them brushing your damp hair back, “what’s wrong, sweet girl?”

“Devastating, your kisses… are devastating.” Eyes big as you look up at him.

He smiles down at you, “good, they’re meant to be.” His eyes, always his eyes, so much depth, yearning, “I want you needy, want you overcome by me, want you to think of nothing but me, consumed by your own cravings.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, “want you to feel, how I feel about you.”

Heart pounding at his words, you need him to know, “I already do feel that way.”

“No, you don’t… but you will, when I’m finished with you.”

He kisses you again, holding your head in his hands; moving you so your mouth slots against his, the cruel kiss a contrast to the gentle cradle he's holding you in. Sliding his hands down to your hips he guides you to your bed, removing his mouth from yours to push you back on the bed.

Holding your towel as you fall, you flop against the mattress, bouncing a bit as your back hits it. You adjust yourself, so you’re resting on your forearms, Bi-Han is watching you from above deliberating his next move. He settles on undressing his upper half and removing his boots, leaving his pants on. The process takes a bit, the man wears far too many layers, but you enjoy the show anyways.

Then his hands are reaching for you, he pulls at your towel. You go to hold onto it and his eyes move to yours, “off.”

“I’m shy,” you sulk at him.

He scoffs in return, “too bad.” And then he’s pulling it off and out from under you, your back lying flat on the bed again. The display of his strength making your pussy throb.

Your hands move to cover your chest, legs closed together. Being completely bare in front of someone is always a little nerve-wracking at first. Especially when he’s making you feel like you’re about to be eaten whole. That and because he’s still wearing pants, it’s making you feel overexposed compared to him, you guess, at least he took off his shirt.

He shakes his head at you, he crawls onto the bed and over top of you, knees resting either side your thighs. He nods towards your hands covering your chest, “c’mon, sweet girl, be good for me.”

Damn, well now you have to, you want to be good for him. Bastard. You move your arms away, dropping them beside your head.

“Thas a good girl.” He smiles at you; he has a pretty smile.

His praise goes straight to your core, your thighs rub together mindlessly in response. Seeking friction on their own accord. He’s dragging this out, not touching you anywhere, not with his hands anyways.

Moving closer to you, his lips peck yours, and then the side of your face, down to your neck again. He licks over the bite mark he left, before moving further down, marks being left in his wake. More hickeys will be blooming on you tomorrow morning. He’s trailed down between your breasts, sucking a mark between them both before catching one of your nipples in his mouth.

The feeling has your back arching off the bed, his tongue flicks at it. He bites it softly as he pulls away, switching to the other and giving it the same attention as the first.

His mouth moves back up your body, sucking more marks into you as he goes. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet, this needy, you didn’t think you could get this wet.

Slick spread over your inner thighs, leaking from you as he presses his wet mouth against your skin. It’s the longest he’s teased you with his mouth without speaking. You, yourself are breathless, not able to string together a coherent sentence. Actively avoiding it too, biting at your own lips to keep your sounds from reaching the air.

He leans back to marvel at your skin, shiny from the wet marks his mouth has left, already beginning to bloom pinks and reds. He looks unbelievably pleased with himself and his handy work.

“Mm, perfect, look fucken perfect all marked up by my mouth.” His eyes look back into yours. Eyes thrilled at the need in your own.

“Bi-Han, please.” You aren’t quite sure what exactly you’re asking for, but he seems to know.

He shushes you as he shuffles a bit, slipping one of his legs between yours to spread them open. When he can see your pussy, he sees how wet you are, and he lets out a wolf whistle at it, grin enthusiastic as he looks at the evidence of your arousal.

“Fucken, look at you, sweet girl, sweet, needy girl.” His gaze is greedy, “haven’t even fucken, touched you.” He’s sincerely astonished by your bodies reaction to him.

Both his hands go to pull your legs apart properly, moving them to the outside of his thighs. Manoeuvring you how he pleases, your mind numbed and agreeable. Having forgotten your previous shyness.

“Gonna touch you now,” he warns you; you aren’t really sure why.

His thumbs pull your lips apart, and then he moves a finger through your slit; you understand his warning now. He has used his powers to make his hand ice, the cold a shock to your system. Both of your hands shoot up to cover your mouth.

The glide of his finger on your pussy is smooth, the wetness coming from you making it slick. He notches two of his fingers at your hole and then he’s pushing in, stilling them when they’re in as far as they’ll go, the freezing cold a shock, a whiny gasp coming muffled behind your hands. Your pussy hole flutters around his fingers, Bi-Han is awestruck, watching your cunt react to his cold fingers.

“Look at you, mmm, so wet, so messy, perfection.” He’s mumbling it more to himself than you, wouldn’t matter if he was talking to you, you’re a bit preoccupied right now.

His thumb reaches up to your clit, the sudden cold feels like a lot, feels devastating. He doesn’t move his thumb, just holds it there, adding pressure. Your hips rise marginally, seeking friction, wanting more. Wanting his fingers to move.

Taking the hint, his fingers start moving, pace increasing slowly, sliding in and out of you, then back into you, crooking to rub against something cataclysmic. The cold of his fingers a deep contrast to the hugging heat of your walls. Your cunt clenches down on his fingers harshly, the wet of your arousal and his ice fingers too slick to slow down his movements.

Your hands stay covering your mouth, muffling your whimpers but not stopping them. He’s finger fucking you in full earnest now, eyes never leaving the way your pussy pulls his fingers back in. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment, enjoying the shudders and clenches of your cunt against his fingers. The thumb on your clit starts moving, rubbing controlled circles into it.

It doesn’t take you long to cum at all. Your back bows off the bed, toward him, your eyes roll back in your head and a silent cry is pulled from you. Bi-Han groans, enjoying the sight of you blissed out.

“Mmm, thas it, perfect, just like that, sweet girl…” He continues babbling praises to you as you cum all over his ice-cold fingers.

The pleasure is foreign, never having experienced an orgasm this strong from just someone’s fingers. A statement that also was previously said about Bi-Han’s ability to finger fuck you into next year, he’s now bested his prior record. The introduction of his ice powers having an incredibly overwhelming effect on your pussy.

“Always so fucken sensitive,” it’s a compliment, he means it as one anyways.

He moves to press soft kisses onto your face, giving you a second to catch your breath and come back to Earth, having levitated to a higher plane temporarily.

When you can think coherently again you look him in the eyes, they feel foggy. He reaches his hand up and brushes a stray tear from your cheek, one you hadn’t realised fell.

“Not even close to being done with you yet, sweet girl. Need you to fucken, pull it together.”

You nod your head at him, “I’m here.”

“Good.” He replies simply.

He hops off you for a moment, removing his pants before coming back into your view. Back between your legs, positioning them on his hips again. He drags the head of his cock through your folds, he taps it against your clit a couple times, each tap sending a small shock through your body.

“Fuuuck, I’ve got an idea.” The smile on his face is downright diabolical. It sends a rush through you.

He puts the tip of his dick at your pussy hole, having used your arousal to coat his cock, easing the stretch and helping the slide as he presses into you. You let out small, contained whimpers, biting your lip again, hoping to remain quiet.

Bi-Han groans at the feel of you wrapped around him, closing his eyes, trying to control himself as he sinks deeper into you. Both his hands have an iron clad grip on your thighs, holding you open and grounding himself.

“I fffucked you last night and you’re still this – ngh – goddamntight.” He huffs out.

He pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath and then pushes all the way into you. The way he suddenly fucks into you taking you off guard.

“Bi-Hannnn” you moan out his name.

“Ah, there she is, my sweet, whiny, girl.” He has a cocky smirk on his face, “told you, you couldn’t be quiet.”

You roll your eyes at him, and he grinds down into you in response, unhappy at your response. “Don’t be rude, I’m being nice.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you retort.

The smile on his face is amused, “trust me, I’m being downright chivalrous right now.”

He readjusts his gaze down to your cunt, a hand coming off your thigh and moving to your clit. His fingers begin thrumming against it, the first orgasm lingering in your veins. The taps serve your overstimulation, body and pussy jumping at each tap.

He smiles wide at your bodies reaction, groaning lightly at each jump of your cunt. Your hands move back to your mouth to conceal your moans again, he allows it, for now.

He starts tapping his fingers against your clit harder and faster, the pleasure sending you over the edge far quicker than your first orgasm. You clench down on his cock and cum all over it. Bi-Han lets out a repressed grunt at your orgasm.

“Haah – thas what I fucken wanted,” He’s satisfied with himself, hypothesis being proven correct, he can slap your pussy into an orgasm. “Tight little – do you think you can do that again?” He asks you.

You shake your head no at him and he tuts in response, “I think you can.”

He continues slapping your clit, the force he uses increasing. Speeding up once again, slapping your clit, forcing another orgasm from you. You cum with a yelp, the overstimulation becoming too much on your clit. Reaching your hands down you hold the hand that was slapping it still.

Looking up into your eyes, you can see a devious smile on his face, “you really are sensitive.”

His dick is twitching inside you, his own arousal evident. Rock hard and wanting but not giving himself anything more than kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. He lets you hold his hand back, enjoying the way you’re squirming under and around him. Letting you have a moment to come down before he does whatever he has planned next.

“I want you to know, this is me reminding you who you belong to.” He’s removing your hand from his, placing both his hands back on your thighs and grinding his dick into you.

“I don’t – mmph – need a reminder – hah.” You never forgot.

“Seems like you do, gonna have to mark you up, have you cum around me so much that anyone else is completely ruined for you, by me.” He’s huffing softly, “Gonna fill you with my cum, leave marks on your body, have your muscles aching and sore, just so you can never forget who fucks you this good.”

You whine, cunt clenching down on him, you bite your lip again halfway through your whine, remembering to keep the volume down. Something not overtly necessary since your quarters are furthest from everyone else’s but not willing to take the chance anyhow.

He chuckles cruelly at you, “mine now, sweet girl. Can’t even leave if you tried.”

“Okay,” is your simple response because you are okay with it.

You gasp, “you can’t either though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He begins to draw his hips back, fucking back into you unforgivingly, beginning a rough pace.

His cock bullies its way into you, over and over and over again. Fucking you stupid, making you dizzy, the previous orgasms furthering the euphoric, fucked out look on your face. Bi-Han lets out a wry laugh at the expression you’re making, only to be cut off by his own moan.

His hands move your thighs up, folding you in half, positioning himself up slightly and fucking directly down into you. Using your thighs as leverage.

His eyes watch the way your cunt swallows him, loving the way you take all of him. His head moves forward and bites the part of your thigh just about your knee. The pain sending pleasure rolling down your spine, hips rising to grind into his thrusts, pussy clenching down onto him.

“Gods, the way you let me do whatever – ngh – I want to you, gonna blow my load thinking about it.” He gasps melodiously.

The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, your supressed whimpers and Bi-Hans bitten back gasps. You clamp down onto him so tightly his pace falters for a second, you’re cumming around him again.

He stops thrusting immediately when he realises you are, he rubs at your clit to help it along but won’t continue thrusting into you. You ride out your high, waves of pleasure crashing over you, eyes dazed and unseeing as you spasm around his length. Soft groans and whimpers are coming from Bi-Han as you cum around him for the third time.

When you’re back in your body, Bi-Han looks feral from holding back, holding off on his own orgasm. Wanting you to cum on his dick an undetermined number of times.

Once he’s calmed down and is sure he isn’t going to cum prematurely, he starts fucking back into you, same burning pace. He moves your legs over the crook in each of his arms, cradling your legs and holding onto your hips.

Including the three he coaxed from you, it’s another additional two orgasms before he says, “last one, last one and then – nghhhh – I’m cumming inside you so – mphh – deep, I’ll be leaking from you tomorrow.”

You blush at his words, babbling nonsense, having given up on repressing the noises you make an orgasm ago, “mmmkay, I – ngh – want it Grandmasterrr…”

“And you’ll – fffffucken take it – nghhh–”

He fucks into you, hitting something deep, it feels different from all the other orgasms, you try to warn him, “fffeels different, Bi-Hannnn, is too much – I can’t –”

“You can and you – mphh – will,” he bites back.

You’re shaking your head at him, eyes large and wet, “nooo, mm feels like I’m gonna pee–”

His face lights up excited, “you aren’t going to pee.”

You’re still shaking your head at him, but his hand reaches up, off your hip and grabs onto your face, squishing your cheeks between is large fingers.

“Look atme – ngh – let. it. happen.” His tone is demanding.

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

His smile is large and beautiful, his pace never stopping. Now dedicating his full attention back to fucking you. The tip of his cock bullying the spot that’s responsible for the foreign feeling. Specifically angling his thrusts to drive into the spot.

His hand slides from your face down to your tits, grabbing one of them and twisting your nipple, sending a sharp pleasurable feeling through you, before continuing the move down and landing on your hip again. Using his grip to encourage the force of his thrusts.

And then suddenly, you’re cumming, hard, Bi-Han’s eyes watch, fucked out, as you cum around him. Cunt tight, vice like grip on his cock. The sight of you cumming and the feeling driving him over the edge. A sharp biting sensation at your hips, you’re too fucked out to register what caused it at the moment.

His cum fills you up, spilling out around his dick, leaking out onto the bed between your bodies.

You’re gasping as you begin registering the things around you again, first noticing the thin layer of ice on your hips, evidence of Bi-Han completely losing control for a moment. And then noticing how wet Bi-Han’s pelvis is, all down his thighs, all down your thighs.

You stumble over your words, “I – I’ve never, I didn’t think–”

“–You fucken, squirted all over me, hottest thing I’ve ever seen, my sweet, sweet, sensitive girl.”

He drops your legs from where they’re resting on his arms, untangling you from him and then leaning down and kissing you deeply. You return his kiss and whimper into his mouth. When he pulls back, he kisses away the tears you shed from the devastating force of the orgasm he just gave you.

His pride is practically blinding you, his ego massively inflated right now, “you’ve got such a creamy little cunt, I thought you’d be able to squirt for me–”

Your hands shoot up and cover his mouth to stop him from talking, his words that serve as compliments to him always embarrass you. He’s too blunt, it makes your skin hot.

“Too descriptive.” You tell him.

He mumbles against your hands, “what?” You ask him and pull your hands back.

He smirks at you, “you like it, I can be even more descriptive, if you’d like.”

You shake your head at him, “that was embarrassing.” Your words are all slurred right now. No energy to talk properly.

“Shouldn’t be, it was hot, means I fucked you right,” he whispers into your ear, “means I’ve ruined all other men for you.”

And he has, but “that was true before,” you turn your head to the side and press a kiss to his cheek.

He pulls his cock out of you, both of you hissing at the feeling, then he rolls off you and lays flat on his back.

“Sweet girl, always trying to kill me.”

You look over to him, eyes glazed, “do you feel better now?”

“Slightly, would feel better if they could all see the marks I left on you.”

You chuckle, “nice try, they’re not seein the light of day.”

He groans out, “we’ll see.” He pats his chest, signalling for you to cuddle into him.

You move over slightly before giving up, too tired and too sore, “can’t move.”

He rolls his eyes at you but gently moves you towards him, also moving closer himself to make it as painless as possible for you.

Your head rests on his chest and you cuddle into his side, “you’re changing my sheets,” you inform him.

He sighs from above you, “fine, but next time, you’re sitting on my face.”

❆˖°

A/N: You guys know the drill; I do not apologise for the horny, we embrace it here! Thank you for reading the whole thing!! I love you all and I hope you enjoyed it, please, if you have any thoughts, feelings, or requests, leave a comment or message me! I love the feedback I have been getting, I added some peoples suggestions into this chapter, I wasn’t super active this week because I tried functioning like a normal human being (I mostly failed) but I saw comments and likes coming in and it keeps me motivated and super grateful to you all. <333

Part four <3

#subzero x reader smut #bi han x reader #bi han x reader smut #bi han x you #mk1 smut #fanfic #subzero #subzero smut #subzero x reader #mk1 2023 #mk1 #smut

408 notes · View notes

lunerabo · 3 months

Text

cold grey winters

cw: sub!top!Gojo, dom!bottom!AFAB!Reader, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, partially clothed sex

There’s a kind of mild misery present on days like this. Pale skies stretch endlessly beyond the barrier that keeps you from freezing, and the view would be lovely, if going outside was comfortable enough to enjoy it.

The heater’s broken, and you’re surprised the layer of bitter frost on everything outside hasn’t crept into the house and settled on your floors. The lack of the joy of snow despite the temperatures would make matters worse, if not for the wad of it that peeks out from underneath the heavy throw you’ve wrapped yourself in on the couch.

Satoru’s warm, so warm you don’t want to shove him off and get on top of him. You want to be greedy, to curl up and let him cover you whole so you can drift off uninterrupted by violent shivering.

But it isn’t what he wants, this much he makes clear. How he touches your neck with icy fingers, provoking you into doing it back, again and again, an involuntary stupid grin stretching across your face as you wrestle him.

And now you are here, and you knew it would always lead to this point. Snowy hair tickles your nose, warm kisses on your jawline, and you know he won’t let you stay cold.

“I’m really not good at hiding what I want, am I?”

“No, you’re not.”

He pouts, offended that you agreed, despite asking the question himself.

“You could’ve at least lied and made me feel better about it.”

But he continues, the exchange only a small slip up, now far from his mind. It’s hard to think of much at all when you bare your throat for him to kiss like that. His shoulders rolls as he shifts above you, the unoccupied hand making its way between your thighs with no intention of being subtle. Shockingly cold air hits you as the fluffy throw slides down his back, having made a few too many movements under it.

But before you can open your mouth to complain, he’s yanked it back up over his shoulders, it a little excess draping over them so it doesn’t happen again. Seems he was just as affected as you, for you slide your hands up his back to find raised hair and goosebumps.

“Come on, let me do it. You’re cold, right? I can fix that.”

“If you let that blanket drop again while you do, I’m kicking you off and stealing the whole thing for myself.”

He grins, a nod of acknowledgment, before continuing without a hitch.

He’s a little disappointed to find that you’re not exactly wet, but he can’t blame you for that, he’s not terribly hard either—the both of you are a bit too cold for your bodies to want to do anything but curl up and shiver—but he knows he can change that.

He slithers underneath the throw, pulling it upward a few times to make sure it doesn’t fall off of you, before tugging your jeans past your hips, a gap only just big enough to fit his head into.

A flat, hot tongue presses against you, and you lurch in surprise. You don’t dislike this, not being able to see what he’s doing under there. Something about him also being unable to see you, too, has you canting your hips up towards his face for more.

You grow warm as he knew you would under his tongue, and you reach under the blanket to grip at his hair. He whispers something to you, but it’s muffled, and you’re too distracted by him pulling your pants the rest of the way down so he can get between your legs more comfortably. A violent shiver races through you, arctic air on your skin. But he descends again, warm shoulders replacing the warmth of your clothes, and his mouth latches on more firmly now. Your legs squeeze around his head, and he moans, low and brief, straight into your cunt.

Clever, you think, realizing what it is he’s doing under there. He thinks if you don’t see him, you won’t catch him fisting his cock like his life depends on it. And you almost didn’t, not with his other hand now hard at work plunging fingers deep into your cunt. Curling within you so deliciously. But he’s doing a great job, and you’re enjoying yourself too much to get on his case for it.

He’s hasty, desperate, as he crawls back up your body, your slick running down his chin. That familiar snowy hair peeks out from under the blanket, tangled and frizzy, and his cock presses insistently against you.

“Please,” he breathes, and you deny him. He ruts against you, bare and slippery between your folds, and it doesn’t help him one bit.

But you’re enjoying yourself. You want more, of course, but you’re so wonderfully cozy here, all fluffy hoodies and warm couch pillows. This, with the beautiful man above you and the heavy throw draped over his back, caught on the hood of his sweater, makes for a strangely soothing atmosphere. So you bask in it, and you make him wait while you do.

You push down on him once you’ve finally had enough of waiting, and he presses into you hard but not rough. Your breath wavers, and your icy fingers weave into his hair.

He moves his hips slowly, lazily, burying his head in your shoulder and muffling his humming in the folds of your clothes. He’s surprisingly quiet. So are you.

“You’re being… good for me, Satoru,” you remark, as if in disbelief.

It’s almost like he crumbles right then and there, like every little bit of tension in his muscles has suddenly eased and settled like a heavy sigh. He ruts into you slow and insistent, pressing sloppy kisses to your jaw and ear, arms a cradle beneath your back.

A long, drawn out groan, wavering with each firm buck of his hips against yours. The sound makes you tremble around him, and you know he feels it, or else he wouldn’t pick up the pace.

A pause, for just a moment, to tuck the blanket in tighter around the both of you.

Your eyelashes flutter against his cheek, breath hot on his ear, and the hand gripping the back of his sweater for dear life finally lets go, only to push at one of his arms. A wordless demand for him to finish you off. You leave no room for misinterpretation. A hand warmed from being beneath your back slips between you, and you press his thumb on your clit. Your reaction is instantaneous.

Satoru hunches over further, his forehead rested just above your collarbone, and he whines, and the hand that drives you up the hill trembles in his quickly diminishing ability to control himself.

You barrel past the point of no return with him close behind, the heat blooming within you and running down your thighs and onto his.

You grin, sighing, petting his hair as he settles into a comfortable delirium in the dazzling afterglow.

You thank every star in the sky that you can come back to your senses quickly.

“Get up.”

“What, you don’t want to stay and cuddle?”

“No, we don’t have a towel under us or anything. Get up. Now. If it gets on the couch, we are burning these cushions.”

#finishing and posting a fic while actively getting a tattoo is now something I can say that I’ve done #I fucking forgot to do this yesterday I’m so sorry #sub gojo satoru #sub gojo #sub satoru #sub gojo smut #sub gojo x reader #sub jjk #sub jjk smut #sub jujutsu kaisen #sub jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo smut #satoru smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

196 notes · View notes

holygrailimagines · 1 year

Text

Cleaning Day

Summary: Cleaning Day literally becomes dirty day, SMUT!

Author's note: This was requested a long time ago, so I am so sorry to whoever requested this, I hope the wait was worth it! Enjoy!

You and your husband shared the same, mutual distaste for cleaning day. It was something you both dreaded but knew it was necessary. No matter how much you disliked cleaning, the both of you knew it was much more preferable to live in a clean house than a dirty one. Thankfully, the two of you were an excellent team and always conquered cleaning day.

After several hours, the only thing left to do was place the final load of clothes inside the washer. Then, an idea creeped into your mind. You began undressing yourself, leaving yourself in your bra and panties.

“Leo? Ven aquí por favor.” You called for him, instantly hearing his footsteps making their way into the laundry room. When he walked in, he was stunned. He did not expect to see you nearly nude in the middle of the laundry room. It was silly but he was definitely getting turned on at the view of you doing laundry in your undergarments. You knew what this was doing to him, smirking to yourself as you placed your set of dirty clothes inside the washer.

“Yes?” He asked, finally snapping himself into reality.

“I was thinking it would be a great idea to just wash our clothes now instead of waiting for the next load.” You explain. It really was a great idea, a sexy one too. He stared at you, wondering whether you were joking or not.

“Are you gonna take off your clothes?” You ask impatiently, pointing at his clothes. He looked down at himself and hesitantly began stripping. You watched him, smiling at his disbelief. He handed you his clothes, and a smirk formed on his lips.

“What about these?” He asked, his fingers pinching the hem of his boxers. You didn’t even answer him, unclipping your bra and sliding down your panties, placing them inside the washer. Again, he was stunned at your actions but he quickly followed suit. You closed the washer lid and slowly leaned forward on the washer with your palms, arching your back slightly. You took your sweet time scanning the washer’s cleaning options as if you hadn’t used it for years. Messi was behind you, his cock undeniably hard.

“Should we pick…deep clean?” You asked innocently, turning your head to the side so you could catch a glimpse of your husband. He wasn’t even paying attention, silently thanking god that your hair was tied up so he could admire your bare back. You pushed your ass back, instantly coming into contact with his crotch. He quickly held your hips, completely stopping you from moving any further. The room suddenly became freezing cold as your nipples hardened. He quickly attached his lips to your jaw, sucking on the soft skin. You threw your head back, resting it on his chest as you felt your cunt flare up.

He guided his tip, sliding it up and down your glistening lips before pushing himself inside. He grunted, entering you entirely. You whimpered at his touch, your pussy taking all of him. As soon as the base of his cock reached your ass, he pulled out and slammed himself back in. You moaned loudly, your walls clenching tightly around his girth. He groaned at the warmth and grip he felt from you, his thrusts becoming rapid and stronger. The washer beneath you squeaked with each pounding thrust Messi gave you. You couldn’t hold yourself any longer as you laid flat against the washer. You gripped the edges of the washing machine, as his balls slapped against your ass. He placed his palms on either side of your head, thrusting deeper inside of you. His grunts became louder as your moans grew in pitch.

“Please,” you begged, not really sure what for. He groaned, pulling you up by your hair.

“I wanna see you when I come,” He said huskily, staring at your face. His eyes were dark with lust, a thin layer of sweat coating his face. You moaned in response, staring in his eyes. His cock twitched inside you and his thrusts became messier. With one final thrust, he coated your walls with his seed. You whimpered as he slipped out, his juices running down your legs. You laid limply on the washing machine, your cunt still sensitive and pulsating.

“Did you come?” He asked through deep breaths, you shook your head no, too weak to respond with words.

“I have another great idea, how about a shower?”

Another Author's Note: I am really sorry if I haven't completed any requests as quick as I should have. I am planning on catching up on all of them by the end of this month. If I haven't completed your request by then, it is probably because I wasn't comfortable or was unsure how to write, I am sorry if that was the case with any of your requests. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!!

#lionel messi imagine #messi #lionel x reader #lionel messi #messi x reader #lionel messi x reader #messi smut #lionel messi smut #messi imagine

258 notes · View notes

mwagneto · 4 months

Text

sherlock & co. review from an insane person (me) coz this is like. the 25th? sherlock adaptation i've checked out so ofc i have opinions on everything ever. and ik ppl who work on indie podcasts browse tumblr sometimes so just in case you work on this DON'T click keep reading, this post is not for youuu shoo. thanks x

ok so far it's like. fine? which is lowkey sad coz i wish it was smtg i really liked but it hasn't gripped me yet which is a shame but yknow. early days. i'm giving it time since it's only 15 episodes so far

my main issue is like. i really wish it wasn't so obviously influenced by bbc but it just so clearly is which is a shaaame like it's better than bbc in every aspect but yknow. not a high bar to clear. like it kinda feels like they liked a lot of things abt bbc and set out to fix the bad parts (h&w friendship being nonexistent, the mysteries being shit) but just kept the rest? in some places keeping things that were invented by bbc which is. baffling tbh

i'm not really picky when it comes to h&w personalities like i think it's fine to just do whatever you want w them, i think it's really fun when an adaptation gives them different personalities than what you're used to but, and this is where it feels far too bbc-ish for comfort, i just don't like it when sherlock is a cunt for no reason? like. he's not a mean person he's only mean in bbc coz moffat thought house md was cool and ripped it off. can we stop making him mean pleeeease 😭 he's just some guy..................

h&w relationship wise it's like... ok so i tend to go into adaptations with a fully clean slate so like i never let my general attachment to them influence how i view them in specific adaptations, the work itself needs to sell me on both the characters and the relationship and like... here neither of those really happened yet which makes me sad coz i think by now it should've but i'm giving it time. at least they're friends and i like that watson is useful for cases/knows things holmes doesn't sometimes coz thats like. such an essential element to sh stories for me and a loooottt of adaptations tend to just completely forget it so that's a win but idk if anything they're too tame? like i dont expect a romance but they can't just be casual friends they need to be bat shit crazy about each other. to me. but like maybe that'll develop over the rest of the podcast we'll see

kinda related to that point but case-wise i think holmes is a bit too ahead of everyone else sometimes which isn't inherently a problem but it does once again smell of bbc which like. noone should ever emulate moffat writing don't do that 🙏 god bles. but i've been able to solve every case along with/before the mcs which is like. thee point of mystery stories for me so yea i really like the stories themselves so far, especially the way they manage to make them solvable even without visuals or narration. OH and i almost forgot but i rly like the soundtrack, i love it when sh soundtracks have a heavy emphasis on violins coz. yknow

howeverr i am on my hands and knees begging them not to give watson a girlfriend tho like please oh myfffucking god . obvs watsonlock doesn't usually factor into my enjoyment of adaptations given that like. y'know. out of the hundreds out there theres only two where either of them is even gay so it's not something i expect nor require but like. to me it is essential that these two ppl are insane abt each other and don't really have anyone else, definitely noone important. like even the rdj movies got this despite ritchie's obsession w the 2 men 1 woman dynamic so idk why i'm constantly having to wage a war against random unnecessary romances for either watson or, god forbid, holmes. when the only interesting relationship either of these men have is with each other. that one granada holmes quote about them choosing not to include mary coz holmes and watson dont need anyone else etc etc. like i seriously dislike it when they introduce anyone else like cmonnnnnn thog dont care

anyway tldr. i guess if asked to pick a short description i'd say. promising? i hope it's gonna be good in the long run. the way they do mysteries is already something i like so. i hope they keep that up and i hope the h&w relationship evolves into something i enjoy coz so far i'm like. i can see the bones of smtg i'll potentially like but it's not there yet. but also like. this is an indie production i'm listening to for free so ion wanna rip into it these are mainly just what i liked/disliked based on the preferences i developed with this one quick trick (grow up completely insane abt sherlock holmes -> consume every adaptation that you can get your paws on -> no profit)

#i left out a lot coz i didn't wanna make it ten kilometres long but this is most of it ig #i also have a lot of issues w how modern adaptations depict his addiction problems but that's a different post #sh stuff #sherlock holmes #sherlock & co #also im not putting it on the tierlist yet but i will eventually #it's too short for now i wanna see how it plays out before i judge it #sh reviews

21 notes · View notes

loving-n0t-heyting · 9 months

Note

Out of curiosity what do you dislike about Ada Palmers books

so tbc i made my way thru vol 1 of terra ignota and the first bit of vol 2 before quitting, so im working with a limited sample. but such is the case with dismissal! so here goes:

the prose is... bad. its very likely i should just develop a higher tolerance on this, ik im effectively gatekeeping myself from some very conceptually solid fiction over a relatively superficial skill detached from the stuff that really deeply matters, but the style on a sentence-to-sentence level is just very underwhelming, which is a particular problem when in universe its supposed to be elevated and uplifting (like the speech at renunciation day). i dont mind purple prose but it like marries imo the worst aspects of purple and bland, its a chore to get thru it

the pacing feels sort of mechanical and arbitrary,. every fifty pages, on the dot, theres another twist pulled from the Twist Bag! im told this im proves but its a) not enough to make up for the other deficits and ii) a common thing said when it takes a certain amount of time for ppl to inure themselves to an in fact persistent defect in a long work

Your Kink Is Not My Kink (But Your Kink Is OK)

i do not care about these characters. its hard for me to go into more detail bc i have little grip on what makes characters "work" for me in general but i just. dont care what happens to any of them (besides best not-girl eureka weeksbooth 🤤)

the worldbuilding. by far the biggest letdown. ppl will tell you—repeatedly, at length—that this is the great strength of the series. do not listen to them! they are misguided. ada palmer is really good—gifted, even—at the first step of worldbuilding, much moreso than most writers! shes top notch at coming up with a broad element of the society that makes you think "whoa, i want to know how that works!" and then... you never do. the depths are never plumbed. the depths are never even adequately hinted at. nor are the depths even conspicuously hidden from view! she just... tells you that there are a bunch of totally complicated details, trust me guys, look here i came up with some technobabble and some percentages like i totally promise theres stuff going on behind here! but there just, so aggravatingly obviously isnt! the technobabble does not even give the illusion of depth, the way (imo) it does in almost nowhere, it gives the appearance of earnestly trying to project such an illusion. tears me out of the immersion every time. its probably worth mentioning that i know from firsthand reports that she is into larp stuff irl, which is notorious for attracting ppl with a high tolerance for would be un-suspensors of disbelief. which, again, may be a virtue on their part! but if so its one i lack, at least here

i was talking to birdblog who suggested much of it might be that the work is very capital-L Liberal, and i am very not. which i think is kind of true, but less in that this is a drawback it possesses and more that its a virtue it lacks. theres lots of fiction i enjoy that is transparently committed to big philosophical/moral/political claims im vehemently opposed to! off the top of my head: any shakespeare that involves kings, any bernard shaw that involves Society, log horizon (at least s01, havent seen past it), nausicaa of the valley of the wind (the manga, the movie is sort of opaque philosophically), a bunch of outright propaganda films from wwii (american, british, russian, japanese), several kipling short stories...

but like, i think that a visceral sympathy for the earnestly felt message of a work of art does help one excuse other flaws, and i suspect a lot of my fundamentally Liberalism-oriented friends are able to enjoy the series bc the author shares that same basic vision. which is certainly like, an interesting one! but on its own its not enough to compel me past the artistic demerits by being either spiritually akin to encourage me or sufficiently weird and novel to fascinate me

anyway, tell me why im wrong, terra ignotans! humani nihil a me alienum puto

#ask #spacific-sunrise #terra ignota

52 notes · View notes

tiffyfoundsomething · 1 year

Text

We all know I’m a sucker for a blind box.

Folks here may or may not know I collect resin ball jointed dolls. I also like vinyl/abs HJD.

There are blind box BJD.

I ordered a Simon’s Club Toy Campus Series doll on Amazon: https://amzn.to/3JT66Qy and she was delivered today.

When I first looked through them I chose my favorites knowing FULL well that I would get the one I wanted the least. That’s how it works.

I have a reputation for weirdly good blind bag luck, but that only applies if I’m the one that chooses the box (or if my Son does, then it’s even better luck, which is weird).

It doesn’t work if someone else chooses the package for me.

I wanted basically anyone other than Apple because red and black don’t appeal to me.

I wanted Blueberry most.

I got Apple.

She’s very cute. I am not unhappy about this. I wouldn’t have bought it at all if I actively disliked any of them.

She came with a packet of extra hands, a little dress up card, a sticker sheet with her outfit pieces, a promo card with a QR code, instructions, her outfit, and herself.

The box says they’re hand painted, but that’s certainly at least a stencil. Maybe airbrushed by hand with masks.

She is strung with narrow elastic and has tiny little S hooks in her wrists and ankles.

The instructions say their hats come off but either Apple’s doesn’t or I just haven’t figured it out, yet.

She is TOP HEAVY and her head flops around a bit. To dress her I had to take her whole head and face off.

She has standard BJD articulation plus a torso joint and double joint peanuts in her knees and elbows.

Her head is 3 parts. 2 hair parts and a face plate, which slides on and off easily from a small retaining plate. Because of the positions of the retaining plate in relation to her eyes, it would be a bit of a pain to modify her to take inset eyes.

I did have to take her head off to dress her. There are instructions on how to take out the face plate retaining.... thing... to facilitate dressing, but I didn’t bother.

The clothes are all hemmed, but not serged and close with Velcro-like tape closures.

She comes with 6 alternate right hands and 2 alternate left hands. I have no idea if they all come with the same hand pack or not.

Swapping the hands isn’t too difficult if you have a tool to help, though it does require a firm pinch-grip so if you have issues with pinch-grip, you may need assistance.

The alternate hands do all seem to be a little bit smaller than the default.

She looks concerned...

Now, a warning.

I’ve been seeing quite a few reports of doll and toy shipments coming by boat from China arriving with visible mold in the packaging (Rainbow High dolls, specifically) with people suspecting they’re getting wet in transit or the cargo containers/ships are infested, and this package absolutely REEKED of mold when it arrived.

There was outer plastic, an outer cardboard box, and then the product’s outer box and the stink made it all the way to the product box.

The box is pretty cute, though, and has a picture of my favorite of the dolls on it, so I’ve put it down in the basement bathroom with my Ozone destinker device to see if I can get rid of that bad smell so that I can keep the box to keep all of her things in together.

We’ll see how that goes.

#bjd #product review #sc toys #simons club toys #blind box #affiliate links

106 notes · View notes

ilovegoths-xd · 1 year

Text

NSFW alphabet | Eddie M. 𖨆❤︎𖨆

‧̍̊˙· .° ｡˚♡Masterlist♡˚｡ °. ·˙‧

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader.

Summary: NSFW alphabet basically.

Genre: Smut 🩸

Warnings: SMUT 💀, I don't know what else am I supposed to say.

Word count: 907

A/N: Hope you like this, It's the first time I do a NSFW abc. I also did this with my friend this is her blog ♡ go follow her and take a look at her page.

Enjoy <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He loves giving aftercare, he brings you whatever you need and he makes sure you're ok.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His hands, he loves how they grab you and handle you. His favourite part of your body is your thighs he loves to grip them when you are on missionary and how they look when you ride him, and loves leaving hickeys on them

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside of you, he definitely has a breeding kink but only for you, if he can’t cum inside of you in your thighs or your tits, he loves the sight.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Eddie has pictures of you bent down or of you in your underwear and he jerks off at them.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He doesn't have a lot of experience but has enough.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Riding or cowgirl.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He would make some jokes to release tension but if it makes you uncomfortable he would stop doing it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He wouldn't trim it, he would do if you ask to but he thinks it's pretty normal, he doesn't care if you have hair either.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As I said before, he would make some jokes but if something bothers you he would stop.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He is very horny so yes, but he prefers fucking you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, dacryphilia, praise, hair pulling, bondage, gagging, roleplay.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

He prefers a private place but he doesn't really bother to do it in a public place.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything about you, he's horny.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn't hurt you, he hates that and he will stop immediately if you use the safeword.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes both but prefers receiving. He likes the way your mouth sits on his cock and how you look up at him with teary eyes, he likes putting your hair in a messy ponytail or how your tongue licks that one vein and how you grip his thighs. He also loves giving tho, when he met you he didn't have a lot of experience with eating you out but he got very good. He loves when you pull his hair and when you beg him to give you more, he can cum just at the sight of you cumming and at the sound of your whines and moans.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the situation, it's usually fast and rough but depends on his mood and how tired or horny he is.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesnt hates quickies, but he prefers proper sex, however, he loves quick blowjobs, handjobs, or anything where he gets to touch you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He is very open to do whatever you want to do but will be a bit scared to do some things.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He likes doing multiple rounds, 2-3 rounds. But it really depends on how his day was.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't dislike them. He would never wear one on himself, maybe a few on you to tease but he doesn't like another thing making you cum.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Big tease, likes to see you begging but if he sees that it's too much for you he will stop and help you out.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Some occasional moans, groans and whines, he doesn't make much noise not because he is embarrassed or something but because he wants to listen to you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He secretly has a mommy kink, he does not want to bring it because he is scared you'll find it weird, he will only confess it if you bring it up.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It is a little bigger than average, but it is thicker than longer.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very high. Eddie is very horny, he's always ready for you, so if you're ready, he's ready.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It really depends, normally he will do some aftercare like a shower and give you some food and wait for you to fall asleep but if he is too tired or if you had done too many rounds he will just clean you up with a wet rag and go to sleep with you.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡♡ Love, Mars ♡♡

A/N: This was very fun to write hope yall like it

Hope you have a nice day/night ෂ

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #smut #perv!eddie #eddie my beloved #eddie smut #eddie x y/n #alphabet

122 notes · View notes

aita-blorbos · 3 months

Note

(OC. Connected to https://www.tumblr.com/aita-blorbos/741778403555000320/oc-am-i-the-asshole-for-swapping-bodies-with-a

Saw some people showing interest in this story, so, decided to give some more tidbits. Might do it again if people want)

Am I the... bad guy (sorry I don't like saying bad words) for wanting to improve the camp I work at?

Hello! This has been bugging me for a bit. So, I (22, M) work at this camp, right? It's a summer job, since, y'know, the camp is only open for visits at summer. It's called "Mt. Bore", and, well, it's advertised as such! A boring, uneventful place, and... I kinda don't like that?

The place is beautiful! The air is fresh, the plants are nice, the birds singing are really good to hear! So it's a shame that it's advertised as such a bad place to be. The ticket prices don't help either! They're not expensive, just slightly above average, for some reason. And to top it off, we don't even have access to all of the place! The camp's terrain is huge, there's even a mount nearby, which I bet would be an awesome place to take the campers to! But we just have a small portion of the park we're allowed to be in, for some reason, and the rest is blocked off by fences.

And, since I mentioned the campers, this is a good moment to talk a bit about them. So, this summer we have 6 campers, which is way more than usual. There's this one kid (We'll call him E) who's a regular. Really fun kid, very smart too, though he mostly stays at his cabin. Usually he's our only camper, but this year a local school bought some tickets to give away to some students, so in total we have 6 campers this year.

Thing is, half of them seem very disinterested. There's this one girl who's been having some pretty dire anxiety attacks every now and then, there's this other boy who's gloomy and reclused, and even E is acting a bit... different these past few days.

The other half of the campers seem pretty happy though. We were talking the other day and they asked me if we could go on a hike around the camp, and seemed a bit bummed when I told them we weren't allowed past the fences, but I promised I'd talk to my boss about it.

And talk to him I did! He's a pretty successful businessman, inherited his dad's company and managed to make it even more successful, and is also the owner of the camp, though I guess he doesn't like people knowing that, for some reason? He specifically made me sign a contract that prohibited me from sharing his connection to the park with anyone, and even told me that I can only connect him through his phone so we wouldn't be seen together. Weird, but I suppose this is just a privacy boundary or something...

So anyway, I asked him if we could go past the fences and take a walk around the forest or go to the mount nearby, but he just said no. I tried to insist, saying the place was very beautiful, that we could do a lot of things with it and he still said no. I tried to appeal to his businessman side and said that we could make a lot of money off of the camp if we managed to attract a lot of new campers, y'know? Expand the areas we can go, build more cabins, rebrand it to "Mt. Fun" or something and just make it into an actual nice thing, y'know?

He... He REALLY disliked that. He started yelling at me through the call, and threatened to fire me if I took those teens anywhere out of bounds or even if I so much as brought this up again.

I... I don't really get it. I just wanna make this place nicer! I like working here, it's such a calm place, and I think more people deserve to experience it! I don't know if my boss has some sort of grip or attachment with the place, but he looks like he wants as little attention on it as possible!

I'm kind of worried I might've been in the wrong here, I don't know, maybe I said something that put him in a bad mood, maybe I touched a senstivve subject for him?? I really just wanna help people around me be happy, and I'm worried I might've came across as invasive when talking to my boss. Even if he's grumpy and rude, I didn't want to upset him... So, was I the bad guy here?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

12 notes · View notes

muffinsin · 2 months

Note

Well, my friend groups been mean to me as of late. They have been making fun of my appearance which is fair enough i’m not the prettiest person, loudly in public- people i dont even know have been laughing at their jokes. Ik i’m just being sensitive n its just a joke so i asked them to stop joking about it in public which led to them doing it more often as its funny when i go bright red. Theyve been saying to me that autism isnt even a thing n i’m just seeking attention, some of them anyway, the others like to do things that trigger me occasionally.

Anyway i started to stop hanging out with them the past few days slowly which started a chain of arguments. I told them i didnt want to be friends with people who have been using me for a but of a joke, they then said that we were never friends in the first place- i never got the hint and whenever they got bored theyd try n get reactions out of me bc it was hilarious to them- had another gc with everyone in it but me. Never invited out either. Called me delusional too, quite the shocker who would have thought, n proclaimed in public about my attachment to the dimitrescu sisters. I got called alot of names. Trigger warning- they told me to go slit my wrists n follow through with it.

So I’m currently thinking about the dimitrescu sisters to distract myself. Cassandra mostly- i speak to the posters i have of them n cuddle up against them which kind of helps ig. Like i said I’m delusional 😅

Ik this is just childish n i need to get a grip but i’m on the verge of having a bit of a breakdown.

-deluded anon

(TW, mention of bullying, harassment)

First of all, hon; your feelings are entirely valid.

And with (really no-) respect (-at all), fuck these people. They’re awful humans for treating you this way, especially so after disguising themselves as friends.

Regarding the things mentioned in the first paragraph. “Pretty” is immeasurable. Perception varies from each person. Just take a piece of art for an example. Surely not everybody is going to come to an agreement over a piece. Some might say it’s divine. Others have a different opinion on it. Try remembering that it’s not about being “the prettiest person”, because there is no such thing. Another example could be made of the Dimitrescu sisters, if that helps. Some argue Bela is the prettiest. Others argue Daniela is, and others argue Cassandra is. There is no right or wrong. Claiming “you aren’t the prettiest person” is simply one viewpoint🙌 aside from all this, it is absolutely wrong for people to target you because of your appearance, no matter what.

The next point is being “sensitive”. When you dislike something, especially someone’s joke, you are not being sensitive. Being made fun of is not pleasant nor right, and getting upset over it is perfectly valid.

I am proud to hear you’re trying to distance yourself from these so called “friends”. Despite not knowing them, they seem like a horrible and disrespectful bunch. Regarding being called “delusional”. I don’t necessarily see it as a bad thing at all. Can it lead to bad situations? Sometimes. But the word itself is not an insult to me. It’s a character trait, hon, and it should not be used as an insult. I for one describe Daniela as very delusional on a regular basis, and still love and support that fictional woman with all my heart. Delusional is but a trait, but it doesn’t define a person.

Saying such things and treating you this way is horrible, I’m so sorry that happened to you hunny.

It’s great you’re able to find comfort like that! It’s very admirable in my eyes. Again, “delusional” isn’t necessarily bad. I have friends that talk to stuffed animals. I have friends who cuddle up to them and act as though they are Alcina. I have friends crying and talking as though Alcina or one of the sisters is there with them. If it comforts you, that’s what matters, hon🙌

And lastly, it is not childish at all. I do hope you will be able to rid yourself of such horrible people, and find loving and respectful friends! :)

#this got long-#deluded anon #I hope you’re doing better now #Have water #get fresh air #take a deep breath

6 notes · View notes

beansterpie · 4 months

Text

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Thanks for tagging me @marley-manson! <3

I would tag people but it's late and my brain is tired so literally, PLEASE just adopt this tag meme if you see it and read the whole thing. You have my full permission to say I tagged you, even if we've never spoken lol. Go for it, be audacious.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

43,487!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Well the posted fic is a Berserk fic, but I have various other wips that I pick away at when I'm bored. Among them include Eyeshield 21, MDZS, RotE, Harry Potter (technically?). Those are the most recent ones anyway.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Chain of Dissent, she's my favorite fic <3 (she's my only fic)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yeah I try to! Though I'll admit uhhhh I haven't updated it in... fucking? two years? god, and so I've been bad about responding to the more recent comments because I feel guilty for not updating in so long :') Really gotta get back to it.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

None, because I haven't finished a fic yet lol

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not so far! I've gotten a couple of comments that come across as unintentionally mildly rude, but definitely nothing that constitutes as hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Well not so far in CoD, but, ahem, I have written smut in one of my wips lol. Deeply self indulgent but I guess character driven? It's mildly nasty and desperate <3

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven't actually written a crossover (yet. well, recently) but they are a bit of a passion of mine lmao. I love ridiculous crossovers, and I'm talking about "a magical portal opens up and throws characters from fandom A into the world (& characters) of fandom B" type shit. I don't need the ways in which the characters interact to make sense, I just want them to be thrown together and see where it goes from there. Fish out of water shenanigans! Characters questioning their own motivations and idea of life by seeing a world entirely different from theirs!! Just like, fun shit! I also absolutely don't need for the two fandoms to be similar lol. I have a somewhat detailed Berserk/Eyeshield 21 crossover living rent free in my head so clearly anything goes.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Lol no.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I'll probably have to say GriffGuts, because it's a ship that's gripped me by the neck for the past 7 years or something, where my interest in it hasn't really waned.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Uhhhh, idk? I mean I am DETERMINED to finish CoD, so that's out. And the wips I write in my spare time are just like, things I do for fun where I don't put any pressure on myself over it. I'm not planning on posting them anywhere, and I'm not generally planning on 'finishing' them either. I mean if I do finish one, I might post it, but again, they're low key things that I'm not taking too seriously.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hm. I honestly don't consider myself a very strong writer, at least in terms of things like prose and sentence structure, grammar, that sort of thing. I think I'm pretty decent at figuring out the direction that I want the story to go, and all the individual steps that need to happen to get to that point in a way that feels organic (at least, imo.) And I like to think I'm pretty good at characterization-- having the characters behaving and reacting in ways that feel like could concievably happen in canon is generally what I'm going for.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Yeah prose, lol. I mean, I don't actually dislike my more.... utilitarian writing style, mainly because I generally prefer reading more direct writing (unless the lyrical writing is really really good), but I do think I could inject some more illustrative details and metaphors into my writing overall. @marley-manson is SO good at coming up with perfect metaphors to describe a situation or feeling, all while perfectly recreating the character's voice, and I really admire that about her writing!

I also want to get better with having characters like, doing things while they're talking. I find a lot of the conversations I write happen between characters just kind of standing around, which obviously is fine but I'd like to construct scenes with a bit more specificity in the future.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Wait so like, say in a fic that is otherwise written in English, having a line of dialogue written in Spanish when a character is speaking it? I... don't have strong feelings about it one way or the other I guess lol. I mean ideally the line(s) written in the other language are correct lol, and not just badly google translated or something.

Though you know, now that I think about it, I feel like it would work best between languages that use the same alphabet (which does end up narrowing the possible languages down quite a lot) because that way the reader can still sound out the dialogue even if the don't understand the language, which could emulate what the pov character is experiencing. Whereas if it was a fic written in English, and then had a line written in, say, Japanese, the reader wouldn't even be able to sound it out so it's kind of a brick wall. (Unless there's footnotes, but that tends to be a little more clunky in fic than in a published book with pages).

If the readers are supposed to understand the dialogue written in another language, like two characters suddenly start speaking in said other language and we're meant to keep up with the conversation, then I feel like it's just easier to translate their words in whatever language the fic is written in otherwise.

But yeah idk, I think with intent and good execution, anything can work, but it could also be done in a way that's more annoying than anything.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I think. It was neopets LMFAO. I remember writing a fic when I was like 10 about Hannah (the adventurer) and Jacques (from the maraqua plot comic) as a romantic couple because I was annoyed at the time that there were multiple fics about Hannah and Garin (or whatever his name was, also from the maraqua plot) getting together even though I thought Garin was BORING and they were just shipped together because they were both usuls (which are overrated imho), even though Jacque was obviously better.

... I may have had a crush on Jacques.

But the first fic that I think I posted anywhere was for Xiaolin Showdown lmfao, probably also when I was 10 or 11 or something. I wrote like four separate fics for that show.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Yeah it's CoD lol. It's the longest thing I've written so far, and I'm overall still very proud of it. I'd probably go back and change some things in the first chapter because it reads a little clunky and like, abrupt to me now, but I'm not doing that until I finish the fic. Allowing myself to go back and edit stuff before I've even finished the story seems like a road to ruin lol.

#tag meme #marley-manson #ty for tagging me! this was fun #but now i am yawning all over the place so I gotta sleeeepppp #have work in the morning rip

7 notes · View notes

baronessblixen · 1 year

Note

So I know you don’t do ficmas but if you want to write from time to time this month I have this combo : Christmas + Sick Mulder in a fic

Love u ✨

Been meaning to write this for ages! thank you for the prompt. So Mulder isn't exactly sick but he's injured - and that's why Scully can't leave him alone and has to bring him to her mother's Christmas party! Wc: 2,187.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Christmas With The Scullys

“What is he doing here?” Frothing at the mouth, her brother Bill regards her and Mulder with narrow eyes. His bark has always been worse than his bite, but Scully tightens her grip on her partner’s bicep anyway. Today of all days, Mulder doesn’t need to deal with this. She didn’t give him any choice. It was either him accompanying her to her mother’s Christmas party, or her staying behind with him, missing family time. A cheap shot on her part, but desperate times and all.

“I couldn’t leave him on his own,” she explains. Next to her, Mulder is quiet. She can only imagine how much pain he’s in. They shouldn’t stand here longer than necessary, but Bill is still blocking the door. “Would you please let us in? Unless you want Mulder to pass out because you will have to carry him inside if he does.” Bill practically jumps out of the way and Scully leads Mulder inside, a hand on his back.

“There you are.” Her mother walks out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “Oh, Fox,” she says, touching his arm. “I heard you’re not well.” A loud snort comes from the direction of the living room. Scully rolls her eyes. Bill Jr. wouldn’t dare say anything in front of their mother, no matter how much he dislikes Mulder.

“I hit my head,” Mulder says, nevertheless smiling at her mother and shaking her hand. That, however, is not enough for her. She draws him close and gives him a bear hug. “I’ll be fine, Mrs. Scully,” he says, his voice muffled.

“Mom, Mulder needs rest,” Scully says and her mother nods, but doesn’t let go of him. “Can he- it’s too noisy down here.”

“I made up your bed.” Finally, Mulder is free. Scully sees him sway and grabs his arm. He needs to lie down and quickly. She doesn’t need him passing out and making his concussion even worse. Her fingers dig into his arm and he winces. She mouths an apology and he sighs, his shoulder bumping against her own head.

“My bed,” she says, just to clarify. She hears a clatter from behind her and doesn’t need to turn around to know that Bill is there and listening.

“With the whole family coming,” her mother explains, “there’s limited space.”

“I can sit in the car,” Mulder says, turning to Scully.

“No,” both Scully and her mom say in unison. Behind them, Bill snickers. Scully whirls around and glares at him. At least he has the audacity to blush in embarrassment.

“My bed is fine. It’s… I was just- let’s get you upstairs, Mulder.”

“Do you need any help, Dana?” Her mother asks and she shakes her head no.

“Thank you, mom. I’ve got it.” She can feel her family’s eyes on her back as she leads Mulder up the stairs. They’re walking slowly, taking every step deliberately.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder mumbles when they’re at the top. He sounds out of breath and his eyes are glassy when he looks at her.

“This isn’t your fault, Mulder.”

“Isn’t it?” She steers him towards her bedroom, momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s here. He’s been to her mother’s house before and she’s shown him all of the rooms, but this is different. He’s in her room. And he’s going to sleep in her bed. Where she will most likely sleep, too, later tonight.

“Sit there,” she says softly, pushing him towards her bed. He does as told, letting his eyes wander around her room. “How are you feeling?” She asks, helping him out of his jacket. “Does your head hurt?”

“Hmm,” he says, still taking in his surroundings. “Dizzy,” he adds.

“Stop looking around,” Scully scolds him with a smile.

“This is your room,” he says.

“I know it is.”

“It’s pretty. Ouch.” He sighs. “I really am sorry, Scully. For being here.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, her voice shaky. She means every word. She knows Mulder probably doesn’t remember or only remembers half of it. He might never recall how he sustained his concussion but she does. And she can’t get the pictures out of her head. Scully takes a deep breath and focuses on Mulder, who is looking up at her with tired eyes and pouty lips.

“Next year I’ll make sure you get to spend Christmas with your family. It’s a promise. It’s my Christmas gift. I need to tell your mom, too,” he says, trying to get up. Scully stops him. “And your brother. I know he hates me.”

“Mulder, stop.” She keeps her hands on his shoulder. “I’m giving you something for your headache and then I need you to rest. I will come check on you every 30 minutes. Okay?”

“I want you to spend Christmas with your family,” he says as Scully hands him the pills and a glass of water.

“I am spending time with them. We’re at my mother’s, remember?” He nods slowly, taking the pills she gave him. “Now please lie down.”

“You don’t hate me,” he says, already sounding drowsy.

“I don’t hate you,” she assures him, leaning close to him. The combination of disinfectant and his very own Mulder scent brings tears to her eyes. Very gently she runs her fingers through his hair, making sure to stay clear of the bump on his forehead and the small, barely there cut.

“That’s good,” he mumbles, his eyes closing. “I don’t hate you either, Scully.” With that, he’s asleep. Scully watches him for another moment, covers him with a blanket, and leaves the room. She sets an alarm on her phone to check on Mulder in half an hour before she joins her family downstairs.

“But why is he here?” It’s Bill Jr. again. This time he’s lamenting to their mother and his own wife, who are both busy baking cookies. A few children smile at Scully, all red-headed and cute, with apple-round cheeks and big eyes. She smiles back at them, sticks her tongue out at little Matthew, who claps his flour-covered hands, making himself and one of his cousins sneeze. The adults don’t even notice.

“He’s here because he’s your sister’s partner.”

“Partner,” Bill grumbles.

“He is,” Scully chimes in, crossing her arms over her chest. “And he’s hurt. What was I supposed to do? Leave him all by himself?”

“Doesn’t he have his own family? Or do they not want him there either?”

“Bill Jr.!” Their mother doesn’t raise her voice often. When she does, they all know to keep their mouths shut. “Fox is a guest in our house. I want you to respect that.”

“I’m just gonna say hello to everyone else,” Scully says, needing to get away from her brother. She checks the time and stares up the stairs, worry for Mulder running through her veins. As much as she tries to focus on her family and the relatives she hasn’t seen in so long, her thoughts are on Mulder.

“Dana, there you are.” Scully stops, turning to look at one of her aunts walking towards her with a smile and a glass of eggnog in her hand. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, aunt Sylvia.”

“Your mother said you were coming and then Bill said we shouldn’t get our hopes up.”

“I’m here,” Scully says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Anger bubbles up inside of her like lava. “I’m, um, my work is unpredictable sometimes.”

“That’s what your mother said, too, dear. I’m glad you’re here. And I hear you brought your partner?” Her aunt’s face lights up. Another aunt, who must have heard the word partner, saunters over, followed by more and more nosy relatives.

“I did,” she says, trying to bring some distance between herself and the swarming crowd. “He hurt himself and couldn’t stay on his own.”

“When are we going to meet him?” Someone, who Scully assumes is one of her mother’s neighbors, wants to know.

“Tomorrow,” she says. “He should be better tomorrow.” That’s her hope anyway. If not, they might have to go back to the ER. “I should actually go check up on him. Excuse me.” A sigh escapes her as she walks away, the chatter growing quieter. She loves her family and she loves the noise. But right now, she wants to be with Mulder, make sure he’s okay.

“You really don’t want to spend time with us, do you?” Bill is waiting for her in front of her bedroom, looking just like he did back when they were teenagers and he didn’t approve of something she was doing. Which was all the time. Back then, he might have intimidated her from time to time, but not anymore.

“What are you doing?” She asks him. The door to the bedroom is open and she catches a glimpse of Mulder, still blissfully asleep.

“Is he that important to you?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t have to think about it. The word is out before Bill has even closed his mouth. He’s staring at her as if she were a riddle he has to solve before he can keep going.

“What is it about him? Why does he have to be here?”

“What would you say if someone – if I – asked you that about Tara?” Bill recoils as if she just slapped him.

“Don’t compare my wife to that- to him. Is he that important to you?” His voice softens slightly and she looks up at him, seeing conflict in his face. He’s just a big brother, looking out for his baby sister. Her mood softens and her shoulders sag in defeat.

“He is,” she says, admitting it to him – and to herself. “He’s important to me, Bill. And more than that, he needed someone tonight. He- do you know how he got his concussion? He was protecting people, Bill. Thanks to Mulder people got to go home and be with their families tonight because he didn’t care for his own well-being, only theirs. That’s who he is.”

“I didn’t know,” Billy says, shuffling his feet and clearing his throat. “Maybe… maybe I can be nice to him while he’s here. It’s Christmas after all.”

“Thank you, Bill.” They hug each other, Scully smiling against his shoulder. “I missed you, you know.”

“Well, whose fault is it we hardly ever see each other?” She glares at him and he nods in apology. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m glad you could make it, Dana. Even if that guy is here with you.”

“That guy has a name.”

“He’s gonna be that guy to me,” Bill says and the siblings smile at each other.

“I’ll be down in a second. I’m just going to check on Mulder.” She waits until Bill has gone back downstairs to enter her bedroom. Calm overtakes her seeing Mulder there. In her bed. That’s something they will have to deal with later. For now, she sits by his side, gently shaking his shoulder. His eyes open and he cracks a smile.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” Mulder says.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. My head is killing me.”

“It’s gonna hurt for a while.”

“Worth it,” he says, yawning.

“You could have died out there, Mulder,” she says quietly.

“Better me than you and a dozen other people.”

“Not better for me,” she says, touching his cheek. There’s the slightest hint of stubble there and it gives her goosebumps. “Don’t do something this reckless again, okay?”

“I’d promise, but…” He grins at her. No, he can’t promise her that. If he did, he’d be lying. They both know that. Her hand is still on his cheek, her thumb caressing him. Seeing him here, she’s reluctant to leave his side.

“I think you told Bill you’d be right down.”

“I- what?” Her fingers still on his face. “Did you hear us fight?”

“You and Bill weren’t exactly quiet, Scully. And by the way, you’re important to me, too. Very important.” The smile slips from his face and is replaced by an earnest look. With Scully too shocked to reply, Mulder just keeps going. “I know you didn’t mean for me to overhear it. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I just wanted you to know. This is not the drugs talking, by the way.” His grin returns and she can’t help herself but smile back.

“Let me be the judge of that,” she whispers. “Now go back to sleep. I will check on you in half an hour.”

“Make it an hour.”

“Mulder.”

“Scully, go spend time with your family. I’ll be fine. How am I supposed to rest if you wake me up every five minutes?”

“An hour. Not one minute longer.”

“That’s my Scully.” He closes his eyes and Scully leans forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Sleep well,” she whispers.

She’s almost to the door when Mulder says, “hey Scully?” She turns to him, leaning against the door frame. “Is there mistletoe downstairs?”

“You will have to find that out for yourself tomorrow,” she says, grinning.

“Can’t wait.”

And neither can she.

#i was determined to finish this today #i hope it doesn't feel rushed #i wanted to write more christmas fic #but life's life #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

61 notes · View notes

mbti-notes · 6 months

Note

Is failure inevitable for Fi doms? Are they bigger failures than other types? Some of your descriptions make it sound so. Or is it just that they tend to take failure harder and more personally instead of learning from it objectively?

Failure is inevitable for everyone. If you've met someone who has never ever experienced any failure in life, please introduce me to them, because I would consider them a miracle to behold.

For your future reference, I dislike abstract questions. Why are you asking? Are YOU Fi dom and does the topic of failure trigger or affect you? If so, talk about that rather than asking questions in the abstract. People bring issues to me because they want me to apply my knowledge of psychological theory and research to make better sense of them. That's all I do. I don't make judgments about people of the sort you're suggesting. Even if it's true that Fi doms bring up the topic of failure more often than other types, I certainly would NOT take it to mean that they are destined to fail or that they are bigger failures, though I'd be interested to know why you'd interpret it that way. To me, it has no other meaning except that they have difficulty making sense of their experiences with failure. If you want to read more into it, I can't stop you.

Personally, I am loath to call anyone "a failure" because that would be inconsistent with my deeply held beliefs and values regarding the resiliency and redeemability of human beings. Yet I constantly have to hear people call themselves or even each other "a failure". If they are intent to believe it, who can convince them otherwise?

Taking failure very personally and treating it like a crime to be punished is indicative of an ego development issue. Everyone has an ego. The more immature the ego, the more fragile it is, and the more reactive a person will be to ego threats such as "failure". Psychological immaturity is not specific to any type, but different types may express it differently. Generally speaking, ego problems get expressed through unhealthy function use such as tertiary loop and inferior grip, which would look different in different types due to different function dynamics.

Some people struggle with failure because they can't face the reality of it, while others struggle because failure becomes the only thing they can see. Either way, the manner in which they misinterpret failure is the problem, not the failure itself. To err is human. If failure is simply a fact of life, then what's the best way of handling it? Acceptance, learning, then growth. But these methods won't be available to you until you can get past all the immature/incorrect views of failure you picked up in childhood.

#infp #isfp #te grip #failure #making mistakes #development #ask

19 notes · View notes

mitsuhirei · 7 months

Text

Once is Forever

(Harry x Reader Smut)

The continuation of Harry and MC’s relationship following their special late night call from both "Just This Once" and "Once is Not Enough". And the final part in the Once, Twice, Thrice series.

CW: Please use discretion while reading as there are spoilers in this fic series from day 35+ to roughly day 170, and then a canon divergence.

[Click to read Part 1 | Click to read Part 2]

Not a day passes when the words Harry shared aren’t on his mind.

“Then come here.” He’d said while his weirdo had been on the other side of the line. “Find a way or I’ll go there.”

Being swept up in emotion was something he’d always disliked, yet he’d declared what he had so passionately it’d shocked him. And nothing had become of it.

Meeting his weirdo is easier said than done. With each passing day, his bold declaration that the two of them will meet loses weight.

He’s thought up at least forty different ways to provide his address and get around Piu Piu’s filter, but she doesn’t humour him with any opportunities to offer that information. Never so much as breathes a word of venturing out to meet him.

But he doesn’t ask for hers either.

Travelling to her would leave him without his few comforts. His local acquaintances, familiar landmarks, and his home to seek refuge in should anything go poorly. So, she should come to him. He has all the means and resources.

Yet, wondering when that time will come is unbearable. It eats at him like fire on twigs during a drought. So after weeks of dropping subtle hints and making noncommittal comments about where they would go, what they could do, and things he’s collected in his place for her, he broaches the topic.

“Doesn’t your patience have limits?” he asks that evening while they’re on the phone.

“That’s a weird thing to bring up. Has something happened?”

“I don’t ask about things needlessly.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

But there’s no elaboration. Instead, he remains in her silence, waiting for a reply that’s unlikely to come.

“What’s the answer?” He presses. “Why are you so quiet?”

“I wondered if my answer is something I should share.”

“I want to know as much as I can about you. Tell me.”

“I used to think I had patience. Now I’m not so sure.”

He notices the reserved tone of her voice and the hidden meaning in it. In fact, after everything that’s happened between them, she hadn’t been the same. Cheerful, sure, but not nearly as forthcoming. Nor as flirtatious.

And that bothered him. What could he do to retrieve what he’d lost? He’d never been this sensitive to another person before.

“If you have something to say,” Harry starts, “say it. I don’t like complicated things.”

“Neither do I. Not anymore.”

“Then talk to me. I like your directness.”

“Being direct also means I get hurt.”

“You say that like it’s a new thing. Haven’t you always known that?”

He hears that same laugh he heard all those months ago before their foolish night together happened. His chest tightens. The impending doom of unwinding progress hangs overhead.

“I knew. But my head’s not in the clouds anymore.”

“Say what you want to say.”

But for the first time in a long, long time, he’s worried about hearing it.

“I waited for you to come see me, Harry. Or to ask me to see you. I tried to give you my information before.”

“That was just once,” he counters.

“Once is enough compared to your zero.”

“It’s one and one. I suggested you come here, but if you’d prefer not to count that because it wasn’t direct enough, fine. Come here.”

“No.”

It’s the firmest denial he’s ever heard from her. And searching far back in their relationship, he can’t recall a time she’s ever said that word and meant it. Perhaps that’s why it’s so jarring.

“I won’t come see you,” she finalizes.

Harry’s grip tightens on his phone as the sentence weighs on him like a thousand bricks.

“Why?”

“Because I doubt I can manage myself well before you.”

“Am I someone you have to manage yourself in front of? When did that happen?”

“It’s been happening. Surely you’ve noticed. You aren’t ignorant of social cues, you just choose to ignore them.” He begins his counterargument, but she continues. “I need this distance to respect what you asked of me. To manage my feelings. So I should stay away.”

“What I asked of you was to come here, but never mind. I’ll go there, so—”

“We’re not doing this. I’d like to sort myself out before I get carried away with expectations again.”

“Can you hear what I say before you decide? You sound like you’re leaving.”

Her silence is answer enough.

That’s when he realizes his mistake. That there’s such a thing as too much time.

He calls her name softly. Hears her breath quiver in his ear.

“I start every day with you. Whenever I don’t hear from you, I wonder where you are, what you’re doing, and in what state. Everywhere I go, everything I do, I always think about how you’ll feel about it, and when I can tell you.” He pauses meaningfully. “Say it again. Do you really think I don’t care about you?”

He can’t breathe because she’s still silent. She can’t misunderstand him when he’s confessed like that, can she?

“Why aren’t you answering?”

“Because you’re good with words, but I won’t get swept away again. I don’t want to be a fool a third time.”

“You won’t—”

“I will. It’s a pattern now. One of us has to break it off.”

“What should I say when you deny it with such certainty? You know I’m bad at this.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll make this uncomplicated and handle myself.”

“I’ve prepared a lot for you, and I’ve changed too.”

“There’s no point in telling me that.”

“Why? You don’t care?”

“Of course I do. I care too much,” she snaps. “Look, reality’s come. That’s all this is. You were right from the beginning. It’s better not to touch something this emotional—This volatile.”

“So you’re leaving, no matter what?”

“...I’ll see you on Tuesday if you feel like talking.”

It’s Friday. That’s a paltry three days to recover.

Yet, although he opens his mouth to argue, he recalls she had a mere handful of hours following his rejection of her feelings. Bringing up any comparison will rend him into a deeper grave.

“Go then.”

But he can’t bring himself to hang up the phone. He waits two long, agonizing minutes until she does so.

It sets in during the minutes afterwards when she doesn’t phone him back, that he’s been rejected.

***

“Harry!” Malong’s cheery voice echoes through his penthouse as he bolts into his bedroom. “I have everything ready for your big day today! I don’t know who you met, but I’m wishing you all the—Why do you look so dejected? Are you nervous?”

Harry is seated on his bed with his head in his hands.

“Shall I leave the basket on the bedside table?”

“If you do, I’ll fling it at you,” Harry threatens.

Malong flinches. “Why are you in such a bad mood? I thought today was an important day?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Did something happen? You can talk to me.”

“Malong.”

“What’s up?”

“Are you deaf? Get out of my sight before I teach you the true meaning of homelessness.”

“Ahaha...” Malong retreats. “I’ll come back when you feel better.”

Where?

Just where had he gone wrong this time? He thought things would work out.

No, he should be happy that someone’s respecting his boundaries. If she’s had her fun and now she’s bored of him, then so what? What’s new about that feeling? He would’ve confessed to her today. He would’ve made things official. But now it’s her loss.

Yet, no matter how much air he pulls in, or what argument he makes, his chest is unbearably tight. He should be used to this, but there’s an encroaching, unexplainable emptiness overtaking him.

It’s fine.

Being alone is nothing new. He couldn’t have been the person she needed him to be. Selfishness, conceit, callousness, those are his essence. Such a bright person deserves to be with someone as vibrant as she is. Yet, he feels so sick at the thought that he covers his mouth and a cold sweat breaks out over his forehead.

No. He should get a hold of himself. Being so emotional is what leads people to ruin. This is fine.

If she hadn’t tossed aside her feelings for him today, then eventually. That impending day she would’ve truly realized he can’t adore her like a normal person could, it would’ve come. He couldn’t have stopped it even if he’d taken a step to be the person she wanted, this was the final destination.

So...This is nothing.

Harry gasps and tugs at the collar of his shirt.

It’s because of the stiff fabric that he can’t breathe. That he feels stifled.

But...

To be left first? To be so consumed by the chance of more without the ability to bring it to fruition. It’s—

Harry forces himself into the kitchen and pours a glass of water.

He’ll enjoy a glass and move on. He’ll shake this off like everything that’s bothered him in his life. Moving on as normal is as easy as hydrating. He’s free to return to how he was before. Loneliness is his status quo.

“Harry!”

Malong seizes his arm and the empty pitcher. There’s water all over the counter, and it’s spilling onto the floor. The glass Harry meant to drink from is flooded. Water leaks everywhere. Soaks his clothes.

Why did this happen? How could this happen? And why can’t he be numb to it?

He covers his face with shaking hands.

“Why don’t you lie down?” Malong suggests. “Go back to sleep today. Whatever happened, I’m sure tomorrow will be better.”

Harry doesn’t respond.

Because this doesn’t feel like normal, or like anything he’s experienced before. It’s more gripping. More intrusive. As if she stripped him of a fundamental part of himself that was just healing.

Malong manoeuvres a shoulder around him. “I’ll take you back to your room. So just rest, okay?”

***

It’s midnight when Harry’s lucid enough to log into the app. There are no new messages. No calls.

So he taps her contact information. The call disconnects before it rings. Piu Piu’s flapping wings blink on his smartphone.

“Sorry, but that’s a bad idea,” Piu Piu’s voice advises.

“It’s my device.”

He initiates the call, and Piu Piu ends it.

“She needs time.”

“Having time isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

“Harry, go back to bed.”

He sucks in a deep, long breath. “Shall I break you today?”

“E-Even if you do, I’ll fulfil the order I was given!”

Those words cut him.

“She asked you to do this?”

“You got space when you rejected her, so you should reciprocate.”

“If we’re reciprocating, then I should be able to call and send her messages.”

Piu Piu shuts down the third attempt at contact. So Harry throws his phone on his bed and grabs his coat.

“Where are you going?”

“Since my phone’s broken, I’ll buy a new one.”

“It’s midnight!”

“Then I’ll buy one off whoever I see.”

“I’ve spoken to her the most between the two of us! Can’t you listen to my advice?”

“Has your advice ever worked for us?”

Harry has a short fuse today, so the venom comes out.

“We’re here because of you. Don’t forget that. Everything. It’s your fault. You prattled on about love, and pushed, and pushed, and now look where we are? If neither of us ever had these ridiculous thoughts… Then…!”

“Do you really believe that...?”

“I told you from the beginning, since your ridiculous app accosted me, that love isn’t something I’m capable of!”

“Then why are you so distraught?”

He falters, just long enough that something pricks his mind. He seizes his jacket and zips it up hard enough that it bites into his skin. There’s no sense in conversing with Piu Piu. Not when time is of the essence.

“I can reason with her. I’ve had time to collect my thoughts.”

Harry’s palm rests on the door handle. He stuffs his keys into his coat pocket.

“Things won’t go the way you expect if you take the logical approach,” Piu Piu warns. “I’ve made mistakes, but you should believe me on that.”

“I’ve verified something I was curious about.”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t comment on my ability to call her without you. This is the second time you haven’t.”

“Ah…” Piu Piu hesitates. “That’s because–”

“And those photos? Were any of them you?”

“I don’t know what photos you’re talking about, but I unlocked the software to do so on both ends since a month ago.”

“That’s all I wanted to know.”

Harry locks the door behind him.

***

The first call goes unanswered, so Harry phones again. When that goes to voicemail too, he dials again. Perhaps it’s crude and crazy, but he’ll try it as many times as it takes. If he could speak with her just once, perhaps things may change.

“Sir,” the pilot shares. “You can’t stand here. It’s a safety hazard.”

Harry dials again with no success as he follows the worker somewhere safer on the tarmac. Once he’s in place, the old gentleman lingers.

Planes take off overhead, and the vicious wind they stir up nearly steals Harry’s jacket. The industrial lights are blinding.

“Did you need anything else?” The pilot asks. “A watch, or maybe–”

“I have what I need, and I’m tending to an emergency.”

“O-Of course. Pardon me.”

The man wanders away, but he has a guilty walk similar to Malong. Harry scowls at the phone he bought. It’s at least ten years out of date.

“I paid him an exorbitant fee, yet he wants more.” He tries to reign in his irritation. He can’t sound like that once he talks to her.

Every call he makes rings and rings.

“Hello?” His heart jolts when she answers. However, her voice is strained. She sniffles once before clearing her throat.

“Your address,” Harry declares. “I need it.”

“Harry? What? How did you–”

“Give it to me. This isn’t my phone. Piu Piu can’t interfere.”

There’s a rustling sound on her end.

“Do you know what time it is? I’m supposed to be sleeping.”

“Then should I fly all over the world for the rest of my life looking for you?”

“You won’t do that.” She’s alert now. “No, don’t do that.”

He lowers his phone from his ear and waves to the team on standby. “Start the plane.”

The sound of the engines is deafening.

“It’ll take me a few years, so stay put.”

“You’re joking, right? You aren’t actually at the airport, are you?”

“I want to see you or I’ll regret it,” he admits. His gaze falls to his mismatched shoes. “I don’t want to make a mistake. I won’t miss the timing again.”

“...If you’re acting on impulse, we’re going to hurt each other.”

“There’s no way for us to be close without that happening.”

“I’m sure what you’re saying is great, but I can hardly hear you over the plane, you loon.”

He signals again. The tarmac falls quiet.

“I’ve never begged anyone in my life. Do you know that?”

“New experiences are good for you,” she laughs on the other side, but that can’t hide the fact she’s tearing up. He doesn’t know what to do when she cries.

“Then give me more of them. Where are you?”

There’s another rustling sound, then punishing silence.

Will she say no again?

At the height of anxiety, he calls her name. He meant to say it tenderly, but it’s a rougher, more urgent sound.

“It’s [System: /address blocked/].”

Harry swallows. His legs feel weak. He leans against the wall for support.

“I didn’t get it... The system still...”

“Blocked it? I figured.”

She sounds distant now. As if in that single moment, a wall shot up between them.

“We’ll find another way,” he offers. “I have ideas.”

“No, perhaps this is for the best. I should take the time I need and think about this. I promise I’ll speak to you again on Tuesday.”

“Why?” He panics. “Why are you still going? I’m here. I’m–”

“Because I need time. I’ve never stopped thinking about the sentiment you shared before. Our relationship will have longevity if we stay friends. If we stay friends, we won't feel so hurt, longing to meet when it's hard, or expecting things and being disappointed.”

“Don’t you understand the life I’ve lived that led me to say that to you?”

Her breath stutters. He hears the hesitation.

“All the more reason I should respect your boundaries.”

The underlying guilt he hears in her voice makes him call her name again.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’ll go first.”

The call ends.

***

Time goes by in a daze following that day. Harry spends all weekend trying to pinpoint where she accepted the call to no avail. She’s always on his mind.

When he sleeps, two types of dreams torment him. On good days, she stays with him, but never long enough to soothe his aching heart. On bad days, she vanishes from his life without a trace she’d ever been there.

A delirium about her existence takes over that’s only soothed by screenshots of conversations with her, and the tattoos she suggested that remain on his skin.

The pleasures of life, of another person’s presence, are a curse now that they’re known to him.

So when Tuesday comes and his phone dings, he dissuades himself from answering. But the unknown string of letters awaiting him on his device haunts him.

When he reads the text message, there’s no denying his relief that she’s still contacting him.

They continue to talk, slipping back into their usual pattern. But there are changes. She never says anything flirtatious anymore. And the way he clings to her every word contrasts with the mutual nonchalance they share in their continued interactions.

Because when he’s alone, truly alone, his mind is dominated by thoughts of her.

He remembers her moans from that night like a siren’s song, and without fail, he drops everything he’s doing and gives in. The decorum he prides himself on falls into shambles from longing, desire, and loss. He strokes his cock more in the following months than he ever did during puberty. His sole saving grace is that he always does so at home, even if the fervour strikes him while he’s about.

She prides him on his new ability to disengage from situations without knowing the true underlying cause. He departs so he can be alone and settle his thoughts of her.

Countless times he brings himself to completion while imagining situations with her he’d never in a million years considered. A taste, a glimpse of what’s been unknown to him, consumes him.

Before long, his desires spill over into other aspects of his life. Like a trained dog, he’s instantly affected by the most mundane things she texts, or says while on the phone, because she’s said as much in his fantasy.

The harder he tries to bring himself to heel, to choke down everything he’s feeling, the fiercer it grips him.

He wants her to want him. He misses her blatant affection. But his poker face remains, as ironclad as he’s always presented it to be in his life outside a handful of moments. Even as he spirals deeper and darker.

Harry, I got new socks today.

He wishes he could tug them off. Promises to caress her ankles better than any fabric could.

I tried this cafe lately.

If only he could taste whatever she’d eaten on her lips. To press her into any table and devour something other than food.

It was so rainy ;;;;;

Rainy enough to leave her clothes socially unacceptable? For him to suck chilled droplets off her skin?

The thoughts are as pleasurable as they are tortuous. After all, he’ll never meet her. Perhaps with enough perverse actions he’ll burn out? That’s the only hope left for him. But he’s at his wits’ end six months later and there’s no sign of it cooling off.

He’s at a function with Malong on a Friday evening, trying to get drunk enough to quit thinking. The event is in a high-rise sixty floors up, with massive tinted windows on all sides flaunting the cityscape below.

Unfortunately, he’s been at the party for two hours already, and Malong has ruthlessly monitored his alcohol intake. To the point that a thimble of alcohol would feel like drowning in liquor.

When Harry gives up and approaches the bar, Malong drags him outside.

It’s frigid and dreary. The clouds will break open with thunder and rain in the next half hour. The streets are eerily quiet for a weeknight downtown.

“Harry, quit trying to drink so much! I need you sharp and focused tonight.”

He should’ve drunk at home, but then he would’ve thought of her. These days, he doesn’t trust himself to be alone with his thoughts.

“We’ll celebrate afterwards, so do your job until then,” Malong continues. “If anyone talks to you while we’re here, you’ve gotta pass them my card, okay?”

“What are you peddling this time? I thought you said I only have to stand with you?”

“And you are. Passing out a thing here or there is the same as standing.”

His glare bounces off Malong. His friend leans against the golden statue of a cog-wheel at the entrance and passes him an expensive-looking card.

“We’re here for my business. I’ve got a great one this time! I just need investors.”

Harry scans the print. “On-demand slipper service?”

“Yes.” Malong puffs up proudly. “Think of it like a subscription service for house slippers.”

“Nobody’s going to use this.”

“Of course they will! Think of all the times you’ve wanted slippers instead of shoes, yet you didn’t have the right kind for where you were going. That’s where I come in! My business will be there for people like that. Eventually, I’ll do themed slippers. I’m also planning to market the health benefits of changing slippers every week.”

Harry sighs very hard.

“Sure. Okay. How many cards are you handing out?”

“Three hundred. I foil-printed every card so I refuse to go home with any. You take two, I’ll take one.”

“Two only?”

“No.” Malong slaps most of the stack into Harry’s hand with a grin. “Two hundred.”

An hour later, when everything but breathing irritates him, Harry wants to go home. He’s weary of pretending to care about the host alongside Malong, who schmoozes for a modicum of the lifestyle he used to enjoy.

So, he tugs out his phone. His thumb hovers over the call button, but it’d be a terrible idea to phone his weirdo. She’s travelling for a few days for work, so they’ve spoken less than usual today. And he’s feeling it.

She said she’d be done with the proposal presentations by ten o’clock, which is about now. Yet, she hasn’t messaged.

“Harry,” Malong calls through gritted teeth. “These people won’t talk to me unless you say something first.”

His friend elbows him as they stand aside at the gala. Then he nudges him again in a gesture Harry understands means for him to glance up and smile, but he can’t be bothered.

“They won’t talk to you because you have nothing to offer them,” Harry replies while scrolling his phone.

When will there be a new message?

“Come on, man. I brought you as my partner for a reason. I need you to address all the people who want to talk to you, so I can talk to them.”

“When are you going to do something worthwhile with your life?”

“I’m trying right now.”

“This isn’t that. You haven’t learned a thing.”

“And you’re the same too! I thought you’d changed, but you won’t help me! You never help me.”

That’s the final straw of the night.

“What? Who’s helped you more than I have? Who?”

“You claim you have, but you haven’t!”

“You realize I bailed you out of jail, but you’re telling me such nonsense?”

“I practically begged you to do that, so don’t lord it over me! You wouldn’t have helped me otherwise.”

“How about you use your brain and think about everything that’s happened between us before you open your mouth again?”

That sets Malong off. “You’ve been especially insufferable lately, you know that? Quit taking your anger out on me!”

Malong storms off post-tantrum. Harry doesn’t have any patience left to follow.

Everyone around him is so ungrateful. Everyone except—He stops the thought there. Comparisons only make him miss her more. He’s meant to shake off his desires for her instead of slipping further into them.

Reconciling with the fact he’ll remain sober until he makes it home, Harry scans his messages again.

“A-Ahem. Hello? Harry Choi?”

He refreshes his messages instead of addressing whoever’s approached.

“Here he is. I told you he was over here!”

“Harry, how’s your father–”

There’re a slew of other voices but he ignores them all. Usually, he’d fake politeness, but that’s truly tiresome at the moment. He wants to drink enough to sleep dreamlessly once he makes it home. That’s it. When will it be appropriate to do that? After he attempts to assist Malong, maybe?

A gathering has formed around him. It’s full of people chatting amongst themselves as if he had spoken to any of them. Ironically Malong is nowhere to be seen, although the crowd he wanted has arrived. Harry reaches into his pocket for the cards and offers one to the person before him.

“Have this.”

The brown-haired woman snatches it up with delight. “Oh, is this your business card? Thank you so much!”

Another person rushes forward. “I’d love one too! Take one of mine.”

“So you know, it’s not my card,” Harry corrects, but it gets lost amongst the bustle of people clamouring over him to have one. As always nobody among them actually listens to him. He was never so sensitive to it before, but it depresses him to no end now.

His phone buzzes while he’s half-heartedly passing out cards.

I know you’re out too, but I’m almost done for the night! Wish me a safe trip back to my hotel! Hope I won’t have to swim there.

His spirits lift when he sees the photo beneath the message.

She’s beautiful in her black dress, posed in a lavish entrance hall. It’s raining heavily behind her.

He’s happy just to see her until he spots something in the background. A golden cog statue.

His eyes widen. A waiter with drinks passes by.

“Take these.”

He slaps the rest of Malong’s business cards into the bewildered man’s palm.

“Huh? Sir–”

Harry dashes out of the ballroom.

Stay put.

Why? I’ve no more work, remember? I’m trying to hail a cab and get out of this rain.

Just stay!

He bumps into someone and hurriedly apologizes without stopping. He slams the buttons for the elevator, but it climbs towards the sixtieth floor at a snail’s crawl.

How far are the stairs? He’s liable to trip rushing down them so it’s safer to take the elevator.

:( Every cab is full. How can I get back at this rate?

Can’t you listen to me and stay where you are?

I don’t want to freeze! Do you want a friend, or a popsicle? Lol

The elevator arrives and from its enormous glass windows, he can see the world outside. It’s dark, and most of the light comes from the city’s various buildings, streetlights, and the few cars that drive by. Rain savagely pelts the world outside, but he hunts for her. There are too many people wearing black, but he doesn’t stop searching while he has the vantage point.

Do me a favour. Look backwards.

What?

He spots the one person on their phone who turns around and glances about. His heart pounds as he tries to maintain his composure on the tortuously slow ride to the ground floor.

No way... Do you see me or something...?

With a chime, he’s free of the elevator. The race across the lobby and out into the rain feels as long as the elevator did.

The same person who’d glanced back tries to hail a cab, and he beelines for her. When he calls her name, she spins around with wide eyes.

The surprise he sees upon her face, the anxiety, it matches his own. Yet he steps forward.

Seeing her in person he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s pictured the moment more times than he cares to admit. Of her rushing over and linking her arms around him, and him doing the same. But there’s too much distance now for such a display. They’re frozen across from one another.

Her step forward breaks the trance. Her arms go around him in an embrace he’d assumed he’d lost. And he squeezes her back. As close as he possibly can without crushing her. Finally being able to touch her feels so good that he buries his face against her cold neck. She smells divine. Whichever soap and perfume she uses is as natural on her skin as air is in his lungs.

The rain has soaked her. She’s horribly cold, and he’s gradually freezing too, yet he’s never felt so warm. Her arms link tighter around him. He suppresses a shiver as one of her hands slips through his hair.

Then she eases away. It takes everything in him not to tug her back against him. Especially when she gives him a brilliant smile that completely disarms him.

He can’t believe his eyes. That she’s real despite touching her already. So he swipes a few water droplets off her cheek. While her skin is cold, it’s also soft. It’s really her.

“I think I used up all my luck for the year with this,” she shares shyly. “Suppose it’s a good thing I couldn’t catch a cab right away.”

“I’m glad you couldn’t.”

“Yes, well, I’m soaked and I’m only getting wetter, but hi Harry. It’s nice to meet you.” She gestures behind her. “I will need to catch my cab now.”

And just like that, she turns around and continues what she was doing. He’s drawn forward behind her as if they’re two magnets.

Rain pelts both of them, and he tries to keep his eyes off the way her silken dress clings to her damp skin.

She’ll leave if she gets in a cab. He feels that with certainty. Then they won’t spend any other time together. He can’t let that happen.

But how can he spend as much time with her as possible? The fastest way is to indebt her to him. Nobody who has a debt to repay leaves easily.

So, Harry strips off his coat and covers her wet attire with it. A good choice since she’s shivering.

“Oh, I appreciate it but now you’re getting drenched.” She touches her shoulder and tries to take it off, but his grasp stops her. An unspoken signal to keep it.

“Where’s your umbrella and coat?”

“I took an umbrella, but it was so hot I left my coat in my suitcase. I don’t want to risk opening my luggage in this weather, and I thought it’d be easier to catch a cab.”

His eyes drop to her left palm where the bag’s getting battered by the elements.

“As for my umbrella, the storm killed it.”

She points up the street, and he sees an overturned umbrella with snapped lining billowing further into the distance.

Although he was annoyed with Malong earlier, he’s thankful to him now. “I’ll drive you. Where are you going?”

“That’s kind of you, but it’s okay.”

She steps out of his touch and twists away to hail a cab again. However, she’s noticeably flushed.

Harry glances down at his attire. It fairs about as well as hers. The sole difference is social acceptance.

“Let me give you a ride,” he offers again.

“I have all my work materials with me, I wouldn’t want to burden you.”

“You standing out here freezing is burdening me.”

“I’ll live. Besides, I’m looking forward to putting my feet up after a long day. You want the same, right? Hurry home, we’ll talk later.”

He figured this would happen but not to this degree. All offers in his life have been transactional but that approach won’t work here. She’s an iron wall.

He tries again, “Let me take you where you’re going so I know you got there safely.”

“You hate mess in your car. I’d get water everywhere.”

“You’re more important than some water on my seats.”

“That’s new.” She smiles that dazzling smile again. “There you go tugging my heartstrings. I appreciate the thought, I do, but I’ll do this on my own. Since we’ve met, why don’t we get coffee tomorrow or something?”

She knows he doesn’t drink coffee. It’s a dismissive offer.

So, he takes the last, perhaps most childish route, and seizes her suitcase handle. He stalks towards his car with it.

“H-Hey! Harry!”

She runs after him, so he moves faster. By the time she catches up, he’s already closed her bag in his trunk.

He turns with the passenger door open for her.

“Okay! Gosh, you’re stubborn. Thank you for the ride.”

She eases past him into the seat, and as he closes the door, he relishes in the small victory.

***

Most of the drive is silent, with only the gentle ambiance of the vehicle’s heater and the rain hitting the windows. Harry refuses to turn on the radio as he doesn’t want to miss a single word she says. However, she seems content to sit quietly until they arrive. He has to attempt to start a conversation.

“How was the flight?” he asks.

“Long and exhausting. I had a transfer, a layover, and then my team had those presentations two hours after we landed. I can’t wait to get to my hotel and eat.”

Seems she hasn’t lost her passion for food.

“So your plans for the evening are eating?”

“Yes. Then I’m flopping right into bed and passing out. I’ve heard the hotel is amazing, I can’t wait to see it.”

Just the hotel?

“Have I sent you too many pictures of my place? I thought you’d be eager to visit.”

“Haven’t you considered that phrasing may be too forward?”

“I know what I said.”

The GPS on her phone tells him to make a right turn.

“There’s not much to do at your place,” she aptly deflects.

“If it’d bore you don’t come.”

She sits up in her seat. “Are you pouting?”

“I’m not. Haven’t I always entertained you?”

“Well, I’ll go if you say please.”

He looks at her, then turns back to the road.

“What’s this?” she giggles. “I thought you were a good boy, so I’m surprised you didn’t say it.”

“Please come over at least once during your trip.”

It’s momentarily quiet, the effect of his words landed. Yet, she turns and stares out the window.

“As far as I know, I don’t have much free time off from work, but I’ll try for you.”

His hands are tight on the steering wheel. Being in her presence is far more effective than thinking about her. Despite the innocent interaction, his skin feels tight.

“Pull up here,” she says. “That’s the place on our right.”

He can’t believe the drive is over. It was hardly a whole ten minutes. Still, he parks the car. All the while trying to figure out another way to stay with her.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll message you later.”

Harry shoves off his seatbelt and leans across to unlatch hers. Her hands are faster.

“I’ve got it. Thank you.”

The latch clicks. Cold air sweeps over him as she leaves the car. The rain is so much harsher than it was ten minutes ago.

She taps the trunk, but he gets out of the car instead of popping it. He removes her suitcase and gestures towards the hotel.

There’s nothing subtle about his stubbornness. He can tell as much from the look she gives him, but he pretends not to see it.

The hotel sports a vista of trees, foliage, and flowers, yet its quaint arched, glass vestibule opens up into an expansive modernist lobby. Gleaming marble, pristine lights, and a respectable mix of wicker and fabric furnishing promise every patron both comfort and luxury. It’s utterly ordinary to him, but his weirdo gasps once she’s inside. Her glittering, awe-filled expression is as adorable as it is enchanting.

She buttons his blazer across her damp clothes as she approaches the front desk. Harry stands back to give her some privacy.

However, twenty minutes later when she hasn’t come to collect her bag, he wonders if something’s gone wrong. He glances at her.

“Please, can you check again?” she asks. “The company I work for guaranteed my accommodation. My name’s spelled…”

He shouldn’t eavesdrop. Yet, from the sound of it, she may need to stay somewhere else tonight. He folds his arms and taps his foot to keep himself occupied.

If she can’t check in, would she stay with him? How long should he wait before it’s appropriate to suggest that?

And if she stays at his place...

He clears his throat. Now’s not the time to get carried away. He can’t rush home as easily as before. Not while she’s here.

Another ten minutes go by before he approaches the counter and stops beside her.

“Is everything okay? If you’re having trouble checking in—”

She flashes him her hotel keycard with a smile. “All good! I’ve got it settled. They found me.”

It’s a good thing, yet a strange sensation burns his throat. His eyes flick over the important information on the key. Her room is on the twelfth floor. Number 1207.

“As I’m practically freezing to death, I’m heading up now. Thanks again, Harry.”

He means to go with her as he still has her suitcase. The kiss she plants on his cheek is unexpected. He lets go, and she snatches it from his hand then retreats into the elevator. When he recovers he follows her, but arrives just as the elevator closes.

Without a keycard, it’s impossible to interact with the elevator to go anywhere except down. So, he lingers feeling possessed.

“I’m soaked too. Isn’t it too cold to leave me here?” he grumbles. But with his senses returned thanks to her disappearance, he can head home and shower.

Though thanks to the lingering sensation of her lips on his skin, he knows that won’t be all he does.

He’s halfway to the door when a hand seizes his arm. He glances back. She’s the one holding him. Her expression is genuinely worried.

“I thought you knew I was joking. You aren’t really leaving like that, are you?”

***

Her hotel room is a one-bedroom apartment equipped with everything from a sofa to a kitchenette.

As her guest, she tells him he can shower first, but he declines. He’d rather she were warm. Besides, the cold keeps his deplorable thoughts at bay.

When he showers after her, the ulterior motives of his mind grip him. She used her own shampoo and soaps, so it smells richly of her inside the tall stall.

His cock stays hard although he washes his body innocently. He grits his teeth to keep himself in check, lest he truly pass the point of no return.

Thankfully, he’s flaccid once he’s dried his hair, but the ache settles in his stomach like stones. He tugs on his boxers and somewhat dry pants doing his damndest to ignore inappropriate thoughts. His shirt, unfortunately, is too far gone.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“Harry, I’ve left a shirt for you on the dresser once you’re done.”

That solves the problem then.

He steps out. She’s adjusted the heat since he got in the shower. It’s warmer in the bedroom than it was before.

A large men’s-sized shirt awaits him on the dresser as she said. It’s well-worn. He blocks out any notion of another man in her life who gave her the shirt she’s lending to him.

But then whose shirt is it?

“Before you misunderstand, I have a variety of shirts like that for different summer outfits and pyjamas.”

She leans, arms folded, against the doorway. Her new attire, dark leggings, and a hoodie, look vastly comfier than what she had on before.

It also hides virtually all of her skin and her figure. A miracle. Perhaps he can survive the visit without doing something foolish.

There’s a deliberate effort from her to keep her eyes on his face. He remembers he’s shirtless.

“I’m the only one who’s ever worn that,” she says. “So change comfortably.”

“I wasn’t assuming anything.”

“Uh-huh.” She points at her brows. “That’s why that crease between your brows vanished suddenly, right?”

“It’s there.”

“It’s not, but nice try—Oh. There it is.”

“Why are you standing there?” He’s flustered and refuses to look in her direction. “Shouldn’t you leave your guest to change in peace?”

“Sure. You were just taking a while, so I came to check on you. I’ll make us something to drink. Meet me in the living room.”

Harry slips on the shirt. However, when it comes to the last button he’d usually snap shut, he leaves it loose. After all, you have to look at least once to intentionally ignore what you choose not to see.

He sinks onto the sofa in the living room as she finishes making two warm drinks. Scanning the hotel room again, it’s decent enough to live in.

“Seems you work for a fine company?” Harry remarks.

“Don’t get me started. I’ve had enough chatter about work for the evening.”

“Just an observation.”

“Yes, well.” She hands him a warm mug. “We can observe more interesting things, can’t we?”

His mind whirls at the suggestive sentence although she likely didn’t mean it like that. So, he maintains a straight face.

She settles beside him on the sofa. He takes the swaying cup out of her palm, passing it back only once she’s comfy.

“I said it earlier, but I’m happy I’ve met you, Harry.”

His name always sounds so good coming from her lips.

“The feeling is mutual.”

She smiles. “Maybe it sounds cliche but I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“I’m real. You aren’t dreaming.”

“Yeah? Maybe I should affirm that?”

“Go ahead.”

He holds her gaze, even as uncertainty causes her to pause.

So, when she sets her drink aside and reaches out, his breath shakes.

She touches his face. Her fingers slide over his skin. His eyes slip closed. Such a simple touch makes his heart quiver. Her thumb sweeps across his cheekbone. Two of her fingers tuck under his chin. It goes on far longer than appropriate, but he’s longed for her.

“Are you still checking?”

“No...”

He opens his eyes to see what face she makes, but she forces her eyes elsewhere. Her hands retreat, wrapping safely around the beverage she sips at. Harry’s left with a pleasant, hazy feeling.

She must feel it too. The attraction. Otherwise, why would she be so quick to turn away? Why would she have reached out, to begin with?

“Are you nervous?” he asks.

“Honestly? Yeah. I’m trying so hard not to be awkward.”

“Don’t feel pressured. Just sitting here with you is enough.”

“But I want to talk to you,” she fidgets. “I’ve always thought about all the things I could tell you once I see you.”

“Talk about anything. I’ll listen to everything if it’s you.”

The silence between them feels electric.

“I’m still surprised. I don’t know how to act.”

“However you want.”

She stares at him again, but her expression is tragic. Saddened. Such honest affection, such care, he’s starved for it.

“You look tired. You know that? Are you sleeping okay?”

“No. Not lately.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yes.” He could tell her everything he’s struggled with at this moment, but the timing isn’t right. “Talk to me. Tell me about your day.”

“That’s so simple.”

“I like simple.”

And so, she talks. She recounts in great detail her flights over, how the layover was, and every mundane thing that happened in between that. The things she saw that led her to message him, and the interesting things she saw.

All the while, while Harry listens, he studies her face. Commits every unfamiliar expression he sees to mind. At one point she props her feet up onto the coffee table, and he shifts them across his lap instead. She stays there with him.

For the first time in months, he’s at peace.

It’s well past midnight when their cups are empty and a natural lull falls in their conversation.

The frequency of her sleepy blinks and the growing delay in her responses betray her tiredness. He’s drifting off too when her thumb rubs the second button on his shirt.

“I can’t believe you did these all the way up.”

“I’ve left one.”

“Still. I never fasten that many. Aren’t you stuffy?”

The beautiful image his mind provides floors him.

He’s aware of her proximity. If she leaned in and undid more buttons, he’d let her. He’d let her do anything as long as it keeps her around longer. But the night is drawing to an end. She’s too sleepy to keep him company.

“Stop fighting it,” Harry suggests. “I’ll leave once you’re asleep.”

The room needed a keycard to open, so she’ll be safe when the door shuts behind him.

“That’s why I don’t want to sleep,” she admits. “It’ll be sad to wake up without you.”

“Do you know what you’re saying? How sleepy are you?”

“Sleepy enough to test my luck.”

There are so many things he wishes to say then. But of those things he feels he should say, there are extremely few.

No matter the depth of their closeness, they’ve each taken a step back. A line exists that he fears to cross lest she drift farther away. So he relents.

“...Then I’ll wait a while.”

Her palm settles on his arm, then she doses off.

He examines her as respectfully as he can despite the desire building inside him. Caresses her cheek as she did to him, amazed she’s so close.

His mind is blissfully empty.

This hunger for the touch of another person, he hopes this will be the first and last time he struggles with it. But perhaps, it’s because he’s unaccustomed to feeling anything from contact with another that this is so addictive.

He’s spent his whole life denying himself, but he doesn’t have to do that with her. Or at least, hadn’t had to until the rejection. Yet still, he’s here tripping over himself to catch her interest.

She still feels something for him too, doesn’t she? In person there’s no hiding it like she can in calls and messages.

But how can he coax that out of her? Directness, suggestiveness, she’s danced around it all. So what’s next?

Coming onto her? Pressing her at every opportunity hoping she’ll cave and reciprocate? Or perhaps throwing caution to the wind and tugging her against him?

He can’t stay here any longer. Illicit thoughts fill his mind, and he’s still pent up from earlier.

So, he extricates himself from under her and fetches a blanket from the bedroom. He drapes it over her gently before gathering his things.

“Harry…? Wow. It’s really you.”

He’s tugging on his shoes when he hears that. She stands behind him bundled in the blanket. However, she doesn’t seem entirely lucid. It’s like instinct more than anything else prompted her over.

He smiles. “You said that already.”

“I’m amazed again.”

Would she hug him again if he makes the offer?

“Is that why you’re standing so far?”

“Yes,” she tugs the sheets tighter around her. “I shouldn’t do anything else inappropriate to you.”

His disappointment is heavy on his shoulders.

But what else would she say? There’s a line between them. Now the only place he can have her is in dreams. The same dreams where she haunts him as much as she delights him.

Still…

He straightens with his shoes on. “Did I say you couldn’t?”

Harry opens his arms following that, and she steps into them. He squeezes her far longer than the first hug they shared. Her fingers comb through the hair at his nape. Goosebumps travel down his back.

“I’m glad I could see you,” she whispers. “Have a good night.”

It’s harder to pretend the words don’t affect him in person.

“Don’t you have more time for me while you’re here?”

“You’re cute. Very cute. I’d be a terrible host to keep you while I’m this tired.”

Another dismissal. Especially when she eases out of the hug.

It’s an unbearable goodbye. That thing he’s always found so simple before.

“Drive safe.”

She won’t bend. He has to leave.

Did he send her off in such a similarly brusque manner before? Is that why he’s paying for it now?

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asks. Then corrects himself. “I want to see you tomorrow. Tell me when to be here.”

“Two o’clock. We can have lunch somewhere around that time. I should be done with work by then.”

“Okay.”

He can’t stall anymore.

When she smiles brightly, a vicious envy of her co-workers ensnares him. They’ll see her before he does. He hopes she doesn’t smile like that at others.

When the door closes an idea comes to him. There’s at least one way to encounter her even if all she does is work the rest of the weekend.

He heads downstairs.

***

The next day they meet for lunch as agreed upon at a new-age restaurant well known for its paninis and salads.

His weirdo arrives in a sundress and Harry wears something casual he knows he looks good in. She excitedly goes over her plans for the rest of her afternoon now that work is done. She’s got the rest of today and Sunday mostly to herself unless she’s called in since the proposal went through.

Thanks to that information he knows when she’s leaving. By early Monday morning she’ll be flying back home.

Last night, once his mind was clear, he vowed to make the most out of their time together. So, unlike last night, their atmosphere is tension-free. He follows her flow, although he can’t perfectly match her energy.

Lost in conversation, the server stops by four times before they finally look at their menus.

While he’s deciding which salad to order, a foot touches his ankle under the table. His date is the only one across from him, and it was likely an accident.

But the touch comes again and lingers. He glances at her but she’s reading the menu in utter nonchalance. Under the table her toes knead and stroke. His heart pounds. The foot play continues as high as his calves. He wants more.

The menu crinkles in his grip as he tries to maintain his composure. Whenever she presses down, he pushes into her touch. The higher her foot travels, the harder it is to keep his breaths relaxed. Before long his menu is forgotten. All he does is stare at her. Yet, she doesn’t glance up once.

Whatever relationship they have, it doesn’t include something like this. However, he doesn’t intend to stop her. Not now that her attention’s returned to him. The soft presses, although nice, aren’t enough. He laments that there’s an entire table bolted into the ground between them.

Harry eases his legs further into her reach so she has better access to his body. Her foot pauses. He awaits the next touches with bated breath. His pants are tight. Something so innocuous shouldn’t entice him, but that seems to be his new reality.

Too bad she draws her feet away.

“What are you doing?”

The question escapes him before he can think about it. But it’s less direct than his following thought, which is to demand she come back.

“Sorry, I’m absentminded today,” she turns the page on her menu. “I’ll mind my manners.”

This is how it usually ends. A slight push, a momentary respite, but never complete fruition. Even in his dreams, she’s like that. Pushing him as close to the edge as possible without relief.

If she keeps dipping her toe back over the line, then he can do the same, can’t he? That way they’ll continue such an amicable meal together, although he’s jealous of the very water passing through her lips. If he can’t push too, then how can he manage his sanity?

“You don’t need to.” Harry asserts.

“To what?”

“Mind your manners.”

She meets his gaze. A subtle red tint colours her cheeks.

“Whoa, Harry! What are you doing here? Who’s that?”

He swears inwardly when he hears Malong’s voice. And swears again when his date glances at Malong so easily when it took so long for her to look at him.

Malong invites himself to their table, sliding in right beside her. The same place Harry hadn’t dared sit.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m—”

“Malong, right?” she finishes.

“Oh, you know me? Haha, I feel shy.” Harry glares at Malong. “You two out for lunch? I heard you left the gala early last night, Harry, and I wondered why, but I suppose I know now.”

“Did I take him from you?” She giggles. “I won’t apologize though.”

Malong pauses, momentarily astonished. Harry’s mood plummets through the floor.

“Ahem,” Malong clears his throat. “You’re the one who’s been chatting with that grump these days, right? Tain mentioned it before.”

“That’d be me, I hope? I think?”

“It is,” Harry affirms.

Malong leans in. “We’re practically friends through this cantankerous guy, so, why don’t we exchange contact information?”

“Oh, um—”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.” Both of them turn to Harry. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I’m on break from one of my jobs.”

“Then get going. Your break shouldn’t affect others.”

“Are you properly employed now?” she inquires.

“Quit talking to him. He won’t go away otherwise.”

“You’re being mean to your friend who’s just worried about you?” Malong turns back to her. “Come on, I promise you’ll want to know at least one other person he knows if he goes off the map.”

Malong tugs out his phone and slides it towards hers. Harry snatches up her device.

“Enough Jo.”

“Are you her dad? She can answer.”

“I appreciate the offer,” she starts. “But I’m fine without it. Harry and I already have a mutual acquaintance.”

“Like who? Tain?” He abandons her phone with Harry to press more on what she’s shared. “Even if you have him, think about it. Don’t you need an emergency contact for this guy? He’s always disappearing.”

“Then she knows better than to pick you.”

His weirdo’s watch buzzes. So does the phone in Harry’s hand. She stands upon reading it.

“Sorry, I have to take this.”

She excuses herself and Harry’s left at the table with his friend.

“If you stare at her any harder, you’ll punch holes through her face.” Malong remarks.

Harry sips his water, then measuredly sets it down. “Why are you bothering me when you stormed off yesterday?”

“That was yesterday. Today’s today! Besides, I thought she’d catch fire or something if I didn’t sit down.” Malong leans back in his seat. His eyes glint with mirth. “You want something from her, don’t you? Judging by how casual your conversation is, you two aren’t dating. I can’t believe I’m seeing this. Someone as stiff as you—”

“Focus on Audrey. Don’t bother me.”

Malong stiffens. “Why are you bringing her up?”

“You know why.”

“I won’t take that to heart since I’ve seen something so interesting–”

“Malong, since you won’t understand from context, get lost.”

“But if I do that nobody’s here to tell you about things, right?” His eyes flick over Harry’s shoulder. “You might want to collect your date. She’s pretty and someone other than me noticed too.”

Harry glances back. Although she left for a call, now she’s talking to some guy near the entrance of the restaurant. The stranger is showing her something on his device but she shakes her head. Her turned posture tells him she’s trying to leave the conversation, but the stranger’s in her personal space.

Harry arrives at her side. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, Harry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you look for me. He says he’s lost.”

His eyes flick over the stranger and the man straightens away from her. When he takes a step back, Harry understands that being “lost” is an excuse.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to take up her time.” The young man sweats.

“Then leave.”

“Aha, well I’m just lost so—”

“Then ask the staff.” Harry seizes her hand. “Come.”

He leads her back to the table. Unfortunately, Malong’s still there, shifting guiltily in his seat. Harry surveys the table suspiciously but nothing seems out of place. He’s about to tell Malong to leave again, but he stands before there’s a chance to.

“My break’s nearly over so I have to head back. Thanks for having me.”

“We didn’t.”

“Don’t be like that. I’ll put in a good word for you with the chef.”

“Wait, you work here?” she gasps.

“Yeah! Temporarily. Which is why I thought Harry was here to see me until I saw you.”

Then as fast as he came, Malong’s gone. Unfortunately, so is Harry’s appetite.

“I didn’t know he worked here,” she apologizes. “I picked this place because of the reviews.”

“You couldn’t have known. I didn’t know until just now.”

“Well, we haven’t ordered yet. Want to swap restaurants?”

As much as he wants to, they’re already here. So he shrugs.

“He’s already seen us. Hopefully, he won’t come over again.”

Resigned, Harry reaches out for the menu but her grasp stops him.

“Come.”

She tugs him to his feet, and he stumbles behind her before he gets his bearings.

“Where are we going?”

“To eat somewhere else.”

“We don’t have to.”

“You’re bad at it, you know? Telling people no, that you’re uncomfortable, and meaning it. I’d like you to enjoy your time with me. You don’t have to sit here and bear it.”

Ah. So, that’s it. That’s why he feels as strongly about her as he does. Why it’s been nigh impossible to shake off his feelings.

Because she notices and responds to him. Because everyone else he’s ever known has told him it’ll be over after some minor discomfort. Everyone. Rachel. Tain. Big Guy. His parents. Everyone.

Yet, now that he understands, now what? How can he ever be the same again? Just because he knows doesn’t mean she’ll stay.

The free spirit and the puppet—The travelling merchant and the merman—The bird and the scarecrow... Such diametrically opposed concepts coexist together in fiction and in fiction only.

He’s glad she’s striding ahead of him because he doesn’t know what kind of expression he’s making.

***

Following lunch, Harry walks her back to her hotel. She says goodbye to him in the lobby, but they head in the same direction. When they’re on the elevator together, and he remains after she’s scanned her keycard, she turns to him.

“Harry?”

He reaches into his pocket, taps his keycard on the elevator keypad, and clicks the highest floor.

“I’m also heading back to my room,” he says. It’s nice to see her flustered. She wears it well.

“Were you staying here this whole time?”

“I’ll leave that to your imagination. Fantasizing is what you excel at.”

Her blush deepens, but she turns away. “I doubt I’m the only one excelling at that lately.”

He arches a brow wondering if he heard that right. But she doesn’t comment again and her gaze remains stubbornly forward.

They arrive on her floor, but he steps off with her.

“Why are you leaving?”

“What? Haven’t I told you to think about how things come across before you say them?”

“I do. Aren’t you free the rest of the day?”

“I thought we finished our plans with lunch, but if you have time, I’d love to be with you.”

“Then come up.”

Her phone rings for the second time that morning and she apologizes as she steps away to take the call. When she returns her expression tells him something’s called her away.

“Unfortunately, I’ve been called in. I’m sorry to vanish so suddenly.”

Time’s likely of the essence for her, so he opens his arms instead. Unlike last night, she hesitates a second, before stepping into them. Her arms come up, and his settle around her waist.

“Let me know when you’re done.”

“I will.”

She moves away but Harry holds onto her. Vividly imagines himself dipping forward and dragging her into the elevator. Instead, he slides his extra key card into her back pocket. Only then does he let go.

“Come up later. It’s on the forty-fifth floor. I’ll wait for you.”

Her phone rings again. She sighs but answers it.

“Yes? I’m on my way.” She waves at him one last time before stalking away to her room. “I left it in the joint file for everyone to access but if you need another copy...”

Eventually, she’s too far away to hear. He calls the elevator and leans against the wall on his ride up.

His hotel room is more extravagant than hers, yet as he stands alone in it, it feels vacant. Empty and unlived in despite the luxury.

She’ll be a while regardless of how he feels. There’s no sense in standing around aimlessly. So he strips off his clothing and unzips the overnight bag he’d haphazardly tossed onto the recliner after booking the room last night.

The private balcony has a pool, and it’s about time he used it.

***

Post evening shower, Harry finishes dinner alone and has several drinks. The room service is impeccable considering he booked the suite on such short notice.

Although he has a good buzz going, he’s spinning ice cubes around in his third glass of whiskey while he checks his phone. He hasn’t heard from his weirdo, and his message has no response. They got back to the hotel around four in the afternoon. It’s ten now. Shouldn’t she be done with whatever’s occupied her?

He sets his glass aside. “When did I become like this? It’s frustrating.”

“I can keep you company if you’d like?” Piu Piu chimes from Harry’s original smartphone. “We could play a game? Or what about a roleplay? You can be you and I can play—”

“I don’t need that.”

“Are you sure? You can get practice in for—”

“I just forgave you, but you’re testing your luck?”

Piu Piu’s dead silent.

It’d be better to take a night stroll than stay here any longer. A run would be better but he’d have to pick up a change of clothes to do so.

“Stay here. I’ll be back.” He scoops up his keycard and wallet.

“I can’t believe you keep going places without me,” Piu Piu shouts. “At least plug me in you meanie!”

The night is quiet, and the air is warm. Harry walks the length of the hotel’s secluded, man-made beach. Sand slides over his feet and sandals. The gentle lull of the water, the dark navy sky transitioning into blackness, it’s as tranquil as it is picturesque. The entire beach is his to roam. Not another soul crosses his path.

He has time to think. Yet, no matter how much he searches within, or how he pictures his future, he sees his weirdo there. The unbearably colourless, monotonous path he’s walked throughout his life is coloured by her. He smiles and laughs so effortlessly in her presence that he’s terrified how he’d ever gone without.

He wants to take the risk and confess again, even if it leaves him open to heartbreak. Maintaining the status quo isn’t what he wants to do with her. She means more to him than that.

He can’t stand aside and watch her be with someone else if that person cannot be him.

If such a horrible future comes to pass, then he knows how disastrous it’ll be. Whether she has a partner or spouse, he’d drop everything and rush to her side as if he were that person. He’s not strong enough to do otherwise.

If he stays in this nebulous relationship, the real harm will come. Because he knows deep in his soul, he’ll go to her when she’s low and she’ll do the same. The mistakes will pile up, and so will the resentment. Undeniable attraction will bring them together and tear them apart just as many times.

He already sees the beginnings of it. What will it be like five years from now? Twenty years? Or perhaps even forty?

It’s eleven at night when his phone goes off.

She asks where he is and fifteen minutes later she arrives wearing a simple cover-up and a skirt. His eyes fall to the run in her pantyhose, just hardly visible where her skirt clothes her thighs.

“The beach closed half an hour ago,” is her opening comment. “We shouldn’t be out here.”

He hadn’t known. No wonder it’s so empty.

“We can go inside.”

“It’s okay. I’ve always wanted to walk like this with you. As if we’re the only two in the world.”

“And if we’re caught?”

“We’ll run,” she insists. “Though I’ve worked all day, so you may have to carry me.”

“Should I check if I can handle that?”

He reaches for her but she squeals and darts away. He chases her across the sand and scoops her up. She’s the perfect weight in his arms. They’re face-to-face.

“I can handle it,” Harry whispers as he smiles.

“So you can...”

The spark between them sets his heart aflame. He leans in closer, but she taps his shoulder.

“Can you set me down, please?”

Reluctantly, he does. He’s ready to head inside, but she initiates a new stroll. They walk up and down the beach. She dips her toes in the water.

“Is it cold?”

She splashes his ankle playfully with the tepid water instead of answering. It’s a pleasant temperature. The water’s cooling off from the day.

He wonders how secluded the beach is. Sand is easy to wash off. If only it were more difficult, he could wash up with her. How soft would her skin be sliding over his in the shower?

He swallows.

“Say,” she begins. “If I asked, would you take me somewhere?”

“Yes, but we’d have to hire a car.”

“That’s fine. There’s a place I’ve always wanted to see.”

***

It turns out the place she’s always wanted to see is Harry’s home.

“I’ve seen plenty of pictures but it’s surprisingly exciting to be here.”

“Watch your step. Your feet are wet from the beach.”

“I’ll grab onto you if I’m about to fall.”

She wobbles while taking off her shoes, so he settles an arm around her waist.

“Don’t wait until you’re falling. Avoid it to begin with.”

She frees herself and wanders away. As she enters and gazes around in awe, he wonders if she’ll complain about how empty it is now that she’s seen it.

“Thanks for the invitation. I didn’t want to be another person barging in and making themselves at home in your space.”

“You’re always welcome.”

“Am I?” She grins back at him. “Then what’s your code?”

“Your birthday.”

“Oh.” She looks away. “You should probably change that.”

“I won’t. It’s too troublesome.”

He hangs his coat up, and his heart jumps when he turns to see she’s vanished. He finds her in the kitchen staring into his fridge.

“There’s actual food in here.”

“You told me to eat better.”

“It’s still nice to see that you are.” He steps close. She moves out of reach. “Can I look around some more?”

“Look around to your heart’s content.”

She explores about taking in his space.

“Is it that exciting?”

“Everything’s an extension of you, so yes. You can tell a lot about a person from their surroundings.”

She pauses when she reaches the piano. Her fingers pass over it affectionately.

“Will you play for me? I’ve always wanted to hear you play in person.”

He hasn’t touched the piano in a while, so he’s bound to be rusty. Yet, he wants to meet her expectations. So, he seats himself on the piano bench. She sets the lid down and takes a seat on top of the instrument.

“I’ve got the best view from here.”

“I’m a soloist. The lid should stay up.”

“I plan to accompany you, hence lid down.”

“Do you have an instrument?”

“I’m feeling good. Maybe I’ll improv with my voice.” She clears her throat. “As long as you don’t tease me.”

With that in mind he picks a song she’s most likely to know the lyrics to and sets about playing a slower, piano rendition of it. His fingers travel along the keys, gentle, and light, although he plays with passion. The vibrant music fills the space.

And when he realizes she won’t sing, the piece transitions into the piece he worked on for her. However the melody is slower, an elegantly building crescendo. He delivers the piece based on the emotion he wishes to convey. It surpasses where he’d left off in his composition.

The delicate tune becomes something grief-stricken. Loud. Commanding. Something faster. And at its peak, following a second of silence, it sinks into something consumed by longing. A tale of unfulfilled wants and denial. Of madness. And then, an exquisite tale of affection. Every note speaks of a chance for something beautiful that’s always been unknown to him.

A healing song that conjures a symphony’s worth of instrumentation across a single instrument. The emotional piece is as much a story as it is a serenade.

Then the last note rings out. He releases himself from the music with a breath.

He meets her mesmerized gaze. “In the end, you didn’t sing.”

“I thought about it, but your playing was too beautiful to interrupt.”

Her eyes are dewy. He stands to move her off the piano, but then they’re as close as they were when he lifted her earlier. Her gaze shakes, and after a time, she looks away.

It’s been the trend since they met. He can’t stand being crushed by it anymore.

“Is there something more interesting over there than me?” Harry asks as he leans closer.

She rests a hand against his chest to make space between them. He’s never given someone the power to destroy him, and yet she has it all. One sentence, one gesture, can grind him into dust.

“I’m hopping down now. Can you step back please?”

But he doesn’t.

“Harry?” Her breath is uneven when she calls him that time. “Please. I’m trying to maintain the line.”

“Is that why you haven’t been as forthcoming as you usually are?”

“...Do you blame me? I tease you but, getting hurt once changed me. Although I try not to dwell on it. It’s late. I’ll get going–”

“It’s too late to say you haven’t crossed the line. Or are you the type that dines and dashes in relationships?”

Her face heats. After so long, he has his answer. That she remembers.

“...I wasn’t in my right mind then.”

“Good. Stay that way.”

His hand slides up the back of her neck and into her hair. She blushes but doesn’t pull away.

He wants to tease her, but he’s at his limit. Has been for some time. Yet, if he can push a little more, if she loses her composure while her dewy eyes give him an indignant look, he’ll feel so satisfied.

He needs her, and surveys her with that blatant fact on display.

Between her legs is a perfectly spaced gap for him...

[Character limit hit. Click to continue reading]

#oncetwicethrice #harry choi #the ssum #the ssum harry #smut

8 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs