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adair-trashart · 2 months

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i dont know if anyone else did this but im doing it anyways a lot of it is pulled from his list of works wikipedia page but id figure i could at least make it easier to immediately see where to experience a lot of this stuff since a lot of it can be confusing to find super long post ahead

List of Akira Toriyama's stuff he did you can experience in some way:

(* means digital is the only option for people afraid of buckaneers and scallywags ** means the seven seas are the only (easily accessible to most) option ^ means it is (at least somewhat affordably) available physically or digitally, but not in English)

Manga

Dragon Ball related things:

Dragon Ball (the manga that Dragon Ball Z was adapted from is considered to be still a part of the original series. the manga relevant to that is/was sold over here as the Dragon Ball Z manga, but I'm not sure whats going on with that. can someone whos more of a dragon ball superfan help me figure that out a little???????? even the wiki articles are confusing me on this)

Dragon Ball Super (concepts, storyline, some storyboards and dialogue. It is mainly done by Toyotarou and was released at the same time as the anime before the manga got ahead of it)

Dragon Ball: The Return of Son Goku and Friends! (adaptation of the OVA. overseen storyboards and gave advice to Naho Ooishi. According to the intro he sees this as better than the special this was based off of)

Jaco the Galactic Patrolman

Neko Majin^

Kochira Namekku-sei Dragon Kōen-mae Hashutsujo** (a crossover chapter with KochiKame that apparently appears in Cho KochiKame)

Cross Epoch** (One Piece crossover one-shot)

Things you can experience through Akira Toriyama's Manga Theater:

Wonder Island/Wonder Island 2

Today's Highlight Island

Tomato the Cutesy Gumshoe

Pola & Roid

Escape

Mad Matic

Pink: The Rain Jack Story

Chobit/Chobit 2 (not to be confused with Chobits by CLAMP)

Dragon Boy

Mr. Ho

Lady Red

Young Master Ken'nosuke

The Elder

Little Mamejiro

Karamaru and the Perfect Day

Soldier of Savings Cashman

Dub & Peter 1

Go! Go! Ackman

Alien X-Peke

Sachie-shan Good!!

Jiya

Other manga:

Dr. Slump

Rocky** (Dr. Slump spinoff)

Dr. Mashirito – Abale-chan** (Dr. Slump spinoff)

Wolf** (accessible through the artbook Akira Toriyama: The World)

Hetappi Manga Kenkyūjo**

Tokimecha**

Majin Mura no Bubul** (prototype for Cowa!)

Cowa!*

Kajika^

Mahimahi the Lungfish**

Hyowtam!**

Sand Land

Oishii Shima no Ū-sama** (an educational manga whose only PDF online is no longer accessible. images of it are on the Dragon Ball fandom wiki, but I can't navigate the websites linked very easily since I dont speak Japanese)

Kintoki**

Awawa World** and Mysterious Rain Jack** (unpublished early works)

Art books:

Akira Toriyama: The World** (vaguely more affordable on Amazon but I'd rather not give them money right now)

Akira Toriyama: The World Special** (I don't know what the difference is but it is way more expensive)

Dragon Ball Daizenshu: The Complete Illustrations**

Dragon Quest Monsters: Akira Toriyama Illustrations (the 30th anniversary version is fairly cheap by artbook standards)

Dragon Quest 25th Anniversary Monster Encyclopedia^

Dragon Ball: A Visual History (secondhand prices are decent on some websites)

Work he did on anime:

Crusher Joe* - MAX 310 space station (image found in the video linked at the bottom of this page)

Kosuke & Rikimaru: The Dragon of Konpei Island** (original concept, script, character designs)

Imagination Science World Gulliver Boy (mechanical designs. wikipedia is vague and the bottom of this link is the only thing i could find of specific concept art (mild buggish warning i guess))

Dragon Ball GT (yes, believe it or not he was mildly involved. he did character designs and made the name and logo)

Sand Land (the anime was supposed to come later this month, and he worked on some kind of new story for it. there is also a video game that's supposed to come out later this year and we will see by then if he had any further involvement in that)

Lumping the rest of the anime first Dragon Ball stuff here:

Dragon Ball: The Return of Son Goku and Friends!** (original and story concepts)

Dragon Ball Z: Battle of Gods (original and story concepts, character designs)

Dragon Ball Z: Resurrection 'F' (original concept, screenplay, character designs, title)

Dragon Ball Super (original and story concepts, character designs, title, released at the same time as the manga before the manga overtook it)

Dragon Ball Super: Broly and Super Hero (original concept, screenplay, character designs)

Dragon Ball Daima (original concept, story, character designs, was supposed to come out this fall)

Anime adaptations (and adjacent things) of his stuff:

Dragon Ball stuff:

Dragon Ball tv series

Dragon Ball: Curse of the Blood Rubies

Dragon Ball: Sleeping Princess in Devil's Castle

Dragon Ball: Mystical Adventure

Dragon Ball: The Path to Power

Goku's Traffic Safety and Goku's Fire Brigade** (theyre both PSAs, easily accessible through unofficial YouTube uploads)

Dragon Ball: The Magic Begins** (unlicensed Taiwanese live action remake of Curse of the Blood Rubies)

Dragon Ball: Fight Son Goku, Win Son Goku** (unlicensed Korean live action adaptation)

Dragonball Evolution (very loose western adaptation that somehow has a game on the PSP)

Dragon Ball Z stuff:

Dragon Ball Z tv series

All of the Dragon Ball Z movies (seriously there's so many and I even checked each movie individually if yarhargle is the only option. it is not but it's also $3.99 per movie so keep that in mind)

Dragon Ball Z: Bardock - The Father of Goku

Dragon Ball Z: Summer Vacation Special**

Dragon Ball Z: The History of Trunks

Looking Back at it All: The Dragon Ball Z Year-End Show!**

Dragon Ball Z Side Story: Plan to Eradicate the Saiyans**

The World of Dragon Ball Z (English dub exclusive OVA, uses both the BLT/Ocean dub and the in-house Funimation dub)

Dragon Ball: Episode of Bardock (OVA adaptation of Naho Ooishi's manga)

Other stuff:

Dr. Slump Arale-chan(**?) (first adaptation, unsure if truly otherwise inaccessible since it has a very unsearchable name for search engines)

Dr. Slump 1997 tv series

Dr. Slump movies**

Pink: Water Bandit, Rain Bandit**

Go! Go! Ackman**

Work he did for video games:

Dragon Quest series (character designs)

Dragon Ball: Shenlong no Nazo** (character designs)

Famicom Jump II: Saikyō no Shichinin (designed Dark Raid)

Chrono Trigger* (character and setting designs, helped with animation for the 1999 PlayStation port)

Tobal No. 1 and Tobal 2** (character designs)

Blue Dragon* and Blue Dragon Plus** (character designs, there's also a Blue Dragon anime but I don't know how involved he was)

Blue Dragon: Awakened Shadow** (character designs, voice of Toripo)

Chōsoku Henkei Gyrozetter** (designed Beeman 500SS)

Dragon Ball FighterZ (designed Android 21)

Dragon Ball Legends* (designed Shallot and Zahha)

Jump Force (several original character designs. I have no idea who Wikipedia meant by this)

Dragon Ball Z: Kakarot (designed Bonyū)

Fantasian* (designed a diorama used for a level)

Shueisha related stuff:

just assume theyre all highly unavailable and poorly archived online i can't even find archives of mainstream magazines from the us half the time

Weekly Shōnen Jump (designed Captain Gyao for the 20th anniversary, designed Kaizo-kun for the website. I cant navigate that website very well so can someone else find Kaizo-kun for me??????)

V Jump (designed V Dragon)

Weekly Jump F-1 Club (designed the mascot Wins-kun)

V-Net (designed the mascots Dr. Tobo and Happy 1)

Souvenirs entomologiques: Shueisha Bunko edition of the Japanese translation (cover illustrations, here is the link (super realistic big bugs warning)

Shueisha (designed Rīdon for the 25th anniversary of Shueisha Bunko)

Dragon Ball Damashii (logo design)

Jump Shop (designed Janta)

My Jump (designed Mai and Honbot)

Other things:

Fuel Album by George Tokoro (insert illustration)

Fire! Staff Tripper by Akira Sakuma (album cover, notably not mentioned on Wikipedia, possibly lost media, thanks to @/ToriyamasArt on Twitter for providing an English name)

Polkadot Magic by Mami Koyama (album cover, lyrics for "Crilla" and "Helicopter)

Higashiyama Zoo and Botanical Gardens (logo for the koala exhibit)

Fine Molds (packaging and instructions illustrations for the Lisa model, designed the mascot Goshikiken, designs packaging and instructions for seven World Fighter Collection models)

Dakara Bike Daisuki! by Haruka Takachiho (cover art)

Super Sense Story (character designs, it's a road safety brochure for Honda and I can't find images for it)

Bitch's Life Illustration File (illustration, I have no idea how many)

Toccio the Angel** (writer and illustrator, it's a children's book)

QVOLT (it's a car, he designed it)

Rule/Sparkle by Ayumi Hamasaki (art of Hamasaki dressed as Goku on the CD and DVD (image is accessible on the Dragon Ball fan wiki)

Ichigo Dōmei by Chiaki** (cover art)

Invade by jealkb (album art)

Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons (promotional poster art)

Dr. Mashirito's Saikyō Manga Jutsu by Kazuhiko Torishima** (cover art)

Kiyosu (20th anniversary city logo)

Sources:

List of works by Akira Toriyama (a lot of it was also connected pages and me individually searching for different things listed)

Dragon Ball fan wiki

Dr. Slump fan wiki

this Kazenshuu forum post by Angelus about Akira Toriyama's earlier manga, including the unpublished stuff

the news section of the official Dragon Ball website

this page on the KochiKame fan wiki

this article for crusher joe and the video linked in it

various 🏴‍☠️ websites i wont list here specifically because loose lips sink ships (they're not hard to find if you care that much)

various IMDB pages (largely for finding ways to watch for people unable or unwilling to do the only other alternative)

this Hungarian website where I found the Dragon Ball Damashii image

jump shop (janta is fortunately plastered all over the place so i could find example images easily)

@/ToriyamasArt on Twitter for the bug covers in the Shueisha section and an English translation for the name Fire! Staff Tripper

This website (in Portugeuse) that has a lot of the art in the other things section

this archive of Toccio the Angel

anonymous Blogspot post covering QVOLT

jealkb Invade CD listing with the jpged image

allocine.fr is where i got the Journey to the West poster but it gave me some unavoidable pop up that's seemingly immune to Firefox's website translator and i already spent 5 hours on this post so screw that website

Kiyosu logo source (their image breaks on Tumblr so i screenshotted it)

#akira toriyama #dragon ball #dr slump #id tag some of the other popular stuff but im worried theyre not prominent enough in this post for people to be fine with it #shonen jump #text post #long post #this is mainly for documentation purposes #my back hurts

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teslacoils-and-hubris · 5 months

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Could you guys imagine the drama if mad scientists had tumblr?

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💀dr.undead follow

Can you guys stop putting @normal-civilian on my dash?? They LITERALLY don't support graverobbing??? Like it's 2023 get over yourself some of us need corpse parts for experiments grandma isn't using her liver anymore it's fine!

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💉modernprometheus follow

Just in case you haven't heard it today, it's totally valid to call yourself a doctor even if you dropped out of college! It's basically a mad scientist tradition at this point

🦇dr-bats follow

Nah fuck this. I didn't spend years defining and documenting a scientific method of turning people into giant animal mutants through gene manipulation to get lumped in with some fresh faced collage dropout who just happened to stumble onto the secret to reanimating corpses. Words have meanings.

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🩻 exposedspine1 follow

Hey guys what do you think would happen if I jumped into the open vat of glowing green mystery chemicals we all keep in our labs? Super powers right?

🩻 exposedspine1 follow

Hospital.

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🤖 inatorlover3000 follow

Aha! But I bet you didn't expect this! It's my latest invention, a giant death ray that detects the biggest LOSER in the room! And look! It's pointing right at you! Better run while you still can hero!

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Good one boss!

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🫁 gutz-n-stuff follow

Literally if you don't keep living brains in jars of green goo unfollow me now.

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#mad science #sciencecore #villaincore #mad scientist #unreality tw #fake post

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pandoraslxna · 9 months

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Sweet like Cherry – Chapter 3

Miles Quaritch x female human reader

Words: 5.1k

Summary: Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Warnings: explicit smut, conflicted emotions, mentions of murder, dirty talk, praise & degradation, vaginal fingering, clit slapping, begging, virgin reader, obsession, authority kink, power play

Notes: if this reads like a I’m a villain fucker it’s because I am

Miles Quaritch is everything your mother had conditioned you to hate in a person.

He's rude, you’re reminded every time he throws out insults and sarcastic comments like they're candy at a parade. He's disrespectful, you think, when he never has a good word to say about anyone who’s not an authority figure. And he‘s a narcissistic prick, you realize his high sense of own importance whenever he strolls through hallways and enters a room like he owns the place, not caring about anything or anyone that isn’t himself.

No, he certainly isn’t a good man. He's probably killed way more people than you could even count on both hands. But he did it for his country and mankind and all that stuff, and apparently that kind of murder is considered honorable. Still, there's no way Quaritch is anywhere close to being good.

At first, you liked to imagine he is; that he's got an actual heart where his badge of honor was. But if you've been hired by the government to do shady shit on another planet, killed by blue aliens and then somehow reincarnated, trapped in a body that looked like said enemy, odds are that you're probably just comfortable with bloodshed.

And while he's definitely no boy scout, he still seems far removed from that cold-hearted, disgruntled soldier that didn’t gave two shits about this moon and everyone who wasn’t considered human, the one you’ve heard so many stories about, that you have a hard time accepting that both versions of him are just past and present forms of the same person.

But no matter how you might want to put it, in the end, Miles Quaritch just wasn’t a good man.

And you hate it.

You hate the fact you don’t hate him at all.

Is this how it’s supposed to feel, you ask yourself. Are you supposed to feel the way you do as you wake up in the morning, sleep deprived and yearning for the man that had left you, abandoned like a toy he didn’t want to play with anymore?

Maybe you’re just so starved for touch that you don’t hate him at all, not even after what had happened. It's not heartbroken, or remotely close to the feeling of being sad. You hadn’t shed a single tear like you thought you would. You just felt confused and empty. Empty, more in a physical type of way than metaphorically, if you were being honest.

Quaritch had left you when you were still floating in the afterglow of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever managed to coax out of yourself, yet he hadn’t even bothered to touch you.

If anything, you just felt frustrated. So, so frustrated and embarrassed, like you’ve never been before.

If there was something you proved to be good at in these past couple of days, it was running on caffeine, carbs, and minimal sleep. You hunched over your equipment at the laboratory, carefully abstracting the fluid of a tsyorina'wll- a flour seed plant, before inspecting it under a microscope. You observed the reaction the plants fluid had when coming in contact with oxygen from Earth and then documented it.

Your breathing was at a steady pace, and your brows were furrowed in a tight knot, wrinkling your forehead above your eyebrows in concentration.

Despite the silence in the room, a headache was slowly spreading from your temples over your forehead, pounding loud enough that it almost completely drowned out every thought in your head. If only it was strong enough to stop yourself from overthinking…

You were working in a cleared space in the laboratory, a quiet corner you had mostly to yourself, which made the whole situation so much worse.

You had been personally situated by Dr. Garvin, who had sat you by the big floor-to-ceiling window, giving you access to your own computer and a rather big desk with all necessities you would need for your studies. You weren’t quite close to the big examination table, giving Garvin, who frequently worked there when he wasn’t away for outpost explorations, plenty of space for only God-knows-what. You got used to all the little yellow post-it notes littered across his desk, labeling basically anything as "do not touch!!!" (yes, even his favorite pen) pretty quickly.

Initially, Ian had been quite annoyed when Ardmore suggested letting you use up some more space. Impressed with your accomplishments and scientific studies, she had promoted you to the higher department on your very first week. But for two whole years, that had been his private space to fuck around and work, and he didn't like the idea of having to share it with somebody he didn't know. Yet that tension was quickly eased with how considerate, thankful, and downright nice you were to him.

Oh and there was also Laura. A kind, middle aged woman and fellow scientist that worked on a thesis about pandoras flora that was very similar to yours. If you were to ask Laura, she would probably describe you as neat, always cleaning up properly and not talking too much. But when you did, it was a nice, pleasant conversation that would elicit a few chuckles, even from Garvin himself.

Laura was kind, too. She probably wasn't even assigned to do this, but somehow she ended up becoming a mentor for you, showing you around and introducing you to everyone in the first couple of weeks after your arrival.

She was cute, small and very extroverted, which was funny considering that she had been sharing the same work place with the most introverted person you’ve ever met for the past two years. And she also had a notably adorable focused look on her face while she worked, with her glasses sitting entirely on the tip of her nose.

But unfortunately, Laura wasn’t here today. She had called in sick a couple of days ago, with what sounded like either a stomach flue or the symptoms of having caught a pandorian bug after her little field trip last week. You made a mental note on bringing her some soup from the cafeteria later that day.

The other scientists, like Maggie, who were closer around your age and could probably help distract you from the mess of thoughts running laps in your brain, were spread out on the other floors and different laboratories, which left you to work all on your own today and most likely the rest of the week too.

Normally, you were glad for all of this alone time.

Being alone usually meant, you could zone out of the window and if you were lucky enough, you could catch a glimpse of Colonel hot-as-fuck, before he went on another mission into the depths of pandoras jungle. Or you could gawk at him during lunch break, stroll up and down the hallways more times than actually necessary just to maybe walk past him and get a whiff of his cologne.

Usually, you were more than just glad to be alone, because the thought of being caught gawking at him by a coworker and having to explain why you were eye-fucking the recom squads leader would be kind of degrading.

But right now, you absolutely hated being on your own, left alone with thoughts that dared to consume you whole if you wouldn’t find a way to distract yourself within the next hour or so.

This whole week had felt like you were stuck in a loop.

Almost two weeks had passed since your little encounter with the Colonel. And it suddenly felt like the days went by quicker than you could even blink. You had spend most of your time cramped inside the laboratory, only ever coming out to take a shower and sleep for a couple of hours, maybe even get something to eat, if entering the cafeteria felt safe enough, before you went back to work.

Before Pandora, before Quaritch, there was never really a face to the man in your dreams, your dirty little fantasies; only the blur of a body, hands touching you, feeling you up and down. But now there was a face. And there were eyes now, too. Watching you, always just watching. To the point you got anxious walking through hallways and entering the cafeteria to get yourself something to eat, because what if you accidentally stumbled upon him, what if those eyes were also there, watching you like they had been watching you from across the bed.

Okay, scratch that. Anxious was maybe the wrong word to describe what you’ve been feeling lately. You were embarrassed. Embarrassed because you spend day and night overthinking all the possibilities that lead him to just get up and leave like a coward.

You spend a lot of time after that wondering just how the fuck Quaritch of all people came to be the one you just couldn't categorize. None of the many little boxes in your head that stored people you‘ve got all figured out ever seemed like quite the right fit for him.

Why did he leave? Why?

Did he not like what he saw? Did he not like you?

He had proven to be harder to read than most people, you came to realize, and you didn’t like that one bit. It had your mind spiraling, running wild with the absurdest thoughts and theories.

Of course a man like Quaritch, who had about four decades worth of sexual experience, wasn’t fond of the idea of fucking a dumb little virgin that probably had no idea what she was even doing. God, you definitely made the biggest fool out of yourself, you thought. Vivid images of Quaritch, passing around all your polaroids to a snickering recom squad, began to visualize themselves in your head. All laughing over the naïve scientist that thought she could get into the Colonels pants just like that. Like she was someone.

It was pretty much self explanatory why you had stopped sending him polaroids after that day. Obviously you wouldn’t continue to act as a dumb little plaything for him and his squad to make fun of. You were just glad that the ones he already had of you didn’t show your face, so if he ever decided to make them public, you at least had the chance to deny that the woman on these photos was you. And it wasn’t like the whole of bridgehead knows about your little cherry tattoo, basically the only indication that it was, in fact, you on them. Hopefully that meant you could keep your job, if any of your supervisors was ever to see these damn Polaroids.

The hard-to-ignore fact that Quaritch also hadn’t bothered to reach out to you since then only adds further to the horrible images in your mind, until you actually felt yourself starting to believe that this was clearly a one time thing and that he only wanted to see what he would get himself into, before deciding that he would never want to see or talk to you again.

Besides craving the numbing of whatever you currently didn’t want to feel, you also began to crave the lunch that you completely missed to get about three hours ago. The loud grumbling of your stomach informs you so. Unfortunately the decision to get up from the chair you had seemingly been glued on for most of the day came to you when the cafeteria was already closed, which left you with no choice but to take the elevator, travel two floors down and get some unhealthy snacks out of the vending machine. But it’s whatever. Not like you had to look good in a bikini any time soon or would put on another show, as naked as the day you were born, in the next couple of days– or ever again.

Rounding the corner after exiting the elevator, you don’t even wait until you reach the laboratory again, already fiddling with a bag of chips that somehow, even on Pandora, ended up being filled with eighty percent of air. Pushing the labs door open with your hip, your whole focus was on opening the damn bag of chips and greedily reaching for the first one, before stuffing it into your mouth.

Finally glancing back up to look over at your workplace, all blood in your body seems to run cold at once.

There he is, Colonel fuckin' America, leaning against your desk with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at you like you had the audacity to keep him waiting. Like nothing has ever happened. Like this is so natural for him, to be here in your space.

The sight of him practically sitting on your desk, unbeknownst to him crumbling several important documents under him, had you stopping dead in your tracks. Confused didn’t come nearly close to the word that could describe your facial expression when you looked at him, the bag of chips almost slipping from your grasp as you wondered just how the fuck he even knew where exactly you worked?

"Colonel", you simply say, itching to face palm yourself because you might as well salute him too now.

"It’s Miles", he responds, the corner of his mouth curving up in what could be a grin as he pushes himself off the desk and slowly walks over to you. When he begins to circle you, the by now familiar feeling of being his prey returns to you.

The clinically white lab coat you were wearing always helped you feel grounded, like a talisman that reminded you of your true nature, your worth, and it also gave you something to fiddle with to ease your nerves. You wringe the fabric of your sleeve between your fingers, pulling and pinching it in an attempt to keep your hands busy so they wouldn’t start shaking.

With your nerves on high alert and more adrenaline pumping through your veins by the second, your legs decide to move without your brain’s consent, walking over to your desk to place the bag of chips on the smooth, white surface, before you awkwardly begin to sort every document that Quaritch was so kind to make a mess with, as he sat down on them.

"What are you doing here, sir?", you ask to try and end this nerve wrecking tension. That elicits a low chuckle out of him. You force yourself not to look up at him, but you hear him follow you, stepping closer, until you feel his warm breath fan over the top of your head.

"It seems you’ve stopped sending me your little polaroids, cherry", he hums, tilting his head so his lips were closer to your ear. "How come?"

"I- I- I‘m, I didn’t know if you would still…", there’s a pause and you take a deep breath, your voice growing quieter with every word, "if you were still interested in them."

Behind your back, Quaritch’s ears twitch. Damn Na’vi and their distinctive hearing, you curse them. You see the dancing shadow of his tail, curling and swaying as he processes what you had just told him.

"And what made you think that?", he then asks, and your heart skips a beat at his voice, giving you false hope with the sound of being genuinely interested.

"I don’t know, I– I just-“, you struggle to find the right words and sigh. "I thought you weren’t interested in me." It’s a honest confession. You squeeze your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose in embarrassment as you keep letting the words flow out. There was no going back anyways now. "You didn’t even… touch me or anything so I thought you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. Especially after finding out that– that I’ve never…"

You don’t finish the sentence. Partly because you can’t bring yourself to speak it out, name the obvious, and partly because he didn’t let you.

"Is that what you want?", Quaritch cuts in and you whip your head around just in time to see his lips part into a toothy grin, his sharp canine poking out from under his lip. He cocks his head to the other side, "You want me to touch you, huh?"

There was something to be said about power and pleasure. Any moron could inflict pain, for all the power it gave to them and certainly pain could be a useful tool, especially to someone like him. But it surely wasn't pain that gave him the feeling of power when it came to you. Quaritch stroked a finger over the back of your neck, carefully flicking your hair over your shoulder.

"Alright, I‘ll touch you, cherry", he hums, "But only if you promise to keep these pretty pictures coming, yes?"

Humans were never designed to fight what felt good to them, you knew that. Pleasure had someone who was expecting a fight as disorientated as a baby bird that just hit glass. The power of making someone melt in your hands, it must be intoxicating. You couldn’t just see it in his eyes, you also felt it in the way his hands wandered from your neck to the collar of your lab coat, gently pulling it down over your shoulders.

You never wished to be better at controlling your expressions as in this moment. You could feel the blush growing on your cheeks, giving away what you were feeling too easily. And it only encouraged Quaritch further. You let him pull the coat off of you completely, and look away briefly as he tosses it over your chair. A moment passes, his hands just lingering but not entirely touching you, until you cast your gaze back at him.

"Okay", you breathe out, nodding slightly, and that’s all the confirmation he needed.

Quaritch lets his hands fall lower, to snake down your thigh, fingers skimming over the fabric of your skirt. His big hands almost entirely curl around your leg, fingertips pressing into what he already seems know is one of your favourite places to be touched: your inner thigh, where it tickles and arouses you in equal measure, but he doesn’t linger there. His hands wander past the vulnerable flesh, further up where he then hoists your skirt up to expose your panties.

A sound between a low hum and a content purr comes from deep within his chest, as he cups your clothed cunt with his warm balm, slowly running the tips of his fingers against the soft fabric between your thighs. Your breath hitches when he finds the outline of your clit, nudging it gently. He drags his knuckles across the fabric of your panties, a barely-there touch, but you’re so sensitive already that your hips twitch at the contact and you bite your lip to keep from moaning. And that ultimately makes you come back to your senses.

"W-Wait, you– here?", you whisper. Your eyes slide to the door, made out of milky glass, closed but unlocked. It’s late and you’re almost sure everyone else that worked on this floor has already went home, but still. Anyone could just walk in here at any second.

You take a quick look at Quaritch over your shoulder, brows furrowed, a worried almost pleading look on your face.

"Yes, here", he confirms.

"You- you can’t be serious." You’re blushing more deeply now. The colour blossoms over your cheeks, the tip of your ears and even creeps down your neck, disappearing beneath that neatly ironed blouse you picked out this morning.

The Colonel chuckles, "You want me to touch you, don’t you? So that’s what i‘m going to do, cherry."

"I didn’t mean right here!"

"But I did. C’mon now, take these off for me", he says, hooking a finger under the waistband of your panties to pull and let them snap back against your skin, causing you to flinch slightly. You hesitantly reach for them, pulling the soft fabric down ever so slowly, like you were still debating if you were loosing your mind and with it, any sense of caution.

All it would need was for one oblivious person to enter your lab and catch you with a ten feet tall recom, messing around in a workspace area that’s supposed to be clean and free of any contamination, and you would most likely loose your job and get sent back to earth within the next twenty-four hours.

But do you really want him to stop though? His velvety voice washes over you, ensnaring you in warmth, his desire, and anticipation.

You don’t want him to stop. It would kill you if he did.

Once you slipped out of your panties, Quaritch places a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your chest lays flat against your desk.

"Spread yourself for me." It’s an order to be obeyed directly, so you reach behind yourself, one hand on each side as you pull your cheeks apart. Your glad for the rather cold surface of the table when you rest your burning face against it, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

Behind you, Quaritch groans at the sight.

"What a cute little pussy, all pretty and pink."

You feel his eyes rake over your body, burning across your skin, drinking in the sight of you bent over for him oh so nicely and willing, entirely at his mercy. You hear him give a satisfied exhale and your flush deepens.

"Poor thing really missed me, huh? Dripping already and I haven’t even started", he laughs.

Your breath catches in your throat. You’re warm all over, particularly between your thighs, where you feel more wetness pool. It amazed you that he had this much control over you with just a few touches and some pretty woven words. His voice, his touch, the power he exudes in the air around you… it all targets you.

Ever so slowly, he then slides his middle finger between your folds, coating it in your arousal. You whimper softly, once he comes in contact with your clit. It’s a teasing touch at first, but he soon puts more pressure into it as he expertly begins to draw small circles over the little nub.

Your breath comes in quick gasps, the more Quaritch plays with your clit, and you can already feel your legs begin to tremble. Your abdomen clenches with your exasperated breathing and the throbbing between your thighs, but it’s not enough. Another whine leaves you and he chuckles deviously directly into your ear.

"So needy…", Quaritch hums, his breath hot against your skin. To your surprise, his warm, wet tongue then licks the curve of your ear, before he bites down playfully. You gasp sharply, and at the same time his middle finger moves to tease your entrance. "…and so wet for me.”

You should feel shame, you think, as you arch into the broad stroke of his palm.

"Please", you can’t even muster your own voice to have any strength to it, "please, sir. I- I need more."

And then, a single finger slides into you, answering your prayers.

Despite the ridiculous amount of slick seeping out of you, it’s a tight fit. Quaritch pushes inside with some effort, slowly sinking into your tight, wet tunnel, spreading you wide around his thick digit. It’s twice the size of a human finger, in girth and length, and you bite your lip, whimpering softly while he enters you, hands digging into your own flesh as you continue to spread yourself.

Another finger moves to roll over your clit, while he pushes inside you to the last knuckle.

"That’s it, cherry. Just like that. Look at you swallowing my finger like a good girl", Quaritch huffs out a breath, "Goddamn, your fuckin' tight."

He gives you a few second to collect yourself, let your body adjust to the unfamiliar stretch before he starts moving. Your velvety walls clamp down on his finger as he sets his pace, moving it in and out, curling it up and dragging it along your insides.

You work to steady your breathing, reveling in his touch, but the feeling of his finger moving inside you while another runs over your clit is something else. Your toes curl into your soles and you can’t hold back the moans spilling from your parted lips.

Your mind felt fuzzy, clouded with the squelching sounds he expertly worked out of your pussy and the delicious stretch that his rough finger bought you.

"There you go, there you fuckin' go", Quaritch groans. His fingers work relentlessly on you, somehow finding the exact spot where you craved him most. And as if the floodgates finally broke, a stream of incoherently words and syllables came out, babbling and begging as his thrusts became more rapid, the palm of his hand smacking against your folds with the sheer intensity he was suddenly finger-fucking you in.

"Oh f– please. Fucking– please", you gasp, squirming underneath the large palm that kept you pinned against the desk with enough pressure that you started to feel a little lightheaded.

"What was that?", the Colonel raised his brows, snickering at your already fucked-out state.

"I need you–", you manage to force out between wanton moans, but then you take a big, heaving breath, and your next words come out in almost a sob, "I need you to fuck me!"

There comes no response. His movement doesn’t falter either, he doesn’t slow down for even a second and you feel that familiar coil in your core tighten more and more.

"Miles–", you try to straighten up, but he pushes down on your back again. You let him push you flat against the table without putting up any sort of fight, safe for the begging of course. "Miles, please." You try to reach him by calling his name, pleading, but it’s no use.

Taking matters in your own hands, you push back against his palm, trying to roll your ass directly onto his crotch behind you. The hand that had been laying on your back moves down to your hip and tightens there, fingertips digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. His sharp intake of air, followed by a low growl leave you momentarily satisfied, thinking you might actually get what you were begging for this whole time.

"You really are desperate.", Miles growls. Then, he pulls his finger out of your sopping hole, until only his fingertip rests inside you. It makes all hair on your body stand up straight as you wait in anticipation. But instead of drawing away entirely to replace his hand with his cock, you feel a second finger nudge past your tight entrance. You inhale sharply, feeling yourself get stretched to the absolute max as both of his thick digits enter you slowly. You nearly sob, once both of them are halfway stuffed into you, all the way in to your own physical limit.

"I thought I’d fucked an onslaught of people who topped the list of desperation, but cherry, sweet thing, I have to say–", his other hand reaches around your middle and gives your clit a light slap to emphasise his point, pushing his fingers just barely an inch further in and you whine in response, “Nobody was ever quite as pathetic or as needy as you are."

It felt like your brain was overheating, daring to melt out of your ears the moment he curled both of his digits inside you like he was beckoning to you, and then started to thrust them at a fast but steady pace.

His palm smacked against your wet folds, fingers creating loud squelching noises as he fucked you with them. The feeling of your juices running down his wrist actually had him grinning behind your back like the smug bastard that he was.

“Oh my god, don’t– don’t stop", you moan, cursing under your breath, and thank fuck he doesn’t. He fingers you in the same way you imagined he would fuck you. Hard and fast and deep enough to feel so incredibly full of him, but it only reminded you of much you actually wanted this to happen. "Yes, yes please. Please I need it, need you to fuck me, please, sir!” You cry out, cutting yourself off with a moan of his name, "Miles, Miles, please–”

You nearly scream when he pushes his digits in to the last knuckle, feeling his fingertips prod at your cervix in a means to shut you up.

"That’s not gonna happen, cherry", he forces out through gritted teeth, leaning over your much smaller frame before his tongue once again curved over the shell of your ear.

A shudder runs up the curve of your spine and you whine softly, "Wha– Why?"

"You really think you can take me? Look at you", he chuckles lowly into your ear, causing goosebumps to raise all over your body, "You’re already sobbing and I’m barely two fingers in. You couldn’t take my cock even if you weren’t a goddamn virgin."

You shook your head frantically, denying his doubt of your physical abilities. But with the way he was plunging his fingers in and out of you, the obscene sounds of slick smearing between his palm and all over your pussy, it was hard to talk back to him. Instead, you were chanting his name under your breath and it became louder and higher in pitch the closer you got to your release.

Your brain had completely checked out sometime around when your felt yourself squeeze his digits so painfully tight, it didn’t even left room for some of your slickness, so it started leaking out, running down the inside of your thighs and dribbling on the tiled floor.

Your breathing has turned rapid, struggling to keep steady as he was driving you over the edge faster than you could probably even process it. With a downright embarrassing, needy voice, you began to brabble whatever nonsense came to your fucked out mind, your need for release so shamefully on display that it made him scoff.

Even though your eyes were squeezed shut, you were fighting the urge to lose consciousness. You never welcomed the cool surface of your desk against your cheek as much as right now. Your whole body felt hot, sticky with sweat and other body fluids as you went slack, only held upright by the table you were half laying on and the force of his hands on you.

"Don’t pass out on me", you distantly hear him laugh, before he delivers another slap to your clit, causing you to jolt. "You cock hungry little slut."

The heat that pooled in your stomach felt as if it would overflow soon, as if the knot that had tighten would snap any second, harder than you ever thought was possible. And then, showing more mercy to you than he probably ever had to anyone, Quaritch curls his fingers against your g-spot just right and growls,

"Come for me. Now."

672 notes · View notes

starlightkun · 4 months

Text

❧ word count: 7.6k ❧ warnings: cursing, mm and that’s really it! i mean like they fight and stuff but just read the genre tags lmao ❧ genre: exes to lovers, angst with a happy ending (look at what blog ur on rn), christmas-themed (if the title wasn’t apparent enough), getting snowed in trope, cuddling to share warmth trope, just a fun, cheesy, time ❧ extra info: i wrote this in a 24-ish hour fever. it’s moderately proof-read. beware. ❧ author’s note: a starlightkun fic under 10k! it’s a christmas miracle!

“I just said, it’s not that simple!” You yelled, your hands curling into fists at your side. Kun let out a huff, walking away from his armchair to pace in front of the Christmas tree across the room from you. You weren’t going to let him off that easily, though. “Why did you stop loving me?”

“Any big holiday plans, Y/N?” Your boss asked as you handed her some documents to sign.

“Oh, staying in town,” you answered nonchalantly. “What about you, ma’am?”

She told you about her own Christmas and New Year plans with her wife, kids, and parents with a bright smile on her face as she flipped through the pages. After giving you the signatures you needed, she handed the papers back to you.

“Can you run those over to Dr. Oh’s office for me? The undergrads all went back home for break.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“After that, you can head out for the day. My Christmas present to you.”

“Oh, thank you, ma’am.”

“That, and also this.” She handed you a red envelope before standing up from her desk and closing her laptop. “Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Thank you, you too,” you flashed her a genuine smile. “Happy Holidays to your family as well. See you in a week.”

“See you.”

Tucking the envelope into your bag, you quickly tidied up your workstation before heading out of the research lab to do your final task. You were a research fellow at a rather prestigious university, and while running papers would typically be asked of the interns and undergraduate students who helped out in the lab, as your boss—the head of the lab—had already pointed out, classes let out for their Winter Break two weeks ago, so you were fresh out of fresh meat.

You pulled your scarf tight around your nose and lower half of your face as you stepped out into the chilly winter air. Dr. Oh was the Dean of Graduate Studies at the university, and you’d been to his office a couple of times before, so your feet followed a familiar path as you hurried through the cold and into the building. The air was almost oppressively hot inside, and you tore off your scarf as you ran up the stairs.

There was light pouring out from Dr. Oh’s office at the end of the hall, the only one on. You poked your head in through the open door, greeted by the sight of a seemingly empty office. Must have stepped out.

Just as you had dropped the papers into his inbox on his desk, you heard footsteps at the doorway and whipped around to greet the older man, breathless smile already on your face.

Except it wasn’t Dr. Oh standing there. Your greeting died in your throat as you stared at the newcomer with blatant shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” Qian Kun rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His hair was a bit longer than before, a shaggy length that covered most of his ears and neck, and he’d forgone his contacts in favor of a pair of silver wire-rimmed glasses, but there was nothing that time could do to conceal his identity from you. The way your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as he said your name was undeniable. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” You sputtered back harshly. His PhD program was at a completely different university in the area and should have ended in the spring. What business did he have here of all places?

“I started assisting Dr. Oh last month. Uhm, sorry, I sort of thought you graduated already, or I wouldn’t have interviewed for the job.”

“I did graduate.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Two years ago. I’m a research fellow now.”

“Of course. Well, congrats.”

You let out a small noise of acknowledgement that could’ve also been interpreted as a cynical chuckle.

“So, did you need to see Dr. Oh? He’s left the office for the year, I’m just finishing up a couple things here.”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head, vaguely gesturing to the inbox over your shoulder. “My research head asked me to drop something off.”

Kun nodded. “Right. I’ll make sure he looks it over first thing when he gets back.”

“Thank you.” There was a pause of tense silence, and you looked around the office uncomfortably. “So, can I go, or…?”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” He moved out of the doorway, stepping aside to clear the exit for you. “It uhm, it was nice to see you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You’d just brushed past him when he called your name out again. Against your better judgment, you stopped just short of leaving the office and turned to look at him.

“What, Kun?”

“What uh, what are you doing for the holidays? Are you going back home? Or, celebrating here with… someone?”

You weren’t sure what compelled you to answer other than basic social niceties. “No. Airline tickets were crazy, couldn’t find anything that would get me back in the lab in time that wasn’t ridiculously expensive. All my friends are traveling, so I’ll be eating ramen by myself on the couch, presumably.”

You had answered his half-asked question. No, you didn’t have a significant other to spend the holiday with. Just your family back home that you couldn’t afford to go see, and friends who had all left town.

“Oh…” He looked down at his feet.

“What about you?” You asked pettily, fully expecting him to be visiting a significant other’s family in town, flying home to see his family, something much merrier than the picture you had just painted.

“Same for me,” he admitted quietly. “Plane tickets back home were so expensive… and I just left my old job and haven’t really made new friends here yet. At least not ones that are on the level of them inviting me to their family Christmas.”

While you wanted to be bitterly vindicated by Kun making himself as alone on Christmas as he had made you, it somehow just weighed twice as heavy on your heart. All that came out of this was two lonely people, far away from home.

“Do you… maybe want to come over? For Christmas?” Kun’s hesitant proposition knocked the wind out of you.

“Why?”

“Well, neither of us have any other plans. And, I don’t know, I thought it might be nice… to be with someone you know. Better than being alone on Christmas eating instant ramen, maybe?”

You took a couple deep breaths, gnawing on your bottom lip as you thought over his offer. “Fine. Christmas dinner. No presents.”

He grabbed a pen and pad of sticky notes off the desk, scribbling something down. “Here’s… my address. Let’s say six?”

You plucked the yellow square from his fingers delicately. “Six.”

“See you then.”

You reached into your bag to affix the sticky note to the red envelope from your research head, then pulled your scarf back out. “See you then, Kun.”

For the next three days, that sticky note sat on your coffee table and stared at you. Even as you went about your day trying not to think about it, busying yourself with jigsaw puzzles, books, and whatever cheesy Christmas movie was on at the time. That yellow square was stuck to your forebrain, plaguing your every waking moment.

Every night you were kept up with memories. You hadn’t seen Kun in three years, since you’d picked up the last of your possessions from your old apartment. The apartment the two of you had lived in together. A brief flash of picking up your things, cut by the first time you’d opened the door to your new place together, hand-in-hand, absolutely bursting with excitement and hope for the future.

As you started getting ready to go over to Kun’s place, your body moved by itself, despite the sinking pit in your stomach threatening to swallow you whole.

Rooting through your spare closet, you finally got a small blue box out of the back. You opened it up, a bittersweet sigh leaving your mouth. Nestled in among some tissue and spare ornament hooks was a three-dimensional figure of a sea turtle, covered in glitter and with a navy blue loop of string for hanging coming from its back, but otherwise pretty realistic. You placed it in your bag, carefully cushioned by a scarf.

Before you left, you finally opened your card from your boss. She had written you a very nice note about how much she appreciated your work at the lab, and wishing you all the best in your future endeavors. There was also a gift card loaded up with a considerable amount of money, which you pocketed for later.

Kun’s place wasn’t terribly far from yours, about a fifteen-minute walk, but the heavy snow that was starting to fall slowed you down a bit more. You’d probably have to get a taxi on your way back at this rate. Hopefully your awkward, polite Christmas dinner would be very short.

Knocking on the evergreen-painted door, which sported an elegantly beautiful wreath, you checked the time on your phone. So you were a few minutes late. Oh well.

Kun opened the door with a bright smile, dressed nicely but casual enough in a dark brown knitted sweater, loose-fitting dark pants, and socks with cartoon reindeer on them. “Hey, you made it. Come on in.”

“Thanks.” You stepped into the warmth of the apartment, and he closed the door behind you.

“When I saw how hard it was snowing out there, I started getting worried.” He helped you out of your thick overcoat, hanging it up on a hook by the front door for you. “I hope you didn’t walk.”

“I did. It wasn’t too bad.” You peeled off your gloves, moving to put them in your purse at the same time that you grabbed something from the bag.

“Did you see they’re forecasting 30 to 90 cm of snow by tomorrow morning? We’ll have to get you a cab home tonight before it gets too bad.” He was still talking as he started leading the way from the narrow hallway entry into the rest of the apartment.

His living room was cozy, especially with the crackling fireplace, delicious smells emanating from the kitchen, and festive decorations put up everywhere. One corner was taken up by a modest-sized Christmas tree, covered in colorful lights and an eclectic mix of ornaments.

“Is that a real tree?” You asked curiously.

“Yeah,” he admitted almost sheepishly. “Your uh—your Christmas tree purism rubbed off on me... Doesn’t feel like Christmas unless I’m sweeping up pine needles.”

You chuckled lightly at that, remembering that your first fight as a couple was around your first Christmas together, specifically about whether to get a plastic tree or a real one for his apartment, which you were practically living in at that point. Your family had always gotten real ones when you were growing up, and you could never get behind the fake ones. Kun, on the other hand, didn’t really care either way, but got frustrated when he couldn’t convince you on the cost-saving aspect of being able to reuse your tree every year. The spat fizzled out the very same day, and you ended up having a very cute date when you went to go pick out your first (real) tree together.

“I know I said no gifts, but I don’t think this really counts, since I’m just giving you something back that was yours in the first place.” You brought the sea turtle ornament out, holding it out to him by the loop of string. “It ended up in my stuff and I couldn’t... see you again. Sorry for holding onto it for so long.”

Kun accepted the glittery marine creature in his hand, a fond smile coming to his features. “I thought I’d lost it. Thank you for not uh, throwing it out or something.”

“I paid good money for that, I wasn’t going to be the one to put it in the trash,” you joked half-heartedly, watching as he turned to hang it up on the tree. In the branches among his other ornaments, it looked at home.

Your first date had been to the aquarium, and your first kiss that same day by the sea turtle exhibit, which was why you had picked that specific ornament to give him for your second Christmas together. It was actually from the very same aquarium’s gift shop— meaning that it was wildly overpriced, but cute nevertheless.

“You have a working fireplace, too?” You gestured to the very real fire nearby.

“I do!” He beamed proudly, going to readjust some of the logs, the flames growing to a steadier burn. “I got really lucky with this place.”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you nodded in agreement.

A couple of beats of silence passed, then Kun gestured towards the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

You followed him into the kitchen, where there was a small square table with four chairs around it, and two places already set across from each other. A few full dishes were already on the table as well, and you wondered how much more food he could be making, as it looked like there was already enough to feed a family of eight at least.

“Smells good,” you commented.

Kun gave you another small smile, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the closed oven. “Thanks. I uh—got excited to cook for someone else again, and sort of went overboard. So you’re welcome to take a bunch of leftovers, too.”

“Cool, thanks.” No fucking way would you be doing that. Taking leftovers home in one of his containers, that you would then have to wash and bring back to him? Absolutely not.

The beeping of a timer went off then, and he spun around to turn off the numbers flashing at him from the stovetop. He opened the oven, putting on oven mitts before taking out the last dish.

After putting it down at the table, he announced, “Alright, dinner’s served!”

You took a seat, watching as Kun continued to bustle around the kitchen. Putting the oven mitts away, turning the oven off, grabbing a wine bottle, corkscrew, and two wine glasses from the cabinets.

“Oh, I don’t drink anymore,” you informed him casually.

“Oh, sorry.” As he went to go put everything away again, you interrupted him.

“You can drink around me, it’s not... anything like that. I’ll be fine. Just sort of lost the taste for it.”

Kun poured a glass for himself over at the counter before putting the bottle away. “So, what can I get you? I have some sparkling water, sodas, eggnog...”

“Just regular water is fine.”

He rushed to do that, and as he set your glass down in front of you, you noted, “You remembered how much ice...”

“You did give me a ten-minute lecture on the proper ratio of ice to water, if you’ll recall.” He took his seat across from you.

“Alright, lecture is doing a lot of heavy lifting there. I was simply explaining myself thoroughly so as to not be misunderstood.”

“I understood you crystal clear afterwards,” Kun chuckled, lifting his glass of red wine. “Merry Christmas, Y/N. Thank you for agreeing to do this kind of weird thing I asked you.”

“Merry Christmas, Kun,” you clinked your glass to his in a toast. “That’s what I do, remember?”

Dinner continued with civil, even sometimes amicable conversation. Mostly catching up on what had happened in both your lives in the past three years, how your families were, your jobs, fairly neutral topics.

Kun had just finished his doctorate program in the spring, and had taken the position with Dr. Oh at your university while he looked for something more aligned with his studies. You wanted to do some research before possibly going back to pursue a doctorate in your own field.

Kun’s family was doing well, his baby brother Chenle was graduating high school in the spring, his middle brother Dejun was now in his fourth year of undergrad at your own alma mater back home, and his parents were going to be celebrating their 30th anniversary next year on a cruise— which they were both very excited about, as it would be their first one.

You had to belatedly break the news to him that your grandmother passed two years ago— she had always loved Kun and you never did have the heart to tell her that the two of you broke up when she would ask where he was on your visits, since her dementia just meant that you would’ve had to re-explain it to her again the next time you saw her. You elected not to mention any of that to Kun in the moment. Other than her passing, your family was alright. Your parents had just gotten a new old cat from the shelter a few months ago, your older sister welcomed her second child, a baby girl, and you happily showed off pictures of your niece, and now five-year-old nephew to Kun.

“Wow... I can’t believe Little Bear is so big,” he gushed at the photo of your nephew on your shoulders.

“Oh, he’s an absolute menace now,” you laughed and shook your head. “That little docile baby you knew who would just fall asleep in anybody’s arms is nowhere to be found.”

“And his sister?”

“Oh, she’s going to be even worse than her brother, I just know it.” You swiped to another photo of the baby, fond grin on your lips.

Kun’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, then he cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Are you finished?”

“Oh, yeah,” you looked down at your empty plate, having completely forgotten about it in the moment. “It was all really delicious, thanks, Kun.”

“Better than the instant ramen you had planned?”

“By far. You’re a great cook, as always.”

He stood up to grab your plates. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Realizing that this was the end of dinner, of your commitment for the night, you felt simultaneously disappointed and relieved. On one hand, it was kind of nice seeing Kun again and being able to catch up—you especially loved hearing about how his little brothers were doing, you had adored doting on them while you were dating, since you were the youngest sibling yourself. But on the other hand, it was all a façade. Neither of you were addressing the elephant in the room, and it was getting exhausting trying to keep up the friendly chatter and not veer into anything serious, to only put your best foot forward in representing yourself and your life.

“Thank you for inviting me, I don’t think I said that before,” you said indicatively, standing from your seat. “You were right, it was nice being with someone you know, someone who’s from the same place as you, on Christmas.”

Kun gave a half-smile, taking his phone from the table. “We should order you that taxi, huh?”

“Right.”

As you started putting all your layers back on in the hallway, you could hear Kun’s end of the phone call with the cab company.

“What do you mean you’re not dispatching? I know it’s Christmas but— How much?! Seriously?!”

You poked your head out to look at him with concern, but he wasn’t facing you. Instead, he was at the window of the living room, throwing the curtains aside to look out.

“Alright, well, you can’t help that, no, sir. Thank you. Yep, Merry Christmas.”

After he’d hung up without giving his address, you knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” You asked cautiously, still slowly pulling on your gloves one finger at a time.

He looked at you over his shoulder, now leaning one forearm against the window. He jerked his head for you to come over. “Come see for yourself.”

You walked over hesitantly, and saw nothing but white. “Oh my God.”

“Forecasts were off a bit. Apparently there’s already been 100cm of snow, and they’re projecting at least another 50 before tomorrow.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Your jaw dropped. “So we’re...”

“Snowed in. Yeah,” he confirmed bluntly. “Guy at the taxi company says they’re not expecting the roads to start being cleared until New Year’s, and they’ll start with businesses and shopping districts first.”

You continued staring at the snow piling up against the window in shock, and Kun took a step back.

“So, you want some eggnog?”

After you had once more removed your coats, scarf, gloves, and boots, you sat down on Kun’s couch, fervently texting all your family. They had apparently seen on the news about the crazy snowstorm hitting your area, and were checking in on you. You reassured them that you were just fine, and were staying at a friend’s place until the storm blew over and the roads cleared. You deigned not to tell them who exactly this ‘friend’ was. You hadn’t told anybody who knew Kun that you were going to his place today, actually. While your family and friends had been supportive of you during the breakup, you could tell how disappointed they were that you two hadn’t worked out—and a couple outright said so. You knew it was in the ‘we’ve never seen you so happy’ sort of way, but that didn’t make it feel any better at the time.

A mug dipped into the top of your vision, accompanied by Kun’s voice. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks,” you flashed him a smile as you accepted it, and set your phone down on his coffee table. “Just letting the brigade back home know I’m not dead under a hundred meters of snow.”

He sat down in the armchair caddy corner to the end of the couch you were at. “My family has been blowing up my phone, too. For some reason my parents aren’t very amused about Chenle and Dejun daring me to go build the world’s largest snowman right now.”

“Probably have enough snow for it,” you mused. “What is the record for the biggest snowman, do you think?”

“Got to be at least ten meters, right?”

“Oh, definitely way more than that.”

“Really? You think?”

“For sure,” you snorted, picking your phone back up and quickly searching online. “It looks like the official Guinness World Record is 37.21 meters, in Bethel, Maine. But Donnersbachwald, Austria made a snowman that was reportedly 38.04 meters, named Riesi.”

Kun whistled lowly. “Well goddamn.”

“And look!” You turned your phone to show Kun the photo of Riesi. “It’s so cute!”

“Is that a top hat?”

“I think?”

As you looked at the picture one more time and put your phone to the side, you reclined back in your seat, lifting your mug up to your lips to take your first sip of the eggnog. The fire continued crackling in the background, and you hummed a Christmas carol to yourself. So you couldn’t make your great escape exactly how you’d planned. But you and Kun had tolerated each other pretty well so far, you could probably make it out of here in a few days relatively unscathed.

“Hey, uhm, what did you mean earlier?” Kun quietly shattered all of your hopes and dreams for peace with just one vague question.

“Huh? When?”

“When I thanked you for going along with my weird idea to get together for Christmas despite… everything. And you said: ‘It’s what I do, remember?’ What did you mean by that?”

“Oh… just… you know— You’d have some weird, or crazy, or slightly irresponsible, or fun idea and I always said yes,” you kept your tone conversational and nostalgic. “Blowing your whole paycheck on a LEGO set that you’d always wanted but your parents would never buy you as a kid, skipping classes in undergrad to laze about your apartment, taking the long way back to your car after Sicheng’s film festival even though it was pouring rain because you remembered I had said on our first date that I’d always wanted to dance in the rain, submitting my paper to the undergraduate research panel…”

“Moving out here,” he filled in for you flatly.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line before nodding. “Moving here…”

“Is that really how you feel? That I was always dragging you around places, making you do stuff that you didn’t want to do?”

“Kun, we’re going to be stuck in here together for who knows how long, can we not do this?”

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I mean, I knew you were bitter about coming here, but apparently I was holding you hostage the entire four years before that too and had no idea.”

“That is not what I said,” you said through gritted teeth, narrowing your eyes.

“What else am I supposed to think about what you said?”

“You don’t!” You snapped. “You don’t think about it, you don’t read into it, they’re just words! Not everything has a deeper meaning, sometimes people just say stuff, you know.”

“Well you never actually say what you mean, so I have to try to read between the lines.”

“Or maybe I’m saying plenty, and you’re too far up your own ass trying to decipher me like some cosmic puzzle instead of listening to the actual words I’m saying!”

“So I don’t have to ask if you’re still bitter about it, then,” he scoffed.

The final shred of decency and civility left in you burned up right then, and you got to your feet as you exploded, “You convinced me to leave my family, my friends, my home, everything and everyone I knew, to come here for your dreams! And then you told me you didn’t love me anymore! Of course I’m fucking bitter!”

Kun got to his feet too, staring you down intensely. “Then why didn’t you go back home? After you graduated, you stuck around. Why?”

“I was offered the position at the lab—”

“There’s other labs.”

“The studies we’re doing—”

“There’s other studies.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“If you hated it here so much and hated me for dragging you here, why didn’t you take the first chance you had to leave?”

His features turned apologetic for a moment. “Y/N—”

“You knew how much I loved you, that I’d follow you anywhere. I chose to study here even though it was my second choice because your top pick had already accepted you. I thought we were planning our life together, but then you dropped me like it was nothing. So why? Why did you stop loving me?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Just answer the question, Kun,” you demanded. “Why? You had to have an inkling before you took me from everyone I loved—”

“I didn’t take you anywhere, you’re not some helpless waif! We were grown-ups and we made grown-up decisions!” He raised his voice again, face red with anger and veins bulging in his neck and forehead. “If I remember correctly, I suggested being long-distance while we did our graduate studies.”

“I loved you, Kun! I loved you, and I wanted to see you thriving and to support you from right next to you, not be in the sidelines of your life.”

“I never stopped loving you.”

“What?”

“The answer to your question is that I never stopped loving you, actually. I just told you I did.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, slack-jawed, before you were filled with even more white-hot rage than ever, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Y/N, we were fighting every other day, we never saw each other because we were working so much and when we did we just fought—Like this!” He gestured between the two of you zealously as he defended himself. “—about the stupidest stuff. I could see how much you hated being here, and I knew you resented me for bringing you here, but you wouldn’t ever talk to me about it. I thought that if I was the only thing keeping you here, then I needed to stop being so selfish and let you go back home where you would actually be happy again.”

“And you didn’t think to consult me on any of that?”

His jaw clenched as he took a deep inhale through his nose before answering, voice absolutely incensed, “I couldn’t get you to talk about it! Whenever I tried to ask you how you were doing settling in here, how you liked your program, anything, you just gave me these- these hollow smiles and placated me with the same ‘oh, it’s great, I really like it’ over and over again! It was like being in love with a brick wall!”

“Because I didn’t want youto blame yourself! Because it wasn’t your fault!” Your chest heaved as you caught your breath from so much shouting. The white-hot anger was gone, leaving only a cold sorrow inside you as you were confronted with your own admission. You hugged yourself as you followed it up with a much quieter, “It wasn’t your fault, Kun… It’s just been so much easier to blame you this whole time.”

“Y/N…” Kun sighed, running a hand through his hair as his tone changed from anger to remorse, his face softening. “I should’ve made sure our focus was on your career as much as it was on mine. I let my ambitions become the priority for both of us instead of seriously considering yours as well. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for blaming you the whole time. You’re right, I was a grown-up, and I made a grown-up decision.” You shook your head at yourself, staring into the dynamic flames of the fireplace. “It was so much easier to hate you for dragging me here than to hate myself for following you here.”

“I’m sorry for lying, too. When I told you I stopped loving you. I really thought that would get you to leave, to go back home where you could be happy again. But it was just needlessly cruel. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice was shaking, and when you looked back at him again, you could see that the whites of his eyes were pink.

“I didn’t go back home because it wouldn’t have meant anything to go back without you,” you finally answered his question, swallowing the lump in your throat. “When we first moved here, and I’d imagine going back home, I would always imagine us going back together. Because it wouldn’t have been home without you, for me. That’s why I stayed. Not because you were here—I really never wanted to see you again. But because you—the you that I wanted, that still loved me—weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry…” He blinked and the first of his tears slipped slowly down his cheek. “I know I said that a lot the first time we did this but… I wasn’t apologizing for the right thing.”

The corners of your lips twitched with a bittersweet, cynical smile. “You didn’t know any of this stuff the first go around.”

“I did know that you loved me. And I really thought that if you could just get over that one little thing then you could be happy again. I underestimated you and what it meant for you to love me.”

“It wasn’t that simple…” You repeated feebly. “You made me happy too, Kun. I should’ve told you that, all of this, everything, instead of pushing it down and letting myself resent you just because that’s what seemed easier at the time. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“None of this was fair on either of us.”

“But saving our relationship wasn’t your sole responsibility, Kun. We were partners, it was on both of us, and I didn’t try.”

“It was everybody’s fault and nobody’s fault,” Kun declared with another sigh, dropping his body back down in the armchair.

“Yeah…” You sat down in the corner of the couch. “It was…”

The apartment was silent as you took another sip of your eggnog, and Kun wiped his damp cheeks.

“So… now what?” You prompted as you met his gaze.

“You still like jigsaw puzzles?”

Kun and you worked together on a puzzle on the floor of his living room. Once put together, it would show a full Winter Wonderland scene. He had put on Christmas music in the background, and your assembly was interspersed with sing-alongs, easygoing conversation, and long, comfortable stretches of silence.

When the puzzle was about halfway done, you let out a big yawn, briefly checking the time on your phone. “Oh, jeez, it’s after midnight already.”

“I think that’s plenty for tonight,” Kun declared, slowly getting to his feet. “We can finish up the rest tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You twisted around in place to crack your back.

“I’ll go get you some pajamas.” He gave your head a gentle pat before walking off, taking both of your now-empty eggnog mugs with him.

He returned just a couple minutes later in a pair of lounge pants and simple longsleeve shirt, holding out a stack of clothes to you. “Here.”

“Thanks, Kun,” you accepted them gratefully. “But you really didn’t have to—”

“Y/N, were you seriously going to wear the same clothes for like a week straight?” He raised an eyebrow doubtfully.

“I mean, you have a washing machine, presumably.”

“And you would’ve… stood by the washing machine naked? Until they were done?”

You covered your face with one hand as you laughed. “Good point, good point.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you fully appraised the clothes as you changed, a funny sort of tug in your chest when you recognized the sweatshirt he’d given you. It was a plain black crewneck sweatshirt, save for a small rose embroidered on the left wrist, just above the cuff. It had always been your favorite of his to take and wear for yourself before.

The sweatshirt was as soft as you’d remembered, and when you put it on, you were awash not only in Kun’s scent, but warm, happy memories of being held, loved, treasured, safe. You folded up your clothes and left them on the bathroom countertop.

The fire had been put out when you returned to the living room, and the lights on the tree unplugged.

“I uhm, I’m not sure where you wanted me to put my clothes, so they’re on the—” You cut yourself off when you looked up from where you’d been fiddling with the hem of the sweatshirt to see Kun looking at you with an off-putting, oddly mournful look of tenderness. “What? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off your concerns, his voice tight. “That’s fine, I’ll throw them in the wash with mine tomorrow.”

“Do you have some extra bedding I can use out here?”

“What?”

“I mean, your couch already looks super comfy, but a real pillow would sort of be nice…”

“No, no, you can take my bed,” he shook his head. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Kun, I’ll be fine out here for a few nights,” you pushed back. With humor in your tone, you added, “You’ve done enough sleeping on the couch to last the rest of your life, okay? I think it’s my turn.”

He seemed to understand your joke, but also the sincere intent behind it, and held up his hands in surrender as a smile cracked across his face. “Alright, I know when I’m beat. I’ll get you some pillows and blankets.”

Kun set up your makeshift bed on the couch for you, with a couple of real pillows, a very fluffy blanket, and heavy quilt to go over that. He refilled your water glass from dinner, and set that down on the coffee table for you.

“Oh, phone charger—”

“I have one.” You stopped him with a hand on his arm, going to grab your purse and root through it. “I keep an extra on me. Never know when your phone is going to die reviewing notes in a random café.”

“Right. Cool.” He watched you plug it into the outlet closest to the pillow end of the couch, then stand back up.

“Well, goodnight, Kun. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Thanks again for coming, and uh, sorry for getting you stuck out here…”

You sat down on the couch, smiling up at him. “Hasn’t been all bad.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t,” he agreed with a chuckle.

When he still hadn’t moved, you realized the both of you must have been debating the same thing. Should you hug goodnight?

To save yourselves, you opened your arms in a half-invitation, and Kun bent over to give you a one-armed hug, briefly rubbing your back before standing back up. He gave you a final hesitant smile and nod. “Night.”

“Night.”

As you laid down, you could hear him walking across the room, and pause at the threshold. Just as you’d finished readjusting your covers and getting cozy with your head on the pillow, the lights were turned off, and you listened to Kun walk all the way into his room and the door creak closed behind him.

You watched the last of the dying embers in the fireplace as you started trying to sort through your muddied thoughts. You and Kun no longer had the awkwardness of bitter exes, but it had just been replaced with a new kind of awkwardness. Now that you didn’t hate each other, what was left? How did you feel about each other?

You still hadn’t figured it out by the time you fell asleep.

Full-body shivers woke you up, and you blinked rapidly trying to readjust to your surroundings. You pulled the blankets tighter around you, but that did practically nothing. Every inch of you from your fingers to your toes felt like a block of ice, and your muscles were shaking to try to generate some kind of heat. Your teeth even chattered a couple of times.

A hasty look at your phone showed you that it was only two and a half hours after you’d fallen asleep. You turned on your phone flashlight, looking around the walls for the thermostat. Having spotted it at the start of the hallway, you made the hasty decision to throw your blankets off you and run over to it as quick as possible, fumbling to look at the controls. But as best you could tell, the heat was definitely turned on, and it was set to a perfectly comfortable temperature.

You felt terrible for what you were about to do, but you were going to get hypothermia sooner than you would get back to sleep at this rate. Lightly knocking on Kun’s bedroom door, you paid attention for any signs of life. After a moment of no response, you knocked again, a bit louder.

There was a groan from inside, followed by a half-intelligible, confused mumble of your name.

“Yeah, Kun, it’s me,” you responded through the wood.

You heard the sounds of him rolling out of bed, then lumbering over to the door. He opened it, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Y/N, what are you— Shit, it’s a fucking meatlocker out there!” He exclaimed, grabbing at his own arms.

“Yeah, I know. I’m really sorry to wake you up, but I can’t seem to figure out your thermostat and it’s freezing out here.”

Kun pushed past you, shutting his door tight behind him before going to inspect the thermostat himself. “Doesn’t make sense… The heat should be working fine…”

“Oh.”

“God, of course it’s fucking broken,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry about this, Y/N. I’ll go call the maintenance line right now.”

Just a moment later, and you heard more swearing from his room. He came back out with his phone in hand. “Got a text from the management company… Heat in the whole complex is busted, but they can’t get anybody out here until the roads are clear.”

“Shit…”

He spun on his heel back towards the bedroom. “Come on, it’s at least a little warmer in my room. You’ll freeze to death out here.”

You followed him in without complaint, and he shut the door firmly behind you. He grabbed a towel from his attached bathroom and stuffed it under the crack of the door.

You couldn’t see much about his bedroom in the dark except for a few vague shapes, but the air felt noticeably warmer in here than it had been in the living room. Kun opened up a couple of drawers on what you were now realizing was a dresser, and grabbed a hoodie for himself, then handed you a zip-up hoodie. It was big enough to fit the sleeves of your sweatshirt through, and you could feel the chattering of your teeth dying down.

Kun sat down on one side of the bed, and indicated to the other side for you. You obliged, following his lead to slip under the covers. The sheet, blankets, and heavy quilt were still pleasantly warm, and you rubbed your frozen feet together in contentment. You accidentally bumped Kun’s leg, a flash of accidental heat.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” You jerked your limbs as far back as you dared without leaving the security of the blankets.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re an icicle,” Kun said disapprovingly.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Come here,” he sighed and lifted the blankets in between you two.

“Wh—”

“I’m not going to let you freeze to death literally right next to me. Either you come here or I go over there.”

You shuffled a couple inches closer to him, but either he was impatient, or wasn’t sure that you’d follow through, because he moved to close the gap himself, meeting you in the middle and wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer to him.

You gulped, and hoped he couldn’t hear it. “That’s a lot better, actually.”

“I was always much warmer than you,” he pointed out.

Readjusting to lay on your side facing the same direction as him, your hand brushed against his that was slung over your middle.

“God, you feel like you’re about to lose your fingers to frostbite, too.” He covered your hand with his.

You instinctively spread your fingers so his would slot together with them, and it felt so familiar and comfortable that you almost burst into tears again on the spot.

“Y/N?”

“Y-Yeah?” You tried and failed to keep your voice casual.

“I think you’re cutting off my circulation now.”

“Oh God, sorry!” You loosened the death grip you didn’t even realized you’d had on his appendages.

“It’s alright,” he reassured you. “Are you warming up?”

You nodded hastily. “For sure. Thank you, again.”

“I was thinking… about earlier.”

“Kun, for real, if there was ever a time not to fight.”

“No, it’s not— Well it is about that, but I’m not looking for a round two, promise.”

“Okay…”

“I was thinking… about how I didn’t really accept your apologies, and you didn’t accept mine.”

“That’s fine, Kun. Not every apology is made to be accepted.”

“I know, I know. And I’m not fishing for your forgiveness right now. I was just thinking, about how I’m kind of relieved, that we still haven’t you know, finally gotten our closure or whatever.” His breath was getting quicker. “Because I don’t want this to be over, actually. And closure feels like it’d really be the end.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and opened them back up again, staring into the inky darkness. “What do you mean by that, Kun?”

“I mean… When I said I never stopped loving you, I didn’t just mean when we broke up. I still do.”

“So you… What? Want to get back together?” Your voice was a hoarse whisper.

“At least talk about it,” he confirmed. “I’ll do anything you want, lovey. Complete restart, take you on a new first date, or we can even just try to be friends first. I’m not saying we have to jump right back in where we left off. I think we need to leave space for the people we’ve become since then but… I know I want to try again.”

You swallowed down your sniffles as you turned over to finally face him. Despite the lack of light, you could find every feature on Kun’s face, holding a caged hopefulness in them. You gently caressed his cheek with the back of your knuckles.

“Okay…” You murmured. “We can try again. I-I want that too.”

You caught just a flicker of Kun’s bright grin before you were tangling your fingers in his shaggy locks and pulling his mouth to yours. It was somehow even better than you remembered, than you had imagined, because it felt like coming home all at once. Like all of you, body, mind, soul, heart, had come home.

Kun kissed you back just as ardently, tangling his legs with yours and pulling you even closer—if it were even possible. One of his hands cupped your cheek while the other wrapped around your waist, bunching in the fabric at the small of your back.

When your lungs were screaming for air and you were light-headed for more than one reason, you broke away, resting your forehead against his.

“Looks like neither of us followed the no gift rule,” Kun said in the negligible space between your mouths, the tip of his nose bumping yours for a moment. “I think I had my heart gift-wrapped for you from the moment I saw you again.”

You chuckled as you stole one, two more kisses from him. “You’re as cheesy as ever, pooks.”

“I have three years’ worth of lines like that stocked up,” he teased, giving you another peck. “And you’re stuck in here with me until next year, lovey.”

sequel :･ﾟ✧｡･:･*

⤷ 2023 hallmark movie marathon | blog masterlist

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stxrshxpxd · 6 months

Text

“that’s my girl!” part 3

part 1 part 2

pairing: dr house x reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: smut

prompt: house hasn’t forgotten what happened the night before and refuses to focus on the case, and reader makes a deal with him

House’s arrival matched my expectation. He limped in through the glass door at around 10:15, in the process of stripping his body of his jacket.

“…his fever is spiking and he vomited three times this morning. He hasn’t had an-“ Foreman spoke but was cut off by House’s demanding tone.

”L/N, I need you in the office.”

I swapped glances with Thirteen quickly.

“We’re in the office.”

House performed a short bit of acting confuddled and then made a face at his own stupidity.

“Sorry, I got that mixed up. Must be all the whiskey I had with my cereal this morning.” He gave a fake chuckle and all of us around the table rolled our eyes in unison.

“I want them out of the office,” he corrected.

Thirteen, Taub, Chase and Foreman proceeded to sigh in unison as well as they began to gather their stuff.

“Cool!” House exclaimed. “Did you all practice that?” he pointed out the synchronized eye rolls and sighs, which only prompted a couple more of them as the team passed him on their way out.

“Are you incapable of having a normal, serious conversation?” I asked, wrapping both my hands around my hot cup of coffee. House tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and sat down.

“No. Let’s have a serious conversation. Tell me about your hopes and dreams.”

I began to keep my daily count of House-induced eye rolls as I did my second one.

“Specifically the dirty dreams you had about me last night and your hopes of having sex with me on this table,” he added.

“You clearly had too much whiskey with your cereal,” I confirmed with a nod and flipped the page of our patient’s file, turning my gaze down.

“I didn’t have any alcohol last night. You didn’t either.”

I flexed my jaw and kept staring at the documents but couldn’t make myself read any of it. The memories of being pressed against House’s chest and ravenously kissing him replayed in my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about how good of a kisser he was.

“I don’t think refusing sex with a cripple is politically correct,” House said. I had to laugh and my third eye roll of the day came before I could stop it. I looked up at him, his short hair pointing in several directions and his stare intensely fixed on me.

“How politically correct is it to refuse to treat a dying patient because you’d rather have sex with your colleague?”

“Employee,” House was quick to correct and I squinted my eyes at him.

“Are you implying we’re gonna have sex?” he asked additionally.

“Do you promise to give a crap about the case if we do?” I bargained, trying to ignore the growing tingles in me.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, sweetheart,” House smirked as he watched me stomp over to the glass walls and in two swift movements lock the door and draw the blinds.

Coming back up to him and standing in between his spread legs, he instantly hooked his hands around my bare upper thighs under my skirt and pulled me closer. I laid my hands on his shoulders and he skillfully slid two of his fingers under my underwear, swiping them through my inarguable wetness.

“It’s so cute you’re pretending you don’t want me. I think I’ve got some pretty convincing proof you do,” House muttered and flaunted his sticky fingers before sucking them clean, which only added to the fluttering feelings inside me.

“Shut up,” I breathed and quickly straddled him. House chuckled darkly and studied me in detail as I rolled my hips on him and felt him grow inside his jeans.

“And you’re eager-“

“What part of ‘shut up’ do you not understand?” I growled and grabbed his chin firmly before smashing a kiss into his smirking lips.

Sliding back on his legs, he groaned at the pain of me pressing down on his aching thigh, so I was quick to tear his jeans open. He seemed to like that more and he stared up at me with the hints of a smirk.

I was indeed pretty eager when I dug his hard-on out of his boxers and had to keep myself from making too big a fuss about his size, swallowing a gasp as to not feed his ego.

House’s fingers clasped the flesh of my hips under my hiked up skirt and I pulled my underwear to the side to cautiously run the length of his cock between my soaked folds a few times. I caught him gazing down with his lips parted and eyes half closed, breathing through his mouth.

“May I speak?” he asked pettily, referencing my demand for him to shut up. I met his eyes and chuckled with another roll of the eyes. Four.

I kissed him as a response and he took a risk, pulling away and speaking into my ear with a deep, hushed voice.

“God, you’re wet for me!”

I smiled and hid my blushing cheeks in his neck as I finally pushed him inside me, spilling quiet moans down his broad chest. House let a few groans out and his fingertips dug deeper into my skin as he helped set the pace of my grinding on him.

“Come on, I know you can take all of me, can’t you?” he breathed tauntingly and I swung my head back up to stare at him, sitting down all the way on him and burying his cock inside me. I clenched my walls around him and made a moan trickle out from between his lips. His cheeks were pink and his intense eyes somehow brighter than normal.

“That’s it,” he exhaled encouragingly and bucked his hips into me again, making me resume my grinding on him.

“You feel really good inside me, House,” I admitted in the middle of my hazy, horny state. It prompted a cocky smirk from him which instantly made me regret it, and I kissed his grin to wipe it off his face.

“I always knew you’d be begging for me sooner or later.”

“I would never beg,” I snapped and picked up the pace, with arousal and anger boiling in my core.

“But you would get on your knees for me,” House answered while holding back a handful of groans. My legs were shaking around him and I scoffed at his comment as I felt myself coming closer to my orgasm.

“And you’ll come for me, won’t you?” House spurred me on, kissing and nipping at my neck. I didn’t bother answering him as I was already faced with my high. I dropped my forehead against his strong shoulder again and bit my lip hard as I let a few whimpers out, feeling my body twitch and shake and break a sweat.

House forced my hips back and forth on him a few times and I stared down at our spent bodies as he pushed me off his cock and came across my thigh. I allowed a moment of weakness as I watched him catch his breath and lick his lips. He caught his cum with his fingers before it dripped down the side of my thigh and he edged his hand closer to my mouth in a suggestion. I sucked his fingers clean swiftly and noticed there was something new in his eyes. Something genuine and maybe vulnerable.

“Back to work,” I declared shortly and patted House’s warm, stubbly cheek before sliding off of his lap and pulling my skirt back down. That new something that had been hiding behind several walls in him was still with us for a few beats as he zipped his jeans back up. I grabbed the patient’s file and pressed it into his chest, feeling his faint heartbeat as I waited for him to grab it, but he never did.

He rolled his head around with an elongated sigh and let it hang for a moment as he blinked up at the ceiling and spoke in a low voice.

“It’s fungal meningitis. Start him on 0.8 mg amphotericin and 100 mg of flucytosine.”

And without even so much as a glance my way (in fact he seemed to be avoiding my eye contact) he made his way out towards the hallway, leaving me with my rejected files in hand staring at his broad back as he left.

#bahahhah i hate that i wrote that little bit about his size but #dr house #house #gregory house #dr house x reader #smut #imagine #fic

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tim-official · 1 month

Text

sincerepost: I just defended my dissertation this morning and am officially Dr. Timothy Official. I have been in graduate school for 7.5 years and am actually done. I have a doctorate in esoteric computer stuff and will continue to post bara furries + gay bears in pup masks on main, while on public transit. I love my bf very much for not strangling me to death while I was out of my mind writing a fucking 200 page technical document. thank you for continuing to consume my content as I move into this new "having a real job" phase of my life

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joedirtymadre · 1 month

Note

Love your stories with Law and Corazon 😍. Can i request one too? I would love a familyscene with Cora, his SO and Law (they adopted him). The three live happily in a big house together. Someday they tell him that he's going to be a big brother (Coras girlfriend is pregnant). Law doesn't know how to feel. Old memories of Lamy come back and Law is afraid that they won't love him so much anymore.

The Test Results

CORAZON X READER! FAMILY FLUFF! (PLEASE SEND MORE REQUESTS! I GET REALLY HAPPY WHEN YOU SEND THEM! 😭)

“Law come on down, it’s time for lunch,” you called out as you finished making some onigiri. “Did you make onigiri?” He asked as he ran downstairs. “Yep, just the way you like it,” you smiled as you placed the plate down on the small round dining table.

Law quickly ran over to the chair and began eating. “Hey slow down! Before you choke,” you sighed as you handed him a cup of juice. “Fank you,” he chewed. “(Y/N)! Law!” You heard your husband call out, as he entered the house. “Hi honey, come sit I made onigiri,” you said. “Onigiri? For the fourth day in a row?” Corazon pouted. “Law asked for it again,” you explained. “This is favoritism,” Corazon said as he pointed to Law. Law responded by blowing a raspberry at him.

“Why you!” Corazon glared. “Ahh… (Y/N) he’s gonna get me,” Law said with a monotone voice as he ran behind me. “Stop bullying the 13 year old!” You playfully scoldEd him. “My own wife… betrayed me,” Corazon pouted and slowly walked over to the table. “Don’t worry, tonight I’ll make you some katsudon over curry and rice,” you said as you placed down the rice balls.

“Really?” Corazon asked enthusiastically. “Yep! Now Law can you go into my room and bring me the load of laundry I need to do. Plus yours,” you said, as you began washing the dishes. “K,” he said as he walked upstairs.

Law’s POV

I slowly walked into (Y/N) and Corazon’s room. I searched around, until I noticed the hamper by their desk. I went over to pick it up, “Why is this thing so heavy? It’s gotta be Corazon’s cape…” I said as I struggled to pick it up. While trying to lift it up, I knocked into their desk. Causing some papers and books to fall. “Dang it…” I sighed to myself as I walked over to pick up the stuff I knocked over.

I picked up the last paper on the floor, and noticed (Y/N)’s name on the top. “What’s this?” I asked as I read the document.

Patient Name: (Y/N)

Date: 5XX

Time: 13:07

Reason for Visit: Nauseousness

I am Dr. Shivell, contacting you to congratulate you on your recent test results. Your pregnancy results came back positive. Contact me via transponder snail to schedule your next appointment.

My hands trembled while holding the paper. “P-Pregnant?” I asked. “But…” my mind raced. What if they don’t want to care for me anymore? What if they abandon me? What if I hurt the baby? Or I can’t protect it like… I clutched onto my head, and fell to my knees.

(Y/N)’s POV

“Law might need some help,” you said to Corazon. “Ahh… I did throw my cape in there,” he said as he stood up. “Well no wonder! Go help him,” you huffed. You both slowly headed upstairs, “Go check to see if he’s in his room,” you said as you headed to your bedroom.

As soon as you stepped in you saw Law on the floor crying.

“Law?!” You shouted as you ran over. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?” You asked as you knelt down and pulled him into a hug. “What’s wrong? I heard shou- Law?!” Corazon shouted as he ran over. I looked at him with a worried/ confused look. “I know…” he choked out. “Know? Know what?” Corazon asked as he knelt down. “That (Y/N)’s pregnant!” He yelled. The room suddenly fell silent.

You slowly let go of Law. Helping him get to his feet, and placing your hands in his. “That’s right, sweetheart,” you said tearfully. “Why didn’t you tell me?! Were you planning to leave me?” He asked angrily. “Leave you? We’d never do that, you’re too special to us for that,” you smiled and you moved your hand to cup his face. “So why?” He asked with a tremble in his voice.

“Well… Law, we just wanted to find a good time to tell you. We didn’t mean to hide it from you, we actually found out recently too,” Corazon confessed. “Mhmm, now come here. I’d never leave you,” you said as you pulled him into a tight hug. “What if I ask for too many rice balls, and Corazon tries to toss me out?” He asked. “I’d throw him to the streets before he’d lay a finger on your,” you said, causing Law to laugh. “You see Law? So you’re not going anywhere,” Corazon said as he scruffed up Law’s hair.

“But… what if something happens to the baby? What if I can’t protect them?” He asked. “That’ll never happen, cause we’ll be right there with you, trying to protect both of you,” you reassured him. “S-So do you know what gender it’ll be?” Law asked nervously. “Hmmm… I was hoping to keep it a secret, but I’ll make an exception,” you smiled. You slowly leant down to Law’s ear, “It’s gonna be a girl,” you whispered. You watched as Law’s face slowly lightened up. “A girl,” he whispered excitedly.

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solradguy · 1 month

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What’s been the most fun and/or challenging part of working on the wiki? Also is there anything that still needs to be worked on that other people can help with?

THE CODE KILLED ME. So the wiki has a template that automagically puts this cool little Wikipedia help thingy next to Japanese text (the "?" on the end) in infoboxes and by command in text using some {{wiggly boys}} code:

And we wanted to try to get the Korean stuff on the wiki too because it's the second most officially supported language behind English and there's a bunch of cool exclusive Korean GG stuff no one's ever documented before. But there wasn't a module like this to help out with Korean text like there is for Japanese text.

I put one together based on the Japanese template's code and it was a nightmare. I was fighting for my life in the template trenches. It works though!! I did get it after a while!!

Mostly.

Shoutout to the Final Fantasy Wiki for the original JP template code and to the Dragon Blaze Wiki for seemingly being the only other English language wiki out there that cares about Korean text lol I don't know anything about Korean writing beyond super basic stuff (like what "hangul" is) so I had to do research into that alongside trying to learn wiki code.

The most fun part was probably getting GG World together, honestly. We couldn't believe that no one had actually transcribed those anywhere online before. Well, there was a file compiled by Lux for Revelator, but we wanted to transcribe these as-presented in the games and we couldn't use Lux's file since the goofy typos and some lore oopsies had been edited haha

Toxic and Elk have hauled ass getting those entries ripped and added. Major shoutout to them. I got the base layouts together and they went to town lol It's so cool seeing it all together now. We even started getting the official languages besides English and Korean added for Strive too.

As for what someone could do to help........ There's.... a lot...... Of the 4,532 image files currently on the wiki, only a very small handful of them were organized into categories when we forked. Here's the page of all the files currently not in a category: https://guiltygear.wiki.gg/wiki/Special:UncategorizedFiles

And all of the image categories they need to be sorted into. Note the subcategories under some of them: https://guiltygear.wiki.gg/wiki/Category:Images

I think I made the correct amount of categories for stuff but there may be one missing here or there. There were a lot and it was hard keeping track of them lol Feel free to holler at me on here or on my talk page over on the wiki if you need something made. I'm solradguy on the wiki.

These major character pages are also either entirely lacking citations or only have maybe 1 or 2 on the entire page (bad!!): Johnny, Chipp, Kliff, Baiken, Venom, Jam, Robo-Ky, Slayer, Sin, Izuna, Dr. Paradigm, Valentine, Bedman?, Answer, Haehyun, Elphelt, Giovanna, Happy Chaos, Asuka R♯

Swapping out the vague "GG World" citations on the wiki with the correct entry would be very helpful too. Like some pages will cite something and it just says "GG World" instead of " 'Axl Low' Xrd Rev2 GG World entry" or whatever relevant entry is needed.

If you know Korean, we also need to have the romaja added for the GG World entries. None of us knows Korean well enough to do that so not a single one has it filled in lol.... We were planning on using Revised Romanization of Korean since it's the official South Korean romanization system but if there's one that's more commonly used/accepted that's cool too (like how Hepburn is used for Japanese more often than the official Kunrei-shiki romanization)

#asks #long post #Axl Low is my example guy for GG World stuff because he was the first entry that got added #The GG Bible's Glossary was the start of the GG World project and Axl's the first thing listed in it #So the GG World test dummy he became

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theredofoctober · 10 months

Text

MANNA FIC— CHAPTER ONE: PAPRIKA

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham fic, TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, mild Daddy kink (it'll all make sense).

Chronologically this is the first chapter in the series.

Keep reading after the cut

Later, when you reflect on your first meeting with Dr. Hannibal Lecter, you will marvel at the Sybilan apprehension that had wreathed the merest detail of that night: the oppressive colours of his office, grey and vermillion from window to wall, the very choice to have you see him at an evening appointment, penning you in by way of the darkness.

Yet, as you sit across from Hannibal in a low leather chair, you contain only a spiteful rancour, one foot jouncing testily as the doctor attempts to extract answers from you beyond a penchant for grudging monosyllables.

“I understand that you have seen therapists in the past,” he says, in a neutral tone.

You stare at the curtains in their dissected oblongs of red and ash, like bloodied teeth against the wall: anything but meet the eyes that seem to have already picked you apart in the mere minutes you have been before him.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “A couple of times. CBT stuff. I hated it. Doesn’t work for me.”

Dr. Lecter offers you a smile so imperceptible that he might not have moved at all.

“Understandable. Cognitive behavioural therapy is a better fit for anxiety and negative thinking— it has its place, but for patients with deeper trauma, their illness may prove too complex for it to be effective. Dialectical behavioural therapy would perhaps be more suitable, in your case.”

Shrugging curtly, you do not ask him to elaborate. There is no therapy in the book that you would warm to; you had set out tonight only to put an end to familial begging, in its absence of dignity.

You resent the nakedness of your secrets before this stranger, before anyone, your suffering made public domain. Like a brow-beaten captive, you are moved to defend your self abuse against all those who seek to extract it from you.

Hannibal watches you with a dry intensity, his gaze rarely straying from your face. He is a lean, polished figure in an impeccable red check suit, dark hair swept back from a face of meticulous and rather interesting beauty.

His brows are low, almost invisible, his eyes small, and as dark as tree flux, the nose—straight, and as debonair as the rest of him—leading down from two furrows that suggest an earnest and curious whimsy.

His air, thus far, has been both tactful and polite, unperturbed by your close-mouthed unwillingness to yield to quizzing in even the most inoffensive line. You should like him, you suppose, yet you have already branded him an enemy.

He is a man; how could you ever be expected to open up to him?

“How long have you struggled with your eating disorder?” asks Hannibal.

You cross your arms over your chest, barring him out, a theological defence against the vampire of such dreaded questioning.

“You’ve read my records. You already know.”

“Certainly, but I would like to hear your experience in your own words. Such documents may represent only the most objective truths, and reveal very little of you, or what you are feeling at any given moment. Besides, they are as fallible as the professionals that create them. If there are any inaccuracies, your answers will bring them to light.”

The implication that you may share, with him, an honesty that you have refused previous therapists bears a quiet arrogance that might have won you over, were you not set so resolutely in your hatred.

“Fine,” you say. “I’ve had it since I was a kid.”

‘IT’; the word may as well be in baleful capitals, the introduction to some eponymous beast. You will give your ailment no other name aloud, have never done so, except in clandestine internet entry, forcing the thorn further beneath the nail.

Dr. Lecter digests your simple answer, finding flavour in its enigma.

“You have no intentions of recovery without intervention. What served you in your formative years, you will continue to savour.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get better,” you retort. “It’ll always be there, so what’s the point?”

The question had shaken previous professionals into stumbling objection; not so Hannibal Lecter, whose ambiguous calm nevertheless bears the same imperceptible threat as the night.

“Would you say the same to an alcoholic?” he asks. “Many live out their lives through a succession of losses and victories, and likewise, many emerge fulfilled and content in having struck out on the path of self-betterment. Yet, by your logic, you would condemn them all in their relationship to illness.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you object; your foot bounces so violently over the arm of the chair that Hannibal glances at it, his focus unbalanced by the distraction. “It’s different for me, okay?”

“In what regard? What prevents you from regarding your own struggles with the same grace?”

“It’s... it's not the same. I don't want to talk about it.”

Panic makes you feel almost buoyant in the room, a kite with your string cut, to be devoured by the wind.

“You have not yet reached the point that recovery seems possible, or even desirable to you,” says Hannibal, across your distress. “That is quite normal. For many individuals with eating disorders, recovery can take up to ten years to achieve— a long and difficult road, yet while there is no permanent cure, there is still reward in that destination.”

This you have heard before, in other iterations; he loses you a little, a mistake that he seems to catch in your reply.

“You don’t understand.”

“If you mean that I cannot directly empathise, that is true,” says Dr. Lecter. “I do not share your struggles. Food is a great pleasure to me. Still, I comprehend the crux of your illness— that you once seized a handhold in a rock when you were falling, and still refuse to let it go when there is earth to hold you.”

You continue to jiggle your shoe in a pattern of agitation.

“You’ll never be able to hold me.”

Hannibal leans forward and places a hand upon your foot, guiding it soundly still again.

“That remains to be seen.”

Your breath peters in your throat. It apalls you that he has touched you without asking, that his hand—so warm through the leather of your sneaker—makes you imagine it within the wet turncoat of your cunt.

Suddenly you’re standing from your seat without acknowledging the motion that led you there, like a frame scratched from an old tape.

“I’m leaving,” you say, abruptly. “I’m sorry. This just isn’t for me.”

Hannibal looks up at you, and the still, smooth planes of his features alarm you in their lack of urgency.

“Please,” he says. “Sit down. You will not be leaving here today.”

He is so slim and unassuming in his tailored suit that you feel yourself the red-capped girl of fairy tale, entering an elder’s cabin to the appetites of a wolf.

“What are you talking about?” you whisper.

Dr. Lecter leans forward, speaking with a low and graceful regret.

“I must inform you that your parents have signed a written agreement for you to enter inpatient care, overseen by myself and a colleague.”

Betrayal breaks across you in a death bed sweat: how could they? What have they done?

“No!” you say. “You're lying.”

Dr. Lecter pats a folder resting on the arm of his chair.

“I would be willing to show you the paperwork, if you insist upon it.”

“I don’t care,” you say, your voice a shrill of indignation. “They can’t just send me away without my permission! It’s illegal!”

“As guardians to a vulnerable adult, it is entirely so.”

You don’t believe him, although your parents evidently did, pressed by their earnest desperation to reverse the agonies of time.

“Whatever,” you say, coldly. “I’m not staying.”

Hannibal tilts his head at an angle of frosty amusement, and suddenly you grasp that this is no ordinary intervention, but incarceration, for reasons yet unknown.

Terror snarls through you like thunder, and you run for the door, wrenching at the handle to find it locked against you.

“What the fuck?” you cry, though you had known in your most basic, animal senses that this man—this room—would be your undoing.

Dr. Lecter has gotten up from his seat and is striding towards you, seizing your arms at the wrists, as firmly as a father; you turn your head in a feral reflex and attempt to bite him, stalled by the wool of his jacket in your teeth. He turns your writhing figure towards him, your skirt bunched up to your waist in the struggle, his palm a blacksmith’s tool on your bare skin, a scarring heat.

His expression is scarcely altered by the struggle, his breathing slow, even. You are no threat to him; he has surely restrained patients like this before, a necessary training.

You will not go quietly, as perhaps others have, before you. You bring your knee into his groin until you hear him grunt in the desired pain, but he does not lose his grip upon you, only drives you back against the door, his eyes churning with a wild satisfaction.

“You will learn not to disobey, little one,” he says, and before you can absorb the threat there is a needle at your neck, and chemical night.

You half-wake some hours later to the voices of two men, one of them Hannibal, the other unfamiliar, speaking in a curt and cautious rhythm.

“This is her?” asks the unknown man— through fluttering eyelids you see him, all rumpled hair and scowling good looks, an image from some obscure Brontë novel. “The patient you talked about on the phone? What have you given her? She looks out of it.”

“A mild sedative,” Hannibal replies, “with some additional compounds. It’s alright, Will. She will revive soon, likely in a confused state. This will pass.”

Will hangs back, his mouth an angle of uncertainty.

“Forgive me, Dr. Lecter, but I’m a little confused as to what I’m doing here.”

“Your role will be paramount to the healing process,” says Hannibal, touching a hand to his colleague’s flannel sleeve with familiar tenderness. “Together, we will each be whatever our subject requires from one moment to the next. A healer, a father, a lover, a friend—”

“All while crossing the boundaries of what could be considered valid treatment into an inappropriate relationship,” Will cuts in, sharply. “Surely that’s only going to make things worse.”

Dr. Lecter approaches you, adjusting a pillow behind your head; you are too out of it to object, unsure whether it is a chair or a bed you occupy in your prone state.

“What is appropriate is not always the most effective method of healing,” says Hannibal. “This patient requires complex support. Decisions to be made for her that other professionals would not be comfortable making.”

Will shakes his head, grimly amused.

“And you are.”

“Certainly. Over the years I have seen results from the most unorthodox approaches. I have an interest in observing how she will respond to mine.”

You watch the two men exchange glances, and blearily wonder if they are merely friends, or something more.

“Dr. Lecter, I have no idea how to connect with her,” says Will. “And frankly the idea of trying isn’t something I’m particularly enthusiastic about.”

“Your discinclination to be involved may work to her benefit,” says Hannibal, smoothly. “While my part is to provide gentle guidance and compassion, you will offer the firm hand required to leash the chaos of her disturbed mind and behaviours.”

Will scoffs in disbelief.

“The good cop, bad cop routine? That seems a little obvious for you, doctor.”

“And yet it may be precisely what she craves. Stability. Discipline.”

At this, there is a certain change in the air of the room; one day, you will know it as hunger, so many appetites contained between two men.

“Well, which one is going to come first?” asks Will, relenting. “Stability, or discipline?”

“When she is fully awake, we will know," say Hannibal. "And we will deliver it.”

#ao3 writer #dark fic #manna fic #dark!fic #hannibal lecter x reader #dark hannibal lecter #yandere hannibal lecter #yandere will graham #will graham x reader #tw eating disorders #tw noncon

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