#and they are all dirty in the middle of the war with people dying to wraiths and Frodo just SO fraking tired while crying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladytanithia · 1 month ago

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WIP whenever tf

I've had practically nothing in progress writing-wise in ages. Lost my mojo. But I'm trying to get back into a groove. Not happy with how I've done BLP so far, so I'm rewriting it, from the beginning, and incorporating Miranja's journal into it.

However, this scene from Out of the Ashes came up in a conversation the other day, and OotA technically still counts as a WIP, since it's not finished (dammit - NONE of the parts of Miranja's story is truly finished!). So I figured what the hell. It's been a long time since I had any writing to share, and this is one of the best scenes to really show how Miranja's mind works. Not even any sex here. <gasp!>

Tagging friends whose writing I've been enjoying whilst not producing anything myself. @dirty-bosmer @lillxart @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thequeenofthewinter @theoneandonlysemla I hope you enjoy it.

It was just about eight o’clock in the evening when they arrived back in Solitude. Before doing anything else, Miranja went directly to Castle Dour.

Tullius was sitting on the bench in the corner by the enchanting table in the foyer. Miranja had gone straight to the war room looking for him, hadn’t found him, had checked his bedroom, still hadn’t found him, and had backtracked to the front door before he finally spoke to her and drew her attention.

“Looking for me, Auxiliary?”

Surprised, Miranja turned toward the sound of his voice and approached him.

“Yes, sir. Here’s the Jagged Crown. Legate Rikke sent me to deliver it to you.” She handed over the Crown, and Tullius took it and turned it in his hands, examining it with interest as he replied.

“Excellent work, soldier. I have to admit, I had my doubts it even existed. Did you run into any trouble?”

Tears filled Miranja’s eyes, but she kept a stiff upper lip. Teldryn’s hand in the middle of her back certainly helped give her fortitude.

“We lost a lot of good men. I hope it was worth it.” Tullius didn’t need to know that she was also talking about the Stormcloaks who died.

“That’s not for you to decide, soldier. I wouldn’t have sent you in the first place if it wasn’t going to be worth it.”

Miranja’s pride stung at those words, while at the same time, her sense of justice was offended. She was the gods-damned Dragonborn, as well as a Thane in this hold, and she had become largely unaccustomed to people talking down to her. And in her opinion, this stupid war wasn’t worth the loss of ANY people, if you got right down to brass tacks. No one should be dying over what she felt was a deeply personal religious issue. It was tantamount in her mind to killing people for what they did in their own bedrooms.

“You seem to forget who you’re speaking to, General. May I be candid with you, sir?”

“By all means, Auxiliary. Let’s hear it.” There was a challenge in his voice and in the way he jutted out his chin.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t like you very much.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Tullius replied indifferently. He rose and brushed past her to carry the crown into the war room. “I’m not here to win popularity contests. I’m here to keep the Dominion out of Skyrim, and to quell this dissention.”

Miranja followed him, and Teldryn tagged along quietly behind her. “The Dominion is already in Skyrim, whether you want to admit it or not. I pass Thalmor on the road every day taking Stormcloak prisoners to gods-know-where to do gods-know-what to them. The only reason I don’t kill them is that I don’t want a bounty on my own head.”

“Wise choice,” Tullius acknowledged briefly, but added, “Think what you want, Auxiliary. It could be much worse.”

“I’m sure it could. I just want you to know that I think you’re a cold, insensitive…” She hesitated for a moment, searching for a milder word than ‘asshole.’ “…jerk. I wonder if you have a compassionate bone in your body, and if you really care about the people of Skyrim at all.”

Tullius’ face darkened with anger. “Listen up, Auxiliary. I’m here to do a job. Not that it’s any of your damned business, but I have family back in Cyrodiil who I love and miss terribly. I’ve been in Skyrim longer than I ever wanted to be. I’m doing what I’m paid to do, what I believe is for the greater good in the long run. I hope that’s also what you’re doing, why you joined the Legion in the first place.”

“Of course it is,” Miranja glowered back. “But I’d like to think I’m going about it in a more personal, compassionate way. I’m not sitting in a fancy castle ordering everyone else around. I’m on the ground, learning about the people and helping them in more ways than just killing Stormcloaks and getting Imperial soldiers killed.”

“Well, good for you,” Tullius replied with overt sarcasm. “Imperial Generals don’t have that luxury. I didn’t get to my station in life by being compassionate.”

“That may be so, General, but it’s obvious you’re not particularly happy. And there’s no reason to take it out on others. You chose your path.”

“And you chose yours when you joined the Legion, Auxiliary. You can either follow orders or take up residence in the Solitude prison. Which will it be?”

She was sick of being addressed as a title. “My name is Miranja. Miranja Laurentius. And I will follow orders, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You’re absolutely right, Miranja. We all have to do things we don’t like to bring about things we do like.” He stopped and regarded her with a scrutinizing look, as Miranja stared back with some surprise at his unknowing echoing of her father’s words.

“You said your name was Laurentius?”

“Yes.” She didn’t bother with the ‘sir.’

“Your father was in the Legion, wasn’t he?”

“Yes… sir.” Where was he going with this?

“Ah, yes, I see the resemblance now. I worked with your father briefly in Hammerfell some twenty-five years or more ago. I remember him because he had the same bleeding heart and lack of respect that you do.”

“I’m proud of my father and his work for the underprivileged,” Miranja said, jutting out her chin as Tullius had earlier. “And both my father and I give respect where it’s due. We just feel morally compelled to point out injustice regardless of who’s perpetrating it, and that includes the Empire.”

“Well, his soft heart is what kept him from advancing past Captain. He could have been a general himself, if he’d been tougher.”

“My father and I don’t measure success by titles and wealth. We measure our riches and our station in life by the happiness we create and the love we give and receive. My father retired a happy, peaceful man, and he’s still bringing joy to those around him and earning respect for his deeds.”

“Well, that’s a heartwarming story, Auxiliary, and your opinions are duly noted, but it’s time we got back to business.”

Miranja heaved a resigned sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke tiredly. “Very well, sir. What’s next?”

“I need someone I can trust to deliver a message of great import to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We have it on good authority that Ulfric has raised enough men to attack the city of Whiterun. The Jarl, however, refuses the Legion’s support. This missive should convince him. Be aware, soldier, these documents contain sensitive intelligence for the Jarl’s eyes only.”

Yes, yes, she’d overheard the conversation between Rikke and Tullius when she’d first walked into Castle Dour yesterday. “Of course, General. We may not see eye-to-eye, but we are on the same side, and you can trust me. Balgruuf was one of my first friends when I came to Skyrim. I’ll see this gets delivered.”

“You do that,” Tullius replied, eyeing her thoughtfully. “You’re dismissed.”

Once they were outside, Tel whistled – or tried to, and only partially succeeded with the scarf over his face – and shook his head. “Damn, woman, I can’t believe you spoke to a General like that and didn’t end up in the stockade.”

“Speaking your mind isn’t a crime, Tel, and I didn’t disobey any orders. I asked him for permission to be candid, and I also made sure to include ‘with all due respect.’ My father taught me that. I know when I’m within my rights.”

Teldryn chuckled. “I like a woman with cast iron balls. I bet your dick is bigger than his.”

Miranja grinned and blushed with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. They were still standing between the door guards, and there was no way the guards hadn’t heard the whole conversation, but they were wisely keeping their mouths shut. She knew the barracks would be abuzz later, though.

“So, what are we going to do with the rest of the evening, boss?”

#skyrim #elder scrolls #tesblr #tes #miranja #ao3 #fanfic #dunmer #teldryn sero #general tullius #conflict #war #argument #slutty dragonborn #tanithia writes

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cinnbar-bun · 6 months ago

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This might sound dumb and I’m tryna word this in a way that’s not weird but for your American Dream series why would Valentine marry an immigrant when he’s like… that? Are you trying to make him not racist?

Okay so at first I admit I was taken aback but I also realized this is FV and he’s got a heinous list of crimes against him, so fair. I’ll try my best to explain my thought process on him but uuuhhhh this gonna get wordy and maybe spoilery??

Despite FV being president we really don’t hear a lot about his political views or economic views that got him elected. All we know is he served for the Union during the Civil War, he had a 91% approval rating even after he “disappeared”, and he’s a staunch imperialistic nationalist. It’s really a toss up if he would have been a Republican or a Democrat because there’s tons of evidence serving both sides. I choose to think of him as a Republican (Republican back then meaning Democrat) due to his stance on the Civil War and also him replacing Benjamin Harrison, who was a Republican.

THAT BEING SAID despite the time difference… I don’t think he was racist. At least, not in the ‘usual’ sense. His whole plan was to make America a dominant super empire over the world, while making every bad thing happening in America redirected somewhere else over the world. He just doesn’t care about the rest of the world because America should come first and be the best. But he’s also callous and doesn’t actually care about American people, but “America” the concept.

Considering Mike O. (a black man) is his most trusted bodyguard and one he even lets protect his wife and FV’s service for the Union, I don’t think he’s racist like that. It’s much deeper and more complex than a “white vs every other race” type of racism.

I think it’s more he’s ‘xenophobic’ but also, again, not in the usual sense. Considering his attitude on America and other countries, I believe he doesn’t mind immigrants, but they have to be ‘useful’ to America in a sense, or do something to help/benefit America. If you choose to be in America versus staying in the homeland, well, you’re an American to him and you made a good choice leaving that other place.

He’s a ‘might makes right’ type of guy, so I see it as “if you prove your value to America, you are a true American.” One of his earliest lessons was patriotism and dying for your country is the most honorable thing anyone can do, so it’s clear that that would be an easy way to somewhat earn his respect (so long as you don’t meddle with his plans).

In the example I wrote for The American Dream, his late wife is MENA. Obviously she would not have been treated as equal to a white woman in America itself for the time period. If she were to stay in the Middle East, FV would have had no respect for her and would not care if she was hurt by the effects of the corpse and Love Train. She would just be another nameless non-American who doesn’t deserve the ambitions of America. However, she immigrated to America, thus making her an American woman. What elevated her in his mind (and thus became a major point in his idealization of her) was that she joined in the Civil War effort as a nurse and also died for the Union (and his daughter).

To normal people, one could argue that she really didn’t need to join and serve a country that didn’t care for her, but to FV, it’s the opposite. She immigrated here to America, compared to staying back there. America gave her the opportunity to do something different and live out the “American Dream”, and she was merely paying it back by serving her country in a war. She proved herself to be a true, respectable American, which is done through actions, not merely lineage.

It’s the name of his own spirit manifested, “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap”. He doesn’t give a shit about the cost, but a ‘strong’ person is one who does things with their own hands and is unafraid to get them dirty to do it. He doesn’t care about the sacrifices so long as it benefits the collective of America.

So TLDR: he’s fucked up but not racist like that. If you live in America, whether a minority or not, you’re American. If you don’t, you’re on his shit list. Hence why I also gave him a MENA wife (as a MENA woman) but also as a commentary for later chapters that I will go into.

#rambles #funny Valentine #the American dream #jojo steel ball run #funny valentine jojo

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moonlit-orchid · 1 year ago

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Zexal month day 18- Temperance Upright

@zexalmonth it's slumber party time

BUT

With the Astral Project kids!

(Aka the orphans Eliphas kidnapped to turn into soldiers+Don (Adonis)'s three children)

You see this meme?

This

THE GIRLS (in order of appearance: Talia, Eden, Athena daughter of Adonis, Themis)

Talia: (finds strange book) Omg lets summon a demon

Eden: (doesnt know what that is)

Athena: (considers it. How likely is it to even work?)

QThemis: This will end in death

THE BOYS (From top left to bathroom: Oizihle 'Number 96' firstborn of Adonis, Angello, Taurus, Aires, Apis 'Astral' lastborn of Adonis, Auden)

Angello: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! 96: SHUT THE HELL UP AND PROTECT THESE KIDS WILL YOU?! YOU'RE A GROWN ASS MAN HERE!!!

Angello: I'M TOO PRETTY TO DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Taurus: LETS KILL EM! (GREMLIN SOUNDS) Astral: CUT IT OUT TAURUS, YOU LOOK STUPID Aires: We're gonna die. We survived the wars and now these demons are gonna kill us. Of course they are. Astral: YOU SHUT THE HELL UP TOO, NEGATIVITY SCARF! WHO KEEPS SUMMONING THESE?! Auden: (cries) WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!

Okay, time to briefly introduce this group of 10, in order of appearance:

Talia: The cheerful big sis. Very optimistic, kind of impulsive, and very much a party girl.

Eden: Baby. A little older than Haruto. Very innocent. Called Aires's little sister because she's almost always with him, although she's unrelated.

Athena: Don's only daughter and the middle child. Very much like her father.

Themis: The pessimist. Seems half-asleep. She's actually the most actively intelligent and sharp. She's also convinced one of them will eventually be killed by making a dumb decision.

Oizihle 'Number 96': Don's oldest child, and the oldest overall. He wasn't actually part of the Astral World Project. Has died a few times. Typical no good big brother, but will KILL you if you touch his baby siblings.

Angello: Raised to be the 'Paragon of Beauty and Strength' aka pretty boy and jock in one. He could probably solve all their problems with his power. Trouble is, he's more concerned about getting dirty than getting to safety.

Taurus: Eliphas tried to interfere with his mind, to the point of almost mind control. Unfortunately, you can't control what's not there (According to Athena anyway). He's the weird one of the group. No impulse control. Likes scaring people.

Aires: Mature, but gloomy. Probably the most normal, even if he always thinks the world is dying.

Auden: Golden boi. The local soft smart boy. Very sweet. A scientist. But also very very nervous.

#zexal #astral zexal #zexal month 2023 #zexal month #my au #astral world au

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justmultifandom · 1 year ago

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Kidge summer event 2023

Day 17: Hot day

This is a part 2 of the "Day 3 Road Trip" that you can find here.

"When you said that in Italy was dying of heat, you weren't kidding...": Keith complained, trying to fan himself with his hands as he felt the sweat run down his forehead and down his neck.

"I told you, every year in the Po Valley it gets worse and worse": she replied, swinging slowly on an old wooden swing, now used to too much heat. The couple had quickly isolated themselves from the rest of the people talking around the table set in the distance, although every now and then Keith saw someone giving him dirty looks.

"Don't worry, I've never really grown fond of my Italian side of the family": she explained: "Even all my second or third cousins or uncles almost never speak to me. Besides, many of my aunts are bitches. When I was little, all they did was gossip about my mother's American accent."

She had said the last sentence with a slight sense of anger and offense in her tone, as he continued to wade through the group of middle-aged and older women gossiping.

"You know, I'm actually glad you're here. At least I have an excuse to get away ": she continued, while a rather plump lady in a wheelchair came out of her house.

"She is my grandmother, I think she is the only person in this family that I really care about": she explained, while smiling and waving her hand:" Her father served in the third world war, our family got rich this way and she will divide everything between my father, Matt and me. Maybe that's why deep down many hate us"

"But I saw you talking to those ladies over there and that blonde girl": Keith pointed out, while his wife looked at him with a tired and annoyed look.

"Cousin Sara is a bitch. She knows English very well but she speaks Italian knowing perfectly well that you don't know it": she rolled her eyes grumbling: "And the aunts are the classic mother-in-law of shit. Since I was six they've been pestering me about a boyfriend, then when you and I were dating they wanted a fucking wedding and this year, even though we've been married for less than a month, they keep complaining that I have a baby the first possible!"

She complained, continuing to gesticulate and grumble about how little she is attached to that family and that, fortunately, they lived on two different continents.

"Pidge, Katie...": Keith interrupted, kneeling in front of her and looking into her eyes: "That... What you said in the car... is true?"

"What? That today will be the worst day of all? Yes, it's true": she sighed, shaking her head and almost suddenly feeling the desire to cry.

"No... I mean...": Keith stammered, trying to find the right words from her, while he felt her eyes water, feeling a new emotion in her chest: "Are you... are you pregnant?"

"Oh...that!": She exclaimed, laughing and finally letting two tears fall, she nods biting her lip: "Yes... Yes, I am..."

"Wow...": he didn't know what to say. His words caught in her throat as his mind raced about the future, a future as a father.

"Thank you... thank you...": he limited himself to saying about her, embracing her with strength and with such a push that she almost fell off her swing, crying on her shoulder from her happiness at that news from her. It wasn't really planned, but just because it was unexpected didn't mean it was bad. They had never had talks about starting a family, but he knew she was the woman he would live with until the end of time.

"Keith, it's hot and I'm all sweaty there's no need to wet my shirt any more than it already is": she laughed, at least just to break the silence between them.

"Oh, right, sorry love...": he smiled, wiping away his tears and breaking her embrace, looking at her with eyes full of love thinking where the heck he found such a woman and how lucky they fell in love with her.

"So... you didn't tell anyone...?": he asked, remaining on his knees in front of her.

"No... I couldn't stand those chickens anymore": she shook her head:" And then... I would have preferred to tell my parents and Matt in private first. It's difficult even for them today, it always has been..."

"I see...": he nodded, while turning his gaze towards the crowd he saw everyone sitting in their seats, while Pidge got up from the swing, dusting off her white fluttering dress: "I think lunch is ready, come, I'll introduce you to my grandmother "

She smiled, he smiled back as they approached the long white table arm in arm.

#voltron legendary defender #keith voltron #keith x pidge #kidge #voltron pidge #keidge #kidge summer event

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maegalkarven · 1 year ago

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I think Baldurs Gate becoming Levi and Gortash's playground is simultaneously the best and the worst thing what could have happened to it.

The worst - because the city's achduke is a former Chosen of Bane who builds steel cops in his free time. And the entire elective council is dead and destroyed.

The best - because Levi and Co keep Gortash in check. Levi - accidentally, because he loves chaos, disrespecting Enver's decisions, and has somehow befriended every underdog the city has.

Others (Jaheira, Ravengard, Florrick, etc) deliberately, bc they can't unmake what has been made and due to tadpole-destruction and the memory loss it came with, can't even hold him accountable for the Absolute plot. But they sure as hell will make Gortash's life as complicated as possible.

Also when Gortash decided to turn Levi's plans to fight in Avernus to his advantage, he really meant it. There's a whole new direction in which people are getting recruited to fight in Avernus. Young fools who want to prove themselves, sellswords bought by nobles' money (don't ask me how Gortash pulls it off, but he does), convicts offered a chance to earn their freedom and in the fires of Avernus or die trying.

Karlach, who wants to do nothing with Gortash, suddenly finds herself in the frontlines of another fucking war Gortash orchestrates. She hates it, but the alternative is dying in BG, and at least she is not alone: she has Wyll, Astarion and Levi. Also, as it proves out later, fighting alongside people is easier than if it's just the 4 of them against entire Avernus.

Also her mates being adamant on giving her Zariel's head is a good motivation as any.

Meanwhile back in BG the new, urban cicle of druids is growing on the ruins of Cazador's palace.

Archdruid Kagha manages it; she, instructed by Levi, allows all kinds of beings into the shelter of the new grove. Things almost end up badly when the first goblin (the one named Sazza) appears, and Levi has to return from Hell to calm things down.

But then he brings worgs in and declares those are his worgs, his beloved pets. No one is allowed to hurt them.

Then several deep gnomes enter.

Then a single miconide.

Some goblins bring a baby gnoll wrapped in a bloody dirty cloth, and Kagha almost loses it.

Levi, again, comes over and names a baby gnoll "Bitey". Everyone disapproves. Halsin, who occasionally comes to visit to make sure everyone is playing nice, has a headache.

Minsc, who came for a visit, offers to train a baby gnoll. Everyone groans at the idea. Jaheira decides she's urgently needed at the city council where she drops what Levi brought a gnoll, Gortash stares into the distance with almost nostalgic look and murmurs "of course he did".

Karlach's engine finally gets fixed after one long bargaining with some devil; she immediately visits the new grove with an imp on every shoulder. Kagha develops a permanent wrinkle between her eyebrows.

One of the goblins becomes Levi's apprentice and becomes the second ever blood druid.

Tieflings grow patches of vegetables in the rich soil of the grove.

Children in the lower city sneak out from homes to play at the Ruby Grove.

"What?" Astarion asks. "Ruby is red, so is blood. This grove is created on blood. I think it fits".

The name sticks.

An accident occurs where the young woman tries to escape her pursuer at night, trips and falls, he almost gains on her - but then gets strangled by the nearby vine. The girl joins the grove.

Meanwhile nobles are fuming bc there's a huge ass tree in the middle of the lower city, with blood-red bark, and half of the height of the Razimath tower. This is unacceptable.

They demand Lord Gortash to get rid of the thing, Gortash silently watches as Jaheira calmly threatens their lives.

Nobles find it the hard way what several organizations (Harpers, Ninefingers' Guild, Flaming Fists) are helping and sponsoring the grove and will defend it, if needed.

#dark urge: levi #durgetash #family matters

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the-royal-blue-network · 5 days ago

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Dani was woken up out of her sleep around one in the afternoon. It was her day off and she had been out all night clubbing with the girls and Brock and Evan; she wasn’t planning on getting out of bed at all that day, but the loud banging on her door ruined those plans.

“Dani it’s me! Open the door.” Said Clark as he pounded on the door.

Dani groaned as she made her way to the door, cursing herself for getting a studio apartment rather than the much bigger one her father suggested.

Swinging the door open Dani was all set and ready to rip Clark a new one for waking her up when a photo was thrust in her face.

“What am I looking at?” She asked, squinting at the photo.

“Vinny LaVine.” Clark said.

Taking the photo from Clark Dani turned around, leaving the door open.

“Marty dropped it off this morning.” Clark said as he followed Dani to the kitchen.

Dani stopped walking causing Clark to run into her.

“Marty took this?!” Dani said holding the photo up.

“Yep. And at first, I thought it was pure bullshit, so I did some digging, and Vinny was booked for possession back in the nineties, and…” Rummaging through the papers he held in his hand, Clark found Vinny’s mug shot from the arrest and handed it to Dani.

Dani held the photos up side by side and sure enough, it was the same man about twenty-something years apart.

“Holy shit! It’s fucking Vinny fucking LaVine.” Dani said.

“Mason.” Clark said causing Dani to look at him.

“What?” She asked frowning.

“Vinny’s middle name, it’s Mason.” Clark explained.

Dani rolled her eyes as she slapped Clark’s chest before looking back at the photos.

“Do we know when these were taken?” She asked.

The photo looked to be rather recent. The younger LaVine brother was photographed on a dock with another man whose back was to the camera.

“If what Marty said is true then this was taken a couple of days ago.” Clark said.

Dani looked at her partner skeptically.

“Bullshit.” She said.

Clark shook his head.

“Dani the photo’s real. About a hundred highly trained people have looked it over.” He said.

Dani shook her head.

“I’m not doubting the authenticity of this photo. I’m just saying there’s no way it’s as recent as Marty says it is. Everyone knows the LaVine brothers are at war and Vinny would have to be the dumbest fucker alive to set foot in New York State.” Dani pointed out.

The LaVine brothers' feud dated back to the early two thousand’s. No one knew the story behind what started the feud but The LaVine brothers operated much like the Bloods and the Crips. Pauly kept to the east coast, mainly New York City, and sometimes Canada when it got real bad, and Vinny stayed in LA and kept a hideout in Mexico.

“Well, they must have fixed it or something because that’s Paul and Vinny fucking LaVine.” Clark said poking the photo.

“Has dad seen this?” Dani asked.

Clark shook his head.

Handing the photo back to Clark, she rushed back to her bedroom.

“Wait! Where are you going?” He asked.

“We gotta take this to dad. He needs to see this now.” Dani said as she threw her closet door open.

After getting dressed, Dani and Clark hopped into his car and made their way to Jackson’s place.

“Vinny fucking LaVine.” Jackson said looking down at the photo.

Of the entire NYPD, Jackson was the only officer who’d ever met Vinny; all the others were either dead, retired, or in jail.

The LaVine family had a knack for turning officers. Undercover cops would penetrate the LaVine family circle and through a series of ‘loyalty tests’ the LaVine’s would fuck with the officers' heads until they were too screwed up to know which way was up and which way was down. Many officers got caught up in the lifestyle and either joined the family or ended up overdosing and dying in some dirty old hotel room.

“You think he and Pauly have made up?” Dani asked.

“For our sake, I hope not.” Jackson said staring down at the photo.

#Women Loving Women #Queer Women #Queer Fiction #The Paula and Dani Series #Vinny LaVine #Pauly LaVine #The LaVine Brothers #The LaVine Family

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cartoonoracle · 3 months ago

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Vampire on 34th Street- a short story.

It all started on a small well lit street in September. It was the middle of the month, cold at night, the wind warm, with a slight chill.

A gothic tinge settled itself over a macabre street corner on 34th avenue. The houses on the street were draped in an old Southern New Orleans touristy essence, with white polished houses and red bricked buildings disguised as museums. It was a historical town, where some old war general had settled and built around himself. An austere cemetery had been erected in a corner of the place, a little plot of green succulent grass, and wrought black iron gates. The place was a small town masterpiece-- a haven of an old ideal, preserved for a dying people.

Unfortunately, a looming figure stalked the poorly lit streets of 34th to destroy that ideal. He named himself Lord Broomer, and was a frequent visitor of the street. It was the specific one near the cemetery. Here, he was meeting an old friend. A very old one.

He stepped over a ‘keep off the grass sign,’ making effort to crush a particularly pretty set of hydrangeas in a flowerbed. He went past a string of gravestones, each one old and uncared for.

Mr. Broomer finally came to a particular gravestone he was told to make note of. He stopped resolutely, feeling an odd disappointment at where he stood. He always felt he was being disappointed.

“Weldon,” he said, his voice a deep booming chasm. The tall marble gravestone that had once shined in a light, had become old, chipped, and weathered by the forces of the wind and the world. It began to rise, as though a person had been underneath, pushing it from its place. After several moments, the once white stone had fallen on its side, and in the discreet shade of night, a visitor had arrived at the 34th street cemetery.

“Good morning, Broomer,” said the visitor.

“I told you not to call me that. I told you to call me by my alias– Johnathan Small,” reminded Broomer, adopting a baleful expression on his dark face.

“I know, I know. I’m just not used to it yet,” whispered the visitor. He seemed apologetic. He had a white suit, somehow pristine as he had just risen from a gravesite six feet underground. Broomer adorned a black cloak with red accents at its ends. It swayed with the wind, building a specter-like ambience.

“So you’ve come to haunt me once again?” asked the visitor, looking a little worn at the sight of his old lover.

“Yes, I suppose that’s in order,” replied Broomer cheekily. They both stifled a small chuckle. After some moments of staring lovingly, little flashes of fond memories crowding their heads, and some awkward shifting around, Broomer had come to a stark expression.

“I’ve been thinking.. We’ve been apart long enough… I think it’s time… It’s time we get back together. It’s time I have a taste,” Broomer suggested, the last part in a lower tone, a more obsessed inflection. He did not just want a taste. It was sexual in nature. It was desire. The visitor stepped back some. He was hesitant.

“No… no, Broomer– I mean Johnathan. I can’t. I won’t. I don’t want to,” he began, almost in a pleading tone, as if he had little choice in the matter.

“It’s a cold life here. These people enjoy me… it’s nice. But I want you,” whined Broomer, looking imploringly into his lover’s green crystalline eyes, like reservoirs of hope.

“I can’t, I told you three months ago, and I’m telling you now,” said the other. This was the final word. Broomer nodded, a little angry. He shifted around, hands on his hips. He evidently did not like this conclusion.

“Then why’d you call me here, then?” Broomer began, now behaving as though the whole arrangement was an intolerable waste of time.

“Because I need your help– with a friend,” he whispered.

“Follow me,” he said as he began inching down the hole where the marble gravestone once was. Broomer rolled his eyes. He didn’t like getting his clothes dirty.

“C’mon!” urged his friend. So, he did.

They descended a long steep set of stone stairs. It was cold, damp, and silent in the channel. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of cold air rushing through the space, and the sound of dripping water. They both crouched so that they could fit in the small space.

“Where are we going?” asked Broomer begrudgingly.

“We’re almost there, just shh,” the visitor told him.

Finally, they both came to a larger area at the end of the tunnel, a spherical dome shaped room. The walls were of stone, as were the floors. The area had been carved out.

“This space is ancient,” started the visitor. His name was Weldon.

“It’s been here for vampires for centuries,” he said to Broomer. He walked over to a seemingly empty part of the room where the floor had been traced with white chalk.

“When vampires are hurt or helpless, they are able to transport here using teleportation. That’s what I did,” he said, a little out of breath, moving around the place. He was almost frantic, looking more and more worried as time passed.

“What are you? Worried… hurt?” asked Broomer, almost angry in his protective nature.

“No. But someone else is,” Weldon uttered gravely. Where the chalk had been traced Weldon bent over, grasping a seemingly invisible bed sheet. That was exactly what had happened.

Underneath the sheet was a shaking figure. The room was not cold enough to warrant such a writhing. It was something else.

“He’s been poisoned,” Weldon told Broomer with a seething anger.

“I can’t help him… I don’t know how… so I called you,” Weldon said with a hopeless expression Broomer could never deny. He could not resist the temptation of a helpless mate. Broomer held a covetous form of love, a feeling of possession. Helpless people were so easy to covet.

“Yes. I see. So what do you want me to do?” asked the stalky long man draped in black, the chill in the room billowing his cloak back and forth.

“I want you to help him– with your bite!” Weldon cried. His voice had gained a higher register, with a cracking essence.

“Do you care about this man?” asked Broomer. The convulsing creature was handsome– more handsome than Broomer. Weldon nodded as though it were obvious. He pleaded urgently.

“I don’t know how long it’ll be till he’s dead!” Weldon whimpered like a small pup. His eyes were large and imploring. Broomer liked to be needed. Some terrible piece of him enjoyed it– Weldon’s whimpering. Broomer continued to survey the man’s visage. It was coarse and sturdy, like an old cowboy from a Western. The man had a strong mustache, a black set of powerful hairs along the lip and the jaw. He seemed imposing. His expression seemed troubled, like a deranged patient, at their wit’s end.

Broomer felt an immediate level of competition with the victim of poisoning. Why did Weldon flock to another? Why had his mate felt some strange need for more?

“He’s your mate, isn’t he?” asked Broomer. Weldon stopped, a little taken aback by the question, confused.

“Y-yes,” Weldon replied, utterly bewildered.

“Why? Why’d you leave me for him?” Broomer asked, his voice lowering. He looked suspicious at Weldon, a gaze piercing and immense.

“That’s not important! HELP HIM!” Weldon screeched, sitting over his mate, hugging him out of a paralyzing fear.

“I think it’s important. Why’d you leave me?” Broomer asked, almost a threat. Weldon began to cry. He couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“WHAT IS IT? YOU THINK HE HAS A BETTER TASTE, DON’T YOU?” Broomer howled, snatching Weldon from the dying vampire on the floor. Weldon sat trying to dry his tears, shaking.

“Is that it? Does he taste better, huh?” Broomer barked again, to no reply.

“Fine. I’ll show you how well I can taste!” Broomer’s voice became calm and reserved, yet filled with foreboding. He snatched Weldon’s neck with a tensile grip, and brought him even closer. He bared his fangs, his mouth enclosing over the supple soft space between his jaw and collar bone. Immediately as Broomer began to suck, Weldon’s body became almost limp, a sexual lull possessing him.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Broomer crooned softly, in his deep commanding tone. Weldon struggled to answer. When a vampire has been possessed by the power of a taste, they are not entirely sound of mind. This was why Weldon had answered ‘yes’ rather than focusing on the dying mate before him.

Weldon fell into Broomer’s arms, limp and satisfied.

“That’s a good boy,” Broomer moaned, running his pale fingers through Weldon’s white platinum hair lovingly. He was glad to have his pet back. Possession was his game, and the only one that affirmed him. Possession was his life. He looked towards his convulsing opponent.

“Fool,” he scoffed, kicking the shaking man. He crouched down, kneeling over the man. Weldon had been placed on Broomer’s back, nearly unconscious. He sank his teeth into the skin of the man as though he were biting a red, seductive apple. Broomer himself could admit, the man was a delicious supper, a delicate soft desert to a meal. He was handsome, and seemingly refined (when he wasn’t poisoned and immoble). His expression was kind and not intrusive.

When a vampire truly tastes another, they receive an essence of the person they taste, an understanding of their being. Broomer learned about his own opponent as he feasted on this indulgent force.

He learned the man was kind and strong. He learned the man was free-willed yet a stalwart force. The man was good. The man was opposite of him.

And suddenly, he understood. He knew exactly why Weldon had left him. He knew why Weldon did not want to go back.

#gay #SA #vampire #macabre #blood #lovers #small town #fall #September #shortstory #gothic

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landofwindandskyscrapers · 3 months ago

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38/52 The Dragon Kings of Oklahoma

For a book with dragons and werewolves in it, it’s very grounded and realistic. The author researched the setting of impoverished communities in the Okies at length, and it shows; all the concerns of the characters are extremely down to earth. The protagonist is struggling to deal with an opioid addiction, and how he got hooked is a story that rings with truth. It’s authentic, yo. The setting is a slice of middle America in a world where fantasy elements exist and are uncommon but not rare. And in this setting, the protagonist and his best friend score big…and stupid. They get a-hold of a small breeding mother dragon with five eggs…and immediately plan to sell the baby drakes… Not even to score big, honestly. Just to make life suck a little less. This is the America of the opioid epidemic, of deaths of despair, of small communities dying a slow death and people dying and getting crippled rather than swallow their pride. It’s an America of people trying to survive a system that doesn’t think about them, caught in bureaucratic snares and paranoid about any kind of authority That’s what really hit me about this book, and I think was the reason I finished it in two days (!) The author (Ferrett Steinmetz) is someone who I’ve followed online for…I want to say the last twenty years? And he mentioned how much he extensively researched the parts of America shown in this book. And it shows! There’s just a sense…of authenticity around the whole story, of people knowing what the stereotypes of themselves are and playing off of that in part - while at times being stereotypes of themselves, to themselves. (It struck me how much of poor-country America runs on people knowing everybody else’s dirty laundry but never saying so aloud). I really did finish this book in record time, and I’m glad I pre-ordered it (I pre-ordered the sequel too, just on the strength of this). If I had anything to criticize is that it feels a tad predictable - but it’s the predictable of the old Star Wars ending with all the good guys winning, or of Sherlock Holmes solving the case - a kind of cozy predictability. Strongly, strongly recommended. Subscribe now via https://ift.tt/lD9RIAx

#from substack

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unfoundhoney · 4 years ago

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a sister’s sacrifice ; part two ↠

↠ platonic!c!sleepy bois inc x fem!reader , platonic!c!tubbo x fem!reader ; angst with a minuscule amount of fluff

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ;

↠ @leafyturtle @basheverythingyesterday @terribletoothbat

after all is said and done

after l’manberg is left half-ruined but still breathing

after techno runs off

after tommy and tubbo take seats in the cabinet

after wilbur has been killed by phil

after it all, you leave

you leave l’manberg & the rest of the server & refuse to pick a side

you move to a dark oak forest & build a little cottage for yourself hidden among the trees

you’re tired

you’re so so tired of everything & you just want to be at peace

of course, you could never fully leave everything

you’re still visited by your brothers (those that are left) & your friends

you help niki with her flower shop & various other building projects

you remain out of any political affairs tommy & tubbo are involved in

but you still spend most of your time alone in the woods

you’re content living like this

are you happy with the way your life has turned out?

god no

but you can live with being content

& then ghostbur shows up

(ghostbur) hello! are you the y/n phil keeps talking about?

you wanna talk about trauma?

let’s talk about being approached out of nowhere in the middle of the woods while mushroom hunting by your DEAD BROTHER and a blue sheep on a leash

what the f u c

(you, bewildered) ...will?

(ghostbur) i’m not wilbur. not the one you knew. i’m ghostbur! are you y/n? you look like phil described & i haven’t managed to find any other houses hidden in the dark oak forest.

this is... great

ghostbur becomes quite attached to you

will had distanced himself while living in pogtopia as his mental state deteriorated

it seems ghostbur is fulfilling the closeness alivebur wishes to have had maintained with you

.......

cool

this is fine

it’s totally fine

ghostbur visits you often

even though you know it’s not really your wilbur, it’s nice in some odd way to have a version of wilbur still around

it’s through ghostbur that you learn of tommy’s exile, long after it had happened

it seems no one wanted a protective mama bear y/n sent after them, so during your brief visits to the main residential areas, talk of tommy’s exile was conventiently never a conversation piece

you just figured he was busy or distracted or avoiding you like a moody teen

then ghostbur hands you a small letter one day

(you) what’s this?

(ghostbur) it’s an invitation to tommy’s beach party. he’s been quite lonely in exile

(you) quite lonely in what now

ghostbur fills you in as best as his little ghost brain can on what’s happened with tommy & burning down geroge’s house & tubbo exiling him

what do you mEAN TUBBO EXILED TOMMY????

WTFFFFF??????!!!

CAN YOU GET A BREAK????!!!?!?!?

WHAT ARE THESE IDIOT CHILDREN DOING

you’re the only person to get an invite

you watch from afar, wary of approaching your youngest brother with dream so close

you wait for dream to leave before going to him

(you) tommy?

(tommy) ...y/n!

you catch him in a hug without hesitation

(tommy) i knew you’d come

(you) tommy, i’m so sorry. i had no idea you’d even been exiled or i would have visited you immediately-... are you okay?

tommy is so....

he’s so.......

worn down

his clothes are torn & dirty, he has bags under his eyes

he’s thinner than he used to be, which is very concerning as he’s always been a bit of a walking stick

he just looks so tired

the usual fire that burns behind his eyes whether in anger or mischief or just happiness is nonexistent

(tommy) what?

(you) are you okay? i’d been worried because i hadn’t seen you around and- god, i’m so sorry. i should’ve looked for you or asked about you but i just assumed and now this and-... tom?

tommy just starts crying

because he thought you’d stopped caring about him too

he thought everyone stopped caring about him

but you’re here & you’re concerned & you’re as caring as usual

he buries his face in your shoulder & just cries his little heart out

you hold him and pet his hair and just let him cry

(you) tommy

(tommy) yeah?

(you) come home with me

(tommy) what?

(you) come home with me. you can live with me for the time being & we’ll get this sorted out, okay?

you’d seen how manipulative dream was being even in the short time you’d watched him & your brother, so it takes some convincing but soon tommy has packed his things & is heading out with you back to your home in the dark oak forest

you spend a while nursing him back to health, both physically & mentally

it’s truly heartbreaking having to recondition him out of the dependent mindset on dream

it also pisses you the fuck off but you focus your energy on tommy, not on revenge

tommy tries many times to convince you to come back

to go back to l’manberg & “plant the seed of rebellion”

which wasn’t even call for an actual rebellion, just that you could go back & raise hell about your littlest brother being exiled & demand he be allowed back

but time & time again you refuse

you are content staying away from everything & remaining out of conflict

tommy is very much not

so you lead him to techno’s new home

(you) don’t cause too much trouble for him

(tommy) he blew up l’manberg!

(you) wilbur blew up l’manberg. techno just tried to kill the government

you leave him there & head back home

do you get a moderately angry visit a few days later from techno, who eventually agrees to helping tommy upon your asking?

possibly

you’re not present when tommy & techno sneak onto the smp

you’re not there when tommy & tubbo fight

or during the doomsday war when techno, phil, & dream lay waste to l’manberg once and for all

you’re aware, yes

you’re around, you’re in the know

you just remain out of conflict & out of sight

you’re also not there to say goodbye to tommy & tubbo as they head off for their final battle with dream

that little tidbit you weren’t caught up on, too busy wallowing in your own self misery & crying over your broken family

but ghostbur comes to visit that day

(ghostbur) hello, y/n!

(you) hello, ghostbur. it’s nice to see you

(ghostbur) you, as well! would you like some blue

(you) no. thank you.

(ghostbur) i sure do hope tommy & tubbo come back alright

(you) come back from what?

you were expecting “a trip to the nether,” “a journey to a new woodland mansion,” “a search for sunken ships”

instead, you get:

(ghostbur) their final battle with dream. they set off not too long ago

(you) ........if you’ll excuse me

you head off immediately, tracking tommy & tubbo despite all odds

you do not care, those are your brothers & they are not dying on your watch to dream of all people

they may have been told it’s a battle

they may think they have a chance

but this is dream we’re talking about

you know a trap when you see one

you climb up the mountainside as stealthily as possible

you arrive just in time to hear tubbo’s screams as he is cornered and killed by dream, losing his second canon life

tommy seems to be beat into submission as dream threatens to kill tubbo a final time, who respawns defenseless without any of his items

dreams leads them down into the mountain, villain monologuing the whole way

dramatic bitch

you jump down after them, tired of hearing him threaten your brothers

(you) i think you’ve said enough, dream

(dream) there you are. i was beginning to wonder when mama bear would show up

you put yourself between dream and your brothers

(you) you won’t hurt them anymore. i’m taking them & we’re leaving

(dream) i don’t think that’s up to you, y/n

(you) we’ll see

you take the first swing at dream, landing a clean hack at his shoulder with your axe

but again

this is dream we’re talking about

you’ve never been the most talented fighter & dream is second only to technoblade

i.e. you never stood a chance

but all reason went out the window when it comes to saving your brothers

soon you’re backed against a wall, dream’s axe at your throat

(dream) well this was a waste of time

(you) you’re a monster

(dream) thanks

(you) you think distancing yourself from everyone & everything will work? trust me, it doesn’t. it doesn’t matter how far away you move or how much you push those you love away, those feelings will always be there

dream considers you for a moment

you hope he at least has no satisfaction as you stare back in defiance

you’re unafraid; coming down here was a death sentence & yet you still jumped in headfirst

(dream) maybe for someone like you. but i’m not like you. i don’t care about anything or anyone on this server. i’m not burdened by attachment & i will never be again.

(you) i pity you, dream

(dream) pity me in hell

dreams draws his arm back & swings his axe down

you will lose your final canon life to dream, for your brothers

it’s always for your brothers

as much as you think you should hate them, hate everyone for everything that has happened to you

you can’t

they’re your family

you’ll love them infinitely

tubbo gasps in shock & tommy gives a yell of protest

you know they love you, too

you close your eyes

dream’s axe meets your neck

and you’re gone

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yesimwriting · 4 years ago

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Dying Starlight

A/n: i dont think an audience for this exists?? ik it’s not shadow and bone related, but ive been reading red queen and i wanted to try writing maven and ive been playing with this idea. umm...on the off-chance that there is an audience for this i do think of this as more of a series but i’ll probably end up deleting this lol

(Series?) Summary: reader is a childhood friend of Mare’s who isn’t officially part of the Scarlet Guard but gets captured by Maven. As a prisoner, she feels like her mind is being messed with as she begins to see a more human side of Maven. The new King tells himself the only thing he sees in her is that she’s a way to get to Mare, but something about her genuiness is infectious.

Irony twists things. Right now, the irony that my last thoughts might be about how I wish I had been trusted with a suicide pill twist my impending doom into something almost comical. I’d laugh, but I’d rather not startle the rats in my cell. This has been their home for presumably years, but I’ve only been down here a few hours.

I scratch the back of my wrist, staring at tired stone walls like they’ve done something to me. I wish I knew what time it was. How long have I been down here? How long has it been since I was separated from Mare? An hour? Three?Each passing minute strikes me like a bullet, but I can’t count them. I’ve never had a talent for accurately feeling the passage of time.

My head aches, frustration and dread tangling themselves in the pit of my stomach. Mare told me the Queen can search through someone’s mind, seeing memories even they can’t remember. What will they do when they see I know virtually nothing? What will happen when they see how close Mare and I truly are? i can’t do anything and the unknown hurts more than my bruised rib.

The sound of the heavy door that divides the luxury of the castle from the wasteland of the cells creaks. I only let my arms flinch, moving from my side to wrap defensively around my stomach. Dull footsteps echo down the pathway that lead to the cell I’m in. I don’t cringe, not even when the sound of walking stops.

I was not born into a rich family, but I was born into a proud one. Fear was practically a criminal act in my household. I’ve been trained to suppress all signs of weakness. My eyes don’t leave the stone wall, I mentally trace the pattern of a long crack in a specific rock. It reminds me of the slope of the Big Dipper.

Will I ever see stars again? The answer leaves a sharp pain in my chest.

“Mare told me about you.”

The words jar me, my stomach dropping in revulsion. Mare had trusted him, and here he stands--successful because he’s a traitor. I know what it’s like to be the most overlooked sibling and to crave to change that. I know what it’s like to want to succeed more than you want air in your lungs, but I don’t think I’d ever betray someone. I like to think that there’s a line even the monster in me won’t cross.

I don’t look at him, partially out of an attempt to protest and partially because I’m afraid of what I’ll see. “She might have mentioned you in passing.”

His scoff is ridiculous. “She didn’t lie about your sense of humor.”

That almost makes me wince. His words are too close, too personal. It’s like he knows me. I turn my. head, ready to cut through the uneasy beginning to get to the miserable middle if it brings me to the end faster.

“You’re here to torment me, not make small talk.” Turning had been a mistake. I regret it instantly. His expression is unforgiving--cold, sharp, and made up of only angles. But that’s not why I stare. I did not expect him to be objectively attractive. The fine slope of his nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and the ice blue of his eyes. I need to snap out of this mindset. I’m sure his beauty will not be so distracting when he’s burning me. “Though some might consider that the same thing.”

He scoffs again, the sound dry. The sneer of his lips does not diminish his attractiveness. The fact makes me loathe him. “I wonder if you’ll still be so prone to humor after you’ve been broken--any information of worth extracted from your thoughts.”

“Let me save everyone the trouble and just tell you everything that I know now.” My back straightens despite the pain in my ribs. I look pathetic, dirty and in a torn dress. He’s regal, dressed in fine, all black clothing. “I know that Mare wanted to kill you today, I know that she needed a distraction and that her distraction needed to be expendable, which is why I’m sitting in front of you.” I squeeze my hands together awkwardly, a bit of genuine irritation rolling in my stomach. “That’s literally all I know, I’m not even part of the Guard.” I scratch the back of my wrist. If I were him, I wouldn’t believe that, but I’m being honest. How pitiful can one person be that they’re worth more disconnected from the group they work for than as an actual member? “You don’t take that kind of risk for someone that’s only skill set is in thought.”

I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but I don’t regret it. Maybe he’ll think that my story is so pathetic it has to be true. “You have to know more than that.”

“The Scarlet Guard only reaches out to me on a need-to-know basis, and anything worthwhile to you is something I clearly didn’t need to know.” In a way, I’m glad I can’t give him anything. “So are you going to kill me with a bullet or do you prefer more flamboyant executions?” My death should be plain. I am human completely--I bleed red and I have no powers. “I do think anything more than a simple death is more trouble than I’m worth.”

His lips press together oddly, something beneath his expression tightening. “You don’t think your dearest friend will return for you?”

The sarcasm in his voice sparks something in me I thought only my sister could. “I think she has a lot of responsibilities and I wouldn’t blame her for having priorities.”

His eyebrows draw together. “I think you’re painfully unaware of how attached to you she is.” I press my lips into a thin line. “She’ll come for you.”

Something selfish in me hopes that he’s right. No one has ever wanted me enough to come back for me. My mother wanted perfect daughters that knew how to only think in terms of trapping men with stable careers. My sister did it, but I could never manage, and to my mother that made me useless.

“If you believe it,” I mumble beneath my breath.

I don’t know if he hears me. I can’t bring myself to care if he did. “For your sake, you better not have lied to me.”

My back relaxes against the raspy wall, fighting down a grimace as the motion irritates my rib injury. “Cross my heart, Your Highness.”

I watch him carefully, his expression turning into something much more grim. “A King is referred to as His Majesty.”

“My father was a prominent war general and my mother only wanted daughters she could use to social climb.” I fight down a grin. “I know what I said.”

His expression darkens into something bone chilling. “I am the King and you’ll refer to me as such or deal with even less pleasant circumstances.”

I fight against the urge to cower, picturing Mare’s strength in my veins. There’s weakness in everyone, and if I squint I can see the thin cracks in him. “You have everything--the crown, the power, the support of the people, and it’s still not enough. You won and you still feel like you’re competing.”

“You don’t know anything,” he seethes, practically growling.

I shouldn’t press him, but the more he reacts, the more weaknesses are revealed. “I know what it’s like to have a sibling that’s the sun, and no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you’re always trapped in a shadow.”

The lighting makes his eyes look almost glazed over. “My mother will be here soon and the truth will be revealed.”

He can run from me, but not the truth. Cal has nothing, he has everything--the father that never cared for him is dead, and yet he’s still trapped. Our similarities hurt me more than my physical injuries.

Maven turns, his gaze moving off of me feels like the removal of heavy shackles. “It would do you well to not press me. You’re worth as much whole as you are broken.”

There’s the strangest hint of something more to his voice. I wonder if he’s speaking to more than just me. “You haven’t won until that voice in your head telling you that you’re not enough is silenced.”

“You’re a powerless girl who isn’t even wanted by a dying cause and couldn’t find a husband to drag her above the poverty line. You know nothing about me, and if you keep pretending I’ll slaughter you in front of your dear friend.”

He leaves without another word. I fall asleep with my back against the wall and my ribs aching.

#red queen #red queen x reader #maven #maven calore #maven calore x reader #maven calore imagine #red queen imagine #mare barrow #cal calore #bookboyfriend #book boyfriend x reader

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retrievablememories · 3 years ago

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love thy neighbor | kun (m)

title: love thy neighbor pairing: kun x black reader genre: fluff, smut, neighbors to lovers request: “Hello again Rain! I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to see you're open for requests again. Your writing in general is a treat to look forward to. An idea for a fic I'd like to suggest is wayv kun/black oc where they're neighbors that secretly pine for another and do feel free get very nsfw lmao. TY!” word count: 5.7k warnings: alcohol use, protected sex, dirty talk, dry humping, riding a/n: i used a prompt from this list of ideas to help me create this fic.

i’m sorry, this fic could’ve theoretically been finished long ago but took me 3893 years because kun intimidates me (and i don’t know why) and that makes it hard to write for him l m f a o chile anyway...

Your neighbor might actually kill you one day—but only in the figurative sense.

Kun is too beautiful and kind for your sanity; he’s like one of those men out of a romantic novel who simply should not exist. In other words, the ideal guy. One who helps all the little old ladies in the building take their groceries up to their apartments, one who feeds all the stray cats that hang around the complex, one who helps new tenants move their things in without even being asked.

Your roommate Charlotte would probably be totally smitten over him just like you if she did not already have her own happy relationship with her girlfriend. But since she does, she has decided to spend her time instead teasing you about your crush on him and trying to persuade you into getting tangled up in a matchmaking mess.

“I’m sure he already has a girlfriend, I don’t know, trying to shoot my shot seems ridiculous,” you say to her, worrying the edge of your blanket in your hands. You toss and turn on the couch, flipping onto your stomach and sighing before shuffling onto your back again. “People like that can never stay single for long. Right? They get snapped up quick.”

“You’d know if you simply asked,” Charlotte points out. “Staring holes into his head won’t help you find out more about him.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, your fingers stumbling over the blanket as it momentarily slips from your hands. Still, the idea of asking him if he’s dating anyone, whether discreetly or more openly, makes you nervous. You’ve talked to Kun several times before, even hung out with him at those friendly get-togethers your apartment building always holds to get the residents mingling, but you’re still anxious around him. It makes you feel silly, like you’re back in high school; but you aren’t quite sure what to do with those emotions or how to form them into something coherent. “Easy to say all that when you already have the person you want, though.”

“Oh, girl. Love is not easy, but that’s why you have to fucking work for it. AKA, go for what—or who—the hell you want and stop pining over him like some lost Juliet on our couch. It’s better than watching you flop around like a dying fish.”

You stand up from the couch abruptly, leaving your blanket to the side and glaring at her. “You don’t get it, ugh.”

“I get it! But you refuse to let me help—”

“Yes, because if I did, you’d say something completely ridiculous and tell him I’m madly in love with him or something.” You head to the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror.

Charlotte throws her hands up in surrender. “Hey, maybe. But that wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Really? I don’t think—”

“I think so. The way you talk about this guy, it’s definitely sounding a little like love to me.”

Once you’re satisfied, you come back in the main room and grab your keys, wanting to end this conversation before Charlotte sets a world record for how many times she can make you feel embarrassed. “Whatever you say. I’m gonna go to the corner store, so...speak now if you need something or forever hold your peace.”

“You can’t run from it,” Charlotte sing-songs, going back to reading her magazine. “And no, I don’t need anything.”

Once you get out your front door, it’s just your luck when you see Kun’s door is also open. You are not dressed for running into him, of all people; your “corner store” clothes being just a T-shirt, leggings, and slides. You freeze in place and momentarily think about unlocking your door and bolting back inside, which you realize is utterly ridiculous. By then, it’s too late; he’s already coming out his door and closing it behind him.

He perks up when he sees you outside, smiling at you with those deep dimples that make your insides melt. “Hey Y/N, good to see you.”

“Kun! Uh—great to see you too.”

“Are you going out somewhere?” he asks. Inwardly, he feels a bit silly for asking because you clearly are, keys in hand and everything.

“Yeah, just to the store to get a few things.” You wave your hand, and you almost have the urge to lean on your doorframe to appear more calm and collected than you are. Which could potentially end up looking sillier than you intended. “How about you?”

“Going to see a friend,” he answers, and he brushes his hand through his hair in a way that’s completely casual but somehow modelesque at the same time. This is unbelievable, you think to yourself. “We haven’t met up in a while, so…”

“Oh yeah, it’s always nice to go out with old friends,” you say, smiling at the thought of it. Kun nods his agreement, and then has an abrupt, wild idea to ask if you’d like to go out somewhere sometime. Too busy warring with himself over whether he should take the dive, he doesn’t notice you heading towards the stairs already. “I hope you two have a good time!”

“Oh—thanks. Hope you enjoy your trip.” He chuckles, following you down the steps to get to his car. Well, that moment has passed. Sure, he could probably still ask you now if he was bold enough about it, but it feels too awkward to randomly ask someone out in the middle of a stairwell.

You wave bye to him once you both get in the parking lot. He watches you walk to your car with a wistful smile on his face. He wants to say more to you, but the timing isn’t right and it’s best not to hold you up right now. Plus, Hendery’s probably already waiting for him.

It would’ve provided you with a lot of relief if you knew Kun was facing a similar dilemma to you. He’d never had much problem talking to women he liked in the past, but something about you made him feel clumsy and hesitant. But just like with your inability to move forward, there’s no way for you to know his feelings without him saying anything about it—which he has been hesitating over for the longest.

Maybe he was also still cowering from the embarrassment of the time he’d tried to show you a magic trick that didn’t quite work out, but it was a convenient excuse. At least for him, anyway.

One day he’d get the courage to tell you how he felt, but he didn’t think today was that day.

–

Some strong shots and a few hours at the club was exactly what you needed to unravel your nerves after a long week. You and a few others from your work had decided to go out that Saturday night as a group effort to unwind from dealing with your overbearing boss. “Just a couple shots” eventually turned into more than that, though, but you weren’t complaining. As long as it gave you the opportunity to discard all your issues for a while, you didn’t mind losing yourself a little.

However, your night of fun quickly dissolves into frustration when you realize you’ve lost your keys and have no way to get back into your apartment. You’re not even sure where they might’ve disappeared—in the club, or in the rideshare back to your apartment?

Charlotte is out of the city for the week visiting her long-distance girlfriend, so there’s no way you’re getting back in your apartment tonight. The main office won’t be open at this hour, either; it’s the weekend, and nobody will be there regardless until Monday. And you’re definitely not drunk enough or desperate enough to try to bust the door down.

Though it pains you to do so, you knock on Kun’s door, your head throbbing and dizzy. You feel bad about this. He won’t even be awake at this hour and might not answer, but you don’t know what other options you have. You aren’t familiar enough with your other neighbors to ask this of them. Especially not the old lady living on the other side of you who has a perpetually judgmental aura towards everyone in the apartment building. The only person she seems marginally approving of is none other than the man himself—Qian Kun.

It takes a good minute or two, but you hear the latch unlock, and Kun is suddenly standing in front of you, a look of concern on his sleepy face. He is adorable like this, in his pajamas and his hair mussed and his eyes foggy with sleep. He’s so cute it makes you want to cry—and so you do.

But your tears are mostly because you’re very tipsy and tired and currently locked out of your very comfortable apartment.

This awakens Kun immediately. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He gently pulls you into his apartment, his tone quiet but panicked as you put your face in your hands and cry. You just shake your head for a few moments, crying too much to say anything to him. When you don’t reply, he doesn't try to press you for answers; he just puts his arms around you, a bit carefully as if you’re made of some easily breakable material, and lets you wet his T-shirt with your tears.

Finally, when you’ve collected yourself some, you abruptly feel foolish for crying over something like this. He probably thinks someone’s died, and you’ve gotten him all worked up for practically nothing. “I-I’m locked out,” you sigh heavily, and he has enough politeness not to outwardly react to your alcohol breath with your close proximity. “And my roommate is gone…forever.”

His eyebrows lift. “Forever?”

“The whole week, Kun...but it feels like...f-forever.”

“Ah...I see. Is that why you were crying?”

You put your head back in your hands. “Just kill me.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Kun says, and there is a tiny lift to his mouth like he wants to smile at your dramatics. “It’s fine. You can stay here tonight.”

“Kun, thank you.” You’re still loosely embracing each other, and you squeeze your arms more tightly around him. Maybe it’s just a reason to rest your head on his chest again and hear his heart beating strong against your cheek, but you wouldn’t admit that. Wait, why is his heart beating so fast? “Thank youuu, I love you so much, this means the world to me.”

Kun’s mind catches on the words I love you so much, and he knows you’re just drunk and need to sleep it off and aren’t really thinking about what you’re saying, but he cannot help lingering there for a moment. He’s glad the front room is still dim from the single lamp he turned on, otherwise you might notice the flush growing on his cheeks. “I...it’s no problem. We should get you comfortable, then.”

As it turns out, get you comfortable means he lets you sleep in his bed while he takes the couch. In another context you’d protest, not wanting to kick him out of his own space, but you are simply too smashed to think about it. You’re seconds away from falling asleep where you stand now that the adrenaline of discovering you’re locked out has worn off. Kun has the idea to make you drink some ice cold water, though, which wakes you up enough to take a proper shower.

By the time you get out of the shower and are wearing his clothes—his clothes—you are feeling a little more sober. You also feel like you’re going to have another small meltdown over all this. “This” being: wearing Kun’s clothes and standing in his bedroom, which is decorated with all his interests and treasured belongings. There’s a small studio setup in one corner, which interests you, but you don’t investigate it any further.

Now you have another little problem, though; what are you gonna do about the pillows? You don’t have anything to cover your hair with, with all your scarves and bonnets in your own apartment. One night of sleeping on a cotton pillow wouldn’t kill you, but that doesn’t make it any less distasteful to think about.

Kun comes into the bedroom to check on you and sees you puzzling around, sitting on the bed and looking awkward. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh. It’s nothing really,” you rush out, unsure if you should tell him about a problem he likely won’t even understand. It must be at least 4:00 a.m. by now, meaning you both desperately need to get some sleep.

“You can tell me, I won’t bite.”

I wouldn’t mind if you did pops into your head, but you immediately try to ignore that thought and are silently grateful that you do not blush visibly.

“Uh, my hair.”

“Your hair?”

“Okay, I need to cover it at night so it won’t get all broken off or anything—sleeping on cotton does wonders for destroying moisture—but I don’t have anything here to use. I mean—it’s...not a huge deal though, I can deal with it for a night?” You’re rambling now. Kun just nods, taking in all this information like he’s listening to something very important and very interesting.

“So then, what would you do to stop that?”

“Wear a scarf, or a bonnet, or using a silk pillowcase works, too. But you probably don’t have any of that stuff, you don’t have to bother with it—”

“Well, let me see.” Kun disappears into his closet and you pause, wondering for a moment if he actually does have a bonnet or something in there. Which would probably be a little hilarious to you.

He comes back out with not a bonnet of a scarf or even a pillowcase, but one of his own shirts. It’s just the right material though, being a pretty purple silk.

“Oh—Kun.” At this point, there are several emotions all trying to come to the forefront, though you have no clue which one to settle on. “Your shirt? You really don’t have to. I could…”

“It’s just a shirt, Y/N. There are a lot more where that comes from...I don’t mind.” He chuckles.

You sigh bashfully but take the shirt from him. “Thank you, it’s really thoughtful of you.” You cover the pillow with his shirt, and it works perfectly.

“Anyway, if you need anything else, just tell me,” he says, lingering by the door.

“I will...thank you,” you say, your voice quiet as you give him a nervous smile. Only when he shuts the door and his footsteps fade away do you allow yourself to bunch the comforter in your fists and scream into it. Everything in here smells just like him, which is probably more than enough to fuel all of your Qian Kun-related daydreams for the next 8 months.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off when you finally do lie down, and your mind is blissfully empty of anything throughout the night.

The next day takes a bit of settling into. You’re momentarily alarmed when you wake up faced with a strange room until you remember last night’s events and recall where you are. There is also the smell of food, good food, which is also sadly unfamiliar to you. Charlotte can’t cook to save either of your lives, so you know you’d never be waking up to the smell of a professional chef-approved breakfast if you were still in your apartment with her.

Walking out of Kun’s room, you see that he’s in the kitchen, halfway finished with cooking breakfast for the both of you. It’s more like brunch at this hour, but what does that matter.

You linger at the doorway for a moment, allowing yourself to imagine that this is what things would be like if you were dating. Getting this view everyday? Life cannot be this unfair.

Maybe not too much, though, since you are standing in his kitchen.

“Oh, good morning,” he greets you, breaking your reverie. “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. I slept great. Thanks again for, you know, the shirt, haha…”

He grins, and his dimples come out. “Sure thing. Go ahead and sit! Breakfast will be ready soon.”

It’s the best breakfast you’ve eaten since living with Charlotte; maybe some of the best food you’ve ever had. “I had no idea you could cook this well,” you say. “I mean. I guess I wouldn’t since I haven’t—you know, uh—eaten here before, but—it’s great.” It’s just your luck that your thoughts come out in this fumbling mini-rant, but Kun only laughs good-naturedly.

“Thank you, I’m truly glad you like it.”

You both continue eating breakfast while making light conversation. This just might be the longest conversation you’ve had with each other, and that knowledge seems surreal. You’re almost a little glad you lost your key. Almost.

“So...today is Sunday. And the leasing office still won’t be open until Monday.” Kun says this over the remnants of breakfast. He speaks in a measured tone, like he’s trying to ensure he says the right thing. Whatever that could possibly be. “And you told me your roommate won’t be back until Monday.”

To your credit, you hadn’t exactly accounted for this when you first came over to his place in your distressed state. That means another night spent in his apartment though, which becomes very obvious to you now. “Ah. Sorry, am I imposing?”

“What—no, I-I just wanted to make sure you knew you can stay here tonight, or—however long you need.”

Relief floods through you, and you briefly wonder why you even worried about it; as far as you know, he’s not the kind of person to just kick someone out. “Ohh, of course—that’s good to know. Thank you for all this!”

“You’re welcome.” You miss the smile he gives to your response as you’re busy drinking your juice, but it’s one filled with a certain affection.

It feels a bit awkward to just sit around in his apartment all day, with nothing to do and all your belongings still locked out of your reach in your own place, so Kun shows you the studio in the corner of his room. He’d talked about being into music before, but you’d never heard anything of his until now.

When he plays the keyboard for you, it’s to the tune of a beautiful self-composed song. You almost pinch yourself to remind yourself this isn’t a hallucination or a fever dream. A man this appealing really exists, and you’ve stayed the night in his apartment and eaten his breakfast. You give a small round of applause when he finishes.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you became a famous singer or something? I’d come to all your concerts,” you say lightly, kicking your legs on the edge of his bed.

“All? Really, all?” He laughs.

“Yes, all. A voice and talent like that deserves all the attention.” You lean back on his bed, stretching your legs out. “But all your venues would probably be sold out. Hopefully you’d remember me from your lil’ ole apartment building. I’m sure you’d be living in a penthouse by then.”

Kun smiles bashfully at your compliments, waving his hands as if it’s too much. “Thank you. But I don’t think I could ever forget you.” His voice grows a bit softer. His expression is more genuine than you expect for a conversation that was so playful only seconds ago, and you find it hard to hold eye contact all of a sudden.

It is your turn to be bashful, and you shrug in an effort to seem natural. “Well, I’m flattered.” Despite your unaffected demeanor, you don’t think those words will leave your mind for a good while, even if you wonder about the meaning of them.

Later that evening, Kun makes dinner and you watch TV together, flipping to whatever channels have dramas or movies playing.

You two eventually fall into another conversation when you can’t find anything good to watch—one that does not make you overly nervous for once. During a lull in the talking, that big question pops up into your mind, and you wince internally at how Charlotte would’ve already told you to make a move. You aren't sure how to do that without making him uncomfortable or seeming too sudden, but you decide to make an attempt.

You edge into it with, “So, um, your place looks pretty nice for one guy. It’s just you here, right?”

“Ah yeah, just me. Thanks, I do try my best.”

“Haha, I’m used to my guy friends all having super messy apartments until they get a girlfriend and she teaches them how to clean a stove for the first time…”

“Oh really? That’s a bit sad for them, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “I’m not dating anyone right now, so it’s all me.”

Just the information you were looking for. You try not to show your elation. “Why not?” you blurt out. Then you cringe because this might sound too invasive or even judgmental, but Kun only grins. “It’s just, it’s a little surprising. You’re such a generous person. You seem to care about everyone, even those poor stray kitties that stay outside the apartments all the time.”

He smiles timidly in response to receiving more of your compliments. “I guess it seems curious when you put it like that.” Just like when you’d drunkenly said I love you so much, there’s suddenly heat on the back of his neck that he hopes won’t turn into another blush that’ll expose him. “I don’t really know, I haven’t thought much about it; life’s weird like that.” He isn’t really sure how to answer that question in a way that won’t be too big of a hint that he’s interested in you, though he’s also not entirely sure why he’s still trying to hide it. Wouldn’t now be the perfect opportunity? When will you two have this much time together again? Still, you staying in his apartment for two days doesn’t mean you like him, and maybe he’s jumping the gun.

“That’s true. Guess that’s the same reason why I’ve been alone for a while now.” You shake your head.

“You?” Kun is equally surprised to know this about you.

You laugh incredulously. “Does that shock you or something?”

“I...well.” He rubs the back of his neck as he searches for the words. “I just thought...you’re very pretty, and you’re always really kind when we speak, so...”

“Oh?” Your face heats up at that.

“Yeah, I…think anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your body’s first instinct is to freeze with nervousness, but you know Charlotte would be kicking your ass in gear right now if she were somehow here. So, you decide to stop stressing about it and just do it. “Well...wouldn’t it be nice if we both had a way to fix our problems at the same time?”

Kun pauses for a moment before replying. “What do you suggest?” He knows what you are proposing—you can see in his eyes and his slight grin and his posture that he knows—but maybe he wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Hm, well…I don’t know, what do you think?” You lean a bit closer to him, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look innocent and unassuming. His smile turns into something different with your increased proximity. Something a little more sly.

Mirroring your actions, he inches nearer to you until there’s little space left between. “Well, I think…” Kun tentatively closes the remaining gap between the two of you, the rest of his sentence left to linger as his soft lips envelop yours.

Maybe it’s corny to say it, but it definitely feels like one of those fairytale kisses with the fireworks going off and streamers popping; even though you’re sitting on his couch wearing his pajamas, some movie in the background you’ve long forgotten the plot of, empty dinner plates sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You aren’t sure how you end up in his lap—who made the first move? Was it his hand on your back or your hands on his shoulders? You straddle him on the couch, your arms slipping around his shoulders and his hands on your back but assuredly traveling farther down your body.

Kun’s hands come to rest on your thighs, pulling the fabric of his shorts up a few inches higher. “I never thought I’d see you wearing my clothes,” he says lowly, grinning against your mouth.

“I also never thought I’d be sitting in your lap like this, but maybe sometimes dreams do come true,” you say jokingly, your lips rubbing against his skin as you slowly kiss his jaw.

You can’t see his expression, but his eyebrows shoot up at that. “Dreams, huh? You think about me often?” His voice pitches lower when he asks this, aroused by the thought of you imagining anything quite so lewd about him. You’ve definitely incriminated yourself now and won’t be able to wiggle out of it without an answer.

“...Maybe.”

“What do you think about me?” Kun grips your hips, which quickly turns into him grabbing your ass—tentatively at first to test the waters, and then firmly enough to grind you against his hardening cock. Sensing him solid and warm underneath you sends a shockwave down your spine, and the sensation heightens when his voice caresses your ear, all low and tense with arousal. “It’s just the two of us here. No one else has to know.”

“I think about your...lips. How you might kiss me. Or what you might say to me. And...your hands.” You pause there, a quiet breath whispering past your lips. “You have really big hands, you know.”

“My hands…” Kun places one on your chest, spreading his fingers across and touching your collarbone. The heel of his palm glides on the top of your breast, and just that touch is enough to get you more worked up. “Hmm. Actually, I’ll admit I’m pretty good with my hands.” He smirks, and he’s possibly the finest thing you’ve ever seen. “What else, Y/N?”

“I thought about how you’d touch me.” His hand slides between your breasts now, down your sternum, and to your stomach. “Maybe I’d invite you into my apartment when Charlotte wasn’t there. We’d watch some stupid movie and pretend to be into it, but we’re really just thinking about each other. You’d eventually end up slipping your hand up my skirt...and making me cum all over your fingers.”

You aren’t sure how you’re saying all this to Kun right now, the dude you have a major crush on, without bursting into flames.

His shaft rubbing against your clit even through your layers of clothes makes you sigh dreamily, pressing your forehead to his and gripping at his shoulders and biceps. His bangs are soft against your forehead, and your breath stutters when he moves to kiss the side of your neck. He has to know how hard your heart is beating right now.

“And then what?” His voice is barely a whisper, then.

“And then you’d fuck me, of course.” There’s a slight laugh in your voice at the ticklish feeling of his lips kissing your skin.

“And then I’d fuck you...hm,” he echoes. “Sure, I can do that.”

The promise of it entices you, and more heat pools between your legs, amplified by the fabric rubbing against your sensitive parts. His hand that’s still on your stomach travels under your shirt then, and your hips falter in your rhythm against him when his fingers brush across your nipple. He brings his lips to your other breast, lapping his tongue against your nipple over the fabric.

You soon come like this, his shaft grinding against your clit and his clothes rubbing against your skin, his hands on your ass and his lips traveling across your breasts. The orgasm is sudden and surprises you, but it’s good, and you convulse as the waves of pleasure course through you. You weaken and slump against him, with him still teasing your breasts with his mouth and hands. Pushing your face into his hair, you moan into the black strands until the quivering stops.

You’re breathless when you speak again. “You haven’t come yet.”

“I’d rather do that when I’m inside you,” he replies. You giggle quietly.

“...What are you waiting for, then?”

“Hold on.” Kun carefully maneuvers you off his lap, and you already want to complain at the lack of his touch. “I have to get a condom.”

“Hurry, or you’ll miss all the fun,” you say as you pull your shirt off with your back to him. You look back over your shoulder at him and grin mischievously.

“You’re such a tease…”

Kun goes into his room to fetch a condom, and when he returns he’s already pulling his shirt off, leaving it on the floor somewhere. You’re fully naked now, your legs pulled up to your chest and your chin resting on your knees as you sit on the couch. Kun’s eyes drop between your legs, your inner thighs still glistening from your previous orgasm, and he swipes his tongue across his lips at the sight of you, wet and ready for him.

Likewise, your eyes drop to the dark trail of hair leading into his pants and his bulge just below it, the way his sweatpants cling to his length, and your pussy throbs with the desire to be filled.

“Please, hurry.”

Kun doesn’t waste any time in getting the rest of his clothes off, shoving his pants and underwear done in one swift move and rolling the condom over his shaft. He climbs onto the couch, grabbing your legs and guiding them around his waist, and you giggle at his eager but gentle touch as you recline on the couch pillows behind you.

He grabs his dick and lines it up with you, then pushes it in slowly at first. The stretch makes your toes curl, but it is a good kind of stretch, the kind that fills you to the brim. Like the missing element you needed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice husky from the pleasure.

“Fuck, please,” is your answer as you shift your hips and try to get him all the way inside quicker. Noticing your urgency, he slides the rest of the way in until your hips are flush against each other and starts thrusting into you. His length dragging across your walls feels much better than you could’ve imagined on any given night, and you clasp your legs tighter around him to get ever closer.

After a point, he pushes your legs up with his hands behind your knees so he can get a deeper angle, and you both moan at the difference in sensation and how much tighter you get around him.

There is no ignoring the messy wet noises of your bodies colliding due to the slickness of your previous orgasm and the new wetness he’s continually fucking out of you. Each thrust reaches deep inside you, deep enough to make you nearly sob, your hands fumbling over your breasts and your clit all the while.

“Kun, god yes please,” you whimper, rocking your hips into the rhythm of his own. You fucking him back makes him groan deeply, his bangs hanging off his forehead as he dips his head to watch himself slide in and out of you. You could not control the urge or the motion of your body even if you wanted to; you want all of him, as close as he can get.

“I don’t want this to end,” he moans, and he pulls out without a warning. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, and your discontent comes out in a full whine. You’d be more embarrassed about it if you weren’t currently consumed with desire, but you presently do not care.

Kun sits back on the couch and pulls you on top of him again. “Ride me,” he says. So you grasp the base of his cock, him grunting as you do, and you press the tip against your entrance before pushing it in. He watches himself slip inside of you while fully enraptured, one hand tight on your hip.

Once you are full with him again, you experimentally grind against him to see how it’ll feel in this new position, and your arms tremble as his pelvis stimulates your clit.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, grasping the nape of your neck and kissing you hard once more, “fuck yourself on me.”

So you keep grinding your clit on him like that, your limbs shaking from the stimulation and your walls fluttering around his cock. You can barely catch a complete breath from him kissing you hard enough to make your lips swell, and your head is so fogged with lust that all you can concentrate on is getting yourself off just like he told you to do.

“Kun…” You roll your head onto his shoulder, pressing your forehead into his skin, your body tiring as you get closer to reaching that high. You’re so close to coming, but you’re not sure if you have enough strength left to get there on your own. Kun notices the state you’re in and grasps your hips to pull them into his, effortlessly sliding himself into you while making sure your clit gets stimulated at the same time.

The new friction of his dick rubbing against your g-spot in this position is enough to have you finally coming and crying out against his neck.

You continue babbling nonsense against his neck as he keeps fucking you, searching for his own end. His hands are hot on your body as he moves you up and down his length.

His climax comes soon after yours, his dick pulsing and his pace slowing. Your back arches at the sensation of him throbbing inside you and releasing his cum into the condom. The way he groans in your ear has your stomach clenching.

For a few minutes after, you both sit quietly and do nothing but cling to one another as you come down from the pleasure.

“So, does this mean we’re together now…?” Kun asks hopefully, running his hands over your back as you lie against him.

You smile against his skin. “Obviously. But if you still want to convince me, we can go a couple more rounds…”

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