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squeeneyart · 3 years ago

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Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 25

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Beta reader as always is @thesnadger

Nothing to do but talk.

Martin and Jon settle in for a movie night.

The documentary, if it could be called that, was absolute bunk.

Littered throughout were vague interviews and wild assumptions on the part of the very on-screen director, all tied together with a final push for people to purchase a very specific brand of smoke detector. And the low quality of the video couldn’t be blamed solely on Martin’s internet.

They watched the thing from start to finish, though, and by the end of its 70-minute runtime (“I should’ve guessed by how short it was,” Jon had grumbled partway through) their viewing had turned primarily to Jon taking the piss out of it. Academically, of course.

On Martin’s end the film itself was bad in an enjoyable way, and while he didn’t have the context for all of Jon’s complaints it was easy for him to listen. He’d even made some jokes that got Jon to snort.

He did have to sit uncomfortably straight to keep from leaning against each other. Jon had turned it a bit so they could both see, but when viewed from too hard an angle the picture looked even worse. So, Martin did his best to give Jon space and not let the effort distract him from the screen.

All of this being true, Martin was grateful for the horrible film. Nothing filled silence better than movies and television, so the nights following they settled into a routine. Someone would make dinner (with no further… outbursts) and then they would find something to watch. Afterwards they would say goodnight and Martin would escape upstairs to decompress with his little notebook.

Jon’s original idea had been to find something related to their goals. However, after another let down on night two involving a very old retrospective on the mid-century fishing industry (“Wrong century,” Martin had said about five minutes in), Jon dropped the idea, thus opening up a whole new world of cable television and old vhs tapes on night three.

“You bought yourself a laptop but never had a dvd player?” Jon yawned, getting comfortable on his side of the couch.

“We sort of… skipped it?” Martin dug through a box of tapes for something worth watching, sifting through sappier options and 80s action flicks alike. “Dunno how, but we never got one. The laptop ended up being the first thing I ever had to play dvds, but the telly is too old to be hooked up to it. S’fine, though. I like tapes.”

“And you never get bored of it? Flipping between tapes and whatever’s on at a given time?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I have a phone for other stuff, obviously. To be honest I don’t watch a lot to begin with, nothing new anyway.”

“Hmph. Same for me,” Jon conceded, sinking further into the couch. “Feels like there are other things I could be doing.”

“Except for now?”

A wry smile. “Special case.”

Martin’s stomach did a flip. He didn’t feel guilty, per se, but he wished he had something for Jon to work on to stave off the boredom. Everything had been so quiet with Peter gone and Simon’s waiting that no new leads had popped up. It wasn’t fair that Jon had to sit around doing nothing after wandering about in the sea for weeks. The least he could do was provide some entertainment.

“Hm. Right, how about this one?” Martin looked back and waved a vhs set. It was some old fantasy series with a group of children on the cover standing in a hallway. “Haven’t watched it since I was a kid, but I remember liking it.”

“Two tapes’ worth?” Jon glanced up at the ceiling. “It’s in episodes, right?”

“Yeah, though if you’d rather find something else…?”

Jon waved his hand. "No, I can’t spend the whole evening making up my mind. If we don’t like it, then we can find something else.”

With that settled Martin popped the tape in and took up his seat. On the other end, Jon sat with the blanket pulled to his chest. He wore a new set of pyjamas Martin had picked up at the shop along with a few other things to save Jon from having to wear the same clothes day and night.

The show was a simple series meant for children, easy enough to follow in plot that some side chatter didn’t interrupt things too much. Honestly, Martin was glad they weren’t paying a whole lot of attention. He hadn’t watched it in years and wasn’t looking to be embarrassed.

A few minutes in, the children from the cover were running up the stairs to explore a large house. “Safe to assume you don’t have siblings?” Jon asked.

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s just me. You?”

He snorted. “Even if my grandmother wanted another child running around, I was enough to deal with.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “What, were you a terror?”

“I’d use the word ‘adventurous’, but she would’ve agreed with that description. If we’d been in that house,” Jon gestured toward the screen, “she would’ve been in trouble. Until it ate me or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes?”

Jon frowned. “That’s- No, I mean if it were real it would probably mean harm. Supernatural houses aren’t trustworthy entities outside of fiction. In fiction they’re mischievous at the least.”

“Can’t imagine that, a building that likes to mess with you,” Martin said, grimacing. He really didn’t remember much about this story. Maybe that was how it went? “I’m sure they’ll be fine. I wasn’t into spooky things back then.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but I’m not letting my guard down,” Jon said. He watched as the children walked up a spiral staircase. “Would you have wanted siblings?”

Martin considered this. “I can’t imagine having them? But an older sibling would’ve been nice. Someone to know better and help me with things.”

“I think any other child would’ve found me irritating, older or younger. Best to keep to myself,” Jon said dryly. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, you can imagine the additional worry of raising a child who could explore the ocean like it was the woods. It’s not like she could follow me in.”

“I bet… She wasn’t like you, then?”

Turning back to the television, Jon said, “No. She was from my father’s side.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t tell if the question was wrong to ask, so looked back to the show. It was luck of the draw, then, whether someone was born with a selkie skin. Perhaps there was nothing to do with genetics in circumstances like this.

Back on the screen, one of the children had chosen to wander outside into the beginnings of a snowstorm with no thought to the cold. Outside the real world window it had begun to hail, and Martin realized how frigid it had become both outdoors and in.

“Well, at least this story is right for the season,” Martin said, standing up. “I’m gonna grab another blanket.”

With a start, Jon looked at him and held up the one he was under. “Do you want this one? I don’t-”

“N-no, that’s fine!” He walked briskly out of the room, feeling rude and stupid. All Jon had offered was for him to use the damned thing, not share it. And it wouldn’t have fit both of them even if he had meant it that way!

Opening the hall closet, he tried to calm down. He peered at the pile of folded sheets and blankets, lifting each layer to search for one he liked. There was a flannel one somewhere, deceptively warm for how thin it was-

Oh.

Tucked far down into the pile, far back enough so it was hidden if the one above wasn’t lifted, Martin saw something dappled and grey and out of place amongst the linen. Jon had left it to dry completely beforehand, so the surrounding fabric was unwrinkled. Considerate. And in a decent hiding place all things considered. It was a shame Martin had gone and ruined it.

He sighed, grabbing one of the blankets at the top that he’d initially passed on. Once he reached the doorway to the living room, he stopped and stared at Jon who was doing his best to seem unperturbed.

“So, I saw it,” he started, squeezing the blanket in his arms into his chest. “I use that closet a lot, if you want to put it somewhere else.”

Jon winced and stood. As Martin let him pass, he mumbled, “Right. I’ll just-”

And then Martin was left to sit back on the couch and wait, pausing the tape out of courtesy.

When the skin had disappeared from the shower that first morning he hadn’t considered anything but Jon hiding it, and there was an awful satisfaction in knowing he was right. He rubbed his arm and stared at the blanket in his lap, still neat and folded.

After a couple of minutes, Jon returned empty handed and resumed his seat. Pulling his blanket back up, he said, “It’s nothing… personal.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath and pressed play on the old remote, letting the child continue their new solo adventure. “I figured you hid it.”

“I appreciate that you told me.” His voice was stilted and unsure. “That you found it.”

“Sure, whatever helps.” Unfolding the blanket, he pulled it up to his shoulders and leaned on the arm rest. He could feel Jon fidgeting in place, turning the blanket so it faced the right way and making it tuck under him in the right places. Martin kept his eyes ahead.

Finally giving up on any further adjustments, Jon slouched into place. “It does help. I know my caution can come off as distrust, but genuinely I just… I need to keep it hidden. I need to know where it is and to be the only one who does. For now.”

“You… don’t need to justify anything.” Martin sighed and had to fight back a yawn. “It’s your coat.”

A grunt of frustration. “No, you don’t- It’s not a rational thing. I trusted you enough to tell you the truth, and yet I was barely into my first night here before I panicked and stowed it away.” He sat upright and let the blanket fall to his lap, quiet distress written across the lines of his forehead.

Grasping for words, Martin said, “You still haven’t known me that long. It’s not wrong to be careful.”

“That’s not the point,” Jon replied quietly, resting elbows on knees. “It hasn’t been all that long in the grand scheme of things, but a lot has happened. I consider you a friend. And yet I can’t stop feeling like everything is about to go wrong if I’m not careful.”

The hail continued to slam against the window, almost overpowering the sound of the television and the faun describing the witch’s plans. On the far side of the couch, Jon remained hunched over his own knees with his face bent in irritation.

A wave of shame broke against him, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Carefully, Martin scooted over just enough to reach out a hand. His trembling fingers hovered just an inch away, brushing against the fabric of Jon’s shirt before coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jon whispered, massaging around his eyes with his fingers. He reached his free hand up to tentatively cover Martin’s, giving it a tiny squeeze. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Do you… want to keep watching?”

Jon nodded, shaking himself out a little. Martin released the gentle grip on his shoulder, though he didn’t move away. They both settled into the back of the couch and watched.

The child had gone back inside with the shivers, but no one was to be found. Around the halls she wandered, calling her siblings’ names with indignation that slowly turned to concern and then to fear. Eventually she was running, and it wasn’t until she was on the upper floor that one of her brothers popped out to scare the living daylights out of her.

Deep down he remembered this part making him cry. Perhaps siblings weren’t worth it with how cruel children could be.

Martin coughed. “You explored the sea as a kid, then?”

Jumping slightly, Jon said, “O-only a couple of times. And not far from the land. And it’s not as fun when you can only grab one thing at a time, with your mouth. I sorely missed my pockets and picking up sticks.” As he spoke, he resumed the more casual tone from before with modest success.

“You thought checking out the sea with no real limits was too much of a hassle?”

With a roll of his eyes, Jon said, “It wasn’t entirely that. Eventually my grandmother warned me away from it. Told me about dangerous animals that absolutely weren’t native to the coast where we lived.”

“Great white sharks?”

“Surrounding our seaside village on every watery side, ready to eat hapless little seal boys who didn’t listen to their nans.”

Martin chuckled, relaxing further into his seat and listening to Jon go on about all the ways his grandmother had tried and failed to reign him in. He could see it, a younger, scrappier version of the man next to him stomping around the woods and climbing fences.

The instinct wasn’t all that relatable to someone like Martin who’d kept to the front porch on nice days, but it sounded like an adventure. Maybe it meant he was less likely to get eaten by an evil wardrobe out of the two of them. In his position he could only hope that was the case.

They called it for the night when, out of nowhere, a man suddenly appeared at half opacity screen and let out a screeching noise to close out an episode, making Jon laugh in a way that only could’ve been from exhaustion.

Martin lingered downstairs for a while after they shut the television off. It was Friday, after all. For many reasons they couldn’t go out to a pub, but without the need to get up early he could afford to stay up a little longer and listen to a sleepy Jon talk over the tapping on the window panes.

Tim: not next weekend, but the one after i think. finally time to call it on preparation and get down to business, if this is something we can be prepared for

Martin: encouraging

Tim: look its been rough over here, alright?

Martin: i know, sorry. itll be easier to talk once we’re all in one place

Tim: yeah

Tim: things are ok over there, then? youre sounding better

Martin: ?

Tim: it was starting to get scary if im honest, how quiet you were

Martin: oh, sorry. things are fine, just didnt have a lot to say

Tim: yeah, i get it. its hard to fill the space. dont be a stranger though. in a few weeks we’ll be there to get you out of this mess

Martin: looking forward to it

Sighing, Martin looked from the private chat to Jon, who was ignoring his breakfast to type away at the laptop. “Sounds like the others are making plans to get here.”

Jon looked up briefly. “Good. It will be… nice to see them.”

“And show them you’re not dead?”

Ignoring this, Jon said, “How is Tim doing?”

He glanced back at his phone. “Worried. About a lot of things, I think.”

“Thinking of how he’s going to break my disappearance to you, no doubt,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. He avoided Martin’s eyes. “That’ll be resolved soon enough.”

Martin poked at the eggs on his plate. “He… lost someone, didn’t he?”

It was only for a moment, but Jon froze in the middle of setting his mug down. He seemed to struggle with an answer.

“It’s fine if you can’t say, but he implied as much,” Martin said gently.

With a frown, Jon shut the laptop. “Sasha knows more than I do, but yes. His brother, a few years ago.”

“Oh. That’s… really sad.” He leaned back in his chair. “He seems like he’d be a good brother.”

“I’m sure he was. He certainly looks out for us.” Jon took a bite of his toast.

“As best as he can,” Martin added sheepishly.

“Once this is all finished he’s earned a vacation.”

Yes, they’d all given poor Tim their share of heart attacks. Martin had managed to several times in the last month. But at least when the time came Tim would see that both of them were alive and themselves and able to apologize for making his and Sasha’s lives just a bit harder than they needed to be.

Once it was all finished.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #selkie au

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carriagelamp · 4 years ago

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April l was apparently the month for me to revisit some children’s authors who are steeped in controversy at the moment. So here’s my hot (well, lukewarm) takes on issues that absolutely do not need a single other person talking about them. Also some actual good books that I read this month!

Badger in the Basement

The Animal Ark books are a childhood classic — though I recently found out that apparently there’s a difference between American and British publications, and the American versions didn’t include a lot of actual COOL animals which is… bizarre. As a Canadian stuck in the middle of this, this nonsense drives me nuts. This one was about the main character, the daughter of pair of vets, trying to protect a local badger sett from men wanting to participate in badger digging and baiting. These books are always feel-good, and it was a nice single-day-read while I waited for a library book to come in.

Chi’s Sweet Home

The cutest manga series about the misadventures of a little kitten, Chi, who has been adopted by a loving family. I’ve never bothered to read them in order, but apparently this time I stumbled across the last in the series -- whoops! Still, stood on it’s own pretty easily, and it was a fun read! Things get tense when the family realize that they may have found Chi’s original home… and may have to give up Chi forever.

Earth Before Us: Dinosaur Empire!

This was an odd graphic novel, I feel like I’m not sure who the target audience was exactly. It was a nonfiction comic done in a Magic School Bus style, with the purpose of teaching current, up-to-date facts about the animals that lived in the Mesozoic Era. If you’re into dinosaurs, you’ll probably enjoy this! The art is absolutely adorable, I love the dinosaur illustrations, and I learnt some really neat facts. That being said, the pages are really dense, and there’s a lot of info crammed in… some of it will probably go way over a child’s head without specific additional teaching or a very strong personal interest. But that being said, a dinosaur obsessed kid is still probably going to really dig this… as would a dinosaur obsessed adult. It wasn’t my cup of tea exactly but I’m sure it is someone’s.

assorted Dr Seuss Books

I love these types of controversies because it means getting to listen to every moron who has never had an opinion on Dr Seuss ever start generating a mile of them out of the aether. So many people are so mad about the six books that are getting retired and I bet most of them haven’t even read them. These are not the friggin Cat In The Hat or The Lorax or even the likes of Yertle The Turtle. I was raised by a grade one teacher, was a voracious reader who loved Dr Seuss, and wrote my university thesis on children’s literature, and I still only knew two of the six books on that list. So by all means, if you want to write an essay explaining why those specific books are worth clinging to, feel free, but if you haven’t even heard of them maybe it’s not a big deal. *grumble*

Anyway, my grousing aside, it gave me the urge to reread a bunch of Seuss books, including the two retiring books I personally knew: McElligot’s Pool and To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street. I do still enjoy both, especially McElligot’s Pool which always sparked my imagination, but it’s obvious why they’re being retired and I personally think it’s the right choice. There’s so much good kidlit out there, we can survive without these.

Goodbye, My Rose Garden

A f/f romance manga, fairly standard fair though cute if you’re looking for some historical angst, pretty dresses, and mutual pining. A young Japanese woman moves to England in the hopes of meeting a writer (Mr Frank) who she has long admired. Along the way she is employed by an enigmatic woman with plenty of money, rumours, and melancholy following her. I’ll be honest, uncut romance isn’t really my genre, but I’ll probably still try to the second book to see if the story picks up.

From The Holocaust to Hogan’s Heroes: The Autobiography of Robert Clary

It’s no secret that I’ve been on a Hogan’s Heroes kick. This is the autobiography of Roberty Clary, who plays my favourite character in the show, Louis Lebeau. And holy shit what a life this man has had. He was a Jew growing up in France before the start of the war, and who was one of many children taken away from his family and sent off to the concentration camps in Germany. This was an amazing, intense, inspiring, and heartbreaking read… it has Clary’s voice all over it, and it tells everything from the charming childhood he had, to the horrors of the concentration camps, the brutality of survival, and then about his exciting journey into the entertainment industry afterwards. It’s an experience, would recommend if you’re a fan of the show.

The Ickabog

The second controversial author I read this month. Originally I was going to give Rowling’s new book a miss, given everything that’s been going on over the past few years, but in the end my curiosity got the better of me. Politics aside, it was a fun read! Not groundbreaking, but enjoyable enough and written in an interesting style. It didn’t read the same as a lot of modern kidlit, it felt more like a cross between a classic fairytale and a Dahl book. Perhaps a bit like Despereaux. It tells the tale of how an idyllic country gradually falls into ruin through the ignorance, inaction, and greed, and how a supposedly fictional monster hides the very real, human monsters at the heart of the country. It was cute and pleasant and I’m glad I decided to get it from the library, though for anyone who is choosing not to engage for political reasons: you aren’t missing anything major.

Franklin In The Dark

A Canadian classic. I don’t think there’s a single person my age who hasn’t read or been read a pile of these books, and the nostalgia is so comforting. I found this on Youtube and listened to someone read it to me, and honestly 10/10 would recommend for a calm evening.

The big reason I decided to seek this one out though, was because I finally got to the M*A*S*H episode that inspired this entire series! In the episode C*A*V*E, in which Hawkeye is freaking out over his claustrophia while the camp is forced to take shelter in a nearby cave during some intense shelling, he mentions that if he had been born a turtle he would have been afraid of his own shell, and that the other turtles would make fun of him cause he’d be forced to walk around in his underwear. And so this first story about a young turtle who’s afraid to sleep in his own shell and drags it around behind him. So if you were ever curious, Franklin the Turtle is in fact named after Dr Benjamin Franklin Pierce. (this is also why the French version is named Benjamin!)

Wolves of the Beyond: Lone Wolf

I loved the Guardians of Ga’Hoole books as a kid but I never read the Wolves of the Beyond series. This first book was an interesting read, Lasky does a great job creating worlds and societies for the animals that inhabit them. Lone Wolf is about a deformed wolf cub who was abandoned in the wilderness to die. And he would have, if a desperate mother bear, who had recently had her only cub killed, hadn’t stumbled across him and saved him, vowing to raise him as her own...

Petals

A “silent” graphic novel. It has beautiful artwork and is told entirely through pictures, no text at all. It’s loves and heart-wrenching, though it left me feeling somewhat unsatisfied… I felt like there should have been more. Still, a neat story.

The Southern Book Club‘s Guide To Slaying Vampires

What a banger of a novel!! I can’t recommend this one enough. It’s about a group of suburban mothers in the ‘80s who form a book club out of a shared need for community and a love of grisly true crime novels. But when a strange drifter appears in town and starts setting down roots… and when children begin disappearing… these women need to band together to confront the horrors that have invaded their neighbourhood, and face down not only a terrifying monster among them but the patriarchal system that allows it to flourish. To quote the preface:

“Because vampires are the original serial killers, stripped of everything that makes us human — they have no friends, no family, no roots, no children. All they have is hunger. They eat and eat but they’re never full. With this book, I wanted to pit a man freed from all responsibilities but his appetites against women whose lives are shaped by their endless responsibilities. I wanted to pit Dracula against my mom. As you’ll see, it’s not a fair fight.“

The Weirn Books: Be Wary of the Silent Woods

I love Chmakova’s graphic novels, though I’ve only ever read her slice-of-life middle grade series before. This one is pure fantasy and very fun. It’s about two cousin “weirns” — witches with demon familiars — who attend the local night school. Things get strange though when an ominous figure appears outside the old, abandoned school house deep in the Silent Woods, and begins tempting children down its path…

I’m very much looking forward to word of a second book and was honestly kind of surprised that I haven’t heard more about this book given how popular her other series is. This has all the same charm and quirks but for those of us who prefer stories based in fantasy rather than reality.

And A Bonus...

For some masochistic reason I got a Garfield book out of the library. Jeez, if I didn’t love these as a kid, I found them absolutely laugh out loud hilarious, and now I just don’t see it anymore. But here I will share the one strip in the book that actually made me laugh

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jlf23tumble · 4 years ago

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Hey Jen. I think you’re superb like in a (not to quote anyone but) you can sit and kind of admire what you’re like kind of way. So thanks for being awesome and enjoyable to this internet stranger. In unrelated matter, do you have any angst filled fics? I mostly read HL but I’ll dive into whatever as long as the pain is there. (If I can give a preference, I’m not so much into magic, fantasy, wolves, and sorts.) In these unprecedented times, I think I’d still need a happy ending though after the characters suffer terribly lol. If you find time to put something together for little old moi, I’d appreciate it very much. Thanks! Keep on keeping on! You’re wonderful!

<bryan_cranston_me_question_mark.gif> !!!!!!!!!! This is so incredibly kind, I think you’re pretty wonderful, too! I feel like I’m probably going to let you down here, though, because I generally don’t go too hard for angst (for one, it usually translates into longer fics, for two, some areas of true angst are just things I don’t really want to read for pleasure, like messy cheating aftermaths, abuse, character death, etc., and for three, I get lost in the sauce if I try too hard to dissect if something actually IS major angst versus, say, intense pining), but I’ll do my best! I’m going to give my dirty dozen here--my top 12 for hl--then I’ll dive deeper under the cut, with authors I love who write so much angst it’s tough to pick just one, plus other fandoms, too, in case you want to dive deeper.

Fertile Ground, Blake, 4.4k. Okay, in truth, so much of what Blake writes has gorgeous lashings of angst, so definitely read all of their fic (every fandom), but this one?? HOLY MOLY, it deserves to be separated and celebrated, Harry’s angst about fertility, howwwwww is this 4.4k, I ask, constantly?

sensitive to pressure, momentofclarity/ @gaycousinlarry, 4.4k. Hockey players and pubes and scent kinks, and yet there’s still this current of angst that thrums underneath, man oh man, would I read everything in this universe.

Everything You Do, jishler/ @jishlerfics, 6.6k. The third part of a stunning series, this one focusing on Harry’s gender identity and the Dunkirk haircut, and if you saw those recent gifsets with him wearing the beanie during training, yeah, this fic is alllll about it

i’m a captain on a jealous sea, devilinmybrain/ @thedevilinmybrain, 15k. A lot of jealousy on Louis’s part about all things Gryles, both real and imagined, I’m loving the vibes this author brings to it all.

taking tips and getting stoned, alison, 24k. I don’t think I can sum this one up quickly, but taxi driver Louis comes across singer Harry, and a lot of things change after that? God, that’s bad, but this fic is not!

hard to confess, @hereforlou, 24k. I adore Maggie’s writing so much, and she’s another one where I could rec at least three more here, but the one where Harry hides that he’s pregnant until the very last second? It’ll forever be the scorpio of mpreg fics, and I say that with the highest praise.

Maybe I Miss You series, 13ways, 28k. THIS SERIES, ooooooooffffff, the angstometer is off the chart, and then the last installment? Harry in makeup? This after all the sexting and boxing and hate sex and finally they figure their shit out? All of it is so good, and I’m eternally sad the author moved on (but jesus, I get it).

hush., Wankerville, 41k. Easily in my top five fics of any fandom, the softness and the cruelty, the growth and the real-life feels, an American high school AU that is still stunning and must have blown doors off back in that particular day (I’d also rec this author’s other work, esp. for angst).

every universe but ours, 28finelines, 49k. Okay, so this one has a little bit of magic that might annoy you, but it’s mostly in a multiverse way, like you’re reading a ton of AUs, but the theme itself has an angsty core, fwiw!

Truly, Madly, Deeply (10 Things I Hate about You), sunsetmog, 54k. I know I talk a LOT about this author’s ongoing wip, Harry Styles Cooks... (which is phenomenal, please do yourself a favor if you haven’t already), but this one? Angst ahoy, Harry auditions for XFUK without telling his boyfriend/friends, becomes a success, then comes home.

Time Passed, coffinofachimera/ @belialsmiracles, 66k. For every fic rec list I make, I always have at least one fic where I say, if you read nothing else, read this one, AND THIS IS IT, all categories, it’s simply astounding, life-changing, world-ending, and it kills me that more people haven’t left comments, but if it keeps shitty comments away, I’m all for it, I’ll protect this author/fic with my life. I can’t even begin to describe it, but if you want to know what the songs Fine Line or She are about, here you go! AIMH, Tokyo Harry!

The World Turned Upside Down, dogslpdi/ @dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram, 71k. I’m really iffy on historical fics, but this fic! This fic nails it! The detail and the emotion, the way you can feel the effects of the strike in so many ways, but also how HIV/AIDS is not that far off on the horizon, it’s just so well done. Plus, I adore Ralph’s humor and the way she tagged this both “minor angst” and “miner angst,” and if I can’t end an angst rec on a light note, what more can I do?

Let’s start with things beyond hl...lately, I’ve been reading a LOT of Untamed fic, and I feel like I should just point you to Liv’s masterlists because they are angst city (and fun city, too), plus she’s done a really good job of labeling them accordingly (right now, my fave angst is from chunk no. 2, Fire in the Blood, which is a case fic, but oof, I can’t wait to read even more in these parts).

I’m also just now getting into Merlin and reading a lot in that fandom, but it’s a bit scattershot at this stage (I haven’t finished the show yet, and I’m still working my way through one author who wrote 100+ fics, all of which are incredible; if you’re curious for something recent from over there, Phoenix wrote a short, angsty one that’s good and ouchy, this tangled thicket).

Speaking of Phoenix, EVERYTHING she has written for Cars (Lightning/Doc) is incredibly angsty, usually with that happy ending finale--I’d rec my current fave, but it’s a wip, so no happy ending yet, wahhh. Check out this link to the rest of them, though, I rec ‘em all!

I still have to watch the source material, but everything anyone’s sent me from Cobra Kai is INCREDIBLY angsty and so, so good, so I’m gonna bet there’s a fair bit of fix-it fic in my future, but we shall see!

Now onto the hl angst, ideally things you haven’t already read a million times before. Like I said earlier, this one’s kind of tough because I’m not into intense angst (major character/close family member death, messy cheating aftermath--though @kingsofeverything’s Devil and the Deep Blue Sea is fantastic, if you’re into that [messy cheating aftermath, not death]; actually, a lot of Lauren’s longer fics have a dose of angst, so dive away!)

Speaking of authors who regularly deliver angst, I have quite a few that I would say just go check out their works because almost every single thing they’ve done has it in varying degrees, you won’t be disappointed! These authors primarily write the hl pairing, and I definitely rec ‘em all: HappyPrincess, got2ghost, mediaville, and sedfierisentio. Authors I love who write Harry/other characters and do it in a hella angsty way include vondrostes, sulkingroom, radiodurans, and wishforwishes (I swear, I still think about call me anything you like at least once a month).

#fic rec #one direction #angst #for someone who hates it i sure have a lot of it

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afternoonpoppy · 3 years ago

Note

Hi, long time watcher, first time asker! So I noticed that in an older work, you mentioned that Wolfram gets the hiccups any time he so much as has a drop of alcohol. So uh... I would die a very happy lady if you wrote something about Wolfram having drinks for the first time. Blushy, buzzed, cuddly, hiccupping magical boy? Uuuuughhh yes pleaaaase.

(aaaaaaa I've had this waiting in my inbox for wait too long and I'm very sorry! It took me a lot longer to get a chance to write this than I wanted to.

Not me accidentally making Allister's school and work history really relatable to my own and not me using this as an excuse to write something taking place in December because it's currently way too hot outside.)

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Allister tapped his finger against the keyboard of his laptop, staring at the screen. The math on the screen stared back at him.

"I hate this," he muttered. "Fram, I can't do math."

Wolfram, seated next to him on the couch, leaned against Allister's shoulder and looked down at the screen as well. "Did you struggle during your classes as well?"

"When I was fully conscious, yes. When I was working off of sleep deprivation, coffee, and panic on exam days, I managed pretty decent grades. Somehow."

Wolfram's expression was a mixture of disapproval and concern as he looked up at Allister.

"Hey, I don't have to do that anymore," Allister said with a shrug. Instead, he just had to suffer through the periodic online courses that fulfilled the accursed 'continuing education' his license required every couple of years. It really wasn't so bad and all the questions were multiple choice. He could always have just answered blindly until he got them correct. But Allister had been raised to be honest and to put actual effort into things. This just happened to be the sort of thing he struggled at.

He looked up at the clock that hung up on the living room wall, seeing that it read the same time as his laptop. Quarter past nine, meaning he'd been working away at these courses for the past two or so hours. Something like that, he hadn't really kept track. Allister sighed and placed his laptop onto the coffee table in front of the couch. "I think it's time for a break. Hey, a friend at work gave me a bottle of wine for the holidays. It's cheap, but why don't we have some?"

Despite it being mid-December already, Allister had to admit the house didn't give that impression. It was snowing heavily outside, sure. But inside were only a few small holly wreaths that he'd bought at a discount from the pharmacy on a whim. He hadn't actually thought to buy anything for the holiday season otherwise.

"Wine?" Wolfram seemed to think that over for a moment, then shrugged. "I suppose I'll try some."

"Oh. You haven't had wine before?" Wine and other drinks certainly seemed like a staple of fantasy worlds with magic and the like. But then again, Allister wondered if he should stop making assumptions about Wolfram's home based on YA novels.

"Not in particular, no. During my time studying, my peers occasionally invited me to join them for an evening of drinks during our own holidays or when there was something to celebrate. I preferred to stay to my studies, though."

Allister stood up from the couch, heading towards the kitchen. "So magic college had the kids who wanted to party and the ones who panicked for good exam scores. Sounds like normal boring college."

Wolfram followed, leaning against the kitchen counter with a playful smirk directed at Allister. "Who said I panicked over my exams?"

"Well, if you're such a genius," Allister said, reaching up into one of the cupboards for the wine bottle and a pair of glasses, "I may just have you do my math for me. I bet you'll love dilutions." He had to admit, he felt fancy pulling out the wine glasses. It wasn't every day Allister had an excuse for that.

Pouring some of the red wine into each of the glasses, Allister handed one off to Wolfram.

"Dilutions..." Wolfram stared into the wine as he muttered the word. "Mathematics regarding multiple liquids? I do believe we covered something of the sort in alchemical basics." He paused and took a tentative sip of the wine, then stared at it more as if studying it.

"What do you think?"

"I'm not certain how I feel about the taste."

"Well, that's fair. I doubt cheap gift wine is the best introduction to the stuff."

"I suppose it's fine eno - hic - ohh..." Wolfram grimaced with the sudden case of hiccups beginning.

"Oh geez, that didn't take much, huh?" Allister offered a sympathetic smile.

Wolfram stared at the glass of wine, eyes narrowing at it. "Appare - hic - apparently so... I'm not sold on the - hic - idea of alcohol thus far, Alli - hic - Allister."

Allister gently patted his poor, hiccuping boyfriend on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Fram. It's not everyone's thing anyway." He shrugged.

"Mm-hm... Is it - hic - really all that enj - hic - enjoyable to be intoxicated?"

"Hm... I mean, I guess?" Given that Allister hardly drank much at once, that wasn't the easiest question for him to answer, but he liked it well enough in the right context. Seeing that Wolfram was still studying the wine with something of a skeptical look, Allister offered, "You don't have to drink it if you don't like it, it's fine. Like I said, it's cheap stuff too."

It was Wolfram's turn to answer with a shrug as he said, "It's f - hic - fine. I'm not completely aga - hic - against the taste, so I'll see what I think of it."

"Oh." Allister was, admittedly, surprised. Wolfram wasn't completely disdainful of something that had so easily given him hiccups? That was unusual. "Well, how about we find something to watch for a bit before I get back to work?"

---

A glass of wine and some television later, Allister realized that getting back to work was... difficult. For one thing, he hadn't finished that math from earlier and was now facing down the dreaded dilutions. The alcohol may not have been helping with that. Then there was also the matter of Wolfram.

"Alli - hic - ster." Wolfram whined, draping his arms over Allister's shoulders. "Is the math - hic - done yet?" He leaned forward, resting his head against the back of Allister's neck.

"Still struggling with that part," Allister said. His attention drifted to the empty wine glass that Wolfram had left on the table. Was it a coincidence that Allister's sweetheart, now slightly red-faced in the cheeks, was acting clingier than usual? No, certainly not.

"Well, hurry up," Wolfram mumbled into the collar of Allister's shirt. "Finish up s - hic - so you can cuddle me."

Allister smiled, reaching a hand up to gently squeeze Wolfram's own. "I'd love to, Fram, but it's a bit difficult with you hanging onto me like that."

Wolfram pointed at the laptop. "Then gi - hic - ive it to me. I'll do it, let me - hic - see it."

"You know, I wasn't serious about having you do the dilutions, Fram."

"Allister, I'm - hic - smart, remember? Numbers are numbers even in a different world, I can - hic - do it." Without bothering to wait for an answer, Wolfram sat up and promptly stretched out to lay on his side across Allister's lap, reaching over to the laptop on the table.

"Fram, what are you -"

"It's fine, Allister, it's fi - hic - ine. I can do math," Wolfram muttered indignantly.

Allister sighed and relented, waiting as Wolfram stared at the text on the screen. Eventually, Wolfram rolled onto his back to look up at Allister. "How do I use this?"

"You know, Fram," Allister said, brushing a stray hair out of Wolfram's face, "I have to do a course on pharmacy law after this one too. I don't think you'll be able to help with that one so you're still going to be waiting a bit."

Wolfram pouted and crossed his arms. "Allister."

"What is it?"

"N - hic - o," Wolfram said, the single-syllable word mangled by his hiccups.

"You want to try that again?"

"I'm telling you no, Allister. You're do - hic - ing what you tell me not to do. You're going to ove - hic - overwork yourself, and I refuse to let you."

"I get it," Allister said, "but I have to do this stuff for work, Fra -"

Wolfram put a hand up over Allister's mouth. "Shush. You have ple - hic - nty of time to do this work, right? So I'll make you do more tomo - hic - tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, huh?" Allister mumbled, pushing Wolfram's hand aside with a hand of his own, fingers intertwining. Tomorrow sounded like a better time for the dilutions. "So that means cuddling now?"

Wolfram nodded. "I dema - hic - demand cuddles, Alli." Still lying on his back, he held out his arms up towards Allister expectantly.

Allister broke into a smile at that sight. "You're playful when you're tipsy, huh?"

"I never said I was - hic - tipsy. Oh, wait." Apparently having a sudden idea, Wolfram abruptly sat up. He brought his hands closer together and began to recite a spell - though, with his hiccups interrupting him, it took three or four times before he was able to successfully do so. Once he managed the spell without interruption, one of the small animal-like spirits formed in his hands and Wolfram smiled at Allister. "More warmth to sit with us."

"If we doze off, it's going to run off eventually and start causing trouble, won't it?"

Wolfram thought, looking back down at the currently rabbit-esque spirit. He shrugged and said in a dismissive tone, "It's fine, it's fi - hic - fine."

"Well, if it starts knocking stuff over later, you're the one who has to clean it up. Get over here, then," Allister said before leaning towards Wolfram and pulling him down to lie down on the couch.

#wolfram and allister #poppy writes #hiccup kink #hiccups #alcohol #tumblr says this is my 100th post #and it's tipsy wolfram being playful and cuddly #i'm cool with that #my blog's been so quiet lately sorry about that

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moviemunchies · 4 years ago

Photo

I’m going to start with pointing out that this:

“Lo there do I see my father. Lo there do I see my mother and my sisters and my brothers. Lo, there do I see the line of my people back to the beginning. Lo, they call out to me. They bid me take my place among them In the halls of Valhalla where the brave shall live forever.”

--is FROM this movie. I keep seeing it, or variations of it, circulated around media as if it’s a genuine historical prayer that Norsemen used in funerals. From well-meaning Tumblr users making gifsets to English white supremacist douchebags to freaking God of War this gets copied and pasted all the time and it makes me mad. One of those links goes into the history of the quote, which is derived from the book, which itself is derived from the historical record, but the words “Lo there do I see my father”? It’s not! I don’t mind that the movie uses this, but I hate that people, many of whom haven’t even seen this film, think it’s a piece of historical religion when it’s nothing of the sort.

STOP CLAIMING THIS IS HISTORY. IT ISN’T.

Anyway let’s actually talk about this movie.

Michael Crichton, on a bet from a colleague, wrote a book called Eaters of the Dead that’s a retelling of Beowulf from the point of view of Ibn Fadlan, a real life historical explorer who encountered Norsemen and is one of our early sources about Nordic culture in the medieval period. The book is meant to be read as a recently rediscovered historical document, but it’s also kind of a horror story, that strips away the overt supernatural elements of the original poem while still feeling like an epic fantasy quest and including other elements that are more speculative than historical, but still not outright magical.

It’s an interesting book, if you’re curious for something different.

A movie was made that was relatively faithful to the book, and then test audiences didn’t like it, so the director got fired and half of it was reshot by Crichton himself in the director’s chair and released. It didn’t do so well, costing the studio millions of dollars. But weirdly enough, I think the movie is seen fondly enough by casual audiences these days. It’s entered the culture somehow or another, if the prevalence of the “old Viking prayer” is anything to go by.

Basically, it goes like this: after falling in love with another man’s wife, Ibn Fadlan is reassigned from Baghdad to a far out post as an ambassador. He runs into some Norsemen, who are having a funeral for their king, and is there when they are called to go north and fight an unnamed evil by King Hrothgar. The soothsayer tells them that they need thirteen warriors, and that the thirteenth warrior must be a foreigner. So Ibn Fadlan, despite not being a fighter, gets roped into this adventure. He and his companions go on the journey and fight the wendol, a race of monsters that come with the mist and attack, taking people’s heads and eating corpses. They have to figure out how to kill these things and bring peace back to the land.

The main weakness with this movie, in my opinion, is that I don’t know who most of these people are. A good chunk of them aren’t named on screen in the film, despite the fact that there are thirteen of them. Vladimir Kulich, who plays Buliwyf, had his own ideas as to how to fix that in a short amount of time--have a scene during the trip where the camera goes through the entire crew, pausing on each member and showing their traits, but this never happened.

But the main Norseman in the group that Ibn Fadlan hangs out with? I could not tell you his name. According to things I’ve looked up, it's ‘Herger’ but I couldn’t be sure that’s accurate. That’s frustrating. I don’t need all of their backstories (although why one of them is apparently a Scotsman would be nice to know), but I would like to know at least a handful of their names so I cared what happened to them. Oddly, the credits give them a quick descriptor, but not all of those descriptors actually match, and it isn’t as if there’s indicators before some of them are killed off.

What I can tell you is that Antonio Banderas plays Ibn Fadlan. He does pretty well considering he’s not Arab. Yes, it would have been better to get an Arabic performer, but Banderas isn’t bad in the role. He’s a lot more of an action hero in the movie than in the book, but not so much that I ever felt like it was too much of a stretch.

Dennis Storhoi is Herger, the one Norseman who gets the most personality. He’s clearly having fun in the role, playing a Norseman who acts like he doesn’t take anything seriously but has a better grasp of what the others are thinking and how they’re going to act than he lets on. I liked him.

I mentioned Vladimir Kulich earlier plays Buliwyf, this story’s Beowulf. He plays it very stoically, which I felt worked for the character they’re portraying. However, I can understand if some viewers found it a boring performance. I didn’t think so--I thought he came across as thoughtful and calm despite his situation, very rarely having to raise his voice and yet still commanding respect.

The action scenes are alright--I can’t say there were amazing fight sequences, but they do feel like appropriately epic battles, and there aren’t any annoying camera tricks, and absolutely no CGI at all that I can find.

So yes, it’s a bit corny as a historical epic movie, but I think it holds up well enough. It’s a bit of fun, and if you’re familiar with the original poem, it’s an enjoyable movie. I think it’s worth seeing. I can understand that it’s not for everyone, but for me it worked.

I’m just tired of seeing that “traditional Viking prayer” all over the place.

#13th Warrior #Beowulf #Antonio Banderas #Ibn Fadlan #Movie Munchies

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formulatrash · 4 years ago

Note

What are your thoughts on fanfic writing in the f1 fandom? I am pretty sure I saw you tweet about it at some point something small but I was too scared to interact with you on it over at twitter :D

So, this is a hotter topic than I’d really like it to be on my Tumblr and it’s my own fault but. Here we go.

RPF has some questionable ethics and some even more questionable origins. I’m ancient enough that it just used to get straight-up published as a ‘5 minute fantasy’ in young women and girls’ magazines where you’d get like, some 15 year old’s daydream about meeting a boyband member on holiday and falling in love and this was for some reason just treated as an absolutely normal bit of publishing not like ‘what the hell, that would be illegal’ and ‘why is this the fantasy we are encouraging girls to have as an ambition when it comes to sports or even pop success’ and y’know.

Anyway, the 90s: really can’t emphasise enough how fucking weird having only a few sources to get your media from makes them.

Back to RPF; its roots are in political obscenity, if you want to talk about the bawdy stuff. The French Revolution, in particularly, wrote lots of erotica (the kinkier the better) about the royal family as part of refusing to acknowledge their divine rights under the church. It was an anarchical refusal to accept the situation as it was and to undermine it.

Beyond that you’ve got historical fiction - Thucydides was all about working up a really good narrative take* on the Peloponnesian war back in the fifth century BC. Extra scenes, big dialogue, you know. If he’d known about self-lubricating buttholes then you BET Herodotus would have put them in the Histories.

Point is: writing fiction about real people isn’t really that weird, Shakespeare did a load of it. But we tend to problematise RPF and consider it strange, even amongst fanfiction.

Now, to 21st century sports and specifically F1. We speak here on Tumblr dot com, the audience where F1 fans skew most largely LGBT, non-cis and female or non binary rather than every other platform which is full of cis het men. Here is where we talk about fanfic. Because they don’t know we’re here, I assume, is the logic.

(they kinda don’t, to be fair)

Most of us do not see ourselves in sports. Most sports media is not aimed at the way that a lot of us were socialised to engage with stuff and most of us - lucky buggers like me aside - do not get to write the narratives of the way sport is engaged with or talked about or who does it.

A lot of us who live here on god’s abandoned internet have drifted in and out of fandoms and a lot of that will have involved engaging with fanfiction. Fanfiction is a really fun sandbox to play in, as an adult - we get told to stop playing, as we grow up and it’s no surprise that we still want to.

There’s a six monthly cycle of some AAA game that asks the question “is shooting people bad?” that prompts 10 broadsheet newspaper pieces on Videogames: Not Just For Kids Anymore (and sub in comics/superheroes/etc for games there) that makes everyone who knows that roll their eyes. Games and comics and superheroes are big, legitimised industries now that turnover hundreds of billions of dollars.

Fanfiction is an outlier, as the purest form of play in a lot of senses. Unfettered, it’s the democratic media platform; there’s no minimum standard for publishing, there’s no real limits beyond your own ethics on what you can publish. it doesn’t turn a profit, by its very definition and it allows lots of games and versions of itself within that.

For something with a ludicrously broad definition that encapsulates hugely different types of works, it has defined forms; from drabbles to wingfic, as structural formats, we also recognise fluff or hurt/comfort as genre. Fanfiction isn’t really the thing itself, it’s the bookshop and what you find in it will vary on where you look and often, the advice of the bookseller or friends you speak to.

If you’ve enjoyed wandering that bookstore and adding to its shelves as part of the way you engage with media and then you come to a sports fandom? Well, you’re gonna look for the fic. If you don’t see yourself in the sport, as a woman or a queer person then you can write yourself in. It’s sad that we sideline the fantasies where we exist - given they’re entirely normal to have - into places where we jealously guard them away from the reality we daren’t intrude on but that is how it is.

And fuck: if your whole reason for liking F1 is cus you wanna marry a driver and you’re writing those 15 minute fantasies about them like you’re 15 and they’re a poster then it’s not doing any harm - it’s a lot healthier than stalking them. You might even work out what you really want or more things about yourself, in the process.

(if it’s ‘to marry an F1 driver’ then I suggest you take some boring swimwear snaps somewhere that looks expensive, stick ‘em on Insta and wait for the DM slide)

One of the things I like best in fanfic is the possibility of a queer narrative without complications, of telling queer stories without having to justify them as Issues, of letting us see ourselves and our own awakenings because fuck, you know the big book shop (if such things still exist) has one shelf of expensive, niche published novels you find difficult to related to and three sex ed books.

F1 fanfic was one of the ways I wandered back to the F1 fandom and one of the reasons I work in the industry now. It was enough of an in to make me want to really think, to have that new crush energy of obsession and enjoyment, about motorsport in a way I’d drifted away from as I felt sidelined from the sport through my early-to-mid 20s. I found brocedes much more compelling, as an interpretation and a way of processing the intense rivalry between Lewis and Nico - even knowing it was fictional conjecture - than I did the equally fictional conjecture about their psychological states and potential weaknesses published in the sports papers.

So, yes, I have read some excellent Formula 1 RPF. I have written some frankly mediocre and in retrospect very poorly edited F1 RPF that I posted to Twitter in a drunken moment of excitement because I was happy I’d finished it and forgot, idk. I have a tricky relationship to being a Notable Person I guess, I hadn’t intended any harm and was mostly worried I’d get flack from the industry. Lol. Anyway, only saying it cus like; this isn’t just me talking about things theoretically.

There’s a lot of F1 RPF that is more insightful than a lot of columns about ‘inside the drivers’ minds’ working off very little more than the RPF is.

Some of it, I won’t lie, I find really fucking weird but I guess like, that ain’t for me. There are a lot of problems with RPF - it’s too male, too frequently misogynist, too keen to reinforce homophobic ideas, too often white and blonde, not radical enough but those issues are for the advanced class rather than the 101 overview I was aiming for here and go well beyond F1 or RPF.

Shit I should be writing the weather report. Fuck. I’m the worst. Err, there you go, that’s a whole thing.

(I don’t read very much - I am busy af - but occasionally and especially on long haul flights when the idea of anything other than soothing is impossible)

*Actually tbh Thucydides couldn’t write for fuck but it was early and you know how when a tag’s young you’ll read a lot of mediocre stuff?

#f1 asks #f1 rpf

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plotscribbler · 4 years ago

Text

NSFW story time:

It was a long double at my old restaurant job. I had come back to pick up a few shifts here and there to help me have some pocket money while I got on my feet in my new home some 2 hours away.

My girlfriend got a great new job in a new town and I wasn't transitioning well. I usually welcome change but it was hard to leave the team I had, not to mention shift beers. I poured myself a tall one and sat in a booth on the patio waiting for the manager to lock up and give me ok to leave for the night.

I had another double the next day so my plan was to find a decent parking spot and pass out in the van.

I told the other closer she could leave early as it was a calm night and honestly I reveled in getting even just a few minutes to chat with Cassandra (the manager) before she cuts me off the free beer. Cass is a tom-boyish burnette, who's about 5'4" or so, and her body is that of a Pixar mom: an athletic yet curvy shape with so much ass you can see it from the front.

I'm a flirtatious guy (probably how I ended up as a server in the first place) but to be quite honest it's a miracle I haven't been fired or dumped for the things I say to Cass. She probably doesn't take me seriously, I mean how else do I manage to get nights like this where we're all alone? She's having a glass of wine and I'm keeper of a never ending pint. What could go wrong?

In my typical cringe fashion I offer her a spot at my table "because she's too beautiful to be drinking alone" and she ignores that (while sitting down at my table) before going on a long winded rant about her kids stressing her out before she could even get ready for work.

Which was extra stressful because of how her cat always wakes her up at night to use the window by her bed as a way out to go do cat business.

"The only cat business anyone should have in relation to that window; is getting onto the bed, and in between your thighs"

"hah! I wish"

"Bet! Finish your wine."

"what?"

"I'll follow you home, climb through your window and be gone before sunrise"

"I have kids you idiot" she punches my shoulder "they're gonna hear you climb into the house and if not, they'd definitely hear whatever pervery you think you can concoct in the middle of a school night. Not to mention the neighbors..."

Looking out towards the parking lot Cass pulls a cigarette from her purse.

"Hey, look at me." I pause until we make eye contact "I am 100% consenting to, and capable of..." I pause to feel calm collected and cool before continuing "- tying you up, gagging you, and fucking your brains out."

We both smile "All while pretending to climb in through your window to fulfill your rape-fantasy in a safe way that avoids prying neighbors"

She take a long drag of her cig, looking back out at the parking lot.

"Well?"

With a long exhale "I didn't tell you about my window as some kind of a hint."

"Listen, whether or not you like being taken, I would be much happier to share your bed than to sleep in my van alone."

We sit in silence for a moment. Cass staring off into the distance while I drink my pint and stare at her.

Turning to face me as she ashes her cigarette "What would you even use to tie me up with anyway?"

"The wrappings of love"

"Don't be an ass" she hits my shoulder again, harder this time "what if I were considering to indulge in your lustful insistence for a moment? Huh! How about that! What if that was your chance and you blew it!?"

"Wow, the thought of giving away control, even if only for a moment, it's insidious isn't it?" I smile again "Oh... to be honest I have soft 25' rope somewhere in the van, but my belt works fine in a pinch, might use both if you keep throwing punches at me."

"Honestly, you talk a lot of shit and the thought of humiliating you, if you can't follow through with half the nonsense that comes out of your perverted mouth, is insidious." She finishes her wine "come on!" she stands up.

"Let's go!" I cheer.

"We're not going to my house"

"Oh?"

"No, I'm not taking you home. Show me this rope"

"Alright"

We walk over to the van, in a particularly shady corner of the lot, the back half of said van is packed almost ceiling high with my music equipment I forgot to unload during the move. Part of me is thinking she's gonna troll me, so I try to make like of the situation.

"I'm not gonna tie you up in the parking lot"

"Duh, I just wanna see it."

"You're testing me? We've known each other for 4 years... I'm not a stranger!"

"No, but you say a lot of bullshit, let's say I'm just fact-checking you right now..."

I dig through the music gear in the back (knowing it's not there) "looks like you're in luck, I couldn't tie you up if I wanted to..."

"ugh, see..."

"See what? It's not like you'd consent if I did have it!"

"If you could find the rope I would let you tie my hands behind my back, but you mysteriously can't" Cass says, crossing her arms defiantly.

"You would let me rope your arms behind your back?"

"Sure! Why not? Maybe I will like it!"

"Ok, let me look in the secret hiding spot behind the driver seat." I close the hatch and open up the sliding door. There's a panel on the floor and when I open it Cass gasps.

"Gotcha!" I exclaim.

"Ok, yeah, you got me" she turns her back to me and stretches her arms out behind her. "Tie me up"

"Turn around."

"What?"

"You're not a prisoner of war, this is an intimate thing."

I close the sliding door as Cass faces me.

"Intimate? How-"

"Shhh..." I put a finger to her lips as her chocolate irises lock with my hazel ones "I'm going to take control of you now. Just say ok."

"Ok fi-oh!" she gasps as I grab her by the hips and put her up against the door of the van.

I steal the first kiss on her lips then break away, pressing her against the car with my hand on her chest. Lifting the rope over her shoulder with a flick of my other wrist I see her uncertainty.

"Be still. Do nothing unless I say so, you are perfect."

Cass' eyes light up like she'd never heard that before, like I just opened more possibility than even she knew was available.

I turn her around, pressing my hips against hers, making the rope loops over her shoulder and behind her back then mirroring this over her other shoulder.

"I thought you were going to tie my hands?"

"I'll get there" as I start to lace a knotting pattern from her left arm to her right and back again. Slowly bringing her elbows parallel to each other.

"By the time your wrists are bound you will be ensnared... all mine!" I say with a smirk "I am here to take good care of you."

"Ok, actually this does feel pretty nice, my back needed a stretch anyway..."

"I want you to let go of the control you assume day in and day out and be free. Be mine."

"You're not gonna make me call you daddy are you?"

"No, to be honest, I like being called master or god, because I have an ego that is spoiled rotten, but I wouldn't want something like this to make our work relationship impossible"

"Oh my, that's tight, will you take a picture when you're done? I wanna see."

"Just relax." as I pull her wrists together and tie the final knot "You're all tied up"

I snap a picture with my phone and lean into her from behind to show her.

"Wow this posture really forces my boobs up and out, not that you can see it from this angle"

"Yes, you look incredibly beautiful"

She grabs at my jeans "what are you gonna do now?" Grinding her butt against me.

I pin her to the van with my chest against her arms and whisper in her ear "the way you're tied up right here" rubbing her arm "is the same way I'm tied up in this parking lot." I can't help but bite her ear and smell her thick espresso colored hair "I want your lust, I want your body, and I want dominion over you"

I run my hands from the loops over her shoulders to the small space of skin on her forearms.

"Fuck...." she says with bated breath "Take me"

I wanted to tease her more, but I honestly didn't expect to get this far in even my wildest of fantasies.

Cass was already pulling at my belt, even with her hands bound behind her back she couldn't help but fight to have things her way.

"No" I push her against the van so she can't reach "You're mine right now, you do as I say."

Cass moans with mixed frustration and enjoyment, then she flips her hair into my face "why don't you make me?" wiggling that wonderfully voluptuous backside tauntingly with a wink and smile.

I know what she wanted.

So I spanked her...

This woman has so much ass, her hands weren't even a little bit in the way. I took a handful with the first smack and it was like holding the holy grail.

She cooed, making fists doomed to dangle helplessly amidst an array of slaps on her butt.

"You."

**smack**

"Honestly."

**whip**

"Thought."

**whack**

"That I."

**pop**

"Would just fuck you in this parking lot??" **crack**

"YES!" her voice echoes out in the otherwise quiet and empty space.

We both pause to appreciate the possibility of someone hearing us. I take that moment to unbuckle my belt.

"Fine, I will."

"Do you have a condom?"

"What, you mean you don't want another kid?"

"Don't even joke about that."

I'm pulling her leggings down to her ankles "I only have two packs of 3" then I'm kissing the back of her calf, up her thigh, around a pinkish red handprint, then over to her waist "so I might need a couple more if you don't mind waiting here for me"

"With my arms tied and my pale ass out for the whole wide world to see? No thanks"

"It's decently red now" my jeans fall to the floor

"I know! God..." she inhales when I feel how wet she is "I did not expect you to spank me so hard"

"You liked it" I put my dick up to her hands, letting her get an idea of what I'm going to put inside her.

"I loved it." Cass puts her bodyweight against the van, poking her ass out and spreading her legs.

I thrust along the lips of her dripping pussy while she whispers to me "will you please put a condom on already?"

I smack her clit a couple times with the tip just to hear her groan and clench her eyes shut tight.

"Put. A. Condom. On!" she growls at me impatiently before biting her lower lip.

Seeing my manager like this is giving my life new meaning. I open the driver's door to pull out one of the afore mentioned packs and put one on, leaving the rest on the roof of the van.

The secret ingredient is definitely the crime of it all. I've been shamelessly hitting on my manager since we met, and now I can't help but take my sweet ass time sliding up inside Cassandra on the edge of the parking lot outside of our job.

I always imagined a hotel room or her kitchen, never outside! Not to mention she wanted to get tied up and spanked first! *chef's kiss*

The way she gasps as I push in every inch I have for the first time gives me goosebumps. Her body feels like caramel tastes: you can't quite get enough, but almost can.

I grab her waist on both sides, feeling for that V line at the top of her wonderfully thick thighs.

"Let's start real slow beautiful" I pull back just as patiently, leaving only the tip still inside.

"I love it when you call me beautiful, I don't always feel that way..." she says, gyrating her hips towards me, making me feel like I could already explode!

Wrapping one arm around her belly and sliding the other all the way up her body to take hold of her cappuccino hair "I'm gonna love every illustrious inch of you"

I pin her against the van again, forcing her to take my love at my slow pace but it's like she can't help but push back.

Cassandra quivers with pleasure when I rub her neck. Her eyes widen with worry yet her toes curl so hard they crack when I give her neck a squeeze. "Why are you so goddamned amazing!?" she asks aloud between gasps of air and kisses.

That sends me over the top! "Fuck, ...fuck I'm coming!"

"Oh... see, it's good you have more condoms."

Still thrusting out of a burning

desire to not let this moment end "Here, I'm gonna untie you before I put another one on."

"Already?"

"Yeah, I don't want you to lose circulation"

"No, that's fine, I mean you're already putting another condom on?"

"No way am I done after just 1... did you even come yet?"

"No but I'm pretty close"

"Ok then, get in and lay down" I gesture to the middle seats of the van.

12 notes · View notes

hotwifeexplained · 4 years ago

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Hotwife Explained

Ladies: has your boyfriend, fiance, or husband ever talked dirty to you about flirting with other men?

Has he teased you about getting sex from other guys?

Has he told you that he likes the thought of you being with another man?

Does he ask you about your sex life with old boyfriends?

If so, it might be that your husband is a cuckold.

In this article, we’re going to give you a quick introduction to what that means, what you can do about it… and why you might enjoy it more than you think.

If this is all new to you, don’t worry. We’ll break down your husband or boyfriend’s kink, give it a little context, and help you try to make sense of what he’s asking of you.

Many women hear this request, with no warning, and have one of two responses.

You get suspicious. There’s no way you heard him right. He wants me to sleep with other guys while he stays committed? Uh-uh. There’s got to be a catch.

You get upset. Sleep with other guys? Are you out of your mind? I’m not a slut. What you’re asking is disgusting. I’m not like that.

These are perfectly understandable reactions. After all, you couldn’t imagine yourself wanting to see him with another girl, right? So how could he expect it from you, with no strings attached? It’s too good to be true, right?

When your man tells you his secret fantasy, there’s some things that you need to know about the male sex drive.

The first thing: Take a breath and relax

If he’s mentioned this kinky fantasy to you, or if you suspect he’s angling for it, it’s not the end of the world.

Here’s what he’s not trying to do:

He’s not looking to have an affair for himself.

He doesn’t want a “hall pass” to get with another girl.

He’s definitely not trying to break up your relationship.

You might think it’s a weird fantasy to have or even find it a disgusting turn off.

Whatever your own response, you can rest assured that he’s being 100% serious.

He wants exactly what he tells you he wants. He gets off imagining you hooking up with other men.

There are reasons for this cuckolding fantasy, which we don’t need to get into here. Some people think that evolution programmed men to find sexual enjoyment in promiscuous women.

Others think it’s a psychological defense mechanism to guard against cheating, or a learned response to past unfaithful girlfriends. Her cheating can’t hurt you if you’re getting off on it, right?

However you shake it out, a lot of men find sexual pleasures in the idea of their wives and girlfriends being sexual with other men. We’re talking well over half of men who would be “down” for their special lady getting frisky if the circumstances were right.

Which means that he’s not looking to bail on you with another girl.

He doesn’t find you unsatisfying.

If anything it’s just the opposite: he’s so into you that he’s deriving his sexual pleasure from you and you alone.

In his mind, he’s adoring you. He’s putting your pleasure above his own.

The female mind doesn’t work this way with sex.

Women are more prone to get with one guy and commit everything to him.

Her physical desire is much more strongly connected to her feelings for the person, compared to men.

Which means, when he tells you that he wants you to sleep around, it’s like showing a stop sign to a color blind person.

You don’t experience sexual attraction this way, so you just don’t get it.

No wonder you’re suspicious or angry or both.

Meanwhile, your cuckold husband believes he’s allowing you the ultimate sexual gift — the freedom to have sex with any man you desire.

You might wonder what he gets out of the deal. That depends.

What kind of cuck is he? The difference between swingers, hotwives, and cuckolds

There are different versions of the wife sharing fantasy. You can read more about that here: What’s the difference between a swinger, a cuckold, and a stag husband?

Until recently most people knew this as swinging or an open marriage.

Swingers swap spouses with other couples.

Open marriages give each partner a free pass for casual sex with others.

Cuckolding is different. Only the wife or girlfriend has sex outside of the relationship, while the husband or boyfriend stays monogamous.

And this is his idea.

As bizarre as it sounds, far more men are into this than women.

Within cuckolding you have several different types of fantasy.

The traditional cuckold is a man whose wife is unfaithful to him while he’s unaware of it.

There’s still an element of this going on in cuckold relationships where the female motive is dominant. She takes control as the dominant partner and gets with other men while her husband is reluctant, hesitant, or (more likely) a submissive partner.

This can get weird because the dynamic doesn’t always work. Instead what usually happens is that the cuck husband imagines this playing out, even though his wife is shy, reluctant, submissive or conservative.

You’ve got two people who are sexually submissive to each other.

This may be one of the major drivers of the cuckold fantasy. The wannabe-cuck wishes she would be more sexual for any reason, even if that means hooking up with other guys.

The cuckold craves the humiliation, the angst, and the submissive role. He wants his wife, and maybe her lover (called a bull), to take charge, boss him around, and treat him like dirt. Small penis fantasies and male chastity are part of this.

A lot of what you find however are couples who approach cuckolding as equal partners.

In this case, the unfaithful wife is called a hotwife. Hotwives date with their husband’s enthusiastic consent and limited participation.

If cuckolding is motivated by the woman, the hotwife fantasy is motivated by masculine energy.

A cuckold’s wife (called a cuckoldress) also dates with her husband’s knowledge and permission, but the dynamic is different for hotwife couples.

The hotwife’s husband — we can call him a stag for short — experiences sexual pleasure in knowing that his wife has sex with other men.

He’s not interested in the angst and humiliation. He’s there to watch hot sex with the woman he loves most.

He wants his wife to be his real-life porn star.

We can talk about stag and vixen relationships to distinguish this hotwife dynamic from plain cuckolding.

You can think of cuckolding in all forms as a kind of BDSM play.

Domination by your wife, and the ‘hurts so good’ thrill and pain of a cheating partner makes for a healthy brew of Dom/sub and Masochist energy.

Not only that, there’s a lot of crossover with other themes, such as denial of penetration, orgasm denial, full male chastity, and even extreme humiliation like “clean up” duty or being tied up in bondage to watch her have sex.

Men: if this describes you and your female partner isn’t on board, you’d be well advised to stay well away from these extremes before she’s had time to warm up to the ideas.

The extremes can be a big turn off, especially if it’s your first trip to this pool.

Chances are your husband hasn’t gone this far into it, though.

Porn aside, most guys who show signs of cuckold and hotwife curiosity aren’t really into that level of hardcore play.

If your hubby is like most, he’s getting his rocks off imagining you getting down and dirty with another guy, while he’s watching and jerking off — and that’s all he’s into.

The fantasy itself is enough of an earthquake shock to most monogamous partners.

Sex is a big deal in a marriage. Getting it from another partner besides your husband is a big ask.

Save the wild stuff until you’ve made the easy case.

One last thing: The words don’t matter so much.

We use the word “cuckolding” for all this kinky ladies-only sex.

We might be talking about a hotwife or a cuckold or even swingers.

If you want to find out what he’s really into, you’ll have to ask him.

Talk to your husband to get a feel for what he’s down for…

And what you might be comfortable or not so comfortable with.

So your husband is a cuckold. What now?

Many women first hear all about this fantasy and, pardon our Francais, they lose their shit.

How could he? Doesn’t he love me? Aren’t I good enough? I bet he just wants to get with another girl and this is his way out!

The thoughts start racing and a serious conversation becomes impossible.

You must understand one vital thing: Sex is Weird.

What gets people off isn’t what the romance movies and cheesy sitcoms told you.

Everybody’s into weird stuff.

If you stop and think about it, though, it’s not that weird… and it might even be more loving, selfless, and even romantic than you realize.

He wants to watch you.

It might help if you think of his cuckold fantasy as the mirror image of a voyeurism kink.

Many women admit to a thrill from being watched during sex.

Some women go so far as to fantasize about their husbands watching them get fucked by another guy. (Needless to say these women are ideal cuckoldress and hotwife partners for men with this fantasy.)

The male counterpart is called candaulism. You can think of candaulism as the mirror image of the voyeuristic woman.

She wants to be watched and he gets off watching her.

A wife can take comfort knowing that her man is not only loyal to her, he’s not even straying to watch porn. He wants to see your body in action, because he loves you and that’s what brings him pleasure.

Men have evolved to enjoy cheating and sharing.

You may not realize this since so much of the media portrays men as stoic, macho, jealous types who could never think of letting another man touch their special lady.

The truth is that cuckold fantasies, wife-sharing fantasies and hotwifing fantasies are consistently ranked among the top male sexual fantasies.

When neuroscientists Ogi Ogas and Sai Gaddam analyzed the contents of a billion online search terms as research for their 2012 book A Billion Wicked Thoughts, they discovered that “cuckold porn” is second only to “youth” in heterosexual porn searches.

Think what you will but a whole lot of men are at least cuckold-curious even if they can’t admit it in good company.

Sure, he say it’s a “threesome” he wants, but that doesn’t always mean he wants to have two girls at once.

And, ladies, you should know that a good number of guys are thinking about bringing another swinging dick in the room for your pleasure when they bring up the T-word.

Plenty of men find the idea of you enjoying sex with another man an arresting and almost explosive erotic experience.

Especially as men get a little older and the lustful years of the horny teenager leave them behind, the idea of sexually satisfying even one woman can become daunting. Pleasing two women sounds more like work than fun.

That threesome he’s after might be MFM rather than FFM.

He loves you so much that he wants you to experience sex even without him.

If you look at it this way, it’s hard to see the cuckold’s desire as anything less than romantic. He’s in love with you, taking pleasure in your body… he’d rather think about you in action than watch porn.

That’s a hell of a complement, ladies. You’d be so lucky to have a man that loyal to you.

You’re in a relationship with a man who has an unorthodox, but not all that weird, sexual kink… which, unlike many kinks, works entirely in your favor as an attached woman.

If you think that’s an exaggeration, ask your self which scenario you’d prefer?

(A) The option to be ravished by that handsome stud you saw at the gym, with no risk to yourself, no strings, and a loving relationships at home?

(B) The usual bro-fantasy of sharing him with another girl in the typical FFM threesome?

That’s what we thought.

No need to be shy about it. You’re in good company.

Female sexuality also responds to multiple male partners.

The Twilight series, the books and the movies, didn’t get so popular with women by accident.

It turns out that women and men get physically excited and mentally aroused when multiple men desire one woman.

We’re natural-born cuckold fetishists.

For most couples the revelation of a cuckold fantasy doesn’t have to change anything.

This doesn’t mean you have to head out to the nearest pick-up bar and go home with the first guy who buys you a drink.

Please don’t do that.

You need to move slowly, patiently, with lots of conversations about what you want and don’t want, and above all, you need to vet your stunt-cocks.

Porn and erotica (including ours) will show you whirlwind affairs that begin on a whim, never use a condom, and have no consequences.

That’s because this is a fucking hot fantasy and we’d all love it if sex happened this way.

In the real world, you need to be more prudent.

Your cuckold man might be just fine with foreplay pillow-talk and teasing him about flirting with other guys while you give him a slow handjob.

Remember: many fantasies are best left as fantasies. Just because he enjoys the idea doesn’t mean he would really want you to spread your legs for a stranger.

What if we want to play with his cuckolding fantasy?

The first step is always to relax.

Your husband is a cuckold. So what?

It’s not the end of your relationship, and if you’re willing to listen to his needs and communicate your own, you can find a lot of positives for both of you.

If you approach it with an open mind.

That’s the next first step for all of these cases.

If you shut him down…

If you get grumpy or offended…

If you moralize his fantasy…

If you try to explain why he has these feelings instead of listening…

You’re going to cause friction.

The remedy is communication and honesty. Communicate with your husband or boyfriend and try to understand where he’s coming from and what he’s really after.

And you know what else? Ask yourself if you’re really turned off by it… or if you’re saying what you think you’re supposed to say.

There’s a lot of research into female sexual desire which suggests women are far more responsive to promiscuous sex with lots of different men.

Your womanly sexual desire might be stoked by a verboten affair more than you can admit even to yourself.

Again, it comes down to communication, honesty, and trust. If you’re not comfortable expressing what YOU want, neither of you will find satisfaction.

But that’s true for any part of sex.

The main thing?

Have fun with it. It’s sex, with the person closest to you in the world. You’re meant to enjoy it.

Here’s what you can do next.

Move slow. It’s hard to do this when lust is the principle motivator. The thing is, in his mind he’s probably bottled this up for a long time, so he’s going to be aching. Just remember: once you’ve had sex with another man, you can’t un-fuck him. Make sure you’re both okay before you move outside of fantasy-land.

Talk to him. Communication is key, and so many couples never tell each other what they want. If you’re tempted to put your foot down and never talk, then you’re doing far more damage to your relationship than his sexual kink.

Respect his desires and your own boundaries. If you aren’t comfortable with something, then don’t go for it. You’re listening to him, so make sure that you tell him what YOU are and aren’t okay with.

Privacy and safety must come first. Any time you involve another person, you are sharing your most intimate life with them. That can be fun and exciting. It can also have down sides. Take precautions when finding and meeting other men.

One simple, fun, and no-risk way to start out with cuckolding and stag-vixen fantasies is with role play and sex toys.

Get a life-like dildo which is slightly bigger than your husband’s penis and taunt him with it.

Give it a name, like “Diego”.

Tell him you’re fucking Diego tonight, so he has to watch and jerk off.

Tease him about going out to fuck another guy if you go out for after-work drinks.

If you’re ready to step it up a notch, then flirt with other men in public.

Make a date for the two of you in a public space like a bar.

Wear sexy clothes, like a sundress with no panties.

Come on to guys openly, right in front of him.

It’s a good test-run without committing to anything serious. If he can’t handle this part, then he’s not going to handle his wife having sex with someone else.

Cuckolding and Hotwifing FAQ

What is cuckolding?

A form of open relationship defined by consensual female non-monogamy and male monogamy.

The wife gets sex outside of the relationship while the husband stays loyal.

What is hotwifing?

A variation of the cuckold relationship that involves more active participation of the husband in his wife’s exploits.

The term “hotwife” usually distinguishes this kind of play from a cuckold relationship that centers on the husband’s inadequacy and his desire for submission and humiliation.

Hotwife relationships focus more on the sex than the humiliated husband.

Isn’t “wife sharing” a sexist idea?

It could be taken that way.

We believe it’s better to understand the phrase more like sharing water, sharing a home… or sharing a bed… than sharing a piece of property that you own.

Wife sharing is sharing female sexuality in a spirit of pleasure and generosity.

What do couples get out of cuckold & hotwife relationships?

Couples in this lifestyle, or interested in it, find it both intensely erotic and intimate.

It’s not for everyone, but those men and women who do find it arousing enjoy unrivaled sexual enjoyment from her sexual infidelity.

What are the drawbacks of cuckold relationships?

The same as you’d expect from any “cheating” situation.

There’s the possible emotional pain of jealousy, shame, guilt, and fear that she’ll leave with another lover for good.

There’s the physical risk, of pregnancy and STDs, and even potential threats to safety and privacy.

You’re inviting a man you may not know well into your most intimate world… and it goes without saying that employers and the local Bible group may think dimly of your escapades should they come out.

What about stag and vixen couples?

Stag and vixen refer to a cuckolded male — the ‘horns’ of the cuckold — and his cheating wife.

These usually refer to a hotwife and her husband, being easier to say than “hotwife” and “husband of a hotwife”.

How is cuckolding different from swinging?

Swinging used to be called “wife swapping” before the sexist implications of swapping wives became generally frowned on.

Unlike cuckolding and hotwife relationships, swinging involves mutual sharing of both sexual partners between two or more couples.

Swingers allow the men to have sex as well.

Cuckolds & hotwives keep the husband monogamous, either by choice (hotwives) or by submission (cuckolds).

11 notes · View notes

ducktracy · 4 years ago

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172. porky’s railroad (1937)

release date: august 7th, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: frank tashlin

starring: mel blanc (porky, bull), billy bletcher (rival conductor)

frank tashlin’s love of streamline design is incorporated into this fast-paced cartoon about life on the railroad: it’s up to porky and his “percolator on a roller skate” to win a race against an uppity conductor and his streamline shoe-in.

the typography lettering the animated title card melt away to reveal a rather complex steam train, chugging along to a merry score of a stalling favorite, “california, here i come”. as to be expected with frank tashlin, we’re treated to close-ups of the train (usually in conjunction with the music score): bells, whistles, wheels and all. some footage of the train itself has been reused time and time again, dating as far back as the buddy era, but the close-ups and camera angles add a layer of freshness to it. the train hurtles straight towards the audience, labeled triumphantly “the 30th century limited -- the railroad’s crack train”, a take on new york central’s 20th century limited train.

for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. iris in to the antithesis of the crack train, a sluggish, bulky locomotive named “toots”, headed by porky pig himself. tashlin takes a job towards hi (least) favorite porcine as the text narrates: “the 15th century unlimited - also a crack train. everything cracked -- including the engineer”. the typography is expertly done, the “15th century” lettering done in an old, archaic font. it’s all too easy to take font for granted these days--remember, these are all hand-painted letters, including title cards!

porky and his crack train toots are headed straight for piker’s peak, a daunting mountain whose height is pronounced in camera pans. the camera pans up a layout painting of the mountain, and then we get a wide-angle distance shot of the train itself attempting to chug forth. to assert the unreliability of the train and its speed, or lack thereof, porky observes a snail scaling up the mountain at lightning pace in comparison. finally, the train stalls out all together.

cut to an overhead angle of porky inside the conductor’s booth, where he reaches into a compartment and withdraws a pepper shaker (a brief closeup of the pepper shaker dispelling any confusion as to what’s in the pig’s hand.) with that, porky shakes the pepper shaker over a burning candle situated where the engine is--note his tail uncoiling and recoiling with each shake--and, predictably, the train begins to sneeze its way uphill, porky giving his blessing with a polite “gesundheit.”

soon enough, the sneezes grow rapid, and the train speeds over top the mountain like it was nothing. a habit of his, tashlin gets a bit too trigger happy and cuts too quickly for the gag to sink in--the caboose and a few of the box cars actually fly off the tracks on account of the speed. props for conveying such fast speeds, but it’s a little too fast, a problem area of tashlin’s at times. nevertheless, we’re greeted with more layouts of the scenery, motion conveyed by a camera moving closer to the backgrounds. at one point, the train even goes through a very short tunnel. the camera movements of the early LT cartoons can be janky at times, but here they’re conducted very well.

next, a bird’s eye view of porky’s train traversing a number of intertwining tracks. whoever animated this next scene, my hat is off to you--the boxcars all weave in and out of different tracks in a rather short yet complex bit of animation before realigning on one single track. very well executed and very fun, just one of the few scenes that make me say “i’m glad i didn’t have to animate that!”

unbeknownst to porky, however, is a train hurtling right in his direction. porky finally takes note, and hurriedly pulls his train up to an adjacent track just by a depot. however, the caboose is still on the track. at the very last minute, he manages to squeeze in and pull foreward JUST as the train roars by, giving an audibly “whew!” of relief (which i believe is bob bentley animation.) the layout of the two trains “colliding” is nice, but the scene itself has some execution issues: porky pulling up is a bit too quick and looks comically unnatural, and the odd crunching sound effect makes it sound as though the oncoming train actually did collide with the caboose.

porky doesn’t have much time to relax as he’s back on the rails. even tugging on the whistle wildly does nothing to alert the obstacle in front of him, yet thankfully he manages to squeal to a stop. he’s greeted with an obstacle that has haunted cartoon characters for years: it halted oswald in 1927 with trolley troubles, it plighted mickey and minnie in 1928 with plane crazy, it stopped bosko and honey a mere two years later in sinkin’ in the bathtub, and now porky is up to battle: a cow lying in the middle of the tracks.

carl stalling switches from “california, here i come” to a slow, lumbering yet fitting rendition of “rural rhythm” to accommodate the lazy cow chewing on some grass. the animation of the cow is rather amusing--her tail is high in the air, her exaggerated cycle of chewing is great, and the detail of her haphazardly cracking an eye open to pay porky any mind is another plus.

stepping off the train, porky opts to bargain with her with a polite tip of the hat. “excu-uh-excu-uh-pardon me, uh-muh-meh-missus cow, will you eh-keh-keh-kindly get off the t-teh-eh-teh-track?” despite his efforts, coupled with another tip of the hat and a smile, mrs. cow stays right put, barely acknowledging porky’s presence. porky’s attempts to make pleasantries quickly fade away in favor of a more hostile attitude, telling her to amscray (putting the “pig” in “pig latin”, i see!) and calling her a mess of T-bones, all while pushing her from behind.

finally, the cow does step off the tracks on her own, prompting porky to fall flat on the tracks as she lazily stalks away. porky fumes as he marches back onto his train, ranting about how cows like her give milk a bad name, how she can’t give sweet milk with a sour puss like that, etc.

enter the bull. the bull’s entrance is great: i love the bristling hairs, the assertive glare at the camera, the missing tooth, the flared nostrils. stalling’s score of “rural rhythm” is also wonderfully moody and alert. the bull marches across the tracks and hides behind a bush, with only its tail exposed. porky, not typically known for his intelligence, thinks it’s the cow from before and grows confrontational. “so, you weh-won’t walk, eh? i'll sheh-show you, you feh-four-legged eh-peh-piece of hamburger!” porky tugs on the aggravated bull’s tail before cursing at the bull (which is just dialogue reversed. reversed, the dialogue is “...toots, old gal. don’t pop your...” you can hear a comparison here.) the bull grunts, causing porky to rush back to his train and hurtle across the tracks in a flash. don’t quote me on this, as i’m not 100% sure, but i believe the animation of porky and the bull may be joe d’igalo...?

spark the ever prevalent Tashlin Montage: up-angles of disjointed hands tapping away on a telegraph to communicate the message (that comes out on a paper strip) “stop porky’s train”. more cinematic angles of brakes being pulled, barriers being put up. porky himself screeches his trusty train to a halt, waiting outside the depot as a paper rolls across a wire line to him. he grabs it and observes the news:

“streamline train” is highlighted, and sure enough, we fade to meet tashlin’s streamlined fantasy, a sleek feat of modern architectural design barreling down the tracks, named THE SILVER FISH. there’s a nice little intricate piece of animation as the train weaves closer into view, the conductor tipping his hat to the audience with a commanding grin.

elsewhere, porky bids his train a tearful goodbye. “au rev-v-vo... au rev-v-v... au rev-v-v--goodbye, teh-t-toots old gal. parting is seh-seh-such sweet seh-seh-sorrow...” however, william shakespig has little time to mourn his loss, for the silver fish itself comes whipping into place in the adjacent track, nearly knocking porky off his feet in the process.

ever the good sport, porky marches over to greet the conductor (towering feet above him) and wish him good luck. as he sticks his hand out, “mr. silver fish” reaches down and grabs porky, shaking him vigorously. the animation being shot on one’s paired with mel blanc’s near-incomprehensible cries for help pair together for a nice gag. porky flops to the ground, his lowly status only confirmed as the conductor (voiced by billy bletcher) regards his train: “saaay, what is that? a percolator on a roller skate?” the train deflates from the insult, coupled with bletcher’s signature laugh.

volney white animates porky’s close-up as he mutters to the audience “i’ll buh-be-beh-be-bet my eh-t-teh-t-tootsie can beh-beh-beat his old eh-seh-seh-eh-seh-silver fish.” the camera pans out as the conductor lurches into view, picking up porky by his tail and giving him a few pokes in the eye stooges style as he sneers “oh yeah? it’s a bet. we’ll have a race and see!” volney’s animation is very well executed, very dimensional.

fade to reveal both trains on adjacent tracks, complete with a referee toting a starter pistol. tashlin’s need for speed is unmistakable--as soon as the referee fires, the silver fish rockets off in a cloud of smoke, leaving porky’s old train tangled in a pretzel (complete with a score of “you’re a horses ass.)

the cartoon, at least for me (i am a tad biased on account of my unabashed love for porky), has been rather enjoyable up to this point, but here’s where things get sour. it’s literally 5 seconds, but enough to be incredibly uncomfortable and infuriating: the silver fish rushes past a woodpile (explicitly labeled as such), revealing a black caricature sitting beneath it. the gag itself is based off of an incredibly racist saying synonymous to “a fly in the ointment” or “a skeleton in the closet”--it’s in extremely poor taste and more than uncomfortable. i love frank tashlin, he’s one of my favorite directors, but this leaves a sour taste in my mouth, even if it was 83 years ago.

nevertheless, the silver fish speeds through a tunnel with such frightening speeds that it actually turns the tunnel inside out--the animation is a bit matter of fact, and thus the gag doesn’t reach the amount of potential as, say, porky pulling his entire garage inside out, but working with a tunnel also poses flexibility issues. it’s easier for a garage to appear rubbery than a tunnel. the silver fish screeches to a halt near a harbor as the bridges raise to let a boat through. it is then when a fish caricature of mae west pops out of the water, spotting the silver fish and cooing “oh boy, what a man!” the tashlin looney tunes shorts of the 1940s would use burlesque and sex comedy as a main topic for lampooning--this is a neat little precursor to that.

porky finally gets his share of screen time, chugging along frantically. the animation of him pulling on the whistle is incredibly smooth--judging by the complexity of the train and the thickness of porky’s eyebrows, i’d wage this as bob bentley animation. the bridges raise to pass another ship through, the S.S. leon. yes, as in leon schlesinger, who was actually a boatsman! according to a 1939 trade paper, schlesinger was a skipper--he’d bought actor richard arlen’s yacht (named dijo) and rebranded it as, fittingly, the merrie melody. porky’s train rushes right across the bow of the S.S. leon, bringing back a few unwarranted treasures in the process: a life preserver and a singing sailor in a lifeboat (singing “don’t give up the ship”), dangling from pulleys attached to a boxcar.

the temperamental bull from before makes another appearance, watching porky’s train speed by from the hilltops. mel blanc provides the bull’s raspy monologue as the bull recalls his prior experience with porky--”he can’t get away with a thing like that, i’ll show him!”

sure enough, the bull rushes onto the tracks, bellows out a roar, and rams into porky’s train at the speed of light, literally just a mass of dry brushed streaks. the animation of the bull plowing into boxcars like nobody’s business is more than satisfying to watch. the lack of a music score, just the chuffing of porky’s engine, adds a greater burst to the bull’s impact when he makes contact with the train. the bull, as it turns out, does porky a favor: as he collides with porky’s section of the train, the impact is enough to send him flying. that is, flying right over the befuddled head of the silver fish’s conductor. conveniently, porky lands right across the finish line, where he’s met with cheers and applause from the stands. the underdog wins at last.

iris in onto the side of the silver fish. we pan out to reveal the conductor, a happy porky pig waving his hat in the air in a direct parallel to the conductor’s initial debut. despite the upbeat, celebratory nature, we meet a rather morbid end: the camera pans back to reveal a crushed and mangled toots, a sign draped over it reading “headin’ for the last roundhouse”. iris out.

for its time, this is a very fun and lively cartoon. as to be expected in a tashlin cartoon, the camera angles are divine as always, and the fast-paced cutting, although a bit too fast at times, adds a nice bit of exhilaration to the cartoon. the race between porky and the conductor truly does feel like a race and leaves you breathless at parts. carl stalling’s music score is a joy like always, and the backgrounds are beautifully painted. there are some really unique pans and camera angles of just the layouts alone. tashlin has a fine concept of speed--more than fine, really. he serves as a rather suitable competitor to tex avery in that department. in some cases, he may even surpass him. my only true gripe with the cartoon is the incredibly racist gag--it can be easily skipped, it’s very much a throwaway gag that the cartoon’s success doesn’t rely on, but it does sour my glowing review quite a bit.

nevertheless, this is a fun, early porky entry that’s worth a watch. the racist gag is around 5:28-5:33 in the link i provided.

link!

(you can also watch the short on HBOmax if you have it--that’s where i got the screenshots from!)

#lt #looney tunes #porky’s railroad #tashlin #reviews #long post #racism m

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bookswithelli · 4 years ago

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a darker shade of magic: review

synopsis:

Kell is one of the last Antari—magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel Londons; Red, Grey, White, and, once upon a time, Black.

Kell was raised in Arnes—Red London—and officially serves the Maresh Empire as an ambassador, traveling between the frequent bloody regime changes in White London and the court of George III in the dullest of Londons, the one without any magic left to see.

Unofficially, Kell is a smuggler, servicing people willing to pay for even the smallest glimpses of a world they'll never see. It's a defiant hobby with dangerous consequences, which Kell is now seeing firsthand.

After an exchange goes awry, Kell escapes to Grey London and runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. She first robs him, then saves him from a deadly enemy, and finally forces Kell to spirit her to another world for a proper adventure.

Now perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, they'll first need to stay alive.

review under the cut!

stars: ★★★★☆

First of all, although I rated this book 4 stars, there were some issues with it (mainly involving representation and characterization). I rated it 4 stars because I enjoyed reading it despite its issues, but I recognize that the mediocre representation may turn others away from this book.

characters & representation

Before I begin this section of the review, I would like to say that I am not visually impaired and therefore do not have any authority on that subject. My comments on the treatment of Lila's missing eye are merely based on my own observations and what I have heard from visually impaired people on the topic.

Lila:

A cross-dressing thief and aspiring pirate with a penchant for knives, Lila Bard brings to mind the likes of Inej Ghafa from Leigh Bardugo's Six of Crows and Elizabeth Swann from Pirates of the Caribbean. There were times when I really liked Lila; she can be sassy and morally questionable which is always interesting to see when well done. However, her character had a few issues that I wanted to address.

“Delilah Bard looked like a king. No...she looked like a conqueror.” pg. 289

When will fantasy authors stop romanticising conquerors and colonization?! This may be a smaller issue since aside from White London (which is villainized) there is no mention of it in the overarching plot, but this line just really bothered me. It makes me think that V.E. Schwab is a fan of adult and YA fantasy authors like Sarah J. Maas and others who write their main characters to be colonizers and romanticize it in the process. I don’t think this line was necessary at all, and I wish the second sentence had been removed or modified to something a little less problematic (e.g. she looked like a pirate/captain/etc.)

"How did you lose it...your eye?" -Master Tieren, pg. 327

It is revealed near the end of the book that Lila has been missing an eye for as long as she can remember, and she wears a glass eye as a replacement. This is all well and good, but the consequences of her impaired vision are never explored. The only reason the reader knows that Lila is missing an eye is because the author tells them. The narrative never discusses how Lila's lack of an eye affects her day to day life, and it's only brought into the story when it is needed for the plot.

It’s also worth mentioning that Lila is the only female character with a large role in this book, and no matter how “feminist” her character is, there’s not a lot of women in this book that are portrayed positively and with depth.

Rhy:

I actually really liked Rhy and I loved his relationship with Kell. I love sibling love in books and we so rarely get positive sibling relationships, so this was nice to see! It’s also really important to have queer people of color in books. However, I don’t think Rhy’s character is good bi/pan representation (I will refer to him as bi in this review for the sake of brevity, but it’s worth mentioning that neither term is mentioned so Rhy could canonically identify as either).

“He would flirt with a nicely upholstered chair, and he never takes anything seriously.” -Kell, pg. 254

As a queer girl who has identified as bisexual in the past and may in the future, this is bad bi rep 101. Schwab is perpetuating the stereotype of the “promiscuous bi”, or one who flirts and/or sleeps with everyone and everything. This is not a bad characteristic in itself, but it is harmful bi rep because that is the way every bi character is portrayed in media. It reinforces the idea that bisexual people in real life are all like this, and it also reinforces biphobes’ points of view when they say that bisexual people are more likely to cheat because they sleep with more people. This is pretty much the most common stereotype of a bisexual person, so while I doubt that Schwab intended to be harmful in her portrayal of Rhy, it shows that she did not do much research on LGBT+ rep when writing her characters. I do know that some bi people were not bothered by this; however, I believe that writers should stay away from stereotypes, especially when writing characters that are marginalized. Even though promiscuity is not an inherently bad trait, it is harmful when applied to bisexual people because it reinforces real peoples’ beliefs and affects real life bisexuals. This is especially important here because Rhy is the only narrative-confirmed LGBT+ character in the first book. It's not the worst representation I've seen, since Rhy does have a personality outside his flirtatiousness and promiscuity (in fact, it's confirmed that this is a coping mechanism for him) but it's certainly not the best, and I'm just tired of seeing bisexual people represented this way in fiction.

Kell:

I know a lot of people who didn’t like Kell very much, and that is understandable. However, I found him really compelling. It’s refreshing to see a male lead in this genre who’s not jacked and a brooding asshole whose only redeeming quality is his dick size. He’s definitely moody, but not to the point where he becomes an abusive alpha male type guy (yes, I am aware that this is a very low bar). I genuinely enjoyed his character because he’s flawed. He’s stubborn and moody but he’s incredibly caring and he genuinely wants to help people. He feels alienated from his family so he rebels and gets himself in trouble. His character is written well because he’s not perfect by any means, but he’s still likeable and you still root for him.

Holland:

Holland is what every YA love interest wishes they were. Honestly. He’s given no excuses for his actions, and yet he is still sympathetic. You understand that he is under the control of Astrid and Athos, but you also understand that all he has done for years is carry out their orders, and that changes a person. His story is heartbreaking, but that doesn’t change what he has done. He knows it, Kell knows it, Lila knows it, the reader knows it. Honestly, if he were in a YA fantasy romance, I bet Holland would be the love interest; his female “mate” would change him for the better, and he would never face the consequences of his actions. That makes his arc in this story all the more enjoyable. Holland is one of my favorite characters of all time, and not because he’s a perfect “book boyfriend” or whatever, but because his story and character are genuinely interesting and executed well.

worldbuilding

I loved the worldbuilding in this book. There was a bit of an info-dump in the beginning, but I’m willing to look past that because the world was so engaging and interesting that I forgot about the dense first chapter once I got past it. Each London has a distinct feel, and they are all almost tangible. The descriptions of each made me feel like I was in the Londons along with Kell and Lila. It seems like the system would be complicated, but Lila sums it up well:

“There’s Dull London, Kell London, Creepy London, and Dead London.” -pg. 198

After the initial info-dump, Schwab weaves information about the magic system seamlessly through the book, leaving enough mystery for the reader to wonder at what might happen in the next books, but never leaving out so much that the reader is confused. I really appreciated the rules that existed around magic. It’s draining, and Antari magic requires blood, which means there is a limit to how much you can perform at once. Magic is seen to affect the world beyond the characters and their main conflict, which I was very happy about as well. There are too many fantasy novels where the magic system has no rules and only exists to further the plot, but in this world you can see it everywhere. The politics of Red London and White London are affected by magic, even where it is not necessarily relevant to the plot. You can see small amounts of magic being performed in the streets of Red London: spells to protect from thieves, etc. Magic is normal for the people in Red London, and it is treated as such in the text.

pacing & plot

This book flew along. I’ve read it multiple times now, and every time, I can’t stop until I finish. And then I want to move along to the next book immediately. It manages to keep up a great pace and still build up to an exciting climax. Schwab’s lyrical writing is not flowery, but it draws the reader in and carries them along the story effortlessly. It’s very engaging and accessible language, which makes it a good stepping stone into adult fantasy (especially if you’re coming from YA).

Overall, I really enjoyed this book. The representation that it gets praised so highly for is disappointing, but aside from that I enjoyed most of the characters and the writing was beautiful. The plot and world were engaging and made me want to read the second book immediately (even though I’m on my 3rd or 4th reread). I would recommend this book for fans of YA fantasy who want to get into adult fantasy - this book is categorized as adult, but I found it a lot easier to read than other adult fantasies. For me, this book is a reminder that you can recognize the flaws in a book and still enjoy it, so remember to stay critical, even of your favorite books :)

#adsom #a darker shade of magic #kell maresh #lila bard #rhy maresh #holland vosijk #ve schwab #booklr #review

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thetypedwriter · 4 years ago

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The Ruin of Kings Book Review

The Ruin of Kings Book Review by Jenn Lyons

Boy, oh, boy, was this a wild ride.

Those of you who have been following me for a while know that I occasionally delve into adult fiction here and there. I mainly stick to my vegetarian course of YA novels, but every once in a while I can’t help but pick up a slice of bacon, or in this case, an adult fiction book.

Or, even more specifically, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that it’s adult fantasy instead of fiction. High fantasy at that, which is characterized by a whole new world with fantastical elements and not just a novel in the known primary world with fantasy elements.

With that literary lesson out of the way, let me get started.

The Ruin of Kings by Jenn Lyons came recommended by one of my favorite book bloggers, Paperfury. She counted this as one of her most recent book obsessions she couldn’t stop thinking about and in general I trust her judgement (although she was way way off on The Queen of Nothing, yikes).

This massive installment is definitely not the short and sweet page length I’m used to with YA, and neither does it have the comforting and large font that makes me feel like an accomplished reader after just an hour of skimming.

No, this installment is large and beefy and could probably give someone a concussion if you threw it at them, so just keep that in mind.

The whole fantasy revolves around a boy named Khirin. Khirin is your typical fantasy hero, equipped with the luscious blonde hair and the sparkling blue eyes and most importantly, the wickedly sharp tongue reminiscent of a male character from the Cassandra Clare universe.

He’s sharp, he’s witty, he’s charming, and he also has terrible, terrible luck.

Or does he?

When you first meet Khirin he is being sold as a slave to the highest bidder. He’s cold, he’s injured, he’s starving, and he’s broken. You, as a reader at this point, are completely and irrevocably confused.

You’re thinking: Who is this boy? What is happening to him? Why are people betting so much money for him? What’s with this necklace around his neck? Where did he come from? Where are we? What world is this? Where is he going? What the hell is going on???

To say that Lyons starts out strong would be underhanded hyperbole. You are forcibly drop-kicked into the fantasy world of Qurr and its many raging empires and states, and putting them all together is frankly daunting and largely impossible until a good chunk of the book is devoured.

Frankly, I still have trouble figuring out all the locations and gods and god-kings and factions and lore and people and how they’re all related, Game of Thrones style. But that’s part of the fun.

One of my biggest complaints with YA is that the reader is generally treated like they’re pretty stupid.

Often a YA author feels the need to explain every single iteration and modicum of interaction between their characters or spend too much time describing things, and it leaves very little for interpretation or inference on the side of the reader. Lyons is almost the complete opposite, which is as refreshing as it is frustrating.

As you are introduced to Khirin and this gargantuan universe that Lyons has created, you will feel stupid. To be fair, I enjoyed it most of the time. I relished the challenge of learning to differentiate all the different families of the Court of Gems, of distinguishing the Goddess Thaena from the Goddess Tya.

I liked when I was finally able to smugly look at the map at the beginning and recognize all of the city states like Doltar or Kirpis or Manol. I liked when I understood the different races like the Thriss or the vané and the implications of what that meant.

If that was a whole load of word vomit for you, that’s okay.

Again, it’s part of the fun.

What I do want you to get out of this, however, is the knowledge that Lyons has created an expansive universe with multiple creatures, including dragons and witches, rivaling royal families, gods reminiscent of the Greek Gods and their interference with human affairs, a rivaling world split with so many seams that you’re not even sure who to root for, an emperor, magical jewelry, demons and even a dose of piracy and musical competition.

This book honestly has a little of everything — which, to be fair, it should, considering how damn long it takes to get through it’s never-ending pages.

To make this as simplified as possible, the plot goes like this:

Khirin is sold into slavery and finds himself in the hands of a group called the Black Brotherhood. Over time, Khirin learns about this group and their intentions, learns more about himself and the Stone of Shackles (the necklace he wears around his neck), divulges his past and how he got sold into slavery in the first place-his upbringing, his musical talent, his stay at the Blue Palace, his eventual betrayal at the hands of someone he loves.

You learn over the course of each chapter what brought Khirin to his current fate and more of what he is trying to do now,: which is to return home and save the world from the likes of the two main antagonists (although not all of them by any means), Gadrith and Darzin.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that is the most bare- bones summary I have ever written. But honestly, this book is about a hero named Khirin and his adventure to rid the world of evil as he learns about himself and his past.

Like many, many, other books before it, this book explores what it means to be a hero, what it means to be a god, what it means to be involved with the fight of good vs. evil. This book is not special in that sense regarding these themes.

However, there are some really cool aspects of this novel that I thoroughly enjoyed that I’ll relay now that the summary (as condensed as it is, sorry) is out of the way.

The two things I enjoyed most about this book were the writing itself and the POV. Most high fantasy novels that I’ve attempted to read have this ridiculous notion that every character must speak in some dead medieval language rife with historical inaccuracies and banal, clipped speech. Lyons does nothing of the sort.

Her characters are creative and crass and downright funny. The dialogue is immersive and natural and oftentimes, other than the backdrop of a dragon or lizard-people, it felt like two modern-day people were having a conversation, which I greatly appreciated.

Lyons is also a very big fan of building up her writing and then smacking you down at the pinnacle. For example:

“Before us lay the Mother of Trees.

I didn’t understand what I was seeing. I couldn’t comprehend. It just seemed like a humongous wall at first, one that had been built up with palaces and verandas, graceful pavilions, and stained-glass windows glittering like jewels. Only when I looked up could I perceive the sweep of branches, the distance velvet of green leaves. This was a tree to hold up the whole world, the sort of place where Galava must live, if any place were consecrated to her. It seemed ageless and immortal, a tree that had always and would always exist.

Naturally, we were setting it on fire.”

I personally found this style of writing hilarious. Lyons often built up the tension, beauty, or conflict, and then would deliver these one-liners that would leave me gasping with laughter. This creative juxtaposition was super enjoyable and one that made the book a big success for me.

Secondly, while this book is told almost entirely (keyword almost -there are some outlier chapters) from Khirin’s perspective, it technically oscillates between present Khirin and past Khirin.

The whole book switches from one timeline to another every other chapter, with the chapter starting with Khirin being sold into slavery being the “present” and told from Khirin’s first-person POV and then switching the next chapter to his “past” and being told from Khirin’s third-person POV.

I loved this. I thought this was so creative, and up to this point, I have never seen this done in another book. The subtle shift from first to third person every chapter, but still from the perspective of the same character, was so interesting and complex.

I loved that we were simultaneously getting current-day Khirin, but also Khirin from two years ago telling us the events that led up to the present. It was imaginative and intriguing, and I loved trying to fill in the holes before the book presented me with it (which even then was difficult).

In addition, throughout the whole book are also footnotes from another crucial character that offer information, clarification, and also humor. While I’ve primarily read footnotes in academic papers to cite sources or offer commentary, these footnotes were just as fictional as the rest of the story, but offered insight outside of Khirin that was often dripping in sarcasm, irony, or humor.

I thought it was another really creative way for Lyons to get across information without boring everyone half to death or releasing a 100- page guidebook to help you along.

Bottom line, people,: This book isn’t for everyone. High fantasy in general is not for everyone. That’s okay. It’s not usually my taste either, at least not the adult fictional kind, but something about this book really intrigued me.

Moreso than the actual plot, which is confusing, I enjoyed the writing, the suspense, and the act of playing detective. It’s been so long since I’ve read a book that’s made me think this hard, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. That being said, the same praise is a double-edged sword.

If you don’t want to have to think and draw out charts and make graphs on Excel, then perhaps this is not the book for you.

If you don’t like high fantasy or made-up worlds, or very interconnected family dynamics, then this is not the book for you. This book also contains elements that can be triggering to some, like rape, drugs, character death, violence, imprisonment, slavery, etc.

When I say this book has everything, I mean it has everything. And that can be good or bad depending on the person. For me, I liked it. However, I did get frustrated at certain points at the lack of clarification more than once, just for full disclosure.

Recommendation: If you’ve been bereft ever since the Game of Thrones disaster-of-a-finale, then you are not alone. The Ruin of Kings has everything you’ve ever wanted in a high fantasy book: action, kings, queens, palaces, war, dragons, magic and so much more.

This book was creative and funny and complex, and if you’re willing to sink your teeth and time into a universe that demands attention then you’ll find yourself rewarded with a brand-new world to fall in love with and characters that you can’t seem to forget.

Score: 8/10

#the ruin of kings #jenn lyons #popular fiction #books #book blog #book review #fiction #Book Recommendations #booknerd #writing #fantasy #high fantasy

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i-am-regular-scenarios · 6 years ago

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A Private Lesson - Yuta Smut

Pairing: Yuta x Reader

Words: 11,700+

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Sexual / mature content and language

Summary: After moving in with your best friend you, set out to find a new dance studio to practice at. After falling upon one close to your apartment, you decide to give it a try. Little did you know though, there will a beautiful instructor waiting for you in that studio, that you just won’t be able to get enough of.

Songs Mentioned: the songs mentioned in the fic are Dancing With a Stranger by Sam Smith and Normani and The Only Exception by Paramore. If you’ve never heard them, I highly recommend you listen to them! It also is nice to know what they sounds like when you are reading the lyrics in this fic :)

A/N: I tried my best to proof read this, but knowing me there will still be spelling/grammar mistakes. Please don’t mind them, I will fix them up later

You rest yourself against the cool marble countertop in your kitchen as your roommate Jisoo swiftly walks past you. The speed of her strides sending a puff of fragrant air towards you. You watch her curiously as she hastily walks through your apartment with a basket of freshly washed laundry resting on her hip.

She finally sets herself on the couch and places the basket down on the coffee table. You smile to yourself before removing your body from the counter. You walk over and take the seat beside her, grabbing a shirt from the top of the basket as you sit.

You start to fold the shirt, enjoying the silence between you two. You have only been living with Jisoo for a few weeks now, but the experience has been nothing shy of enjoyable. You two have been best friends since you were kids, so when the opportunity for you to live together came up, you jumped on it. So far you have nothing to complain about.

“Have you found a studio yet?” Jisoo questions, while giving you a once over. You’re wearing what most people would deem workout attire, so you can only assume Jisoo already knows the answer to her question.

You have been in search of a dance studio for a few weeks now. You use to dance at a local place near your parents house, but since you’ve moved in with Jisoo, it is sadly much too far away to go to now.

You’d say dance was more of a hobby for you, your days of recitals and showcases far behind you. You thought about just letting it go, and not finding a new studio, but even in just a few short weeks, you miss being able to let off some steam and learn new choreos. Dancing was just one of those things for you that would never lose interest in.

“Actually, yes, I found a studio a few blocks away that I have heard is really good. I already signed up for a class. It starts in an hour,” you tell Jisoo happily.

The studio you found has amazing reviews and it seems like people really enjoy it there. The price for classes is very acceptable and they offer a lot of options. You decided on a hip hop class to start because it was always your favorite class when you were younger, and the one you are most confident in your abilities in. You decide that if you don’t enjoy the hip hop class at this new place, then there really was not going to be a need for you to stay there.

“Why haven’t you left yet then?” Jisoo questions with an eyebrow raised. She laughs at you before focusing her attention on the shirt in her hands.

“Because I have an hour and it’s practically around the corner,” you answer slowly.

You do like to be on time for things, but not that on time.

Jisoo laughs as you again. “This is just like on the first day of school Y/n you always want to be early. Scope everyone out. Maybe you’ll find a hot guy at this studio,” Jisoo adds the last part excitingly.

You scoff at her, “I doubt it.”

Although the idea of finding someone who was as passionate for dance as you are, was always high on your list of fantasies, but you doubt that you will find your love on the dance floor of this new studio. Hopefully some new friends, but you are sure the idea of love is unlikely.

“You never have any fun, you never give anything a chance. I bet there is going to be some cute guy at that studio and you’re just going to brush him off, per usual,” Jisoo states blandly. The tone of her voice causing an itch to settle over your skin.

“I do not do that,” you retort, getting up from your seat on the couch. You can feel Jisoo’s eyes watch you as you move. You can tell she’s not angry, just slightly annoyed by the tone of her voice.

You walk over to your door and start to put on your shoes. Eager now to take Jisoo’s advice and leave.

You are going to be honest here, even if you don’t want to be. Jisoo is kinda right. You “brush” people off, even if you don’t mean to. The idea of someone finding interest in you scares you. You get nervous and don’t know how to react. Whenever you see someone who you think is cute, you immediately deem them to be out of your league and you throw out any possibility of trying to talk to them. You will deny it to Jisoo though, because you know that the only way for you to stop doing it is for you to be confident in yourself and get over your fears on your own. You’ve been trying to work on it, really you have. However, there hasn’t been any opportunities for you to be brave recently. You are actually hoping for a fresh start at this studio though. You want to start your time there being sociable and confident.

“Mhm,” Jisoo hums to herself. “Whenever you see a guy that you think is attractive you always tell me all about him, but when I ask if you did anything to try and talk to him, you just say that the timing wasn’t right or something.”

You huff out a puff of air. She knows you so well.

“I’ll be home after 8,” you inform her before opening the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisoo yells back before you close the door.

You walk into the dance studio, being pleased with how nice it looks from the outside. The lobby is quite cozy with a few people resting and chatting at a table near the far left corner. You walk up to the front desk and are met by a girl who looks to be around your age. She greets you with warm smile.

“Hi, I’m here for the 7 o’clock hip hop class, my name is Y/n,” you state politely.

The girl types something on her computer before turning back to you. “You’re all set, it’s in studio 3, just down the hall. There isn’t a class in there, so you can go ahead and go in,” she points towards the hallway just to the left of her desk and you smile.

You offer her a thank you before you make your way down the hall.

You curiously look at all of the posters and pictures that liter the walls. Many of them being action shots of dancers. You finally make it to a glass door with “Studio 3” written on it. You peer in to see a few people spread around the room either talking or stretching. You take a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside.

You notice once you enter, that the room is light and airy. The temperature, although a little on the cooler side, feels refreshing for a studio. The room doesn’t feel at all stuffy and the lights seem to make the whole area feel comforting. You smile at all this, feeling more and more pleased with the place. A few people turn to you and all offer you smiles. You feel warmed by this.

You look around the room and spot a row of cupboards on the wall. You walk over to them and find an empty one to place your bag in. You start to change your shoes when you hear the studio door open and a warm voice announce to the room.

“Hi everyone,” the voice states happily.

You turn to look and your eyes land on a man. He is standing near the door and you feel all the air you have in your lungs escape in a short exhale. His blonde hair is falling nicely on his forehead and his eyes are soft and inviting. His facial features are sharp, but the smile he is wearing is in such contrast. You let your eyes wander for a few seconds before you turn back to putting your shoes on. Your fingers start to fumble a bit as you register that you will be dancing in the same room as such a beautiful man. You can tell just by looking at him that he is a good dancer. He just has that presence about him and clearly everyone around here knows him, he was greeted just as warmly as he greeted everyone else.

Immediately Jisoo’s words comes into your ear.

Don’t brush.

You feel a blush creep up to your cheeks. You promised yourself you would try and be brave, but all of that has just now been thrown out the window. That man is way too beautiful for you to try and be brave.

You finish up changing you shoes and stuff all of your things away into the cupboard. You check your phone one last time before you hear someone say your name behind you.

“Who knows me here?” your brain questions.

You turn around curiously as a girl approaches you with her arms extended outward for a hug. You recognize her immediately and happily accept her embrace. You two hug for a second before pulling away. She still looks just the same as she did when you last saw her. Annoyingly beautiful with a smile as warm and sweet as toasted marshmallows.

“It’s been forever, how are you?” Irene questions excitingly.

You smile at her, “I’m doing great, how are you?”

You use to dance with Irene at your old studio. You were quite close for a few years, but lost touch once she moved away with her family.

“I’m great, I can’t believe you’re here. When did you switch studios?” she questions.

You look at her and can’t help but smile remembering all the memories you have together. Irene could always make you smile and was just generally such a nice person to be around.

“Just a few weeks ago actually. I moved into an apartment here and finally got around to finding a new studio that’s closer to my place,” you reply and Irene’s face lights up.

“What a coincidence that you picked this one. I’m so excited you’re here. I actually was just thinking a few days ago about how much I missed my favorite partner,” Irene states with a giggle, poking at your arm lightly.

You offer her a smile as you feel a sense of relief rush over you. The fact that you now have someone here that you can talk with, makes you feel all the much better. Dancing in your opinion is always more fun when you have someone you can do it with.

“So what’s the deal here?” you question as you set your phone back into your bag.

“Well this class has been running for like a month now, but Yuta is really good about making it so people can join as they please. We are learning a new choreo today, so you started on the right day,” Irene replies, before taking a sip of her water.

“Is Yuta the instructor?” you question a little confused. Any instructor you have ever had before, you always called them Mr. or Mrs. whatever their last name is. You’ve never referred to an instructor so casually.

“Yeah, he is probably the best instructor I have ever had. He’s super nice and an incredible dancer. He has such a good energy about him and he does really well with explaining and demonstrating choreographies. Not to mention that the choreos he creates are nothing shy of amazing.” Irene looks almost star stuck as she talks about Yuta. You can’t help but admire that.

“Which one is Yuta?” you question while scanning the room. You notice the beautiful man from earlier is talking to a shorter brunette guy by the giant stereo system. You look at him for a second before turning your attention back to Irene.

“He’s the blonde one over there in the Chicago bulls windbreaker,” Irene says pointing towards the stereo. Your eyes double as you realize she is talking about the beautiful man you’ve been staring at since he entered the room.

“That is Yuta?” you question with wide eyes. You feel a blush creep itself up onto your cheeks.

Well if you thought you were nervous before about dancing next to him, now you feel like you’re going to explode because you have to dance, his own choreography, for him.

“I know, he’s handsome isn’t he,” Irene states with a giggle.

The chatter in the studio starts to lesson as Yuta’s voice bounces off the walls. “Alright guys, let’s get started.”

Irene lets out a giggle before linking her arm with yours and dragging you towards the center of the room. You feel out of place at first but the feeling of Irene being next to you, helps you to start to feel a little more grounded.

You watch as Yuta smiles brightly at everyone in the room. His eyes land on you for a second and he offers you a smile. The eye contact ends as quick as it began and he is averting his attention to someone else. You feel your cheeks continue to burn as the image of Yuta’s eye contact replays itself in your mind. Surprisingly, you want more.

Yuta starts the class by leading everyone in some stretching. The atmosphere is happy and Yuta talks lightly with a few of the other dancers. Irene asks you a bit about your apartment and promises to show you a few good restaurants near your place.

You quickly realize that you really like it here. The atmosphere perfectly fits what you were looking for. Just a big group of people passionate about dancing. So far no one seems to be here for any reason other than to have a good time. Everyone is chatting lightly with each other while you stretch. Your last studio focused too much on their competitions and everyone was usually silent and focused. As you grew older the intensity became quite annoying. You just wanted to have fun, you didn’t care about anything else.

Once everyone seemed all stretched and ready, Yuta stands up and begins the class.

You end the last dance with a bead of sweat running down your temple and a smile on your face. The music fades out as the whole room claps together and Yuta dismisses everyone. The choreo Yuta taught you guys was moderately easy, but extremely fun. It makes you feel like a piece of your heart has found its way back home now that you have danced again.

When Irene said that Yuta was an incredible dancer, she surely wasn’t lying. He is able to dance with this energy about him that captures the entire room. His movements are fluid and precise, while his expressions are always on point. You couldn’t help the way you stared at him as he effortlessly executed the routine he was teaching you.

Also the fact that he has this flawlessly handsome appearance didn’t help anything.

“How was it?” Irene questions as you two make it to the cupboards to grab your things and change your shoes.

“It was amazing! I haven’t felt this good after a class in a long time,” you reply as you remove your shoes and stuff them into your bag.

“That’s how I felt the first time too. It’s so nice and relaxed here, it’s just people having fun dancing,” Irene replies.

“That’s exactly what I was feeling,” you add, turning to her with a smile. You notice someone coming up to your right, so you turn to look at them. You lock eyes with Yuta and feel your chest clench. He is a bit sweaty but his eyes are bright and he wears a beautiful smile atop is lips.

“Hi, sorry I didn’t get to greet you earlier. I’m Yuta, I hope you liked the class,” Yuta says to you with a blinding smile. You feel your body start to melt into a puddle.

“I loved it, I’m Y/n,” you reply slowly, unsure of what else to say. You feel your grip on your bag tighten.

You look over at Irene who is planting a kiss on the guy’s cheek who was next to the stereo with Yuta earlier. You learned through the class that his name is Ten and he is Yuta’s assistant and friend.

“You are a really good dancer Y/n,” Ten states to you with a soft smile. “Your motions are very strong.”

You feel warm at the compliment.

“She really is isn’t she?,” Irene begins, “Y/n and I use to dance with each other when we were kids. She was probably the best in our whole studio.”

Irene looks at you happily, while wrapping her arm around Ten’s. You practically choke at her words.

“Thank you but I wouldn’t say I was the best. Not when you were there at least,” you reply with a laugh, to which Irene joins in.

“Nevertheless, I agree, you are really good,” Yuta adds from beside you. All you can do is smile at him.

Hearing the compliment come from him makes the warming feeling stick itself to you. It feels like a dream that someone as amazing as him would complement your dancing.

“Will you be back on Thursday?” Ten questions. You feel three pairs of eyes turn to look at you.

“Of course,” you reply softly, earning smiles from everyone.

Yuta nods from beside you before excusing himself to talk to another dancer.

You feel your pulse begin to slow from it’s quick pace as you, Irene, and Ten start to walk towards the door to leave. You turn your head as you are leaving and take one last glance at Yuta. He is packing his things with a soft expression. You smile to yourself before exiting the studio.

The following week you are back putting your shoes away at your usual cupboard, when Irene walks up next to you. You turn to her and smell the sweet scent of vanilla coming off of her.

“Hi,” you say happily, giving her a big smile.

Before she can get a word in, you watch as Ten wraps his arms around her waist causing a squeal to fall from her lips. You find the brightness on her face to be quite adorable, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you a bit jealous.

Her and Ten always look so cute as they sneak glances at each other throughout class and their smiles are always radiant when the other is around. You learned a few classes ago that Irene met Ten at the studio and they’ve been dating for the better part of 5 months.

Once Ten releases Irene he turns to you and offers you a toothy grin.

“Hi Y/n, how are you?” Ten questions happily. You can’t help but smile at his energy.

“I’m great Ten, how are you?” you reply happily, slipping your shoes into the cupboard.

“Good,” he replies. He gives Irene a quick peck on the cheek before excusing himself.

Irene gives you a goofy look as she watches Ten walk away.. You turn over your shoulder and watch as Ten makes his way over to Yuta, punching his arm as he comes up next to him. The expression on Yuta’s face seems annoyed as he continues to eye Ten through a slitted gaze. Ten doesn’t seem fazed.

You avert your attention back to your cupboard and wait for Yuta to gather everyone to start class.

~ Later that class period, you and Irene are going through a new part of the choreo together as the studio buzzes with light chatter. The other people in the room practicing like you are, while chatting amongst themselves.

“Is your arm supposed to be more diagonal at 6 or closer to your ear?” Irene questions to you. She alternates her arm between each motion variation as you watch her.

“Diagonal,” you reply before demonstrating that part of the 8 count to her. She smiles with a nod before repeating the same motion a few times to commit it to memory.

You two continue to practice silently for a few more seconds, and you don’t seem to notice as Yuta softly comes up behind you. You are too engrossed in your own thoughts to notice him, but his presence finally becoming aware when his voice cuts through your ears, making you to jump a bit. He notices your fright and smiles.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Yuta offers. Irene snorts from beside you. You give her a look that only causes her smile to grow.

“Make sure you keep your elbow up at 4 okay, you don’t want it horizontal,” Yuta offers to you. You stand, a bit confused at his correction and absentmindedly bring your elbow up to the intended move as Yuta watches. You start to move your elbow up and down, trying to determine the perfect angle. You feel a cold spark rush over your skin though when you feel Yuta’s light fingers touch your forearm. He applies light pressure, signalling for you to raise your elbow upward. You suck in your breath as you move your elbow as he wants. Never before having ever been this close to Yuta, you can’t help it when your mind starts to feel mushy, and a soft blush making its way up to your cheeks. Happy with your arm placement Yuta removes his fingers and then leaves you to go check on another dancer.

You stand in the same position for a second before slowly dropping your arms down to your waist.

You look over at Irene who is slightly shaking her head at you.

“What?” you question.

Irene just shakes her head and smiles.

It has been a few weeks since you started at the studio and you would be lying if you said your entire life does not feel like it has begun to revolve around you going to the studio. Every waking moment you feel your body craving to be back there. You find your class to be the best you’ve ever had the privilege of attending, and with even just one foot placed inside the building, you feel your mind relax and a smile makes its way onto your lips.

Yuta is able to come up with these choreographies that are always so fun and energizing to learn. The amount of confidence and power you feel while executing them is so addicting.

You and Irene have completely rekindled your friendship and you are able to talk and laugh like you never were apart.

You try to tell yourself that these are the only reasons you love coming to the studio, but let’s be real here. We all know those are not the only reasons. You can’t quite explain it, but Yuta has this power over you that you have never felt before. He doesn’t even pay much attention to you, just a smile while stretching and a goodbye at the end of the day, but you just can’t seem to understand what it is that’s making you so interested in him. You tried to tell yourself it was just his dancing and the fact that he is probably one of the most handsome men you’ve ever had the privilege of looking at, but if you’re being honest, it is much more than that.

It is his smile. The way it lights up a room.

It is his caring personality and passion, and the way he is able to joke and laugh.

It is the way he is so patient and kind with everyone in the class, never once getting frustrated.

Most of all, it is just the way he makes everyone feel like they are welcome.

Irene has noticed your fondness towards Yuta, and decided to make it a goal to tease you every day about it.

You step out of your bedroom happily and walk towards your front door. Jisoo is lounging on the couch, watching a movie when she pauses it upon your entrance. You turn to her.

“I booked a private room at the studio tonight, I’ll be back a little later,” you tell her with a smile.

Jisoo looks at you. “Is the hot instructor going to be there?” she questions with an eyebrow raised.

You originally tried to keep Yuta a secret from her, but she was able to notice you wearing perfume one day to class and saw through every lie your tried to throw at her about it. Once the gates were open about Yuta, Jisoo listened as you poured out all of your thoughts about him. His dancing, his personality, the whole nine yards. She listened intently to you, as you gushed to her over your school girl like crush. Once you were down Jisoo gave you her signature eyebrow raise and you knew exactly what words she was about to scold you with. You quickly informed her before she could get a word in, that you were certainly not brushing Yuta, to which she rolled her eyes at you. You then promised that you would have Irene help you talk to him and Jisoo seemed satisfied enough to drop the scold from the tip of her tongue. Little does she know though, that that will probably never happen.

“I honestly don’t know,” you respond while slipping your shoes on.

Jisoo sucks in air as you swing your bag over your shoulder.

“Well have fun, I am going out tonight so let me know when you get home if I am not still here,” Jisoo states with a soft smile. You nod to her before leaving the apartment.

You walk into the studio giving a soft smile to the girl behind the reception desk. She nods back at you with a smile matching your own.

“Studio 6 is open for you,” she states softly, already knowing what you were going to ask before you asked it.

You nod to her before slipping your way down the hall.

You are making your way around the corner, when you notice Yuta and Ten standing in the hallway.

“Come on Ten, just stay,” Yuta practically whines. Ten chuckles as you feel your cheeks start to flush at Yuta’s tone of voice. It’s so soft and cute.

“I’m tired Yuta and plus Irene is making me dinner,” Ten whines causing a pout to spread across Yuta’s face.

You watch as Yuta drags his hand down Ten’s arm with big puppy dog eyes. Never before have you ever seen Yuta look so soft. It causes a huge tingle to spread itself through your chest. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you let out a rather gross and loud snort at the sight of Yuta. Both of the boys whip their heads in your direction, a huge shit eating grin plastering on Ten’s face as he notices you. Yuta drops his hand from Ten.

“Y/n! What brings you here?” Ten practically yells as he walks over to you, seeming ecstatic to get away from Yuta.

“Just came for a bit of practice,” you begin, “I booked a private room”.

“What a coincidence,” Ten gushes to you. “Yuta is here to practice too and what better way to practice, than with the master himself. Why don’t you practice with Yuta?”

You feel your eyes grow wide as Ten leans into you, “please say yes, he’s too clingy for me and I want to go home. Also Irene has told me about how much you admire dear Yuta, now you two can have some alone time.” You feel your eyes practically burst out of your head as Ten lets his words roll confidently off his tongue as his eyebrows raise with excitement, quite pleased with your reaction to his statement.

You are going to kill Irene the next time you see her.

You stare at Ten as he waves to you before practically skipping down the hall and out of sight. You let your eyes wander for a second before they fall on Yuta who is staring at you. You swallow down your embarrassment and slowly make your way over to him.

“Do you want to practice with me?” Yuta questions, before giving you a soft smile.

You look at him for a second and then give him a nod. “That would be great.”

You both make your way into the studio and you continue over to the cupboards to set your things down, seemingly feeling quite out of place. Your anxiety starts to skyrocket as you notice how silent the studio is. The usual sound of soft chatter and laughter far gone as you are hyper aware that you are in fact alone in this big room of mirrors with only Nakamoto Yuta himself.

You finish setting your stuff down and make your way over to center of the room. Yuta has his back to you, as he fiddles with the stereo. You look at the curvature of his back as you snake your eyes up to his strong shoulders. You quickly snap the image from your mind as you sit down to take the opportunity to stretch out on the floor. You are stretching out your arm when you look back up at Yuta. You notice his gaze through the mirror before he averts his attention back to the stereo. You brush this off and switch arms.

Once you are done stretching, Yuta turns around and you stand up.

“What were you going to practice today?” Yuta questions. You look at him through the mirror.

“I was going to go over what you taught last week…” your voice trails off. “After that, I think I was just going to mess around, maybe freestyle or something.”

Yuta nods at this before selecting the song on his phone.

“Lets see what you got,” Yuta states with a sharp edge to his voice. The hairs on your arms raise at his tone and you can’t help but smile.

The music starts to flood through the studio and Yuta joins you in the center of the floor. You take in a deep breath before you and Yuta both start the choreography.

You continue through the “private” lesson with ease, going through one choreo to the next. You find yourself lost in the way Yuta dances, as he looks completely at peace next to you. You notice more than once, his eyes traveling across your frame, but you account it to be just because you are the only one here, and that he is just simply checking your form.

His soft gaze falls on you again as you shout over the music that you are excusing yourself to get some water.

You make it to your water bottle and take a few much needed sips. You turn to watch Yuta as he starts to freestyle to the music. His eyebrows drawn together as a look of concentration spreads across his face. Your eyes freely dancing across him, enjoying how his skin glows under the studio light. His cheeks are slightly flushed but he looks so effortlessly beautiful that way.

You watch him with contentment as his perfect movements seem to draw you deeper and deeper towards him. You find yourself sighing as you try and peel your gaze off him. Realizing quickly that you are becoming way too attached to the idea of him. He is really just your instructor isn’t he. I mean maybe after today you could call him your friend, but that’s probably about it. You tried to tell yourself a few weeks ago while laying in bed one night, that you wouldn’t brush this time. You would find a way to one day look Yuta in the eyes and try your best to get close to him. However, after just a few practices, you quickly realized that Yuta was unlike anyone you had ever met before. His genuity and charm quickly sucked you up. Yuta makes your mind go fuzzy and your body feel like it wants to turn a deep shade of crimson. Yuta is just so intimidating to you.

You think back to the beginning of the lesson, when you were extremely nervous to be in the presence of Yuta. The idea that he was more physically closer to you than he had ever been before, making your chest feel like it was about to explode. However, after a few routines and Yuta’s humor, you feel quite relaxed. The air around you two light and you seem to enjoy each other’s company. You learned that he had been dancing since he was in middle school and he has always wanted to be a choreographer.

You take your eyes off Yuta as the lyrics to the song slip past your ears and you close your eyes, humming to yourself.

I need somebody who can take control

I know exactly what I need to do

‘Cause I don’t want to be alone tonight

You open your eyes slowly and notice Yuta is staring at you. His eyes slightly hooded as he continues to dance along slowly to the music. You can’t tell if it’s because of the song, or maybe it even has something to do with Yuta’s gaze, but you find yourself setting your water bottle down as you make your way over to him. All thoughts in your mind gone as you walk across the dance floor. You watch his movements for a bit before deciding to try and match him. He catches your gaze through the mirror and gives you a smirk. Yuta takes his hand and rests it on your hip. He looks at you in the mirror, checking to make sure you are okay with this. You smile and start to move with him. The heat of his large hand seeping deep into the skin of your side.

Look what you made me do,

I'm with somebody new

Ooh, baby, baby, I'm dancing with a stranger

You and Yuta continue to move together, making up your movements as you go. Yuta’s hand slides from where it was placed on your hip, and he brings his fingers up to your arm and traces down it to the rhythm of the song. You giggle at the slight tickle his digits admit and Yuta smiles.

You turn your head slightly to glance at yourself in the mirror. A slow bead of sweat sliding its way down your face as you sway to the music, Yuta standing behind you. You watch his face as his lips come close to your neck. The feeling of his hot breath fanning over the skin above your collarbone. He pulls his head away quickly and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. All you can do is look at him, lost in a fantasy. The feeling of his breath, the touch of his skin, all bleeding into your imagination. Oh how much you crave all that is Nakamoto Yuta.

The song seems to end too soon, and you and Yuta are breathing heavily, both wearing matching grins as you step away from each other.

“We probably should get going,” Yuta states, looking over at the clock on the wall.

You follow his gaze and nod, realizing the time. You feel a ping of sadness settle in you though, at the realization that you will have to leave this daydream of a night.

You give Yuta one last final glance through the mirror before you both make your way to the cupboards and collect your things.

You find your way out of the building, both politely smiling to the receptionist as you exit. You walk out into the night air, a chill rushing its way up your legs. The temperature contrast feeling nice on your burning skin. Whether the burn is from your recent work out of dancing, or the memory of Yuta on your skin, you will never know.

“My car is this way,” Yuta begins softly, “I can drive you home.” You are caught off guard for a second as you turn to look at him. His eyes are shining under the streetlight as he looks at you. You drop your gaze to notice the keys in his hand before you shake your head slowly.

“Oh no, that’s okay. I live just a few blocks away. It would be a waste to drive. Besides the air outside feels nice,” you reply, giving him a small smile.

You don’t think you could stand being in close corners with Yuta anymore. His scent of wood and fresh peeled citrus is enough to set your insides more on fire than they already are. At least out here the wind takes his intoxicating scent away before it can get to you.

“Oh, then I’ll walk you home,” Yuta insists while shoving his keys into his pocket.

A prickle of nervousness erupts through your body at his words.

You are about to tell him not to bother, when he starts to walk away from you and down the street. You stand there frozen for a second before you let out a deep sigh.

The universe is really doing this to you tonight isn’t it.

You watch Yuta as he continues to walk down the sidewalk, not stopping once to see if you were following him. With another sigh, you break out into a swift jog until you have met up with Yuta’s long strides. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, before smirking to himself.

You really want to kiss that smirk right of his beautiful face.

You two continue down the street in silence for a few seconds before you can’t quite seem to stand it anymore. The sound of the wind picking up around you eats away at your insides.

“So how did you and Ten meet?” you question softly, picking at the strap of your bag.

“We met in high school actually, through mutual friends,” Yuta replies.

You focus on the cement beneath your feet as you continue walking with Yuta. “What was he like back then?”

He walks for a second before chuckling to himself lightly. “I actually thought he was shy at first, but we all know how that went.”

You laugh at his reply. Completely understanding the misconception. You use to think the same thing about Irene. Maybe that is why they fit so well together.

“You and Irene used to dance together right?” Yuta questions, looking at you.

You nod.

“Yeah we trained at the same studio for about 5 years together until she had to move with her parents. We were pretty close actually, and we were usually always the two picked to do duets together,” you reply smiling, thinking fondly back to the old memories.

“I can honestly tell though, you two work really well together,” Yuta adds smiling. You feel bubbly from his words.

The conversation drops as you feel a splash of liquid fall onto your cheek. Startled, you stop walking and look up at the sky. Yuta notices this and turns to face you. You watch in astonishment as a swirl of dark angry clouds find their way circling above your head. The wind picks up around you, blowing your hair off your shoulders.

Yuta follows your gaze to the sky and a large raindrop finds itself smashed right in the center of his forehead. He lets out a soft “oh” at the sensation.

You drop your gaze from the sky to look at Yuta. Who is already looking at you with an expression of surprise.

You two stand there for a second, both seeming glued to your spots on the pavement.

Within the next instant, the few raindrops you felt prior, turn into a million and you begin to become soaked from the precipitation.

You can feel your shirt as it clings tightly to your body, now being weighed down by the weight of the rain. You watch as fat droplets land onto Yuta’s face. Sliding down his chiseled cheeks allowing the streetlight to catch the angulature of his face and make his skin glow.

In a burst of energy, you reach your hand down to grasp onto Yuta’s. You pull his arm and start to drag him down the street towards your apartment.

Yuta doesn’t object to this and allows you to pull him until you have reached the front of your building.

You pull him quickly under the safety of the awning. You release his hand before trying to pull your clothes away from your drenched body. Yuta lets out a low chuckle, causing you to look up at him. His smile growing bigger by the second.

“I didn’t think it was suppose to rain at all today,” Yuta states out, the smile staying static across his lips.

“Me either,” you begin. You look down to yourself and register just how wet you two actually are. “Why don’t you come in, get yourself dry and wait out the rain before you head back to your car.”

“I’ll be fine Y/n don’t worry about me,” Yuta starts, readjusting his bag on his shoulder.

You give him a hard gaze. A loud crack of lighting lights up the sky next to you causing you to jump from the shock. Yuta’s eye grow big as he too was startled.

“On second thought, maybe I should come in for a bit,” Yuta finally sighs.

You nod to him before turning to open the door. Once your back is to him, you can’t help the smile that finds its way on your face.

You finally get the door open, and step in to lead the way to your apartment, your shoes making a gross sloshing sound as you walk down the hallway. The chill of the building air hits your wet and exposed legs and you shiver.

You make it to your apartment door and eagerly step inside, dropping your bag down and slipping your wet shoes off. Yuta comes up behind you and does the same.

“I am going to go dry off and change,” you begin slowly. Your train of thought stopping as you consider Yuta. What is he going to wear?

“I can try and see if we have anything that would fit you,” you offer, looking at him with a knitted expression.

“Oh don’t worry about it, I have extra clothes in my bag that I can change into,” Yuta clarifies, causing a sense of relief to rush over you. You weren’t very hopeful that you would have anything for him to wear anyway.

“Okay, I’ll come back with a towel for you in a minute,” you state softly before excusing yourself to your bedroom.

After a long struggle of trying to peel off your wet clothing, you finally get changed and grab a few towels. You brush through your hair quickly and exit your room to find Yuta.

You step into the living room and you practically drop the towels at the sight in front of you.

Yuta is standing near your couch with his wet clothes in his arms. He now has on a new set of grey sweatpants that hang just low enough to expose the waistband of his black boxers. Your eyes travel upward catching slightly on the exposure of his hips. The bones protruding out slightly. His torso is bare of a shirt, and small water droplets litter his chest, making him look like he is glistening. His abdomen and forearms are layered with muscle and cause your cheeks to heat in an instant. You snap your gaze up to Yuta’s face just as he seems to notice your presence.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t think you were changing,” you blurt out quickly. Turning around to have your back facing the beautiful man in your living room.

You hear Yuta chuckle from behind you.

“Don’t worry, I am already changed, I just actually don’t have and extra shirt. Could I put this in your dryer maybe?” he questions softly.

You let yourself breath slowly as you try and collect your composure. After a few more shaky breaths, you turn yourself back around.

“Of course,” you answer, making sure to keep your eyes glued on his face.

You walk across the room and offer Yuta a towel. He accepts it graciously and hands over his wet clothes. You take them and quickly turn to make your way to your laundry area. You throw his clothes into the thankfully empty dryer and set it on a cycle.

You come back out into the living room to see Yuta rubbing his hair with the towel. “Would you like something to drink?” you question, skipping the living room and walking towards your kitchen.

“Water please, thank you,” he replies, lowering the towel from his head.

You disappear into the kitchen and quickly let yourself crouch down, letting out a letting out a long sigh.

Yuta is in my apartment right now. Nakamoto Yuta is in my apartment, he is shirtless and wet, and I am freaking the hell out in the kitchen.

You feel the veins in your chest pump profusely as your heart rate picks up speed. You screw your eyes shut and try to calm your breathing when you hear Yuta’s voice break through the silent apartment.

“You have a record player?” he questions, happiness, apparent in his voice.

You open up your eyes and stare at your kitchen floor. You feel your breath steady as you try to keep your voice even. “Yeah, you can play something if you want,” you call back. You hear a bit of shuffling and you determine that he picking something to play.

You pull yourself up from your position and get yourself and Yuta a glass of water. You drink about half of your glass before refilling it and turning to make your way back into the living room. Collecting yourself as you do.

You hear the scratching of the record player before the soft sounds of Paramore’s The Only Exception, start to fill your ears. You smile to yourself, as this is your favorite record. You would have not picked Yuta for being a Paramore fan, but you are surely not complaining.

You walk out of the kitchen and notice Yuta standing over your vinyl set. His back to you. Your eyes trace up the tight muscles of his shoulders and you feel a heat start to spread across your lower stomach. The sight of him becoming too much for you to handle. You make your way over to him and hand him his water. He accepts it and you watch him take a sip as he sways to the music.

When I was younger I saw

My daddy cry, and curse at the wind

You set down your drink and look over at Yuta. He has since set his own drink down and is also looking at you. He stares at you for a second before taking his hand and extending it to you, silently asking you to dance. You almost thinking about declining given the circumstances. He is shirtless and you are way more affected by it than you care to admit. You stare at his hand for a few seconds like a complete idiot, contemplating the idea of dancing with him. You finally decide to screw all the rushing thoughts in your head. You’ve already made it this far and clearly he is comfortable enough to offer the dance. You look up at him and slowly slide your hand into his grip. The feeling bringing back that signature blush to you cheeks.

And that was the day I promised

I would never sing of love

If does not exist

You let your gaze look up into Yuta’s as he pulls you close, his right hand sliding itself, to the small of your back. You are close enough to him to feel the heat the radiates from him, but not close enough to touch. You two begin to sway slowly together, matching the rhythm of the song.

“Is there any kind of dance you are bad at?” Yuta questions cheerfully, completely catching you off guard

You laugh at his question, but don’t answer, too stunned by everything happening right now to form a coherent sentence.

You look over at where your hands are intertwined and Yuta releases your back before moving his arm to twirl you around. You feel your stomach flutter and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. You return back to your original position with Yuta, who now has a smile on his perfect pink lips. The feeling of the spin and the smell of Yuta, starts to cloud your head and your smile quickly falls. His sweet words flowing like courage through your body.

Darling,

you are the only exception

You can’t seem to help it when your eyes fall down to look onto Yuta’s lips. Soft and plump. The desire to known just how they taste, comes rushing through your body.

You are the only exception

Before your judgement can even seem to catch you, your face pushes forward and your lips softly connect to Yuta’s. You both stop swaying and your mind blanks as you feel just how incredibly soft and irresistable Yuta’s lips are. You both pull away a few seconds later and you let your eyes flutter open. The realization hits you as you looking into the saucers that are now Yuta’s eyes. You both release each other and Yuta breaks eye contact.

You just kissed him. You just went ahead and kissed him. Why are you such an idiot?!

“Ugh, ” Yuta begins staring straight at you. The look on his face feeling like the weight of a million bricks has come crashing down on top of your body.

A rush a guilt washes over you and you want to cry.

You fucked it up Y/n, you really fucked it up. For once in your life you actually do something, and you mess the whole damn thing up.

You start to grow panicked, “I am so sorry Yuta, I can’t believe I just did that,” you mumble the last part to yourself and you lower your head.

“I really like you Y/n,” Yuta spits out, causing your eyes to flash up to him. “I have liked you practically from the moment you stepped into the dance studio, but I didn’t want to make anything awkward between us. I tried to stay away or not make any advances on you, but I don’t know what just happened to me. I just got caught up, I’m sorry I kissed you, that was wrong. You can totally find a new instructor, I completely understand,” Yuta looks at you with sorrow filled eyes. A deep crimson blush dusting his ears. One perfectly matching that of the one on your cheeks right now.

What is he even talking bout?

You grow confused with his confession. “What are you talking about Yuta, I kissed you just now?”

Yuta’s brows knit together with your question.

“I know it was so wrong of me. I just couldn’t help it. Shit I feel like I took advantage of you,” you rush out, growing more embarrassed with each passing second.

“I thought I kissed you though?” Yuta states out, confusion dripping from his words.

“I have liked you from the first time I saw you. You’re just so caring and sweet and I just couldn’t seem to shake you from my mind. You are always so willing to help everyone and your smile makes the entire room light up. Your dancing is addicting to watch. Everything was going great, but then you had to go and take your shirt off and god damn you’re just so incredibly hot and…” You slap your hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the words that you just let spew out.

I really just called him hot… to his face...

Yuta straightens up as his eyes narrow at you. His whole demeanor seeming to change at the flip of a switch. His jaw tenses as he walks straight over to you and grabs your hand to pull it from your mouth before smashing his lips to yours. Much rougher than the kiss before. His lips engulf your top one as he push into you, his body going flush with yours. You let out a gasp as he pulls away before tilting his head and reconnecting your lips at a new angle. The feeling of his lips forming over your own, causes all of the blood in your body to rush to your head.

You feel your mind slip away to the feeling of Yuta. His name being painted behind your eyelids as his lips continue to move across yours, stealing all of your breath.

Yuta releases your hand before resting his palms on your hips as his digits start to squeeze into your skin. His mouth parts slightly as the slickness of his wet muscle comes into contact with your bottom lip. He touches it slightly before you release your lips. He starts to explore your mouth, his tongue tasting of mint as it meets yours. Your hands travel up to trace into his blonde locks, still slightly wet from the rain. You yank on them slightly, causing Yuta to sigh into your mouth. The sound causing a wave of need to pulse between your legs.

As you continue to kiss Yuta hungrily, your mouths moving together, you feel his hands dip lower to squeeze the flesh of your ass. You moan from the sensation and Yuta can’t help but smirk against your lips, seemingly satisfied with himself.

“You don’t know how long I have wanted to kiss you like this,” Yuta states.

You feel you entire body grow hot, no longer chilled from your previous wetness. You take your teeth and sink them into Yuta’s bottom lip, ever so softly. You pause for a moment to drag his lip outward a bit, opening your eyes to see his expression. His eyes shoot open wide as he stares back at you. His once soft chocolate brown orbs having grown dark and mysterious through your makeout session. A growl erupts from low within his throat as you release his lip from your bite. A smirk forming on your lips, just as Yuta had done earlier.

As you catch onto your breath, Yuta offers another rough squeeze of your ass and starts to pull you down the hallway. You follow him eagerly, until you end up crashing into him as he stops walking. Your thighs pressing into his skin, feeling the hardness of his bulge as it rests against your thigh. The reality of your situation arousing you to no end.

You realize quickly that Yuta doesn’t know where to go, so you take a second to release your grip from his hair. His hands loosen from you and you slip past him to walk into your bedroom. You hear Yuta walk up behind you so you turn to face him. He stares at you as the corners of your lips turn up into a low but devilish smile.

You can’t quite figure out why, but ever since his lips started kissing your own, you have felt an overpowering sense of confidence. Perhaps it is the fact that Yuta seems to want you just as bad as you want him. Or maybe even it is just that you are finally able to break free from your own chains. Whatever the reason may be, you are power filled and eager for Yuta.

Your fingers reach for the hem of your shirt, lifting it up slowly before fulling discarding it and letting it fall to the floor. Yuta’s eyes rake across your torso, just as your had done to him back in the living room. You reach your fingers behind your back to unclip your bra and Yuta gazes intently as it slides from your arms, exposing your upper half completely to him.

He walks over to you a glint in his mesmerizing eyes.

“So beautiful,” he breaths out, as his hands come up to trace along the sides of your body. The sensation foreign to you, but still amazing in every single way.

His eyes seem to look at you fondly as his hands trace you like a feather. Drawing up from the hem of your shorts to the bottom of your rib cage. You think he is going to keep going when his hands stops completely. You reach your palm up to his cheek and drag your eyes up to his face. You notice that he is looking directly behind you, and you grow confused as an evil smile forms slowly onto his lips. Yuta doesn’t look at you as his hands push into your hips, spinning you around so your back is now against his chest. Once you are turned around, you notice that you are looking straight into the large full length mirror that you have in your room. Yuta’s eyes in the mirror look at you sensually.

“Look at yourself princess, I want you to see just how irresistible you look right now. Your cheeks all flushed as your perfect nipples are so pretty and pink,” Yuta’s words come out deeply and you feel a shutter roll through you. Nothing in this world has ever sounded as sinful as that.

Ever since you first met Yuta, all those weeks ago, you always had this image of him. The sweet and charming Yuta who would do anything to help someone. He was always so caring and incapable of hurting a fly. However, now that you stand in front of him, your bare chest rising and falling rapidly as you watch his lust filled eyes travel all over your body. The words coming from him soundly nothing like they ever have before. You find that not everyone is exactly how they seem.

You continue to watch through the mirror as Yuta comes out from behind you and kneels down on the ground. A wave of excitement washes over you as he plants a soft kiss just above the waistband of your pants before hooking his fingers into them and pulling both your shorts and underwear downwards towards the floor. He helps you step out of them, before throwing them behind you somewhere. He looks up at you for a second before standing back up to his feet. You feel the wetness between your legs increase as your heat starts to ache. The need to be touched growing almost unbearable now.

Yuta comes back to his original position of standing behind you. He brings his right hand down to the back of your thigh, his large hand resting on top of your burning skin. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror and studies your face. When you make no sign of uncomfortability, he lets his fingertips touch you as he draws his hand across your skin, bringing it upwards. His hand works your lower half, as he lets his lips come up to your neck where he plants one small kiss. The sensations causing your skin to tingle. You bite your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself grounded.

He continues to bring his hand upward, pulling his soft digits across your ass until they come to your lower back. He doesn’t even pause there before he draws them across your hip and towards your navel. The smirk on his face grows as a breathless sigh escapes your lips.

“Yuta,” you sigh out. His name rolling off your tongue like it was always meant to.

“Mm,” he hums softly to you, “I love the way you say my name.”

He slowly runs his hand down your lower belly and to the front of the lowest part of your abdomen. The distance his hand is from your dripping heat, causes you to let out a whine. Desperate for some kind of friction from him. You let your head lull back a bit, before it is caught on Yuta’s cheek. He takes this opportunity to let his digits trail to your heat where he draws one quick circle over your clit. A moan escaping your mouth as he does.

You let your eyes wander in the mirror, finding it incredibly arousing to see yourself being touched like this. Being able to watch as Yuta’s hands trace over yours, finally going to where you seem to need him most.

You had spent basically your entire life growing accustomed to looking at yourself through a mirror, constantly having to watch your movement and placement through new choreography and routines. You use to hate watching yourself through those giant mirrors. You never really enjoyed it, but tonight, right now with Yuta, you find it to be the best thing in the world.

You drop your eyes to his fingers and watch as he finally lets one of them dip inside of you. The feeling causing a wave of pleasure to rack through your body.

“So wet,” he mumbles to himself.

You bring your left hand up and use it to grip at Yuta’s hip. Pulling yourself more into him as he starts to drag his finger in and out of you at a delicious pace. The sight of his finger disappearing inside of you rhythmically, has your practically cumming already.

He slips in another digit before taking his left hand to start squeezing at your breast. Twisting and pulling on your nipple.

“Uh,” you breath out, ”just like that.”

Yuta continues to slide his fingers into you at a somewhat slow pace. The feeling is amazing, but definitely not enough. You crave for him to fuck you so good. You want him so bad. Your hips start to move against Yuta’s as you yearn for more friction. Yuta seems to notice this.

“Do you need something baby girl,” Yuta questions, a shiver running down your spine.

You hum to him in response, your eyes still locked on his right hand.

“Tell me princess, what do you want?” he questions out a little sharper, his hand slowing down, causing you to groan.

“More Yuta, please,” you beg, your fingers digging into his hip.

You look up to meet his eyes and he smiles at you. A smile that is dripping in pure sin.

He doesn’t say anything before he slips in a third finger and brings his lips down to suck on the skin of your neck. You gasp at this and Yuta starts to move his fingers quickly into you.

The feeling of pleasure building in the pit of your stomach as Yuta continues to make you feel so good. So many sensations happening as you watch yourself in your mirror.

“I’m so close,” you moan out, bringing your right hand up to grip on Yuta’s bicep.

Yuta’s mouth releases from your neck with a pop and you catch the sight of your neck in the mirror. A bright purple mark has now formed over your skin.The sight of that mark pushes you completely over the edge. You moan out Yuta’s name as his fingers continue to fuck you, coaxing you through your high. With your hands still gripping onto him, Yuta’s slows down his movement but continues to hold you up as your body starts to rest more and more into him. The intensity of your orgasm being nothing like you had ever experienced before. Your breath coming out sporadically as you try and catch onto some air. After a bit, you are able to release your grip on Yuta, and he loosens his own arms so you can turn yourself around to face him. You give him a long kiss, so overcome with emotion from everything that has happened thus far. With your lips locked, you bring your hands to his pants. You slip them down for him and he kicks them away, being left only in his boxers. You release his kiss and start to guide him towards your bed.

He falls back onto it with a thud and you bring yourself to sit on his lap, your thighs on either side of his. The feeling of his bulge pressing into your heat causes your head to ache.

You bring Yuta into another kiss while you slip your hand down the front of his chest. Your fingers dragging along him like he had done to you. You bring your hand all the way to his boxers where you slip it in to grab onto his length. He sucks in a quick breath and bucks his hips upward from the friction. You smirk at this and remove your hand quickly. A defiant look spreading across his face as he looks up at you. You smile triumphantly, a feeling of power overtaking you.

You bite down on your lower lip as you start to slip his boxers down his body, both of you lifting upward for a second so you can easily slide them off his legs and discard them.

Once he is completely exposed to you, you let your eyes rake up his toned legs. The muscles of his thighs seeming to twitch with anticipation. You bring your gaze up to his length and you can’t help but bite down deeper into your bottom lip. You bring your hand back down to touch him as you release your aching lip from your teeth. The sight of his length, hot and angry, has your mouth watering. You give him a few pumps that cause his head to lull back with delectable moan slipping past his lips.

“Y/n,” he lets slip from his mouth, the sound being music to your ears.

Through the pleasure Yuta seems to snap back because he whips his head up and pushes your hand off of him quickly.

“I want you Y/n,” he slips out with such desire braided into his pitch, you moan just from the sentence.

He stares at you with big bright eyes. His chest moving just about as rapidly as yours is.

This feeling, this intense feeling of being so wanted by him, is something you will never truly be able to describe to anyone.

You turn to lean over to your night stand where you open the drawer and fish out a condom. You bring one out and hold it out to Yuta.

“Then have me,” you state out simply.

Yuta’s nose flares at your words and he grabs the condom from you, ripping it open. You watch eagerly as he rolls it onto himself easily. He leans up to give you a quick kiss before flipping you over onto your back, causing you to squeal. You look up at him as he aligns himself with you. The tip of his slick length poking at your entrance.

He starts to slowly slip himself into you and you let out a sharp moan. He continues to push into you slowly, stretching you, as the burn of it feels so undeniably good.

“Shit,” Yuta curses out. He lets out a sharp breath as he moves his arms to rest on either side of your head.

He finally pushes all the way in when he stops moving, allowing you to adjust to his size. His eyes dancing across your face as he waits.

Once he feels you are comfortable as you start to roll your hips from below him, he starts moving, snapping his hips into you with nothing shy of a dancer’s precision. The way he can move his hips with such force and flexibility has your fingers gripping tightly into the bed sheets. His pace quickens as he makes you feel so much pleasure with each thrust. His length hitting so deep inside of you that you see stars.

“So tight Y/n, god you feel so good,” Yuta breaths out. He takes one of your legs and pulls it upwards giving himself a better angle.

“Shit,” you moan out as you take your nails and wrack them up his back, scratching into his skin. He seems to enjoy this as a low groan falls from his lips at the sensation.

You notice the delicious feeling of your orgasm coming as Yuta continues to fuck you better than you ever have been before.

“I can feel how close you are baby, cum for me,” Yuta breaths out, his hips moving more erratically as he chases his own high.

You come undone with Yuta’s name dropping sweetly from your lips, as your eyes roll back in your head and your mind goes blank. Yuta soon comes after you, your tight walls feeling so good around him as he rides out his own orgasm. After a few more thrusts he slips himself out of you and disposes of the condom as you lay there in pure bliss.

He comes over and falls next to you in the bed, both of you panting heavily together.

You turn to look at him and smile when you realize that he is already looking at you. You watch as he brings one of his hands up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

He leans in to give you a quick but soft kiss.

“So I can still be your instructor right?” Yuta questions softly with a chuckle.

You smile at him, “of course, you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

You both smile to each other as Yuta pulls you into his arms. You listen intently to the sound of his heartbeat, the smile never faltering from your face.

“Well, in that case, as your instructor, I think you will need to schedule more private lessons with me,” Yuta begins, “it’s only for the best.”

You giggle to yourself, “I guess Ten was right, you are clingy,” you sigh, your words laced with sarcasm.

Yuta slides his hand down from your back to pinch your ass, causing you to yelp out.

“Oh I can show you clingy,” Yuta says smugly.

All you can do is smile and snuggle deeper into his chest.

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