#the first one has youre still my slave tonight
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birthday girl



summary: sometimes a girl just needs to cry her way through her birthday; joel makes sure you cry for a good reason this year.
tags: 18+, smut, praise kink, crying, crying during sex but not for bad reasons, fingering, joel has big hands (duh), soft sex, sweet sex, clingy!reader, academic!reader (implied), reader is younger than joel, reader is in college still but no age is discussed, anxious!reader, quiet!reader, soft!joel, dom!joel (a little?), praise kink (again), boyfriend!joel, use of the following nicknames: baby, dove, birthday girl, reader has hair, size difference kind of, happy ending :]
a/n: it's my birthday today !! and i felt like projecting into a fic so here is this thing i wrote in one sitting HAHA <3
(1.4k, not beta read)
“Baby?” Joel calls softly.
He’s knuckle deep in you, stretching you across two of his fingers. You can feel how you’re melting onto him, how you clench onto him in every way possible.
There’s no possible way that this is comfortable for him, not in the slightest. You can tell that his wrist is aching, that the forearm he’s resting on is aching, but he hasn’t said anything yet and you don’t want this to stop.
He’s laid beside you kind of, with one of your legs out on the opposite side of the bed while the other is sandwiched between his own. He always lets you hold yourself open how you want, and tonight you want to be as close to him as you can.
Your arms are awkwardly hugging his neck down to you, so you can nuzzle into his cheek and tell him how you’re feeling. This kind of attention can feel so anxiety inducing sometimes, this weird pressure to come for him quickly so he can be done with it, even if that isn’t what he wants.
Joel will coax your release from you no matter how long it takes, or how many times you want it. He doesn’t mind, he’s always telling you he doesn’t mind, but he needs you to talk to him through it.
“Hey,” he murmurs softly, curling his fingers in you. It makes your hips twitch slightly, a soft mewl leaving your throat in response.
“How’s my birthday girl doin’? Is this good?” Joel asks.
You’re stupidly lucky to have him.
He carried you up the stairs after you began bawling into your birthday dinner, salty tears mixing with the pasta that Joel slaved over for the evening. You couldn’t swallow anymore of it, everything was feeling so heavy already and each gulp of food was landing like lumps of grease in your stomach.
This year has been lonely, painfully so. Somewhere between high school and postsecondary you shrank back into your shell, leaving behind friend groups and growing into your own skin. It felt good for the first little while, but your success and achievements in classes didn’t make up for the sinking feeling in your heart. You have some friends, but not enough for a birthday party, and they aren’t close enough to remember your birthday anyways.
Going out to dinner felt stupid if it was just you and your boyfriend celebrating, it didn’t feel important enough. Joel fought you on it at first, but gave up when he noticed how upset you were. Instead, he made dinner for you and set up some decorations.
You feel a little guilty, thinking about the birthday banner downstairs, the pasta on the table, and the cake in the fridge, but then he curls his fingers again and your eyes flutter.
“Need your words, dove,” Joel says patiently. He doesn’t thrust his fingers at all, just pushing them against your walls softly to remind you he’s there.
Managing to nod, and find your voice, you murmur a yes, feels good, but your voice is so small. Joel picks up on it right away.
“You wanna talk, baby? S’okay if you don’t, s’okay if you’re feelin’ quiet.”
Tears start to billow and burn in the bags beneath your eyes, stinging as you close your eyes and shake your head into the crook of his neck. Your hands clasp behind his neck, pulling him closer, and he nods.
You feel so embarrassed and guilty, but also stupid. Here is Joel, giving you all you need, and you can’t even speak up for him. You didn’t finish his dinner, or blow out the candles, and he’s still reassuring you.
“Is it good slow? Deep and slow right now?” he asks into your ear, scruff scratching your ear.
Your soft nods reassure him and he resumes a slow pace, pushing up against your wall as he presses kisses down the side of your head and in your hair, hushing you. The feeling of his fingers in you is so foreign still, not quite new but not your own either. He’s such a stretch compared to yourself, one that makes your brain fuzz over.
Joel curls his fingers in you, then strokes the inside of you with the pads of his fingers as he begins to talk.
“It’s okay you’re bein’ quiet, baby, you know I don’t mind. Don’t matter if you can use your voice or not, s’long as you keep bein’ the good girl you are.”
Now the tears spill over, hot and rolling slow down your heated cheeks. There are so many emotions and he’s monopolized this overwhelming feeling into pleasure as he pulls wetness from you and spills it onto his knuckles, into his palm. You’re surprised you’re even this turned on when you’ve had such a shit day, but you know it’s because of him.
He hasn’t realized you’re crying yet, still fingering you at an easy pace, something he hopes you can handle.
“Jus’ wanna make you feel good, you deserve it. My strong girl’s been so tough lately, workin’ so hard to make me proud, huh?”
Your tears pour into the fibers of his tee as you push your head down into his shoulder, nodding as you catch your breath between a quiet sob. This recognition feels so different, so much better.
“You cryin’?” He asks quietly.
His fingers don't still. You’ve cried a lot tonight, if you wanted it to stop he knows that you’d tell him, or kick him. You have your means of communicating, even if you’re feeling too much to speak.
Nodding into his shirt, you breathe out a shaky little breath. His neck feels clammy under your hot palms, but you can’t bring yourself to let go.
“S’okay if you’re cryin’, that’s okay, baby. It’s tough bein’ the birthday girl, right? So much stress sometimes, hard to be that pretty and special,” Joel reassures, pulling his fingers almost fully out of you before slowly easing them back into you. There’s a nasty noise coming from you, one that would be lewd if he wasn’t so sweet.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s so hard for you, but you’ve been so good. Best birthday girl I know,” he hums, pushing a little harder into you now. It makes your eyes draw together as tears brim, a little sound pulling itself from your chest.
“M’so proud of you, dove, you know that? I wanna make you feel good, an extra special birthday gift for bein’ so disciplined,” Joel adds.
He drags his face down to yours, shrinking into his own body in a silly way so he can nudge your nose with his. Your eyes are closed but it doesn’t matter, you don’t know if you can handle seeing anything right now. Joel presses a kiss to your forehead, pushing deeper and a little faster into you as his fingers curl, drag, and press into you just right.
“Can I give you that, huh? You want your gift, birthday girl, since you were so good?
Everything is melting now, the tears down your face and the space between your thighs. Wet is everywhere, from your cheeks to his knuckles. Hot, and sticky, and dripping, all of you being kept together from where he’s plugged himself into you. Trying to speak, you make noises, but just babble aimlessly through a desperate sob.
Somehow, through your orgasm, you drag him closer. He’s nearly collapsed on top of you now, barely able to keep moving his fingers as you clench around him, spilling onto him.
“There you go, dove, there you are,” he shushes softly as your chest heaves with a mixture of gasps and sobs.
He doesn’t pull away from you, just lets you cling and sob as you need, kissing wherever he can.
It takes awhile for you to come down, but when you have he doesn’t pull away except for sliding his fingers out of you. Your head feels distant from you, eyes soft and chest exhausted.
“Maybe we can try this birthday thing again tomorrow, hm?” Joel asks, adjusting you so he can lay with you in a more comfortable position. Your head rests on the meat of his chest and you nod, eyes half open. Honestly, apart from what happened just now, today sucked. Having two birthdays sounds perfectly appealing to your melted little brain as he holds you close to his warm body.
Tomorrow, tomorrow can be your birthday.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader smut#tlou#pedro pascal#ellie writes
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pairing: challengers!johnjae x afab!reader
words: 3.5k+
summary: johnny suh and jeong jaehyun are determined to prove their worth to you in this year’s tennis competition. you all end up receiving more than you expected.
genre: smut
warnings: there is some mlm johnjae so please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with that, double penetration, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, talks of creampies, three way make out
thank you for 9.5k followers!!
“Your serve is fucking insane.”
You hum noncommittally, fingers tightening around your bottle to spray more water into your mouth. You wipe the sweat from your brow as Donghyuck continues to eye you with amazement.
“You do know that ball boys don’t usually get to talk to the players, right?” You comment, a little perturbed by how easy it is for the younger man to approach you.
His eyes continue to sparkle despite your demeaning remark. Unbeknownst to you, Donghyuck signed up to become the tennis team’s lackey just to be able to see you in action.
You were the crown jewel of the university’s tennis program, having been recruited from the early stages of your high school career. Much speculation occurred at your decision to go to college first instead of turning to a professional career. You insisted to your parents that your education was still important despite your only shining skill being the ability to hit a ball with a racket. You slaved away most of your hours on this court, practicing to become the next best tennis player South Korea has ever seen.
“I’m looking forward to your match on Saturday,” Donghyuck says, eagerly handing you another tennis ball when you outstretch your palm to him.
Your eyebrow quirks up at the mention. The Korea Open kicked off this weekend and the press was convinced you would gain another title under your belt. You normally don’t enjoy goading them on, but you have a good feeling about the tournament this year.
“Scatter, pea brain,” Suyeon hisses when she approaches you two, flicking Donghyuck’s ear. The boy grumbles before returning to his place near the wall. Once he’s out of earshot, Suyeon turns her attention back to you. She’s dressed in one of her tightest skirts, indicating she has plans set in motion for tonight. “Are you ready to go yet?”
You shake your head at her inquiry. “I’m not done. Go ahead without me.”
She whines pitifully, clutching your arm tightly. “I can’t! You know I get much more attention when I walk in with you.”
You sigh. Suyeon has been chattering nonstop to you about all of the players who have flown in for the games this week. Tonight was the first party hosted by your university to welcome them, and your roommate took that as a green light to snag one of the tennis players for herself.
“I still need to practice my backhand-“
“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg? Because I’ll do it.”
To prevent Suyeon from embarrassing herself even further, you hoist her arm and tug her away. She rejoices when you zip up your racket and bid your goodbyes to the remaining staff on the court. You do your best to ignore Donghyuck’s cheerful holler after you.
When you ask Suyeon if you can simply wear your practice gear, she throws you a disgusted look and quickly tugs you back to your shared dorm to change. You allow her to play dress up as she wants, wrapping your figure into a body hugging dress from the back of your closet. As soon as she deems you decent enough for the party, she hauls you over to the university’s lounge, where tonight’s events will be taking place.
Your first thought when you enter the party is that you would much rather be on the court. Just as Suyeon predicted, every eye turns to you when you step inside.
Whispers of tennis prodigy echo around the room and you try your best not to roll your eyes. Suyeon, on the other hand, basks in your popularity and bats her eyes towards the players that begin to approach the both of you. You decide to dodge the awkward conversation, excusing yourself to grab a refreshment.
It’s in the midst of downing a lemonade when you feel a presence linger behind you.
You turn to see none other than Johnny Suh and Jeong Jaehyun, the winners of last year’s doubles title. You heard that Jaehyun had enrolled into the same university as you while Johnny opted to go professional.
Despite the distance, the two seem closer than ever. And tonight, they stare at you like you’re their last meal.
“Hi,” you greet with an eyebrow raised.
Johnny speaks first, saying your name with a devilish grin. “We were wondering if we would see you here.”
He starts to introduce himself and Jaehyun, but you hold out a hand to stop him.
“I know who you are. I watched you two crush it at last year’s match,” you say, humming while you refill your glass. Jaehyun’s eyebrow ticks up at the revelation while Johnny’s smirk widens. “I’m guessing you’re both back to defend your title?”
“That, and to prove we’re just as good in the singles,” Johnny answers. You swallow a laugh at his unwavering confidence.
“I see you practice on the court sometimes,” Jaehyun says, diverting the topic of conversation back to you. “You’re incredible — I’ve never seen a backhand like yours.”
You smile at him, thanking him for the compliment. Jaehyun was definitely the more timid one of the pair, while you could tell Johnny led most of their conversations.
You feel like you’re in the lion’s den, with Johnny ready to pounce and Jaehyun waiting for permission to do the same.
Luckily, Suyeon rushes over and becomes your unknowing savior. Her hand wraps around your upper arm and she whines pitifully in your ear.
“SOS! SOS!”
“What is it?” You ask, eyes still remaining on the two men in front of you. Johnny’s fingers are slowly tightening around his glass and you wonder if he has the strength to break it. Jaehyun holds his a little more delicately, but you can see him clenching his fist behind his back.
You imagine one of them tangling their hands through your hair while the other wraps his around your neck.
“I don’t know anything about tennis,” Suyeon sighs, bringing you out from your lewd fantasy. “Come and help me, please?”
You smile at the two players, setting your glass down on a nearby table.
“Apologies, boys. Duty calls.”
You feel the weight of their stare follow you as you walk over to help Suyeon battle tennis talk.
You ponder if they’re desperate enough to stay behind for you.
—
You receive your answer later in the night.
As soon as Suyeon is all set for a lovely evening with a pretty player named Yuju, you start to make your way to the exit. You’ve had enough social interaction for one event, but two figures lingering by the door makes you second guess that decision.
Jaehyun adjusts his posture when he catches sight of you while Johnny leans casually against the wall, trying to make it seem as if he’s not affected by your appearance.
“You’re still here,” you hum, folding your arms across your chest. Both pairs of eyes quickly dart down to the swell of your breasts before moving upwards, acting like they weren’t just checking you out.
“Party’s too fun,” Johnny bites, sarcasm flooding his tone.
“I’m sure,” you chuckle dryly.
“Is your friend all good to go?” Jaehyun asks, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he genuinely wants to know the answer.
You smile at him. “Yes, I was able to rescue her from the awful tennis small talk.”
Johnny kicks off from his position against the wall, approaching you with determination. Jaehyun eyes him carefully, and you realize from their body language that they have done this dance before. You think about how many other girls have fallen into their open trap.
“Well, maybe tennis talk isn’t all that bad. Especially in a quieter setting.”
Johnny reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his spare key set to one of the dorms the university is housing them in. He dangles them in front of your face, and you drink in his smug expression and Jaehyun’s anxious anticipation at your answer.
You tilt your head teasingly. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
Johnny shrugs. “Nothing wrong with a few tennis players strategizing before the match, right?”
Against your better judgment, you follow the two back to their dorm. You ignore the way Johnny’s fingers brush against the back of your thigh as he walks behind you and how Jaehyun’s hand continuously knocks into yours, pinky fingers brushing by each other. They clearly have set motives for the night and you would be lying if you said your mouth isn’t foaming at the idea of taking them both at once.
Jaehyun unlocks the door for you both, and Johnny keeps a steady hand on your lower back as he guides you in. As you expected, the university set them up in a double room, with separate twin beds pressed against each wall.
Before you can comment on the size of the room, a hand snakes around your middle, pulling you against Johnny’s backside. His fingers brush your hair to the side, pressing kisses against your exposed neck. Jaehyun has fallen to his knees in front of you, pushing up the fabric of your dress so he can catch a glimpse of your panties.
You make no moves to stop either of them, hands intertwining with Johnny’s as he continues his assault on your throat. You faintly register that you’ll have to cover up his marks before your match tomorrow, but Jaehyun nipping you at your thighs brings you out of your thoughts.
“So you’ve done this before?” You confirm while Johnny’s hands harshly squeeze your hips.
“Maybe,” Johnny hums teasingly, drawing out the last syllable. “But no one as pretty as you.”
You scoff and roll your eyes at his cheesy retort. You look down to see Jaehyun staring up at you, eyes filled with unbridled lust. You stroke his cheek gently and giggle.
“Are you waiting for permission?”
Johnny chuckles from behind you. “He’s waiting for you to sit on his face, sweet girl.”
Your eyebrow quirks up in surprise. Multiple exclamation marks pop up in your head but you’re not one to hesitate if someone is willingly offering to provide you an orgasm, so you bunch up your dress to your waist and hover over Jaehyun’s mouth. Johnny helps you in the process, pulling your underwear to the side and guiding your hips until Jaehyun’s tongue brushes against your folds. You gasp at the feeling and Jaehyun wastes no time diving into you, eagerly eating your cunt like his life depends on it.
Johnny’s hands have wandered to the straps of your dress, pulling it down and fondling your breasts. His fingers roll over your nipples, hardened and peaked from the intense foreplay.
He whispers in your ear, playing the devil on your shoulder. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Jae loves it when it’s sloppy like this, loves to feel his mouth being used.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, catching the implication in his tone that Johnny has been in your spot before. “He likes it better when you tug on his hair like this,” Johnny says as he guides your hand to Jaehyun’s head, allowing you to pull the strands. “It lets him know he’s doing a good job.”
Jaehyun’s lips swallow every drop of essence your pussy grants him. He seems to be thoroughly enjoying the experience, hands grabbing your ass and pulling you deeper onto him.
It’s not long before you’re completely riding Jaehyun’s face, desperately pushing yourself back and forth on his mouth in pursuit of your orgasm. You whimper when his tongue flicks over your clit, teasing the nub until you’re begging for him to make you cum.
“Please, please,” you whine, fingers tugging on his hair harshly. “Wanna cum, Jae, please.”
“Let the princess get what she wants,” Johnny says to Jaehyun. “Can’t have the tennis prodigy all wound up before her big match.”
Jaehyun follows Johnny’s orders, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking until your orgasm hits you. You cry and ride out your high until your thighs start shaking. Johnny’s arms hoist you up and before you know it, he’s throwing you onto one of the beds in your post-orgasm haze. You hear the clinking of belts and a hand wraps around your throat, squeezing gently.
“Sit up, pretty girl. Want to see my cock slide down your throat,” Jaehyun whispers to you. His mouth is still covered in the remnants of your orgasm, and he casually licks his lips to capture some of the taste.
Johnny slides in to your left as you sit up, feet dangling over the side of the twin bed. You pull your dress off, flinging it across the room. With Jaehyun on your right, you give him your attention first. Your hand trails down his stomach until you’re gently grasping his cock, pulling him from the confines of his briefs. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, long and pink with pre-cum gushing from the tip. You can’t believe he was this hard the entire time he ate you out.
Your head turns to Johnny, who is smirking down at you. His fingers are already wrapped around his base, pumping slowly while he watches you. He’s thicker than Jaehyun but equally as aroused. You replace his hand with yours, mimicking his previous motions.
You find a rhythm between the two, alternating between sucking one cock and stroking the other, and switching before one of them can complain about the lack of attention. Johnny’s hand possessively grips your hair while Jaehyun keeps a solid pinch at the nape of your neck, keeping you steady.
“What a nice picture this would make,” Johnny laughs sinisterly, observing as you lick him from his base to his tip. “Maybe we should commemorate this moment, Jae. They could put it up in the Hall of Fame.”
“What? Right over a plaque that says best cocksucker?” Jaehyun chuckles. “Add best pussy too while you’re at it. Never tasted a cunt so sweet.”
You ignore their degrading comments, too enraptured in taking their cocks down your throat as best as you can. Just the thought of having them both inside you is enough to make you clench your thighs, chasing friction as slick drips from your cunt.
“Hm, wonder what the little princess is thinking about,” Johnny murmurs. “Maybe what it would be like to take two cocks at once?”
You whimper around Jaehyun’s length, his tip hitting the back of your throat. Jaehyun clicks his tongue, giving two experimental thrusts that has you gagging.
“Selfish of her,” Jaehyun comments to Johnny. “Wants all the attention for herself, on and off the court.”
“Let’s not make her wait any longer then.”
You cough a little when Jaehyun pulls himself out of your mouth. Johnny tugs on your hair harshly until you’re facing him. He leans down to press his lips to yours, tongues fighting for dominance as he pushes you back down on the bed. You clutch the back of his neck, hungrily kissing him until you’re gasping for breath.
They adjust your body so Jaehyun lies underneath you, cock prodding at your waiting hole. Johnny hovers above you, spitting at your pussy and pushing two fingers into your waiting heat.
You mewl at the intrusion and Johnny grins. “Just as I predicted, Jae, still wet and ready for us.”
When he pulls his digits out, you release a croaky laugh.
“So which one of you plans on taking home the singles trophy tomorrow?”
You feel them eye each other at your question, both lining themselves up to sink into you.
“The best man will win,” Jaehyun mumbles in your ear, not sounding so confident in his answer.
You smile, sensing an open opportunity to encourage some harmless fun. You can already picture the two of them tomorrow — sweaty and desperate to prove themselves as the best. The thought of them being so competitive for the title causes more slick to gush from your pussy.
“How about this then — tonight, you both have to pull out. But tomorrow, whoever wins the title gets to cum deep inside me,” you drawl, watching as Johnny’s eyes cloud over and feeling Jaehyun’s hands tighten around your waist. “And I’ll wear your cum in my panties all day to show everyone who I belong to.”
The idea of them staking a claim on you drives them into a frenzy. You whine when they both push into your cunt, fighting for the tight space between their ridiculously large cocks. You collapse onto Jaehyun’s front, head falling against his shoulder.
“Slut,” Johnny growls at you. “That’s how it’s going to be, hm? Pretty princess wants cum dripping down her legs as she practices her backhand?”
Jaehyun groans in your ear. “Fuck, I want to see that so badly.”
Your mind is drawing a blank, heat filling your stomach as the both of them continue to press into you.
Jaehyun chuckles. “Maybe we didn’t think this through, John. Looks like her pussy can’t even fit the both of us.”
“Maybe you’re right, Jae.”
When they start to pull out, your head whips up with an unmatched fury.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
“There she is,” Johnny smirks. “Princess wants us to break her pretty pussy, is that it?”
Your competitive nature flares up. “Trust me, I can take it.”
Johnny and Jaehyun exchange another round of looks and eyebrow raises. You feel utterly unprepared when Jaehyun plants his feet on the bed and Johnny situates his knees, his hands grabbing your thighs. They begin a furious pace, with Jaehyun roughly thrusting upwards and Johnny railing you until your head hits the wall.
You nearly scream, convinced that the neighboring dorms are going to file noise complaints by the end of the night.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss at the feeling of two cocks driving into you.
You feel completely full as they stretch you out. Johnny’s hand comes down to your clit to try and ease some of the pain. You crumble when the pain ebbs into waves of pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“There you go,” Jaehyun coos in your ear. “Just let us take care of you, baby.”
Two fingers slide into your mouth and you clutch Jaehyun’s wrist, gagging on his digits.
“Can’t wait to cum inside this tight cunt tomorrow,” Johnny grunts.
You hear Jaehyun scoff and give another harsh thrust, almost knocking you against the wall again. You blubber on his fingers but he doesn’t seem to mind the drool slipping down his wrist.
“What makes you think you’ll be the sure winner?” Jaehyun asks between throaty groans.
Johnny chuckles at the question. “Come on, Jae. You can’t be serious.”
“And if I was?”
Your orgasm hits you without warning and you cry, back arching and thighs shaking from the intense pleasure. You have to blink a few times before regaining your senses, and you’re surprised by what you find when you can finally see clearly.
Johnny’s lips are locked with Jaehyun’s, their tongues fighting for dominance in a messy kiss. They’re both still pounding into you albeit at a slower pace, suddenly enraptured by one another as Johnny’s hand moves from your clit to tangle into Jaehyun’s hair. The latter moans underneath you, removing his fingers from your mouth to lazily grab a handful of your breast as you remain sandwiched between them.
You didn’t think it was possible, but you grow more aroused at the sight. Filthy squelching sounds fill the room and your body starts to overheat from the constant stimulation.
Johnny’s eyes drift over to lock with yours, and he smirks into Jaehyun’s mouth at the sight of you. He pulls away from Jaehyun, who eagerly chases after him. Johnny cups your cheek and attaches his lips to yours, tugging Jaehyun along in the process. The three of you engage in one of the sloppiest make out sessions you’ve ever experienced, combined with a mixture of tongues and breathy gasps.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Jaehyun suddenly mumbles.
Johnny nods. “Me too. Let’s paint her body, shall we?”
You whine when they pull out of you, furiously stroking their cocks until they find release. You’re mesmerized at the sight of them climaxing, grunting harshly and coloring your stomach with ropes and ropes of their cum.
You collapse into a pile of bones and you feel them start to lick your neck, earnestly tasting the sweat dripping down from your face. You giggle at their unique form of aftercare.
“It seems like-“ you hiss when Johnny squeezes your breast again before continuing. “It seems like you two used up all of your energy. Do you think either one of you still has a chance tomorrow?”
Jaehyun laughs. “Don’t worry about us, baby.”
“Because we’re planning on cumming inside of this sweet cunt for the whole world to see, whether you like it or not,” Johnny finishes.
You swallow at their predatory gazes, shock traveling up your spine when you realize their cocks are already half-hard again.
You’re in big trouble.
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yk how in one of your girls Ellie mentioned she got off to reader and was thinking abt her all day while she was gone… can u plz plz plz writing something about Ellie rubbing one out to reader OR OR writing one of Ellie’s solo vids since she said she did solo when Julia left.. I just love seeing Ellie pleasure herself I need it so bad..
an: I literally have a paper that I need to write that’s due TONIGHT but I’m doing this first because it’s more important 😌
Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, MDNI, solo!ellie, fingering, horny!Ellie, dirty talk, Ellie fantasizes about reader, this all takes place in the second chapter of my camgirl!Ellie series, Ellie has sensitive nipples bc I said so, pure smut with little plot, slight sugarmommy!Ellie if you squint??, lmk if I missed anything!
Ellie was bored out of her fucking mind.
She was always bored when you were at work, to be honest, but she usually had Julia to entertain her. She would usually text or call her, invite her over to get a quick video in, anything to fill up the time where the apartment was void of you.
That was out of the question now.
She tried everything. She tried making herself something to eat, which she ended up burning. She tried watching tv, but there was nothing on that she liked. She tried playing video games, which resulted in her screaming at some fucking incel half way across the world for being a fucking idiot. Hell, she even tried putting herself down for a nap like she was a child, which once again failed.
Ellie was getting antsy, wanting nothing more than to just be with you, be in your presence. And that's fine, because you and her are friends! It has nothing to do with the fact that ever since you had agreed to being her temporary partner, she couldn't seem to get you out of her mind.
That wasn't it at all...
She let out a gentle huff of annoyance, seemingly the hundredth one for the day, as she got up from the couch in the living room and made her way to her bedroom.
Ellie fell back into the soft comforter on her bed, a gentle sigh leaving her lips as she stared up at the ceiling for a moment before she turned over to grab her phone to check the time, which only made her groan out in frustration.
You wouldn't be home for another four hours.
This had to be some kind of cruel and unusual punishment, why were you still even working! Ellie had told you time and time again that she was making more than enough to support the both of you, and now you were even entitled to it! You were helping her bring it in! She hated how stubborn you were when it came to the topic.
She just wanted to take care of you...
You deserved to be spoiled. You spent so much of your time at the record store, slaving away to posers who usually belittled you for being a woman in the music business, wanted to get into your pants, or both, and she hated it, she always had.
She fantasized about never letting you lift a finger, always telling you that she would take care of it. Ellie never wanted you to worry your pretty little head about anything, regardless of if you agreed to make content with her or not.
Ellie would never say it out loud, but the idea of spoiling you made her weak in the fucking knees.
And she isn't entirely sure how it lead to her hand resting on her waist, toying with the sliver of skin thats peeking out between the hem of her t shirt and the waistband of her sweatpants, slender fingers slowly creeping beneath them as her hazy, lust filled eyes stare down at her own legs splayed out on her bed...
Although she is sure of how it happened, she knows that with thoughts of spoiling you, come other thoughts of you, because suddenly she's thinking of you settled between her legs, wide eyes staring up at her, eager to please, wet tongue lapping at her soaking wet core, pretty lips wrapped around her throbbing clit.
Or maybe she's thinking of something else, maybe she's thinking about you straddling her, bouncing on her cock, back arched as the sweet sound of your pretty moans fill up her room, paired with the noise of your skin slapping against her own. She can practically feel your soft, supple skin spilling out from under her large hands, she can't help but feel and squeeze whenever you're around.
And suddenly, Ellie isn't so bored after all.
Because her sweatpants are long gone, tugged off and throw somewhere in her room along with her soaked boxers. Her t shirt it pushed up, revealing her perky tits and pebbled nipples, the cold air in her room alone making them harden, making her hiss as her skilled fingers work on her soaked core.
She isn't laying down anymore, instead she's propped up a bit, her back resting against her pillows, eyebrows furrowed as her fingers work on her clit, abusing the poor sensitive numb as she rolls sharp circles into it. Ellie was never careful with herself, not like she was with you. She liked being rough when it came to her own weeping pussy, making it all red and sore, sopping wet and begging for more.
"A-ahh...f-fuck...just like that baby...mmhh...right there...dont fucking stop.." She groaned out, eyebrows furrowed, freckled cheeks flushed.
Ellie always prided herself on her filthy mouth. She could feel the way your pussy fluttered around her fingers or her tongue whenever she said something particularly dirty, so of course when thinking about you, her words didn't cease.
Her head fell back against her pillow when she pushed two fingers into her drooling pussy, a long, loud string of moans leaving her swollen lips as she called out for you, your name becoming her own personal chant as her eyes fluttered shut..
"Fuuuuckkk...that's it baby...f-fuck....fuckin' take it...thats it...thats my good girl" She shuttered out, struggling to form full sentences as she brought her eyes back down to the mess between her legs.
She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, one of her hands coming up and ghosting over her hard nipple, making her whine softly before she pinched it, making her eyes wince as she thrusted her hips up to meet her fingers, wanting them to go deeper into her weeping core.
Ellie let the images of you run through her head. She imagined you on top of her, grinding your perfect pussy onto hers. She imagined you underneath her, your ass bouncing against her thrusts as she fucked her cock into you, drilling you from behind.
But what really did it? Was imagining that her fingers, were yours.
"M'gonna....you're gonna make me fucking cum...o-oh my god...yeah...yeah right there....fuckfuckfuckfuck!" Ellie called out, her back arching as she felt her orgasm right there on the edge, the feeling she was chasing after dangling right over her head, so close she could practically fucking taste it...
Practically taste you.
Ellie screamed out your name, her hair messy as she pressed her head further into the pillow, her orgasm washing over her so intensely, it was almost fucking painful.
She struggled to catch her breath, hazy eyes staring down at her hand as she slowly rubbed her clit, riding out her orgasm as soft little hums and moans left her lips, almost liking the overwhelming feeling of sensitivity that came after she orgasmed.
Ellie sighed softly, looking over at her phone and checking the time, seeing that she still had a little less than four hours until you got home.
A little less than four hours to do what she just did, over and over again.


#ellie williams#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x you#ellie tlou#ellie x y/n#ellie the last of us#ellie x you
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I Hate Everything About You
a ford x reader fic
MINORS DNI
You’re a student at the same college as Stanford. You hate his guts for being a successful arrogant bastard, but secretly have a crush on him.
warnings: slut-shaming, slapping, oral, rough sex, choking, breeding, drugs (weed)
this is my first stab at an enemies to lovers fic. i’ve always loved the trope, so this was a lot of fun. i also definitely didn’t include them smorkig weed because i’m like missing it and living vicariously through my writing or anything. 👀💦
You sat in your dorm finishing your homework. You were in your junior year at Backupsmore University with a major in theoretical physics, winter break was two weeks away. Tonight you were on edge, dreading a knock on the door. The reason? You had been assigned to write a research paper with Stanford fucking Pines.
Oh my god how you hated him. Success and praise flocked to him. You were the only feminine presenting person in your major, and thus had to fight tooth and nail to be seen as even half as good as your male classmates.
It drove you mad how professors just seemed to naturally love him, whereas they never showed you the time of day. And worst of all? He was arrogant and self-absorbed. He thought himself so much better than the other- in his words- “troglodytes” around him.
But what you hated the most was how attracted to him you were. How could you want to fuck someone so badly when you hated their guts? You always tried to repress your feelings, but some nights you still shamefully found yourself with your hand between your legs, thoughts running wild of Stanford using you like a sex toy.
You quietly seethed over your homework when you heard knocking at your door. You sighed heavily and pushed your chair back, savoring your last Stanford free moments.
You swung the door open and there stood the man that you despised more than everything.
“Stanford.” You said coldly.
“Y/n.” He responded, not even entertaining the idea of making eye contact with you, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.
-
Barely an hour had passed before you two found yourselves locked in a heated argument. A simple disagreement over formatting had boiled over.
“Jesus christ, Stanford why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?”
“I’M making things difficult? I’m not the one who’s been shooting daggers all night, barely responding to my questions because apparently talking to me is like pulling teeth. What the hell did I ever do to make you hate me this much?”
“Oh you really wanna know why I hate you? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that professors fawn over you for the most menial effort, meanwhile I’ve had to work myself to the bone, slaving away just to earn half the recognition you barely have to lift a finger for.” You spat.
“Well maybe if you kept your legs closed every now and then this wouldn’t be nearly as hard as you make it.”
Hot tears formed in your eyes, you quickly raised a hand and brought it down hard on his face. He stumbled back, his cheeks turning bright red and not from the slap. You looked down, a bulge clearly forming in his pants.
“Fuck, that’s hot.” You thought, quickly growing angrier that he had managed to turn you on like this.
“For fuck’s sake Stanford, are you serious?” You said through gritted teeth.
“I- well I- it’s not like I can help it. I’ve never been slapped before.”
You stared at each other for a moment, the sexual tension building.
“Look,” he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation “it’s clear we both have some underlying feelings for each other, perhaps it would be for the best if we-“
“Whoa whoa whoa,” you said, cutting him off “maybe you do, but I certainly don’t.”
“Oh please, don’t lie to yourself. I catch you staring at me during lectures all the time, undressing me with your eyes, nothing anywhere like the malice you so pretended to demonstrate tonight. Admit it, you like me. Despite aaaaaall of your personal hangups about my successes, you genuinely have feelings for me.” He said, crossing his arms.
He let his words hang in the air, a smirk creasing his lips. God, he was such a dick.
“Now,” he continued “I was going to say I think it would be best if we just put this to bed, literally.”
“Stanford, no I-“ the blush on your cheeks betrayed you.
He chuckled, tilting your chin up. “I knew it, you want this.”
He pressed a firm kiss to your lips. He was right, you did want this. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t imagined him between your thighs during class. You reached a hand down, fondling his cock over his pants.
“Mmm, fuck.” He groaned into your mouth.
You both began removing each other’s clothes desperately. He looked down at your naked body, his breath shaking. He took your breast in his hand, stroking your nipple with his thumb.
“Do you know the things those brutes in class say about you, about your body? When you walk into the room every man fucks you with their eyes, but you like it that way, don’t you?”
You took his thick cock in your hand and stroked it, he moaned and buried his head in the crook of your neck. He pulled himself away then pointed to the floor. You sank to your knees in front of him and wrapped your fingers around his cock again, pumping the near 8.5 inches in your hand. He tilted his head back, groaning and cursing.
“Put my cock in your mouth, baby.”
You went to slowly take his head in your mouth, but he seized a fistful of your hair and shoved the full length down your throat. You choked and gagged.
“You know I was thinking of being nice, but honestly I think you deserve to be brutally fucked after the way you’ve been acting. How does that sound, princess?”
You nodded with his cock buried in your mouth.
“Good, although honestly I was planning on doing it regardless.”
He gritted his teeth and resumed bucking furiously into your mouth. You to whimpered and gagged around him, tears streaming down your face.
“You’re my little slut now, you understand?”
You let out a muffled “Mhmf.”
“Look at you, letting me fuck your mouth like this. Do you let anyone else do this to you?”
He pulled out to let you answer. “No.”
He shoved his cock back in your mouth. “Let’s keep it that way. I’m not big on- mmf, sharing. I always figured the rumors of you being the campus whore weren’t true. You have too much self respect for that, but I bet you’re so dirty when you’re alone. Picturing me fucking you in every position, touching yourself and cumming with my name on your lips.”
He quickened pace, fucking your mouth rapidly in pure aggression. He growled and his hips stuttered, he was going to cum in your mouth if he kept going like this. He pulled you back by your hair and you took in a gasping breath. He didn’t give you a chance to breathe before picking you up and throwing you facedown on the bed.
He knelt behind you, slapping your ass hard a few times. “There, now I think we’re even.”
His hands pinned your wrists to the bed and he teased your entrance for barely even a second before slamming every inch inside you. You struggled to hold back a loud moan, trying to not let the whole floor know that you were getting absolutely wrecked.
He growled and moved his hands to your hips, fucking you so hard that it felt like his cock was going to split you in half.
“I have a confession to make, y/n.” He breathed between violent thrusts into you. “I saw you, two weeks ago, in the library. You didn’t see me, you leaned down to select a book off the lowest shelf and I could see your panties under your skirt. Pink with black lace. God I- I couldn’t resist, not after watching you eye me up in class. I found a quiet part of the library and stroked my cock to the thought of you.”
He picked up his pace, the slaps of his hips meeting your ass only aroused you more. “When our professor announced the assignment I knew I had to have you. I went and spoke to him after class and convinced him to pair you up with me. And now look at you, taking my cock like the whore you are, just like I knew you would.”
You gripped the sheets in your fingers as he pounded you into the mattress. Jesus fucking christ the idea of him getting worked up because of you was enough to fuel your masturbation fantasies for months. The thought of him stroking himself- in public no less- just because he saw your panties, good god you were going to savor that image in your mind forever.
He flipped you over on your back, kissing you deeply. His hands found your hips and pulled you onto his cock, resuming his aggressive rhythm.
“I love the feeling of fucking you from behind, but I need to see those eyes.”
He slid his hand to your throat, gripping it tightly. You choked out a weak moan and the corners of your vision started to turn to black static.
“God you’re gonna make me fucking cum. I want you to look in my eyes as I breed you, princess.”
He pounded faster and faster, savoring every moan and whimper that passed your lips. You dug your nails into his back causing his cock to twitch and throb, edging him closer by the second to cumming inside you.
“Look into my eyes, look into my eyes as I cum in you.” He demanded.
The sight of your doe eyes looking back at him was what did it. His brutally fast pace faltered and his breathing hitched and as he felt himself release deep in you, his hot cum coating your walls. He moaned your name loudly.
He panted, exhausted and collapsed beside you, trying to catch his breath. You were about to kiss him when he started making his way down your body.
“Stanford what are you-“
“Finishing the job, I’m not about to leave you unsatisfied like some kind of neanderthal would, I’m better than that.” He muttered.
You rolled your eyes, there he goes being arrogant as usual.
He took your clit in his mouth, you reached a hand down and buried it in his hair. He hummed against you, tongue lapping at your delicate nub.
“So desperate for me, aren’t you?” He teased.
“Nnnngh, Stanford.”
He looked up at you and chuckled. “Please, call me Ford.”
He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them against your g-spot. You arched your back instinctively and he held you in place by your hips.
“Getting close already are we?”
“Mmh, I can’t help it, you’re too good at this.”
“Surprisingly research goes a long way. It’s amazing what certain books can teach you.” He said with a devilish smile.
“You fucking nerd, I didn’t say you could stop.” You tightened your grip on his hair and pushed him against your clit, he let out a little “hmf”.
You rocked your hips against his tongue, feeling yourself tip over the edge.
“Ahh hah, oh Ford.”
Your orgasm shook you, hitting you hard. All you could do was focus on your breathing. Ford watched you intently, god you looked so perfect when you came.
He moved himself up on the bed, coming behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist, spooning you.
Goddammit, you really thought you were going to just bottle up your feelings for Ford until the day you died, but here you were in post coital bliss with him pressed against you.
-
The conflicting feelings of fucking the classmate you thought you despised moments ago started to weigh on you, you needed to take the edge off. You rolled out of Ford’s arms and off the bed, his eyes following you. You dug around in your bedside drawer pulling out a small baggie and a glass pipe.
You packed the bowl and flicked the lighter, taking in a long drag. You let out a cloud of smoke and sighed heavily before laying back down next to Ford, who was still watching you. You raised an eyebrow.
“What is it six fingers?”
“Nothing, I just-“
“Lemme guess, those anti drug psa’s really got to you as a kid.”
He looked away, embarrassed.
You rolled your eyes again. “Jesus, you really are a fucking nerd. Here.”
You handed the pipe to him, he took it in his hand, studying it for a second before flicking the lighter taking a deep inhale, you watched him hold his breath and couldn’t help but laugh.
“Dude, holding it doesn’t do anything, breathe.” You snorted.
He took gasping breath and let out a hacking cough, smoke coming out of his nose.
“That’s what they- ack- always do in the movies.” He wheezed.
“For the love of god, you really need to get out more.”
You passed the pipe back and forth for a good while, talking about random shit. By the end of it you were both sufficiently stoned.
You quickly learned that Ford was very affectionate when he was high, he pulled you close against him, nuzzling the back of your neck, peppering your skin with kisses. He traced the curves of your body with his fingers.
“You know, I was starting to think you genuinely hated me.” He murmured into your neck.
You let out a long sigh. “Ford don’t think I ever actually hated you, I envy you. Everything seems to come so easy to you, almost naturally. Your professors love you and- I don’t know- it was just hard not to feel a twinge of jealousy. Like this college wasn’t even my first choice, everywhere else rejected me and I still have to bust my ass just to be seen as being worth anyone’s time.”
Ford took a breath and exhaled deeply. “BMU wasn’t exactly what I had planned on either, I mean, remember what they said at orientation? This is no one’s first choice. My dream school was West Coast Tech, but things… fell through.”
He paused, you could tell there was weight to that last part, memories too painful to say aloud. You didn’t pry.
“Y/n, I want you to understand it hasn’t been easy for me either. I’ve had to work twice as hard just to make something of myself at a school with nonexistent educational standards.”
You felt a pang of guilt for ever assuming this was in any way easy for him. You turned to him, holding his face in your hands and kissing him deeply.
He broke away. “You know I was thinking we could grab coffee in the morning before heading to the library to work on our paper together. I- if you want, that is.” He looked away, nervous.
You smiled and kissed him again. “I’d like that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You laid your head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead. His breathing deepened as he began to fall asleep. You soon felt your eyelids grow heavy, following Ford into slumber.
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iuvenalis
part one of strangers in the night
a joel miller au



main masterlist
author's note: welcome to part one of strangers in the night! this is going to be a six part anthology of joel x reader meeting throughout different lifetimes. expect a lot of angst, pining, and yearning. i'm so excited for each and every era i have planned. they will all be different kind of stories but will pretty much be heartbreaking across the board. thank you for reading and don't forget to follow my updates blog @sempersirenswrites as i don't have a taglist!
warnings etc (spoilers): [historical fantasy au] no outbreak (yet...), ancient rome, reader is a vestal virgin, implied misogyny/sexism/patriarchal society, angst, punishment for sexual transgression is being buried alive (not graphic), historically accurate, no smut, no use of y/n, this has not been beta read pls forgive any errors!
Rome, 216 BCE
The door creaks as it opens.
You know this dance by now. You should’ve anticipated the wooden shrill beneath your toes alerting the entire household of your deviltry one final time.
The walls hold their breath as you descend to the floor below, the warmth from the hypocaust crawling up your shins.
Yet, all remains still. Not even the feral cats who roam the cobbled streets stir from their slumber.
Tomorrow they will march you down this road; praetorian guards brushing your bare shoulders with no fear of corruption.
But dawn is yet to break and your palms yet to dampen with fear.
“Iuvenalis?” The muggy air clamps around your throat as you speak for the first time in days.
You know his footsteps as intimately as you know the beat of his chest. Months moving in darkness, knowing one another only under the veil of the night. You’d recognise the weight of his step if you were robbed of each and every sense.
“Mea columba.”
You shut your eyes as his sweet, misplaced worry fills your ears.
“Iuvenalis.” You breathe his name, surrendering to his hands desperately finding their way from your waist to your cheeks.
“You are too trusting of these streets, mea columba.” My dove. You hadn’t seen him the first time he saw you. It had been the day of your inauguration; he says he mistook your hair for a dove in flight. Wild, white, and too soft for the wind tangled within it.
“These are streets I played in as a girl. They have treated me well.”
“But, tomorrow-,”
“Tomorrow is a far-off thought, corculum. Be with me as I am now. That is all I ask.”
He nods. You know he disagrees, but tonight he swallows any indication of contention as he silently takes your hand in his and leads you toward the walls of the city.
You can see the Colosseum from here. You always hated the wretched thing. Slaves and beasts banished to Tartarus simply to divert the eyes of Rome far away from treaties signed in the stands.
You hated how as a daughter of Vesta, your presence was expected at each game. As a girl, your father had once caught you squeezing your eyes shut as two lean slaves delivered their final blows to one another's pink flesh.
“You think me naive to have taken up the post, do you not?”
His brows pierce into his forehead as he considers your question.
“I think your family cruel to sentence you to death from girlhood. I think the Gods merciless for requiring such sacrifice.”
"You are brave to speak of the Gods so recklessly." You scoff. Part of you feels guilty; he was devout when he found you. All soldiers must be; how could you believe in nothing as the enemy charges toward you?
It didn't take long for you to become his temple. You replaced his exaltation; the ripples of your thighs his temple; your stifled moans his prayer.
You had corrupted him just as much as he had you.
"Let them hear me. I would sooner accompany you to Elysium than press my head to the altar of these false prophets."
"You don't know what you speak, Iuvenalis."
His grip finds your arm, turning you to feel his breath against your forehead.
"You are dimidium animae meae, there is no punishment I would not endure to remain by your side in this life and the next."
"What a wretched soul you must have for that to be so."
His fingertips find your cheek before you even notice the tears falling.
"We could still flee. I would grow old in the slums of Carthage if it meant I could watch your hair turn grey."
"Traders would recognise a Vestal Virgin as far as Babylonia."
"Then we will go farther."
His beard scratches beneath your palm.
"I will not lament any longer, corculum. Tomorrow, you will walk beside me, and then I beg you turn and do not look back. I can't bear to think of you watching."
For the first time this night, a smile creeps across his cheeks.
"You forget the man with whom you speak. I will be at your side until they drag me from you."
The crowds in the street do not look at you as you walk.
Your mother wails somewhere behind you, but she is blocked by a procession of praetorian guards. She does not weep in sorrow, but in shame that her only daughter approaches the grave unchaste.
He is there, beside you. The guards that encircle you owed their lives to his leadership in a battle on foreign soil.
Your fingertips brush against one another as you walk. You are already ruined, you think, what more could they punish you with?
You think that if not for his presence, you would fall to your knees in the street. You would claw at your skin and the cobbles beneath you, leave scratches in the road and beg to be forgiven.
But he is there, and you will not leave the world as you came into it.
The priest waits at the end of the procession. Iuvenalis' fingers weave between your own, and he squeezes three times as the water is brought forth. Enough to last you a day; their hands are clean if they keep you alive for a little while.
A final prayer is read, and the crowds turn their backs. His hand squeezes tighter; you fear he will not release you.
"No," you mutter, loud enough for only him to hear.
The guards herd you both forth like cattle, the marble descent to your tomb the only viable path for you now.
But he is still here.
Your palms grow damp as the men flock closer.
"No!" You shake your head, searching the faces of the praetorian for an answer.
"It's okay, mea columba. It's going to be okay."
The realisation sinks into your skin like a tick; he never intended for you to enter your grave alone.
The light grows dim as you both are forced into the chamber, and silence rings out above you. Soon, everything goes dark.
You weep and beat into his chest, engulfed almost entirely by darkness. Slim arrows of light beat across his face, and he is here, smiling down at you.
"Why condemn yourself?" You choke between gulps of grief.
"You think I would wait to walk the fields of Elysium by your side? There is nothing for me on this plain of existence without you. Dimidium animae meae. You are half of my soul, I will follow you anywhere. Even into death."
Under the darkness you began, in the darkness, you would end.
#fic: strangers in the night#joel miller tlou#joel miller x f!reader#took a little bit of inspo from the one and only general marcus acacius#joel tlou#my fic#the last of us#joel miller x reader#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#joel miller#joel miller au#the last of us hbo#hbo the last of us#tlou fic#joel x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction
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wishful thinking. (07)
chapter seven: built to break
summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.
pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; the gorlies are fighting...?, not much for warnings in this chapter ig word count: 4.3k note: i finally got off my ass and wt is finally back lol. i had a last minute change of plans and thought "oh! you know what would be pretty neat? if we prolong the angst so everyone can be sad for longer!" <3 and this is how i announce that the next chapter is not wt8 but wt7.5 and it's written from his pov <3 merry christmas
as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
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I’ll hold my breath as I wait for your answer I’ll leave it up to you Tell me whether it’s yes or no Baby, love me or leave me tonight
Love Me or Leave Me - Day6
The warning signs, they're there. You can see them before they materialize. You know your own tells.
Your metaphorical bags are packed, your shoes are already on. You're about to run again, leave a half empty house before it has the chance to become a home. No one has to tell you that you're a flight risk; you're well aware of it yourself.
Wednesday Min: got plans tonight? You: booked and busy with ze old canvas Min: tomorrow? You: same thing probably. sorry Min: u're working hard lately You: yeah this one is just driving me crazy and i need it to turn out decent Min: it'll be perfect. it's u
Thursday Min: running errands at the store Min: want me to bring u anything? that caramel popcorn u like?
Friday Min: don't work too hard. remember to eat
That was three days ago, the last time you'd heard from him after you left him on read. It wasn't a complete lie; this project is driving you kinda crazy and you do need it to end up a decent piece, but you weren't exactly holed up in your apartment to slave over your painting. And you suppose Minho didn't find it all that suspicious because you tend to do this sometimes - disappear for a couple of days and force yourself to focus whenever you had a project to finish, before you come back to everybody again. You've come back to him before; it stands to reason that you'll do it again.
It's been about two weeks since you'd seen him, though the memories of that evening are still fresh in your mind - the evening of the group dinner, when he'd kissed you goodnight and left for his parents' house the following day. True to his words, he did send you pictures of the cats - ones of Soonie wearing a matching hoodie with him, a few of Doongie and Dori napping at the foot of his bed. There was an accompanying text - The kids miss you - along with a frowning emoji, and it made you wonder if what he really meant was I miss you.
You wanted him to miss you, because you missed him too.
The photos brought a smile to your face despite the predicament you found yourself in. A smile that was short lived, a smile that was soon wiped off when you realized your heart shouldn't be swelling with that much affection for him. It shouldn't, but the truth was that it did and you don't know how to live with it.
Love isn't something you've ever learned to hold.
It's beautiful yet full of thorns, and your hands are too clumsy to ever keep it from slipping from your fingers.
You remember when you first met Minho. Freshman year, at some popular senior's house party.
It feels like forever ago when you were just an awkward freshman at orientation who didn't have a single clue on how to make friends. Jess was your first friend in college, and you'll always be grateful that you got along well enough that she adopted you into the group with the rest of the guys.
You didn't cross paths with Minho until you were already acquainted with everyone else. On the night of the party, you remember being enamored with him for those couple of hours, and it wasn't the side effect of too many solo cups of cheap beer. Who in their right mind wouldn't be infatuated with him? He was beautiful, absolutely alluring, and you would always tell him as much.
Back then, he had brown hair, slighter shorter than now but it was tinted with the most gorgeous shade of red. You didn't know much about Minho, only been told that he was pretty quiet and might be off-putting to new people. It was sort of true; that night, you were intimidated by the aura he exuded. Mysterious, couldn't be bothered, didn't seem to give a shit. He looked like a scary little thing, while you were the new kid who was only trying to observe everyone's dynamics, not wanting to overstep any unspoken boundary.
To this day, you're still not sure what really happened, how you two immediately clicked and he's been one of the most important parts of your life ever since.
Maybe it was just him. Maybe it's always been him.
Minho, the one who makes you smile when all you want to do is curl up and cry. The one who makes you laugh when you look for joy but the search comes up empty. The one who grounds you every time you lose your way. Your anchor, the safe harbor you can always return to. The light at the end of a long, long tunnel.
You don't know where you stand, don't know where it goes from here now that everything is changing. He told you so himself, that nothing changed for him, but how could he possibly know that everything is changing for you? And it infuriates you to no end because you don't even have anyone to talk about this with. You're the only person whose world is being turned upside down after all.
You can't tell your friends because they can't know about you and Minho. You can't tell Minho because what would you even say? That you think you're in love with him? That the implications of what it means are devastating to you?
For the first time, you regret everything. Kissing him that night, sleeping with him, becoming whatever this is with him. Letting down your guard and falling for him somewhere along the way and you didn't even stop to notice it. You regret all of the decisions you've made up until now, because they've only led you to the point of no return, the point of losing him. You made bad decision after bad decision after bad decision, until you couldn't anymore. All along, there's been no one else to blame but you.
Maybe it hasn't happened yet, but it's inevitable. You will lose him. You are going to lose him.
There's no other ending, no other alternative that you can imagine. You're going to leave because you're a coward and it's what you do best. You ruin things before they get a chance to hurt you. You leave because if you don't leave then you'll be left behind, and you'd rather not bear the brunt of it.
Now, when you think of Minho, the thought is always accompanied by a painful reminder - Nothing changed for him.
When you get to the cafe, Hyunjin and Seungmin are already seated in a corner booth, three drinks in front of them, one of which they'd ordered for you before you arrived.
You slide into the seat next to Hyunjin, smiling at him appreciatively for the drink. There's still over half an hour before you have to walk to your shared class, over half an hour before Seungmin parts ways with you two to do whatever or whoever it is that Seungmin does on his off days.
"I still think it's Nara," Hyunjin says, casually sipping his iced coffee.
"Nara from your Lit class last semester?"
"Yup."
"Why?"
"I saw them talking at a party once."
"Okay. And?"
"And what? That's it."
"That's... all the evidence you have to back up your claim?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
You wave your hands in front of them. "What are you bozos talking about?"
"He’s still trying to figure out who Minho is hooking up with," Seungmin is the one who answers you without missing a beat, then he turns back to Hyunjin. "Anyway, it can't be Nara. She's dating Jaehyun on the basketball team."
The friend next to you flails his arms like a petulant child, like he couldn't have possibly seen this coming, like he was so sure that he had finally solved the mystery. "Great. I'm back to square one again."
You straighten your back and reach for your drink, tentatively gulping down the beverage as if it'll hide the fact that you've gone stiff the second this topic is brought up. You feel bad about it, sure. These are your friends that you're lying to after all. They don't have to look anywhere far; the answer to the secret is right in front of them.
"We're still on about that?" you ask in the calmest, most nonchalant voice you can muster. You usually consider yourself a believable liar (which, to be honest, isn't really a flex at all), but whenever someone mentions this little arrangement between you and Minho that shouldn't be common knowledge for anyone else, you feel like you're been put under a spotlight for the whole world to scrutinize.
"Duh," Hyunjin says. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you don't know. You two are like, attached at the hip sometimes."
You give him a thoughtless shrug, your hands fiddling with the sticker on the plastic cup as you avoid looking at either of your friends. "Maybe he just wants to keep private things private, y'know? You wouldn't like either if all of us is suddenly all up in your business. And besides, what if it's just casual?"
Hyunjin scoffs. "Please, I'm an open book. I tell you guys everything. I tell you every time I hook up with someone."
"Yeah, but you see, literally no one needs to know that," Seungmin says.
The taller one only scoffs, waving his hands around dismissively in Seungmin's direction before he turns to you. "If it was just casual, would he save her name as - oh my God, I forgot what her contact name is. Freaking bird person or something."
You make a face. "What?"
"Dude, seriously?" Seungmin rolls his eyes. "You forgot one word? Dove? What is the matter with you?"
Perhaps it's the half-hearted teasing judgment in Seungmin's voice that makes Hyunjin take offense and drop the topic. The conversation veers off course when they start bickering like children in the busy cafe. You suppose it works in your favor, but you can't focus. You drown it all out.
Your hand is still on the cup but the sticker has been left alone and forgotten, half peeled off, half still clinging to the plastic underneath the condensation.
The single word repeats itself in your mind, over and over and over again.
The entire time you're in class, you don't really focus on anything. You can't bring yourself to listen to whatever your professor is saying, not after what Hyunjin and Seungmin told you earlier. At some point, your friend has to nudge your shoulder to bring you back down to earth when usually, you're the one who has to remind Hyunjin to pay attention. Class ends soon enough though; time tends to fly by when your mind is lost elsewhere.
"What's wrong with you today?" he asks with his bag slung over his shoulder, slowing down his steps to match your speed as you walk out of the lecture hall together.
You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. "Nothing's wrong. I was just tired."
"You wanna grab dinner with me and Felix?"
Any other day, you would've agreed in a heartbeat. But today, you want to be alone. Sometimes, you'd rather wallow in your own misery than settle for a temporary distraction.
You're still stuck on the conversation from earlier, on the small detail that Hyunjin and Seungmin had let slip in the cafe.
Dove.
His dove.
Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Perhaps it's only a nickname that he's assigned to you out of mere platonic fondness, but it makes you conscious about the dove on your own wrist nonetheless, the one that you feel compelled to hide from your friends underneath your long sleeve.
"No, it's okay," you tell Hyunjin. "I'll just go home and sleep it off."
"Okay. I can walk you for a bit," he says. "Just wait with me here. Minho's coming to give me back something he borrowed."
"Minho's coming?" you ask too quickly for it to sound casual. There's a panicked edge that you can hear in your own voice, though you don't think Hyunjin picks it up as he unlocks his phone and types something on the screen.
"Yeah, he was at the library. He's coming over right now, should only be a couple minutes. Then I'll walk back with you."
You shift on your feet uneasily, but you cover it up by rubbing your hands on your arms to pretend like you're just cold. There's no excuse that you could think of that would justify why you can't stand here with Hyunjin for just two more minutes, without giving it away the fact that you're avoiding Minho.
You take in a quiet breath, put on your best brave face. Casual, nonchalant. It's just Minho. Just Minho...
He comes up from behind, where you can't see him. A warm hand gently lands on your shoulder, and it takes everything not to shy away from his touch. It takes even more not to lean into his side.
You've missed it. You've missed him.
"Hey." He smiles at you while Hyunjin only gets a nod in acknowledgment.
"Hey." You return the smile, though you're sure you look a little rigid. You can tell there's an inkling of confusion in his eyes when he senses that your energy is off, but you're thankful he doesn't comment on it, at least not in front of Hyunjin anyway.
You don't notice the paper bag in his other hand until he hands it to your other friend with a simple Thanks, to which Hyunjin just nods along in a silent You're welcome.
"I was going to walk with Y/N for a bit and then meet Felix for food," he tells Minho. "You wanna get burgers with me and Lix?"
"No, thanks. I'm not hungry, I had a late lunch. I'll take the walk though."
You didn't plan on being alone with Minho today, even though you knew you had to talk to him eventually. You just thought you had a little more time, at least until you got your shit together and face him with a brave façade.
Minho's hand brushes yours the entire time you walk, and it's nothing if not confusing. It's unbearable, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to intertwine them with his.
It persists even after Hyunjin has waved you goodbye to you two and turned to head wherever he and Felix agreed to meet. You think Minho would hold your hand now that it's just you and him, but he doesn't. He lets your skin continue to brush, lets you suffer alone and wanting in your sunken disappointment.
It has very little to do with him and everything to do with you, the conflicting thoughts inside your head piling up one by one the more time you spend in his presence.
Dove, the brief display of jealousy at Yeonjun's party, the way he looks at you sometimes that you can't really decipher the meaning behind, how he kisses you so tenderly that it can't possibly be strictly platonic. You want these things to all mean something, and yet...
You want him to hold your hand, but you know you'd wave it off if he tries to reach for your fingers. You want him to stop you right then and there to kiss you breathless, just as he had that night two weeks ago, even though you're sure you'd only dodge his lips and push him away. You want to stay, you want to leave. You're terrified of things changing, but you wish that something, anything, would be different for him; that you aren't the only one who's spinning out of control. You love him, but you wish you didn't.
Eventually, Minho asks, "You okay?"
It's not until now that you realize this is the first time you've ever been this quiet around him. You purse your lips, glancing down briefly at your feet as you keep on treading the rest of the way home. "Yeah, all good. I'm just tired," you tell him, visibly unenthusiastic despite the smile you try to fake. "I just need to sleep it off."
"The project stressing you out?"
"I guess, yeah."
"And here I thought maybe you were avoiding me," he says, half a joke, half inquisitive. "Were you?"
"Was I what?"
"Were you avoiding me?"
You give him a weird look, one that's meant to be dismissive and call his question ridiculous even though you know you've been caught. And maybe it's the over-the-top glance that you throw his way and the way your pitch goes higher when you reply, "Why would I be avoiding you?" that makes him stop walking.
On the other side of the street, there's a couple of kids in high school uniforms, exchanging shy glances and sharing fond giggles.
Minho calls your name softly, and it's like you're just waiting for the ball to drop. You don't want to turn back and look at him, but what other option do you have? What else is there to do?
You can't decipher the expression on his face. He's still calm, but the air has turned serious, the silence of the mostly empty streets surrounding you only serves as the soundtrack of your impending heartbreak. The tender and innocent laughter fades away when young love moves further and further from where you stand. "What?" you ask with faux nonchalance as you look at him, another attempt at stalling. Biding your time even though a few more minutes aren't going to do any good for your case.
Anyone with half a braincell could tell that clearly it's not the truth, let alone someone who has learned to read you better than the back of his hand. He doesn't look like he believes you, though he doesn't push it, much to your surprise.
"Okay," he says after a moment of studying you, and this should be the part where you heave a sigh of relief because he's letting you off the hook for now, but your chest doesn't feel lighter at all. Your head is clouded with dread, with the anticipation that you're only delaying the inevitable.
You walk the rest of the way in awful silence, because you know that he knows something is wrong. You try your best to appear composed, but he sees right through you. You know he does.
You must look like a frightened animal, one that's about to take off running any second now.
When you reach your building, Minho is quick to keep you with him before you can make up a lame excuse and bolt.
"Hey," he starts, his voice so impossibly gentle that it hurts. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
Heavier and heavier, it weighs you down until you feel like your chest is going to collapse. The nerves gnaw on you, clawing into you until you feel your heartbeat quicken, the overwhelming dread simmering low in your belly.
"I know," you say, but deep down, what you're really thinking is, Not this. This is the one thing I can't tell you.
"Is everything okay?"
It's the way that Minho's got his gaze set on you with those deep brown irises, the concern so apparent in them that it hurts you. It's the way he looks like he wants to reach out and touch you - a comforting hand on your shoulder or your back like you're so familiar with - but he has to hold himself back or you might slip away.
It's him, how he always puts you first, how he cares about you in ways that you've never been cared about before. He understands you, he sees you. It feels like it could be love if you let the lines blur just enough.
Is love supposed to hurt? Like this?
Maybe it's not that you don't know how to hold love. Maybe it's because you're not meant to hold it at all. Insignificant, unlovable.
And... it's the reminder that cuts through the dread like the sharpest knife.
You leave his question unanswered, because nothing is okay and you can't tell him any of it. You can't lie to him either, because it's the last thing that you want to do to him.
Instead, you ask, "We're good... right? We're okay?"
"What do you mean?"
You gesture between the two of you, though you're not sure what that's supposed to signify. "Just...," you trail off for a second, hesitant. "Nothing's changed, right?"
Minho doesn't answer right away. He looks at you for a moment, searching for something in your eyes that you can't tell if he's able to find.
He nods, seemingly wistful as he says, "Nothing's changed."
He seems unsure about it, at least more than he was just a few weeks ago when he told you the same thing in your apartment with his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The tug between his brows - though barely noticeable - tells you as much.
Is it because something is different now? Or does he only sound uncertain out of concern, because of you and how you're acting?
Then he continues, "For me, at least."
And there it is.
It's the confirmation this time around that turns you inside out so his simple words could cut into you.
You swallow thickly, put on a smile like you're pleased with his answer even though you're trying your hardest to stop yourself from shaking. Whatever energy you had left is instantly drained from you just because of a few words.
Your sentences get smashed together, tangled up like barbed wire and they only make you bleed when you try to pull them apart. All your nervous tics coming out to play despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. A frustrated hand running through your hair, gripping at the roots a little harshly. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes turning glassy for a split second before you blink the moisture away, because you can't let Minho see you like this. See you trying to keep your pathetic heart intact while he's none the wiser.
He's fine. And unlike you, he's going to be okay when this is over.
Unavoidable and inevitable, the end will come whether you like it or not. You're the only one who won't make it out unscathed, and it will only shatter you into more pieces the longer you drag this out.
Just rip the bandaid off. Salvage whatever you can. Stop digging the grave even deeper for yourself.
One second, then two, then three. You don't speak until you have enough faith that your voice is even enough to carry out a few sentences.
"Okay, uhm... I think I need some time for myself. We should..." But it isn't, and you crack halfway through. The sound is deafening to your own ears. "We should take a break. We should stop this."
Minho doesn't question if you mean the secret between the two of you, or your friendship entirely. Instead, he asks, "Why?"
"I told you." You clear your throat. "I need time for myself."
You can't tell what he's thinking, but the knife twists inside of you nonetheless.
He takes a step closer, you take a step back.
You watch as his face falls, and the same feeling mirrors itself within the confines of your ribcage. Your heart drops at the sight of his eyes, deep brown irises stained with a little confusion, then a little hurt though it lasts for only a few seconds. The slight slump of his shoulders, the absence of the familiar playfulness he always sports when he's with you.
He blinks.
"Time for yourself, or time away from me?"
You say nothing.
You don't address his question directly, and your reluctance to do so is a loud enough answer in and of itself. "Why does that matter? What's the difference?"
"It matters if I did something to upset you."
"You didn't."
"Okay. So?"
This is confusing, because he's not letting you rip the bandaid clean off and you don't know why. "Nothing's changed, right? If it didn't mean anything to you, why can't you just drop this?"
Minho is quiet for a beat. His eyes are searching again, but this time, you think he finds something.
Everything is still and you hate it - the silence of the streets, the scrutinizing orange glow of the streetlights as if they're watching the scene unfold, even the innocent cat that's sitting by itself on the balcony on one of the floors higher up. You hate all of it.
"I never said it didn't mean anything," he tells you.
It makes you a little angry for some reason, and there's enough red to cloud your vision because his words are contradicting and you're tired, you're so exhausted that you can't focus on what it is that he's really saying.
"So you lied to me?"
"I've never lied to you."
"I asked you before and you said nothing's changed. Now you're saying whatever this is didn't not mean anything. Make up your mind."
It gets redder when he keeps his eyes fixed on you, still so calm despite the frown that has returned to its place between his brows. Still so collected, while you're being pulled apart at the seams.
The ball doesn't drop the way you expect it to. It keeps falling so insufferably slowly, hanging over you like it's mocking you for being stupid, like it's milking every second of suspense to make you implode.
Until Minho speaks next and suddenly, it feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. His voice, still so soft and tender. His eyes, reading something in yours that you can't bear to admit out loud.
"You really don't see it, do you?"
all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.06.2024]
#stray kids fic#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#skz fic#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x you#lee know fluff#lee know angst#lee know smut#lee know scenarios#lee know x reader#lee know imagines#lee know x you#lee minho x reader#lee minho x you#stray kids#lee know#lee minho#fic: wishful thinking
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#398
“Oh, stop fucking crying. Nobody here gives a shit. So you got beat up. It was a fair fight, and you lost. I haven’t seen a faggot lose a fist fight that bad in a long time. That’s the second of two you lost. You fucked up. You are going to be sobbing when I want you to. Now is not the time. So stop that blubbering....
“I don’t get you faggots. You all answer and ad on one of those master/slave websites looking for fags willing to be gangbanged by a dozen or so sadistic redneck men like me. The ad said you will be roughed up. What did you expect? You got roughed up.
“You thought that it was going to come from us. Well, we ain’t done with you. You are going to be the star tomorrow night. Tonight is the plowing for the faggot who bested you in this last fight.
“You are going to have a role in tonight’s festivities though. I have to prepare you for it. Come with me over here.
“No. No. Stop your crying, you pussy. I said come here. If I would have known you were going to be a cry baby, I would have done this…
“…earlier.
“Well, a good ol’ fashioned punch to the gut took your breath away, didn’t it? If you don’t want another, come with me into my shop.
“…Being barefoot and naked back here can be dangerous. So watch where you step. Here, let’s go into my back room. This is where I come when I want a private fuck. I love fucking outdoors, and I love fucking in front of my buds, but sometimes I need to be here with all my toys.
“Yeah, I bet you have never seen so much equipment before. A lot of it I made. Some of my buds helped me out. Don’t worry, we aren’t going to use everything.
“Hop up on this bench. I know it’s narrow, but you are going to be secured on it. Lean back and lift your legs up. You’re not going to fall off; I got you.
“Here make yourself useful, put these wrist restraints on. You need to be tied down when I fuck….
“These chains will keep your legs in position. Yeah, it looks like a beast that they are attached to opposite walls…. Now for your arms….
“There, you are secure spread eagle. Wiggle your arms and legs. You can’t get out right? Good. Good. You know what I love about this room and this contraption you are on is this. This wall panel over here. With a push of these two buttons, your arms are pulled back further above your head. These buttons pull your legs wide, up and wide. Tight hunh?... There! Any further and I would break you in two like a wishbone. Try to move…. See! You can’t move at all, not without dislocating something.
“Look at that! Your cunt is out there for anyone to see. The thing about that bench is that any fag I install on it, like I did you, has its cunt at my dick height.
“Oh yeah, I’m going to be fucking that cunt in a few minutes. Although I would call it more like a rape. Your tiny hard on might say you want it now, but you are going to have a different tune once I get started.
“Here let me take my cock out and show you what I mean. It’s not the longest dick that will be plowing your cunt this weekend, but it is one of the fattest. Feel it’s weight on your cunt lips. Heavy hunh? Just think about how much you are going to be screaming out for hours as I pile drive into you without mercy. It will make that fist fight you were in look like it was to good friends playing checkers.
“So let me tell you what’s happening and let’s see if I can kill your hard-on before I rape you.
“You already know we like making faggots fight. We like seeing how city fags like yourself deal with primal brutality. The answer is not well. You should see your black eye. It’s gotten better since your first fight. Don’t worry, there’s still time this weekend to get your other eye blacked out.
“Heh heh. That got your dick to lose some of the hardon. It also got me leaking. Yeah, the guys like seeing all your bruises and cuts. That’s why after I dump my load into your cunt, I will be removing all your hair.
“The depilatory cream I’ll put on your crotch area will burn like a motherfuck, so that’s why I’m fucking you now. Yeah, all your hair, including your eyebrows will be gone by tonight’s festivities.
“You are going to be shown off to the guys tonight, right before we bang the fuck out of the fag that just beat the shit out of you this morning. He really was motivated. You didn’t even see that coming, did you?
“Me and Daryl wanted you to lose, so we told the other fag something about the remaining gang bangs.
“You look worried. Fuck yeah.
“As you probably figured out, we use a bracket system to pair you up. The thing is that we don’t care who wins. We are more interested in who is the ultimate loser. The two winners from round one fought each other. The winner got fucked by each of us. He even got to cum at the end of the night. He was dumped naked on the outskirts of Shreveport. He’ll somehow figure out how to get back to Dallas.
“The runner up, got plowed by us, but we got to work him over as we fucked the hell out of him. I even got my arm in his ass. He was dumped naked in a nettle patch in the middle of woods outside of Knoxville.
“We design the weekend so that the guys can get more and more brutal on the fags as we work our way through the gang bangs. We told that fag that beat you what the losing fag would have to endure, and he came out swinging.
“Was that fair to you? We don’t care. What he wasn’t told was what happens to the winner of you two. Tonight, he’s going to be brought out to a wooden fuck bench. He’ll only be secured to it with one thing, a nail through his cock head into the bench. Most likely he will rip it out sometime tonight, but some fags we have done that to managed to keep their cocks intact. We’ll see.
“He won’t be going back to Florida when he’s done, just like you aren’t ever returning to your life either. Both of you have been sold.
“Ahh and here comes the tears. You realized that you fucked up, didn’t you? Hey you were begging us to abduct you and make you our sex slave. You said you were a no limits slave. Didn’t you? What, you thought that meant something else? Aww too bad for you.
“Your new owner saw all the correspondence, he’s seen your lack of fighting skills, and he’s ok with what we have in store for you.
“Oh damn. Your tears really have me leaking. Here let me apply them to your cunt lips. Normally, my leak is all the lube you will get. But tears from fear adds saltiness.
“Before we nail the other fag down, I’m going to bring you out to the other guys. With your legs spread just like they are now, my bud David will come by and grab these balls. He’s going to slice open your sack and relieve you of these useless things. No more being a man for you.
“You new owner also wants us to sew up your foreskin, except for a tiny hole to piss out.
“There’s the full-out tears. Fuck yeah…. “Right to the root it goes! Barely dry fucks hurt, hunh? You wanted to be roughed up and owned. You got that. Now enjoy the next few hours of fucking. Or don’t. I don’t care.”
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୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 31﹕✦﹕┈・୧



-> event masterlist
aizawa shouta x f!reader -> bdśm
a/n: happy buurfday 🙈🩶 erazerheaddo! i really don’t like him that much aka personally. but he’s fun to write nonetheless. <3 i hope ya’ll enjoy it & please heed the warnings mkay? have a lovely day & don’t forget to stay hydrated 😡
warnings: bd$m, dom!subDynamics, spanking(using a whip), buttplugVibrator, cl!t-spanking, edging, doggy!style, aftercare.
shouta has waited impatiently for you, ever since you had gone out with your friends. a sigh escaping his lips because somehow, it’s also his birthday. must you do this to him? its his special day, doesn’t feel as special anymore. why do you have to be so fucking busy on his special day — hey he’s all about tolerance and letting you do whatever you want, but this peeves him out a tad.
so when you ring the doorbell, he’s on the door within seconds. opening it for you and leaning back when you lean in to huggle him. “happy birthday, sho.” you coo, smiling softly but he raises a brow of annoyance. “thanks.” he scoffs, closing the door on your end and letting you come inside. the aura he has is enough to scream that he needs spoiling.
“what would you want as a birthday present?” you croon, watching his brow raise up at that prospect. maybe this would work just fine. shouta clears his throat, looming over you and bending over a little to whisper against the shell of your ear. “i want you to be my little slave tonight.” the way the warmth of his words say something so sinful has you cowering beneath him already. you gulp, contemplating — then again, it’s aizawa shouta. your husband, your confidante and your soulmate. he wouldn’t take things where you don’t like to. maybe this would also ease his mind from the looming loneliness you’ve subjected him to.
you nodded, biting back a smirk. “words, little one.” shouta daunts, tilting your chin up & forcing eye contact. “yes- yes sir.” you fumble a bit, it’s the scruffy voice he has that can get so authoritative which makes you feel small in the best of ways. and oh, shouta loves every bit of it.
“go upstairs to the bedroom, strip naked & kneel. wait for me patiently.” he commands, and you’re off immediately. when you’re taking off your clothes, anticipation bites your stomach. thinking about all the things he can do to you.
he comes in upstairs, shirtless with his scars and abs on display. a little smirk plastered on his face at seeing you knelt down so eagerly to please him. it’s written all over your face you wanna be good for him. “hmm, look up and say you want to submit to me. that you’re nothing but my property to use as i see fit.” shouta’s grim yet sinful reminder has you aching. you nodded, repeating the same words with flushed cheeks. “good girl.” he balms any anxieties that might’ve arisen.
“on the bed, ass up.” he hums, smirking with a little leather whip in his hand. it’s the kind of the pom-pom. lots of leather strips attached to the handle. shouta wouldn’t use a bull-whip on you just because of the impact might causing skin breakage. he is particularly against seeing blood. that makes him think it’s too far and shouldn’t be done. a personal preference.
the strands of the whip caress your naked skin, your spine, your neck, your inner thighs. he chuckles when he tries to shove the handle into your sopping wet cunt and watching you squeal. it was before you could expect, the whip cracked right on the curve of your ass. a scary intensity but still palpable, a shrill whine echoed through the walls of the bedroom, before another one came right at the same spot.
“who’s going to fucking count?” shouta scoffed, acting a little unhappy. “two- t’was two sir.” you whimpered, waiting for another one land right on the other ass cheek with an intensity which was higher than the first two.
“three!” you squealed out, and that makes shouta massage the spot just a little. “hmm, let’s make this a little more fun. yeah?” he thinks out aloud, “of course, fun for me. you’re just here to please me.” he reminds, walking away and bringing some items from the bedside drawer. you want to peek and see what it is, but you know you’d be punished for being too eager.
shouta walked in back to you, spreading your ass cheeks apart and squeezing some of the lube onto your rim, spreading it with his index finger and smirking at how your asshole puckers up for more. “nasty little thing.” he taunts, shoving a metallic butt plug vibrator inside you. the fullness has you gasping, along with the dull vibrations & the shape spreading your walls and contracting at the rim. it was uncomfortable, it was amazing, it was exhilarating.
shouta spanked your splayed out pussy, while you jerk forward in delight. “we begin again, from the beginning. don’t miss a single fucking count or we start again. you’ll get ten.” shouta tells you beforehand what to prepare for, so you know how much you’re truly in for.
the next three whips crack on your ass immediately, giving you little time to adjust especially how hard your ass is contracting. “agh- fuck, three! sir.” you manage to mewl out between gasps. part of you wants to break the counting, just to piss him off a little, the other part of you wanted to please him.
another one landed right on the middle of your ass, distracting you from your thoughts and making you scream out. “OUCH FOUR!” you cried out, “aww, maybe you’d have trouble sitting down tomorrow baby.” shouta cooed, while your vibrating ass was causing a problem. you felt so deliciously close to the edge without any stimulation on your clit.
“sir, don’t think can- handle this, gonna cum.” you remind him, not wanting to tip off the edge without his permission. “oh? is it?” shouta raised a brow, spanking your clit just once as you jumped your thighs together at the impact. “you can’t cum anywhere but my cock. hold it.” the words had so much bite & intensity you whimpered at the stance; just nodding along.
“words.” shouta spanked your ass again. “AGH- five, sir- yes.” you struggled, the pleasure overwhelming along with the pain on your rear. your skin was definitely bruised and a little swollen, but not too bad. shouta knew exactly what to give you to leave you dancing at the edge of pain and pleasure.
“six!” you cry out, tears brimming at the edge of your eyes at this hit, a weak sniffle escaping you. oh you were so bloody gone, shoved into subspace so wonderfully without feeling anything negative. “thank you, sir.” you hum, and shouta smirks. “aww, you’re turning more good? what’s that for? want me to stop spanking?” he chuckled, leaning in and kissing the spot where he’d just hit.
“SEVEN!” the next hit landed right where the previous one was. you screamed this time, wiggling your ass in air at the sting. “please please please sir, i’m so close.” you cry out.
shouta spanked your ass thrice, medium intensity but still firm, while you slumped forward, “t-ten.” by now you were sniffling in pure bliss. “cum.” shouta commanded, holding your waist and shoving it right at the leaky tip of his thick cock.
you screamed at the feeling, you felt so wonderfully stretched out. feeling shouta balls deep, along with the butt plug that stretched you out so good. immediately cumming pathetically on his cock & massaging his ridges and veins. “aw, good girl, good little girl. just like that.” shouta stayed still, letting you adjust to him & tip off the edge completely. you gushed all around him, panting heavily at the mess you’ve created.
he started thrusting into you, deep strokes without much break. the speed picking up to borderline rail you into the mattress. all you could manage was to break out broken whines and moans. it felt so good, it felt so good- so good. his balls slapping your clit, his cock kissing your cervix deliciously at every snap of his pelvis on your hips. the bruises of your sensitive ass toyed with every little thrust which felt like a spanking on it’s own.
“s-sir- so- close again.” you mewled out, while shouta’s thrusts also got sloppier, twitching inside you. “good, cum at the same time as me. let me fill you up.” he groans, “going to stuff you so full of my cum like my little cum jar you are. gonna give me babies, yeah baby? going to give me babies?” he almost crooned at the thought of it, slipping his seed inside you & painting your walls full of him while you spasmed around. brutalised orgasm ripping through your sanity as you opened your mouth in a silent scream. “shit- shit- shit.” you cried out, every single clamp of your pussy around his cock was borderline hurting.
“atta girl, good girl.” he smiled, pulling himself out and watching his cum gush out of you. the butt plug came out after, and your ass looked so cute a little puckered up. “so cute.” he hums, while you laid down shoved into little space/sub space for your dom. shuddering and spasming at the orgasm after effects. “oh little one your legs are shaking.” he smiles, noticing how your body vibrates in exhaustion.
“was that too rough?” he asks gently, kissing over your spine and turning you on your back.
you shake your head no, biting your lip. “next time add clamps too.”
shouta chuckled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a nod. “of course kitten. you did so well for me though, took me like a little champ i’m so amazed by how strong you are. how wonderful you are.” he whispered soft nothings into the shell of your ear, rubbing your pelvis soothingly, rubbing your ass soothingly. “let me put some numbing cream onto that cute bottom.” he cooes, wiping your tears and kissing your forehead deeply. you were still sniffling and sobbing a bit. but that was to be expected — he’s wrecked your mind and body both to submission after all.
“i love you babygirl.” he cooed, kissing all over your tear-drenched face. “mm, i love you too, happy birthday sho.”
“thank you kitty.” he smiled tenderly.
#bnha smut#bnha thirst#bnha x reader#mha x reader#aizawa smut#aizawa thirst#aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta#shouta aizawa smut#shouta aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta x reader#mha aizawa#aizawa shouta smut#aizawa shouta thirst#mha smut#mha thirst#bnha x reader smut#aizawa imagines#bnha imagines#mha imagines#mha x you#bnha x you#kinktober 2023#kinktober#bnha kinktober#mha kinktober
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Choose Your True Love - Azel Radwan (part 1/4)
This is the from the 4th anniversary event
As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this.
I somehow wound up becoming Tanzanite’s God’s slave. Today, I made my way to the desert, full of energy.
I’ve recently grown used to God’s harsh way of treating people that worked for him—
Azel: You’re late.
Emma: ?!
The moment I returned, Prince Azel, who had been waiting for me, hugged me with an arm.
Making me drop my package.
Emma: Wha…what do you think you’re doing?!
Azel: Huh?
Emma: Don’t “huh?” me! Let go!
(He never usually does something like this, and he’s not one to wait for me!)
Although he’s a living god, he has the appearance of an adult male.
I could feel his surprisingly toned body through his clothes and quickly pushed him away.
Emma: Is this some new form of harassment?!
Azel: What’re you talking about? You harass me like this every day, so I thought I’d get back at you.
Emma: I don’t ever recall harassing you.
Azel: A lack of self-awareness isn’t a good look.
Emma: You’re the bad one here, Prince Azel. Anyway, please don’t hug me out of the blue!
(Something feels off)
(It’s like he’s the usual Azel, but not)
Emma: More importantly, I have the thing you wanted me to get.
I went to pick up the package I dropped to hide my agitation, but before I could, Prince Azel had picked it up.
Azel: Thanks. Wait, when did I ask for something this heavy?
Emma: Huh? But I bought exactly what you wrote down, didn’t I? I even double-checked to make sure because I’d have to run to the city and back if I got it wrong.
When handed the paper to a puzzled Prince Azel, what followed was a loud silence.
Azel: Curious.
Emma: What is it?
Azel: This and that. By the way, aren’t you forgetting to say you love something or someone today? …Not that I'm expecting you to or anything.
Emma: Love? What do you mean?
Azel: …I see now. This is a dream. Just a dream.
Emma: Dream?
Azel: This conversation.
(That’s a pretty scary face he’s making…)
Emma: I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I should get back to the city. It’s getting dark and I’m scared of making my way through the desert by myself at night.
Azel: Stay here for the night.
Emma: …
Azel: Why do you look so surprised?
Emma: By any chance, are you feeling unwell?
(Only some of the rooms in the temple have been restored, and there’s no guest rooms)
(I’ve heard that if you wanted to stay overnight, then your only choice was to use Prince Azel’s room…)
Even if that wasn’t the case, Prince Azel preferred being alone.
He was the sort of malicious god that would kick you out the moment you were finished with your business, regardless of the weather.
I had a feeling that something was off, but perhaps this situation’s much more serious that I expected.
Emma: Should I call a doctor?
Azel: Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.
Emma: Then that really was some new form of harassment—
Azel: Right, the new form of harassment.
(He’s doubling down!)
Azel: Are you serious? Your head’s as empty as ever.
Emma: I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re back to your usual self, Prince Azel.
(I never thought there’d be a day where I’d find comfort in that coldness)
Emma: I’m heading back then. Good night, Prince Azel.
Azel: …
Prince Azel had a sour look, but said nothing.
Something still didn’t sit right with me, but I paid it no mind and left the temple.
--
Tonight, the moon was so beautiful that I just wanted to stop and look up at the sky.
Ruffian: Miss, it’s dangerous walking alone in the desert at night. We’ll escort you back to the city. Come.
(When I stopped…)
The moonlight shined on what looked like a caravan.
At first, he looked like any ordinary merchant, but—
~~ Flashback ~~
Azel (polite): Should a caravan approach you in the middle of the night, it would be best to ignore them. Those men are bandits who prey on tourists by pretending to be friendly. You look like an easy target, so do be mindful about giving your money to anyone but me.
~~ End flashback ~~
(If what Prince Azel said was true, then this is bad)
I felt my heart shrink as I found myself surrounded by multiple men.
Emma: Thank you for your concern. However, I’m used to taking this path. Now if you’ll excuse me.
I wanted to run, but my paths were blocked.
Ruffian: No need to be so on guard, miss. Don’t you know there’s bandits around these parts? Look, see that figure over there? They got their eye on you.
(They’re probably with these guys)
(They lie about me being targeted by bandits, and as soon as they escort me back to the city, they’ll demand money—)
(Just the thought of it makes me shudder. I should probably head back to the temple for now)
(But they’d catch me immediately if they chased me)
(Ugh…please save me, God)
I sent out an honest prayer and started backing away from the men.
Luckily, they didn’t try to go after me.
Their previous bravado faded and their eyes were so wide, it looked as if they might pop out of their heads.
(Is there something wrong?)
I noticed the moment my back hit something.
Azel (polite): We have 1, 2…3, 4 fearless men here…Tonight will be a fun night, won’t it?
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Blood on a Silver Platter
Synopsis: You are a human slave forced to serve your master the night he hosts a dinner party for some special guests. Only when you meet Astarion, you realise that the reason you were bought was not for your services... but for your blood.
A/N: Whoops. Oh dear, what is this sassy vampire doing on my blog? Seriously, I started playing Baldur's Gate 3 two nights ago but I've been obsessed with Astarion even before that. If you follow me on that fancy picture app, you'll know I've met Neil before and I can't emphasise enough how much of a sweetheart he is. He truly has a hand for these sassy characters, haha! Have fun reading!
Words: 1749 Warnings: blood, feeding, slave!Reader
Astrid didn’t like new girls. They were shy, terrified, angry, and stubborn and they knew nothing about how this place was run, where the dishes, the cutlery, and the crystal wine glasses were. But how would you? You had a right to be terrified. You had a right to be angry. How else would you feel, sold and enslaved like cattle or a piece of furniture?
Ezekiel, your new master, had made it very clear to you from the very beginning that you were easily replaceable if you did not obey. Human slaves did not sell for much in these parts, for they lacked strength, agility… and longevity compared to other species. You could not argue with that—and that made you even more furious.
He was hosting a dinner party tonight, a group of travellers if you’d heard correctly. Of course, none of you were supposed to ask questions. You were merely there to serve and make them comfortable. You sighed. You had been on your feet all day, preparing the feast and preparing the table.
By the time Ezekiel received his guests, Astrid was screaming the place down in the kitchens. She was not a slave—your master paid for her services and left her in charge of the girls he bought to do the dirty work for them. You hated them both.
Right after the main course was served and the guests began to eat, Astrid handed you a jug of red elven wine. Her ice-cold eyes bore into yours. “Ezekiel asked for you specifically to serve the wine before the main course. Do not speak unless you’re spoken to. Refill the wine, keep your head down, and leave, is that understood?”
“Yes.” You gnashed your teeth, biting back a snarky remark when she pushed you through the doorway and you almost spilled the expensive alcohol on the stone tiles to your feet.
It was the first time you got to lay your eyes on Ezekiel’s mysterious guests. None of them were human, not at first glance.
There was one with green skin, another with red skin and horns protruding from their forehead… a tiefling… one of them, however, stood out to you the most; he was sitting at the head of the table. His short blonde hair was wild, complimenting those sharp ears, the pale skin, and his eyes… red pupils.
You quickly looked down when you realised your master noticed your rude staring, refilling their wine glasses as instructed by Astrid. The blonde man’s gaze bore into you the closer you got to him, intrigue apparent on his face.
“Well then, my honoured guests. Dinner is served. Enjoy your meal. That goes for you too, Astarion. I hope she is to your satisfaction. I got her from the slave market only three days ago.” Ezekiel leaned over to another slave girl. “Take that jug from her.”
Astarion. You did not fail to notice that his plate was the only one that was still empty. But you realised a moment too late what exactly your master’s words entailed. The slave girl you handed the jug to was only slightly older than you but you didn’t even know her name. All you knew was that the both of you dreaded what Ezekiel had in store for you, for as soon as your hands were empty, Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him.
“Why, hello, darling.”
Losing your balance, you stumbled, landing on his lap. He was quick to snake his arm around your waist to keep you from escaping. He buried his free hand in your hair and tugged on it hard enough to force you to reveal your neck to him.
Your eyes widened when you caught a glimpse of his fangs right before he sank them deep into your throat, breaking the skin. You flinched, the burning sensation quickly turning into a pulling pain that had you shaking on his lap, and then… the panic kicked in and dug its claws deep into your guts.
Pushing your palms flat against his chest, you attempted to push yourself off of him, your survival instinct getting the better of you. You winced when the pain intensified and Astarion pressed you even closer against him as he drank from you. His lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine and the more you fought, the more he seemed to be enjoying himself.
It felt like an eternity and as your body grew weaker, your determination to drive a stake through his heart grew with each passing second.
Finally, Astarion released you. He licked his lips, red with your blood, an almost lascivious noise escaping him. When he let go, you slid off of him with the last of your remaining strength, almost toppling to the floor in the process.
“Hmm… thank you, darling,” you heard him say. “You taste absolutely delightful.”
You did not turn around to see the smug expression that would match his tone on his face. Instead, you hurried back to the kitchens with trembling limbs, processing what had just happened. Your mind was near empty. As if along with your blood, he’d sucked every other thought from you as well. You swallowed thickly.
He bit you. He drank your blood. He almost killed you. He used you like a living blood bag. Was this why Ezekiel had bought you?
“Where is the new girl? I asked her to do one simple job, for the love of the gods!”
“Astrid, I’m not sure she…” It was the girl who had taken the wine jug from you who spoke up. She knew that something bad would happen, she must have. You had seen it in her eyes when your gazes had crossed.
“I’m here now,” you croaked out. Your throat was dry. You didn’t want to go back out there. Didn’t want to help serve dessert, didn’t want to face him again after what he’d just done to you with everyone watching as if it didn’t concern them, eating their fucking stag steak for dinner.
“A-Astrid… would… w-would you mind s-serving dessert, p-please?” you chirped.
“And what do you dream of at night?” She came barging in from the pantry, arms akimbo and practically fuming. You swallowed thickly, clenching your fists in a weak attempt to control your shaking. It was with great satisfaction that you noticed her face fall when you turned around, revealing the small trickles of blood running down the fresh bite mark on your neck.
Her eyes widened. You were quite certain you had never seen her stutter before.
“Go… you can… g-go wash up. I’ll take care of the desserts.”
“Thank you.” You nodded, rushing past the other slave girls, all of them staring at you with widened eyes, and barged into the small washing room adjacent to the kitchens. A dirty kitchen towel would have to do to wash the blood off of you.
With trembling fingers, you rubbed at your sensitive skin until almost all evidence of his assault was gone before leaning over to wash your face. You used the cleanest-looking part of the kitchen towel to pat yourself dry before you took a deep breath and opened your eyes again—facing Astarion in the mirror right behind you. The gasp that escaped your lips echoed through the almost empty room. Instinctively, you stepped back, only to realise a fraction of a second too late that you would bump straight into his chest.
The vampire grabbed your arms and flipped you around fast so you’d face him, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Hello there,” he purred. “No need to be so frightened, dear.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. It was the amusement in his voice that had you seethe, anger pushing your fear out of the way for just a moment. “Of course not. Why would I be? You only just bit me and drank my blood like I’m some sort of snack.”
“Oh but are a snack,” he retorted, chuckling. “And you were quite a delicious one too.”
You stared at him. “What do you want?”
“I want you to come see me tonight.”
Frowning, you processed his words. He couldn’t possibly mean…
Astarion laughed. “You are looking so frightened again. I promise I will make it worth your while.”
“And if I don’t want to?” you whispered. You were a slave—your question was entirely redundant. It wasn’t like you had a choice. Ezekiel had practically delivered you to Astarion on a silver platter.
“Well, Ezekiel expects me to kill you tonight.”
You felt your heart plummet.
“I understand it he only bought a human slave for the occasion. To satiate my hunger and for my… entertainment tonight. Surely, he is aware how feeble mortal lives are, it is almost a waste to invest in human slaves.” You gnashed your teeth. “But there is an alternative,” he continued.
“What alternative?” you snapped.
“I could use a travelling companion. A… loyal blood slave, so to speak, and I must say I did not expect human blood to taste so delightful.”
Your frown deepened. A blood slave… to a vampire, following him like an obedient and lost puppy… you would rather die than give up your body like that. But was it truly worse than serving your current master knowing he had killed former slaves for dropping plates before? Knowing that the sole reason he had purchased you was to please one of his guests?
One thing was certain—you did not want to die and at least… he was quite handsome, was he not?
“What do you say, dearest?” Astarion’s brushed his knuckles against your cheek. He took a step forward, pressing you against the doorframe and trapping you between the solid wood and his strong body.
You sucked in a deep breath when he bent your head to the side, revealing the bite mark he had left on you. You prepared for another rush of sharp pain tearing through your neck, squeezing your eyes shut in response.
Instead, you felt his tongue dart out to taste you with a start, licking over the wound.
“There… all healed. For now,” he added with a sly smirk. You frowned, your hand flying up to feel your neck. He was right. The two little holes where his fangs had punctuated your skin were gone. And yet… his sly smirk was a silent promise that this was only the beginning of your time together.
A/N: Check out my blog for more Imagines and my original novel(s)! ♥
#astarion#astarion imagine#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion x female reader#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate 3 imagine#neil newbon
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Drown in it. - Chapter 1
Izuku Midoriya was born with a rage.
From the moment he drew his first breath, he let it be known to all around him. He screamed, he fought, he bit, and when consciousness finally grasped him and the effects of his actions became known, his rage calmed, simmering down to a low rumble in his chest. And yet, the heat of his passion remained stronger than ever. From comic books to biology, his interests varied, and he always kept his mother on her toes when each new addiction rose to the surface. He had combed through comic books, determined to learn to draw them himself, only to one day abandon them and turn to a morbid interest in taxidermy. Each month was a different obsession, each doubling in intensity as his mother fought to keep up with her son’s demands.
That was until he had seen him.
His mother had earned tickets to see a famous composer’s performance from her job as a thank-you for doing so much overtime, and she’d dragged her reluctant son away from his slaving over pinned insects to accompany her to the opera house. Inko had dressed in her finest black dress, a single strand of pearls adorning her neck as she painted her lips red, starkly contrasting her dark green hair. She’d fussed over Izuku, combing his unruly hair this way and that until eventually, he’d stilled, letting her pull him into his Sunday best before the two departed, their front row seats allowing them a clear view to the piano on stage. Izuku was immediately entranced- the shining ivory keys drawing in his curious eyes as he sat at the edge of his seat, wiggling to get a better look. The sign outside shone brightly with the composer's name, and as anticipation gripped him, Izuku found himself whispering the name of the man; All Might.
He repeated the name over and over in his brain, feeling it out, giving weight to it, enjoying the way it stirred interest in his head. He looked down at the pamphlet in his mother’s lap, tilting his head to read it better.
‘Tonight only, Japan’s greatest composer All Might performs his unfinished manifesto; One for All, a song of love and loss.
Passed down throughout eight generations of composers, ‘One for All’ has remained unfinished for over eighty years, each new composer adding their own story and vitality into the piece whilst still carrying on the first’s hopes and dreams- for music to unite all the people of the world’
Izuku didn’t realize his mouth had fallen open until his mother tutted him, tapping his chin with a gentle finger.
“Izuku honey, close your mouth, you’ll drool on yourself,” he snapped his mouth shut, turning to his mother with a question already burning on his tongue. As if she sensed his restlessness, Inko sighed, a pained look in her eyes.
“No, honey, I can’t get you a piano. I’m afraid my job doesn’t pay me nearly enough to be able to afford one… Maybe you can find a teacher and learn from them?” she said hopefully. Izuku frowned, sinking back into his seat with a huff.
“Whatever, it’s probably gonna be lame anyways,” he pouted, kicking his legs as he sunk low in his seat. Inko sighed considering telling him off but the lowering of the auditorium lights made her eyes widen and drew her attention to the stage immediately. Even little Izuku, so determined to be indifferent to it all, sat up a little straighter as a hushed murmur rippled through the crowd. A man appeared from the edge of the stage, blonde hair a shock as his electric blue eyes scanned the crowd with a kind yet determined gaze. A moment passed in pure silence before the crowd erupted in cheers and claps, the man on the stage raising a hand to wave at the crowd as he smiled, earning a louder round of applause and screams from the audience that followed him until he sat, straightening his sheet music before him as the crowd began to settle, the room filled to the brim with anticipation as All Might rolled his shoulders, fingers poised over the keys as he waited. The moment seemed to draw on forever, and Izuku found himself trembling with anticipation before finally -finally- All Might began to play.
It was… The most beautiful melody he had ever heard. The song carried the essence of melancholy and loss along with the feelings of determination and triumph, each note ringing across the quiet auditorium and rattling inside Izuku’s brain as he stared wide-eyed at the way the man on the stage played so beautifully as if the music itself had been written into his soul and he was pouring his vitality into the notes. His face was peaceful, yet the way his brows knit together betrayed his true feelings. This was not just a song- no, it was a tribute concocted by the man before him and his predecessors, a tribute to love, to loss, to hope, to everything in the world. Izuku had no words to describe the emotions that arose in his chest, and he found his vision began to warp and waver before he blinked and tears rolled down his cheeks. He sat in stunned silence through the eight minutes of the song, his lap wet with tears his mother had failed to notice had even begun to fall in the first place as she too was entranced by the ebb and flow of the music.
After what Izuku thought was far too little time, the song finished, hanging on a note that left the audience holding their breaths waiting for more, more, more. They wanted- no, they needed more, they needed the satisfying climax of the story, they needed the certain end notes that wrapped the song up in its perfect bouquet, ready to be replicated and replayed over and over again by eager fingers and eager listeners. And yet, those notes never came. All Might’s hands moved to his lap as he took a deep breath, standing up and facing the crowd before bowing deeply. A second of stunned silence grasped the audience once more before the cheers erupted all around, weeping people leaping to their feet and screaming their praises, hands raw from clapping as they gave the man the loudest standing ovation they could muster. Izuku stood on his seat, bawling as he clapped, trying to draw the attention of the incredible man on stage as he tugged on his mother’s shoulder, pointing to the stage.
“Mama- mama he’s so cool! I wanna be just like him!” he wailed, wiping at his face furiously as he waved at the stage will all his strength. Somehow, as if a hand had pointed him out among all those faces, All Might locked eyes with Izuku. The boy’s world seemed to stop, and he broke out into a watery smile as he waved at the composer, who waved back with a kind smile on his face.
In that short exchange, that fiery rage inside izuku changed. It warped and blossomed into an intense passion, and he finally knew where it was calling to. He had searched for a piano teacher the morning after the concert, and after finding a suitable one he had begged his mother for lessons.
“What about your insect pinning…?” Inko had said with a tone of slight dismay. Izuku had rummaged through his drawer and pulled out a frame with three wonkily pinned butterflies, preserved the same way they’d been in the book his mother had gifted him.
“I only did these three, I found them in the garden and wanted to give them to you,” he had said meekly.
Inko was a strong woman, but at the sight of her son’s pleading eyes, she buckled and eventually gave in, enrolling her son in piano lessons at the class down the road. Present Studios, it was called, owned by the husbands Mr. Aizawa and Mr. Yamada. Izuku had taken a liking to the two immediately, and after the first month of practicing, that fire in him had still not given out. After the second, Inko grew anxious that the time was drawing to a close, and her son would soon find another hobby to throw himself into, but the month came and went and Izuku still powered on, as fierce and determined as ever.
A year had passed, then two, then ten, and Izuku Midoriya was now in his third and final year of high school, his passion for music had never dwindled, only grown stronger. Coincidentally, his piano teacher also happened to be teaching at UA High School, and he had been Izuku’s homeroom teacher for the last three years as well as his piano teacher for thirteen. In his world of music, Izuku had found friends who were also passionate about the subject, although never as much as him. Iida Tenya and Yaoyorozu Momo had enrolled in Mic Studios two years after he had, and he had always offered a helping hand to them despite being younger than the two. In return, the three had sparked a close friendship that extended to a fourth, Ochako Uraraka, a student who had enrolled in Mr. Yamada’s singing classes and often joined the three piano students during her breaks.
Now, Izuku was leaning over Iida’s desk, gushing about a new piece of music he’d discovered while digging through dusty vinyls.
“It’s amazing! I was always familiar with piano and violin duets but I never had thought of violin and guitar! I think Yaomomo would love this piece- I’ve been translating the guitar parts into piano so we can play with Kaminari next band practice and-” he was cut off as a book hit the back of his head, making him fall face first into Iida’s desk.
“Bakugo!” Iida barked, raising a hand over Izuku’s head “No throwing things in the classroom!”
“If that goddamned nerd stopped yapping about his shitty music then I wouldn’t have thrown it at him! Tell him to shut it!” Bakugo yelled back, rolling his eyes as Izuku glared at him.
“It’s not shitty music! Just because you can’t understand it, doesn’t mean it’s bad!”
“Izuku! Language! Don’t engage with Bakugo, you know he’s only doing this to rile you up,” Iida’s voice took a gentler tone as he ended his sentence, pushing his glasses up his nose as he peered at Izuku with a furrowed brow. Izuku tensed for a moment before exhaling loudly.
“You’re right, he doesn’t even know anything about piano, why should I-” A hand slammed onto Iida’s desk and Izuku jumped back, staring wide-eyed at Bakugo’s scowl.
“For the record, I do know a thing or two about piano, stupid Deku. My parents have been dragging me across the country to catch every single one of All Might’s piano performances every time he’s had one, and on top of that they’ve made me study the old bastard’s scores until I was seeing them in my sleep,” Izuku couldn’t help the excited grin that crossed his face.
“Wow- Kacchan, I didn’t know you were a fan of All Might too! I’ve also been to all his concerts- well, most of them, my first one was with my mom when I was little but- how did I never know this?! We’ve been friends since we were in second grade!” Bakugo rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he turned to walk back to his group of friends.
“Maybe you’re just not as attentive as you thought you were, Deku. There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
________________________
Izuku tugged at his hair, muttering to himself as he poured over his scores. He was going to do it- today, he’d send his very own manifesto to All Might in hopes of becoming one of his students. He’d been constructing this melody over the past three years, and the tear splotches and coffee stains on the otherwise immaculate piece of paper were evidence of that. He was coming to the end, the final home stretch of his song before he could finally call it finished and sign it off, but the melodies he once couldn’t get out of his brain seemed to have escaped him. He’d spent days obsessing over the last few bars of the song, making sure it ended perfectly and resonated with the rest of his piece. Iida had tried his best to help him, even bringing in Yaoyorozu in on her breaks from her homework and afterschool lessons to try and help push Izuku in the direction of finally completing his work, but even she seemed to be running short on ideas.
“You could always have the ending be a small repeat of the first two bars with a different flair?” She offered, tugging at her silky black hair as her eyes scanned over and over his music sheets.
“I thought of that but it seems too… I don’t know, basic? I feel like that's how most songs end nowadays, I want mine to end with a bang or something that’ll make the listeners want to hear more from me instead of just being a one-and-done, y’know?” he slid down his chair a little as Yaoyorozu leaned over his desk once more, ruffling papers and tapping a pencil against her lip as she thought.
“I’m afraid I’ve got nothing then, sorry Midoriya,” she seemed to deflate as she admitted defeat slumping back in her chair as the two pianists wallowed in silence, the bitter taste of defeat hanging thick on their tongues. The door opened a crack and Iida stepped in, carrying a tray of steaming tea and some pastries he’d baked earlier that day. Yaoyorozu seemed to light up as she saw him in the doorway, a gentle blush coating her cheeks as he set the tray down on a vacant table nearby, drawing a chair and motioning for Izuku and Yaoyorozu to join him.
“Any luck?” he said to Izuku, wrapping an arm around Yaoyorozu’s waist as she waltzed over to him, placing a peck on the top of his head as she poured herself some tea with a quiet ‘thank you’ to him.
“Nope. I feel like I’m running around in circles…Nothing I come up with sounds satisfying enough, and out of all the endings I’ve written none of them seem good enough to warrant me a place as one of All Might’s students!” Izuku’s voice was strained as he vented his frustrations, staring at the paper with exhaustion dripping from his body.
“Maybe you should take a break for a few days, come back, and then review it after a while and see if any new ideas have sprung into your head. That usually works for me when I’ve been stuck on a paper,” As always, Iida was the voice of reason among the three of them. Yaoyorozu sighed, drawing a stool from nearby beside Iida’s chair, and leaned her head on his shoulder, chewing on her cinnamon roll thoughtfully.
“I think Tenya’s right, as always. It could always be helpful to take a break and go do something random- who knows, it might help you think better and give you some better ideas,” she offered, which earned an approving nod from Iida.
Izuku sighed “Fine. I’ll take a break… but not for too long! The deadline is in a month, and I still need to run through it a few times to make sure the chord progressions flow nicely, and to double and triple check my notes are on the correct lines and I haven’t written them in the wrong place… Oh, and I forgot to put a few rest and repeats-” his speech turned into incoherent mumbling as he turned back to his score, grabbing a pencil and eraser and beginning to scribble some things and erase others. Iida and Yaoyorozu shared a look, then the pair turned back to Midoriya.
“Izuku. You need to take a break starting now. Come have some tea, I’ve been teaching Tenya how to brew it properly to a lady’s liking,” she said, accompanied by a smug smirk as she grabbed her teacup, sticking her pinky out as she sipped her tea. Iida couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his girlfriend, reaching over and pouring a cup for both him and Midoriya.
“Here. It’s chamomile, I figured you two needed something to calm you since you’ve been slaving away in here for the last two weeks,” he offered a cup to Izuku, who took it gratefully, staring into the contents for a few moments before speaking again.
“Hey- Iida, you did piano with us up until third year. Have you got any ideas as to how I could finish this?” Iida thought for a moment before shaking his head.
“I’m afraid not. All the ideas I had I offered to ‘Rozu… Although I might know someone who could have an idea-”
“I am not asking Kacchan.” Izuku interrupted with a glare “He made it very clear we’re academic rivals now- he’s also trying to be All Might’s student, and he said if I so much as breathed near his sheet music he’d hang me with a piano string and use my blood to write his next score,” Iida and Yaoyorozu grimaced at the threat.
“Well, that’s Bakugo for you- as crude and mean as ever,” Yaoyorozu mumbled into her cup, taking a long sip.
“He’s not that bad usually! He’s just very…competitive, y’know? We’re both fans of All Might, so I understand him not wanting to risk his chances- I don’t blame him!” the couple in front of him shared a long, knowing look before turning back to him.
“Sure… well um, I hope this… ‘friendly rivalry’ of yours doesn’t result in you helping Bakugo out without letting us know,” Yaoyorozu raised an eyebrow at Midoriya, and he chuckled nervously.
“What?! When have I… haha… ever done that?”
“For the sake of both my mental health and your physical well-being, I’m going to choose to ignore that. But seriously, Izuku,” she picked up the final piece of his sheet music, scanning her eyes over it and chewing her lip in thought, “I think you should keep this to yourself- all of it, okay?”
She made to slide the paper back onto the desk before she paused, eyes widening.
“Oh! I’ve had an idea-” she shot up, almost knocking her teacup to the floor as she set it down on the desk with a loud clatter. Swiping a pencil from behind Izuku’s ear, she scribbled a few notes down before holding the paper up, a victorious grin on her face as she flipped the paper around to Tenya and Izuku, showing them-
“It just…ends?” Tenya said with mild confusion, adjusting his glasses as he leaned forward.
“Yeah, it ends so suddenly-” Izuku hummed the notes on the last few bars, envisioning himself on the piano before he paused, eyes as wide as saucers as he leaped from his chair.
“Yaomomo you genius!” he laughed, setting his cup down and throwing his arms around her in a tight embrace, “An abrupt ending!! An homage to All Might’s ‘One for All, 8th movement’!” He took the paper from her delicately, eyes scanning over and over the page before he raced to the piano tucked away in the corner of the room, setting the paper up and playing the final page, the grin on his face widening with pride as his hands stilled.
“It's perfect!” he laughed, brushing his hair back as he collected the page again and added it to the rest of his score “Yaoyorozu I owe you my life- if I get this internship I’ll forever be in your debt-” she waved him off, cheeks red.
“It’s nothing! I’m sure you would’ve thought of it too if you weren’t so stressed-” Izuku shook his head, bowing at the waist before shooting back up, the familiar spark back in his eyes as he rocked back and forth on his feet.
“No no please- I’ll make sure to credit you and Iida accordingly once I hand this in- speaking of, I’ve got to do that now! The post office closes soon and I have work tomorrow with Mr. Aizawa- I’ll see you two later!” he scooped up his papers and bag and before Yaoyorozu or Iida had the chance to process his words, Izuku was out the door running as if his life depended on it- and it might as well have. Izuku thought he’d die if he didn’t make it to the post office in time, and thanks to his preparation, all other parts of his application had already been filled out and slotted inside the envelope tucked in his bag.
He folded his sheet music after looking over it longingly once more, hands shaking with excitement as he slid it into the too-thick envelope and licked the letter closed, waving to the security guard at the front of the post office as he slowed to a walk, sweat beading his forehead.
“Just in time, Midoriya,” Vlad huffed, pulling his hat over his eyes as he leaned against the wall “We’re closed for the next three days for renovations, so just put your letter in the box and it’ll be sent out tomorrow morning,”
“Thank you, Mister Vlad!” Izuku tried steadying his breathing as he walked towards the red box, glancing down at his envelope once more. Izuku was startled as he collided with someone, apologies already flowing from his mouth before he even made eye contact with the stranger.
“Jesus- watch it you damn ex- Deku?! What the hell are you doing here?” Bakugo barked, face already twisted in a scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Oh! Kacchan! I was just um- sending a letter!” Izuku said quickly, side-stepping Bakugo and sliding his letter into the red postage box before stepping away “For the um… All Might apprenticeship-”
A laugh ripped from Bakugo, one so loud it made Izuku jump as the blonde wiped away a tear from his eye.
“Oh that's rich, you think you can get the spot to study with the All Might? You really are a moron, Deku. A loser like you doesn’t know a natural from a crotchet, what makes you think your stupid music is gonna be enough?” Izuku clenched his fists stepping away from Bakugo.
“I’ve spent the last three years perfecting this- if All Might doesn’t think it's good, then I’ll try again and again until it’s good enough for him. I don’t care if I don’t get the apprenticeship, as long as he’s seen my music, that’s good enough for me.” It was a bald-faced lie, and Izuku wondered if, for a moment, Bakugo saw through his deception. If he did, the blond didn’t let on and instead just scoffed.
“You… Get out of my sight, damned extra,” Bakugo turned on his heel and stormed away, hands shoved in his pockets.
“Good luck to you too, Kacchan,” Izuku said to his back, rolling his eyes as he turned and began his walk home. His mama would be so proud once he told her of his (and his friends’) success with the score. He played the score over and over in his brain as he trudged home, arriving at his street before he even processed his surroundings.
As Izuku neared his front door, he noticed a plain letter on the front step. Curious, he picked it up and turned it over, eyes widening as he saw it was addressed to him. He glanced around, frowning lightly as he walked inside, kicking his shoes off by the front door as he walked towards the living room.
“Izuku! Welcome home, honey!” Inko greeted, leaning up to peck his cheek before she scurried past him, pulling on a pair of shoes and a coat “I’ve got an urgent work meeting to attend so I won’t be home until later tonight, but I’ve fixed you up something for dinner. Make sure you do your homework, and lock the door once I leave! Love you Izuzu!” she was out the door a second later, leaving a confused Izuku standing in his living room alone with a letter in his hands. He turned the lock on the front door and turned back to walk to his room, eyes glued on the letter as he kicked his bedroom door shut. He pulled out a letter opened from his drawer (courtesy of Yaoyorozu- one of the many strange gifts he’d been given by her, albeit a very practical one) and sliced open the top of the letter, withdrawing the page from within.
He frowned. The letter was typed out, and the handwriting on the back of it was far too neat and formal to resemble any of his friends’ handwriting. Izuku began reading, and he felt himself turning redder with each sentence.
Dear Izuku,
First of all; Hi. I’m aware that this letter could be seen as odd, but I didn’t know how else to approach you. Truth be told, I’ve been in love with you for a long time now. I’ve admired your passion for everything from a distance for quite a while, but in the same way you’ve fallen in love with chasing your dream of being a composer, I’ve fallen in love with the boy in front of me. You’re kind; something a lot of people nowadays seem to be unable to be, and your kindness extends even to people who’ve wronged you or done you harm. I’m not sure how else to describe it but you have a pure soul, Izuku, and it's evident from the way you smile, but also in the pieces of music you write. They’re so full of life and energy and passion, and every time I walk past the band or music rooms and hear you play I feel my heart skip a beat. I wish I had the courage to say this to your face, but I’m afraid that if you knew who I was you’d hate me. For now, this is the most courage I can muster up- I hope that’s okay.
Good luck with your application for the internship, I believe in you. ♡
Your secret admirer~
Izuku stared at the letter dumbfounded, blinking rapidly as he read it over and over again. Someone… liked him? Someone liked him enough to send him an anonymous love letter.
He was calling Yaoyorozu before he knew it.
“Midoriya? What’s up, have you handed in you-”
“Someone just sent me a love letter. An anonymous one.”
“Someone WHAT,”
#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#bkdk#bakudeku#dkbk#bakudeku fanfiction#bkdk fanfic#iidamomo#momoiida#fanfic#ao3 fanfic
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Hi again =), In the show, dany's anti-slavery campaign ended in a very lame and disappointing way, she went to vaes dothrak, and took the dothraki and went to meereene and fought the enemies there and then just left to Westeros, and left darrio as basically king of meereene after her lmao, in the books i have hope that it's gonna be handled better, I think for Dany's anti-slavery campaign to end in a satisfying way, she needs to end slavery in all of essos, not just meereene or slaver's bay (maybe i am exaggerating idk). but I'm a little bit confused about it, how many cities in essos practice slavery?, how is dany can successfully end slavery in all of them and leave them in a better way than she did with astapor?, because of the quote "to go forward I must go back" I believe dany will not go straight to meereene after vaes dothrak, I think she will go from vaes dothrak to Qarth them astapor then Yunkai and then to meereene and end slavery for good in all of them, just like what the quote says, but what about the other cities that practice slavery?, ending slavery is one of the BIGGEST arks in Daenerys's story and the story in general, so I think ending that ark (Dany's anti-slavery campaign) with her abolishing slavery in just one city or three and leaving the other cities to practice slavery like it's nothing is just gonna be a very disappointing conclusion and is gonna leave a bitter taste in my mouth.
Sorry that this ask is long, but I would love to hear your thoughts and theories about this.
So sorry for the delayed reply! I have been so busy as of late and inactive from Tumblr for a long while, and for some reason my inbox appeared as empty, apologies.
To answer your first question, many cities in Essos practice the slave practice. We all know about Slaver's Bay with Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen; these three cities are the main 'meat' of the slave trade- the cities most rooted with the practice and making their merit from it, with the most focus based upon them. But the Free Cities do practice slavery as well. Of the nine Free Cities in total, only Braavos is against the act. Pentos is listed as anti-slavery, but only on paper, as there was still acts of slavery occurring within the city, provided by these quotes here:
"Dany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, less savory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in Vaes Dothrak and the fabled lands beside the Jade Sea. It was also said that he'd never had a friend he wouldn't cheerfully sell for the right price. [...] "Illyrio will send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure you wash off the stink of the stables. Khal Drogo has a thousand horses, tonight he looks for a different sort of mount." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I
"There came a soft knock on her door. "Come," Dany said, turning away from the window. Illyrio's servants entered, bowed, and set about their business. They were slaves, a gift from one of the magister's many Dothraki friends. There was no slavery in the free city of Pentos. Nonetheless, they were slaves." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I
I do not know exactly how Daenerys could end slavery for each and every one of these cities, to be honest here. I do believe G.R.R.M likely oversighted just how big and long Daenerys' anti-slavery arc would take before she can reach Westeros. I believe he did plan to do a five year time skip originally, which would likely gloss over Daenerys working her way through Essos to conquer the cities and free the slaves from their chains, yet he discarded the idea and did not implement it into his plot (however, he might do the five year time skip in his future works such as TWOW; as it would give him a better leeway to continue the bulk of the story -Daenerys and her dragons arriving to Westeros, making allies, going to war, etc.- while also giving him the ability to gloss/lightly give some detail into her Essos campaign across the cities to free the slaves and rid of slavery for good). Still, as of now, his works thus far seem too short for his vision for Daenerys' arc in Essos. Her plotline, campaign, the meat of the slave cities and their extent are just too large to fill for only two books yet to be released of the series (if they ever get released/finished at all).
I also do believe in the theory that Daenerys will trail from Vaes Dothrak with more men to add to her armies and Drogon through Qarth and forward to finish her goal and rid the cities of slavery for good. As for the other cities- that is a hard contemplative matter. I believe if G.R.R.M wanted to write out her full arc and plot for Essos and ridding of slavery entirely, he would have her trail from Meereen to the other Free Cities in a march and go on from there, slowly rooting out slavery from them and overturning the cities and fixing them for the better. However, as my previous point states, this is too bulky of an arc/plotline to finish in just two books, unless those books are going to be massive- or he does the five year time skip he had originally intended since with it he doesn't technically need to expand into how exactly she ended the practice for good; he could just gloss over those details and write that she was successful in her goal yet not omit as to how she completed them exactly.
I also agree that the anti-slavery campaign is one of her biggest and most important plots, the most detailed as well, and it would leave confusion/bitterness in others if she just ended slavery in Slaver's Bay yet left the other Free Cities unattended. Considering we know Daenerys' character, who she is, what she has done to accomplish her goals of ending slavery, etc. is what leaves a bad taste- because it would be a VERY ooc action for her to just ignore the slavery going on in the other Free Cities of Essos and leave them as is just to sail to Westeros... considering she herself said this:
"But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?" He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. "My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I've freed all over again." She turned back to look at their faces. "I will not march." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI
But I do believe G.R.R.M may have written himself into a rut with how expansive he made her arc and how important/detailed it became; how it is so integral on its own it could make its own book in my opinion. That or he does plan on making the last two books somehow end her arc in a cohesive manner... maybe he does plan on fleshing it out and making the books massive in pages/writing, or maybe he plans on doing a time skip of some sort. If he even manages to finish and release his works, that is. It is hard to speculate on and think over how he would manage to finish her slavery arc considering how large and complicated he made it in terms of the books. It has become such a massive and important plot but it also would take up a good chunk of the books if he does expand on it and finish it properly, not to mention his other plans for other characters and their arcs/plotlines, Daenerys arriving to Westeros, the Others, etc.
G.R.R.M basically wrote himself into a corner on this one, and as for now all we can do is speculate upon the matter, but it is intriguing to think about how exactly he can write himself back out of it and possibly finish the arc/plotline if he does wind up finishing and releasing his books.
Thanks for the ask! :)
#daenerys targaryen#daenerys defence squad#daenerys stormborn#daenerys targeryan#daenerys appreciation#pro daenerys targaryen#daenerys defense squad#team dany#queen daenerys#pro dany#dany#meereen#essos#theories#analysis#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#george rr martin#grrm#long post#meta
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Freedom
He prays to every god, and none answer. His days reek of decay and dust, the heavy curtains pulled across the palace windows moth-eaten and moldy. He can see the shrivelled entrails of a rat in their red velvet folds.
Tonight he is in the kennel. Mercifully, he has been left alone, though the room smells strongly of blood- his own- and vomit. His latest wounds keep a tattoo of pain going in his head; bruises black and purple, cuts made over the tender flesh, it all hurts so much. Cazador will return, he knows that much. The canvas of his skin will yield to scalpel and pliers and the sick rending of the vampire's claws. Astarion waits, shivering and wretched.
The shouts are distant, at first. An argument. His ears prick up. The shouts get louder, morph into screams. Dimly, he is aware of light spilling through the crack in the door.
That's not right. Cazador would never allow such a thing.
Blood hits his nostrils next. Not the putrid rot he was so used to, but fresh hot human blood. There are humans in his service. One of them... but why? Why the light?
Then the howling. It is a huge sound, high and eerie. Astarion skitters back from the door as cold shivers rush up his spine, the hair at his nape standing on end.
What in the hells-
Then he hears him. The unmistakable shriek of rage, pathetic as it is, sends fear stabbing through his body. He is ordering this creature- whatever it is- to yield, to obey.
Everyone does in the end.
Still. He dares creep forward. Opens the door a crack. He takes a peek. His red eye widens, a gasp torn from his ragged throat.
All his prayers.
Cazador flails in the jaws of a monstrous creature- a wolf unlike any before it. Its teeth were long as a man's arm, its eyes too many, six of them glowing malevolently as it shook his master like a cloth doll. Blood spurted from his wounds, opened up into burns as the creature brought him into the sunlight. And then he fell, ashes.
Astarion scrambled back into the filthy kennel, hardly daring to believe his luck. A dream. It has to have been a dream. He wants to be sick. He wants to cry. He wants, madly, to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
And then there is a figure in the doorway. Tall and slender, not a wisp of hair on his handsome head, he smiles wryly. There is blood in his teeth.
'Apologies for the mess,' he says in a musical lilt. 'I heard your cry for help, Astarion Ancunin.'
'Who in the bloody hells are you?' he asks hoarsely.
'I am The Dread Wolf,' he says simply. 'Take my hand. Tonight you leave this place. Tonight you gain your freedom.'
Astarion hesitates only briefly, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.
'Well, this is clearly some bizarre coincidence,' he blusters, running a hand through his white curls. 'You're clearly not a god. What god frees slaves?'
The strange elf glances at him with knowing purple eyes but says nothing, only inclining his head towards the light.
Tags:
@bluerosetarot
@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire
@boufsy @lanafofana
@aryancunin @marlowethebard
@crimson-and-lavender
@roguishcat @galedekarioswifey
@feedthepheasants @sanguinesexmachine @ladyofcrowsandcoffee
@dr-demi-bee @spooky-lil-bee @12thhouse-sun
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Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)
Chapter 6 - Probably should read ch1 first
Gun has a new neighbour. Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Epilogue
Gun likes spicy food, as long as the heat isn’t overpowering.
Also hates cilantro. Detests it, loathes it. Which he told you to your face after you forgot about his first note and he handed the container back, food untouched.
Enjoys in particular any stews you prepare. Also thinks your tteokbokki is just right after adjusting the garlic.
All, apart from the cilantro incident, you have learnt from the tone of his little notes.
If notes could even have a tone.
.
.
Gun is not surprised you read his messages.
He is, however, surprised that you take his comments on board. He knows what he is good at and is under no illusion that he has a perfect palate. Far from it.
Nevertheless, you adjust dishes to his taste until most of the meals and food there is little he can feedback.
This gesture he finds oddly touching.
.
.
He greets you with less reluctance. Exchanges more words.
When the doorbell chimes unexpectedly, Gun no longer fumes at having his time interrupted.
In his doorway, you with your container in hand, you both linger a little longer.
.
.
In the convenience store at the top of your street, while you’re on a snack run one night, you bump into your neighbour.
Gun cuts an imposing figure, tall and polished, in a tailored coat and with impeccable hair as he inspects the drinks in the fridge. He gives you a glance as you slink up next to him and point out a can.
“That one has just come out. It’s pretty good.”
“Hmm.” He’s not sure about it but grabs it anyway on your recommendation.
“Have a nice night, Gun!” you give him a wave, taking your bag of treats.
“You too.”
And he’s surprised to find he actually means it.
.
.
You, a slave to your cravings, bump into him a few more times.
Sometimes just purchasing his cigarettes. Most of the time considering what to buy.
"I like this one," you tell him.
"This is my favourite."
"I never buy this one, I always finish the whole bag."
Gun takes your recommendation each time.
He is never disappointed.
.
.
Today you and Gun walk side by side and approach the building together.
You recognised him when you were both a street away and shouted his name; Gun stopping then patiently waiting for you.
Falling into step together, anecdotes from your day spills out. A way to decompress and vent before you settle in for the night. Gun half-listens, giving brief nods now and then when you pause for a beat too long or a little hum of agreement as you look for a reaction.
“I was thinking fried chicken tonight?” you shake your grocery bag at him as you unlock your front door.
“Fried chicken?” Gun mirrors your action in front of his own.
“Yeah. For us.” You give him a frown as if he’s being purposefully obtuse. “Give me an hour or two!” you call out, leaving Gun standing there alone.
Us? Gun has never had an ‘us’. Not in this sense.
“This one,” you nod at the plate in your left hand, “is just dry herb seasoning. You know, the one I mixed with the rice the other week that you liked. And this,” nodding at your right, “is spicy garlic.”
You pause, squinting at him, “Before you say anything, it’s balanced. I tasted it so it’s how you should like it.”
Gun takes the plates without a word as you wipe your hands on your apron.
“I haven’t had any yet, I wanted to give it to you fresh,” You brush your fringe back, happy to get out the kitchen, and tuck your hair behind your ears, “ My containers would make it soggy-”
Gun watches your hand movement but some errant strands still hang loose around your face. He wants to correct it for you.
“Fried chicken is best with beer,” he comments, silencing his buzzing brain and brushing aside that thought, “We can share.”
There’s no meaning to this, Gun thinks to himself as you scamper home to grab your own portion before joining him.
It’s just two neighbours sharing chicken and beer. Something that normal people do, sharing a meal.
But when has Gun even cared about being normal.
.
.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Gun places the plates on the table and notices you hovering and hunched in a corner.
“Can I have this?” In your outstretched hands, gripped with gentle fingers is the dying plant, the joke of a gift from Goo.
“Go ahead.”
“I can nurse it back to health and return it!”
“I don’t care. You can let it die.”
“Gun!”
.
.
As he watches you eat that evening with poor etiquette and shocking table manners, now and then giving affectionate glances to the plant by your side; laughing loudly and matching him drink for drink-
Gun is more curious about you than ever. He finds you captivating.
.
.
“It’s an impressive feat how you manage to make so much noise,” comes Gun’s drawl.
He watches you move what must be a very heavy package with the worst form he has ever seen. Lifting with your back, spine curved, staggering a few paces forward until you stop, take a break, then repeat it all over again.
You’re cluttering up the shared communal hallway, and frankly spoiling his peaceful afternoon with all your banging out here.
The walls are supposed to be soundproof. But even the meticulous engineers of Gangnam’s most expensive apartment block didn’t account for a menace such as you.
“Furniture arrived,” wiping the sheen from your brow and catching your breath. “Flatpack… courier only delivered to here.”
“It’s been months.”
“I would have done it sooner if I haven’t been busy cooking and feeding someone,” you snap. Then completely changing tact, face saccharine and sweet, batting your eyelashes, “Please help?”
This absolutely does not work on Gun.
He helps you anyway.
Well.
That extends to moving your boxes into the spot you desire, lifting them as if they weighed nothing and then laying them down wherever your finger points to.
He does very little else to help, instead watching you struggle with the instructions, his toolbox sat next to you, and choosing to survey your home.
It’s surprisingly empty.
Not in the way that his own is purposefully that way. More like someone not yet making a space their own, not really sure if they’re here to stay.
The only cluttered area is the kitchen. Well-used with utensils and spices and ingredients arranged for function rather than style. Where you prepare your meals for him.
Something catches Gun’s attention and he moves closer.
The plant.
Not in the best sunspot, but instead somewhere a little more shaded.
Already livelier. A little less droopy.
His fingers run along a long thin leaf.
No longer frail and fragile. He can feel the strength returning.
“Gun junior is getting better!”
Human Gun turns and catches your bright grin. Not smug, just genuinely happy with your green thumb.
He gets the strange urge to tuck your hair behind your ears again.
#lookism#lookism webtoon#lookism x reader#lookism manhwa#lookism fanfic#lookism fics#gun park#park jonggun#gun park x reader#park jonggun x reader#wannaeatramyeon
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prince's gambit highlights & annotations
chapter 21 & final notes
warning: VERY LONG
indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!
also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!
i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.
this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.
He had been taken from his suite to a smaller cell and laid out on stone, his body covered by fine linen. Nineteen, thought Damen, and quiet.
the ‘and quiet’ is especially heartbreaking
When a servant had made to enter, Damen had bodily stopped him. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No one goes in.’ He had put a two-man guard on the door with those same orders, and cleared out the section—as he had done once before, at the tower. When he had been certain that Laurent had sufficient privacy, he had left to learn all he could about Charcy.
lamen hr complaint #3: preventing other people (servants) from doing their jobs.
also, i like how this again builds on what we’ve seen in previous chapters. damen knows laurent needs time alone to process and think, and he fights to give him that. and then he tries to do some helpful thinking of his own.
‘I’m not Aimeric.’
you tell him damen
‘You ever wonder what it would feel like to find out you’d spread for your brother’s killer?’ Jord looked around the small room. He looked at the place where Aimeric lay. ‘I think it would feel like this.’ Unbidden, remembered words rose up inside him. I don’t care. You’re still my slave tonight. Damen pressed his eyes closed. ‘I wasn’t Damianos last night. I was just—’
it’s all coming together!! all the things i’ve been analyzing!!
also jord seriously laurent is doing this emotional damage to himself, damen’s just along for the ride
‘Just a man?’ said Jord. ‘You think Aimeric thought that? That there were two of him? Because there weren’t. There was only ever one, and look what happened to him.’
but… i think he was conflicted, and felt split. hence the “i’m sorry jord” and killing himself. and “what happened to him” implies a passivity that is patently false. aimeric was more like damen and laurent, psychologically, than jord. who is—sorry jord—honestly just too simple to be dealing with these ridiculous people
He had put those soldiers on the door to bar the way to those men seeking Laurent out for some trivial matter, or for any matter, because when Laurent wanted to be alone, no one should suffer the consequences of interrupting him. The taller soldier addressed him. ‘Commander, no one has entered in your absence.’ Damen’s eyes passed over the doors again. ‘Good,’ he said. And he pushed the doors open.
i LOVE this moment. the subtle humor of it—“when he wants to be alone, nobody should suffer his wrath” to “i’m going in,” because damen knows he can handle laurent’s bitching and that he shouldn’t be alone for too long
...even the table was replenished, with platters of fruit and pitchers of water and of wine...
guy whose job it is to communicate with the fort’s kitchen: yeah uh, can i get a ‘sorry you were disowned, usurped, gifted a severed human head, and then like five minutes later you discovered a suicide’ fruit basket for the prince
‘Come to say goodbye?’ said Laurent.
no you fucking idiot. let yourself be loved.
‘I’m sorry. I know what Nicaise meant to you.’ ‘He was my uncle’s whore,’ said Laurent. ‘He was more than that. You thought of him as—’ ‘A brother?’ said Laurent. ‘But I do not have terribly good luck with those. I hope you are not here for a mawkish display of sentiment. I will throw you out.’
laurent is trying so hard to take back control from this person who so recently saw him in such an intimate context. refusing to believe that he could continue to show damen vulnerability, and it would make him stronger
‘Then you’ll kill them like you killed Nicaise,’ said Damen. ‘By dragging them into this endless, childish bid of yours for your uncle’s attention that you call a fight.’ ‘Get out,’ said Laurent. He had gone white. ‘Is the truth hard to hear?’ ‘I said get out.’ ‘Or do you claim you’re marching to Charcy for some other reason?’
damen calling him on his bullshit! yes!! i love the tenderness between them here, in the pain and the compassion. tenderness is both. they can’t love each other without hurting each other (because lies), they can’t hurt each other without loving each other. there is some twisted romance in understanding someone and being understood so thoroughly that you have the keys to loving and hurting each other in ways no one else can. it’s a very compelling and intimate dynamic, although i am glad that they eventually figure out how to love each other without causing each other pain.
‘You need to beat him at his own game? You want him to see you do it? At the expense of your position and the lives of your men? Are you that desperate for his attention?’ He let his eyes rake up and down Laurent’s form. ‘Well, you have it. Congratulations. You must have loved it that he was obsessed enough with you that he killed his own boy to get at you. You win.’ Laurent took a step back, an almost-swaying motion of a man in the grip of nausea. He stared at Damen, his face hollowed. ‘You don’t know anything,’ Laurent said then, in a cold, terrible voice. ‘You don’t know anything about me. Or my uncle. You’re so blind. You can’t see what’s—right in front of you.’
okay damen you’re completely off-base with that one, but at least your worst-case selection on the dialogue tree has shocked laurent into being more angry at you than at the regent. which, if that was the point… well-played, but also Watch Out
Laurent’s sudden laugh was low and mocking. ‘You want me? You’re my slave?’ He felt himself flush. ‘That’s not going to work.’
and just as expected (?) laurent turns his wrath on a new target. performing cruelty, like he always does when he’s been justifiably called out
‘You want to hear the truth about my uncle? I’ll tell you,’ said Laurent, a new light in his eyes. ‘I’ll tell you what you couldn’t stop. What you were too blind to see. You were in chains while Kastor was cutting down your royal family. Kastor and my uncle.’ He heard it, and he knew not to engage. He knew, and a part of him was aching at what Laurent was doing, even as he heard himself say, ‘What does your uncle have to do with—’
so damen is subjecting himself to this on purpose. they are so messy. but it’s going to work
‘You didn’t guess it was Kastor? You poor dumb brute. Kastor killed the King, then took the city with my uncle’s troops. And all my uncle had to do was to sit back and watch it happen.’ He thought of his father, in a sick bed ringed with physicians, his eyes and cheeks hollowed out, and the room thick with the smell of tallow and of death. He remembered his sense of powerlessness, watching his father slip away, and Kastor, so solicitous, kneeling by his father’s side. ‘Did you know about this?’ ‘Know?’ said Laurent. ‘Everyone knows. I was glad. I just wish I could have seen it happen. I wish I could have seen Damianos when Kastor’s hire-swords came for him. I would have laughed in his face. His father got exactly what he deserved, to die like the animal he was, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it happening. Then again,’ said Laurent, ‘maybe if Theomedes had kept his cock in his wife instead of sticking it in his mistress—’ That was the last thing he said, because Damen hit him. He drove his fist into Laurent’s jaw with all the force of his weight behind it. Knuckles impacted on flesh and bone and Laurent’s head snapped sideways even as he hit the table behind him hard, sending its contents scattering. Metallic platters crashed against tile, a mess of spilt wine and strewn food. Laurent clutched the table with the arm that he’d flung out instinctively to stop his fall.
a couple things to note here:
goddamn laurent. dude.
but at least he remembered to keep up the lie in his uncontrolled spite-filled monologue
veretian heterophobia/anti-bastardry on full display
not the fruit plate…
my ex wife still misses me, but her aim is getting better
Damen was breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists. How dare you talk that way about my father. The words were on his lips. His mind pulsed and throbbed.
hey damen, remember a few chapters ago when you were thinking about how you didn’t want to be like your father? not that kind of king? interesting
Laurent pushed himself up and gave Damen a look glittering with triumph, even as he dragged the back of his right hand across his mouth, where his lips were smeared with blood.
he’s insane. amazing character. 10/10
The doors behind him opened, and Damen knew without turning around that the sound had summoned the soldiers into the room. He didn’t take his eyes off Laurent. ‘Arrest me,’ said Damen. ‘I have raised hands to the Prince.’ The soldiers hesitated. It was the just response to his actions but he was—or had been—their Captain. He had to say again, ‘Do it.’ The darker-haired soldier stepped forward and Damen felt the grip take him. Laurent set his jaw. ‘No,’ said Laurent. And then, ‘It was provoked.’ Another hesitation. It was clear that the two soldiers did not know what to make of what they had walked into. The air of violence was heavy in the room, where their Prince stood in front of a ruined table, with blood welling from his lip. ‘I said let him go.’ It was a direct order from their Prince, and this time it was obeyed.
LAMEN HR COMPLAINT #4. UNNAMED SOLDIERS. i don’t even know how to label this one. but it definitely justifies a complaint. one of my favorite lamen hr complaints in the entire series
‘No,’ he said. ‘You can’t go to Charcy. I need to convince you of that.’ Laurent’s laugh was a strange, breathless sound. ‘Didn’t you hear anything that I just said to you?’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen. ‘You tried to hurt me, and you have. I wish you would see that what you have just done to me is what your uncle is doing to you.’ He saw Laurent receive that like a man at the very ends of his endurance being given another hit. ‘Why,’ said Laurent, ‘do you—do you always—’ He stopped himself. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow.
laurent at his weakest and most vulnerable makes my heart ACHE
‘I can’t.’ It was a raw admission. ‘I can’t think.’ The words were torn out of him. Wide-eyed in the silence, Laurent said them again in a different voice, his blue eyes dark with the exposure of the truth. ‘I can’t think.’ ‘I know,’ said Damen. He said it softly. There was more than one admission in Laurent’s words. He knew that too.
this made me tear up the first time i read it. laurent’s reaction here comes scarily close to some personal stuff for me, except i didn’t have anyone to say “i know” and comfort me. i’m glad laurent isn’t alone. it’s a little self-indulgent to imagine that someone could be loved like this in real life, but at least it happens on the page. and it took a real person to write it happening on the page—it didn’t just show up there on its own. that matters, and it’s part of why i find gratification in engaging intellectually and emotionally with fiction.
‘Don’t go,’ said Laurent, quietly. ‘I’m just clearing my head. I already told my escort I wouldn’t need them until morning,’ said Damen. And there was another awful silence, as Damen realised what Laurent was asking him. ‘No. I don’t mean—forever—just—’ Laurent broke off. ‘Three days.’ Laurent said it as though producing from the depths the answer to a painstakingly weighed question. ‘I can do this alone. I know I can. It’s only that right now I can’t seem to . . . think, and I can’t . . . trust anyone else to stand up to me when I’m . . . like this. If you could give me three days, I—’ He forcibly cut himself off. ‘I’ll stay,’ said Damen. ‘You know I’ll stay for as long as you—’ ‘Don’t,’ said Laurent. ‘Don’t lie to me. Not you.’ ‘I’ll stay,’ said Damen. ‘Three days. After that, I ride south.’
laurent not wanting damen to promise anything more than three days is so painful to read, but it also rings true. laurent knows he couldn’t stand to see that promise broken (“not you”), and he also knows that he can’t keep his lie from damen forever. laurent probably even thinks, despite everything between them, that damen might not even want him after he figures it out. but he needs him here now, in order to survive this and clear his head. so three more days.
damen agreeing to ride south in three days is a mercy, and i think also probably a lie. but he knows it’s what laurent wants and needs to hear, and that laurent is incredibly vulnerable at the moment. damen gives him what he (laurent) thinks he needs (damen leaving), while also giving him what he actually needs (damen staying), for three days at least.
Laurent nodded. After a moment, Damen came back to rest against the table beside Laurent. He watched Laurent find his way back to himself. Eventually, Laurent began to talk, the words precise and quite steady. ‘You’re right. I killed Nicaise when I left it half done. I should have either stayed away from him, or broken his faith in my uncle. I didn’t plan it out, I left it to chance. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking about him like that. I just . . . I just liked him.’ Underneath the cold, analytical words, there was also something bewildered.
really good depiction of someone coming back from a panic attack/breakdown. again, it hits. the “coming back to himself,” the way he slides back into steady precise assessment of the situation… yeah
It was awful. ‘I should never have—said that. Nicaise made a choice. He spoke up for you because you were his friend, and that is not something you should regret.’
oh this whole thing kind of foreshadows how laurent sacrifices himself for damen in book 3, huh? he does the exact opposite of what damen is telling him here, except instead of nicaise making a choice it's damen. damen makes the choice to care about laurent, over and over again, and laurent can’t regret that FOR him. laurent shouldn’t feel like he needs to free damen of his burden of caring, or protect damen from the consequences of his own attachment. but laurent is going to try to do exactly that, in book 3, especially with his “failure” of nicaise in mind. and he’s kind of doing it now, too, by insisting that damen can’t stay with him after charcy.
laurent shows love by caring for others in the ways he knows how to care for himself. it’s a silly parallel to make, but it’s like how he brought damen a towel after the sex scene, even though damen didn’t have the urge to be clean that laurent so pressingly experienced. laurent knows how to suffer alone and how to strategically use his abilities to survive. he channels this experience to serve the people and causes he loves, even if the gesture is misunderstood or it's done at his own expense.
back to book 3: damen attacks the regent in laurent's honor. laurent submits himself to the regent's retaliation in his place. not only because he loves damen and wants to protect him, but also because he blames himself for getting damen into the situation at all. because he allowed himself to be loved by damen, damen was in danger. laurent regrets that on damen's behalf and tries to suffer the consequences instead. something he hadn't thought to do, or been able to do, for nicaise.
laurent does have a bleeding heart—so much so, that he can’t possibly wear it on his sleeve. he believes that he can't help anyone, can't maintain precious stability, if he has made himself vulnerable to love and harm alike. what he does best is survive, use others, and allow himself to be used. his hypervigilance ensures that this is all under his own careful control, even when it appears otherwise. because when laurent loses control, he gets hurt and hurts others. see the regent taking advantage of him after auguste's death for an example of the former, and aimeric's suicide for an example of the latter.
laurent has a private and complicated code of ethics and honor, based on compassion for the disempowered and a thirst for justice. his apparent ruthless pragmatism is part performance, part necessary adaptation, and part realistic means of reaching those idealistic ends. as a disempowered victim of repeated injustices, he is sensitive in a way a person with different experiences might not be. sometimes that means he lashes out, like with aimeric. but in his best moments, it means that he fights and cares with unmatched fierceness. and with someone like damen at his side, and an eventual peaceful life in which he can reflect, laurent can grow to harness that passion without hurting others or himself in the process.
(my note-taking drifted away from text analysis here, and turned into a more personal meditation on real life and fiction. honestly i'd recommend revisiting the original quote to remember what the hell i'm even talking about. please skip to the next quote if you're not interested.)
i don't know if people like damen really exist, or if people like damen even should exist. after all, he puts up with a lot, way more than would be considered healthy or safe by modern standards or even canon standards. maybe damen's existence as a character is purely wish fulfillment for people who relate to laurent. it's probably unreasonable to expect to be loved by someone so patient and devoted. the reality is, while the kernels of what make this ship resonant and desirable may be found in a real relationship, no real relationship will be quite as resonant or desirable as an intentionally-written work of fiction.
the following sentiment is the most personal i intend to get in these notes. it's not super related to the book and it isn't necessarily relevant to anyone but me. but it does create a smoother transition to the next paragraph, so i'll keep it in.
i haven’t had the privilege of experiencing romantic love that hasn’t hurt. and while love and hurt come hand-in-hand, i have historically been offered very little comfort or consideration by people i have trusted with the most vulnerable parts of myself. which means that i am very well-practiced in caring for myself, alone.
i don't know if damens are real, and i don't want to count on it. i'll care for me instead, because i believe that i'm worth caring for.
i think that firm belief, that i am worth caring for, has a lot to do with the way i interact with stories. that's the reason why i find analyzing resonant fiction like capri so personally gratifying. even though the characters aren't real, the fact that their stories have been told at all makes me feel less alone. because someone had to care enough about it, about them, to bother to write it all down. real stories have this effect too, if resonant—history or poetry or memoir, the same principle still applies.
through analyzing the stories that i care so deeply about, i am tricked into believing that i owe myself the same compassion and consideration that i show the people within them. because if i relate to a character, and i want them to be happy and loved, then that must mean that i want me to be happy and loved too. and beyond projection, i get to learn things about people who aren't like me at all, and countless worlds outside my own. in that respect, thinking about stories helps me strengthen my own moral code and widen my perspective. and honestly, more than anything else, it just feels good to do something with it all.
... which is why i am doing this, for free, for hours, for fun.
‘He spoke up for me because he didn’t think my uncle would hurt him. None of them do. They think he loves them. It has the outward semblance of love. At first. But it isn’t love. It’s . . . fetish. It doesn’t outlast adolescence. The boys themselves are disposable.’
something something, akielion slavery. keeping people in a permanent state of arrested development, stripping them of their ability to advocate for themselves like adults, making them into interchangeable objects who unconditionally love their position and trust their masters. but it isn’t love, nor is it fetish—it’s grooming, and it's evil. just like the regent, with every single one of his victims.
laurent knows damn well that it's far worse than just fetish. he knows it for the slaves and for the regent's young victims. but he can't verbalize it here, because that would mean admitting (privately, implied) that evil has been done to himself as well.
i don’t think laurent views himself as innocent in the same way he viewed nicaise, or the other victims, or the akielion slaves. his desire for justice is not on his own behalf, and it never really has been. in various instances, it’s been about justice for auguste, damen, jord, and nicaise… but never for laurent himself. to laurent, it’s evil when the regent hurts all of the other boys—but when it was him, it was only fetish. and laurent understands that to the regent, with any of his victims, it is only fetish. not love or evil. even though the regent's boys believe it's love, even though laurent can rationally recognize that it's evil, it doesn't matter when the regent is still in power. and on a personal level, regarding his own experiences with his uncle, some part of laurent is still groomed into thinking he specifically deserves abuse.
Damen knew better than to reach out, or to try to touch him.
i love seeing moments like these. comfort isn't one-size-fits-all.
He watched Laurent’s face, the flickering of some internal truth behind the careful lack of all expression. ‘He was on my side,’ said Laurent. ‘But in the end, the only person on his side was him.’
don’t make the same mistake, laurent, assuming that damen isn’t on your side. oh fuck he can’t hear me.
‘You liked him.’ ‘My uncle cultivated the worst in him. He still had good instincts sometimes. When children are moulded that young, it takes time to undo. I thought . . .’ Softly, ‘You thought you could help him.’
see previous analysis re: laurent, grooming, regent, etc.
It was with a shock that he felt the touch of Laurent’s fingers against the back of his wrist. He thought it a gesture of comfort, a caress, and then he realised that Laurent was shifting the fabric of his sleeve, sliding it back slightly to reveal the gold underneath, until the wrist-cuff he had asked the blacksmith to leave on was exposed between them. ‘Sentiment?’ said Laurent. ‘Something like that.’ Their eyes met and he could feel each beat of his heart. A few seconds of silence, a space that lengthened, until Laurent spoke. ‘You should give me the other.’ Damen flushed slowly, heat spreading from his chest over his skin, his heartbeats intrusive. He tried to answer in a normal voice. ‘I can’t imagine you’d wear it.’ ‘To keep. I wouldn’t wear it,’ said Laurent, ‘though I don’t believe your imagination is having any difficulty with the idea.’
foreshadowing this in book 3, except it happens in the most petty insane way possible
Damen let out a soft, unsteady breath of laughter, because he was right. For a while they sat together in comfortable silence. Laurent had mostly returned to himself, his posture more casual, his weight leaned back on his arms, watching Damen as he sometimes did. But he was a new version of himself, stripped back, youthful, a little quieter, and Damen realised he was seeing Laurent with his defences lowered—one or two of them, anyway. There was an untried, fragile feeling to the experience.
<3
‘I should not have told you in the manner I did about Kastor.’ The words were quiet. Red wine was seeping into the tiles of the floor. He heard himself ask it. ‘Did you mean what you said? That you were glad.’ ‘Yes,’ said Laurent. ‘They killed my family.’
i love that he doesn’t lie here. because yeah.
The truth was so close in this room that it seemed for a moment that he would say it, say his own name to Laurent, and the closeness of it seemed to press down on him, because they had both lost family.
honestly cannot tell if it would have made things better or worse for him to tell the truth now. guess we'll never know
Because throw Laurent together with Damianos, and either one would kill the other, or, if Damen kept his identity concealed and they somehow managed to form an alliance . . . if he helped Laurent instead of hurting him, and Laurent, out of the deep-buried sense of fairness that existed within him, helped him in turn . . . if the foundation of trust was built between them so that they might become friends, or more than friends . . . if Laurent ever decided to make use of his bed slave . . . He thought about the Regent’s suggestions to him, sly, subtle. Laurent could benefit from a steadying influence, someone close to him with his best interests at heart. A man with sound judgement, who could help guide him without being swayed. And the constant, pervasive insinuation: Have you taken my nephew? My uncle knows that when I lose control, I make mistakes. It would have given him a perverse kind of pleasure to send Aimeric to work against me, Laurent had said. How much greater the twisted pleasure to be gleaned from this?
regent thought he was being clever but he actually just preordered his own defeat
‘I’ve listened to everything that you said to me,’ Laurent was saying. ‘I’m not going to rush off to Charcy with an army. But I still want to fight. Not because my uncle threw down a challenge, but on my own terms, because this is my country. I know that together we can find a way to use Charcy to my advantage. Together we can do what we cannot do apart.’
“together we can do what we can’t do apart” THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING
also warning, i forget the details of laurent’s whole charcy plan. so there’s probably context where i’m missing it. but i’m still looking out for double meanings etc
(note from post-reading sam: yeah you're about to see me realizing and processing things in real time, just hang in there i figure it out eventually)
‘My uncle plans everything,’ said Laurent, as though reading Damen’s thoughts. ‘He plans for victory and he plans for defeat. It was you who never quite fit . . . You’ve always been outside of his schemes. For everything that my uncle and Kastor planned,’ said Laurent, as Damen felt himself grow cold, ‘they had no idea what they did when they gifted me with you.’
i love that he says this, knowing who damen is. it just makes me happy. i think laurent is already Scheming at this point, and probably weighing the ways he can blindside damen or screw him over. “together we can do things…” doesn’t necessarily mean that they can make it happen as a team. damen is a useful piece to play strategically, though, and that way of regarding him means laurent conveniently doesn’t have to think about the intimate night they just shared or the two people who just died tragically who both parallel his own experiences
In a fort full of activity, he knew himself a game piece, and was only beginning to be able to glimpse the scope of the board.
truer than you think. although UGH i wish i could remember the exact sequence, i’m not sure if laurent is scheming to screw him over yet. i kinda forget how we arrive at “hello lover” because laurent knows damen is who he is, but i don’t think he’s being dishonest with his feelings. maybe it’s just that, once the reality is undeniable, laurent feels regret and shame about loving his brother’s killer, and massively course-corrects in the opposite direction by being cruel. maybe he doesn’t want to appear weak or compromised for having engaged with the akielion prince in the way he did, so he has to pretend that it wasn’t real. also he gets tortured, which probably doesn’t help. and the plot has to keep plotting and the conflict has to keep conflicting.
did laurent see charcy coming prior to nicaise? again, i forget. but i’m keeping an eye out for it now. i think his plans are all being made last-second, but i could be wrong.
(post-reading sam again: i was wrong.)
Jord was right. He had owed Laurent the truth, and he hadn’t given it to him. And now he knew what the consequences of that choice might be. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret what they had done: last night had been bright in a way that resisted tarnishing. It had been right. His heart beat with the feeling that the other truth must somehow change to make it right, and he knew that it wouldn’t.
yeah ngl damen i get why you didn’t say it but if i was laurent i’d be pissed. like i wonder if laurent was waiting the whole time for damen to just Say It, and the fact that he didn’t made damen lose the moral arbitration he didn’t even know he was subject to. THAT would explain laurent’s attitude at charcy. this was a test and damen failed. and while they both should just fucking talk to each other and laurent is insane for keeping this bit going for so long, i do understand why he’d feel disappointed and betrayed by damen’s lack of honesty, especially given the other ways damen has proven himself loyal and true. so it’s easier for laurent to use him and screw him over, in a way, because he can tell himself that damen’s just been using and screwing him too.
He imagined himself nineteen again, knowing then what he knew now, and he wondered if he would have let that long-ago battle fall to the Veretians—let Auguste live. If he would have ignored his father’s call to arms altogether, and instead found his way to the Veretian tents and sought out Auguste to find some common ground. Laurent would have been thirteen but in Damen’s mind’s eye he would have found him a little older, sixteen or seventeen, old enough that Damen’s nineteen-year-old self could have begun, with all the exuberance of youth, to court him.
damen: i think i’ve changed enough as a person that if i went back in time, i’d make a different ethical choice about the life or death of another person. and that’s cool and all, but ALSO i’d get to court laurent !!!!! :D
And if he couldn’t give Laurent the truth, he could use everything else he had to give Laurent a definitive victory in the south.
i mean you still could. you very much still could. you can have a kingdom AND this, you just have to communicate with laurent. but go and do the other thing i guess.
to be fair, damen doesn’t know that laurent knows. i’m being too harsh. if laurent truly didn’t know, this would make a lot more sense. the truth would make him far too upset to fight with a clear mind, and damen understands that laurent is more likely to screw up when he loses his mind. damen wants laurent to be safe and to win, so he withholds the truth that could destroy him. to a first-time reader, it makes total sense, and it keeps the tension going. i think that’s partially why i didn’t anticipate the twist—so much of the tension hinges on something being true (laurent doesn’t know), so it made the most sense to me that something with this much attention placed on it MUST be true. but it’s perhaps even more interesting and compelling to know on a re-read that it’s not true, that laurent does know, because it gives me a lot of things to re-contextualize.
the only downside is that it’s also just incredibly frustrating, now that i’m not on board emotionally with damen and the lie that creates the tension here. that doesn’t mean the writing is bad, but the feeling i get reading it is VERY different from how i felt the first time around. oh my god is that how laurent has felt this whole time. like he’s taking part in his own love story but he can’t fully actively buy into it or participate, because he knows something that jeopardizes the love story so dramatically that he can’t call it a love story at all. oh my god.
like, damen is in a romance story. there are politics and drama and adventure, but that is main genre of his narrative. he always tends to focus on romantic aspects of a situation. and the first time we read the series, we only perceive their love story from damen’s pov. we can’t even begin to guess what’s going on with laurent, because we think he’s clueless about this big lie, and so we kind of just make do with his dialogue and damen’s observations.
but laurent isn’t just the love interest in damen’s narrative. in laurent's narrative, he is the main character of a fucking psychological thriller, and has been this whole time. king’s rising is where damen (and the reader) finally get a sense of the genre/reality laurent has been living in thus far, because the truth comes out and laurent can now make it damen’s problem. but it's always been happening, in laurent's head.
There had been a silence, until Laurent had said, ‘You were right. I haven’t been thinking about it like this.’ ‘Like what?’ said Damen. ‘Like war,’ said Laurent.
it's the game he likes. not war
Now they faced one another on the dais and words rose to Damen’s lips, personal words. But what he said was, ‘Are you sure you want to leave your enemy in charge of your fort?’
do they ever say “i love you” on the page? i seem to recall an absence of that—which i don’t exactly mind in their case, because it’s pretty obvious they love each other by the end, and so much is left between the lines with them anyway. but i do wonder if damen had the urge to say some variation of the sentiment here, before chickening out and going for a snarky comment instead
They gazed at one another. It was a public goodbye, in full view of the men. Laurent extended his hand. He did it not, as a prince might, for Damen to kneel and kiss, but as a friend. There was acknowledgement in the gesture, and as Damen took his hand, in front of the men, Laurent held his gaze. Laurent said, ‘Take care of my fort, Commander.’ In public, there was nothing he could say. He felt his grip tighten slightly. He thought of stepping forward, of taking Laurent’s head in his hands. And then he thought of what he was, and all he now knew. And he forced himself to release his grip.
foreshadowing book 3. they can’t interact with each other with the same ease, intimacy, and privacy that they had as “master” and “slave” when they’re both recognized as capable leaders in the public eye.
(they fail miserably at this, though, especially in early-to-mid book 3 after the reveal. like they really just put themselves in a lose-lose situation: they “can’t” be in love or trust each other, but they are also so obsessed with each other that what they end up doing in the public eye is ten times weirder and less convenient for everyone else than if they just made up and were in love as well as commanding an army.)
Laurent was nodding to his attendant, mounting his horse. Damen said, ‘A lot depends on timing. We have a rendezvous in two days. I—Don’t be late.’ ‘Trust me,’ said Laurent with a single bright glance, straightening his horse out with the tug of a rein in the moment before the order was called, and he and his men moved out.
okay, so here’s what’s actually going on with the war shit, because i’m determined to keep track of it this time instead of just focusing on the emotions.
laurent is riding out to fortaine, which is the fort that guion runs, and the likely source of the regent’s promised troops at nearby charcy. this is a good plan because laurent taking fortaine fucks up the regent’s plan AND it gives laurent access to the resources necessary to continue fighting.
damen, meanwhile, will literally hold down the fort here in ravenel. laurent trusts him to do this. laurent has taken most of the soldiers, leaving damen with not many men if there was to be a surprise attack here.
they have an important rendezvous set in two days’ time, although i’m unsure where exactly they’ve agreed to meet. i’m going to assume fortaine or charcy, not back here in ravenel. i think since damen says “don’t be late,” the intention is for them both to show up at charcy with their men—for damen to leave ravenel in 1.5 days after preparing the fighters as best as he can—and fight the regent’s forces with their combined army. so it makes sense that damen would say "don't be late," because if he showed up alone with his men, they'd probably get slaughtered.
SO. this is what i remember actually happening:
laurent does not, in fact, show up for the rendezvous in two days, leaving damen to handle charcy alone
instead, laurent takes fortaine and just kind of chills there. damen eventually shows up after winning charcy, leading to the "hello lover" scene
laurent explains the situation to damen as if he (laurent) intentionally stood him up, as retribution for the truth damen has been keeping from him this whole time
BUT laurent is leaving out that he ended up being kidnapped and tortured by guion before killing a man with a chair and just barely managing to take the fort. or something. and govart is there too.
so my question is, does laurent at this exact moment already mean to stand damen up? or is the "hello lover" thing a way for him to cover up the fact that he got captured and tortured and almost lost everything? both things are probably true, which would kind of prove damen's point from the end of this book: laurent makes riskier choices without his input, and there are certain risks laurent shouldn't take because his life and safety matter. but mr "probably" laurent doesn't value his own life and safety very much, especially not if there's a possibility of winning the game. if laurent doesn't allow damen to look out for him, laurent is going to endanger himself.
my guess is that it's both: laurent fully intends to stand damen up at this point, but doesn't anticipate the consequence of his own manipulative bullshit. blindsiding damen will result in laurent's torture, capture, and near-death. despite technically winning the insane mind game against the damianos in his head, laurent will still need to save face with the damen in his tent. because he knows damen was right, and he hates it.
definitely revisiting this note when i read the "hello, lover" scene to see how i did ;)
addition to the note from sam reading two pages ahead: at some point laurent has also gotten akielions involved because he knows their presence will force damen to out himself as damianos. like he’s showing his hand in a way that screws damen over but also doesn’t necessarily get him killed, and most absurdly, STILL KEEPS THE LIE THAT LAURENT DOESN’T KNOW HE’S DAMIANOS GOING, making damen even more guilty and paranoid, and a first-time reader even more compelled by the tension. it happens as the cliffhanger for this book and before charcy, so the events at charcy stay open-ended to a first-time reader.
i hope we find out eventually if laurent planned all of this after they fucked, or if it had already been set in motion before and he just committed to the bit he’d already started. would the fucking have made a difference? probably not. laurent and damen are a cat and a mouse, but laurent thinks they’re a figurative cat and mouse in a psychological thriller who intentionally torment each other, and damen thinks they’re a cat and mouse in a disney movie who fall in love despite their differences. the rare moments where they step into each other’s genres are so rewarding and impactful because they’re so rare. if it happened more often, and during every pivotal moment like this one, it wouldn’t be nearly as powerful when they finally figure out their shit. “a kingdom or this” is an interesting tagline because of the “or.” if it was “and” from the beginning of the story, there wouldn’t be a story to tell. certainly not one as well-written and unique as this. pacat really is a master of writerly restraint, and i could learn a lot from her approach to story construction.
Because it was not possible, no matter what was said, to completely trust Laurent, the morning was a thin skein of tension, drawn tight.
lmao
‘Akielons are marching on us,’ he expected the runner to say, and he did, but then he said, ‘I’m to give this to the fort Commander,’ and he was urgently pressing something into Damen’s hand. Damen stared at it. Behind him, the Akielon army was approaching. In his hand was a hard loop of metal set with a carved gemstone, the etching a starburst. He was looking at Laurent’s signet ring.
oh my god he’s such a BITCH. this has been in motion since the start, and he hasn’t stopped it even though they fell in love. laurent i’m obsessed with your mind. get help.
He remembered the night Laurent had addressed him in Akielon for the first time, remembered long nights speaking in Akielon, Laurent shoring up his vocabulary, improving his fluency, and his choice of subject matter—border geography, treaties, troop movements. He said it as it opened up inside him, ‘They are our reinforcements.’
right logical path, technically right conclusion, but you are missing the additional reveal here so bad 😭 it’s okay buddy i missed it too the first time 😭
The truth was marching towards him.
LMAOOOOOOOOOOO great line. great line for people who Get It and people who don’t. the truth = damianos, yeah, but also the truth = laurent knew. but damen only means the first truth, and the cliffhanger works so well because the reader might not know the second truth either. which i think is the ideal initial experience!
The Regent had been right, people were saying: Laurent had been in league with Akielos all along. It was a strange kind of madness to realise that this, in fact, was true.
context: the regent and laurent were both in league with akielos, just different pieces of it. regent teamed up with kastor, and laurent made contact with nikandros. it makes sense, since delpha is so close to acquitart/vere (i don’t know if i spelled that right) and they share relations with vaskians
this does make nikandros' burning hatred of laurent in book 3 like exponentially funnier though
He could feel the tension of the Akielon forces too, knew they were expecting treachery. The first sword drawn, the first arrow loosed, would unleash a killing force.
so what exactly did laurent say to convince them to come? i get that he meant for them to get here and be jumpscared by their dead prince, but what was the fake reason? just like a vague call for help/solidarity? do the akielons think it’s a trap, or did they come here to attack? it must be the first thing, if the signet is being presented. god this makes my head hurt but i am determined to explore every little nook and cranny of laurent’s insane political rube goldberg machine it’s like enrichment to me
also, holy fucking shit. if laurent always knew this was going to happen, because he set it into motion a while ago, then his comments about having one more night with damen hit so much harder. not only did he know he was going to lose damen, but he also knew that he had arranged things so that damen wouldn’t even have a choice in staying. he was always going to be exposed as a prince, and returned to his former station, and separated from laurent, no matter what. laurent had initially assumed, for good reason, that damen wouldn’t ever want to stay. but throughout this book that assumption has been challenged, over and over again. but laurent couldn’t just take back the messenger by the time they were getting really close. laurent failsafed this shit from the start, so that even if he started to spiral into cognitive dissonance, reality would inevitably arrive to snap him out of it.
laurent has put himself in a hell of his own design, and unlike previous laurent purgatories, this one wasn't on purpose. the intention had been to free himself of his brother’s killer, who his uncle placed in his life as a means of tormenting him. but instead, laurent’s gambit ends up ensuring that the only living person who truly loves him has no choice but to leave.
truly putting the “L” in laurent.
final notes
damen likes blondes mentions: 6 -> 8
laurent leans: 9 -> 11
lamen hr complaints: 4
(i started an ointment joke tally in like chapter one but it never came up again so it doesn't count)
character elements to watch out for (from book 1):
laurent perspective context (knowing what i know, what sense can i make?)
laurent & nicaise
laurent coping mechanisms (pretending, delusion)
damen coping mechanisms (avoidance, distraction)
damen reconsidering the ethics of akielos
mutual moral arbitration
new for book 2:
laurent intimacy depiction
damen's relationship with his father's legacy
damen comparing his current self to himself before vere
laurent and damen are living in two entirely different genres
series themes (from book 1):
niceness vs. goodness
submission vs. respect - “there is no honour in obedience”
suffering alone vs. fighting together
pain and humor
honor and integrity
sex, power, innocence, violence
trauma, desire, consent
new for book 2:
a kingdom or this
multifaceted tenderness
#this one is super long and it gets a little sentimental in the first part#and then you get to see me lose my mind as i remember/understand laurent's insane plan in real time#capri#sam reads capri#prince's gambit#laurent of vere#damen of akeilos#lamen
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Hi, I'm glad you're not banned. It was a gloomy time without your fics. I'm sure the requests won't be open for long hah. (I mean people will surely request a lot.) So, I was wondering if you could write about Sihtric x Reader where he just started being a warrior alongside Uhtred,so season 2. And he is a virgin.( I know.. but I'm sure I'm not the only one who'd like to see that.) So he loses his virginity to Reader, who is more experienced. I haven't thought about who she is in the story. But i really liked how you portrayed her in your back to past pics. Anyway, hope you have a nice day.
Note: thank you for this request!! and you were right, I had to close my requests after like an hour or so :') I hope this fic is what you had in mind!
Warnings: smut 18+! our boy loses his virginity here okay.
pairing: Sihtric x you (f)
Summary: see request!
Word count: 3,3k
Masterlist
'You… you are my first.'
****************
'You should go and talk to him,' Gisela startled you. You dropped the bowl you held when you heard her speak behind you, seemingly out of nowhere.
'To who?' you played dumb, picking up the bowl to hide your flustered face.
'You haven't been able to keep your eyes off Sihtric since he got here,' Gisela giggled, 'which has been a little while already.'
Gisela had been aware of your gaze all along. Uhtred, your nephew, had captured the young, handsome Dane as a prisoner a while ago. But the Dane had quickly sworn his loyalty to Uhtred, thus becoming one of his men. You had been intrigued by his looks and his story. He was young, muscular and simply breathtaking. He seemed shy, but still tough and confident most of the time. You had seen him train with Finan, and whenever Sihtric received a punch or slap with a sword or stick, he didn't even flinch. Which, you figured, was probably due to his abusive past. Being a bastard son of Kjartan the Cruel was a guaranteed life of torment. At one point Sihtric had disappeared for a while, as had Gisela, after Uhtred was abruptly sold as a slave. You expected the Dane had returned to his roots, but found out later he had played an important part in Uhtred's rescue. And recently, Sihtric had fought alongside your nephew in the battle of Dunholm, from which they had returned a few days ago, bringing news that Kjartan was dead and Ragnar held Dunholm.
'I am merely keeping an eye on him because I don't know him, and he is among my people,' you lied.
'Sihtric has been nothing but loyal. I think you are keeping an eye on him because you see something you like,' Gisela took the bowl and placed it on the table, which you were supposed to do before you got distracted by Sihtric, who was feeding the horses.
'Maybe,' you admitted with a grin.
'I see his eyes often wander to you as well. I will make sure you will be seated next to him tonight at the feast.'
Gisela smiled and winked when you stared at her.
***************
Gisela kept her word and you had been seated next to the handsome boy all night. He was quiet, to you at least, but you often found him joking and laughing with Rypere, who was on his other side. You had offered Sihtric bread several times already, to get his attention, which he had politely accepted with a small smile. But after your fourth, desperate offer, he looked a little confused and shyly declined as Rypere frowned at you. Both men, completely oblivious to your flirting, which you thought was more than obvious and should have been picked up by at least one of them. Instead, Rypere just thought you must have been a little slow in the head, as you kept repeating the same gesture to his friend.
You looked at Gisela, who was dancing with Uhtred to the musicians who had travelled here. You turned back to Sihtric, who laughed at another joke Rypere had just made, and you tapped his shoulder. Sihtric looked back over his shoulder with a smile before he fully turned to face you.
'My lady?' he said shyly.
'Will you dance with me?' you asked, confident.
'N-now?' Sihtric's mismatched eyes darted quickly between you and the dancing people.
'Yes, now,' you sighed, annoyed and impatient. You wanted to be alone with him already, but you first had to see your chances. You took his hand and pulled him with you in between the dancing crowd.
You twirled around to the music and Sihtric became shy. His posture timid almost, keeping his head down while occasionally glancing at you, fidgeting with his leather belt. You soon stopped dancing, felt bad and apologised for making him uncomfortable. Then you left the celebration. You sulked back to your humble hut when you suddenly heard footsteps behind you.
'Lady?'
You smiled before you turned, recognising Sihtric's voice as he had spoken one simple word.
'Sihtric?' you smiled upon facing him.
'I- I am sorry if I upset you,' he said, avoiding eye contact as if he was not worthy, 'I just… you… you make me nervous.'
You frowned at the young man. 'I make you nervous?' you chuckled, 'why?'
'It's- it's your beauty, lady,' the nervous Dane blurted out, 'it is unlike any I have ever seen. I… I've been meaning to tell you but I,' he shook his head lightly and rubbed his hand awkwardly over his nervously flexed bicep, 'I didn't know how to tell you but I... I guess I just did.'
You giggled and hid your smile behind your hand walking up to him.
'Thank you,' you grinned, looking up in his piercing eyes.
You both felt breathless for a second and Sihtric swallowed hard when you placed your hands on his leather armour. His trembling hands settled on your waist, which your dress highlighted beautifully he thought, and he pulled you closer. You tugged the leather collar of his outfit, guiding him to lean in as you pushed yourself up against him. He brushed his lips lightly against yours, his shaky breath warmed your skin, accompanied with the fruity scent of ale he had enjoyed moments earlier. And you were desperate to find out if he tasted as delicious as you thought he would.
'Kiss me,' you breathed. The words had barely left your mouth or Sihtric's lips already met yours. It was an eager and hard kiss. Almost awkward. And you chuckled when he pulled away, startled by his own impulsive behaviour. It was not the best kiss you ever had, but he did taste as nice as you hoped he would. And you wondered if he was just nervous or maybe not that good of a kisser.
'Again,' you smiled as he watched you with big eyes, his hands still on your waist.
Sihtric leaned in again and you cupped his cheeks, guiding his lips slowly back to yours this time, and you captured him in a soft, slow kiss. Sihtric moaned softly as you kissed him, making you smile, and you pushed your body closer against his. His rough hands squeezed your waist and he bucked his hips against yours once. You felt his hardness and flicked your tongue against his lips as you broke the kiss when you heard voices approach. Sihtric quickly looked away from the bypassing couple,and circled his arms around you while you hid your face slightly behind your hands, which were settled on his chest. You both chuckled lightly as the couple walked past, and once they had disappeared from view you pulled out of his embrace and took his hand. You pulled him inside your wooden hut and closed the door. His eager hands found you again and he couldn't keep his lips away from yours anymore.
Sihtric had been dreaming of this moment for many nights, but never thought his dream would come true. So when you pushed him on the pallet that made for your bed, he didn't know what to do anymore. His eyes were huge, dark and fixated on the most bewitching, beautiful thing he had ever seen; you. He watched you with slightly parted lips as you rid yourself of your dress, undoing the laces up front yourself. Sihtric couldn't decide if he wanted to stare at your beautiful face, or watch the arousing movements of your fingers pulling the laces, revealing more of your body with each tug.
You watched his enchanted eyes dart between your own and your hands. You walked over to him and took one of his hands, guiding him up to your chest and sliding his warm, rough, tattooed fingers inside your loosened up top, down your cleavage. Sihtric's breath hitched at the feeling of your, to him, perfectly shaped breast in his hand. You pulled your skirt up and you lowered yourself onto his lap, took his free hand and repeated your previous move, making Sihtric hum softly as he massaged your breasts lightly with his hands. You tried to work the laces of his armour, which took longer than you anticipated, but Sihtric didn't even notice your struggle, as he was simply in another dimension at the feeling of his hands on your warm, soft skin.
Finally you tugged the last leather lace and loosened the warrior's armour, which he quickly took off. You got back up and pulled his tunic over his head, leaving Sihtric in only his breeches, which gave you a full view of his lean body and his scarred skin. You had been with men before, but none had ever made you this aroused before by simply just looking at them. You let your dress slide off your shoulders, stepping over the pile of fabric, completely bare, as you closed the distance between you and Sihtric. You straddled his lap again, planting soft, openmouthed kisses all over his chest and shoulders, earning a few moans and hisses before you kissed his lips again. His hands trailed up and down your back, lightly, and you pushed him over to lay down onto your bed, his feet still on the floor. You found his lips again, taking your time to move one hand down over his toned chest, into his breeches, where you stroked his long, hard cock slowly but firmly. Sihtric tensed up at the feeling of your hand around him and inhaled sharply. You chuckled, satisfied at this reaction.
'I… I…' Sihtric stammered, feeling dizzy at the otherworldly feeling of being pleased by the woman of his dreams.
'What is it?' you purred and kissed his neck, making it ever harder for him to speak.
'You… you are my first,' Sihtric blurted out with a raspy voice. He looked at you with big eyes and a clenched jaw, holding his breath as you looked up at him and stopped your movements.
'Oh…' You blinked in surprise at him while he still looked worried.
'Do… you want this? Do you want me to continue?' you asked cautiously.
'Y-yes,' Sihtric was quick to say, 'p-please.'
'Okay,' you said, smiling, 'will you let me know if you don't like something?'
Sihtric nodded.
'Let me know too if you do like something?' Sihtric was quick to nod again with a shy smile, and you started to use your hand on him again, a little faster this time, to which he threw his head back onto your bed.
'Good?'
'Mhm,' he hummed with a smile, 'yeah I… I like that.'
You pecked his lips softly and kissed your way down his neck, his shoulders, his chest and on to his waist. He looked at you with big eyes as you lowered his breeches and sank down to your knees on the floor. Sihtric sat back up and watched you push his legs apart, positioning yourself in between his thighs.
'Has anyone done this before?' you asked as you looked up at him.
Sihtric shook his head, he couldn't bring out a word to you, too stunned at the thought of what was about to happen. You chuckled, for it had been a long time since you had taken someone's virginity and Sihtric was as adorable as he was astonishing.
You wetted his cock with your saliva and worked his length with your hand, before running your tongue up from the base to his tip. You immediately noticed how sensitive Sihtric was, as you felt him twitch on your tongue by doing the bare minimum. He let out an animalistic growl when he felt the wetness and warmth of your mouth around him, slowly taking him in. Sihtric threw his head back with a sharp exhale as you started bobbing your head up and down with a slow and steady pace. You enjoyed the feeling of his twitching and pulsating cock in your mouth and you looked up at him. You moaned at the sight of his exposed neck, his head tilted back slightly with closed eyes, his lips parted as he moaned softly and murmured inaudibly. You ran your hand up his bare chest, wanting his attention. Sihtric placed his hand upon yours before he looked down at you, with flushed cheeks, eyes dark as night and breaths heavy as rolling thunder on a hot summer night.
You locked eyes as you felt your lips already swell up. Sihtric took your hand from his chest and brought it up to his own lips, kissing each finger before he licked your index finger. He surprised you by taking your digit in his mouth, firmly sucking your finger as he pulled your hand back slowly, only giving you that pleasure just once. You were taken by a wave of intense heating in your core and had to pull your mouth away from him. Sihtric moaned at the loss and swallowed hard.
'I… I can't hold much longer,' he said, almost apologetic.
'You don't have to,' you reassured him, 'would you like to finish yourself?'
'Mhm,' Sihtric replied as sweat trickled down his biceps, and he started to work himself. You brought his free hand up to your neck, wrapping his fingers around your throat, to which Sihtric cursed and you could see his cock twitch.
'In my mouth,' you said with a cheeky smile.
Sihtric understood and came with a loud, deep grunt, spilling his cum in your open mouth. He immediately became dizzy by the intensity of it all and fell back onto the bed. You watched him with a smile and climbed on top of him. You pecked his skin wherever you could as his chest heaved up and down while shaky breaths left his lips. He had his eyes closed as he laid back, his hands on his forehead, as if trying to grasp the entire moment.
'Was it good for you?' you whispered after you kissed his temple and brushed your fingertips over his reddened cheek.
'Yeah… yeah,' he breathed, 'I'm sorry I…'
'Shh,' you silenced him with a finger on his lips, 'you did perfect, Sihtric.'
'But you didn't fi-'
You silenced him again, this time with a kiss. Sihtric may have been a virgin but he sure knew how to kiss, you had found out after that first harsh kiss. And you loved the feeling of his warm, slightly chapped lips pressed against yours. Sihtric was quick to pick up on what you liked, kissing you slow, deep and a little sloppy. His tongue tasting and feeling yours before he'd suck your bruised bottom lip in his mouth, to tease you. And he loved the sound of your light giggle when he did so.
'Let me know when you are ready again.'
Sihtric smiled at you, his eyes soft and in love. And he knew the gods had blessed him when you returned the exact same look. You explored his body with your hands as your lips wouldn't leave his, until you both desperately needed some air. You both chuckled, Sihtric becoming a little more confident as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and brushed his rough fingers over your cheek as he gazed at you.
'You are so… so beautiful,' he whispered, almost in trance as his fingertips traced the shape of your lips.
'So are you,' you felt a little shy suddenly. You had loved the way Sihtric looked, but you had never been close to him much. So finding out he was such a sweet and gentle young man overwhelmed you with a rush of butterflies. And the feeling of his hands exploring your skin, as you whispered sweet nothings to each other in between soft kisses and giggles, had you simply head over heels.
'I think I, you know…' he chuckled.
'Ready again?'
'Yeah. Unless you don't want to… it's… I don't mind,' Sihtric said, slightly concerned. Not wanting you to feel forced.
'Trust me, I want to,' you smiled and kissed his cheek, 'how would you like to begin?'
Sihtric let out a nervous chuckle and shrugged shyly as he looked at you.
'Maybe… you could like… this way?' he gestured vaguely at you.
'You want me on top?' you smiled, to which he nodded, and you reassured him once more, 'I'd like that.'
You kissed him and stroked his hard cock again, already feeling familiar with his length and twitches. After a moment you teased him, grinding your wet slit over his cock, making Sihtric a moaning mess underneath you. Then you lined him up with your entrance, and you slowly, very slowly, sank down onto him, taking his pleasant length all in. You moaned with a smile as you felt how good he filled you up, and Sihtric looked completely drunk on the feeling of your walls tightened around him.
'Does that feel good to you?'
'Yeah. You- you feel really good. Perfect,' his breath hitched when you rocked your hips slow and gentle. You took his hands and placed them on your breasts, then you settled your hands on his toned chest, gradually speeding up little by little until you bounced on his cock with a steady pace you both seemed to enjoy. You loved being on top, this way you could easily stimulate yourself with your fingers, or find the right angle to do the job for you while you were riding him.
'Sihtric,' you moaned after a short while, which made his head spin again.
Sihtric desperately wanted to watch you on top of him, wanting the sight of you imprinted in his mind, forever, but you felt so good he just couldn't keep his eyes open, and had to let his head rest back onto the bed. You leaned in, hitting the right angle for yourself, and for him, when you did so and you kissed his lips. His hands made their way to your hips and you both breathed heavy, almost in sync, your sweaty forehead rested against his as you enjoyed each other thoroughly. You felt his cock twitch and pulsate inside you when you sank into him, purposely slow, causing him to growl and grab your hips firmly.
'Please,' Sihtric moaned, 'don't stop. Faster… faster, please.' He begged.
Feeling he was close, you picked up your pace and brought your own hand in between your bodies, stimulating yourself to approach your climax along with his. You loved it when a man did that for you, but you couldn't ask that of him yet. Maybe after a few times, you thought, you would teach him, if he wanted to be yours that was.
'Oh, gods!' Sihtric grunted when he felt your walls clench around his cock as you came, a little earlier than him, but you managed to ride him through your own high long enough to give him his. You felt his body jerk a few times when he spilled inside you, and the smile on his face told you he had never felt anything as nice before. You both stilled for a short moment before you got off him and laid down next to him.
You were both sweaty, messy, out of breath and completely satisfied. Without thinking, Sihtric pulled you in his arms and kissed you sweetly, until both your highs had worn off.
'Hey,' Sihtric whispered as he nuzzled your cheek.
'Hm?' you hummed, butterflies rushing through your stomach when you heard his soft chuckle in your ear before he spoke again.
'I think…' Sihtric paused, brushing your ear lightly with his lips as he felt shy again, 'I think I'm in love with you.'
You felt yourself blush and bit down on your lip, trying to hide your smile.
'Good,' you said, firmly.
'Good?' Sihtric looked at you, smiling.
'Good,' you said again and smiled, 'because I think I'm in love with you as well. And now that I've been your first… I want to be your last too, Sihtric.'
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