Paris Love
pairing: dom!carrington x sub!reader
Summary: You go to visit a friend in Paris and go to a party with her, just to find someone new.
Warnings: SMUT, alcohol usage, p in v, unprotected sex, and more.
a/n: I thought of this while in class so I know it might be a bit messy but enjoy! Also I don't want anyone to copy or use my writing for "inspiration".
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As soon as your get off your plane, you see your friend waiting for you. You run over to her and hug her.
"Omg, it's been so long. Thank god you're here!" Your friend said excitedly. You and her have been best friends since your two learned to talk. You told each other everything, until she moved to paris.
"I know! I'm really happy to be here!" You say back to her. She grabs your suitcase and you two start to walk towards the doors. You both uber back to her place, and get settled in the spare room.
She knocks on your door a couple of hours later, letting your get used to the room and her place.
"Hey!" she says walking into the room, "There's a party across the street, wanna go?"
You think about it for a minute. "Why not?" You say, a smile forming on your face.
"Good! Do you know what your going to wear?" she asked.
"Actually, no. I don't really have anything to wear party-wise." you say. It was true. You didn't think you wear going to go to a party in paris, so you didn't bring anything.
"Oh. I could lend you a dress if you'd like?" She asked.
"Um, sure." You accept.
An hour or two later, you two are about to head out the door, to walk across the street to the party. One last check in the mirror and your good. Your friend lent your a black strapless dress, that just barely covers your ass. She also lent you a pair of 5 inch red bottoms. Your hair was down, and your makeup was done. You had a little black bag, that had your phone, lip gloss, and your credit card. You make your way across the street laughing and talking with your friend.
You make your way up to the door, and push it open. As soon as you enter, you see a brown, curly haired boy, holding a drink in his hand ad talking with a blonde girl, who looked really familiar. He was wearing a black hoodie and jeans. He also wore a chain, that hung from his neck.
"Oooh, looks like someone has a crush." Your friend says.
"I do not!" you shoot back getting a bit defensive.
"You get defensive every time I figure out one of your secrets." Your friend says, giving you a knowing look. It was true. Every time your friend figures something out that you haven't told her, you get a bit defensive. "You should talk to him!" Your friend suggests.
"No way in hell am I ever going to-" You were cut off with your friend pushing you towards him. You bump into him, spilling his drink all over you and him.
"Oh! I am so sorry! My stupid fucking friend pushed me." You say looking up at him.
He chuckles. "No, your good. It wasn't your fault."
"Lemme grab a towel. Um, do you know were the bathrooms are?" you ask him.
He grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom. He locks the door, and takes off his hoodie. He wasn't wearing anything underneath, so his abs were on full display.
You look down. "Woah.." You say lowly, but just loud enough for him to hear.
"Like what you see?" he says, getting closer.
You look back up at him. "Yeah."
He chuckles lowly. "The drink got all over you too." he leans down and whispers in your ear. "Let's take this off ya, yeah?" he says while pulling the dress over your head.
He stares at your body, taking in how your breasts jump out, since you weren't wearing a bra. You were, however, wearing a black lace thong.
"Wow.." he smiles, "Your so beautiful." He's now inches away from your face. He pulls you in for a kiss, his tongue begging to enter you mouth. You grant him access, and his mouth explores your mouth. He pulls away and starts tracing your jaw with his tongue. He then starts to kiss and nip at your neck.
He pulls away and starts to take off his jeans and boxers. You take off your panties, and he pushes you against the wall. He scoops you up, his hands under your ass, and he pulls your legs around his waist.
He starts to slip into you, and he lets out a groan. "Damn, your tight." He starts to thrust in and out of you. You throw your head back, lost in the pleasure. His thrusts start to get faster. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your back starts to arch slightly. You let out moans and pornagraphic sounds.
"cl..close.." You manage to get out.
"Me too, baby." he says, his thrusts starting to get sloppy.
You let out a loud moan as you feel the knot that was forming, snaps. A white ring forms at the base of his cock, as you let go. He groans as he feels you come, thrusting into you a bit more, finally coming inside you.
He pulls out gently, watching as his come drips out of you.
"Hey, I never got your name." You say as soon as you come down from your high.
"Its Carrington." He says with a smile, and puts you down. "I'll get your name when I see you again." He says while putting his clothes back on and winking at you before leaving the bathroom.
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a/n 2: This was a bit long and a bit rushed cs I wanted to get this fic out today, but I hope you enjoyed!
🏷️: @owensbabygirl
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“what does geralt get from that friendship…”
another post examining the weight of geralt and dandelion’s friendship… because i don’t think people recognize how painful and debilitating loneliness can become.
the witcher as a deconstruction of the genre takes fantasy tropes to their most logical ends—it asks us to consider what The Lone Swordsman feels, looks into the humanity in a Cold-Blooded Killer. and it turns out he’s not cold-blooded at all.
that despite some superhuman abilities, he laments and worries and curses himself, just like any other worker of any other profession. just as the farmer is scorched by the sun, the washerwoman’s back aches, and the scholar goes half-blind studying, a witcher deals with all of the pains and annoyances and dangers of his job in a mundanely human way.
but the farmer, the washerwoman, and the scholar have something the witcher does not have—they’ll always be seen as human and part of their society. at the end of the day after enduring all of their labor, they have their wife to caress, festivities to attend, and taverns to frequent. but for a witcher? after the killing is over, what does he have? no one and nothing. not even a thank you. he is met with fear and hatred everywhere he goes, baseless bigotry and dislike.
I did my job. I quickly learned how. I’d ride up to village enclosures or town pickets and wait. If they spat, cursed and threw stones, I rode away. If someone came out to give me a commission, I’d carry it out.
so he faces not just loneliness, but being deliberately ostracized and cast out from society. geralt can’t even find a polite word in most settlements, much less a friend.
‘(…) Tell me, where should I go? And for what? At least here some people have gathered with whom I have something to talk about. People who don’t break off their conversations when I approach. People who, though they may not like me, say it to my face, and don’t throw stones from behind a fence. (…)’
this kind of loneliness is not a mere inconvenience. it’s completely altering to your self-perception and ability to see the positive in the world.
each day is not lived, but endured.
day in, and day out—forced to the most difficult and lowest labor in order to survive, and knowing that were you to die, no one would search for your body, few would miss you, hell, they might even spit “good riddance”.
in this situation, to find a friend, is not only friendship, but a rescue.
without dandelion, geralt may have drowned—drowned in solitude, amidst a sea of strangeness.
‘(…) And I’m alone, completely alone, endlessly alone among the strange and hostile elements. Solitude amid a sea of strangeness. Don’t you dream of that?’
No, I don’t, he thought. I have it every day.
because dandelion is not only a bright soul, characteristic rippling laughter and the strum of a lute, but someone who will intently listen to geralt, someone who mutually enjoys his company.
‘(…) you almost jumped out of your pants with joy to have a companion. Until then, you only had your horse for company.’
someone who doesn’t see him as strange and at the fringes of society at all, but as an utterly normal man.
and doesn’t impose demeaning, sappy sympathy onto him, but sobering and realistic “quit your bullshit” which ridicules the very thought that he should internalize societal hatred.
Do you know what your problem is, Geralt? You think you’re different. (…) [You don’t understand that] for people who think clear-headedly you’re the most normal man under the sun, and they all wish that everybody was so normal. What of it that you have quicker reflexes than most and vertical pupils in sunlight? That you can see in the dark like a cat? That you know a few spells? Big deal.
dandelion isn’t “willing” to accept geralt for himself—he already has accepted him. and to him, it’s no difficulty, it’s nothing worth discussing, because he sees no abnormality and no strangeness in him.
while others “prefer the company of lepers to witchers,” dandelion has already offered geralt to share his room and board. not out of sympathetic pity, not out of fetishizing curiosity. because… they’re friends.
and what else does this friendship save him from?
not only from others, but from himself.
worse than enduring others’ apathy and hatred is one’s own thoughts—the darkness and negativity which builds from witnessing and experiencing such behavior.
dandelion’s ability to counter and dispel geralt’s pessimism and self-flagellating tendencies—again, not out of pity, but out of friendship—is undeniably invaluable. someone to rescue you from your darkest thoughts, when you begin to spiral.
and in this darkness, all you can do is cry. you cry, beg for someone to help you, please—
Help! Why doesn't anyone help me? Alone, weak, helpless – I can't move, can't force a sound from my constricted throat. Why does no one come to help me? I'm terrified!
to be alone, the saga reminds us, is worse than a death sentence. to be alone is to “perish; stabbed, beaten or kicked to death, defiled, like a toy passed from hand to hand.” to be alone is to suffer, and to be with someone is to save them from that suffering.
'(…) I wouldn't like anything bad to happen to you. I like you too much, owe you too much-'
'You've said that already. What do you owe me, Yennefer?'
The sorceress turned her head away, did not say anything for a while.
'You travelled with him,' she said finally. 'Thanks to you he was not alone. You were a friend to him. You were with him.'
it is true that geralt has saved dandelion countless times, helped him, gotten him out of some scrape… but to ask what did geralt get in return? are you kidding me?
did you ever consider that it is dandelion who saved geralt?
by being with him. by being by his side. by being his friend.
indeed, dandelion has rescued geralt, countless times, from the yawning jaws of endless loneliness. he’s helped him, chased away the danger of geralt’s own rumination. and he’s gotten him out of scrapes, his own insecurities and bitter helplessness.
so what does dandelion give geralt? what does geralt get from their friendship?
an amusing question. what one gets from friendship is the friendship itself. and that is more than enough.
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i love finding out how big this world is. my girlfriend has only visited boston a handful of times, but i grew up here. i told her we'd be going to do the tourist traps in salem, and she said - which salem?
to be fair to her, there are a lot of other states that have a town named "salem." and i think there's some evidence that the witch trials actually happened in what is now called Danvers. but the thing is - she thought "salem" was like, a made-up thing. there wasn't actually a salem, massachusetts - like there isn't a gotham city.
they don't talk about it that much where she grew up, is the thing! and this made me laugh. a week ago she was talking about her hometown and said something akin to "well the museum's kinda like the one in richmond," and i had to explain i still had no frame of reference for what the hell this museum was like.
i love finding out what knowledge i take for granted. i used to live with 5 other women. 3 of them were from south korea. they had to take, like, a solid fifteen minutes to explain their birthday system to my gay math-blind ass, laughing as they did.
that same month, our roommate from denmark taught me the danish word for wreath by accident - she'd been talking about decorations, used krans, and i'd been able to figure it out through context. i just picked it up and kept talking. our entire house used krans as the word. she came home and slammed the door one evening, mock-angry, shouting: you motherfuckers! it's a - a wreath!
and how often do you use certain words, anyway! i am cuban, so i was raised with certain spanish words sort of sprinkled in there; but never how you'd think. in middle school i asked someone to pass me the recogedor - in a completely american accent, like i was speaking english. i hadn't registered it as a spanish word. i mean, how often in school do you actually use the word "dustpan" - i'd only ever heard it in the context of cleaning my house.
there are places that you grew up that you, just, like, know. that you assume everyone knows. there are things and people and "common knowledge" that you have that, just, like. doesn't exist for me. i don't know what you call your public transportation system, but in boston we call it "the T". our train cards are called charlie cards because of a song where a father accidentally abandons his family, which was written because our system of transportation. in boston, most people would snort and say everyone knows that, kid.
i think you and i should go on a long walk - it's getting dark early these days and we need any sun we can manage. tell me about the first time you saw snow. tell me about the stuff everyone knows about your home. tell me about the cities "everyone's been to," about the food "everyone's already tried." who knows. maybe it will feel nice to you - watching someone learn about it for the very first time.
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