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avastrasposts · 7 months ago

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Bona Dea - a Marcus Acacius story

Complete brain rot, this story has been in my head since last summer, just needed his name and his status. I'm yeeting this out there tonight even though I said I'd post it tomorrow. I'm too excited, I want to share!

8.6k - porn with a smidgen of plot, mentions of slavery and prostitution if someone wants to avoid that. Some Latin (explanations under the cut)

Enjoy!

Thermae - bath house

Caldarium - the hot pool in the bath house

Servi - slave or servant

Leno - pimp

Lupanarium - brothel

Domina - lady

Dominus - lord

Amita - aunt

Stola - a female dress

Meretrix - a high class prostitute

Concubinus - concubine

Carrisime - dear, beloved, a term of endearment

magnus - greatest

Puella - young woman

Futuo - Fuck

The town had no name, at least not in his mind. Somewhere to the north, where his army was camped for the next few days, a respite for the soldiers before the last march back to Rome. This close to the capital of the empire, there was no need for them to dig in, but he made them do it anyway. Erect the palisade, dig the ditches, Marcus Acacius was proud of the show of Roman military discipline they put on for the peasants in this backwards corner of the empire’s countryside.

But being this close to Rome meant he and the highest ranking officers could have the luxury of staying in one of the town’s villas. It was nothing compared to the one he resided at in Rome, but for a few nights, it would do. And the local thermae proved adequate, the hot water flowing freely in the caldarium, filling the pool and relaxing his aching muscles. They, he and his officers, had enjoyed a few hours relaxing, taking the opportunity to get properly clean after many weeks' march. Only one last stretch, and then they would all be home. For a while at least, until the emperors decided on a new war, a new part of the empire to conquer and subjugate.

“I’ll see you later,” he gave a wave to his closest allies, as they exited the bath without him. Acacius was determined to make the most of the hot water and leaned back, stretching out his long legs, flexing his tired muscles. It would be a few more long weeks on horseback before he could do this again. But the next time, it would be at home, and he couldn’t wait to get to it.

With a groan he sat up and twisted his body, loosening the tight joints of his back before he slowly made his way out of the hot pool and into the cooler parts of the thermae. When he stepped out onto the street again, he felt refreshed, muscles loose and his body clean. He took a long, deep breath.

“Gallio, go back to the villa, see to it that all is in order for tomorrow's feast,” he said, dismissing his slave without a backwards glance. His servi bowed and hurried off, while Acacius started walking in the opposite direction. He’d seen the tell tale signs of a high class brothel while they rode into town, and he had every intention of finding it and paying for a warm cunt to sink himself into, a good end to the day.

The sun was sinking behind the town’s wall and the warm December day was starting to cool as he made his way through the narrow streets, following the phallic signs on the walls. The heavy wool of his cloak was welcome now, and he wrapped it around himself. The streets had been crowded before, now they were almost empty, and he found it odd that everyone would step inside so early in the evening. But the door of the brothel was still open and a warm glow came from within as he stepped through the door.

“Leno!” he called out to the pimp who would run any brothel of this standard, and a man appeared from behind a doorway and regarded him with wide eyes.

“General, what are you doing here? I have no girls tonight!” the man said, spotting his rank with just a swift glance at his attire. “And I sent home all the males and I was just about to close the doors.”

Acacius frowned at the man, “Why are you closing up? And where are the girls?”

“Bona Dea, general,” the leno said, his face apologetic, “All the women of the town are celebrating her tonight.”

“You gave all the whores the night off just for Bona Dea?” Acacius asked. He knew the festival well of course, it was celebrated all across the peninsula, but the rites and rituals were secret to men, so he only knew that the women of his family would attend the temple and leave the men at home. “Do you not expect any male customers tonight?”

“General, I apologise, I didn’t give them the night off, they took it, nothing can stop the women of this town from celebrating Bona Dea. And beg your pardon, general, but you should hurry back to your quarters. No man should walk the street after dark on Bona Dea. The women have free rein to do as they wish with any man they find out of doors on this night.”

“What do you mean, leno? Free rein?”

Acacius regarded the nervous looking pimp, he was shuffling from foot to foot as he twisted his hands, glancing nervously at the increasingly darker street.

“Just that, general, free rein. Any man they find, they can do what they want with, rob him, mutilate him, fuck him, or make him fuck someone else, or something. I’ve heard of a man who was made to fuck a goat while the women stood around and laughed, drinking wine, getting drunk and pissing themselves. And no one can do or say anything about it. What happens during Bona Dea, they can’t be punished for, it’s the law.”

“No law I’ve ever heard of,” Acacius scoffed, “and I’d like to see them try anything with a Roman general.”

“With all due respect, general, you’re only carrying your pugio, and by law, you can’t harm them, only do as they command. It’s the law of Bona Dea,” the leno glanced at the door again but Acacius just shook his head and turned to leave.

“They’re only women, I think I can handle myself.”

“Against a handful, yes. But they roam in packs, twenty, thirty, I’ve heard them pull on the door here and cackle like witches. They can take down even a large man like yourself and then you*ll be at their mercy,” the leno was all but ushering Acacius out onto the street now as he started closing the door.

“I may enjoy that, my cock was expecting a whore tonight, maybe I’ll have to find one of your runaway girls and make her have her way with me,” Acacius grinned at the nervous looking leno, who just gave him a quick bow, before the door to the brothel closed.

“Bona Dea….” Acacius chuckled, “a night when women can do as they please? What kind of backwards country hovel is this place?”

He wrapped the cloak around himself again and set out towards the villa, maybe he would find some woman on the way, but he certainly wasn’t about to traipse around this town in search of one. Let them have their festival, he would settle for one of the slave girls at the villa.

Night had truly fallen now, and the narrow streets were dark, very little light found its way down to where he tried to navigate the uneven surface. The lamp holders were unlit, even the men usually responsible for that seemed to be shying away from their duties on this night. With a curse Accacius tripped and nearly fell as he rounded a corner. The scabbard of his pugio clattered against the rough stones as he caught the edge of the building just in time. He pulled himself up and wiped his hands, stepping closer to the side of the street, putting his hand on the wall for guidance.

“Futuo,” he hissed, fumbling his way forward in the dark, the only blessing being that this town seemed to be too small for the street gangs that would’ve plagued any street this dark in Rome.

He came to a sudden stop as a door swung open a little bit further down the street, light spilling out and illuminating the uneven paving.

“Hey there, keep the door open!” he called to whomever had provided the light, “It’s pitch black out here and I’ve got no torch.” Hurrying his steps now that he could see more of where he was going, he approached the open door. A shadow moved just inside, the shape of a person, and he thought he heard the giggle of a girl. Thinking nothing of it, he stepped into the rectangle of light and was blinded by the shine of a bright oil lamp. Unseen arms wound around his own and he suddenly felt himself pulled, yanked, in through the door, as female laughter erupted around him. Soft hands grabbed his body as he blinked to regain his vision, but before he could see, someone slipped a cloth over his eyes and the world was plunged into darkness again, a tight knot being tied at the back of his head.

He chuckled, Bona Dea indeed, and decided to play along, feeling female hands pulling him, guiding him, into the house.

“We found one!” a young woman called in excitement as he felt the air change, and he was led into a room. “A man foolish enough to be out on the streets!”

The room erupted into delighted, tipsy, laughter. The smell of sweet wine hung heavy in the air and the alcoholic breath of the women nearest him lingered in his nose.

“Tie him up, don’t let him see us,” came a command from what sounded like an older woman, “and let’s decide what to do with him.”

Acacius felt himself pushed into the room and his arms were forced behind his back. This was not something he was willing to accept and he shook his broad form, easily discarding whomever was trying to restrain him.

“Hold!” came the voice of the older woman again, and the woman trying to tie his hands went still behind him.

“General, you know the rules of this night, you are ours until the sun comes up, you must obey our every order and may not hinder or harm us in any way. That is the law of Bona Dea.”

Acacius felt equal measure anger and lust rise inside him. He was not a man used to being ordered around, tied up, not in control. But another, more base instinct, was fighting for space inside him, his cock hardening at the idea of being at these women’s mercy if they chose to use him. Not being in control for once, seeing what women would do if he let them use him as he often used the whores at the lupanarium. As long as they didn’t make him fuck a goat, he could see this as enjoyable evening.

“Apologise, domina,” Acacius said, bowing his head towards the source of the voice, “I will follow the law of Bona Dea.”

“If that is the case, we will not need to restrain you, general. Leave his hands untied.”

The last was said to the room and behind him, Acacius heard the woman who had tried to bind his hands together, step back.

“Bring him to the centre, let us see what kind of specimen the goddess has brought us.”

Delighted cheers broke out at this, all around him. The room seemed to hold at least ten or so women, and they were clearly excited by the prospect of having a man under their control for the night.

The woman at his back took hold of his arm and guided him forward, presumably to the spot where he could be seen by all the women. He could hear tittering, giggling whispers as he was left to stand, unseeing, surrounded by them all.

“Remove his clothes, but be careful. We do not wish to send our general home tomorrow morning with his attire in shambles.”

A shiver of trepidation, he refused to believe it was fear or nerves, shot through his body, at the words of the unknown woman. The soft shuffling of bare feet on a mosaic floor could be heard as at least two women approached him. Soon deft hands were removing first his cloak and then his belt. Someone knelt and untied his sandals, making him lift his feet as they slipped off. The skin on his abdomen pebbled as his tunic was removed, exposed to the air of the room, even though it was warm.

The knowledge of unseen eyes on him, as the last of his vestures were removed, was an unsettling feeling. He squared his broad shoulders and straightened his back. If they wanted to see him naked, let them see all of his hardened soldier’s body, he had nothing to hide. What scars and disfigurements he had, he carried with pride as they showed the world what he had done for Rome.

You stood at the top of the circle, in front of the Roman general who was now stripped of all his clothes, the blindfold the only piece of cloth on him. The younger girls were pleased with what they saw, appreciative hums and gasps were heard from around the room and you could see their excited faces.

“He’s a fine one, good catch, Julia!” a younger woman exclaimed and she was joined by the voices of others agreeing.

You could only give them right, he was a fine specimen. A general in the mould of the likes of the great Caesar, kept fit by his army life, living the same life as his soldiers. Not going soft and weak with age like those who turned to politics and intrigue. The man in front was standing tall, his long arms hanging relaxed by his sides, only a slight twitch in his fingers betraying something of his nerves. The golden skin was decorated by scars, old injuries, but gleamed under the light of the oil lamps. By the looks of it, and by the scent of the thermae, he’d been at the bath house before stumbling down the dark street outside your house.

“What shall we do with him?” you asked, your voice lower, holding a promise and making the giggling of the other women die down. You took a few steps forward in the now quiet room, standing in front of him, taking in his clean scent and the way his still damp hair curled around his ears. You had to look up to properly regard what you could see of his face, he was a tall man, a proud Roman nose, a strong jaw, a handsome face even though you couldn’t see his eyes.

“How shall we use him? Hmmm?”

Bringing your hand up and gently touching his chin, the soft scruff of his beard tickled the tips of your fingers. The man didn’t flinch when you touched him, and it made you smile. He had been prepared for your touch, expecting you to explore his body. With slow movements you traced his jaw, down his thick neck, his wide shoulders and down over his chest. Glancing down, you saw his cock hardening, already rising up from between his thighs.

“Oh, he likes that!” Julia exclaimed behind you, and the room erupted in giggles as the women closed the circle and shuffled closer to see.

“How would you like to be used, general?” you mused, unable to keep the smile out of your voice at his obvious excitement, and in response, you saw the corner of his lip quirk up.

“I am yours for the night, domina,” he replied, bowing his head to you again.

Biting back a smile, you glanced at Julia who was standing at your shoulder, her eyes shining with elation.

“Shall we see how much he likes it?” you asked her and she nodded, a giggle bubbling up through her.

“Touch him, amita, make him hard for us.”

The soft hand that had been exploring his chest slipped down and caressed his belly. He could feel fingernails trailing through the hairs on his stomach, sending a shiver of pleasure down to his cock. It filled with blood and he swallowed back a groan as the woman’s fingers traced the outline of it, an easy touch designed to torment him.

“Let us hear your pleasure, general,” the woman said, her sensuous voice close to his ear now, the warmth of her body radiating over his skin, “I want to hear what sounds you make when you fuck your favourite meretrix.”

Her filthy words made him groan again, just as her hand closed around his cock, holding it firm in her warm grip.

“I like hearing your voice, general. I wonder if I can make you beg for release before this night is over? How hard can we make you before we allow you to spill your seed?”

The words were matched with a slow stroke of his shaft, holding him firmly, twisting as it reached the tip. Her thumb smeared a drop of liquid over his sensitive head and he gritted his teeth, jaw clenching.

He felt her move, her hand coming up to grip his jaw, firmly, but not with any pain.

“Don’t hold back, if you hold back, we’ll make you suffer longer. Let us hear you,” the woman said, loud enough for the room to hear, and he heard the other women agree, telling him to be loud, to let them know how much he enjoyed it.

He gave a short nod, and she gave his cock a firm stroke before letting go.

“Cornelia, bring me the olive oil, let’s make this easier for him.”

Another woman moved in the room and he heard the stopper of an amphora being pulled out. A few seconds passed and then her hand returned to his cock, slick and warmer than before, coated in oil. He didn’t hold back his loud groan when she covered him with the liquid. Firm, slow strokes filling his cock with blood, making it pulse and ache in that familiar, pleasurable way.

Tilting his head back, he panted, cursing under his breath. Whoever this was, she knew how to stroke a man, a slight twist of her wrist as she came to the tip, pulling back his foreskin as she slid her hand down again.

“Domina….” he groaned, “domina…”

His breathless moan was met by delighted cheers and he felt his neck heat up, self consciousness washed over him and he dropped his head down onto his chest.

“Now, now, girls,” the woman said, her hand steadily stroking him, keeping him hard and full, “we want him to give us as much pleasure as possible tonight, let’s appreciate the service he’s giving us and make sure he enjoys himself too.”

You stepped back from him, just a small step, and let go of his cock. It was a glorious thing, and you even doubted the younger women in the room were experienced enough to appreciate how well endowed he was. He’d filled up rapidly, and now it stood straight out from his tatch of dark curls, thick and weeping, hard as silk covered steel. By comparison, your husband’s member was a pitiful sight, even when erect.

You took a moment to admire him where he stood, his arms still hanging by his sides, his hands now balled into fists. A red flush had risen on his chest and neck, the beating of his heart was thrumming under his skin, and as you watched, the tip of his tongue came out and licked his lips, a gasp escaping him.

“Maybe we should give you some small treat too, seeing as you’re giving us your handsome body to play with,” you mused, putting your hand on his firm shoulder. His skin was warm to the touch, and you let your hand slide down along his arm, gently squeezing the hard muscles. You couldn’t resist touching him, he was like a god come to life, maybe even Mars in disguise.

Taking his hand in yours, you brought it to your own shoulder, using his hand to push the shoulder strap of your stola to the side. The garment was loose, the same simple cloth you all wore on this night, all signs of your social status removed as you celebrated Bona Dea. But it also meant his hand met your skin as he pushed the fabric over your shoulder. The rough fingers were warm and he seemed to hesitate when he felt the stola slip to the side. With a swift movement, you undid the clasp on the other shoulder and let the whole thing fall to the floor, the buckle clattering as it hit the mosaic. You saw him shift his head, hearing the sound and interpreting it correctly. You took hold of his hand again, guiding it to your breast. A smile broke out on your face as you watched his reaction to finding your budding nipple under his palm. His tongue came out again, a quick swipe over his lips, as he inhaled. Letting him feel his way around, you watched him weigh your breast in his hand, thumb gliding over your nipple, making you briefly close your eyes.

“Show us how you make your meretrix wet enough for your cock, make me ready for you, concubinus,” you hummed, wondering how this powerful general would react to being addressed as one of the pretty men who were kept by some wealthy ladies. His hand stilled on your breast, holding it firm, and you could swear he was searching for your eyes through the darkness of his blindfold. He licked his lips again, and bent his head. The heat of his mouth closed around your nipple as his tongue lapped over it. A whimper came from you, seeing this man bend to your will, doing as you asked.

“Does it feel good, amita?” Julia asked in a breathless voice behind you, her tone was laced with need, you could hear the arousal coursing through her veins as she watched the general suck at your breast.

“He’s certainly talented with his mouth,” you replied, the laughter in your voice replaced by a moan when he tugged gently at your nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure to your core. The man hummed in response, moving his mouth to your other breast as his hand fell to your hip. Caressing it with firm motions, he slipped it down over your soft belly, cupping your cunt with his hand. The breath caught in your throat as he pushed a thick finger between your folds, making you jerk your hips into his hand as he easily pushed into the wet heat that had gathered at the apex of your thighs.

“Domina….” he muttered against your breast, “you are well and truly wet enough for my cock already. Can I give it to you?”

He heard her swallow at his words, her hand coming up and slipping into the hair at the back of his head, the slight sting more pleasurable then he would’ve thought. With a gentle tug she pulled him off her breast, he let her hard pebble slip from his mouth and reluctantly pulled his hands from her cunt when she stepped back from him.

“Let us all be undressed,” she said to the women in the room, “lay him on the floor and make use of this hard cock that the goddess has blessed us with.”

“But he can’t come!” one of the women said, her voice a drunken giggle, “We need that cock hard for all of us!”

“You can barely stand, Cassia, too much wine in such a small girl,” another woman called out, and was met by loud laughter and he could hear Cassia laugh with them.

“More wine while we watch!” she called, “Who shall ride him first?”

Acacius felt two pairs of hands pull him down, guiding him gently onto soft bedding. As he tipped his head back, someone adjusted his blindfold, making sure he couldn’t see anything but darkness. It was a strange feeling, flat on his back, his cock hard and weeping, hearing the unknown women move around him as their stolas fell to the floor around him.

“Julia, you caught him, you should have the first ride,” a woman said and the rest joined in, cheering on Julia who was giggling as she knelt beside him. He could feel her hands on his abdomen when she straddled his legs.

“He’s so big!” she exclaimed and his hips jerked up as her hand closed around his already aching cock, “Much bigger than Appius!”

“Remember, he can’t come,” the older woman chuckled close by, she seemed to be kneeling behind his head, “How should we punish him if he does?”

There was a murmur among the women as they tossed ideas over his head, someone suggested he’d be made to fuck a goat as soon as he was hard again and he thought he might never get hard if that was the prospect.

“No, poor goat,” the older woman laughed, “What has it done to deserve that?”

Acacius silently let a relieved sigh slip out, someone suggested he’d be covered in garum, another thought he should be made to run a gauntlet through the room, that he thought he’d easily manage.

“Why not let everyone know he was foolish enough to venture out on Bona Dea?” Julia said from her position straddling his thighs. “Take his clothes and let him make his way back to his quarters with this glorious body on display for the whole town? We can send a slave to the encampment with his clothes later on.”

The room erupted in cheers and it was agreed to be the punishment. Acacius gritted his teeth, he could easily imagine the looks of his soldiers, the ribbing he’d get from his officers, if that was to happen. He would have to use every trick in the book to keep himself from coming. Already he felt the familiar tingling in his crotch as the woman called Julia shifted above him. Her hand was firmly wrapped around his cock and when the head met the heat of her cunt, he groaned. Slowly, whimpering at the size of him, she sank down, rocking her hips to take more.

“Gods, he is so thick,” she panted, her hands flat on his belly as she carefully lifted her hips, letting him slip out before she sank down again.

Acacius bit down on his lips and hissed out a long breath, “Puella, can I touch you, I want to hold onto your hips, let me fuck you better than your Appius.”

“You can touch me everywhere, concubinus,” she moaned in response, taking one of his hands in her own and firmly placing it on her breast. He let the other find her hip, gripping on to the soft flesh, he bucked his hips up into her. Her answering cry of pleasure made him bite his tongue, staving off the pressure building in his balls. Squeezing her tits, rolling the hard nipples under his fingers, he continued to fuck up into her, making her bounce on him, he could feel the soft slap of her ass every time she dropped back down. Soon she was moaning loudly, crying out for him and he let his hand slip from her breast, finding the little pearl at the top of her cunt that gave women so much pleasure. With deft fingers he caressed it, his cock twitching as she responded to his touch, whimpering above him.

“Gods, I’m…” she gasped, her voice giving out as the walls of her cunt gripped his cock, and every muscle in her body froze. She sobbed as she trembled above him, her hand batting away his fingers from her cunt, and he softened the rolls of his hips, fucking her through the waves of her orgasm.

With a breathless giggle she finally stilled on him, “Sisters, help me up, my legs have no strength,” she laughed and he felt the weight of her lifted from his hips.

“My turn!” someone called from beside him and the room erupted into laughter.

“Give him a moment to calm down,” the older woman said with a smile, still close to his head, and he felt her hand on his shoulder as her voice came close to his ear.

“How is your stamina, general?” she asked in a soft voice, the warmth of her breath against his ear even more tortuous than the feeling of Julia’s cunt on his cock. He was hoping she’d fuck him before the night was over, the very thought of how wet she’d been, made him clench his jaw.

“Still strong enough for these girls, domina, I will save my load for your wet cunt,” he whispered in reply. The tightening of her grip on his shoulder made him smile, he couldn’t see her, but he knew his words had made her press her thighs together at the thought of taking his cock.

“More wine!” someone called and cups were raised, some wine being spilled onto the floor with sighs and giggles.

“I might have to offer you my cunt in the end,” his domina, as he was starting to think of her as, whispered back to him, “Most of these girls are too drunk to be of any use.”

“Alba, take your turn,” Julia’s voice called, “And come join me to recover afterwards.”

The woman named Alba laughed and he felt her legs swing over his hips. She wasted no time closing her hand around his cock, spreading Julia’s arousal even more thoroughly over him.

“I wonder if he tastes as good as he looks?” she asked and as her mouth closed around the head of him, he groaned loudly, gripping the bedding underneath him and cursed. He could feel his domina’s hands in his hair, caressing his temples, stroking back his damp curls.

“She’s a tease, that one,” she laughed quietly in his ear, placing a delicate kiss on his forehead.

He couldn’t responde, only agreeing with a grunt, as Alba’s mouth swallowed him whole, sinking all of him into her throat before she pulled off with a deep breath. Her hand was stroking him up and down in fast motion and he felt helpless against the rising heat in his abdomen, a strangled cry coming from him as he bit his bottom lip hard.

“Slow down, Alba, you’ll ruin the fun for yourself if you make him come too fast,” his domina said and Alba laughed.

“I’d better get my fill of him then,” she replied and Acacius felt her adjust herself above him as his cock yet again slipped into a wet cunt. He groaned as she squeezed him, lifting up and coming down over him with a roll of her hips, riding him hard and fast. From across the room he heard some of the women give lazy cheers, clinking cups as they egged their friend on.

“Ride him until he begs for release, Alba,” one woman called, her voice slurred by the wine they all seemed to be downing fast.

“I’ll ride him until he makes my body shake,” Alba called back, panting loudly, moaning as he grabbed her hips and slammed his cock hard into her. He was determined to make her come quick, hard, so that he didn’t have to fight against his own aching cock. It was ready to burst, his balls tight between his legs as the unknown woman used him for her pleasure.

“T-touch me,” she gasped at him, and he slipped his hand around her ample hips, finding the sweet pearl quickly. As his fingers rubbed across it, she cried out, her nails digging into his chest as she drove him in and out of her slick cunt, her walls beginning to convulse around his cock.

Her speech was incoherent, just mumbled pleas and gasps, her breathing heavy until she cried out. Her thighs gripped his hips tight, slamming down on him and grinding her cunt into his soaked crotch. She whimpered as the orgasm washed over her, Acacius bit his lip, almost drawing blood, as he forced his mind to think of anything but the woman using him for her pleasure. When she collapsed on top of him, the hair on her head tickling his nose, he wrapped his arms around her back and gently caressed damp skin, her heart thumping against his chest.

In the background he heard a few giggles and tired cheers, but no one rushed up to take Alba’s place. His cock ached deep inside her and he almost wished he’d come, despite the punishment he’d receive.

The other woman, still sitting by his head, shifted behind him, and he heard her stand up.

“Come, girl, get on your feet, let the poor man breathe,” she said in a soft voice, he could hear her smile. The weight of Alba lifted from his chest and she seemed to stumble to her feet as the woman led her away. He was left on the bedding, his cock still hard and aching, the air of the room quickly cooling it. Reaching up, he grabbed the base tightly, staving off the worst of his impending release, drawing a deep lungful of air to steady himself.

You led Alba over to where the rest of the young women had collapsed into piles, drunk on sweet wine and the excitement of the night. None of them were used to the wine of Bona Dea and would have no further enjoyment of the general currently splayed on the bedding across the room. Julia gave you a lazy smile as she made room for Alba next to her, both girls spent and sated.

With a smile at them, you crossed the mosaic floor again, watching as the man gripped the base of his weeping cock and grimaced. Sinking down on your heels next to him, you gently put your hand on his arm.

“Come, general, this night isn’t over yet.”

He sat up and you helped him to his feet, taking his hand and leading him out of the room and further into the building. The darkness of the house fell around the both of you, it was late in the night, but you weren’t tired yet. The striking general, stripped of all his attributes, padded on bare feet behind you, his hand in yours, following blindly and trusting you without question.

You led him to a room softly lit by oil lamps, and left him standing in the middle while you closed the door. Stepping up behind him you gently untied the blindfold, letting it fall to the floor, and as you moved around him, you saw him blink against the light and then find your face.

“Domina…?” he asked and you smiled as you saw his deep brown eyes in the golden light.

“There is no law against the men foolish enough to wander into our celebrations seeing the women they are being tormented by,” you said, answering his unspoken question, “What happens on this night stays between the man and the women.”

He nodded once and you stepped closer, your bodies pressed together, the hard length of him between you, slick against your flesh. His hands were calloused and rough as they gently grabbed at your hips of their own volition, caressing your skin, warming you. There was no hesitation as you reached up and cupped his cheeks in your hands and moved his soft looking lips to your own. He came willingly, a low rumble in his chest as your tongue met his. For a man who had been achingly hard for the past hour, he moved slowly, measured in the way he tasted you, nipped at your bottom lip and touched your body.

“Touch me again, make me as wet as your meretrix, general,” you whispered against his lips and you felt the corners of his lips pull up in a smile as his hands pushed you backwards.

“I want to bury my face between your legs, domina. That’s how I get them wet enough for my cock,” he muttered, watching your face with dark eyes, as you continued to step back for him.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the thought of him giving you pleasure that way made your body tremble and he noticed, a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your legs.

“I’ve only ever heard tell of some men doing that to women,” you said, the cool metal frame of the bed against your legs, “my husband never did it to me.”

“I’m sorry, domina, but your husband is a fool. It’s the best way to give pleasure to a woman, to prepare her for a cock like this, and make her enjoyment of the act as great as mine.”

His warm hands slid down over your hips as he spoke, and now he grabbed them, his strong arms flexing as he picked you up and laid you down on the bed. Settling himself between your thighs, he made you open your legs wide for his broad shoulders. He hooked one arm under your thigh, pushing you open even more, and his eyes made you shiver, as he looked at you with a wicked grin.

“Take a sturdy hold of the bedding, domina, and let me hear your voice.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and were just about to talk back to him, to ask what skills he thought he possessed. But your question was lost to a moan as he lowered his head and ran the tip of his proud nose along the seam of your swollen slit, following with the flat of his tongue.

Your head tipped back as you groaned into the room, his tongue finding the sensitive bead hidden among your folds and sending a violent stream of pleasure through your body. Never had a man touched it the way his tongue did, lapping at it, circling with slow steady strokes, making it vibrate as he hummed against your flesh, his own pleasure clearly rising as he feasted between your legs. He seemed to be teaching himself how to draw every debased groan and moan from your throat, coming back to repeat the ones that made you pant and dig your fingers hard into the bedding.

“Domina…” he mumbled against your cunt, “put your hands in my hair, let me feel how good I’m making you feel.”

You met his eyes as he lifted his face slightly, his beard and jaw shining with your slick, and it made your insides cramp around nothing. “If this is your first time, let me make it one to remember when you go back to your husband.”

You nodded, dumbly, moving your hands to his hair, the long curls winding around your fingers as he dipped his head again. He pushed against your leg, spreading you for him, as he drove his tongue as deep inside as he could, the glistening tip of his nose circling your sensitive pearl, making you gasp with every pass.

The warmth of his hand moved over your leg, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, and you felt him shift on the bed. His tongue was still lapping greedily at your folds, but now it was joined by two of his thick fingers, teasing at your opening. As he closed his mouth around the apex of your thighs, suckling on that bead, he pushed his fingers inside you.

“Gods….” you cried, your body arching up under him as it filled you, stretching you out. Between your legs you felt his tongue increase its speed, heat rising as he moved his fingers in and out, copying the motion of a man’s cock but curling, dragging, his thick fingers over places inside you that you’d never knew existed. Pleasure all but exploded in your body as you groaned for more.

“Dominus…please…I’m…”

The fingers on his free hand dug into your flesh, holding you down as he moved up onto his knees, pushing you into the bedding with his body. You saw him work his jaw, feasting on your cunt as he drove your pleasure higher, his fingers pushing deep inside, curling and stroking, driving you towards an edge that you were almost afraid to fall over.

“Dominus,” you wailed, locking eyes with him as he looked up from between your legs, his mouth still licking every drop you fed him. His dark eyes, wild and almost mad with lust, bore into you, and with one more thrust of his fingers, he pushed you over the edge. You could feel his eyes on you as your whole body seized up, ecstasy coursing through every fibre, your throat raw as you sobbed and groaned. His fingers were relentless, stroking you, working your cunt into submission, prolonging every wave of pleasure that radiated from where his mouth sucked at your folds.

With tired hands you pushed him away when it became too much, your body was shaking, your breathing ragged, and he gently let go of your body, his fingers slipping out.

“Carissime,” he growled, crawling up over your body, “let me fuck you, let me spill my seed deep inside this tight cunt, and claim you as mine.”

His skin was damp and hot as he covered you with himself, sinking down on his forearms and placing wet kisses along the side of your neck. The roll of his hips against you made him groan between each kiss, his cock was flushed red and weeping, denied release for so long. His words sent a fresh jolt of arousal through your mind even though your heart was still hammering from what he’d already pulled from you.

“Carissime,” he repeated, sucking hard on your neck, sure to leave a mark, “Let me fuck you, or suck my cock, just give me release, let me spill myself over your soft tits, I need your body.”

His pleas wrapped themselves around your head, your limbs grew hot, and the heat between your legs returned.

“Fuck me,” you whined, grabbing at his shoulders, pulling him down over you as your hips rolled up against his hard length.

“Tell me how, domina, order me, please Bona Dea. You only have one night to take what you want from me.”

His breath was scorching against your skin as he moved down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking hard at it, nipping, giving you both pain and pleasure that made you whimper and push him closer to your chest.

“Fuck me from behind, use me like a meretrix,” you said, it came out more like begging, a desperate plea, “My husband never wants to fuck me like that, and never hard, but I crave it, I want to feel your thick cock for days to remember this night.”

Acacius muttered as he pushed himself up, leaving your breast tender and shining with his spit.

“He truly is a fool of a man. To have this tight, wet cunt in his bed every night and not fuck it like it deserves? Were you in my household I’d make sure you’d never go unsatisfied again, keep you in my bed day and night.”

He’d risen to his full length, standing by the side of the bed, and again you took in the glorious form of this man that Bona Dea had blessed you with. His skin had a sheen of sweat, his curls in disarray, and that cock, hard and flushed, weeping from the tip, ready to sink into your cunt. It made your mouth water and the general noticed.

“Come here, carissime, on all four and turn that sweet ass to me,” he slapped your ass cheek and grabbed your hips, pulling you back towards him. “I can’t tell you how much I look forward to fucking you as hard and rough as you wish. My cock has been waiting all night on being sunk deep into a cunt as sweet as yours.”

It made you whimper, the way he talked to you, and on instinct, you curved your back, opening yourself up to him. He growled and squeezed your ass again, spreading you open for him to see where his cock would slide in. The blunt head dragged through your folds as Acacius coated his cock with the juices leaking from your puffy folds. It made him hiss, and with one last shred of self control, he grabbed your hips, and slowly sunk into the wet heat, feeling your walls stretch for him, clenching tightly as you moaned.

“Gods, carissime,” he groaned, his fingers so tight they were sure to leave marks on your skin, “you have the tightest little cunt I’ve ever felt, your husband is a fool, I might have to order him to divorce you, so that you can come to my villa.”

With a low grumble, he pulled out almost all the way before he pushed in again, harder this time, and it made you keen under him, your core contracting to hold his cock tight.

Acanius leaned over your back, his hot skin on yours, and he grabbed your hair, winding his fingers into the previously so well maintained hairstyle. Now the curls spilled through his fingers as he pulled your head back.

“Mi meretrix,” he hissed, “are you ready? I won’t hold back, I can’t.”

You could only moan a breathless Yes under the weight of his body, your core contracting and pulsing around the thick length of his cock buried deep inside. His voice was strained and taught, he had no self control left. The hand in your hair tightened its grip, the other took a steady hold of your hip and he pulled out.

When he slammed back in, you cried out, pleasure shot through your body as the impact caught every sensitive spot inside your slick cunt, but he gave you no respite. He set a brutal pace, grunting and panting behind you like a bull, holding you in place as he slammed his cock into your heat over and over, praising your cunt, your tight heat, your body, your willingness to let him use you like this.

You could only take it, it was like no fucking you’d ever done, he filled you up, not just your cunt, but your whole body, your mind and every sense left tingling at the onslaught. All that filled your mind was how full you were, how his cock felt as it stretched you open, splitting you down the middle, making you cry out in pleasure and need. The man behind you was relentless, his sweat dripped down on your back, scorching hot drops on your own overheated skin. With a growl like an animal, he wrenched you up, flush against his chest as his arm banded across your breast. The rough pads of his fingers immediately found your aching pebble between your legs and circled it, drawing tight patterns that made you wail and cramp. He changed his angle, fucking up into you with the same unforgiving speed and power, and pulled your head back on to his shoulder, his mouth finding your ear, warm breath and gravelled words spilling from him.

“Carissime, come for me, choke my cock with that tight little cunt of yours, I’ll dream of you on my march back to Rome. Give me the sweetest memory to think of as I fuck my hand in the night.”

His cock was spearing you, pushing hard and deep inside, while his fingers found the very core of your pleasure.

“C-come for me, now, I can’t…I can’t hold myself any more,” he panted, his rhythm stuttering, you could feel his cock twitch inside, he was falling over the same edge as you, his body tensing up, the muscles of his stomach contracting against your back as he groaned loudly in your ear.

“Futuo!” he cried out, and your cunt closed around his cock, your body taught as a bow string under his strong arms as you sobbed into his neck, turning your head to feel more of him as your body convulsed and trembled, the muscles in your legs giving in until it was only his arms around your body that held you up.

Acacius groaned and cursed as he pumped into you, hot ropes of cum shooting out and filling up the tight cunt that gripped him so hard. His rhythm was faltering, he could hardly move, his eyes were blurry, he held you up as his own legs gave in. With a stumbling step, he pulled you both down onto the bed, falling on your side with his cock still deeply buried in you. He pressed his face into your neck, breathing hard, the build up of the last hour finally being released. His hips jerked, pumping the last of himself into you, and then he stilled. You could feel his arms tight around your chest, his breath against your skin, even his heart beat could be heard in the now quiet room.

The muscles in your body felt like lead, warm lead flowing out over the bed. How you’d ever move again, you weren’t sure. Your eyes were impossible to open, the general’s body a heavy weight over half of you, he didn’t seem too keen on moving either, his breathing growing slow and steady. You both stayed still in the silence and the afterglow, not wishing to break the spell of Bona Dea.

A few hours must’ve passed before he stirred again, the light outside the small window had changed. He lifted his head and looked around the room in confusion for a moment before he remembered where he was. The woman was still underneath him, half covered by his body. He could feel his soft cock still laying between her legs, he hadn’t even pulled out before he fell asleep. With curious eyes he regarded her now in sleep, a woman of his own age, beautiful with the features of someone of noble birth. Gently he trailed a finger across her soft cheek, carefully moving his weight from her. But his movement caused her to stir, blinking awake as he looked at her.

“General,” she mumbled, sleep still clinging to her features, as she rolled over onto her side to face him. He held himself up over her, cupping her cheek with his hand, slowly caressing every line.

“Morning approaches, I must go back to my men and explain my absence,” he said, “Domina, you have given me a night I will never forget.”

“As have you, general,” she smiled in reply, “My cunt is still sticky and I believe I will feel this ache for days.”

He chuckled at that, swiftly moving his hand down to cup her sex instead.

“I wish I could stay and give you more nights,” he said, slipping a finger gently between her folds to feel his own seed still leaking out. She gasped as he brushed across her sensitive bud, letting his fingers caress it softly before he pulled away.

Regretfully he shook his head, “But I’m expected in Rome and my army must march on.”

“Come back next year, if you can,” she said, “Bona Dea will always welcome you into this house.”

“If our emperor doesn’t send me away on another campaign, I will do my utmost to come back, carrisime.”

The endearment fell from his lips with a soft smile and she pulled him down towards him, her lips finding his, tongues meeting again. She was warm, irresistible under his hands, he groaned and felt his cock twitch, somehow growing hard again.

“Carrisime,” he whispered against her mouth, “I must go, but come find me if you’re in Rome.”

“What is your name, optimus?” she smiled at him.

“Marcus Acacius, domina. Come find me, let me taste that sweet cunt again.”

“I will, Marcus, maybe I will leave my husband at home and come find my magnus concubinus.”

Part Two

Tagging the lovely crowd from the preview post!

@angiewatson @i-own-loki @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @lady-bess @nerdieforpedro @legendary-pink-dot @musings-of-a-rose @for-a-longlongtime @oberynslady @chaoticfestninja @joelssapologist @mduluozz @jessthebaker @hellofeyradarling @pascalislove @flyingthroughheaven @criticalarchitecture @brittmb115 @dammit-hoechlin @li-anne @luly0607 @snow3096-blog @rainbowcat164 @suddendownpour @sherala007 @groovy-hippie-chick @grippysockedtoebeans @bonafideslacker @tupelomiss @rhiannon-girl @verge-of-tears-again @truffles-cat @jay-zzle @rav3n-pascal22 @chronically-ghosted @allaboutthebeskar @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @casa-boiardi

#marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #general marcus acacius

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keiffeine · 29 days ago

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HELLOOOO ^^ i just read again ur jealous keith nsfw and i was just wondering if u still wrote for vld!!! need more jealous keith content pls🤲🤲 anyways i love ur writing!!! keep it up!!!<3

with gender-neutral reader.

genre: suggestive towards the cut

author’s note: super duper freaking late on this anon. so, so sorry, but thanks for your request!! it is so hard to get my ass to write and it’s the first time i’ve posted something in so long. (all 5 active keiffeine fans cheering rn.) some hcs are sort of repeats from the first part—just think of it as a revision. ;P a little rushed towards the end!

reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is not allowed.

part one of jealous keith here!

• keith hates when he has moments of jealousy. he feels like he’s being ridiculous. he trusts you, and he knows that you’ll never leave him, but he can’t help it. the stupid voice in the back of his mind keeps feeding him false ideas and he just can’t seem to quiet it down.

• this mostly occurs during diplomatic events, when aliens are chatting you up, making you laugh and smile. he feels his stomach coil uncomfortably. what are they saying? are they making you swoon with stupid jokes and witty pickup lines? do you think they’re more attractive than he is?

• the thought of walking over, pulling you away with a half-assed excuse is tempting, but he forces himself not to. he doesn’t want to look like some sort of pathetic, possessive boyfriend who couldn’t stand not having his partner’s attention on him.

• he’s very avoidant about it, as he’s not a fan of talking about all the jealousy stuff. if he thinks he’s ridiculous in his own mind, it would be even worse telling someone out loud. at some point, shiro asks him what’s wrong, notices the way keith’s got a tight grip around his cup. to which keith responds—“it’s nothing.”

• at the end of the night, keith’s still noticeably tense even when you return to your shared room. the tension between you is thick and uncomfortable. keith avoids your eyes, jaw clenched as he takes off his paladin armor.

• you follow suit and start stripping to get ready for bed, too, but the silence is absolutely killing you.

• “keith, are you alright?” you ask, turning your head to face him. you’re met with his naked back, muscles flexing with every movement. in any other scenario, the sight would’ve turned you on, but you can’t think of anything else but to resolve this awkwardness between you.

• “yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” keith responds. it’s a little too quick, as if automatic. his voice is stiff and clipped, and it makes you bite your lip nervously.

• you turn away and slowly pull on a shirt. it’s silent again for a good minute until keith suddenly presses up against your back, hands wrapping around your middle. he pulls you closer so your back is pressed right up to his bare chest, the heat of his body melting through the fabric of your shirt.

• you suck in a breath when keith presses his lips to the back of your neck, trailing down slowly, ending at your shoulder. he’s silent, and then: “i love you.” it’s soft, quiet. there’s a hint of nervousness to it that makes you borrow your eyebrows.

• “i love you, too,” you respond, cheeks growing warm while you turn your head just slightly to look at him over your shoulder. “you’re sure you’re okay?”

• “just…” keith bites his bottom lip, choosing his words carefully. “just wanna show you how much i love you.”

• he takes you to the bed, the rest of the night going by in a blur. keith’s on top of you and your lips clash in passionate, messy kisses. eventually, your clothes come off one by one, scattered all over the floor, with your legs hitched onto his hips. “you’re mine, okay? no one else’s.” keith grunts, hips snapping against yours, causing you to gasp. you almost see white for a split-second, voice caught in your throat so you nod instead.

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#💌.requests #voltron x reader scenarios #voltron x reader #voltron x reader headcanons #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #vld x reader #keith kogane x reader

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letternotekisses · 2 months ago

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Huhu! Sry same gal again from last req! I just realized with my last request that bw!assistant timeline with the bw cast could be maybe fun to read if you got any hc or drabbles for it :D also Im considering rn to make some doodles based on some of your post/hcs they r just too goooooood<33 i feel inspired

(18+mdni) anon i would go apeshit for doodles that is so SWEET, take my random ass thoughts on this cuz we love assistant reader here on my blog!!

Gabriel is the stern figurehead who keeps everyone in line, and is probably tied with Moira in last place in terms to warming up to the whole sharing idea. He's easily swayed once you settle in though, because you're good at your job and help keep whatever stress he has mounting at bay. (Shoulder massages and plentiful glasses of bourbon whiskey goes a long way.) He often has to step in when the boys are being a tad too rough with you, reminding Genji & Cassidy that bench pressing you as a test of strength in whatever dick measuring contest they have going on won't mean anything when he's around because he's your favourite anyway.

Behind closed doors is a little different. Gabriel allows you an insight to his tender side, not only his stress but his wants and desires. Many a night have you been spread over thick thighs, quivering legs braced either side of him as he works, a smug smile spread over his lips as you twitch around him and beg for any semblance of relief as he steadies you with a large hand on your hip. He won't relent until you're blubbering and flexing your cute little nails into his skin, barely able to make a dent in him as his fat cock nudges against the deepest parts of you. Only then will Gabriel coo mockingly at you, putting his datapad down to fuck you silly over his desk.

You're kept safe and and warm and hidden. Tucked away like one of Blackwatch's many secrets. Gabe protects what belongs to him, and as far as he's concerned? You're one of his, and he's happy to do what it takes to keep it that way. (Plus, his boys like you. And it keeps them busy enough to stop annoying him.)

Cassidy laid the charm on thick as soon as you stepped through the damn door. A pretty secretary, just for them? Oh, he was smitten from the get go. He spends most of his free time draped over your desk as you type away, shooting him an amused look every now and then when you catch him giving you goo-goo eyes. You ask him why he would bore himself like this, and he always replies in the same old way that has your heart fluttering every time. Ain't nothing boring around you, darlin. Reyes often drags him off by the scruff, his hat drooping clumsily on his head as he blows a kiss to you on the way out.

Usually the one to help keep a sense of normalcy for you within Blackwatch, often taking you out to bars and bistros he's familiar with despite Reyes' warnings. Cassidy will happily take any scolding for you, anything to see the pretty secretary smile.

And I'm afraid to say it, but he's an absolute horndog who can't get enough of the attention you give him. Even just curling your fingers under his hairy chin to pull him in for a cheeky kiss has Cassidy harder than stone, the hot mass prodding into your thigh persistently until you do something about it. And if he's not humping into your pretty pussy at the speed of light or eating you out with utmost enjoyment, then he's plopping his hat onto your head while you ride him within an inch of his life. Giddyup, Cowgirl.

Genji was almost elusive when first meeting you, but his hesitation's quickly sobered when you didn't treat him like a monster because of his synthetic appearance. He started to avoid you less and less until he began inviting you along to meditate, or vying for your attention in silly, stupid bets with Cassidy. He's a little old fashioned in his approach, too, leaving behind meaningful gifts at your desk to show that he listens and cares. And whilst he's outwardly the sweetest, you know the mischief that lies behind Genji's cool exterior.

(You take him up on his offer to train you, just a few basic moves so that you can defend yourself. And as good as you get, he'll always be better, putting your ass on the mat for the millionth time and making you pout playfully when he chalks it up to his ninja skills, a humble offering to soothe your bruised ego.)

And he definitely puts his ninja skills to good use by sneaking up on you, making you jump as he surrounds you from behind, your soft body settling perfectly against his own. He takes advantage of the positioning to part your soft thighs from behind, the skin so plush and unmarred unlike his own, Genji can't help but want to bury himself within it. It's often how you end up being fingered until you can barely speak, or being eaten out from under your desk while you try not to break your cool. And when he's not making your life hell by trying to get you caught, he's whisking you away to somewhere a little more private so he can fuck your thighs and bury his face into your neck to inhale that warm scent of yours.

Moira is on strict orders not to scare you off, but the warning only entices her closer. She's slow to approach, like you're a rabbit that might break into a sprint once you catch a hint of her wolfish scent on the wind. But you don't. You're a hardy, spirited little thing and she certainly wants a piece of you now, listening to you talk with her hands clasped behind her back and her head inclined towards you, her eyes bright and predatory and intrigued. It has you flustered and often seeking her approval, something she likes.

As odd as any other Blackwatch agent may find her, you often find yourself drawn back to Moira's presence. You talk about any and all things to her and most times her response is something so decadently intelligent that it flusters you to no end, and she's all too pleased to indulge in whatever information about yourself that you share to her.

She also enjoys using her knowledge to her advantage, helping you discover new things about your body that you may not have even known yourself, pushing you to absolute limits with experiments purely for her own enjoyment. Experiments such as the amount of times you can cum in one session with her, good thing she knows the exact right spot to reach with her fingers, hm?

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love-byers · 4 days ago

Text

alright. i'm taking it upon myself to put something to rest.

there is a new mlvn argument on the market, and i have to say, it is the absolute most BACKWARDS, IDIOTIC, WILFULLY IGNORANT take i have ever seen from them. and it is so easily disprovable that i need to make a post about it and put it in the ground early on.

if you've been around since s4 vol1 era, then you've seen the evolution of their arguments surrounding the monologue. first it was "mlvn was love at first sight, because mike said so". they were all posting the clip from s1 ep 1 of mike finding el in the woods, clips from all throughout s1, and saying "this mike was in love with el!!" because mike said so. in the monologue. when bylers pointed out that this claim from mike directly contrasts his behavior in s1, we were called delusional and told we were just coping. i was even told by someone on reddit that mike wasn't acting like he loved her because he was afraid of being made fun of by dustin and lucas, which deserves it's own separate post, but anyways...

after what finn said at the paris con, aka this:

bylers obviously took this as a win, because it very obviously completely dismisses the idea that mike was being truthful in the monologue. because of this, mlvn's argument has shifted. now, they are claiming that what mike said in the monologue, "I knew right then and there in that moment that I loved you." was not a lie, but HYPERBOLE.

here's just a few examples of this.

holy fuck. where do i even start with this...

i guess let me start by saying that i am an english major. i am a creative writing student. english language arts has always been my forte. it's been my best subject my entire life. i was the kid people went to for help in ELA (english language arts). i was the one tutoring my friends. i was the one explaining things to them. in college my friends would line up to get my help with their english work. i edited and revised their essays. i spent close to 10 hours a week in english classes discussing literary devices and analyzing different stories, which i excelled at.

i am not trying to 'flex', i am simply providing context as to why i believe my opinion on this is worth something. mlvns try to say being a writing/film student means nothing in this argument, but it really really fucking does. i, and countless others in the byler fandom, are LITERALLY more educated in this sort of thing than those who did not spend thousands of dollars to study it. sure we may not be renowned writers with masters degrees, but who do you think we learned from?? our professors, who ARE renowned writers with masters degrees. its no different than trusting the opinion of a biology major when talking about biology. of course ELA is more subjective and free, but when you actually study it you find that its more concrete than you'd think. there are definitions, there are guidelines, there are rights and wrongs. of course you do not have to obey those rules, but in the world of publishing and analysis there are things that make sense, and things that don't make sense.

for example. you can totally write a story where a character says "i knew right then and there in that moment that i loved you" and add whatever explanation or nuance that you want. you can write that with the intention of the character being truthful, but maybe exaggerating a bit. whatever you please. you have the creative freedom to do that whether it makes sense or not.

what you cannot do is claim that that phrase is a hyperbole in that context, or any context, because that is OBJECTIVELY wrong. that is incorrect and inarguable. there are phrases that could potentially be debated between those educated in ELA on whether or not it could be considered a hyperbole, but that would requite the phrase to have ambiguous wording. the phrase in question does not check those boxes. it is not ambiguous in any way shape or form. it's not hyperbole. it's not even hyperbolic in any way.

here's a link to an article with 50 different examples of hyperboles. i promise you that our quote in question will not be there, and that nothing on that list will be remotely similar to it.

"I knew right then and there in that moment that I loved you."

i mean you are genuinely a fucking doofus if you're genuinely trying to claim this is a hyperbole. i need you to be so fucking for real. mike is referring back to a specific moment, remember? maybe you don't because i know y'all don't even watch the show, so let me refresh your memory:

"But the truth is, El...I don't know how to live without you. I feel like my life started that day we found you in the woods. You were wearing that yellow Benny's Burgers shirt, and it was so big it almost swallowed you whole. I knew right then and there in that moment that i loved you. And I have loved you every day since."

el even has a flashback to that exact moment in the scene right after he says it, and right before he says "I knew right then and there etc..."

he literally starts it off with "The truth is"

not meant to be taken literally.

would it make sense to say "The truth is, I'm so tired I could sleep for a century." or "The truth is, I'm so hungry I could eat a horse." or "The truth is, I'm dying of laughter."

NO! IT WOULDNT!

mike's monologue was written/approved by the duffers. the same duffers who graduated from a very prestigious film school and created the biggest tv show in the world. they know what a fucking hyperbole is and that you don't preface one with "the truth is". it is genuinely ridiculous to suggest that they let that stay in a scene where a character is supposed to be finally revealing the truth to both another character and the audience.

let's circle back to those screenshots of dumbass mlvns cosplaying as ELA students

"i fell in love with you instantly" vs "i fell in love with you mere days after we met . ur arguing semantics when the point is that they fell for each other really fast"

please tell me, in WHAT fucking world does someone say "I knew right then and there [in the first moment I saw you] that I loved you" when trying to explain that they really fell in love a few days later. and in WHAT UNIVERSE would a WRITER choose to have their character, who is supposed to finally be telling the unfiltered truth, say that. the answer is, there isn't one. that is so fucking backwards and idiotic that i can't believe i'm even having to explain why. the monologue is fabricated. it was written and approved by professional writers and directors. if mike fell in love with el at some later point in s1, or realized it at some later point in s1, then he could've just fucking said that. he could've just told her the moment he fell for her or the moment he realized. they didn't have to make it all twisted and confusing for no reason. he has absolutely no reason to lie or exaggerate (if he is straight and in love with her).

DING A LING A LING A LING!!!!! THATS A BELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"this feels like taking mikes words too literally"

oh, my apologies for taking his words literally during a fucking CONFESSION OF LOVE that he gave her while she was DYING. sorry for taking a line prefaced by "The truth is" literally. you are totally right and i will never do that again!

"when looking back on it it probably does feel like he loved her from the start"

cute sentiment, but that's literally NOT WHAT HE SAID. for the millionth time (see how i just used a hyperbole in a place where it makes sense? where i didn't preface it by saying it was the unfiltered truth?) he said "I knew right then and there in that moment that I loved you." he is saying he saw el in the woods in the rain in her yellow benny's burgers shirt, and KNEW he loved her. he realized it in that moment. that is what he wants el to believe. he is using specific language to pin point the moment he realized it on that moment. like im so serious when i say that if you try to say anything else you genuinely have worms for brains.

any way you logically look at this, it is crushing for mlvn. even if it was a hyperbole, which it is NOT, why the hell would the writers have him exaggerate his feelings to cater to her when it would be much more meaningful for his ACTUAL feelings to save her life?? why would mike feel like he needed to exaggerate?? and i'm sorry, i dont buy the heat of the moment bs. mike has nearly lost el multiple times because he kept lying to her. they had a bad fight days earlier because mike wouldn't tell her the truth. so he finally gets another chance to tell her the truth, and he EXAGGERATES?? HE TELLS A WHITE LIE??? that would also be crushing for mlvn. but none of that matters, because it's not a hyperbole, it's a lie. a flat out lie.

let be me clear, that does not make mike a bad person. in fact, it actually makes him an incredible, caring, selfless person. (remember the synopsis for s4 ep9? "With selfless hearts and a clash of metal, heroes fight from every corner of the battle field to save Hawkins ---and the world itself.") he lied because he knows he doesn't love el the way she wants and he feels like his actual love for her (which is platonic) would not be enough to save her. he devalues his own feelings because they are not what el wants. this is why he nodded after will said "It's scary to open up like that, to say how you really feel. Especially to people you care about the most. Because...what if they don't like the truth?" he feels like he owes el the love she wants, and he is willing to lie to her if it means saving her life. because he truly does love her and care about her, so much that he will do whatever it takes to not lose her.

and i know a lot of mlvn's devalue literary/media analysis and english/creative writing, and our opinions in general, so in case all that wasn't enough, i also asked mlvn's old friend about this. their friend being AI.

mlvns, everything with a lick of sense, including artificial intelligence, is proving you wrong. you are incorrect. what finn said at the paris con put the nail in your ships coffin and you know it. so please stop embarrassing yourselves on the internet and making dumbass claims like this when you know nothing about the subject. you look stupid.

this rant isnt just coming from a place of byler truther anger, it's english major anger. LEAVE MY SUBJECT ALONE. PLEASE.

#byler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #byler endgame #byler analysis #stranger things 4 #anti milkvan #milkvan is bones #anti mileven #mileven is bones #stranger things analysis

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alchemie-tarot · 9 months ago

Text

Material Blessings

Hello! Long time, no pick-a-card. The Universe has sent me a few things to deal with since my last post, lessons and blessings alike. My creative energy is having a new life and I just want to do it for myself and share it with the world. Yes, that includes sharing more of my photography from past travels.

I meant to post this during my bias season, Taurus, but I have been taking it easy with my body, and trusting the timing with it. This pick-a-card is also shorter than my previous ones.

Anyway. Welcome back. You know the drill: Take a breath. Feel free to choose the pile or piles that call out to you. Some details may not feel like it’s for you and that’s because it isn’t, it’s alright, since this is a general reading. Please don’t take it too seriously as well. Nothing is set in stone.

Pile 1

Cards: 4 of Cups, 10 of Swords (I had a bit of a mind exercise with this message.)

Your material blessing is something that you will receive, but its purpose is to make you realize that something you already have may have been taken for granted. I see that it’s something shiny to you, “a shiny toy,” whether it’s figurative or literal. It may be something that is a bit of a flex somehow. It may also remind you of something that you wanted in the past, maybe as a child, but couldn’t attain then. It will give you that mood boost and yes, you will enjoy it for a time. But, ultimately, you will find that it does not go as deep as you thought it would.

If you feel like something that you have previously enjoyed is losing its luster, even if it has been in your life for a long time, maybe that is a message for you. Is it really rooted in sentimental value, or is it from a fear of lack?

Eventually declining something that is coming your way may sound counterintuitive for a reading about material blessings. But, heed detached feelings and they will remind you of what really matters. Let go of what has served its purpose in your life, especially if they have pointed out what gives you long-term value. Be true to your principles, that you won’t spend your energy on things not aligned with you. Remember that “all that glitters is not gold.”

Pile 2

Cards: 2 of Wands, King of Swords

A business opportunity, specifically a trip to somewhere. A ticket. Could also be a gift coming from a far place. A box of fruits or wine, specifically, for a few. An invitation to a party, again, for a few. For the majority, travel is really emphasized.

It was 2:22 PM when I was interpreting these cards, and this is the 2nd Pile, and this pile has the 2 of Wands. Amazing. You may be getting two things. A double of something, or some combination of the ones I mentioned.

Whatever you will be receiving will grant you access to something exclusive. Opened doors that will basically, I believe, reconcile two separate aspects of your life (your career and family life, for example). They can be anything. Not only will you be let through these gates, but you will be given the keys to hold them.

You need more structure for this material blessing coming to you. To do that, your guides advise you to lean into your duality. Practice and get good at multitasking. You may have to hold two different things that require a ton of responsibility. Do not waver or be intimidated, however. You are chosen because you are wholly capable of doing this. Self-discipline and judgment are your friends.

Pile 3

Cards: 8 of Wands, 7 of Swords

You are about to get news about something pending. Since this is a material blessing, it is about finances, for the majority. A letter, the approval of a loan, insurance, came at the top of my head. Especially if it is something that you have wanted to do for a while, or have been waiting a long time for. Something that will solve your problems.

For some, this is something that you will gain as a reward for being resourceful. It could be an inheritance, or it simply was someone else’s previously. A specific image for a few, but it is something colorful and could appeal to your creativity or inner child.

Once you receive this blessing, you are advised to gather all your smarts in order to make sure it doesn’t slip from your hands. Don’t get complacent. Make a full-proof strategy for this. Bend the rules when you can. Don’t let yourself be distracted by schemes and excuses to use this for a purpose other than its original one, or somehow turn this into something it is not. Be careful not to give in to greed.

Pile 4

Cards: Wheel of Fortune, Page of Coins

A very unexpected gift, perhaps a long overdue one for something good that you have done in the past, that you may not even recall. A big reward for a big risk you took. Something you worked diligently and pushed the limits for, used your creativity and resourcefulness for, everything. And it comes with a bow on top. For a few, it’s something sweet, could be a food treat? This gift translates into some kind of knowledge that not only benefits you, but a lot of other people as well, a community. This gift will start up a web of connections that root from you.

This is not something everybody comes along often. Set tangible goals to ground this. Lead by example and hope, I’m hearing. Your success has a direct effect on the sacrifices and mindsets of this community looking up to you. You will definitely lift them up in some way, perhaps through a gathering. Maybe you will host a party, or a kind of workshop.

Share these blessings of yours, but not at the expense of yourself. The moment you feel that something is amiss, you must withdraw accordingly, and you are encouraged not to feel bad for that. Boundaries must be established and respected.

Thank you for gracing my post with your presence and thoughts. Take care and be happy!

#pick a card #pick a pile #general reading #pac #tarot #tarot reading #pick a card reading #pac reading #tarotblr #divination #tarot community #material blessings #finances pac #money pac #tarot message #guidance

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seriesxwriting · 9 months ago

Text

Let me show you who I really am

Pairing- Kol Mikaelson

Series- vampire diaries

Summary- usually you’d get quite a few boys ask you to prom, but not this year. Apparently they were all scared of your admirer who wanted you all to himself.

Warnings- kissing, vampire killing, mentions of blood, detailed description of killing.

“I can’t believe it was over a month since I posted- I apologise! I will try to be more active but sitting A levels has apparently hindered my ability to come up with ideas. Just bare with me <3”

It was finally the day of our school prom. I’d been stressing about what to wear, how to have my hair, what colour to use on my lips. But the biggest thing I was stressing about, was who I was going to go with. It’s not a flex but in the past I’ve had multiple offers from boys to go to dances or gatherings. But this time, nothing. Not one offer. I even went out my way asking hector wathe to come with me, seems we’d gone to a dance together last term. But he just shook his head and ran away from me. I would have been embarrassed if I wasn’t consumed with confusion about his behaviour.

So I gave up on the date thing, assumed I’d be going myself. But my girl’s picked me up, ditched their dates so they could come with me. Prom was about friendship anyway. Not a random boy I’d forget once I made a life for myself.

“Y/n? Is that you?” My mother called as I walked through the door. I smiled as she entered the hallway with a giant box in her arms. “This came for you sweetheart” she edged over to me passing the box into my arms. “What is it?” I questioned frowning. “We haven’t opened it, it’s private” she shrugged staring at the box. I could see her mind was racing with the possibilities of what could be inside. “Thanks mum” I swallowed joining in with her thinking myself. Who was it from. What was in it. I carried it up the stairs as my mum filtered back into the living room to watch whatever was on the tv. I put the box on my bed and then lifted the lid off it, curious about the details. There was a note on top of the white tissue paper.

“Saw this and it reminded me of you, thought you’d look good in it, like you do in everything” I whispered as I read it out to myself. My eyes flicked down to the bottom “from Kol” my eyes widened at the three letters of his name. Kol? Why would Kol send me a dress? What game was he playing? Sure id noticed his eyes lingering on me for a while too long before and noticed how his deep eyes compelled me to stare into them until I melted. But that doesn’t give him a reason to send me a dress. I placed the card on my bed and unwrapped the tissue paper. I pulled out this gorgeous emerald dress. It had a silver strip coming from the waistline all the way down the sides of the leg spilt. It looked as if they’d put the gems on by hand, one at a time taking precaution not to ruin or snag any part of it. The dress was slightly off the shoulders which would make my chest look great.

It was overwhelming. It must have cost a fortune. But here it was in my house, lying on my bed. All because of Kol? A Mikaelson was showing me more interest than any of the boys from school. He was supposed to be a sworn enemy, and because of that, I folded the dress back up and put it back in the box. I already had a dress. It was a lot simpler and less expensive but it was mine. And it wasn’t gifted to me by a deranged, gorgeous psychopath. No I meant a deranged, bloodthirsty, psychopath. Not gorgeous. I couldn’t have meant gorgeous. Putting the note back, I lifted the box putting it under my bed where no one would find it. I’d give it back to him if I ever got the chance. It wasn’t right to keep it let alone wear it. Plus I was running out of time overthinking this, I had to get ready.

I curled my hair after my shower and put on my red dress. It didn’t have sparkles on it, but it did have a cute leg slit and a nice tied up back. “Mum!! Can you come and do me up!!” I yelled out of my room. A minute or two later she came plodding up the stairs. She stopped in front of me smiling and her eyes filling up as she raised a finger to wipe her tear. “Oh y/n you look so gorgeous” she whimpered walking over to hug me. “Thanks mum” I whispered nuzzling my face into her neck with a grin across my cheeks. “Come on, let me tie the back” she smiled ushering me over to the mirror. “Oh- y/n have you noticed this rip?” She blinked looking at the back of me. “RIP?! Where!!” I turned around trying to have a look in the mirror. “Here?” She pointed looking stressed herself. “Oh god- what am I going to do- can you fix it?” I blinked at her in utter panic. “No- well yes- but not in time for your prom” she shook her head having a closer look at it. “Come on, I’ll need to work fast, you’ll only be a little late, take it off” she patted me on the back but I eyed the box sticking out from under my bed. “No- no it’s okay, I’ll wear something else” I blinked, not taking my eyes off it. “Something else? What else do you possibly have to wear to a prom?” She raised an eyebrow following my eyeline.

“I’ll meet you and dad downstairs, give me ten minutes” I smiled rubbing her shoulder. “Alright…” she trailed off leaving my room full of confusion. I didn’t move. I swallowed staring at the box. Would it be completely wrong to wear it? I had nothing else I could wear. Surely my friends would understand. I sighed walking over to it, clipping on the floor in my black heels. Taking it out from under my bed. I held it up over my body looking at it in the mirror. I put my head on one side thinking for a second. Before removing all the thoughts out of my head and putting it on. I walked down stairs to my parents sitting in the front room. Their eyes widened as I walked in. “Y/n! That dress is stunning where did you get it?” My mother gasped covering her mouth with her hand.

“It was a gift” I bit my lip not wanting to say anymore. “You look amazing darling, you’ll be the best dressed there” my dad smiled at me. With that the door bell rang. “That must be the girls” I smiled rushing out as fast as the dress would let me go. But when I opened the door the girls weren’t there. Kol was. He stood with his famous smirk, his hand held a big bunch of roses as his eyes looked me up and down. “So I was right, it does suit you” he joked, my jaw was ajar now staring at him. “What are you doing here- why are you wearing a suit and- why do you have flowers- why did you send me a dress?” I hissed coming outside closing the door so my parents wouldn’t hear us. “Because I’m taking you to prom” “erm- no you’re not!” I scoffed almost laughing. “You don’t have a date? So why can’t it take you?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“There are a number! Of reasons why you can’t take me to prom kol” I laughed before the realisation sank in. “How the hell do you know I don’t have a date?” I whispered frowning at him. His brown eyes slimmed on me as his smirk widened. “I may have sent out a message to some guys- that you were taken” he shrugged his shoulders. “What?” I blinked in disbelief, my breath hitched. “I want to take you, I don’t want other guys putting their hand on you” he told me slamming his eyebrows down. “You’re serious?” I asked him in a quiet voice. “You’re a vampire kol- you’ve hurt my friend- not only that you’re an original…” I trailed off holding the door handle. “And what?” He shrugged laughing. “I’m here aren’t I? I’m not lying I’m not causing trouble- a vampire can’t admit his feelings for a girl?”. “Feelings? For me? I’m just an ordinary human Kol” “you’re not ordinary y/n- you’re different from your friends, different from all humans” he smiled staring into my eyes. “How” I slimmed my eyes at him shaking my head not believing a word that came out of his mouth.

“You think you can put me on the spot y/n?” Kol chuckled to himself. “The way you carry yourself, the way you stick to your morals, your loyalty to those you love, your way of seeing the best in people even if they have hurt your friends- you’re out here talking to me, you could have stayed in your house in the safety- so you must be slightly intrigued or trust me slightly- just give me a chance y/n” he put his head to the side as I consumed everything he dumped on me. “I will protect you- treat you right- I just want a chance to show you who I really am, I don’t want anything more to do with klaus and his mess- let me show you that” he begged, I saw it in his eyes. He wasn’t lying, if he was he was a damn good lier. I wasn’t wearing vvraine so he could have compelled me but, he didn’t. “Okay- you have one night to make me feel anything but uncomfortable around you” I raised my eye brow at him reaching out for the flowers. I smiled at them clutching them between my arms. “I’m gonna grab my bag and text the girls to meet me there- you can wait here” I told him with a little smile warming up to the idea of Kol Mikaelson liking me. If he was a normal boy this would be so much easier, he was attractive- he was gorgeous. But he wasn’t normal, he’s a vampire who’s been around 1000 years longer than me.

I did as I said I would before saying goodbye to my parents. I met Kol outside his car where he opened the door for me before getting in his own side. He drove us to prom while keeping up basic conversation, which just intrigued me more. I wanted to know what he was up to. We got to the prom location in under twenty minutes. When no one was looking Kol vamp ran round to my side and opened my door for me. “Kol!” I hissed shaking my head. “Don’t do that you could get caught” I whispered as he put his hand out for me. I took it gently. “They wouldn’t be alive very long if they did catch me darling” he whispered in my ear as I stepped out. “I don’t want any killings here tonight, or I’ll never forgive myself” I widened my eyes at him. “Yes mam” he smirked leaning in closer to me. There wasn’t much room between my back and the car or my front and kol. “I can hear your heart racing darling” he whispered tucking my hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry, I won’t kiss you until you ask me to, and you will” he winked before stepping back and putting his arm out for me.

“You’re delusional” I giggled rolling my eyes taking his arm. We walked towards the enterance and kitty Renfeild stood outside with a camera. “Hey y/n- and y/n’s handsome date” she winked at Kol who completely blanked her without him even knowing I was looking at him. His arm wrapped around my waist and he whispered “going have to get a little closer now love” he pulled me into his body. The flick of jealously I felt from kitty’s comment was what I blamed my actions on. I pressed my body against him putting my other hand on Kols chest. I heard him chuckle as I posed for the photo. “Have fun” she told us after snapping the photo and in we went. There were lot of people here even though we were maybe ten minutes early. There were flashing lights and drink tables everywhere. People were already dancing to the shit music playing. “Has Kol Mikaelson ever been to a high school prom?” I asked him smiling up. “Oh I’ve been to my fair share of dances, balls and whatever was going on in the 1920s but never a prom” he laughed catching my eyes. “And I’ve never had such a gorgeous date to attend any of these events with” he winked. “Quite the charmer ain’t you” I nudged him gently.

“Y/n? What’s this all about?”. I look up and see Elena, Bonnie and Caroline all staring at me like I’m an alien. Or, staring at Kol like he’s an alien. “Hey girls…” I trailed off as my heart started pounding. Kol clearly picked up on it because his grip round my waist became tighter. “I can explain, I have a thing for y/n- have done ever since I laid my eyes on her and i decided now was the time to tell her” “what” Carolin blinked in horror. “He’s a Mikaelson y/n” Elena widened her eyes at me. “He doesn’t want to be involved anymore” I shook my head at her hoping they’d find some way to look at this differently. “You can’t trust him- he’s a vampire” Bonnie hissed at me, her face pulled into disgust. “Well that’s why I’ve braught him- to see if I can trust him” I told them with a little bit of a shrug. The girls all looked round at each other. “I’m done with all klaus’s shit, I want to prove that- not necessarily to you guys but to y/n” he told them blankly. “I’m sorry y/n, but I don’t like it” Elena stepped back before rushing off into the crowd. Kol rolled his eyes at her “she’s always so dramatic”. “I…” Caroline trailed off not knowing what to say in this situation.

“I’m going to get some air, will you be alright for a second” I tapped Kol on the bicep. “Yes gorgeous” he nodded brushing my hand with his. That made me smile. Even within this mess. My friends hated the idea of me and Kol being together, on a serious level. Elena was ready to cry about it. But what made it worse was the fact that I thought I was really starting to like him. He was charming, he was handsome, he was bold and confident. He was my type. I made it outside to the side of the tent and took a deep breath. I had two options here, to lose my friends and continue on with Kol- or leave him now. And that was a hard decision. “Y/n, i didn’t expect to see you here”. I whipped around seeing klaus standing opposite me. He had a girl in his arms and blood was dripping all down his chin. Her neck had been torn open. Klaus’s eyes illuminated orange as fear spread across my face. “Klaus- what have you done…” I whispered blinking at the lifeless girl.

“I came to create a massacre, I’d say I’m going to start with you but I’ve already started” he chuckled throwing the body on the floor. Klaus walked a few steps towards me while I took a few back hitting the tent behind me. “Why are you doing this?” I gasped as he vamp ran in front of me. I could smell the blood that was smothered across his mouth and T-shirt he was that close. “Because i simply can” he smirked reaching out for my hair. I pushed his hand away from me scrunching my face up. “That was stupid” his eyes lit up again as anger starting to corse through his veins. I saw his jaw tighten emphasising his anger. “It was stupid to come out alone anyway” he grunted and my last thought was about to be ‘klaus is right’. As he lunged forwards towards my neck his body got ripped away from me and he flew backwards hitting a tree with a thud. I pannted looking around before finally seeing my hero. Kol stood there scowling at his brother who was in the process of standing up. “She didn’t come alone brother” Kol raised his eyebrows. Once klaus stood up he flicked his eyes between us assessing the situation.

“A human?” Klaus chuckled from a distance. “I thought you were into witches” “I thought you were into Caroline but we all know how that worked out” Kol walked closer to me standing in front of me as if he was a shield. “What are you playing at Kol?” “I like her, and you aren’t going to touch a hair on her head without going through me” Kol answered folding his arms across his chest. Klaus laughed, it went right through me making my blood boil. “I could easily get through you” “so do it” Kol shrugged letting his arms lose once again. “I’m sure we will see each other real soon little brother” klaus nodded before vamp running away into the forest. Kol turned around and came to me fussing and checking I was okay. “Kol! I’m fine- do you realise how many people you just saved” I questioned almost weak from the shock of his protection. “I don’t care y/n, you are my priority, when you’re with me you will be safe I’ll make sure of it” he told me brushing a finger down my cheek. I felt my cheeks going red. He made me feel emotions I’d never felt towards a guy before.

I pushed my body against his and wrapped my arms slowly around his neck gently pulling his head down to meet mine. Our lips met, gently at first but then Kol gripped my waist, pulling me even closer to his body. There’s something about almost dying that makes you do crazy things. Life is short, and I want to try life with Kol. No matter the repercussions.

Kol masterlist

The vampire diarie masterlist

All series masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

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yuri-is-online · 10 months ago

Note

hi, i'm not the same anon but i would like to hear more about the fyuuture kid au 👉👈 especially about riddle!!

hello new friend, you picked someone who is having a real bad time in this au (ﾟωﾟ；)

I am going to give some general information about Yutu and then move on to some Riddle specific stuff.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, general au explanation can be found here, and the posts can be found on my masterlist under the series section.

General Yutu Facts

"Yutu" is supposed to be a fake name fyuuture kid is using to help hide his identity, but I am open to suggestions on that. Originally he didn't remember his name and Crowley picked it out for him, but I like the idea of "Yuu two" being a nickname he had in both your world and Twisted Wonderland and picked as his alias to honor his parent. Yutu really admires Yuu, he has nothing but empathy for your situation and respect for your strength, and while he certainly fought with you from time to time (some Yutus more than others) he wants to be like you.

That desire was very much cemented when he heard about how you won against the overblot phantoms. Yutu's unique magic changes depending on who his dad is, but all Yutus have extensive experience in combat magic and have fought a lot of monsters. Including overblot phantoms, same as you. His fights didn't go as well though... he's extremely afraid of the Great Seven's phantoms and has regular nightmares about them.

Back to the names... I didn't have names picked out for every version of Yutu, but Riddle does happen to have been one of them. His real name was supposed to be March, yes like the march hare but if I'm honest I was more thinking about the saying "in like a lion out a lamb" because I thought that described Riddle's temper pretty well.

The other ones I picked out I still like are Merrin (I swear I found it on a list of mountain themed names??? But it means sea born or pearl of the sea), Laurie (yes like little women, his unique magic was supposed to something to do with painting), and Roland (I have an unironic love for French peerage ok please do not judge me).

Some of the Yutus were meant to have older siblings who stayed behind in Twisted Wonderland (Riddle! Yutu wasn't one of them), but that was very much an idea I didn't develop extensively since it was more left over from Fire Emblem Awakening. I wanted there to be a Lucina type older sibling character who was very protective of Yutu and wanting a future where he gets to stay in Twisted Wonderland and they get to be a happy family. But again I didn't cook this idea extensively so idk how to feel about keeping it as a part of the ayuu.

Anyway on to the Riddle specific stuff ¬‿¬

So that bit about Yutu's real name coming from a description from Riddle's temper: I like to leave what Yutu looks like up to the reader, but Riddle! Yutu if nothing else took two things from his father, his (lack of) height and his temper. His facial expressions when pouting and angry are eerily similar, and they both have a strong affinity for fire. Riddle! Yutu is a lot like Riddle Tsum now that I think about it? Very high energy and likes to jump around all over the place, but determined to be at least somewhat dignified.

Since traveling back in time Yutu has been "studying" with Grim to try and get his flames hot enough to burn blue to flex on his dad and to bond with the monster. He usually just ends up watching him though, the mental image he had of Grim vs what the little guy is actually like is really wild.

Back to the temper, unlike Riddle Yutu wasn't home schooled so he got into a lot of trouble for losing it on other students. He had a chip on his shoulder about not having a dad, having a parent with amnesia, and especially about being short oh god he is so spiteful about that. He got sent to detention a lot, and shamefully it made him fight with Yuu a lot too. Not that he hates Yuu, he was just very emotional and not always the easiest to deal with. His last few interactions with Yuu before they died were very strained, and he is filled with remorse for a bunch of stupid things he said.

When he gets to the point where he has to admit to Yuu who he is there is going to be a lot of crying and begging for forgiveness. He was a stupid, angry kid who just wanted to know who he was and didn't feel like he belonged lashing out at the one person who he knew wanting nothing but the best for him. He doesn't really feel the need to ask for forgiveness from his dad (yet)... by the time Yutu was isekaid into Twisted Wonderland Riddle had been corrupted by his overblot phantom and was wrecking the Queendom of Roses so he never really met the real Riddle until he traveled back in time.

He also got compared to Riddle a lot, Yutu isn't stupid by any means but because of all that time spent in detention he is a bit behind on the fundamentals. Not to mention all Riddle has done up to this point is practice magic and Yutu only just found out it was real so of course there was going to be a skill gap! But still, he's Riddle's son and Riddle was a very memorable student for Crewel, so Yutu was guaranteed to hear some comparisons. It didn't help the daddy issues though...

Speaking of Yutu's time at NRC, he did get placed into Heartslabyul by the Dark Mirror and he does know all 810 rules of the Queen's rules. He's not as obsessed with them as Riddle is but he still knows what he's supposed to do and tries to be on his best behavior. He was not interested in being dorm leader and wanted to instead focus on the things Yuu always encouraged him to do, like controlling his temper and getting good grades.

I sort of like the idea of his unique magic being the ability to grow/shrink because in the book Rule 42 of the Queen of Hearts says “All persons more than a mile high to leave the court" and I like the idea of him trying to use his spell to get out of arguments with his dad.

Riddle has no idea that Yutu hates him... at first. This is partially because Yutu is usually very polite to him and partially because he is utterly unaware of how much people are afraid of him in general, but he starts to pick up on it when he tries to interact with Yuu. He wants to have a private tea party with just Yuu? Well Yutu immediately starts acting like this is somehow scandalous and calls him out on his feelings in front of the prefect and he wants to lose it so badly- Yuu agrees anyway and Riddle immediately gets unreasonably smug while Yutu pouts. Take that sucker! He's going to study with the prefect all alone and since it's Riddle you know you really are just going to study.

I don't think Riddle really considers Yutu a rival for Yuu's romantic attention, partially because he isn't fully aware of what it is he feels for Yuu, but even if he was. Riddle knows that Yuu sees Yutu as someone under their care similar to Grim, they actually talk to him about it quite a bit and he has no issue with that. He is actually sort of grateful for Yutu's existence since it has given him an excuse to talk to Yuu more and let them know how he respects them.

Yutu's academic struggles are something that actually bring him closer to Riddle ironically enough. Riddle has created study guides for Yuu and Grim before, he has no problem doing that for Yutu and inviting himself over to give instructions.

"Did you not get a lot of help from your parents?" Riddle sounds nervous, and he should it's an invasive question to ask. Yutu wants to be angry, but when he looks at Riddle, he just feels sad. "Not that it is any of my business really but well. I just noticed you never really talk about them, even to Yuu."

"My dad wasn't really around." He forces himself to look at Riddle when he says it, but it doesn't make him feel any better. If anything it makes Yutu feel worse, he knows about as much about Riddle as Riddle knows about him now that he's forced to look at him. "And my other parent... they tried really hard. But I wasn't always willing to accept it."

"I can't say I understand what that would be like." Riddle looks like he is trying to and that should be what he wants, right? "My mother home schooled me so it's hard for me to understand that someone's parents wouldn't be a constant figure in their schooling."

"You were home schooled?"

Yutu didn't know anything about his grandmother, it didn't even really occur to him that he had one and once he learns about her... well it certainly makes things make a lot more sense. He doesn't want to meet her, but he is curious about what she thought about his parent. What would she think about him? Does he even want to know?

My last concrete thought is that Yutu doesn't really get the whole horse girl thing. He is sort of afraid of horses actually, but I can see him maybe wanting to ride with Riddle once their relationship gets a bit better just to do something with him.

I like the idea of Riddle! Yutu being very into baseball for some reason and there's no way he's going to convince his dad to do that with him ha. Well not in this timeline anyway, I can see good timeline Riddle doing a bunch of research on baseball so he can talk to his kid about it. And showing up to all his matches to scream in support of his kid instead of at the coaches. He is breaking the cycle we love to see it.

#<3 asks #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #future kid au #riddle rosehearts x yuu #riddle rosehearts x reader

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deblklesb · 1 year ago

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omg this post from @enbesbians appeared on my feed on a very much sensitive moment, not ironically I was just this morning thinking about how would it be to have abby's fingers inside of you (MDNI)

imagine you being so sensitive and needy, but a different kind of need. while you generally ask abby to stimulate you on your clit, not involving penetration most of the times, sometimes you can feel especially craving for her fingers inside of you. like your walls are claiming her, clenching around nothing just because you're laying on top of her almost nude and she's caressing you. each time the tips of her fingers go up your spine, your walls contract and you're squirming. and so at some point she asks you if there's something wrong, at what you just shake your head before the thought crosses your mind vividly; like you can see the image of her hand between your legs, and feel her thick fingers being pressed against your walls.

"hey, love, could you..." you straddle her properly, hands resting at each side of her head, while hers stop at the curve of your ass. "i... i want your fingers"

"my fingers?" there's an eyebrow raise and a smirk, both of them make you salivate. "you mean... inside your pussy?"

"yeah", you know your panties are drenched just by thinking of it. but your heart is racing at a crazy pace, begging for that contact.

"well, i guess it's fine... but you'll probably have to be more polite", she's now caressing your arms and shoulders, the smirk never left her pretty lips. she loves to see the needy look on your face, sometimes is so sudden but makes her melt inside unfailingly. she'd do anything for you, actually.

"please? i really want to feel you inside..." and you can see how that phrase messes with her. how she might go nuts with you being so nice because of your despair, willing to surrender fast. because you're usually more bratty, or at least snarky, but just begs when you're at your breaking point of need. you're at it right now, starting to move on top of her just to cause friction between your legs, and she has done nothing.

"come here, sweet girl", she pulls you by the neck with a hand, the other sneaking down your side to grope your ass while her lips crash onto yours.

your heart is pounding and her lips are so good, always. abby starts to push your panties down, and you break the kiss with a sigh just to finish this task - why were you wearing those anyway? being on top of your girlfriend didn't require panties, she would actually love having you without them. as soon as you're back, tongue tasting hers, hard and sensitive nipples pressed against her chest, her hand travel south just to meet your wet core.

"fuck, you're almost dripping" she chuckles devilishly, digits spreading your moistures around your pussy - not like she needed, since you're all wet and warm already.

abby likes to take her time massaging, using her fingers to press your labia up and down, around your clit and your entrance. you sigh, hips twitching against her hand while your pussy clenches again. you grab her hair between your digits when two of her fingers press inside of your walls, and it gets just on the right places, filling you perfectly. you're mindfogged on the very first seconds, just letting her handle you around as she pleases.

she puts you on her side, using one of her strong legs to press one of yours open for her, and you can see her biceps flexing as the thick fingers go in and out under gushing sounds of your moistures. you're breathing heavily, hips moving, and her presence is so absolute around you. it's like she's the only thing you can see, the only thing on your mind, reaching through the farthest places of your soul everytime her voice carries your name.

you kiss her neck and chin, eyes closing as she move inside. your walls press around her in a consuming act, wanting to stay like that forever, claiming ownership of her fingers.

"you're taking me so well, baby", abby mutters, making you shiver and move your hips more intensely, bouncing on her hand. her palm rubs on your clit and it's making you insane. "want me to eat you out?"

"fuck, please..." you're almost tearing up when she moves on the bed, going between your legs lazily as her heat retracts from your torso and you're left missing her consuming proximity.

but, oh, when her mouth wraps around your clit and her fingers trust inside incessantly, you're seeing starts. it's wet and warm all over, you keep your legs open and hunched against your torso, while your hands hold her hair and a breast of yours. she keeps you in that position by pressing your knee in place, tongue traveling around your swollen bundle of nerves while her fingers fuck you and explore you from the inside.

her name it's the only thing coming from your mouth under that horny fever state, and she takes that as fuel to keel going. to chase your release on her mouth and fingers, to push you over the edge. she looks so beautiful between your legs, she looks so beautiful using her fingers to take you, and your pussy clenches around her thick fingers because it feels like you don't want her to leave you empty, never again.

you don't notice when the orgasm is coming, your mind just process the trembling mess you become under her ministrations. she smiles, looking at your rolling eyes and inability to speak while your body shiver and contracts. "so hot, bun", is what she says.

you're still in a haze when she comes back to your side, fingers still working while her lips crash onto yours again, like she doesn't want you to squeal when a slap comes down on your exposed pussy.

(can you tell i want her fingering me so much?? please abby make me yours 😫😫😫)

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stealingyourbones · 4 days ago

Note

I’m fine with posts about my Blorbo getting ignored. It happens. We all know that. It’s disappointing, but you get inspired, start plotting, maybe even start writing yourself, lose motivation, and stop. It’s normal. It happens to all of us. Not a big deal.

But. BUT. BUUUUT. What drives me fucking insane is when some beautiful creative once-in-a-lifetime hand crafted prompt gets derailed into the generic stereotypical tropes that this crossover fandom constantly falls back on. I know that happens to you a lot, how do you deal with it?

In truth, when you sign up for creating content that you allow anyone to interact with, it’s just a part of the gig. It happens a lot, I may not enjoy it but others do and a community of people writing and having fun is what I strive to create.

My main ways to divert posts are either:

1.) Leave it be and let folks do their thing. The point of prompts is to let anyone add their thoughts, it doesn’t matter your personal feelings on a trope or headcanon.

2.) Simply stop interacting with that reply chain. I used to reblog absolutely every reply I got but now I only reblog the ones I enjoy. It has helped my mental health greatly. Additionally, if you don’t reblog responses to your posts, go and do that. It makes people more likely to see the responses you like if they already follow your blog for your writing and you’ll have a higher likelihood of that prompt gaining more replies.

3.) Put in the tags (#not ____ AU/trope/headcanon). I’ve done it a few times before with Ghost King AU’s I believe, mainly because I think that avoiding that trope for that particular post would make people flex their creativity more and write something they wouldn’t even have thought of if not given that limitation. This will sometimes work. Some folks reblog the post without the tag and the trope is posted anyways. People also might see the tag and think you’re being picky and rude and avoid the post entirely.

4.) Complain. I don’t really recommend doing this because people will Not Be Pleased but I am 100% guilty of doing this more than once. I have been pretty vocal on making my opinions clear on: Danny and Bruce’s relationship could also be something other than paternal, the automatic adoptions tropes, Ghost King AU’s, OP Danny, and not consuming some form of DC media is nigh impossible and actively avoiding it prevents you from learning about new characters and giving you new interests and ideas to spread and influence the fandom. This is the second least effective action to do. The first being saying nothing. Venting might be a good way to express frustration but let’s be honest, no one wants to listen to or read someone complaining for a few hundred words when they could be consuming a positive take on something they enjoy. For example: this post might get like 50 notes maybe max. It’s not a topic people like to read of and it’s critical on the things they like so they probably won’t interact with it.

5.) Add back onto your own post or another persons post with the idea of how you thought the post should have gone! If you don’t like the angle other folks are going at it, write your own thoughts on the prompt. A few solid paragraphs of ~500 words are what I have seen work the best in influencing and changing the direction of replies to a post. This is the best course of action to have people write another direction in tropes you enjoy and ideas you view are fresh and new. It might not be people’s favorite response to hear, but if you want a story to go a particular way, you have to write it yourself and hope the audience receives it well and picks up what you’re putting down.

6.) Write something similar again and hope a different audience receives the post and interprets it differently. Add a different spin on the concept and maybe add the (no ____) tag if you really really want something different.

I hope these tips help! Main takeaways if you don’t want to read everything: Complaining solves nothing and action solves everything. If you don’t like the way a post is going, write it to the way you want it to be.

#fandom discourse #dpxdc #fandom wank #bones speaks #bones replies

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 months ago

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A Very Monstrous Kinktober (2024) Day 29 - Voyeurism

Kink: Voyeurism

Pairing: F!Reader x MothWoman

Other Kinks: Mutual Masturbation, Exhibitionism

Warning: Dubious Consent

Word Count: 1543 words

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: Apologies for the delay everyone! This was originally scheduled to come out this morning, but Tumblr glitched out and then wouldn't let me post from mobile....but anyway! Hope y'all enjoy!

It had started out so innocent.

She was worried, that was all. You had avoided the deadly car pileup thanks to her, but the close-call still had left you shaken up. Hell, you were too traumatized to get behind the wheel for a whole month. It was only natural that Luanne would keep an eye on you. She saw it as an extension of her sacred duty, helping the humans avoid the unfortunate disasters that came their way.

After seeing so much of your daily life, it would be impossible not to become attached. Despite your lingering fear you still exhibited so much joy, taking the extra time at home to spend with your pets, finish those household tasks you never got around to, and getting in touch with your family. When not at home you’d go out walking, enjoying the serenity of your small West Virginia home and its bounty of nature. Luanne always enjoyed humans who appreciated what was around them, who took things slow and embraced the simple pleasures of life.

She just hadn’t realized how…pleasurable those pleasures could be.

The first time had been an accident. She hadn’t realized you were nothing under that bathrobe, her antenna flittering when you shucked it off to lay bare on your bed. She figured you were changing, that you’d cover up your (beautiful) body with pajamas and be on your way. But you just laid there, spread eagle, reading your book.

Yes, Luanne had spent most of her life in close proximity with humans, but she had never seen this side of them before.

So, she was curious. She watched and watched, traced every curve of your body with her big, red eyes. She twitched when you’d switch to another position, arch your back and bare more of yourself to her. And she ignored how it made her stomach turn, sent a heat straight down to her core. This was scientific observation, not something lewd.

At least, until….

“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, the bullet vibrator clicking as you switch it to a faster setting. Even from outside your window, Luanne’s superior vision means she can see the way your pussy flutters, your hole clenching around nothing. Her antenna’s twitter together again, singing an unconscious whistle that has her face going hot.

She wasn’t completely naive to human reproduction, Luanne had been around long enough to know (and occasionally stumble open) the basics. But she wasn’t aware humans could do it by themselves. Nor that they enjoyed it so much.

“A-ah~” You moan, throwing your hips up against the toy, swiveling them around in circles. The toy follows your path, draws Luanne’s eyes as well. She can see your thighs flex as you hump the vibrator, drawing tight circles around your clit. Luanne has to silence her gasp when you grab one of you tits, fondling it between your fingers and tugging at your nipple. Your head tosses back. “Ungh!”

Luanne feels her thighs rubbing together, her wings fluttering as she feels locked in a trance. Its hypnotic the way your body writhes against the sheets, the way you bite your lip and scrunch up your eyes. Not to mention the glistening slick that beads at your pussy, or the pheromones that waft from your open window. All of it hits Luanne like a tidal wave, and she wants nothing more than to drown in it.

She moves ro your window sill, hanging from above the rooftop, caution thrown to the wind. You’re too involved in yourself to notice, whatever fantasy playing in your head too good to leave. It must be a good one, if the fervent jerking motion of your wrist is indication.

“Oh my god!” You squeal, walls beginning to spasm as you approach your high. Luanne’s gut tightens, something of her own stirring in her core, a deep hunger, unfamiliar to her this time of year. “Ah! Ah!”

Your pussy gushes with your release, another wave of pheromones wafting over Luanne. It's dizzying, and she wonders if this is what humans experience when they consume alcohol; the high and the lack of focus.

Her wings wilt at the thought that that might be the end, the she’ll have to retreat once you open your eyes and get ready for bed. But instead you’re hyper focused, vibrater tossed to the side and hand scrambling for your drawer.

This toy is bigger, with two ends; one bulbous and long, the other farther down the shaft and small. But both vibrate when you click the button on the end, your gaze electric as you sink the girthy end inside of you.

Luanne’s has to grab hold of her antenna’s, their humming growing too loud as she see your walls open up round the toy. She practically moans when you grab your tits again, pressing them up with your forearm, and flicking your thumb across your nipples. The combination makes your hips jerk, your voice melodic as the tiny part of the toy reaches your clit, the rest now fully seated inside of you.

Luanne can’t take it anymore. Her hand draws down her entrance, sticky and soaking. She had only on occasion laid with others of her kind, usually during the annual mate that drove all them wild with pheromones. It’s why she’s shocked to see just how ready she is right now, just from watching this human in her bedroom. It’s almost frightening how easily you have entranced her, but it’s also sinfully enticing.

The toy juts inside you, small shallow thrusts being made with your wrists. It must be difficult to focus with the other part stimulating your clit, your hands multitasking between playing with your tits and fucking yourself. But the small jerks are enough, fresh slick pooling around your lips and your brow furrowing. You bite your bottom lip, hard enough for blood to pool underneath the skin, bruises peppering those soft lips.

Luanne wonders what it’d be like to kiss you. To bruise those lips herself, to grab that base of the toy and fuck you hard. Watch you bounce on it, watch your eyes roll and her name to pour from your mouth.

Luanne stuffs her long fingers into her cunt, wishing it was something thicker. Maybe you could use the toy on her, force her open. Suck on her clit as you do, lapping up her own juices. Would her own slick be as sweet as your smells? It’s something she’s never even considered before, mating periods typically short and explosive, just a quick romp and thats it. But with you she would lie for hours, working each others bodies until you collapse from exhaustion.

“Unngh.” Your moans have quited down, muffled behind your bitten lips. Luanne can perfect picture her hand on your face, squeezing your cheeks and forcing your mouth open. You wouldn’t be quiet for her, wouldn't deny her your beautiful sounds.

Luanne’s antennae sings, too distracted to hide them anymore. You’ll probably just think it's the natural home of bugs in the nighttime, some actual moths drawn in by your lit window.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips start trembling again, the slapping sound of the dildo in your pussy getting sloppy. Your hands lose all gentleness, tugging hard on your nipple and forcing the dildo even deeper. Luanne cheat has begun to heave, her superior vision feeling blurred as her own orgasm approaches. Her fingers stretch and scissor outward in her cunt, her long thumb pressing hard on her clit, trying to simulate what you must be feeling right now.

With one finally jut of the dildo, your back arches and your hips throw up, another climax hitting you like a train. You ride out the trembling aftershocks, the toy still vibrating your overstimulated button. It’s the squeezing of your pussy that finally pushes Luanne over, orgasm coming hard and fast, squirting all over her fingers. The feeling is so overwhelming, her balled up fist surges forward and hits the outside of the window.

Thump! Luanne barely has time to react, to throw herself up and hide herself once clarity hits. You must have heard her, the soft pitter patters of your feet on the hardwood muffled right before you throw open your window, peering outside. Luanne holds her breath, feeling more nervous than she has in an entire lifetime of preventing disasters.

After a painstaking minute, you shrug your shoulders and close the window, finally allowing Luanne to breathe. She collapses on the rooftop, her wings outsplayed, the guilt of what she just did finally hitting her. It should make her sick, but instead it just tightens up her stomach, wondering if you’ll do it again tomorrow night.

She'll come back once more, just once. Make sure you’re okay and then move on.

That’s it.

—

As you flick the light off, you send one last look to your window. Having already cleaned your toys, the drowsiness of two orgasms urges you to go back to sleep, even though you had hoped tonight would last just a little bit longer.

Snuggling under the covers, you dream of soft hands, of warm wings embracing your body. Of red eyes, peering right into your soul.

Well, you hoped she enjoyed the show.

#my writing #reader insert #monster romance #monster x reader #kinktober #female reader insert #x reader #kinktober 2024 #mothwoman

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lalal-99 · 2 years ago

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My Favourite Workout {s.c.}

©February 2023 by lalal-99

Changbin x afab!reader | trope: established relationship, shower sex | smut | wordcount: 6.2k

Synopsis: Your boyfriend has been working his butt off the past few weeks. It's only fair of you to offer some of your time up so you can spend it together, doing something you love. Or he does anyways. You're not really a fan of gyms in general, but the private gym at his workplace sure has its perks.

Warnings: explicit content | dni if your under 18

Note: This sat in my drafts for over a year, but it turned out pretty good in the end. Gym-Changbin got a strong grip on me...

Taglist: @skzho @bubblelixie @flakywig@itsallaboutkey @avyskai @mekuiikore @joonghands@changbiddies0325 @knowleeknow @sensitiveandhungry @babybabydoll

Tumblr works on a reblog system. Please consider reblogging this post so that it can reach more people. Thank you :)

Please don't flag as mature - Thank You!

This was so not what you had expected from a gym. Crowds of bulked-up people, sweaty seats, and overpriced protein shakes – that’s what you were used to. You hadn’t been to that many gyms, but you had seen a fair share of them in your lifetime. And this was so far from anything you had witnessed before.

Instead of bad music and half-naked people you wanted to know nothing about, there was silence. And him.

The man sitting a few metres ahead – toned upper body clad in a tight muscle shirt, thick thighs in a pair of loose hanging shorts – was a feast for the eyes. With every pull he did on the exercising machine, dragging the black metal bar lower before bringing the weights to the ground again, his arms flexed. Every contraction of his muscles below his thin shirt was palpable, so deliciously inviting you to bury your teeth in them.

Had you known before, it was gonna be just the two of you in this one-roomed, private gym, you probably wouldn’t have gone. You barely moved anyway as the cross-trainer you had previously used rested quietly below you, your eyes focused on the beautiful man in front of you. How could you have done anything with him right in your eyesight, distracting you from what you usually did in a gym? An hour-long basic workout before swearing never to do one again.

It took Changbin a minute to notice your glances, but when he did, he casually got up, a smirk plastered on his face as he made his way towards you. He took one of his earphones out, his eyes meeting yours as she placed his muscular arms on the handles of your cross-trainer.

“You know this won’t move by itself, right?” Changbin asked, pointing at the machine below you. You rolled your eyes at his comment, stepping down from the trainer.

“I know, but this is so boring,” you told him honestly as you dried the non-existent sweat from your forehead with the towel you had brought. “I only came here with you today, anyways, because we haven’t spent an hour of quality time in two weeks.”

With your boyfriend working overtime at the studio so close to the release of their newest album, you had barely seen him, let alone spent time with him. For the past two weeks, he had left for work before you got up and only came home after his daily workout when you were already half-asleep on the couch.

Obviously, you didn’t blame Changbin. He loved his work, and being one of the producers for his very own band, he usually had to walk the extra mile. You knew and had always known it wouldn’t be easy. Your relationship needed constant work so you wouldn’t forget about each other in the haste of each day.

This was the exact reason why you had decided to join your boyfriend in the gym tonight. It was your way of showing him you weren’t just complaining but doing something to make it work. And you knew he appreciated your extra effort whenever he couldn’t give a hundred percent.

“We’re spending time right now, aren’t we?”

“I wouldn’t call us working out in different corners of this room ‘spending time together’,” you replied with a huff.

Changbin had been listening to music since you had stepped into JYPE’s private gym just a few floors below his studio. You knew he replayed whatever song they had produced that day while working out afterwards. It was Changbin’s way of clearing his head while also thinking of changes they needed to make in the melody or rhythm.

Still, you wouldn’t have complained about him talking to you or at least not ignoring you, caught up in his daily routine. Your relationship shouldn’t be routine anyways.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Changbin finally agreed as he took the second earplug out. With a swift motion, he put them into the little container, storing them in his pocket. “How about we finish the rest of the workout with no distractions, alright?”

“The rest of the workout?” you questioned in disbelief. “You mean you’re not finished?”

After an hour in the gym, you were convinced Changbin must have been as tired of it as you were. Even if you hadn’t done much actual working out, you could still tell you’d feel the effect of it tomorrow.

“Just another 30 minutes. Tops,” Changbin promised with a smile as he pointed at one machine behind him. “You wanna try something less boring?”

“Fine,” you gave in as you followed him to the device. You would already be sore the next day, so why not give yourself an extra push. “How does this work?”

“You sit on here,” your boyfriend guided you to the seat of the training equipment, “and you place your legs on either side of these pads.”

You followed his instructions one by one, placing your legs outside of two cushions attached to metal bars, eventually leading to the main body of the machine.

“And now what?” you questioned as you looked up at Changbin.

“Well, you’re gonna press your thighs together. But first, you put weight onto them. How much do you want? Like 5 kilos?” The teasing smile on his lips earned him an eye roll as it told you 5 kilos weren’t much.

“Funny.” The sarcasm was evident in your voice as you looked back at the weights variety the machine offered. It went from 5 to 90 kilos in steps of five. You were aware you shouldn’t start with the highest setting, though you didn’t want to start with the lowest either. “Give me like 20.”

“I don’t know, babe. You think you can handle that?”

Honestly, you didn’t believe that to be a lot of weight. 20 kilos? That’s like a dog or a five-year-old child. Although Changbin’s expression told you differently, you were sure you could take that much.

“I know you think I’m just your weak girlfriend. But I’m very capable of making those sorts of decisions for myself.” You didn’t intend it to come out as harsh as it did, seeing your boyfriend was merely trying to help you. Still, you didn’t appreciate him suggesting, you weren’t strong enough.

“Fine, don’t listen to me. But don’t you complain about your legs tomorrow. I won’t carry you around the house just because you didn’t believe me,” Changbin eventually agreed, setting the weight to your wishes. “Is this good?”

As you pressed your knees towards each other, effectively lifting the weight you had chosen, you realised you had messed up. You hadn’t known 20 kilos to put that much pressure onto your untrained legs when you could easily carry them with your arms. One of your nephews weighed about that much, and he was no difficulty for you.

Obviously, you couldn’t let Changbin know he had been right. After the scene you had just caused, you couldn’t acknowledge you were wrong, and actually weren’t capable of making those decisions for yourself.

“Yup.” You forced a smile onto your lips as you felt your abdominal muscles clench at the pain. It was almost impossible to control your facial expressions when you wanted to scream and curl into a ball instead. “Get back to your workout, babe. I’m fine, really.”

With a shake of his head, and a chuckle leaving his lips, Changbin turned around to head back to his previous workout. The second you were out of his sight, you stopped moving, feeling the burn in your every fibre already. Your legs were shaking as you silently breathed through the sting, picking the movement back up the second Changbin sat down. Unfortunately, he was facing you, so you couldn’t have merely pretended to be doing the exercise.

Your boyfriend picked up his previous routine, his arms finding the metal bar above his head as he started pulling it towards himself. You didn’t know exactly how much weight he had put onto his machine, but you guessed it was about 60 kilos. It was around three times what you were currently pressing between your legs, and still, he looked almost calm doing it. Obviously, you knew your boyfriend was fit – you saw him naked every day – but this was impressive, nevertheless.

You tried your best to concentrate on anything but your thighs, your eyes finding him after a few more squeezes. Changbin threw you a sweet smile as your teeth caught your lower lip. Looking at his buff arms only distracted you for so long, and you already felt you wouldn’t last much longer. Still, you didn’t think about giving up.

As you kept pushing yourself through the pain, you silently counted every press your legs did. Reaching ten presses after a minute, you decided it to be good enough for your first round. The second your legs stopped squeezing, an unintentional sigh left your lips as you felt your muscles relax. So far, so good.

With your head thrown back and your eyes pressed shut, you tried regaining your composure. You were so occupied with catching a grip on reality you didn’t even recognise Changbin was staring at you. You looked up at him only when you heard his weights hit the ground. He had barely gotten to 15 pulls, and you knew for a fact that this couldn’t be it. He must have had a lot more in him than just that.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned your boyfriend in confusion. Your hands came from the handles at your sides to your face as you dragged them across your skin. That you were already sweating after just a minute of actual working out couldn’t have been a good sign.

“You have got to be kidding me.” As Changbin shook his head in disbelief, your eyes wandered down his body to his hand positioned in his lap. You were trying to find the reason for his sudden reaction, and it took you a few seconds to realise how his hand wasn’t simply resting in his crotch. It pressed against it, trying to control the growing bulge under the thin fabric.

“Do you…” Your voice trailed off as a smile appeared on your face. With your hand covering your mouth, you tried hiding it, though you weren’t doing a good job. “Do you have a boner?”

“It’s not my fault,” Changbin reasoned as his eyes slid over your exposed legs towards your face. “It’s you!”

“What did I do? I’m just sitting here,” you explained as-a-matter-of-factly. You hadn’t done anything to turn him on, at least not intentionally.

“Yeah. Legs spread, making your sex noises.”

Your mouth opened at his accusation, your legs swinging over the cushions so you could close them. They were still quivering from the previous weighted movement, so you ran your hands over them, massaging the muscle.

“I’m not making sex noises,” you exclaimed, somewhat offended. No way in hell were the sounds you had made while pressing 20 kilos with your legs were the same ones you made when the two of you were together.

“You sure are. You’ve been moaning the whole time. And now you’re touching yourself, which isn’t any better,” Changbin pointed out, his eyes pinned on your hand running over your thigh. His words made you stop as you tried to terminate anything that might have caused his discomfort. It made you proud how it hadn’t taken much work to get him aroused, though you wouldn’t have disclosed that to him under any circumstance. “Also, we haven’t had sex in about three weeks.”

“And that’s my fault? How, exactly?”

With Changbin in the studio and you working all day, there had only been a few chances for the two of you to get some sexy time. And when such rare opportunities occurred, either you had been too tired, or he had been too sore. If he really wanted to blame you for the lack of intimacy, he couldn’t take himself out of the equation.

“It’s not.” A sigh left Changbin’s lips as she took the towel from beside him to put it over his crotch. “Let’s just get back to the workout, okay? I’m sure it will be gone in a few minutes.”

As your boyfriend stretched his arms to get a hold on the handles of the exercising machine above him, his tight shirt rid up his body a bit. It revealed his stomach below it for only a second, but you caught it anyway. Once he dragged the bar down the first time, your eyes immediately came to his bulky arms.

When you had met Changbin a few years earlier, he hadn’t yet achieved those as he hadn’t started working out as much.

You hadn’t fallen for him because of the way he could pick you up or spin you around as though you were a mannequin rather than a human being. You had fallen for Changbin because of his character, the way he could make you smile or laugh with only a few words. That he had gotten so muscular over the past two years was merely an extra which you didn’t mind. Frankly, you would have loved him with or without the few kilos of extra beef.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself wanting to touch him, lick him, or anything really. Nothing was off the table with the two of you, and even though your boyfriend was sweaty at the moment, you couldn’t help wanting to be closer to him. It became apparent at that moment that he wasn’t the only one riled up by the lack of sexual activity over the past few weeks.

“You know, there are quicker ways to get rid of an erection than waiting.” The words had left your mouth before you could think again about offering to help him out.

Changbin swiftly set the weights down again, his hands resting on his thick thighs as he looked at you with a smirk. Obviously, he understood what you were trying to say immediately.

“Are you serious? Here? A public place?”

Frankly, you hadn’t done many spicy things outside your own four walls, but there were first times for everything. Also, you weren’t sure you could wait to get home, wanting to pull those clothes off your boyfriend asap.

It was late anyway, and when you had come to pick him up from the studio, the whole building was pretty much empty. Right now, you thanked the lord that Chan had a dinner scheduled with his girlfriend. It gave you the perfect opportunity for some one-on-one time with your boyfriend.

“Sure. I mean, who’s gonna catch us? JYP?”

When Changbin realised you were right, that no one was there to catch you, he instantly lifted himself up. With a hurried sweep, he grabbed his towel and water bottle before making his way to you, his hand casually catching yours.

“Why are we still here then? Let’s go!”

A giggle left your lips at your boyfriend’s eagerness, the kiss he planted on your lips in excitement lasting only a second or two.

“Wait, my water bottle!” It still sat by the cross-trainer, long forgotten. There would have been plenty time to get it, but apparently, Changbin had other plans.

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

As Changbin dragged you from the gym to the changing rooms just a few doors down, you checked the halls one last time, making sure no one was around. When you realised everything was quiet, you bit your lip in anticipation.

The second you had reached the room, Changbin opened the door impatiently, pulling you inside. He closed the door behind you with a loud thud, and you found yourself pressed against the cold material instantly.

“This is so exciting,” your boyfriend pointed out before his lips met yours in an eager kiss. You could taste the sweat on his upper lip, though you couldn’t have cared less. Changbin’s strong hands instantly came to your waist, keeping you in place as his hip pressed into yours hungrily. “Let’s take this off, shall we?” A second later, your shirt was off you as Changbin’s hands came up to cup your breasts over the fabric of your sports bra.

“Do you like it? I bought it last week,” you questioned as Changbin eyed the white material.

“I do. I’d like it more if you took it off, though.”

“Sure. You first.”

With a smirk still plastered on his face, your boyfriend’s hands came to the hem of his shirt as he pulled it over his head. You bit your lip at the view, your mouth watering at the sight of his delicious peck muscles. Apart from his arms, they were probably your favourite extra.

“Your turn!” Changbin said before you could even think about touching him. You could get to that later, anyway. “And take off the shoes.”

Without as much as a hint of hesitation, you slipped out of your new clothing item and your sneakers, leaving you in only your pants and panties. Changbin followed suit, kicking his shoes and socks away as he came closer to you again.

His hands found yours as he pressed them against the door beside your head so you couldn’t move them. His body flushed against you was enough to declare you officially trapped.

When Changbin’s lips found yours again, his tongue instantly connecting with yours, he ground his hips into you, effectively making you sigh into him. You could feel him grinning against your mouth.

“I might have been wrong before. Your sex noises are way better than your workout noises,” Changbin pointed out. “They’re like music to my ears.”

“Maybe you should make a song out of them. This way, you can listen to me while working out.”

“Tempting- but I’d rather not get a boner while working out with Chan. This-” Rutting his hips into yours, you felt his erection more prominent than before. “This is for you and for you only.”

“Good.”

Your boyfriend’s lips met yours again, this time slightly rougher as he evidently attempted to move things along. Soon enough, his tongue met your neck as he sucked on the skin, causing another whimper to leave you. After years of being together, he clearly knew all your buttons by heart.

As Changbin reached your breast, your moaning turned into groaning, the frustration reaching a new high. His mouth engulfed your nipple, lightly grazing it with his teeth before he let his tongue run over it. The arching of your back was the only indication he needed to know his advances caused the wanted impact on you.

When his hands ran down your arms and to your waist, you felt goosebumps rise all over your body as a rush of blood went to your core. You had always loved how your boyfriend could turn you to mush at his hands, especially now that you had seen him work out. All the strength in his arms didn’t change how carefully he handled you; as though you’d break under too much pressure.

Your hands came to Changbin’s hair as he kissed all over your chest, entangling with the bundle as you closed your eyes and threw your head back at the pleasure. Only when he went further down, eventually landing on his knees – like you weren’t turned on enough already, making your heart skip a few beats – did you look down at him.

A smile spread on your lips as you knew what was coming.

“These,” Changbin’s hands came around your thighs as she slapped one of them hungrily, “make me go crazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about burying my head between them when you were doing that exercise earlier. And I do think we should get one of those exercise machines for our house. Just so we can misuse it. Every. Single. Day.”

With those words, Changbin started dragging your shorts down your legs, effectively taking your panties off with them. You quickly swiped them away with your foot so they wouldn’t get in the way of things.

“I think there are machines for that exact use. Why don’t we get one of those?” You couldn’t deny the thought exciting you. Smaller toys had been part of your love life since the beginning, but never something as massive as this.

“And I think I absolutely fucking love you.”

Without another second of hesitation, Changbin buried his head between your thighs, his tongue licking a rough strip up your folds. It made your legs quiver as you pulled at his hair. You were still pretty beat from your previous workout so that your legs were almost giving out beneath you was no surprise. Especially when your boyfriend made you feel so good on top of everything.

One of his arms kept you spread for him as his other came around your thigh, lifting it up and over his shoulder. It gave him much better access so his second hand could wander around your body, keeping you in place at your spine.

Changbin’s tongue ran along your entrance a couple times, dipping in only slightly before precisely meeting your nub. It sent shock waves down your back as he knew exactly how you liked it. He soon tilted his head, eyes closing as he seemed to enjoy this as much as you did. Perhaps even more.

The way he ate you out, fast – almost maliciously so – you knew you wouldn’t last for too long. That, paired with the excitement about someone possibly walking in on you at any given time, took you straight to cloud nine. Sure, you hadn’t noticed anyone before, but that didn’t mean no one was actually around.

When Changbin’s teeth came into play, lightly running over your nub every few licks, a loud cry escaped your throat. You bucked your hips into him involuntarily, the knee currently not resting on his shoulder quivering heavily. Had he not held you by your leg, you would have fallen to your knees at the pleasure running through your system. Changbin seemed to notice how difficult it was for you to concentrate on anything but the pain in your leg, quickly deciding to help you out.

You were used to having one of your legs positioned over your boyfriend’s shoulder, opening up possibilities for him to reach deeper – better. So, when Changbin pulled your second leg up, pulling it over his other shoulder, you were more than just stunned. In the new position, one you had never tried before – you fully sitting on his shoulders – a whole different set of possibilities opened up.

That Changbin could even carry you like this, all your weight pressing onto him, was a miracle. Sure, he benched more than your weight and probably pulled just as much, but this was still different. You weren’t dead weight like the metal sitting only rooms away; you’re a human. It was you and every kilo you brought to the table.

Your surprise and fear for your boyfriend’s well-being were swiftly overshadowed when you noticed just how much he enjoyed this new position. It gave him total control over your body, where to put you and how to bend you. And that control, he used to both your advantages.

As your back was pressed against the cold metal of the door, your hands automatically came to Changbin’s hair, pulling on it as he dove in deeper. His hands by your spine pushed you closer against him as you feared he might suffocate. He couldn’t have possibly gotten the necessary oxygen in this seemingly uncomfortable position. And, still, it didn’t impact his action as much as you had anticipated. It might have even spurred him on further.

His humming vibrated through your whole body, sending shock waves to every fibre of your being. You couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling, noticing the smirk against your core once he heard. One of his hands left your spine to slap your butt as he started massaging it, only encouraging you to be less cautious of the noise leaving your body.

Changbin’s second hand snuck around your body, running up your stomach and towards your breast, stroking it roughly as his fingers ran over your nipple. This, paired with his second hand on your butt and his mouth on your core, made you shiver and twitch against him. His tongue lapping at your juices, so precisely meeting every tiny spot between your legs, brought you close as fast as barely before.

“Fuck,” you sobbed once the tip of his muscle ran down to your hole, fucking inside hastily. It certainly wasn’t long enough to reach every spot within you, but it felt great, nonetheless. So much so that you could have stayed like this forever.

For all you cared, Changbin could have eaten you out like this the whole night. Though you doubted it would be enough to finish either of you.

So, when Changbin slowly and ever-so-carefully set your legs back onto the ground, his mouth leaving your heat, you weren’t mad. As your legs quivered on either side of him, he came up from the floor, standing right in front of you as he leaned in for a long, somewhat innocent kiss.

“We’re so gonna do that more often,” Changbin breathed against your lips as a smirk spread on his. “I’ll get undressed. Meet you in the shower?”

All you could muster was a nod as you shakily started making your way towards the shower cubicles. Finding your ass in a slap as you moved, you jerked forward in unexpectedness.

“Sorry, my hand slipped.” The smirk on his face told you otherwise, though you naturally ignored the comment as you continued your path further back.

The moment you found yourself under the warm water, the liquid running through your hair and down your body, you felt yourself relax. The jets softly massaged your back and the muscles which had gotten so tense from leaning against the metal door for too long, causing a few moans to slip out of your mouth.

It wasn’t until you felt a presence behind you that you came back from your trance, the thick fingers around your waist causing a smile to spread on your face.

“I hope the shower isn’t making you feel better than I do...” Voice trailing off, Changbin’s lips came to your neck, running along the vein at the side. You moaned at the feeling, even more relaxing than the shower itself, a smile spreading on his lips. “I take that as a ‘no’.”

With his hands running up your body, fingering over your perked nipples, you arched your back against his front. His arousal became unmistakably clear to you when you felt him poke one of your ass cheeks. You bit your lip at the sensation, proud of your effect on his body.

His tongue ran over your neck, down your left shoulder and over to your right as his hands softly massaged your breast. The shower jets only added to the sensation, your head soon thrown to the side to give Changbin better access to your earlobe. He twirled it between his teeth, growling in your ear as you continuously pushed your ass against him.

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this.” Smiling at your words, you tried turning around to kiss him, though his strong arms prevented any unapproved movement. “Stay like this. Perfectly still for me to touch and do as I please. You like that, don’t you?”

Humming in answer, Changbin ran one hand down your spine, thumb pressing into your muscles on either side. When he reached your butt, he grabbed one of your cheeks, pulling it to the side before letting it slap back against the other. He did the same thing to the other, his hand reaching even deeper, running two fingers through your folds to test your wetness. It made you moan loudly, the sound echoing from the tiled walls. To neither of your surprise, you were drenched.

“Ready, baby?”

You merely nodded, forming words impossible at this point. Not with how much need was radiating from your every pore.

Putting your hands against the wall in front of you, you leaned forward to give him better access. With one of his hands pressing against your lower back, the other guiding him towards your entrance, it took him less than 5 seconds to enter you, bottoming inside you.

“Mhm…”

“Feel good, baby?” Changbin pulled you back against his chest, slipping out just a tad at the movement. You agreed with a nod, hands reaching back to touch his hips.

“Move- please.”

Chuckling at your attempt to talk, Changbin tilted your head to the side with two fingers, kissing the corner of your mouth before slowly pulling out and plunging himself back in. “I fucking love you. Did I tell you that?”

His length dragged deliciously against your swollen walls in this position, meeting that spot inside you every time. It took him a few seconds to find a rhythm before his hips settled at snapping against yours in perfect timing with your breathing. At first, at least.

A few minutes into it, Changbin sped up, your hands coming from your side – holding onto his at your waist – to the wall in front of you. You needed to stabilise yourself in some way, his forceful thrusts sending you straight to heaven. He took a step forward to keep reaching deep inside, your back arching for comfort. It also helped you focus on not coming already.

“Fuck, if you keep clenching like this...”

Changbin didn’t end his sentence, but you understood him perfectly anyway. Knowing he wasn’t doing any better than you calmed you down, your walls relaxing slightly. It sent you closer quicker, but you knew he wasn’t far behind, so it was alright.

Soon enough, one of his hands reached around your body again, twisting your nipples once before travelling down your front. How he even had a head for helping you out when he was so close himself was beyond you. Your head started spinning when two of his fingers met your nub, roughly circling the flesh.

Letting your head hang slack in front of you, you squeezed your eyes shut at the sensation, the water running down your back only adding to it. You started twitching against him, your body leaving your control at his skilled technique. All you could do was hold onto the wall, trying to relieve some tension by dragging your fingers against the tiles. Your knuckles soon turned white, your head dizzy, and your sight blurry once Changbin angled his hips to reach your spot.

“Fuck-”

Your body started shaking at the approach of your inevitable release, Changbin pulling you flash against him. His arm wrapped around your front, keeping you stable against him as your hands reached back to grab him. With his head back at the side of your head, kissing your skin and attempting to give some momentum to the moment, you grabbed his hair, pulling lightly as the high came crashing over you.

Spasming against him, loud moans escaping your mouth like a waterfall, Changbin held you as close as possible, guiding you through it. He slowed down his thrusts for a few seconds, fingers circling your nub at a less demanding pace. His touch never stopped, simply helping you through the high but not letting you calm down just yet.

“That was so hot, baby,” Changbin whispered in your ear before picking up the pace of his hips and fingers. It sent you right back to the white-gazed, world-spinning high you hadn’t had the chance to come down from. “You think you can do it again?”

“I don’t-” your words were cut off when he sped up, going even harder and faster than he did earlier. The overstimulation set in soon enough, your mouth hanging slack as whimpers tumbled over your tongue. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“Just like that, baby. Come for me again!”

How you did it, you wouldn’t have been able to tell with a gun to your head. You had never come a second time this quick after your first time. Until now, that was.

Maybe it was how well Changbin knew your body, being able to coax orgasm after orgasm out of you at a speed that could have been world record worthy. Maybe, it was the whole ‘people might walk in on you any second’-situation. You didn’t have the head to care as you kept spasming against his front, feeling him release with a groan in your ear.

You rode out both your highs in about a minute, his movement never stopping but calming down with every second until he finally stopped. Changbin didn’t withdraw just yet, though he took the opportunity of complete calmness to press a soft kiss against your cheek.

Still catching your breath after two back-to-back orgasms, you merely smiled at his sweet action, hands holding onto him behind you.

“That-” Changbin cut himself off, also trying to get his breathing under control. It took him a few moments, but then he pulled out of you, spinning you around on wobbly legs. Kissing you for the first time in what felt like hours, you felt yourself reaching earth again after being sent to heaven twice in a matter of seconds. “The single, most hottest thing you ever did.”

“‘t wasn’t me. All you.”

That you still couldn’t speak properly further proved just how high up he had brought you. Changbin chuckled at your attempt to talk, forehead pressing against yours as you started feeling his release dribble down your leg. Good thing you were already in the shower, or else it would have made a complete mess.

“Let’s settle on team effort.” You giggled at his words, feeling your eyes and legs giving out on you. Had it not been for Changbin’s hands at your sides, you would have collapsed already. “You tired, baby?”

You didn’t need to answer that question as your boyfriend slowly guided you to the floor, helping you settle against the wall. The water was still running over your body as he disappeared for a few seconds. When he came back, he had shower gel, shampoo, and your sports bra with you, so you wouldn’t have to sit on the cold floor and risk catching a UTI. After that workout, you wouldn’t be needing it tonight anyway.

Turning your back to him, Changbin squeezed some of the shampoo onto his fingers before bringing them to your hair, softly spreading it over your scalp. The touch felt like magic, pumping energy back into your body. Same with the shower gel, which Changbin massaged into your back once he was done with your hair. You moaned at the feeling, your muscles relaxing at his perfectly calm touch.

Changbin always found ways to take ‘aftercare’ to a whole nother level.

“You good to walk? Or do you want me to carry you?”

“I can walk,” you told him, getting off the floor. Your legs were still pretty unstable, shaking under your weight. As though you hadn’t learned to walk yet.

“Okay, Bambi. Let me help you.” Swept off your feet, Changbin carried you out of the shower stalls and back into the changing area. You giggled in his arms, time and time again surprised by his strength. He almost made it look like you weighed nothing.

Wrapping you in a towel, Changbin left you for maybe a minute to clean himself. It gave you time to calm down further, your head and body almost completely back to normal once he came back into the room. As he dried himself off, you couldn’t help your wandering eyes running over his body. A real sight for the Gods, your boyfriend was.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, much to Changbin’s surprise. His eyebrows drew together, confusion taking over his face as he came closer, the towel hanging dangerously loose around his waist.

“What for?”

“You couldn’t finish your workout because of me.”

In your head, you knew he didn’t mind. Still, you felt bad you hadn’t let him finish off his routine because of your arousal. And, frankly, your unwillingness to work out even a minute longer.

“You’re a little stupid-head, you know that?” Changbin asked in amusement, playfully shoving your head as he seated himself next to you. “I’d do you over a workout anytime.” He kissed you lightly, tongue brushing against your lower lip for only a second before he pulled away. “Now, turn around, so I can get changed.”

You laughed at his demand, putting your hands over your eyes, fingers spread apart as far as possible.

“Eyes are closed. Go ahead!”

Changbin laughed at your action, a few emotions written on his face simultaneously. Though, it didn’t take much of you to recognise the main one. “Fuck, I don’t think I can love you more than right now.”

And he meant it.

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dapandapod · 1 year ago

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Bruises

I realized I forgot to post this on Tumbl! It's about 8,5k and written in one day in a fit of inspiration (helppppp) because I needed that sweet sweet Jaskier whump. Please enjoy this emotional hurt/comfort ish-fix-it of season 2. On Ao3 here

Jaskier never expected to see Kaer Morhen, especially not in the way he ended up seeing it.

The dwarves lead him and Ciri as far as they can, banter and cutting remarks following Jaskier at every step.

Sure, he gives as good as he gets; whatever he is dealt he makes sure to give back, if he can get away with it.

But you can only be hit so many times before it becomes a bruise, no matter how lightly.

And Jaskier is already sore, from years of barbs, from years of being told to “fuck off, bard” or “shut up, bard” or “you are so fucking loud,” and well. It hits harder when it is someone you consider a friend.

Especially when it turns out that friendship was one sided.

The little princess is full of resentment and anger, but trading banter puts a small smile on her face, so he lets her.

If the way to get friendly is to let her tease him, so be it. He knows she needs an outlet for her inner turmoil so it doesn’t fester, so he turns up the dramatics and plays along.

The second to last eve they spend with the dwarves, it suddenly becomes too much. He knows Yarpen isn’t a fan, he knows there is some truth behind his name calling and swearing.

Ciri is sitting across the fire, sharpening a stick with the knife from her boot, looking for all the world like she isn’t paying attention to the conversation around her.

But then one of the dwarves calls Jaskier an ignorant, lazy, useless human, wondering what the fuck he is doing here anyway.

Maybe it is the ale, maybe it is the smoke stinging his eyes, or the years of putting up with it.

Jaskier doesn’t remember which one of them it was afterwards, and it doesn’t matter. His anger flares. He stands up, and the group goes very quiet.

“Have any of you asked me anything of my life? Have any of you bothered to ask what I was doing in a fucking prison cell, why I don’t have a lute, or where I went after you left that fucking dragon hunt with Geralt?”

There is complete silence, only the crackling of the fire and the night sounds of the forest.

“You might think I’m useless, and that I am lazy, and that I’m ignorant. But I don’t have to be here. I have people depending on me, yet here I am. Giving up responsibilities and comforts alike, all for someone who can’t even call me a friend, surrounded by people who clearly don’t want me here.”

He flexes his hands, feeling the blistered and burned skin strain, the pain clearing his head some.

“I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.” He finishes, picks up his bedroll and his pack, and settles on the outskirts of the camp, by the wagon.

Close enough to be safe, far away enough to get some peace.

It takes a few minutes for the muttering to begin, a few more until Ciri stands up too, and gathers her bedroll.

Until now, she has been distant, and he can’t blame her in the least. Now she settles down just a few feet from him, alongside the carriage.

It is colder here in the north, and neither of them had any kind of proper gear packed for their journey, unplanned as it was. He still drapes his leather jacket over her when he hears her chattering teeth, and settles on his bedroll with just a thin blanket.

Kaer Morhen is all big halls, high ceilings and hairy men. Hairy witchers. Lots of them too, and Ciri runs to greet them with a big smile.

They had found Eskel along the path, guiding them the rest of the way up. Ciri knew some of the way already, but only the paths closest to the keep, so it was a great relief having someone who knew what to avoid and what trails led them past ancient traps and monster dens.

The road was long, and Jaskier can’t believe Geralt thought he would make it here unscathed. Eskel seemed a little concerned as well when Jaskier explained his task, but said nothing.

Still says nothing, now that Ciri is surrounded by witchers, and Jaskier is left just standing there at the edge of the room. He is usually not one to hesitate to introduce himself, but he is tired, hungry, and frankly feeling rather neglected.

Eventually Ciri introduces him to the group, and it takes about three seconds after that to figure out who Lambert is.

Ah, ‘Lambert, Lambert, what a prick,’ indeed.

He is given dinner, a place to sleep, and is shown to the room where they keep a myriad of bathtubs. Lucky for him, there is already a fire going, making the room warm and toasty, and making it considerably easier to warm the water without any signs.

Jaskier can’t lie, he had been picturing hot springs, or anything pre-heated really, especially the shallow pool that had been built in the floor.

A quick toe dip later, and he is never stepping foot in that pool, ever.

His fingers ache when they come in contact with the heat of the fireplace, and he flexes them in an attempt to dispel the discomfort.

Sinking down into a tub at long last is heaven.

Dirt from far more than the road to the keep has had his skin itching, his hair stuck in a permanent curl around his ears, and he longs for his artistic dishevelment once more.

Sharing breakfast with the witchers of Kaer Morhen enlightens him about the many odd manners of Geralt of Rivia.

Watching the other witchers mess with each other explains so much. Unguarded food is immediately stolen, and if given the chance, someone will increase the temperature of their tea all the way to boiling, and then challenge each other to drink it, and so on, and so forth. Brotherly pranks, clearly, but the kind you need a certain set of mutations to deal with.

Jaskier only has his mixed heritage to keep him out of the worst of troubles that technically would be bad news for full humans, but nothing to keep him safe from this, so he steers clear.

Yennefer and Geralt join them that same afternoon.

Ciri runs into Geralt’s arms, and Jaskier remains at the table where he is challenging Coën with loaded dice.

Not until most of the others have gone to bed does Geralt finally approach him.

“Thank you for bringing her safely here.”

Jaskier looks at him for a long while, before replying.

“You’re welcome.” He says finally, and Geralt pats his shoulder. Weird.

After that first day, Jaskier approaches Vesemir while the others are busy.

The way he left things in Oxenfurt doesn’t sit right with him, and he is pretty sure Pricilla is going to assume he is dead if he doesn’t get a message to her soon.

He still has no idea how long he is supposed to stay in the keep, but he writes a carefully worded letter, assuring his safety and asking her to keep singing the Song of the Shore.

She will know what the coded song title means, and he has enough funds squirreled away to keep the entire Sandpiper operation going for a while longer, before he needs to find a way to beg his benefactor for assistance.

Vesemir gives him a long look, and Jaskier offers the letter he is holding, stifling a frustrated sigh.

“You are free to read it. I’m not trying to give away your location, just assure my safety of me and those I left behind.” He says, because he knows.

He spent years in the library of Oxenfurt, and he has read the old tomes that contain what little witcher history there is to find, as poorly depicted as it is. He knows about the sacking of the keep, understands the fear of it happening again.

It still stings.

Vesemir accepts his offer, and opens the letter, reading it over. His eyebrow climbs up his forehead, and he looks at Jaskier before putting it back into its envelope.

“I’ll have it sent.” He says, his mustache twitching when he makes a considering face. “Do any of the others know?”

“About the Sandpiper?” Jaskier asks, and Vesemir nods. “Yennefer knows. She was a part of the last group I sent off, before…” Jaskier stops and takes a breath. “Before. I know how and when to keep things to myself.”

Vesemir nods again approvingly, and takes the letter with him.

No one seems to have noticed the exchange, and Jaskier is left wondering if that is a good or a bad thing.

Things are a bit tense in the keep. Geralt still hasn’t seemed to forgive Yennefer for her betrayal, and Ciri seems to be more withdrawn lately.

Between witcher practice and chores, Jaskier tries to make himself as useful as he can be.

Which is not very, as it turns out, since he is not trusted to be in the lab anymore because of a tiny little tasting incident. Nor is he allowed to help with the patching up the keep. The library is Vesemir’s baby, and Jaskier is sure he is safeguarding secrets of the past there.

So Jaskier just… hangs around. Without a lute, he can’t play, and he probably wouldn’t be able to just yet anyway with his fingers still in their sorry state. The blistered skin has started peeling now, and new soft pink skin has started to show underneath.

He and Yennefer are getting closer, both of them evidently outcasts of a sort.

Especially since none of the other witchers make an effort to get to know them, nor is Geralt paying any kind of attention to either of them. She is the only one who really knows about the firefucker, and nobody has bothered to ask about the bandages.

If she had her chaos, she could have healed him, but she doesn’t, so instead she makes what ointments she can and watches him like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t eat it instead of applying it.

Late summer is slowly becoming early fall, and Jaskier realizes that his window for leaving is ever shrinking.

He doesn’t want to leave, not really, but he has no idea what he's doing here. Geralt hasn't asked him to leave, but neither has he asked him to stay.

Their interactions are short and rarely between them alone.

A lot of it consists of Geralt being nearby when Jaskier is retelling funny stories of their travels, making Ciri smile and the other witchers roar with laughter and the corner of Geralt’s mouth twitch in an aborted smile.

They don’t treat him like the dwarves did, but they clearly don't know why Jaskier is here either, and it is frustrating to say the least.

They seem to appreciate his singing more than Geralt ever did, sure, but sometimes it feels like they use him to annoy Geralt, and sometimes Jaskier thinks it’s working…

Lambert is probably the worst. He is an asshole and excuses it by calling it honesty.

He picks up where Geralt left off after the mountain, poking at every visible sore spot until Jaskier is stinging. Jabs and jibes, poking fun at Jaskier to make the others laugh. Nothing he isn’t used to, but something that makes Jaskier feel uncomfortable when nobody steps in to stop him.

Ciri sticks close to his side after those nights.

She doesn’t say much, doesn’t try to defend him, and he would never ask her to, but she glares at Lambert and asks Jaskier to tell her another story, which he gladly does.

It’s been two weeks since their arrival, and he, Lambert, Coën and Geralt are gathered around the dining table. Most of the others have filtered out to their own tasks or downtime activities, but they linger, chatting and playing dice. Coën stays out of it, still not trusting Jaskier since the loaded dice incident, which Jaskier is immensely proud of.

For the first time in a long time, Jaskier is actually enjoying himself, and enjoying being next to his friend. Maybe, after all this time, Geralt has started to think of him as a friend too.

Until Lambert opens his mouth and ruins it all.

“You are not half as bad as Geralt made you out to be. Or maybe it’s because he made you leave your lute behind at the bottom of the mountain?”

Next to him Geralt stiffens, and Jaskier feels his jaw working.

“Thanks,” is all he says, shaking the dice in the cup one more time before slamming it down on the table a little harder than strictly necessary. Then he stands up and climbs over the bench, very fucking done with the entire conversation.

Behind him he can hear Coën berating Lambert, who pretends he has no idea what he said wrong.

Fucking asshole.

He doesn’t hear Geralt say anything, nor ask about the missing lute.

It’s not that cold out yet, but the air is fresh and crisp on his face when he steps out through one of the side entrances to the courtyard. Here and there witchers are milling about, but Jaskier wants to be alone.

He hurries to the main gate and across the bridge, seeking his solitude amongst the trees on the other side. Technically, it is a bit dangerous to go out alone, but Jaskier is pretty sure no little beasties would dare come close to a monster hunter’s keep in broad daylight.

“Jaskier.” Geralt calls after him, and Jaskier stifles a long line of swears. Still he lets Geralt catch up to him, even if he is decidedly not looking at the witcher.

“Lambert can be such a prick.” Geralt says when he has caught up. “He only wants to rile you up.”

Jaskier notices the clear lack of an apology in there.

“So I’ve noticed. And he succeeded,” Jaskier says shortly, flexing his fingers again.

A bad habit now, but it is better than picking at the sharp, hardened edges of skin that still cling to his fingertips as they heal.

Clearly, Geralt hadn’t thought through what he wanted to say, or he had expected this to be enough. It isn’t. He lingers, still standing there, waiting for… something.

“What do you want from me, Geralt?” He asks when Geralt isn’t saying anything, and turns to look at him. His… friend. The man he has spent far too many years believing he meant something to.

“... I wanted to see if you are alright.” Geralt says haltingly, and Jaskier finally snaps.

“Oh yes, I am clearly alright after being told time and time again that I am annoying, unwanted, useless, loud, and being told by your family that you had made me out to be all those things too, before they even met me.”

Geralt looks taken aback, but Jaskier is not done.

“I’m tired of this, Geralt. I am so fucking tired of this. Not once have you come to my defence, not once have you told them to fuck off.”

“You can hold your own.” Geralt says, frowning, and Jaskier spreads his arm in frustration.

“I can, of course I fucking can! I have to, since not even the man I thought of as my best friend considers me a friend enough to have my back!”

Again, the witcher doesn’t have a reply to that. Fucking figures.

“Leave me alone, Geralt. Before I say something I’ll regret.”

“...Don’t wander.” The witcher cautions him hesitantly, and thankfully returns towards the bridge.

Jaskier stays longer than what is probably advisable. He is just fuming, and he kicks a young tree, making yellow leaves fall down around him.

He could technically blow off steam by sitting down to write, but there would be an audience no matter where he goes in the keep, and he is also not very much in the mood for another Burn Butcher Burn.

That one has done enough damage already.

In the end, it is Ciri who ends up fetching him. She doesn’t say anything about his red eyes and tousled hair, nor the bruises on his knuckles.

“Dinner is ready,” is all she says, and waits for him to join her back across the bridge with the others.

Jaskier takes his dinner and chooses another table far from the big group. Predictably, Ciri joins him, but he didn’t expect Eskel to sit down with them, too. Nor Yennefer. Nor Geralt.

They talk amongst themselves, even if Ciri and Jaskier are the only one replying to Yennefer when she says something.

It makes him feel weird, considering their rivalry all these years.

He knocks their shoulders together and teases her, calls her the worst wife ever. It is worth it for the smile he teases out of her, but he notices Geralt pull in a sharp breath of air.

“What?” he asks, but Geralt says nothing, just stares down at his food.

That evening, Geralt walks Jaskier back to his room.

“I’m sorry,” the witcher finally says after a long stretch of silence that Jaskier refuses to fill. “For what Lambert said. And for what I made Lambert believe.”

Jaskier blinks in surprise. When there is nothing else, he turns towards his door.

“Sure. See you around, Geralt.”

But Geralt stops him with a hand around his wrist.

“Are you and Yennefer… really married?”

Of course. Of course that is what would be on Geralt’s mind. Another sore spot amongst the others on his bruised heart.

“Fret not, witcher, the sorceress is still unwed and free for the taking. She did get me out of a rather sticky situation, though, so if it’s all the same to you, I do consider her my friend and platonic wife.”

With that, Jaskier turns and closes the door behind him.

Fuck, that was not how he wanted this day to go. His eyes sting and he swallows many times and he clenches his fists to keep his emotions in line.

Maybe it is time to leave.

Maybe it is time to go back to where people need and want him. Where he can make a difference. Where he can matter. Where he is enough.

His eyes sting once more, and with a great sigh he heaves himself from where he was leaning against the door and pours himself a cup of water.

He’ll talk with Eskel in the morning. Or Vesemir. Find a way to leave that won’t inconvenience anyone any further.

Leaving is harder than he thought, mainly because now, all of a sudden, people seem to seek his company.

Yennefer keeps appearing, asking him for help with stupid things. Some of them, he realizes, might be a way to regain the trust she broke between her and Geralt, but he appreciates her company it all the same.

Especially since most of it includes making Ciri smile, some other parts of it to make Lambert’s life a little more shitty. Something he is all for, to be honest.

Jaskier is petty when he wants to be, and right now he is the Prince of Petty.

Geralt too, seems to have come to some conclusion. He bites back faster when Lambert becomes too much, or Eskel, or Coën for that matter. In Jaskier’s defence, even.

It’s… weird. Nice, but weird.

And it is tearing at the walls that he spent all summer building.

Jaskier writes another letter to Pricilla.

Vesemir had told him that he will accept no return letter, but there are some strings he could pull if it were really necessary. Since they are hiding from Nilfgaard in a keep deeply hidden away by time and nature, Jaskier respects the need for it, and continues writing his one sided letters.

He is rather used to one sided communication, after all.

When he finally thinks he is about to get Eskel alone, it is not by his own doing.

“I’m sorry, I found a journal without a name, and I looked through it to see who it belonged to.”

Well, fuck.

“Jaskier. You are putting yourself at great risk.”

“And others even more so, if I don’t.” Jaskier replies, knowing exactly what he is referring to. Eskel blinks, then nods.

“I need to go back, Eskel. Before winter comes.”

“It’s too dangerous. The pass will be open for a few weeks more, but you are a wanted man.”

This is news.

“What do you know?” He asks quietly, accepting his journal back.

“I have no idea how you got into the prison cell, but word’s spread that the White Wolf busted you out.”

Fuck.

“That’s not good.”

“I’m sorry.” Eskel says, and Jaskier pats his shoulder, but he immediately pulls his hand back with a grimace. How can one see the spikes on his shoulders, and forget that they are, indeed, spikey?

“Shouldn’t have done that. Why do you keep wearing spikes?” Jaskier says. “ Also, no fault but my own, I suppose, with the jailbreaking and all that. Actually, scratch that, are all witchers allergic to just bailing someone out? Or is it just a Geralt thing?”

Jaskier tries to lighten the mood, but his stomach is sinking and his hands feel clammy. Time to write another letter or three.

“Witcher’s are all cheapskates, I’m afraid,” Eskel grins, but then sobers. “Do the others know?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“They didn’t ask. Nobody asked.”

At the same time, Geralt comes around the corner and spots them, a frown forming on his forehead. Of course.

“Right. Well, if you would keep this to yourself, I’d be immensely grateful.” Jaskier says quietly, and this time Eskel pats Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I got your back, bard,” the scarred witcher says, ironically, and now there is a lump forming in Jaskier’s throat.

Great. Fantastic. Splendid. Amazing.

Without waiting, Jaskier takes off towards his room to hide his journal again. Not to avoid Geralt. Not at all.

The letters he puts together are swiftly given to Vesemir. His eyebrows shoot up again when he spots one of the names addressed.

“Not a friend I would have expected of you, Pankratz.” Vesemir says quietly. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

Jaskier knows. It is a high risk game for everybody involved, with him in the direct line of fire.

“They will have to make do without me for a while.” Jaskier says quietly. “Or so Eskel tells me.”

“Ah, yes. Might be good to lay low for a while. You are welcome to stay the season with us, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, but we expect you to pull your weight.”

Does he have anywhere? Is he really welcome here?

The way Geralt looks at him sometimes, he is not so sure.

“Thank you. Though I might need to make a trip down to civilization soon. Some more clothes, paper and a lute. What kind of bard am I without a lute?” He asks, half joking.

“It’d be better if we sent down one of our usuals.” Vesemir says, scratching at his beard. “A man like yourself is sure to stand out anywhere in these small settlements.”

Was that a complement?

“Was that a complement?” Jaskier says, smirking, and Vesemir huffs goodnaturedly.

“I can see them looking, bard. I have eyes. And ears.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asks, frowning, but Vesemir turns to go.

“Write me a list of what you need, and I’ll see what we can do.”

Aubry and Coën leave only a few days after Jaskier had written his list. He doesn’t really expect them to find him a lute, but something stringed to play would be nice. It’s rather likely they would find a 4 stringed lute at most, nothing like the one he smashed over that guard’s head, nor like the one he got from the Elven kind that he keeps safely in Oxenfurt.

Frankly, he’s glad that he couldn’t bring one of his nicer instruments.

The temperature changes could crack the wood, if not treated carefully, and it would be hell to keep that many strings tuned. He is pleasantly surprised when there is a knock on his door, and Geralt steps in with a leather case.

“The boys found you something,” he says by way of greeting, and Jaskier stands from his desk to accept the offered case.

He can feel the corner of his mouth tick up, and he wipes his hands on his trousers first to rid himself of stray ink before he dares touch it.

He grips it by the neck, feeling the smooth wood even through the leather of the case, and the gentle sounds of the strings as they are pinched in his grip.

“Oh, hello there,” he whispers to it, and opens it reverently.

She has six strings and a little care package, and she is terribly out of tune. The wood is old, loved, worn out, and he can see clearly where her previous player liked to put their fingers, the lacquer worn or marked to help the unpracticed one.

“What a beauty you are,” he tells her, and from the corner of his eyes, he sees Geralt leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. It almost looks like he is smiling, but Jaskier won’t turn his head to look.

There is a nervousness in him, like when you get to know a new lover. Excitement, fondness, curiosity.

He sits down on the bed, lute perched in his lap, and attempts to tune it. He fishes out the little tuning fork around his neck, raps it on his knuckles, plucks the matching string, and starts adjusting it.

Geralt makes a face; it’s probably not a nice sound to sensitive ears, but he remains.

“Did you know, it's common lutes have as many as 12 courses?” Jaskier says, turning the peg until it feels right.

“Courses?” Geralt asks.

“Strings. Oh, I might need to get this little darling some new pegs eventually, and that string looks a little worn out. We will fix you up, love.” He coos at the lute, and he hears Geralt huff.

“Doesn’t yours have 13?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier looks up, surprised.

“They do, yes.” Jaskier looks down, and his hands suddenly feel a little clammy, his cheeks warm. “The most I have ever heard of is 35, which is ridiculous. One of my old masters in Oxenfurt has one with 19, but I find those are best suited for academic music, rather than music for the masses.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything else, and when Jaskier looks up, Geralt is smiling.

“What?” He asks, but Geralt just shakes his head.

“Just haven’t talked like this in a while. It’s nice.”

That… is not what he expected him to say. Truth be told, he is still a little hurt. He still hasn't received a proper apology from that outburst from Geralt on the dragon hunt, nor any kind of thanks for just dropping everything to come with him again.

“This is going to take a while,” Jaskier says hesitantly, when Geralt doesn’t say anything else, nor move. “Technically, I should look her over first, then tune, but ah, can’t blame a man for being excited, can you?”

Jaskier looks down, puts his tuning fork back inside his shirt, where it clinks against the ring, and puts both hands on his lute.

“I don’t mind. If you don’t mind me staying.”

This is so weird.

Geralt stays, and listens to Jaskier tuning his new treasure. It takes him almost twenty minutes to see that Geralt is holding another bag, most likely one with the requested clothing.

They will have to wait a little more, as Jaskier is getting into position and putting the lute strap over his shoulder.

His right hand already stings a little, the new skin not used to the sharpness of the strings. Jaskier plays a few scales to get to know her, and to get back into it. He plays a little ditty from his past, humming the familiar nonsense words of the warm up song of his early days in the academy.

They don’t know each other yet, but it feels good to play again.

Just because he can, and because he wants to show off a little, Jaskier decides to test her limits. An old lullaby, embellished by the academics and time, harmonies and contrast ringing out in the room.

He smiles, until his index finger stings, and he hisses and puts it in his mouth.

“You alright?” Geralt asks, sitting up straighter from where he finally was sitting on the chair by Jaskier’s desk.

“‘m good,” Jaskier says around the finger in his mouth. “Just a cut. New skin’s not tough yet.”

He takes the finger out, and inspects it. His fingers are red, and the small cut is bleeding a little more than it should. Even his cuts are dramatic, he hears his teacher say, an echo from a distant past in the back of his mind.

“...New skin?” Geralt asks, face blank, and Jaskier looks up at him. The good atmosphere in the room is changing, and for some reason Jaskier feels like it is his fault. It makes him feel a bit defensive.

“Yes, you know, after the old skin blisters after a bad burn? Haven’t played in some time either, so that probably makes it worse, I suppose.” Jaskier can’t help but prod, to see if Geralt will take notice.

“You didn’t tell me about the burn,” Geralt says, his mouth a thin line.

“You didn’t ask.” Jaskier says, laying both hands flat over the strings, looking at Geralt challengingly. Good mood is all but gone now, and he feels that old bruise makes itself known again. This time he is the one poking it.

“Usually don’t have to.”

“Maybe I got tired of our one sided friendship,” Jaskier says before he can stop himself. Fuck, that is not how he meant to say that.

By the looks of it, Geralt doesn’t take it too well either.

He stands up, staring at Jaskier as if he grew a second head.

“Tired?” He says, hands clenching and unclenching against his sides.

“When was the last time you called me your friend, Geralt?” Jaskier says, starting to get agitated. “When was the last time you asked me something, anything that didn’t directly relate to Yennefer, Ciri, or you needing me to do something? When was the last time you apologized, for anything you have said to me?”

Jaskier stands up and puts the lute down on the bed, lest he does something he regrets too. All the words are pouring out of him now, why risk breaking anything but his own heart?

“Maybe I grew tired of being the only one trying.” He grabs his handkerchief to stop the blood from his finger, clenching his hand hard around it.

“Why are you here then?” Geralt spits, and it’s like a slap.

“I ask myself the same thing every day,” Jaskier shoots back, finding himself taking a step forward. “Why am I here, when clearly nobody wants me to be?”

Geralt stares at him, and Jaskier can’t really tell what that expression is.

“Are you leaving?” Geralt asks through clenched jaws.

“Can’t. Apparently there are consequences for being broken out of jail. Especially when it happens to have been by someone like the White Wolf.”

This time, Geralt visibly flinches.

“Didn’t think about that, did you?” Jaskier says. “I was so glad you found me again, I didn’t give a damn about the consequences. I pretended we could start again, maybe you would want me by your side, walking next to you for once, not just trailing behind like some forlorn fucking puppy.”

Jaskier looks at his bed, looks at the oh so loved lute, that had seen so many sets of hands, every scratch and tear a part of a journey.

“Vesemir has allowed me to stay through the winter. Unless you’ve all got something against that. Let me know, and I’ll be on my way.”

Jaskier wishes he wasn’t in his room. Wishes he could just leave. Instead, he has to stand there like an idiot and wait until either Geralt does, or opens his mouth, for once.

“I didn’t realize…” Geralt begins but trails off.

“That actions have consequences, Geralt? That words do damage too? Did you learn nothing from your entire Butcher experience?”

That is a low blow, and he knows it, but he doesn’t feel like being nice right now.

It’s remarkable that Geralt hasn’t blown up at him yet, which in itself is probably not a very high standard to hold anyone against.

“You are still bleeding,” Geralt says eventually, and Jaskier looks down to see that he’s dropped his handkerchief. The witcher bends down and picks it up, grabbing Jaskier’s hand along the way.

Jaskier is too stunned to protest, and Geralt lifts his hand enough to inspect the cut. It’s not bleeding much anymore, but from where it’s placed, it is likely open easily.

Geralt pinches the tip of Jaskier’s finger with the handkerchief, and Jaskier suddenly flashes back to another room, another time when someone held his hand.

It takes effort not to just yank his hand back, his pulse rising and his palms getting clammy again. Geralt looks at him from under his brow, concerned, but Jaskier pinches his lips shut.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“About what?” Jaskier manages when Geralt breaks the stare to reach for some linen Jaskier has been using as bandages every now and then.

“What I missed this past year. How to be your friend. Where we go from here.”

Geralt makes a tight wrap around his finger, to the best of his ability. Not the best place for a bandage, but at least Geralt has experience.

“I can’t tell you where we go from here, Geralt. If you ask, I can tell you about the months since the dragon hunt, but the rest, you will have to figure out along with me.”

Geralt holds Jaskier’s hand in his for a moment longer, neither of them looking at the other. The witcher’s hand is not much larger than his. With a gentle thumb, Geralt moves Jaskier’s fingers, allowing him to see what the firefucker did to him.

“You and Eskel seem to get along,” Geralt says carefully. “Does he know?”

The corner of Jaskier’s mouth tugs upwards in half a smile. Geralt is fishing, but Jaskier won’t say unless there is an actual question.

“Some. He found a journal of mine that I thought I had hidden.”

Geralt frowns and releases Jaskier’s hand. It drops to his side, and they both just stand there in the middle of the room, looking anywhere but at each other.

“You don’t usually hide your songs.”

“It wasn’t a song book.”

“... Can I see?”

Fuck it, why not. Whatever is happening in this room tonight will change things either way.

The new hiding place isn’t really a hiding place, just the drawer in his desk. He hands Geralt the leather bound pages, and Geralt opens and looks through it.

At first glance, it looks like his economic books. Taking stock of things bought and sold, to who and where.

Geralt glances up at Jaskier, who just nods at the book again.

Flipping a few pages, Geralt starts to make connections. When he looks up at Jaskier again, his face is carefully blank.

“You are the Sandpiper.”

“I am.” Jaskier agrees.

“You smuggled elves out of the big cities.”

“Indeed. Don’t worry, I have taken precautions for if I’m not around.”

If he should be discovered. If he were not to come back.

“Jaskier, you are putting yourself at risk.”

“And so are you, every time you take a contract. Don’t you dare tell me it’s not the same.”

“So it’s for the money?”

Jaskier sniffs, glaring at the witcher.

“No. It’s for the people who don't have anyone else to turn to. Because when they run out of elves, they will find new targets. You can’t tell me you took every contract for the coin, I have seen you accept contracts for half of your rate if they can’t afford it.”

“Is that why your fingers were blistered?” Geralt asks.

“No. That’s… something else. Something I’d rather not talk about tonight, if you don’t mind.”

Jaskier knows that if he does, he will spend the rest of the evening wondering if he gave anything away, wondering where Rience is, who else he is burning because Jaskier got away.

Geralt gives the book back, and Jaskier places it back in the drawer.

“Rest your hand, Jaskier. Heal before you play again.”

The room is strangely empty when Geralt has left.

Jaskier sits on the bed, staring at his hands for a long while, until he finally decides to look at what was in the bag of clothes that Geralt brought, and Jaskier promptly forgot about in favor of the lute.

Looking through it,it seems like Geralt might have added a shirt of his own to Jaskier’s new wardrobe.

He shoves it to the bottom of the pile.

Jaskier doesn’t make it down to dinner that night.

After that day, things slowly progress in small steps.

Everything goes to shit, however, when Voleth Meir makes herself known.

Ciri’s body moves at the possessing demon’s will, and she manages to stab three witchers badly before the alarm is raised.

Yennefer wakes him up, pulling him from a dream into a nightmare. She needs him.

Somehow they always need him.

The powers channeled through Ciri’s small body are strong, destructive.

Jaskier is hiding under a table when a large creature steps through a portal, a creature he has never seen before. It sweeps at the witchers, and Voleth Meir laughs with Ciri’s mouth.

It takes Yennefer tearing open her veins for Voleth Meir to finally let go, for Ciri to free herself from the snares her mind had been tangled in.

With a scream, Ciri, Yennefer and Geralt disappear from view through a portal.

Jaskier sees Lambert land on his back, leg bleeding badly after a swipe from one of the creatures still roaming. He pulls him to the relative safety of his table, and tears his tunic enough to wrap Lambert’s leg.

“Thank you,” Lambert grumbles as he gets his bearings, the commotion in the room making it hard to hear. Jaskier just nods, tying the makeshift bandage off.

Finally, it’s over.

And somehow, Yennefer got her powers back.

The days after are a mess. One of the stabbed witchers doesn’t make it, and Ciri has been hiding in her room, guilt ridden, making herself as small as physically possible.

Geralt tries to coax her out, but he still has too little time, too many things to sort out. With her newly regained magic, Yennefer heals who she can, focusing on major injuries until she almost exhausts herself completely.

All the while, Jaskier is left to his own devices. Again.

Not that there is anything he can actually do for them. He isn’t medically trained, nor does have magical abilities.

It leaves him wondering how he survived the whole ordeal at all, and while he feels lucky about it, there is also a morsel of guilt.

So Jaskier finds himself knocking on Ciri’s door. She is reluctant to let him in, but with some honey cake bribes, she finally relents.

This, he knows. This, he can help with.

A young girl, plagued with guilt and fear, struggling to get a hold of herself and what she did, he knows how to help her.

“Not what you did. What your body did, under someone else's control.” Jaskier reminds her between bites. “I might not have gone through what you have, but I know what it is like to feel helpless. Fear and expectations don’t mix well, especially not when a murderous witch is involved.”

They talk a lot, mostly Ciri actually, and maybe they cry a little. After they finish their stolen cakes, and Jaskier has sworn not to tell Lambert, Jaskier brings out his lute to let Ciri play.

It seems she has a basic knowledge, plucking out the chords of a famous love song.

Sadly, not one that Jaskier had written, but at least it wasn’t one of Valdo Marx’s. Which he tells her.

And then she proceeds to play one of Marx’s love songs.

When Geralt finally joins them, Jaskier is chasing a giggling Ciri, who is hugging the lute close, calling her a traitor and a terrible little child, cursing Valdo for tainting her poor, innocent ears.

The first day Ciri dares to join them for breakfast, she hides behind Geralt. Both Yennefer and Jaskier hover, ready to step in between if anyone has anything to say.

They don’t.

Lambert is the first one to approach, bandage and limp both gone, Jaskier notes. He sits opposite of Geralt and Ciri, slamming his plate down, his fork rattling down across the table.

“Hey, it happens. What is a little mind control between friends?” is all he says, then digs into his food with the worst table manners Jaskier has seen in a while.

The tension breaks when Jaskier starts berating him for it, and is met with a mouthful of food telling him exactly where he can stuff his manners.

Ciri smiles when Eskel settles next to her, bumping their arms together.

The others make a toast to the lion cub among the wolves, the one who finally found a way to shut Lambert up. Even if it was by challenging him to stuff his mouth full enough to almost choke.

The first snow falls not long after.

The last letter has been sent, the last visit to the village by the foot of the mountains has been made, and those witchers unwilling to be stuck for the season have left.

It is colder than a grave hag’s asshole, as Eskel declares one day, with Coën immediately wanting to know why he knows that piece of information.

“I am a man of science,” Eskel grins and winks, and Lambert almost spits out his mead.

Ciri and Yennefer are slowly bonding, their first lessons taking place by the giant lake below the keep.

Jaskier takes care of his lute, works on new material, and with Vesemir and Eskel’s help, looks for new routes for the Sandpiper to take.

Geralt finds him more often now, seeking out his company rather than just tolerating it.

For a moment, Jaskier had expected him and Yennefer to fall back into bed as soon as the air was cleared, but if they have, they never said.

Instead, Yennefer spends more and more time with Ciri, trying to work out ways to control her power when they realize just how strong the young girl already is.

Sometimes they all do things all together.

They go ice skating.

They lose a snowball fight, pelted until they yell for mercy.

Jaskier finally learns of the hot springs, much to his outrage.

“You mean I could have dipped into preheated water all along?!” he yells, waving his arms around dramatically, and is rewarded when Ciri snickers, and Geralt bites down a smile.

It makes something in his chest soar.

The walls from the past year are slowly being torn down.

Deliberately so, in fact.

Piece by piece, Jaskier decides to let Geralt in.

It’s not perfect. It’s painful and it’s terrifying to let himself be open to hope again, to trust that there is friendship this time.

When Geralt learns about the firefucker, he is gone for an entire day.

Jaskier has no idea where he went, and he is feeling terribly vulnerable after talking about it, hands shaking and heart racing. Yennefer finds him outside her workroom, and she pulls him inside, cursing Geralt all the way.

“Let him sulk,” she says. “If he can make a hardship his fault, he will. When he gets his head out of his ass, he’ll come back.”

Later that night, Jaskier hears Yennefer rip Geralt a new one for leaving like that, when Jaskier clearly was shaken up and shouldn’t have been left alone.

Ciri learns about the firefucker days after, and angry tears roll down her cheeks when she realizes what Jaskier went through for her, even before they met.

They sit on the bridge outside the gates, feet dangling over the edge. The air is cold enough for their breath to fog, and Ciri’s slightly damp hair to freeze.

Jaskier thumbs her tears away and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“The whole world could be at my heels, and I would do it all again to keep you safe.”

“Sometimes, I just want the world to burn.” Ciri whispers, and Jaskier tucks her into his side.

Geralt calls him his friend now.

It’s good.

Jaskier gets to borrow a horse, and they go out riding in the snow around the keep. They argue about whose turn it is to do the laundry, and who is the worse cook.

When the window to Jaskier’s room breaks for reasons Lambert and Ciri swear up and down they know nothing about, Geralt simply moves him into his own.

The bed is wide enough for the both of them, which makes Jaskier think of who else might have shared it before him, but he pushes that thought down.

It has no place here, nothing to stand on.

They actually interact less after sharing a room, both of them needing their own space during the day.

They learned that after a vicious fight, where Geralt found all Jaskier’s sore spots once again and pounced.

“Do you ever tire of your own voice?!” he asked nastily, and that shut Jaskier right up.

He slept in the main hall for three days, until Geralt actually apologized.

After that first apology, the rest came a little easier.

They talked about what happened on the mountain. They talked about Jaskier’s past, and Geralt confessed that sometimes, since way before the dragon hunt, he thought Jaskier was only following him for the stories, for the fame it brought him.

It was Jaskier’s turn to apologize, for not seeing that, for not respecting privacy and boundaries set. He realizes he might have been blind to Geralt’s reactions to his songs, distracted with the fame their association granted them.

“But,” Jaskier says,”Not once would I have left you, even if you never lifted your sword ever again.”

To this, Geralt admits to how he always expects to be abandoned, or to be left behind.

“The thought of you leaving, or dying, it’s terrifying. I don’t think I could piece myself together again. So I left first.”

It’s like a kick in the chest, when Jaskier realizes.

That is the first night they actually sleep close on purpose. Geralt is a nasty little blanket thief, but Jaskier makes due by simply curling in close.

Midwinter comes, and a new year grows on the horizon. Darkness grants them a perfect view of the stars above, and the snow a blanket to let the world sleep.

Jaskier still is not allowed to join them on hunting trips, but he is getting good with a bow, under Vesemir’s sharp eyes.

Another sleepless night, another early morning, at the first light of dawn, when the first rays find their way through the dirty windows of Geralt’s room, that is when Jaskier dares to press a kiss to Geralt’s forehead.

Convinced that the witcher is asleep, he leans on his elbow, tracing a wild strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a quick kiss, dry lips against warm skin, making Jaskier’s entire body ache.

This is why he feared bringing down those walls. This is why he withstood the bruises, an armor to keep his heart at bay.

He doesn’t expect Geralt to open his eyes and gaze up at him. Doesn’t expect Geralt to wrap a hand around his neck and pull him down, pressing a kiss of his own to Jaskier’s forehead.

Resting against Geralt’s chest, Jaskier draws in a shaking breath.

“Ask me, Geralt.” He whispers into the dawning day.

“Do you love me?” Geralt whispers back, arms tightening around Jaskier’s back, pulling him closer.

“I do.” His voice wavers, eyes stinging. “Where do we go from here?”

“Wherever we want to. We’ll figure it out.”

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Do you…?”

Jaskier doesn’t dare ask. Too scared of the question, even more scared of the answer.

Instead of replying, Geralt rolls them over.

Now he is the one leaning on his elbows, hovering inches from Jaskier. They are so close, he can feel every breath Geralt takes, see the pulse jump in his throat.

Instead of replying, Geralt kisses him.

A surprisingly chaste kiss, lingering and soothing and earth shattering and heart wrenching.

“I do.” Geralt whispers finally, lips brushing together. “Whatever that will do to us, I do.”

Come spring and the first visit to the village below the mountain, Vesemir finds him with ten envelopes and a small box.

The box is a set of strings and pegs and lute varnish they couldn’t get before the pass closed this winter. Most of the letters are from Pricilla, updating him on what is going on in Oxenfurt and the Sandpiper network, all well coded.

Jaskier realizes he can’t stay anymore.

The world around them is growing ever more restless and chaotic, and the only way to be prepared is to be out there.

Parting with Geralt is harder than it ever was before.

Being alone is dangerous, but being with them is even more so.

He has an organization to run. Stories to tell. Lies to spread.

During the winter, Jaskier came to realize how he can make a difference. On the road, with a lute on his back, in inns and taverns, the way he always did.

As they part, on a crossroad that finally will lead them to part, they stand next to new Roach and Pegasus, arms wrapped around each other and foreheads pressed together.

“Ask me,” Jaskier whispers.

“Won’t you tell me?” Geralt whispers back, making Jaskier huff and smile.

“I won’t make it that easy for you, witcher.” He teases, and Geralt steals a kiss, humming softly into it.

“So I’ll have to come find you then, and ask you to tell me again.” Geralt mumbles against his lips.

Jaskier will hold him to that.

Words held back until they meet again.

The road is long, and full of dangers.

Jaskier hopes it will lead him to Kaer Morhen once more.

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