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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 years

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The Bond Between Us ~ 24

THE BOND BETWEEN US MASTERLIST

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Word Count: 1,910ish

Summary: You have a nightmare.

Notes: I’m actually just in love with this chapter. Please send reactions and I’m still taking suggestions for songs on the playlist!!! Send them in!

You gave your piece of the information about the Nexus Route to the Council. You didn’t want to deal with it anymore, just wanting to rest in your bed. Your mind kept drifting back to what Obi-Wan had said about code and honor as you made your way from the war room to your quarters. Sighing, you decided to just ignore what he had said for now. You were most likely just overthinking it due to exhaustion anyway. You went straight to bed when you arrived in your room, happy to see it after far too long. Sleep welcomed you with open arms.

Sadly, your peaceful sleep didn’t last very long. Nightmares weren’t unfamiliar to you, you had many of them through your younger Padawan years. But, with the guidance of the Council, you learned to control them. You honestly couldn’t recall the last time you had a nightmare. This nightmare felt different than any other nightmare that you could remember.

You were standing in an endless, black space. The only light that shone was from directly above you. Looking up, you couldn’t tell where the light was coming from. You moved your feet slightly, realizing that there was a thin layer of liquid covering the ground. Your eyes slowly raked up your own form, allowing you to see that you were in your normal Jedi attire, minus your lightsaber that usually resided on your hip. You stepped forward and reached your hand out to see if you could pass the lighted area, your foot making a small splash. Your fingers found that there was an invisible shield keeping you in the circle of light.

Suddenly, light shone down in four spots around you, identical to the one you were in. You gasped when you realized that people were trapped inside the circle of lights, and you knew those people. Ahsoka, Padme, Anakin, and Obi-Wan were each in their own section. You couldn’t hear them, but you could see their lips moving. Obi-Wan was studying the source, trying to figure a way out, while Anakin was attacking the shield, clearly trying to get to Padme. Padme was facing Anakin, trying to get his attention, while Ahsoka seemed to be doing what Obi-Wan was doing.

You inhaled sharply as a dark chill ran down your spine. You then noticed tiny waves in the liquid covering the ground outside of where you were stuck. A wind whistled passed you. You looked in the direction in which the wind was coming from. A dark black fog was rolling in and fast. You watched as it quickly made its way over to where Ahsoka was being kept. It started swirling around the bottom of the light, steadily making its way up. Ahsoka began panicking, hitting against the shield as the fog continued up.

“Ahsoka!” You shouted, failing to reach her yourself.

Before you knew it, Ahsoka was completely covered in the dark fog. It took a moment before the fog had moved away and revealed that nothing was left from where Ahsoka had stood, just darkness. Your eyes tracked the fog as it headed toward Padme. Anakin immediately began fighting harder to get out of his confinement. You stood, watching in silent horror as the same thing that happened to Ahsoka happened to Padme. Anakin fell to his knees, his head hung in complete grief. Tears ran down your face as you watched the darkness speed up on its way to Anakin.

“Anakin!” You yelled, wishing that he could hear you. “Ani!”

Anakin looked up at you with golden eyes, taking your breath away before he completely disappeared from view. Only Sith had golden eyes such as those. Trying to swallow down your emotions as your breath began to labor, you turned to face Obi-Wan. Even through your blurry eyesight, you could tell that he was trying to comfort you. His hand came up to the shield that was keeping him in the small area. Yours shakily did the same.

“Obi-Wan,” you rasped. The darkness circled the bottom of his confinement as he kept his eyes locked with yours. “Obi-Wan… OBI-WAN!” You screamed as he was completely covered in darkness.

You fell to your knees, racked with sobs, as the darkness disappeared and left you all alone.

~~~

Obi-Wan, unfortunately, had to sit through a Council meeting before he could get some rest. When he arrived at his quarters, he could sense you asleep in your room. This allowed Obi-Wan some peace of mind as he got ready to sleep himself. He was just about to get into bed when he felt your signature cry out. His brows furrowed as he paused his movements, waiting to see if it would happen again and it did. Your signature was full of pure anguish, something Obi-Wan had never felt from you before.

Standing up slowly, still trying to figure out if what he was feeling was, Obi-Wan felt your cry through the bond once he again. He stumbled back as if it had physically hit him. Not caring about if people saw him, Obi-Wan rushed out of his room and to your door. He didn’t even bother knocking, using the Force to gain access to your room.

Once he was inside, Obi-Wan could feel your signature ten times more and he could hear you mumbling something. He rushed into your room to see that you were tossing and turning slightly as sweat formed over your face. He also noted that you hadn’t even changed from your clothes after the assignment.

“Y/N,” he called as he knelt beside you on the bed.

You continued to you toss and turn. Now that he was closer to you, Obi-Wan could hear that one of the things you were mumbling was his name.

“Obi,” you mumbled. “No… No… Please… bring them back… Ani… Obi-Wan… please… take me… take me…”

Obi-Wan’s heart was breaking as he heard you. One of his hands went to hold you down by your shoulder as his other came to cradle your face.

“Wake up, little star,” his voice was begging more than he would have liked, but he needed to wake you. Now that he was this close to you, he could feel the darkness that surrounded the nightmare and he was growing more concerned. “I’m right here. Wake up.”

You gasped as your eyes snapped open. You couldn’t focus in the midst of your panic but you knew that someone was almost on top of you. Obi-Wan was suddenly thrown across the room and slammed into the wall by the Force. He groaned as he slid down the wall. Breathing heavily, you sat up and your eyes began to focus.

“Obi?” You questioned, seeing him on the floor across your room. You looked just above him on the wall and noticed a dent. “Oh no.” You started to realize what you had done. Tears cascaded down your face as your words rapidly flew out of your mouth. “I’m so sorry, Obi. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know. I—“

“It’s okay, it’s okay, little star,” Obi-Wan tried to soothe as he stood up and raced to your side.

The quick moments made you flinch back against the wall and away from Obi-Wan. He held his hands up to show you that he meant no harm as he slowly knelt beside you. Your breathing was still loud and labored as you watched Obi-Wan’s careful movements. He was growing concerned that you may pass out if you continued to breathe like this.

“Little star, you need to slow down your breathing,” Obi-Wan gently told you. His signature slowly reached out to ours, waiting for you to make the move to grasp it. “Can you follow my breathing pattern?”

When you didn’t give a verbal response, Obi-Wan started to breathe out deep and slow, exaggerating a bit to help push you along. You started to follow his breathing patterns, keeping eye contact with him as you did. Obi-Wan felt relief as you slowly began to breathe steadily again. You could feel his signature waiting for yours to grasp it and now, as you were a little calmer, you readily did so. Your little grasp allowed Obi-Wan’s signature to wrap around yours and begin to comfort it.

Obi-Wan carefully used the Force to sense more about what happened. The nightmare you had just experienced was still at the forefront of your mind, playing over and over again. He didn’t push to see it though, waiting for you to tell him what happened.

“Thank you,” you breathed out. “I’m sorry for throwing you against the wall.”

“It’s alright, darling,” he responded softly. “Next time I’ll be more careful when I wake you.” You nodded, eyes still slightly glazed over. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You bit your bottom lip and looked away from Obi-Wan. You couldn’t get the way he calmly looked at you in your nightmare as he was taken by the darkness out of your head. He disappeared while trying to comfort you, but all it did was break you. Was this nightmare trying to tell you something?

“I can feel your thoughts spiraling, little star,” Obi-Wan spoke up, trying to be as even-toned as possible. “I’m concerned.”

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” you rasped.

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding. “How can I help you then, my dear? I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

“Hold me?”

“Of course.”

Obi-Wan slowly moved toward you on the bed. He leaned back against the wall before he carefully reached out an arm, placed it around your shoulders, and pulled you into him. You melted into his side, your arms wrapping around his middle as your head leaned against his shoulder. Obi-Wan placed a kiss on your head as his other arm came around you to hold you closer.

“Don’t leave,” you squeaked, voice filling with emotion. “Please.”

“Not planning on it, little star,” Obi-Wan replied, kissing your head again. “Never again.”

~~~

As you slowly came to your senses, you could feel that you were pressed up against a chest. Two strong arms were keeping you in place. You smiled as the signature intertwined with yours and tried to pull your signature closer. Obi-Wan’s heartbeat sounded underneath your ear as your head steadily moved up and down with his breathing. You were incredibly grateful that Obi-Wan hated left before you woke, especially because your nightmare was still haunting you.

Why were Padme, Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan in it? What did the dark fog represent? Why did they each disappear like that?

“Be mindful of your thoughts, little star,” Obi-Wan grumbled. “They are loud.”

“Sorry,” you muttered. You moved your head to see that he was glancing down at you.

“It’s alright.”

You leaned up and kissed his bearded chin. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“It does seem to be a common occurrence. But for you, I will always.” He leaned down and kissed your lips softly. “I love you, little star.”

“I love you, Obi.”

“Are you ready to talk about the dream yet?”

“Maybe in a minute… can we just stay here like this for a little longer?”

“Of course.”

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

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alostlittleriverlotus · 9 months

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I hate the way my parents get proud of me. It's never...really seeing me. Like when I accomplish something socially or despite my anxiety and disabilities, it feels less like a celebration of something I'm proud of and more a celebration of "yay, you can be normal and get better, see how life can be if you just push through?! :)"But no. I can push through when I can, but I cannot force it. I cannot function. I cannot be normal. I'm too traumatized and disabled. I'm fine with that, it doesn't make me too sad. I do mourn the things I miss out on, but I'm happy to not push my body or force myself or believe I'm a failure. Yet when they celebrate me, it always feels like hinted and laced with this expectation for me to continue to do it so I can be an independent, functional adult and I hate that. I want to be happy about doing something despite my disabilities when I can cause that makes me happy. It's not about fitting in or being functional, it's about knowing my boundaries and being happy when I have the energy and ability to do what I want. It makes things I'm genuinely happy about feel hollow and I hate it. I'm not fully seen even when I say these are my limits. They choose to not understand because I fit outside their world of understanding.

I keep thinking my mom is reachable in some way while I live here (going no contact once I move out cause bigotry and no acceptance), but then she just doesn't listen. I know as long as she's married to my dad, she won't be reachable. As long as she's unwilling to question her worldview, she won't be reachable. And by this point, I don't care. I haven't cared. I just want like the most decent respect and the most basic care while I'm living here instead of constantly feeling like she's thinking other things.

But my parents have never been honest about how they feel with me. I've scared them since I was young cause I was weird and different than them. I was something they couldn't understand or control. I had intense emotions and acted differently than they expected. I loved things they didn't love like horror.

And the fact my mom wouldn't say why they're going on vacation for a solid minute before saying "we just need to get away" after I asked why I wasn't coming to the beach. I assumed it was a make up for an anniversary trip since we were moving around that time. But no. That tells me my answer. It's cause of our fights lately and cause she can't handle me actually standing up to her and making her listen to me. And that hurt. And who knows it's also because I've had episodes on previous vacations cause of my dad pushing me and overwhelming me and then him yelling at me.

I'm sick of the way they act around me. I'm sick of the fact they act like I'm some fragile timebomb about to go off. I'm autistic, I have meltdowns, I'm traumatized, I'm easily overwhelmed, that does not make me something awful. I find it amusing how much they are uncomfortable around me. Good. But also, I'm sick of being treated like an "other" around here cause I have psychotic disorders, intense emotions, days of fatigue, bad brain fog, and other shit. I don't get respected or accommodations so I end up lashing out and then they use that against me. I don't care to make other people comfortable. I just hate being treated as something odd that needs to be avoided or delicately dealt with instead of them actually acknowledging their poor treatment of me. But no. My parents can't be normal about anyone with more psychotic disorders and more intense reactions. My mom even using "I get overwhelmed and I know to calm down" against me as if it makes me lesser for not controlling myself. I'm pretty used to dealing with this stuff by now, but it still gets to me when all I want is to get help without being guilted or lectured or talked down to. Just LISTEN TO ME, I KNOW MY BODY AND MIND, YOU DON'T!!!!!

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 2 years

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BLEACH: The Thousand Year Blood War Ep 5 Reactions and Thoughts

Overall reaction:

BEST. EPISODE. YET.

An episode so good I broke my own rule and had to use two gif reactions instead of one, because the intensity of emotions was just too much to capture in just one. This episode just came crashing in and basically screamed 'I AM THE HYPE!' In fact, it's been well over 12 hours since I watched the episode and I still went about my day with the surge of hype I got while watching it.

An absolute roller-coaster of emotions for this one, I don't even know where to start!! We got horror, we got awe, we got HYPE, and we got anticipation! THIS EPISODE SHOWS YOU WHY BLEACH NEEDED THIS ADAPTION, AND WHY THIS ARC HAD SUCH A FANTASTIC START.

Hightlights

Byakuya vs As Nodt: I had high hopes for this one, a lot of us did. I was not only not disappointed, I was blown away. There is so much good stuff in this fight, from the fear sequence (more on that below) to Byakuya's reactions to Renji's fury to Byakuya's near-death. To see As Nodt assume the same pose and to have the camera angled and drawn back the exact same why as it was when Byakuya released his bankai showed not only that the tables had turned, but also how wrong it is for As Nodt to have his power and adds to the angst of having Byakuya been torn apart by his own power. And by gosh was he torn, getting hit with one barrage of Senbonzakura, and starting to tip forward, only to be hit by another wave. It was horrifying and so, so sad. And Renji, coming in to try and stop it, to hear him screaming in rage against As Nodt, that made me tear up. Then of course there was Byakuya's apology to Renji and Rukia, and cue the waterworks from yours truly. Just like when I read this scene for the first time, to see Byakuya, one of the fan favourites and one of the strongest Shinigami get defeated and almost die, it was heart-rendering. My one and only nitpick, and it truly is a nitpick, is that we didn't get a direction adaption of the panel after he roars; honestly though, considering we got a fantastic bit of sword animation in it's place, I don't really care!

The fear sequence: absolutely chilling, from start to finish. I'm actually a little in awe for how they adapted this. From Byakuya being shown at different angles all the way up to the flies, it was downright unsettling. I'll start off by saying I love their colour choices here. I love the blend of pinks, reds, and purples and the swirling motion that happens behind Byakuya as As Nodt narrates. As the sequence goes on, the colour gets completely evaporated to greys and dark shadows, with only the pink of the flies being vibrant in an otherwise desolate, colourless scene. As Nodt's voice is incredible, I was honestly surprised how well it suits him. He could be seen as droning on and on, but I honestly captivated by his voice, the speed and low pitch just drew me in. It makes me very curious to see how he'll act later on when he has to face Rukia. Speaking of whom, Rukia's 'decay' was just as creepy and horrifying as the manga, I'm glad they didn't hold back. I loved the transition from her smiling against a white background with soft lighting on her to the deep red and harsh shadows, and just the quick transition from her normal to her rotting was just...*shudders*. And the flies, the freaking flies! Just look at these shots:

Watching them crawl over Byakuya, and then completely swarm him, it's almost exactly how I imagined it in motion while reading the manga. I loved the original panels in the manga, Kubo used the black and white to make for a shocking moment. Seriously, the use of pink here is so effective, not only in making the flies stand out and be on brand for BLEACH's marketing colour, but also in being a reflection of Byakuya himself with one of his primary colours swarming over him and immobilize him). Combined with the music, motion of the flies, As Nodt's low, monotonous voice, and the swirling motion happening behind Byakuya, this is going down as one of the most memorable scenes in the whole series for sure!

Ichigo:..this poor kid. I know it's a shounen, teenagers just go out and save the world without a second thought, but Jesus if this doesn't show you the pressure he's under, to save not just those he cares about, but the Souls screaming out - Souls he can't even see. He's not even 18 years old yet and he's going through all this crap! In all seriousness, fantastic voice acting here from everyone, just...God it was almost harrowing!

Kenny!: he makes his grand entrance, slingind three bodies over his shoulders and confronting Yhwach like it's nothing. 'Oh look, it's the Big Bad, time to cut you down!' basically. Also, was I the only one who got flashbacks to the Reigai arc while watching him fight against a copy of himself?

Hisagi: with all of this action going, I want to take a moment to give credit to Shuhei Hisagi. He only appeare don screen for, like ten seconds, but he deserves a spot here. Keep going Hisagi!

Chojiro's bankai and backstory: in terms of look, this one was fantastic! Loved seeing his backstory with Yamamoto, it was handled beautifully! Also, the lighter colour scheme was a nice reprieve, but it also showed happier times and helps to again emphasis how bleak this war (and arc) is.

Yamamato's rage: HYYYYYYYYYYYYYYPE! I basically screamed when Yamamoto eviscerated Driscoll, that close up on his skull was intense and brutal. Them when he launched himself into the sky and flew straight for Yhwach, I kicked my feet in the air and actually screamed. I had goosebumps for that entire scene, and I'm getting them again just remembering it. Not only did this scene show you why Yamamoto is respected and feared, it practically radiated with his utter rage. The manga of course did this too, but my God did the anime take full advantage here! The flames, the colours, the music, everything came together to make this one of the most epic scenes yet. You can't tell me you didn't see this shot and not have your mouth agape:

And everyone's reactions to said rage: great to see my boy again, but even better to finally see my girl! Momo, it's been too long! And then there's my man, Shinji! This is the first time we've seen these two animated on the screen together, so needless to say I was very excited (on top of the hype I was feeling from Yamamoto's rage) to see them. Then there was Sajin, who I think got the best part of this scene, showing him rallying up his men and motivating him; I loved that last shot of Iba and his men, you can feel the commitment they have! And Shunsui getting back into the fight in style, as is typical of him.

As it's been noted time and again, there's a lot more violence and gore in this season, showing the carnage of war and how dire the situation is for the Arrancar and Shinigami. Just like with Izuru, I was surprised they didn't make Byakuya's death more violent (as in the manga you can clearly see his ribs! ) However, this scene is sad enough as and maybe making it as violent as the manga would just make me even more sad! I mean for God sake, the man lost his left arm (Kubo strikes again!). I think though I'm starting to see a pattern: they're saving the more violent and gory details for either background characters or characters who have a very minor role in the story (Driscoll and Berenice, for instance), they don't seem to go very violent for main or supporting characters. It's just a theory though, and we'll see if this changes in the upcoming episodes.

Overall, WHAT AN EPISODE!! I keep seeing gifs of Byakuya vs As Nodt, and it's no wonder (it actually reminds me a little of the huge attention this fight initially got when the manga chapters dropped, and how everyone was freaking out about Byakuya's 'death') What a fantastic adaption of that fight, and what follows is just as awesome, if not more so in the case of Yamamoto's rage. There was so much packed into this one (I didn't even mention Grimmjow's return!) Every scene, little and big, has an impact in this one, hitting you either in the heart or in the part of your brain that just goes 'HYYYYYYYYYYPE!'

And now next week, next week we're FINALLY getting Yamamoto's bankai!! And based on what we got in this episode, my hopes are sky high. IS IT MONDAY YET?!

#bleach #as nodt #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #ichigo kurosaki #yamamoto genryuusai #momo hinamori #toshiro hitsugaya #I had so many thoughts about this one #but this post was getting too long so I cut it down #Now if you'll excuse me #I'm going to try and take a nap #because despite the surge of hype #I am also very tired from the emotional roller-coaster #bleach episode reactions

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c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

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Like, is the gist "Real life pedophilia/incest/rape is bad, and stories saying these things are good are bad, but including these topics in a story isn't inherently bad, so the people being like 'hey, maybe Ao3 shouldn't have so much kiddie porn there's an entire category called "Underage"' are just overreacting and making things worse?" Because it feels like you're saying, "your negative reaction to this stuff is valid, but also you're annoying and prudish and bad and really you aren't valid."

So here’s the thing: it really does not sound like you're asking this question because you want my answer, it sounds like you want to be angry with me and have a fight. And fair enough! I'm not terribly interested in a fight, but apparently this is my day to dive into this topic as thoughtfully and honestly as I can be. Maybe I'll say something you haven't already heard from other people before. Maybe not! Only you, anonymous asker, know that.

To begin with, you got part of the gist right. Real life rape (including child abuse/child sexual abuse as well as incest) is bad. Stories about rape, about underage sex, and about incest, are stories.

They're stories. They're pixels on a screen. They're not real. Whether they claim that rape is good, or bad, or sexy, or melodramatic, or life-destroying, or a normal Tuesday afternoon. They're stories.

And having a negative reaction to them is valid. Stories can stir up powerful emotions in people. It is absolutely, 100%, fair and valid and even normal for there to be certain tropes, plot elements, events, and kinds of content that make you upset and that you never want to see in a story you read, ever. You don't have to want to read about sex. You don't have to want to read any of it. That doesn't make you bad.

There are tropes, plot elements, events, and kinds of content that upset me. There are stories I won't read. The same is true of literally everyone else I know. Even though I know the stories aren't real. Even though I know the things happening in them are happening to fictional characters, who do not exist, who I cannot protect and who also cannot be harmed because they're not real. Even then, I can be made sad and scared and upset and hurt by reading those stories. And that is okay and that is valid and I am not bad or wrong for being upset about the story I've read, and neither are you.

But that doesn't mean the story doesn't have value to somebody else. That doesn't mean the story isn't important to somebody else.

What I see most often coming from antis, possibly even including yourself, is an overwhelming desire to protect. They want to keep themselves and others--possibly people they know, possibly hypothetical people they may never meet--safe from being hurt by these stories. And that desire to protect, also, is normal. It's even admirable! The problem, though, the thing that does more harm than good, is when that desire to protect drives people to lash out against things that matter to other people.

There is a difference between actual rape and stories about rape. There is a difference between a story that could theoretically hurt somebody, someday (which is all stories, always), and a story that hurts you personally. And there is a difference between a story that hurts you personally, and a story that is inherently poisonous to everyone who touches it.

We know--absolutely, scientifically, incontrovertibly--that stories about rape do not make people rapists. Yes, even the stories where the rape is there to be sexy. Even stories where the person being raped is a child. Even then. Fiction is not the same thing as normalization; again, there are far smarter people who have written far more extensively on that topic than I, and next time I come across something that goes more into detail on this point I promise I will reblog it. If this really is the thing you're afraid of, I may not be the right person to convince you that this is an unfounded fear, but I know someone out there can elaborate on it.

(Unfounded, which is not the same thing as invalid. My mother's claustrophobia is unfounded; it flares up in many situations where there's no physical threat whatsoever, where she has plenty of space to move and air to breathe. It's still real. It still chokes her. It's still valid, she is not bad or broken to feel that way, and she still can't drive through certain tunnels. The fear is real. But the thing she's afraid of can't physically hurt her, and that is worth knowing in terms of how she deals with it.)

We know, absolutely, scientifically, and incontrovertibly, that stories about rape and many, many, many other things can hurt and even traumatize their readers. Even though the situation you're reacting to is not real and you receive no physical injury, you can still be hurt by it. The key word there, though, is readers. The fact that the horror genre is out there terrifying people who enjoy being terrified for fun does not damage me unless I do something stupid and try listening to the Magnus Archives again and end up tense and miserable and paranoid for the rest of the week. The fact that guacamole is apparently delicious to everybody else in the world does not hurt me unless I do something stupid and order the wrong thing at a restaurant, and end up itchy and miserable with a little trouble breathing for the rest of the night.

The fact that there are, yes, tens of thousands of fics on AO3 in which characters under the age of 18 have sex? It can't hurt you. Those fics do not hurt you by existing. They can only hurt you if you read them. They can only hurt anyone who reads them. That's why there is an 'Underage' tag--and it's worth noting, 'Underage' is a warning, not a category. Nobody wants you to get hurt reading the wrong fic, any more than the sushi chef wants my throat to swell up because I ordered something with avocado. Literally nobody wants that.

The flip side, of course, is that you hating each and every one of those fics individually and as a group doesn't actually hurt me, or anyone else who writes, reads, or enjoys them. By itself. You can hate anything you like, and fic writers can write anything they like, and it all comes out in the end, more or less. Except.

Except that reading fic is always, entirely, 100% opt-in, and online harassment isn't even opt-out. Some antis have a nasty habit of going after writers whose content they don't like; climbing into inboxes and comments sections, calling those writers nasty names, throwing around cruelties and aggression and insults. I know that's not the same thing as simply disliking a genre, or even passively disagreeing with its existence (although disliking a genre and disagreeing with its right to exist are also very different things). I know not all antis do that. I don't know you, anon, but based on the speed and aggressiveness of this response to my last post, I can't help but wonder if you would do that.

And that does hurt people. Just like it might hurt you if someone threw a bunch of content that makes you uncomfortable into your inbox. Including the harasser, actually--because getting into fights with strangers on the internet about things that make you angry, sad, defensive, and upset isn't good for anybody. Including both you and me.

Anyway, after yet another lengthy ramble, let's get the tl;dr response to your ask here: nobody is ever bad or wrong for disliking certain content in their stories, no matter what that content is. You and your emotions are valid. The "overreacting and making things worse" part isn't about what you feel, but what you do with it. Constantly engaging with places where the thing that upsets you will probably show up, even to argue and try to fight it, will make things worse in the sense that now you're spending way more time thinking about this thing that makes you upset and angry, thereby leaving you more upset and angry. Getting together with a bunch of your upset, angry friends to make your feelings everybody else's problem? Makes fandom a more toxic place for everyone else involved.

Don't read stuff that's going to hurt you. Don't make other people read stuff that's going to hurt them. That's the whole thing, really.

#Anonymous #asked and answered #rape cw #incest cw #discourse #anti discourse day

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mouisorange · 3 years

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☰ Yandere Personality Types 〔Big Five〕

☰ Overview

〔Disclaimer〕 Yandere behavior and mindsets are not healthy, nor should they be sought after: this is just meant to be a fun way to analyze characters and see/understand how they may fit into this specific genre of fictional horror.

This personality ‘assessment’ was inspired by @ddarker-dreams‘s ‘Yandere MBTI’ as I adore their writing and have always thought that their MBTI assessment is really cool! I also noticed how other people enjoy it so I thought I would make my own assessment, though mine is inspired by the ‘Big Five Personality Traits’. I even tried to be creative and add in the little circles that you can find on the actual Big Five assessment too (which is 100% free btw!). I don’t really think I did the Big Five assessment justice, and I think that a lot more goes into the complexities around this kinda thing, but hopefully this is somewhat interesting!

If you have your own thoughts or even wanna try this out, 100% feel free to use or talk to me about it! Check it out below the cut!

☰ OPEN • • • • • CLOSED

〔Open〕 yanderes are blatant about their obsession. They do not try and hide it either because they believe it’s meant to be, because they’re too deep in their delusions to understand that it might be a good idea to keep their mouth shut, or simply because they’re in a position to not care about hiding their interest. Usually, this type of yandere is either seen as somewhat of a ‘lovesick puppy’ or a powerful character; though, being a ‘lovesick puppy’ doesn’t necessarily mean kind or affectionate. Whether it was ‘love at first sight’ or more of a slow-burn, these characters usually roll with their feelings with little to no hesitation. Situations with this type of yandere usually include darlings who are unaware of the yandere’s emotions (or even their existence) until they’re suddenly confronted, kidnapped, or confessed to seemingly out of the blue.

examples︙Anasui 〔 jjba. Stone Ocean〕, Diavolo & Doppio 〔 jjba. Golden Wind〕, Pina 〔Beastars〕, & Zeke Yeagar 〔Attack on Titan〕.

〔Closed〕 yanderes try to hide their obsessive mindset or behaviors. While they might not always be successful at hiding their interest, closed yandere types are either ashamed/embarrassed by their feelings or are frustrated by them in some way. Usually this type of yandere will ignore/avoid their darling in hopes of losing their feelings, or pretend their feelings don’t exist. This type of yandere is either upset at themselves for having these feelings or upset at their darling for ‘making’ them feel that way. Darling can possibly see their behavior coming and try to avoid the character, but this type of yandere is likely to ‘snap’ at some point and somehow corner their darling as an attempt at controlling their obsession or feelings (though, sometimes this is just the yandere trying to excuse their behavior).

examples︙Avdol〔jjba. SDC〕, Legoshi 〔Beastars〕, Alucard 〔Castlevania〕, & Klaus Hargreeves 〔The Umbrella Academy〕.

☰ Questions to consider when categorizing a yandere

〔 ⅰ. 〕 How does their behavior shift when they realize they’re obsessed?

〔 ⅱ. 〕 What are their opinions on their darling? Does this character adore them? Do they blame darling for their behavior (if so, are they angry about it)?

〔 ⅲ. 〕 How comfortable is this yandere with their feelings and/or actions in regards to their darling?

☰ CASUAL • • • • • DIRECT

〔Casual〕 yanderes do not actively pursue their darling. This type of character is typically laid-back. They either believe that darling will inevitably fall ‘into line’ or is mellow enough to be content with simply being in darling’s life. Casual yanderes are either delusional or are not possessive enough to want more than close friendship from their darling. Though it usually takes a specific type of character for this, some yanderes here believe that they’re already in a relationship with their darling and therefore feel no need to chase after them. This kind of character can confuse their darling, and make it more difficult to get away, as their behavior can be waived off if the character is perceived as harmless, gains darling’s sympathy in some way, or otherwise is not vocal about their delusional thinking/is charming enough to convince darling to just go along with it. Some of these characters are willing to let go if darling catches on early enough, though most will just slowly follow behind regardless of what darling does (though this behavior/these reactions will definitely vary/be different depending on the character).

examples︙ Mista 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Luther Hargreeves 〔The Umbrella Academy〕, Connie Springer 〔Attack on Titan〕, & Cater Diamond 〔Twisted Wonderland〕.

〔Direct〕 yanderes, as their name suggests, directly or actively pursue their darling. Usually strict or over-bearing, these characters actively chase after their darling’s affections (or otherwise whatever goal relationship the yandere wants). This yandere makes organized, sometimes step by step, plans in order to achieve their goal. It depends on the character whether they get angry when plans have to be changed or if they just shift their angle, however, these characters are focused and will not be discouraged should darling fight against their plans. If anything, some of these characters will be encouraged by their darling fighting back for various reasons (for example, if they’re delusional or just thing it’s a part of the whole ‘chase’ thing/enjoy it). These characters will almost never give up on their darling regardless of what happens.

examples︙ Giorno Giovanna 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Armin Arlert 〔Attack on Titan〕, Rook Hunt 〔Twisted Wonderland〕, & Jason Todd 〔DC Comics〕.

☰ Questions to consider when categorizing a yandere

〔 ⅰ. 〕 How goal-oriented is this character, especially when it comes to their darling?

〔 ⅱ. 〕 How lenient is this character? Are they trying to force a bee-line to a relationship with their darling or are they willing to play the long game?

〔 ⅲ. 〕 Is this character organizing a plan in order to achieve their goal(s)? Or are they completely winging it? If they’re winging it, are they just hoping that everything will naturally fall into place, or do they genuinely believe it’s fated to happen?

☰ DISCREET • • • • • INTENSE

〔Discreet〕 yanderes either do not have overly strong yandere behaviors or are able to hide said traits enough to be seen as ‘normal’. These characters will usually hide their behavior, regardless of the reasons, in order to have a normal relationship with their darling. While similar to closed character types, discreet yanderes differ in the sense that they usually do not struggle to hide their behavior, and will slowly (or suddenly, depending on the situation, one situation being kidnapping) merge this persona with their actual personality so that darling has no reason to want to leave. While not all characters within this category are fully aware of their behavior, most are intentionally manipulative and have some kind of end goal. They’re not ashamed of this mindset as they believe their reasons (such as “protecting” darling from something) excuse any tears that their darling might shed directly because of this yandere’s actions later on in the ‘relationship’. The period between “normal” and whatever end goal will vary based on the character. This type’s darling can have friends, and even other relationships to an extent (though this does vary), they’ll usually end up reaching the yandere’s goal without knowing about their behavior up until it’s too late to do anything about it.

examples︙ Risotto Nero 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Louis 〔Beastars〕, Lilia Vanrouge 〔Twisted Wonderland〕, & Sinbad 〔Magi〕.

〔Intense〕 yanderes can be defined by their possessiveness, or otherwise intense behavior/mindset/emotions. This type of yandere will usually want to either isolate or monopolize their darling’s time in it’s entirety. While the character might not isolate themselves, they’ll do what they can in order to ensure that their darling is focused solely on them (or whatever goal yandere has in mind). Intense yanderes tend to come off as over-bearing or as harassers/bullies. Depending on their other traits, they will either direct their focus on getting other people away from darling or direct their focus on somehow getting darling away from other people (usually involving kidnapping or isolating them in their home). These characters have a tendency to be either cruel or manipulative and darling might believe that their yandere hates them in some way, even if the character says otherwise.

examples︙ Illuso 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Melon 〔Beastars〕, Kouen Ren 〔Magi〕, & Leona Kingscholar 〔Twisted Wonderland〕.

☰ Questions to consider when categorizing a yandere

〔 ⅰ. 〕 How well would this character take rejection? Do they try and rationalize the rejection or do they just accept it (even taking whatever darling said to heart)?

〔 ⅱ. 〕 Can this character handle their darling having friendships? How do they react to darling spending periods of time without them?

〔 ⅲ. 〕 Does this yandere need (or want?) to spend every waking (and sleeping) moment with darling? If so, what is time spent with this yandere like?

☰ AGREEABLE • • • • • CONTROLLING

〔Agreeable〕 yanderes seem to genuinely care about their darling and see their darling as a breathing person with their own thoughts/feelings. These characters put their darling before themselves, sometimes going as far as seeing them as someone to worship or put on a pedestal, and believe that darling is better than them in some way. In some cases, they see darling as being unable to do anything wrong (to an extent). They’re willing to debate rights or loosen rules/chains (if they even decided to do chain darling in the first place) with darling and are willing to listen to what they have to say. This yandere’s end goal usually involves some kind of genuine relationship, regardless of how delusional that might be.

examples︙ Haru 〔Beastars〕, Floch Forster 〔Attack on Titan〕, Tim Drake 〔DC Comics〕, & Vanya Hargreeves 〔The Umbrella Academy〕.

〔Controlling〕 yanderes do not view their darling as equal, either seeing them as childish (in the sense that they don’t understand things or can’t), seeing them as some kind of pet/trophy, or somewhere in-between. They usually do not care about their darling’s thoughts, feelings, or general well-being. Usually the only thing this yandere cares about is controlling their darling, the connection they have to their darling is the only important thing when it comes to darling as a person. Some of these characters even go as far as not minding if darling dies as long as they still view darling as being theirs (example being, if prince charming kept his princess asleep in order to keep princess to himself). While end goals will vary from yandere to yandere, those in this category typically don’t care how darling feels as long as they’re getting what they want from darling.

examples︙ Kars 〔jjba. Battle Tendency〕, Judar 〔Magi〕, Cioccolata 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, & Diavolo 〔 jjba. Golden Wind〕.

☰ Questions to consider when categorizing a yandere

〔 ⅰ. 〕 Does this yandere view darling as a human with their own thoughts/feelings or is darling more of a possession/plaything?

〔 ⅱ. 〕 Is darling’s mental or physical well-being important to this character?

〔 ⅲ. 〕 How many rights does darling have and how quickly are said rights taken away/given back? Are they ever given back? What are the yandere’s motives in taking/giving these rights?

☰ RESILIENT • • • • • FRAGILE

〔Resilient〕 yanderes will almost never become discouraged. They’re confident in the sense that they know they’ll eventually achieve their goal. This type of character is willing to spend years trying to either break down their darling or otherwise induce a sort of ‘Stockholm syndrome’. Characters who heavily stalk their darling tend to fall into this category. More so, resilient yanderes are not likely to have any sort of breakdown over their darling, regardless of the situation. They’re strong in their thought process, and are not willing to change their mind-set/behavior towards their darling (or anyone else).

examples︙ Ibuki 〔Beastars〕, Bruno Bucciarati 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Jade Leech 〔Twisted Wonderland〕, & Shigaraki Tomura 〔My Hero Academia 〕.

〔Fragile〕 yanderes, as their name suggests, are ‘fragile’ in their goals or mind-set. Usually this type of yandere is either meek or feel overly guilty about their mind-set/behaviors. These characters can be easily swayed by their darling in some way, and they can get distracted from their end-goal if darling plays their cards right. More adoring, worshipper yanderes tend to fall in this category. Characters here usually do not like upsetting their darling and (at times) are desperate for their darling’s approval. While not an inherently manipulative category, fragile yanderes will use methods like gaslighting in order to avoid any kind of confrontation.

examples︙ Pesci 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Allison Hargreeves 〔The Umbrella Academy〕, Jack 〔Beastars〕, & Niccolo 〔Attack on Titan〕.

☰ Questions to consider when categorizing a yandere

〔 ⅰ. 〕 How emotional/insecure is this character?

〔 ⅱ. 〕 Is this character confrontational, or would they rather avoid any kind of confrontation by whatever means necessary (such as gaslighting or blackmailing others in the situation)?

〔 ⅲ. 〕 How patient are they? How long are they willing to wait and/or bide their time in order to achieve some sort of goal?

﹝☼﹞

#☰ Yandere Personality Types #yandere theory #Yandere Big Five #Yandere #origin post #MBTI

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Last night thing

Jason todd x reader

Summary: he stopped you from stealing a $25,000 watch but missed something else. Part 2 to Late night Thing.

Warning: kidnap, fighting, smut

As Jason pulled up his pants and contemplated his life choices of sleeping with a beautiful thief on a rooftop, he came to a conclusion. You stole his damn tie clip. He had said that he would break your hand if you tried to steal it and dammit, you had. Somehow it simultaneously made him mad and horny. How the fuck had you managed that?

Jason knew that he wouldn’t find you that night. So he went back to his safe house to lick his wounded pride and plan his next move. He needed to get that clip back. It was a gift from Alfred and he would literally kill for it. Though he seriously doubted that he’d need to do that. And Jason would never admit it but he didn’t want to kill you.

He planned to find you sometime during the next week. His tie clip was expensive but not extraordinarily expensive but you had to find someway to sell it without him finding it, which would take time. Jason just didn’t know that it would be the next day that he would find you.

He heard that Bane was throwing his weight around in the drug trade for some damn reason. Wasn’t his venom addition enough for one man? So Jason was snooping around, or investigating as the bats liked to say. He fully expected a boring night of listening in a warehouse for hours and learning very little but instead almost fell through the glass at the sight before him.

You were strapped to a chair with rope. The pretty dress you wore the night before was in tatters but you were covered. Your eyes were red and your nose had dried blood underneath it. You were shivering like a leaf.

“I’m not here to negotiate with you. I’m here for Cat Woman. You are her child and she will come or you will die,” Bane said casually. You gasped.

“She’s going to be mad. Why would she work with you after this?” You asked, braver than you felt. He turned and coldly looked at you before stalking over. His giant fingers wrapped around your throat and you thrashed in the chair.

Jason stood up and moved to jump into the fight despite the fact that he really didn’t want to fight the brute. But Bane let you go and you audibly gasped and sucked air through open lips. You trembled and heaved.

“If she does not care about you, I will move on to her next kitten,” he said and you gulped. You didn’t know if she would save you. Jason looked through the room for a strategy. 2 exits and the skylight he currently looked through. 3 goons that he could easily take out. Oh, and a 300 pound juiced up super soldier. That broke Batman’s back years ago. Fuck.

“Let me go and I’ll do anything you want,” you said and even Jason up high in the rafters could hear the waver in your voice. Bane turned and stared at you and your mind almost couldn’t comprehend the massive size of him. He was easily half a foot taller than Red Hood and almost 100 pounds heavily and Red Hood towered over you.

“What could I possible want from you,” he asked with an icy curiosity. He was watching you for a reaction. You wanted to shrink away but that would be a failure.

“Anything you could want. Information,” you suggested. “About Gotham.”

“I have my sources.”

“Uhhh,” you breathed. “Gems? Money?” He shook his head. Your heart hammered in your chest. He was a man, right? You could sell that maybe? “Me?” You breathed.

He laughed before looking you up and down. “I do not want you carnally, child,” he said. You almost sagged in relief and Jason’s hand released the gun he didn’t know he was holding. “No. We will wait for Cat Woman and if she doesn’t come in 2 days, you are dead.”

You hummed in fear. Bane sat crossed legged and closed his eyes. He threatened to kill you and then fucking meditated. You helplessly pulled at the ropes on your wrists.

Jason tried to piece together how you got there and how to get you out. He knew that he couldn’t exactly call Bruce. ‘Hey dad, do you want to fight the guy who broke your back over a thief he has tied up. Why? I don’t know! I just like fucking her on rooftops!’ Never saying that.

Nope. Instead he would attempt stealth. Against one of the best trained fighters in the world for a woman that robbed him. Yea, maybe Jason should have stayed 6 feet under because he’s a fucking idiot. He sighed before slowly moving towards them. Bane was sitting cross legged with his eyes closed in a meditation back to you.

You suddenly saw Jason out the corner of your eyes and your eyes widened before going back to normal. Bane didn’t seem to notice the slight change in your breathing. Jason snuck over to untie you. He slowly pulled the rope from around your wrists and you were almost completely untied when the end of the rope barely grazed the ground.

Bane snapped his head around as Jason drew his guns. You gasped as Bane launched himself towards Jason. You ripped your hand out of the rope as bullets flew. You scrambled to the floor but was quickly pulled up by the giant man. He clutched you by the shoulder and you whimpered in pain. Jason suddenly froze.

“This is far more interesting that I first thought. I looked for a cat and found a bat,” he laughed. You squirmed in pain. He sat you down but the hand stayed on your shoulder.

“She’s not important. Let her go,” Jason said. The metallic voice from his helmet sounded bored.

“If she is unimportant, she is better off dead,” he said roughly pulling you in his arms and one hand gently wrapped around your throat but didn’t tighten it. You grabbed at his fingers and sobbed pathetically. Your eyes were wide and terror was plain on your face.

“Let’s not. Put the lady down and we can talk,” Jason said and it was weird to see Red Hood negotiating. He was usually the muscle in the situation. It really showed you how fucked you really were.

“Okay I’m intrigued. I will hear your proposal,” he said sitting you down. You scampered behind Jason. Your whole body trembled.

“I know Gotham underground better than you ever will. Sorry but you’re scary as shit but not in a good way,” he said with a shrug. If you didn’t know any better, he seemed casual. “I can get you the venom you need. No cost for a while.”

“How long,” Bane asked. He was the kind so get all the facts before proceeding. He also had the weakness of being completely addicted to venom.

“A months worth.”

“6 months.”

“3 months.”

“Deal. If you break this deal I will crush her windpipe with my hand,” he said with no emotion. It was a promise, not a threat. Jason felt you move closer to him.

“Deal,” Jason agreed. Bane moved closer and you clung to Jason. You were clinging to Red Hood. How pathetic. Jason stood taller and stared at Bane. They shook hands.

Suddenly Bane slapped Jason violently across the face and you yelped. Jason went to the ground but quickly got up to a defensive crouch. You jumped in front of him with your heart beating so fast you would soon faint.

“For invading my space and my business,” Bane said before walking away. “Leave.” He didn’t turn to watch.

You noticed a little crack in the Red Hood helmet. How hard did Bane hit him? Jason stood up and pulled you out of the warehouse with him. He quickly grabbed you and shot his grappling hook out of the area. About half a mile away, he landed on a building. You clung to him and trembled.

“Hey, you’re safe,” he said. “You can let go.”

You pulled off but shivered like a leaf.

“Shit, you’re cold. Here. Here,” he wrapped his jacket around you and it helped your temperature but not your shivering. “Come here,” he pulled you in his arms and you clung. His heartbeat felt reassuring and he awkwardly patted your hair. You could tell Jason wasn’t used to providing comfort.

“He- he,” you started but stopped. “Can we go somewhere safe?”

“Come on downstairs. This is my place,” he said and you nodded. You followed him inside and it was far warmer but you couldn’t stop the shaking. His jacket was replaced by a blanket and Jason sat you on the couch. The helmet came off but domino stayed on. You practically climbed on his lap to be closer. Your eyes were still wide with horror.

You’d been arrested, harassed, even shot at. But never kidnapped like that. And by the giant Bane at that. Jason could feel the fear and adrenaline coming off of you. He rubbed your back softly. You looked up at him suddenly after a few minutes.

“You saved my life. You put yours in danger to save mine,” you breathed. He shrugged, a little uncomfortable under your gaze. “Thank you,” you added.

“Uh you’re welcome. It’s no biggie.”

“Yes it is,” you said before kissing him. Your pace was dizzying and rough. Jason was in shock at first. Your hands roamed his body before dropped down to his belt and he almost jolted up.

“Not today,” he said, stopping your hand. “I mean, normally I’d love to but not now. Give it a few days.”

“Why?” You said with your voice all breathy. Your lips were swollen and eyes dark and he almost gave in.

“You were just kidnapped. You need sleep. Not sex,” he said sliding away from you. “Are you hungry?”

“Wh- you don’t think I could want you?”

“I’m not in the mood. Almost getting killed by Bane really kills the urge,” he lied. If he thought you were in your right mind, he would have fucked you on the rooftop or against the first surface he found. You jumped in front of Bane for him. He found it all incredibly hot. “You need a shower anyways.”

It was cold and cruel but better than sleeping with a traumatized woman. You shook and nodded before using his shower. Jason felt twinges of guilt but ignored them. He knew it was better this way.

You came in nothing but his t shirt that hung like a dress. “Nothing else fit,” you said awkwardly. He could see the scars that covered your legs and bruises around your throat.

“We can lay in bed,” Jason said just as awkwardly. He might know what to do with a woman who wants to fuck him but not just one sleeping over. “For sleeping.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t try anything,” you said with a little smile and he smiled back. You both laid in the bed and it wasn’t long until you pressed your back against his chest and pulled his arms around you. He was strong and safe. You managed to sleep all night with the anticipated nightmares. They had time later to come up. When you weren’t cradled in his arms.

The next morning you woke up warm. The rise and fall of his chest was comforting. His hand held your waist loosely and you could seriously just stay in this moment. But as soon as you moved, you almost giggled like a teenager. He was hard and pressed against your ass.

“Ignore that,” he mumbled.

“Okay... how?” You said after a few seconds. “Because it’s pretty unforgettable for the man I like to sleep with to have his hard dick pressed against my ass. Have to say.”

“We only did it once in a rooftop. Was it that unforgettable?” He said and you could hear the smirk he wore.

“It was alright,” you said playfully but you couldn’t help but press back into him. Jason grabbed your hip to stop you.

“Trying to get me horny?”

“I think you already are.”

“That’s true,” he said before grinding against your ass. You pushed back to do your own rubbing. “And you’re not even wearing any panties,” he said bunching up the fabric of his shirt you wore. He slapped your ass soundly and you gasped.

“What was that for?”

“My tie clip. I hope you still have it,” he said before slapping your ass again. You reached behind you to grasp his cock through his sweatpants.

“I’ll get it back to you,” you said. His pants were pushed down. Jason hummed and rubbed his dick between your thighs. You sighed at the sensation and arched your back so he was sliding between your folds instead.

“You’d better,” he growled but it had no true heat. Not when he was so close to finally fucking you and had his lips leaving little marks on your shoulder and neck. You tried to press back onto him but he stopped your hips.

“Do you deserve it,” he asked running a finger along your hip, every once in a while dipping between your thighs to barely touch your clit. You jumped and grabbed at his wrist to hold him there but he just chuckled and moved away from where you needed him. His thrusting between your folds felt amazing but not enough and he was purposefully avoiding sliding in your hole. Jason quite liked the way your body panted and curved in desperation.

Finally feeling that you had been tortured enough, and he wanted in your wet heat, he pressed his hips forward and filled you. You whimpered and leaned your head back against him.

“Yes,” you breathed. Jason took his time slowly thrusting, letting you fill his full length. His free hand moved from pinching your nipple to circling your clit. You were practically clenching him from the start and he loved it. You were so receptive.

It didn’t take long for him to find a pattern that just got you a little more vocal and focused on that. “God, you’re fucking wet,” he breathed in your ear and you whimpered. You seemed to like what he had to say.

“Taking me so well. Acting like such a good girl,” he said and you breathed out a “Hood” in response. Oh yeah, you didn’t even know the name of the man that you let fuck you. You trusted him enough to sleep in his bed and you’d never even seen his eyes.

His finger circling your clit and cock angled to drag along your g spot had you seeing stars as you came around him. Jason grunted and held your hips tight before quickly pulling out to cum on your ass. He looked as the pretty white beads covered your skin. He wasn’t forgetting that image any time soon. He reached for a towel to clean you up.

Afterwards you turned in his arms and kissed him soundly before lying your head on his chest. You reached up to play with his hair with a little smile on your face. Jason could get used to this. As soon as he thought it, he had the urge to jump up and kick you out. He didn’t do permanent. You were just having fun.

“I need a shower,” he said roughly, getting up. Jason couldn’t help but notice the disappointment on your face that you quickly hid.

“I should get going before my walk of shame gets any later,” you said with an awkward laugh.

“Borough anything you need,” he said before disappearing into his bathroom. While in the shower he had time to think. Yeah, I’m totally not broken to be cool with fucking a woman but not being able to hold her. Not a sign of being fucked up at all, Jason thought. Probably got that from Bruce. Though my real dad probably did it too.

He came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and immediately saw a note on the bed.

Had fun, Hood. We should do it again sometimes, (your number)

💕 Kitten

His tie clip was set underneath it. Jason smiled. Okay, this could be fun. He was young and sowing wild oats or whatever, right?

There was no way this could go wrong, right?

#friday night smut #jason todd x reader #Jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #batboy x reader #Jason todd x thief!reader #red hood x kitten

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silkenstarlight · 3 years

Text

blackbird's lullaby

Summary: After a rough day, Bucky can’t sleep. Reader decides to help.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning/s: a bit of angst in regards to Bucky’s past, but the end is fluffy and sweet :)

Word count: 2.1k

Author’s note: something possessed me to write this instead of working on my finals, so here, enjoy the fruits of my academic negligence lol

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Bucky’s side of the bed was cold when you woke.

You sighed deeply, wrenched from the arms of a dream, rubbing the heavy, lulling tug of sleep from your eyes. You were half awake, toeing the line between the violent brightness of a dreamscape and the hazy, blurred shadows of your bedroom. The warmth of the blankets wrapped around your limbs and threatened to pull you under again, but before you could succumb to their soft, enticing tangle, a singular thought rose in your mind from the murky depths of sleep. At first, it was quiet, a hushed voice in your brain whispering to you that you were alone. But then, the concern gained traction, and it blared in your skull with a deep, unnerving clarity, a nagging insistence that made your eyes snap back open.

Where the hell was Bucky?

You sat up in bed and looked at the alarm clock on your nightstand. 2:46 AM.

You frowned, turning to face Bucky’s empty pillow, and reached a hand out, lightly tracing the crisp, untouched folds. The sheets on his side of the bed were still flat and pristinely tucked, his pillow perfectly fluffed. He hadn’t bothered to try to sleep.

You knew why.

You peeled back the blankets and shivered, met instantly with the deep chill of night air as you unfolded yourself from your fleece and goose-down cocoon.

Bucky preferred to keep the apartment cold. You obliged, of course, bundling up in endless sweaters and blankets as he opened the windows wide and turned the rotary fan on full blast. You never questioned him about it, never asked if you could dial up the thermostat just a few degrees. You knew that keeping the apartment cold helped him to avoid the dreaded space of sleep, helped him to outrun the ever-looming specter of his nightmarish past. And, whenever he did come to bed, he gave you all of the blankets, covering his body with just the thin cotton layer of a bedsheet.

You knew that he rarely fell into a deep, nourishing slumber, so you tried to help boost his energy in other ways. Big, steaming pots of the strongest coffee you could brew, a fridge stocked with healthy snacks, and daily morning walks around the neighborhood together. He quietly thanked you for your efforts, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead and leaving fresh flowers in the vase on the kitchen table every Sunday. But, even though he preferred to stay awake, whenever you rolled over in bed to snuggle into his side and found that his eyes were still wide open, a hard lump rose in your throat and a worried pit formed in your stomach.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and put on your slippers, grabbing one of Bucky’s sweatshirts and shrugging it on as you padded out to the kitchen. You just wanted to check on him and make sure that he was okay.

When he had returned from his mission earlier in the evening, he had seemed a little off to you. Usually, he was quiet, preferring to listen to you as ranted about your stressful workday or gushed about the newest book you were reading. He never wanted to talk much about himself, silently refusing to drag the horrors of his work into your home. It was where he felt at ease-- the plush pillows, the diffused, ambient lighting, the cloying scent of vanilla candles-- it was all so you. He didn’t want to taint the safety and warmth he felt when he was surrounded by your essence with the cold uncertainty and lingering shame of his work. Even though his missions nowadays were usually unrelated to his past as a clandestine Hydra operation, and even though the two jobs differed vastly in motive, he sometimes felt the creeping prick of deja vu traveling up his neck. Follow this person. Disable that vehicle. Shoot this opponent.

All of the lights in the apartment were off, so as you approached the kitchen, you used the bright white glow of your phone screen as a flashlight. You didn’t want to go directly to the living room and make it too obvious that you were checking on him. He would just shake you off if you did, insist that you go back to bed. So, you reached into the cupboard above the sink and grabbed a glass, turning on the faucet and filling it as you peered over the countertop, trying to pick out Bucky’s rigid frame amongst the inky shadows of the living room. You turned off the faucet and brought the glass to your lips, swallowing a couple of small sips.

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” The sound of Bucky’s voice coming from the couch made you jump, the thick glass of your cup clacking against your teeth. You placed it in the sink and walked over to the couch.

Despite the low light, you could see that Bucky was still wearing the clothes he had on when he came home from his mission. Gray tee, leather jacket, dark jeans. He hadn’t even taken off his heavy black boots.

You stepped slowly towards him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, fighting the urge to bury him in a hug and pepper him with kisses. Instead, you sat next to him, leaving a little space between your body and his. Now, you could see his clenched jaw, his jittery, tapping fingers, and the jumping vein in his neck that only pulsed when he was stressed. His gaze was fixed on some indeterminate point on the wall in front of him, as if he were lost in thought.

This wasn’t a normal sleepless night. Something was wrong.

“I… I guess that I should be asking you the same question,” you said softly, voice gravelly and low from sleep.

He didn’t respond, just took a sharp inhale that made it sound like he was staving off tears.

You couldn’t help it. It was like your body could sense his distress. Your hand jerked up to rest on his shoulder, a subconscious reaction to his apparent suffering. You let it stay there, though, stroking your thumb lightly along the cool leather of his jacket.

He stirred from his reverie and turned to look at you. It was so dark, the curtains shut tight, not a single ray of moonlight filtering into the room, but the blue of his eyes shone bright, glistening with the wet sparkle of unshed tears. Sadness swelled in your chest.

“You can tell me,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here to listen.”

His gaze dropped from your face, silently weighing your words. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you enough to open up. The truth was that he didn’t trust himself to speak. If he started talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And then, his demons would be given a voice, and the doors to this vanilla-scented, blanket-swathed haven would be wrenched open to the darkness that waited for him beyond the threshold.

But he could also see the way that his silence affected you. You frowned more on the mornings after he didn’t come to bed. You talked and talked and talked, trying to fill his ears with noise to distract him from the numbing static in his skull. And you were constantly touching him in some way, whether twining your lithe fingers around his thumb or draping your body on top of his in a warm, crushing hug. It was as if you didn’t want to let him out of your sight.

So, he let out a long exhale and reached up, taking your hand from its perch on his arm and twining his fingers tightly with yours. He idly stroked your palm with his thumb and decided to tell you the truth.

“I… I had a bit of a setback tonight.” He felt like he was wrenching the words from his throat. He couldn’t look at you, a deep sense of shame settling into his bones, but he stared at your hand held in his and felt the creeping self-doubt hesitate just a little.

“What do you mean?”

He dragged his eyes up to yours, blinking nervously. “I, uh--” he inhaled sharply and felt tears prick at his eyes. “Someone used my trigger words tonight. And it worked.”

Silence lay heavy between you as you digested what he said, but you didn’t pull away, didn’t pry your hand from his. You simply held his gaze.

“How is that possible?” He had gone through years of extensive mental treatment in Wakanda, the emotional scars that he suffered after years of lost identity and unwilling servitude seemingly healed. But, now, it seemed that one of those scars had re-opened.

“Ayo said that it was unlikely, but that it could happen. Relapse is a part of the process.” His voice was pained.

You nodded slightly, assenting to Ayo’s expertise. But Bucky’s next sentence made you fall apart at the seams.

“I thought I was different, after all these years. But I guess I haven’t changed. I’m still him.” He spat the last word, his face creasing into an expression of disgust.

You didn’t hesitate. “Come here.”

You gently separated your hand from his and reached up to his shoulders, guiding him towards you in a tight embrace. You wrapped your arms behind his neck and he pressed his chin into the notch between your shoulder and neck. As you began tracing your fingertips along his jacket collar, his chest heaved in desperate inhales, slow tears tracking down his cheeks developing into full, wracking sobs.

“You’re safe. I won’t let you go.” You pressed your mouth against his temple in a soft, soothing kiss.

“You were never him.” Although your voice was barely a whisper, it spoke volumes, your words ringing clear and true in the quiet stillness. Bucky shuddered, squeezing you close. You moved one of your hands up to cradle the back of his head.

You stayed like that for a long time, until you saw the blue light of dawn trickle through the gap beneath the curtains, but you didn’t say anything, waiting for Bucky to say what he needed. When his breath finally stilled into a regular rhythm, no longer halting and ragged, you pulled back and took his face in your hands, staring deeply into his eyes.

“I’m so tired.” His voice was flat and broken, but when you wiped a stray tear from his cheek with your pinkie, a small, grateful smile formed on his face.

You nodded. “Well, I know what will help. Come here.” You pulled back, shifting down the couch, guiding him with you with your hand wrapped around his arm. When he had enough space to lie down, you stopped, settling into your seat. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether he could risk falling asleep in his current emotional state, but he sighed, knowing that he needed to rest. He laid back, resting his head on your lap, and looked up at you.

You carded your fingers through his short hair, brushing it back from his forehead. He melted into the gentle gesture, relaxing into the couch, into the warmth of your body.

And then, you began to sing.

You were quiet at first, as if trying out the thought of singing him a lullaby. Your voice was tentative, trying out the feeling of the different notes in your mouth.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

You thought that your voice was nothing special, your untrained, warbling syllables rushing from your lips in a breathy exhale. But Bucky loved it. The way you let your words flow together, followed by a long, lilting end note and a pause to inhale-- it was sweet and soft and so very you.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see.

All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to be free.”

He could feel it already, the lull of an encroaching dream. His first instinct was to fight it, to blink the sleep from his eyes, but he let his lids shut, blocking out every sense except for the sound of your voice.

“Blackbird fly, blackbird fly,

Into the light of a dark black night.”

And, as he welcomed the embrace of sleep, your voice followed him, a glowing amber halo of warmth that pushed the dark away and lit his path into the space of dreams.

“All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

He dreamt of blackbirds and forehead kisses, of vanilla candles and forgiveness.

He dreamt of you.

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geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde · 3 years

Text

Let It Be Me

Hello all! It’s finally time to post my Novigrad Exchange fic! Big thanks to @ohnomybreadsticks and @jaskiersvalley for taking the time to organize this! <3 And of course thanks again to Socks for the beta help <3 <3

This is for the incredibly talented @journeythroughunknownlands

Geralt overdoses on potions and the most efficient way to burn them off is with an orgasm (or two... or more). Queue Jaskier, loyal best friend who is always willing to lend a helping hand (or other body part 😏). Seasoned with a hearty sprinkle of pining.

This will be cross posted on AO3 later today.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: frottage, blow jobs, anal sex, bottom Geralt, multiple orgasms, pining, requited feelings, happy/hopeful ending

3.9k words

Geralt felt the potions burning their way through his veins, lighting him on fire; he had taken too many. The endrega colony was much smaller than anticipated and the fight was much shorter than it would have been otherwise, far too short of a fight to help him burn off the toxins in his blood.

His skin felt pulled tight, and he knew just what he would look like. His paler than normal complexion would be marred with black veins, his eyes would look like pots of ink, the color of ichor, he would look every bit of the monster humans thought him to be.

Fuck, if he didn’t find a good way to let off some steam and work this out of his system, this would take hours to wear off. He was out of White Honey and didn’t have any honey suckle on hand to make more, and he doubted he would be able to find any.

Looking around the clearing he was in, he quickly dismissed the idea of getting himself off. He was painfully hard in his trousers, and a quick wank would be the most efficient way to burn through the toxins, but this wasn’t the place for it. There was far too much noise in this particular forest, making him wonder what curious creatures would come to investigate. He also didn’t bring any of his… toys with him. He didn’t need them, of course, but they made things a bit more enjoyable and typically sped up the process. No, he needed to get back to town and figure something else out. It was unlikely he would be able to find a whore willing to lay with him, no matter the coin offered, and he really didn’t have much to offer.

He could always try to sleep through it or take care of himself back in his room where his toys were, though that would mean making his way through the inn looking like he did, if the innkeep would even let him up to his room.

Sighing and deciding that he really had no good option, he turned, his trophies in hand, and began the trek through the dense trees back to town.

Geralt really should have stayed in the forest. He had known better but ignored the small voice in the back of his head trying to talk sense into him. Instead, he allowed himself to return to town despite everything he ever learned at Kaer Morhen, despite every bit of real-life experience reminding him that exposing himself to humans in this state was an awful idea.

If the toxins in his blood felt like fire, the horrified stares were even worse, like daggers stabbing into his already sensitive skin.

Thankfully, he managed to get to the inn without incident, despite the stares, despite the hatred and fear he could smell emanating from everyone he passed. And despite the shocking waves of pain and pleasure shooting through him as he walked with his erection straining against his trousers. The silence in the inn was unsettling though, all speech coming to a halt as he stepped through the door, and he had to push down a wave of embarrassment, knowing that everyone would be able to see his erection. Silence, though, meant he wasn’t being kicked out and allowed him to make his way up the stairs and to his room.

His room that he was sharing with Jaskier.

Fuck.

He hadn’t thought about it until he opened the door, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Jaskier’s presence had become such a normal and routine part of his life that he hadn’t even thought about the bard being there, about having to deal with Jaskier in this state.

There was no way he would be able to stay in the room like this. He had to fight back his arousal for the bard in the best of times, and this couldn’t be called the best of anything. The bard’s scent was already one that intoxicated him, and now with all of his senses heightened, there would be no way he could stay in the room with him, it would be pure torture if he tried. Quickly making up his mind as Jaskier stared at him in surprise, Geralt stomped across the room to grab his bag of toys, there was no chance he would be able to ride this out with Jaskier not even ten feet away, smelling and looking the way he did.

Geralt could hear Jaskier’s voice clearly, though his racing mind couldn’t parse out the words. He could smell the bard’s confusion, hear it in the tone of his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to even grunt out an explanation as he made his way back to the door. All Geralt could focus on was the sudden need to go back out to the woods and take care of himself. It had been a long while since he had last gotten the opportunity to use some of his favorite toys, so he might as well make the best of an awful situation.

As he reached for the knob on the door, he felt a sudden tug on the bag in his hand and he spun around just as it ripped, the contents spilling on the floor. Geralt couldn’t think of a time in which he had more desperately wished it was true what they say about witchers, that they felt no emotions. Geralt let out a frustrated growl, the absolute mortification within him warring with the anger he was feeling at Jaskier for trying to stop him just led to more desperation for a fix to his situation. He had just wanted to escape the inn and take care of himself, solve the problem in the relative privacy of the woods, but no, nothing ever went that simply for him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was tentative in a way that it normally wasn’t, far more hesitant than the rather direct bard ever bothered being. Geralt’s eyes snapped up to meet Jaskier’s as the witcher willed himself to remain calm. He was sure his face would be turning red from embarrassment if it wasn’t for the poison affecting his complexion and he sent off a silent thanks to whoever was listening that at least he was spared from that.

“Geralt? Are you okay?”

Geralt wasn’t sure he understood what Jaskier was asking. He had expected Jaskier to be more afraid of him in this state, having never seen his reaction to taking potions before, and far more concerned by the toys now scattered across the floor, rather than if he was okay.

“Fine,” he finally grunted out, hoping Jaskier would stop looking at him with such concern. It wasn’t a look that he needed directed at him, he would be fine if he could just leave.

“Fine?” Jaskier squeaked, “You don’t look fine! You look like you’re dying! Geralt, are you poisoned? Are you dying? Can I help? What do I need to do?”

Taking a deep breath and nearly choking on the scent of the bard, even more overwhelming this close, Geralt finally managed to motion to the floor, littered with his rather extensive collection, “Potions. Those… help.” There was no way he would be able to say more, not about this subject, not in his current state. Possibly not ever.

He watched as Jaskier stared at him consideringly before looking down at the floor, and then back up at Geralt. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, but Geralt didn’t know how to explain it any better.

Jaskier reached up, touching at Geralt’s face hesitantly, “This is because of your potions?” Geralt nodded, leaning into the touch. It was just this side of too much but it felt so good.

Humming softly, Jaskier glanced back at the floor, “And those… help?”

Geralt nodded again, still relishing in the contact of Jaskier’s hand pressing gently against his face. There were so many feelings thrumming through him, embarrassment and worry and arousal but Jaskier’s touch seemed to almost calm them. Unfortunately, it seemed that it couldn’t last and Jaskier pulled away, making Geralt whimper at the loss.

“How do they help?” Jaskier asked as he knelt down in front of Geralt. The witcher watched in horror as Jaskier meticulously gathered the contents of the now destroyed bag before placing them on the small table in their room. “Is it something about the toys themselves? Or is it just the… result.”

Geralt could feel his throat closing up as he choked out, “Result.”

Watching Geralt closely, Jaskier made his way back across the room, concern still written clearly across his features, “Where were you going?”

“Woods.”

“Do you… normally take care of this in the woods?”

“Yes,” Geralt felt just as weak as his voice sounded suddenly, he felt exposed like a raw nerve and it hurt.

“Can I help you?”

Geralt felt his entire body seize up as his mind slowly caught up with Jaskier’s question. Letting out a whine, he found himself reaching out for Jaskier before he even knew what he was doing, before he had even made a conscious decision.

Jaskier stepped closer, allowing himself to be wrapped in Geralt’s arms as the witcher buried his face in Jaskier’s neck. The bard smelled so fucking good and Geralt wanted this so badly, had wanted it for years. But Jaskier didn’t, surely. Geralt should let go.

But Jaskier’s hands were suddenly trailing up and down Geralt’s back comfortingly, and Geralt couldn’t let go, it felt amazing, like nothing he had ever allowed himself to experience before, and he couldn’t give it up. With any luck, the bard wouldn’t hate him for his actions tomorrow.

Inhaling deeply and letting the bard’s scent wash over him, Geralt made up his mind. He would get whatever he could from Jaskier tonight and then spend the rest of his life making it up to the bard.

He felt Jaskier start to pull back and he only gripped harder, clenching Jaskier’s doublet in his hands. Jaskier made a soft sound, “Hey, it’s okay, but we should take this over to the bed, okay?”

Geralt could hear the logic in Jaskier’s words, but he didn’t want to let go. Instead, he shuffled forward slowly, his face still buried in Jaskier’s neck, until he could feel the impact as the back of Jaskier’s knees hit the mattress. He urged Jaskier back on the bed, settling himself into Jaskier’s side, still hiding his face.

Jaskier’s hands began running through Geralt’s hair, making the witcher let out a purr and Jaskier chuckle, “I always knew you liked your hair played with. Is this what you want, darling? To lay here and cuddle until you feel better? Or do you want more?” Geralt didn’t think he would ever want to let go, but he needed more. As nice as this felt, he could still feel his cock, hard and heavy and uncomfortably pressed against his pants.

Whispering his answer, Geralt practically begged for more.

Suddenly, Geralt found himself on his back, Jaskier hovering over him. The bard’s scent was now tinged heavily with his own arousal and Geralt couldn’t hold back another whine as he bucked his hips, seeking friction. Jaskier smirked down at him, lowering his body until they were pressed against each other. Geralt could feel Jaskier’s own hardness pressed against his and he groaned out at the sensation. How many nights had he dreamed of this same thing? Of being pressed up underneath Jaskier, desperate for pleasure to be wrung from him, at the mercy of Jaskier’s talented hands.

And mouth.

Gods, he’d had so many fantasies about the bard’s mouth, taking him apart, bringing him damn near to tears. And now here he was, with all of those fantasies in arms reach. His lust had completely fogged his brain, completely overpowering the potion-induced fire in his veins, replacing it with an even more powerful burn.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jaskier asked, his voice low.

All Geralt could do was nod, his hips still grinding up desperately into Jaskier’s. The fire was raging inside him now, completely overwhelming him. He wasn’t sure exactly how Jaskier managed to get both of their clothes off, but the next thing he knew they were pressed together, skin to skin. Geralt was crying out from the sensations, both too much and not enough, as Jaskier kept talking to him. The whispered words doused the fire just for a moment until Jaskier’s lips chased his words, reigniting the fire to burn even brighter. Geralt had never understood poets when they said they had found themselves out of their mind with pleasure but then again, he had never experienced this.

He was unbelievably hard, his cock ached and throbbed where it lay, pressed between him and Jaskier. It could have been seconds or hours that he spent rocking against Jaskier for friction before he found himself so very close to the edge of orgasm.

Jaskier licked a stripe up Geralt’s neck to nip at his ear, “That’s right, Geralt, take what you need. You look so beautiful like this, just take what you need.” It was Jaskier’s words, whispered like a filthy secret in his ear, that finally tipped him over just as he asked, “Are you going to cum for me?”

Geralt let out a mewl as his body shook under Jaskier, his orgasm hot and intense, feeling as though it may never end. He felt hazy almost, the once intense fire settling down to a manageable smolder even as Jaskier trailed kisses down his body. Watching closely, Geralt found himself enraptured at the man above him, groaning as Jaskier continued down, licking up Geralt’s spend as he went.

“Fuck, Jask,” he gasped out as the bard continued on, his tongue lapping at Geralt’s still hard cock.

The bard smirked, “Ready for another round so soon?”

“The… potions. They keep me… excited.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to work them out of your system.”

Any response Geralt might have thought of was lost as Jaskier promptly wrapped his lips around the head of Geralt’s cock. Geralt could barely stop himself from thrusting forward, fucking into Jaskier’s mouth. It looks so pretty, stretched obscenely around Geralt as he bobbed up and down.

Geralt gasped as he felt a finger probing at his hole, circling it slowly, applying a slight pressure but never pushing in. Just as suddenly as the contact had started, it stopped, Jaskier pulling his mouth away as well, making him keen, his arms already reaching toward the bard, desperate. “It’s okay, darling. Let me just get some oil, okay? This will be much more enjoyable that way.”

Oil. Right. If he was going to be fucked, then oil would make it better. That made perfect sense to Geralt, but still he followed Jaskier’s form greedily and he hurried over to the odds and ends now strewn across the table in their room, picking up a small bottle, and heading back over to the bed, a small smile on his face as he positioned himself between Geralt’s legs.

Geralt made a satisfied noise as Jaskier set a hand on his thigh, stroking up and down, “Is this what you want darling, what you need? Want me to fuck you?”

“Please.” The plea was ripped from Geralt’s throat almost as if it weren’t him speaking. But it was him and he had never before felt so desperate. He wanted Jaskier fucking into him, wanted their bodies writhing together. He wanted the best kind of fire back, lust and passion burning his veins as he looked into Jaskier’s eyes. Fuck.

Thankfully, Jaskier needed nothing more from Geralt, and wasted no time, slicking his fingers and going back to toying with him, “Look at you, so needy for this, I bet I could slip right into you with no prep.”

Fuck, Geralt couldn’t help but groan, “Please, anything, please.”

“Shh it’s okay, soon. I want to make this good for you,” Jaskier’s voice was soft as he leaned forward, locking his lips with Geralt’s as he pushed a finger inside. He hadn’t been wrong, Geralt took the finger easily, more than ready for the feeling. Rocking his hips, Geralt searched for more.

Pulling back and smiling at Geralt, Jaskier’s eyes crinkled up at the corners in the way that always made Geralt want to smile with him. “Are you feeling good? Ready for more?”

Geralt tried to speak, he really did, but all that came out was a needy sound as he ground down on Jaskier’s hand.

“I’ve got you, darling, I’ve got you.” Soon after, Jaskier was pressing another finger inside him, thrusting in and out and it was so good Geralt could do nothing but pant and whine as he moved in time with Jaskier, seeking his own pleasure.

It was so good but it was still just a tease of what was to come.

“Jaskier, please, fuck. Fuck me.”

“Okay, just one last thing.” Before Geralt could even register the sentence, Jaskier had leaned down, wrapping his lips around Geralt’s cock again, just as he curled his fingers, pressing against that spot inside him.

Geralt cried out, his body shaking as he came so hard he saw stars. Relaxing back onto the bed, Geralt whimpered helplessly as Jaskier released him, his fingers slipping from his hole.

“Do you still want more?”

Opening his eyes was a struggle but he managed after a moment, shooting a glare at Jaskier, “Fuck me.”

Jaskier chuckled, “Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it, then.”

Geralt watched in a daze as Jaskier pumped his own cock, covering it with slick. The man was large and it would certainly be a stretch. His own cock was already hard again, twitching as he thought about how good that would feel inside of him. Moving forward, Jaskier lined up and began to push in, gasping as he did so.

It had been so long since Geralt had been fucked. Typically when he was out wandering the continent, all he had with him to relieve this particular want was his bag of toys, and fuck it felt so much better when it was the real thing.

Geralt watched as Jaskier sunk into him, their hips meeting softly as Jaskier panted above him. The stretch was amazing, just the right amount of pressure to make it overwhelmingly good. Geralt tried to stay still, he did, but after a while he had to move. The roll of his hips pulled a grunt from Jaskier as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Just a moment, fuck, you’re tight.” Jaskier was breathless, gasping out his words, sweat beading on his brow.

Geralt had never seen him look more amazing.

Jaskier began thrusting in and out of him slowly, the burn of the stretch and the feeling of fullness sending sparks of pleasure through Geralt. It wasn’t long before Jaskier sped up, shifting more until finally, he moved just right, drawing a yelp out of Geralt as he hit his prostate. A smirk lit up Jaskier’s face as he pulled out and thrust back in, his aim precise as he once again hit that same spot again and again. The bard kept going, sending Geralt into a frenzy of begging and crying out. The fingers of Geralt’s hand were threaded with Jaskier’s, held down above his head. Geralt’s other hand was gripping at Jaskier’s back, his fingers digging into the soft skin as Jaskier kept thrusting.

“Won't- last,” Jaskier gasped, his free hand coming up to wrap around Geralt’s cock.

It was likely only seconds but it felt like hours when finally he felt himself falling again, his orgasm rushing through him, his body relaxing into a boneless mess as Jaskier thrust once, twice more, freezing his motions and shaking as he spent inside of Geralt, finally collapsing on top of him.

“I don’t know if I can move,” Jaskier said, his voice muffled from where he had buried his head in Geralt’s chest.

“Mmm. Don’t.”

“Okay.”

And then Geralt was asleep.

The first thing Geralt noticed was how dry his mouth was. It wasn’t unusual, not after a hunt. His potions would have that effect on him most of the time, particularly if he struggled with burning them off. He went to shift, suddenly noticing the heavy weight on top of him. Opening his eyes, Geralt couldn’t see anything but a mop of brown hair. Inhaling deeply as he tried to gain awareness of his surroundings, he was assaulted with the scent of Jaskier and himself and sex.

Oh fuck.

Geralt shifted slightly under Jaskier, making the bard startle awake on top of him. Jaskier seemed to gain awareness quickly, rolling off of Geralt quickly, his cheeks blooming a brilliant red on his otherwise pale face.

“Ah,” Jaskier cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the room, “good morning. I trust you’re feeling better.”

Geralt nodded, sitting up and reaching for the pitcher beside the bed, drinking straight from it. He felt some of the water spill out, dripping down his naked chest, but paid it no mind as he tried to wash the dryness from his throat.

Fuck. He really came back to the inn with potions burning through him and let himself fuck Jaskier. Well, let himself be fucked by Jaskier. Well… begged to be fucked by Jaskier.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Putting down the now empty pitcher, Geralt shot a furtive look at Jaskier, feeling the guilt pooling in his stomach. Jaskier was loyal to a fault, something Geralt had taken for granted for so long, and now here he was, after a night of going out of his way doing something he had no interest in doing, looking at Geralt with nothing but concern for the witcher. Jaskier was too good for Geralt, he didn’t deserve to have to deal with situations like this.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier looked taken aback, “For what?”

“Making you feel like you had to help me last night. I appreciate it but… I’m sorry.”

“I… Geralt I offered to help. I never felt obligated and you never did anything to make me.”

It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it? Geralt’s needs had been far more than anyone could be expected to help with. Jaskier should have sent him on his way and spared himself the trouble.

“Geralt?” Jaskier said softly, moving closer and reaching up to cup Geralt’s cheek, “Thank you for trusting me with this. I’m glad I could help you.”

Whether it was the earnest sound of Jaskier’s voice or maybe just Geralt’s need to believe that someone really did want to be there for him, he was unsure. All he knew was that he never wanted to break Jaskier’s gaze. His eyes were so incredibly blue, bright pools of crystal clear water begging for someone to dive in and Geralt found himself ready to jump.

Before he noticed what was happening, Geralt had already leaned into Jaskier, making his eyes widen, surprise written across his face. But he didn’t pull back. No, Jaskier’s eyes flicked down to Geralt’s lips before once again meeting Geralt’s gaze. Geralt wasn’t sure if it was him or Jaskier that initiated the all encompassing kiss that followed, all he knew was it was something he had wanted for so long and felt so right.

Maybe, next time potions were burning through his veins and he wanted to crawl out of his skin, Jaskier would meet him and apply this affection like a balm, soothing Geralt in a way he had never before experienced. Maybe from this moment forward, he wouldn’t wait for Jaskier to realize he deserved better and move on. Maybe, just maybe, Geralt had really found happiness.

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Tag list: @stinastar @feraljaskier @bastardofmothman @hailhailsatan @moonysrz @its-onions @elliestormfound @dapandapod @jaskierswolf @fontegagrilledcheese @negativenuggetz @veritasrose @feral-jaskier @kozkaboi @kueble @llamasdumpsterfire @selectivegeekwithstandards @dani-dandelino @holymotherwolf

#novigrad exchange #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #the witcher fandom #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

an icarus and his sun: chapter 10

A/N: y’all ever think about that one empires episode of pearl’s where she helps sausage fight off a raid and that turns into a pvp battle between them, and she absolutely destroys him? yeah me too. also check out this awesome art by @amostfoolishgold! anyway back to jimmy pov!

Warnings: injury, unconsciousness, fevers, talk of death, violence, corruption/infection, self-blame

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

The sun was nearing the horizon, casting the Overgrown in a golden glow. The castle was beginning to take shape, but they had unfortunately run low on materials, and Joel and Lizzie weren’t back from their gathering trip yet. So for the moment, they all just sat in the half-constructed shell of a castle, having light conversation as they waited for Joel and Lizzie to arrive. But soon enough, the conversation dwindled into an awkward silence. That is, until Gem stood up with a determined look in her eyes and a gentle smile.

“Why don’t we head to my empire for dinner? We’ve been working hard all day and could use a break!” she said brightly. Jimmy wasn’t sure how he felt about Gem quite yet, after everything that had happened- but she and Pearl had been a huge help. Meanwhile Shelby looked intrigued by the offer, and while Katherine first nervously glanced to the horizon, she looked back to Gem with a smile.

“That is very kind of you, Gem. I’d love to- we should probably just leave a note for Joel and Lizzie to let them know where we’ve gone,” Katherine said, standing up as well. Gem looked to Jimmy semi-nervously- and well, Jimmy was always a bit of a softie, wasn’t he? He smiled at Gem and stood up too.

“That does sound nice, thank you for inviting us,” Jimmy said. Gem beamed, and Pearl looked relieved as she stood up next to Gem.

“Well, you definitely won’t see me complaining about free food!” Shelby chimed in, hopping up to her feet. That caused the group to break into laughter, and the air between them felt comfortable again.

Once Katherine had written the note and put it where Lizzie and Joel could easily find it, the five of them (minus Pearl, who had wings) equipped their elytra and flew off to the Crystal Cliffs. When they first arrived there, everything seemed normal. The grand cliffs themselves, the buildings nestled in and around them, the towers- it was a beautiful and mystical place. But there was something blue, white, and gold that stood out in a heap on the ground near one of the buildings- a very familiar something blue, white and gold.

“Oh my god-” Gem started, landing on the ground beside the figure.

“Is that-” Pearl said, unable to finish the thought as she landed just behind Gem.

“Scott?” Jimmy finished, voice shaking as he came in for a bit of an unsteady landing a few feet away from where Scott laid on the ground, breathing shallow and upon a closer look, something red pulsing and spreading beneath his skin like some sort of vine. Jimmy barely registered Katherine and Shelby landing on either side of him, too focused on what was before him.

“This- this red stuff reminds me of the redstone spikes in Fwhip’s empire- or maybe something from the nether?” Gem pondered as she knelt beside Scott, a purple glow coming over her hand as she reached out towards the infection in his arm.

“I’ve seen that before,” Shelby said, voice sounding distant and laced with horror. Everyone turned to look at her, surprised to hear such a terrified tone of voice from the usually enthusiastic gnome.

“The infection?” Pearl asked.

“The corruption. I’ve seen it happen to my people back home, until it consumed them until there was nothing left- it’s why I came here, to try and find a cure or some way to stop it. But nothing worked,” Shelby explained shakily, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. Jimmy felt like he was going to cry too- and some awful part of himself thought that he should be glad that this happened to Scott, that it served him right after betraying Jimmy and breaking his heart- but he couldn’t. Despite everything Scott had done, despite never wanting to see Scott again- none of that meant that Jimmy didn’t want a world where the winged elf wasn’t in it. And what about what Pearl had said? Scott didn’t seem happy with Fwhip either, but now Jimmy would never know the truth. Not if it died with Scott.

Jimmy was so wrapped up in his conflicted mess of emotions that he didn’t even notice that someone else had flown in until Katherine let out a sharp gasp. He tore his gaze away from Scott to see what had caused that reaction from Katherine- and saw Fwhip. A mix of anger and terror boiled in his veins and swirled in his stomach at the sight of him. Fwhip looked baffled to see so many people in Gem’s empire, and plastered on a forced friendly smile. Jimmy’s hand found Katherine’s, and she squeezed it back tightly with no intention of letting go.

“Gem! Hi, so I wanted to smooth things over- I think we left things on a bad note-”

“What did you do to Scott,” Gem demanded, cutting off Fwhip as she stood up from beside Scott. Purple sparks danced in the air around her, and Jimmy swallowed nervously- he didn’t think he had ever seen Gem seem so intimidating before. Jimmy was relieved to see that Fwhip looked nervous too.

“Well, I haven’t seen Scott since our meeting, he seemed upset when he left- weird that he ended up here- y’know I was actually gonna go and talk to him after you-”

“If by talk, you mean do whatever you did to Scott to us?!” Pearl demanded, hand on the hilt of her sword as she took a step forward to stand beside Gem.

“I didn’t-”

“I’ve had enough of your lies, Fwhip. What. Did. You. Do,” Gem said evenly. Fwhip swallowed nervously, before sighing and finally giving in.

“Okay, so I may have set a few traps in his empire and got Sausage to help me with letting a raid infiltrate his village and the surrounding lands- but I figured Scott could handle a few traps and some mobs, it was only meant to be a warning, I never meant to kill him! He must have really gotten soft if he couldn’t deal with it,” Fwhip rambled. Gem and Pearl seemed semi-satisfied with his answer, but Pearl kept her hand on her sword and purple sparks still danced around Gem. But there was something that Fwhip said that bothered Jimmy, and along with what Pearl had said… guilt was beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach.

“What do you mean by that?” Jimmy asked tentatively. Fwhip let out a harsh laugh, turning to Jimmy incredulously.

“The idiot actually fell for you. He was just supposed to be a distraction, a contingency plan to make sure you wouldn’t be trouble. But he got in too deep, and look where that got him,” Fwhip scoffed, looking down at Scott’s deathly still form in disdain. Guilt was crashing on Jimmy in waves now. He had pushed Scott away. Scott had actually cared about him and he pushed him away. And then he had no one to go to for help when Fwhip decided to send a “warning” and got hurt as a result.

“You’re lucky I’m a pacifist,” Katherine spat, more angry than Jimmy had ever heard her. He wished he could have shared her anger, shouted at Fwhip too- but Jimmy just felt numb.

“Well unluckily for Fwhip, I don’t have that problem,” Pearl fumed, drawing her sword. Fwhip started to scramble back as Pearl leapt at him. His backwards stumble turned into a run, and Pearl kept pace with him just fine, using her wings if necessary and brandishing her sword to chase him away.

“Pearl can handle him- can you three help me get Scott to the apothecary? I’d do it by myself, but he’s tall and there’s the bulk of his wings to worry about too,” Gem asked, looking down at Scott worriedly.

“Erm- right, of course,” Jimmy said, letting go of Katherine’s hand to join Gem at Scott’s side.

“Hold on- go to the other side and help me turn him over,” Gem said. Jimmy did as she asked, and being mindful of his wings, the two of them gently rolled Scott over so he was on his back. Scott was feverish to the touch, and even unconscious his expression was contorted with pain.

“He’s hot,” Jimmy said, distant horror in his tone.

“Now isn’t the time for that, Jimmy,” Gem teased, trying to lessen the tension in the air. Jimmy’s face scrunched up in irritation as he half-heartedly glared at her.

“He has a fever, Gem,” Jimmy huffed. Gem laughed nervously.

“I know, I know, just trying to make this less terrible than it is,” Gem sighed. Jimmy gave her a weak smile, and together the two of them gently lifted Scott up. Jimmy ended up mostly holding Scott, while Gem supported his wings. Scott’s head lolled against his shoulder, labored breaths fanning his neck. Jimmy should have felt embarrassed or flustered, cradling Scott like this- but he was too concerned with how limp and unresponsive Scott felt in his arms.

“I’ll get the doors for you!” Shelby offered, quickly making her way over to the apothecary door. Katherine hovered around Jimmy and Gem semi-anxiously, making sure that they had a good hold on Scott as they made their way over to the apothecary. But all went well, and they were able to safely transport Scott into one of the apothecary beds. He had begun to shiver and tremble every so often now, and Jimmy could have sworn the corruption had spread, reaching his fingertips.

“There’s gotta be a way to stop that, or at least slow it down,” Gem murmured in thought, pulling up a chair to sit at Scott’s side. She reached out to the cut where the corruption on Scott’s arm stemmed from, hand glowing purple again. She closed her hand over it, and her eyes began to glow the same purple as her hand. But then the glow flickered, turning red for a moment before it dissipated entirely and Gem drew her hand back with a yelp, stumbling backwards out of her seat beside Scott’s bed. Jimmy scrambled over to help her up, eyes darting nervously between her and Scott.

“Is everything alright? I chased Fwhip off, but I swear if he’s done something in here…” Pearl trailed off as she walked into the apothecary, eyes zeroing on Gem as she rubbed at her temples.

“I’m fine. The corruption- it fought back. It’s… alive, somehow,” Gem said with morbid curiosity in her tone.

“It’s a type of fungus. That’s as much as my people could figure out before I came here to try and find a cure. The red stuff is everywhere in my old home- even if you tried to get rid of it, it would just come back. And in the cases where it latched onto a person… there was no getting it out,” Shelby explained, sounding like she was going to cry. Gem hummed thoughtfully.

“Did you try any sort of magic with it?” she asked.

“No, my people were not magic-users- in fact I’d hardly seen magic before I came here, where the air seems charged with the stuff,” Shelby replied, gesturing around her. A determined expression came over Gem’s face.

“Then I’m not gonna stop trying. I don’t know if I can fully fight off the corruption, but I definitely think I can slow its spread. In the meantime, we’re gonna need to get Scott’s fever down- at this rate, that’ll kill him before the corruption will,” Gem said, resting the back of her hand on Scott’s forehead and frowning.

“He’s probably a little beat-up too- Fwhip did say he trapped his empire,” Katherine added. Gem nodded in agreement.

“We’ll need cool water and cloth to make a compress for his forehead- and I should have some healing potions around here- it couldn’t hurt to brew some more though too, just in case,” Gem rambled, starting to stand up before Pearl put up a hand.

“You two stay here with Scott, I know where you keep things around here. Katherine, Shelby and I can worry about getting things for you,” she soothed. Jimmy tilted his head in confusion.

“Wait, I can help get things too…” Jimmy trailed off uncertainly.

“You can help if you want. I just figured you’d wanna stick by Scott,” Pearl shrugged with a gentle smile. Jimmy flushed slightly as he looked down at the floor, away from Pearl’s knowing stare.

“I… yeah. I’ll stick by Scott,” he said softly, gaze shifting to look at the winged elf who always managed to make his emotions into a muddled mess. Scott was an enemy, a friend, a- a something, then an enemy again- but whatever Scott was to Jimmy now, he knew one thing: he wasn’t letting Scott out of his sight again. Doing so the last time caused this to happen. He had to be there if- no, when Scott woke up. He had to apologize for pushing him away, and hope that maybe Scott still cared about him after everything that had happened to accept it.

Taglists below! Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123 @vyeoh

AIAHS Taglist: @anty-kreatywna @beepa99 @devilwoodkitty18 @riobug

#empires smp #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #shubble #katherine elizabeth #fwhip #flower husbands #aiahs #mcyt #sage writes

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eureka-its-zico · 3 years

Text

Damage

Request: You meet JB in a bar and have a one-night stand

A/N: My friend has asked me for JB fics none stop. I haven’t been able to finish one, because I get stuck in my head and think everything is trash. I think this one is okay, at best. I’ve edited as much as my eyes can stand. Either way, she seemed to enjoy it. I hope you all enjoy it in some way too. Much Love, Jenn

p.s. It’s named Damage because I literally had the song of the same name from H.E.R playing on repeat the entire time.

Jaebum X Reader

Genre: SmUt

Words:5534

Warnings: semi-public sex, rough play, some ass-slaping - you get the picture -

There was a time that the idea of sleeping with a complete stranger from a bar would’ve never crossed your mind. It wasn’t that you were a prude. A part of you secretly wanted to know what it felt like to be so overwhelmed by another that they made you less cautious and more adventurous. No one ever seemed able to stir that emotion in you, however.

Until you’d met JB.

Now, as his fingers traced across your skin, his lips kissed at the hollow of your neck, you couldn’t imagine an alternate universe where you didn’t say yes. Where you weren’t pressed into the backseat of a stuffy cab not caring that you had an audience while JB’s hand made its way between your thighs. His mouth hungrily lapping up your moan as his fingers slid under the edge of your panties.

A part of you should’ve felt embarrassed. You were passengers in this cab. The obvious audience of the older man up front would’ve normally made you shove his hand away with your cheeks pink; pretending to care if they watched.

But JB was a force you weren’t used to. One that threatened to consume you and god, did you want to be consumed.

EARLIER

————————-

“Come on, Y/N. You can’t be sad forever about that asshole.”

Your fingers skimmed the paper of your beer smearing an image of a heart in the condensation. Your teeth drawing in your bottom lip as you thought about what your friend was saying. Of course, she was right. It was two weeks, give or take, since you broke up with Mark. You’d had your days of wallowing, eating copious amounts of ice cream, and crying on the couch watching rom-coms and asking why can’t your life be like this?

There wasn’t any doubt your ex wasn’t off doing the same. Hell, he’d made sure to take pictures of his latest escapades and made sure to share it to his social media. Not that you were looking at any of it or anything.

“You’re right,” you huffed out in defeat.

Why was it so hard to let him go? It wasn’t like he’d had such a hard time deciding to end your relationship.

“I’m sorry. What was that? Can you say it a little louder for me please I’m hard of hearing.”

You shot her a look of disbelief that sent her head falling back with laughter.

“This one time you might be a little bit right.”

You took a swig of your drink to hide your own smile.

“Plus, how can you be sad over that loser when the hottest dude is five feet away.”

You followed her eyes to see what had her making such a bold claim. There were plenty of good looking men and women in the bar. How could one person possibly hold the title when your opinion could be different?

It wasn’t.

You found him easily. No longer needing the guide of your friend to find who it was that’d caught her attention. And sweet Jesus he was hands down the best looking in the room.

He was leaning up against the wall. His eyes half crescent moons as he smiled. One hand holding a beer that was close to his lips as he replied back to whatever his friend said. You shamelessly watched how his lips wrapped around the bottle to take a drink. The sharpness of his jaw and the expanse of his neck.

You wanted to know what he looked like with his mouth on you and tasting the sweetness between your thighs.

The desire for it caused your legs to squeeze together to give yourself any sort of friction. Your mind still going over the fantasy you were creating with him in the starring role. Suddenly, he was looking back at you. A harsh blush rose to your cheeks at being caught but refused to look away.

God! What am I doing?!

You’ve never been the one to make the first move. Of any kind. Eye contact felt like a first move of showing interest, but you were more than interested and a part of you wondered if he could see it. See that even this far between your spaces in the bar how badly you wanted to know how he tasted.

A gasp brought your attention back to the position of your friend. Her mouth agape in shock but that threatened to spill into a smile at any moment.

“Hollleeeeey shit! Did you just give that guy ‘fuck me eyes’ from across the bar?”

You scoffed at the idea before shooting a cautionary look back in his direction. Using your elbows that were on the top of the bar you swiveled yourself to face the many rows of liquor. Fighting the urge to look back at him again or acknowledge your friend bouncing in her seat.

“Yes you fuckin did!”

Your reply was a quick swig of your drink as you tried your best not to grimace at the taste. You’d been babysitting it too long and now it was lukewarm.

“I've had my heart broken. I’m not dead,” you replied.

“Let’s go over and talk to them!”

Your head whipped in her direction so fast you swore you’d ended up with whiplash. Yes, you were looking. And yes, this man did provoke unholy fantasies, but that didn’t mean you were ready to be that close.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. I think this will be good for you.”

She ignored your burst of panic and waved down the bartender who acknowledged her sooner than you would’ve liked.

“What can I get you ladies.”

“Two shots of tequila, please.”

“What are you doing?”

She wiggled her brows at you and rubbed her shoulder up against yours. Her weak attempt to pump you up with excitement for whatever diabolical thing she’d planned.

“Just a little liquid courage before we head on over.”

“Heading towards the door, you mean.”

Your words came out as a grumble. A pout setting in as the bartender set down the small glasses in front of the two of you. Which she quickly slid hers to click beside yours.

“You, my lovely friend, are going to have both.”

“Are you trying to give me alcohol poisoning?”

“Nope. Just trying to help you get some guiltless sex with a stranger.”

“Wow. You’re so amazing,” you deadpanned. Your hand snacking out to grab one of the shot glasses downing the first one. You were sure the reaction you were having looked like a cartoon character. God, this stuff was disgusting. “I’m pretty sure that stuff causes forest fires.”

The bartender offered you a lemon, amusement flashing in his eyes. You were hoping he could see the thank you in yours with your mouth shoved full of lemon.

You left it sitting in your mouth; teeth clenched tight against the softness and the peel exposed between your lips. You wondered if this was picture worthy and received your answer moments later when your friends’ camera flashed in your face. Your vision erupting in sparks of dark spots that left you unable to see.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

With the peel still held between your lips you made a face at her. Her mouth opened to reply, and suddenly it closed. Her eyes wide and darting from you to whoever was now perched beside you.

You remembered you still had a shot left and decided it was time to meet your fate. Your legs moved to turn you to sit straight on the stool when you realized someone was beside you at the bar. In perfect horror movie fashion, you glanced at your right and saw the man who’d caused your need for liquid courage.

He was just there. His body casually leaning against the bar with an air of coolness that didn’t seem forced. He was talking with the bartender. The two of them locked in a conversation like they were old friends and catching up. Maybe they were.

Up close he was even more striking. His hair was perfectly slicked back to make it appear short, but it was anything but. The gel he’d used was beginning to wear off and displayed hair that was beginning to fall into his eyes.

You wanted to run your hands through it. To grip it as you rode his tongue.

It felt like he must have had a sensation of what you were thinking. He ended his conversation and turned to look at you. A spark of laughter lit up the dark brown of his eyes and you swore you were swooning in your chair.

“I see you must really like lemons.”

Your brow furrowed as you wondered what the hell he could be talking about. He must have caught on to your confusion and patted a single digit against the lemon peel still peaking like a smile between your lips. Your eyes shot wide with horror as you not too gracefully spit it out onto the napkin.

“Oh...my...god,” you whispered at the wood of the bar. Praying that the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

“Hi!” Your friend shot an arm over you with her hand extended for him to shake. “My name’s Vanessa. This is my lovely friend, Y/N. The lemon sucker.”

Your head jerked in her direction and you hoped she could see how much you wish you could hit her.

The man beside you, however, looked nothing but amused and took Vanessa’s hand. You couldn’t keep your eyes from looking at his fingers; the way it practically covered all of hers.

“Nice to meet you both.”

He released her hand and shocked you by leaving his hand open and waiting for you to take. You glanced up at him and then back down to his hand. You took it without waiting too long, because you didn’t want him to think you were rude, or worse, weirder than he probably already did. The minute your hands folded around the other you swore it was electric.

“My name’s Jaebum. Everyone calls me JB, for short.”

Jaebum. JB. You would call him whatever he wanted. His voice was soft as he spoke and forced you to move closer to hear him. You wondered if that’d been his plan. It was the only thing you could think of as his thumb caressed over the knuckles of your hand before he took it away.

You dropped your hand down to the side of your skirt and fought not to rub it against the fabric. The attraction you felt for JB was something that’d come unexpected and you found yourself inexperienced. It felt overwhelming this need to touch him. To be touched in return. To know how he sounded with your lips wrapped around his cock and those same hands on the back of your head. Bending you over and smacking your ass until it was cherry red.

You were still staring at each other as these devilish thoughts played out in your head. His eyes roamed your face and you wondered what he saw there. If JB could see the dirty scenarios he held the starring role in. His gaze slid over you from the tips of your toes, over the exposed legs from your skirt, your chest, and back up to your face.

There was no denying he’d thought of his own scenario with you in mind. His pupils fully blown with lust when he brought his eyes back up to you. Your pulse thudded wildly as you struggled to remember how to properly breathe.

“Did you girls want to come back over to our table?” The question was meant for both Vanessa and you, but when he asked his gaze never left you. He only looked away to point to his indicated spot. “It’s just me and a couple of my friends. I promise, we aren’t weird or anything.”

A bright smile spread across his lips and if you weren’t swooning earlier, you were definitely doing it now. You were nodding your head yes, unsure if you could trust yourself to talk. Vanessa, unfortunately, didn’t seem to have that issue.

“That would be amazing and so good for her. Her boyfriend just broke up with her. She’s very vulnerable.”

Oh. My. God. Was she winking like an idiot?

You looked back at her and couldn’t keep the horror off of her face. Luckily, JB laughed it off. He reached out to grab the drinks he’d ordered and motioned with his head for you girls to follow. You waited for Vanessa to start forward before you fell into step beside her. Your arm shooting out to wrap itself around hers just so you could use it to pull her in tight.

“What in the hell was that!?”

“I’m trying to help you here. Most men love the idea of a girl on the rebound.”

“Because they think they’re easy, Nessa.”

“Precisely.”

She flicked her finger up like she’d just made a great discovery. The only thing she was about to discover was that you were, in fact, desperate but for a whole other reason.

No part of you could remember your ex looking at JB. And while the idea of any sort of relationship with him, physical or otherwise, made you excited there was still that small voice in your head. The not so fun responsible part of you reminded you that you didn’t know him. He could be a weird pervert or a serial killer. Ninety-nine percent of serial killers were usually attractive.

You let out a sigh not sure how to tell her nicely to butt out.

“Just, help me less. Ok?”

She regarded you for a moment. Her arm peeling itself out of yours before bringing you in quickly for a one-armed hug.

“Alright. Girl Scouts honor I won’t say anything else.”

“Thank you!”

And you meant it. Lord knew she only meant well, but in the end it came off embarrassing. Like the two of you were sixteen and in high school again. With you passing notes to all the boys you liked because you were too damn nervous to say anything to their face. You thought it was romantic. In reality, it just seemed well, kinda awkward.

The two of you stood beside the pool table and you did your best not to fidget with your bag. The weight of six new sets of eyes made you feel like an animal in a zoo.

“Guys, this is Vanessa and Y/N. I invited them over to hang out with us. If that’s cool.”

The friends all seemed to go from caution to excitement at seeing you in two point five seconds. All of them agreeing it was cool, and waving you all over to find a chair to sit in.

You were following Vanessa to seats in between two of his friends, when a soft hand on your arm stopped you. You knew without looking it was JB. Your body reacting instantly to his touch as if it’d been set on fire.

“You can sit next to me. If you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much.”

Your voice was breathy. Like you were telling him a secret the two of you only needed to hear. The chair in question that sat beside his own, was inches from him. So close that when you sat down your knees were next one another.

He regarded you briefly before he turned his attention back to his group. His arm snaking around your chair to rest on its back. You were aware that it was a show of dominance. Of signaling to his friends and anyone else who cared to look that you were his. The thought of it sent a thrill through your body of being claimed. Only wishing he would claim you another way too.

JB’s group of friends were fun and easy to get a long with. One of them in particular, Hyun-Bae, was incredibly funny. He told stories that were entertaining and knew when to use his humor to make everyone laugh. It was enough to make you almost forget the man beside you. Almost.

You weren’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere between everyone talking, JB’s hand that’d rested comfortably on the back of your chair had moved. His fingers brushed along your skin from your shoulder to collarbone. Each stroke deliberate; sexual and not. Like he could read that you found it comforting but also craved his touch.

You ached with the urge to kiss him. To taste the liquor on his tongue. All those times you turned to imagine yourself leaning in and doing just that, you’d met his gaze. The two of you shared a look of knowing and wondered if he’d just been waiting for you to close the last inches of space between you. You were looking at each other now; eyes hungrily glancing at the others lips.

You wanted to be brave. To just close that space and tell him just to take you home. Screw this dance of cat and mouse. You didn’t want to be chased. You wanted to be owned.

Instead, a soft, “Excuse me,” came from you as you rose up from your chair. You couldn’t get your feet to walk fast enough to the bathroom. You were moving so fast you practically took someone out on the way inside. Getting inside the bathroom, you quickly shut the door and turned the lock.

You were instantly greeted by your reflection in the dirty, marker-ridden, mirror. What you could see of yourself was defeated. A huff of frustration left you as you removed your bag from your shoulder and placed it on the hook on the back of the door. Your feet scuffing the ground as you took a somber approach to the sink.

You told Vanessa you could do this. You didn’t need help to tell a hot guy you wanted him to fuck you until your legs were far past jello and more like liquid. And every time you were given the opportunity to do something at all, you backed out.

You rested your hands on the sink and leaned in. Examining your makeup and how very un-messy it was.

“Note to self: just fuckin do it.”

Yup. The greatest of pep talks.

You weren’t ready to leave the sanctity of the bathroom but a knock sounded on the door. Reminding you very quickly that there were actual people who probably needed to use it. You moved to pick up your bag when another knock came.

“Yea, yea I’m coming. Chill.”

When you opened the door, however, JB was just there. His body pushing into the bathroom causing you to step back to give him room. He closed the door without looking back. His body fully facing you as the door clicked closed behind him.

“JB? Sorry I was just using the restroom-”

“Is that what that was? I mostly heard talking; no flushing.”

His lips spread in an amused smile no doubt at your expense. Your eyes were probably as white as the moon. How long had he been waiting out here?

“Sorry. I just got a little impatient waiting for you.”

In one fluid motion, his arm snaked around your back, and brought you to his chest. JB was prepared for you and his other hand was already holding your face giving him the perfect leverage to crash his mouth down on yours. The moment your lips met that electricity you’d felt earlier flared back to life. This time, it flared across your skin and sparked in every spot he touched.

The kiss started out a brush of lips and soon became more. His tongue danced at the edge of your bottom lip and you gladly opened up to him. Your hands plunging to make a mess of his perfectly gelled hair at the same time his tongue slipped inside your mouth.

You were eager to respond. Eager to caress his tongue with yours. His mouth tasted of the bittersweet liquor he’d sipped on for the last hour. Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to taste yourself on his lips made your body ache to be touched in other places. For your fantasies of his mouth on you to begin here. You didn’t care where.

JB seemed to understand what you needed. He broke from the kiss fast and turned you around. His body pressed against your back and his hands at the edge of your skirt. You watched in the mirror as he moved your skirt up to your hips exposing your thong to the room.

He watched you, his lips hovering over your ear before giving it a playful nip, and those same hands were now laced in the strings. JB moved back just enough to squat down so his hands could move them down your legs until he reached your ankles.

“Step out.”

You followed his command without question. Your head tilting back to watch the little bit of cloth he held in his hand get scrunched up even smaller and placed inside the front pocket of his jeans. His eyes looked up to meet yours, and your body froze with anticipation. Whatever he would ask you to do, you knew you would comply.

“Spread your legs.”

The demand in his voice was feverish. His own need on display as his hand caressed up your calf until it was between your thighs. A finger teasingly moved across your opening, causing a soft gasp to exit from your lips. You did as you were instructed and waited until you heard an approving, “Hm,” from his lips.

The room swelled as the anticipation grew. The reflection you’d seen moments ago was washed away and the woman who’d taken her place was eager and ready to offer up her own demands.

JB moved to stand on his feet with his hands traveling along the curve of your legs and up onto your hips. There his fingers dug into the soft flesh as he leaned into your back, his eyes on yours in the mirror, as he spoke into your ear, “Place your hands on the sink.”

“Spank me first.”

A shiver of shock ran through you. You couldn’t believe you’d said it, but after your request had left you, you’d refused to take it back. Your body craved to be reprimanded by his hands and the smirk on his lips told you plainly he was more than happy to oblige.

“Beg for it.”

“Please spank me. Please, JB.”

His hand curled up to wrap around your throat as his index finger danced at the edge of your lips.

“How bad do you want it?”

“I want I-“

The smack reverberated like thunder in the small room. The sting was instant and beautiful. The heat between your legs was aching and your ass jetted against his jeans for any kind of friction. JB stepped back, denying you any form of relief, and landed another smack on your exposed cheek.

This one made your knees wobble as the pleasure rolled through you. Your hands on the sink was the only thing that saved you from showing him what he’d done.

“You love that don’t you?”

JB already knew you did, but he wanted to hear you. He needed to hear you say how much you loved feeling his hand leaving its mark, red and angry, on your skin.

“Yes,” you gasped. “It feels so good.”

He landed another smack and you couldn’t keep yourself quiet anymore. Your moan loud and aching like your pussy. Luckily, his hand was still on your throat and silenced you by placing his fingers in your mouth. You sucked on them immediately and this time you could feel JB rut against your ass. The hardness of his cock pressed against the fabric of his jeans gave away just how turned on he was at your bathroom escapades.

He pulled his fingers free from your mouth and, with the same fingers, slick and wet, placed it between your legs. The two digits moving to slide between your folds. First, scissoring around your clit; caressing the delicate bud until you gave him the moan he worked for.

When the soft sound left you JB slid them deep inside you causing the noise to become louder. A shudder ran through your body as you backed up into him.

His fingers removed themselves suddenly, and you couldn’t keep the disappointment from escaping you. A whine you were sure sounded like you were close to tears. JB gave your ass another smack and all it did was drive the need inside you closer to madness.

His hands planted themselves onto your ass and you felt him kneel down. Those two strategically placed hands lifting up the flesh there leaving your pussy exposed and aching in his view. Your hands were gripping the porcelain of the sink so tight you’d thought it’d crack. Your body trembling in anticipation of what he might do and the need to cover yourself up playing tug-of-war in your head.

The idea of any sort of hiding vanished when his mouth planted itself between your legs. His tongue snaking out to flick across your clit made you back up to greet his mouth. JB quickly took that moment to slide his tongue from clit to ass. The sensation was so foreign and new to you, you weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed, but the pleasure you got quickly washed the thought away.

JB gave you no time to pull yourself together. His face was back between your legs with an eager tongue to lick up every last drop. His tongue swirled around your clit and sent light flicks when you were least expecting it. Each time your legs threatened to crumble, but JB held you there with steady hands.

His tongue explored you thoroughly and put to his memory what made your knees weak. What caused a soft mulling sound of need to claw up from your throat. And what caused your grip on the sink to become almost violent.

Between each languid lick his tongue would find itself taking long strides all the way up and back down to your peak. Your body had now grown accustomed to the new sensation, and you welcomed it greedily as you pushed back against his face.

When JB knew you were so close to your sweet release he focused his tongue more on your swollen bud. Each new caress of his tongue gradually made it harder for your arms to hold you up. For your legs to keep from shaking uncontrollably.

Your orgasm continued to grow; blossoming between your folds with an ache that your body felt. You were so, so close and with a final thrust of his tongue you felt your world spin and that sweet heat between your legs finally sent shockwaves all over your body.

You came moaning so loud anyone else would’ve thought you were screaming. Your head thrown back and riding the sensation of his greedy mouth taking everything you had to offer.

When his lips finally released from you, your body was still coming down from your orgasm. The loud panting that came from you as you leaned against the sink completely spent. You watched in the mirror as he pulled a golden foil packet from his pocket. His eyes sinfully watching you as he ripped it carefully with his teeth. JB’s finger moved quickly to take out the slick rubber from the packet and begin to work it down his shaft.

You’d been so consumed with recovering from his tongue that you hadn’t realized when he’d taken his cock out of his jeans that were now shameless at his ankles. He put a few fingers inside your wetness that caused you to gasp. Your body was still recovering from what had just taken place.

He used your cum to lubricate himself and placed himself at your entrance. Already the tip of him stretching you out with the delicious sting that told you he was thick. You couldn’t wait.

You moved to push back into him to help him inside and he pulled away. His hand smacking down on your ass making you even more eager.

“Patience is a virtue.”

He tried to be funny, but his voice was deep and throaty with his own lust. You were close to pleading with him again like before, but he let it be known quickly he had no intentions to wait.

JB slid inside you and you felt your pussy stretch to accommodate him. The feel of him making your breath catch. His girth much thicker than you’d imagined, and your body shook from the pleasure of feeling yourself stretch around him.

His thrusts started off slow until he knew you’d had enough time. His hands found an anchor on your hips and used them to pull you in to meet his hips. A string of curse words fell from your mouth as your hips rocked back into him.

Each movement felt like he was going deeper. JB’s hands on the cheeks of your ass kept you spread open to him and left no friction to catch his thrusts. Every single one was felt as he buried himself inside you in a rhythmic timing that left you moaning.

You caught your reflection in the mirror, and glanced over to watch him as he worked. The way his hips bucked up only to be brought down. His hands stationed on your hips and bruising the flesh there as his grip got tighter. JB looked up and caught a glimpse of you in the mirror. His eyes locked with yours as he continued that unrelenting pace.

He removed a hand from your ass and used it to wrap back around your neck. When he knew he had a good grip, he used it to pull you close to his chest. The angle of him in this new position somehow made him feel like he was pushing into your gut.

Your mouth opened to make another sound, a moan or a scream you weren’t sure which, when that hand in your throat tilted your mouth towards him. His own came crashing down on your lips with his tongue that tasted of you slipping inside. You eagerly opened your mouth to him, and your tongue quickly moved to get a taste.

JB deepened the kiss as his hips began to thrust harder into you. The movement building up your orgasm with each brutal movement until it threatened to spill over.

“You taste so good with me on your lips.”

Your words fell earnest from your lips. You meant every one of them. You’d never tasted yourself so pretty on anyone else’s lips. JB obliged as he took your lips back. His mouth silenced another moan as his last free hand found its way back to your clit. Your body jumped at the added sensation. Your mouth tore away from his as another moan dripped from your lips.

You were so close. You could fill yourself ready to cum if only he would let you. JB must have been close too, because his thrusts started becoming more violent and sporadic. Hitting in all the right places.

At the same time as his fingers made small circles around your clit, a singular hard thrust of his hips sent his cock deep inside you. Your vision erupted in a sea of white. Your orgasm sent your body rutting back against him.

He rode your orgasm and somehow made it grow in intensity as he continued to move his hips. His own breathing going ragged as you felt him finally release into you.

When you both were able to breathe again, you’d realized you were laying over the sink. JB’s forehead resting on your back as you both struggled to regain your composure.

JB was the first to move. The first to begin the arduous process of cleaning up. Like a voyeur, you watched him as he threw away the spent rubber and tuck himself back inside his jeans. A smirk creased your lips when you noticed he now had noticeable wet spots on his tee shirt.

“You know, I don’t even know anything about you.”

You weren’t sure why you made the comment or why it mattered. You’d just had sex with the man in a damn bar bathroom. But JB didn’t seem to mind. His own smile curling his lips as he salvaged what he could of his hair.

“What would you like to know?”

“Well,” you began as you started to situate your skirt. “What’s your favorite color?”

It was a silly question. By the look on JB’s face, he knew it was, but he humored you anyways.

“It used to be blue, but I think red might be a new favorite.”

“Why is that?”

You were wondering where your panties had gone until you spied a bit of the black cloth hanging from his pocket. JB walked over to you in a few steps and planted a soft kiss down on your lips. One that spoke plainly, this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see each other.

“Because it currently matches the color of your ass.”

JB was out the door and in the bar’s hallway before you’d even got a chance to respond.

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