#ive never seen something fit their relationship so perfectly

[blood-orange-juice]

ok so ive never properly played genshin and don’t plan to but i know a bit about it’s lore and characters and i think it’s really neat. however i have thousands of hours on ffxiv. on that note please explain why graha and childe are similar. i only have very basic knowledge on childe and i gotta know

Fellow ffxiv enjoyer. <3

(anyone asking me about G'raha has a 100% chance of getting a wall of text and I'm not apologising for that. enjoy your wall of text)

I'm not entirely sure I'm not a case of a person with a hammer to whom everything resembles a nail, but I do think they are the same archetype.

Sweet characters who could have been perfect sidekicks (who still are perfect sidekicks) but listened to too many epic tales as kids and found themselves in a wrong place at a wrong time and now have to play a key role in some universe-changing story.

Both are defined mostly by their stubborness, they are not very suitable for the roles they've chosen and fail over and over again until they do it somewhat right (barely).

No matter how badass they look, their power is not their own, G'raha is a glorified technician of someone else's miracle and little else than a living key, Childe wields an art of old Khaenri'ah without fully understanding it. It's all borrowed from someone else who needed them to achieve a goal.

They do look badass, but mostly because they larp. I'm honestly not sure which one enjoys theatrics more.

Civilisations that created the magic they use specialised in perversion of the natural order of things. They try to use it in relatively noble ways and mostly hurt themselves but the flavour is there.

Both are unbelievably tragic and both somehow make their stories seem almost lighthearted. Complete absense of self-pity. I think that's what makes them both so charming, it's a rare trait.

Both have an incredible capacity for loyalty and love and an incredibly twisted view of what relationships look like. "I'll cross time and space for you, I'll die for you, I'll build a city for you, I'll live for you but please don't ask me to share my plans." "I'll sacrfice my own health and respect of my subordinates to keep my brother's happyness, probably my humanity too, but don't expect me to actually interact with him."

Both have something that looks like self-sacrificial tendencies bordering on suicidality while being, if we are honest, a self-serving trait (partially born out of low self-esteem but still self-serving). They want to live in an old myth and sacrificing oneself is a perfectly reasonable price for that.

Huge egos. And I mean Huge Egos. It's a bit less obvious in Graha's case but I know the type, you see guys like that in PhD programs a lot.

Huge dorks. Both of them.

Both are stuck somewhere between human and non-human and, hmm... their ability to remain human is the most astonishing quality of both. By all accounts, neither should have. They somehow did.

Both are incapable of lying to the point where a third of each fandom headcanons them as autistic. Both are somewhat all right with tricking people without technically lying (although Childe had more practice).

Both are secretive because no one would understand anyway.

FF XIV is a kinder story, so it's easy to overlook, but technically G'raha is a case of body horror, accepts the role of a villain for a while and hides from the player way too much. Hmmm... Where else have I seen it. Hmm. Oh right. That ginger guy from Genshin.

Minor things:

Both are little shits and enjoy annoying the hell out of people they dislike.

Abysmally bad fashion sense. There should be a name for this particular type and level of bad. I don't think I've seen this anywhere else.

And then there's the colour scheme. Red+black+white+blue and red+black+light grey+blue (it's an "anime magician" color profile, I think. black-red-white as alchemy colours + blue as pure magic/something elemental). Childe doesn't quite fit but still the combination is rare.

They way they talk. Dear gods. Who the hell talks like that.

Here's where the similarities end.

One is morally grey but ultimately a good guy (technically. I think the point of ShB was that Emet and G'raha are almost the same), another is a morally grey but still (kind of) a bad buy.

At every step of his story Graha is surrounded by people who love or at least appreciate him, Childe is pretty much on his own and surrounded by people who are either shitty or clueless.

G'raha is kind. Truly and astonishingly kind, in a doomed world he chooses to love everything he touches. Silly little priest of hope. Of all the things he has done this is the most wondrous, I think. Not the time travel, not the city he founded, just being able to remain kind after everything that happened to him.

Childe is... well, Childe. I think he is a deeply decent person (to the point of having a visceral distaste for any kind of unfairness) and he's idealistic but he's indifferent more than he is kind. Empathy usually develops only when someone has shown the person empathy first and, as far as we know, he didn't have much of that in his life.

Also G'raha builds things. Childe breaks things. Childe breaks pretty much everything he touches.

One is an archeologist and a mage and another is a warrior.

I think these differences are caused mostly by the settings they were put into. Childe raised in Sharlayan would have been a very different person. G'raha trained by a voidsent and shipped off to Garlean military would look very much like Childe.

G'raha also has a beautiful character development arc. I love his ShB role. He has this huge ego in the raids and is insufferable and then we see an older and wiser him with a bunch of actual achievements and a bad case of impostor syndrome (trying to do anything real always humbles a person, we all know that real world is held together by sticks and scotch tape. honestly, this change alone is beautiful). And he gets to be an actual hero when he abandons all hope to be Important and resigns to die as a nameless villain if it saves everyone and spares his loved ones from heartbreak.

Childe's character development is yet to happen and I'm not hoping for much but we'll see.

The only difference that definitely isn't created by setting is that G'raha is naturally manipulative. In a kind-hearted way and mostly for the sake of better larp but he isn't that straightforward. Childe is spectacularly blunt for all his mysteriousness.

As a bonus, they both compare main characters to stars, but in completely different ways.

"No doubt your heroism will be the star by which I chart my course," says G'raha to the WoL.

Childe mentions the morning star, which is, of course, pretty and a good companion to a lonely traveler, but also it's not a celestial body you can chart your course by.

It's a guy whose signature weapon is called "Polar Star" and his first artifact set was full of nautical themes, so I think he fully understands what he's saying. "You are my friend but I won't change anything in my life for you."

So I don't think his story will be anything like G'raha's, his life took a different turn very long ago. I do think they used to be similar as kids, bookish boys who dreamed of adventure and being special. So it's fun to compare.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. <3

#honestly I think it's mostly involvement in deep lore and the lack of self-pity #everything else just snowballs from it #I refuse to be contained #the world must know everything about g'raha #he's the only character who has a personal tag in my old livejournal blog #even childe doesn't #even dragon age morrigan #g'raha tia #eternal wind #ff xiv #childe #tartaglia #rinn talks to people #one would think that the closest ffxiv parallel to childe would be zenos #another blood knight #and in a sense he is #but also not really #zenos raised in sharlayan would still be zenos #but also maybe I'm overthinking and reading into childe's character too much #I hope not #I want a good story for him

[wolf-among-mechs]

Well, now I got a few questions for you in return. Merc to merc, Clanner to... well, maybe someone twice removed from the Clan family tree.

🟡💛💳🌼🎵

Something along those lines yeah. It's... Complicated. Have a seat. I got a lot of stuff to talk about.

🟡 Where do I currently live. Where I have lived. I grew up on Hephaestus station. Lived a six months on the planet Milton in Lyran space in a dingy little apartment. Then... Dropships and barracks ever since. Had an RV to have my own space for a while. But then our company managed to acquire an Overlord to serve as our base and by our Steiner noble friend and lancemate we made it a lot more habitable with proper living quarters. The most of a home I have had so far.

💛What do I currently pilot. (OOC: It gets a little time fucky wucky here since Asuka here is part of an RPG campaign that hasn't gotten to the Clan Invasion yet. But this blog is an AU where she obviously got that far. Bear with me.)

I hate that my answer is that I am currently inbetween rides currently. My old clan ride got messed up so they are refitting a new one. So let me tell you about one of my favourites. My Marauder II. Designated MAD-5Xc formerly b. Nicknamed "Direwolf" by the crowds at the time. This was somewhat before the Daishis made an entrance in the inner sphere you see. You won't find it on any technical readout. Most our company refit mechs to suit our doctrines. The b model was built by Blackwell as part of a sponsored entry on Solaris in order to build the 'brand' as they were in negotiations with opening up sales to other clients than the dragoons at the time. It was built for me in particular to pilot which is why it has Triple Strength Myomers, a supercharger and a Guardian ECM system. Armed with an ERPPC and small pulse laser in each arm. Backed up by two SRM 6 launchers on the shoulders which always annoyed me slightly. I have always been adept at fighting things up close... Despite the fact that I have tried very hard to work from range.

It was refitted to have two LRM launchers instead but fitted slightly differently along with an Artemis IV system. Because the SRMs never really did really offer much when I had the ability to just run force and snap somebody's legs off by bullrushing them. Maybe you have seen an old holovid of what they called my glorykill on Solaris. Where I barrel into a highlander, snap its legs. Hammer the torso with the barrels furiously before rearing up and bringing the right barrel into the cockpit and fire the PPC as my voice echoes out over the comms and arena "AND STAY DOWN!" I was... A little bit upset at that man at the time.

I loved that mech. I wish I still had it.

My new ride is going to be a Kodiak. Though... Heavily customized. It is being refitted as I mentioned. It brings along a lot of what I enjoyed about the Marauder by removing the Autocannon and missile launchers for PPCs. A new myomer system, an active probe and jump jets. It will be designated Crinos... The reason it is taking so long is that it has a different headshape. More... Wolfish.

💳 Who is/was your most and least favourite client?

Hmm.... Tough. I had to think about my most favourite client. Probably Rasalhagians. They did not like us much when we first started, having bad experiences with mercenaries to start with but it mellowed out fairly quickly after they figured out that we were not a rowdy bunch

As for least favourite. I going to be weird and say probably Federated suns. Their lords have betrayed us four out of six times but at least people above them made steps to repair the relationship. We had one Baron I think he was who decided to turn on us and me specifically because I beat the snot out of his favourite officer in a perfectly legal martial arts tournament. He cheated first though.

🌼What do I think of the clans.

I was born into Wolf's Dragoons. Both mother and father were of the clans. Mechtechs both of them. I was probably going to become one too but I showed great aptitude with mech piloting. And fighting just in general. Probably owing to the fact I have inherited elemental genes from my fathers side. When they invaded the inner sphere I ended up among them. Not by my own will. I ended up prisoner and they after a while figured out that technically I was related to clan Wolf. I had to try for a bit to become a full member. I fought tooth and nail for that and got a trial of position and even managed to earn a blood name. I do not carry it though. During their invasion I came to understand myself through elementals and the clan. The severe mismanagement of operation REVIVAL made opinion of the clans thusly:

Eugenicists with little thought or preparation made for the totality of war. Admittedly I am also very annoyed at having been called freebirth over and over and over and being overruled time and time again despite the fact that I had more experience with the war in the inner sphere they were actually trying to fight. I also find their commitment to honour lacking. Rescinding it when they deem an enemy to be less than human or simply a problem and in the way. That is not to say all warriors of the clans are such nor do I treat them thusly.

I simply believe that they are flawed much like the inner sphere. There are heroes and villains under every banner in the Galaxy. The Clans, the houses of the inner sphere and mercenaries.

🎵 What is a piece of music you enjoy, that you would play in combat on a loop?

I was really hoping somebody would ask me this. I really was. Allow me to send a few sound files your way.

In the cockpit:

It keeps my heart pumping in the midst of combat. It has a really nice melody to me.

In my head:

(OOC: Warning for a bit gore. It is Doom 2k16 after all)

This feels a lot how it feels inside my during a battle.

But. Also an honourable mention to kuritan holovids, they based a villain on me. Well me and my old Black Knight. It sounded a bit like this.

I think after all of that. I owe you at least a few drinks.

#battletech #mechwarrior

[aeipathys]

NOW LOADING ...       

MIROIR DATABASE ENCRYPTING ...

i : the lovers' mask

a tale called the moon's anguish that has circulated anchorage for the past several decades has prompted some young lovers to exchange masks as a promise of devotion. what design would muse theoretically think fits them?

a lace mask with mini orchards sewn into the design. the lace is pitch black and does not reflect even the brightest light, seemingly only growing more richly dark as it is illuminated, as if consuming the energy of the sun; an endless black hole where nothing can escape its orbit.

some might consider them leading a double life if they knew about ... 

honestly, nothing. her identity as a clone fits perfectly into kwon ara’s life, simply due to the nature of the kwon family’s underground business. the original ara learned about weaponry and was taught martial arts at a young age, so it would make sense that she now is able to defend herself and hold her own when it comes to physical fights in the present time. 

what would be their own deal breaker in a relationship? would they die for love or kill for money?

... possibly wanting a relationship, in the first place. she’s only been in one serious relationship her entire life, and that ended in flames, so she’s not exactly looking for a repeat. if you do manage to convince her to commit, a deal breaker would be if her presence causes the other person harm. 

she would die for love and kill fo’ free :)

they only have enough change for one call at the phonebooth, & someone with glaring red eyes & a spatula is standing across the street. who will they call?

no one. she would probably try to fight it, herself. 

ii : the zeigeist of the '90s

in their free time, they enjoy going out and ... 

drinking. she works long shifts and doesn’t have much of a social life, so you can probably find her at the local bar being a menace to society on her time off. whenever she has extended free time, she enjoys rock climbing, though only on actual mountains and not at the gym. if she is stressed, she frequents the boxing gym. so in short, more active hobbies!

a fashion fad of the times they adore that their friends would despise is ...

crop tops, platforms (because she’s short), and chokers.

how often do they order delivery from peppy's pizzeria? have they ever seen the walls ooze green slime in the pizzeria or the animatronics move on their own during their time in anchorage?

she doesn’t eat cheese, so has never visited the pizzeria. 

iii : the curse of the spider

are there family secrets or so-called curses that haunt them? ones that are known publicly or follow them figuratively?

her family is a black market distributor of weaponry throughout the united states, though it doesn’t particularly haunt her as much as desensitizes her to violence and crime. 

which of the seven sins would corrupt their morals?

pride. surgeon’s god complex, anyone? she’s very much used to being the best at everything she attempts, and if she fails on the first try, she’s prone to giving up instead of putting in more effort. 

the world remains the same for decades now. is ignorance bliss? or is there the shaky sense something is amiss that can't be ignored? 

ara rarely uses technology, save for the medical technology at work. she doesn’t have social media and checks her phone less often than others, so while she has noticed that anchorage is different from the other places she’s lived, she simply thinks it’s what people call a ‘small town charm.’

dreams are often influenced by the subconscious & sometimes distorted. in their deepest, darkest nightmares, how do they view themselves?

it’s not so much how she views herself, but how the ones she cares about view her. refer to this reply.

iv : the crooked frame

what is their death wish? miroirs only: the perfect crime was constructed & someone else took their place. how did they originally die?

to have something/someone to die for. despite being successful on paper, there’s an emptiness that lives within her chest — a gaping black hole where she knows her heart should reside. i think, if she finds purpose within her life, she would be content to die. 

i imagine her death would be violent and bloody. to add angst to her death wish, it would be a purposeless death that doesn’t affect anyone — no funeral, no mourners. 

muse couldn't be the one behind the tunnel of love outage because when the power went out, they were... 

not in anchorage.

what would they consider their calling card (i.e. what symbols, personal mementos, etc. do they perceive as representative of themselves)? 

black orchids, distressed leather, surgical gloves. 

those with intermediate technical skills have used cracks & vpns to improve the internet connection, but anything post-dating the 1990s is only accessible through the dark web. has muse ever accessed the dark web? have they used it for any nefarious means or to purchase services?

girl doesn’t even know how to use emojis. 

#anchortask02 #i deleted the image file before i realized i never filled in the temperament part #so pretend u do not see it #⁺ 𝐀𝐑𝐀 › character study.

[trainingdummyrabbit]

late for the ask game but if you're still doing it; molly blyndeff !

oh i am absolutely still doing it! lets see what we got!

> First impression  i actually didnt see her at all until i started watching! from the start it was kind of an ambient “oh whos this? cute design.” an overall positive!

> Impression now  oh i wanna give her a hug SO bad. genuinely so good. ok so, from a writing standpoint, she is SO good. love her little quirks, the way shes written is immensely solid and she fits in so well for the genre. capable of being both the “What Is Actually Going On Here.” role and the “Sillymode(tm)” role, sometimes at the same time.  also, as a kid character, that aspect comes across so well! shes never belittled or looked down on (by the narrative) like other series have a tendency to do-- shes just a person. and thats nice. and shes Written like a person! shes taken seriously, and still has those little quirks where she is Very Clearly A Kid, without hammering it in too hard! 

> Favorite moment  honestly... a really big sucker for the exchange she has when she first meets the banzai blasters. it tells so much about her character and the way she thinks, while seamlessly melding with the silly antics the other characters present! and she harmonizes so well with it, being Mostly the role of the Level-Headed one, but still so clearly dyed by the context of the narrative theyre in being... well, silly!  her craftiness and the blasters’ dumb villainy is just... utterly infectious to watch.

> Idea for a story [smacks hands on table] there are never enough museumtrio sleepover fics. on the other hand though, molly is another character that would benefit really well from an introspective-centered story, one where things are happening, yes, but the main focus is on Molly’s internal thoughts and feelings, how She chooses to act or react to things. it could be anything, honestly-- but itd do really well in a scenario like the banzaimeeting like stated above. let! her! SCHEME!

> Unpopular opinion  this is less of an unpopular opinion and more of something i try to be wary of reading or writing: babying her too much. she Is baby, yes, and she is. so so tired and so badly deserves a nap, but she is also Immensely sharp witted and quick to solve problems, and its very easy to fall into writing kid characters (especially like her) as cardboard cutouts: weak stand-ins for where a character could go. not to say ive necessarily Seen it (at least, not that i directly remember,) but i so badly want to exemplify Every Bit of her character. she is a kid and should Not be burdened with the responsibility of what so many other characters must-- but she isnt useless. she isnt some damsel in distress. she should kick someone in the shins if she has to. id clap.

> Favorite relationship  ok a little bit of a weird one. its kind of a tie right now but: giovanni or indus. her interactions with giovanni are genuinely so infectious to watch. they play off of each other perfectly, both of them enabling the other in silly shit while flailing around trying to make shit work. not to mention what a good emotional influence gio is on her, or the amount of level-headedness molly brings to the table. their balance is very very good and watching them mess around was very fun! indus... might be a little biased, but indus’ complete and total envelopment in the genre makes watching molly interact with him Immensely fun. and the fact that indus genuinely respects her makes me immensely happy! especially considering she does the same right back to him. whether theyre on the same side or not, the way their characters flow around each other is very fun. id love to see them talk to each other again.

> Favorite headcanon molly likes to feel tall. piggyback rides, tall stools, theatre seats wayyy in the back-- its fun! i think she would enjoy it. she likes being able to look over things and point to things in the distance she couldnt have seen otherwise. i imagine shed like to swing her feet if she gets one of those tall chairs at a restaurant or something. 

[Ask Game]

#ask game #oh this was a Fun one to tease out. #also i should clarify that the relationship section is like. never gonna be romantic except if i specify it as such. #it says in the post it isnt ship related at all; but i feel i should disclaim it here again anyway. #anyhow. i love molly and the way shes written so so much; i just never ever talk abt it. not much i can say that others havent! #genuinely a very good protagonist though-- she was so much fun to follow along. big part of my love for th museum arc skdjgn

[cheban-png]

People dont act like people anymore

First time doin this on my puter woah, lawl. Anyways, not so fun topic that i want to put into the world but have no one to share it with--so why not on my shiny new and very public Tumblr acc?

Hi im Chebe, and i was a bit of a hermit for a couple years. Maybe it was the npd, or the adhd, or the pandemic, or the bullying, or something else but I was REALLY against the idea of making any friends for a couple years and became pretty isolated. I got to the point where i was only talking to like 3 people max that werent family for extended periods of time. fFr the last year however, ive been working, and thats really pulled me out of my shell. I made a new years resolution that id put myself out there and meet people again--and as i learn to make friends again, im remembering some of the reasons i was so opposed to it in the first place.

(This next part is situations that happened to me and extremely close friends, but for simplicity and privacy ill speak as if all the stories are my own.) One of my biggest things is that something weird and fucked up happened the second 2019 ended and everyone became absolutely insufferable. I cant even describe it but everyone around me both in school at the time and online became like. hyper sensitive but also evil at the same time. I have never seen a human so disgustingly manipulative while sugar coating their language with over/misused tone tags and faux medical speak at the same time. WHERE DID YOU PPL LEARN TO ACT LIKE THIS LMAOO. how you abliest and an ally at the same time dog. whatever thats not what this is about, that was one tiny vague example ^_^

Anyways the actual biggest thing is probably oversharing. no one gets to know each other anymore and it creates rlly weird unnatural relationships that humans arent supposed to experience. in my bios, i try to only share things you know by a first, in person interation with me. Im biracial (black/white), im trans (strictly he/him), im fat and you may call me Chebe or Angel. i even feel weird saying i have npd/adhd. im sharing because its relevent. man this is getting too long,,

an extremely common thing that happens to me is ppl STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET will send me these chunky paragraphs that follow the same format; "You/your art/your fashion inspires me so much, how do i copy this exactly?". Everythiung that makes me ME was developed over the course of my entire life??? what do you mean??? just the other day i got, "Whats ur style called??! i cant seem to find anything that 'perfectly' fits the way you are." and that was fucking horrifying. This was a stranger ive never ever seen the face/name/voice of. like can you guys even wrap your head around what an insane and invasive thing to say that is? i get shit like that ALL the time.

Dude i. im people. im human. I have lived a life and i am built up of microscopic fragments of all my experiences. im not a pinterest board or an influencer selling the ~aesthetic~ that is my life. Im a real human being and i am the way that i am because??? THATS JUST HOW I AM NATURAL:LY!!!!! i am like this becuase i LIKE being this way!!!!

and dont be ignorant, im scemo and find inspiration everywhere i go just like everyone else, but it is so deranged to dm a stranger and go "you are so amazing.... how do i clone everything that makes you unique and human"

this is NOT about gatekeeping or whatyeverthafuck i need you people to realize im SCARED and these are tiny instances in my life that make me worry about my future because some of you bitches are DOPPLEGANGERS (/silly /lh)

#Chebe thinks #serious post #CW that i speak extremely exaggerated and please take this with a grain of salt/not so literally

[uzukage-naruto]

yunmeng bros in a nutshell

#ive never seen something fit their relationship so perfectly #its definitely the scorpio in them #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #yunmeng bros #wwx #jc #yunmeng siblings #yunmeng shuangjie #cql #mdzs #the untamed

[babblydrabbly]

Fics

My Info || Main Masterlist || My Rick Flag Drabbles/Requests

I love any and every comment, like, or reblog. If you've enjoyed my work please spread the love ♥

Note: Any poly!ship fics involving Rick can be found on my main or Joel masterlist.

Series

There's Something Lonesome About You Masterlist (General)

You’ve known Rick Flag almost all your life. Best friends to lovers. Slow Burn. Mentions of Past June Moone x Rick Flag.

Trust Me Pt. I - Pt. II - Pt. III - Pt. IV - Pt. V (General)

You're an Argus Analyst sent on Task Force X missions to report back any dirt you can find on Rick Flag. Still, you bond over all the literal suicide missions, and you really do watch each others’ backs. Rick Flag is torn between you being Waller’s spy and how much he cares about you. (On Hiatus)

Storeroom Talk • Edging Toward Something • Wanna Be Yours (Smut)

You're a Belle Reve inmate/Task Force X member. Your occasional hook-ups with Rick Flag eventually turn into something more, despite the power imbalance between you. (These can all be read as oneshots too)

Oneshots

My Type (Fluff)

Argus Agent!Reader. The Suicide Squad is out on a mission and gets intercepted by the Justice League. After they fight together to stop the bad guys, The League waits with them to see everyone off back to base. Rick notices that Reader is openly captivated by Superman, and Superman is just as interested.

The Way You Taste the Same (Smut)

Merc!Reader. Past Harley Quinn x Reader. Harley was gone. You never wanted her stuck in a cage, but now she was out and back with him. Rick Flag isn’t 100% sure why you’re back in town. But he’s there for you, no matter how hard he’s tried not to be.

I'm Not Sentimental, But (Smut, hurt/comfort) ♥

Civilian!Reader. You tried your best not to hold your breath over Rick Flag; This wasn’t that sort of relationship. But after one mission in particular you realize that whatever it is you’ve built with him has meant just as much to Rick as it has to you. Based off this beautiful request!

Traces of You (Smut, Hurt/Comfort)

Civilian!Reader. Established Relationship. You may tell him, maybe fifty years from now— If either of you live that long.

Gentleman (Dark!fic, Smut)

Civilian!Reader. Anonymous Asked: “Rick Flag prompt: Reader has been getting red flags that she might have a stalker, who leaves invasive letters/gifts for her behind and she’s getting more and more worried about her safety. Who better to confide in than our favorite reliable Colonel?”

Never Enough (Dark!fic, Smut)

Ex-Inmate!Reader. Your five year stint in Belle Reve unfolded with little to no fanfare— until you caught the attention of Colonel Rick Flag. Now out and free, you thought you’d seen the last of his obsession with you.

But it’s just your luck. You’ve end up on ARGUS’s radar with something they want. They send their Colonel to come collect.

Mr. Brightside (Hurt/comfort) ♥

Argus Agent!Reader. He would take a bullet for you. Has, in fact. Is it any surprise he’d let you stay the night?

A Dash of Truth (General, Fluff)

Argus Agent!Reader. Established. Rick gets dosed with a truth serum on a mission. You also happen to be dating him— In secret. The squad will never let you live it down.

Kill of the Night (Smut, Vampire!Rick)

Metahuman!Reader. Rick needs some help on a mission. You’re the only one on the squad that can provide assistance.

My Heart's In Atrophy (General, Angst)

Civilian!Reader. Established Relationship. Rick Flag starts piecing together all the things you’ve left out of your life with him, and realizes he partly to blame.

Say It (Smut, Daddy kink)

Argus Agent!Reader. You’ve always been too shy to let your attraction to Rick Flag be known. But you have a certain kink— one that just so happens to fit perfectly with Rick’s own. He generously offers to coax you out of your shell.

A Necessary Break (Smut)

Argus Agent!Reader. Established Relationship. You find Rick Flag exactly where you want him.

Show me (Smut)

Dom!Reader. Established Relationship. Anonymous asked: How about pegging the Joel character of your choice with the prompts 16. You can finish if you beg and 29. Not so cocky now, are you?

Take Care of Yourself, Rick Flag (Hurt/Comfort)

Merc!Reader. Rick catches a cold on a mission and experiences mild consequences. You resist the urge to say ‘I told you so’.

Below are my fics specifically written for the #rickflagbingo challenge. My Bingo Card and fic summaries can be found here!

Honey Sweet • Thousand Cuts • Two Can Play • Shameless • There’s Something Lonesome About You Pt 1 • Dinner and a Movie

I do not give permission to translate or repost any of my work.

#babblymasterlist #babblydrabbly #mywords* #rick flag

[manonblaqkbeak]

Sugar, sugar

(genuinely hate coming up with titles lol)

this is just rowaelin being pining idiots, one of my fave tropes for day 11--delayed love confession

just a note, the lifestyle in this fic is more of a background note and doesnt really take centre stage in this fic. it’s one ive been tempted to write for a while tbh but didnt really get around to it until now

cw: very, very light smut (like barely non existent, but just in case), a lil bit of swearing

enjoy! :)

3k words (officially my longest fic, yay!)

Every thought in Aelin's mind was blank. She trudged through her apartment that she shared with Nehemia, absentmindedly kicking off her heels that Rowan purchased for her months ago. Then the light jacket she wore joined the shoes, the fabric was perfectly soft and perfect for the autumn chill.

It was yet another piece of item that Rowan purchased for her. A lot of the things she had know were thanks to Rowan, either from his own wallet or from the biweekly allowance he sent her—a generous allowance that was a thousand times better than her weekly paycheck from the bookstore she'd been working at since she turned twenty-two; her business degree had turned out to be useless and so she turned to the bookstore that had been her stable job for three years.

Aelin barely touched her weekly wage now, it was practically buried underneath the money the Rowan gave her.

Because Rowan Whitethorn, thirty-five and a successful CEO who was well known, was her sugar daddy. Had been now for fourteen months. But he was more than that, more than just a man that paid her to spend time with him. He respected her, was loyal to her, listened to her and responded with actual sentences instead of a word or two like other men she had dated. He was charming, didn't treat her like she was nothing but arm candy, and she knew him so well, as he knew her, and each fortnight she sometimes forgot their whole arrangement, but she was sharply reminded when she received the notification from her bank that the two and a half thousand dollars that Rowan sent her was now in her savings account.

When she agreed to their arrangement after several get-to-know you dates, Rowan had wanted to give her three and a half grand every week, and gods Aelin had been tempted because she had never had so much money in her life, but told him that it was far too much and negotiated.

Two and a half thousand was the lowest that Rowan was willing to go, and even though Aelin only knew him for two weeks at that point, she could tell that he would not budge, so she agreed to the amount.

The first time that money had landed in her account, Aelin had thought that maybe she had imagined the whole thing, but the money was a sharp reminder of what she know was—a sugar baby. Those words still didn't feel like they applied to her.

And he still spent money on her when they spent time together. Just last week he gifted her with diamond earrings in the shapes of roses with a necklace to match. She wore them tonight, not because he bought them for her but because she genuinely loved the pieces.

Needing something sweet—despite the fact she had only finished her chocolate hazelnut gelato twenty minutes ago—she dug through her fridge and found the brownies that Nehemia had baked the other day. She told herself that she would leave some for her long-time friend, but Aelin really doubted that would happen.

Aelin relished in the cold air of the fridge as she found the new can of whipped cream on the top shelf. The fridge was one of the first things she purchased with the money she was now being gifted with (and after that came a new washer and dryer, a dish-washing machine and television. Almost everything in her apartment was brand new now, the food were actual brands instead of the generic, tasteless shit. She had bras that fit her properly and were so damned comfortable that she forgot she was wearing them half the time).

The old fridge was a cheap hunk of junk that she and Nehemia purchased off Facebook marketplace for a hundred dollars, it barely kept things cold, but with expensive rent and bills and general life things, Nehemia and her couldn't afford anything better.

Which was how she ended up in this situation. Picking up more shifts barely gave them anything extra, because the economy right now in Terrasen was shit. Nehemia had made a joke about needing sugar daddies, and Aelin, knowing that Nehemia could never really do such a thing, had decided that maybe it was a good idea.

Nehemia had told Aelin that she was insane for pursuing such a thing, and that she had only been joking, but Aelin was not and that she could handle herself if things went wrong.

Nehemia had told her not to do anything, but Aelin was determined and started her search. It had taken a while to find a website that was genuine and didn't make her feel like she had to scrub her eyes out with bleach.

She created her page in private, because she not only was Nehemia against the idea, but so was Elide and Lysandra—she didn't dare tell Aedion what she was doing. Her cousin could be an overprotective pain in her ass at times, and Aelin was very well aware that if Aedion caught wind of what she was doing, he would have locked her up in her room without any type of device so she couldn't go forward with her plan.

She appreciated their concern, she did, but she was a consenting, tax-paying adult, and if she wanted to use her time to get paid spending time with a rich man, then Aelin was allowed to do exactly that.

It wasn't prostitution, she had looked it up, because it was the sugar babies that had the power and so that was how it went with her and Rowan.

Aelin didn't even have sex with Rowan until it was the sixth month anniversary of her and Rowan's...relationship (and gods, it was the best sex Aelin ever had. Rowan was a generous and completely unselfish lover).

He was the first one she came across on the site and almost drooled down herself when she saw his picture. Silver hair, pine-green eyes, a beautiful tattoo down the length of his left arm and tanned skin, he was stupidly attractive and only ten years old than her.

Aelin messaged him first only after being on the site for ten minutes, deciding that surely he was the best one and that she needn't bother to look at any other candidates.

They hit it off straight away, and after deciding on a restaurant to meet at, Aelin had informed Nehemia of the matter, which she was promptly met with question after question: why can't a thirty-four year old man find someone his own age? Is he one of those men that can't date a woman five minutes older than him because of some stupid made up reason? How do you know for certain that it's him in the picture? What if he's cat-fishing you? What if he's a freak, or a killer? What if he's just pretending to be rich to kidnap you? What if, what if, what if?

And so after a heated discussion, Nehemia had come along on her date-that-wasn't-really-a-date and sat a few tables away from her and Rowan, watching them—especially him—the entire time like a hawk.

Aelin had completely forgotten that her friend was there, so enraptured by Rowan and what he did and how he saw life.

It had been fourteen months of seeing Rowan and genuinely enjoying spending time with him and weeks ago, she realised that she wanted it to be something more. That she had come to care for him, not because of the money, but purely because it was Rowan and he made her feel seen and he wasn't afraid of her, because she had once been told by an ex that she could be too much and that he couldn't handle all her baggage.

Aelin wanted a life with him.

So Aelin told Rowan she loved him when he dropped her off tonight after their dinner and a movie date, telling him how she felt, and he had said thank you. He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and went home, leaving behind the pine-and-snow scent of him.

Aelin really wanted to find a hole to crawl into and die.

She was scarfing down her third brownie when Nehemia's bedroom door opened, her friend clad in an old matching pj set, her slippers shuffling across the tile.

“What happened? Are you okay?” her friend asked upon seeing Aelin's guttered look. Her dark brows furrowed. “Did that bastard hurt you? If he did, I'll—”

“He didn't do anything,” Aelin interrupted her friend. Taking the food, Aelin planted herself on the teal blue velvet sofa Rowan gave her for Yulemas last year, ignoring the scent of not just him, but of them both from when he came over after work just the other day with pizza and a DVD that she insisted that she watched because it was too good not to, when they forgot all about the movie as Rowan buried himself inside her, leaving hickeys all over her neck that she had to cover up with thick concealer.

Nehemia joined her on the couch, her friend momentarily forgetting for now that she had walked in on her and Rowan just moments after they finished, muttering under her breath in Eyllwe as she glared at them defiling the couch, and gave her a look that Aelin knew that Nehemia would listen to every word that came out from her.

And when Aelin was done recounting the story, all Nehemia could come up with was, “Oh.”

“Yes, 'oh,'. I've probably fucked up the whole thing. So don't be surprised if I call you on your lunch break tomorrow telling you he's broken things off.”

“Aelin, I don't think he will. I know that I'm not the biggest fan of your...situation—”

“I'm aware,” Aelin said, cutting her friend off. “You still won't let me buy you a new mattress, even though yours is hard as a brick and lumpy as hell. I've told you that you can pay me—”

“Aelin,” Nehemia said, “we're not talking about mattresses right now. As I was saying, I doubt he'll break things off because I've seen the way he looks at you. I still think he's too old for you, but he cares for you. You probably just caught him by surprise.”

“How does he look at me?” Aelin was observant, but sometimes when she was with Rowan, all her observation skills went out the window.

“Like he loves you,” Nehemia said, no hint of doubt in her voice.

Aelin sighed, her feelings slowly starting to crush her. “I guess I'll just have to take your word for it.”

Sighing once more, Aelin put the food back in the fridge, showered and went to bed, forgoing her usual night texting ritual with Rowan.

She really wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't concentrate, which wasn't a good thing, since his job dealt with having to concentrate all the time. But no matter what mind-focusing techniques he did, he couldn't stop thinking about Aelin.

Couldn't stop thinking about how she said she was in love with him. How her beautiful eyes had been sparkling when she said those words to him. And how the light in them dimmed when he said thank you and kissed her on the cheek, telling her that he would talk to her later. But he hadn't texted her, nor did she.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you. He really couldn't believe that was what he said. Felt like an utter fool and a bastard as he realised he probably crushed her heart. Aelin didn't like being vulnerable, and she had been when she said those words and he had gone and fucked it all up.

Rowan loved Aelin, he did, but he truly wasn't prepared for those words. He loved how on the weekends they would be up at one am, baking chocolate goodies, dancing in the quiet kitchen, humming quietly to Aelin's classical music playlist, with her wearing not the nightgowns that he loved, but one of his old hoodies.

He didn't think that he would get along with her so well once they met, thinking that their online interactions were nothing but a fluke. He was moments away from deleting the profile because he didn't actually create it, but Fenrys had, his friend grumbling that he needed a girlfriend, with Rowan arguing that creating a profile on a sugar daddy site was not dating but probably the opposite, when Aelin messaged him.

His life-long friend didn't listen, much to Rowan's annoyance—but he didn't grab his phone out of his friends hand; Rowan blamed it on the several whiskys he had downed by that point.

Aelin bewitched him on that first meet up. She was intelligent as hell and funny, and creative and beautiful. He was aware of why she was on the date with him, but he didn't care, just as long as he got to see her again.

Fourteen months later and Rowan was still bewitched. He wanted to be with her on a permanent basis, but wasn't completely sure how to take that step.

Clearly, Aelin had taken that step for them, and Rowan was the worlds biggest moron.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you.

Groaning, Rowan turned away from his computer and looked at the skyline, ignoring the buildings to instead watch the puffy clouds drift by.

Aelin loved watching the clouds, loved stargazing, loved questioning about the universe and what the skies held.

He never really paid any of that stuff attention, not until he met her.

Rowan didn't want to lose her, didn't want her to think that he was about to break up with her over this. He had to see her, so he grabbed his keys and wallet, told his secretary to hold his calls for the rest of the day, and went to visit Aelin.

X X X X X X

It had been an usually busy day for a Wednesday and Aelin was glad for her lunch break as she trudged up to the roof of the shopping centre. She wasn't really allowed up here, but she wanted some fresh air and to feel the sun against her skin as she sat down and dug into her lunch—fast food, unfortunately for her, because she was so frazzled from last night that she completely forgot about making a pack lunch.

Rowan hadn't called her, or texted her. Not even an email had been sent her way.

Aelin hated that she felt so damned mopey. She was an independent woman, but gods, even a good morning text would have been fine.

She finished her lunch, popping several mints into her mouth to get rid of the onion taste, when the roof door crashed open and a familiar hulking figure came into view.

He must have spoken to Elide to find her here.

Aelin's brow furrowed. “Rowan, what are you doing here?” Oh gods, surely he wasn't going to break up with her, she still had hours to go; there'd be no way she could work if she had tears in her eyes.

Taking her hands in his, Aelin stood up. She steeled herself against whatever he was going to say.

“I love you, Aelin. I'm in love with you, too,” Rowan said, his eyes soft and full of genuine love. Aelin's heart shot up into her throat. “I want a life with you. I want us to buy a home, one that has warmth and character, and a big garden. I want a dog. And kids too, if you want, I know that you've never mentioned it, but if you don't want any then that is completely fine. I want to support you in whatever endeavors you want to take, and if you ever want to go back to university, then I'll support you, or if you want to find a way to use your business degree, I'll help you with that, too. Whatever you want Aelin, I'll give it to you, as long as you're by my side, I'll be happy.”

Aelin was silent for so long that Rowan thought that maybe he shocked her into silence. But eventually, she smiled, one that was dazzling in its beauty that it took his breath away.

“You love me?”

“I do, Aelin, I love you.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Rowan groaned at the amusement in her tone, in her eyes. “You're never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She smirked. “Definitely not. It'll be a nice story to tell our children...one day. For now, I think we should contend with being proper significant others.”

Rowan nodded, smiling. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because I need to get back to work, since I'm no longer accepting your allowances. I won't deny the use of your credit card, but other than that, you are no longer my sugar daddy.”

It was Rowan's turned to smirk, and it was the one that made her core clench. “How about I be 'daddy' instead?”

Aelin snorted, even as she clenched around nothing again. Smacking his arm lightly, Aelin kissed him. “Only if you behave,” she said against his lips, “and now I really need to go back to work.”

Rowan walked her back, their fingers laced together, and as she turned to say goodbye, Aelin said, “I'll see you later, daddy.”

Rowan groaned, and it took everything in him not to take her hand and into his car to have his wicked way with her.

By the time he thought of a response, Aelin was already back to work, helping a customer with an impressive stack of books in her arms.

But she knew he was still there, because the way she swayed her hips to the counter was all for him, and when she saw him watching her, Aelin winked, making Rowan's heart flutter in his chest.

He really did love her. And he would live with her teasing him for the rest of his life, just as long as she was with him.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

inventory, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You’re missing a piece of inventory from your erotica shop. Surprisingly, you find it in the same day. It’s around your boyfriend’s neck, who also happens to be your sub. Hm, well, you have to act accordingly, don’t you?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; non-idol!AU; dom/sub dynamic; feels and there’s a decent bit of buildup; smut (mirror kink, spitting, cock ring usage, cock-slapping, scratching, spanking, vibrator use, overstimulation, edging, m-masturbation, cum eating, f-receiving oral); fluff; noona dom!reader x sub!Jungkook

technically part iv of ‘customer service’ series, but can be read alone

–

customer service part i | part ii | part iii

-

Jeon Jungkook was a problem.

Technically, your problem.

You tapped your pen against your recordkeeping book. No one was in the store. It was the middle of the week. Not usually the time to get freaky. People got freaky on the weekends. You usually spent these times doing the boring stuff. Setting up the deliveries for the rich customers that purchased clothing from you. Cleaning the store from top to bottom and finding some interesting fluids in interesting places. Typical. Answering emails, accounting, taking inventory. You were missing one piece of inventory, but those things always turned up eventually. You weren’t worried.

Eh, wasn’t a big problem.

Your big problem was Jeon Jungkook.

He wanted to be exclusive. Okay. He wanted it to be a relationship. Slightly less in your comfort zone, but you were willing to give it a shot. Unfortunately, Jungkook also wanted one more thing.

He wanted you to lose you temper at him.

Now, there were several things you, personally, did not do anymore. And number one on the list was losing your temper. You did not want to be in power and actively angry at the person you were fucking at the same time. It was dangerous. It was irresponsible. You’ve gone too far before and hurt your sub. You weren’t going to repeat it.

Not with Jungkook, no matter how much he tried to rile you up.

And he tried. Disobeyed you outright. Talked back. Taunted you. It took a lot of your skill and redirection to focus his attention elsewhere and not at his ultimate goal of pissing you off so much that you used sex as a weapon, because quite frankly, that was a fucked-up thing to do and you were not going to do it. You would rather leave than become that.

You told him this. You told him that he should not try to provoke you, especially not this early in the relationship. His body couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t handle it mentally, and you didn’t want to end up emotionally and sexually abusing him, even if it was an accident. Because it was your responsibility to not do that and you took that shit very seriously.

Jungkook had agreed reluctantly and he still tried.

Sigh.

You rubbed your forehead. If he was an experienced sub, then maybe you could be less strict. But he wasn’t. And yeah, maybe you were a little scared. Because your last relationship had ended very, very badly, because you had gone too far and your sub had been too scared to use the safe word even when it was too much and that really, really fucked you up. You regretted it, even after all this time, even after all the apologizing, even after your sub had forgiven you, multiple times.

You had never forgiven yourself for it.

The whole relationship had fallen apart because of that one time.

After that, you didn’t really date. All you did was have one-night stands with subs you already knew. It was easy having sex with no strings attached. Now you were dating Jungkook. Yeah, that. The dating bit. It was messing you up. It was making you overly cautious. You didn’t want to repeat your mistakes.

You let out a tense exhale.

You didn’t tell Jungkook about this, mostly because you didn’t want to admit it. You didn’t want to admit your sub had been too scared of you to use their safe word. You were ashamed. Scared of yourself and what you were capable of.

Sometimes, when you thought about it, you wondered if you should stop. Give up on the dom/sub thing and have vanilla sex instead with some nice guy who had a normal job and raise some babies and fucking chill out. Seemed nice. Life wasn’t about needing a power complex when being intimate after all. You could have a perfectly satisfying sex life with two people in equal power. Could even still be kinky without the whole ‘I’m the authority and you have to listen to me’ thing.

Yeah, well. Before you could commit to that, Jeon Jungkook decided to fucking seduce you in your own damn sex shop.

You placed your hands on your head and let out a big sigh.

Damn you, Jungkook.

-

You found your missing piece of inventory.

It was around Jeon Jungkook’s neck when he opened his apartment door for you.

Your face was completely neutral, one hand in the pocket of your black trench coat. The other holding your black leather briefcase. Underneath the coat, you wore a simple floor-length black skirt. Black heels. Nothing but your face and hands uncovered. In one second, you took in every detail upon seeing Jungkook.

One, his long black hair was tied back, his bangs framing his large brown eyes. Two, he was wearing a little bit of makeup. Slight amount of eyeshadow and liner, lip balm to make his lips pinker. Three, he was wearing a very low V-necked black t-shirt that was quite obviously meant to show off his shapely collarbones and sculpted pecs. The ink-black tattoos in his right arm stood out against his tan skin. Fourth, he was wearing leather pants – not the ones you made him, that would be indecent exposure showing up to the door like that – but, still, black tight faux leather trousers that he half-tucked his shirt in so his crotch was visible.

And.

Fifth.

He was wearing a black leather collar around his neck, one with a large silver ring hanging down at the center. It had silver studs with in the shape of a diamond pattern punched into the leather. It closed in the back with a silver buckle.

How did you know this?

It was your missing piece of inventory, of course.

You clicked your tongue.

“Oh! Noona,” Jungkook said nervously, biting his lip.

You little shit, don’t you ‘oh, noona’ me. You almost turned around and left. Almost. Irritation was putting it mildly. You were pissed. He had stolen from your shop. Became an actual fucking thief to get a rise out of you. You two weren’t going out on a date. It was already late, so both of you had intended on having a nice night in. He’d dressed up for it, as one does. Made himself pretty for you to ruin. Jungkook knew what he wanted. And he wasn’t being subtle about it, wearing the stolen inventory right in front of your face the second he opened the door.

He wanted you mad and he wanted you mad from the start.

You did not look at the collar. Instead, you stared into his eyes, furious internally, but completely placid on the outside. His brown orbs were observing you in anticipation. He wanted it. Bad. You had refused to let him cum last time because he had talked back to you. That was a week ago. You wondered if he had jacked off or not. You put no such restrictions on him even though he asked you to. You were curious on how far Jungkook was willing to go, so you let him choose.

And, clearly, Jungkook choose death.

Just kidding. But he was really testing you here. And so, you made up your mind.

You waited, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook flushed and backed up, holding the door with two hands.

“C-Come in.”

You stepped inside, heels clicking on the hardwood. Jungkook closed the door behind you. The large, floor-length mirror was in the living room again. The incident in the fitting room must have really had an impact on him. Maybe he was developing a mirror kink because of it.

You felt Jungkook slide up next to you, his breath against your ear. Shallow, needy, already horny. You weren’t surprised. Nobody dresses like that and doesn’t want to be fucked.

“N-noona…” He was making his voice desperate and breathy, already submissive for you. “I really missed you.”

“That’s lovely to hear.”

You kept your tone light, no pet names, stepping out of your heels and walking towards the couch. Jungkook followed you like a shadow, still chewing on his lip, messing up his own hard work of making himself pretty for you. You placed your briefcase on the coffee table. He hovered as you undid your trench coat slowly, pulling open the tie and unbuttoning it deftly, fingers dancing on the placket.

“I can help you?” Jungkook offered, holding his hands out.

Your eyes gradually lifted, locking your gaze with his. You saw him visibly shiver in excitement.

“No need.”

You saw Jungkook pout as you slipped out of the coat, one arm, then the other, revealing the white dress shirt that was neatly tucked into your black skirt. It had pleated detailing down the front and silver collar pins, completed by the silver cuff links you used to close the sleeves. You folded the coat elegantly and laid it over the back of his couch.

“Are you mad, noona?”

You want me to be mad. Thankfully, at this point you had calmed a little. Yes, Jungkook was an idiot for doing such a thing, but he wasn’t doing it because he was trying to hurt you or actually steal from you. Maybe it was something he’d seen or read in porn. Maybe it was something his brain devised because he felt some weird need to prove to you that he was a good and obedient sub, because he knew you had previous partners and he wanted to outdo them or something. Maybe he wanted to see how much of a dom you really were.

And, most likely, it was all of those things.

“Jungkook.”

This time, you said his name with a sharper tone.

“Y… yes?”

You turned your right hand upwards, entirely aware of the placement of your fingers. Pinky, ring, middle curled inwards. Index up, thumb out. Poised, elegant, almost haughty. You flicked your cuff link, straightening the backing to slip it out. It was a diamond-shaped accessory, completely unnecessary for everyday life and completely necessary to force Jungkook to wait on you one more second. One more heart-stopping moment.

You glanced at his crotch. Hm. Interesting. Then you blinked and your eyes were on his. Hair hanging around his cheekbones, pupils dilating, swollen lips parted as he let out light pants of desire. He was slowly but surely losing it.

Maybe it was because his erection was suffocating in his leather pants.

You twirled your cuff link in your fingers. Jungkook watched the action, entranced by the dexterity of your digits. You knew what he wanted. He’d been texting you all day, trying to work you up. You had made him wait. Just like how you were making him wait now.

“What is your safe word?”

That was the question you used to start off the scene.

Instantly, you saw the relief, the hunger, the absolute need to serve flood his dark brown eyes. Now you were the dom. Now he was the sub.

“Euphoria,” Jungkook nearly moaned.

You nodded slowly, placing the cuff link on his coffee table. You upturned your other wrist, removing the other with a swift flick. You heard him whimper at the quick action. You almost smiled. He really wanted it. Ah, but you are a bad, bad boy, Jungkook. The metal clinked as it touched the walnut wood of the tabletop.

And there are consequences for being a bad, bad boy.

Your gaze connected with his once again. His eyes were practically begging for instruction.

“You look like you want to ask me something,” you drawled. His teeth sunk into his lower lip once more, the tiny mole underneath winking at you. “Go ahead.”

His eyes flitted about, trying to search for the trap. He swallowed, straining against the collar.

“Do… do you notice anything different about me?” Jungkook asked hesitantly, taking a step towards you.

You didn’t move from your position, observing him closely. His hands by his sides were antsy, itching to touch you or be caged with rope. You hooked your thumb at the base of your cuff and rolled it down. Once. Twice. Three times.

“You’re wearing makeup for me,” you replied, letting a small smile drift to your lips.

“A-ah…” He blushed. “Is it… is it too unmanly?”

Who the fuck put these ideas in Jeon Jungkook’s head? You just wanted to talk to them. And by talk, you meant flog the living daylights out of them. You had a big one at home. It could be arranged.

“No, of course not. You look very handsome.” Pause. “And fuckable.”

No reason not to tell the truth.

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed a dark pink. “T-Thank you, noona.”

During the entire conversation, you had folded the sleeves of your dress shirt up to your elbows. The stiff, crisp fabric held, and suddenly you were imposing, sleeves rolled up, black skirt skimming the hardwood floor. The neutral façade you had upheld for so long dropped away. Jungkook noticed the change instantly, even though you hadn’t actually said anything yet. His eyes widened a little, shoulders tensing.

Your eyes flashed, chin lifting.

“Or is that not what you meant, pretty boy?”

You did not hide the irritation in your voice this time. His breathing hitched, the muscles his arms ripped and Jungkook very, very much wanted to be punished.

“Um…” He fiddled with his hands guiltily, eyes skirting about. “It’s not what I was referring to, no…”

“Look at me.”

He snapped his head up, gulping. So obvious. His neck strained against the leather. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What were you referring to?” you questioned icily.

Jungkook was shaking all over. He lifted his hand slowly, reaching up to his neck, hooking two fingers around the metal ring of the collar. He tightened them, tugging down a little, eyelashes fluttering, a tiny moan rumbling in his throat. You were going insane on the inside. Fuck, did he know how submissive he was? Did he know how his small, cute little actions made him look so fucking appetizing?

“T-This.”

“Ah, yes,” you finally acknowledged. You waved a hand and he removed his, biting his lip again. “I did notice that. A nice touch. Is it for me?”

He nodded quickly. He seemed to forget for a second that he stole it from you. “Yes, noona, it’s for you.”

You sighed. Jungkook’s expression changed, becoming slightly confused.

“Pause.”

The indication that there was an intermission in the scene. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You are testing me, Jungkook, and I do not like it.”

Jungkook’s brows knitted together, looking down. “I’m sorry, noona.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t try to make me angry on purpose.”

He closed the distance between you two, placing his hands on your elbows. His brown orbs anxiously found yours. “I… I just… please…” His fingers pressed into your skin, his breathing deepening. “I want to see how far I can go. How far you can take me. You won’t…” Jungkook shook his head, hair flying everywhere, ponytail bouncing. “You’re holding back, but I can take it, noona, I promise. I promise I can.” His fingertips caressed you, determination in his eyes.

Hm. Jungkook could tell. You breathed in deeply, inhaling his clean scent.

You are aware of your mistakes. You have learned.

You pursed your lips.

I really, really do not want to hurt you, Jungkook.

“You must promise me.” You looked deep into his eyes. “You must promise me, that if it is too much, if you cannot handle it, if it is not something you want, you must use your safe word.”

He nodded quickly. “I promise.”

And then you crumpled a little bit, your strict demeanor falling, the fears rising, the vulnerability making your voice quiver as you unfurled your arms and grabbed his t-shirt, shaking him roughly.

“No, Jungkook,” you pleaded. “You must promise me.” And you couldn’t explain, couldn’t bring yourself to say why, but he could tell how serious you were because you were suddenly weak, suddenly the parts of yourself that you kept under wraps revealed themselves, the parts you were ashamed of appearing, and you were letting him witness it. Because he said he wanted you. Not just dom you, but you.

And this, well, this was you too.

Jungkook’s eyes softened and he smiled. He leaned in and kissed you, long, sweet, delicate. It was like time stopped. As if the world froze and there was nothing but Jungkook’s lips on yours, reassuring and comforting. He drew back and opened his eyes slowly, warmth in his chocolate orbs.

“I promise.”

You looked up at him, stunned. He grinned at you, showing off his teeth, a little cheeky and embarrassed all at once. You removed your hands from his shirt, lowering them gradually.

“Sorry, I…”

Jungkook’s hands dropped and held yours tightly. He shook his head.

“No, noona. I understand. I know you are looking out for me,” he said brightly. “Because I’m always trying to get into trouble.”

A muscle in your eye twitched. At least he admitted it.

His teeth caught his lip, still smiling. Less nervous now, more playful.

You removed your hands from his. Okay. Okay, fine. Jungkook wanted you to be the dom. Not a dom, the dom. You let out a breath, controlled, clean. Step back into your role. You are in control. You can do this.

“What is your safe word?”

You cracked your neck, a sharp pop that made Jungkook jump.

“Euphoria,” he replied automatically.

“Very good.”

A beat passed. Jungkook remained close to you, unsure what was going to happen. His eyes wide and flighty, chin trembling, hands in front of his chest. You lowered yours, placing them behind your back. Piercing gaze on him, taking a step. His eyes followed you as you slowly circled him, speaking carefully and deliberately.

“So, Jungkook, tell me,” you began, skirt grazing the floor as your glided around him. “What makes you think you’re wearing the collar for me?”

Jungkook’s head whipped around quickly, following your movement with darting eyes. Damn, his ass looked great in these leather pants. He looked unconfident, brows furrowing, trying to conjure the right answer to get what he wanted.

“Um… I thought… maybe you might like it…” He stumbled through his words. “B-Because you like controlling me…”

You smiled at him. Jungkook brightened.

“I do.”

The eagerness beamed off his face as you stopped in front of him, still smiling pleasantly.

“I love controlling you.”

Then the smile dropped. The air around you became ten degrees colder with your shift in demeanor. Jungkook barely had a half-second to realize the change before your hand shot out and gripped the silver ring, yanking down harshly. He yelped, arms flying out, falling to his knees hard, gripping your skirt for balance. Your other arm was still behind you, folded into the small of your back. You narrowed your eyes, holding the collar ring so tightly that your knuckles were white.

His eyes flew up, pain and surprise.

You ticked your head. “But clearly, I’ve done a poor job, because you’ve gone and stole from me, you bad boy.”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, scooting himself forward, clutching your skirt tightly. “N-No, please, noona, I only–”

You yanked the ring up and Jungkook gasped, words cut off from the sudden jerk of his head snapping back. “You only what? Pickpocketed? Broke the law? Took my hard-earned money from right under my nose, to hurt me?”

“No, no, never,” Jungkook whimpered, looking up at you, blinking rapidly. “I don’t want to hurt you, noona. Never.”

“Then explain yourself,” you barked severely.

His eyes were turning teary, pleading. “I only… I only wanted to borrow it. So you could punish me and so I could show you I could be a good boy and take what I deserve.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Your other punishments weren’t enough?”

Jungkook’s lower lip quivered. The shame of his true intent was creeping in his eyes now.

“I… I wanted to see you angry, noona.”

“Even after I told you that you shouldn’t?”

He nodded, scurrying himself even closer on his now, most likely, bruised knees. Eyes on you, holding onto your skirt, whole body trembling. He angled his hips forward, showing you how hard he was in his pants, straining it even more by pressing his erection into the zipper of the leather. His lips open, black curls hanging around his face, almost pathetic but not quite, because you knew Jungkook was acutely aware of exactly what he looked like. Doing it to entice you, doing it to assure you that he wanted it.

“Y-Yes,” he admitted.

You forcefully let go of the ring, flinging him away from you. Jungkook squeaked, releasing your clothes as his body twisted to the side from your sharp movement. You swept your skirts away and took a step back.

“Noona, w-wait!”

Jungkook tried to scramble to his feet, but you snarled deep in your chest, making him freeze.

“Crawl.”

He looked startled, looking at you with wide puppy eyes. You took another step back. Jungkook followed you, on hands and knees, his bangs flared out, the low neckline of his shirt hanging down, revealing his chest. You could see his back muscles rippling under the fabric. Fuck, he was so handsome. You weren’t heading for the front door. You watched his mind calculate the angle of your body, mood lightening as he realized that was the direction of the bedroom. You, however, stopped at the floor-length mirror in the living room. Pointed to the patch of floor at your feet.

“Here. Now.”

Jungkook immediately complied, getting on his knees in front of you, hands between his legs, keen to please, facing you.

“Other way,” you clarified, sounding disappointed.

He lowered his head at his mistake and spun around, now facing his reflection. You glared through the mirror, making eye contact. He looked very sorry and very dejected. You almost forgave him just like that. Maybe Jungkook didn’t like this. Maybe you were being too harsh.

“Do you want to use your safe word?”

His eyes on yours. He shook his head lightly, not breaking your gaze.

“No, noona.” Your heart thudded in your chest at his tone of voice. “I’ve been a very bad boy.”

Jungkook licked his lips slowly, not looking away, the tip of his pink tongue lingering before sliding back into his mouth. He kept the same look in his eyes, but his actions were giving you the go ahead.

Shit.

You raised an eyebrow and lowered your hands. They floated above his shoulders and you were reminded of the first time, in the fitting room of your erotica shop, the moment he seduced you and pulled you into his pace. Jungkook tipped his head back, long hair sliding to his ears, the reflection of the stolen collar taunting you.

This brat.

Slowly, finger by finger, you placed your hands on his face. Fingertips pressing into his jaw, cheek, temple, into his soft skin, nails slightly digging in. Scratching up his pretty face a little, claiming it as yours. Jungkook had perfect bone structure, high cheekbones, sharp jaw, pretty forehead. He was panting, mouth open, hot breath drifting down. Hands on his thighs, clutching them tight.

You bent down, chin above his head so he could feel your hot breath on his scalp.

“My pretty boy,” you murmured softly. “Why must you be so bad? Do I not treat you well enough? Do I not give you what you love?”

“You do,” Jungkook whined in your hands, the guilt creeping into his voice. “You do, noona. Your pretty boy is… g-greedy.” He rolled his hips a little, spreading his thighs more, staring at his own reflection of his low-necked shirt and his thighs open, cock bulging in his leather pants.

Your fingers slipped down, down, tracing the leather collar. You let your index finger circle around the metal, not yet touching his chest, so close but so far. Jungkook kept trying to raise it into your touch.  Your other hand reached back and grabbed his ponytail, yanking his head back. He moaned right into your chin, too turned on to pretend he was hurt.

“I am going to my briefcase,” you stated, not looking at him under you and instead staring at his reflection, torso straining from how sharply you were forcing him to arch his back. “You are to remove your clothes. Whatever is left on you will remain for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes, noona.”

You abruptly let him go, striding to your briefcase swiftly, hearing a flurry of noise as Jungkook flung all of his clothes off. Snap, open, grab. You had already packed a black velvet bag holding the things you intended to use on him tonight. You spun around to see him practically ripping his leather pants off, the panic and regret evident on his face as he tried to shove them down his muscular calves. Smart boy had removed his underwear with his pants, smearing trails of pre-cum down his legs and onto the floor. You waited half a second for Jungkook to pop them over his ankles and he threw the pants to the far wall, so hard they made a loud slapping noise. Jungkook was on his hands and knees, panting, beads of sweat on his forehead.

It was actually hilarious to watch, but now was not the time to laugh.

Jungkook snapped his head towards you, eyes wide, his hard cock smacking his thigh. You raised an eyebrow at him. He gulped. Wearing nothing but the collar. Oh, he looked so good. You could tell him to get into position.

Or.

Tease him.

“Want to put my mouth on you, handsome boy.”

His cock twitched as his jaw dropped.

Your tongue slid out and stayed at the side of your lips as you spoke. “You look so tasty for me. When was the last time you came, Jungkook?”

His hands curled into fists on the hardwood floor, legs falling open, cock throbbing. The veins stood out against the hardness, head swollen and red.

“F-Fifteen days ago…” he whimpered.

He had denied himself. So cute. What a good boy. You smiled at him, still holding the velvet bag. “Really? You didn’t cum, not even once, without me?”

Jungkook shook his head rapidly, hair flying everywhere. “Wa… wanted to be tasty for you.”

You pouted a little. “Hm, that’s half a month. You waited so long.”

Jungkook nodded, chewing on his lip. You gestured for him to adjust his position and he turned his body to fully face you.

“Eyes on the mirror.”

He turned his head to face his reflection. Hands on the floor next to his ass, slightly leaning back, legs open.

“Look away and I’ll walk away,” you warned.

“Y-yes, noona.”

You floated down to the floor. He couldn’t exactly see you, but you slid into the frame of the mirror, right between his legs. The velvet bag was out of his sight, next to his leg, but Jungkook wasn’t paying attention. He was staring at his stiff cock and your proximity to it, holding his breath. You collected your saliva on your tongue and opened your mouth. It dripped down in a thin, slim line, hitting the angry red head of his cock and causing it to jerk at the sudden impact, coating it.

“A-ah, s-so good…”

“What do we say?” you purred, collecting more.

“T-thank you, noona,” Jungkook moaned, watching as you dropped more onto his aching cock, splattering onto his crotch. You lowered your head, closer. Closer. Jungkook sucked in a breath, waiting, needing, trying not to move. You made eye contact with him in the mirror.

“You’re a bad boy, Jungkook.”

And then you spat on his balls.

His head tipped back as he groaned, eyes barely open as he watched himself, chest shuddering as he felt it trickle down and onto the floor below. You spat on his genitals again, more force this time, spraying it across his cock and stomach. He cried out, slamming one of his fists onto the hardwood.

“Y-yes, noona, I’m a bad boy.”

And then you produced a cock ring seemingly out of nowhere, eyebrow raised as he wailed loudly.

“N-no, please, please don’t,” Jungkook panicked as you brought the black silicone ring closer and closer to his now saliva-drenched cock. “Please, I promise to be a good boy, please don’t do it…”

You said nothing, simply placing it on the engorged head and using three fingers to hold it, pushing down slowly.

“Noona, a-ah… no…” His eyelids fluttered, eyes on the reflection of his thick cock being viciously squeezed into the silicone ring. He let out a choked sob as it popped over the bottom of the head, sliding down, down, all the way to the base. You barely touched him, removing your hand as Jungkook shuddered, his pulsating length now bound by the black band.

You raised your head. He was still, very obediently, staring at the mirror.

You smacked his cock with your palm.

Not hard, but enough to make it bounce and for Jungkook to squeal, hips rising as his dick shook from side to side, unable to move much from the tight cock ring. He was making it move more by rocking his hips, heightening the feeling of being bound.

You waited until it stopped swaying.

“Your neighbors will hear you, Jungkook,” you said calmly. You turned your head and looked into the mirror. His eyes locked on yours, pupils dilated, strands of hair clinging to his sweaty face. “Should I gag you?”

“N-no, noona,” he whispered hotly, breathing shallow and tight. “They have to know I’m being punished. B-Because I’ve been b-bad.”

Good gracious, Jungkook.

Your panties instantly soaked. Who was losing it here? Was it him or was it you? Fuck.

You slowly smacked his cock back and forth, back and forth, staring at his face in the mirror. His head tipped back, not closing his eyes, moaning wantonly as his stiff length was roughly shoved around, barely any pressure and too much at once because of how hard he was. You stopped, watching his cock bob, almost purple-red now. Pre-cum beaded at the tip.

You couldn’t help it.

You leaned down, tucking your hair behind your ear so he could see, and gave the slit a tiny kitten lick.

Fuuuuuuuck.

Jungkook lost control, eyes rolling back into his head, and you almost moaned, his strong, intense taste all over your tongue. He tasted so good. So fucking delicious. You pulled back, pretending not to notice that Jungkook had looked away from the mirror as he quickly collected himself, back to staring at his reflection. You grabbed his hips and dug your nails into his skin, dragging him so his body was tilted.

“Flip over,” you growled.

You backed up, taking the velvet pouch with you as Jungkook obeyed, on his hands and knees now.

“On your face.”

Jungkook whimpered, lowering his cheek to the cool floor, leaning against it. Now his ass was up in the air, vulnerable and exposed.

“Both hands on the ring.”

His teeth sank into his lower lip, scooting his hands so he held the silver collar ring with fingers on both hands, arms against the floor to hold him up. His cock stuck straight down, stiff and swollen, trapped in the silicone circle. You waited to let Jungkook readjust his knees to be more comfortable and so he could see everything. The muscles on his back tensed with anticipation.

“I didn’t cover your mouth for a reason.”

“Yes, noona,” Jungkook breathed.

You raised your hands and raked your nails over his back, all the way to his ass. Hard, deep, leaving lines of pink and red, almost breaking the skin. Jungkook moaned, tongue sliding out, body shaking, eyelids fluttering. You did it again, and again, creating your pattern of lust on his back.

“Mine,” you growled possessively. Your eyes locked with his.

Thump.

Had anyone ever looked at you with so much adoration before?

Jungkook nodded.

“All yours, noona.”

You slapped his ass with your open palm.

He yelped, shoulders hitting the floor, face sliding a little against the wood. Pupils dilating, whimpering for more. You smacked him again, and again, and again, never the same spot, always with the full palm, all over, causing large red handprints patterned all over his ass. Jungkook was a groaning mess, legs slipping, the head of his cock touching the hardwood.

You stopped.

His ass was bright red, covered in your slaps and scratches.

Jungkook opened his eyes. He seemed to realize he wasn’t looking at his reflection anymore. He panicked, seeing your glare in the mirror, and tried to raise his hips, but your hand stopped him. The tip of his cock was in contact the floor, dripping pre-cum.

You pressed his hips down a little and shifted them from side to side.

Even the little stimulation of the head against the hardwood made Jungkook moan, pleading with you as he desperately clutched the collar.

“Noona, p-please… Please let me c-cum…”

You removed your hand. Jungkook continued rubbing himself in his own puddle of pre-cum on his living room floor, as you predicted. You didn’t stop him. You reached into the velvet pouch again. Jungkook’s eyes had fluttered closed as he continued stimulating himself, probably not enough, but he didn’t seem to care. You pressed the thing in your hand onto his scrotum and turned it on.

“A-ah!”

Jungkook’s hips flew up, balls suddenly shaking violently from the bullet vibrator in your hand. He shut his legs, sticking his ass out into your hand as he gasped, pressing back into the vibrator as you lazily drifted it around his balls.

“Oh, fuck, noona, oh, fuck!”

He was still holding onto the collar somehow as he tried to get more, wiggling his hips, but you were faster, grabbing his ass with one hand and digging your nails into it.

“Stop.”

Jungkook froze, whimpering and panting on the hardwood, cheeks hollowed out, eyes glazed over.

You traced his asshole with the tip of the vibrator.

His eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out.

“Oh, please, noona, put it in me, p-please…”

You drew figure-eights around his asshole and his balls, calmly.

“I bet you would love that, but you’ve been a bad boy, so I don’t think so.”

Jungkook whined, shaking his head, dark curls fluttering, soaked with sweat.

“P-please, I’ll be good, I need it, I need you to do it, fuck, please.”

“No.”

You pressed the vibrator into the cock ring and Jungkook nearly screamed, cutting himself off by snapping his jaw shut and yelling into the floor, hips jerking in your hands. You kept it there for a good five seconds before you removed it and backed up, reaching into the velvet bag again. Jungkook had maybe one shaking inhale before you gripped him under his armpits, hoisting him up.

“Let go of the ring,” you commanded, and his hands dropped, helping you get him to his knees. His bruised knees. Still, he leaned against you, soaking your clothes with his sweat, spreading his legs out more so his body lowered and your head could be seen past his shoulder. 

You reached down and removed the cock ring, Jungkook gasping in relief. It rolled away, now forgotten.

“Get yourself off.”

“B-but, noona…”

Your hands appeared and pressed against his nipples, turning on both bullet vibrators at once.

“Get. Yourself. Off.”

“F-fuck!”

His hand immediately flew to his cock, viciously pumping himself as you rubbed his nipples with the toys, his groans rumbling in his chest with the vibrations, so strong, so intense, his tan skin glistening with sweat, arm tattoos dancing as he stroked himself fast, his cock so hard it was purple now, veins popping out.

And, like the masochist he was…

Jungkook grabbed the head and squeezed firmly, cutting off his own orgasm with a wail.

You responded just as fast, dropping your hands and shoving the vibrators against his balls, twice as much stimulation as before. His head fell back against your shoulder, half-moans, half-screams of your name as he bucked into them, working himself up once again, your breath against his neck, your eyes watching Jungkook’s reflection – his shaking legs, his balls cupped in your hands, his abused and overstimulated cock popping in and out of his tattooed hand, his now inflamed nipples, sweat dripping down his neck, long black hair flared out against your cheek, the mole under his lower lip trembling with his cries.

Fuck, he was everything. Everything you ever wanted.

“Ah, noona, yes, yes, you’re so good to me, so good…”

“Cum on the mirror,” you demanded. “Cum all over yourself, pretty boy.”

Jungkook whined, snapping his head back down, feeling you increase the vibration setting on his balls and that was it, the tipping point as he sobbed out your name, shooting all over the mirror in large splatters of white, jerking his hips so it traveled higher, sticking onto the reflective glass, all over his reflection.

And he watched it, moaning, so entranced by his likeness covered in his own cum, dripping down in slow smears, messy and dirty.

You turned off the vibrators, withdrew your hands from him.

“Lick it off.”

Jungkook was exhausted, wheezing, hoarse, and yet he still removed his hand from his cock, crawling to the mess he made, pink tongue flopping out, licking his own cum off the mirror, eating it up with groans of satisfaction. You watched him, fascinated, surprised he even listened to you, surprised he was still going, because honestly at this point, you really thought you had gone too far, but Jungkook was enthusiastically making out with his own face with his orgasm at your command, and loving every second of it.

“Jungkook.”

He pushed himself away from the mirror, immediately coming to you, his dark brown eyes hazy with pleasure. He dumped himself in your lap. You still wearing all your clothes. He looked up at you, lips curving into a naughty grin.

“I love it when you turn me into your plaything.”

This guy.

“What do you want?” Jungkook panted. “I’ll do anything. Anything for you.”

Oh, that’s right. You had spent so much focus and energy on Jungkook that you completely forgot about yourself. How did that happen? Ah, but you were so tired now. You let out a puff of disbelief and slid down to the floor.

“I want a nap. Get back to me tomorrow morning.”

-

You woke up slowly to something wet and hot between your legs.

Can I wake you up by eating you out tomorrow morning?

If you brush your teeth.

Really?!

If you brush your teeth, yes.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, breathing in Jungkook’s scent. His bed. His tongue against your opening, softly lapping, burying his nose into your core. You pursed your lips, sighing softly. The tip of the wet muscle slid up, licking at your clit. You pressed your hips into his face and the large hands around your thighs tightened, holding you closer.

He moaned, so hot, right into your pussy.

Your hands released the sheets, sliding across the fabric, up your hip, tracing his fingers. Eyes still closed, feeling for his long hair, clean, fluffy, wild from sleep. Burying your fingers in the strands, pressing him down into you.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

He licked faster, lips closing around your clit, pushing his head into you as he pressed your thighs into the sides of his face. You could feel his cheekbones, his jaw rubbing against your skin. Felt his wet warmth, rapidly rubbing your sensitive nub.

“That’s a good boy,” you purred and he whined, vibrating your pussy with the sound.

Your fingers tightened in his hair and you hissed, gliding into your orgasm, dripping into his mouth as your clit throbbed against his tongue, pleasure flooding you like a warm blanket.

You finally opened your eyes, breathing out as you saw Jungkook’s handsome face between your legs, cleaning you up. He kissed the insides of your thighs, nuzzling your skin. He seemed to feel you watching him and his eyes looked up, bright, doe-like, chocolatey. His pink lips glistened with your release.

“Noona?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I keep the collar?”

You raised an eyebrow. He smiled at you, playful, naughty.

“If you pay for it,” you replied, half-joking.

His tongue flashed out.

“I can pay in cash and in orgasms.”

You laughed as Jungkook dove down between your legs once again.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #jk x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jk smut

[bubsdolan]

hi bubba!! i have this really unusual tattoo (at least i think so, ive never see anyone do it), basically, i have stretchmarks that stretch on my hips and love handles so tatted on some of them are little flowers and the marks are basically the stems...if you get what i mean idk if i explained it really well lol....would u mind writing a blurb ab reader w this tattoo having a beach day w gray and he’s never seen her tattoos before and is basically really impressed and fascinated w it?? none of my past bfs liked it so :(

{ok firstly let me start by staying that is the most beautiful tattoo idea i think ive ever heard of. it’s so unique & i just know you look absolutely stunning.}

“baby, you coming in the ocean?”

grayson’s mesmerising hazel eyes bore into you as he watches you get your little station of sun lotion, a book, snacks and all your other beach essentials set up for your day of relaxation ahead. you could never say no to grayson, his face was one of those you became so desperate to hold, to kiss, to touch whenever he looked at you the way he was right now- love. he was so beautiful you often wondered what he saw in you. 

you giggle as a puppy like grayson bounces on his feet before you. with ethan and kristina long gone, chasing and splashing in each in the cooling water under the 80 degree heat of la, grayson was just as eagar to follow behind, but he wouldn't go anywhere without you right by his side.

“s’give me a minute, i’ll meet you there.” you lean over to place a quick peck on his lips, feeling him smile in the kiss as he thrived in the affection you gave him and in nature. he loved being outside that was a given, in the fresh air and beautiful scenery with the woman he planned on one day marrying. you, his twin and nature was all grayson needed to survive and right now, he couldn’t be happier.

accepting your kiss, grayson soon turns contently to meet his brother and his girlfriend in the water he was so desparte to indulge himself in. however he stopped short of hitting it, when he saw you hesitantly strip your body from the cover up you insisted on wearing in the heat and leaving you in nothing but your tiny bikini that made his mouth water. he couldn't take his eyes off you. 

raking in the breathtaking site of your body, the one he worshiped every night but never fully got to idolise as you always made a conscious habit of wearing his t-shirt in the bedroom. his breathing hitches and eyes falling when he noticed the art that adorned your hips. 

there, in plain sight were tiny little flowers, all shapes and sizes, grazing your stretch marks. scars grayson could only consider as beautiful as they acted as the strems of your creation.

it suited you perfectly, it made you stand out even more in his eyes and only confirmed the fact that you were damn near perfect for him. your body a priceless canvas as he fell in love with you even more at the sight of the new found discover. he fell harder, his soul already married to you. his future standing in front of him.

a niggle of doubt crossed his mind as to why he was only just seeing your masterpiece now. did you not feel comfortable around him? were you ashamed? grayson never failed to make you feel worthy, loved and worshipped, that he hated himself for not noticing sooner. how could miss something so vibrant and alluring. 

“ready to go bear?” you place your hands on grayson’s pecks after jogging slightly to catch up with him, your fingers dancing over the skin of his heart as he didn't even realise he was lost in a trance of you, until your angelic voice brought him out of it. 

his hands automatically find their home on your hips, his fingers trancing every elegantly precise line that helped shape your body. his fingers soothing, loving and warm. his eyes watched the gentle movements as he traced and memorised each petal, each leaf and each stretch mark. he had to pinch himself that you were real. 

“s’come you never showed me this before?” 

you heart drops, completely forgetting about the art you permanently drew on your body when you were just 18, after suffering with the insecurity of your scars most of your teenage years. ever since the day you ‘friends’ ridiculed you and doubted your life choice, you vowed to keep the tattoo in your own possession. not wanting to deal with the heartbreak of more judgement, especially from the only person who mattered the most. 

you feared your stretch marks would put him off you, make you less attractive in his eyes and made you not fit in with the beauty standards that surrounded grayson daily due to his status. you feared he would find your stretch marks disgusting, off putting, not wanting to be with you any longer as you were scared. permanently damaged. you weren't like other girls grayson had been associate with in the past, and that in turn forced you to keep this secret from him for many months.

you avoided his strong gaze and instead focused on the way his hands praised your body by continuously following where the tattoo leads. there was nothing but love in his eyes, he was truly fascinated by the way you turned such an already beautiful part of you, into something more breathtaking.

you gulp, your own thoughts running away with you as you thought back to the moment your friends and family laughed at you. claiming you made a mistake and ruined your body forever.

“i- erm,- i wasn’t sure what you would think about it. didn't want you to be turned off or laugh at me, m’sorry.”

grayson whips his head up to look at you so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. he was completely taken aback by your comments, as he never once gave you the impression he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you. the odds of existed are slim, so the odds of you and grayson existing at the same time is next to impossible. but that was the beauty of your relationship and grayson vowed to never take it for granted.

bringing one hand up from your waist, he lifts your chin delicately between his fingers and forces you to look at him. his touch electrifying, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin due to the outpouring of love being shown to you.

“fuck baby, i couldn't be more in love with you if i tired. this-” he refers, point down to your tattoo that has taken his breath away, “only makes you more beautiful.” 

“plus i think it’s super badass my girl is tatted.”

you search his eyes for any sign of dishonesty, but when you are met with nothing of the sort, you break down. tears free falling as you crash into grayson’s chest and let yourself be held by him in a way that made you feel safe. all your pent up fears, doubts and insecurity’s washing away in a matter of seconds by thr kindness and love grayson showed you thoughout your entire relationship. you felt silly for ever thinking different. a tattoo doesn't change you a person, it doesn't define you and it cetinaly doesn't make you incapable of love. 

grayson listened to your soft sobs, a mix or both happy and sad tears as he wished he could capture all your sadness in the grasp of his palm, clutching it tighly and ensuring it could never find it’s way back to you. he wished to vanish all the negative opinions of people in your past who made you feel any less than perfect. any less than beautiful and any less worthy of being loved the way he loved you.

as graysn held you, shushing your whimpers and kissing your forehead repeatedly, his hand presume their precision back on your hips. unable to draw himself away from the art that in his mind has him already planning a similar tattoo. maybe he’ll even get you to design and hand draw it. a sign of his love for you that was permanently and going to stay with him till the day he parts the earth. with you by his side.

#bubsdolan #bubbablurb #grayson dolan #grayson #grayson dolan blurb #grayson blurb #grayson dolan imagine #grayson imagine #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson fanfic #grayson dolan fluff #grayson fluff #grayson dolan fic #grayson fic #grayson dolan x reader #grayson x reader #grayson concept #grayson dolan concept #dolan twins #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins concept #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins fluff #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins fic #dolan twins x reader

[reinvent-and-believe]

saying your names

Prompt: hallucination Relationships:  Geralt & Visenna  Rating: T Content Warnings: unintentional but constant misgendering by a parent; depiction of gender dysphoria in a small child; reference to child self-injury (scratching); abandonment issues; minor book spoilers Summary: Visenna's child is claimed by a witcher through the Law of Surprise. When she bears a daughter instead of the promised son, she thinks she's cheated Destiny. But Destiny rarely accepts such defeat. (Or - the trans Geralt mommy issues fic)

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

-

i. The Brave Knight

There’s an old fairy tale from far-away Toussaint, one Visenna remembers her grandmother telling her when she was little more than a babe, of a cohort of the bravest knights who gathered at the behest of the first duke to slay monsters and defeat villains and protect the land from all manner of evil. They were five in total, but none rivalled the gallant Sir Geralt, who defended the innocent and the weak, who perfectly embodied the Virtues, who fearlessly and faithfully loved the beautiful maiden Liliana. It’s a story like no other, full of heroics and chivalry, grand quests and epic romance. Visenna remembers sighing as a little girl, of braiding flowers into her shining copper hair and pretending to be Lady Liliana, rescued by that most puissant and most chivalrous of knights.

She hopes that her own daughter will love the tales as much as she did, so she recounts them while Greta lies in bed, wide dark eyes barely blinking as she soaks in every detail. She’s two now and obsessed with stories, any silly rambling thing Visenna remembers from childhood or improvises about the forest creatures near the village, but none have captivated her quite like this tale.

The next day, Visenna hears her daughter whacking at the swaying cattails at the bank of the river with a stick. “I defeat you!” comes the tremulous cry. “I Sir Geralt! I brave knight!”

It’s a small thing, and silly, yet Visenna goes cold.

ii. The Babe

When she realizes she’s with child, Visenna knows it will be a boy, feels it as sure as she feels the wind on her face, the blood pounding in her veins. She’s happy for a time. She knows the horrors women face, has seen, has felt firsthand the cruelties the world inflicts on beautiful little girls. Better a boy, then. Better a boy with a chance at a good life, a boy she can teach and train, a boy who won’t beat or violate or torment.

A mere month before the babe is due, the man returns, and finds her with child, and tells her what he’s done. He blames Destiny and the Law of Surprise and Tradition as Visenna learns a new type of cruelty men can inflict.

And so she hardens herself, tells herself that she will not become attached to what’s growing within her, this life promised to pay a life debt. “Don’t be absurd,” her friends tell her, through nervous glances. “You always assume the worst. It may well be a girl. The witcher won’t have need of a girl.”

But Visenna knows it, feels it with every spark of chaos within her and every pulse she sends out. The babe will be a boy, and she will have to give him up to the witchers, to be trained and transmuted into something other, something more and something less than the child she’ll birth.

And so Visenna grows cold.

When the midwife puts the squalling red girl with dark hair and wide dark eyes in Visenna’s arms, she sobs for days, sobs until she has no tears left and her eyes are raw and swollen. She won’t let the tiny thing out of her sight, barely lets others hold the babe, even in her utter exhaustion. Destiny may have promised her child to the witchers, but Destiny made the folly of giving her a daughter instead of the promised son.

iii. Greta

Greta will not wear her clothes.

At first, it’s almost a game. Visenna dresses her in a frock while the three-year-old protests then glares in turn when she’s overridden. She moves stiffly in the garment, pulling at the sleeves and tugging at the skirt, but she complies. But the minute she’s out of her mother’s sight, the dress comes off, and Visenna finds her naked, regardless of the weather. And the process repeats.

The struggle over clothing is only the beginning. Generally obedient, respectful, intelligent, Greta is nonetheless not an easy child, prone to inconsolable fits of panic and distress, prone to disappearing if not constantly monitored. It’s as though Visenna has birthed two different children. There’s the sullen, timid girl who hates wearing clothing, who barely speaks, who flinches at the sound of her own name, who stiffens in panic sometimes when she’s called, who cries at the slightest provocation, who goes missing only to be found after a frantic hour of searching lying on the floor in the narrow space between her bed and the wall, staring blankly, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. Then there’s the other child, the one who cuts dark curls short with the pruning shears from the shed, who runs fearlessly through the woods, slaying invisible monsters all around, yelling and laughing and breathless.

When a young couple with a son not much older than Greta moves into a nearby cottage, Visenna hopes that companionship will stabilize her daughter’s volatile, inexplicable moods. Instead, it leads to an immediate altercation: on the first day Greta and the boy Marek play together, the boy’s father shows up on Visenna’s doorstep, furious, with a wide, bleeding gash in his hand. He’d found them wearing each other’s clothes, he tells her. Greta had refused to surrender Marek’s clothes, and when he moved to force her out of them, she’d bitten his hand. “Like a rabid beast,” he spits out as Visenna runs past him to the small shack where Greta makes herself as small as possible, shaking all over.

Visenna shoves a few coins at the man with a glare. “Buy your son another outfit,” she snaps, and when she kneels down to Greta’s level the terrified child’s arms wrap immediately around her neck. She takes her child home in the roughspun tunic and trousers.

(Maybe she should punish the child for biting, but Visenna knows the ways men can be cruel, had seen the terror in her child’s huge brown eyes. Even if he meant no harm in trying to retrieve his son’s clothes, she can’t help being glad the child bit him rather than permit his touch.)

Visenna has never listened to Greta’s thoughts before, rarely listens to anyone’s on purpose, hates the uneasy sense of violation the act stirs up in her. But as she carries the silent, shaking child home, the thoughts ring so loudly she can’t keep them out.

Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl.

Then:

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

iv. The Child

The morning after the incident with the neighbor, Visenna lays two outfits side by side on the bed: the tunic and trousers nicked from the neighbor boy, or the dress most frequently tolerated, a plain shift of soft linen, comfortable and loose.

"Which would you rather wear today?" Visenna asks, making the beds as usual. She hears the sharp intake of breath, sees out of the corner of her eye the hesitation, and then the child grabs the boy's clothes and cradles them in trembling arms.

Visenna visits a tailor and trades in little frocks for breeches and shirts. She watches her child’s face light up when she presents them, watches the child run reverent fingers over each garment, little hands doing their best to neatly fold each piece.

She stops calling the child Greta; stops calling the child anything but child. The child doesn’t seem to mind this namelessness; on the contrary, the child thrives. The too-thin frame rounds out with healthy, nearly chubby development as the child begins to eat more than a few bites at each meal; weak, skinny arms and legs grow strong with constant running and playing in the woods near the house. Banished is the pale, terrified little girl; only the rambunctious, talkative, joyful child remains.

"When I'm a knight," the child tells her one day, coming in from the yard wearing a bucket as a helmet, "I'm going to ride a big horse."

"Oh, a big horse," Visenna echoes, ladling the soup into a wooden bowl and blowing gently to cool it. "What will you name the horse?"

The child considers this. "Does it have to have a name?"

"All creatures need a name."

The child doesn't speak for a long while. Then that piping, gentle voice rings out. "What if the horse hates its name? It won’t be able to tell me."

Visenna sets the bowl down on the table. She doesn't ask any of the questions pounding through her head as she looks at her nameless child, lost in thought. She doesn’t think about Destiny, how a witcher may well show up at her door at any moment looking for their payment, doesn’t think about taking the child there herself. "Helmet off," she says instead, running a hand through dark curls when the child obeys. "Come, eat your soup."

v. The Butcher

She first hears whispers of the Butcher of Blaviken when she’s traveling through Poviss, brought north by an outbreak of smallpox needing healers. She hears of the vile, deranged, white-haired witcher who slaughtered nearly an entire village unprovoked, even women and children. She thinks little of it. The child she left with the witchers over half a century ago had brown hair, and the years would not have turned it so quickly, not on a witcher.

If he’s even still alive.

She puts the thought away, carefully, as she has for decades.

She thinks of it a little more in Kovir. “You’re one of them!” shrieks a woman in the tavern, pointing at a bulky man sitting in the corner. “One of them witchers like that Butcher! I seen your wolf necklace!”

All eyes train onto this disfigured witcher who is not Visenna’s child. (Does her child bear scars like this? Do his shoulders stoop in such defeat?) He scrubs a square hand over his face, looking almost pained, before he shoves away from the table in silence and leaves.

School of the Wolf, then, just like the witcher she’d surrendered her child to with naught but a letter left at the inn where he was staying. Your Child Surprise will be at the crossroads by the river at midday. A few brief, stilted sentences explaining that the child was different from other boys but Destiny had chosen him nonetheless. A terse plea that the witcher treat the child with kindness, to protect him if he could. A postscript, written in a shakier hand than the rest of the letter. My son’s name is Geralt.

Vesemir. The child’s father had called him old, grey-haired even then. Is Vesemir this Butcher, the ruthless, barbarous old witcher who leaves a trail of fresh corpses in his wake? Had she entrusted the helpless child to a merciless brute all these years ago?

It’s not until the notice board outside of Tridam that she understands. It’s a fairly standard notice concerning some vague, nondescript monster that’s caused disappearances, pleading for help from any witcher, excepting the butcher Geralt. Show your face in Tridam and we’ll finish you off like they should have done in Blaviken.

Her child, the Butcher of Blaviken.

She doesn’t know what happened in Blaviken, can’t find a clear telling. Killed a woman, some say, killed an army, killed all but three people, killed everyone down to the dogs and cows and sheep in his rage. Tales grow in the telling, she knows, but she can’t dispute it. Perhaps he is evil incarnate, perhaps by sending him to the witchers she doomed the continent to bloodshed, perhaps he is the monster in these furious whispers.

But she can’t help remembering the tiny, terrified body, rocking in the corner of a shack, those wide eyes staring up at her in panic. “Like a rabid beast,” the man had said, but Visenna found only a petrified child shaking in the corner.

vi. The White Wolf

The young man swaggers towards Visenna. Between the bright turquoise doublet, the enormous feather swooping dramatically through the air on his jauntily tilted hat, and the self-assurance of his stride, he looks like a veritable peacock.

It’s her own fault. She knows she’d been staring, but the sound of that name on his lips…

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” His smile is bright and surprisingly genuine, reaching all the way up to his eager blue eyes. He’s younger up close than she’d imagined from across the tavern, barely more than a boy. “Though not half so lovely as you, I daresay. Might I interest you in a drink?”

She nods, silent. Watches him charm a passing barmaid who blushes and quickly returns with the desired ale. He slips into the chair across from Visenna, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his long fingers together beneath his chin, fixing her with a wide-eyed, adoring smile.

Before he can speak, she asks, “Your song. About the witcher.” She pauses, unsure what she means to ask. “Did you write it?”

Somehow the boy looks even more delighted. “Indeed I did! By the gods, it’s wonderful to chat with a fan. It’s one of my most recent compositions. How did you like it?”

“Hmm.” The boy’s song had been so jarringly different from any reference to the child she bore than she’s ever heard. In the bard’s honeyed voice, he sounded almost heroic. She hesitates. “Do you know him?”

“Only a little,” he admits, but there’s a slight flush on his childish face that he attempts to cover with bravado. “The song is the true telling of our grand adventure. I accompanied the White Wolf on his quest to defeat the Devil of Posada, the most terrifying monster to ever...well, terrorize the good people of the Valley of the Flowers.”

“And he’s...he’s not what people say?” Those huge brown eyes staring up at her, tiny body trembling. “Not a butcher?”

“Oh my good lady, not at all!” The bard’s expression of dismay is guileless, earnest. “He saved me, put himself between me and harm’s way when we were captured by the elves, offered his own life for mine.”

A life debt. Just as the child’s father had promised the Law of Surprise to the old witcher, the vow that had set the course of Geralt’s life before he was even born. And now this strange boy owes Geralt a life debt of his own.

“So that’s why,” she confirms cautiously. “Why you write songs for him. Make him the hero when men would be more than happy to remember him as a monster.”

The boy hesitates, his charismatic blustering slipping as he bites at his bottom lip. He reaches distractedly into his pocket, finding some trinket he rolls about in his palm to occupy his busy, nervous hand before he slowly answers. “Even if he hadn’t saved my life I would have written about him. Well, not if I hadn’t survived that particular encounter, of course. But if I’d gotten away myself, or if I hadn’t followed him into the wild in the first place, I would still have written about him.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I…I don’t think he’s known very much kindness.” The bard doesn’t look at her, quite, as he speaks, slower and softer than before. “You ought to see the way he responds to a simple compliment, you’d think his head might explode, he twitches and looks bewildered and grunts angrily. It’d be amusing if it weren’t so very sad.” He’s quiet for a moment, tracing the wood grain in the table with his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. “But he’s kind, even if the world isn’t. He gave his reward for the contract to the…well, to someone who needed it more. And before that, he…” He glances down at the dull gold coin between his fingers, rubbing absently at worn, beveled edges, his face flushing prettily. “He liked my singing.”

She watches the bard, lost in thought and fiddling with a lone coin, for a long while.

vii. Geralt

A slip of a thing running through the woods. Frightened. Alone.

A fight. Gruesome, brutal, fast.

The stench of decay.

“And me? What did I do? I bandaged a wounded man who’d fainted away and put him on my cart and didn’t leave him to expire. It’s an ordinary matter.”

“It’s not so ordinary. I’ve been left...in similar situations...like a dog.”

Blood. Not running, red and healthy and clean; slow. Thick. Dark. Foul.

Infection.

Youths dancing in lusty delight on a warm spring night. A woman with raven curls, naked and wistful in his arms, the warmth of a bonfire lighting her face a beautiful gold. Children screaming, playing in a dried moat. A queen, formidable and sneering, full of contempt.

Hideous wounds, threatening the leg. Amputation may be necessary, without immediate intervention.

Resin in the air.

Ashen hair matted over the clumped, drying cake of blood deforming half of a pale face.

Black potion with a green seal. And then darkness.

Visenna awakes with a start.

The druids’ campsite is still, the last embers of the fire the only light in the darkness of the forest. She pulls the woolen cloak around her thin shoulders, grabs her medical bag, and goes to find the witcher that was once her child.

She finds him a pale and bloody mess on the back of a cart, eyes open and unseeing. He’s racked with feverish chills as his body desperately attempts to fight the infection poisoning him.

She helps the merchant move Geralt carefully onto blankets on the ground. She tends to him, as she’s tended to thousands of others. She cleans his wounds, scraping destroyed, decaying flesh away from healthy tissue, pulling the gentle pulses of chaos from the earth to purify his blood, draining infection and necrosis and narcotic alike from him.

She’d cleaned blood and dirt and debris from scraped knees, once, the too-fast beating of a little, huge heart pounding so loudly she could feel it. The wounds of childhood.

His pulse is slow, the drumbeat of a dirge.

She’s warm all over, suddenly, then cold. Her vision swims before her eyes.

A little more. The pulsing wanes, wavers as she begins to join him in the dark void beyond consciousness.

No.

She breathes, her eyes closed, then returns to her work.

She feels him stirring before he makes a movement, senses him swimming to the surface, coming to. He’s quiet, still, blank. When his eyes open, he’s staring at the treetops above them. His face is impassive. Lifeless.

The way she would find him, sometimes, after he went missing as a child. Staring at nothing. Trying not to be.

She can hear it in his voice. He knows.

His leg will heal, now. She’s done all she can.

She moves on to the bedsores, massaging ointment carefully into the open wounds. His body is stiff and unyielding beneath her touch.

She gives him what she can. “It’s my profession,” she says. Her voice is steady, cool. It’s no excuse, no answer, but it’s what she has. “The only thing I’ve ever been good at.” This much at least is true. This much she can give him.

She’s always known she would meet him again. She never sought him out, never avoided him. “People linked by destiny will always find each other.” She hears it, as though it’s someone else’s voice.

“I want you to look at me.” It’s a snarl. Not a sound she’s heard from those lips before. “How do you like my eyes? Do you know, Visenna, what they do to a witcher to improve his eyes?”

She knows enough. She meets his gaze.

Those eyes, the greatest marker of his difference, his inhumanity. They’re golden, now, instead of brown. His pupils are wide, round, black, pained. They aren’t so different. So monstrous.

Just the eyes of a terrified child lashing out in desperation.

“Do you know it doesn’t always work?” he demands.

“Stop it, Geralt.”

And something breaks.

“You don’t get to use that name!” There’s a frantic rage dripping off every syllable, hatred and agony, like a festering wound ripped open and left to bleed. He glares at her with a wild fury. “Vesemir gave me that name.”

And he’s a child, he’s three years old and screaming like he’s being tortured when she calls his given name. He’s five and distraught over the thought of a horse who hates its name and can’t tell anyone. He’s four and he’s a trembling mess with blood beneath his fingernails, shaking and unable to stop ripping at his own flesh.

“You trusted Destiny rather than trying to find me yourself,” he begs.

A child with nothing in the world running through the forest and into the arms of a witcher.

There’s a tear running down her face. It’s the only thing she can feel. “Don’t ask me any more questions,” Visenna says softly.

“Why?”

She’d known since before he was born that she wasn’t to keep him. That Destiny had other plans.

When she thought she had a daughter, there was hope.

“The answers will only hurt us both.” Carefully, Visenna presses him back into the makeshift sickbed.

“Yen was right.” His voice is low, barely audible, a broken murmur. “It’s not enough to be destined for each other.”

A child runs through the woods and finds a witcher waiting.

Brown curls become ashen locks. Eyes swirling brown and gold and green.

“Something more is needed.” He’s not speaking to her anymore. He’s staring up, at the treetops and through them to the stars above, his eyes losing and regaining focus. “I...I want…”

“No.” Her voice is soft, and she sees him relax into the smooth cadence in spite of himself. “Go to sleep, Geralt.” She hesitates as his eyes grow heavy, begin to drift shut, and she can’t help leaning toward him to gently whisper, “And just between us, Vesemir didn’t give you that name.” She lets herself reach out, carefully brushing white hair off his sweating brow. “It doesn’t change anything, but I’d like you to know that.”

“Visenna…”

“Sleep. I was just a dream.” She hesitates, watching silently as he fights the exhaustion, like a child fighting to stay awake past his bedtime, begging for one more story. “Sleep, Sir Geralt.”

He does.

viii. Sir Geralt

She does not see him again.

She travels to Sodden and heals the injured, soldier and mage alike.

She hears tales, as she has for years.

Geralt’s kidnapped a young Cintran princess for unspeakable, nefarious purposes.

Geralt died on Thanedd, caught up by chance in the mages’ bloody revolt.

Geralt led the forces of Lyria and Rivia against Nilfgaard, earning himself a knighthood and a position in Queen Meve’s army.

(She doesn’t believe any of them, doesn’t let herself care either way, but she hopes the latter is true. Hopes he lives out the rest of his days a brave knight, as he always dreamed of becoming.)

Visenna works. Cleans and stitches and bandages wounds, wanders from battleground to battleground. There’s no shortage of work for a healer.

So many tales of Geralt the witcher, Geralt the traitor, Geralt the butcher, the knight, the outlaw, the hero, the father. Of his victories and defeats, his loves and enemies, his transcendence, his demise.

Visenna listens to them all. Collects the stories, the lies, the praises, the calumnies. She draws them carefully within her. Carries them with her as she continues on the path.

For all the rumors and speculation and ballads, of all things, for all the different Geralts, there’s one that’s hers and hers alone. A skinny, adventurous child with brown curls and a bucket-helmet falling into his eyes who swings a gnarled oak stick as a sword. He’s ever vigilant, ever ready to defend the weak against the unrelenting onslaught of monsters only he can see.

#the witcher fic #the witcher #geralt of rivia #visenna #trans geralt #my fic #still don't really know how i feel about this but here it is #witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[shihalyfie]

How would you describe the relationship between each respective goggleboy and 'rival'? Ive seen different interpretations but im curious what you think! Not to mention that the fans are sometimes arguing over who the 'rival' actually is, like with Daisuke where some people say its Ken and others say its Takeru. (I dont think there are actual rivals in the show, except for maybe Manga!Kiriha who outright says he will be just that with Taiki.)

One thing to keep in mind is that the word "rival" has kind of integrated itself into anime lingo as a full-on English loanword, so it comes from expectations of anime tropes more than anything. While even official staff has used that word in talking about Digimon, as you say, it never really fit to begin with, because not only has Digimon TV anime never been a particularly conventional shounen series in many ways, that term was also mostly coined in light of series where that term made a lot more sense. As in, they were more likely to be actually competing over something (in sports, or something tournament-based like card games); in that sense, a "rival" would be someone who might be antagonistic by being on the other side of the field, but would have a mutually positive relationship with the other person overall because the competitiveness would keep both of them on their toes and allow both of them to improve together. Digimon is not the first time this term has started getting overapplied to contexts where it doesn't really fit at all (it's been going on in Super Sentai for years), so people generally have a greater perception of it broadly meaning "two characters who have differing opinions on how something should be done due to their differing personalities, and sometimes fight over it", but in Digimon especially, it really does seem like trying to smash a square peg into a round hole.

The short answer: Xros Wars is probably the only one you can make a real argument for.

The long answer, in detail:

Adventure: I cannot emphasize enough that Adventure, being a series that was really big on that whole trope subversion thing, is a series that casts the trope of "rivalry" as "getting in a lot of fights" as a bad thing -- it's actually pretty unsubtle about it, because the word "rival" itself is explicitly used in Adventure episode 44, by Jureimon trying to manipulate Yamato. Or, in other words, "hey, if you saw someone who's supposed to be your supportive friend as someone you had to constantly compete against for no good reason, wouldn't that be really messed up?" Adventure does not even bother with or remotely believe in the idea that fighting somehow is a sign of how good friends you are, at least, not as long as that fighting is a sign of genuine hostility and refusal to communicate (which is why Yamato punching Taichi in 02 doesn't count). Every time Taichi and Yamato got in a fight back in Adventure, it was heated and ugly, and everyone in their presence was horrified, and once they sorted out their issues in Adventure, their appearances in 02 and Kizuna involved properly talking things out and making an active attempt to understand each other's feelings. There's a bit of bickering between them due to said opposing personalities, but it's never over anything serious (see the contrast in Kizuna between them having a bit of a minor row at the beginning, but high-fiving right after and spending the rest of the movie practically counseling each other).

02: Straight-up does not exist. Daisuke may have seen Takeru in that way due to the Hikari issue at first, but he was really running in circles getting absolutely nowhere about it, Takeru was mostly like "okay, you have fun with that," their only major argument about anything was the very serious issue in 02 episode 11, and it still resulted in Daisuke trying to understand Takeru's feelings. I think all of it boils down to Daisuke himself just not having that kind of personality to begin with, because he's friendly and supportive before anything else, and the whole thing with Takeru became a non-issue after a fashion (way before we even get into Kizuna, at that). Ken has the word "rival" sometimes applied to him in official franchise media, but nobody ever believes it. Sure, Daisuke and Ken have fairly complementary personalities, but they seem to both be aware of this fact and actively using it to help each other. It's very, very, very hard to imagine them ever getting into any kind of fight the way Taichi and Yamato used to in Adventure. It's just not happening! They're "best friends" who enjoy each other's company and actively hang out, and...yeah, that's it.

Tamers: Also does not exist! I know a lot of people really try to say it's Ruki because she's the one with the lone-wolf attitude and aggravated Takato at first, but my impression of Takato's attitude with her wasn't out of any competition but more that he'd like it if she didn't try to pick fights with him. Which she does actually stop after a while, mind you, and you could even make an argument that she's more of a foil to Jian than Takato, because Jian's the one who was completely pacifist at first, with Takato caught in the middle. In the end, Ruki never actually attains a particularly close relationship with Takato compared to Jian, nor does she really keep up a particular competitive streak with Takato; she kind of pops in and out at her leisure because of her more independent streak, and Jian ends up more of Takato's right-hand man (which is why the franchise presumably picks him as the secondary character to feature whenever they do "secondary characters"), but neither Takato nor Jian are prone to conflict and the entire trope is just fundamentally absent. The Tamers trio, is, ultimately, a trio.

Frontier: Takuya and Kouji are probably the first pair to really look like a proper execution of the trope, and at the very least they align pretty perfectly to how it's known in Sentai: a more hot-headed, aggressive lead with a more cool-headed and cynical right-hand man, where they end up often prone to conflict over dispute on how to best lead the team. However, while it's much more of a conventional execution than Adventure (since Adventure had Yamato actually be more prone to being an emotional fuse bomb whereas Taichi was often too chill more than anything), there being any conflict isn’t gone into that deeply beyond just "their personalities are complementary", and in that sense it's not far off from Adventure itself.

Savers: The series kind of baits you into thinking it might go this way when Nanami taunts Tohma about how he had to resort to a Masaru-esque tactic to beat her (it's one of its early red herrings about Tohma supposedly betraying the group), and it does have traces at the start because of how blatant of a foil Tohma is to Masaru, but one thing important to consider is that while the "rivalry" of what's being competed over is barely even relevant in most Digimon series to begin with, Masaru and Tohma don't even have a "group" to lead -- they're the employees under DATS who are being given orders from above, and are dealing with situations as they come. Masaru ends up leading the charge a bit, but he's not actually a leader in any shape or form, and Savers is more of a story of Masaru's coming-of-age than anything else, so while the series mostly has to do with his personal philosophy more than Tohma's, it ultimately lets the two of them pursue their lives their own ways. Masaru's worst bout of infamous anger is at being hurt over Tohma's apparent betrayal, not against him personally.

Xros Wars: I would say this is the only series to date where the term "rivals" properly applies, and it's because they're fighting over something concrete: the Code Crowns, and eventually Digital World territory. So in this case, for the first two parts, the answer is obviously Kiriha; Nene was a rival at first, but after various events happened she allied with Xros Heart early into Death Generals, and while Taiki and Kiriha had a relationship of mutual respect, Kiriha still considered him an opponent over what they were competing for until eventually the Xros Heart United Army fully came into formation. In the manga version, Kiriha does invoke the word "rival" in the above sense of competing to polish one's skills, but ironically, its version of the Death Generals arc involves them being much more in-tune with the same goals, so it might actually apply less because Taiki kind of responds with "uh, sure...?" since he's not nearly as interested in self-improvement. In Hunters, while it initially seems like it might be Yuu, the answer is really Ryouma, and note that Ryouma never really forms a particularly close relationship with Tagiru; it's just that he's the person most at the forefront for competing with Tagiru in the Hunt, to the point he's the first person chosen to wield the Brave Snatcher and turns out to be a bit of a foil for Tagiru in terms of actually having admired Taiki this whole time.

Appmon: Also does not exist. Rei tried to do the whole schtick in terms of competing for the Seven Code Appmon at first, but Haru was having none of that and immediately reached out to him emotionally, worrying about his welfare, and although Rei had a bit of a detached relationship with the other Appli Drivers thereafter, it really was friendly more than anything, just a bit awkward. Haru and Yuujin aren't even on the table, since their relationship is "best friends" akin to Daisuke and Ken.

Adventure: reboot: Also does not exist, considering that Taichi and Yamato bickering over the best way to approach things is limited to the very beginning of the series (and one of those times was with Yamato and Sora, not Yamato and Taichi, at that). In fact, I think most of these kids have been acting separately for most of the series anyway...?

#digimon #shiha's ask box #timelessanimo #digimon multi series talk

[jay-and-dean]

Hey J! I would love to hear your opinion on something. You write Dean so well that I feel pretty confident to ask you. (I mean you must know something about his way of thinking,his way of behave..I can proudly say that you have a master in Dean's psychology ok?🤣) I wanted to ask you,apart from the Destiel situation(this is another conversation) in your opinion,why the authors never gave him a real love story? They tried with Lisa..it just didn't work, they had 0 chemistry in my opinion. Cassie otherwise, was really interesting and I would even liked Jo, but the writers just decided against it. Probably they never gave the brothers a true relationship because it wasn't the main focus of the show and the fandom maybe wouldn't have liked it. Anyway I was just thinking that in 15years we have never actually seen Dean's romantic side and given the complexity of his character, it still feels like a whole part of him is missing,a piece of him that we never really got to see. What do you think about it? How would you have handled his love life? Do you think that is better that he never had a real one?

Hey Anon !

First of all, thank you so much for trusting me and for your kind words.

It's actually fun that you say I have a Master in Dean's psychology (I'm actually a professional Irl).

Now regarding Dean, all I can do is give you my personal opinion. But since you asked for it, here it is (sorry it will be a little long) :

I. Supernatural

First of all, I will talk about the general theme of the TV show. Most say, including the writers themselves, that Supernatural is about family. This alone, I guess, could explain the focus on the family relationships than love, in the romantic sense of the word.

II. Quests

But, this is not all. For me, Supernatural is an initiation story. And in that way, the focus is put on the theme of redemption.

II. 1 Sam

The redemption of Sam, who is the "gifted", like a lot of other characters in literature, the one who is too gifted to fit in, the one for whom it is a curse (Being good at school, highly sensitive, that prevents him for fitting in his own family codes, then the gift of boyking Sam, the "mark" of Demon blood and the "link" to the big Bad, very like a Harry Potter figure). His own quest will be to overcome the idea that he is unclean and finally use his gifts to define who he is and not just to fit in (In that he is really close to the journey of high IQ kids in real life). Sam's quest is personal, and as long as he can't "fit" with himself, how could he with a partner ?

II. 2 Dean

Dean... Dean has the exact opposite quest. Dean is the kid that forgot himself to fit in (in psychology, we call them the sacrificed child). He is the one who wasn't given an individuality, and therefore, no true free will. Supernatural really explores this theme until the ultimate quest, against God himself. You can note that the only relationship showed in the Supernatural was, once again a "prescript" which he can't invest exactly because it is. Dean's quest is individuality and freedom. In that way, it seems pretty logical that can't link himself to yet somebody else, as long as he didn't "kill" the father figure that is keeping him a slave of their will.

III. Sacrifice

Now, something else, in my opinion is standing between Dean and a serious love interest : Dean Winchester is a sacrificial figure. He seems himself like an appendix to his brother's story, he is expendable. So in his mind, I think, he doesn't even occurs to be the architect of his own fulfillment.

IV. His girls

I agree that Lisa and Dean had not an extraordinary chemistry, and, for me, it serves the story just perfectly. Lisa is barely a person, she is an idea, an ideal. Lisa represents "apple pie" life itself. She represent what the show sells us as a goal, a perfection when it is obviously like trying to make a fish live in a tree. Dean needed this prerequisite to continue his initiation. Dean leaving her is him closing the door on a fantasy that was holding him back since childhood, because he is the one who lost it.

Jo happens in the beginning of the show and, for me again, she couldn't work. She lives in the steps of her own mother and is not the "free" alterity Dean needs to grow.

Now okay but which girl could help Dean in his quest ?

In my opinion, someone who is "free" from his own prison. Someone stranger to the issues Dean struggles with, that open his view and gives him individuality (Cassie was a good try, but way too early in his journey).

V. This side of Dean

I agree. Dean is complex, and I could talk about him for hours (if you read until this point, you know... and bravo) and getting to see this side of him would have been great. Just because we love him so much that we want to experience everything of him.

I explore this in my fics with the greatest pleasure, and I could write about Dean falling in love all my life.

Dean's personality includes radical contrasts : The highest sense of responsibility, alternated with moments when he shelters himself in childhood for example. So I'm pretty sure that for a true love to occur, the woman (or man, gender really doesn't matter) would have to be able to reach those both sides of him. I see them sitting with cross legs eating candies in front of Scooby Doo.

Cockiness and insecurity is another contrast. Leadership and habit of submission to authority (I'm talking of the sexual way this time). Sensible vs rational. Adventurous but home-loving warrior that loves comfort...

Dean romantic side would be so complex. And after a very long answer no one asked for, I'm going to have to answer the most annoying thing : If you want to know how I picture Dean in a romantic relationship, mix my fics. That is literally what I dedicated my blog to exploring.

The individuation from his father's plan in Love me once, shame on me.

His quest of the stranger in Captive.

His struggle with apple pie life in Knocked-up.

His fight for free will in Greater Good.

The deconstruction of his culture in Rescue you...

God that sounds vain, I swear I am not, just passionate.

I have to conclued by saying I have no problem with Destiel but this is indeed, another subject. And that all of this is just my opinion.

Thank you so so sooo much for this ask and please forgive the 1k words answer and the OCD presentation.

Keep being so awesome.

Love love,

Jay

#jay answers #dean winchester #dean's romantic life #only my opinion

[staylavendertea]

young avengers characters and relationships as songs

billy kaplan : season of the witch by donovan and mr. sandman cover by joe p, it’s fun, there’s that groove, it’s witches and it’s dreams; a total billy kaplan jamming out in his room in his boyfriends too big shirt 10 at night moment with that magical and just like ,, witchy billy vibe i can’t explain through words that i love dearly, it also just gives me a connection between him and wanda i really love, the family witches between soul mother and soul son and that bass in mr sandman for some reason screams billy

teddy altman : space girl by frances forever need i say more, that song screams smiling golden tall boy theodore in overalls and sweaters, prince charming of space deserves the song space girl, the song is soft like teddy is, all hugs and kisses, that is until “stupid boyfriend putting himself into stupid danger all the stupid time” and “why do i try he never listens” “i heard that” “sure now he listens” then it becomes all hugs, kisses, bickering with the boyfriend, and threats of mauling people, but that’s for childrens crusade and family matters arc to tell

tommy shepherd : rebels by call me karizma but also steady, as she goes by the raconteurs mostly just for that guitar and music, i heavily head canon billy as the pianist and tommy as the guitar and bass player all the way and steady, as she goes screams tommy’s kind of music, the song rebels because that boy is the biggest rebel around and i wouldn’t be surprised if he was an arsonist

eli bradley : i just wanna shine by fitz and the tantrums i honestly had a bit of a hard time finding a song that really perfectly fit eli, but i think this one really hits the spot - eli is totally the boy that’s just trying his best and live up to his and everyone else’s expectations, i think he’s actually a softie and repressed nerd that believes heavily in doing what is right and i think that this song encompasses that, i really miss eli bradley thank you for coming to my tedtalk

cassie lang : blackbird by the beatles (cover by dodie) cassie gives me total adorable and soft but such a cool person dodie vibes, but i think the song blackbird fits cassie on so many levels, especially the lyrics as growing up after losing her dad, getting and learning to control her powers, and growing as a super hero she knows her dad would be so proud of, i love every single one of the young avengers but mygod cassie

nate richards : run boy run by woodkid and something better by hidinin i feel for nate, that poor kid literally is running away and trying to kill his future because he knows it’s a bad road and honestly he’s so brave for that and it’s all thanks to nate that we got all the young avengers in the first place so credit will be payed where credit is due, nate is really just a clumsy teenager thats a total nutcase and a bit clueless without that common sense sometimes that will think a pack sour troll gummies and a bottle of gateorade is a well rounded training diet but he’s also a descendent of sue and reed richards and what’s there to expect from child geniuses

kate bishop : love club by lorde and ribs by lorde i kinda just stumbled upon these honestly forgotten songs in my playlist and was pleasantly surprised how perfectly kate bishop these songs are, the lyrics most likely mean something else but i see the love club as the young avengers and “go get punched for the love club” just sounds like a kate bishop thing to say, these songs give me vibes of kate bishop in a rolled sleeves black and purple flannel and black jean shorts with scuffs and bandaids on her elbows and knees, probably also a developing black eye and bloody nose but lookin badass per usual

david alleyne : karma by ajr i picked this one for david because the second i heard it david was immediately the person i thought of when listening to it, i haven’t read many comics with david in them, i’m searching tho, but i am reading the current x factor and david just goes through a lot poor dude just wants to learn and help with what he can and i love him every moment for it

america chavez : a good song never dies by saint motel and dead girl in the pool by girl in red i honestly don’t know much about america besides some basic background stuff and some her character and personality since i haven’t been able to get my hands on some ya v2 issues besides what i’ve seen online but what i have seen of her i already love her and know she is so badass and a bit chaotic but in the best way possible from the little i do know about america’s character i think these songs just fits both the vibes of how she presents and holds herself but also her personality, america is a good song that just never dies are vibes i will happily live with

loki : run the world!!! by dayglow i haven’t really read much of loki in the comics, the versions of them i know the best being the actual norse myth god and movie loki and i know how the movies can be with their comic book characters, but from what ive heard about kid and teenager loki is that they’re a little punk and this song seems to just fit that perfectly

jonas : growing pains by coin i honestly didn’t know that there was more to jonas besides ya v1 and childrens crusade but now i’m intrigued, but this song just speaks jonas to me who i was also calling judas for like ten minutes without realizing i had a totally wrong name, but from what i read and his whole thing with cass, i think growing pains very much fits a mr. jonas

now for the relationships/ships - this post is so long i am so sorry for all the reading but i’m having fun -

david and tommy : affection by between friends im not even sure completely why but the music just screams david and tommy’s vibes, especially how tommy is usually head canonized in relationships, *chiefs kiss* of a song

nate and cassie and jonas : in the middle by dodie this song is literally the three of them, like perfectly, the lyrics fit to a t and it’s literal perfection for them

billy and teddy : pleaser by wallows for how much i love them i surprisingly had a hard time finding a song for them, i know at one time i heard and had a song that was perfect but i can’t remember it all, but i think pleaser fits just as nice, it fits their personalities and the music itself is the vibe they give off to me : imma make an edit from this post previously cause i’ve been thinking about and i would like to add the song leaves by joe p cause it just fits too well, especially when looking at billyteddy fan art whilst listening to it, it’s too good : HI THIS ANOTHER EDIT IMSORRY but it literally took weeks to remember but now i remember what the original song for them i had picked - electric love by borns - it also gives me billy lightning powers vibes and i do adore some billy lightning powers, i think it would be so cool to see them mixed in with his reality warping ones

eli and nate : talk too much by coin honestly it’s them, it’s a vibe they both argue and to each other, talk way too much, i’m calling it they kissed like at least once just to see how that would go - probably arguing who was the better boyfriend when they were both single

eli and kate : falling for u by peachy! and mxmtoon this song is very eli and kate for me, especially the beginning of their relationship not relationship, was that ever really established what was happening there ?? but this song fits perfectly amongst the bickering and racking numbers of how many times they’ve saved each other’s asses

kate and america : given it all by hayley kiyoko and midnight love by girl in red i love this ship and i have no idea if there was ever a thing happening between them or if it was pure fandom but it’s amazing and i love it, hayley kiyoko and girl in red is an of course and i think these songs speak them

- now just the young avengers as a group -

leaves by joe p a song that is totally just a hang out and drive all around all night as teenagers without a care in the world song and can totally see the gang jamming out to it

hey barbara by IV of spades this song literally speaks “hey did you watch that one beach episode” sunny and everyone vibing and hanging out, i can totally imagine tommy trying to get david to dance this and the attempts made is hilarious

teenagers and na na na by my chemical romance now last but certainly not least mcr because of course mcr, these kids can definitely be punks when they wanna be, especially when they’re mutant/alien/super hero teenagers that will literally do what they see fit, all in good manners of course

whhoooopp this was a lot longer than what i was initially expecting to make but after a few hours of song surfing and trying to make tumblr typing fonts work with me we’re finally here, this was just something fun for me since i associate music with everyone, but if you’ve read this far and wanna mention a song you think fits, totally put it out there, share the music !!

#young avengers #billy kaplan #tommy shepherd #teddy altman #billy kaplan altman #teddy kaplan altman #i keep forgetting that’s a thing and it just makes me joyous every time #kate bishop #cassie lang #eli bradley #nate richards #david alleyne #america chavez #vision jonas #?? #jonas #kid loki #ya #song suggestions #technically #i think #wickling #think fast #natecassiejonas #amerikate #elikate #nateli

[ray-jaykub]

Helloo, wondering if you got any smutty requests, if not could you do a Raphael x read/oc/ whoever. Its been a few dates and they haven't run away, they invite him upstairs and things just continue on from there Maybe?

I'm so sorry this took so long, ive just been tired and im usually better at this and im sorry its so rushed :(

Warning: 18+ smut 

Recently Raphael had just got in a relationship, that despite his doubt had been going quite well. She was a friend of April's and when they were found out she seemed unafraid. Y/n was brave, and when put to the challenge of dealing with him and his three brothers, she dance around the problems with grace.

When michelangelo broke that pretty teapot she didn't shout at him or fuss. She smiled and told the boy she'd get a new one. Y/n would listen to Donatello ramble on and on no matter the subject, she'd make him feel understood. Leonardo would get controlling and she'd be patient and calm with him, wanting to listen. But with Raphael... you treated him like a whole other subject. The way you would hold his shoulder in comfort and it would linger. How you looked at him from across a room or spoke to him on a deeper level of connection. Anytime he was near or with you it was like a whole part of him had returned and fit perfectly in his side. The being together was easy. The talking and holding and just being was easy. The hard part was when you weren't together. Raphael never doubted your love, not in a million years, but the people out there that could whisk you away. The people who could give you a normal life and normal sex. Oh that was a fantasy. He'd lay at night just dreaming of you and your soft skin. Trying to mimick that sweet voice of yours in his mind and just wishing to feel you. Raphael could recount every single time you told him he couldn't come in your room. Every single time you told him you weren't ready. It hurt the first few times but with a better knowledge he understood. Now he sat here on your couch back in the present. Raphael had been in deep thought till your soft voice drew him out. "You ok?" He turned to look at you, the living room lamp making it cozy. You laid strewn out in pajamas with your hair still damp from the shower and feet propped on his thigh. A worried look adorned your features. "Yeah, just thinking," he was quite for a second wondering if what he wanted to say would be worth it. Raph felt a smooth hand on his shoulder and saw that you sat up to be closer. "Do you ever think about being with someone else?" Now you really looked confused. Going to hold his arm with both of your own and leave a warm kiss on his cheek. "No, because I'm with you. You make me happy." You sweetly smiled and your face held no lie for him to find but it didn't feel enough. Raphael stood and looked down at you. "How can you be happy with me? I can't take you anywhere, I can't give you nice things like dinner and dates," he turned to the window staring down at the streets. "I can't love you like any normal human..." he heard you shift on the couch behind him. "What do you mean love me normal?" You whispered. Like someone else was walking around in the house and you didn't want them eavesdropping. When he looked back he saw you were halfway off the couch, your eyebrows furrowed. "I mean... that I'm not exactly what every girl looks for in their magazines." Raphael had to lower his voice to control the distressed churr in his throat. You came to stand beside him and grabbed his hand. He took a deep breath as you both stared at the cars stuck in traffic, the lights shining against the many windows of Manhattan. You pulled at his hand to look at you. He saw something flickering in your eye, a determination he hadn't seen since you'd stare after eachother. It was a look of promise. "Let's go to my room." He had barely heard it but you pulling him had confirmed. Raphael was silent as you opened your door and sat him on your bed. All around him smelled like you, like the you he inhales everytime he holds you. Quietly the door was shut and you stood in between his legs, arms wrapped around his neck. Everything was at a standstill, the only sound being your light breathing. "Raphael, I love you," you went to kiss his left eyelid, "and I don't care about dinners..." the right eyelid, "or dates..." his lip scar. "I just care about being with you and holding you." You finally kissed him, warm and gentle. Ten times sweeter then any kiss you had given him before. Instead of pulling back though, you went to deepen this kiss, biting on his lip. Your hands wandered over his shoulders and arms. His were on your waist and one in your wet hair, holding you against him. Raphael quickly opened his mouth to say something but you twisted your tounge with his and all he could do was groan. He realized that things were heading in a more erotic direction. How your breasts pressed against his plastron and how you tugged on his mask. You were drinking eachother in. Addicted to this wonderful taste. He couldn't take it anymore, gripping your hips and rolling you under him. His big hands went under your shirt and tugged down the cups of your bra. You had worked your hands down to his belt buckle, clumsy with your efforts. Raphael stood to take his shoes, armor and belt off. As soon as your pajama bottoms came off he nearly lost it. The jet black panties that clung to your ass in such a delicious way. You crawled till your back hit the headboard and gave him a look of need. Raph quickly followed, giving you another heated kiss as his hands palmed your ass. He couldn't believe he was finally able to lay with you, to feel the skin he's dreamed about for so long underneath him. To hear those high pitched whimpers in his ear and to feel you grind up on his hard on. Raph went to kiss down her neck while his hands groped your scalp and breast. "Fuck baby, I can't wait anymore." He stood on his knees and churred at the sight. Your hair was a curled mess and your shirt was crumpled. Raph could smell your arousal and that only turned him on more. He yanked your panties down and rubbed the inside of your thighs to coax you open. All the while you were panting and begging for him. This was all he ever wanted. A beautiful woman who wanted him and now he has it. He rubbed his thumb through your folds and started to circle your swollen clit. Biting his lip, he took his forefinger and circled your entrance, slowly stretching you out with his massive hand. You were bucking into his hand now, begging for him to let you cum. Raphael pulled his briefs down and grabbed his cock, pumping himself as he pleased you. He felt your silk walls tighten around his finger and your thighs shaked. Before you could reach your climax though he pulled away from you. The bed creaked under his weight as he bent down to give you another open mouthed kiss, the bulbous head of his dick fitting snuggly into your cunt. You moaned into his mouth and finally he hilted inside your soaking core. Raphael kissed your shoulders and collar bone, trying to calm himself down. It took you tugging at the tails of his mask to get him moving. The first thrust had both of you grasping for eachother. "Shit! R-raph god!" You clinched your eyes shut and you wrapped your legs around his feet. His thrusts were sharp and short, Raph's hips smacking against your ass. The heat pooled in his stomach fast and his thrust became staggered. Raphael knew he was about to finish, your were close too. Your eyes were unfocused and your head lolled back. He quickened his pace and felt your juices gush down his lap. You gripped the sheets and your mouth opened in a silent scream. You practically milked him as he came. He gripped your hips and kept you against him, grunting as he spilled into you. Raphael pulled out and went to lay beside you as you caught your breath. Turning to your side you tiredly smiled. "I love you." He smiled back, grabbing your hand in his.

#Tmnt x reader #Teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #Raphael x reader #Raph x reader #Smut #One-shot #this sucks :"( #Raphael #Raph

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//the second spring.  miya atsumu//

Warnings: there’s two little sex jokes

Word Count: 1.4K

Notes: atsumu is so cute b y e 

PART I. II. III. IV.

The poor boy was completely and utterly miserable.  He had been couch ridden for days, shuffling around his tiny apartment in sweatpants, a redness reminiscent of Rudolph from the amount of times he had blown his nose in a tissue.  His voice was nasally and his words were interrupted by chains of sneezes as he battled through the one thing that made early spring unbearable: flu season.

You had seen the setter taken down a peg or two during your time together over the past year.  You had watched the defeat sink into his eyes everytime he lost an argument with his brother or with Sakusa.  You knew that sulking posture that accompanied him whenever a serve didn’t go how he planned.  But, never had you seen him like this.  

His 4 a.m. text message simply asking you to come over was met with teasing remarks, telling him that if he wanted to get off so bad, he just had to say so.  Yet, when you arrived, rather than being greeted with hungry kisses, your boyfriend opened the door looking like the human incarnation of death itself.  A woeful expression that had his mouth tugging down into a deeply set frown and tissue bunched up in his hand that he used to wipe the snot running from his nose every few seconds pulled together his entire ensemble.  

Atsumu really did try to hug you upon your arrival, but a string of coughs washed over him, leaving him to just whine in misery as he laid his head against your shoulder, taking comfort in the way that your hands rubbed soothing circles against his back.  “I don’t feel good,” he mumbled, lacing his arms around your waist.

You laugh lightly, letting one of your hands reach up into his hair.  “I can tell, ‘mu.  Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Can’t sleep.”

You hum, gently pulling his away from you so you can lay your hand against his forehead, feeling the heat radiate from his skin.  “Come on, why don’t we go lay down?  You’re pretty hot.”

He scoffs, letting you pull him back down the hallway towards his bedroom.  “If you wanted to get off that bad, all you had to do was ask,” he teases, using your previous words against you.  Even overcome with a fever, he still had the energy to put on that gentle smirk that carried that tiny glint of mischief up into his eyes, but whatever suave sense of seduction he thought he was oozing was completely ruined as a second round of coughs took hold of him. 

Atsumu let you help him slowly shuffle the rest of the way to his bed, gingerly laying down on top of the sheets.   You pull one of his blankets up around his body, leaning over him to brush your thumb across his cheek, a gentle kiss being placed on his forehead.  “Do you need anything or do you just want to try and get some sleep?”

He just looked up at you tired brown eyes, reaching out towards your body to pull you into his arms.  “Will you just stay here?” He muttered, pushing a piece of hair from your face.

“Of course, ‘mu.  I can stay as long as you need me to, but you need to try to sleep.  You’re going to feel better if you rest.”

“What if you never left,” he continued, his arms tightening their hold around you, scared that his questions might scare you away, because, in truth, a 4 a.m. text message that begged you to come over and help him feel less miserable was not the start to this conversation that he had ever anticipated. But, you’re light teasing that had only been followed with a, “i’ll see you in 10 mu” had made his chest swell and all of the tension seemed to leave his body at the affirmation that you were coming, that you were going to be there for him all because he asked you to be.  He wasn’t sure why it had taken him by such surprise or why it had made him so happy to know that you were going to be right by his side in only a matter of short minutes, but there was no denying the tiny smile that pulled at his mouth.  

You had been there through everything with him over the last year, from the first spring to the second, you had been right by his side, his number one fan in the stands, his biggest supporter on and off the court.  The one person who could bring a smile to his face over the silliest things and the one who could have him clutching his sides in laughter during late night conversations where the only light illuminating you was the television playing reruns of some sitcom that you both had seen too many times.  Miya Atsumu was completely and hopelessly in love with you.  He might’ve been sick and he might not have been thinking perfectly clearly, but there was one thing that he knew and one thing that he was never going to forget.  “I love you and I don’t want you to leave ever again,” Atsumu stated simply, staring into your face, barely visible in the darkness of the night.  

“Baby, I already told you that I would stay as long as you needed me to, okay?  I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He took a deep breath, pausing only to release a few heavy coughs into his arm.  “What if you lived here?  With me?”

You smiled down at him, pushing his hair away from his forehead that had started to bead with little droplets of sweat as his fever continued to set in.  “Atsumu, I think your fever is getting to you.  You’re not thinking straight right now.”

His brows furrowed together and a cute pout settled onto his lips.  “You don’t want to live with me?”

“No, that’s not it, ‘mu.  I do want to live with you but-”

“Then do it.  Come live with me.”  His voice was hoarse, worn and sore from all of his never-ending coughing fits.  “And when you get sick, you won’t have to text me to come over, because I’ll already be here.”

You hum a little, cupping his face in your hands.  “Atsumu, I just don’t want you to ask something that you’re going to regret, but if you really want me to move in then I-”

“I really want you to move in.  Please, Y/N.  I’ve never been more sure of anything.  The fact that you’re here right now, in the middle of the night, is the only reassurance I could need.”

And it was true too.  Atsumu had been in relationships before, but none of them had this same level of careful and attentive energy being passed between two people.  It was you coming over in the middle of the night to check on him.  It was him leaving volleyball practice early because you called him panicking because there was a massive spider crawling around your kitchen.  It was you knowing that he always does his laundry on Thursdays and bringing him some post-laundry snacks.  It was him remembering your drink of choice at the coffee shop downtown.  Everything that you did for him and everything that  he did for you made it so painfully obvious that this was something that he wanted to pursue further.  He wanted to take one step further into the madness that came with being in love.  

Springs come with first kisses and they come with warm embraces as a young couple finally takes the plunge into a new chapter of their relationship.  It’s accompanied by coughing and runny noses, bodies aching and chills being too much to ignore.  There are soft kisses shared in the darkness of bedrooms, moonlight barely casting glows on a pair of flames that flickered beautifully on their own, but are now burning more intensely as they merge together, lips pressed into one other, not even bothering to worry about the germs and the now unavoidable flu.  All because of one simple answer that was whispered so beautifully and tantalizingly in his ear. 

“Yes.”

{Taglist: @nicka-nell​ @moncymonce​ @cherryonigiri​ (since you like my atsumu pieces ;-;}

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu #miya #atsumu x reader #miya x reader #miya atsumu #haikyuu imagines #atsumu imagines #x reader #imagines #msby #msby black jackals #fake fics by shitty #but i make them a reality #god i can't wait for the new season just so i can see atsumu again