#i relish the idea of not being to fight while clearly needing to

[katiefratie]

Thinking about Leo being Immenient...... seeing him again is gonna mess me up so bad literally So much has changed for both him and georgie in the years it's been! I'm to so sold on the idea that while Georgie knows he's been doing bad shit she can talk him out of it. And that's so unfounded! But absolutely shes not gonna fight him/have a Really hard time doing so if it comes to that he's literally her childhood best friend! She can't hurt him! (All the hurt she caused by never reaching out dni)

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️ Ranking Richonne

#7: How'd I Get So Lucky Finding You (S9E01)

Imagine feeling lucky in a fallen world. 🥹 Losing so much and still feeling like you won because you found the ultimate love of your life. 😭 It’s beautiful and powerful that Richonne’s love is so strong that it has them feeling fortunate even after enduring a series of unfortunate events. And in this stunning scene, we get to see so much of why Rick and Michonne have an everlasting love. This scene is an absolutely heartwarming delight and it features my favorite thing Rick has ever said to Michonne in TWD 😍...

I will forever love the state of Richonne’s relationship in s9. They finally had time to breathe and be a family with Judith, and I loved every moment they got to relish in being together.

I always knew Rick and Michonne wouldn't be the type of couple who were only compatible in fight and survival mode - they're equally compatible in just living and being mode. 

So I appreciate that this scene takes its time to just be as the two cuddle up and showcase yet again why they work so perfectly with each other. They truly belong together and fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. 🥰

Also, I will always like that this scene of Richonne snuggled up in bed takes place in the Sanctuary of all places. Just more proof that nothing, not even the oppressive reign of Negan, was going to break Richonne because now Rick and Michonne are up in that batty man's crib fully immersed in their sweet Richonne bubble. 🤗

They just feel so married with Rick washing up and then getting in bed with Michonne as the two just instinctively get wrapped up in each other. And the way Rick kisses her forehead. 🥹 It’s always so clear that they feel the most safe to completely decompress and let their guard down with each other and are so precious to each other.

And I’m just giddy every time I hear Michonne adorably and playfully call Rick “the famous Rick Grimes” with that shoulder shimmy while resting on his chest. Perfection. 👌🏽

I love their teasing banter and how she’s addressing the way Rick's a legend to the people. As he should be. And Rick’s playful, "don’t you start too" response to hearing her say that is just great. 😊

It’s adorable that she plays with his beard while noting that the reverence people have for him is sweet. She gets it. She says, “just don’t let it get to your head” and Richonne tones for the win once again in this scene. 😍

And again the two bring up Maggie and how they feel for her since she has to deal with losing that Hilltop kid, which is particularly sad too because R&M lost their own teenage son just about a year and a half ago.

Rick and Michonne then have this moment where they both just take a synchronized deep breath and these two seriously always feel like one, especially in the way they breathe in this moment. 

I like how Rick seems tired as he closes his eyes, but then Michonne says his name, and he can always be awake and alert for her when they need to talk.

I really like too how Michonne and Rick both get honest about the fact that they wonder if they should have just killed Negan. To which I was like, yes...

But I appreciate that Michonne says "we" when talking about this choice because she and Rick are a package deal. Saving Negan without consulting the others was Rick’s most controversial move among tf, and it clearly had some tf members feeling understandably upset. But it’s nice that, by saying "we," Michonne doesn’t make Rick feel like he was alone in that choice.

Rick thinks the Saviors just want food, not Negan back in charge, and Michonne reminds him they don’t know that for sure, which is valid, and it’s great they can communicate like this.

And then I love that Michonne lets him know she’s been thinking about an agreement between the communities and that she maps out the idea with her hand over his heart. Their closeness really is unparalleled.

Also the way Rick is looking at his wife throughout this scene is um...it's gold and damn near made me lose my train of thought so let me get myself back on track lol.

I love that Rick affirms Michonne's idea, telling her it’s good and smart, and how he looks right at her while saying it could bring people closer together. And the way Michonne touches him. I love that they really don’t take their hands off each other for pretty much the entire scene. 😊

And then Rick opens up and lets her know what's on his mind as he shares that Daryl isn’t happy, and it makes him worried about things breaking down. Scenes like this are why I believe Michonne is not just Rick's wife but truly his best friend. They always can confide in each other and express everything going on inside - their hopes, ideas, worries, and fears.

It’s sweet that Michonne acknowledges the validity of what Daryl feels. And Rick groans a bit and says Daryl cares too much sometimes. I appreciate that Michonne can sense Rick's headspace so clearly here and doesn’t want a divide to be caused between those two brothers (even tho it ends up being a bit too late sadly).

The way Michonne whispers 'hey' and then gently turns Rick's face towards her, it’s like a visible illustration of how she centers him and reminds him to stay focused on the good and how to move things forward. And of course, Rick is receptive to this redirection as he looks into her eyes. Love it. 😊

Michonne acknowledges that if Daryl is worried then there’s a reason. And again, because R&M are a package deal, she asks, "What do we do about it?" knowing however they handle it, it will be together. 

And then, like a well-oiled machine, Rick says he thinks they need to fix that bridge, and Michonne says she'll get the people to agree to a charter. Look at these leaders making big community decisions all while snuggling in bed together. 🥰

So then it’s Rick’s turn to do some teasing when he asks if it’ll be a "charter or constitution?" Again, I love how lines like these show Rick and Michonne know each other's humor as Michonne amusedly confirms it'll be a charter. And it's just sweet too cuz, while they're playing around, I'm sure Rick fully believes Michonne would be capable of drafting up a whole effective constitution for the new world lol.

Their synchronized smiles at this moment are seriously the best. 🙌🏽And then Rick kissing her three times is even better. The way Michonne smiles at him. The way he always has to come back for more. I live.😍

And I just absolutely love getting to see Rick and Michonne in such a relaxed happy state. Scenes like this make it so clear why Rick and Michonne haven't moved on from each other after all those years apart. You don't move on from a love like this.

Richonne gives each other joy like no other and this whole exchange shows how they work so effortlessly together as leaders and lovers. What a pair. 🤩 As Andy said, they truly are perfect partners in this imperfect world.

Plus it’s just always so sweet that two of the strongest, fiercest, most intimidating warriors in the world find each other so cute and cuddly. 😋

Y'all, Richonne + cars is a thing, and also Richonne + candle-lit scenes too, because they are always A1.

...But then the candles get blown out, and this scene proceeds to reach its peak of perfection. 🤩

As someone who loves a lengthy Richonne scene, I remember first watching this ep live and being so happy that they weren’t cutting away from them once the lights went out. I had no idea it was because we were in for something so heavenly. 😇

Cuz they turn off the lights and then immediately wrap their arms around each other again to go to sleep and it’s always so sweet seeing Rick softly touch her hair. All the little gestures just feel like this person in their arms is their treasure who has their whole heart. #ILoveEveryRichonneDetail

Then....y'all then Rick opens his eyes to utter the greatest thing he's ever said to Michonne thus far - “How’d I get so lucky finding you?”

BEAUTIFUL. Powerful, meaningful, romantic, fitting, perfect. I could go on. 👩🏽‍🍳💋

I love the delivery of the line because it really feels like it’s this reoccurring thought for Rick that, at this moment, his mind was thinking and just had to utter out loud.

It's fitting he’d say this after the convo they just had because it really did capture why Michonne is so perfect for him, and I love that he knows it and vocalizes it. Michonne is a genuinely phenomenal individual, so it makes perfect sense that Rick feels not just happy but lucky to have her.

And just to think about their journey and know that we’d arrive at a point where Rick reflects on when he met Michonne and feels so personally lucky to have found her. 😭 She’s his soulmate, and he knows it wholeheartedly. 

And I love that beyond literally finding each other, there’s something deep about the way Rick and Michonne found each other in their truest form. They saw each other in a deeper way and brought each other back from the lost state they were in. 

Also, I always think it’s sweet how Rick said this with zero other motives - this was just his abundant love for her pouring out. I’m so grateful that in Rick's final season, they didn’t give him and Michonne any tiffs or division, but rather showed that they have only grown closer and more in love since the last season. 

Like after one of the series' longest time jumps, I adore that we return to a Rick and Michonne who have clearly spent the last year and a half strengthening their bond even more, and healing, and fully enjoying their life together. They are really and truly an unbreakable unit who only fall more in love the more time they spend together.

When I think about all Rick and Michonne have been through together and all they’ve built, it’s just the absolute greatest thing to know Rick thinks about his life and feels so sincerely lucky that he found Michonne. We knew that the day they found each other at the prison fence was life-changing, and it's great to see them two know it too.

If you were to tell Season One Rick that he was going to eventually lose his son, Carl, but would still have family that made him feel like a lucky man, he'd probably think you were crazy. And yet, this is the power of Richonne. The family found between Rick and Michonne runs so deep and is so authentic that, even after the most painful loss imaginable, Rick knows he still has so much to live for because he has Michonne and Judith.

Then it’s so sweet that Michonne hears Rick say this heart-bursting line and takes his hand because she feels the same way, and is likely thinking that's the...

#DirectQuoteFromHerMind you already know. 😋

And then Michonne softly tells Rick, "We both lost enough, it’s time we won a little don’t you think?" My heart. 😭 This moment is everything.

And y��all, I had gone back and re-read one of my old Richonne in Retrospect posts from several years ago where I reflected on a s6 scene between Michonne and David, that Alexandrian who got bit in 6.03. In that 6.03 scene, David talks to Michonne about his love story which completely and intentionally mirrors Michonne's own love story with Rick. And in that old post, I wrote this: 

"Rick and Michonne finding each other in all this is really one of the best things that happened to them. And in this type of world people take a whole lot of L’s so it’s cool that they were actually able to find such a big win in finding each other…and if R&M ever verbally imply a similar sentiment to each other about how finding each other in all this was everything, this will literally be me…"

So the fact that over a year after I wrote that, Rick and Michonne express exactly this...😭🙌🏾😭 It is the best ever. And just as I predicted, that gif above was and still is me whenever I watch this scene. It is just so powerful for Rick and Michonne to feel like amid all their loss, they still won big time by finding each other and falling in love. 

And then Michonne so lovingly kisses his hand, and Rick is perfectly content with that exchange as he shuts his eyes. But then, once again, the gift that keeps on giving gives us even more. 🤩

Cuz Michonne turns to look at him and then Rick...y’all, I’ll never get over how he looks at her right here. Like he looks right at Michonne with a breathtaking look that says, “I’m wholly and completely yours” and so clearly shows that she seriously means everything to him.

(also! y'all, I wrote this whole post before that V-day trailer, and so the fact that we've now got to hear Rick directly say, "I am yours," before the show even officially premieres 😍😍😍 my goodness TOWL is just blessings on blessings)

So then they kiss and it wonderfully ramps up with Michonne getting on top of him and reiterating "the famous Rick Grimes." 😏

…except this time, i think sis means he’s famous for reasons only she knows about. and that’s their business. 😋

As Danai has noted before, Rick knows how to make Michonne vulnerable, and Michonne knows how to make Rick laugh, which is just sublime.

And the way Rick laughs at the close of this scene - you know that if there’s one person he likes being "the famous Rick Grimes" to it’s Mrs. Grimes. 😊

Y’all, this whole scene blessed us ten times over. Our ship has it all. And we really do get whatever we want lol. 💅🏽

(Side note: it's also important to note that we don't just get whatever we want as some sort of forced fan service from the show. (Considering Gimple was planting Richonne seeds before viewers had even seen the two on screen together, that fan-service take simply can't be true). The real reason we get what we want is because the very love story we want to see is also the very love story the show wanted to organically craft. These TWD writers, actors, producers, network/production companies etc, fully recognize Rick and Michonne's relationship as a special marriage with crazy love between two tethered soulmates, and we're just in agreement and alignment with that. And I feel fortunate that the canon story being told is as beautiful, romantic, and authentic as we wanted and knew it would be)

I’m so grateful for this tender scene and that these actors are so capable of playing every shade of Richonne perfectly. Like we got serious, playful, romantic, steamy, and utterly heartfelt all in this one scene. 🙌🏾

And while Rick has expressed feeling so lucky to have Michonne in the way he looks at her for many seasons, it was wonderful to hear him also outright verbalize that in finding her he found a true reward. He doesn’t take her for granted, and Michonne doesn’t either, knowing that he is her win in all this too. 

This moment is also beautiful because Rick and Michonne are two selfless individuals who have been put through the wringer on their individual and shared journeys yet still remained dedicated to giving their all to protect their people - And then the universe sent them each other and said ♡ you deserve to be taken care of too, ♡ you deserve to be held too, ♡ you deserve a gift that's just for you too. ♡ oh and also the gift that we're sending you is...

Rick and Michonne are each other's blessing. This scene solidified that beautifully.

They won because of each other, and we won with special scenes like this that contribute so much to Richonne’s perfect love story. 😌

[sshadowritestoriess]

Hey! Do you think you could write some NSFW headcanons for Widow, Mercy, Kiriko, Lifeweaver and Genji (gender neutral afab reader) please? Feel free to ignore if that's too many characters or if you just don't want to do it. Have a great day, and don't forget to drink water dear author!

Sure! I did my best, sorry they’re all so short. I just didn’t want a super long post 😅

Widowmaker NSFW

She can quite literally take you out in ‘one shot’— you’re not certain how exactly she does it, but she touches you in all the right places in quick succession and finds exactly where you need her most in just an instant. You’ve lasted about thirteen seconds at most with this technique of hers, and it was quickly banned from the bedroom unless you asked for it

She’s a very hard biter, like she doesn’t realize she needs to be a bit more gentle. You often wonder if she thinks she’s actually going to inject venom into your bloodstream this way

Eerily quiet responses toward any pleasure, even if you’re doing everything right she makes it hard to tell if you’re doing anything at all. So she tends to be the one in charge, that way you don’t end up questioning your capabilities or doubting her reactions

A slowed heartbeat seems to increase her stamina, though. It’s only somewhat annoying, especially in addition to her lack of emotion toward intimate times. But you refuse to believe she’s not feeling anything at all, either— otherwise she wouldn’t be stepping on you ‘for fun’ unprompted, or initiating half of these encounters

Mercy NSFW

An unpredictable switch— everything that happens in the bedroom is a flip on a coin based on what she’s feeling and when. You never know if you’re about to give or receive, but either way it’s extremely rewarding and it’s hard to discern any complaints out of a night with Angela

She is pretty vocal, makes the nicest noises and lewd sounds you’ve probably ever heard. She definitely sounds like an angel, and it’s worth every touch to hear her sound off while completely red in the face

Maybe a bit too in love with pegging you. As a doctor and being very knowledgeable about the body, she’s rather enthusiastic toward loosening you up and talking about safety before giving you the ramming of a lifetime. Certain recommended positions even relieved your back pains somewhat, to your astonishment

She highly prefers to schedule these exchanges, rather than doing them on a whim. She refuses the ideas of quickies or anything with risk— especially in communal/public areas. You’d need to absolutely guarantee no one will be walking in or she might not ever forgive you for the embarrassment

Kiriko NSFW

Absolutely a brat, and we all know this. You’re not getting anything done without force or a trade, and she clearly relishes in those methods— always a “no” or a “why��, and then the “what will I get in return?”

Hugely into degrading and she’ll meet you halfway, criticizing your every move as if it doesn’t have her writhing in euphoria. She’s mostly in control of the sounds she makes, but when you get enough of a rise out of her the high-pitched noises are totally worth the struggle to get them in the first place. But she tries really hard to pretend like you don’t have an effect on her

She totally abuses her abilities to make you both finish faster, and especially against your will if you intended to take your time. Everything she does in bed is completely in spite of you— you’re fighting to earn the outcome you want, so hopefully you’re up for that kind of challenge

Her attitude is to make up for her low libido, and especially in her inability to last very long. She’s super sensitive, but she’ll never admit it. You’ll figure this out sooner than later though, and she’ll put up even more of a fight with a smirk on her face before you get anywhere near the brink of relief

Lifeweaver NSFW

Undoubtedly has a preference for being on bottom, but absolutely more than capable of being a top if he’s in the mood for it.

He’s sort of a pillow princess, likes having all the work be done for him. Much more of a receiver than he is a giver, but only in intimate moments— he’s much more giving outside of private moments that heavily lack clothing

But he is extraordinarily talented with his mouth, and he knows this. Yet he won’t offer such services without being asked politely, which must include a ‘please’ or he may remind you of your manners. It’s all in good fun though, he likely wouldn’t have refused either way (please ride his face)

He makes a lot of sounds, though they’re always muffled by his hand or pillow— or you. He also super loves using rope for things, like being restrained, and shibari. He gets more excited when he’s trapped and vulnerable in front of someone he likes

And while he’s a gentle top, he makes sure to return every favor you’ve given him on the occasions he does take over. These sessions last significantly longer than when he’s on the receiving end— edging turns out to be a specialty of his. And along the way, he’s more than happy to remind you of your previously indulgent behaviors

More Genji NSFW

Genji is still Genji, and even under all that metal he’s still pretty full of himself. So he totally, secretly, has a mask kink, and goes a bit feral when you wear his helm along with a lingerie or something else enticing (maybe even his hoodie lol). There’s just something about seeing his own visor on you that makes him want to pounce

I don’t imagine he’s super into wireplay/anything that has to do with his mechanics, but he’s not against it. He’s fine with it enough and appreciates you’d find these parts of him just as attractive, it just doesn’t get him going as much as other things do. He will happily indulge you though.

He’s dangerously easy to arouse. Drop one hint, playful or not (but only after the first few intimate exchanges) and he will find someplace to make it quick. Of course, he’s fluent in consent, so he’ll back off if you really were only joking. But otherwise you may often find yourself getting that super-enhanced-ninja special in the strangest secluded areas

And he makes it his job to make sure you cum before he does. On occasion he slips up, and if you’re competitive like that then it can be pretty 50/50. But he praises himself as a gentleman who treats his lover with the utmost care, and will deliver to you everything he has before taking you for his own pleasure

[kestalsblog]

Stan/Kyle/Cartman Drabble 🗻🌲

I needed a break, so I gave myself a reward of writing some today. I was struck with this scene a little while ago. I'd been wanting to try Style for a while, but I just love my guy Cartman too much to leave him out 🙈🥰 So, enjoy some . . . Styleman?? LOL. 🏕️

Contains suggestive content and a bit of mature language. Best for 18+. Nothing graphic. I don't post anything explicit on Tumblr.

Normally Stan loved camping with his friends. The fresh mountain air, the indigo-greens of the night sky, the cricket song. The way he could look at the wild, open landscape and not feel insignificant because out here, everyone was insignificant.

Hell, coming out this far in the forest pines had been his idea, but if past-him could have looked into the future's crystal ball, he sure wouldn't be freezing his ass off in a lonely sleeping bag just so he could listen to Cartman and Kyle get it off together in the tent beside his. Feeling his teeth clash together, sensitive from the cold, he cursed Kenny for turning down the invitation. At least then he wouldn't be so hopelessly alone.

Cartman and Kyle's silhouettes flickered across his own tent wall like two candle flames. Sometimes they intertwined; other times, they shivered apart. Stan could hear their muffled whispers and giggles, punctuated by Kyle's occasional petulant shh!

Looking back, Stan wasn't sure when the nature of their relationship had changed - if it had ever changed at all, for that matter. Maybe it had been like this as long as they'd known each other, and he'd just missed the signs.

Earlier in the evening, Kyle and Cartman been bickering in their usual fashion over the snacks Cartman had brought, how well Kyle had pitched the tent (which had started a slew of sexual innuendos from Cartman that had Kyle ready to commit murder), and Stan had been convinced things might be like the old days again.

At least like before college, back when things felt normal. But no, those days were gone, and Stan didn't know why, but he felt his eyes burn when he thought about how those years were never, ever returning. Now Cartman and Kyle couldn't fight without the heated exchange ending in an intense make-out session or a half-concealed fuck in Kenny's closet at a house party.

He hated himself for wishing they'd go back to hating each other. At least then he wouldn't feel left out.

On the bright side, the tears were keeping Stan somewhat warm. Octobers in South Park could unleash unforgiving weather. Normally he didn't mind sitting in the cold until he went numb - he even relished it - but now it was only painful.

Kyle let out an exceptionally loud yelp, followed by Cartman's ruthless snickering. Stan let his eyes drift back to the outlines of their bodies displayed across the fabric tent wall. At some point, their shape had become one.

Stan turned on his side so he couldn't see them anymore. A few tears ran from his eyelashes into his lip, and he tasted salt mixed with the marshmallows from earlier. Maybe he shouldn't have invited both of them. Kyle probably would have come alone, maybe even Cartman. He gripped himself tighter, huddling under the sleeping bag's cover. None of it made sense, Cartman and Kyle . . . Kyle and Cartman . . .

He was Kyle's best friend, the one who had always been kind to him. For fuck's sake, he'd even been there for Cartman growing up too. What had they done for each other except make both their lives miserable?

But now . . . now he listened to a small, slightly stifled moan, probably from Kyle, and he wished he'd never suggested coming camping altogether, not if the only things to keep him warm were his cheap sleeping bag, his tears, and his jealousy. Maybe the two of them were better off being here without him. He should just pack his stuff and go home.

"Shh, shh, Stan can hear us," Cartman's voice suddenly rang clearly, interrupting some scampering night creature nearby their tents.

"It's not like he doesn't know," followed Kyle, but then his voice became gentler when he called out, "Stan?"

Was it better to pretend to be asleep? Fear grazed Stan's cheek in the form of a frigid breeze that trespassed the tent's opening. Both Cartman and Kyle were suddenly quiet, and the change in atmosphere only lowered Stan's feelings. If he weren't here, they could be having unrestrained fun together. He really should just go home.

Fear escalated to terror when an obscenely loud sniffle escaped his nostril.

"Stan?" gasped Kyle's voice, louder now.

Stan turned with a jolt to see Cartman and Kyle break apart from one another and start emerging from their tent to come to his. Sure enough, within seconds, Kyle's face popped through the tent's slot. His wild hair was spiraling in untamed curls around his head, and his cheeks were rosy pink. "Are you crying?" Kyle's eyes widened with concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, what gives, dude?" Cartman's face poked in next, directly under Kyle's. If Stan weren't heavy with his own sorrows, he might have found the image comical. "Lonely in here, Stan?" he joked, but the quip went straight through Stan's heart.

I'm going to cry. I'm going to cry. Stan felt his nostrils quivering, his eyebrows. Could he blame the cold, and would they believe him if he did?

"Stan, that's not true, is it Are you lonely?" asked Kyle, nudging his way into the tent. He sat next to Stan's lantern, only a few inches away because there wasn't much room. "I mean, it'll be a tight fit, but we can all hang out. I thought you liked your space . . ."

"Or you could join us." Cartman's jack-o-lantern smirk cracked across his face.

"Isn't that what I literally just suggested?" snapped Kyle, shooting him a side eye as if his entire neck wasn't covered with his love bites.

"No, you were just saying we could all have a sleepover," fake-yawned Cartman. "I'm suggesting, if the poor guy is lonely, that he join us." There was no mistaking the sly undertone. Stan felt unforeseen heat overtake his face when Cartman directed a flirtatious wink in his direction.

"W-What are you saying?" Stan hated the sound of his voice. He hated how harshly he was now gripping the cover of his sleeping bag, and how some not-so-small, shameful piece of himself was yearning, straining to be included, to be . . . What am I thinking? His heart beat violent rhythms through his ears. Ugly sound. No wonder no one wanted him; he was embarrassing.

"Oh my God, Stan, I'm sorry about him," Kyle started, flustered now himself. "He's just being, well, Cartman."

"Oh, come on." Cartman rolled his eyes, which had assumed an oddly comforting caramel coloration in the lantern light. "Don't tell me you've never thought about Stan that way. We both have."

"What?" Stan heard his voice lift an octave, followed by Cartman's devious laughter and Kyle's stuttering.

"I-I mean, it's just . . ." Kyle's voice went nowhere.

"Come on, just picture it." Cartman lifted his hands as if he were painting the image in the air for them to see. "These romantic ass woods and mountains and nature and shit. The three of us doing it like animals? Shit, it's a wet dream, if you ask me." His tongue rolled over his lips with sinister slowness, and Stan would never admit to the way his heart leapt over a few beats at the sight. Surely this was some kind of terrible prank; neither of them had expressed wanting to be with him in the past, even if many of his own nights had been spent in painful pining to join them.

He knew they weren't particularly monogamous. He wasn't even sure if they saw themselves as a real couple, and he'd always been a little heartbroken trying to piece together what was so unappealing about him that he'd never turned their heads that way. Hadn't he shown that he cared for them both? Wasn't he a nice enough person? It had to be the inherent ugliness he knew lurked under his skin, the repulsive something-or-other about him that made him unlovable, untouchable. He was embarrassing. He was -

"Don't mock me like this," he tried to say without crying, but Kyle must have detected the tear in his voice because he suddenly crawled forward and took his hand. Kyle had held his hand before. Right now, it felt different. His fingers gripped Stan's, squeezing.

"Stan, I'd never do that. You know how much you mean to me." His eyes were so close to Stan's, right there, a dark shade of green that reminded Stan of the trees and grass he loved so dearly. Lily pads. His eyes were like lily pads in dark water. He'd never seen such eyes on anyone else. "I know Eric has a fucking horrible way of suggesting it, but . . . if you're lonely in here, I mean, and if you want to . . ." His face blossomed with red. "I can't say I haven't . . . ever thought about it, is all. The three of us." He cleared his throat. "You're my best friend. You're, uh . . ."

"You've thought about it?" Stan wasn't sure how much more new information he could take. If his voice went any higher, he was pretty sure he'd go through some kind of reverse puberty. His ears rang.

"Oh, be serious, Stan. You can't deny you're hot as fuck. A real dreamboat with that classic look of yours. Plus, you have that good- boy sweet vibe about you," Cartman added, causing Stan to jump at the sudden closeness of his voice. He felt it tickle his earlobe. When the hell had he moved so quickly and silently to his other side? Encased between the two of them, Stan felt his heart racing and his previous tears searching for a place to go. "Prime for corruption, if you ask me." Cartman's voice sank a few levels; Stan felt his lips ghost down his ear to his neck, and he jumped closer to Kyle.

"It doesn't have to be like that," cried Kyle, exasperated, reaching a gloved hand to cup at Stan's cheek. The warmth of his hand radiated through the fabric. "Like I said before, you know how much I care about you. We only have to do this if you want to." His eyes simmered. "We can be slow."

Even Cartman, to his credit, paused by Stan's neck, clearly waiting for some form of permission to continue. Stan searched for the words to respond, his mind grasping nothing. All he could think about were the parties he had spent watching the two of them kiss while he sat twisted with sharp pains, the nights he had walked home alone, the loneliness like a smog he couldn't shake off his shoulders. How that smog followed him absolutely fucking everywhere.

Such were his thoughts when he whispered, his voice dispersing like fading fog on the syllable, "Yes."

Cartman surged in like a shark then, his parted lips and teeth clamping into the soft, open skin of Stan's neck. At the same moment, Kyle muttered, "Oh, Stan, I've been waiting for this," and then gently pressed their mouths together.

So much was happening - Stan felt his pulse quicken even further. His temperature elevated, and he couldn't believe he'd been cold ten minutes ago. The heat of Eric's mouth, scented faintly of chocolate, fastened to his skin while he tasted the bright spearmint flavor of Kyle's lips. Underneath the mint, he detected subtle cocoa. Realizing that flavor must have come from Cartman's candy bar earlier and yet he was tasting it through Kyle's mouth sent Stan's thoughts into madness.

Kyle's mouth was exceedingly gentle, his lips slowly but, with defined pressure, moving against his. Is this what Cartman felt all the time from him? Kyle was kissing him, his best friend. The person he'd spent his whole life beside. A person he loved. Kyle.

Stan felt a little dizzy trying to keep up with his shifting emotions when Cartman nipped at his neck. He gasped into Kyle's mouth.

"He's so innocent," teased Cartman. He licked a quick trail up the length of Stan's throat, making him shudder all over again. "So cute. This is gonna be fun." Stan wasn't even sure what to think of Cartman, how to explain the fierce arousal he felt when he'd watched Kyle and Cartman make out. There was a commanding aspect to his personality he couldn't quite fathom, some alluring fantasy of being overpowered associated with his expressive gestures.

"Don't go rushing this," ordered Kyle, the usual warning vexation returning to his tone when he pulled backward some. Stan, breathing hard, noticed a new shine to his eyes he'd never noticed before. He thought he'd known every side of Kyle once. "I want to take my time with this." He was speaking to Cartman, but his eyes were settled on Stan.

Stan was struck with the abrupt realization that he was not simply being looked at - he was being studied. As if Kyle were waiting for the right moment to devour him. These were the looks he'd been craving, this was the attention, and now that it was here, all here, and he was voiceless, helpless. He felt his shoulders tremble under their hands like the falling pine needles outside. His skin reddened beneath their vigilant eyes. He had no idea what to do, which moves to make.

He'd been so utterly convinced a moment like this would never come for him that it all felt like some cruel magic trick the forest was playing on him, almost as if he'd wished so hard for something, he was hallucinating it now.

"Don't worry," Cartman said, his voice more soothing than Stan had ever heard. He hadn't known he was even capable of comfort. Did he really know his two friends at all? "We'll take good care of you, sweetheart." And then somehow, Stan was kissing Cartman - the sweet taste of his tongue coating his mouth like velvet chocolate. Someone's hands were in his hair - Kyle's? - and before he knew it, his head was being shifted from one side to the other, both of them taking turns kissing him. Their mouths were both burning, blazing, even. They both tasted good. Chocolate mint. Stan felt his lips slacken. What to do, what to do?

At some point, he could no longer keep up with which mouth belonged to whom, which long fingers and strong palms were tugging at his coat collar and his hair. He registered through his swimming, unfocused-brain rush of desire the chorusing of insects somewhere beyond the tent.

Was this sweet, tingling taste the flavor of devotion?

If I ever continued this, the rest would have to go to Ao3. Too steamy for here 😳 I hope you enjoyed 🤭🥰🙈 🍫🍵

[dgrailwar]

Round Δ, Day 1 - ALL TEAMS

Wonderful work on the quiz, Masters! If we had more time I'd test your thaumaturgical knowledge, but I'd rather not waste any further time.

Okay… let me try this again.

Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. The ancestor is my great master ■■■■■■■■.

Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall, let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

Fill, Fill, Fill, Fill, Fill. Repeat five times but when each is filled destroy it. Then, set.

Heed my words, my will creates your body, and your swords creates their destiny. If you heed the Grail Call and obey my will and reason then answer me!

I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world. That I shall defeat all Evil in the world.

Seventh Heaven clad in the Great Words of Power.

From the Binding Circle vow… Guardians of the Scales…!

Seven forms made themselves manifest...

The Extra Class of Boundless Madness, the True Foreigner.

The Extra Class of Sinless Fate, Funny Vamp.

The Extra Class of Nameless Shadow, Faker.

The Extra Class of Scorching Power, Launcher.

The Extra Class of Impenetrable Defense, Shielder.

The Extra Class of Azure Freedom, Traveler.

The Extra Class of Infernal Judgement, Gatekeeper.

The world had not been set to a proper point. Instead, it was crumbling ruins in front of a crimson sky. Deadly, primordial, and unsettling in turn. The Servants crackled with magical power, drawing upon the ether in the air itself, relishing in being born again.

The Overseer, in a moment of confusion, swiftly realized that something had went wrong.

...Oh. This is not right at all. Those are from… hrm. Well, Masters. Do not panic. I shall swiftly--

The first Servant spoke, the Foreigner, clearly excited to be summoned.

"Oh, so you're the Masters? Nice to meet you, you can call me 'Yuyu'! Mm? Gunner isn't here? Where'd he go?"

I should probably reset the world again. It'll just take a moment. I'll go prepare another quiz--

The Gatekeeper, hand on her blade, removed a sliver from it from the sheath. It was enough to make the room run cold with the chill of the underworld, before she spoke.

"Hold. You and the ancient ones would use us as both potential foes and tests, correct? I don't have much issue with the idea, but I haven't had a chance to sharpen my sword against equals."

"I agree with the missy. I've been meanin' to put this spear to use. You said you need some time to make sure everything is set, right? So what's the harm? Run the numbers or whatever as we spar?"

The Launcher, smiling, drew his own spear in agreement.

"A spar... to the death, then. We can act as a 'stress test' for the system."

"Oh my, are you sure you want to go for that, Launcher? I'm pretty quick on my feet."

The witch commented, her eyes already expressing that she was beginning to form intense calculations within her head.

"Ah, I'm not expectin' much support, considering these Masters killed me without much hesitation, but I'm not saying no to the thrill of the fight."

"How odd. In a way that I can't place, I find myself finding them familiar… have we met?"

…Oh, fine.

I'll let this happen, but only for a short while. Then, you all return to 'her', and I put everything back in place. CORRECTLY, this time. I suppose this would be a bit more exciting than another quiz… though I did work rather hard on it for having to push it out so quickly…

We'll consider this an 'extra round'! Masters, prepare yourselves!

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 3

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

Morning came all too quickly. Her body still ached from the day before, made worse now by sleeping on little more than the ground. She could hear movement outside - seems the others were already awake, or some of them at least. The smell of food wafted in and was enough to finally pull her out of bed.

Outside the others were preparing for the day - sharpening weapons, readying armour, inspecting arrows. Gale sat at the campfire, cooking once more. “Saff!” he called once he saw she was up, beckoning her over. “I’ve saved some for you.” She wandered over and sat down next to him. He handed her a plate with some bread and cooked meat. Considering it was rations looted off of dead bodies cooked over a campfire, it looked pretty damn good. She thanked him and eagerly began eating. “We’ll be heading out with the others today to help search for the tieflings. Lae’zel thinks she knows what direction to go in,” he explained, filling her in on the discussions that had happened before she’d woken up. 

“Ah… ok,” she said, a little bit nervous. “What about the camp? Shouldn’t someone stay to guard it?” “Shadowheart will stay here.” That took her by surprise. Even though Shadowheart had been pretty quiet last night, one thing Saff had gotten from her was that she was very determined to do whatever needed to be done to free herself of this parasite, and staying in camp for the day didn’t seem to fit in with that. 

“Really?” she asked, glancing over at Shadowheart, who was eating her breakfast in front of her tent. “Yep,” he said, before lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “Between you and me, I get the impression she wants to be in Lae’zel’s company for as little time as possible.” “Ah…” she murmured. Now that she thought about it, that matched up with how they’d been acting around each other last night. The two of them clearly weren’t exactly friends. “What about our stuff? Can we trust her with it all?” Gale shrugged slightly. “We don’t have much choice, unless you want to carry that backpack around with you all day.” 

She certainly didn’t relish that thought. 

“Suppose you’re right…” she muttered. Still, she wondered if this was really the best idea. Shadowheart looked like a much more capable fighter than Saff herself was…

Soon breakfast was done and the four of them were ready to go. “Good luck,” Shadowheart said with a wave as they were about to leave. “Do try not to get yourselves killed.” 

“Same to you, darling,” Astarion replied. “It can be awfully dangerous in these woods all on your own.” “I can handle myself, don’t you worry.” With that, they were off. Lae’zel took the lead while the rest of them followed. “You sure you’re ok with this, Lae’zel?” Astarion asked after a while. “Two wizards and a rogue… we won’t exactly be joining you on the front lines.” Despite the apparent concern in his words, the playful nature with which he said them seemed to lack any real concern at all. 

“I am perfectly content with that. Less people to get in my way,” she said confidently. Everything she said seemed to be confident, like she had not a shred of self-doubt. Given the stories she’d told them of Githyanki culture, Saff supposed anyone with any self-doubt wouldn’t have survived their training. 

“Are you saying our dear Shadowheart got in your way?” Astarion asked, with the tone of a teenager wanting to start drama. “Shadowheart’s been getting in my way since we met her. I will fight better without her.” 

Astarion glanced at Saff and Gale, now with the look of a teenager excited about the drama they’d started. 

“Well if you can fight even better today we have nothing to fear.” 

At this point Saff wasn’t sure if he was actually being sarcastic with everything he said or if that was just how he spoke. 

The walk was long, interspersed with the occasional conversation. Astarion seemed quite chatty now, as long as the subject wasn’t himself. During the conversation she decided to tell them all to call her Saff, though mostly because it would be odd to have Gale call her one thing and the others call her another. But she hoped once she got to know the others more she’d feel as comfortable round them as she did right now with Gale.

It was early afternoon when they heard the shouting. Running to catch up with it they discovered what they’d been looking for - a large door, disguised with ivy, manned by tieflings atop the wall. Had it not been for the group of adventures outside the door shouting to be let in, they’d probably not have noticed it. 

Then came the goblins. Hollering war cries, the group descended on them and the battle began. Lae’zel wasted no time charging in, and before Saff even knew what was going on, Astarion disappeared into the shadows. She might have thought he’d fled had she not seen an arrow fly out from his hiding place right into the skull of a goblin, before he quickly darted to another hiding spot. Next Gale ran forward and effortlessly threw a firebolt at one of the worgs as it went to attack a tiefling. His hand gestures were so quick she barely saw them. She’d never seen someone cast a spell with such ease… but she soon realised she’d been staring a bit too long as she suddenly noticed a goblin running towards her, taking advantage of her lapse in concentration. In a panic she quickly summoned a firebolt and threw it at the goblin, but her aim was off, and even if it had hit it lacked the power to kill, and the goblin easily dodged to the side. She tried to summon another, but her shaking hands couldn’t do the movements, and before she knew it the goblin was on top of her… 

The goblin was slammed aside by a bolt of fire, leaving a huge clump of burnt flesh sloughing off the side of the corpse. She looked in the direction it came from to see Gale looking back at her, taking a moment to be sure she was ok, before quickly turning back to the battle, another spell in hand. 

She knew in that moment she had to be better than this, and for now adrenaline drowned out the fear and she found herself running to Gale’s side to join the fight. It was mostly a blur, throwing firebolts and dodging arrows as the sounds of battle cries and dying screams echoed in her ears. 

Then just as suddenly as it started, it was over. But she didn’t hear the celebrations of the survivors. She could still hear only the dying, the screaming. The cracking of bones and skulls, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, the stench of burning flesh. She heard voices, but the words were lost. Her hands shook, her heart raced, her ears rang, and all she could do was stare at the massacre in front of her… 

Suddenly she was being pulled away. She didn’t resist - she couldn’t even register what was happening enough to consider resisting it. A familiar figure by her side, one arm around her shoulders, the other taking her hand, leading her away from it all. Then she was sat on a stone next to him in the quiet serenity of the forest. 

“Saff? Saff, look at me.” His words gradually made their way through her muddled mind and his face came into focus in front of her, a look of deep concern in his eyes. 

“Saff, can you hear me? It’s ok…” 

She felt him squeeze her hand, and finally the visions of the battle left and she found herself back in the real world. With a deep gasp, as if finally being released from an iron-like grip, she closed her eyes and shook her head. 

“Gods… oh, gods…” she whispered, her voice shaking as much as her hands. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said softly, gently rubbing her back. “It’s over now.” 

After a long moment she finally opened her eyes again, and when she did they were full of tears. 

“I… I… oh, fuck, what am I doing here…” she whispered in a panic. “I shouldn’t have come… I should have told you I can’t do this… you should have taken Shadowheart, not me…” 

“Saff-” “I’ve put you all in danger, I’m just going to slow you all down, I can’t fight like you all ca-” “Saff!”

She went quiet, looking at him in surprise. 

“I know this is difficult. Trust me, I do. The first time I ever found myself truly fighting for my life, I was terrified. But I also know that it gets easier. Don’t give in to panic and fear, trust and believe in yourself. You can do this,” he said honestly, squeezing her hand as he spoke. 

She looked down, letting his words sink in. Gradually the panic faded, leaving just the warmth his voice gave her. Finally she wiped her eyes and nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice still shaking slightly. He smiled, giving her the time she needed. Eventually she took a deep breath and steadied herself. “Lae’zel and Astarion weren’t impressed by this, I’m guessing…” she murmured, dreading the judgemental stares she’d get next time she saw them. “I told them we would stay behind and loot the bodies. I’m not sure how much they realised what was actually happening,” he explained. “Oh,” she said in surprise. “Well… thanks for covering for me,” she said, realising what he’d done for her. “But still… I shouldn’t have let it get to this. I should have told you from the beginning. Someone who can’t fight doesn’t exactly make for a good travelling companion…” “Oh I don’t know about that. I’d still rather travel with you than with any of them.” 

Again, she looked at him in surprise. “Really? But… they can all fight. You’d be so much safer with them.” “Perhaps, but a good travelling companion can do more than just fight. Most of travelling is, well, travelling, not fighting. It’s long and boring, and you make far better conversation than they do.” 

She had to look away to hide the blush on her cheeks. Though she wondered if he saw anyway, given the way he chuckled. 

“Still… I won’t be able to talk us out of a fight, if it comes to it…” She said quietly, feeling doubtful again. 

“Then how about some lessons?” he offered. She looked back at him in curiosity. “You clearly have a fairly good grasp of the Weave, but you’ve never really studied combat magic, correct?” She nodded. “Then I shall teach you. And with as great a wizard as me as your teacher, you’ll be a powerful battlemage in no time.” 

She was sure whenever he said something a bit full of himself like that it was intended to command respect, though all it ever seemed to do was make her laugh. Luckily, that was exactly what she needed right now.

“Alright, I’ll hold you to that. If I’m not throwing fireballs within a tenday I’ll blame you.” 

“Deal,” he said with a smile, holding his hand out. She gladly shook it, feeling a bit more confident about this now. “The lessons start tonight, after dinner.” “I’ll be there,” she promised him, quite looking forward to it. “I suppose for now we’d better get back to the others before they realise something’s up.” “A good plan,” he agreed, standing up. She stood too and together they returned to the site of the battle. 

By now several tieflings had come out and started looting the bodies for weapons and supplies. Saff tried to push the images out of her head as they walked past them and through the gate into the grove. 

Once inside they met Zevlor, shaking his head over the unconscious adventurer he’d apparently knocked out in a moment of rage, who pointed them further into the grove where the others had gone. They found them talking to one of them men from the fight earlier, who had agreed to join their group in search of a cure. After a tadpole-induced vision of Avernus and quick explanation as to the one-horned devil they saw he introduced himself properly, and Saff's face immediately lit up. “You’re the Blade of Frontiers??” she gasped in excitement. A smile spread across his face, as if he’d been hoping someone would recognise him. “The very same. You’ve heard of me, then?” “Of course! I’ve heard all the stories! You’re fighting evil in the Hells now??” 

“Indeed I am. Wherever evil lurks, I will be there to flush it out,” he said proudly. Lae’zel rolled her eyes, Astarion sighed, and Gale looked… just a bit uncomfortable with how much Saff was suddenly gushing over their newest companion. Not that Saff noticed any of this. 

“We need to focus on the tadpoles,” Lae’zel reminded them. “Zorru. Where is he?” 

“Ah, he’s over there, by the hut,” Wyll said, pointing to a tiefling further down the grove. “Let’s move,” she ordered, starting to head in that direction. “Quite the merry little party now, aren’t we?” Astarion said, referencing how many people they now had. Lae’zel paused. “You’re right. Five is too many. Once we leave here, we will attract too much attention.” “Well, I for one think we should explore all avenues,” Astarion continued. “How about you and I talk to this Zorru while they go talk to that druid healer the trader mentioned?” Lae’zel looked at the others, considering this suggestion. 

“A pointless exercise, purification is the only way to cure ourselves. But if seeing for yourself that no others can cure us is the only way you will accept this, then very well. You three seek this healer in the grove - this Nettie. We will speak to Zorru. Return here when you are done.” 

With that she turned off and headed towards Zorru. Astarion gave the three of them a look, then went off with her. Gale couldn’t help but wonder if Astarion had some ulterior motive to splitting them up like this… he’d probably never have guessed his motive was just to see what drama would come out of it after seeing how uncomfortable Gale looked just now. 

“This way, then,” Wyll announced, leading them towards the druids.

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

So how would the Ganondorf’s react to their SO telling them “Hey Link’s here to fight but it’s our day off. Should we tell him to come back tomorrow??”

That is a hilarious thought process. I can either see a sudden head turn, a side eye, or a very frustrated sigh leaving the Demon King over this nonsense. Personally, I dont see him waiting and using his anger to go and attack Link.

But Chat is much more cute than I am.

**********************************************************************

If there’s one thing that could catch these Demon Kings off guard, it’s their SO telling them that Link, their destined rival, showed up on what happens to be their “day off.” Here’s how each Ganondorf and Demise might react:

Wind Waker Ganondorf: The Tragic King

Reaction: Wind Waker Ganondorf, while driven by vengeance and power, is also introspective and calculated. A day off is rare for him, especially with his SO beside him. Though he would usually never shy away from battle with Link, the suggestion catches him by surprise and leaves him seriously considering it.

Scene: Ganondorf raises an eyebrow, almost smirking. “Link, here? Now?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “The boy’s timing is as impeccable as ever.” He sighs, glancing at his SO and the comfortable surroundings.

“Perhaps… it would do no harm to send him away, just this once.” He smirks slyly, pulling his SO closer. “Tomorrow will do for heroics, but today… today is ours.”

With a wave of his hand, he nods toward the door. “Go tell him I’ll deal with him in due time. And hurry back—I believe we have unfinished plans.”

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf: The Ruthless Conqueror

Reaction: Ocarina of Time Ganondorf would likely be amused by Link’s poor timing but slightly annoyed as well. His SO’s playful suggestion would appeal to his ego, and while he’d never admit it, he does enjoy the idea of prioritizing a day off with his SO over a fight.

Scene: Ganondorf crosses his arms, a dark, bemused look in his eyes. “Link… arriving on a day I have set aside for other purposes? Insolent as ever.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “Let him cool his heels. Inform him that the Demon King is occupied with… more important matters.” His gaze softens, just a fraction, as he looks at his SO.

“Tomorrow, the hero can try his luck. But today, I have other… priorities,” he says, reaching out to draw his SO closer.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf: The Calculating Tyrant

Reaction: Twilight Princess Ganondorf is the type to appreciate an interruption even less than his counterparts. However, if his SO is adamant about it being their day off, he might actually listen—if only because he finds their suggestion amusingly bold.

Scene: Ganondorf raises an eyebrow, letting out a huff of amusement. “Link has a death wish, apparently. He should know better than to challenge me on my own time.”

With a sigh, he glances out the window, then looks back at his SO with a wicked grin. “Tell him to come back at dawn. Perhaps by then, I will be inclined to grant him an audience.”

He reaches out to brush his fingers along his SO’s cheek. “As for now, let no one disturb us. Not even the Hero of Time himself.”

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf: The Warlord

Reaction: This Ganondorf is a warlord through and through, and he almost relishes the idea of making Link wait. If his SO wants a day of peace, he sees no reason to deny them—especially since it’s amusing to make the hero anticipate their fight.

Scene: Ganondorf laughs heartily, the sound echoing through the room. “The hero truly has no concept of boundaries. Very well, let him wait until I am ready to face him.”

He stands up and places a possessive arm around his SO. “Go inform him that the Warlord of Hyrule has more pressing matters.” He smirks, clearly enjoying the thought of Link growing impatient outside.

As his SO starts to leave, he pulls them back with a grin. “On second thought, let’s make him wait even longer. He’ll need all the patience he can muster to face me.”

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf: The Corrupted Demon King

Reaction: In his corrupted form, Ganondorf is usually driven by an intense desire to conquer and destroy. But even he can recognize the need for time away from battle. The suggestion to make Link return later actually amuses him, perhaps even more so because it defies the expected outcome of a showdown.

Scene: Ganondorf’s eyes glow with a sinister light, his voice a low growl. “The so-called hero thinks he can challenge me… today?”

He pauses, looking at his SO, the anger in his gaze softening ever so slightly. “Send him away. Let him wonder if he’ll ever have a chance to face me.” His lips twist into a grin as he leans closer. “For today, my strength belongs to you alone.”

There’s a rare softness in his touch as he pulls his SO into his arms, holding them as if they’re the only thing keeping his dark impulses at bay.

Demise: The God of Destruction

Reaction: Demise, the god of destruction, would ordinarily view any challenge as a worthy one. However, his SO’s casual mention of a day off appeals to his sense of pride, and he finds it rather entertaining to delay Link. For a god like him, time is trivial, and if he desires one day off, then so it will be.

Scene: Demise gives a deep, rumbling laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Link dares to interrupt me… on this day? Foolish mortal.”

He grins down at his SO, clearly entertained by their suggestion. “Let the hero return when I summon him. Tell him his reckoning will come… but not today.”

With a dismissive wave, he pulls his SO closer, running his hand over their shoulder possessively. “Today is for us alone. Let the world wait—it’s powerless to challenge the will of a god.”

[ikkaku-of-heart]

NSFT/Ikkaku’s Fantasy Wishlist

Just the sexy scenarios/ideas I think she deserves under the cut.

🖤 Ikkaku getting railed while wearing six-inch heels.

🖤 Ikkaku getting herself off on someone’s thigh (preferably while partner is in leather pants).

🖤 Anything that involves Ikkaku pinned to a wall.

🖤 Devil Fruit powers in the bedroom! This needs to happen more in general but Ikkaku enjoys the creative use of powers during sex.

🖤 Ikkaku teasing her lovers by wearing their clothes.

🖤 Ikkaku tying her lover to a chair and riding them. She’ll tease her partner’s chest and neck and moan how good they feel while relishing how much they clearly want her to go faster.

🖤 Dirty talk and teasing in secret. Her and her partner whispering dirty things in each other’s ears and sneaking gropes while no one around them is none the wiser until one of them snaps and drags the other off to finally bang.

🖤 Training, sparring, or fighting that turns into sex. A good fuck while adrenaline is high is *chef’s kiss*

🖤 Comfort sex. Ikkaku or her lover have gone through some rough shit recently and they want sex to take their mind off of it.

🖤 Ikkaku tying a male partner to a bed and teasing and riding him until he snaps and breaks his restraints to take control.

🖤 Getting dressed up in sexy lingerie or bathing suit picked out by a female lover and teased through it. Bonus points if it’s in front of a mirror so she can see how pretty they both are.

🖤 Ikkaku being restrained and overstimulated until she’s begging to be used.

🖤 Being called “princess” while being fucked.

[designedonchaos]

P O T E N T I A L  C O N N E C T I O N S

Gus Amado, 43, He/Him, ASL Interpreter

Under the Read More are different connection ideas based on Val’s life. Feel free to message me or comment on the post if any of these strike your fancy and I can reach out to you to plot more. 💙 

💉 Sedate Me - It’s a hot summer out in the middle of nowhere- and you meet an older man with an ugly haircut and a watery smile. He’s living in an RV and he’s running away from something. He’s clearly been through it- and he doesn’t talk about it. Maybe a traveler yourself at the time, and at some basement party thrown by the grungy underground queers in some hot midwestern town, you get to talking- but more importantly, you get to experiencing. Whatever drugs you both take leave you sitting on a rooftop somewhere, throwing water balloons at street lamps to see if they’ll extinguish. You finally learn about Gus’s background- at least, what you can glean from between both of your hazes and delusions. You know he was a special agent, and you know his boyfriend is dead. High out of your minds, you both make a vow to be best fucked up friends forever, locking pinkies. And years later, despite the city being so vast and full of possibilities, you see the familiar face of your drug-buddy out and living his life, in NYC. He looks better. But before or after doesn’t matter. Fate just has a way of pulling y’all back together again.

👊 Fight Me/Kiss Me - You hate his shit face. His dumb smile and the way he always knows a little too much about something. Not only that, but he shows up to things and always just seems to be trying to get a word in. You don’t fully notice the loneliness there, the way Gus tries desperately to make friends, afraid of his empty apartment. But you revel in arguing with him- and he relishes in it right back. Drinks at the bar turns into rolling eyes and pushes and shoves, until you’re both out in the parking lot. Until he’s under you breathing heavy and the stale beer emanating from your breath has him gripping your jacket and tugging you in. You both fuck and fight like it’s your job, and you’re not sure which you enjoy more.

🧒 Miss Me - You’re a similar age to one of the many Amado children and you get along swimmingly. You’ve spent your life in NYC and you often meet up with the Amado kids when they go out to the community pool. The younger boy is sweet and a bit of a mama’s boy, but he’s always coming up with funny stories and you two play pretend out in Central Park while your moms have picnics. You two go off into the woods and hunt frogs. You see how deep into the mud you can go without sinking, and you go searching for elusive ‘mystery fish’, a favorite game of Gus’s. You’re kindred spirits, made of muck and algae and the smell of wet bark. Maybe it’s because you’re both so used to the concrete and boring structures of high-rise apartments that you can’t enter. Gus’s cooler brother Chet always calls you both ‘the little swamp monsters’. In high school Gus asks you to help cut his hair, and you steal his older brother’s car and go looking for ghosts. But Gus started to slowly clean up- and suddenly he was an agent. Stuffy and carrying a gun- but sometimes you see the scruffy kid you were best friends with. Your texts and Facetimes were few and far between, until his partner died and he retired from the force. Suddenly he needed friendship more than ever- but sometimes it’s not so simple. How do you both restart your old friendship? Is it tough, or does it feel like no time has passed?

💬  Introduce Me - You do your job, and you do it well- a professional at whatever you do. And regardless of how long you’ve been that way, you are impressive to Gus. Gus, who grew up figuring out his life and only having a few friends, only to lose one of the closest ones he had. He’s spent the past few years driving around in his RV with Chili, not really having a place to call home... and now he’s come back to NYC, and barely understands what it means to have a family any more. He needs help... and you can feel it. He’s desperate for some kind of connection but often gets into fights instead. You think he might need to be taken under someone’s wing. Maybe he needs help being introduced to new friends, to a brotherhood. Even just being filled in on what’s been going on. Gus is desperate to belong but doesn’t know how to make that shown- and maybe you see that, just a little bit. He makes all his jokes at first, affable and kind, but finds you comforting and helpful. He may even see you as a form of guidance or a close friend.

🚘  Help Me - You are someone in a car at night. It’s so dark out and your high-beams are on, and the radio is turned up. For some reason it’s slow & sad songs tonight, and you’re eager to get home. Roy Orbison croons. ‘I was alright, for a while, I could smile for a while. Then I saw you last night, you held my hand so tight, when you stopped to say ‘hello’.’ The next second, you see a shorter man tripping out of the woods and right onto the street. He’s bloody and his clothing is torn and his eyes are wide. He’s bruised up and terrified... and against the fear screaming in the back of your head, you help him into your car. His name is Gus, and he flops back into your passenger seat after you’ve asked him if he’s alright. He’s out of it and mumbling “Just drive, just drive”. He’s trying not to bleed on your car’s interior. He’s silent for a second and laughs weakly. ‘Shit, is that- this is one of my favorite songs.’ From there on, you start to talk carefully. He’s bleeding- a lot. You get him to a police station and that’s that... until you see on the news that an FBI agent and his partner were held hostage at gunpoint for 48 hours by a drug cartel. You recognize the face immediately. The police call you for a follow-up and you get to meet Gus in the hospital as he recovers. Suddenly you’re visiting every few days, hearing that not many have. 

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

WELCOME BACK TO KNOX RAMBLES ABOUT THAT MONKIE SHOW AND CALLS IT AN ANALYSIS, THIS TIME FEATURING 

MACAQUE AND HOW HIS PERCEPTION OF MK EFFECTS THEIR DYNAMIC (briefly)  AND HOW THE WAY IT CHANGES EFFECTS HIS CHARACTER GROWTH (in more detail) 

Alright, so, getting right into it: Macaque doesn’t really see Mk as a person at the start. 

It’s “…nothing personal!” because he has no personal connection to Mk at this point. Sure he might think he’s funny, might even enjoy training him in a weird way, he even says he’s a good kid, 

but he’s Sun Wukong’s student and a stepping stone to get to his Mentor and nothing more. 

If Mk was killed in the battle between him and SWK he couldn’t have cared less, just another mortal not a huge deal, there’s lots of good ones that die out there and he’d probably be doing him a favour anyways so that he doesn’t have to experience the stuff that comes with knowing the Monkey King personally. He shows no remorse for endangering Mk, mostly due to the fact, I think that his focus is entirely on Wukong. 

Mk beats him instead of Sun Wukong (the first account of Macaque underestimating Mk) and Macaque disappears for a while to regroup or figure out some other way to get Sun Wukong to fight him since Mk can clearly take care of himself and Wukong’s already proven he’s not going to fight Macaque all out even if he endangers his student so mainly stays out of the way for a while. (Honestly all speculation, I have no idea what this dude’s plan was BGSDL;KFJS) 

Then we get Shadowplay and the dynamic shifts again. 

Now Macaque seems to see Mk as less of Wukong’s student and more of just straight up another Sun Wukong. 

He pokes at him, monologues at him, and shoves him into the same box he has Wukong in with the whole “got too powerful and so you ditched your friends cause you’re selfish,” 

and keeps talking about how he’s “just a that bit too much like him.” 

He can’t get Wukong to fight him so he redirects most of his focus on Mk for a while and relishes any chance he gets to beat him down and show him how good he’s not 

because he thinks this is a Wukong he can manipulate and he still doesn’t see Mk as Mk yet. His attachment is there because this is a Wukong he can mess with, and whenever Mk proves that’s not true and beats him, which he always looks thrown by,

 he runs off and gives some theatric dramatic spiel about being his mentor and all that. 

During the ses 3 arch he’s got a weird sort of attachment to Mk and it’s starting to become it’s own separate thing from Wukong but it’s still because of Wukong. He’s familiar with him in a way that gets a reaction out of Mk because he likes messing with him, not really cause he feels close to him. 

“Hey, kiddo. You miss me?” 

“No.” 

He’s still treating him like someone who’s being gaslit by Wukong and needs his guidance. He talks down at him, takes every opportunity to mess with him, and is blindsided by how Mk responds because he still seems to only see him as far as his own connection with Wukong.

He does a bit of the same thing to Tang, making the assumption that he’s much closer to Monkey King than he actually is, and pins the blame of Tang being benched on Wukong when he actually kinda had nothing to do with it. 

He seems to think he needs to “save” people from being around Wukong cause the fallout isn’t worth it, and yet all he seems to want is to be around him and beat him. 

Just a theory here, but I think it would be fascinating if Wukong “abandoned him” when he went to fight Heaven for the last time before he ended up under the mountain and told Macaque he couldn’t come because he wasn’t strong enough, he wouldn’t survive. It would explain Macaque’s incessant need to gain more power and fight Wukong, because if he misinterpreted that as Wukong saying he wasn’t as powerful as him so he wasn’t worth taking along and he never came back, then a lot of what he does would kinda make sense because he might have been basing his worth as a person off of how powerful he is, and if he can finally beat Wukong to show he’s just as powerful, no more powerful, then he’ll finally have to accept he’s worth something and he was stupid for leaving. (Dude’s got issues whatever the case.)

Macaque’s whole thing seems to be about proving he’s stronger than them. He throws Mk around, 

goads him into fighting him, 

usually by threatening his friends 

 tries to get Wukong to go all out on him even going so far as to threatening to straight up kill Mk, and no matter how many times Mk beats him,

he still stands back up and pretends he has the upper hand. 

He walks away from battles before they end like a kid who knows they’re losing the board game so they tap out saying they got bored and they could win if they wanted to, they’re just not interested anymore. 

The exception to that being when he’s hyped up on LBD magic, but the moment that’s gone and he’s faced with an angry Sun Wukong he just tries to run without even bothering to pretend he has the upper hand because he knows he doesn’t. 

All throughout season 3, Mk is trying to reach out to Macaque,

 and Macaque keeps rejecting that.

 And still doesn’t seem to see Mk as his own person yet. He cares about himself more than he does anyone else, and despite every display of selfishness Macaque gives, 

Mk still reaches his hand out and gives him a chance to be something more. 

Wukong was ready to beat the crap out of him for what he did to Mei, which, fair, but Mk still offers him a spot with them, to fight for something more than himself, and it destroys Macaque’s perception of Mk in that moment, when he refuses to leave his friend, even though he knows he could die if he doesn’t, and even amidst something Macaque helped cause, he still reaches out for him, and every bit of Macaque’s warped perception of him being a mini-Wukong shatters. 

Mk extends his hand yet again, and he rejects it.

 His view has been flipped on its head. He steps back, runs without belittling, he rejects him without the violence he’d usually lash out with, he vanishes without deflecting, but doesn’t go far. We see him keeping an eye on Mk during The Corrupted King 

and even rescuing him when things go to heck.

 Because without all the bitterness he has for Wukong warping his perception of Mk, he’s finally seen, at least partially, who Mk is (thought not fully realizing it yet) and wants to accept that invitation to join them. But he doesn’t. 

He helps them without joining them, in a way that he doesn’t have any expectations on him. He brings them the mayor 

and tries to talk them through what he knows, 

but when they bring him into their plan all he has to say is: 

“I’m not up to being a hero, kid.” 

And Mk counters without missing a beat: “We don’t need you to beat him.” “We can do this. You can do this.” 

Macaque tries to deflect again, and Mk’s having none of that. He calls him out. Macaque is there for a reason, and he plays at being this selfish guy so hard he’s convinced everyone around him and almost himself too, and Mk can see him not for what he is, but who he has the potential to be. 

And then in the first bit of honest dialogue we get from him, without any cocky smirks or attempt at deflection, just quiet and a little self loathing. 

“I’m not a hero, bud.” 

“Then be a Warrior.” 

Which, essentially is Mk saying that he doesn’t need to be a hero. And he doesn’t expect that of him either. Macaque looks at heroes, he looks at Mk and Wukong and cannot see himself fitting into that mold, so why even try? Why even try to be more than what he is. Why join the heroes when he can never be one of them? And then Mk comes in saying he doesn’t need to be. He doesn’t need to be anything but himself. 

And that’s when it really clicks. That completes Macaque’s realization of the type of person Mk is. Macaque stops seeing Mk as a stepping stone, a way to get to Wukong, a mini-Wukong, or anything else, he stops being scared of accepting an offer for fear he can’t live up to it and in that moment he starts seeing him as Mk. Because somehow, despite everything, despite his many displays of selfishness, endangering his friends, making their lives so much more difficult, Mk still doesn’t hate him, he won’t hate him. And he isn’t asking him to be more than what he already is. He looks at this messed up shadow Monkey who believes he can never be a hero and tells him being a warrior is enough. 

And then Macaque drops back. He stops pretending. “Okay, kid. You win.” Stops hiding what he is

“What can I say? I’m dramatic.” 

He stops trying to prove something. 

He’s not the main point of focus anymore (kinda like Red Son’s arch now that I think about it,) he stops trying to get in their faces, he stops talking down to Mk, stops playing at trying to be his mentor like he has something to teach him, 

stops pushing him off balance, he waits for him without pushing him

 and when Mk is knocked over he actually goes so far as to pick him back up again, and leans on him in a hidden display of support to keep him steady and act casual. 

He’s willing to face Wukong, not to win, he knows he can’t

but just to buy time because he doesn’t need to prove he’s stronger or better after Mk just flat up tells him all he needs is to be what he is and what he chooses to be. He chose the Warrior moniker and Mk basically gives him permission he didn’t want to admit he needed to just be himself. Macaque isn’t a super terrible person when he’s not pretending to be something he’s not.

Even at the end in that little scene with the crew relaxing, he could have went back to goading Mk or talking down at him, looming above him, but instead he’s down at his level

“you were done with that, right?”

His little theatre drama is back a bit, but its the most playful and non-confrontational we’ve seen him, even when Wukong is right there, because Mk isn’t Wukong’s successor anymore he’s just Mk to Macaque, just like how Macaque isn’t anything but himself to Mk. He’s not really pretending to be his mentor anymore, or one of the big baddies he should be fighting either. He’s just Macaque. You see him close right up again when Wukong starts talking, stands up, crosses his arms across his chest, gets defensive, looking away

but his issues with Wukong are no longer directed at Mk because he finally sees that Mk’s his own person, and that bias he previously had is gone. He’s a lot calmer, chill, and is okay with being seen out in the light. He lingered aroudn the group for a bit rather than dipping right after like he might have before. Which honestly is a huge step for his character and WHAT AN AMAZING ARC THAT I DIDN’T APPRECIATE ENOUGH WHEN THE FANALE CAME OUT BECAUSE I WAS GETTING BODYCHECKED BY BURN OUT BUT M A N

I honestly don’t know how the next arc will handle his and Wukong’s dynamic there or if we’ll ever get closure or an unbiased account on the fall-out that happened between them or how the crew will write that, but honestly I don’t mind this dynamic they have right at the end there so much because, while the arguing/banter is easy to fall back into and just seems to feel like a safe spot for the both off them (i’m not sure they know how to react to one another without that bit of a challenge in the conversation anymore, but a lot of the bite is gone,) Macaque seems, for the most part, to be done trying to fight Wukong. He’s got acceptance from Mk and by extension the Monkie crew, and suddenly it seems like getting Wukong’s attention, doesn’t seem to matter to him as much anymore. At least at that moment. 

His good-bye is him trying to get under Wukong’s skin, with less aggression than before, just for the sake of messing with him rather than actually goading him into a fight,

and then he softens right up when he says goodbye to Mk, like, actually softens, not to get under his skin, not to talk down at him, but in a more genuine manner, because he finally sees them as separate people and there’s a respect there for Mk that he didn’t have before. He doesn’t need to act so much around him, so that mask he has on, that drama, that “Dunno, somewhere i can do a bit of scheming probably,” turns into a much more genuine, quiet “see you around Mk.”

Mk knows who and what he is, and is okay with that, so, Macaque doesn’t need to pretend to be anything less or anything more. And he’s always welcome back in their little group whenever he’s feeling up to it

The last we see of Macaque, he gives a genuine private smile at the doodle Mk sent with no one else around to see it and the camera pans up with him looking into the sky at the light of the sun, and if that ain’t a blatant metaphor for a brighter future for him with the word “redemption” narrated by Tang right over that, I dunno what is GSDLKJFSD

In any case, there’s a lot of assumption in this analysis/hc post so I could very well be wrong and there’s no guarantee the new director is gonna keep the direction that’s going right now, but this was fun and I’m glad Macaque’s character could get a little bit of a start of a redemption arc there at the end. He’s got a long way to go, but MAN if that ain’t some fire storytelling on the first bit of progress. This show does an amazing job writing it’s characters and I am so glad I’m around to be watching the show. 

(Also, I say this about like, 90% of the characters in this show but like MK IS BIG FAVE. He has an amazing ability to just grab the good in people and pull it out so they can see it themselves and just, when they’re ready to change he accepts them in an instant and I am SO curious as to why he choses to be the way he is and i WANT MORE OF HIM SO BADLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND HE IS UNDERRATED EVEN AS THE MAIN CHARACTER OF THE SHOW, I ADORE HIM AND WHAT HE BRINGS OUT IN THE PEOPLE AROUND HIM THANKS) 

ANYWAY HOPE Y’ALL HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY, SENDING YOU GOOD VIBES AND THANKS FOR READING o7

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 2 Finding Out (Family/Friends)

Prev 

AO3

@maribat-bdbwm

“Mari!” Adrien yells, running past Batman to sweep her up in a hug. Marinette’s face instantly heats up, but she buries herself into the hug. After all, it’s not every day she faces a supervillain determined to kill her with a dangerous weapon...without her suit, anyway.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Marinette reassures him, relishing in the comfort. A cleared throat makes her jump back and look at Batman who, despite clearing his throat and cutting off the most amazing hug ever, has no emotions on his face. Whatsoever. Cause that’s not intimidating or anything.

“The police will need your statement, Miss Dupain Cheng.” Batman says. Marinette nods, squeaking when Adrien reaches down and entwines his fingers with hers. Following Batman’s directions to the awaiting police, Marinette feels nerves flood her systerm as she sees the sheer number of officers on the other side of the door. Sucking in a deep breath, she feels Adrien squeeze her hand. Shooting him a thankful smile, Marinette uses her unattached hand to open the door and step out into the mess of personnel. A man with a mustache and square glasses steps forward immediately, his hand extended.

“Hello Miss Dupain Cheng. I’m Commissioner Jim Gordon. We were in communication with Batman while he was inside so we heard some of what happened. Would you be comfortable telling us what happened? We can get you checked over by paramedics first, if you want.” Commissioner Gordon says.

“Oh, no, no. I’m fine. I don’t-” She starts to say, but a gruff voice cuts her off.

“She should be examined immediately, Gordon. She may have inhaled smoke from the smoke bombs due to proximity. She also could have burns to her face or ears from Joker’s gun. He shot it and then proceeded to prod her with it.” Batman says, the last part of his ‘report’ slightly more gruff than the first. Was he…..worried about her? Marinette shakes that thought off almost immediately. Why would Batman be worried about her? Wait, was he really going to make her see the paramedics when all she wanted to do was talk to the officers so she could get back to the trip?

“I assure you, Monsieur Batman, Monsieur Gordon, I don’t need to see the paramedics. I’m a little shaky, but that’s all. I mean, I was held at gunpoint. I think shaky is appropriate, non?” Marinette asks, flashing the two a bright smile. Gordon raises an eyebrow and glances at Batman who shakes his head stiffly.

“She gets examined.” He says, leaving no room for questions as he pulls his grappling hook (?!?!) out and retreats to the rooftop.

“You heard the man. We can talk as you’re examined, if you’d prefer. I’m sure you just want to put this whole business behind you.” Commissioner Gordon says kindly. Marinette sighs in relief and nods, smiling again at the man. Hopefully this would be taken care of quickly. --- Bruce Wayne was slightly panicking, though he would never admit it. When reports of the Joker being spotted at the Gotham City Museum of Modern Art first rolled in, he assumed his biggest challenge would be keeping Jason from murdering the clown. He did not expect to see a small girl being held at gunpoint. A girl who looked like a strange mix between his mother, and someone else. But he couldn’t place his- of course. Memories flood his mind as he thinks back to the woman who was so clearly related to the small girl. Bridgette Le. A woman that he, at one time, thought he would be able to spend the rest of his life with. Until she left Gotham and cut off all contact between the two. Oh god. She wouldn’t….would she? --- “I don’t understand why that older paramedic looked like she’d seen a ghost.” Marinette says with a pout as she continues working on the embroidery for a jacket for Jagged. Design never sleeps.

“What d’ya mean?” Adrien asks from his nest of blankets on her bed. Marinette tries to focus on keeping her blush down. Apparently, the attack at the museum had scared Adrien more than her, though she imagined he was scared on her behalf. But she couldn’t quite understand why...nevertheless, he had become attached at her hip and hadn’t left her side since they got back to the hotel. Even though all she really wanted was a little alone time to talk to Tikki. Especially about the chance of the Miraculous Cure working here. Maybe if she was in the battle…

“Didn’t you notice? He was fine til he looked into my eyes and then he got super pale. He looked like he was going to say something, but Monsieur Gordon stopped him before he could.” Marinette recounts, remembering the way the paramedic had to switch out since his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“I didn’t notice that. That’s weird. Anything else happen like that today?” Adrien asks, finally sitting up and giving her his full attention. Marinette pauses her stitching and purses her lips as she runs the days events back through her head. The paramedic. Batman. Joker. Arriving late to the museum. The cab ride. Being left at the hotel. Coffee-

“Well,” Marinette starts, furrowing her eyebrows as she tries to rationalize the man’s actions in addition to the actions of the paramedic. But something wasn’t adding up. “There was my cab ride to the museum.”

“What happened? Was someone creepy? I can fight them for you!” Adrien offers, a little too cheery. Marinette freezes as she studies his face, searching for something. Adrien had been off all day. More protective than he’d been in awhile. And the few times Lila had spoken, he had scowled at her instead of ignored her. Was he finally coming around to the idea that the high road would not work with Lila? Pushing those thoughts off for another time, Marinette shakes her head.

“No, no. Nothing like that. But as I was leaving, he called me Miss Wayne.” Marinette admits, not expecting Adrien’s uncontrollable laughter.

“He, you, oh my god!” He laughs, clutching his sides. Marinette’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as she sets the jacket down on the desk.

“What?” She asks, completely and totally frustrated with the situation. Adrien laughs for another minute before calming down, wiping tears from his eyes and shooting her a blinding smile. Not his model smile. An actual smile that warms her heart and her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Mari. It’s just, I think he was referring to the fact that you look like the typical kid Bruce Wayne adopts.” Adrien says and Marinette’s blood freezes.

“Did you say Bruce Wayne?” Marinette asks and Adrien nods, his previous mirth wiped from his face.

“Yeah, Mari, are you okay?” He asks. Marinette nods, then shakes her head, then groans and throws up her arms in frustration.

“I don’t know! I just- you remember how I told you I’m adopted?” She asks. Adrien nods, then stops. A look of mixed terror and awe flooding his face.

“Oh god, Mari. You never told me the name. Your birth father-”

“His name is Bruce Wayne. But there’s gotta be hundreds if not thousands of Bruce Waynes in the US right?” Marinette asks, even as her hope in that idea dwindles.

“The US? He’s confirmed from the US?” Adrien asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Yes. Adrien, what are you doing?” She asks, suddenly worried as she jumps onto the bed next to him, desperately trying to see his phone.

“I’m googling Bruce Wayne and Bridgette Le as a combined search. Wayne is one of the most prominent figures in Gotham, all of his previous relationships have photographic evidence. Except for whoever the mother of his youngest is. But that’s probably because he wasn’t in the country at that time.” Adrien says, typing away furiously on his phone. Marinette’s eyebrow quirks up in amusement.

“Since when were you a master researcher?” She asks with a grin.

“Since one of my best friends found out she’s adopted and it could be the man who hosts the only palatable high society parties. Seriously. And they’d be much better if you were there and-holy shit. Your bio mom looks just like you!” Adrien exclaims, turning the phone to her. Marinette inhales deeply and thanks whatever power there is that she’s not in Paris right now. The emotions running over her at an indescribable speed...not all of them are positive. And they’re all overwhelming as she looks at a picture that very clearly shows her bio mom with Bruce Wayne. As in the Gotham Bruce Wayne. Not a different unknown Bruce Wayne across the country somewhere. Nope. A man who is apparently prominent enough that Monsieur Agreste makes his son go to the man’s parties.

“I don’t suppose she just had a type for men named Bruce Wayne?” Marinette says weakly. This was not what she expected. --- This was exactly what he expected. Looking at the birth records for one Marinette Le, where he’s noted as the father. Though why he wasn’t notified before the girl’s custody was signed over to Sabine Cheng, he’ll never understand. His jaw clenches as he continues reading, eyes scanning over Bridgette’s death certificate before glancing back at Marinette’s birth certificate. A daughter. He had a daughter. Another child that he would never be able to hold when they were small. Another child that grew up without him. Another child that he didn’t meet until they were already a person. Someone with their own experiences individual from his own, someone that may not even know he had found them. And that he wanted nothing more than to get to know someone who was brave enough to stand between the Joker and her friends. Someone who was determined not to let what should have been the most traumatic experience in her life be a set back. He had a daughter. And he wanted to meet her.

***

Next

Note, my headcannon is that the paramedic that panicked did so because he was one of the first responders the night that the Waynes were murdered. And while she looks a lot like her birth mom, Marinette also definitely has Martha Wayne’s eyes and the paramedic could NOT deal. Also, let me know if you want tagged!

Tag List: @jjmjjktth

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Let It Be Me

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

This is for the incredibly talented @journeythroughunknownlands

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

This will be cross posted on AO3 later today. 

Rating: Explicit

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

3.9k words

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

His room that he was sharing with Jaskier.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

“Geralt? Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Woods.”

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

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

“Can I help you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whispering his answer, Geralt practically begged for more.

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

And mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jaskier, please, fuck. Fuck me.”

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

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

“Do you still want more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geralt had never seen him look more amazing.

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

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

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

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

“Mmm. Don’t.”

“Okay.”

And then Geralt was asleep.

-

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier looked taken aback, “For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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[nugnthopkns]

if everything could ever feel this real forever

word count: 4.3k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, alcohol consumption, allusion to sexual content (nothing explicit but minors please be aware!)

recommended listening: everlong | foo fighters

a/n: broke down and wrote for ratty matty. alternalty titled four times matthew thinks you’re the one and one time he knows (4+1′s are fun to write, pls don’t fight me). also pls ignore the fact i don’t know how airports work, i’ve only ever flown domestically lmao

Matthew feels different when you’re around. 

You don’t turn him into a completely different person. He’s still himself – an absolute pest at times – but more genuine. With you he can feel everything deeply, say whatever’s on his mind without the fear of being judged. It’s the best kind of different, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. His teammates constantly ask him when he’s going to lock you down; put a ring on your finger and change your last name, but he needs to be sure before he makes such a big commitment. 

one

It’s the beginning of July, and you’re sweating buckets in the back of an Uber. The driver has the air cranked, but nothing seems to alleviate the heat. You know it will be worse in St. Louis so you do your best not to complain, but it’s hard. Taking two weeks off to visit your boyfriend in his hometown sounded like a great idea, but reading the weather forecast has you re-evaluating the trip. 

Your phone lights up in your lap, and you eagerly unlock it. It’s a text from Matthew. Have a safe flight. Text me when you land. Tayrn will be there to pick you up – Brady and I’s on-ice got extended. I’ll see you when I get home. Love you. 

Though you wish he could be the first person you see when you touch down, you understand that his job comes first. Besides, your re-unification will be more private this way. I get to see the best Tkachuk first, fuck yeah you reply, before following it up with Love you too Matty. See you soon. 

Soon after sending the text you arrive at the entrance of Calgary International Airport. With a polite thank you to your driver, you grab your suitcase and head inside. The working air conditioning answers your silent prayers and you feel your body slowly return to a normal temperature. Check in is fast, and before you know it you’re breezing through security. A slightly nervous traveller, you’re at the gate earlier than you need to be. The plane doesn’t take off for another two hours. You don’t mind the wait, listening to a couple of podcast episodes and grabbing a snack at the lounge before boarding. 

The five hour flight passes in the blink of an eye. St. Louis is busier than Calgary, and it takes you longer than you thought it would to get through customs. Once passed immigration and at the baggage carousel you let Matthew know you’re safely inside the city limits. You grab your obnoxious suitcase – a bright red thing with a giant Flames logo that Matthew thought would be funny to give you – and set out to find Tayrn. She’s easy to spot, waving a giant poster with your name on it. Abandoning nearly all airport etiquette, you rush through the crowd to see her. Over the years she’s become a little sister and close friend, and you really wish you could see her more frequently. 

“Y/N!” Taryn squeals as you wrap your arms around her. The pair of you embrace for another moment or two before making your way to her car. Neither of you can stop talking, so excited to be in each other’s presence.

“It’s so nice to be back,” you sigh. “I really do like St. Louis.” 

Tayrn giggles. “You’re just excited to see Matthew.” 

Though she isn’t wrong, you swat her bicep in faux annoyance. “What? Can a girl not enjoy a nice Midwestern city?” You push your sunglasses up onto the bridge of your nose before continuing. “Besides, I only came here to see you. I see enough of Matt at home.”

She rolls her eyes but extends her arm so you can fist bump her. With a quick look to make sure the way is clear, Taryn exits the parking spot and heads in the direction of your temporary home. The open sunroof allows the wind to whip through your hair and you struggle to tame it enough to put it in a ponytail. One Direction blasts from the stereo, and you join Taryn in screaming the lyrics until your lungs hurt. Being on vacation, even if it’s only to St. Louis, is so freeing. You don’t have to deal with work deadlines or friendship drama. All that matters is spending time with Matthew. 

When you pull into the Tkachuk’s driveway it’s empty. It’s Thursday afternoon; Chantal’s at work, Keith is golfing with friends, and the boys are at the rink. You take a few minutes to unpack, filling Matthew’s drawers with your clothes, before joining Taryn by the pool. St. Louis is just as hot as the city you left, and the travel has left you feeling below average. A quick swim is sure to be the perfect remedy. 

The water is the right kind of cool, and alleviates any stress you were possibly feeling. You’re properly in vacation mode now, lounging on pool floaties and gossiping with Taryn. An hour later when Matthew returns home you’re in basically the same position. Stepping out into the yard he sees you urging Taryn to turn around so you can place sunscreen onto the one spot she missed, laughing all the while at some ridiculous celebrity rumor she’s telling you. Seeing you get along so easy with his sister, and the rest of his family, makes his heart swell.

In the couple of months you’ve been separated, Matthew’s thought a lot about his future. Specifically about his future with you. When he closes his eyes he can see it clearly: the two of you married with children and a dog, living in a house in the mountains and loving life. It’s idyllic, and even though he knows you’d say yes if he asked you, Matthew still can’t bring himself to do it. There’s something in the back of his brain telling him to wait until he knows with absolute certainty that you’re it for him.

Not wanting to be separated from you for a minute more, he snaps out of his daze and scurries over. Wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and pressing a kiss to the base of neck, he relishes in how you mould to him immediately, not even questioning who it was. 

“Welcome back baby,” Matthew mumbles into your skin. 

With a chuckle you wriggle slightly in his grasp, allowing yourself to face him. You press a kiss to his lips and it feels like heaven. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, you suppose, because you could stand here kissing Matthew your the rest of your life and be happy. 

“Hi Matty,” you giggle against his lips, parting from him only to rest your forehead on his and twist a curl around your finger.

From somewhere inside the house you hear Brady yell,  “Jesus Christ, you two, get a room.”

Without taking his eyes off you, Matthew replies, “Fuck off Brady!”

two

The energy inside the Saddledome is electric. It’s the Flames’ first home game in nearly a week, doing an east coast road trip and sweeping every team they faced. Six games later the team is on a nine game winning streaking and are hoping to keep it going. You know how much it matters in this moment – the playoffs are fast approaching and all points they can tally up are needed. 

You had decided months ago to buy rinkside tickets for this game, planning to surprise Matthew. He loves when you sit in the regular crowd, cheering and spilling your beer like any old fan. It’s humbling for the both of you, and honestly you enjoy it. Though you love those in the Better Halves box, you were a hockey fan before dating Matthew and sometimes like to enjoy games by yourself. Plus, your friend was supposed to be in town and join you at the game, and you figured she’d like to experience how insane the area is firsthand.

So you do your best to quickly shimmy around those blocking your seat, beverage in hand. It was all you could do to get to the rink on time, sitting in the dense downtown traffic for nearly three quarters of an hour after rushing out of work. You wanted to make it before warmups started to make sure Matt knows you’re there supporting him. No one really bats an eye at you, which you’re thankful for. In no way are you notorious, but it wouldn’t take a die-hard fan long to recognize you. Sitting down and letting a soft sigh escape your lips, you carefully place your jacket over the seat beside you. At the last minute your friend had to cancel her trip to Calgary, leaving you solo. With a quick look at the clock you see that warm up will start in just under a minute. The players begin to step onto the ice as you sip your beer. Matthew is yet to notice you but you don’t take offence. He’s in the zone and most likely won’t realize you’re sitting right in front of him until halfway through the third period.

“Look daddy, it’s Matthew Tkachuk!” you hear a young boy shriek in excitement. “He’s so fast, I want to play just like him.”

You turn to look and see two rows above you there’s a father and son, who looks around eight. He’s wearing a jersey identical to yours, and from the sounds of his excited chattering it’s his first game. Seeing the young boy so happy to be here, to see your boyfriend, has your heart swelling. You want to make this a game he’ll never forget.

“Hi,” you smile at the father. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I know Matthew quite well. Would you like me to get his attention so your son could meet him?”

A shocked expression makes its way onto the dad’s face, but he doesn’t react negatively. “You’d do that?” he asks. “Riley loves Matthew. Wants to be just like him.” When you nod, he lets you approach the boy. 

“Hey there Riley, I’m Y/N,” you say, smiling and extending a hand to him. “I’m a special friend of Matthew’s. Would you like to meet him?”

The boy looks at his father tentatively, and only once he nods encouragingly does Riley respond to your question. “Yes please.”

“Why don’t you come down here with me and we’ll get his attention?”

With a little help from you, Riley climbs over the seats and plops unceremoniously beside you. You help him straighten out his jersey before beginning a conversation. He tells you he plays in a local youth league and wants to make it to the NHL one day. When prompted, you explain to him that you work a boring office job that you love even though it makes you angry sometimes. It’s all very formal, but after cracking a few jokes you get him to loosen up.

Matthew, still not having noticed you, begins to skate along the boards in your direction. “Watch this,” you whisper-yell to your newfound friend, “I bet he’ll jump super high.”

As soon as Matthew passes your spot you bang on the glass and scream his name. Sure enough, his skates lift a good three inches of the ice and he shrieks. Teammates around him laugh and the look on his face is priceless when he discovers you’re the culprit. 

“Babe!” 

You smile. “Matty, this is my new friend Riley. He wears number nineteen just like you!” A glance at the boy lets you know he’s starstruck, and your eyes lock with Matthew’s. 

He leans down and rests his hands on his knees, at eye level with the child. “Hi Riley,” he begins. “I’m Matt. I like your jersey.” 

After that, Riley’s a tap that won’t turn off. He details every bit of his day to Matt, and even though their voices are muffled a bit from the glass they get on like two peas in a pod. Matthew is great with children and doesn’t shy away from having legitimate conversations with them. He talks to them like they’re people, which is something you admire about him. The warmup time runs out, but before he heads back to the dressing room Matthew hoists his stick over the glass, giving it to Riley. The younger boy beams and waves goodbye. You blow Matthew a kiss, which he gladly returns, and turn your attention away from him as his figure retreats. 

“Is he your boyfriend?”The question makes you laugh.

“Is it that obvious?” you ask, to which Riley just shrugs. 

“He called you ‘babe’, and my mommy calls my dad that. That means you’re in love,” he says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. 

Matthew cannot pay attention in the locker room for the life of him. He’s trying really hard to listen to everyone’s hype speeches, but his mind keeps wandering back to the interaction you shared during warm up. You looked so happy watching him interact with the boy you found god knows where within the arena. It’s then he realizes he wants to watch you act like that for the rest of his life. He wants to see you bring excited children to meet him because you have the power to make their nights. His suspicion is confirmed when he steps onto the ice and looks in your direction, finding you and Riley pressed up against the glass cheering loudly.

three

The Giordano’s are hosting an end-of-season barbeque before everyone scatters into the wind, and you’re going to be late. No matter how much you reminded Matthew of what time you had to leave he still started getting ready as you were finishing up. This typically wouldn’t be a big deal, but he has recently started taking care of his curls, and the routine eats up a lot more time than he anticipates. 

“Matty, are you almost ready? There’s going to be no parking!”

His footsteps echo off the hardwood floor as he comes towards you. “That’s what you’re worrying about, baby? Parking?” Matthew laughs, pulling you into his side and kissing the crown of your head. 

“Yeah Matt, I am. You know I have parking anxiety.”

“I’ll drive then,” he says sweetly. “Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve driven us. Have some fun tonight.”

The short drive across town is full of laughter. Neither of you are great singers, but it doesn’t stop you from belting out lyrics at the top of your lungs. At some point Matthew breaks out a rather terrible impression of Axl Rose and you just have to post it to your instagram story. Captioning with a simple microphone emoji, you slip your phone back into your sweater pocket. Though most certainly warm enough to spend the entire evening outside, Calgary currently has a bit of a proclivity for wind, and you’d rather be prepared. Outside of Mark and Lauren’s house Matthew finds a spot and parallel parks with ease.

“Shut up,” you mumble, poking your tongue out at him. 

Matthew ruffles your hair in retaliation before jumping out of the vehicle, booking it around to the other side so he can open your door. He isn’t slick about hiding his intentions, grabbing a handful off your ass before leaning down to kiss you. Though you’d much rather stand in the cul-de-sac and make out with your boyfriend, you both have appearances to keep up. You get him to stop being a pest kong enough that you can enter the party and pass him off to his teammates. 

You congregate with some of the other girls in the corner of the yard, and enjoy a drink while the sun sets. It’s fun to gossip with them, to catch up one final time before most of them leave. You’ll be staying in Calgary, job tying you down for the foreseeable future. The only thing that’s better than spending time with your friends is glancing at Matthew from across the space. 

He’s enjoying himself, glass of water in hand. When he offered to be the designated driver he was serious, and he took the shit the boys were giving him in stride. Though you’ve only had one gin and tonic and can’t feel the effects of the alcohol, you’re glad he’s staying true to his word. The heightened water intake makes his skin glow, and you’re having a hard time staying focussed on the story Lauren is telling. He catches you staring and shoots you a dazzling smile. Tired of keeping your distance, you excuse yourself from the conversation and saunter over to your boyfriend. 

“Hey Y/N,” Noah says breezily, raising his glass to you in mock salute. You wrap your arms tightly around Matthew’s waist.

“Hanifin,” you smile. “I’m really sorry to do this, but I need to pull Matt away for a quick second.”

No one in the group is the least bit surprised. The two of you have a reputation for being young and in love, sneaking off often and doing everything that entails. Once the two of you are alone you rest a hand on his chest, dangerously close to the button of his shirt. You then move kissing along the underside of his jaw, pressing your body closer to his to ensure he gets the point. 

“Needy baby?” Matthew tries to smirk, but his voice wavers when you reach the junction of his jawbone and earlobe. 

Declining to speak, you continue your actions until he’s just as desperate to get home as you. Though you try to be sneaky as you exit through the back gate, you won’t be surprised if you wake up to a few crude text messages. You’re too far gone to care, solely focussed on showing your boyfriend how much you love him. 

The entire ride home Matthew can barely focus on the road. Not because you’re doing anything particularly risqué, a few too many close calls have put you both off of initiating things in the car, but because he doesn’t ever want to stop sneaking away from events with you. It’s exhilarating in more ways than one, and he hopes the feeling never goes away. Being with you, his best friend, is something he wouldn’t trade for the entire world. So what if he gets chirped by the boys for having precariously placed marks on his back.

four

September brings a chill to Calgary, but you couldn’t feel warmer. Matthew is due home this afternoon after nearly four months of being away. Of course you visited him in St. Louis, and he even flew back to the city once, but the two of you were mostly separated. Your shared apartment felt cold and lonely without him to annoy you, so you had spent as much time away from it as possible. No longer do you have to fall asleep with Matt’s side of the bed stone cold. 

Though you know he likely won’t care, you’re nervous about the new decor. In an effort to make yourself feel better in Matthew’s absence, you completed some home renovations. Most are superficial, like a new sectional and an ungraded home speaker system, but you had redone the entire kitchen after scrolling through pinterest. The cabinets are a bright yellow, and the walls are a warm cream. Subway tile has also replaced the previous backsplash. You’re quite proud of the way it looks – doing pretty much all of it yourself and only calling your dad when you really needed help. 

You spend much of the morning not doing anything productive, pacing the hallway back and forth. It’s nerve wracking and exciting to have Matthew home. Things will go much smoother with his presence even if he can sometimes be the most annoying person on the planet. You force yourself to eat a small meal before continuing to wear holes into your floor. He’ll arrive in a matter of minutes, and you’re practically vibrating with how much your legs are shaking. 

A key twists in the lock, as though it’s a Pavlovian response, you bound towards the front door. Not even letting him step over the threshold you wrap yourself around him as tightly as possible. Matthew giggles sweetly, and you swear it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. Tears flow freely down your cheeks and soak through his shirt. In a very ungraceful waddle Matthew carries the both of you inside your home and shuts the door lightly. 

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Matt asks, obviously concerned because this is more emotional than any homecoming you’ve ever had. 

Through hiccupping sobs, you stutter out, “I painted the kitchen cabinets yellow and you’re going to hate them. And then you’ll want to break up with me but I won’t be able to take them with me.”

“Woah woah woah, slow down baby,” he soothes, rubbing circles on your back. “Why am I going to hate it?”

When you can’t come up with a justifiable answer, he knows your anxiety just got the better of you. Repositioning you slightly so you’re tucked into his side, Matthew walks through the apartment to see the kitchen for himself. He’s blown away by its beauty, and he can see just how much work you put into it. The room is so much brighter and inviting – he can’t imagine having any other kitchen now. 

Once you ramble off an apology for being so dramatic that he won’t accept, the two of you settle into the couch and start a reality television marathon. It’s a tradition that both of you take very seriously, and though he’d never admit it to anyone but you, Matthew looks forward to watching the outlandish dramas. The night is quiet, with you getting through quite a few seasons of Desperate Housewives, and at some point you fall asleep on Matthew’s chest. He knows he should gently move you off of him, start to unpack his bags, but he can’t tear himself away.

He can’t help but stare as you snore softly. There’s nothing Matthew would like more than to spend the rest of his life relaxing after coming home to you. If he’s being completely honest, St. Louis doesn’t feel like home as much anymore, and he finds himself counting down the days until he can return to Calgary. Matt supposes you’re the defining factor, and even Antarctica would feel like home to him if you were there. He never wants to lose that feeling. 

+ one 

There’s ten seconds left on the clock. Ten seconds until the Calgary Flames will become Stanley Cup champions. You’re holding your breath – you know a lot could happen in such a short amount of time. The lead isn’t as wide as you’d like it to be, only one, and you squeeze Taryn’s hand tightly. Everyone in the friends and family box is just as amped up as you. If the choice had been yours, you’d be sitting in the stands of the Saddledome, but in event the Flames win you need to be with everyone else if you want to join the team on the ice. 

Matthew carries the puck up the ice, and you audibly gasp. At the last second, a Bruins defenseman is blocking his view of the net. Not letting the scoring opportunity go for his team, he snaps a pass backwards to Elias Lindholm. A nano-second later the puck is in the back of the net. You possibly scream the loudest of anyone in the box, jumping into Brady’s arms excitedly. 

“Holy shit, they’re going to do it,” you whisper, and Brady nods enthusiastically. The clock now only has two seconds, and there is virtually no way the Bruins can make a comeback. 

You untangle yourself from your boyfriend’s brother and approach his parents. “How exciting is this!” Chantal gushes. 

“So fucking exciting,” you say honestly. “Listen, I want to talk to you about something.”

The Bruins’ head coach is halfway through his timeout, so you have to talk fast. You explain that you want to hang back while the family celebrates with their son and brother. Keith and Chantal try to argue, but you insist. You want them to be the first people to greet him as a Stanley Cup champion. 

A horn signals the return to play, and you return your attention to the ice pad below you. Everything seems to move in slow motion; all you remember is the final whistle being blown and getting crushed in a group hug by everyone else in the room. Your voice goes hoarse from screaming, and tears stream freely down your face. 

The party continues for a short time in the box, but then you’re being led through the arena and out onto the ice. Nodding in the direction of Matthew, you urge the Tkachuks to greet him. You congratulate other members of the team, snapping candid pictures of everyone to share in the group chat later. So many families will treasure the photos that you can’t bring yourself to stop, trying your hardest to grab everyone. 

Once enough time has passed for Matthew to properly be congratulated by his family, you make your way towards him. Wasting no time, he skates over and lifts you off your feet. Your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, and if you weren’t so proud you’d have reservations about sticking your tongue down Matthew’s throat in a packed arena. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper against his lips. “My champion.”

Matthew blushes profusely at your words, and you can tell he likes them. “Couldn’t have done it without you supporting me,” he responds, leaning into your touch as you rake your fingers through his hair. 

While you celebrate with the rest of the team, holding babies and snapping pictures, Matthew realizes he can’t live without you. No one else will fit into his life as perfectly as you. There’s no one he wants besides you. Matthew makes a mental note to go through your jewelry box in the morning to get your ring size. His mom always said he’d know when someone was ‘the one’, and now he understands what she meant.  

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[seijorhi]

If you're taking Kuroo requests at the moment is it okay to ask for Gift Wrapped Part 3 👀👀👀👀

For you, bby, of course 💕

Kuroo Tetsurou x Female Reader

TW non-con/extreme dub-con, nsfw, smut, unreliable narrator

Gift Wrapped III

Part I • Part II

It’s not often that Kuroo cooks. He can cook, pretty well actually - growing up, his grandmother had made sure that he at least knew the basics - it’s just that most of the time, he really can’t be fucked. 

Takeout’s easier. Less stress. Less cleaning.  Failing that, there’s always two minute ramen. It’s not like Akaashi or Bo ever complained. 

It’s not like their own cooking habits were any better. 

But today - today he’s glad that he knows his way around a kitchen. It’s not a gourmet meal, not by any stretch of imagination, but he knows that simple is often better. More importantly, he knows that it tastes good and you’ll like it, and really, that’s all he cares about. Kuroo can’t help but smile, hum a little as he moves to grab two plates from the cupboard and set them on the kitchen counter. 

Last night had been… intense for lack of a better word, but there was just something about waking up with you tucked up against his side that made everything feel right. He’s never been much of a romantic, but having you fast asleep in his arms, so soft, so vulnerable, your delicate skin littered with his ardent devotion, it filled him with a kind of warm contentment, like coming home after a long, long time away.

You fit against him so perfectly. 

It was tempting, baby, so fucking tempting to waste the morning lying in bed with you. To bury his face back into the crook of your neck, shuffle closer, drown himself in the scent of you and let the hours slip away until your pretty eyes fluttered open. 

And maybe if he was a little more selfish, he might have. But Kuroo was raised with better manners than that. It might have been that most traditional of first dates, but he’s nothing if not a gentleman. He knows he wore you out yesterday, fucked you until you were a beautiful, babbling mess. After being such a good girl for him, you deserve to be spoiled - might as well start with breakfast in bed and work his way up from there.

And if eating his lovingly prepared food has the added effect of making you fall just a little bit more in love with him, well who’s he to complain?

Smirking to himself, he finishes plating, stacking both dishes onto a tray along with a steaming mug of coffee for you to carry back into the bedroom. 

Except when he cracks the door open with a quiet, “Babe?” called out, you’re not lying curled up in his rumpled sheets where he left you. 

As hazel eyes frantically scour the empty room, his heart skips a beat, blood running cold. 

You’re not where you’re supposed to be.

His attention snaps to the window. Shut, just as he’d left it. Their apartment’s on the fourth floor anyway, it’s not like you could slip out that way, not without hurting yourself. His stomach lurches at the very thought. He didn’t hear the bedroom door open, but the front door’s locked up tight from the inside. Deadbolted. There’s no possible chance that you-

And then he hears it, the soft spray of a shower running down the hall and Kuroo almost laughs as relief washes over him like a wave, easing the sudden tension in his muscles. Of course you wouldn't go anywhere. 

You wouldn’t leave him hanging high and dry, not after you said those precious words to him last night, your cheeks flushed, eyes wide and glistening, “I l-love you, too.”

But when had you slipped out? He hadn’t even heard you get up, but to get to the bathroom you would have had to have walked right past him. 

Sneaky little thing.

Momentary heart attack aside, Kuroo glances down at the breakfast he’d so painstakingly prepared for the both of you. He was planning on surprising you in bed with it and letting the morning play out from there, but with you in the shower clearly that’s not going to happen. 

A smirk tugs at his lips as he sets the tray down on the empty bed and tugs off the old tee he’d thrown on to cook.

Breakfast can wait, Kuroo has other ideas of how to make your morning. 

You let out an adorable squeak when he opens the bathroom door, backing up into the corner of the shower and trying in vain to cover your chest and privates from view as he waltzes in.

“D-don’t come in!” 

He grins, bending over to kick off his sweats, “Relax, kitten. It’s just me.”

Yet you make no move to uncover yourself, still curled up against the cold tile wall, watching him with wide, cautious eyes. It’s kinda cute actually, the way you look at him like he’s about to eat you right up. 

You’re not wrong, per se, but it’s nothing to be scared of. He’ll take excellent care of you. 

“Thought we might as well save some water,” he says with a cheesy smirk, pulling the glass shower door open so he can step inside. “Shower together. What do you think, kitten?”

You swallow, nibbling on your bottom lip as he closes the distance between you, stepping under the steamy spray of water. “Please,” you whisper, but Kuroo pays it no mind.

“Let me see,” his voice is low, rougher than he expected and you don’t fight him when his hands wrap around your wrists to pull them away. Such a good girl for him. A sharp breath hisses between his teeth, his heart thumping unsteadily in his chest at the sight of you, all naked, wet and tempting, rivulets of water cascading down the soft curves of your body.

You’re beautiful.

Every fucking inch of you.

Maroon and burgundy lovebites are scattered across your skin like blooming flowers, from your neck to your tits to your soft, supple thighs, and he doesn't miss the faint, finger shaped bruises that mar your hips from where he held you too tightly the night before. Perhaps he was slightly too overzealous - he knows he should feel a little guilty, but as he stares at you with simmering, hooded eyes, there’s only one thought running through his head.

He needs you.

You shudder when he reaches for you, tugging you back under the spray, into his arms. He should be gentle and sweet, ease you into it after the marathon sex last night, but the moment you fall against him, your wet, slick breasts and pebbled nipples pressing up against his chest, all rational thought flies right out the window. 

“Kur-”

He silences you with a kiss, his tongue sweeping past your lips to taste you once more. He couldn’t stop this even if he wanted to. This - you - are perfect.

“I love you,” he pants, moans, as he guides your leg up over his hip, pushing you back up against the shower wall. “Love you so much, Y/N.”

You sob as his cock breaches your walls, clinging to him, burying your face in his shoulder. Even as he holds you closer, kissing at your neck while you whine and whimper, a twinge of guilt flickers through him. You’re probably still sore from yesterday. It’s hard to feel too bad though, when your warm, tight cunt squeezes and flutters around his aching cock, sucking him deeper even as he tries to draw his hips back.

Kuroo’s never been the religious type, but if there is a heaven, he’s pretty damn sure it exists between your thighs.

***

“Kuroo…” your voice is soft, hesitant, little more than a whisper over the quiet hum of the tv playing in the background - if you weren’t perched on his lap, he might not have heard you at all. 

He huffs out a laugh, “Don’t you think that’s a little formal, babe?” he teases, relishing the way you duck your head, trying to hide your pretty face from view by burying it in his chest. 

So easily flustered. You were riding his his cock like a fucking dream last night, but now you’re getting all shy over calling him by his first name? Kitten, you really are too fucking adorable. 

Okay, maybe he might enjoy teasing you just a little too much, but can you blame him?

“T-tetsurou…”

Kuroo grins indulgently. “Mhm?”

Your fingers twist in your lap, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you nibble on it. Kuroo doesn’t push you, doesn’t prod as you fidget and shift, you’ll speak when you’re ready. He doesn't mind waiting, not when he gets to hold you close like this.

“W-when can I, um… when can I go home?”

His lips trail across your bare shoulder and he hums noncommittally. You shiver when his teeth nip at your delicate skin, squirming so delightfully that he’s tempted to think you’re deliberately trying to rile him up. Of course, he knows better than that - doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy it when his tongue finds that sweet spot on your neck, just below your jaw, and you writhe and gasp so prettily, unintentionally grinding your ass against the swell of his cock. 

“Tomorrow,” he pants, his voice just a little thicker, rougher than usual. “We can swing by before class to pick some clothes and stuff up to bring back here.”

You stiffen in his lap, but whatever reply you’re trying to get out is swallowed by a shuddering squeak when his fingers dip below the waistband of the boxer shorts he’s lent you. “O-oh.”

There’s more that you want to say, he can see you struggling to find the words as his hand delves further into your underwear, rough fingertips teasing at your cunt. The little moan you try to stifle sends blood rushing straight to his cock and it twitches eagerly in his pants, and when you make the mistake of squirming again, the very last vestiges of his control snap. 

“C’mere kitten,” he growls, and before you can protest his arms are on your waist and he’s flipping you over onto your back, yanking down your shorts as he looms over you. “Fuck, I love you.” 

Kuroo’s hand’s already wrapped around his swollen length, stroking it, guiding the flushed, weeping cockhead along your slick cunt, and he has to bite back a grin when it nudges against your clit and you jerk.

You’re shivering beneath him, staring up at him with those wide, doe eyes that he loves so fucking much and he wonders, not for the first time, whether it’ll ever be enough. He loves you. Needs you like he needs air to breathe. The feeling of you wrapped around him, the way that you come undone under his touch, it’s intoxicating and addictive and he’s never going to get sick of it. You’re a drug, a craving he knows he’ll never satisfy completely but he doesn’t give a shit, not as long as you’re here with him. You’re perfect and you’re his and he’s never going to let you go.

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy till you’re screaming my name, gonna fill you up with my cum. You want that, baby? Want daddy to stuff you full of his cum?”

Kuroo doesn’t give you a chance to answer, leaning down to capture your reddened lips in a searing kiss. He knows that you probably need a little more prep, but he’s so hard, so desperate for the feeling of your tight, wet heat clenching around him that he just can’t wait. He’ll make it up to you, he thinks as he lines himself up-

A rough pounding on the front door shatters the atmosphere entirely.

You tense, flinching as he freezes, hovering over you, his lips still locked around yours. His heart thunders in his chest and narrowed, hazel eyes flick towards the door, but he makes no move to go and answer it, just watches and waits, until-

“Hey lovebirds, open up, would you? I’m tireeed,” a familiar voice whines, and Kuroo has to fight back a growl. Rationally, he knows he can’t be too mad, not when Bokuto’s the reason you’re here at all, but it’s hard to quell the faint flicker of resentment burning through him entirely, considering what it is that he’s interrupting. 

Of course the owlish bastard would choose now to reappear. He loves him like a brother, really he does, but Bokuto has the worst fucking timing on the planet. 

Reluctantly, Kuroo draws back, pressing another kiss - gentle this time - on your lips before falling back to sit on his thighs. “Impatient asshole,” he groans, but the wink he shoots you softens the edge of his words. 

Yet you’re still tense, your hands curled into fists at your side, an odd, fearful expression on your face as you stare at the door. He frowns for a split second before realisation hits him like a ton of bricks. He never asked Bo how he got you to come home with him. Kuroo had assumed that there were some kind of drugs involved because of your sleepy state, roofies probably but-

“Hey, look at me.” Long fingers grab at your chin and tilt your head back to focus on him. He smiles softly, reassuringly (he hopes), “It’s just Bokuto. He’s not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”

You don’t say anything in return, but he doesn’t miss how your eyes flit back towards the door. 

“Give us a damn minute,” he calls out when Bo knocks again, louder this time, sighing and running a hand through the thick, dark mess that is his hair. “C’mon. Let’s get you dressed, hm? We can finish this,” he reaches down to press a less than innocent kiss to your breast, smirking when your back arches just a little and a soft whine leaves your lips, “later.”

He has all the time in the world.

[nerdyfangirl67]

Are You Going to Kiss Me or Not - Criminal Minds Reader Insert

Pairing: Hotch x fem!reader

Word count: 1660

Warnings: mild language, slightly steamy kiss scene

Reader is done waiting around for one Aaron Hotchner to decide whether or not he is interested.

A/N: This came to me one day on my way to work, after listening to the Thompson Square song “Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not”. Since this fic is inspired by the song, it will be related, in some ways, to the song’s lyrics. I admit, it did get away from me and I’m not entirely sure how much I like the middle part. I hope y’all enjoy it regardless! Next up is a POTO work, so stay tuned for that :)

The words start to blur across the page as you try to read the document, again, for the third time. And just like before, a couple of sentences in your attention wanders from the page to the large window of Aaron’s office. Your eyes immediately find him where he is hunched over his desk, his hand moving furiously as he burns through the stack of paperwork taking up his desktop. You were glad you were the last one in the bullpen and no one was there to witness your hopelessly longing stares you had been sending Aaron’s way. 

“Screw it.” You murmur, pushing away from your desk before striding towards Aaron’s office. You knock hard twice and wait for him to call you in. Once he does, you push open the wooden door and take a few steps into the office. You watch as Aaron finishes scrawling out something on the paper in front of him before he lifts his head. 

“Y/L/N?” He asks in surprise. “What are you still doing here?”

You shrug your shoulders, not really sure yourself why you had stayed hours after leaving time to ‘work’ on paperwork. Deep down though, you knew it was because you hadn’t wanted to leave Aaron to another long night of paperwork. “I could ask you the same thing.” You quip back, causing an almost unnoticeable lift in one of his eyebrows as he gives you a look.

The room is quiet for a moment, the two of you staring into each other’s eyes. You’re saying more with your eyes than you had ever said out loud to him, showing him how you truly felt. His brown eyes were filled with something akin to longing and you had to fight the urge to take his face in your hands and kiss him. You break eye contact as you make your way to one of the chairs in his office. 

“I was thinking of calling it a night and thought maybe you might want to do the same.” You pause before quickly adding, “Or maybe you’d want to get a drink together.” You hope that despite the hour, he would feel as desperate to spend time with you as you were to spend time with him. 

“I don’t think that is such a good idea.” He answers, his eyes only meeting yours briefly before he looks out the window overlooking the bullpen. 

“Some other time then.” You say, feeling a rush of disappointment as he turned down your offer. 

His eyes meet yours now as he says, “I don’t think that any time would be good.” 

“Oh, well whenever you want to get a drink with a friend, just let me know.” You say, somewhat dejectedly, not sure why he was being so standoff-ish. “You’re a good friend.” You add quietly.

“I think you and I both know that that isn’t what this is.” He responds. “And I think that you and I also know that whatever this is, it can’t happen.” You open your mouth to argue otherwise, despite the fact that what he was saying was true, but he cuts you off.

“Good night Agent Y/L/N.” His voice has a biting edge to it as he returns to his paperwork, effectively ending the conversation. His apparent rejection has your heart seizing in your chest and your throat tightening against the rising sob in your chest. You turn and run out of his office, only stopping in the bullpen to grab your jacket and purse, not wanting Aaron to see you cry, especially when it was over him.

The drive home passes in a blur as you try to keep the falling tears from blocking your vision. You somehow make it back to your apartment without getting into an accident. You tiredly unlock your apartment, dropping your purse and jacket by the door before locking it back up. You don’t even have it in you to get ready for bed, instead opting to just take off your shoes and crawl into bed. You don’t get much sleep that night, the stress and anxiety of possibly having ruined your relationship with Aaron weighing down on you. When your alarm goes off the next morning, you know that there is no way you were going to be able to make it through work, let alone face Aaron after what happened last night. You send Penelope a quick text saying you weren’t feeling well and would be staying home. 

Later that evening, after a day of feeling sorry for yourself, you are lying on the couch, listening to some random podcast that has been playing on the radio, when a knock sounds on your apartment door. You let out a heavy sigh as you get up, not really excited by the idea that someone was at your door at this time of night. You open the door, ready to tell off whoever it was, but all words leave your mouth when you see that one Aaron Hotchner was standing in your doorway.

His eyes meet yours briefly before they scan over your body, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He wordlessly steps past you to the inside of your apartment, his hand catching yours as he passes you, a finger straying to caress your wrist. You slowly close the door, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall and the emotions that were rising to the surface before turning your attention to him. You watch him, watching you, for a long time, taking in the smallest details of his appearance; his dark hair, slightly disheveled, his white dress shirt without his characteristic tie and the top few buttons undone, and a tired expression on his face. 

You couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Aaron Hotchner, are you going to kiss me or not?” You burst out, hands on your hips as you focus your gaze on him. He didn’t say anything as he continues to stare at you, his dark brown eyes boring into yours. His silence infuriates you further and causes you to throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. 

“Damnit Aaron.” It wasn’t often that you used solely his first name, only doing so when a situation caused you to be enraged or terrified, and you felt a little of both at the moment. You were so upset at his apparent disinterest in what you were saying, what you were asking of him. And you were terrified that it meant he didn’t feel the same for you. 

“I like you a lot. In fact ... I might actually be in love with you.” It came spilling out, everything that you had been keeping to yourself for months and you couldn’t stop yourself once you’d started. “I’ve felt this way for a while, a long while. And I think you know, or at least a part of you does.” You pause, wondering if maybe you had been reading too much into the longing looks and the lingering ‘accidental’ touches, but you decide since you had gone this far, you wouldn’t back out now. 

“Aaron, I’m not going to wait around forever for you to decide.” You soften your voice, pausing for a long moment to let what you said sink in, before you ask him again. “So, are you going to kiss me or not?” He is moving before you even finish talking, reaching you in only a matter of steps. His large, rough hands come to rest on either side of your face, cupping your face in a gentle manner that contrasted heavily to the urgency in his movements. He brings your face up to his, bending until he is able to reach your lips. 

The kiss is soft, almost tentative, as if Aaron isn’t quite sure of what he was doing himself, as if he was going to pull away at any moment. You kiss him back fervently, worried that he was going to back away. You find yourself getting lost in the feeling of his hands on your face and his body brushing up against yours, the euphoria you feel over finally getting to kiss him flooding through your body. 

You are the one to finally pull back, your need for air overcoming your want to kiss him. He rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as the two of you catch your breath. “That was...” You murmur, a languid smile growing on your face. You catch a glimpse of the mischievous spark in his eyes as he mumbles out an incoherent reply, right before he seizes your lips with his. 

Where the first kiss had been safe and reserved, this one was passionate and frenzied. In the heat of the moment, Aaron backs you up against the wall of the living room in your apartment and his hands are everywhere; on your face, your hips, in your hair, sliding down your back. He breaks off the kiss before resting his forehead against yours. 

“I’ve waited years to do that.” He whispers, his voice rough with need. “And it was better than I ever could have imagined.” His soft brown eyes, twinkling with emotion, meet yours. 

“You better get used to it, Hotchner.” You say, a surge of confidence washing over you. “Because I’m definitely going to do that again.” You press a light kiss on his lips before wrapping your arms around his waist in a tight hug. His strong arms bring you infinitesimally closer, one of his hands coming to tuck your head in against his chest. “Good.” He murmurs his warm breath fanning across your neck. “I look forward to it.”

His words cause a smile to grow on your face as you relish in, finally, being able to feel his arms around you. You were certainly glad you finally decided to ask Aaron Hotchner if he was going to kiss you because it clearly paid off.

[remsmoonlight]

— title : theatre square

— word count : 2.2k words

— pairing : daigo dojima x reader

— summary : nothing but a nice day spent with Daigo in theatre square .. also Daigo still hates the fact he still sucks at the ufo catcher

— warnings : nothing but a few curses here and there

               ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open ! / requested by anon *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

An unending chatter of noise that bleeds into each other from the various conversations of people going about their daily lives as they are captivated by their conversations through their mobile phones or the shopping trip they are using as a way to catch up with their friends to those just on their lunch breaks from their jobs — all do not take in that which surrounds them as you do, your eyes jumping from person to person. While you wait, you find yourself making a story up for each of them, using the game from your childhood to entertain yourself until your date arrives.

As the minutes pass your excitement by, the bright blue of Kamurocho dulls as does your enthusiasm. Time aches by every time you bring your wrist up to check the time on your watch, not a message to say they’d be late. Nothing. A heavy rush of air takes the plunge out of your lungs and into the air, with dejection and gloom the bricks that build its body. You wonder why a person would ask you out only to leave you without even a whisper to communicate their lack of interest despite being the one whose idea it was. People are confusing.

“ What are you doing here by yourself? “

Your view is interrupted as you turn to the recognisable voice behind your shoulder, a forced grin is plastered onto your features — hope courses through your veins that it’s not blindingly obvious that you’re drenched from the stormy clouds of misery above you.

“ Daigo? “ You ask as surprise lights up your eyes as you survey the man. “ It’s been a while. “

Your friendship with him had occurred by accident. There’s not a day that passes in the town where there’s not a poor soul being harassed on the street for some odd reason or another, it’s just you’d never thought that you would be in that very position. Often, you would walk the streets of the neon metropolis making yourself as small and as insignificant as possible.. However on that day your lone bubble had been burst completely. One moment you’d been blissfully content in your own comfort zone as you dipped and weaved in the crowded streets and the next you’d found yourself surrounded by a swarm of drunks.

Had the universe sensed your predicament, the unpleasant experience lasted no longer than a wore on fleetingly as your lips whispered its silent gratitude. They’d scattered once an order to cease had been uttered by Daigo, as if they’d never been there in the first place, not even a shadow in their place. Apologies had been issued and usually you’d not even stayed long enough to accept them but his words were as remorseful as his eyes were true.

“ Yeah, I had something to deal with. “ He responds, digging his hands into his pockets.

“ It didn’t happen to involve this town being under siege, did it? “ You question him, a brow lifts up knowingly as your expression shifts.

His past had been no secret, you made no move to judge — his actions spoke louder than any riotous melody should weave the ability to. As you stared down at the scene from your apartment high above the glowing lights of the town, all you could see was a maze of smoke littering various areas you know well, especially as you’d walked their path that very morning. Terror prevented you from leaving, the unknown of what could occur should you walk that path played into your fear with an unyielding grip on your body.

“ These past few weeks have been something. “ He swallows lightly, his circumstances have certainly altered in the passing days. “ You haven’t answered my question. “

“ I was waiting for someone.. “ You shrug with a mousy chuckle, preferring to not let on how disappointed you feel. “ I don’t think that’s happening now. “

“ Who would stand you up like that? “

It would be a falsehood to say that he’d never imagined a closer relationship between the two of you the more he laid eyes upon your form. Noting mentally how you would persistently shine brighter than venus yet everyone who interacts with you would gravitate towards you as if you took on the form of Jupiter and they became an additional moon to orbit your infectious laughter. No sooner than he’d met you, he fell under the spell that many who interacted with you had — becoming one.

“ Well, we’re not all too close. I’m not bothered about it really. “ You lie, your words to anyone else would have gone amiss, but he’d picked up the soft falter in your voice.

“ Let’s go. “

Your gaze follows his retreating form, your body still glued to the spot it has occupied on the bench. Had you anything to say your mouth would be opening and closing like a fish, it’s not long until you manage to snap yourself out of the stupor he’d led you into and you’re both now standing outside the Club Sega arcade. A mist of uncertainty begins to fog slowly as the wheels turn in your mind, you’d only ever seen him settled into establishments where alcohol was served. Just what has he been through recently?

Chords of a catalog of sources flow through your hearing as your sight scans the area, electronic notes from the games move in rhythm with the joy those emit from the entertainment they gain from the amusements to the despair others make vocal as they lose a battle or have run their turns out on the UFO catcher. Fingers slip into your as you feel yourself tugged into the direction of a game with large seats, already knowing the game you know you’re terrible.

“ Why not another game? I’m horrible at this. “ You complain as you stare at the intimidating structure of the game.

“ It makes it easier to beat you then. “ He chuckles, a spark softly swaying in his eyes as he turns his attention to you.

“ You’re not being fair, Daigo. “

“ The aim is to win, you’re just going to have to try harder to beat me. “

You do as he says. It takes a colossal effort to direct your mind to organise itself in order to give yourself a fighting chance at winning, and it does work — to an extent. A thread of tame curses tumble unceremoniously from your lips as your character is knocked out once more, and the distractions from the male finding humour in your disaster beside you does not help your cause. Your eyes roll as the game ends once more, with you failing to get a win over Daigo, there’s no need to turn to face him for the smugness radiates off of him in waves.

“ See? I’m awful! “ You whine as your shoulders slump in defeat.

“ Let me make it up to you.. “ Daigo speaks with a comforting tone, no longer relishing in his victory. “ I’ll get you one of those toys from the UFO catchers. What one do you want? “

Your lips twist and turn as your teeth sink into the flesh to bite on them in contemplation as you eye up the prizes from your position, the lengthy distance doing nothing to hinder you as the sight of a pillow pups toy stands out confined to its glass prison. The golden retriever is too irresistible to the childishness within you as your eyes narrow as you reluctantly share your desire for the toy with him.

“ Make sure it’s the golden retriever one. “

“ Yeah, I got it. “

“ I hope you do. “ You comment in a steady tone, a palm leaning on the pane.

The music begins and you scrutinise the scene before you with an eager eye as the metallic claw first moves left. Determination chisels itself into his features as his brows lower in a physical representation of his focus. To win the plush toy would be the most simplest effort in the world yet it would be the first step in treating you how he should have been treated at the start. Truthfully, he’d wanted nothing to do with forging bonds that could be so easily disintegrated, however he could never build up the strength to tear himself away from you. Instead of feeling drained from the human interaction, he’d leave your encounters revitalised.

A groan leaves the both of you as the first attempt leaves all of the toys still confined to their places, the one you specifically want at the back firmly in the middle. A tough spot, you remark.

“ Fuck. “

Giggling to yourself, your teeth shine brighter than any star as they are on full display from the action as the frustration of the man is surprisingly amusing to you. Again, the claw had found itself short of where it should be, and the last chance of retrieving the toy desired so much is shown clearly on the metallic panel.

“ Let me, Daigo. “ You comment, pushing him to the side with a weak force. Rolling your shoulders dramatically, you grab the controls of the game. A breath is held as the claw makes its way left, the toy stands out temptingly from its position. I have to get this, it’s so cute! You do not listen to the prompt to let it descend from Daigo just yet, allowing it to inch its way further back ever so lightly. Your eyes are transfixed as you watch the toy is clutched in a clumsy hold, your heart speeds up at the sight of the lessening grip with each jagged movement that leaves the toy released earlier than it should.

A relieved sigh is released as it falls through the empty space at the last minute, just managing to pass through with seconds to spare.

“ I’m still shit at this. “

“ So you know how it feels now? “ You ask him with a smirk, interlocking your arm with his as you reflect on the surprisingly good time you have had with him. “ Ooh, let’s go to Café Alps, I fancy something sweet. “

The proximity between you both is small, with both hands secured firmly in his pockets Daigo enjoys the basic experience. A buzz of energy bubbles between the two of you as you converse interactively, you can’t help but notice a level of tension has been removed from his shoulders, the man next to you appearing a little more relaxed. The walk is short to the café, you can’t help but continue to stare at the bright displays of the stores as you pass by as if you’re witnessing them for the first time. Life is certainly vivid and lively in Kamurocho.

You turn your attention away from Daigo ordering to the life outside from your spot on the cushioned wall couch. It doesn’t go unnoticed that darkness has overtaken the skyline completely, even with the glistening neon lights the stars fight to make themselves seen.

“ Thank you, Daigo. “ You begin, a leading inflection heavy on your words as you sip slowly on the hot liquid. “ I have to ask though, what’s this all for? “

“ Does there have to be a reason? “ He deflects as you cock your head to the side in response.

“ You’re you. There’s always a reason to everything you do, I know you that well at least. “ You respond, before placing a piece of the chocolate parfait. A short wiggle of your shoulders at the enjoyment of the sweet treat lends some amusement to Daigo before an air of sobriety returns to his outward expression.

“ I haven’t been the best to you. “

“ Dai — “

“ Please, let me finish. “ He interrupts suddenly, eye contact unwavering as he continues to study your form. “ I had you as a friend but even then I would hold you at arms length more often than not. I’m surprised you’ve put up with me. “

“ I’m not going to say you’ve not been difficult.. But you don’t see what I do. “ You comfort, there had been days where he’d been more insufferable than a child, but you know humans are more than one dimensional creatures.

A culture of existing in a positive bubble perpetually is no way to live, for it denies you the chance to feel the emotions that slash your soul deeply. Is it easier to think it would be easier to live if you only experience happiness? Perhaps. But never does the find feel clearer after releasing the negativity that darkens your walls.

“ Huh? “

“ You’ve been through a lot, it’s not excusable to be an ass but it’s understandable. “ You shrug with little effort, shaking your head nonchalantly. “ Besides, you haven’t been as bad as you think. You’re human, you have your off days. We all do. “

“ Still, I don’t want to be an ass to you. “ He confides, moving his hand to envelope yours. There’s a surging warmth that the pair of you notice simultaneously threads between fingertips more seamlessly than when ink glides onto paper with the grace of a bird that soars through the bright blue sky.

He’d lived long enough in a world built of paper, using it as a means to escape the reality the world so harshly has built into it.

“ Then don’t. “