#how did this get buried in my drafts

[magecrashout]

hawke laughs freely at the picture he presents her. my, my, she loves it when he makes these stupid dry jokes. ❝ please, it would take more than a slippery floor to take me down. ❞ she catches the tingle of humor in his eyes and in his voice. each time it is almost like she wins a point for herself when this happens — she imagines she's pulling him out of his brooding swamp waters and exposing him to few rays of light.

hawke stills when he reaches for the guts in her hair. that must be from where her hair is soaking all that blood. he tells her he knows she'd do a lot for a bet and he is correct. too spot-on. hawke smiles and takes the invitation, she knows her way to the hanged man from just any point in kirkwall. ❝ it was a harmless bet, fenris. i bet varric i can kill a horde of darkspawn just fine without him and bianca. but in the company of either you or isabela with a blade in hand. well, this wasn't exactly a horde, but we came out alive anyway. ❞ she explains, looking back at fenris to catch his reaction.

she shrugs her shoulders. ❝ promise you will be there to tell me 'i told you so, hawke' — ❞ she does her best impression of his much deeper voice and his often sharp tone. hawke takes the stairs in their way hurriedly, thinking. she keeps doing so much for kirkwall and often times it is... overbearing. without an end goal. she doesn't want to dwell on his words right now. if she doesn't have these troubles to solve and things to kill, well what is there to look forward to?

❝ you always point out what a blasted hole kirkwall is, yet you stay. i suppose we both find reasons for the things we do. ❞ her tone is light, not a trace of blame or shame. she'd never shun him but she wonders why he stays.

cont. / @magecrashout

It wouldn't be the first time they crashed through that bar's rickety doors while covered in blood. He imagines the wood soaked with it like a repeated coat of varnish where they usually congregate, that scent of rust-iron always perceptible beneath the miasma of piss and cheap drinks — the entirety of Kirkwall's saturated by it, indistinguishable from the factory smokes or the sea brine on early mornings. Fenris gives her a flat look while flicking the viscous entrails from the blade, and steps over the cooling corpses with the same indifference afforded to cracks on the road. "If I show up alone, Varric will worry that you slipped and broke your neck on the way out of the bath." Imperceptible to anyone else, a tinge of humor reverberates in the harsh cadence as he reaches forward to remove a particularly stubborn bit of organ-meat from Hawke's hair. "You would do a lot of things for a bet." A half-way between a statement and a question, he gestures for her to lead the way. The work is never for the profit, not unlike the first years he's heard about. And power for power's sake? He's seen it play out to the same end throughout the wretched years. "It's only inevitable that you will one day bite off more than you can chew in a city like this, Hawke."

[lurkiestvoid]

accidentally got directly exposed to bullshit Veilguard discourse for once instead of just seeing it vagueblogged by my sweet moots and oh wow they were not kidding those critical thinking skills are poorpiss

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Hi! I’ve sent you two asks already, sorry for bothering you. I just can’t stop thinking about nhthcth, but I was wondering, does Jon get paid? Was he getting paid as a child?

For some reason I got this idea in my head that if Jon didn’t get paid the contract wouldn’t work. Because like, contracts are usually an agreement that one person does one thing and gets another thing in return. Like the Magnus Institute’s contract is like “you work here and never leave and sell your soul to me and I’ll give you maybe more than minimum wage,” so if Jon didn’t get paid, the Institute wouldn’t be holding up their end of the contract, so Jon wouldn’t need to hold up his end and he could leave.

Although I don’t know how that would work when Jon’s a child, he wouldn’t have a bank account, (does he have one as an adult?) I assume it would just go to his legal guardian’s bank account, which I guess would be Elias, but did Elias ever fully adopt Jon? Like legally? Did Elias have to forge adoption papers and stuff or did he just kidnap a child and hoped he’d get away with it. (I suppose he did get away with it) does Jon even have an ID? How did he go to university when he doesn’t have any school history past third grade?

Anyway, sorry I started rambling, you of course don’t have to answer this (nor do you need my permission not to answer, so I’m not sure why I said that) this is just a funny little question I was thinking about. Also, sorry if you’ve answered this already or there’s something in the fic that would answer it and I didn’t notice. Thank you for the amazing story and answering my other asks.

So, you've actually hit the nail on the head on one of the very important rules for nhthcth as a universe, insofar as like, magic systems (for lack of a better word) goes. That being said, a lot of the specifics of this ask is something that I can't answer due to spoilers (like how he went to university, whether elias ever adopted him, whether he has an ID). Those will receive direct explanations in the course of the fic so I can't answer them here.

But as to like, the magic system itself, it's already been seen/addressed in the fic (in a lot of disparate bits and pieces), so I don't have a problem with a more detailed explanation below the cut.

so, most of this system has been in subtext and broken up amongst a lot of little moments in the fic itself. its there but figuring it out takes a lot of patchwork. I don't currently have a more explicit breakdown of the system in the narrative itself because having like, Jon explain it super explicitly feels a bit too much like those internal monologues of an anime fight scene where the characters are having these really in-depth breakdowns of what they're planning and what's happening while they're throwing each other through walls. I just like more subtle storytelling, personally? A lot of the time, it just becomes so painfully obvious that they're talking to the audience and it feels clunky and unnatural. So I scattered the foundation of this amongst a bunch of little moments throughout.

You're absolutely dead on about contracts needing to be "one person gets one thing and the other person gets the other." That is a hard and fast rule in nhthcth, and it has everything to do with what the Web is.

One of my favorite bits about TMA world building is that the fears as so metaphysical. Which makes for a very fun (again, for lack of a better word) magic system. I hate it when magic systems break their own rules or become too powerful and you can just supercharge on the Power Of Friendship to do basically anything if you Believe Enough. Personally, I think characters get to really shine and show their intelligence when you stick them with very narrow and firm rules and make them work inside that system without breaking it. TMA in particular does an amazing job with that.

The Fears are the platonic ideals of their own identities and they legitimately cannot resist what they are. The episode with the Web's theatre production best encapsulated this: The Web said something along the lines of "If only you could see the strings on me."

In that same episode, Jon almost got trapped in the Web domain watching endless plays, because the Eye could not resist what it is, and what it is is something that spectates pain endlessly. The Web couldn't resist trapping Jon in there, because that's what it is, despite the fact that it would have fucked its own endgame if it trapped the Archivist in its fucked up theatre production until the End claimed them all. They're incredibly powerful beings, but they're still, in a way, trapped by their own nature. Humans can change, adapt, be different, but the Entities can't be anything but what they are.

In nhthcth there's a line that i tend to use again and again to encapsulate this, and it's usually something along the lines of "These things only are what they are."

They're not versatile forces. They're not a flexible tool like most magic systems where you can use this abstract and malleable force to cast the Spell of Fire and the Spell of Healing and the Spell of Ketamine Ape. They can only do what their own existence allows them and they cannot resist their own nature. It's one of the reasons why Jon in nhthcth is so insistent that the Eye can't be used as a force for good--good is completely outside of its existence. If you know anything about Greek philosophy, I think Plato's idea of the forms is pretty analogous to what the Entities are and how they work.

Which is also why Jon's like, "Duh, of course it's the Web that's got us bound and not the Eye. That's what the Web does."

The Eye just isn't about binding and trapping. What Jonah can use it to do is completely limited to stuff that falls under the Eye's umbrella. He could have the most powerful connection to the Eye on the planet (he doesn't), but that doesn't mean he can supercharge on Eye God Juice and blast a hole through the wall with the power of his mind, right? That would make the entire magic system in TMA ridiculous. In the same way, he can't use the Eye to enforce contract terms. That's not what the Eye does.

That's the Web, through and through. So when you're considering the contract, you have to think in terms of what the Web is.

The thing about the Fears is that they're shown to be a little multifaceted in that multiple distinct fears fit beneath the same umbrella with them. Take the Eye. The fear of someone knowing your deepest, darkest secrets fits beneath it, right? And that's very much Jonah's area of expertise. He probably fed on Martin's terror about being discovered for forging his CV for years. He neutralized Daisy by finding out the secrets that hurt her and using them against you. He's the invasive, watching part of the eye that may know your secrets and want to use it against you.

but the Eye is also the fear of someone watching your pain, your suffering, and (for lack of a better term) getting off on it. Enjoying it. It's bleeding out in the street and, when help finally arrives, they just sit down next to you and watch eagerly as you die.

That is so much the Archivists role.

Sometimes, I think of how terrifying the Archivist would be if it wasn't Jon in the role. Don't get me wrong--he has his moments of terrifying power, and he definitely didn't get good reviews on yelp from statement givers. But, fundamentally, he does care.

But imagine you go to the Magnus Institute under the assumption that they may help. You sit there and you tell them the worst fucking thing that ever happened to you. It's like you're experiencing it a second time, in all the horrific detail. You're retraumatized all over again, and then the Statement ends and you're sitting there, tape recorder still running, and you realize the person you went to for help just... enjoyed every second of pain you went through. There's one episode in particular that I think pulled this feeling off so well--the one where the guy in Scotland who found Gertrude's circle opened with something along the lines of "I don't care about any of this. I just want to know if you'll save my son." Like, imagine the horrible, crushing horror of going to someone for help and the moment you realize that were never going to do anything. They just wanted to watch you die too.

It's also one of the reasons that I think that Jon, for all he thrived as the Archivist, kept so much of who he was because of the inaction part specifically. In Season 1, he makes these vague mentions to fights he's getting into with Elias. Elias keeps lecturing him about noninterference, how they're here to research and not interfere, and Jon has these moments were he's like "anyway I don't give a fuck there's fucking leitners out there and if i have my way there will be a hell of a lot less of them." He legitimately says at one point that he's going to get another lecture about Institute mission statements and watching without interference.

Jon made so many bad choices when he was Becoming, but the one he consistently made against Becoming was that, almost against his will, he wanted to save people. That's picking the opposite of what the Eye is, and I think that that's the part of him that he got to keep.

that was more of an aside and not so relevant to the question. i got on a tangent. but it's here now so it stays. i already typed it. Anywho.

Jonah can't do what Jon does. He can't compel answers out of people. He's a panopticon, and the fear he embodies is that someone may be watching you and catch you in the act. It's not the fear of someone forcing the information out of you. But Jon can't do with Jonah does either. He can't just hop through eyes and spy on people. That's not his relationship with the Eye or the part of it he embodies.

They both have a very metaphysical limitation to their own experience with the Eye, because the idea of the Eye itself is just a human classification. Maybe Jon's sky blue and Jonah's dark blue and the Eye's all the blues, but at the end of the day, we just made up the idea of "blue" to explain our own experience with colors. They don't get to wield the full spectrum of "colors" available under the Eye. They can both be attached to the Eye but they're completely limited to what it means to be sky blue versus dark blue.

So it's important to remember that when you consider the contract, because it's just an aspect of the Web. It's not every aspect of the Web.

The Web is the fear of being totally under control of another--think raymond fielding in Hill Top Road, Mr. Spider, forcing people to walk, that kind of thing--but it's not just that. It's also the fear of being manipulated. Of being outmaneuvered. And I think that fits much more metaphysically with what a contract is than being under total and absolute control.

A contract is just an agreement of rules that two parties have to abide by, right? And sometimes the contract is way more favorable to one party than the other, but we also recognize that there's limits to that. You named a very big one--"this for that." For contracts to be enforceable, there has to be this thing we call "consideration." I get this, you get that. If the contract read "I have to give you one million dollars and you don't have to do anything" that'd be a gratuitous promise and it wouldn't be an enforceable contract.

That being said, consideration doesn't have to be balanced. The contract doesn't have to be fair. I don't know a super huge amount of British law (though a lot of American law is derived from it) but in american contract law we have a standard that basically says there has to be a "mere peppercorn" of consideration. We're not going to see if the exchange is fair, just if there is an exchange. there's this huge body of law around what's allowed in contracts and how contracts should be interpreted because we recognize that, at a certain point, something isn't a contract anymore. It breaks the rules of exchange.

And I think that very much goes towards the real fear the Web would be working with when it comes to the contracts. Think of like, law dramas. People like law dramas because the characters show off how clever they are. They're working in some system of rules and then at the eleventh hour they pull out some kind of loophole or interpretation that saves the day, right? The fact that there are limits and rules to what the characters can do is exactly what makes it so exciting when they figure out how to flip them in their favor. You need to have the chance to succeed in the system, however small, or it all just kind of becomes meaningless. There's no point in manipulation or machinations if you instantly lose no matter what.

That's the exact fear the Web would be playing on with the contracts, in my mind. It's being at the mercy of someone who has to follow the same rules as you, but they're grossly skewed in the other person's favor and the other person is better at using them. It's being stuck in a game where both players have to follow the rules but you have no idea what the rules are, and the other player gets to know them and have them severely favor them.

But the entire fear just becomes kind of ridiculous if it's not limited. It kind of becomes like a game of make believe between little kids if you can just write something in the contract without limitation. Like saying "well, my power is at one million percent" "my power is at one BILLION percent" "my power is at FIVE TRILLION percent." Right? Like, if you're playing that game, the rules don't really mean anything. It's all just bullshit. It doesn't invoke the fear of someone manipulating the rules against you. If the contract terms don't enforce obligations against Jonah too, it just sort of leaves the realm of what fear this is, which breaks the rules of the magic system. Being totally at someone's mercy is just a different fear than having someone outmaneuvering you at rules you both are stuck with.

Which means that, for the contract to be what it is, Jonah has to be bound by it in some way. It has to follow some kind of rules that bind him too. It can be very unbalanced and favor him greatly, but it still needs to set some kind of obligation and limit on him or the entire thing becomes ridiculous.

That's why Jonah so aggressively tries to keep Jon from trying to learn the terms of the contract. If Jon knew the way Jonah was bound by the contract, he'd be able to use the rules against him. Jon's playing the same game as Jonah, but he never got to see the rulebook.

We know two ways from canon that you can use to escape the contract: (1) gouge out your own eyes and (2) the archivist dies and the assistants can leave. but we never see the terms of the contract itself, and the fact that option #2 popped up in season 5 when all we knew before that was option #1 means that maybe there are more ways to break the contract and maybe there aren't. Maybe it's just options 1 and 2, or maybe there's other ways to escape we never figured out. Why do options 1 & 2 work? Is it explicitly written out somewhere in the binding instrument? Is it some loophole that not even elias expected? All we know for certain is that ways out of the contract include but may not be limited to options 1 and 2.

So, yes, Jon gets paid. But is that a term of the contract? Was that the consideration that Jonah wrote down in the Web's binding contract, or is there something else? Jon doesn't know, so he can't use it against him.

Maybe Jonah does have to pay Jon under the contract. Or he's only paying Jon to keep up appearances. Like, yeah, maybe the metaphysically binding contract would allow him to chain people here without paying them, but payroll would still have massive questions about why the Institute Head's angry adoptive son has been the Institute's unpaid slave worker for the past decade.

One of Jonah's biggest strategies to keep Jon from escaping is to abide very strictly by what may or may not be the terms of the Web's contract. Jon can't deduce what the rules are if Jonah voluntarily plays by more rules than he has to.

Take Elias's promise to Tim, for example. Jon still doesn't even know how the Web contract is formed. It sure as hell isn't simply the contract that most employees see--there's no clause that says "and by the way you can never ever quit or leave or you will die xoxoxoxo." Are all the terms already written down somewhere he can't find? Could oral promises be binding? He has no idea, because Elias is never going to act in a way that lets him eliminate the possibility. He'll follow the letter of his promise, and maybe that's because he has to or he'll breach the contract, or maybe that's because he's choosing to keep his promise when he doesn't have to. Elias keeps the terms of the contract unclear by following more rules than he has to.

It's one of the reasons why he uses so much doublespeak. Elias says something like "I'll keep my word, and you'll have to do the same." That only tells us things we already knew--Tim would have to be bound by the contract and wouldn't be able to leave. He'll keep his word, but does Elias have to under the contract? If he broke his word, Jon would be able to conclusively tell that oral conditions are non-binding. He'd know that there's some kind of outside binding instrument that has the rules already set out, and Elias can't change them with an oral promise. But if Elias toes the letter of the oral condition no matter what, then it could be because he has to or it could be because he chose to.

There are rules that Elias has to abide by, but Jon is only pretty certain of a few: 1) He has to have Jon's signature before he moves people into his department. He can't give him assistants unless Jon signs off on it first. Jon only got that much because Elias tried so damn hard to get his signature for the transfer. If Elias could break that rule, there's a pretty good chance that he would have, but he didn't so it probably means he can't. It's a place the contract almost definitely binds him too. 2) the contract kills you if you spend too long away from the Institute, but Elias has a way of letting you stay away for longer. If Jon leaves without approval, then he gets sick within a few weeks. But he's made it months away from the Institute just because Elias approved the leave.

So is that because Elias is the one who triggers the contract killing you in the first place? Or does he have a way of stopping a power that will automatically go off.

If the contract reads, "In the case of unapproved absences, the Head of the Institute may file Form B45, the 'Kill My Errant Employees' Form, and the employee will suffer a heart attack within a period not to exceed fourteen (14) days," then they'd be able to pretty effectively escape just by finding a way to immobilize Elias permanently--chuck him in the Buried, he'll never die but he also won't be able to file a Kill My Errant Employee Form. But if the contract reads "In the case of unapproved absences, the employee will suffer a heart attack within a period not to exceed fourteen (14) days unless the Head of The Institute files Form U95, Approved Leave of Absences," then they need him alive and mobile to file a leave of absence form so Jon won't fucking die the next time he's kidnapped for a month. Or maybe a leave of absence form isn't necessary if Jon's only kept away because of a kidnapping. Maybe the contract reads "In the case of unapproved and voluntary absences" and being involuntarily missing isn't a breach at all. They don't know, because Elias is going to file the fucking leave of absence form whether or not he has to.

If they knew the exact rules and minute details of the contract terms, they could wriggle their way into an exception that makes their conditions more livable. Instead, they're just stuck with a very broad correlation between Elias's action and/or inaction and the contract not killing you when you leave for long periods on approved absences. Maybe they could just chuck him in the Buried and fuck off, but fuck if they know, and that's the sort of risk you really can't take unless you're certain.

A lot of Jon testing boundaries with Elias has been trying to figure out the boundaries of the contract. Remember in the martyrs chapter, where Martin is like "jon why do you have an employee email you're like sixteen???" it's because jon was already an employee, and employees are required to have an official email. He knew it and Elias knew it even if no one else did.

If Elias refused him an official institute email, Jon would know that the contract does not require him to provide all employees with Institute-standard resources as outlined in the employee manual. Maybe sections of the employee manual isn't binding, maybe the entire thing isn't binding. Jon knows breaking the Institute dress code probably isn't a part of the binding contract because of his Epic Fashion Moments (or, if it is, the penalty isn't death like leaving is), but does that apply to all parts of the employee manual? If he doesn't get an official email at the shiny age of sixteen when he's Not Supposed To Be Employed, then he knows another section of the employee manual just doesn't have teeth. But if Elias just gives him what any employee would be entitled to, then it could be because he had to or it could be because he chose to.

It's also the reason why getting people to quit was important to jon--yes, he was trying to get people free of the Institute, but if he pushed someone into quitting, he'd be able to test out some very valuable information about the contract. Can people quit if Elias allows it? Maybe the rule is that the Archives can't quit, but everyone else can if Elias allows it. Maybe everyone can quit if Elias lets them. Maybe no one can quit and they're all fucked. If Elias can let some people quit but never lets them quit, then Jon has no data points to work with when trying to figure out how people escape the contract.

Which is also why elias flipped his shit and burned the HR records the one time Jon managed to get his hands on them. Over the years, there have been people who unknowingly stumbled into one of the rules binding Elias, and he let them quit without protest. There's a very good chance that that's because he had to let them quit. If Jon could find the common denominator between people who quit successfully, then maybe he could figure out how to do the same, which is why Elias has spent so long making sure he gets as little information as possible to work with. Jon can't win the game if he never learns the rules.

It is important to note that Elias breaking the terms of the contract that bind him may not be "and now Jon can finally go home oh my fucking god." The penalties for breach of contract, that we know of, are death. Does Elias face the same penalties if he breaches? Does he face some kind of other penalty? We don't know yet, because Elias is guarding those terms like his fucking life depends on it.

[aria0fgold]

Sorry I'm not your God (神様じゃなくてごめんね) Romaji Lyrics

Nee,

Kimi kara mite boku no kao wa

Nani iro ni mieteru no kana

Hontō wa kimi ga egaku yōna

Sunda iro nanka janainda

Monogatari no shujinkō mitaina

Seigi no hīrō no yōna

Kodo to kotoba o nazotta

Sono kekka ga ima no bokudatta dakenanda

Shinzō ni tenteki o sasu yōna utade

Asa o ikinobite wa

Yoru no omosa ni kubi o shimerare nagara

Iki mo tamerare yashinai

Nigiri tsudzuketeita shinzō mo

Dareka no bunda to shitteshimatta

Sono kuse dareka o sukuitakatta

Sore ga hontō no boku nanda

Aa,

Shōdoteki na aide sukuwaretakunai yo

Nante mie o hatte itteshimatta

Kakkoyokunakute gomen ne

Aa,

Sekai yori kimi o erabutte

Minna ni ichatta

Kono ude wa ni hon shikanai no ni sa

Kamisama janakute gomen ne

Aa,

Furimaita nasake ga

Kiba ni natte osōtekichatta

Kitto subete yuruseru to omotta

Tsuyokunakutte gomen ne

Aa,

Tsunaideta te o hanashite

Kimi o oite ichatta

Kimi o mamoru tame no hazudattanda

Kamisama janakute gomen ne

Kitto boku wa yasashii hito

Demo kimi wa boku yori yasashii hito

Yasashii hito bakari kizutsuiteiku

Kono dōshiyō mo nai sekai de sa

Kitto boku wa orokana hito

Demo kimi mo onnaji orokana hito

Dakara wakattekureru to omotta

Sore o negatteshimattanda

Aa,

Kitto boku wa yasashii hito

Demo kimi ga boku yori yasashii hito

Dōka kimi dake wa boku mitaini sa

Hikari o miushinatte shimawanaide

Kitto boku wa orokana hito

Demo kimi mo onnaji orokana hito

Dakara kimi ga nami o omōka wakaru yo

Konna ketsumatsu jaiyada yo ne

Aa,

Tsuranuita shisō ga

Dareka no kokoro o koroshichatta

Sore dake ga tadashii to omotta

Kirai ni narenakute gomen ne

Aa,

Itsu no hi ka nageta kotoba ga

Zenbu kaettekichatta

Kono ondo wa tashika ni aru no ni sa

Kamisama janakute gomen ne

Aa,

Sayonara o shinai tameni

Kōsuru shika nakattanda

Kimi no me ni tayoritaku natteshimatta

Risō ni narenakute gomen ne

Aa,

Zen jinrui o aisu nante koto wa

Dekinakatta yo

Dakara dōka boku o urandekure

Kamisama janakute gomen ne

[vaspider]

Tonight, the night before Election Day 2024 in the US, I am thinking about my stepkid.

I am thinking about the phone call they made to us earlier this year, the one where they told us they'd gone to the hospital thinking they had appendicitis and found out, instead, that a zygote - a tiny splodge of cells - had taken up residence not in their uterus but in a fallopian tube. The one where our kid said they were waiting for their partner to arrive, hoped that said partner would get there before the docs took our kid back to terminate that pregnancy, & assured us that they'd be okay.

After all, our kid lives in a state with choice measures embedded in state law. That pea-sized blot of tissue doesn't have more right to their health than they do. Nobody is standing between them and their doctors. They made a decision, and that was that.

In this tiny tragedy, the kind that plays out dozens of times a day at minimum across the country, we only had to worry about the small risk of surgery complications. We didn't have to worry about Ken Paxton threatening to charge their doctors with felonies. We didn't have to think, "What if the hospital's legal team doesn't think an ectopic pregnancy - which is never ever viable and must be terminated before it kills our kid - is really that big of a deal?" We didn't have to worry that they live in a state where ob-gyns are fleeing, leaving few experts behind, as has happened in Idaho.

We didn't have to watch our kid vomit up black blood before dying the day after their baby shower the way Neveah's mom did. We didn't have to pray in a waiting room (while doctors took our kid apart until their heart stopped because the doctors waited too long out of fear of anti-choice laws) until a doctor came to tell us we'd have to bury them the way that Amber's mom did. We aren't having to pick up our lives after fully treatable miscarriage-related sepsis took them from us the way that Josseli's husband and daughter must.

I could go on for far, far too long.

Listen. If you are a single-issue non-voter and have already decided that "both parties are the same" or whatever other thing you've told yourself so you can sleep at night, smug and secure, then I can't reach you and I can't help you. But if you genuinely think that your votes don't matter, if you're just suffering from a bout of overwhelm or apathy, if you're too young to remember the 2000 election and can't see that Dobbs is a direct result of that election and every one that's followed, please, I am fucking begging you.

I didn't really talk about this when it happened. I mentioned something briefly, maybe. The posts I've started writing about it are still in my drafts. It was too fresh, too frightening. It's not any less frightening now, honestly - because if this week doesn't end with President Kamala Harris, we're headed for a national abortion ban, at the minimum - but it's not about how fucking frightened I was or how sad and bewildered I was to realize that my kid was going through this crisis in a nation more hostile to them than when I needed a D&C for an abortion at 21, in 1998.

It's about stopping this chapter of this fucking bullshit and at least finding some new fucking bullshit.

Vote, dammit.

Do the other work on Wednesday. Tomorrow, the work is to vote.

[blooddlusts]

HOW CAN I SNOOZE ⋆｡°✩ ot7

( I CAN'T LOSE WHEN I'M WITH YOU ) ── sleepy boys want to stay in bed with you

enha x fem! reader (established relationship, fluff, kissing skinship, suggestive comments, them just being clingy boyfriends and just wanting to stay in bed while cuddling you)

word count: 1.23k

kiara yaps: taking nine credits in the spring semester was NOT a good idea, definitely regret cramming in a four month course work into two months lmaoo —this has been in my drafts for a minute and i apologize that i've been offline :(

LEE HEESEUNG

as soon as your alarm goes off that man has you in a chokehold. well, not literally, but it might as well feel like it. heeseung has his arms around your neck, his legs wrapped around your torso and he's putting his whole body weight on you. there's no escape from his grasp as he's placing kisses on your cheek and begging you in his morning voice to stay with him bed. it's adorable, it's cute. and you can't help try to pry his arms off of your body; not like it works, he's only going to hold you tighter. and while he's holding you into his arms, pressing his body against yours begging for you to stay —he's whispering the most dirtiest comments in your ear to make you blush. heeseung may not be fully awake, but he knows how to press his lips to your neck and just beg for you to stay in his arms.

"heeseung please, i have to go to work,"

"just five more minutes,"

PARK JAY

you don't even have to touch your alarm because jay is already turning it off. he's grabbing your phone and already calling the number of your boss from muscle memory so that you can stay home. don't even think about trying to protest and trying to snatch your phone back. he's literally going to wrap one of his arms around you, place a kiss to your forehead and tell you to go back to sleep. putting up a fight with a man who could shower you with all of the gifts you want in the world is pointless. the only reason why he dares to be extra is to secure more hours with you in bed. once he calls your boss, it's game over. your boss is afraid of jay to even say anything back (he threatened to buy the company), which means there's a smile lingering on his lips. you can whine, you can beg to go to work, you can plead with him to let go and get out of bed —but jay is going to hold on to you like you're the only person in the world.

"jay what did you say to my boss?"

"don't worry about it, my love,"

SIM JAKE

once your alarm goes off, he's burying his face inside the nape of your neck while begging in his morning voice for you to say in bed. if that doesn't work, he's going to start placing kisses down your neck in hopes that it will make you stay. and if that isn't convincing, consider his thumb stroking your cheek while he plays with your hair as his next attempt to make you stay in bed. most of the time, just burying his face in your neck is enough for you to smile and lean into his arms that beg for an embrace. there's something adorable about turning around and seeing him give you a sleepy smile before kissing you on the lips. you have to give jake some credit in how convincing he is for you to linger in his arms just a little longer. work can wait, seeing the corners of his lips break into a smile as he falls asleep holding you makes everything better.

"you're lucky i love you, jake,"

"just shut up and let me hold you,"

PARK SUNGHOON

he's already not a fan of alarms. much to having a punctual schedule and being on time to things, sunghoon is willing to make that exception when it comes to you. he thinks the alarm you have set every morning is aggravating —like it actually pisses him off. consider it a diabolical act, but once you're already asleep, he'll disable your alarm. which means he gets as many hours as he wants with you the next morning since you'll sleep through the "alarm" you've set. okay, maybe it's a little mean. but he'll at least make sure that you're up so you have enough time to come to work without being horrendously late. the way he groans in the morning when you wake up, how he immediately wraps his arms around your waist and tells for you to stay —he just wants you to linger just a little bit longer.

"sunghoon, did you turn my alarm off again?"

"i don't see you complaining,"

KIM SUNOO

when your alarm goes off, sunoo gets grumpy. like his hair is all messy, he's squinting because the sun is in his eye and more importantly he doesn't want you to leave. instead, he grabs you by the wrist, and pulls your hand up to his hair. consider yourself screwed because there's nothing that boy loves more than you playing with his hair. sunoo has no filter in the mornings, he'll say things as it is which means you have to snatch your phone away from him before he cusses at your manager for making you go to work. he's so stubborn that he's going to be holding you in his arms, planting kisses down the side of your face with such tenderness that you're just melting in his embrace. consider your efforts to go to work wasted —you can't win the battle against sunoo.

"how long are you going to keep doing this?"

"when you quit your job and decide to stay in bed with me,"

YANG JUNGWON

he doesn't like being reminded every morning that you have to go to work. as soon as you sit up in bed to stretch your arms or try to process that you're awake —he's taking you down. no, like literally. somehow jungwon has secret wrestling skills that you don't know about because he has arms wrapped around your waist and throwing you back into bed. and that's how it's going to stay, his arms around your waist, him resting his head on your chest as he cuddles up to you in bed. all you can do is accept your fate and run your hands down his back as he holds you tightly in his arms. if you're lucky, he'll give you some time to get ready for work. but if that doesn't happen, just accept the fact that there's going to be a cheeky smile on his lips as he's humming tunes in his morning voice.

"you really have to stop tackling me, babe,"

"then stop going to work,"

NISHIMURA RIKI

oh you are so screwed. consider yourself in one of those "escape horror" video games that gave you nightmares when you were a kid. niki is not one to be trifled with when it comes to waking up to your alarm early in the morning. there's something about that glare that he gives you that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. but the fear is immediately replaced with giggles as he throws his whole body weight on you. that man is laying on top of you like you're his personal pillow. there's no escape, just him laying on your chest, wrapping his arms around you and literally snoring while you just lay there trying to shimmy your way out to get to work. of course, you give in and press a kiss to his head while you start to stroke his hair. you have to give him some props when it comes to making you stay in bed with him —even if it means becoming a human pillow.

"niki, can you get off me now?"

"let me think about it —no."

reblogs, feedback, likes & comments are appreciated!

[iydiamartinx]

PROFESSIONAL BOUNDARIES

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune & @iydiamartinx word count: 1.6k synopsis: They’ve kept their relationship buried beneath professionalism and protocol, but when someone else starts to flirt with you, Batman’s jealousy slips through the cracks—and so does his control.

The Watchtower’s central command room hummed with quiet conversation, the low murmur of the Justice League echoing beneath flickering lights and the soft whir of the holo-display. The briefing was nearing its end, though you barely noticed. You were seated between Wonder Woman and Batman—though “seated” might’ve been too generous a word. Half-slouched in your chair, one boot propped on the edge of the table, fingers absently twirling a knife you’d snuck in just for the habit of it.

Batman was the one leading the meeting today.  The holo-display behind him rotated rapidly through surveillance footage, shifting maps, and streams of encrypted data—all of it moving too fast for the average eye to track. But you weren’t average.

And besides, none of it was news to you. You already knew the plan. You’d helped him write it, not that the rest of the team were aware of that little tidbit.

Which was why you didn’t feel the need to hang on every word as he droned through it again like a stiff-backed schoolteacher.

“Metahuman conflict in Markovia is escalating,” he said, voice low and smooth, as if carved from granite. “We’ll be dispatching teams in rotation.”

Your fingers stilled.

The knife paused mid-spin as he began to list the assigned units. You weren’t paying close attention—until he reached your name.

You blinked. Then slowly sat up, chin coming to rest on your palm as you leaned forward. Your gaze sharpened. You hadn’t been paired with him in the original draft. That… hadn’t been part of the plan.

But he didn’t so much as glance your way.

You leaned forward lazily, elbow propped on the table, chin in your hand. Your voice was a purr of silk and smoke.

“Aww, Batsy,” you drawled, letting the nickname curl like a tease on your tongue. “I knew you couldn’t get enough of me.”

Across the table, Flash blinked twice.

Diana’s brow rose, amused but unsurprised.

Superman coughed—though whether it was to cover a laugh or his disapproval, you couldn’t quite tell.

“You’re a strategic fit for the mission,” he said coolly as he moved to begin typing on the holopad. “Everyone else—meeting dismissed.”

You smirked knowingly.

“Mhm,” you murmured, stretching back in your chair as the rest of the League began to rise. “If that’s what you want to call it, sweetheart.”

You slinked in closer as the others filtered out—Flash already halfway through a joke to Diana, Superman nodding a polite goodbye. You waited for everyone to leave before you dragged a finger across the exposed skin of his jaw, just beneath the edge of the cowl.

“You know,” you said, your voice dropping into a velvet whisper, “if you miss my company that much… you could just ask for it. I’m very good at entertaining.”

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even turn to look at you.

But you saw it—the subtle tension that rolled across his shoulders, the slight grind of his jaw beneath your touch, the way his gloved hand flexed once before his knuckles cracked sharp in the hush between you.

“Dismissed, Y/N.”

That only made your smile stretch wider.

You straightened with a slow roll of your spine, gave him one last smirk, and turned to leave—your steps unhurried, hips swaying with unapologetic purpose. The door hissed open as you passed through it, but not before tossing a final glance over your shoulder.

Oh, you were going to get it later for that one.

You hadn’t made it twenty feet from the briefing room before a voice slid in beside you.

“Alright, I gotta ask—how the hell did you get away with that?”

You shrugged, your voice light. “He doesn’t scare me.”

Hal Jordan let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “No kidding. You’ve got more nerve than most of the League combined to talk to Spooky like that.”

You offered a slow, sideways smile. “You call him that to his face?”

He grimaced immediately. “God, no. I like having all my teeth where they are.”

A quiet snort escaped you. Hal’s grin widened, clearly encouraged.

“So…” he began, scratching the back of his neck like he was trying to seem more nonchalant than he was. “You, uh… got plans after this?”

Before you could answer, you caught the shift of movement at the edge of your vision. A shadow approaching.

“Lantern,” Batman’s voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and cold. “You’re needed in the lower hangar. Now.”

Hal blinked. “What—now? I haven’t even—”

The air turned colder. Something in Batman’s tone left no room for negotiation, and Hal, to his credit, picked up on it fast. He raised his hands in exaggerated surrender and took a few steps back, though not without flashing you a cheeky wink.

“Rain check, sweetheart.”

You didn’t respond, just offered a lazy shrug and watched him walk away.

The door hadn’t even hissed shut behind Hal before Batman was on you.

Two long strides and you were pinned—back against the cool metal wall of the command deck. One gloved hand braced near your head, the other found your waist—firm, grounding, possessive.

Your lips curled. “Someone’s jealous.”

“I’m not—” he began, but the words barely made it past his lips before your fingers found the centre of his chest plate, tracing the outline of the bat symbol.

You tilted your head, brow arching. “Oh? So if you aren’t… maybe I’ll take him up on his offer for drinks.”

His grip on your waist tightened immediately, fingers flexing through the layers of tactical material like he was resisting the urge to give into his baser desires. Instead, he stepped in, close enough that there was no space left between you two. His voice dropped to a low, razor-edged growl.

“Don’t forget who you belong to.”

You arched up into him, your lips just shy of his, gaze dark with challenge. “Maybe I need a reminder.”

His mouth crushed to yours with no hesitation, no warning—just the surge of everything he kept buried under armour and silence. His gloved hand tangled in your hair, the other holding your hip in place like he could anchor you there forever. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. This was your Bruce—letting his iron clad control slip.

You kissed him back with equal force, your hands fisting in his suit, mouth parting for him without hesitation. His body pressed flush to yours, heat radiating through armour you both wore.

You could feel the tremble in his control—the rigid lines of muscle taut beneath his suit. He was a man who was always controlled. Always composed.

Except when it came to you.

A soft sound escaped you when his teeth grazed your lower lip—sharp and possessive, leaving behind a faint sting that only made your blood rush hotter.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath ragged against your cheek.

“Is that enough of a reminder,” he growled, “of who you belong to?”

You smiled, slow and wicked, eyes still half-lidded, lips kiss-bitten and tingling. “If you admit you were being jealous,” you murmured. “You know I was just being polite.”

He leaned in again, lips brushing your ear. “You were teasing.”

A shiver danced down your spine at the sound of his voice—low, frayed, barely clinging to composure. You’d pushed him on purpose. And you were still pushing.

“You know if you keep kissing me like that again while we’re in public,” you whispered, “and we won’t be a secret much longer.”

His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you in until your bodies aligned perfectly—fitting together like puzzle pieces “Then stop giving me a reason.”

You tilted your chin, daring him. “Make me.”

His hand moved, slowly smoothing down the curve of your spine and then he was yanking you back to his lips.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you walked into the hangar bay—Batman as his usual cold and professional self. And you, the picture of casual ease, sauntering in like your normal self. Both of you acting as if nothing had happened.

Except it had.

Your lips were still a little too pink. Your hair, despite a quick fix in the mirror, had that artfully tousled edge no amount of finger-combing could completely smooth out. And the faint shadow beneath your jaw—a whisper of a bruise blooming—that told its own story.

You were halfway to the transport when Hal spotted you.

He was leaning against the side of a ship, mid-conversation with Green Arrow before he suddenly paused. His gaze found you first, sliding over your face with idle interest. But then it lingered and his eyes narrowed as he clocked the mark on your jaw.

Then the lips.

Then the hair.

Then—

His gaze shifted past you to where Batman emerged behind you, the cowl shadowing his expression but not hiding the ice behind his stare. 

They were locked on Hal giving him the infamous bat glare.

Hal stiffened. His attention bounced between the two of you. You gave him a faint, knowing smirk. The tilt of your head that all but dared him to say something.

And he gulped.

“…Right,” he muttered under his breath, already stepping back. “Yeah. No drinks. Got it.”

Batman didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

Hal was gone in two seconds, leaving nothing but the echo of retreating boots and a poorly veiled sense of self-preservation in his wake.

You didn’t look at Bruce—not until the ship’s ramp sealed behind you both with the soft hiss of pressurized air, sealing you both inside away from the outside world.

Then, at last, you turned and in amusement—you said, “I think he got the message.”

Batman didn’t respond but a faint smug smirk ghosted at his lips.

[bunni-v1]

Competition

🍓I did it! This has been in my drafts since Amphorus was released, so it's been a long time. Anyway, it's done, I can rest. I hope you enjoy, I worked very hard on this one, if it flops I might just delete my account.

Tw: Marking; Threesome; NSFW

Info: Mydei x Reader x Phainon; NSFW; Fic

Word Count: 3.8k words

MDNI

Mydei and Phainon, despite what most people think, work incredibly well together. Despite being headstrong and bickering back and forth most of the time, they challenge each other to be their best version. In everything. Even in bed, which is how you ended up in the position you were in right now.

You don’t even fully remember what exactly happened to get you here, back pressed against Mydei’s chest, Phainon buried between your thighs. It started with Phainon’s taunting, you think, and inevitably Mydei��s ego couldn’t let him lose. You just so happened to be the argument piece this time, meaning you were the deciding factor on who won. So your night would be spent between these two hotheaded men, not that you were complaining.

Mydei’s fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, keeping you spread wide open for Phainon and his pleasure. His eyes burn against your skin, chin resting on your shoulder taking in the sight of Phainon with unrestrained enjoyment. His tongue was lapping at your folds relentlessly, shameless slurping echoing off the walls of your room. He alternated between sucking at your clit and drinking up your slick, the hot muscle occasionally dipping into your hole to get a better taste.

Mydei’s eyes only seemed to make him more eager than usual, doing his best to win whatever stupid challenge they had going on right now. You’d be more mad at him if he wasn’t doing such a good job at making you moan like a whore. Your head is already fuzzy with pleasure, his eager attitude as he completely swallows you whole is nearly mind-breaking. He must’ve been going down on you for almost half an hour now, edging and pushing you so close, but never letting you cum. Maybe you should let him and Mydei argue more often…

“Enjoying yourself down there?” Mydei grumbles, and it rumbles in his chest, shaking the foundation of your being at the sound.

He hums, giving you a particularly harsh suck, making your back arch off Mydei as if to prove he was enjoying it. Mydei rolls his eyes, pressing you right back to him as soon as you leave. His fingers trace up from where they press against your sternum, calloused tips leaving goosebumps in their path, right until they reach one of your nipples. He gives it a harsh tug, snickering when you gasp, then rolls it almost tenderly between his fingers.

You whimper at the added sensation, they cry out when he starts nibbling along your neck. His teeth bite just hard enough that they’ll leave marks along the expanse of your sensitive skin. Your body shudders at the feeling, curling your fingers into Phainon’s hair to try and ground yourself, but it’s impossible with the double assault they’re doing on your body.

You squeak at a particularly harsh bite from Mydei, feeling your orgasm building all too rapidly. It takes only a few more licks from Phainon, and another harsh bite from Mydei, to have you tumbling over the edge. Your body trembles at the sensation, moaning out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Mydei~” You feel him smirk into your shoulder, tongue lapping at his most recent mark.

This doesn’t seem to please Phainon, despite him being the main reason for your pleasure. His hands cusp your ass, tugging you into a new position for easier access. Feet dangling off his shoulders, body almost folded in half as he pressed his tongue inside you as deeply as he could get it. This has Mydei laughing out loud as you cry out in surprise.

You shake your head rapidly at Phainon, but he’s so engulfed in your pussy, you don’t think he can even begin to think about stopping. Luckily, Mydei is there to be your hero, shoving Phainon away from you with one hand while the other pulls you up again. Phainon practically growls as he fights back to his position, but Mydei denies him once again with ease. More focused on your teary-eyed expression.

“Already too much for you?” He asks gently, doing his best to ease you back to earth.

Gasping, Phainon finally sits up and affixes a glare on his partner, “Why’d you stop me? What’s the deal?”

“The deal is that you need to stop thinking with your dick,” Mydei scolds, and there is no humor in his voice, despite how funny what he just said was to you.

The war-hardened warrior cradles you in his arms like you are the most precious thing on this side of the cosmos, and the irony of him being the gentle one is not lost on you. You don’t complain when he eases your body back into the bed, making sure you relax fully before giving Phainon his attention with an unimpressed raise of his eyebrow and a gesture of his hand. The other man finally relents his glare with a sigh, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he apologizes, “I just can’t help myself sometimes.”

“You should start,” Mydei comments dryly.

His fingers carefully massage over your muscles, knowing every place to press to make them relax beneath his touch. Phainon leans down at your side, playing with strands of your hair with a fond smile. They seem happy enough caring for you like this, so you don’t protest against anything. It was better than hearing them bicker the whole time.

Slowly you come down from your high, body feeling nice and light from your orgasm, but you can’t help but feel unsatisfied. You only came once, and the two of them were still fully dressed. It felt a bit unfair that they got to have their fun with you and then walk away unsatisfied. For a moment, you really do think they might call their competition there. Knowing how soft Mydei was on you, it wouldn’t surprise you if he didn’t want to keep going after seeing you teary-eyed.

Then, Phainon breaks the silence, “Y’know, only one isn’t a good measure. We should have at least three to get a good pool to pull from.”

“Are you seriously pulling best of three right now?” Mydei asks incredulously.

Before Phainon can argue his point, Mydei glances up at you from his spot between your legs. It’s a subtle ask for permission, likely the only amount of control you’ll get for the rest of the night. Phainon’s big blue eyes practically beg you to say yes. It’s very hard to say no with both of them watching you so intently, so you nod at them.

Your head spins when Phainon practically dives in for your lips, getting one or two kisses in, before being harshly yanked back by Mydei’s hand. The noise he lets out is hilarious, especially when he looks positively offended by Mydei’s actions. A silent argument passes between them, Mydei winning as Phainon sits back with a pouty expression. Mydei is smug, smirking to himself a bit as he leans over you, caging your head between his arms.

His gold eyes burn bright this close, their intensity heating you from the inside out. Or perhaps that was how warm he was. He’d always run hotter than others, but at this proximity, it felt like his skin might melt yours with the heat he radiated. You do not turn to liquid beneath him, and so you stare into his eyes with your own vigor, though it is undoubtedly duller than his own. It’s still enough to get him to bend down and kiss you, far more gently than Phainon had.

Mydei likes to take his time. Most take him as a hothead with no patience, but you know him more intimately than them. You know he is soft and kind inside, he is only harsh and unkind because that is what he is expected to be. This gentleness of his comes out in the bedroom, easing you through your pleasure as if there is nothing more in the world he needed to do. His kisses show this better than anything, deep and slow, letting you decide how far he goes. His tongue only goes into your mouth when you let him, and his hands only trace across your skin when yours curl into his hair. It’s a slow dance, one that he loves to divulge you in.

When he pulls back, he takes a moment to admire your flushed face before moving to kiss across your shoulders. His hair tickles your chest as he kisses across your collarbones, revisiting old marks he’d left earlier. Making sure that they do stay. The slow crawl of his heated kisses makes you dizzy, sighing at each nip and suck he leaves. Unable to look at his face any longer, you draw your eyes across the expanse of his back along the bed, and right up to Phainon.

His pretty eyes crinkle in a smile when you look at him as if he is being positively neglected. You give a listful one back. His shoulder is moving slightly, making his head bob a little, and his hair moves in an almost ethereal manner. Curiosity gets the better of you, and your eyes trace down from his shoulder to his hand, which is lightly palming over his hard-on. You blink up at him again, and he tilts his head innocently at you. 

You almost have it in you to reach out to try and help, as if you could when he is at the other side of the bed, by Mydei has every intent of keeping you focused on him. You gasp when a finger traces around your labia, spreading you apart. Your walls clamp around nothing in anticipation of the touch that follows quickly after, lightly tracing over your clit. He peers up at you from his spot latched onto your tit, still sucking on it like letting you go might kill him. When you suck in a deep breath, he rolls his finger around your clit harsher.

He smirks when you swallow, closing your eyes tight again at the sensation. He continues the motion with ease, moving down your body with his lips. You shudder when he peppers kisses just below your naval, readjusting his fingers to a much better angle. Like this, he can move them faster, drawing more sighs from your lips. They dip down to your opening, collecting your juices and returning to their previous ministrations. 

It’s not quite as nice as Phainon’s tongue, but it still feels good. Mydei is impossibly good with his fingers, and the callouses only add more texture to the whole sensation. It’s so good, head rolling back into the pillows so you can relax and enjoy the feeling properly. You feel the bed sink next to you and lean your head against Phainon without being told to do so. He kisses your temple, hands coming to your chest to play with your tits just like Mydei had before.

He rubs his thumbs over your nipples lightly, making them pebble up in seconds. You huff out a little moan, peaking an eye open to watch the way he plays with them. He smiles against your temple, whispering praises against your skin. His fingers pinch the hard bud between them, pulling and twisting just hard enough that it makes your toes curl.

Mydei’s fingers slow their motion, falling from your clit to your neglected hole. He gives you a second to ready yourself, which you respond to with a clench around nothing. He smiles at that, then finally pushes two fingers inside. The stretch is made easy by just how wet you are, and he’s able to get both fingers down to their base with no issue. Phainon whispers a ‘good job’ to you, watching the show while still playing with your chest. Having moved to cup your breasts now, squeezing them playfully now and again.

Mydei does not waste time pumping his fingers into you, palm grinding down on your clit each time he makes contact. His face is fully concentrated on fucking you with his fingers, rhythm steady and even, consistently hitting all the right spots over and over. He doesn’t relent for anything, not even when you curl into Phainon’s chest, as if you could hide from the pleasure eating you inside out. 

He curls his fingers in a come hither motion, rubbing your g-spot perfectly. You whimper out his name, and he finally looks at you, hungry and ready to consume you whole if you’ll let him. Without any more thought, his other hand spreads across your naval, and his thumb rubs at your clit in time with his thrusts. You chew on the tips of your fingers as you watch him finger fuck you, mind fogging up again as you near the edge. 

“You gonna come?” Phainon asks too sweet for the situation you’re in.

You still nod, and he tilts your chin up to swallow up your moans. His kiss is more demanding of what he wants, and you give him it without argument. You cry out as Mydei gives you a particularly rough flick, and you tumble over the edge. Legs shaking as Phainon presses you into an even deeper kiss, muffling any sounds you might’ve made for Mydei. His fingers continue to work you through your orgasm, slowing only when you seem to come down little by little. Phainon allows you to breathe when you stop shaking, and you look at Mydei with blurry vision, appreciating the sight of him cleaning you off his fingers.

“You’re so pretty when you’re cumming, have I told you that?” Phinon asks, Mydei humming his agreement for the first time that night.

The ladder eases you up into a sitting position, allowing Phainon to get behind you properly. You feel his dick smack against your bare back, and you realize he’d definitely been jerking himself off the whole time. You just hadn’t had the brainpower to notice it. 

Mydei focuses your attention back on him with a squeeze of your waist, “You okay for another?”

You nod immediately, more than willing to keep going for them. He shares a look with Phainon over your shoulder, and you try and fail to follow it, only able to see the other man’s jaw from your position. Mydei pulls away as Phainon pulls you back against his chest, and you reach out to him like he might leave the room. He is sweet enough to grab your hand and squeeze it in reassurance, then he returns to removing his own pants, angry red member springing out from its confines.

You’re sure you’re drooling as you watch it bob a few times. Phainon grins at your reaction, pressed into the back of your neck. You almost don't realize he’s carefully lifting you up in your stupor, but you gain your bearings enough when he traces himself across your pussy a few times.

“Ready?” He asks with all the sweetness he can muster, you can’t find it in yourself to say anything but yes.

With that approval, he slowly sinks you down onto him. The stretch stings, far more difficult to take than two of Mydei’s fingers, yet your pussy swallows him up obediently. It sucks him up so well you feel embarrassed like you were too needy for him. With the way you whimper, you might as well be, yet he doesn’t bother teasing you as he finally sheaths himself inside. He presses his forehead into your shoulder, trying to compose himself. His hot breath fans down your back, making you shiver in anticipation for what's to come.

You unwittingly clench around him, and he groans, pressing a hand right above where his tip would be inside. What his goal was, you weren’t sure, but the warmth of his fingers was welcome on your heated skin. They drum a few times as he calms himself, the feeling not helping you loosen up anymore. It seems to aid in his recovery, finally peering over your shoulder at Mydei, who is smirking to himself at the show.

“Can’t handle yourself over there?” He asks slyly.

Phainon huffs into your shoulder, “Easy to say when you’re not the one inside her.”

He hums, coming over to your side. He admires the two of you for a moment, taking in the sight with unrestrained delight. His fingers come up as he does so, tracing the lines of your face gently. The caress follows along your cheekbones, down to your jaw, lightly grabbing your chin and running his thumb along your bottom lip.

His other hand holds his dick firmly, keeping it level with your eye the whole time. You watch it with interest, wanting nothing more than to have it in your mouth as soon as possible, but Mydei demands your patience. Two taps of his thumb has you looking up at him obediently through your lashes, golden eyes burning the look into his mind.

You can feel Phainon’s eyes on you too, the intensity of their gazes nearly sending you into a spiral then and there. You bat your lashes up at Mydei, practically begging him to let you suck him off. It gets him smirking, sending Phainon a quick look before tapping your lip three times. You open up for him like you’re asked, and he presses the angry red tip between your lips. 

You waste no time in taking him into your mouth, sucking on his tip excitedly. You lick up the precum threatening to slide down his shaft, enjoying the salty taste like any other treat. His hand finds your hair, easing you to take more of him in your mouth slowly. As he does so, Phainon takes it as his sign to start moving. He lifts your hips slightly and begins a quick pace, hips pushing up into your ass over and over again.

It gets you moaning around Mydei, making him groan lowly and tighten his grip on your hair. He makes sure you suck him off nice and slow, a wild juxtaposition from Phainon’s frantic thrusting. You can’t tell what you should focus on more, moving your hips or taking more of Mydei in your mouth. You want to fit him down your throat, you know you can do it, but it would be hard with the way Phainon’s jostling you around.

He grips your hips tightly, using them as leverage as he pounds into you from below. It’s a bruising pace that has your walls fluttering with each connection he makes. The addition of Mydei only makes you more lightheaded, unable to focus on sucking him off and fucking yourself back into Phainon.

You don’t have to worry about it for long, not when Phainon’s fingers thread into your hair and between Mydei’s. He readjusts your position slightly so you’re at an angle, and then he pushes you back and forth with a newfound force. You swallow Mydei down to the base, then get pulled back to sheathe Phainon again fully. He does it over and over until you cannot do anything but suck and squeeze, mind mush and full of nothing but them.

It doesn’t take long for that coil to wind up in your stomach, tight and hotter than ever before. The sensation burns in your stomach, pleasure nearly consuming you whole. The only thing holding you together is Mydei’s gaze burning into your skin, his molten gold eyes drinking you in like a man gone mad with lust. That was what sent you over the edge, choking out your orgasm on Mydei’s cock.

You squeeze around Phainon’s throbbing member, pussy doing its very best to milk him for all he’s got. You’re not surprised when he cums shortly after you, spilling his seed into your swollen cunt. He bites into your shoulder, opposite where Mydei had earlier, muffling his groans into your skin. 

He does not forget about Mydei, though, aiding him in bobbing your head up and down his shaft more rapidly. Tears prick your eyes at the harsh speed, but you keep up with them as best as you can. You wanted Mydei to cum, you wanted to swallow it up and show him how good you were for him. You needed to at this point, you might go mad if you don’t.

You whimper along his shaft, and he groans, gritting his teeth to try and level himself out. It doesn’t work very well, you can feel him throbbing on your tongue. He’s close, you know he is, if only you can tip him over the edge. Phainon seems to have the same idea, grabbing the back of your head harshly and pushing you until your nose lays flat against his skin. 

Pressed into him like this, all you could do was breathe and swallow, teary eyes pleading with him to just give you what you want. It seems to do the trick, and in the next moment he is throwing his head back in a deep groan. White hot pleasure pours down your throat, and you swallow it up as best as you can. Sputtering when Phainon finally lets you pull away, gasping for the air you were desperately missing.

He rubs your back reassuringly, pressing apologetic kisses into your shoulder as he whispers out his praises for you. You go limp in his arms, unable to hold yourself upright anymore after everything your body has been through. It takes a long time for the three of you to come back down to earth, much longer for you than for them, but when you do you are cuddled between the two of them. Head on Mydei’s chest and Phainon kissing along your back as usual.

Mydei is stroking your hair with one of his hands, the other squeezing your waist reassuringly. He kisses the crown of your head when he notices you looking at him, silent praise for your hard work getting you sighing all over again. Phainon cheekily rests his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling your cheek like an overgrown puppy.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He asks, punctuated by another kiss to your neck.

You can’t manage to speak yet, so you nod with a weak little smile. You were so very tired, completely fucked out, but entirely satisfied. You hoped they were too, what with how hard you worked to pleasure them, you’d be devastated if they weren’t.

“It’s too bad we didn’t figure out who made you feel better this time,” He sighs wistfully like it’s truly a travesty.

Mydei scoffs, finally speaking up, “I’m pretty sure she called out my name more than yours.”

“The first one was a cheat and you know it.” He fires back.

Mydei scoffs, “And you making out with her when I was clearly about to win wasn’t?”

…and they are back to bickering back and forth. For a moment you almost believed things might be peaceful for now.

[lovegasmic]

 ✭ 𝗖𝗥𝗬, 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬

‘ toji x f!reader. overstimulation◞ dacryphilia ◞ multiple orgasms◞ praising n’ a bit of degradation ( good/pretty/baby girl, good little slut, sweetheart )◞ squirting◞ daddy kink◞ this sucks bc I wrote it so long in my old blog :p but still wanna clean my drafts ’

Toji was never an easy man to have sex with, starting from his size and incredible power to get you wet and begging with just a couple of words.

“beg me properly, beg me to use your body” he smirks, the tip of his tongue tracing the scar on the side of his mouth while eyeing your body up and down hungrily, “speak, sweetheart, or no one will hear you scream tonight” and in Toji’s words, that was a promise to leave you unsatisfied.

and you comply, a soft whimper escaping your lips while your fingers slide down to spread your wet cunt to his eyes, letting him observe how lewdly wet you were, “please— fuck me”

“is that the best you can do?” a mocking smirk greets you, eyes glued to your glistening folds while palming his growing bulge through the fabric of his signature baggy pants, “speak your mind, darling” his voice huskier, “don’t hold yourself”

“i...” you swallow harshly, “...want you to use me like your toy...”

words seductive, low and soft but oh so needy, “good girl” and Toji grins, seemly satisfied by your response, “lay down on the couch and spread your pretty legs for daddy”

“y-yes, daddy” the last word coming out purred, hips bucking unconsciously at the exact same time Toji climbs up your body, pants long forgotten on the floor meeting your discarded clothes that now felt more like a big pile of unnecessary cloth.

“that’s good, you’ve been an obedient little thing haven’t ya? making it easier for daddy” the man cockily smirks while stroking the fat girth of his cock, with his tongue against his cheek and rubbing the engorged tip across your slit, smearing translucent beads of precum against your clit, “you’re so wet baby, do you want daddy that bad inside of you?”

you’re quick to nod, hiccups escaping your lips while the man roughly held your hip to guide the engorged cockhead right to your soaking wet pussy, “say it”

“I want it, daddy, please fuck me” you whine again, choking out a sob when he began to split you open, forcefully spreading your folds with his size.

“fuck—, you really love being stretched by my fat cock, huh?” Toji chuckles, whipping a bead of sweat from his upper lip with a single thumb, before holding onto your hips and forcefully sheathing himself balls deep in the warmth of your cunt, “oh, yeah baby girl, take it all”

“ohh! y-yes” you moan in between sobs, pussy throbbing in delight at being stretched at the limit.

“that’s right baby, I’m going to use this pretty pussy of yours” the man starts thrusting deeper inside of you, each stroke hitting your g spot “let daddy fill this tight little hole of yours”

“feels good, o-oh uh!” your sobs grow, eyes watery from getting your insides practically rearranged, body dragged back and forth against the soft surface of the couch.

“m’ gonna cum” you mumble under your breath, having been fingered previously did the trick at getting your orgasm closer.

“yeah? come on my cock then” the raven haired man growls, pressing your thighs to your chest as his hips continued to piston inside of you, not even stopping when you began to convulse and cream all over his length, “that’s my good fuckin’ girl” is the last thing you hear before Toji is pulling out of your wet cunt, ripping out a whimper from your bitten lips as the world gets turn around, now finding yourself on hands and knees, exhaling heavily when the man’s fat cock slid inside your pussy once again, barely stretching you with the tip as a slap landed on your ass, “beg for it, beg for daddy’s big cock”

“please, please—” wiggling your hips in an attempt for his cock to bury deep inside of you, “please fuck me, breed me”

“good little slut” he smirks, pounding into you once again with renovated vigor, the sound of his balls lewdly slamming against your wet cunt making you sob and clench tightly, “you feel so fuckin’ good, so wet and tight around my cock, shit—”

“yes!” you babble incoherently, feeling yourself being held up against Toji’s chest with an arm across your waist.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” the wet slide of his tongue from the column of your neck to the shell of your ear makes you shudder and clench, getting a chuckle from Toji at the shiver of your body, “getting daddy’s fat cock molding your insides, fucking you silly until you can only think of me, hm?” the man laughs, pressing your head down back against the couch, ass up in the air in a new position where his cock is a tad away from hitting your cervix, leaving you gasping for air between desperate screams, “don’t hold yourself, sweetheart, go on and cum” he finish with another soft smack on your butt, successfully throwing you over the edge as you scream while cumming for a second time, pussy sensitive but still clinging to his cock as if to never let it go.

the warmth of your cunt makes his head go dizzy, deciding to flip you over onto a new position, “wanna watch that pretty sloppy expression when I cum” his voice much deeper than when you started, pressing against your thighs in a mating press that rubs every delicious spot with those thick bulging veins, the sounds of your juices splattering around with each hard smack of his hips on your cunt, mixed with growls of pleasure successfully make the warmth in your belly grow again.

“Toji — I’m gonna cum again” you sob, “gonna make a mess!” and you do, feeling your juices pour out in jets of squirt, soaking Toji’s cock and balls while he pulls out simply to rub your clit with the tip, a smile present on his face.

“you really did squirt” he chuckles, continuing to rub your sore and abused pussy.

“I have... never squirted before...,” a little weak sob leaves, feeling slightly embarrassed at the mess you created. little did you know that for Toji, that action alone was stroking his ego like never before.

“yeah?” he begins, making a fake pout before guiding his cock to your entrance again, “let’s see if you can do that again” he teases, not giving you a moment to complain before spreading your tight walls around his cock, ignoring your pleas and cries for him to at least give you a break, weak hands pushing on his soaked abdomen in a vain attempt.

“no more...ngh!” you choke out and your cunt gush around cock again and again, forcefully pushing orgasms repeatedly out of your puffy cunt.

“too bad, sweetheart, I’m not done with you” he says mockingly, pulling back with a smirk before slamming forward forcefully, “you look so cute when you cry, like a pretty broken toy that can’t take more cock” he mocks with a little fake pout, “you’re mine, doll, and I plan to remind you all night long”

[caelivir]

shrimply in love | miya atsumu

synopsis. atsumu wholeheartedly prayed that you forgot how you first met, and for a while he believed that you did. that is until he finds the literal token from that day.

pairing. atsumu miya x gn!reader | wc. 2.1k | genres. timeskip!atsumu, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, atsumu is soooo down bad | warnings. (minor?) manga spoilers

notes. outing myself as a hq fan and atsumu lover LOOK AWAY. this was inspired by a tiktok i saw LMFAO 😭. i was up until dawn, on my phone, in the drafts writing this that’s how bad it was. there's something additional to this so stay tuned, and i hope you enjoy.

“tsumu!” you call out from the couch while he’s in the bathroom connected to your shared room. “can you get my wallet? it’s on the bed.”

“sure thing, baby!” he answers back.

“thanks love!” you reply, the petname making him grin in the mirror. it gets him every single time.

after drying off his hands with a towel, atsumu doubles back to the bedroom, your wallet immediately catching his eye. he picks it up, and as he does, something slips out from the crevices.

atsumu picks it up and inspects it. it’s a folded slip of paper. curious, he unfolds it to examine its contents. reading it puts him in shock, and now he’s mildly annoyed with you.

he rushes out of the room, stomping over to you like a little kid. you raise an eyebrow in amusement when he stops in front of the couch.

“baby, what the hell?!” he whines, holding the paper out in front of you for you to read. confused, you lean closer, letting your eyes scan it before laughing out loud. it’s a guest check from the day you first met.

“what?! it’s cute!” you defend with a smile.

“it’s horrifying. do you even know how embarrassing this was for me?” atsumu pouts.

“oh believe me i know.” you giggle.

three years ago.

after a hard won victory, the msby jackals were craving a celebratory meal. meian had suggested a new italian restaurant that had opened by the arena. there was a unanimous agreement among the team, except for sakusa. however, bokuto had managed to convince him to come along with enough pestering.

so there they were, a group of guys well over six foot (with the exception of hinata and inunaki), sharing what’s probably the largest table at the restaurant. it drew tons of attention, and there were even some fans who came up to them for pictures and autographs.

then you came by, ready to take orders, and atsumu knew in that moment he was an absolute goner for you. your beauty was unlike anything he’s ever seen before. you were prettier than those models on the ads he walked by, prettier than the flowers in his mother’s gardens, prettier than sunsets on a beach. and god, your smile. his head went all fuzzy at the sight of it. it melted his insides.

you chuckled at whatever bokuto animatedly said before moving onto atsumu. you looked at him expectantly, eyes shining with so much light that it jumbled the blonde’s brain. shit. what did he want to order?

atsumu’s eyes quickly racked through the menu, and his mouth fired off an order before his brain could process what he was reading. “uh, could i get the shrimps camping?”

a silence befell amongst the table before a collective cackle filled the restaurant. realizing what slipped out of his mouth, atsumu’s face turned red. his cheeks were embarrassingly hot.

mortified. he was absolutely fucking mortified. even that asshole omi-kun found it funny. it didn’t help that you were suppressing a smile at him too. he didn’t even bother with the damage control. there was no point. he’d only embarrass himself further.

with a giggle, you made a note of it on the guest check you were writing up because at least you knew what he was referring to. atsumu buried his face in his hands. see in his head, the setter had come up with a plan to ask for your number, but now he was never even going to walk down this street ever again. his chances? consider them blown.

“alright, alright,” you said after the laughter had died down. you fire off orders to confirm everything, and then you get to atsumu. “and… one shrimps camping.”

“you’re killing me.” atsumu groaned, feeling a new wave of embarrassment now that you were teasing him.

“it’s my job.” you shrugged before walking off with a wink. the blonde felt his heart skip a beat.

“don’t sweat it, atsumu-san!” shoyo clapped his back reassuringly. at least he could leave it to the ginger to always have his back.

it took a minute, but the team had finally moved on from atsumu’s slip up. unfortunately, it was all the setter could think about. god, what if you teased him once you came back with the plates?

luckily for him, it didn’t happen. you just tossed him a knowing grin when you presented him his food. he stared down at those shrimp dancing in the sauce, knowing he’s never ordering fuckass shrimp scampi ever again, and dug in. (it’s the most delicious thing to have graced his tastebuds.)

atsumu, contrary to previous thoughts, did end up coming back to the italian restaurant in the hopes that he could see you. he realized that he wasn’t going to allow one fuck up ruin the chances of having you. atsumu miya is many things. annoying, rude, loud, but a quitter? that’s not one of them.

it was a weekly occurrence, and atsumu would try something different from the menu each time.

“no shrimp scampi?” you would smirk.

“no…” atsumu would sigh, feeling the jab in his bones before handing you his menu. “no shrimp scampi.”

conversations became more casual. he learned more about you like how you were in your final year of university and that your favorite men’s volleyball team was ejp raijin. (he was definitely going to change that.) each week the blonde setter visited you during week made him fall for you even more. all of these little things accumulated until atsumu finally got the balls to ask you out.

“what would you like today, atsumu?” you greeted, that soft angelic grin on your face, and he just knew he had to do it. he couldn’t ever let you go.

“you. me. a date.” he said casually, his eyes dripping with confidence. (interally, he was freaking out).

you tried maintaining your composure but failed so miserably. you couldn’t stop the smile that reached your eyes as soon as you heard those eyes. “i thought you would never ask.” you beamed at him.

chewing on your lower lip, you motioned for him to give you hand, to which he most happily obliged. your touch was a new heaven. so warm and so soft. he wished to be wrapped in it forever.

you held his hand steady as the tip of your pen scribbled on his skin. when atsumu looked down, he realized it to be your number, and his eyes stared at it in awe.

“text me.” you told him before walking off. then you stopped in your tracks, turning yourself back around until you’re back at atsumu’s table. “wait, shit. what do you want to eat?”

oh. he had completely forgotten about that. atsumu picked up the menu and quickly scanned for a fun dish name. “um, just the pizza napoletana and garlic bread.”

“you got it.” you noted it down. followed by, “no shrimp scampi?”

“(y/n), please. i feel like i’m flying right now, and you’re killing my mood.” atsumu’s face fell, feigning fake irritation, but you knew better.

you laughed. “alright, alright. i’ll be back soon.”

“you better be.” the setter scoffed before his face betrayed his true feelings.

and before you knew it, one date became two, then three, then four, and the rest was history, shrimp scampi along with it.

at least, that’s what atsumu thought.

“i thought you completely forgot about it.” atsumu whines.

you laugh, standing up from your place on the couch. “how could i ever forget that? i stopped the jokes because you got all sulky. besides, that’s how my little infatuation with you began.”

once you’re directly in front of him, atsumu places his hands on your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. without even thinking, your hand finds its way to the back of his head, stroking it with affection. “of all things? not my good looks? or my nice arms? ” the blonde murmurs into your skin.

you hum in agreement. “well that came after.” your boyfriend groans, making you roll your eyes.

“i don’t think i ever told you this, but i was having a really rough shift the night the team came in. when you guys were put into my section, i nearly lost it.” you admit. “but then you asked for shrimps camping, and i lightened up, like all of my negative energy just drained out of my body. seeing you all flustered and blushing was so adorable in my eyes.”

your boyfriend pulls back, his face scrunched. “i didn’t realize you were in a foul mood that night.”

“had to fake it. you know how customer service is.” you shrug, a smirk taking over your face soon after. “but you were too busy admiring me to even notice it.”

atsumu grins smugly. he’s not even ashamed. “that i was.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re hopeless.”

the blonde setter hums, leaning in, and you meet him halfway, kissing him gently. atsumu’s arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to him until you’re pressed against his body. you feel his lips twitch into a smile.

you’re the first to pull away, but your boyfriend is unsatisfied with that. he presses his lips to yours once again before you could even get another breath in. it’s a kiss full of affirmations that atsumu can’t voice. you feel it all through him. he’s so greedy when it comes to you, but he’d definitely agree with that statement without any complaint.

to atsumu, kissing you is a new kind of euphoria, one better than any service ace, better than any cool quick that he pulls off with his hitters. kissing you is like falling in love with you again, and it’s single-handedly the best feeling in the entire world.

he pulls away first with a proud smile. he steals a quick peck against your lips, then your nose, and then the rest of your face until you’re drowning in his affection.

you giggle, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “tsumu!”

atsumu sighs contentedly. his large hand cups your cheek. the rough skin of his thumb traces up and down your face. it’s so reassuring and so warm that you can’t help but lean into it.

“i love you, angel. y’know that right?” atsumu stares at you, adoration swimming in his eyes. everyday, he can’t believe that he gets to have you. he can’t believe he gets to come home and you’ll be there waiting for him, ready to hold him in your arms and kiss his knuckles when he tells you about his day.

you adjust your head ever so slightly to kiss his palm. “i know it. you never fail to make it known.”

you’ve come to realize that that’s who he is. your sweet boy, atsumu miya, is so full of love. behind the brashness and the insults, he has so much love in his heart that some days he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“i love you so much, atsumu miya. you are my life.” you whisper, bringing him in for another soul-igniting, cavity-inducing kiss. it’s intense, hotter, but that is just life with atsumu, a blaze of passion and fierceness.

you can feel him melt against you as if this is his first time doing this with you. you can feel him reciprocating your words. you know him so well that you can guess the words that follow. “all for me. my sweet angel. what did i do to deserve you?”

a memory springs to mind, causing you to cut the moment short as much as you’d like to continue. atsumu pouts at the loss of your lips against his. such a kid. still, he looks at you expectantly.

“i have to admit,” you’re kind of excited to see how he’ll react to it. “the entire restaurant knows you as the shrimps camping guy.”

atsumu stiffens against your body, and the horrified look on his face makes you burst out laughing. “you’re lying. (y/n), tell me you’re lying.”

“i’m sorry, my love. it’s true.” you reach out for his hand, but the blonde playfully shrugs it off.

“don’t touch me. how could you do this to me, huh? i thought we were for life!” atsumu turns away from you, shutting his eyes.

you roll your eyes. you should’ve expected this. in situations like these, there is one sentence that will make him forget everything immediately. “if i kiss you, will you forgive me?”

atsumu snaps his head back to you, and his eyes fly open, allowing you to catch the light that sparkles in them as he smiles widely. he’s so beautiful. “really?!” he exclaims but leaves no room for you to respond before he’s crashing your mouths together for the fourth time. you roll your eyes in disbelief but give into him immediately.

atsumu miya is so annoying, but he’s yours, and you wouldn’t give him up for anyone else in the world.

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird's Wings - Part 30

masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

Danny’s first thought when he woke up in the morning was how rested he was.

It was almost shocking.

He’d been so exhausted for for the past few weeks that to feel rested was a relief that almost made him cry.

Danny’s second thought was about his wings, which he still seemed to have. That was a pretty quick revelation caused by the fact that he was asleep on his stomach. The wings pulled at the sheets as he stretched lazily. At least they hurt less than yesterday at least. He was careful as he sat up, a cumbersome affair with the wings. It basically resulted in Danny getting his legs off the side of the large bed and simply standing up backwards, but at least it did result in him standing.

Grateful for Alfred’s thoroughness, Danny brushed his teeth before taking an awkward shower. He kept to the shower wand only and tried to keep as much water off his wings as possible. Despite the care, he still felt (and looked) like a rain ruffled bird after he had dressed in the modified sweater and a pair of his normal pants. He did what he could to at least tame his hair, swallowed his morning medication, and left the sanctuary of his borrowed room.

“Master Danny, impeccable timing,” Alfred said when Danny came across him in what Danny thought was the foyer. “Breakfast will be served in half an hour in the kitchen. Would you like some coffee or tea to start your day?”

“Coffee would be great, if it’s not any trouble,” Danny said with a bashful smile. He still wasn’t quite sure how to handle Alfred’s uncanny ability to show up and offer his service.

“A standard request of coffee is hardly trouble,” Alfred said in such a way that Danny felt bad for trying to be polite.

He didn’t think that his Midwest manners were going to get him very far in this house. Manor.

Still trying to puzzle out how his life got him into things like this, Danny followed Alfred to the kitchen. Bruce was already there, looking still half a sleep as he sipped on his own mug of coffee. For the moment, the table was children free.

“Cream or sugar?” Alfred ask as he headed towards the counter.

“Cream please,” Danny said. He turned to Bruce and gave a little smile. “Morning, Bruce.”

“Good morning, Danny,” Bruce said, his voice a low, sleepy rumble. (Danny did his best to fight the blush that the tone caused.) “Would you like some help drying off your wings?”

So much for not blushing. “Ah, yeah. That would be really nice. I tried to do what I could, but…”

Bruce chuckled softly. “Completely understandable. It’s a very awkward angle to try and manage.” He set down his mug and stood. “Fortunately for you, Damian is quite the animal buff and I was sent some very extensive articles on caring for wings.”

“Oh gods,” Danny said. The words were muffled by the way he buried his burning face into his hands.

“Damian simply wants the best for you,” Bruce pointed out.

“Sure, but still,” Danny said. He rubbed at his face as he let himself lean his head back and stare up at the ceiling for a moment, “I’m not a pet.”

Danny saw Bruce come over out the corner of his eye, towel in hand, and rolled his head a little to glance at him. He thought it was progress that he didn’t flinch when Bruce reached out, clearly telegraphing his motion, to run a hand over Danny’s wing.

“No one thinks that you’re a pet, Danny,” Bruce said with so much sincerity in his eyes that Danny had to look away. “Knowing how to take care of your wings is the same as making sure that Damian has easy access to vegetarian meals or that the computers at the manor have a dyslexic friendly font installed for Dick or that Barbara can easily get around in her wheelchair. Your wings, even if only sometimes, are part of you. And for better or worse, my family and I seem rather intent to see you well.”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck as he glanced back at Bruce. “Part of it may be that I’m not exactly used to that sort of attention. I mean, Lucius tries to make me take care of myself, as well as some coworkers, but in Gotham that sort of feels more like new rogue prevention,” Danny joked.

Luckily Bruce chuckled at that. “I am sorry that we’re so overwhelming.”

“No, don’t be. It’s… excuse the bird analogy, but it’s just a very full nest, isn’t it? It feels cozy. It’s just something different to try and wrap my head around,” Danny explained. “And I won’t pretend that I don’t still have issues, as much as it’s something that I’ve worked really hard on personally and in therapy, dying at fourteen leaves a person with some issues.”

Not to mention being a super hero, staying half dead, dying a second time, and all of the other things that went on during his high school years.

“Yes, I would imagine so,” Bruce said after a pause. His voice was soft and sad.

“Bruce—”

“Sorry,” Bruce said. “When Jason was fifteen, we thought he had died. He ended up out of reach and with extensive brain trauma and memory loss. I know how much it effected him. I’m sorry you had to go through something at that age also.”

Danny squeezed one of Bruce’s hands where it was clasped tightly around a towel. “He’s here now. He’s alive and he seems happy. He has a boyfriend and everything. I’m not saying it doesn’t still pull at him, but it hasn’t dragged him to the bottom. At least not anymore.”

Bruce smile was a somber, soft thing. “Thank you. And you’re here too.”

Danny blinked at that. Bruce wasn’t wrong. He didn’t know almost any of the story, but he wasn’t wrong. Wings and all, Danny was still alive. He smiled softly back. “Yeah, I am.”

[sillygoose067]

hi!! is it possible for you to write one for lewis pullman in general or bob floyd inspired by this

Hi! Yes of COURSE it’s possible, I’m so glad you asked :) I chose to do Lewis for this one, but maybe in the future I’ll do a Bob Floyd version… 🤔💭

Also the tweet itself is so funny I swear I’ve seen it like 50 other times and still laughed at it. Thanks for bringing it back!

———————————————————————————-

Plus One, Minus Me

Lewis Pullman x Reader

You were halfway through another spreadsheet, fingers stiff from typing, when your phone started to buzz across the desk. The screen lit up with a name that made the corners of your mouth soften—Lew💞.

You tucked the phone between your shoulder and ear, already grateful for the break. “Hey, you,” you said, brushing a crumb from your lap. “What’s up?”

His voice came through, winded. “Quick question—where are you?”

You frowned faintly, clicking away from the screen. “Um. At work? Still chained to the desk. Why?”

There was a shuffle on the other end. Distant laughter. A thud, like someone had dropped something nearby. And then—faintly—a child's voice calling for someone named "Captain Lewis."

“…Wait,” you said, straightening up. “Where are you?”

“I’m at your family’s place?” he replied, like it was obvious. “The cookout. The one you told me about last week?”

Your brain did a somersault. You yanked open your calendar. June 25th — Family cookout, 3 PM — backyard, bring something sweet?

Oh god. You had told him.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I completely forgot.”

“I thought you were just running late,” he said, unbothered. “Your mom texted me the address this morning, so I just showed up. Figured it'd be polite to shake some hands and make a quiet exit.”

You groaned, already burying your face in one hand. “I had back-to-back reports this morning. I didn’t even think—I’m so sorry—wait, how are you even surviving out there? My family’s like, full-contact socializing.”

There was a brief silence, and then a huff of laughter.

“Yeah, I didn’t really get a choice. Your aunt handed me a pair of tongs before I even finished saying hello. I’ve grilled, stacked chairs, lost a round of trivia, and now I’m being roped into a scavenger hunt by your cousin? I think I’m her team captain now?”

You could almost see him: sleeves rolled up, awkwardly trying to blend in, probably blushing his way through small talk while balancing a paper plate.

“Lewis,” you sighed, equal parts charmed and horrified.

But he didn’t hear it. His voice had shifted, distracted again. “Wait—someone’s calling me—uh, hey, sorry, I can’t really talk right now, I’m being drafted into backyard dodgeball. Your dad’s on the opposing team and he’s been warming up for ten minutes—I think he’s taking this personally—okay, gotta go—bye!”

Click.

You blinked.

He hung up.

He actually hung up on you.

To play dodgeball.

At your family’s cookout.

That you forgot about.

A scoff caught in your throat—half disbelieving, half amazed. You shook your head and stared at the phone like it had betrayed you. Moments later, a message came in.

A photo. Blurry but full of motion. Lewis in the foreground, red-cheeked and triumphant, clutching a foam ball like a prize. Behind him: your dad mid-sprint, your cousin ducking for cover. Someone had stuck a makeshift nametag on Lewis’s shirt. It read: “TEAM MVP.”

Then came the text:

Lew💞: “Tell me this counts as cardio. Also tell your mom I’m winning? Sort of.”

You felt a smile start somewhere deep and involuntary. A quiet warmth that spread beneath your ribs.

You: “I can’t believe you’re just out there bonding with my entire family without me:(”

Lew💞: “Yeah, well. Someone had to represent you. I’m doing my best. Now if you’ll excuse me, your uncle just pulled out the water balloons.”

Pause.

Lew💞(follow-up): “P.S. Tell your boss you’re missing a great pasta salad.”

———

You managed to finish up your shift a little after sunset, eyes heavy and brain gelatinous from too many hours of spreadsheets and fluorescent lights. But as soon as you clocked out, your feet moved on instinct. You barely thought about it—just turned the wheel and pointed your car in the direction of home. Or at least, the temporary version of it: your parents’ house, backyard still glowing with string lights and the leftover echo of laughter.

By the time you pulled up, most of the chaos had thinned. The crowd had quieted to clusters of folding chairs and flickering citronella candles. A few cousins darted around with glow sticks; someone had put on an old playlist, the kind that lived in your family’s blood more than memory.

You stepped into the yard with a breath held like a confession.

Your parents were at the patio table, sipping something warm, plates scraped mostly clean. Your mom saw you first. Her eyes lit up, though she didn’t rise—just waved you over with a small smile.

“I’m so sorry,” you said as soon as you reached them. “I completely spaced. Work swallowed me whole.”

Your dad waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. We figured you’d show up when you could.”

“Besides,” your mom said, patting your arm. “Lewis made up for both of you.”

You blinked. “He did?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, grinning. “He’s been playing referee, grill assistant, magician, babysitter, and apparently—”

Your dad cut in. “—the reigning water balloon dodge champion.”

You laughed, cheeks warming. “Where is he now?”

Your mom stood, nodding for you to follow her through the side of the yard. “He wore himself out. The little ones ran him into the ground.”

You passed the garden hose, a collapsed beach ball, and a pair of soaked sneakers—evidence of earlier warfare—and then turned the corner into the screened-in sunroom.

There he was. Sprawled on the old futon like a crime scene outline, one arm thrown dramatically over his eyes. His shirt was damp, hair tousled, and someone had draped a beach towel over him like a blanket. Your youngest cousin had left a juice box balanced precariously on his chest.

You stood in the doorway and just stared for a second. He looked so comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like your family had absorbed him fully, and he’d let it happen.

“He kept saying he wasn’t tired,” your mom said quietly behind you. “Then he sat down for one second and passed out like a light.”

You glanced at her, grateful.

“Thanks for looking after him.”

She touched your back, light as a whisper. “He fits, sweetheart. Good one, that boy.”

You smiled, then stepped forward to kneel by the futon. You gently moved the juice box, then brushed a hand along his arm. “Hey,” you murmured. “Ready to head home?”

He stirred, blinking slowly, smile groggy and crooked. “Did we win?”

“You definitely lost consciousness, so… sort of.”

He laughed under his breath, voice husky with sleep. “Your cousin is terrifying. I think I work for her now.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him upright. “Let’s get you out of here before she demands overtime.”

You guided him to the car, waving your goodbyes over your shoulder as he leaned sleepily against you, still radiating warmth from all the attention and adrenaline. And as you drove, his head tipped gently against the window, you couldn’t help but marvel at it all.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, the stars were out and the air had that summer hush to it—cool against your skin, the kind of quiet that only arrives after a long, noisy day.

Lewis was half-asleep again in the passenger seat, arms folded, head resting against the window like he might be dreaming something sweet. You hated to wake him, but the porch light flickered on as the car door opened, and he stirred on his own, rubbing at his eyes.

“Home?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Just about.”

Inside, you helped him kick off his shoes while he yawned like a cartoon character. He dropped his keys twice, then muttered something about how your cousins had “the combined energy of a nuclear plant.” You snorted as you tossed the spare blanket from the couch over his shoulders and went to fetch a glass of water.

When you came back, he was standing in the kitchen doorway, eyes soft and half-lidded, just watching you.

“You’re staring,” you said, offering him the glass.

He took it with both hands, sipped, then said, “Your mom likes me.”

“She does.”

“Your dad said I throw like a ‘real man,’ which I think was a compliment.”

You laughed and leaned your hip against the counter. “You made quite the impression.”

He gave a sleepy smile. “I just didn’t want them to miss you too much.”

That made you pause. Then step forward.

And tuck a hand into the curve of his elbow.

“I think you distracted them just fine.”

You guided him to the couch and sat down beside him, legs curled under you, shoulder brushing his. He exhaled, deep and slow, like he was finally letting go of the day.

After a moment, you reached over, gently pulling a stray blade of grass from his hair.

He watched you with that look of his—soft, a little amused, all affection.

“Thanks for showing up,” you said quietly.

He blinked. “Of course.”

“No, I mean… not just for me. For them. For being there, even when I wasn’t. You didn’t have to.”

He leaned back, head tilted, eyes studying you in that unassuming way of his. Then: “Yeah, but you love them. And I love you. It’s not that complicated.”

Your breath caught a little. Because of how easy, how logical he made it sound.

And how right it felt, hearing it here, in this quiet pocket of the night, after everything.

You didn’t say anything right away. Just reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

Outside, a cricket chirped somewhere in the dark. The kind of sound that only made silence feel more full, not less.

Eventually, he sank sideways into the cushions and pulled you gently with him.

And there, tangled together on the couch, your fingers still warm in his, you revelled in this love you'd found.

[saeamy]

OWL (OUR SON)

itoshi rin x reader

summary ۫ ꣑ৎ you're waiting for rin to return from blue lock, but something is missing from his room content: fluff! probably ooc! rin wc: 997 a/n: this is a draft from like 2 years ago that i kinda tried fixing up as best i could lol. this was like my first time writing so i hope you enjoy ^^ also didn't know what to name this...

giving gifts to rin wasn’t just hard. it was a whole mission.

but for his last birthday, you felt like you really came through with his gift. you had spent hours making sure it was absolutely perfect, no flaws or miscounted rows. a crocheted owl plushie. rin’s birthday embroidered on the bottom of the foot, and you made an additional cute scarf and sun hat for the owl, with both yours and rin’s initials.

when you first gave it to him, he had just stared at it for a few seconds, before letting a small smile make its way to his face. and from then on, the owl was always lying somewhere in his room, whether it be on his desk or on his bed. 

you even noticed how rin would change the owl’s clothes depending on the weather and season, but you’d never tell him, he’d just roll his eyes and deny it. 

but now, you were sat on his bed, scrolling through your phone while you waited for rin to return from blue lock. his mum loved you, and let you in, treating you as if you were a daughter. it’s been around 3 months since you last saw rin properly, only communicating with him on texts and short calls when it was allowed. 

you had seen him play against the japan u20, and the way you had tried your best to comfort him after his face-off with sae. 

you glance at the time, and get up to stretch your legs a bit. he should be here soon. you couldn’t wait to see him properly, talk to him without any distractions. your eyes flit around the room as you pop your back, and you see something out of place. or rather, a lack of something.

everything was as it should be. his shelves full of trophies that he had earned, a picture of sae and him (yes, he put it back up) and a picture of you and rin from your second date. 

but the owl was missing. it wasn’t on the bed when you had sat down, or on his desk. neither was it on the shelves next to his trophies. you didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but your heart clenched a bit. 

maybe he didn’t like it that much, and only kept it around to keep you happy. did he throw it away, was it too childish for him? but you swore rin’s eyes had lit up when you had first presented your little project, all bundled up in a basket alongside some other small gifts! 

but you didn’t have much time to think about it when you heard a familiar voice speaking to ms itoshi in the kitchen. 

footsteps padded towards you, and the door opens to reveal your boyfriend, standing with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“rin! you’re home!” 

you quickly move to wrap your hands around his neck, squeezing him tightly. rin’s hands fall around your waist, his head dropping onto your shoulder, his dark hair tickling your neck. “i’m back,” he mutters gently.

you both pull away, and he sets his bag down, but you promptly reach out to grab it. 

“i’ll unpack it real quick, so you won’t have to do it later!” 

rin just nods, completely forgetting what was in his bag. you start taking out his clothes while he flops down on the bed, thankful for the peace provided away from his teammates at blue lock. “rin?”

rin can already hear the grin in your voice, and he sits back up, raising a suspicious brow. “mhm?” 

he looks at you, and sees your wide smile. while unpacking, you found his owl, bundled between some of his clothes, and rin’s ears quickly flush pink as he realises what you’re getting at. “you took it with you?” 

rin groans, burying his face between his knees, but he hears the smugness and elation in the question you already knew the answer to. rin didn’t get rid of it after all, he had literally taken the owl you made him for the entirety of the 3 months he was at blue lock. 

“you missed me that much?” 

now you were stretching it. he rolls his eyes, trying to keep his cool demeanour up, despite failing miserably. the red flush from his ears was slowly making its way down to his neck. “don’t let it get to your head. i just needed…” 

needed what? something to remind him of you when you couldn’t talk? but he’d never admit that to you. not that rin needed to. you already knew, but you like to tease him and watch him get flustered. “whatever, he probably just accidentally landed in the bag while i was packing.” 

rin raises his head to look at you, and he groans when he notices your wide eyes. “what now?” 

you snicker, not bothering to hold any of your chuckles to yourself. “so he’s a he now? does he have a name too, rinnie? it would be shame to leave our son nameless now would it?”

rin was sure that if you were to touch anywhere on his body, you’d feel the way he burned like he was running a 39.5 degree fever. he just grabs your wrist and yanks you up from where you were kneeling next to his bag. 

“just shut up.” he grumbles like an angry kitten, and shifts your bodies so that you’re both laying down, his face buried in your back so you can’t see the expression on him. you can feel the warmth emanating from his flushed face and you just hum contently. “i’m really glad you liked your gift rin. it makes me really happy.” 

he clicks his tongue. “i’d like anything you give me, stupid.”

and your eyelids flutter closed, happy to be back in your boyfriend’s arms again, even if just temporarily, rin will always carry something from you with him, whatever it may be. 

© saeamy 2025 - do not repost, translate, copy or modify my works on any other platform!

[linoxpudding]

Welcome Home - Hwang Hyunjin

summary: you and your kids await your husband's return home after skz tour

pairing: dad!hyunjin x mom!reader

genre: fluff, humor

word count: 530 words

a/n: this one's been sitting in my drafts for a while— double upload today, enjoyy!

Dad!SKZ Masterlist

-

The Kids: Eldest Son (Rowoon - 11 years old) and Youngest Daughter (Ryujin - 7 years old)

~°~

You and your kids stood at the front door, eagerly waiting for Hyunjin’s arrival. It had been a long tour, and while FaceTime calls helped, nothing compared to having him home.

Rowoon stood with his arms crossed, trying to act like he was too cool for this, while Ryujin bounced on her toes, her tiny hands clutching the "Welcome Home, Daddy!" sign that she had scribbled in bright markers.

"He’s late," Rowoon grumbled, tapping his foot impatiently.

You ruffled his hair, earning a dramatic groan. "Flights get delayed, sweetie. Besides, you used to run straight into his arms. What happened to my baby boy?"

Rowoon scoffed. "That was, like, when I was five. I have a reputation now."

Before you could tease him more, headlights flashed in the driveway, and Ryujin let out a high-pitched squeal. "DADDY!"

The second Hyunjin stepped out of the car, chaos erupted. Ryujin sprinted forward at full speed, her little legs working overtime as she launched herself at him. Hyunjin barely had time to drop his bags before catching her, spinning her in the air.

"My little princess!" He kissed her chubby cheeks, making her giggle uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, you stood at the doorway, hands clasped together dramatically, pretending to faint. "My love, my heart, my soul!" you called out dramatically.

Hyunjin immediately played along, clutching his chest . "My muse! The love of my life! The air that I breathe!"

You dramatically ran into his arms, wrapping yourself around him as he lifted you effortlessly. "I thought I would perish without you!"

"And yet, here you are, even more beautiful than when I left," he whispered, kissing your forehead.

Rowoon, standing a few feet away, groaned so loudly it could have shattered glass. "MOM. DAD. PLEASE."

You and Hyunjin turned to see your son standing there, arms crossed, face buried in his hoodie, looking deeply embarrassed.

"You guys are SO dramatic," Rowoon muttered, shaking his head.

Hyunjin gasped in fake offense. "Dramatic? Me?"

"You literally just did a whole K-drama reunion scene in our front yard."

You pouted. “You don’t like seeing your parents in love?”

Rowoon deadpanned. “Not when it looks like a bad K-drama scene.”

Hyunjin gasped, clutching his heart. “HOW DARE YOU? I am a professional actor!”

“Dad, you were in one web drama with Uncle Innie for like five minutes.”

You nodded. “And I still rewatch it.”

Hyunjin smirked. “See? Your mom appreciates art.”

Rowoon groaned, covering his face. 

You giggled, looping your arm through Hyunjin’s. “C’mon, let’s go inside before our son disowns us.”

Hyunjin smirked, leaning down to ruffle Rowoon’s hair—only for Rowoon to dodge.

"C’mon, bud, aren’t you happy to see me?"

Rowoon huffed, but you didn’t miss the tiny smile creeping onto his face.

"Yeah, yeah, welcome home, Dad," he mumbled, before suddenly lunging forward and hugging Hyunjin tightly.

Hyunjin’s teasing expression softened as he wrapped an arm around his son.

"Missed you too, buddy."

Ryujin, still clinging to Hyunjin’s neck, poked Rowoon. "Told you you’d get mushy!"

Rowoon groaned. "Ugh, whatever."

You leaned against Hyunjin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Glad you’re home, jagiya."

He grinned. "Glad to be home to my perfect little family."

-------------

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Dad!SKZ Taglist:

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[prongsx]

Jason todd who...

Who calls your office with a dying voice, sneezing and whining about how he's sick but can "try" to be fine alone at home. Your boss dismisses you because Jason's voice certainly sounds like someone who needs to be hospitalized.

So when you get home, Jason is comfortably lying on the bed in the shared room, reading one of his favorite books.

"Jay!" You say, running over to him and placing your hand on his forehead. He's at his normal temperature, not even at his normal temperature, the well changed things that should be normal for a human being. The thing is… your boyfriend is a normal color, tanned even, his eyes bright blue, his nose without any sign of redness. You've seen Jason sick, and he doesn't look like this at all.

"Jason?"

"Baby, hi," he says, having the audacity to fake a cough.

"Are you sick?"

When he opens his mouth, you can see the hint of a smile and you know what kind of illness he's going to say he's suffering from.

"Don't you dare say that."

He lets out a hoarse, loud laugh that hits right at your heart and gets in the way of your mission to stay angry. His large hands abandon the book and hold your waist, as he buries his face in your stomach, lightly lifting the hem of your shirt. blouse, his breath against your skin doesn't help your mission to stay irritated either.

"Sorry, honey. But it's not a crime to pretend to be sick, is it?" He says, a smile on his face that makes him look younger, even like a naughty boy who did something hidden from his parents. It makes him adorable, it softens his scars and makes his blue eyes sparkle. "What are you going to do? Call Red Hood to punish me?

It's a hard task to stay mad at your boyfriend.

"Jason Todd…" You start, but you can feel the smile appearing on the corner of your lips. Because months ago Jason would never do this, would never have the stupid courage to do whatever it took to stay by your side. And he looks so ridiculously happy with his ideia that it makes you equally happy, Jason looks alive when he smiles like that, his dimples appearing and you use all your strength not to kiss him.

He pulls you to the bed, curling up against you as if he physically depended on it, peppering kisses on your face.

"I got a break from Gotham today and I needed my favorite person by my side."

You let out a moan, he knows very well how to make you break. Adorable idiot with puppy dog ​​eyes. You let him wrap you in his arms, letting out a sigh of relief. giving up. It was too good to be hugged and kissed by Jason to be mad.

"When you're on Patrol, I'll call and say the house is on fire."

"I'll come running right away."

It was good to be loved.

I have a lot of drafts about Jason Todd lol, finally having the courage to post. I'm opening a box if you want to make requests, I just love Jason Todd so much

[arixella]

Blades Don’t Bend, But He Did for You

╰┈➤ pairing: Zoro x female! reade

a/n: : hey yall ! I know its been a while I had college exams and other school related stuff so I didn't have any time to post but I have been writing in my drafts and now its summer so I should be posting weekly again! Pls send any request you would like me to do!

summary: A night of drinking between you and Zoro turns into a fiery, no-holds-barred encounter, shattering your status as just drinking buddies and igniting something far more possessive and intense between you.

wc: 1.0l

contains: smut, dominant/teasing dynamic, rough sex, mild dirty talk, friends to lovers

The tavern was loud. Laughter. Shouts. The clink of mugs and slosh of cheap ale.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You and Zoro had always been drinking buddies. That’s what this was. Another night on some random island, blowing off steam while the others passed out in the Sunny. You two always lasted the longest — stubborn, competitive, a little reckless.

But tonight?

Tonight, something felt different.

Zoro sat across from you at the dimly lit booth, forearms flexing as he tipped back another bottle. His cheeks were a little flushed, his voice rougher, his gaze lingering a little too long on the skin your loose shirt exposed when you stretched.

And you — you weren’t much better. You were buzzing with heat, both from the alcohol and from how fucking good he looked with those intense eyes, and that damn cocky smirk.

"You tapping out?" he asked, tone taunting.

You licked your lips. "Please. I can drink you under the table, mosshead."

His grin sharpened. “Careful what you challenge.”

You were about to shoot back when his hand brushed your thigh — subtle, rough, and way too intentional to be an accident.

The booth went quiet.

Your breath hitched. Zoro didn’t move his hand. And you? You didn’t stop him.

Something in his eyes changed — the air went thick. Hungry. Wordless.

Then you were stumbling back to your rented room — not even making it to the bed before Zoro shoved you against the door, mouth crashing into yours, raw and desperate. Your teeth clashed. His hands gripped your hips like he was claiming them.

“You sure?” he growled against your lips, voice dark, barely holding back.

You nodded, already grinding against the growing bulge in his pants. “Fuck yes.”

That was all it took.

He hoisted you up with ease — strong arms locking around your thighs as he carried you to the bed, tossing you onto it like nothing.

Then he was on you — tearing your clothes off, not even bothering to be gentle. He wanted you naked and under him, and he didn’t care how long it took to get there. His hands were everywhere — rough, possessive, needy.

“Been thinkin’ about this,” he muttered, pressing his cock against your soaked core through his boxers. “You moaning my name. Squirming on my cock. Begging me.”

“You don’t hear me begging yet,” you snapped, breathless, nails dragging down his back.

“Oh, you will.”

And then he was inside — fast, thick, unforgiving. You cried out, arching beneath him as he bottomed out in one brutal thrust.

He didn’t give you time to adjust.

His hips snapped into you, hard and relentless, like he was trying to bury every inch of himself in you — to make sure you felt it tomorrow. Your head hit the mattress with every thrust. Your hands clawed at his back.

“F-Fuck, Zoro—!”

“That’s it,” he growled. “Say my name like that. Let the whole damn inn hear you.”

It was feral. Filthy. He had you in a mating press, thighs pinned back, sweat dripping from his temples. Your body trembled, pleasure climbing hard and fast.

He felt you clenching around him and grinned through clenched teeth. “You gonna cum for me already?”

You could barely answer before it hit you — your body arching, walls clenching tight as your orgasm ripped through you. Zoro didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, his own release not far behind as he spilled deep inside you with a low groan, hips twitching.

But it wasn’t over.

He pulled out, chest heaving, cock still half-hard and dripping. “Not done.”

You smirked, sitting up with a wicked gleam in your eye. “Good. My turn.”

You straddled him, pushing him back onto the bed, pinning his wrists for a change. His eyes widened — surprised, a little turned on.

“You wanna ride me now?” he taunted, breathless.

“Oh, baby. I’m not just riding you.”

You lowered onto him slowly — watching his head tip back, a groan punching from his chest as you sank all the way down.

Then you moved.

Hard, fast, merciless — using his cock for your own pleasure, bouncing on him with sharp smacks of skin. His hands gripped your hips tight, trying to take control again, but you slapped them away.

“Nuh-uh,” you teased. “I’m in charge now.”

Zoro cursed under his breath, groaning as you clenched around him. “You’re gonna fucking break me.”

“Good.”

You fucked him until he was a mess beneath you — panting, growling, begging for permission to cum again.

And when you finally let him?

He grabbed your hips, forced himself deeper, and came with a guttural moan that shook the walls. You collapsed onto his chest, both of you slick, wrecked, and gasping.

Silence settled — heavy and warm.

“…Guess we can’t just be drinking buddies anymore,” you muttered against his skin.

Zoro huffed a laugh, arm wrapping tightly around your waist.

“You’re mine now,” he said simply, voice low and sure. “Don’t think for a second I’m letting this be a one-time thing.”

You smirked, already feeling him twitch hardening again against your thigh.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m not done with you either.”

♡♡♡

© 2025 arixella | please do not plagiarize or translate any of my work without my consent.