#I love you all and hope you enjoy!

[mothwingwritings]

When The Smoke Clears

F! Reader X Katsumi Orochi

What’s this?! A Katsumi fic where he is the central focus and has all your love without anyone trying to fuck with your relationship?! It’s more likely than you think. (☞⌐▀͡ ͜ʖ͡▀ )☞

I had forgotten I had written it until I was looking over some old drafts that I started forever ago and never finished. I unearthed this little number that I vaguely remember writing in a fit of passion after originally reading Katsumi’s fight with Pickle. It may be my favorite Baki fight thus far and filled me with all the emotions, so this was born from that lol. And now that the anime released, what a perfect time to finish and post it! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ – ✧) Thanks past me and my horrible memory! :D

That being said, since it deals with post battle bullshit, it is a little angsty and you do pop off on Katsumi a little bit in this one. But other than that I just wanted to make something on the sweeter side for our dear boy. He deserves all the love and affection, dammit! 😤 I made it a bit mushy and maybe Katsumi is sorta OOC but to be honest… August has been dreadful and I think I needed it that way to keep me from completely losing it. ^^;

I hope you all enjoy~!

Warnings: Mentions of violence/gore, spoilers up through the Pickle fight w/Katsumi, some language, white lies, you are mean to Katsumi for a lil tiny bit but it’s just cause you are worried. :<

Katsumi Orochi has always been a horrible liar.

He would slightly scrunch his nose when eating something he disliked, while telling the chef he thought it was delicious. His face would noticeably tighten whenever someone was annoying him, even though he acted like they weren’t a bother at all. His shoulders would sag when he didn’t meet his daily goal, though he’d shrug it off and act like it was no big deal.  When he hadn’t done as well as he had hoped during a tournament placing, he’d always don a bright smile and laugh it off by saying there was always time to improve.

Maybe those excuses worked on other people, but you knew him far too well for them to fool you. Katsumi knew you could see right through him and that any attempts at concealing his true feelings were pointless. So it was only in the privacy of your shared home that he let his guard down, letting you truly experience how his self-perceived short comings broke him down.

These moments of self-doubt seemed to be happening more frequently in the past few weeks, specifically since news of Pickle hit the general population. Pickle’s arrival stirred something in the fighters of Shinshinkai Dojo, and try as he might to convince you otherwise, Katsumi was not exempt from this excitement. He always was a cocky man, often times too arrogant for his own good, and the thrill of besting a beast like Pickle was a siren song he could not ignore.

However his cocksure attitude and the exuberance he had for fighting was a double edged sword, often also being the instigator of the ruts he would find himself in. Through his life he had garnered a fair mix of friends and enemies alike- Admirers who were rooting for him and despisers who were praying for his downfall, all inexorably drawn to his proud aura. It wasn’t until Retsu had easily defeated him in the Maximum tournament that a major change sparked within Katsumi. Though admittedly for the better (nothing opens your eyes to your own faults quite like getting your ass handed to you), the total thrashing he had received at the hands of his friend opened his eyes to what was stunting him previously. It was a hard lesson to learn, but a necessary one to shape him into the man he is now.

But the entirety of his doubt would not be quelled so easily, and it remained festering in his heart to this day. The challenge Pickle posed excited him, but also daunted him. The conflicting feelings irritated him, igniting him with the desire to attack, but fettering him from doing so.

When he got like this, no one experienced his lows and frustrations quite like you did. Katsumi’s anger and disappointment at his own limitations had a way of pouring out of him and spilling into you, making his torment become your own. In public it was so easy to get thrown off by his nonchalance and easy smile, his gusto so great that even if you were able to pick up on the turmoil that lied beneath it, it was easy for him to get you to believe he was OK and move on. 

But when you were alone at night and he was lying in your arms, lulled to sleep by the caress of your hand, it broke your heart to hear his whispered apologies. That he could be better and WOULD be better for you. Your gentle assurances that he was already your hero, that you loved him and no amount of losses or wins would change that, always seemed to fall on deaf ears. It ate you up inside to hear him speak so badly of himself. Since day one you had been his most ardent supporter, whatever flaws or negative self-critiques he had that he believed were imposing on your life were purely in his head.

How many times had you told him his feelings of inadequacy as a lover and provider to you were all nothing more than cruel lies his own brain concocted? You wished he would believe you, get it through his thick skull so that he could have one less thing to fret over. All you ever asked or expected of Katsumi was his love and honesty, and those you had unconditionally.

At least, you had until this morning.

Though usually an early riser, he got up sooner than normal, dressed and ready at the very crack of dawn. Smiling down on you as the sun was just beginning to peek through your bedroom window, he brushed your hair away from your sleep ridden face. He was typically eager to get up and go, but today he lingered in your presence, peppering your face and head with soft kisses. Taking full advantage of your barely woken state to express his love, it both warmed your heart and confused you. Katsumi was well aware you could be quite the grump in the morning so he usually avoided giving you too much attention too early, concerned that he may fully wake and irritate you. His slightly obtrusive presence was out of character, and you couldn’t help but be further roused by it.

“I’m leaving a bit early today love,” his whisper tickled your ear, causing you to hunch your shoulders. He chuckled, placing one more kiss on your temple. “…Thank you for sticking by my side. You deserve only happiness throughout your life.”

In your sleepy haze you almost felt you had dreamed his words, but as you squinted at him in the bedroom doorway, the look on his face filled you with concern. He kept his eyes trained on you, staring at you as if they were looking at something very far away. They held a wistful glimmer typically reserved only for painful goodbyes, and paired with the crooked smile on his lips, you couldn’t help feeling that if you let Katsumi leave now, you would regret it the rest of your life.

“Katsu?” You slowly pushed yourself up into a seated position, rubbing the grogginess from your eyes in the process. “Where are you going this early?”

When you turned your full attention back to the door, he was gone.

You dragged yourself out of bed, calling out for him as you padded around the entire apartment. Your cries remained unanswered, as did calls and texts to his cell phone, which made sense when you discovered he had left his phone discarded on the kitchen table.

Seating yourself at the table, you rested your chin in your palm, eying his phone with trepidation. Katsumi wasn’t one of those people who were glued to their phone, if anything he griped at you for how much time you spent on yours. But still, to leave so abruptly, without any means to contact him directly and little explanation to where he was headed… It wasn’t like Katsumi at all.

Distantly, you heard the TV in the background. You must have forgotten to turn it off before you headed to bed yesterday, the volume just quiet enough to blend in as background noise. The usually obnoxious banter of the morning news came as a welcome change today, the sound of other voices keeping you from feeling totally abandoned.  Your eyes flicked to the screen, a ‘breaking story’ about Pickle the hot topic again this morning.

You hadn’t been too keen on the Pickle hype from the get go. You understood it, sure. It was extremely exciting to discover such an intact specimen of humanity from a time when dinosaurs walked the earth, and even more astounding that they were able to revive him, get him up walking and interacting with people and his environment. You were just as tuned in as the rest of the planet, intrigued to hear what breakthroughs and discoveries come from reanimating this prehistoric man.

At the same time however, you couldn’t help feel disgusted over what a media circus his awakening had caused. From the initial live on air assault of that female reporter, to the subsequent late night talk shows hosting a multitude of specials on the moral standpoint of his existence, it all felt dirty to you. You couldn’t help but feel bad for Pickle in most instances. Alone in a foreign world he didn’t understand, surrounded by swarms of people requesting things of him he couldn’t comprehend, it must be an incredibly bewildering and lonely life. You felt equally bad for the people he unintentionally hurt, damaged (sometimes irrevocably) by simply coming in contact with someone so feral.

And that is what put you off about Pickle the most, was how dangerous he was.

Not that he was a direct threat to you, per se, but as soon as news of him hit the media, the entire dojo was abuzz. He was all anyone could seem to talk about or focus on. His strength, his combat style, what it would feel like to fight him. The conversations reminded you of children on the playground coming up with pretend battle scenarios with their friends, their eyes lighting up as they discussed it during warm ups and spars. The first of the group to be truly captivated was Retsu, which took you by surprise. Retsu is one of the most disciplined men you know, so to see him become so single mindedly obsessed over one fight with a single opponent was disconcerting to you.

Curiosity was expected, but all-encompassing obsession could drive people to do unfortunate things, and that was the mindset that encompassed the men around you.

You weren’t thrilled when you learned a whole squad of fighters (Retsu, Katsumi and Doppo amongst them) had broken into a heavily monitored government facility just to come in contact with Pickle, especially when you found out the extent of their plan was ‘get in, find Pickle, fight’. You and Natsue made sure to give them all an earful they weren’t soon to forget when they returned.

You had a hard time comprehending their thought process. Was it worth risking getting arrested for potentially the rest of your life for the chance to battle one person? They all turned rather sheepish under your scolding, but their unified response only boiled down to ‘you just wouldn’t understand.’ You didn’t deny this; there was plenty in the world of fighting you had a hard time empathizing with. But that sentiment could go both ways, because you were positive they couldn’t begin to fathom the myriad of emotions that flowed through you as you watched their walk of shame back to the dojo, knowing  that should it come down to it, they left ready to die at Pickle’s hands. Did they even consider how their loss may affect the people around them, or was the appeal of a once in a lifetime battle so strong that they didn’t care?

You were no fan of Yujiro Hanma, but in this instance you were thankful he was able to get your boys home without further incident.

Alas, things only got worse after Retsu orchestrated the first battle against Pickle. At the time you were not privy to it happening, most likely because Retsu knew just how against the idea you would be and how much it would hurt you to know he was going to participate anyway.

Nothing could quite prepare you for seeing him in that hospital bed, leg half missing and shoulder torn to shreds. Retsu was one of your best friends, undoubtedly one of the strongest and most capable people you know. To see him reduced to a prone state, covered in bandages, chunks of his body missing… You were surprised you were able to hold your tears until you left the room.

Before even leaving the hospital, you had made Katsumi swear to you that he would stay away from Pickle. That whatever devil was sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear to go fight that monster of a man, was ignored from here on out. He had looked you in the eye, earnestly promising you he would stay away from Pickle. You had his word.

But now you feared it was all just idle chatter.

You wanted to have faith, and forced yourself to give Katsumi some time. Maybe he just went out for a jog, or had to run an early errand before going to the dojo? Surely you were blowing this whole thing out of proportion and only assuming the worst.

But the longer you waited, the more your anxiety mounted. You only lasted an hour before you started to make calls.

Doppo, Retsu, Baki, you even grew desperate and tried Katou-none of them answered your call. After a few attempts you were able to get through to Natsue, but she offered very little in the form of comfort, only telling you in a rushed tone that she had been in contact with Katsumi briefly and all was well, before saying she needed to go and disconnecting the call.

The hours that ticked by were maddening. The wait got so overbearing that you eventually decided to go to Shinshinkai to seek answers on your own. If no one would respond to you, you would just have to go to them and force answers from them yourself.

But to your great surprise when you had arrived to the dojo, you found it closed. Locked up and void of any inhabitants, you were dazed. Never before had you ever seen the dojo completely closed and locked up, with nary a soul in sight. Sure, there were holidays and week days where attendance was waning, but the building itself was never fully uninhabited. In fact, some people where there so often it felt like they practically lived there.

However as dumbfounding as it was, it did not change the fact that the Dojo was in fact closed for the day. There wasn’t even a sign on the door explaining why, and when you cupped your hands against the window for a better look inside, you were met with empty dark halls as far as the eye could see.

The building loomed over you, cold and barren as it mocked your attempt at clarification. Planting yourself on the front steps, you buried your face in your hands.  Completely discouraged, the dreadful, creeping realization that Katsumi had gone against his vow over took you. Though you could come to no other conclusion, your mind still struggled to come to terms with it. Did he really go after Pickle? Would he put himself in danger like that and not tell you? Heaviness had settled on your soul, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

… What if Katsumi never returned home?

As if triggered by that horrid thought, your phone began to noisily ring, cutting the tension with its piercing jingle. Fumbling as you fished the phone from your pocket, the screen lit up to show the caller was Retsu.

“Retsu,” Your hurried voice answered before he could greet you, “Where’s Katsumi?”

Save for some background noises you could not decipher, there was silence on the other end. Your heart was pounding in your chest, the hand holding your phone shaking so bad you were worried you may drop the damn thing. After several agonizingly long seconds passed, Retsu let out a heavy sigh.

“He’s at the Ebara memorial hospital,” his voice sounded strained, like he dreaded telling you the news, “We all are. He’s in private room 309 in the ICU. Please come when you can.”

Your body turned to ice at the revelation. Your hand sprang to cover your mouth, muffling the sob that was desperate to come out.

“… (Name),” Retsu questioned on the other end, his voice much softer than previously, “… He’s beat up, but he’s OK. Please, take deep breaths and be safe getting here. The last thing any of us want is you getting into an accident and hurting yourself over this.”

You released a shaky breath, forcing yourself to calm down, “Thank you, Retsu. Tell Katsumi I’ll be there soon.”

~

You had spent the whole cab ride there mentally readying yourself for what awaited you. Was Katsumi in a coma, could he talk? What if he was hurt so badly you couldn’t recognize him? What if he was beaten so intensely he had become a vegetable? You tried to quell your concerns with Retsu’s reassuring words, but your anxiety kept winning out in the end. ‘OK’ was not the descriptor you were looking for, you wanted to hear that Katsumi was safe and in one piece, up and functioning. You wanted an explanation about the lack of communication- reassurance that it was just some big misunderstanding and he was sorry to make you worry.

But that was just your desire speaking, and the reality of the situation was that he truly had broken a promise to you and got himself hurt in the process, bad enough to be in an ICU in god knows what condition.  Tears stung your eyes as you forced yourself to breath, focus on the fact that Katsumi was alive and being cared for, that he was no longer in danger. But even the relief those facts brought was diminished in your heart, overshadowed by the immense pain you felt over his betrayal and what state you may discover him in.

When you arrived at the hospital, Retsu greeted you in the entrance lobby. His eyes were serious, but a tired smile graced his lips when he saw you rush through the door. As he led you to Katsumi’s room he did his best to try and soothe you, telling you that Katsumi was awake and alert, heavily drugged so that his pain was nearly nonexistent. You only half listened, nodding every now and again to let Retsu know you heard him, even if the words weren’t truly absorbing. Your sole focus was getting to Katsumi, seeing with your own two eyes that he was as alive and well as Retsu was stating he was.

Just as you had reached the door to Katsumi’s room, Retsu halted you from going any further. Shooting him a look, he placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I know you are upset,” his words were deliberate, his eyes fixed on yours as he spoke calmly, “And you have every right to be. We kept this fight from you to protect you, but I now see that even with our best intention, that has done more harm than good.  Just please understand (Name)… You are the most important person to Katsumi. He did not do this to cause you any misery or strife. I know I may have no right to ask this, but try not to be too hard on him.”

You gave Retsu a quick nod, steeling yourself as you focused your attention back to the door, “Please, let me see him.”

When the door was pushed open, a rush of emotions washed over you. Frozen in the entryway, words could not describe the consolation you felt seeing him sitting up in the hospital bed, his eyes lighting up in recognition as they passed over you. Your body began to shake, overcome with relief to see him breathing and attentive, elation coursing through you so fiercely you felt lightheaded. Another wave of happiness overtook you when he smiled at you, bright and full of love, the frigid grip of fear instantly began to loosen its hold on your heart.

But when you took in the rest of him, your joy began to waver. He was covered from head to toe in wounds, vicious purple and black bruising marring his pale flesh, cuts and scrapes painting him in strokes of vibrant red. And that was just the areas you could see-A vast majority of his body was wrapped up in bandages, as if someone was trying to mummify him while still alive, giving him a very macabre essence.

The most shocking however was the notable absence of his right arm. Despite the discourteousness you exhibited by staring at such an injury, you couldn’t look away. Katsumi noticed you honing in on it, his smile weakening at the concern reflecting in your eyes. He looked abashed, like a child caught by their mother after doing something they knew they shouldn’t have. He shifted his body slightly as if to try and hide the missing limb, growing increasingly bothered over how it was unsettling you.

“Hi baby. I’m glad you came.”

His words broke your spell, and you rushed to his side, stopping just as you reached the bed. You wanted desperately to fling your arms around his neck, pull him close to you and feel his warmth, experience firsthand the life force that thrummed through him. But you stopped yourself from doing so, partially out of fear of hurting him, but more so over just how jarring he looked close up. You were sure the doctors did all they could to clean him up, but blood still seeped through his bandages, irritated flesh held together by countless stitches made him look far too corpse like for your liking. His eyes seemed so tired, and you had a hard time discerning if the heavy bags and dark shadows that rested beneath them were due to exhaustion or were another lesion from the fight.

Tears began to pour from your eyes, coming in a violent downpour. Your breathing grew labored as you wept, your hands balling into tight fists at your side.

“Katsumi…”

His name came out strained, and his shoulders tensed as he watched you cry. You saw his right shoulder quiver, a deep frown immediately engulfing his face. He must have tried to reach out to you with his phantom limb, his body not yet use to its absence. But the reminder of what he had lost didn’t upset him nearly as much as your tears did.

“(Name)-“

“Shut up!”

You cut him off, a look of surprise flashing across his features over the bite in your voice. Your anger startled you as well-it had consumed you in a flash, leaving you with no choice but to ride it out and voice the worst of the pain you were feeling. Distressed, garbled words began to spill from your lips in an exasperated tirade, a culmination of all the frustration you had felt up to this point.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” your voice wavered, tears so heavy you could barely make out the man by your side, “Why did you do this Katsumi?! You promised me you would stay away from Pickle! You PROMISED me you wouldn’t fight him! Do you know how fucking scared I was when you left this morning? Do you know how horrible it felt not being able to get ahold of anyone for answers, how shitty it was to be left clueless? I thought you were dead Katsu! I thought I may lose you forever and I spent this entire day broken over the thought that I would have to live the rest of this life without you in it!”

Your hands wiped roughly at your eyes, trying in vain to clear the mucus and tears from your reddened face. Katsumi opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it, letting you continue your vent uninterrupted.

“Was it worth it? Fighting Pickle, losing a limb and nearly your life, driving me to the brink of heartbreak? Did it scratch your itch? Do you feel better now? I just don’t get it, wasn’t it enough to see what was done to Retsu, or were you really so blinded with stupid levels of machismo that you felt you were untouchable? What would have happened if you actually died? How do you think Doppo and Natsue would have felt, or all the people in the dojo? What would I have ever done without you? If I lost you, I wouldn’t even want to live anymore you dumbass idiot! This whole thing is so fucking stupid!”

For a short time, the only sound that could be heard in the room was your muffled cries. Retsu had long since left, leaving you and Katsumi alone to wallow in your oppressive grief. Slowly, your tears began to die down, shrinking down from a raging torrent to small sniffles and hiccups. After sufficient time was given to collect yourself, Katsumi quietly addressed you.

“… (Name)?”

You looked up at him, slightly embarrassed now that your passionate explosion had died down. He took a deep breath before continuing, turning his full attention your way.

“I’m not expecting you to understand why I did this,” His words came out like a caress, gentle and kind, matching the sincere look he held in his eyes, “Honestly, I am not sure I completely understand it myself. What you said is correct; I did this for my own selfish reasons. I single mindedly went after Pickle to test myself, to prove that I could take him on, and out of fear of missing out on a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

He took a deep breath before continuing, “Though you may hate to hear it, I don’t regret this fight at all, even with the lasting damage it did to my body. But what I do regret is how this has impacted you, and I realize now the way I went about this in regards to you was all wrong. I should have never hidden my intentions, I was just so afraid of upsetting you that I convinced myself that this was the best way to handle it. You know me, I guess I had to take the hard path to find out just how wrong I was.”  He gave a forlorn chuckle.

“I never want to hurt you. I never want to make you cry. The moment you became mine I vowed to keep you happy and smiling, but I broke that vow and went against my promise to you. You have every right to be mad, and I understand if you stay mad at me for a while, but I want you to know this. I only took on Pickle because I earnestly believed I had a chance at beating him, and I only believed I had a chance of winning because of how strong I have become.”

A wide smile spread over his face as he beamed at you, his eyes softening as he held your gaze.

“I am only this strong largely thanks to you, (Name),” He averted his eyes, a small blush gracing his cheeks as he continued, “Without your ceaseless support and steadfast love and commitment, I would have never made it this far. You give me strength, and each victory I claim is just as much yours as it is my own. I love you with all that I am, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone tear me away from you prematurely, be it caveman or otherwise.”

He laughed a bit, returning his focus back your way, “So please, stop crying baby. I’m here, and I don’t intend on going anywhere anytime soon.”

The warmth in his voice caused a fresh bout of tears to cloud your vision. You looked at your feet, unable to stand the pious endearment he was heaping upon you.

“I’m sorry,” your voice broke, your hands going to cover your face in embarrassment, “I’m sorry I yelled at you Katsu. I said horrible things to you that I didn’t mean, I was just so worried I couldn’t stand it…”

As your voice trailed off, you felt his hand rest softly atop your head. Pulling your attention back his way, you stared at his radiant smile through your fingers, butterflies flitting through your stomach as your eyes drank him in.

“No, I’m glad you can be honest with me. Sometimes I need someone to give me a verbal lashing to bring me back down to earth,” he chuckled, shooting you a worn out smirk, “And besides, you’re right, it is stupid. Though I did consider your feelings, I let my own overcloud my better judgment. I should have never kept you in the dark. I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to hurt you like this.”

He leaned over, placing his wrapped hand on your wet cheek, wiping away any tears that lingered. Slowly, he guided your face towards his until your foreheads were touching.

“Thank you for loving an idiot like me,” He murmured, tears dotting his own eyes as they gazed at you tenderly, “I’ll never betray your trust again, you have my word.”

Unable to stand it any longer, you flung your arms around him, pulling him into a gentle embrace, gingerly stroking his hair and face as you cried out the last of your sorrow. He in turn buried his face into your chest, whispering words of love and thanks as if he were chanting a spell to help drive away your residual woes.

Seconds turned into minutes as you held each other. After an indiscriminate amount of time had passed your tears had been quelled, and an air of peace replaced the stagnant feeling of the once oppressive hospital room. Katsumi listened to your heart beat, sighing happily as he lost himself in your hold. You smiled down at him, kissing the crown of his head softly.

“Now that you scratched that itch, which do you prefer,” you asked teasingly, a sly smile taking over your face, “Pickle’s hold, or mine? If you answer incorrectly here I am going to use your weakened state to my advantage and kick your ass.”

Katsumi laughed loudly, pulling away till he was looking up at you, “Are you threatening a wounded man right now? And here I thought you were a sweet, gentle girl…”

“Only to nice people,” you flicked his forehead playfully, “Not mean people, like you. It’s going to take quite a bit to make this up to me, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” He cocked his brow, “Why not shoot me some ideas. Whatever it is to get back in my lady loves good graces, I’m all ears.”

“Hmm,” you mused, finger tapping your cheek, “How about setting up a fight for me? Pickle has pissed me off sufficiently by hurting not just my friends, but now also the love of my life. I think I have enough rage built up in me that I can finish the job you all started, don’t you agree?”

Another laugh, “As much as I would love to see that, I want you as far away from Pickle as possible, thank you. If that man laid his hands on you in any capacity I would be forced to break my promise and go after him again, understand? I think we both lose in that scenario.”

“You’re right,” you sighed dramatically, sitting yourself down on a seat beside his bed, “Well, I will think of something. But in the meantime, the only request I make is that you let me stay by your side, at least until you are back to full health. I’ve had more than my share of anxiety attacks today alone, so I would feel much better if you let me oversee your healing.”

He shot you a suggestive look, a smirk ghosting his lips. “What a coincidence, I was hoping for a hot stay at home nurse to be on standby should I need any assistance.”

“You’re pushing your luck,” you held back a laugh, but couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your face, “I will let your suggestive comment slide this time because I am feeling benevolent, but if you don’t take your healing seriously you are going to be in a world of trouble, understood?”

He leaned back in the bed, a thoughtful expression engulfing his face as he closed his eyes, “I hear you loud and clear and leave myself in your capable hands.”

You stood up, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on his lips, one that he reciprocated with a pleased hum. “I love you, Katsumi.”

“Love you too,” he kissed you again, smiling against your lips as he tugged you closer, “And I’ll make sure you never doubt that for the rest of our lives.”

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[syea-say]

The finale of a never-ending masquerade.

AQ 4.2 spoilers.

[queerdraws]

projecting on luffy again. get bited.

[braisedhoney]

fighting back? against who? they're so happy—they've been waiting for you.

you are wonderful. don't you know that?

bonus: they play sims together :)

[dekariosclan]

Imagine Gale as a talented and impressive young man, able to compose the Weave at will, skilled in a way that few can match, and favored by the Goddess of Magic herself. Imagine that because of these accomplishments, he’s caught the eye of a few up-and-coming magic adepts, and he falls in love with one of them—his first real love. Gale isn’t one to toss the ‘L’ word around lightly, so when he tells them he loves them, he means it; he gives himself over to them completely.

And in return, they love him for his potential. For his status. For the magic he can command. They love the wizard they see on the surface, but not the man underneath. They are attracted to his power, but not to him.

So of course the relationship fails, after the thrill of his magic wears off. But because Gale is a resilient young man and he’s caught the eye of so many, he soon falls in love with another.

And then it happens again. And again.

And each time Gale’s heart is ravaged, his ambition to become a better wizard grows, because he’s being shown time and time again that his magic ability is all that matters.

So much so that, by the time Mystra decides to elevate him from Favored to Chosen to Lover, he welcomes her with eager, desperate arms. Because if all his worth is in his magic, and that’s all he has to offer, and that’s all anyone wants from him, who better to love him than the Goddess of Magic herself?

Except…there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that whispers she doesn’t really love him. There’s anxiety in his heart as time passes, and he reaches both the limit of what his talents can do and what Mystra will allow him to do. And most troubling of all: a growing panic that, just like his other lovers, she will soon grow tired of him and discard him if he can’t improve his magic any further.

He tries pouting, and pleading, and begging her to let him take more power, to let him be more for her, but she refuses. Smiles patronizingly. Tells him to be patient. But Gale can’t be patient when his power is tied so closely to his self-worth; he can’t be patient when doing so in the past has only ever lead to heartache.

So he does what he believes will be a Grand Romantic Gesture, one that will finally put him on equal footing with the woman he loves. Instead, it turns out to be a folly that dooms him and destroys his talents. And just as he’d always feared, Mystra tosses him aside the moment his magical gifts are gone—because what’s left of him holds no value for her.

————

Imagine Gale in his tower, alone, afraid, the ever-hungry orb in his chest, with only his tressym there to help him. No other friends to speak of. His colleagues forced to keep away for their own safety. His magical talents utterly stripped down, so that even when he does try and distract himself with illusions, he’s bitterly reminded of what he used to be capable of. Waking every morning wondering if it will be his last, ending every day full of loneliness and disappointment.

…and then he meets Tav.

At the lowest point in his life, at his most vulnerable, when he knows he’s going to be considered a burden, he meets this stranger and their group. So he does what he can to be useful—assigning himself to be camp cook, offering up his (now meager) magic skills, turning the charm up to 11—as he desperately hopes this will somehow work out. He’s pleasantly surprised when, after providing only minor details of his condition, Tav agrees to help him. He’s even more surprised when they actually follow through.

Imagine how Gale feels as Tav treats him kindly. As he grows to trust Tav, and then grows to like them. Imagine his surprise as he opens up and shows them more and more of himself, and they don’t turn him away.

But then his condition worsens. And he has to reveal everything: the foolish mistakes he’s made, and how dangerous he is as a result. He clings to Tav’s hand as he shows them his folly. He’s at their mercy now, and he knows this might be the last time he’ll ever feel the touch of another being, if they decide—and Gods, why wouldn’t they decide?—to cast him out.

…but they don’t. They don’t. Instead, they tell him to stay.

Imagine the relief Gale feels. The gratitude. And perhaps…just a hint of something more. Something that he dare not name, but that flares to life every time he thinks of how warm their hand was in his. Something that feels dangerously close to jealousy, when he’s had too much to drink and sees Tav smiling at another…

But he knows these are all foolish thoughts, because he has nothing to offer Tav. They are wonderful just as they are, but he…he is an empty shell of a man, a discarded husk of a wizard, and while they might tolerate him, he could never believe they might actually want him.

And besides, he still thinks of Mystra. He still longs for Mystra. She who cast him out, but to whom he still feels tethered. Sometimes he needs to cocoon himself in the weave, just to try and calm his fears and bring some joy back to his life, because magic is his life. And sometimes he just needs to see her face, even though that hurts as much as it heals.

One night he’s lost in thought, having conjured Mysta’s image after settling down at camp. Thinking that even if she hadn’t ‘loved’ him—certainly not in the way he’d loved her—she’d given him enough otherwise, hadn’t she? She’d amused him and been amused by him, they’d shared countless pleasures, why hadn’t he been satisfied with that?

Gale is so lost in thought he doesn’t realize Tav has come up behind him. Until they ask a question, startling him out of his trance. He’s a bit shaken, so he tries to turn the conversation from Mystra to the weave itself. And then a wonderful idea occurs to him, something that he’d been toying with already: what if they were to conjure the weave together?

He can show Tav how important magic is to him, let them experience what he does, perhaps even impress them a bit. But most importantly, share a moment with them. As friends would do…

He’s elated when Tav agrees. He leads them through the steps effortlessly, and they’re a surprisingly good student, following his instructions correctly (if a bit clumsily). He’s as excited as they are—perhaps even more so!—when they succeed in channeling the weave.

It’s such a pleasant, familiar feeling for him, like coming home to his tower in Waterdeep. Even as the weave connects him with Tav and makes them one, he’s easily able to hide his innermost thoughts, because he’s done it so many times before.

…but he’s forgotten that Tav has not.

————

Imagine Gale knowing every romantic partner he ever had only wanted him because of how he could raise their status, or how he could amuse them, or how he could command magic for them. And, each time, he was happy to oblige them, even desperate to oblige them, because if that was the price of their love, then he was sure it would be worth it.

But it still all came to nothing.

Now imagine Gale connected in an intimate way with someone he likes very, very much—while being what he considers his lowest, most worthless, and most humbled self. As far from the powerful, impressive wizard he once was as he could ever be. And suddenly a vision enters his mind from the lovely creature standing next to him. Only, to his complete and utter shock, it isn’t one where he is providing them with a service, or wowing them with his magical ability, or granting them some kind of power from one of the spells he commands.

Instead, when he sees their desire laid bare before him, it’s a vision of kissing him. Of holding his hand. The two most basic forms of affection and physical connection. The two things that he would still be able to offer them even if every last ounce of his remaining magical abilities were stripped from him. The two things he could share with them even if he was no longer Gale of Waterdeep, and just plain old Gale Dekarios instead.

Imagine the embarrassment and trepidation he feels at first, because surely he is mistaken?…and then the elation when he realizes that he is not. So much elation that his concentration is broken, the weave dissipating as he forgets about channeling it, as he forgets about Mystra. Because all that matters to him now is the image before him—the most pleasant and welcome image he’s seen in a very, very long time.

Imagine how that would feel…and how besotted, enamored and completely devoted he’d be to Tav afterwards. To know that someone finally—finally—just wants him.

Just imagine.

[themisterhip]

I get brat vibes from 1998 Vash  (≧∇≦)/

[caffichai]

@praxinas warlock Harlow, for the very last day of Artfight 2023!

I love the Eliksni armor from Season of Splicer and the aesthetic, just in general

[coreytaylr]

100% legit totally real facts about the historical stede bonnet

no the title is not a lie these are really REAL bc believe it or not, somehow the show made our stede MORE competent than the real one

sources: Real Pirates podcast (ep1, ep2, ep3, ep4, ep5), Dirty Sexy History podcast (with jeremy moss, bonnet's biographer, who LOVES the show, and said it changed his perspective on bonnet's and blackbeard's relationship PLUS he has the stedesrevenge handle on twt)

the library on the revenge was a real thing. the man really did that.

running away from his family to be a pirate

paying a salary to his crew

SHOWING UP IN NASSAU IN FRILLY GENTLEMANLY CLOTHES AND A POWDERED WIG

before bonnet's capture, he ran his ship aground and that's how the english caught up with him BUT the two english ships also ran aground (😭), so they fought each other with their flintlock pistols from behind their ships (until the tides turned and dislodged the english ships first. rip)

adopted an alias when he started pirating so people wouldn't know it was him but he raided ships near Barbados (where he's from), so that didnt turn out well. his solution? burning every ship from Barbados

he only succeeded in his early days bc merchant ships knew they would get off easier if they surrendered

ATTACKED A WARSHIP that whooped his ass so bad he almost died. the remaining crew steered the ship to Nassau where he met blackbeard

blackbeard stole the revenge from him but "allowed" him to stay on BB's ship (either as a guest or as a prisoner, it's not clear, but he def wasn't a crew member bc he didn't have any chores)

he was seen on deck running around in his gowns 😭😭

BB eventually reinstated him as the captain of the revenge and they sailed together for a while

"there is a 4 month period where stede and blackbeard kind of disappeared and no one really knows what they were doing" 👀

BB allowed bonnet to raid on his own which lead to him getting his ass beat by the Protestant Caesar. BB then proceeded to HUNT DOWN THE PROTESTANT CAESAR while flying the RED FLAG (which meant no mercy to anyone on board)

bonnet would raid ships and take what provisions he needed and give the other ship what he didn't need (essentially the library raiding scene lmaoo)

BB betrayed bonnet by raiding his ship and marooning his crew while bonnet was off getting a pardon

SO BONNET SWORE REVENGE AGAINST BB who was at the time, the most feared pirate

this led to him adopting another alias - "he also changes his name, at the time he goes by captain edward's. which is really interesting, I don't know if that's an homage to, you know, edward teach, but.. captain edward's with an "s", that's as if he's.. a possession of captain edward" ONCE AGAIN 👀👀👀👀

HE ESCAPED PRISON BY DRESSING AS A WOMAN

after escaping, he was promised a sloop by some rando. when the rando didnt deliver, bonnet "WROTE HIM A STRONGLY WORDED LETTER REPRIMANDING THE MAN"

that letter led to him being recaptured 😭😭

he was hanged while holding a bouquet of wilted flowers

[sutorus]

OFF TO THE RACES

DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.

PAIRING: toji x reader

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification 

A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!

“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist. 

a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response. 

he had told you to dress up today. 

how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs. 

if only you had known.

you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.

you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time. 

it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him. 

the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough. 

but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him? 

that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now. 

toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely. 

“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”

you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most. 

the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands. 

he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong. 

you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that. 

you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people. 

but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?

the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four. 

it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it. 

the heat inside you spreads further. 

“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”

it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there. 

“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds. 

your shut your eyes tightly. 

you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are. 

you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses. 

you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.

they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win. 

a one in eight change. 

god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day. 

you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.  

“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort. 

it’s useless, of course.

toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger. 

he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you. 

but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least. 

your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over. 

you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy. 

your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.

he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are. 

toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes. 

your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know. 

stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore. 

toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt. 

he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.

no remorse at all. 

it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere. 

you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy. 

your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit. 

you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers. 

someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock. 

an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.

surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—

before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race. 

but his fingers don’t leave you. 

no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles. 

and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.

if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you. 

you wish you could cry right now.

instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.

those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of. 

you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse. 

“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”

you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him. 

“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for. 

his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more. 

“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well. 

it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder. 

when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another. 

you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.

dangerously close to first place. 

it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you. 

you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you. 

if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.

when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease. 

you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair. 

there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch. 

“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”

the man points his thumb over his shoulder.

the race is over.

horse number four came in at fourth place. 

how fitting. 

his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.

but still. are they really going to—

“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.” 

toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense. 

“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”

that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face. 

toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?

you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it. 

there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all. 

the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.

he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger. 

toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement. 

when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout. 

“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”

toji smirks.

you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks. 

you swallow down the last of your sobs.

“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."

[inkskinned]

"it's so embarrassing you like that popular thing" "oh ew that geeky/strange thing is so cringe lol" "oh it's kind of weird you get excited about that harmless shit"

dude i love how ironic and jaded you are and that's so cool and sexy of you. and i am so so glad to tell you - you won!! we all had a meeting and we decided that you won, and we are writing your name on the inside of a burger king crown. the marker smeared, sorry, but we knew any form of real effort is ugly to you. but anyway. congrats! you are officially the coolest, most ironic, most jaded person in-the-world-right-now. we would throw you a party but you would think it was totally boring - and besides, we're weird so we wouldn't have been coming. we would have brought our love of beetles and of baking and of little canapes. we would have brought our artsy videogames and pages of writing. we would have written a poem with you, our hands covered in ink, and spread out a canvas to dance on, the night so lurid and pink.

but do not worry. we will not throw the party. we will just get you a ringlight and that crown i mentioned. it is a nice crown, except for where one of us dropped it.

the vote was a really hard one because we had so many cool ironic people to pick off the shelves. all of you have hands that rot fruit, how strange is that - you can't look at something without destroying it for other people. you like it when you can squeeze a person into a pinpoint - all us small ones scampering our little feet around our ugly joys. the vote was also a hard one because we kept our voices down because you don't like it when we talk too loud. you were on your phone at the time, talking to people other than us. you are a ghoul of every moment - half in, half out, you resent us for being here without shame or embarrassment.

so good news! we have invented an island for people like you. you get to go there and speak into the air things like if you still like watching harmless twitch streamers in 2023 you're fucking boring. you will say things like liveplay podcasts are fucking ugly and it's kind of awkward they try to make everything gay. on the island we made you, all of your words will have weight. they will form in the air like icicles, large white behemoth letters that will crumple in anvils around your feet. maybe we will send someone there once in a while to sweep, but honestly you might be there for a while, alone, waiting. we are busy being outside looking for mushrooms and flapping our hands and humming. we are busy kicking our little heels while we watch cringey tv. we are busy - sorry! as an apology, we have pre-filled the island with every bland, mediocre, unscented thing we could find. the island has the texture of american cheese. the island has an ocean that never gets angry. the island is perfect for you, trust me. you will be so happy there - as happy as you can be, ironically.

we want to say we are sorry for doing harmless things that you find annoying, childish, or unappealing - but we are not sorry. we thought we could help you, because we don't mind laughing at ourselves, but it turns out you are allergic to color and noise and atmosphere, so this is the best that we can do for now. we are all making a big shirt that says i voted in the ironic monarchy. we got you one that is just a fast fashion buttondown. i am so excited for you and this island and the big life you have won. you have a cool jaded grey life and miles of irony to roam. i love you! be well.

now leave us alone.

[nipuni]

Thank you for all the boops!! 🥺❤️ I woke up to this thing maxed out so I've been trying my best to return as many as I can!! I love this thing it's very fun and sweet but also I feel so compelled to reciprocate any form of kindness that I've been just booping people for the past hour and a half lmao 🏃‍♀️💦💕

[waffled-iron]

YESS!!! BOIL!! BOIL!!

bonus gifs: yummy

[sneez]

my lord of autism

[pastelhooman]

[WVW Exchange Event 2023!]

"The kisses on your lash, your ears, on the nose that keeps scrunching. The kisses on your hand, on your cheeks, and the exchanging soft words waiting for the break of day."

----- ID under break -----

A total of 6 pages of comics, starting with a close up shots of vash kissing sleeping wolfwood's nose, eyes, lashes, and he furrows them a bit. an overhead shot of the two of them in a motel room, on the bed with vash leaning over wolfwood from the left, laying soft kisses on him. their legs tangled. their normal outfits are thrown haphazardly on the floor, instead donning comfortable clothes. on the outside, the very first ray of lights are yet to shine.

"what a face you're making pfft" - vash says as he grabs both of wolfwood's cheeks, squeezing them a bit. wolfwood mumbles, "There's something that keeps landing on my face, it tickles." he grabs the hand that is on his right cheek. "Well you're letting it happens anyways right?" Vash muses, bringing the hand up to kiss on its knuckles. "Good morning Wolfwood. It's almost dawn"

"… Isn't it way too soon?" - wolfwood asks, but keeps to himself the prayers he's sending to god because the the boy on top of him was such a sight to behold. Vash flops down onto him, leaving the hand hanging and lace his own hand into Wolfwood's hair, peppering kisses to the side of his face. "Yep" - he answers - "But you woke up on your own tho" - facetiously. He giggles, saying that it was a joke after a beat of silence. A sigh, "don't make me upside you first thing in the morning." Wolfwood closes his eyes, hand combing through golden strands. "Heh, how merciful~" "We have a meet up with Milly and Meryl today, remember?" Vash reminds him, which does raise some vague memory. wolfwood hums, the other hand reaching around vash's torso, hugging him. " So, the sooner we arrive, the less likely she'll chew through my head." - Vash adds. "riiiight. And you were SO urgent in waking me up." in wolfwood's hold, both of them slowly turn to the right, towards the edge of the bed.

Well, you were just soooo cute, I couldn't help it! didn't thinkk you'll actually wakE UAA-!"

the bed creaks under the sudden shift in weight as wolfwood tosses vash over and under him, arms firmly hugging him, one at his back and one at his head, hungrily dives down to kiss. "!! Wolf-! Wait-!" Vash yelps, leg instinctively curls around the other's man hip to hang on, trying his damnest to grip on his shirt as HE is now half airborne, barely has any contact with the bed on his upper body. However, wolfwood seems to have another idea as he keeps deepening the kiss, pointedly holding Vash close, hands spread guarding the back of his head as both of them are sliding off the soft fabric.

"THUD!" a resounding fall, possibly enough to wake the room downstairs, followed shortly by laboured breaths amist wet smacks of lips. Heaves and huffs of air exchanging between the two bodies when the need to breath made itself necessary. They press close, cradling each other, and are lost to their own world. After a while they had to part. Metal arm shifts through black locks, caressing down to his nape and they hold eye contacts there, with lidded eyes, strands of saliva thins then breaks.

Wolfwood pushes up on his arms, looking smugly down at his now disheveled partner: "Now this is how it's done, Needlenoggin." he remarks. Vash tries to wrangle his thoughts back in order, but strings of Wolfwood's name and a wonderous question keeps filling his mind, of whether he should risk it all and have fun for a bit more. Regardless, snapping out of his trance, Vash sourly asks, with a wry smile and an aching head: "But did you really need to roll off the bed?" "Wrong side, whoops" - Wolfwood anwers unseriously, laughing as he finds the situation quite amusing.

----- End of ID -----

[mrsaltieri-real]

Like a Virgin pt3 (Virgin!Ethan Landry x Fem!AFAB!Reader)

Warnings/s: 18+, smut, p in v, langauge, riding, first time, degradation, established degradation kink, premature ejaculation, praise kink, oral, (fem receiving) squirting, face fucking, (Ethan’s a needy, greedy little fucker whose found a love in eating pussy)dom!reader, basically pure filth, brief mention of Richie’s death and his father snapping, etc

Length: 2.5k

Here’s the third and final part of this little series. I had a lot of fun writing this part. A. Lot. Probably the smuttiest thing I’ve ever fucking wrote and I had a lot of fun with it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you again for this request, anon!

Read part 1 HERE

Read part 2 HERE

Ethan couldn’t believe this was really happening. The last few years of his life were filled with nothing but pain and carnage. The grieving of his brother, his father snapping after the fact…

He knew why he was here, in the apartment you shared with Tara, Sam and unbeknownst to them, his sister. But in this moment, gazing up at your gorgeous face in awe as you gently rolled your hips across his slowly swelling cock, the feeling of your soft hands resting on his shoulders with your fingernails lightly digging into his creamy skin, all of that abandoned his mind completely. He just wanted to focus on you.

He felt anxious as he lifted his trembling hands to hesitantly rest them on your hips, feeling the tight arousal begin to slowly build up inside of him for the second time tonight. A small part of his brain was surprised that he was able to get hard again as his cock began to swell. Maybe you just had this kind of effect on him.

He’d wanted you for as long as he’d known you, craved you even. He’d been completely oblivious to the lingering looks and lustful gazes you had in turn been sending his way these last couple of weeks, although you had of course noticed his. Ethan was a lot of things but subtle was absolutely not one of them.

The feeling of your increasingly wet pussy sliding over him was already becoming almost too much for him to handle. You watched as his expression turned into one of pure concentration as his blunt fingernails dug into the soft skin of your hips and you let out a small laugh.

“You can’t cum just yet, you know? I’m not even fucking you.”

“I know.” He huffed a little, his voice strained. “It just feels really good.”

You smiled down at him, one hand moving from his chest as you lifted your hips, reaching between the two of you to grasp his cock in your hand, slowly guiding it to the entrance of your soaked hole. He let out a small whimper as he felt his tip gently rest just inside of you and your hand moved back to his chest, still hovering just above him.

“You ready?” You asked softly.

He wanted to move so badly, feel you envelop him entirely, squeezing and milking him. He had to stop himself, a sheen of sweat from the unbridled concentration beginning to form on his forehead and chest.

“Yes! Yes, just… please?” He spoke softly, utterly beautiful and almost already a complete mess.

“Please what?”

“Please take me.” He blurted out, unable to disguise his desperate need “Please take me.”

For some reason, him saying this made you let out a small groan, looking down at him with a deep want as you slowly, deliberately rolled your hips, sighing at the satisfying stretch as he slowly began to fill you. You watched his face all the while, his eyes fluttering and starting to roll back as his hands gripped your hips even tighter.

You are a dominating person, especially when it comes to sex. But this was Ethan’s first time and honestly, you didn’t want to overwhelm him. Not just yet, anyway. As you adjusted to him, you rocked your hips, sinking down onto him completely and making him let out a small, surprised gasp in the process as he felt your heat completely cover him

“Fuck,” you moaned gently, leaning back on top of him so he could see his cock buried inside of you.

Ethan’s eyes were now set on the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen; him completely engulfed by you. He stared, mouth slack as you began to grind and roll your hips, watching as his dick slid inside of your cunt with hungry eyes. “How’s it- fuck. How’s it feel?“ you asked, looking down at him with a small smirk.

“Oh- oh my god.” He was so sweetly hypnotised at the sight before him, feeling every part of your hot, wet cunt with his dick. It was almost too much.

“Look at me.” You demanded, leaning forward again to grip his hair between your fingers so he was forced to look at your face. As you did so, he felt your hard nipples graze over his and he shivered a little. “Tell me how it feels.”

“I- I can’t explain.” He gasped quickly, tensing up as he felt you very deliberately squeeze around him.

“Be a good boy and try. You’re my good boy, aren’t you Ethan?” Your face was inches away from his, one hand still gripping his hair and the other slowly moved between you and started circling your clit gently, applying the pressure that would make you squeeze him in just the way you knew he’d love. He let out a loud whimper at your praise and the tight, warm feeling, brown eyes huge and desperate.

“Yes, yes I’m your good boy, I promise.” He whispered shakily.

“Then tell me-“ another sharp grind of your ass made him almost begin to sob there and then. “- how it fucking feels.”

“Feels fucking amazing. You’re so tight. Squeezing me. I can’t- fuck-“ his voice was shaking and trailed off and you watched as his eyes screwed up and his hips thrust up into you, making you gasp and let out a surprised moan as he brushed that little spot deep inside of you with his tip. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have moved, I’m sorry, I just- god, I just-“ he began apologising, fast and rambling with his voice rising and falling with every collapse of your hips as he opened his eyes and tears from the stimulation began to spill down his cheeks. You let out a breathless laugh, moving to place your hand over his mouth.

“It’s okay, baby. You want me to stop?“

His voice was loud but muffled as he practically yelled, “No, no, please no!” from behind your hand, his desperation for you only turning you on even more.

“Look at you.” You almost scoffed a little, moving your hands from his mouth to wipe the pathetic tears that stained his cheeks. “You’re fucking crying? So needy, so pathetic.” You laughed down at him, sighing as your head fell back whilst you continued to bounce on top of him, clenching and unclenching your pussy with every fall. Some part of Ethan was surprised he enjoyed you calling him pathetic, the words only making him throb inside of you desperately.

You felt him twitch, laughing to yourself breathlessly and shaking your head at him. “You’re not to fucking cum, not yet. Understand?“ the pathetic whimper that fell from him as he looked up at you pleadingly was endearing as fuck and it made the feeling of your impending orgasm loom even closer.

“Understand?” You said again, more firmly this time and he bobbed his head a little, the series of broken whimpers still falling from his plump lips. “You’re not cumming until I do.” You told him. “Now, I want you to match me, okay?” He blinked a little, streaming eyes falling down to watch how you rolled your hips and he let out a soft huff as he, much more tentatively this time, bucked his hips up as yours came down. He felt proud of the intense moans that came out of you and he continued to thrust into you, feeling himself press into something hard that resulted in you letting out a loud, almost pornograpgic groan, feeling yourself clench around him even harder, your fingers still desperately rubbing at your clit. This ended up being the result of him uncontrollably beginning to twitch inside of you.

“Oh god… oh GOD.” His head fell back into the pillow as he began to unload inside of you, a series of downright delicious whimpers and moans falling out of him as he coated your walls. He trembled as a loud sob escaped his lips at the feeling of your cunt milking him, writhing as his hips stuttered and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“Oh, I’m sorry? Did I say you could cum?” You asked him. In all honesty, you weren’t at all mad. Seeing him like this, his curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat and his face twisted and him crying in pleasure was all the satisfaction you needed.

“I’m sorry.” He said in a small, slurred voice, his chest heaving as he gradually stopped twitching and writhing from under you, his cock slowly began to soften inside of you and throbbing dully. He suddenly blinked, realising what he’d done. “Oh.. you didn’t.. oh, fuck.” He felt angry at himself for not obeying you, not making you cum with his cock, but that was somewhat filtered out by the intense pleasure he was also feeling from his first time being that damn good.

“It’s alright, honey. Next time.” You lightly patted his cheek before climbing off of him and standing up, hearing him wince as his raw cock slid out of your dripping hole.

“No, no.” You could hear the frown in his voice and you turned down to face him, seeing him practically scramble across the bed to fall to his knees in front of you.

“What are you-“

“Let me?” He asked, eyes pleading as they flickered up to your face and to your leaking cunt, marvelling as he saw his cum spilling out of you. “Please let me?”

“I don’t know..” you sighed, raising an eyebrow down at him. “You didn’t listen to me when I told you not to cum. Why should I let you do this when you clearly want it so badly?”

“Please?” He begged again, eyes incapable of looking at anything else other than your pussy. “I can apologise better this way. Let me?”

You couldn’t help but smile down at him fondly.

“So fucking desperate, aren’t you? Wanting to eat your cum out of me and get me off.” He licked his lips a little, waiting almost impatiently for you to give him the go ahead.

“Fine then, get me off.”

He didn’t need anything more. His mouth latched eagerly to your swollen clit, almost making you fall backward. You gripped his shoulder for balance as he eagerly licked and sucked at your clit, cradling it between his soft lips. “Fuck, baby.” You sighed, lifting your leg and resting it over his shoulder so you could rest your hands in his hair, pushing his face against your cunt. His hands slid up your legs to grip your ass, holding him as close to you as possible as his tongue moved from your clit to delve into your hole that was stuffed with his cum. He moaned against you, tasting the mixture of both of your arousal on his tongue as he hungrily curled his tongue inside of you, looking up at your face to ensure it was okay.

“Mmm- fuckkkkk.” You moaned out, head falling back. Now he was past the shy, awkward stage and was now intensely eager and more confident in eating you out, the feeling was almost indescribable. His tongue was soft and velvety as you rocked your hips on his face yet again, his nose softly bumping against your clit. “Fucking filthy boy.” You murmured, fingers twisting in his hair as your head fell forward to look down at him. “Eating me so good, aren’t you baby? Making me feel fucking amazing.” He huffed eagerly against your cunt at your praise, moaning loudly against you as you began to grind your hips faster. “Use your fingers and rub my clit.” You instructed, feeling the coil inside of you close to snapping.

He moved his hand from your ass to do just that, his fingers sloppily running over your swollen bundle of nerves. This tipped you over the edge, your fingers yanking at his hair as you panted and moaned, uncontrollably grinding your pussy all over his face. He tried to keep up with the movements, not wanting to miss out on even a drop of your sweet juices as you let out a sound not even you had heard before and began twitching and writhing above him. Your sudden unexpected movements startled him a little and he began to move back from your pussy, eyes almost alarmed.

“Don’t stop, don’t you fucking dare stop.” You almost shouted, grabbing the back of his head and forcing his face back to your quivering cunt. He obliged, attaching his lips to your clit once again and sucking nice and hard, humming softly against you and sending vibrations through your core.

“Oh, fuck baby, fuck yes.” You cried out, legs trembling as you not only came practically sobbing Ethan’s name as you rode and fucked his pretty face, but did something that had never happened before. You weren’t sure if it was because he was genuinely good, or the fact it was the knowledge that the guy hungrily sucking at your clit was Ethan, but something inside you snapped and you began squirting against his mouth as your whole body convulsed, a series of loud and unfiltered cries of pure ecstasy falling through your lips.

Ethan greedily lapped up your spraying juices, eyes still wide in surprise as he felt and swallowed how much came out of you.

You were shaking and still twitching as Ethan finished licking happily until you were clean and finished, smiling proudly in front of you as your leg dropped from his shoulder and you stumbled a little to sit on your bed.

“Jesus.” You sighed out, body still trembling uncontrollably.

“Are you okay?” His proud expression suddenly switched up to concern as he shuffled closer to you on his knees, resting a large hand on your shaking knee. “Oh, god did I hurt you? Was I not supposed to-“

“Shh, baby.” You said softly, smiling weakly and resting a shaky hand on his cheek. He leaned into it happily, his eyes closing at your touch. “I’m fine. I’ve just… never cum like that before.”

“Really?” He looked almost smug and you let out a small breathless laugh.

“Yeah, really. Don’t look like that.” You scolded him playfully before falling back onto your bed, trying to steady your breathing.

You felt the bed dip and then watched him as he laid down next to you, looking at your face all the while. You chuckled a little, lifting your hand to gently wipe your leftover arousal and his dried up tears from his chin and cheeks.

“Are you okay? This being your first time and all?”

“Oh, are you kidding?” The smile that broke across his face was infectious. “That was..wow. I don’t even think I can explain it.” His eyes were still huge and wild, glinting in the dim light. You rolled over so you were on your stomach, leaning over him to kiss him gently on his swollen lips. “You’re a good teacher.” He said as you pulled away a little to look at him.

“You’re a good student. Very obedient.” Your tone was approving and it made him grin happily.

“I liked doing what you told me.” He admitted almost shyly. “And I liked other stuff too.”

“What other stuff?” You pressed him, suddenly curious.

“Like when you uh…” he trailed off, shaking his head a little. “No, it doesn’t matter.”

“Come on,” you cupped his cheek in your hand, pulling his face back to look at you. “I’m not gonna judge you, what did you like?”

Ethan sighed a little. He couldn’t say no to you anymore, it just wasn’t possible.

“When you said I was… needy.” He spoke in a small hesitant voice. “… and pathetic.”

You raised your eyebrows at him a little, feeling oddly charmed by his little confession. “You liked that, hm?”

He nodded shyly, eyes still looking into yours. “More than I thought I would.”

“Well,” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe next time we can see what else you like.”