#*rattles cage*

[strifetime]

i am awake and not for good reason

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

I think about this moment on a daily basis.

[valtsv]

the silt verses listening experience

[ynnu-64]

Boyfriends

[deviouz]

Imagine, sex with Jason and he's loud. And I mean loud loud. He's whining, whimpering, and doing literally everything just get you to do more to him, whatever you want just do more to him

THIS ‼️‼️

adding a cut bc i am an absolute fiend for one (1) jason todd (:<

it gets so much worse when he’s underneath you too. like, one hand on your hip with his other arm thrown over his eyes because it’s just too much for him to handle. cheeks all flushed and mouth left agape while he pants and whines and begs and pleads, occasionally dropping in praise after praise because he’s obsessed with how your hips stutter.

and because i’m a switch jason todd truther (!!!!), imagine how flustered he would get when you lean over him and pin his hands above his head? he’s more than capable of breaking free (have you seen his arms, oh my god) but he stays put because he just wants to be good for you ):

“c’mon, jay, tell me what you want. you can do that, can’t you?���

he’d look up at you with hazy eyes and a pleasure-struck expression, gasping when you rolled your hips just right. it’s taking every ounce of willpower he has to not buck his hips up into your addictive heat. surely you recognize that. you can see how good he’s being for you, right? won’t you relent a little?

“ah, fuck,” he gives a full-bodied shudder when you giggle at him, “anything, i want anything. please, angel, just use me-”

[molinaesque]

You know why these boys brought you in? 'Cause I f*cked up a poor, defenseless gang-affiliated organ dealership? Yep. Mm.

[blabberoo]

What we could've gotten 😩😩😩

[artist-issues]

“At least it's not ferociously attacking God quite as directly as Steven Universe did…”

Not that I’m surprised by this statement, but can you elaborate on this? Kinda intrigued by your thoughts on Steven Universe.

Okie dokie, you’re not the only one who has asked me about this, so I suppose I’ll poke the hornet’s nest. 😅 I haven’t talked about this before because I assumed that everyone who wanted to hear my kinds of opinions on stories wasn’t watching or interested in Steven Universe.

It’s like asking vegetarian if they enjoyed a turkey dinner. The turkey dinner was so obviously not made for vegetarians to enjoy, so why would the vegetarian even bother analyzing the turkey?

But I think if some people are asking me why I think Steven Universe is anti-God (of the Bible) its because maybe they don’t know what the turkey is. Not completely. (Maybe not you, because like you said, you’re not surprised by my comment.) So I’ll explain my thoughts on Steven Universe.

If you’re just following me because you liked some stuff I posted, but didn’t realize that I’m a Bible-believing Christian and don’t want to hear about it, unfollow me now. Because I’m going to talk about some hot button issues here and the trolls will come out.

Steven Universe is really well-done. The jokes are funny, the writing is believable, the characters have great chemistry, great design, the concept is fascinating, the slow build-up and reveal of the plot elements is great. But when you watch the throne room scene in the last episode of Season 5 “Change Your Mind,” it’s alarmingly clear how much the whole show is not just settling for defending and championing the LGBTQ+ worldview—it goes all the way to attacking what Christians believe, on the other side.

Anything that’s pro-LGBTQ+ is doing that by default, but this show goes out of its way to do that.

You have to understand: God created and designed us. Deeper than that; He created and designed romantic relationships, and invented marriage. He didn’t just create love—He is love. So when humans come along and do what we’ve always done since the fall, and say, “I’d rather define what Your thing is and how it works for myself, God,” it’s not only an incredible slap in the face, it’s an attack on God’s actual identity—and it’s destructive for us and the people around us. Like a fish insisting it can breathe oxygen.

But Steven Universe goes beyond that. It knows that the Christian worldview is it’s biggest opposition. It digs right down to the heart of the worldview-battle. LGBTQ+ worldview says, “I should get to love what I want and be who I am, because I’m me. Love is love. (By which I mean, any action or relationship I choose to call love is love, because I’m the one calling it that.)”

Biblical worldview says “No, wait, you shouldn’t base your decisions on you alone; what you want changes day to day, and you’re broken, so you can’t ever be satisfied based on what you want—the Bible says God made you for something, and you rejected that, and it broke you. You’re not how you’re meant to be: even what you want and what you think love is is twisted up and can hurt you and others. But if you submit to God He’ll help you, He’ll fix what’s broken and give you new life by making you how you were supposed to be: He’ll live in you and through you.”

Are we beginning to get the picture?

See, the whole thing with the opposing views between LGBTQ+ and Christian people is as old as time. It’s not a new debate. It’s Satan and Eve in the garden. She says, “This is not how God said things should be,” and Satan says, “Are you sure that’s what He said? He knows if you do this thing, you’ll be like Him. You’ll be god: you’ll get to decide ‘how things should be’ for yourself.”

He lied and said that disobedience would satisfy her. That she knew what her own heart needed better than the God that made it did. That the very act of being imperfect would make her godlike.

And then Steven Universe comes along and says “if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hotdogs.”

And has a cast of created being characters who’s imperfections (Garnet’s forbidden “love,” Pearl’s obsession, Amethyst’s insecurity) are supposedly “the best thing about them; what makes them who they are.”

And has a main character who used to be a part of the god-like creator relationship, but used her power to come down to earth and completely change who she is into a fully different person.

And has a godlike Creator character who claims she “doesn’t need” her created beings (just like the God of the Bible) but they all have a little part of their creator in them so she has to repress their imperfections; she holds them all to a standard that’s impossible to reach called “perfection” and punishes them when they don’t meet it even though it hurts them to try; she expects them all to do what they were created by her for; she fixes them when they can’t meet her standard by shining her light through them and making them extensions of their Creator.

And has a main character who argues, fights back, tries to stop her, and is answered with lines that sound surprisingly like what LGBTQ+ people hear when Christians argue with them: “you’re only making things worse; you’re just deceiving yourself; even while you resist it your actual light can’t help shining through,” etc.

White Diamond just wants everything to be perfect. Like her. She just wants her created beings to “be themselves.” But what she means is, be how she created them to be.

And she’s the bad guy. She’s playing God in this show, and Rebecca Sugar is saying, “If God is telling us that can only be happy by being perfect, as He is perfect, and doing what He created us to do, then He’s wrong. Our imperfections are what make us special—unique—individuals—free—and there is nobody who has the right to take that freedom away from us, not even out creator!”

And you know what?

If God were like White Diamond, like Rebecca Sugar believes Him to be, Steven Universe would be right.

But He is NOT.

God is not a dictator who forces us to conform to a standard of perfection and then smashes us when we don’t meet it. He is a King who made us perfect to begin with, and we rejected him, because He allowed us to do that. He knew that true love was love that had to be chosen, and He wanted us to love Him by choice, so he gave us the option. But Rebecca Sugar doesn’t understand—there was never “Choose God or Choose Yourself.” There was only, “Choose God or Choose Nothing.” There was nothing except God. Then He created everything. There is no version of reality where you have something better than God, or even slightly less good but different, to pick. You’re not jumping from one ship into a smaller one, but at least it’s yours—you’re jumping from one ship into a void, and then complaining that there’s no other ship. That’s humans. That’s not God. / White Diamond didn’t make her creations perfect (Amethyst) and she didn’t make them for love. She made them for power. That’s not the God of the Bible.

Even when we did choose to try and love ourselves instead of God, and therefore warped our ability to perfectly love at all, He didn’t smash us. True, everything fell and was cursed, which is exactly what He warned us would happen if we chose it, but it was a natural consequence of breaking ourselves. And then He didn’t leave us that way. He didn’t give up on us. And He certainly didn’t just zap us, snap His fingers, quick-fix it and turn us all into robots who are extensions of Him, who say they love Him but only because it’s His voice puppeting us to say it.

No. He came to us, chose to give up His life at the exact point on the timeline when Romans, masters in the art of slow, humiliating, torturous death, would be the ones to carry out His crucifixion, and saved us Himself. Through the sacrifice of His own life. And even then, we still have a choice. We get to choose to accept that incredible self-sacrifice when we don’t deserve it, and be given new life and a relationship with the Creator who knows us and loves us better than we can love ourselves or receive love from others—OR we can just keep stubbornly insisting that our slavery to the opposite of what God wants is somehow freedom, and our twisted versions of love are genuine, and we’re not broken, and die like that. Die broken creatures who lived their whole lives stomping their feet and screaming “I’m not a creature, I’m a god!”

White Diamond sacrifices nothing, because Rebecca Sugar doesn’t know the God of the Bible. She just knows her idea of Him. She’s never actually gotten to know Him. If she had, she’d learn how silly and twisted her idea is.

Because you know what, yeah, if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs. But people aren’t pork chops. And hot dogs have flavor (not better than pork chops) but they are awful for you.

Christians aren’t perfect cuts of meat with no individuality or flavor. Just because we all know and love the same God doesn’t mean we have no personalities. It just means we don’t think so freaking much about what we are, or who we get to be, or what we like and want. Jeez, what a self-centered, narcissistic, self-obsessed way to live. She plays Steven like he’s this wonder-child, innocent and full of heart, who encourages his friends to love and keep trying. But honestly?

This is very pretty animation but it’s not real. Steven looks happy hugging Steven but self-love doesn’t ultimately get you that.

That’s all based on the premise that what he’s encouraging them to do is actually good, and will make them happy, and will help them love better. And it just won’t. Not in real life. That’s not how any of this works. Self-love is just self-obsession. And that is a sure-fire way to hurt you, and everyone around you.

You’ll never be free by choosing to run to a worse master. You’ll never be satisfied with your crappy attempts at loving yourself, because you were made to be loved flawlessly and forever by someone who is Love Himself.

And choosing to identify with your imperfections doesn’t make you uniquely you. It just makes you exactly like every other human being marching in the same line since the Fall.

White Diamond’s not relational. She’s up high and distant. That’s not God. He made you to be in relationship with Him. He loves you, totally and perfectly, and He proved it by sacrificing for You.

So yeah. That’s the problem with Steven Universe. Come get me, SU fans.

[hagelwolke]

uuuaahhhuhaaahualian

[hollowistheworld]

There are already so many delicious meta posts on everyone's specific thoughts on what's going on in Illario's head, but I am jumping in myself because he and Lucanis are making me CRAZY

I think that soooo much of his jealousy is that he and Lucanis get treated as a binary. Damn near every time Lucanis talks about something he is or isn't good at, he brings up how Illario is the opposite. It isn't just that they're constantly being compared (already something that's going to be super damaging to both of them and their relationship) but there's such a strong sense that they're not allowed to overlap.

Like, Lucanis is better at physical combat? Okay, so Illario is bad at it. It doesn't matter that he's still very good, that's he's good enough to still be a living, working Crow at the ripe old age of 30+, as a member of the First Talon's family no less. It doesn't matter that he's good enough to drop down from the ceiling (when and how did you get up there???) and kill Zara before anyone can register he's there. It doesn't matter that he's still a significant boss, even once you factor out the Venatori. He's worse than Lucanis, so Lucanis is the 'good' assassin and Illario is the 'bad' one.

In the reverse, Lucanis's self-esteem about his social skills is in the DIRT. He is CONSTANTLY bringing up how Illario is the people person. Even when, in the same breath, he says Illario only ever had relationships with people he didn't like and they never lasted, he's still saying Illario is better at it. And because Illario is better with people, he's 'good' at it, and Lucanis is 'bad' at it.

In any discussion with or about Lucanis and Illario there is, apparently, zero overlap in their skill sets. Despite the fact that that's very obviously not true. But they've been set against each other so thoroughly that they don't even realize it. Because presumably Caterina started training them and they had a knack for some skills more than others and rather than encouraging them to teach other or partner up to boost each other's strengths, she was most likely going "Look, Illario, your cousin did that move so much better than you, be more like that," and "Lucanis, Illario perfected this ages ago, it is not that hard to convince someone you're harmless" and all they got was that one of them was the assassin and one of them was the conman and never the two shall meet.

And Caterina, of course, heavily favors Lucanis. And I imagine there's a million reasons why - starting with the fact that it sounds like his mother was the last favorite. (And how can Illario compete with that? He'll never be the son of the favorite.) But I think a big reason is Lucanis's skill set. Maybe he's the most like her. Maybe she thinks if he's good in combat, he won't die like all the others did. Has she just written Illario off as a lost cause, certain to get himself killed? Not consciously, I'm sure, but subconsciously? Easy to imagine. Easy for Illario to feel that way, whether it's true or not.

And then!! He's being babysat! This idea that Lucanis is the one who can fight (and therefore Illario cannot) has taken hold so deeply that Lucanis feels like he has to look out for Illario, has to protect him, and of course that's bundled up in the 'we're all we have left' but when you're suffocating under the weight of your cousin being a mother hen that feels much less sympathetic. And when you're a 30+ assassin it's gonna feel pretty aggravating if everyone acts like you need your cousin to help you tie your shoes in the morning.

And I don't think either of them realize this. Introspection is not a Crow skill. All Illario knows is he can't be a good assassin while Lucanis is alive, because only one of them can be a good assassin. And that built and built and I think the opportunity to have Lucanis killed crossed his path, and he - Well, despite what Caterina might think, he is a very good Crow. So he took the opportunity. And then he couldn't go back.

And what does he have, under this binary? At least the good fighter, the good assassin, can have a talent for other athletic work, a passion for knives. At least the favorite can find another hobby without feeling grandmother breathing down his neck, asking why he's learning a new skill when he hasn't even mastered the important one. What's under a conman, a grifter, a politician? Sure, he can make people like him, but he can he ever connect with them enough to like them back? Does he know who he is? Would he know where to begin to try and find out?

I'd argue that - whether he knows it or not - is the biggest reason he tried to have Lucanis killed. He doesn't know who he is other than Caterina's least favorite grandson, Lucanis's cousin. He doesn't know how to find out.

[spoopdeedoop]

*sees 6 pixels of a new red son outfit* oh yeah this is gonna go crazy

(fit in question under the cut)

[collegeboysam]

they didn't explore sam using his powers to save dean enough, so desperate to get to his brother that he just does it, not even completely sure how. we should have had a monster of the week episode where a group tries to hurt them and sam gets so frantic about dean maybe dying that he makes everyone's heads explode

[eiririnn]

[caemidraws]

Session notes...dinner is served

[milkcryptid]

messy

[eelnoise]

with hearts aligned (nsfw!)

zoro x fem!reader this fic's followup btw. takes place between fishman island and PH (yes there's lore!! 🙄! and yes zoro did keep all that shit bottled up for a bit!!) cw: confessions of love, somewhat troubled zoro, not-so-awkward first times (our boy is intuitive okay ?!), piv sex, fingering, cute stuff idk an: okay i know this took a long time but i re-wrote this like 5 times and accidently got hyperfixated on ffxiv and generally needed a break from writing BUT WE ARE BACK BABY !!! wc: 3.4k tagging @bby-deerling @kaizokuniichan @sleepymarimo @willowbelle @nina-ya

The clinking of cutlery upon plates and chatter among friends fills the small island tavern with animated joy and serene relief. Brook plays the violin somewhere to the left side of the room, though the eager blathering of the crew drowns out the more finer notes and melodies played. 

A well-deserved interruption and a welcome change from the unpredictable nature of the past few day’s events – though for Zoro, it’s a distraction that’s come to an end. Despite the crew being whole again, he still feels a hollowness within – something no amount of eating or drinking or fighting can fill.

And it’s entirely his fault.

You sit across the table from him, sipping at a near-empty glass of wine and discussing something inaudibly with Usopp. He can’t quite read your expression from where he’s seated, but you look interested enough in the conversation. 

And if it’s obvious to himself that he’s keeping you at arm’s length, it’s clear to anyone with a working conscience that he’s doing his utmost to avoid you. The many longing gazes from his peripheral do not go unnoticed, but he dares not to look – for the hurt in your eyes would crush him and sear and stain into his soul.  A far-flung difference from the camaraderie that came before all of this, when the two of you were rarely found an inch too far apart from one another – and now Zoro can’t even look you in the eye. After his many imagined intimate rendezvous,how could he?

With you distracted, he lets his eye wander across your face, to the length of your arm, down to the glass pinched between your fingers – but it comes to rest upon your lips. He watches, transfixed on the flight peek of your tongue behind your teeth when you speak, how your lips twist with each syllable, how they purse when you’re in thought, and the way they stretch across your cheeks when you smile.

Zoro’s throat tightens, a sharp dagger of guilt carving into his chest. He forces his stare to the table, the tiniest sliver of your form still lingering in the corner of his vision. You’ve journeyed this far, fought, bled, and laughed together. And now, for once, he’s unable to find the words to say.

The weight of his inaction bears down on him, leaving him listless. The only respite he’s found is in the distraction of a battle, a thudding, a clash, steel ringing against steel. In those moments, he’s alive, he’s focused, and the words that plague his every waking thought cease to exist. But without the battle, Zoro is left with nothing but the echoes of unspoken desires.

His hand trembles, gripping his mug of ale as he brings it to his lips. The bitterness of the brew does little to quell the fire in his chest. He’s a swordsman, a pirate – not a poet, bard, or a man of words. It’s a mess of feelings. Lust, want, longing, love, all these indescribable sensations that only serve to make Zoro feel weak and helpless and vulnerable when faced with them. He feels like a coward, daring never to speak to you again, never to confess his feelings, and never pulling you into his arms and kissing you senseless.

Zoro’s eye meets yours for one singular fleeting moment, the intensity of the connection making his heart race. He knows he can’t keep up this charade, this dance of avoidance – but how does one even confess to these feelings? How does one bridge the gap between comrade and lover? He scratches his chin, trying to come up with a solution, but all he can think of is a single, frustrating fact: he can’t keep running.

Whether it’s every empty bottle he’s seen the bottom of tonight, the last of his resolve wearing thin, or just the sheer guilt of it all that drives him suddenly to his feet, he isn’t sure. Inhaling one of the deepest breaths he’s ever taken, he silently trudges around the table to where you’re seated.

At first, he hovers awkwardly so as to not interrupt the conversation you’re having. Both hands come to rest at either side of the back of your chair and he can feel his pulse through his fingertips on the wood – and when you tilt your head up to look at him, a curious smile twitching at the edges of your cheeks, he cracks.

Zoro clears his throat and forces his gaze. “I need to talk to you for a sec.”

His voice is hoarse as he asks, and he hopes you can’t hear the nerves that lie beneath his words. Surprised by how much he’s sweating and how his heart races against his ribcage, he swallows to regain some semblance of composure.

“It’s important,” he adds, trying not to stumble over his thoughts. It’s a pitiful excuse, but all that comes to mind amidst the maelstrom of emotion in his head.

“Oh, yeah – of course!” You reply with raised brows and begin to stand. Zoro allows you the room to move, taking a step back from the table. “Sorry, Usopp,” you say as you turn and give him a weak shrug, “Remind me where we left off later?”

“No prob!” The sniper shoots a thumbs-up and the two of you exchange a wave before you turn to follow Zoro away from the lively table and out of the tavern.

Zoro leads you to a quiet spot by the docks nearby, where the salty scent of the sea mingles with the faint tang of fish and the distant hum of the island. He can’t bring himself to look at you, electing instead to focus on the water and the twinkling reflection of the night sky in the soft waves.

“Everything okay?” You ask softly, taking a few steps toward him and assuredly taking note of his hesitance. “What’s up?”

“I missed you,” Zoro replies, fixated on the sigh of the shifting tides lapping at the wooden posts below. “A lot.”

“I missed you too, Zoro, but what’s so urgent?” The concern in your tone is apparent and caring, and normally works to soothe him when his mind runs rampant – but this moment, this situation he finds himself in, it does the opposite.

“No,” Zoro shakes his head, his fingers twitching at his sides. “I missed you - differently from the others.”

“Differently?”

Zoro’s jaw clenches, and part of him wants to jump into the ocean and swim as far away from the island as his arms will take him. The honest admission hangs heavy on his tongue, the weight of the years of denial suddenly threatening to push it out. He pauses, opens and closes his mouth a few times, then finally, with a shaky exhale, he looks you straight in the face.

“I love you.”

The admission hangs between you, the weight of years of suppression. Zoro shifts his weight from one foot to the other, twinges of regret creeping up the nape of his neck.  It takes you a moment to reply, and considering the nature of the confession, it's reasonable. Zoro's nerves feel like hot coals beneath his skin as he watches your face for any sign of an answer.

“...for real?” Your gentle response fills his entire being with a wistful spark of hope.

Zoro's fingers curl into fists. "Yes, for real," he confirms, still not looking up. His heart thuds painfully in his chest, a heavy, leaden weight. All his hopes and fears rest on the outcome of this conversation. He's unsure if he could handle rejection, but he can't go back to the pretense any longer. Zoro swallows, tasting bile at the back of his throat. "I should've told you before now, but I... I'm an idiot.” He lets out a humorless laugh, his voice quiet.

He isn’t sure when you move, but a smaller, softer hand wraps around his – and in an instant, he feels himself relax into your touch. Zoro relaxes his grip, allowing your fingers to entwine with his.

He snaps his gaze towards you, his heartbeat ringing loudly in his ears. You peer at him, a sweet, crooked smile on your lips and a blush across your face. And when your free hand finds purchase on his cheek, Zoro finds himself leaning in. 

You meet him halfway in a genuine, tender kiss that sends a jolt of electricity coursing through him. Zoro's arms wrap around you and pull you close. The world around falls away as you both delight in the embrace. The kiss is gentle, delicate, and filled with longing. It floods him with an unexpected warmth – and for once, he can't think of the past or the future. He's simply lost in the present moment.

When you finally pull away, Zoro can't help but lean into your palm on his cheek with a bit of a dazed smile on his face. Holding onto your hand, his other hand slowly moves to cup your cheek in return. His heart is pounding, his mind a blank slate tinged with overwhelming happiness. He's lost in your gaze, unable to speak, but he doesn't need to. The moment says everything.

"Do you know how much I missed you?" you murmur, lips ghosting his and thumb trailing upward to gently trace the lower half of the scar that now covers his right eye. "How often I thought of you?"

And then you say it - the words he's only imagined hearing you speak.

"I love you, too.”

Zoro's chest tightens, a lump forming in his throat as he meets your gaze, his heart swelling. Words fail him, the raw emotion in his gut silences his voice.  A slow smile spreads across his lips, a look of awe and joy shadowing his features. He doesn't need words. The simple fact that you feel the same is enough to fill him with warmth and peace. 

Leaning in again, Zoro captures you in another deep kiss – a deep and soulful kiss that speaks volumes. He's consumed by the feeling of being with you, of finally being able to express his love. His hand moves to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer, and he kisses you with all the passion and longing he's suppressed for far too long.

You sigh into him, the sound willingly swallowed by Zoro’s growing hunger. Arms wrap around his shoulders and you press yourself into him, the opened-mouthed kiss quickly turning into a twist of tongues dancing together in a frenzied rhythm with audible smacks of saliva mixing with each meeting of your lips. His hand clutches your hair more firmly, his other hand slipping around her waist to pull you impossibly closer.

The gesture is all-consuming, a whirlpool of desire and affection that leaves him lightheaded. For the first time in years, he feels like he's truly alive, his heart beating in perfect harmony with yours.

Slowly breaking the kiss, Zoro's lips ghost over your jawline, trailing down to your collarbone as he breathes in your scent, savoring every moment. He wants to memorize the taste, the feel, and the sound of your breath as his hands roam over your body, his heart beating a furious tempo.

You let out a small gasp when his lips touch your sensitive flesh, your body reacting to his every move. Goosebumps raise in the wake of his fingertips as he nibbles at your neck, causing your grip to tighten and for you to moan softly into his ear. 

Part of Zoro wants to take you here and now, but what remains of his will stops him. He growls into your neck and lifts you up fully and, – with a little assistance from you –  heads in the direction of the ship anchored nearby. The others wouldn't be back for a while, so why not take advantage of the privacy?

You’re weightless in his arms as he carries you away from the bustle of the small island village and towards the deck of the Thousand Sunny. Zoro can feel himself growing hard beneath the fabric of his pants as you kiss and nip along his neck, giggling in his ear when he retaliates with a playful squeeze to your rear and a rumbling growl against your skin.

He wastes little time pushing the door to the men’s quarters open with the tip of his boot, his grip on your hips tightening when he moves to lift you onto the nearest bunk, one hand still clutching your waist while the other travels up under your shirt to caress your chest, deft hands making quick work of unhooking your bra and tossing it aside to be forgotten.

Zoro’s breathing hitches, his eyes dark and lustful as he dips his head to suckle at the swell of your breast. He can feel himself twitching against your thigh, and despite his inexperience, he wants nothing more than to please you. 

He kisses down your body, taking a nipple into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue while his hand roams, finding your core already soaked with desire. He pauses, fingers grazing over your clothed slit and feeling you shiver in pleasure. Zoro murmurs your name, and snakes his fingers beneath the waistband of both your shorts and panties before sliding them down your legs in one motion, leaving you naked and bared before him. His own pants follow suit, quickly discarded next to yours.

Zoro's hand finds its way between your thighs again, spreading your folds with ease, and he lowers his head to kiss you once more, his tongue probing your mouth as his fingers gently stroke your clit, drinking in your soft moans.

"Show me." He whispers just loud enough for her to hear. His expression is a loving one, though she notes the slightest bit of hesitance in his words.

Show me how you like it.

You nod and guide his fingers, taking two of the large digits and easing them in circles on your clit. "Not too rough, though," you say patiently, letting go of him with a soft sigh and an encouraging smile. 

Zoro hums in acknowledgment, his thumb and forefinger doing as you ask, the slickness of your pussy allowing his fingers to move easily as he continues to tease at your clit. His other hand rests on your hip, steadying you as his thumb rolls over the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting small moans from you. 

Zoro brushes the tip of his finger against your entrance in an experimental move, and by the way you wreathe and whine, he's urged to continue his work. He slides one past your folds and inside of you, making your toes curl and your back arch.

"Shit–" You sputter out between breathless sighs of desire. "Feels really good..."

One finger becomes two, your inner walls clenching around them as he scissors them in and out of your pussy. There's a wet slosh of sound coming from where you meet, your wetness audibly coating his fingers and dripping down down his wrist. 

Zoro's breath hitches at the sound of your pleasure, his eyes dark with desire as he watches your reaction. He's entranced by how your body responds to him, and he can't help but lick his lips as he continues to finger you. He adds a third, the stretch making you gasp and tighten around him.

His pace increases, his fingers swirling and thrusting within you, and he watches as your body writhes and arches beneath him. He can feel the tension building in you, the way your breath hitches and your eyes flutter closed.

"Do you want me inside you?" Zoro asks, his voice low and thick with need. He's anxious to give you pleasure, but he's struggling to keep himself from joining his fingers inside you.

"Please," you whine, eyes wide and watery with pleasure but red hot with the need for more. "Need you, Zoro."

Zoro's heart beats wildly in his chest, his own need for you overwhelming as he pulls his fingers from your slick warmth and licks them clean before sitting back on his heels to position himself between your legs. He lines his cock up with your entrance and looks into your eyes, the passion reflected in his own.

Without warning, he thrusts forward, plunging deep into your tightness. You're hot and wet around him, and he lets out a growl of satisfaction as he bottoms out. He pauses for a moment, allowing you both to adjust and to revel in the feeling of being connected. He pulls back, slowly at first, then picks up the pace as he leans over you, the headboard digging into the wall with each forceful thrust. Zoro's eyes never leave yours, his gaze locked as if he's trying to absorb every detail of your expression.

Each stroke of his cock against your walls feels heaven-sent, and the taste of you that lingers on his tongue drives him crazy with want. Nails dig into the flesh of his triceps and your back arches, a song of passion belting from between your lips, a serenade made for him and him alone.

Zoro grunts at the sound of your pleasure, his thrusts becoming even more ferocious as he watches your reaction, the sight of you so lost in ecstasy driving him to the brink. He grips your hips, holding you steady as he pounds into you, the sweat glistening on your skin as your bodies collide.

The moonlight trickling in from the window illuminates your body below him. It's a sight better than anything he could dream, your face contorting in bliss and ecstasy, hands clinging harshly onto him as if he'd disappear if you let go. Savoring a feeling that neither wants to forget.

"You're so fucking perfect." Zoro growls, leaning over you to kiss you feverishly, his tongue seeking yours as he fucks you. He can feel the tension building, the way your body tenses and your nails dig into his skin, and he knows you're close. He wants to give you this moment, wants to make you cum as much as he wants to feel it himself.

"Come on," he urges, his voice thick with lust. "Let go for me." The words were a warning, a promise that he wasn't going to last much longer..Zoro increases the pace of his assault, his own release imminent as he watches your face, your eyes half-lidded and flushed with pleasure. Together, you move, driven by the primal need for release.

Zoro's thumb meets your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with the speed of his ministrations. The dual stimulation pushes you over the edge, crying out butchered attempts at his name as your body convulses around him, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Zoro can't hold back any longer, feeling his own climax building as he watches you.

With a roar, he lets go, burying himself deep as he cums, the spasms of your walls milking him as he shudders and groans into your ear, seed spilling inside of you. He pants heavily, leaning over you as he rests on his forearms, his forehead meeting yours. He stays like that long enough to press a quick kiss to your lips before collapsing atop you with a very exhausted, but very relieved sigh. 

You breathlessly hold him close. Cradling his sweaty form to your chest, one hand makes its way into his moss-green tresses to lightly scratch at his scalp. Zoro lets himself relax, letting out a sigh and nestling into your shoulder. He closes his eyes, feeling thoroughly sated in your embrace.

Zoro pulls out of you eventually, gently rolling off your body to rest. He pulls you into his side as he nuzzles into your hair. "I love you." He whispers, his voice soft and tender and almost unrecognizable.

Snuggling into his side, your hand still lazily strokes his head. "I love you too," you reply, voice equally tender, and a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Your soft touch and tender words soothe Zoro, your shared connection cemented in the aftermath of passion. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, a smile still lingering on his lips. The words you whispered echo in his mind, a warm feeling settling in his chest – and together, in each other's arms, you find peace.