#living in war zone ? he doesn't care

[gloryride]

Oscar, Fall Pacifica Princess

[angermango]

freestyle shitposting with the Huldra Bros (+some other guys but this ain't about them)

and an alternative take for the first one:

[tathrin]

OP I need you to know that I just cycled through all four stages of grief as I tried to figure out how I could have possibly forgotten that Chewie was apparently a mayor on Kashyyyk at some point??? before I realized you were talking about Lando instead. My gods don't do that to people! If you're taking the five of them down to four, you need to clarify which one you're leaving out oh my gods my heart can't take this sort of thing.

you ever think about how in star wars the four heroes that overthrew the tyrannical empire and inagurated a new government are the princess of a tragically destroyed planet, a wisecracking rogue, the last heir of a religious order of wizards who do actual literal magic, and.........a city mayor

[kettlefire]

DP x DC Angst Prompt

Inspired by the song Preacher by Roe Kapara

"This is a distress signal from Amity Park Illinois." A scared teen girl was the face to meet the staticy camera. Red hair pulled up in a messy bun, tear stains clear on her face, eyes rimmed red.

All options were running out. They had two days, two days before the hunt began. Two days before they lose everything.

A distress signal, broadcasted on loop, over and over again to any frequency they can get their hands on with the limited equipment they had.

"This Friday, at 3:15am, my town is going to make an irreparable mistake."

A soft clang rang from somewhere of screen, but that didn't shift her attention.

"My town, my home, has fallen to the manipulation of a deranged woman."

A choked sound came from off screen, sounds uncomfortable close to a sob.

"Amity Park has always been disconnected from the rest of the world. A small town, in it's own small world. Things have been happening here for the past two years, and now..."

She paused, glancing off screen before wiping her face.

"Now we aren't enough to save it. We did took too long to notice the cancer that was spreading. The hysteria combined with fear of the unknown that drove out town to follow her.

My name is Jasimine Fenton, I'm here with my father Jack Fenton. My mother, Madeline Fenton, is the reason the world might be facing war."

The video footage grew worse, static starting to over take the image and the audio.

"Dad, we're losing it!"

"Sorry Jazzy-bear" The new voice clearly came from a man, even if he stayed clear of the camera view. A moment passed before it was fixed.

"We don't know how long we gave before they find us, but... My baby brother Danny Fenton is going to be brutally hunt down Friday morning.

There's no time to put all the information needed in this signal, but I'm begging anyone who sees this. Please send help.

Anyone who has spoken against the plan has been imprisoned, the only ones from the team that's fear is us."

Jazz let out a shaking breath, staring off screen for just a moment before coming back, fresh tears rimming her eyes.

"All Danny every wanted to do was protect his home, and all he got in return was pain and hatred. Please, you might not know us, but you need to know. Danny holds a high position with in the ghostly realm.

Whatever you want to call it, the ghost zone, the infinite realms, or purgatory. Doesn't matter, all you need to know of the living kill Danny, the ghosts will rage war."

A heavy thud filled the room, the camera seemed to shake at the sound. Fear filled Jazz's face.

"Dad, they-"

"It's okay Jazz, finish the recording, they can't get in yet."

Jazz nodded, moving toward the camera. She seemed to cup it in her hands and tried to speak over the loud thud that continued to penetrate the area.

"We're running out of time, I hope this reaches someone somewhere. More than anything, I hope this reaches the Justice League.

Reaches them before Friday. Before the world is in true danger. Danny is the only link to peace between worlds. Don't let a woman driven by hatred be the end."

This time instead of a thud, it sounded more like a crack. The camera shifted and a view of a large man built like a tank was caught. A strange gun in one hand, and what looked like a strange grenande in the other.

"Jazzy-Bear, there's an escape tunnel in the back. Go, I'll hold them off as long as I can."

"No! I'm not leaving you!"

"Jazz-"

"No. I don't care, I'm no use to anyone by myself. We need to stick together."

"Jasimine-"

"I'm setting the recording to loop."

"Honey-"

Loud crash broke through following another crack. Heavy footsteps followed. Voices screamed through the air.

Jazz's face filled the screen completely as gunfire could be heard.

"Please send anyone, I can't lose my baby brother too."

And just like that, the screen went black. Barely a couple seconds passed before the screen lit up again.

The video starting from the beginning. Hoping for anyone to view it.

A cry for help cycling through an endless loop until it found it's self broadcast for the League.

[sitp-recs]

Part II: table for two

Following my list featuring the sea (now with a lil banner cause I’m getting in the reccing zone again baby!!!!), I thought I’d make this a series called “fic as a sensory delight” and continue the trend with good old Drarry domesticity walking hand in hand with some food porn appreciation. Who knew that Drarry living their best life while enjoying tasty treats could be so personal? These fics feel like a comfort meal when life gets too crazy and provide a delicious sensory experience. From cottagecore to road trips, found family, case fic, established relationship and even kinky delights - this list has a bit of everything and features food as a main character either bringing Drarry together, healing past traumas, helping them connect with their heritage or simply playing as a love language. I hope these fics bring you as much comfort, joy and healing as they brought me. Happy weekend!

🥘 Breakfast by @moonflower-rose (E, 3k)

Breakfast is Harry's favorite part of the day.

🥘 Market Saturdays by @sorrybutblog (M, 3k)

In which Harry is an accidental part-time cheesemonger, Draco is an organic farmer and they fall in love. Not an AU.

🥘 Salt and Sauce by onbeinganangel (T, 3k)

Sure, of course he knows how you take your tea. But does he know your chippy order?

🥘 Cupboard Love by @shealwaysreads (G, 4k)

Harry’s life, and love, in food.

🥘 Don't Bite the Hand That Feeds You by InnerLilith (E, 11k)

In which Harry takes Draco out for Eritrean food, and Draco has a severe obsession with Harry’s hands. Smut ensues.

🥘 Harry Potter and the Showstopper of Doom by @doubleappled (M, 11k)

In which Harry’s an amateur baker, Draco wants him to go on the Great British Bake-Off, Petunia never misses an episode, Sue is a witch, Paul Hollywood is Paul Hollywood, and everyone eats a lot — like a whole lot — of baked goods.

🥘 Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose (M, 13k)

Harry had accepted that he would pine silently for Malfoy forever, but one, humid summer might change that.

🥘 Connecting Lines, Connecting Crimes by @sleepstxtic (M, 15k)

“Hello, Harry,” Draco said. He was wearing a black turtleneck under a long grey overcoat, and he was already flushed with sweat. His hair was tied into a knot; it was longer than I remembered. He was older than I remembered. There were lines around his eyes, and I wondered if they were from laughing or frowning. “Hello,” I managed. “You must be with the British Ministry?’ He nodded. I thought I might faint.

🥘 Bridges by @cavendishbutterfly (E, 16k)

Harry and Draco are on a trip to Budapest to help with Kingsley's re-election, but that's the boring bit. More interesting: Harry Potter is changing his Tinder preferences to include men. Also interesting: Harry's spending more time with Draco Malfoy than he ever has, wandering around the city. And Harry doesn't hate it. The city's pretty gorgeous too.

🥘 Sourdough by @academicdisasterfic (M, 17k)

Draco writes romance novels and doesn't leave his apartment much. Harry bakes bread and sells it to Draco. Draco is quite weird. Harry might like that.

🥘 Preserving Lemons by @saintgarbanzo, @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 17k)

Harry is cooking food he couldn't care less about; Draco is making art he couldn't care more about. A story about kebabs, miniskirts and the way preservation can transform a lemon.

🥘 Passion Cake by @icmezzo (T, 19k)

It’s all about desire. (Harry orders a magically enhanced cake from a chic London bakery, and from there it all goes to hell in a cake tin. Also, will someone please tell Harry what Passion Cake is?)

🥘 Knead by laughingd0g (E, 83k)

This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

🥘 Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (E, 104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

🥘 Make This Leap by @oflights (M, 118k)

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner. Harry does.

[whoreforharlow]

Lost and Found

Author's Note: An angsty smutty Alpha!Jack fic inspired by some discourse I saw on both @19crimes and @killatravtramp blogs over the last few days about some ABO and alpha energy Jack, so S/O to them and their anons.

Warnings: cursing, unprotected p in v intercourse, a tiny bit of oral (both f and m receiving), size!kink, sub!reader, dom!jack, hair pulling, daddy!kink, dirty talk, choking, breeding!kink, forced orgasms, mentions of bodily fluids, 18+, minors dont interact. Think that's it 🤔

The heavy thud of the front door alerted Jack that you were home, still pissed it seemed. He was laid on the couch, Survivor reruns idly playing on the TV screen as he mostly attended to emails on his phone. He listened to you from where he was: the clatter of your keys on the entryway table, the clicking of your heels exchanged for light scraping of slides, the opening of the fridge door, the clink of what must have been a glass on the marble countertop, the glugging of what he was positive was your chilled wine, the momentary silence before a deep sigh, the second round of glugging before the scrape of slides disappearing down the hallway.

Jack released his own sigh, his feelings conflicting within him. He was still upset, assumed you probably were too, yet it took every ounce of energy to be angry with you. The two of you had been at odds for the last few days, small things that turned into big arguments. You two were frustrated with your own personal worlds and instead of seeking comfort in each other, you turned your shared apartment into a war zone. You both worked in high positions in your jobs, but that doesn't make either of you exempt from being denied by powers even greater than yourselves. That's how it ended up coming home with you both—wanting to assert control and dominance over anything, including each other.

You and Jack always had a very good dynamic going for you both. You both easily fell into masculine and feminine positions in your household, the two of you having a beautiful dance around each other that was completely in sync.

You weren't always like that, having lived on your own for so long, you had slipped into a masculine energy. You were the provider, the protector, the strength of your one person household. Being with Jack had shifted your priorities, falling into a softer, more feminine position, finding that you can trust Jack for those aforementioned traits. His presence let you breathe, knowing everything would be taken care of whenever he was around.

Over the last few days, your job had been demanding more and more from you. Your upset with Jack meant you sought comfort in yourself from the stress. The silent treatment took its toll on you, feeling like you needed to build up those walls again of being your own support. After two years of nothing less than princess treatment, you felt drained playing both roles again. You missed coming to him with your problems and him promising to take care of it, you missed discussing the future with him and planning out your legacy together, you missed coming home to flowers and a warm bath waiting for you.

Little did you know, Jack was also feeling the loss of your warmth. Missing your nurturing spirit, your tenderness, your sweetness after long days split between interviews, meetings, and studio time. Eating his meals alone at the kitchen island made him miss the nights you stayed up late just to spend an hour with him, he missed holding you close as you told him whatever was bothering him would pass, he missed your bubbly excitement as you showed him videos of silly puppies on tiktok, he missed you insisting that he should be the little spoon as you struggled to wrap yourself around his larger frame.

Today was going on day six of the silent treatment, and it was killing you both. Neither one of you could remember what you were upset about, but just knew you didn't want to crack first. For the most part, the two of you hadn't really seen each other, purposely so. You both took on more time at work, the cause of the disruption in your home, rather than the peace of each other's arms. The only time you two really interacted was when you were playing tug-a-war in your sleep over the blanket, if that even counts.

But there was something about tonight, the sigh of defeat that exhaled from your body that broke him. He lifted himself from the couch, following where he suspected you to be, his suspicions correct as he saw the steam escaping the bathroom door that was ajar. He slowly walked in to see your back to him in the glass shower, your forehead pressed against the tile on the wall as you let the spray wash over you. It broke his heart, knowing that on exhausting days like this you like to take a nice bath, a task that he added to his list of personal responsibilities. He felt like he failed you this week, his role of provider and care taker severely neglected, your slouched posture a testament to your physical and mental exhaustion.

Your ears perked up, hearing some rustling coming from beyond the sound of the rushing water inside of the glass cage you were currently in. You tried to ignore it, but the knot in your chest wouldn't let you, you tasked yourself with suppressing your sob. You took a deep breath of the steamy air, allowing it to soften the muscles of your lungs as you released a shaky breath. You decided against turning around, hoping he would leave soon so you could be at peace in the bathroom. Another sob attempted to escape your lips as you repeat that thought in your head. How you had come to the thought where you felt more peaceful without him than with him, even though it wasn't true, broke your heart and caused silent tears to stream down your cheeks.

Jack opened a drawer where you kept many unscented candles, always insisting that they were a blank canvas to not take away the shine of your choice essential oil, grabbing a few and the lighter. He began placing the lit candles around the room, making sure to not miss the corners because he knew the small fear you had when the corners seemed too dark. He grabbed a small rose and vanilla shower steamer: a small, circular, scent brick that can be used to turn a hot shower into a spa experience by releasing the fragrance. He turned off the lights, the new experience of the softer light catching you off guard as you blinked your teary eyes a few times, your hands coming to rest against the wall on either side of you as you resisted the urge to look up.

Undressing himself, he opened the glass door of the shower, turning on the second shower head and dropping the steamer under the hot water. You felt his body close to yours as he stood behind you in front of your shower head, the hot water no longer hitting your reddening skin. You stood there frozen, unsure of what to do, the tears still silently falling from your eyes. For a long moment, neither of you did anything, just standing close to each other in the steam. You wanted to play it cool, turn around and side step him, grab your towel and walk out of the bathroom, pretend you didn't even notice him, but you were frozen.

You felt a warm hand placed on each of yours that were still placed on the wall, his body finally coming to press against yours from behind as you felt his forehead drop to your shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, baby" you hear his voice crack, the vulnerability and sorrow in it. You released a loud sob, your body no longer holding back as you cried as hard as you've been wanting to. It was a cry from deep within: a cry of sadness, of loneliness, of frustration, of anger, of guilt, of hurt, of longing. Your body trembled as he wrapped his arms around you, turning you around so he could hold you properly under the shower spray. In your own trembling, you felt the heaving of his chest, the unevenness of his breathing, the slight wetness on your forehead, all alluding to the fact that he was crying too.

"I'm so sorry, too" you begin, but are quickly shushed.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one that should have ended this fight sooner." Jack was always the one to claim responsibility in the relationship. He was never one to play the blame game, he believed that was childish,"little boy shit" as he would always say. If he was going to be the leader of the relationship, then his attitude is what carries the energy of the relationship. Even if you both came home with work frustrations, his attitude is what you matched. Had he left his own hostility at the door that day, had he cooled down your hot head, had he taken the initiative to keep the peace, this could have been avoided. There was a time, a place, a way, to present frustrations to each other, in a way that was productive and problem solving. But the day you both exploded, as the leader, Jack believes he should have been the one to de-escalate the situation.

"I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you. I shouldn't have walked out during the fight. I shouldn't have turned my phone off. I shouldn't have let you worry all night about if I was alright or not. I shouldn't have let Urban's text be the only relief you got that I was safe. I should have stayed with you, I knew you needed me with you. I should have sat us down to talk instead of yell. I should have held you, because I know for a fact that you cried yourself to sleep that night, and probably every night since. I'm the one that should be sorry, baby girl." His voice was rough as he spoke, fighting to keep his thoughts in order as he was overwhelmed with emotions. He held you tightly, not only for your comfort but for his as well, one hand rubbing your back, the other on the back of your head.

You pulled away slightly to look at him, his face as red and puffy as yours no doubt, the sincerity in his eyes lit up by the numerous candles, the flames casting him in an angelic glow. Jack has always been your knight in shining armor, your safety, your peace, your rest. To hear him take full accountability, even though you were also to blame for this, bloomed a warmth in your chest that you had never felt before.

In the last two years, you and Jack had never fought like you two had done almost a week ago. It had never gotten as nasty or as ugly as that fight, the two of you completely out of bounds, making a mockery of any boundaries you two had set up; it was a no holds barred match of who could hurt the other more. It was sickening and you both were wracked with guilt afterwards, unable to even look yourselves in the mirror. It was emotionally bloody and brutal, not knowing that either of you could get that low. As much as you two loved each other and believed you'd be together forever, sitting in the aftermath of it, you both were scared that that fight could have been the end. The words thrown were blanks, you both knew that, but it still hurt like the real thing.

"I know you said I have nothing to be sorry for, but I am sorry. I love you, Jack, more than anything in this world. I can't describe how much I love you, I wish I could. You're all that I want, nothing is as important to me as you are. You're my everything Jackman Harlow, my whole world." You confess to him. "I shouldn't have said those things," you choke a bit at the thought, "I should never say things like that to someone I love this much. You only deserve kind words, loving words, uplifting words, supportive words. I'm so sorry, my love." You look up at him with pleading eyes. You knew that he had forgiven you, but he knew how much you required reassurance. He pulled you in again, holding you close as you cried again, whispering his love and forgiveness in your ear.

You leaned up to kiss him, your lips whispering an apology that words could never fully express. You both poured whatever you needed into the kiss, your hands grasping at each other for dear life, the two you a lifeline for each other in this moment. When you pulled away you felt his forehead lean against yours, his nose rubbing yours lovingly as you both smiled for the first in what felt like ages. The pain you both felt washing away as you two basked in each other's love. You looked up at him, the softest look of adoration on his face as he gazed down at you. The two of you glowing in the candle light, the warm floral scent enveloping you both, the water droplets marking the cleansing of your sins against one another. You finally felt like you could breathe, knowing that everything was right between you two.

After washing up, Jack wrapped you up in a fluffy towel, blowing out the candles and guiding you out of the bathroom. The two of you exchanged your towels for robes as Jack led you by the hand to the couch. He plopped down and pulled you into him, your body instinctively curling up into his side, taking comfort in his strong hold on you. He grabbed the remote, playing none other than both of yours comfort movie. He traded the remote for his phone, his thumb quickly swiping away as he ordered your go-to "sad-girl" meal, as you liked to put it, from the place that's open late down the street.

This is what you were used to. From the moment he held you in his arms in the shower, you were able to shut your brain down for the night. Jack always took care of you, your mind and body knew that, and for the first time all week you were able to rest. You were once again his princess: being hand dried and lotioned down after not lifting a finger to wash yourself, then being guided to watch your favorite movie while waiting for your favorite meal to magically appear before you, not a thought or care of how it came to be. This was what you were used to, this was how it was supposed to be. The man you loved babying you as you just basked in his gentle attention like a small child.

You of course fell asleep almost immediately, your body feeling safe and warm in his arms could shut down fully. When you awoke, about an hour had passed and Jack was squirming under you trying to get up to grab the food without waking you. You giggled at his attempted subtlety, and scooted for him to get up. You two shared your meal together, dopey loving looks on both of your faces as you fed each other, sweet kisses exchanged in-between bites. There was such a surge of feel-good hormones, so much oxytocin flooding both of your systems, pupils blown as you gazed at each other, the aphrodisiac of the chocolate cake you two split adding to the shift of the evening.

You pushed the now empty carton off of Jack's lap, the clatter of the forks hitting the floor not distracting you from what you wanted, no needed, in that moment. You straddled Jack's lap, both hands moving to cup his cheeks, your thumbs rubbing his shaggy beard, the hair longer than it was a week ago, making you giddy. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, a groan escaping him as he tasted you for the first time in what felt like forever. His hands ran up and down your thighs, landing on your ass as he gripped the flesh roughly, your hips pressing down to grind on him.

There was a hunger in you both, never had you two been able to go more than a few hours while in each other's presence without fucking. Spending six days, five nights, sleeping right next to each other without touching was a torture all in itself.

Jack was quick to move, his hands holding you to him as he lifted the two of you off the bed, walking you to the bedroom without breaking your kiss. Everything was rough and hurried, too much time had gone past and you refused to let more go by. The second your back hit the mattress, your hands were clawing at the belt of his robe, desperate to remove any barriers between the two of you.

You felt his lips moving down your neck, sucking, biting, licking whatever he could, moving down your body towards your stomach, but you pulled him up by his hair.

"No, Jack, I can't wait. I need you inside me, please, baby, I missed you." You weren't ashamed to beg him. Though the thought of his mouth on you made you shiver, you couldn't stand not being connected to him. Your confession made him smirk as he kissed his way back up to you.

"Turn me over," you softly commanded, your body twisting under him as you tried to get to your stomach. His hands went to your hips, guiding you to your knees as you pressed your front to the mattress. You presented yourself to him, wiggling your ass as you arched your back. He watched you from his kneeled position behind you, his hand stroking himself as he watched your hand come to touch yourself. You moaned as your fingers made contact with your neglected clit, sliding through your wet slit to collect some of your slick from your opening before returning to the aching bud. You turned your head, trying to get a glimpse of him behind you, catching his dazed expression as he watched you. You smiled with giddiness, loving that after all this time you can still turn him on this way. You dipped two fingers into yourself, wishing that it were his, and you let him know just that.

"Mmm, Jack. I've missed you so much, baby. Been so empty without you. Even now with my fingers inside me, I still feel empty. My pussy only wants to be filled with you." You moan to him, your hips rocking to meet your thrusting fingers as you try to reach the places inside you that only Jack can. You feel a warm hand on yours, pulling you away from yourself, his warm lips wrapping around your fingers to lick the wetness. You pull your hand back, both of them now gripping the sheets in anticipation as you bit your lip. You felt his tongue lick a bold stripe up your slit, making your eyes roll back and toes curl at the sensation, an appreciative moan escaping your lips.

You feel two of his fingers enter you, the large digits stretching you slightly as he moved them slowly, causing you to whine and rock back in an attempt to get more of the sensation. He chuckled at your eagerness, halting your hips with his unoccupied hand, his lips coming down to press kisses from your ass up your spine, all the while continuing to massage your walls.

"You're so wet for me, baby. All we did was kiss for a minute, and it's got you like this, huh? I shouldn't be surprised, this little pussy's always ready for me, ain't she?" He speaks slowly, his accent prominent as he watches in a trance as his fingers dip and curl into your pretty pussy. Your wetness dripped down your thighs, some dripping down onto the sheets, trails of it coating down his hand. He was always in awe of how wet you got, knowing it was just for him made him feel possessive of you. From somewhere far away, he could hear you whining for him, begging for more, begging for him to go faster, but he was entranced by the display before him.

He took pleasure in pleasuring you, your body belong to him and he took pride in the power he had over it, how he could command orgasm after orgasm from you, even when you thought you couldn't handle any more. He loved know your beautiful body was his to pleasure. He knew that every man on the planet wished they could have you, but he was honored that you chose to give yourself to him. He knew it was his responsibility to leave you satisfied and sated, that a goddess like yourself deserved nothing less than to have her appetite fed. And boy, did you have an appetite for Jack.

He was taken out of his trance when you had finally had enough of his teasing. You pushed yourself up from your position, his fingers slipping out of you as you turned around on the bed and crawled over to him. You eyed his erection, the heavy length barely able to stand up straight as it bobbed from its own weight between his thighs, the tip an angry pinkish red, shining with precum that had dripped a bit, the prominent vein pulsing which made your mouth water. You had plans to crawl into his lap, but seeing his perfect cock begging for attention had you changing your course of action.

You bent down low, taking his dick in your hand as you stuck your tongue out, licking from the base all the way up to the tip, your tongue curling as you licked the skin just under the head before taking him into your warm mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him a little harder than you should have, making him hiss and flinch slightly; you knew how Jack felt about aggressive head, but it was payback for his teasing. His hand found your hair as he pulled you back, as bashful smile on your lips as you batted your eyes at him innocently. He pulled your face right up to his by your hair, your hands coming to balance on his strong thighs.

"That wasn't very nice, angel." He scolds, making you giggle just a bit, his expression softening at the sound he missed so much. He smiled lovingly, pressing his lips to yours as he pushed you back on the bed, his body coming to lay between your bent legs. His hands rubbed against your torso, playing with your breasts and nipples, twisting and tugging the taut peaks, before rubbing your waist and stomach.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, not wanting him to pull away from you at all, you ran your hands up and down his back and shoulders, around to his chest, up to his cheeks, and then around to the nape of his neck. Just kissing him like this made you dizzy, his masterful lips and tongue caressing yours in a way that made you feel like you could cum from just that.

You felt him lower his hips, his length rubbing up and down your slit, collecting the wetness. You pulled away from him, needing to breathe as you felt his tip bump into your swollen clit. You felt overstimulated just from the anticipation, your body feeling so close to release just from the proximity of him. It never took much for that first orgasm, honestly there have been times where just him filling you was enough to get you off that first time—you were certain this night wouldn't be any different than those times.

"Jack, baby, please," you whimpered, desperate for him, almost panicked with your craving for him, tears at the corners of your eyes, feeling yourself enter that subspace that you've been craving all week. That sweet surrender to him, the contentment of knowing he would take care of you, keep you safe, satisfy you completely, all while your mind slipped away into oblivion. You knew he would take care of your body as you let go over your grip on reality, nothing but pleasure washing over you as he worshipped your body over and over until he decided to give you the mercy of rest. You trusted him to gently guide you back to earth, pull you down from the clouds and wrap you in his arms, anchor you to him and ground you as your soul finds its way back to your body. You'd follow his loving whispers as he called you back to him every time without fail.

"I've got you, princess." He grunted as he pressed himself against your entrance, his swollen head a blunt force against your tightness. You felt him hike your legs up higher around his hips, pressing you open for him as he pressed his forehead to yours, his head angled down as he watched where you two connected. He pressed in, knowing that after all this time he still needed to be gentle with you. His size was always a bit of a challenge for him, intimidating, and sometimes discouraging, most of the women he's been with. He knew what your body needed, taking his time as he opened you up for himself. It was an almost spiritual experience for the both of you, the connecting of two bodies into one, it wasn't just sex to you two.

"Fuck, baby" he grunts, resisting the urge to force himself in too quickly, your velvety walls sucking him in at their own pace, slowly pulsing around him as he eased in. He swears he'll never get used to this. The wetness, the heat, the tightness that deliciously teeters on the line of almost too tight, the cushiony feel of your walls, and firm bump of your cervix once he's fully seated in you. All that accompanied by the pretty sounds that escape your lips; the way your almond shaped nails scrape at his broad shoulders, that dull pain being the only thing stopping him from busting his nut right then and there, grounding him in his euphoria; the way your back arches as he pushes in, your chest pressing into his as his hips continue to press into yours.

"It's so good, Jack," you slur, your hips lifting on their own accord to meet his, the slight burn from the additional force causing you to cum unexpectedly, a squeal leaving your lips as you pressed your chest into his, your head thrown back in bliss, his groan in your ear at your sudden clench around him. The feeling was light, not as intense as you know they will be, but nonetheless took your breath away as you came down with a smile on your face. You giggled a bit, turning your head to look at Jack whose breath was ragged, his sweaty forehead pressed to your shoulder.

"That was unexpected," you giggled, kissing his cheek and nudging him to look at you; Jack was seemingly more affected by the orgasm than you were. You finally got his blue eyes to open, his expression dazed as he formed a smile on his face.

"It took everything in me not to cum right then and there," he chuckled, picking himself up onto his hands like an extended push up. "You okay, baby?" He asked, looking down at you. He was now fully in you, but he was still ever concerned that he could have hurt you. His hand came to rub your cheek, a protectiveness coming over him at the thought of you hurt.

"I'm okay, daddy." You nodded to him, nuzzling his palm as you looked up at him with doe eyes. Your hands came to splay on his chest as he hovered over you, your legs bent around on either side of his slender hips. The position made you feel so small, his larger body caging you, his strong arms on display, his wide chest feeling powerful under your fingertips. Your small hands take a moment to roam his body, running through the soft hair on his chest, down his sculpted torso, his stomach flexing as you inch closer to where the two of you were connected, the skin there a bit ticklish. You continue your exploration, an awesome expression on your face as you appreciated his body. You knew he had his own body image issues, so did you, so whenever you could, you took the chance to just admire him.

"So beautiful," you muttered, mostly to yourself. "Just so beautiful," you repeated as you took your time to look at him, forgetting that the two of you were in the middle of having sex. "Missed you." This time you look up to his face, your heart breaking at the confession, a bubbling of heartache in your chest all over again. He felt your change of energy immediately, your subby space leaving your emotions fluid as all you could do was feel without thought. Your eyes began to water and your lip trembled, your breathing getting heavier as you reached for him to come down to you, needing to be held.

"I'm right here, angel. It's alright, I've got you." He reassured you, cooing in your ear as his arms came around your back to hold you to him, his lips coming to press to your teary cheeks. "I love you, baby. I'm not going anywhere", he kisses you passionately, calming your mild panic, your earlier feelings resurfacing before being forced away but his touch. You feel him move slightly, testing the waters, making you moan against his mouth. He was seated deep inside you, his girth stretching you out so well as he rocked inside of you, your wetness sounding out in the room as your hips moved to meet his shallow thrusts.

"So good," you mumble, his head repeatedly bumping your cervix making the pressure build in your stomach. "Like that, don't stop" you beg, your hands in his hair as you guide his lips to your neck. He slowly sucks on the sensitive skin there, no doubt leaving marks.

"This what you wanted, baby?" He asks, his lips moving against your cheek, his pace steady as he increases the pressure of his hips, you can barely speak, the added sensations taking your breath away. Your hips naturally continue their rhythm against his, the string in your stomach feeling like it could snap at any moment. Jack knows you're close, your core tightening around him, causing him to groan in your ear, setting you off. His arms are still cradling you to his chest, his body around you feeling suffocating as you writhe against him, this orgasm coming from deep within you as you clench around him like a vice, Jack unable to move as he grits his teeth together at the sensation. Your body continues to twitch as you come down, electricity still flickering throughout your body as your pussy slowly releasing its grip on Jack's dick, causing him to exhale through his flared nostrils.

Your body is limp, feeling like jello as you just lay there in his embrace, chest heaving, face flushed, pussy tender. You feel Jack pull out of you, but you barely have the energy to say anything as you just close your eyes and bask in the post orgasm sensations. You feel Jack slowly lower your legs from around his waist, turning you over, your body too exhausted and heavy to care. He's got you on your stomach, his hands coming to massage your back and hips, his lips on the back of your neck as he whispers how good you were for him, making you smile lightly. You feel him press behind you, his hand coming to your right thigh from your hip, hooking behind your knee as he brings it forward towards your chest. You wince slightly at the stretch, your hips having tightened from the previous position he had you in. The cool air blows against your sore pussy, a sensation that makes you squirm lightly as you try to bring your legs back together but his hand behind your knee stops you.

"Uh-uh, baby. I want you just like this." His face is pressed to yours, cheek to cheek, as he comes to lay on top of you, his dick rubbing your sensitive slit making you cry out in mild discomfort. He shushes you, his face coming over to kiss you messily, lips and tongue twisting and smacking against each other, his hand leaving your knee to palm your tender breast. He takes your distraction as a chance to press into you, your pussy welcoming him as you let out the most pornographic moan he had ever heard. His forehead pressing into the back of your shoulder, as he slowly works himself into you, your walls still pulsing from your orgasm. You groaned at the mild discomfort as the wider part of his dick worked its way into you, and he was quick to whisper comforting words into your ear.

"Daddy," you whined, your hips shifting in an attempt to escape the feeling, but his hand came down to hold you in place as he continued pushing into you.

"Be a good girl for me, princess. You can take it, just relax. Just like that, pretty girl." He groaned his words into your ear as he pressed all the way in, his hand leaving your hip to rub your clit. You squealed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him away.

"Too much," you babbled into the pillow, making him chuckle and place a sweet kiss to your cheek. He began moving his hips, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back into the hilt, each time making your breath catch in your chest. His pace was slow and rough, his own knee coming up behind yours for additional leverage. You both could feel your wetness dripping from your pussy, making him glide in effortlessly into your tight passage.

"You feel so good, baby. So tight f'me, every damn time." He mumbled in between his groans. He picked up his pace, the sensations too good to resist as he started fucking you faster. It felt so good, the head of his dick rubbing against your g-spot with every up stroke and dragging against it on every down, you almost couldn't take it as you just moaned and groaned, babbling incoherently as he continued to fuck your pussy relentlessly.

"I-I-I c-can't," you finally formulated something remotely understandable, your hand grabbing at his hand that was holding your hip steady. You clawed at him, but he refused to ease up, grabbing your hand and pinning it to the bed before speaking to you.

"You can take it, baby. Yes, you can. This pussy was made for my dick, she can take it." He clasps your hand in his, the intimate act lost on you as your eyes roll back, your body attempting to coil in on itself as your orgasm flooded your system, a choked sob leaving your throat as the euphoria clouded you. With your ears ringing, you could barely make out Jack's groan as his body went rigid on top of yours, his hips sloppily thrusting as he attempted to fight against the clench of your walls holding him like a vice, a deep warmth filling your pussy as he came inside you.

You couldn't register anything as you both came down, heavy breathing was the only thing heard in the room as you tried to get a grip on reality. Your head was spinning, your body humming, your heart beating in your ears. The only thing keeping you down to earth was the heavy weight of your boyfriend on top of you, his hand still holding yours as he tried to catch his breath. You could feel him still inside you, even after cumming as hard as he did, he was still hard so you knew this was far from the end.

"You did so good, pretty girl, did so good for me. You're always such a good girl, aren't you? My best girl." You preened at his attention, and he could tell by the way your pussy fluttered that you enjoyed his words. He pressed soft kisses to the side of your face as he continued. "Did daddy make you feel good? You looked so beautiful when you were cumming on my dick, baby, prettiest thing I've ever seen. I love you so much, all I ever want is to make you feel good, angel." You blushed at his words, angling your head back so you could get to his lips, Jack happily obliging your silent request.

You felt him pull out of you, your legs coming together immediately to try to apply pressure to the soreness there. He stayed resting on top of you, knowing you needed to feel his skin on yours when you got like this.

"You okay, y/n?" You were so out of it in your sub-space, but the one thing that caught your attention was the usage of your name. He was giving you a chance to use your safe word if you needed it. That was something you and Jack practiced often when going into intense sessions. He would never use your name during sex, and when he did, it was to check in with you if he ever felt like maybe you needed a break.

"Green," you croaked out, signaling you wanted to continue. You felt exhausted, but this was what you wanted, what you had been craving all week. Your body felt light and heavy at the same time, your brain was mush and all your senses were clouded by Jack and you couldn't possibly ask for anything more.

You felt his body shuffle a bit, moving from on top of you as he came to straddle your ass, his thick erection sitting atop the fleshy mounds, glistening with a mix of your cums as he rubbed it in between the seam. His hands came to rub your back, just wanting to touch and feel your body. He watched how his two hands dwarfed your waist, curving around your sides, as he pressed forward to your shoulder blades; you looked so small under him, so delicate. He felt so powerful over you, his hands gliding across your beautiful skin, the sweat making you shimmer, the sweet sounds escaping your mouth as his fingers pressed in a certain spot.

"C'mere, baby," he whispered softly, his arms coming to wrap around you as he pulled you up to your knees, your body slumping back against his chest as he guided you to settle on his thighs, his erection against your back. You laid your head against his shoulder, his arms the only thing keeping you from plopping back down on the bed. You moaned uncomfortably at the heavy weight of your body, just wanting to go to sleep. With one arm around your waist, he used his hand to turn your chin to him, your fucked out expression making him smile to himself, a shy one of your own coming to settle on your lips as you blushed.

"You're so perfect, angel. My perfect girl." He commented with sincerity, his lips coming down to meet yours. You tiredly tried to keep up with him but were too exhausted, pulling away to nuzzle his neck as you caught your breath, your body twisting in an attempt to turn around in his lap.

"Uh-uh, princess. I want you just like this. Look up, pretty." He instructed, his chin nudging your head from his neck, for you to look forward, a large full length mirror situated right in front of you two. You took in your disheveled self—your two French braids frizzy and falling apart, your neck and chest and breasts covered in blotchy reddish-purple marks, your hips with slight marks from when Jack had gripped you a bit too hard, your skin sweaty and shiny, your lips puffy and swollen just like your pussy. Your eyes flitted to Jack seated behind you, his large upper body barely obstructed by you sitting in front of him. His skin was flushed red, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, his plump lips swollen and well kissed. His hands had moved to rub your thighs, hips, stomach, breasts, anything he could grab onto. It made you moan, seeing how big they were against your body, how much of you he was able to grab in each handful, it drove you crazy.

Your hand moved to rest on top of his, seeing the size difference almost had you moaning. You loved that he was bigger than you, it turned you on and he knew it. You guided his hand up your body, allowing him to feel the dips of your curves as you brought him to cup your chest, your back arching to fill his hand with the delicate flesh. You closed your eyes as he massaged your breast, his fingers tweaking your nipple, twisting and pulling the way you like. You angled your head back, your lips latching on to the spot you knew he liked under his jaw, your ass grinding back against his lap as you spread your legs a bit wider over his thighs. You brought your hand atop his other one, guiding it to where you craved him most, the long digits finding your dripping cunt.

"Please, daddy."

That was all he needed, his hand coming to cup your sex, the external pressure having you grind down in his palm for some friction. He let his middle and ring finger slip between the folds, rubbing back and forth to the rhythm of your hips. You wanted more as you whined, attempting to angle your hips to have his fingers slip in. You felt frustrated, fucked out but not fucked enough; you wanted more, all the while not sure if you could take it. You felt your breathing pick up, defiance rising up in your chest at your frustration with his actions, or lack thereof, so you did the only thing your subbed-out mind could think of—you bit him.

A sharp slap to your pussy had you yelping, your body pressing back into Jack's to escape the feeling, pressing into his erection, making him groan.

"That wasn't nice, princess. Behave and I'll give you what you want." He admonished. "Raise up a little for me." He instructed with a tap to your thigh, your body leaning forward and away from his as he rubbed his dick through your folds again, collecting as much of the slick as he could, knowing that you would be sensitive. He tapped his dick against you a few times, the head hitting your clit and making you jump before pushing into you. He held your hips tight, making sure to control the pace as he watched your scrunched up face in the mirror, knowing that initial press-in would be uncomfortable.

He was slow, pushing in a little bit and holding you there, his hips bouncing a bit as he pulsed his dick inside of you. As he'd watch your face relax, he pressed in a little bit more of himself, thoughtfully watching your reactions in the mirror. It wasn't until you started meeting his pulses with rocking hips did he slide in the rest of the way, one of his hands leaving your hips to rest on your stomach, pulling you back against him as you sat perfectly on his lap, his dick fully inside you.

"Open your eyes, baby girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes." Your eyes flutter open, your eyes lingering on the sight in front of you for a moment before meeting his. He looked in awe of you and it made you blush, but you held eye contact with him. His lips landed on your shoulder, his eyes never leaving contact with yours. The two of you sat like that for a moment, just taking everything in.

Your arms felt limp, but you willed them to wrap around his neck, your head turning to kiss him, his soft lips caressing yours. Your hips shifted a bit, making you pull away to gasp, the new angle hitting your cervix in a way that was intense. He noticed your expression, your brows furrowing as your lips parted. You shifted your hips again and again trying to get used to the sensation, soft noises leaving your lips as Jack whispered encouraging words in your ear.

"You okay, baby? Talk to me."

"It's so deep, Jack. It's too much." You gazed up in his eyes, your soft, doe-like expression driving him crazy. You took his hand that was pressed against your waist, holding you to him, and lowered it further to your naval, pressing his hand against your distended tummy where you felt him. "I feel you right here, it's too deep." You whine, shifting your hips again, allowing his tip to rub against your cervix to emphasize his depth.

"It's not too deep, baby. It's right where it needs to be." He cooed, his hips rocking into you. His actions were slow but forceful, making your head spin as your arm that was still behind his head held on to him for dear life. You squirmed against him, whining and writhing, wanting both more and less of the sensation. You felt him hike your body up further against him, allowing him to raise up off his haunches as he pulled out and pushed back in making you squeal and try to push away from him. Both of his arms came to wrap around you, to keep you in place as he began fucking you, each thrust hitting your cervix and making your toes curl.

"There you go, pretty girl, there you go. Just like that, you can take it." He whispered in your ear, watching your face in the mirror. Watching the way his large body engulfed yours, the way your breasts bounced forward with every thrust, the way your hands clawed at his arms to try to escape the pleasure between your legs. He tightened his hold on you with one arm, his other skimming up your chest to rest on your throat as he picked up the pace of his hips, pulling your body down to meet his. He pressed his face into the side of yours, still watching you in the mirror, thinking about how he had never seen anything so beautiful before. You had one hand grasping his arm around your torso, the other pressed against his thigh in a failed attempt to push him away, your eyes were rolled to the back of your head, the whites of your eyes peeking out from under your lids, thin lines of tears running down your cheeks, your mouth was slightly agape as a small stream of drool dribbled down your chin, nothing but broken moans and the occasional obscenity falling from your swollen lips. He loved knowing he was the one to bring you to this fucked out state, no one else. He felt possessive over this side of you, making him fuck you harder with a primal need.

"You gonna let me cum inside you again? Huh, angel? But, you're no angel, are you? Letting me defile this pussy like this, fuck this perfect pussy like this, huh baby? Letting me fuck you so good, got my princess crying. Open your eyes, baby. Look at how good I'm fucking you." He instructs, his hand around your throat squeezing gently to get your attention. He gives you a few moments to heed his instruction and when you didn't, he fucked you harder, his hand around your throat tightening.

"I said open your eyes, darlin'," he grits out between his teeth with that derby accent, his own orgasm approaching quickly as he bit down on your shoulder. You opened your eyes, blinking away the tears, barely recognizing the woman in front of you being fucked senseless. You barely had control of your senses, your pupils completely blown as your eyes trying to figure out what to focus on. His face? Your face? His hands? Your breasts? His arms? His hips? Or the sight of his dick disappearing into your pussy?

"Look at how sexy you look. Such a goddess with this beautiful body, baby. I love you so much, look at you, what's not to love, huh? So sexy, so beautiful, so smart, so talented, so kind, so funny, so perfect. My perfect girl, my best girl." You can't help but let your eyes fall closed at his praise, but his hand tightening around your throat again caused you to reopen them. "Uh-uh baby. Keep'em open for me. I want you to watch me fuck you, fill you up so good with my cum. Is that what you want, princess? You want me to fill you with my cum?" He chuckles in your ear as you eagerly nod, your hips instinctively rocking back to meet his thrusts, desperate for his cum.

"Yes, yes please, oh god, yes. I need it, daddy, I need your cum, please," you babbled, words tripping over themselves as you looked at him in the mirror with a crazed look of desperation. You're begging for it, nothing will suffice except for his cum filling you up. You feel wild with need, your brain not comprehending anything but the absolute necessity of being filled with his thick load, as if your life depended on it. He loved it when you begged for him, especially when you begged for his cum, knowing how badly you wanted it in your sub-space.

"You're gonna let me cum in your pussy, huh? You're gonna let me fill you up so much it's dripping out of you? You've already made such a mess," referring to the puddle of wetness beneath you two. "I'm gonna fill this pussy up so good. Imma put a baby in you. Would you like that? You want me to put my baby in you? Want me to make you a mommy, princess?" You moaned at his words, your stomach coiling at the thought.

"Yes, yes please. Cum inside me, let me make you a daddy." You begged him, the thought of carrying his child making you hot with need.

"You want that, baby? You want everyone to know I'm the only one who gets to cum inside you? Mark you so everyone knows who you belong to? Have you waddling around with my baby inside you, your belly swelling as you grow our beautiful baby. You'd make such a good mommy, baby." His hands traveling to cup both of your breasts, his hips still keeping their same brutal pace. "I can't wait for these to swell up too, get all sensitive for me to play with." His twisting of your nipples making you groan, your hips moving faster against his as your orgasm starts closing in.

"Please, Jack. Cum inside me, let everyone know who I belong to. Please, I want to have your baby, make you a daddy, make us a family." Your words have him fucking you harder, faster, rougher. His own orgasm so close as his hand goes back down to your lower stomach, his hand pressing down on the area making you feel him even more. You yelp, trying to get away from the overwhelming sensation, but he just presses down harder.

"Don't run from it, darlin'. You said you wanted it, baby. You can take it. Let me fuck this baby into you." His free hand coming to rub your clit, making the coil on your belly snap with just a few swipes. You let out an almost pained groan, your body curling in on itself as your torso drops down to the bed, unable to to hold yourself up anymore, your position now resembling child's pose.

Jack's body is quick to come over yours, his hand still trapped between your thighs under your curled up body, his fingers still rubbing against your clit to prolong your orgasm. You're fully crying, sobbing, wailing, unable to escape the pleasure he was delivering, his hips still sloppily thrusting into you as he finally reaches his own orgasm. His hips press as deep as he can, your new position allowing him to press harshly to your cervix as he releases his thick load inside of you, coating your walls in the warm sticky substance, a sensation that has your toes curling. You both continue to lay there, both of your bodies twitching from the intensity of your orgasms, your pulsing walls continuing to milk his dick for more of his cum, short spurts still shooting out from the tip in his aftershocks. He pulls his hand from between your legs, a wet digit finding its way to between his lips before he offers you one as well. You sleepily take it into your mouth, not having the energy to tease him with your tongue.

"You did so good f'me, darlin'. So good. Such a good girl f'me, you know that. Gonna make such a good mommy to our babies one day. Love you so much." His words are gentle as he kisses your cheek, trying to gently begin bringing you back to the land of the living. You mumble something incoherent to him as a response, your brain too mushy to put together a proper sentence. You two stay like that for a while, his body draped on top of yours, his heat and weight a welcomed comfort after the fucking you had just endured. His hands massages up and down your arms, his heartbeat thumping against your back, the rise and fall of his chest a comforting lull.

"I love you, Jack. So much." You tell him, the clouds finally clearing from your mind. You pull your head up slightly, looking at the mirror in front of you to see the sight before you. His large body hiding yours beneath him made you feel warm and safe, a protective cage surrounding you. You reach your hand around, instinctively reaching for his curls to scratch at his scalp. You knew he needed some aftercare after such intense sessions, so you continued to speak to him.

"You're always so good to me, baby. You take such good care of me. You're all I ever need, Jack. Nothing else. No one else." Your voice is soft as you continue, feeling his arms wrap around you tighter. "I can't wait for us to have a family, you'll be such a wonderful father. You're already such a wonderful partner. You're my provider and protector, my rock and my support, my lover and best friend." You hear a sniffle muffled into your neck, knowing he just needed a moment to bask in your praise. You continue to scratch at his scalp, humming softly to yourself as you continue to ride that post sex bliss.

Once you feel him push up off of your body, you twist your upper body around underneath him, your lower bodies still connected by his softened member. You smile up at him, looking at him with adoring eyes that makes him want to fuck you all over. You take in his face, the space around his eyes definitely wet from what were probably some tears. Sex this intense always had you both emotional, all the hormones being released, the vulnerability of your nakedness. One of your favorite things about Jack was how he wasn't afraid to show you those emotions, knowing that he was just as safe with you as you were with him.

"Gimme a kiss, handsome" you softly command, his lips wasting no time in finding yours. The kiss is gentle and unhurried, full of so much love. When you both pulled away, he kept his face close to yours, his nose nuzzling yours, his cheeks rubbing yours, his beard making you giggle, a smile breaking onto his face at the sound.

You feel him start to pull out of you, your eyes wide as you wrap an arm around his back, your core clenched to lock him in, the pressure on his sensitive dick making him hiss and look at your wide eyed expression in question.

"No, baby. I need to keep it safe." You mumbled to him, remnants of your subspace peaking through. You didn't want to let him go, you didn't want it all to end just yet.

"You want to keep my cum safe, huh baby?" His voice is husky as his eyes darkened. You nod your head, your hips shifting against his as you hear the squelching of his cum inside you. "Okay baby, let's get you more comfortable then, huh. I need you to relax for me, okay?" You take a deep breath, unclenching your pussy, allowing him to maneuver your lower half around, laying you flat on your back without letting him slip from inside of you.

He was sat up, your legs spread apart, your feet propped up on his thighs, as your pussy stuffed with his now semi-hard on was on full display for him. Your thighs and his lap were fully drenched in the sticky wetness, your pussy was creamy with the coating of his first load that had dripped out of you. His fingers came to trace the swollen skin, playing in the mess you two had created. Your clit was swollen, peeking out from the folds like a sweet pearl, making him want to reach down and suck it between his lips.

"You think you can do one more, princess?" His eyes momentarily leave their gaze on your pussy to look up at you. You shook your head at him, but the flutter in your pussy let him know you were just playing coy. "C'mon baby girl, I know you can do it." His thumb finally resting on your clit, applying pressure but not moving. You moaned at the sensation, whining as your hips moved, his hardening dick starting to stretch you out once again. He collected some of the creamy essence from between your legs, his thumb brushing the shiny substance along your nipple before his mouth came down to claim it, moaning against the flesh at the taste. Your hand came to cradle his head to you, his lips mouthing at your sensitive breast while he palmed the other.

"Just one more," you whispered to him, the delicious fullness of his now hard dick inside you had you craving more of him once again. The sensitive sting of your stretched out opening dulled by the tension swirling in your gut. You felt him smirk against you, leaning back up to his kneeling position. He contemplated how he wanted to fuck you, but ultimately decided he wanted to be as close to you as possible as he made love to you.

Jack reached over to grab a pillow, folding it in half as he placed it under your hips before collecting your legs and bringing them together, gently pressing them forward to your chest. He was slow with the process, not wanting to hurt you as he leaned his body down against yours, your legs now over his shoulders, your knees against your chest. You felt a dull ache in your hips at the feeling of being folded in half. Jack's arms came around to cradle you from under your back, your head gently held in his hands as he brought his forehead down to yours. You both closed your eyes, taking deep breaths, enjoying the vulnerable and close position you two were in. You felt his lips on yours, his tongue leisurely gliding against yours, using this as a distraction as he rocked his hips, making you pull away to catch your breath.

"Oh god, Jack." You moaned, the position of your hips being propped up made for his pelvis to rub against your clit. You could hear all of the filthy sounds of your wetness as he began thrusting gently, fucking his cum inside of your pussy. You could feel some of it dripping down from your slit, tickling the seam of your ass cheeks, knowing it was pooling down on the pillow, but you didn't care. He continued to kiss you passionately, making love to you as he used his hands to caress your face, your own doing the same to his as you held him close to you. As much as you both loved fucking, there was nothing like good ol' love making.

"You feel so good around me, baby girl. Fucked you so hard all night and you're still so damn tight around me. This pussy was made for me, wasn't it, angel? Your heart was made for me. Your mind, body, and soul was made for me. No one else, darlin'." His confession, in combination with the pressure on your clit and in your pussy was enough to make you cum, your walls tightening around him as your wetness dripped and squirted, Jack's hips grinding and digging into your pussy to prolong the experience for you. You felt it from your head to your toes, the fire that licked through your veins and swelled in your chest. He kissed around your face and neck as you caught your breath, his lips collecting the salty sweat and tears that fell from the corners of your eyes.

"So perfect." He praised as your breathing leveled slightly. His hips went back to his soft thrusting, his orgasm not too far behind as he felt his balls tighten. He leaned his forehead against your cheek, his head angled down to watch your pussy swallow his dick again and again, both of your cum glistening on it whenever he pulled out, still in awe of how something so tight could accommodate his huge size.

"Please fill me up again, daddy. I need it again." You babbled, catching his attention. You wanted to feel him spilling into you again, the sensation truly addicting as he always filled you up with so much cum each time. "I want to stay so full of you, I want every last drop. Can you do that for me? Can I have it? I've been such a good girl for you, I deserve it." You felt that subspace creeping up on you again, feeling emotional at the thought that maybe he would deny you his cum. He rested his head against yours, both of you cradling the other's face in your palms as you held eye contact, soft grunts coming from both of your lips as Jack's hips sped up.

"I'll give it to you baby, I'll fill you up again and again, keep you filled up and stuffed with my cum. Keep it safe in your womb until you're pregnant with my child. Let everyone know how good I fuck you, how you let me cum deep inside you." His words were cut off by a guttural groan, his stomach clenching as his hips sputtered, his cum filling you up for the third time tonight, the hot substance right against your cervix as he teased his sensitive tip against it to prolong the stimulation. His body felt heavy, but he made sure to lower your legs before collapsing on top of you. His head laid against your chest, as he heaved in a shaky breath, his body twitching with aftershocks, his balls still clenching to try and empty themselves fully into your pulsing pussy.

"I love you, baby, so much," you heard him whisper, his body completely spent, as you used whatever energy you had left in you to scratch at his scalp.

"Love you too."

Read More

[txttletale]

could you elaborate on your thoughts on boom and 73 yards ( i agree with you i am just struggling to put into words why.)

boom was whatever. the initial conceit of the doctor being trapped and having to stay calm was really cool! i really like that. the ambulances that euthanize you if you're not deemed worthy of medical care and the tacky chatgpt hologram ghosts were both really cool ideas. it just doesn't stick the landing for me, the twists are contrived and fall apart given any thought whatsoever. like what the fuck were any of the soldiers Doing if there just straight up weren't any enemies. it's a twist that sounds cool to say more than it has any meaningful impact on the story or the stakes. i guess 'the arms manuifacturer created a fake conflict' is the intended emtional stakes there but that would hit like a hundred times harder if it was an actual conflict between two factions and people were dying, right? like if anything sending a christian militia to blow themselves up tae fuck on a nowhere planet instead of presumably killing actual living people is an improvement, surely?

also the resolution was dumb as fuck lol i am a huge hater of power of love saves the day shit not because i'm a cynical misanthrope but because it never fails to make me say 'oh so i guess nobody ever loved anybody before lol' and this is no exception like if one chatbot can shut down the whole operation beacuse he loves his daughter are we meant to believe that no other parents or hell nobody who loved anybody else for any reason died in this fake war before? it's cheap and schmaltzy and unearned. anyway the first twentyish minutes of this are all-time great doctor who and gatwa/gibson were incredible in it but it absolutely falls apart into a confused pileo f some of the worst Moffatisms at the end

73 yards on the other hand was incredible! obviously like it requires you to approach it with a different mindset to most of doctor who, right, doctor who usually furnishes you with the big explanation scnee where the doctor says 'well the ghosts were actually particle wave vectorforms created with the necros radiation from the god-king's techsceptre' or whatever--this is the usual narrative mode of sci-fi--but 73 yards is fantasy, right, this is the twilight zone, this is 'wouldn't that be fucked up?'. i interrogate the technical and logical specifics of boom so much when i think about it because that's the language boom is speaking, boom is framing itself within this logical, a-to-b worldview, the satisfying click-together puzzlebox. but 73 yards is a nightmare or a folk tale, right? kate stewart¹ says it herself, 'when faced with the inexplicable, we make up rules and apply them to it'.

so yknow reading it that way it all clicks together beautifully, right, (apart from russel t davies' embarassing swing and miss at Political Commentary in the middle. we get it davies you wrote years and years. we know. trust me we know). the doctor and ruby disrupt the binding circle, free mad jack, and are punished -- the doctor, as perpetrator, with being banished (perhaps in jack's place) and ruby with her worst fear coming true constantly, until ruby defeats mad jack, re-sealing him and fixing what she broke, at which point the circle rewards her by reversing the punishments. and the core horror i think is very effective and unsettling! the idea that there is something that someone could say to turn everyone against you, the closest people to you in your life, your own family, the institutions that are meant to deal with the exact problem you're having--that's fucking terrifying! and yknow i think especially as an autistic trans lesbian something that speaks to me a lot

so yeah. i think that boom establishes its logics and framework and then trips and falls onto its face while 73 yards does the same and then makes perfect use of them. that said i think in 20 years people who are autistic about doctor who will be like 'did you know in the 2020s there were two episodes in a row where the doctor caused the entire plot to happen by stepping on something' and thjatll be the main thing they're remembered for

[rogueddie]

Safety Net T | 545 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is feeling safe

When Eddie told Steve that he would be there for him no matter what, that the monsters he's trying to keep Eddie safe from don't scare him, that Steve will always be his number one...

Well, he didn't think the monster part was literal.

He's sure that the only thing getting him through the Upside Down was pure adrenaline.

But, now that they're out, he can feel it catching up to him. He struggles to keep his hands still as he points out the war zone ad.

Steve is the only thing holding him together. He keeps shifting closer, swaying so their shoulders bump together or finding an excuse to lean over, so their sides are pressed together. He even managed to use Max on the phone as the perfect excuse to throw his arm over Eddie's shoulders.

But, holding a bin lid with nails hammered through it and looking down at Dustin... a kid, someone so young and small and...

"Eddie?" Dustin calls, worried.

"I need a minute, alone, ok? Just- one moment."

He stumbles back into the RV, relieved to hear Dustin arguing against whoever tries to follow him inside.

Until the door opens and Steve snaps back at him; "I'm making sure he's ok. If he doesn't want me here then he can tell me and I'll leave."

Dustins response is lost in how hard Steve slams the door shut, locking it before turning to Eddie.

"Oh, Eds," he whispers.

He sits next to him, wrapping him up in his arms. It's easy enough with how Eddie is sat, arms curled around his knees and hugging his legs to his chest.

"This is horrible," Eddie mumbles, turning so he can bruy his face in Steves neck, grabbing onto the front of his top. "I hate this, I hate this so much."

"I know," Steve shushes him, rocking him slightly, brushing one hand through his hair. "I know. I've got you. We're gonna win this, ok? We've got a plan. We've done this before. It's going to be ok. You're going to be ok."

"You can't promise that. This whole... thing... it's fucked, man, it's so fucked."

"I can and I am. You're going to be ok," Steve gently pulls back a little, so he can look Eddie in the eye, one hand cupping his face. "You are. You just have to listen to Dustin on this. He's a shit, but he cares about you. You just need to get through the gate, that's it. You'll be alright."

Eddie snorts, grabbing hold of Steves wrist and keeping his hand pressed to his face. "Telling me to listen to Dustin? Now I know you're lying, it's the end of the world, he's gonna hold that over our heads for the rest of our lives."

"Oh, it'll be terrible." He lifts his other hand, holding Eddies face in his hands, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. "Seriously though, Eds, you'll be fine. You're gonna be safe, I'll make sure of it. I'll give Dustin whatever rant he needs to hear. You're gonna be fine and then we can finally go on that coffee date."

"Steve-"

"I promise. I'll do anything I need to do to keep you safe. Anything."

"Just... come back to me."

[steddieas-shegoes]

frankie

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'freak'

rated t | 930 words | cw: temporary character death | tags: canon-adjacent events, frankie pov, eddie munson lives

🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Frankie doesn't think he's a freak. He knows he's not the typical teenager, but he definitely knows there's weirder dudes out there.

Take Eddie Munson, for example. He's fuckin' weird.

He knows people call him a freak for a lot of reasons: he's got long hair, likes heavy metal, plays DnD, and is allegedly queer.

Frankie stays under the radar as much as possible, but he ends up at Eddie's table, sitting next to his one and only friend, Jeff. Eddie's starting a DnD club, needs people who are serious about playing long campaigns. He's a senior and "wants to leave a legacy."

Jeff convinces him to try it out.

He tries it out.

He has fun.

He becomes a freak, too.

And, actually, Eddie isn't really a freak. He's eccentric, sure, but he's definitely not what everyone implies when they call him that.

He's kind in his own way, inviting to people where most other kids at school have their cliques and don't let anyone else in. He's funny, too, sometimes completely unintentionally.

His Uncle is nice enough to let them use their trailer for campaigns, at least until Eddie is able to convince the school to let them use the storage room in the auditorium. They have to fight for space, especially when it comes time for the end of year drama club performance.

Frankie doesn't think much about what will happen when Eddie graduates. He assumed Jeff will run the club since he's Eddie's right hand man.

But Eddie doesn't graduate.

Frankie starts to get into the same music as him, no longer worried about wearing his Black Sabbath shirt to school. It's just music.

He doesn't worry about shaving his head, letting his natural curls grow out a little.

Maybe he's more of a freak than he thought, but it doesn't bother him when he hears others whisper it under their breath. Eddie wears it like a badge of honor, and now he does too.

****

When the news reports that Eddie is the suspect in the murder of Chrissy Cunningham, Frankie knows they've got it wrong.

Eddie is a lot of things, he's a freak, he's different. But he's not a murderer.

He's also gay as fuck, and while very few people know that, Frankie knows he had no intentions with that girl other than to sell to her. Maybe he should have been more careful, but he's gotten away with it this long. Eddie never pushes anything on anyone, only sells to those who seek him out, so there's no way she wasn't the one who wanted drugs.

It seemed to Frankie like a wrong place, wrong time situation for all involved.

Eddie was missing, which means he got scared and ran, and Frankie isn't sure what that means for any of them.

Everything is hanging in a weird balance for days.

Gareth swears he saw him in an RV when his parents dragged him to The War Zone, but no one believed him. Frankie didn't not believe him, he just figured Eddie was probably already out of the state.

Guilty people may run, but so do innocent people with a bounty on their head.

***

Frankie doesn't think Eddie is coming back.

He sees Dustin crying and handing Wayne something. He sees Steve Harrington of all people in Eddie's vest, a vest that now has some suspicious stains on it.

No one mentions him for a while.

Gareth is a mess, and Jeff keeps saying that he'll come back, but the news spreads that he's dead and Frankie feels like he's the only one who is taking that seriously. He doesn't realize how much he's hurting until they're standing in Jeff's garage with no idea how to fill the space Eddie left in the band.

"I think we should have auditions," Jeff says quietly.

"I think you should fuck yourself," Gareth bites back.

Jeff sighs. Gareth crosses his arms.

"I think you guys should come with me," Lucas interrupts from the driveway.

They go with him because Frankie is sure he wouldn't have even spoken to them if it wasn't important. They barely talked since everything happened over Spring Break, but now that school's starting up again, they'll need to figure out Hellfire Club.

He leads them out of the neighborhood and towards the neighborhood at the bottom of the hill: Loch Nora. The nice neighborhood.

It's hot and Frankie and Gareth are both sweating by the time they make it to their destination: Steve Harrington's house.

"You guys can't say shit to anyone, got it? You'll put us all at risk." Lucas is glaring at all of them as he knocks in a very specific pattern on the front door.

"Are you leading us to our deaths?" Frankie asks, only half-joking.

"Despite what Mayfield thinks, I'm not gonna kill anyone."

"Eddie!" Gareth yells as he runs past Frankie and Jeff into the house.

"Alright, keep it down." Steve says from the couch. "Neighbors don't need to know he's hiding out here."

"Holy shit, it's good to see you," Jeff finally says as it registers that Eddie is actually in front of them.

"You know, I was prepared to take on the role of freak," Frankie said quietly. "Just to protect all your sheepies."

Eddie smiled at him. "Yeah?"

Frankie nodded.

"Well, you still can. I'm not gonna go back to school anyway."

"So what will you do?" Frankie asked.

"Not sure," Eddie shrugged. "Teach you my ways, I guess."

Frankie smiled at him. "First lesson: how'd you come back from the dead, dude?"

[xviiperr]

can I please request yandere romantic headcannons of scourge and sonic with incredibly smart reader? like, really really cunning and observant. thank you in advance!

Of course! Man oh man am I excited! Thank you for the requests you guys! I looked at both of the requests and an idea popped in my head— the most clever one I have ever had (joking)��� what if I combined them together?

A smart reader with two smitten hedgehogs fawning over them is a brilliant mix of unknown chaos and adventure! (And of course, danger). I sure do like the concept of a competition between hero and villain, a trope used since the dawn of time. I wasn't able to elaborate much on freedom fighter stuff because, no matter what I wrote, I just didn't like it lol.

Also, I made art for this! Looks a little cringe but, I couldn't help but try something new! Y'all can use them as pfps or whatever if you like them a lot but, please credit me! (Sonic's came out a little....interesting lol. I keeping on thinking of those Snapcube dubs omg).

Reader is gender neutral and uses you/your pronouns!

TW: cursing, physical harm (not to you but, definitely to Sonic and Scourge) blood, yandere shenanigans: stalking, possessiveness, obsessiveness, murder, sabotage. Another note! Sonic thinks about putting you, the reader, in danger.

Is it proof read? Sorta, not as much as I like to! School's getting busy and fanfiction is helping me survive! Figured if I was able to post this, then I am able to do anything that school has me involved in!

For Sonic and Scourge, it would be incredibly difficult, basically impossible for you to be shared with either one of them. You wouldn't get much down time with these guys around, constantly following and pestering you about: "Who's the better hedgehog?" Your life, Anons, will be a living Hell. Prepare for a game of tug-of-war between two idiots!

Let's start with talking about Scourge.

Scourge would be very adamant on trying to get you to join his team. You're smart and he knows this, much more clever than his compatriots and his now ex-girlfriend, Fiona. He's so desperate for your attention, picking fights with anyone who gets in the way of talking or being by you. And here's where the first problem comes from: you're on Sonic's team. You. You are a part of the Freedom Fighters. And that pisses him off.

Why are you wasting your talents on a bunch of babies? Scourge doesn't care if he has to travel across the zones to find you and take you with him. But, he doesn't count on you being much more smarter than he thought. In the midst of a battle with Egghead's badnicks, Scourge appears out of a portal to try and snag you away. He launches across the greenery, grinning madly. He's finally going to get you and—

Scourge could've sworn that his jaw was dislocated and then broken. It throbbed furiously and he struggled to gather his bearings. His head spun violently. You saw him coming from a mile away, despite his quills supposedly blending him in with the environment. That damn jacket of his gave him away. His prized possession! (Aside from his crown and you, of course). You sent a hunk of Dr. Robotnick's heavy machinery straight at him, letting the robot do the work for you and send him flying away. He was way too dizzy, blood dripping from his nose and a possible concussion. Hell.

You spared him a moment's glance and then took off to help Amy clobber some more tin heads. By now, Sonic had noticed Scourge and was already working his way over in record time, something even Scourge wasn't expecting. The expression on Sonic's face warned of a promised beating and perhaps, even worse, death. Scourge staggered to his feet, turned heel and bolted as fast as he could before he got a generous pummelling from the Blue Blur. He soared into the portal just in time, avoiding a nasty fate. Scourge hit the ground with a bone rattling thud, cursing when he bit on his lip too hard.

He's angry, oh yes he is but, he had to admit, he kinda liked that. Scourge hates to say that he did. You have the same quality that drew him into Fiona— your mind. It's really unfair that you're on Sonic's team though. Now he has to figure out how he's gonna come back, not get his ass beat and take you home with him. You're much smarter than he was anticipating. Scourge that night decides to spare no time for sleep, mind hooked on how you looked at him. How you outwitted him, not even using your own fists to take him down.

Scourge stares at a cabinet in his castle, pondering. Gutting Sonic doesn't sound like half of a bad idea. With that idiot out the way, Scourge gets to have all of your attention on him. The Freedom Fighters though...those mutts are still going to be in the way. Scourge has been itching to become the one and only Sonic, even if he liked the attention he was getting from the rest of the crew, Scourge needed to be in charge of things here. He's gonna figure out how to worm his way into your life and force you to work with him.

Now, what about Sonic?

Sonic loves your intellectual prowess, constantly checking back with you. He wants to hear more about your ingenious creations, (maybe he can even use them to his advantage!) and in general, have you speak to him about everything you come up with. Sonic does not want to share you with your friends though, as much as he likes how they positivity impact your mind, he feels that he should have sole possession of your heart. (He might just go and take it anyway, don't worry, you'll have a mechanical heart to keep you alive!) Instead, Sonic encourages you to hang out with his friends. With you being around his friends, Sonic doesn't have to worry as much.

Whatever your brain delves into, Sonic wants to hear all about it, as said before but, reiterated. (Y'see, this is a really important point). Now, Sonic knows that another hedgehog, specifically the embodiment of a snotball, is also after your affections. He's not going to let that bully get any of your time, always being the first to rush towards Scourge and hit him with the old sucker (his fist). Sonic will do anything to get that vermin off your tail, even convincing Shadow and Knuckles to help him out. Now depending on whether Shadow and Knuckles are yandere will also determine on how much they're willing to help Sonic out. Either way, thanks to Sonic's undeniable charm, he is able to enlist assistance to fend off Scourge. Sonic is even proud of beating Scourge up.

And to make matters worse, Sonic will boast about beating up Scourge at every chance he gets. Now, that being said, it's not out of character for Sonic to gloat over his victories, especially bullies but, he goes further into detail. Sonic is happy that he gave Scourge a well worth punch to the snout to think about. And if Sonic hit Scourge hard enough to the point that Scourge was bleeding—he's ecstatic. From then on, Sonic will constantly bring up the subject of hitting someone so hard that they started bleeding. Sonic uses this as bragging rights and also, a not so well hidden reminder of how strong he is. You belong to him.

Sonic cannot help but replay that day over and over again in his head. Scourge slips through the portal, laughing out loud and being an overall idiot. Scourge's first move is to find and capture you, even stating it out loud. That was his first mistake, giving him right away to Sonic, who started hitting heavier on badnicks. Sonic remembered that he felt panicked, that he wouldn't get to you in time to save you. But, as it turned out, you didn't need any saving. You were just fine on your own. In fact, you had the time to set up a little surprise, just for Scourge.

Shock was an understatement to describing Sonic's face after your clever trick. Instead of fighting tooth and nail to get away from Scourge, (you didn't even have to worry about stepping close at all, due to your ingenuity) you had sent the biggest badnick catapulting at Scourge, hitting him smack dab in the face. Sonic was sorry that he wasn't able to catch up to Scourge, to give him a nice little beat down. That factor made him rather pouty for the rest of the evening, however, that didn't stop Sonic from singing praises about your smarts. He acted like he couldn't believe that you were able to do that. It almost felt like Sonic was being condescending. That you should have been captured, only for Sonic to save the day.

That day, Sonic sat out on the beach, daydreaming about the many different ways that he could save you. From that fight, he learned that you wouldn't actually need him and that fact hurt Sonic more than he liked to admit. Yes, putting you in a dangerous situation might be the trick to get you to fall even more in love with him. But, that could also mean that Scourge would be there to save the day instead. And knowing Scourge, he would definitely out Sonic for his actions, just to win your favor. Sonic had to think carefully on how he was going to handle this.

[sunny-mercya]

Collapsed

Trafalgar Law x Male Reader

Fandom -> One Piece

Requested by -> @bunbunboysworld

Masterlist | Related OS |

It had been two weeks—which equals into 14 days and those were approximately, plus minus, 336 hours—since you had fallen into a coma.

A coma which could've been prevented if your captain wasn't so recklessly careless with your health and—in a sense of way, profusely—ignored your medical needs—at least that's how Laws oh so humble opinion of view about this was.

When you had collapsed, for once and final—in the mere hours of the ultimate last battle, after you stood up once more to fight, against Kaido—Law picked you up and teleported back to the Polar Tang, into the Medical room, hooking you up on the machines and tubes—doing is best to get you stable.

Your heartline had deflated more than once during the first attempts of getting you stable enough—out of the death threatening double zero blood sugar zone—and Law, by any means of being a damned good Doctor, had doubted himself all these hours whenever your heart dropped out of living.

For someone, mused Law to himself in his lonesome thoughts—which he couldn't share with you at the moment, to get your input and opinions about whatever plagues his mind—like Monkey D. Luffy, who declares literally war against everyone and anything, even against humanity itself if needed to be, when whoever dares to hurt his dear friends—he really does like to care little and less about the wellbeing of his own crew mates.

Slumping down onto a chair next to you, Law breathed out a heavily sigh of defeat—his hand moving towards your ashen face, fingers gently tracing over the feverish skin.

»[Name]-ya, would you even agree to leave the Strawhats and come with me instead?« a whispering question, Law knew would never be answered and which he also would never dare to repeat to you again.

But Law wished, longing in a sort of way even, that you would just stay with him instead of Luffy—but knowing your faithfulness of loyalty you have pledged and declared loudly—especially against the whole Marines and Admiral Akinau—during the battle of Marine-Ford to the Strawhat and what history you have with him, Law knew you would never waver and Law himself didn't want to force you to choose between two sides.

~~~

The first thing Law hears, when going to the Strawhats—wanting to ask either Robin or Chopper, if they could bring some of your clothes to him—was how Luffy declared you as almost dead and Law stopped in his tracks—Bepo, Sachi and Penguin crashing into his back and looking slightly confused and concerned at him.

Mentally Law counted till ten and he also tries to recall, when he ever said something along those lines. He certainly didn't.

Law did say, that your health condition is still considered critical and that it takes a while for you to recover—but he definitely never said that you're dying or being dead.

»[Name]-ya isn't dying. Not anytime soon and not when I'm still a Doctor.« comment Law, making his way to Robin, greeting her with a curt nod.

»But Traffy! You said [Nickname] is close to death,«

Law wonders why he still bothers with such a Captain as Rival.

»Yes. When [Name]-ya's blood sugar reaches Zero and if no one's there to keep him stable or gives him the insulin, than he's close to deaths door. I did explained before, didn't I?« Law sighed out, clenched his jaw and trying his best not explode any seconds from the up building anger.

How many times did he told them? More than often. From Punk Hazard all the way to Wano, Law had explained—even in simple folk terms—what sort of medical issue you having, what it caused and how to prevent it mostly—but here they are, once again, having to go such discussion repeatedly again.

»If you had listen, to what I have said at Punk Hazard and Dressrosa, then you wouldn't need to ask again.« Law might have said it a bit harshly, but to the above—he doesn't care at the moment.

Laws tired, honestly exhausted, having slept at all these past weeks—he hadn't a good schedule of sleep to begin with, always being a bit insomniac—hadn't a good cup of coffee either, because he only ever drinks it when your brewing him one—it just taste much better in his opinion—and besides him having to do his duties as a Captain and Doctor—he's in a constant mood of worry over you.

So, please, excuse Law when he's about to be done with whatever nonsense shit Monkey D. Luffy is babbling on about.

»You know Strawhat-ya, if you keep this up, I might just snatch [Nickname]-ya away from you. After all I'm his husband, so he belongs to me and I honestly to god don't give a fucking shit, if this means war between us.«

For once, Law doesn't stop himself to speak unfiltered when tired—feeling rather relieved even to have said such declaration now.

»Ehhhh?! Whatcha mean? Watcha mean with this Traffy?!«

Law ignores Luffy's whining questions and his bouncing around—thanking Robin, ignoring her teasing smile and made his way back to the Polar-Tang.

~~~

When you woken up from your coma, you had been barely awake and neither responsive—you still weren't, even after days, falling back into the clutches of sleep more than often.

Once you were more coherent enough to respond to Laws medical questions and doings, he had deemed you not critical of condition anymore, but still not recovered.

»It's....hot...« you mumble out, moving—albeit still weakly—under the blankets, wanting some coolness onto your skin.

»I'll bring you another frozen washcloth soon.« said Law, turning another page of his book—a book about medical history—sitting next to you on the bed, his bed to be exact—had moved you there, after Law was certain you didn't need the machines to keep your heart and lungs from collapsing.

You suffering through a high fever and an sensitive stomach—couldn't keep any sorts of food in, without vomiting it out right after—was an outcome Law had predicted to come—after all, blood sugar comas were tricky.

Law's glad it's only a high fever you had gotten and not something like internal bleeding or decaying limps—like said before, blood sugar coma are tricky life threatening risky.

»Can I have.....uhm....that one warm drink too? Please?«

»Hot Chocolate?«

»Yes! No, wait, the other warm drink, what I had last night,«

»Tea?«

»Yeah, yeah tea, please.«

»Sure, whatever you wish for, love.«

Marking the page and putting his book away on the nightstand, Law lays himself down—getting more comfortable—to you, arm draping over your blanket covered stomach, while his other hand supports his head.

Such flushed, Law mused to himself with an upcoming impish boy smile—blood flowing red your face is—expression and the slight sweat, suits you really well and if you weren't currently bed ridden and on recovery—Law would have nibbled on your exposed skin already, teasing and edging you till you're close of passing out.

Although Law couldn't enjoy some passionate sex with you, he could cuddle with you as much as he wants now and this sounds by far like a much better deal anyways—after all, you and him are more separated than together, so Law takes every opportunity he gets to have you.

Perhaps, Law doesn't have to declare War against the Strawhat—not as long as you're sick anyways and once recovered and healthy, maybe than Law could persuade you to go with him from now on.

Law had lost his focus on his train of thoughts and all his future plans, when you booped his nose. Raising an eyebrow in amusement, Law glances down at you.

»Law, please, I'm hot and I also wanna have some tea and cuddles.« you pouted a bit, scrunching up your face from the uncomfortable warmth.

»As you wish.« Law leaned down, giving you a kiss on the forehead and moving from the bed.

Law's indeed glad—despite the circumstances of how—to be a Doctor and you're his patient, but he's absolutely overjoyed to have you has his Husband now and forever.

[nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma]

Daenerys is 14

And she does stay in Slavers Bay and try to rebuild the economy. Source: A Dance With Dragons.

She spends much of the book trying to negotiate new trade deals with the Lhazarene and the Qartheen, trying to plant new olive groves and bean fields, trying to reform the guilds membership so former slaves can earn proper wages as skilled craftsmen. She tries to assimilate with Meereenese culture to ease a peaceful transition of power, she consults with their priestess, she adopts their religious rites and their uncomfortable traditional dress, she agrees under pressure to marry a Meereenese noble (she doesn't force anyone into marriage at dragonpoint like in the show). And she goes out personally to feed and care for the sick and starving refugees at her door, she tries to set up quarantine zones to slow the spread of infection.

And yeah she falls short. But the odds are stacked against her. She's 14, for starters. And before she arrived the slavers burnt all the olive groves and salted the soil so she couldn't use them, and as she calculates it will take 30 years before the land will be truly productive again. She also has the Meereenese slaving class working very hard to sabotage her by funding domestic terrorism within the city. And she has to deal with a refugee crisis, a famine, a plague, and an alliance of pro-Slavery states forming a blockade around Meereen and threatening to siege the city.

True the refugee crisis is arguably due to her leaving Astapor. She set up a new government, but she should have stayed longer to consolidate it. But she is only 14, and her main adviser/parental figure is too busy being a pro-slavery pedophile.

And the fall of Astapor isn't completely on her shoulders. She left adults in charge, people with qualifications and who knew the land and people better than she did. They had political agency and responsibility. As did Cleon. He could have chosen not to overthrow the Council and name himself King. He could have chosen to heed Daenerys when she told him "don't start a war with the Yunkai". And the Yunkai could have chosen not to slaughter Astapor and chase the refugees to Meereen. They could have simply removed Cleon and then recognised Daenerys had no part in his actions. The Yunkai could have chosen not to then declare war on Meereen.

The institution of slavery is complicated to overthrow and complicated to replace and even complicated in the ways it reasserts itself. Daenerys isn't the only actor here who determines the fate of Slavers Bay (though if she unleashes her dragons she can certainly become the most decisive actor again). The entire point of ADWD is that it's much more complicated than that - its GRRM's answer to "what was Aragorn's tax policy?". She is a 14 year old child who does her best against impossible odds, and who explicitly puts any dreams of Westeros on hold indefinitely. Time and time again she is offered the chance and means to sail for Westeros, and she turns it down each time because she knows she can't leave the people of Meereen behind to die.

And hopefully the lesson she learns by the end of ADWD is that she has to stop being conciliatory towards the slaving class. She spares the lives of hostages, she opens the fighting pits for them, she gives up her body in marriage, and still they try to poison her to install Hizdhar as King. Mercy isn't a weakness, but the people who have a vested interest in slavery aren't going to stop just because you ask them nicely (like that garbage show GOT seems to think). She's got to use her dragons.

No, critiquing her failures isn't the same as defending slavery. But claiming that she never tried, and ignoring the odds stacked against her, is false. As for blaming her for Slavers Bay falling into chaos and suffering... First off, again, she isn't the only responsible actor with agency - I maintain that the fall of Astapor was pretty much out of her hands. And second, it ignores the massive scale of human suffering that already gripped slavers bay. The daily violence inflicted on slaves - the families torn apart, the lives destroyed, the children mutilated, the thousands of dead babies killed to initiate the Unsullied, the tortures and crucifixions and whippings and executions and rapes.

Ignoring that isn't that far off from defending slavery. Claiming that the violence that overthrew slavery is worse than the violence that is slavery isn't that far off from defending slavery. Should no one ever dare strike off a slaves chains just because they can't account for the violence that could come after? Is the crucifixion of child-murdering Slavers worse than the crucifixion of innocent children?

Or to bring up another literary scenario with more moral equivalency and ambiguity - was the Tenth plague upon the firstborns of Egypt worse than the mass culling of infant slaves? Who do you blame for the Ten Plagues of Egypt? Should Moses have left well enough alone?

[wildestheart4ever]

@stealingyourbones @ashfly

In this AU, Danny is Jason’s paternal grandfather. [Does DP take place in like the 70s if I'm making Danny this old in the current time? Idk, but the idea of changing the era in which it takes place is always an interesting concept]

It takes place in an "Ultimate Enemy" AU, everyone dies and Danny is left a sad bitter drifter [Destroying all Fenton equipment and research, and avoiding Vlad like the plague, every encounter growing more hostile]. To add to the general angst, he’s also basically on a one-man mission to burn down the GIW.

He did not take the GIW into that much account, so Danny spends years being hunted and equally destroying GIW bases. Unbeknownst to him, the GIW had been keeping a very keen eye on the Fentons and their work [not to mention unearthing Vlad's brand of work], and thus Danny seethes at his failure

At some point, he tries to lead some semblance of a human life after sticking to the Ghost Zone and learning the ways of the ghosts for a while [He finally destroys the portals after learning to make portals on his own - if the destruction of Vlad's portal leads to Vlad sustaining a fatal injury, well whatever].

He meets someone, someone he feels he can trust with his secrets, and pursues a life with them. Cue marriage in the courthouse, cue bun in the oven. Cue nice shit for a while that has him thinking everything will be okay

Cue GIW being generally awful [Police investigating, worried neighbors, ransacked apartment, and a missing wife. Cold rage and unsettled officers, his eyes turn red for the first time.]

Dead wifey on a metal table, bun in the oven missing, and cue Danny’s faith in humanity taking a severe blow.

He loses his shit.

Growing older, growing bitter, and his moral compass turning all the more grayer [at some point wondering why he's been letting these people live]. He hunts GIW bases with a bloody vengeance and any stragglers that might've escaped? Well, he's got plenty of hounds and shadows to send on the hunt.

He turns anti-ish humans, bitter and angry.

Years continue to pass and the staggering numbers of agents loyal to the anti-ghost organization grow smaller, enough for Danny to pull back and leave only a few shades to keep a lookout. With that, he keeps mostly to the Infinite Realms, dead and resentful but taking great care of his people.

Why did he never find Willis or Jason? Well, I say it's because Gotham is a pretty strong city spirit, so her ecto signature kinda masks the ghostly residents living there.

Baby grows up to be Willis, but more on the weirder ghostly nonsense side. I like the idea of him being a good dad before things went to shit, teaching Jason about all the ways of the ghost [Not that either of them knew that. They’re not as ghostly as Danny, it’s just subtle things like cores communication and sneakiness]

Jason goes through his tragic events before his and B’s fateful meeting. Cue Jason being noticeably weird and ghostly in the Manor halls [his and Dick’s first meeting is Jason scaring the shit of Dick. One minute Dick is angry and looking to pick a bone with Bruce, the next, there's a child standing behind him staring at him - where'd he come from? Cause he sure as shit didn't hear anyone walk into the room.]

Danny is part of JL, only as a member that they call for hopeless scenarios. He is pretty unapproachable and JL is just relieved he’s willing to help at all.

He's a somber man by the time that first meeting comes around, bitter, unapproachable, and carries a distinct dislike for humans. The JL are only grateful that he's willing to give his help at all. Do they know about his quiet war with the GIW? No, Phantom keeps measures in keeping it all hush hush, he doesn't let agents get the chance to report incidents or call for outside help, in fact, he makes it all look like an accident when he's feeling particularly vicious.

Jason meets Phantom in an apocalyptic mission he wasn’t supposed to be in. Shrinks under the man’s intense gaze and quietly thinks Dick’s opinion of the man is spot on, he’s an overwhelming force and it feels like he’s being stared down by a predator.

He thinks the old man looks kinda sad.

But strangely enough, he also feels familiar.

[I like to think that there’s such a thing as familial cores, that can communicate impressions and feelings, that resonate deeper than a core would with a stranger. Like beacons.] Their cores are the source of purring. Jason's embarrassed to say the thrum [The one he's known and taken comfort in all his life] within him sounds almost like a kitten's purr, questioning, and yearning. The man's? It sounds almost like Willis' used to: Like a crocodile, deep and guttural, a sound so chilling yet feels warm and tentative. Hopeful and just as strangely yearning as his.

I also just get the image of Bambi meeting his dad for the first time lol

Batman swoops in like an over protective parent. Phantom is demanding where did he find Jason, he’s agitated and asking all sorts of questions B doesn’t have all the answers to.

Batman asks for the reason for Phantom’s desperate interest in Jason.

“Our cores share resonance, a factor only found in familial relationships”

Now B knows about Jason’s oddities, has a year getting used to them - but it’s never occurred to him the source or read for them.

The age difference hides a lot, but B can see a lot of the family resemblance. It’s in their bro, the shape of their jaw, the shape of their eyes

The burning green Jason’s eyes turn to when overwhelmed.

Cue Danny finding maybe not the child he thought he lost, but a grandchild and he makes it abundantly clear he wants some involvement in the boy’s life.

And a health check. Gotham may have been able to sustain Jason but she is still a cursed city, god knows how that affected the ghostling’s health.

[If Batman tries to search up every possible thing about the Ghost Kings from his human life, well, it's not like Gotham will tell - heck, she probably helps nudge him along. Gotta make sure Jaylad's last living(???) biological relative would be a good thing in his life]

Jason’s life proceeds as normal, even as he tries to forget the fact he has a grandfather who’s the king of another dimension and that there are now shadows dogging his steps. That's not mentioning the trips he gets to make to the Infinite Realms.

If he grows impish and generally more creepy? Batman nor Batgirl mention it. A far cry from the mischievous demeanor Dick built Robin on. They don't mention how his giggle now feels chilling or foreboding, or how their adrenaline pumps when he exercises his invisibility, Batman refuses the thought of it feeling like a predator stalking prey - he's sure the goons already think that enough as is.

Then you know what happens: Joker has been keeping a keen eye on Batman and his lot, he knows about Batman’s little birdy’s weirdness and……well, he is eager to play with the new toys he got from that decrepit little organization he found.

Cue the tragedy, cue an angry grieving Bat and an even angrier king.

Phantom is there at the funeral, disguised as a human [He doesn't have a human form, not anymore.]. Making it clear to Bruce he blames him just as much for this tragedy.]

Phantom spent weeks searching in the deepest corners of the Infinite Realms hoping to find the forming remains of his grandson. Phantom is only left with the knowledge that the boy passed over to the beyond.

Anything left of his patience for humans snaps like a frayed thread.

The king is furious, demanding why the boy felt the need to find family elsewhere, demanding why he was left alone

He wants blood

[I suppose he turns into a different flavor of Dan, he’s not targeting just everyone, he’s just targeting those involved down from the Joker to what remains of everyone involved with that damned organization]

He basically declared war on them.

Superman in a typical fashion when faced with Batman’s first attempt on the Joker’s life, tries to reason with the ghost.

Phantom isn’t having it.

“I’m going to make this very clear to you, Kal El. The prince of the Infinite Realms, my beloved grandson, the last of my family, has been murdered by a retched human, using weapons designed against my kind. If you think I’m going to sit idle or let you and anyone else get in my way? Don’t expect mercy from me and mine.

Try to get in my way Kryptonian, I dare you.”

Ghouls and shades swarm everywhere, particularly in Gotham [She is facing the punishment of being unable to protect her bird, even if he’s left her reach], the ghost in the cursed city become visible to the human eye as they help search for the Joker.

He’s found, by the king’s knight. Dragged kicking and giggling as he’s thrown at the king’s feet.

The king grabs the retched clown’s head with a large clawed hand and stares the Joker in the eye as he slowly freezes his insides

While many silently rejoice over the monster finally meeting his end, they cannot stand to look as bloody icicles stab through the man from within.

The beheading seems pointless, but watching this man rip off the Joker’s head, they get the feeling the Ghost King could not help the display of violence

He was stating a point.

Danny loses all faith in humanity and makes it known. He's pissed.

Basically, Batman had one job and he blew it, so there goes whatever relationship the JL had with Phantom.

JL is now missing one of their heavy hitters.

Tim watches Batman spiral and Gotham grow more obviously haunted.

It's like a war zone

Jason returns from the dead and Danny instantly knows about it [he had shades guarding his grave, he knows]. Cue him following his catatonic grandbaby and basically becoming a helicopter parent - Ras is kept in line at the threat of his corrupted bath water being taken from him, and Danny vaguely threatens Talia as he discerns her intentions towards Jason.

The Prince returns to Gotham and the shades are supporting his violent hobbies.

Jason's a little thrown off to find that the Joker had been publicly murdered execution-style.

He goes back to his apartment to think and finds Grandpa waiting for him. He's a little shocked and ill at ease at the massive grudge the old man holds for Batman.

Phantom offers Lady Gotham an apology, citing her inability to interfere. But Batman is a different matter.

That’s all I got for now. Lol, this got very long and I wasn’t expecting to be hit with the inspiration, might think of more soon.

I’ll add what I imagine old King Danny looks like in a minute. Is it necessary? No, but I have to share it with you.

How Danny looks:

I know everyone is a fan of twink!Danny but I'm leaning more on Jack's side of the gene pool in this case. The dude is huge, broad, and towers over everyone by several inches [Jason's epic growth spurt makes more sense when you look at his family lineage lol]. You know that thing Walker does where he's normal heights one moment, and looming sky high the other? Yeah, Danny can do that.

His getup? From what comes up at the top of my head: Something between Dan’s suit and lightweight gothic-style armor, spikes, and beady eyed skulls galore. He doesn’t wear gloves so you can see he charred black claws and he doesn't wear a chest plate, so it reveals the tattered remains of the insignia Sam made for him [I’m honestly thinking of Infinity War!Steve, with how roughened up he looks].

He's like Alfred's age, maybe older. He always has a severe frown on his face. Generally looks like he's one step away from losing his patience

Corpse pale skin, almost bluish

Wispy hair. Some say it looks like it's moving like it's underwater, others think it's wispy and foggy lookin' like dry ice. Along with the crown, it looks like his hair is flaming, which he tries not to think about.

Three eye colors: The general acid green - default, pale ice blue - when using his powers, red - when he's really pissed off. There used to be a fourth, the soft sky blues of when he was human. Jason had his eyes, Danny's sad those were gone too.

He has fangys, he will use them. In fact, he can stretch his jaws wide open horror style to reveal rows of sharp teeth.

Claws, he'll use those too. Long black claws up to his second knuckles, cold blue up to the center of his palms.

[northlt03]

Rosekiller one shot

Tw: death

Barty goes to war, he doesn't have the money nor the influence like Evan does to avoid it forever. He has to.

He goes kicking and screaming and fighting the whole way but he has to go.

When they were younger, not yet directly touched by the conflicts between countries , Barty told Evan about his fear, his only fear . Death.

He never understood his father's points about fighting for honror or dying for their country. He was a child and like a child, he was scared of dying. What would come after it? How would hsi loved ones react? What would he leave behind? Why would any higher power take young lives anyway?

Questions plagued him and Evan didnt have the answers to any.

And now hes in an active war zone, death at his doorstep.

Honestly, Barty doesn't give a shit about either country, doesnt give a shit about his fellow soldiers or his fathers orders to make him porud.

He'd much rather be next to Evan, with the boy's hand in his hair. Evan would drag his fingers across Barty's skin in a manner he deemed utterly sinful.

Even now if he closed his eyes he could pretend the taller boy was in front of him.

Evan was older, although just by a few months. He was all wide shoulders, lazy grins and shy smiles. And his hands, arguably Bartys favourite part of him. They could caress and hold, they could mend and take care but they could also wield an axe and a gun, they could make Bartys mind forget everything and anything, dragging low groans from his throat. They could make him whine and beg, they could steady him or bruise him.

Its these things he thought of late at night under the cover of darkness. Evan.

Just the man, just the name.

Somehow it was always Evan he thought of when things got difficult.

Barty writes to him, for his own sanity. The longer he stays there, the more he loses it.

War is no place for him. Its too bloody, too noisy, too scary. He wants Evan.

He wants to be held, strong arms pulling him close. He wants to be safe. He wants to laugh at Evan's stupid jokes. He wants to kiss Evan, to touch him, to hear his voice.

His body and heart aches with longing.

He doesn't care for the other soldiers who laugh too loud and never sound like Evan. They're terrified of him, of the way he takes life after life in the warzone.

But violence was never his first choice, it was love.

So he writes and he writes and he writes. He never had a liking for literature like his friend Regulus, but he manages fine.

"My only solace is that you're untocuhed by Bellona, by the bloodshed of Mars" He writes. "Although, darling, you'd look divine covered in crimson"

Fuck he loves Evan. And he misses him so much his bones echo with desire.

"I think of you everyday, sunrise to sunset and take a break for dusk, only for you to be in my dreams"

He addresses them to E, his E. Thats all his fellow soldiers know Evan as. "That crazy one's darling E"

Barty hears them wondering about E's name, about how someone could have won Barty's cold heart.

Eloise, perhaps? or Elizabeth? Eleanor, Edith, Ella, Emilia, Emma, Eliza, Elliana, Ellie, Emily, Evelyn, Eden, Esther.

Evan.

Evan Rosier.

They wouldn't suggest a man's name.

Its a cruel, cruel world they live in, and Barty has never liked it. But Evan always managed to drag out the optimist in him, the mischief and sarcasm he thought he left in his childhood.

"Most of all, its boring, my darling" he writes, "So fucking boring. We barely fight and when we do, we win. Mostly. You'd call me a narcissist and egotistical, but I know my worth. The rest of these soldiers don't know their left from their right"

He tells Evan everything, even if he doesn't always get letters back. Mail gets lost on the way a lot. Sometimes Barty gets upset when Evan doesnt respond only to descover the ship went down. Sometimes Evan writes strong words about scaring him because Barty never replied to his letter, and Barty sends back a response about how he never got it in the first place.

"Really hope the ship doesnt go down again. Such a nuisance, catching you up on everything again" He scribbles down, imagining the expression on his lover's face when he reads it.

War is brutal and unyielding. It stretches on forever. Barty doesn't see himself getting out of it, not now, not ever. But he doesn't tell Evan that.

"We'll go watch a movie when I'm back" he makes false promises, "and kiss in the rain, your lip between my teeth. Just the way you like it. I'll kiss you in front of my father, I dont care"

War is brutal. it takes and it takes and it takes. Are there really winners and losers when the only ones losing seem to be the soldiers that lose their lives?

"My dearest E, I miss you like the sea misses the earth. The water shaking with anticipation in clouds, desperate to return to the ground as rain"

Barty is going to die, he knows it.

There's only way out of this war and its by taking Thanatos' hand.

"Regulus sent me a summary of his reading again" Barty writes, "Some old man a hundred years ago wrote about a man and a woman in love and somehow Regulus made it my problem. Try to punch some sense into him. But don't tell him I might be hooked onto what happens next. Its a guilty pleasure"

Barty doesn't have many guilty pleasures.

You could argue Evan was one of them, but he's not. Barty has never once been guilty about loving Evan, never.

"Regulus wrote to me, telling me Melpomene is the muse of tragedy" Barty could have been jealous of his friends, the ones who didn't have to come to war, didn't have everything stripped from them. But he's glad he's the one suffering because that means Evan doesn't have to and Regulus can keep reading his little stories. He'd die in war a thousand times over if his friends stayed safe. "Melpomene must have gotten quite the story from us"

Evan fills him in on gossip, Dorcas in love with someone, Pandora and her new inventions, Barty wishes he could be there for it all.

Evan can't draw for shit, but his stick figures could rival Michaelangelo for all Barty cares.

Evan, Evan, Evan, Evan. Its all he thinks about, like a broken record spinning and repeating the name. Evan.

He's so much more than a lover. He's a part of Barty. He's seen the good bad and the ugly. He's stuck around for it all.

"Im angry most of the time" He scribbles one night, shaking from barely contained fury after a mission gone wrong. "Angry because my father is the biggest piece of shit to ever grace the earth. Angry because I want you I need you in my hand, in my arms, in my bed bext to me. I'm angry because the world was never kind to us. I'm angry because I wish I could kiss you now. I would. I'd kiss you in front of the world, grab you by the jaw and not let go. I want to taste you, I want you to linger on my tongue, to ruin my life. I'm angry because..." because I'm scared.

Barty never lets anyone see the letters Evan sends, scowling at anyone who ever tries to peek. He's got quite the reputation now. He'd cut off a finger or two before he let anyone have a taste of Evan's words. They're for him. Just for him.

"Come back" Evan writes, "Come back or I'll publish your writing for the world. Let everyone see how embarrassingly in love you are. Regulus alone would have a field day with the poem you once attempted"

Barty laughs because he can't help it. Its so on brand for Evan to threaten him with that.

"My writing is scacred, how dare you?" He writes back. "Maybe that would help the world understand us, though. Maybe one day there would be a world free of war and hate. And just us, together, kissing in front of my father as I flip him off"

"You'd look sharp in a suit on our wedding day" Evan writes back. "I'd love to see you in it. I'd love to take it off"

Fuck.

"Darling, I'd wear a wedding dress if you wanted. I'd do anything for you (and if it pissed my father off)" Barty scrawls with a rare smile on his face.

The last letter Evan Rosier ever got from Barty Crouch Jr was about wearing a dress to their hypothetical wedding.

Decades in the future, when they're all well and gone, buried so they're only dust and bones, their letters are found again.

Love letters from wars always fill people with a sad and romantic feeling. They always remind people that love is eternal, the only constant in the world of destruction and tragedy. No matter how it ended, at least the love was there.

Historians scratch their heads over who the "Darling E" was. Some say Eloise or Elizabeth? Eleanor, Edith, Ella, Emilia, Emma, Eliza, Elliana, Ellie, Emily, Evelyn, Eden, Esther.

Evan, says one.

Evan Rosier. Barty Crouch Jr. Decades after theyre gone, their love makes headlines. Flirty and sweet, cute and filthy, rebellious and devoted, they call the pair.

Barty Crouch Jr died at war, bleeding out in pain, supposedly with his eyes wide in fear and fingers digging into the earth, desperate to live.

Evan Rosier died not long after, peacefully in his bed. Heartbreak, the doctors said.

Their letters were found in a house that used to belong to their mutual friend, Regulus Black.

[therobotmonster]

Superman's unwillingness to kill is not his greatest weakness...

But Rom the Spaceknight's is.

Warning, I am on pain medication.

I didn't want to bloat the post that inspired this more than I did already. In it, there's reference to Zach Snyder alluding to his putting Superman in the position where he 'had to' kill Zod because Superman's unwillingness to kill is "his greatest weakness."

I disagree. Superman's unwillingness to kill is actually his greatest strength, or at least a manifestation of it. Superman doesn't refuse to kill just because of a Christian devotion to 'thou shalt not kill' or an adherence to human law. Clark's refusal to kill is an extension of his absolute dedication to not abusing his power.

Clark's actual greatest weakness is his compassion for others. That's the thing that constantly tempts him to abuse that power. It isn't that killing Lex Luthor or Zod is an unforgivable crime in itself, it's that Clark knows it wouldn't be.

Rom, on the other hand, is the other way around.

Rom isn't really a Superman Expy, but he's certainly a commentary on him, even if unintentionally. Rom is also a paragon-type, also an alien superhuman with a wide assortment of immense powers. His greatest weapon is essentially a phantom zone projector.

Like Superman, Rom is sworn not to kill. But that's the important part. Sworn not to. He is bound by oaths and duty and rules of engagement because he's both a holy knight hunting demons and a soldier in a war. He isn't allowed to kill non-wraiths because they're civilians and doesn't want to because he cares about most living creatures.

He isn't allowed to kill wraiths because death is too good for them. He's hunting down war criminals, and the Galadorian leadership sentenced them all to exile to limbo to suffer for eternity, immortal but unable to affect, much less harm, anything.

A dead wraith is a wraith that has escaped its sentence, and coming back from the dead is easier for a species of demon-warlock aliens than escaping their metaphorical exorcism and banishment to hell.

Rom's code against killing is the most often exploited weakness he has. The wraiths, knowing a front-on confrontation with him is certain banishment, love to hurl non-wraith humans and superhumans at Rom, knowing the Spaceknight won't return their lethal force (and that if he did, they'd have forced him to murder an innocent, which they consider a win).

In these contests, Rom's humanity (specifically his ability to express human traits like compassion, mercy, and self-sacrifice) is usually what turns the tide by convincing these dupes of his true nature.

Pictured: Rogue inadvertently triggers Rom's body dysmorphia

Now, as has often been mocked, Rom does kill a couple of times. This gives him an existential crisis, but it's more about violating his oaths and losing control than remorse for destroying a wraith in a moment of passion. The audience isn't supposed to be horrified at his actions or unsettled, they're supposed to see the impossible standard the Galadorians put on Rom and his brethren.

But it still works with the themes, because Rom is a man trapped in a machine, and his Spaceknight code and duty are a part of that machine.

So where Superman must triumph over the temptations his own compassion puts before him to go too far, Rom has to keep his power and duty from keeping him from feeling the emotions he needs to triumph over his demons.

[uchihaharlot]

if you're taking requests, could i politely beg you for some Sasuke head *ahem* canons please 😫🥵😮‍💨 sfw or nsfw totally up to you... the way you write these Uchiha fellas is just damn perfect!! 🫶🏻 💐 💗

Nonny!!! You are officially my very first Sasuke-kun request!! I can't believe the day has finally arrived!!! Let's dissect this man to the fullest capacity, shall we?

Politely beg all you want, Sasuke couldn't care less. In fact, you'll get more out of him if you bitch a little. Not much, but enough (lol you clever slut, my gentle mind just got what you meant by 'Sasuke head *ahem* canons).

I also appreciate your praise!! I'm am merely just a vessel, spreading Lord Indra's will. Every single one of these fine ass men deserved better!!!

N/SFW; Sasuke-kun, please come back; bit of a weird AU here; just go with it

Sasuke, as we all know. Was the shadow throughout most of his childhood in the eyes of his father. His older brother took first place in many aspects of his traumatic life. I secretly feel like he wouldn't have liked being the favorite anyways.

He's so emotionally stunted, it's rather sad and embarrassing to him. Aside from the mostly 'brotherly' affection Itachi gave him and friendships of the few around him. Sasuke doesn't take kindly to your admission of want. Or belligerent desire as he calls it.

He doesn't really accept that he's taken an unavoidable liking to you either very well. Pity, really. Ask just about any Uchiha, catching feelings is like having the world's worst cold. So, Sasuke avoids you like the damn plague, but you're secretly on his mind. Which still pisses him off.

Gets so damn jealous if any other Uchiha talks to you. He knows how his family is. Especially his fucking cousin, Shisui. Despite his best efforts, Sasuke will never live this down. The moment you met, he knew you were his. Case in point. (Plus, Shisui only got your attention to prove a point to Sasuke, that his little cousin does want you.)

Dates, are not his style, but goes out of his comfort zone to hopefully garner your affections. The more he thinks of you, the harder it becomes to ignore these whims and feelings. That and your first 'date' wasn't entirely romantic or appropriate. Having his, 'emotional support fox' follow you from a distance was off putting. And creepy.

So here you are, Sasuke standing outside your door. Not capable of coping that his body is acting of its own volition. He's so on and off with his emotions. Can't decide if he is coming or going.

But in all honesty, he's very partial to coming in your mouth. Holy gods, yea. Doesn't even remember how it all led up to your gorgeous lips around the base of this cock as his hot seed slips down the back of your throat. Sasuke was so damn at war with himself that his body was on autopilot making all the decisions.

Could he really complain? Yea, probably. Though he doesn't, seeing you pop off his cock slow and cute as his cum drips a little down your bottom lip is more than enough to acquiesce his bitter mood. Cures it basically.

Makes it all the easier for him to just give in and push you flat onto the couch. A little more rough than intended, but you moan and writhe all the same. Even more so as the warmth of his mouth and tongue lavish you in a particularly primal way. Makes you question his virginal status, but not wanting to ruin the flow and your orgasm on his face. You leave it unsaid. The Uchiha are renowned geniuses, and the rinnegan really is the best at its craft. Ten times more powerful than the sharingan, its a no brainer that he holds all that raw power in the blink of an eye. Which was wielded to make you cum twice over again.

Heavy petting and lip service is what you get for the time being, I don't want top break your heart, but Sasuke is still heavily guarded...until the next time perhaps.