#could they come up with a peaceful solution for both sides?

[imagination-confusion]

So... Murder Cat with soon to be Murder Dog and Murder Bird Drones.

Murder Cat has the depression and trauma.

[karmavongrim]

Dear Father fanfic idea

DC x DP crossover fanfiction

Fanfic idea of Danny adopting everyone. He’s worse than Batman since he does it 200% deliberately with no age nor race restriction.

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“Absolutely fucking not.”

Yeah, nope. No way in hell was he, John mother-fucking Constantine going to let this happen. Only over his dead body, which might actually be the case by the end of the bloody day if they couldn’t come up with something else other than that. And he wasn’t going to change his mind no matter how much the kid currently gallivanting as a demi-god whined. Wasn’t that a news when he found out several months ago.

“Come on Constans, we both know he wouldn’t mind. Besides what else can we do, we’ve tried everything.” Captain Marvel pleaded with the older man as he gestured their surroundings.

It couldn’t be described as anything else other than apocalyptic. A complete fucking shitshow.

Apparently a prophecy of some kind came to fruition right under their bloody noses and they were left grasping straws to try and stop the end of the world from happening. If only-

“Call him or I’ll call him John! Your choice.” Pressed Marvel who was getting fed up with the magician’s nonsense but he wasn’t bugging, no siree!

“Shut up, we don’t need his help! Just let me-” John yelled while buried head first in his spell book, desperately trying to find away that didn’t require him to relinquish the last few pits of his shabby dignity. Or what was left of it anyways. But Marvel was having non of it.

“Nope, that’s it! I’m making the call!” The red glad man shouted over the blonde brit and pulled out his personal phone which looked like it had been pulled strait out of a sci-fi movie.

This caused John to lunge at Marvel who in return floated away out of his reach.

“Are you daft? I’ll never hear the end of it so don’t even- Hey! Don’t you dare, I swear-!” They were quickly interrupted by a black looming silhouette quickly approaching them.

“I hope that you two have come up with something since you’re able to play around like this.” Batman demanded in gruff manner, man looking worse for wear just like the rest of them. Marvel swiftly positioned the dark one between him and his would-be assailant.

“Oh we did have a solution from the very start but someone thinks that we don’t need any help. His poor ego wouldn’t be able to handle it.” He told as he threw a look over his makeshift barrier’s shoulder.

“Shut your cakehole.” John hissed but was reluctantly put in place by a hard glare from mister darker and gloomier who turned to the floating magic-user.

“What is this solution exactly? Help from who or what?” At his inquiry the boy-man hero couldn’t help but beam when he began to explain what, or rather who he had in mind.

“Well I was thinking calling our-” But he was rudely cut in before he could get far.

“We aren’t calling anybody because we don’t need his help! We can take care of this on our own!” Batman turned back to the blond and was clearly at the end of his patience.

“We are running on borrowed time Constantine, if there is any chance to for us to stop this then we should take it since we don’t have any other options left.”

The two began to argue so heatedly that they didn’t pay attention to Marvel speed dialing the number he kept close to his heart. With a dopey grin he bounced on his heels while he waited for the other side to answer. After just two rings the line connected.

“Hi kid! What are you calling in for, did you get out of work already?” A jovial, baritone voice rang out which instantly relaxed the kid-not-kid hero. The all-composing feeling of warmth, protection and safety could almost be felt through the phone which never failed to make him feel comfortable and at peace.

“Hi dad! No, I’m still at work and we kinda shorta need your help. Badly.”

He could near feel the change in his father’s mood and he definitely heard it in his voice.

“What do you need? Where are you?” Came the rapid questioning. His smile never left as he thought how dad always went strait to business when it came to his family and friends. Always ready to help no matter what or why.

“Well, apparently the apocalypse is happening and we have no idea how to stop it… Can you help us? Please?” He tentatively asked as he glanced back at the bickering duo. Sometimes he asked himself if he really was the only secret child there.

“Ha ha, no need to beg, let alone ask. I’ll be there in a jiffy once I know where you guys are. Just try and hang in there kid.” Voice on the other side commented in lighter tone.

Marvel let out a sigh. He knew that everything would be okay after all.

“Thanks dad. We are currently stuck on Metropolis in it’s central, it’s a complete mess in here.”

“Everything will be fine. See you soon.” The voice chuckled and cut the call.

Yes, everything would be just fine. He turned to call out to the idiots who looked to be near ripping each other a new one.

“You two can stop now, he’s already on his way!”

He had to wince at the speed which the blonde turned his head to stare at him. Then came the familiar cursing.

“Fucking shite!”

He merely rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in irritation. He glared at the magician.

“Seriously, what’s your problem? It doesn’t have to be this difficult you know.”

Before John could comment, Batman pushed pass and stalked up to Marvel.

“Who did you call?”

He couldn’t say much before more of their fellow heroes started to trickle in. Flash no surprise being the first.

“Hope you got something up your utility belt Bats, we can’t take this much longer.” Pleaded the red speedster. He was joined by Green Lantern carrying injured Superman and ouch did he look roughened up.

“Have to agree with Flashpoint. Were running out of juice fast, and even Big Blue is out cold.”

Marvel looked at the others coming in. Martian Manhunter, Zatara, Wonder Woman, Black Canary and even Doctor Fate was there, none of them looking any better.

“Well, I’m glad to announce that help is on their way so we can all sit back and relax for a bit. This will be over in no time.” He declared brightly.

The others goggled at him like he made the most outlandish statement in all of history, minus Constantine who has decided to use this small window of calm to drown his headache in his flask while he still can.

“What the hell are you on about? What help? Who could possibly help with this!” Flash yelled out the question in everybodies mind.

“I would like to known this too finally.” Batman demanded this as well.

Seeing everybody hanging onto his up coming explanation he smirked at John who gave him oh-so-eloquently middle finder in retaliation. Well to bad, he would have to just deal with it, the big baby.

“Oh nobody too important, just the most powerful and influential being in all multiverse. Some of you might know him by his monikers like the First Champion, the Balancer, the High King and the Great One.” He said flippantly as he pretended to check his nails, trying his absolute best to hid his smug smile when he noticed Zatara and Fate going rigid and pale.

Zatara near stumbled thanks to his shaking knees. He took couple faltering steps towards the Champion of Magic. His expression mix of reverence and fear as started to whisper as if dreading that someone or something might hear him if he spoke too loudly.

“Y-You couldn’t possibly mean King-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence for they all felt the change in the air, in the ground.

He has arrived.

Time came to a crawl, the world slowed it’s movements in face of approaching force. It quaked, it trembled, it slithered. Leak becoming a downpour, a tear in reality of sickly green opened above the group, high out of reach. What little light still had remained in the hellish landscape around them were drained as if all the world’s shadow congregated around the opening to greet its master like a deprived servant. Then a figure of black and white caped in light seemingly holy, descended from it. Even from afar they could distinguish their towering form who’s muscles failed to hide under its full-body armor. Their mountainous presence becomes more and more apparent the closer they came. What they thought as wings of pure and white was actually a cape of moving light.

Blazing green eyes as that of the tear gazed upon them from under their moonlight hair, which coupled with the iron grown of flames created figures of shadow dancing across their hardened features as if to praise their beholder’s glory.

Zatara had already collapsed on the ground in utter disbelieve. All the myths and legends were true all along.

“King Phantom.” He spoke in awe and bowed before the king as did equally shocked Doctor Fate.

“Hi dad!” Marvel yelled and dragged the laughing magician by his coat to greet their new arrival.

All of their associates looked between the clear powerhouse of a being and their red heavy hitter in utter incredulity at the revelation. Zatara and Fate near had a heart attack at the way their magical colleague addressed the mythical presence. Marvel had a father? And this horrifying existence was it? What sent them reeling even more was how the king’s responded.

With his arms stretched he lowered himself fully to gather the two smaller men in his embrace.

“Kids! Boy, when you said that you needed help bad I think you might have underestimated a tiny bit.” He joked with a toothy smile as he moved to get a better look at his more-or-less willing captees of his affection. His expression softened even more at the face of Constantine, not the others could see.

“John, it’s so good to see you as well.” He said softly and ruffled both of their hairs, eliciting a laugh from his youngest and indignant pout from his fourth oldest who tried to swat the offending hand away.

“Whatever.” John growled but Phantom didn’t mind since he could see the blush caking his scratched up cheeks.

Now this drew his attention, both of his boys were in horrendous shape and he would do something about it after his job was completed. Looking at the blood willed sky no longer colored by his green and the burning wreckage that is this dimensions earth, he knew he didn’t have much time.

“I suppose we should get this over with then. You two better get back to the Keep after this, understood.” He stated and then was gone just like that.

Now that the oppressive feeling of death and power has left along with the godly being, every single one of the heroes present turned to the two for explanation. Marvel send a pleading look towards his brother, but John pointedly turned away and began to nurse his briefly forgotten drink which was now empty, damn you dad.

Discreetly gulping his nerves down he twirled to face his peers.

“Okay, let’s start with one question at a time please.”

This caused the floodgates to open and Zatara practically jumped him in his feverishness.

“You are a son of King Phantom? The King Phantom? I thought he was nothing more than a myth! A legend told through out several histories!”

As Marvel was trying to dislodge the man he was approached by Doctor Fate.

“I too held the believe that he was nothing more than a story to strike fear onto the forces of evil and to aspire heroes of both old and new. To think he was real this entire time.” He mused, and before Marvel could say anything, Flash barged in as well.

“And what about you John? This might be the first time I’ve seen any otherworldly being be happy to see you.” He pointed at the man who chose to wisely stay far behind.

“Fuck you too!” Shouts the offended man from the back. Even if it’s true doesn’t make it any less rude. And oh look here comes Batman.

“Enough! Marvel, explain.” He demands as he moves effortlessly to the front of the pack.

“Well… you see-” Marvel stammers as he tries under the pressure to come up with something to say but was thankfully saved by the sky shifting again.

As quick as a snap the red sky was returned to its blue color, signaling the King’s victory over his enemy. Marvel smiled widely and even John couldn’t stop a heavy sigh of relieve from escaping his mouth. Good old dad, always up to any task he comes across.

“Incredible.” Wonder Woman gasped, even Lantern had to give an impressed eyebrow at the instant change in atmosphere. And while everyone was distracted by his dad’s handiwork, Marvel shimmied his way to the grumpy magician who was in progress of making his getaway.

“I think we should continue this some other time, there’s a lot of cleaning up to do and me and my bro need to do a little house call. So bye!” He called out with a wave as he was crabbed and transported to their destination before anyone could stop them.

Others could do more than blink as Batman stewed in his place. In Lantern’s arms Superman began to stir.

“H-huh, what did I miss?”

[mononijikayu]

lay your love on me — nanami kento.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you prepared to drop your bombshell. “You know how I’m always worried about you being a sorcerer and putting yourself in danger?” He nodded, clearly not seeing where you were going with this. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that a few times.” “Well,” you continued, struggling to keep a straight face, “I’ve come up with the perfect solution to that problem.” “And what’s that?” Kento asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think you should quit being a sorcerer and become my house–husband instead,” you announced with a grin.

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, possessive behaviour, protectiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, nanami kento is that MAN, reader petitions for nanami to be her house husband;

WORD COUNT: 5.4k words.

NOTE: i hope this makes up for the fact that i've been writing a lot of angsty fics. this was supposd to be a baywatch thing. but i changed my mind. anyway, i'll be doing the side - 900 works in advance. i hope you enjoy this!!! from this point, i might be slower in updating because i'll be back to uni again and probably will be a little bit more busy. thank you for reading and always enjoy this one too!!! i love you <3

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HE’S NOT PROUD OF THE MAN HE’S BECOME. But it’s hard for him, when it comes to you, his precious wife. Nanami Kento had always considered himself above petty emotions like jealousy. He was calm, rational, the kind of man who could look at the world with a level head.

Yet, ever since he met you, ever since he’s fallen for you, built his life, his universe about you — his life had taken a turn he hadn't anticipated. You brought out something in him that was unfamiliar and unsettling—a possessiveness, an insecurity that gnawed at him whenever he saw the way others looked at you. 

As he sat next to you on the sun-kissed beach, the warm Malaysian sunbathing you both in a golden glow, Nanami Kento found it difficult to fully relax. This was supposed to be your quality time, the belated honeymoon you both had both worked so hard to carve out from your hard and demanding schedules. For once, he had managed to take time off from his life as a sorcerer, a rare break that was meant to be a celebration of your love, their commitment to each other. 

You were just as busy as he was, if not more. As a lawyer, you were brilliant, successful, and independent. You made more than he did, something that had never bothered him—until now. Not because of pride, but because it made him realize just how much you had to offer. You could have anyone, and yet you had chosen him. The thought should have been reassuring, but instead, it only added to his insecurity.

Instead of peace, he found himself caught up in a swirl of emotions he couldn’t quite shake. It wasn’t just his possessiveness—it was the realization that, for the first time in his life, he was vulnerable. He was vulnerable because he loved you so deeply, because the thought of losing you, or of someone else taking your attention, filled him with a fear he didn’t know how to handle. 

Kento couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you lay on the sunbed, basking in the warm Malaysian sun. The way the golden rays kissed your skin, making it glow, had him utterly captivated. You were wearing the tightest two-piece bikini, a vibrant floral design that contrasted beautifully against your sun-kissed skin. The colors brought out the vibrancy of your figure, accentuating every curve in a way that made his heart race.

He watched as you stretched languidly, your body moving with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly to him. The sunlight danced across your skin, highlighting the delicate contours of your body, the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the curve of your waist, the length of your legs.

Every inch of you was perfection in his eyes, and it drove him mad how stunning you were. But it wasn’t just your physical beauty that had him so entranced; it was the knowledge that you were his, that this incredible, breathtaking person had chosen him.

His gaze lingered on your face, where a peaceful smile played on your lips, your eyes closed as you enjoyed the warmth of the sun. The gentle breeze teased a few strands of your hair, brushing them across your forehead, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and tuck them behind your ear. He loved these quiet moments, where he could just watch you, memorize the way you looked in the golden light, the way the sun turned your hair into a halo of warmth.

You were the most beautiful being to ever exist to him, and the thought made his chest tighten with a mix of pride and disbelief. How had he been so fortunate? What had he done to deserve someone like you in his life?

The longer he watched you, the more he felt that familiar, possessive edge creeping in. It was a feeling he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, one that he had never experienced before you came into his life. He had never thought of himself as the jealous type, but when it came to you, something primal and protective stirred within him. He didn’t want anyone else to look at you the way he did, to see what he saw, to appreciate the way you made the world a brighter, more beautiful place just by existing.

And yet, as he sat there, he knew that others couldn’t help but notice you too. It was impossible not to. You were radiant, magnetic, and he could see the way people’s gazes lingered on you, the appreciative looks that followed you whenever you walked by. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to do something irrational, to pull you close and stake his claim in front of everyone.

Kento could see the way men’s eyes lingered on you, the admiration in their gazes as they took in your beauty. It made his blood boil in a way he wasn’t proud of. He wanted to stand up, to make it clear that you were his, that no one else had the right to look at you like that. But he stayed silent, gripping your hand a little tighter, hoping the feeling would pass.

You opened your eyes, and your gaze met his. The smile that spread across your face was one of pure love, your eyes softening as you looked at him. In that moment, all his insecurities melted away. You were his, and he was yours. It was as simple as that.

Kento leaned back in his chair, his own smile tugging at his lips as he continued to watch you. You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow, your expression playful as you caught him staring.

“See something you like?” you teased, your voice light and full of affection.

“Always, my love.” he replied, his voice deep and sincere. His gaze never left yours as he spoke, and you could see the intensity of his feelings reflected in his eyes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You chuckled, a soft, melodic sound that made his heart skip a beat. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

Kento couldn’t help but grin at that, though his expression quickly turned serious again. “It drives me mad, you know,” he admitted, his voice low. “How beautiful you are. How you’re mine.”

The way he said it, with such raw emotion, made your heart flutter. There was something in his tone, something almost possessive, that sent a shiver down your spine. But it wasn’t a bad feeling. If anything, it made you feel even closer to him, knowing that he felt so deeply for you.

“And you’re mine.” you replied softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. The simple touch seemed to calm him, his fingers threading through yours as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Your eyes narrowed on him. “Only mine.”

And then there was your possessiveness. You couldn’t deny it—you were just as bad as he was when it came to jealousy. You tried to play it cool, but the truth was, you were no better at hiding it than he was. The moment you noticed the women stealing glances at him, their eyes lingering on his broad shoulders, his chiseled features, you felt a wave of irritation wash over you.

It was subtle, but Kento could sense the tension in you, the way your posture stiffened, the way you shifted closer to him, almost instinctively, as if to stake your claim. You wanted the world to know that this man was yours and yours alone.

Just as it does now.

Because if you were being honest, your husband was the most beautiful man in the world. With his muscular build and tall six-foot frame, he was the epitome of masculine perfection. The way his long, muscular arms held that beer bottle in his massive palm, the casual strength in his grip, made your heart flutter. His chiseled jaw tightened as he glanced in the direction of the men who had dared to look your way, his bright brown eyes narrowing in a clear, unmistakable warning. He didn’t have to say a word—the message was loud and clear: stay away.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to break through. This man belonged to you, and he wanted everyone to be sure that they knew it. There was something undeniably satisfying about the way he made it so obvious, so deliberate. And you knew that he felt the same way about you. 

His gaze flicked back to you, softening when he saw the look in your eyes. It was a look that said, “I’m yours.” and it made your heart swell with love and possessiveness all over again.

You didn’t care if it was irrational, if it was a little bit crazy—this man was yours, and you were his. And you wanted everyone to know that you belonged to each other, that nothing and no one could come between you.

Kento must have sensed your thoughts, because he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “You know you’re the only one I see, right?”

His voice was deep, reassuring, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I know, babe." you whispered back, your fingers curling around his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make sure everyone else knows it too.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something deeper, something more primal. “Good.” he said, his tone possessive and full of promise. “Because I’m not about to let anyone forget that you’re mine either.”

You grinned at that, the fiery possessiveness in his words matching your own. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that neither of you would ever let anyone come between what you had. Because you both knew that what you had was rare, precious, and worth protecting at all costs.

As you stood there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky you were. This beautiful, strong, and fiercely loyal man was yours. And you were his.

You pressed a kiss to his jaw, savoring the way he responded, the way his arm tightened around you just a little bit more. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the weight of everything you felt for him, everything you both felt for each other. This man belonged to you, and you belonged to him. And nothing in the world could change that.

It was a strange sort of dance, the two of you caught in a loop of possessiveness that neither could quite break free from. And yet, there was something oddly reassuring about it. In a world where you both faced so many uncertainties, where danger lurked around every corner, this shared jealousy was a reminder that you were both fiercely committed to each other. It wasn’t healthy, Kento knew that, but it was real. Even if you weren’t proud of it, even if Kento wasn’t proud of it — it was real. Between the two of you. It was love for you.

Still, the women’s gazes hadn’t wavered, you noticed. Their eyes still linger on your husband as if they had every right to admire him. The sight made your blood simmer, a protective, possessive streak flaring to life within you. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kento—he was as loyal as they came—but you didn’t appreciate the way they were looking at him, as if he were something to be desired, something they could claim if they tried hard enough.

Your grip on his hand tightened as you leaned closer and you cast a glance in his direction. Kento, ever composed, was doing his best to ignore the attention, but you could see the slight tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flickered to you as if seeking reassurance. He puts away the beer bottle on the side and looks to you again. 

A grin slowly spread across your lips as an idea formed. If those women wanted to look at your husband, you’d give them something to see—a clear, undeniable reminder that he was yours. You leaned in, your hand resting on his chest as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

Kento looked down at you, a question in his eyes, but before he could ask, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a hot, passionate kiss. The world around you faded as you poured all your love, your possessiveness, your desire into that kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a statement. A declaration that this man, this incredible, strong, loyal man, was yours. And no one else had any right to him. He only belongs to you. Only you.

Kento’s initial surprise melted away as he responded in kind, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head, pulling you even closer. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that matched your own, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body relaxed into yours as if nothing else mattered. Kento’s arms slowly wrap around the small of your back, kissing you even deeper. 

When you finally pulled back, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. You could see the effect it had on him, the way his eyes had darkened with desire, the small, satisfied smile that tugged at his lips. You glanced over at the women who had been ogling him earlier. Their expressions had shifted—some were embarrassed, others annoyed, but all of them had gotten the message loud and clear.

Triumph surged through you as you turned back to Kento, your grin widening. “I think they got the point, babe.” you whispered, your voice teasing.

Kento chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your lips as if to savor the moment. “I believe they did.” he murmured, his tone filled with warmth and a hint of amusement. “Though I must admit, I didn’t mind that at all.”

“Then…..can we continue this upstairs?”

Your husband’s eyes narrow, almost awakening something in him. “What do you have in mind?”

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YOU DON’T THINK YOU WOULD EVER GET TIRED OF HIM. Nanami Kento always made you feel so many things—desire, love, passion—and you loved every bit of it. The tension between you had been building ever since that heated kiss on the beach, and as you made your way back to your hotel room, it only grew stronger.

Each step, each shared glance, every subtle touch added fuel to the fire burning between you. The anticipation was electric, and by the time you reached the door, it was like a dam waiting to burst.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the restraint you’d both been holding onto snapped. You pressed yourself against him, your lips crashing into his with a fervor that had your head spinning. It was as if you couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t close the gap between you fast enough. His hands roamed your body with a hunger that matched your own, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more desperate, as you both succumbed to the need that had been simmering beneath the surface all day. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you back toward the bed as he claimed your mouth over and over again, each kiss more intense than the last.

You could feel his desire, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, the low growl that rumbled in his chest as you tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head. The moment the fabric hit the floor, his lips were back on yours, his hands working to free you from your bikini. The way he touched you, with a mix of reverence and raw need, sent shivers down your spine. He breaks the kiss.

“Kento, Kento….” you breathed finally, your voice trembling with anticipation as you felt his lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His hands moved with purpose, untying the strings of your bikini, and the sensation of the cool air against your bare skin only heightened the intensity of the moment.

He leaned back for just a moment, his gaze sweeping over you with a look of pure, unfiltered desire. “You’re perfect, my love.” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, before his lips were back on yours, more insistent this time, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from you for even a second.

Your hands found their way to the waistband of his beach shorts, your fingers trembling slightly as you pushed them down, the fabric pooling at his feet. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way his hard, muscular frame pressed against you, and it sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

The bed hit the back of your knees, and before you knew it, you were tumbling onto the soft sheets, Kento following you down, his body covering yours in an instant. The weight of him, the feel of his skin against yours, was intoxicating. He presses his lips against yours again, the heat between your bodies burning you even more.

You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if he was trying to memorize you all over again. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, the heat of him throbbing against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

His lips left yours, trailing down your neck once again and across your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. The feeling of his mouth on your skin, combined with the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, was almost too much to bear.

“Kento, babe.” you gasped, your voice breaking as he found that sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing the skin there in a way that made you arch against him, desperate for more. “It’s so….it’s so hot.”

“Tell me what you want, my love.” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with need.

“You.” you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel every part of him against you. “I want you, Kento.”

The way he responded, with a deep, guttural groan, sent shivers down your spine. His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them. It was as though he found home again. You groaned as you felt his hands explore the exposed skin. He was enjoying this, you knew. He enjoyed teasing you.

“God, Kento.” you breathed out, your voice trembling with need. He was driving you wild, his touch lighting you up in ways you hadn’t thought possible. You needed more, needed him closer, needed to feel him in every possible way..

You could feel him pressing against you, his lips returning to yours in a kiss that was just as intense as before. It was almost too much, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours, the way his hands moved with such skill and tenderness, the way every inch of him seemed to be in tune with your needs.

The anticipation was building, the need for him becoming overwhelming as you felt his fingers deftly undo the last of your bikini top. The cool air of the room brushed against your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating between the two of you. You could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs, the desperate longing for him growing with each passing second.

Kento’s touch was everything—gentle and firm, demanding and patient all at once. The way he handled you, the way he made you feel, it was almost too much to bear, and yet you couldn’t get enough. You wanted more, needed more, and he seemed more than willing to give it to you. He liked to give you more and more, to satiate your greed.

Your bodies moved together with a rhythm that felt both familiar and electrifyingly new. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the soft rustle of sheets, and the occasional, intoxicating moans that slipped from your lips as Kento's hands roamed over your bare skin.

His touch was a maddening mix of tenderness and raw desire, each caress lighting a fire inside you that grew with every passing moment. His fingers traced the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, and the softness of thighs, lingering just long enough to make you gasp before moving on. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as his lips followed the path of his hands, kissing and nipping at every sensitive spot he could find.

You arched your back as his mouth moved lower, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone before trailing down to your chest. He took his time, savoring every inch of you as if he wanted to memorize the way you tasted, the way you felt beneath him. His tongue flicked over your nipple, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you that made your toes curl. You moaned his name, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, urging him on.

Kento responded with a low growl, the sound vibrating against your skin as he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before letting his teeth graze the sensitive flesh. The sensation was almost too much to bear, your body reacting with a surge of heat that pooled between your thighs. You could feel the wetness there, the way your body was aching for him, and you knew that he could feel it too.

His hands slid down your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips before dipping between your thighs. The first touch of his fingers against your slick heat made you cry out, your hips bucking involuntarily as you pressed yourself against his hand. He moved with agonizing slowness, teasing you with light, feathery touches that only made your desire grow stronger.

You could feel the tension building inside you, the need for release becoming almost unbearable as he continued to tease you. His fingers slipped between your folds, stroking you with a skill that had your head spinning. Each touch sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body trembling with anticipation as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. One after another, it was a pandemonium of pleasure. When you came, you sobbed as you felt his fingers tighten against your crevices.

“Kento, babe. Please.” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. “Please, I need you.”

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. There was something primal in his gaze, something that made your heart skip a beat. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him, and that knowledge sent a thrill of excitement through you.He removed his fingers, licking them clean one after another, enjoying the taste of you. The sight of him made you even more wet.

“What do you want, my love?” He cooed at you. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside, Kento.” You muttered, your eyes beaming with pleasure. “Please, babe. Please.”

He didn’t make you wait any longer, his dear love. With a practiced ease, he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he guided himself to your entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against your swollen folds, and you could feel the heat of him, the way his length stretched you as he slowly pushed inside.

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of him filling you completely making you gasp for air. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to anchor yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure that threatened to consume you.

Kento moved with deliberate, measured thrusts, each one sending a wave of ecstasy through your body that made your vision blur. He was gentle but firm, his pace steady as he worked to bring you both to the peak of pleasure. You could feel every inch of him inside you, the way he stretched you, filled you, in a way that made you feel utterly complete.

Your moans filled the room, each one growing louder as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with a growing urgency. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound almost drowned out by the symphony of your lovemaking. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, the familiar pressure building as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

“Kento, I’m… I’m so close, babeeeeee!” you breathed out, your voice trembling with anticipation. You were right on the edge, teetering on the brink of a powerful release that you could feel building inside you like a storm.

“Let go, love.” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough with desire. “I’ve got you. Let go for me.”

His words were all you needed. With a final, powerful thrust, he pushed you over the edge, your body shattering into a million pieces as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your voice breaking as waves of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last.

Kento followed you into bliss, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, his own release overtaking him. You could feel the warmth of him spilling into you, the way his body trembled against yours as he groaned your name, his voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, the world stood still. All you could feel was him, all you could hear was the sound of your racing hearts and the ragged breaths you both struggled to catch. He stayed inside you, his body pressed against yours as you both came down from the high, the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you.

Slowly, he pulled out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness that was quickly replaced by the warmth of his arms wrapping around you. He pulled you close, holding you against his chest as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, love.” he whispered, his voice soft and full of sincerity. “So much.”

“I love you too, babe.” you murmured back, your voice barely above a whisper. Your body was spent, completely exhausted from the intensity of your lovemaking, but you felt content, safe, and utterly cherished in his arms.

As you lay there together, his arms tighten around you as if he never wanted to let you go. And in that moment, with the warmth of his body against yours and the sound of the waves crashing outside, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be—right here, in his arms, for as long as you both lived.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

epilogue

Later that evening, after the intensity of your earlier moments had faded into a comfortable, blissful haze, you found yourself curled up against Kento’s chest, his arm wrapped securely around you. You sighed, almost as though you were the most content in your entire life.

He’d already made sure to take care of you and clean you up, even making you some tea so that you could relax on your shared bed. And you love him for it. He always spoils you to no end. The sound of the waves outside your window was a soothing backdrop, lulling you into a state of utter contentment. 

As you lay there, a thought popped into your mind, one that made you grin mischievously. You tilted your head up to look at him, your fingers lightly tracing patterns on his chest.

“Kento, babe.” you began, your tone teasing, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Hm?” He glanced down at you, his expression warm and relaxed, though there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

You bit your lip to keep from grinning as you prepared to drop your bombshell. “You know how I’m always worried about you being a sorcerer and putting yourself in danger?”

He nodded, clearly not seeing where you were going with this. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that a few times.”

“Well, babe.” you continued, struggling to keep a straight face. “I’ve come up with the perfect solution to that problem.”

“And what’s that?” Kento asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think you should quit being a sorcerer and become my house–husband instead.” you announced with a grin.

There was a moment of silence as Kento processed what you’d just said. His usually stoic expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to determine whether or not you were serious. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and it only made it harder for you to hold back your laughter. He looked cute, when he's thinking, you like to believe.

“A… house–husband?” he repeated slowly, as if testing the word out on his tongue.

“Yes! A house–husband, babe.” you confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. “You’d be amazing at it! You could cook, clean, and take care of everything at home while I go to work. And you’d never have to worry about exorcisms or curses or any of that dangerous stuff ever again.”

Kento blinked at you, his mouth opening as if to say something, then closing again as he reconsidered. Finally, a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “And what would I do all day at your house–husband?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d find plenty to do, babe.” you replied, barely able to keep a straight face. “You could perfect your cooking skills, learn how to fold the perfect fitted sheet, maybe even take up knitting! Plus, you’d have plenty of time to dote on me when I come home from work. Maybe even meet the old ladies at the corner store! They really like zumba, just as much as you do.”

At that, Kento let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Knitting, huh? I didn’t realize that was part of the job description.”

“Well, it’s optional.” you conceded with a giggle. “But I think you’d be really good at it.”

Kento shook his head, clearly amused by your antics. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious.” you replied, though the twinkle in your eyes betrayed your true intentions. “I mean, think about it. No more dangerous missions, no more fighting curses. Just a quiet, peaceful life at home with me. Grow old together and me spoiling my husband with bringing in the dough and you spoiling me with all your love. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

He considered it for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “It does sound nice.” he admitted, his tone still teasing. “But I’m not sure how I’d feel about giving up my job to become a… house–husband.”

“Oh, come on.” you coaxed, poking him playfully in the ribs. “You’d love it. And I’d love coming home to you every day. Plus, you’d look really cute in an apron.”

That finally did it. Your husband Kento burst out laughing, the sound rich and warm as it filled the room. You couldn’t help but join in, your own laughter mingling with his as you both imagined the ridiculousness of the idea. But you suppose the ridiculousness of it is what made it so touching. Life is always strange anyway, you think. And he knows that too. 

When the laughter finally subsided, Kento leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I appreciate the thought.” he said, his voice full of affection. “But for now,  I think I’ll stick to being a sorcerer for now. Though I have to admit, the idea of being your house–husband is tempting.”

“Tempting enough to reconsider?” you asked with a grin, though you knew his answer.

“Not quite, love.” he replied, chuckling. “But I’ll keep it in mind as a backup plan.”

“Deal.” you agreed, snuggling closer to him. “But just so you know, I’m not giving up on the idea entirely. You’d make an excellent house–husband. Mine only, of course.”

Kento smiled down at you, his eyes soft and filled with love. “And you’d make an excellent lawyer who brings home the bacon.”

“Then it’s settled.” you said, laughing. “We’ll just have to make sure you stay safe so I don’t have to resort to plan B.”

“With you by my side, love?  I have no doubt I will.” he murmured, kissing you softly as you both settled back into the peaceful, contented silence of the evening.

[the20thangel]

The Caged Queen

Summary: The war has ended. Rhaenyra is dead, and Aegon is left burnt. You from House Celtigar have married the King and ruled at his place because of his injuries. To try to bring stability to the realm, you invite the lords of the realm to pledge their loyalty to the crown. Forcing you to reunite with a lord from your past, tensions run, and feelings come back. (I have not proofread, so I apologize for any errors)

Benjicot X reader

Tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+

Word count: 3.5 K

Masterlist

Sitting in the council room, listening to the state of the realm, seeing how you can bring it into peace after the dreadful war. You sighed, listening to the lords discussing the possibility of marrying Prince Aegon, Rhaenyra’s son and your husband’s child, with his first wife, Heleana, Princess Jaehaera. The war ended, but the tensions were still high around the realm. With the current council holding surviving lords from both black and green sides, meetings usually ended with arguments rather than solutions. Since you had yet to provide a male heir to the king, you understood it was only plausible for the two to marry, but you did not want that for your stepdaughter. For you know, the sweet princess would never survive the hardships of court, just like her mother. You also could not help but think that Prince Aegon would be okay with marrying the daughter of the man who killed his mother. 

You were only a stand-in for your husband, who was too weak and almost always in pain to get out of his bed. Growing tired of the arguments, you cleared your throat. 

“My lords, I understand that the realm needs stability, but I don’t feel like marrying the young royals will achieve this. They have not healed from the horrors of the war. I will not force them into a marriage that could end in resentment. What would we do once they, in their anger, kill each other? Hmm? The realm will be left with no heirs left.”

You explained, twirling a ring on your right index finger; it was pretty garnet. Lord Corlys gave you a pointed look, stopping you from your nervous tick. Lord Peake condescendingly looked at you with pity.

“My Queen, no insult to you or the king, but since you have yet to become with child, King Aegon’s reign is frail; we need to make sure that the realm has heirs to prevent a war from brewing again.”  snidely explained Lord Peake, giving you a crooked grin, as eyes roamed down your body. 

Disgusted, you sneered at the lord, “Surely, you understand, my lord, that my husband is always in a great deal of pain, so tell me, my lord, how am I supposed to become with the child if laying with my husband will cause him immense pain? You want to ensure an heir for him; you should find a way for me to do my duty. I am responsible for Prince Aegon the Younger and Princess Jaehaera's well-being. My stepdaughter is still a child; I will not force her into an early marriage. So let us conclude this meeting by brainstorming a more realistic way to ensure lasting peace for the realm; surely our families and people deserve that much?” 

You stood up, prompting all the other lords to stand and bow their heads, letting you be the first to walk out of the council room. Walking to the king's rooms, you saw your husband peacefully sleeping on his bed. Turning to the maester, you asked about Aegon’s status. 

“The King is in great pain, but he seems to relax once given some sweet wine and poppy milk. Hopefully, letting him have adequate rest will bring back his strength.” 

 Thanking the maester, you turned to look at Aegon. You suppose you got lucky; you were his second wife after the tragic death of Heleana. Lord Larys, before Queen Rhaenyra executed him, convinced Aegon that he needed another Valyrian bride, and besides the Velayrons, House Celtigar was the only other house with Valyrian genes. So your father betrayed Rhaenyra, and you were soon married to Aegon. Although you pleaded for the Queen to help you escape from your fate, she was already ridden by grief and sent you away, claiming that you betrayed her like your father. Then Princess Baela attacked Aegon a week before your marriage, injuring him more than he was before.  So, although the seven witnessed the marriage, it remained unconsummated.  

Of course, the only people who knew that it was unconsummated were your ladies and Alicent Hightower, who would only glare at you should you be in the same vicinity as her. It did not help that you started prohibiting her from reaching your stepdaughter, but the poor girl confessed her grandmother frightened her. Sighing, you placed a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave the room. Walking to the children’s chambers, Aegon the Younger and Jaehaera played quietly. Smiling, you greeted them, allowing both children to embrace you. They were innocent in the war and lost people they cared about, and you needed to protect them from lords who wanted to place burden after burden on them. You spent the rest of the day with the children, trying to ignore the nagging feeling from that morning's meeting. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, another council meeting was called. As you sat at the head of the table, you noticed that only a few lords seemed happy, and Lord Peake was not one of them. Turning to Lord Corlys, he cleared his throat. 

“My queen, after you left, I decided to follow through on your command and brainstormed a plan to bring stability to the realm, and I decided the course of action was to call all lords from the realm to come to Kingslanding and pledge their loyalty to the crown, ending the occasion with a ball. Therefore, the lords see how much we appreciate their oaths.” 

As you thought in the plan, you brought up the concern that the smallfolk would see this as a slap in their faces if the highborn indulges while they are struggling. Another lord countered by saying they would provide opportunities for the smallfolk to work for the lords coming to Red Keep to earn coins and hold minor feasts outside the walls. Nodding, you decided to allow the plan to run its course, taking the rest of the time to prepare preparations for the many houses and where they would stay in the castle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two moons passed, and finally, the lords were here to swear their oaths to the crown. Aegon was improving but still had too much pain to leave his room entirely. As you stood with Prince Aegon and Princess Jaehaera, each lord came up, bowing and swearing his loyalty to the crown and House Targaryen. The last house from the Riverlands came up to the royals, House Blackwood. Lord Benjicot came forth, staring at the Prince for a while before bowing. Your heart started beating fast, seeing the Raventree Hall lord for the first time since your marriage. Seeing him so close, your chest tightened, but propriety was a border between you both. Benjicot raised himself, allowing both your eyes to meet, gray on lilac. You closed your eyes, nodding to him. 

Benjicot stared at you. You were so close, but he knew better than to reach out for you. Seeing your face away from him greatly upset him; frowning, he bowed again before walking away, his fists curling. 

Soon, the festivities began, with lords and ladies dancing and laughing, enjoying themselves. You tiredly smiled, happy that the court seemed to enjoy themselves, but it took a toll on you. Hoping to use the children as an excuse to leave early when the herald's voice came out. 

“Presenting His Royal Majesty, King Aegon, Second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” 

Everyone gasped as the Kingsguard practically carried Aegon to you, and everyone paled, including you, at seeing your husband. Seeing him wheeze in pain caused you to quickly go to his side, helping him stand beside you as the court became silent.  You scanned the room, seeing many of the court becoming uncomfortable at seeing your husband’s state, and you were saddened to see Prince Aegon shake in fear, walking farther away from you. Before walking to the young boy, you felt a coarse hand grasp yours. Turning, you saw Aegon pull at your hand. Walking towards him, he reached up to you, barely kissing the corner of your mouth. You froze, stiffening at his actions and feeling dread when you made eye contact with Benjicot, whose face darkened with anger, and walked out of the room. Your eyes followed the lord as Aegon addressed the crowd.

“I thank all of you here for coming to swear loyalty to me and my queen. Even though I have not made many appearances in court, I know I have left my rule in the best hands possible. My lovely wife has done an excellent job in ruling in my name, and I wish to come out today so that we may take the time to honor her.” He gasped again in pain as he pushed for you to stand closer to the crowd. 

The lords and ladies smiled, clapping for their queen; what Aegon was the truth, you had ensured that the realm slowly returned to the peaceful times of King Viserys. Shyly, you smiled at the crowd before turning back to your husband, urging him to return to his chambers, seeing him in pain. You may not fully love your husband, but you were not cruel to enjoy him in pain. He nodded and kissed your hand again before leaving with his guards. Sighing, you clapped your hands, asking for the bards to play joyful songs for dances. 

Turning to the prince and princess, you saw how pale they were from Aegon’s appearance; you comforted them and let one of your councilmen know that you were also retiring with the children, not noticing how a certain councilman, followed you out and then changed course towards the king’s chambers. You spent an hour with each child, reading them sweet Valryian tales until they relaxed enough to sleep. Smiling, you kissed each child goodnight before walking out and making your way to the Queen’s Chambers. As you were a few steps from your chamber, you felt an arm grab yours. You spun to punch your attacker, but your hand was quickly caught as you heard a slight chuckle. You relaxed, seeing that it was Benjicot. You nodded as you addressed him. 

“My lord, pardon my attack, but I would have thought you knew better than to sneak up on your queen?” you questioned, noticing your hand still in his, but you made no move to remove it. 

“Forgive me, my queen, but I couldn’t help but notice you walking alone. Should you not have guards or ladies with you, or does your king not care what happens to his wife?” Benjicot criticized. 

You lightly scoffed, “Usually, no one outside the royal family would be this far into Meagor’s holdfast.” 

Benjicot flushed; he was caught. Still, he shook his head, backing away slightly from you. 

“I apologize; I got lost while walking around the grounds. I was trying to find my way back to the ballroom when I heard footsteps,” he confessed, his eyes softening as he fully took your appearance. 

Nodding, you point him to the correct path, wishing him goodnight as you turn away. Pausing when he called your name. 

“Lord Blackwood, I am the Queen; you do not have permission to use my name freely,” you quietly hissed at him. Feeling your chest tighten again when you heard his husky voice speak your name. 

Benjicot smiled, walking towards you, his body nearing and pressing to yours. You both stared at each other, him taking a strand of your hair. 

“Does he treat you well?” he questioned, staring into your eyes. 

Your eyes softened, nodding, “Yes, as best as he can. I hardly see him, but he is kind whenever we see each other.” 

Ben nodded; feeling reckless, he reached to caress your cheek, but you moved your face away from his touch. 

“Don’t,” you stated, your eyes hardening at him. 

Ben frowned, “I’ve missed you…” 

You cruelly laughed at his words, smirking tauntly as his frown deepened. 

“You missed me? You left Ben… You don’t get to miss me when you abandoned me when I needed you the most… You lost the right to miss me.” you angrily stated, tears slowly falling down your cheeks. 

Ben shook his head, wiping tears away from your face. You sob out as you allow yourself to lean to his touch; no matter how much you can deny it, you miss him as well. 

“I did not mean to…I had to follow my duty, to fight for our queen-” 

You shushed him. Looking around, you brought him inside your chambers. 

“Do not speak about Queen Rhaneyra freely; you could be charged with treason,” you warned him. 

“I will never deny Queen Rhaenyra’s claim, you know this, at least you did before you married her murder and become a queen-” Ben didn’t finish his sentence as you slapped him. 

“Do you think I wanted this? I never wished to be queen. I never wanted to marry him. But what other choice did I have, Ben? I was alone; the queen pushed me away because of my father’s actions. You left me, YOU LEFT. Allowing my father to force me into a marriage I did not want. What was I supposed to do? Kill myself or try to survive and marry a man who was broken. Prince Aegon would have been killed with the queen if not for me. I fought for Prince Aegon while you all were fighting silly battles. I …” you sobbed, falling to the ground in heartbreak, finally allowing your walls to break down since you walked up the blasted steps of the Sept.  

Ben swallowed bitterly; he hated seeing you cry; kneeling, he gathered you to his arms as you continued to cry in grief. Hushing you, he kissed your crown, trying to comfort you. 

After a moment, you leaned back, your face close to his. 

Ben smiled sweetly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you…. When I heard you married him, I became resentful and filled with rage. The battlefield allowed me to release my anger.” 

You shook your head. Sadly, smiling as you felt a kiss on your cheek, “I don’t love him… I hoped you would have come to take me and the prince away from this golden cage. I cried at my wedding, trying to imagine that it was you who I was marrying infront of the weirwood tree, not him…but you never came. You left me, Ben.”

Ben closed his eyes in pain; he regretted not coming to take you away. 

“If I could go back, I would… I love you…I will never stop loving you,” he confessed, leaning in but stopping away from your lips. He would not dishonor you. 

You softened at him. He was still your sweet Ben. You were still his lady. As you expressed your thoughts, Benjicot grinned. Unable to stop himself, he finally kissed you. Allowing yourself to fall into his kiss, you placed your arms around his neck, leaning more into the kiss. You will stop denying yourself to him. You wanted him. 

As the kiss deepened, Benjicot dragged your body closer to him, causing you to grind his lap and groan at the sensation. Feeling like he was dishonoring you, he was about to stop when you grinded yourself harder to him, taking a loud groan from his lips to yours. Ben growled, knowing he should stop. You were married and the queen, but your sweet body cast a spell on him, with each movement of your hips, called out to his groin as it stiffened with each grind. Ben pressed your hips down harder to cause the fraction to strengthen; you grabbed his other hand and placed it upon your breast, moaning as he fonded your breast. 

Separating his lips from yours, he leaned to your ears, groaning your name from your movements, “We need to stop, my queen; if you don’t… I don’t think I will stop myself…I don..dishonor…fuck.” 

He could not finish his thoughts, leaning his head back from feeling your hips circling on his lap. Forgetting his argument, he kissed your neck, sucking and biting. You gasped in delight. 

“Your queens need you, my lord, I command you to love me…I command you to take me…take me, Ben.” you pleaded, grinning as he growled and picked you up, throwing you on your bed. 

Feeling giddy, you began to undress yourself as you saw him stalking you, undressing himself along the way. Calming on the bed, he pulled your body to him. Both groaned as he rubbed his stiff cock on your wet cunt. 

“So wet for me, I bet he could never get you this wet… you're wet for me and only me, my sweet girl,” he whispered to your ear, grinning as you moaned at his teasing. 

Kissing him, you wrapped your legs around him, sighing in delight as he rubbed himself on you. “I will never know; we never consummated the marriage..” you confessed. 

You needed him to know you were still a maiden. That you never entirely gave yourself to the king, that Ben would be the only one. Benjicot froze upon hearing the news; technically, your marriage was not valid… technically you were still his as he was still yours. Grinning wildly, he kissed you more fiercely, causing you to gasp and allowing him to sneak his tongue into your mouth. As you grabbed his shoulder, you felt the slight pain of him entering you. He fully sheathed himself inside of you, pausing to let you get used to his size and girth. 

Although it was slightly painful, you were happy; no other man would be inside you, for your body and soul were committed to Benjicot Blackwood. Nodding for him to move, Ben started slowly and deeply, causing you to moan, leaning your head back on your pillows, enjoying his sweet movements and kisses on your neck. As much you loved him being sweet, you needed more; you waited too long enough to have him. 

Pleaded for him to go faster, Ben grinned, switching his position to allow him to lift his hips faster as he began to pound into you, groaning as your walls began to clench around him. He felt at home; he belongs between your legs. Moaning, you began to drag your nails down his back, locking your legs around him. 

Sounds of skin slapping became louder with the grunts, groans, and moans coming from the queen and her lord. You whispered his name like a prayer, meeting his hips with each thrust, clenching hard as he pounded into you. You needed him; you will never tire of him. Soon, both movements began to grow sloppy, feeling your release coming fast. As Ben started to exit, you quickly grabbed his upper body with your arms as your legs tightened around his hips. 

“No, I will have it no other way but inside me; finish inside me; your queen commands it, Ben,” you commanded, moaning as he slammed hard twice before feeling his hot, creamy release inside of you. Coating your walls as your release milked him of every drop he gave. 

As you finally came down from your high, you breathed heavily; he was still inside of you. You ran your fingers through his hair, making him look up to you. Smiling, you brought his face to yours, kissing him sweetly. Benjicot grinned, moving up to caress your face when you both heard a commotion outside. Freezing, you both quickly jumped from the bed. You change into your shift fast before turning to help him redress. Hearing the Kingsguard yell, you promptly pushed him to hide as you turned scared, the guards flying into the room. 

“My Queen!” stated a guard as you reached for a cloak. 

“Commander, what is it?” your heart beat so fast. Did they hear you and Ben? 

The commander scanned, looking for danger; when he saw nothing, he turned to you. 

“My queen, I regret that the King has been poisoned. We are looking for the culprit.” 

You gasped; Aegon was dead. Quickly, you commanded the court to enter the throne room, asking the rest of the guards to bring the children to you. As they left, you breathed. He was gone; you would no longer be queen. Turning to Ben, he left his spot, taking your face into his hands. 

“You need to go to Ben before they find you and try to blame you…I’ll see you in the throne room. I will fight for Rhaenyra’s son to be king and bring my queen’s wishes to life.”  you asked of him. 

Nodding, he kissed you once more before he began to leave. Pausing, he turned to you with a slight grin.

“After this mess, will you marry me, my queen?” he asked, causing you to blush. 

You smiled as you breathed your answer, “I will gladly be your lady. After we crown our king, I will marry you infront of the Weirwood tree at Raventree Hall. Now go quickly.” 

Benjicot dazzled you with a broad smile, turning; he quickly left you, eagerly awaiting for the future.

[deepdisireslonging]

Reassurance

Bruce and the Reader are kidnapped by Two-Face. Their kidnapper wants to make the Batman choose, unknowing that the Batman who shows up isn’t the one he expected. After being rescued, Bruce reassures you and himself that you two are safe. Which is something he needs after being completely helpless to do anything to protect you.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reporter!Reader

Warnings/Promises: canon-level danger and violence, near-death experience, angst, SMUT, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, fluff

Word Count: 3500

Note: This heavily reliant on the events of the Dark Knight trilogy. As well as being inspired by the 1995 “Batman Forever” situation with that version of Harvey Dent. It’s a bunch of plot for the express purpose of getting Bruce Wayne into ravenous, desperate smut with his lady-love. With that in mind, happy reading!

It had all happened so fast.

One minute, Bruce had been giving a toast. It had been another successful fundraiser downtown. The next, guns were stuttering and the guests were pressed against the floor as their valuables were removed. You were separated from the diamond bracelet Bruce had given you last Christmas. And Bruce hesitantly gave away his father’s signet ring. (But at ease knowing it was a replica. As was your bracelet.)

Two Face strode through the room. He paused between you and Bruce. With his charred face, he glared at you. You with your constant stream of news releases and exposés that kept uncovering his plans. And you, always able to evade him, until tonight. With his unblemished face, contorted with hate, he glared down at Bruce.

“Harvey –” he tried.

“Shut up!” Harvey Dent aimed his gun at Bruce’s chest. In his other hand, his fingers twiddled his fateful coin. He didn’t toss it. With a growl, he shot the ceiling instead. “Come on, before the Bat gets here. Bring both of ‘em with us.”

Bruce had pleaded with him to leave you there, playing up his more cowardly public image. He begged for them to come up with a different solution. And with a wave of his hand, Two Face ordered them to gag him.

There would be no resolution. No peace. Not until Two Face had what he wanted. 

***

One of these days you were really going to have to talk with Bruce and the city council members about how many abandoned warehouses there were in Gotham.

You couldn’t budge. The ropes around your arms and legs, tying you to the chair, were too tight. At least you could breathe. A few feet from you, Bruce was tied up in a similar way, but still gagged. Unmoving and observant as he was, you could still see that he was uneasy. He kept glancing between you and Harvey.

The walls of the warehouse were practically gone. The one remaining concrete walkway you were on was at least four stories up, with only rubble on the ground-floor below. Two Face stared off into the distance as if he could watch Batman’s approach in the darkness. The make-shift Bat-signal he’d rigged together sat at his feet.

Only Bruce wasn’t startled when Batman showed up from the opposite direction.

“What is this about, Dent?”

Harvey turned slow, his unburnt side making eye-contact first, before he glared at Batman fully with both halves of his face. “Does this situation look familiar to you?”

You wondered if it was Jason or Dick under the mask. Neither of them had been in the life yet when Harvey Dent had fallen into working as Two Face. But Bruce’s thorough report of that night wasn’t too hard to find on the Bat-computer after a few hours of digging. When “Batman” nodded, you knew it was Dick. Part of you already knew your fate was sealed.

“The two of them had nothing to do with that night.”

“No, that’s true.” Dent took to flipping the coin. Up and down. Catching and flipping. The coin landed flat in his palm, unread and unacted upon. He grinned at you with his burned face as each flip made you shudder. “But each has… cost me greatly here of late. Instead of flipping a coin for each of them and being done with it, I thought this time I could give the choice to you.” Dent caught his coin and gripped it tight. “With half a chance, would you change the choice you made that night?”

Dick/Batman hesitated before answering. “Nothing about this is like that night. We both know now that the Joker lied to me, switching where each of you were. He’s bragged about it to you himself. As for Rachel—”

“Don’t.” Both sides of Dent’s face twitched with rage. He hissed, “you don’t get to say her name.” Sucked through gritted teeth, the breaths he took made his chest heave. A final sigh leveled out his control. “We were on opposite sides of town that night. The two of them are right here. Maybe you can save both. Maybe not. Which will it be? Heads: Bruce Wayne. Billionare playboy with more brains than he shows to the media. How many hospitals, grants, scholarships has he funded over the years?” Dent flipped the coin a couple of times. “How many suits has he replaced for you?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying—”

“I know Wayne tech when I see it. Don’t try to deny it.” Dent shifted his focus to you, making you flinch back in your seat.

As a young reporter you’d attended the funeral of Rachel Dawe. She’d been a role model for you. But this was the last second on earth that you’d mention that in front of him. You breathed a sigh of relief as he faced Dick.

“Or heads: the reporter. A lifetime ago, she would have been a huge help to my cause. What the courts couldn’t decide fast enough, she could write and share with the world the research we all needed to hear. As she’s doing now. She’s your source of information, isn’t she? Isn’t she!” He grimaced. “Time to choose.”

At his feet, Dent kicked at a device bolted to the floor. On second glance, you noticed the wires traveling through holes bored into the concrete. They led under your chair, and another set ran under Bruce’s. Your eyes widened as you noticed the collection of explosives poking out from under the edge of the walkway… right behind his chair. You assumed you had a set too. Both of them ready to crumble your square of concrete towards the rubble below. Or to blow you to kingdom come the second Dent stepped on the device to set off the charges.

Dick slowly moved his hand toward his tactical belt. “Your men are on the bottom floor. Right under us. If you set that off, this floor will crush them. You yourself will have nothing left to stand on. It looks like the choice is yours: eliminating two thorns in your side, or being able to continue your business ventures.”

A slick smile slid across Dent’s face. “I made my choice years ago. As for my men… they made their choice when they accepted pay from me.”

“Dent��” In a very Nightwing motion, he held his palms out before returning them to his side to hold the stoic Batman pose.

“It’s Two Face. And would you point out the same double-sided leadership to your protégé turned ‘businessman,’ Red Hood? How is his war in weapon sales going against Black Mask these days? I’m tired of this.” Dent stepped forward, placing the toe of his patent-leather shoe on top of the device. “Ready to make your choice?”

Dick’s glance flicked towards Bruce first, who furiously shook his head. When he looked at you, you slowly shook your head. “It’s okay. Bruce Wayne can do more in one night,” your voice cracked, “one night of fundraising than I can do with ten stories. It’s okay.” As Bruce struggled in his bonds, tears began to course down your cheeks. You knew when those charges blew, he’d only be able to race gravity for one of you. And Bruce Wayne, the billionaire and the real soul of the Batman; he was more important to the future of Gotham than you.

As the charges fired, Bruce screamed behind his gag.

The ground fell out from under you. It was no surprise when the dark black blur darted away from you to fall over the opposite edge. Even so, you screamed out your fear, your pain, your goodbye. Only for it to cut off mere feet from the bottom as a blue blur snagged you out of the air. Your scream turned to frantic laughter. It took some effort, flying through the air as you were, but “Nightwing” (who had to be Jason) was able to cut the ropes so the chair dropped to the earth. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I thought you were supposed to be in Blüdhaven.”

Your rescuer alighted next to the Batmobile, where Dick was just landing with Bruce. The brothers shared that Two-Face’s goons had been collected long before Dick had shown up and were on their way with Damian to Commissioner Gordon. Two Face had been harnessed into the ceiling. It had lifted him out of danger and ensured his get-away. Dick smiled under the cowl.

Jason glared at his brother-in-arms. “Say nothing.”

“Blue looks good on you.”

They would have bickered longer, but Bruce darted between them. He held you fast in his arms. He kept patting you down, searching for anywhere you could be hurt.

“Darling, I’m alright.”

“Couldn’t do anything.” He glared at Dick. “You scared the hell out of me, not going after her.”

Dick’s jaw clenched. But he managed not to break eye-contact. “Red Hood was already on her side of the building. We were in constant communication throughout. Neither of you were in any danger of the fall.”

With the way Bruce’s shoulders were still tense, he didn’t seem to fully believe that. You knew he trusted his sons totally. But tonight had cut close. You smoothed your thumbs across his cheeks. “Let’s go home.”

Apologetically, Dick tried to say, “there’s not a back seat. Red was going to—”

“We’ll manage.”

Bruce sat in the passenger seat first, and you sat on his lap. All the way home, he ran his hands over your limbs, still checking you over. And his eyes kept flicking to the road. To the  dials and buttons on the dash as they flashed. To Dick as he drove, still in his cowl and cape. And all the way home, you did your best to put him at ease. Your blood was still pumping and your nerves were alight, but you ran your fingers through his hair. Ran your forefinger down his nose and cheeks. You pressed your forehead to his. As much skin contact as you could give him, you gave. As much calm as you could give him, you borrowed back.

Wayne Manor eventually loomed. Dick let you two out at the door. If anyone asked for it, the front cameras would provide visual evidence that you had been returned by the Batman. He drove off in a scuttle of gravel after watching Alfred let you into the house.

“We’re alright, Alfred.” You managed to wave him back to bed before Bruce lifted you in his arms and carried you up the stairs.

Thankfully, he waited until Alfred was long out of sight before sitting you down on a random hall table and latching his lips onto your pulse point.

“Can’t you get us to the bedroom?” You smiled through his kisses. “The boys could walk through and…”

“It’s my house.” Bruce shed his jacket and dress shirt, and he began fumbling with the hem of your dress. “I can ravage you where I want… where and when I need to.”

Still, he froze as your hand spread across his bare chest. “I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t tell Dick to save you instead of me.” He panted. Sweat was beaded across his brow. “I can’t do this without you. Not anymore.”

“You have me.” You kissed him. “You’ll always have me.” Hugging him close, you cried into the crook of his neck.

Batman hadn’t been able to save both Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawe that night. In the end, he still lost both. The choice, distorted as it was by the Joker, still weighed on him. The guilt had woken him up many a night. Like with every nightmare, you soothed him back to sleep. He was constantly afraid that he’d lose you like his childhood friend. Always afraid that he’d be out on patrol and some underworld power would grab you. No ransom would be too high for Bruce Wayne. No number of obstacles would be too much for Batman. What if he was a second too slow? What if the money wasn’t the point, and they harmed you anyway? What if… The what-ifs swirled in his mind constantly. They were swirling now, blinding him to anything but feeling you safe in his arms.

As for you? You still stood by what you told Dick to do. Nothing could change it. And you stood by your promise to always be with Bruce, even if only in memory should the worst occur. In your mind, he had been Batman long before he met you. He could be Batman long after you’d gone. You swallowed the lump in your throat, ignoring that fateful possibility. He had you. Here. Now. Home and safe. In his arms.

“You’ve got me,” you whispered. “We’re alright. I’m okay.”

Before you could say another word, his lips were on yours and his hands were smoothing up your thighs. You rolled your hips forward, and wrapped your legs around his thick torso. You knew every muscle. Every scar. And every bruise long after they’d faded. Bruce ran his hands over your body, feeling your form still trapped under your dress. He knew the same points about you. Every muscle honed from self-defense training with Damian. Every papercut and bruise from archive drawers. And every inch of skin that he’d kissed a thousand times before. He couldn’t get enough.

You laughed as your dress ripped, pulled apart at the seams by a desperate man. His hunger paused as he finally saw the surprise you’d had in store. The entirely black set was your gift to him last Valentine’s Day. He trailed his fingers over the lace on your breasts before diving his face between them. You arched, digging your fingers into his hair. While he left open-mouthed kisses across your chest, you whispered as much comfort as you could. But your ability to speak was quickly degrading into soft moans and whines.

You wanted to be held. You wanted to be held so tight you could barely breathe. You wanted the space to wrap yourself around him like a snake looking for heat. Only his body would be able to warm the shiver out of your spine.

When you sighed as much, he only grunted.

He was lost in you. Lost to the word and the weight of it’s brokenness.

You were home. You were safe. You were in his arms. Skin to skin wasn’t enough anymore. Now he needed to be in you.

Bruce’s wandering touch finally drifted down across your tummy to the apex of your thighs. His fingers curled through the gap in the crotch of your panties. The wetness there made his knees give out. Face level with his target, he dove in, more hungry and hazy-eyed than when he kissed the valley of your breasts. While he ate you out, you gripped the back of his head, steadied yourself on the wall behind you, gripped the edge of the hall table, and you held onto anything you could while your vision blurred. One finger, two fingers curled while his tongue did the rest. He sucked hard on your clit, nearly toppling off your seat. Bruce took advantage of your folded position and hefted you over his shoulder.

Trapped there, you could do nothing but writhe as he continued to play with your wetness as he carried you down the hall. The fancy dress was left in shreds on the floor. You clenched on his fingers. With a growl, he dropped you to your feet. He pinned you to the wall, pressing close. Where your nails clawed into his shoulders, rough and desperate, his kisses to the underside of your jaw were soft and languorous. On the other hand, he never stopped wringing pleasure out of you by quickening the curling of his fingers. His thumb circled on your clit, weakening your knees. But he wouldn’t let you fall. The press of his body over yours was what he needed.

“You’re mine. You’re safe.” He hovered his lips over yours. “Tell me: how are you?”

Now? Your mind reeled. But every time you were about to answer, he’d change the pace of his fingers, or scissor you open, or change the direction of his thumb on your clit. Then your mind would blur. And speech left you. Finally, you managed, “you bastard.”

He smiled against your mouth. “Good.” If you could sass him, then you were completely at ease. His tongue curled into your mouth.

You accepted it, sucking on it like your walls were clamping down on his fingers. But as he quickened both, your breath stuttered. Your nails carved deep half moons into his skin as your body convulsed. Pinned to the wall, your body had nowhere to go as you shivered head to toe. Pinned back, you had nowhere to go when Bruce kept moving through your release. Your mouth fell open, panting with the onslaught of pleasure.

Bruce grinned against your cheek. Once again, he picked you up. This time, he wrapped your legs around his waist. He finished the journey to the master bedroom. When he laid you down, you were still hazy with release. It gave him time to rake his gaze across you again. He took in the heaving of your breasts in the lingerie you picked out. And the way your thighs tried to cover up the mess he’d made of you already. The only remnant of the fancy evening were your heels. Nearly passed out on his bed, there was nothing left of what Dent tried to do to you. He frowned. On second glance, your wrists were beginning to bruise.

From under your fluttering lashes, you took time to look him over too. How his torso shimmered with that fine layer of sweat. How his hair was mussed and his gaze was wild for you. But from the waist down, he was still presentation ready. Give or take the muddy patches on his suit pants.

“You’re wearing too much,” you said.

The frown shifted into a smirk. Slowly, he began to undo his belt. He leaned one way, then the other, as he removed his shoes. With a bit of shimmying, he bared every inch of skin for your view. He slid his hand into the one you reached towards him. His grip between your fingers was just short of painful. Carefully, he loomed over you, pupils blown wide, and his breathing heavy. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Please, Bruce.” You closed your eyes as he slowly sheathed into you. A tiny whimper slipped out as he gripped your wrists, pinning them to the sheets on either side of your head.

When he moved, it was like he was trying to relearn you. Each twist and spear of his hips searching out your sweet spots reassured him that you were the same woman who had woken up by his side that morning. You were the same woman who took days or weeks to research an article topic, only to type it up an hour before the due date. Your cries were the same. How you moaned his name was the same. You were the same woman who walked into his life and immediately made it better.

He was the same man as that morning too. Even after a night of keeping Gotham safe, he could aways make you forget your own name. But you remembered his. Every drag and spear that made you quake brought it up like a talisman. Here was the man who knew your every worry. He listened to your every ramble and collection of convoluted theories for hours. And he came back to you. Triumphant or bloody and bruised, he always came back. Right now, he was replacing the bruises on your wrists with his own. And he was replacing the worries in your mind with nerve-blinding pleasure.

“Darling,” you keened, “please. So close.” You didn’t say you needed him. Or that you needed him to do anything, even to cum. He was taking what he needed from you.

Bruce pressed his forehead to yours. “Look at me.” He pleaded, “look at me, please.”

Taking a deep breath, you forced your eyes open. And you almost collapsed under the desire in his gaze.

He turned his hips in that certain way, and you did collapse. Crying out his name and clawing the air, your body seized. Bruce stuttered and moaned, held in place by your walls and by the sight of you falling apart beneath him. He filled you. Thrusting to chase those last sparks of release, he hummed your name.

Finally, he pulled out and fell next to you on the bed. You curled into his warmth with his chest against your back. When his arm draped across your hip, you smiled.

“Darling?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

Bruce pressed his nose into the spot right behind your ear. He inhaled deeply. “We’re okay.” “Yes. We’re okay.”

***

General Masterlist

DC Masterlist

More smutty goodness with Bruce Wayne: A Night at the Theater

[rosesdrop]

Pick a pile

Their feelings for you

Pile 1:

This person wants you to forgive them; they want to restore balance once again in this relationship. They want you to be as caring and excited for them as you were before. They know that you are interested in other things currently and that your thoughts are not all about them; sometimes they think that you have forgotten about them. They believe that you are intentionally putting limits and barriers between you. They want you to give them another chance and to reevaluate the situation once again. They want you two to discuss this disagreement and then try to find a solution that suits you both. They don't want either of you to be forced to do something or be misunderstood by the other; therefore, being victims of this whole dynamic, they want both of you to be fulfilled and have your needs met equally. They honestly have good intentions and seem mature in the way they solve disputes. They do care about you and your happiness. They are not deceitful; whatever they say is what they truly mean. 

Pile 2:

This person could be harsh with their words, and the way they speak is explosive. They're easily triggered, and they feel like you trigger them easily. They think that you don't think before speaking, and this sometimes hurts their pride. They don't know what to do about this connection or how to handle it properly. They act out of impulse and end up creating a lot of problems; they always seem to come up with a new disaster; they're troublesome and foggy-minded. They're almost like a child who needs guidance on what to do all the time. They don't know how to make decisions. They end up frustrating a lot of people because of this. The way they feel about you is very superficial. They keep creating an image of you that makes them act a certain way according to it. They live in their heads. You might feel like you're dealing with a wall. They do whatever is in their heads without considering anything else. They were used to being this way, and they want to say that it's hard for them to change. They're terrified of change, and they feel like you are triggering them in that way. 

Pile 3:

They have known you for a while, they feel a sense of familiarity with you, you make them feel comfortable, and they honestly feel like you are some kind of soulmate to them or that you are meant to be together. If it's a friend or someone from your family that you're asking about, then you are the person that they like the most and feel very close to. They feel like you two are similar in plenty of things and that you are two sides of the same coin, they truly adore you. If it's a romantic situation, then they feel like you are their future spouse or something. Or that you are their dream person. They can see themselves doing everything with you; you two get along very well. A sense of peace and happiness encompasses them when you're together; they truly never get enough of your company. They may sometimes be self-doubtful and feel like they are not enough for you. Or that you wouldn't see them as greatly as they see you. They have their doubts about this. They don't know for sure if you think of them the way they do; they could only guess by the great chemistry and compatibility between you, but it's not enough to cease their self-conscious thoughts. They wish you could be more affectionate towards them because they're not very sure of themselves; they doubt things a lot, so they want you to assure them and show love towards them more often. They would be really happy, and this would ease their worries a lot.

[ssparksflyy]

don't save some other girl ᯓᡣ𐭩

pairing jason grace x daughter of minerva!reader summary i lost the request but this one's for you @hope92100 !! an bat shit crazy jason save me... save me bat shit crazy jason

OF course the one 'peaceful' day you get with jason gets ruined by monsters.

the rest of your crew was spending the day exploring the city, while you and jason agreed to stay behind and guard the ship (could you really call it a ship if it also flew?), hoping to get some peace while you were able to spend some time alone for the first time in weeks.

you were lying in bed with jason and watching a movie when you heard a loud crash come from the main deck. you were both quick to scramble up and dash out of his room, pulling out your swords as you reached the main deck.

you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to run away from the sight of the moster. a godzilla size glowing black squid with ten rapid arms and one big eyeball frantically looking in different directions was right in front of you.

"ill take it's left, you take right! try cutting at it's arms!!" jason yelled as he yelled to the left side of the monster.

you nodded your head frantically and ran to the other side of the deck, ducking and slicing anytime an arm came swinging at you. you weren't able to find a part of the ship where you could stop to think for just a second, maybe get a good view on as to where this monster's blind spot was. once you were able to attack that, this thing would turn to dust and leave you and jason be. looking around frantically, you realized that getting to higher ground was the solution.

continuing to duck and dodge at any squid arms that came swinging in your direction, you climbed the ladder that led to the higher end of the deck, running towards the railing.

"jason!" you called out.

"yea?!" you heard him yell from the other side of the deck.

"i need you to distract this thing, try to get it to focus on you!"

"why? what're you-"

"just do it please!!!"

he didnt reply, but you knew as the monster's arms stared swinging more in his direction, he had done what you asked him to. you squeezed your eyes shut and silently prayed to all the gods your plan would work before beginning to climb on top of the railing.

you held your arms out, trying to balance yourself and not fall with each step you took. you needed to get a hit as close as you could to the monster's back. from there, you could determine where this thing's weak spot was.

you were so focused on your feet and trying to stay on the railing, the only thing that snapped you out of your trance was the impact of the squid's tentacle that sent you flying off that very railing.

as you fell, it felt as if time stopped. as if these were your final moments to 'enjoy' life before falling to your death. the impact wouldn't be what would take you, but the quick currents of the water would be what swept you away, incapable of even processing what was happening. and then you'd die. nothing more, this was it.

you closed your eyes as you accepted your fate, as if you were allowing time to resume it's regular speed.

fortunately for you, somebody else hadn't accepted it.

jason must've swept in at lightning speed because one moment you were falling to your death, and then next you were back on the deck, sitting in a corner while jason rushed back to deal with the monster.

you watched in shock as jason flew around the monster at incredible speed, dodging and attacking every arm that came his way. he began sending down bolts of lighting as he flew, electrocuting the monster when it got too close. you'd never seen him like this, so determined to finish off a monster, such power radiating off of him. you had to admit it was actually quit frightening. you knew jason was powerful, and you hated when people ignored his talents, but seeing him in action like this and experiencing his power at such a high level almost made you scared of him. scared that maybe even you were underestimating his powers. scared if thing things he could possibly do. when you were able to finally see a glimpse of his face, the murderous look he had didn't exactly give you the comfort you were looking for.

in the matter of a minute, jason had the monster covered in the marks of his sword, moving slower than ever. with one final stab to the back, the monster had finally dispersed into dust and into the pits of tartarus.

he finally landed on his feet, taking only a second to catch his breathe before running over to you. he slid onto his knees as he reached you, his hand immediately reaching for the side of your face.

"are you okay? are you alright? gods (name) you scared the living shit out of me, i thought i lost you-"

"im okay, im okay jason. thank you. thank you so much, i..." the words seemed to have caught in your throat. tears began to form in your eyes as the realization that you almost died hit you.

jason realized this as well and pulled you in for one of the tightest hugs you were ever given. it was as if he too needed to realize that you were alright.

as much as you appreciated how much he cared, you couldnt shake off his manic state from just a minute ago. truth be told, you werent sure if you could ever handle to see him like that again. you knew you wouldn't be able to stay quiet for very long, so why try?

"jason?" you said, pulling away from him.

"yea?" he asked, you could hear desperation in his voice.

"i love you, and i know how powerful you are, and i would never want to hold you back but," you paused, "please never ever do that again."

a look of worry spread across his face, "no, no, of course not. im so sorry (name), i didnt know-"

"it's fine. at least i know you wont be saving some other girl anytime soon."

he smiled and pressed a soft kiss on your lips, "wouldnt dream of it"

[l0serloki]

JJK Boys with an Insomniac Reader

(Nanami, Gojo, Todo, Geto)

masterlist

Nanami Kento : 

Nanami has had lots of experience with bouts of insomnia. 

He tries to make tea and will ask to read you to sleep. If it helps, that's great! But he doesn’t want you to worry if you can't. 

Most of the time he comes home at weird hours during the night anyways. (Not that he wishes to be out during those times..) So selfishly he kind of likes that you’re awake.

He’s the type of boyfriend to sit on the couch with you at weird hours and watch TV and eat snacks. Secretly it’s one of his favorite things to do.

“Darling what are you still doing up?” Nanami’s voice filled the silence as he walked into the house. He slipped his work shoes off quickly and came over to kneel in front of you. You were worn out and you could not for the life of you get to sleep. You hated nights like these. 

“Can’t sleep.” You whispered out as you shuffled over the edge of the couch, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hand slithered to your back as he rubbed soothing circles along your skin. 

“That’s alright. Why don’t you just wait here while I shower and then we can watch something? Will that help?” He asked and you nodded. You loved when he would cuddle up with you on the couch, turning on some calming movie for the two of you. 

“Yes please.” You said and he hummed, leaning down to give your forehead a kiss. 

“I’ll be quick darling.” 

It wasn’t even twenty minutes later that Nanami had returned, scooting you into him as he adjusted on the couch. His head rested atop of yours as his arms held you in a tight embrace. There were no words needed as you pressed play on the show and his lips fluttered down to give you a quick kiss. These nights were your favorites. Even if you couldn’t sleep. 

Gojo Satoru : 

Gojo sleeps a little too much. It’s abnormal. 

He notices your lack of sleep and will make a few snarky responses. Nothing bad, just stuff like ‘I'll sleep for the both of us babe’ or ‘Those eyebags look sexy’.

He will ask his students for help about how to get you to sleep. It doesn’t work but it did get a laugh out of you.

In the end he’s not much of a help but if you really want him to stay up with you, he will.

You tossed and turned in bed as your boyfriend snored next to you. You believed that all of the sleep you lacked was going towards him. If he wasn’t up being stupid he was passed out. Your hand rubbed at the side of his cheek, watching his peaceful face. Part of you was jealous. You wished to remember the last time you slept that good.

“Am I just so handsome you have to watch me like a creep?” Gojo’s voice rang out and you jumped. Your hand smacked at his chest as you rolled your eyes.

“You scared me!” You retort and he only gives you a sleepy grin. 

“Sorry babe. Maybe if I do it a few more times you’ll get tired and join me.” He teases and you only sigh.

“Yeah cause that’s likely.” You grunt as he pulls you into his embrace, burying his head into your neck. His voice is soft as he whispers out to you.

“Worth a try.”

Todo Aoi :

Todo tries his best. He even offers to knock you out if it would help you get sleep. (You decline of course.)

He makes sure to get food while he’s out and stuff he knows you like. He may be a big barbarian but he knows your tastes!

He does give really good cuddles and won’t take no for an answer. Even if you say you’re not sleepy he will drag you into bed.

“I can’t seem to sleep. I slept for one hour last night.” You sigh as Todo rests against your shoulder. Your body is slouched against the bed as he peeks up at you.

“Why not?” He raises an eyebrow and grabs your hand in an attempt to calm you. You only shrug in response.

“Just can’t. And nothing I try seems to work.”

Todo seems to take this information in as he nods and then looks up with wide eyes.

“I can try knocking you out if that will put you to sleep. I’ll be gentle.” He says as he smiles, acting as if this was a perfect solution. 

“Todo how could you possibly be gentle while knocking me unconscious?” You question his thought process. He seems to finally understand that maybe that wouldn’t be the best idea.

“Guess you’re right.. I suppose I’ll just have to charm you to sleep.” He grins and you only chuckle.

Geto Suguru :

He notices quickly when you don’t sleep or toss and turn next to him all night. 

There’s not much he can do but he does offer massages and to get you anything that you think might help. 

He gets into a habit of spraying ‘sleeping mist’ around the bed before you two lay down in hopes that maybe it’ll help. 

You felt exhausted. It had been such a long day and it didn’t help that your body still felt the need to be awake. You tossed around in the bed as Geto wrote, his eyes looking up at your uncomfortable form.

“Why are you not asleep yet? Is something bothering you?” His hand rubbed at your back, dark eyes peering down at yours. You just groaned as you scooted over to him. He welcomed you into his arms, putting down his book. 

“I just can’t sleep. I’m worn out but I keep failing.” You whisper out and he only hums. 

“This seems to happen a lot. Maybe we should get you some stuff for this.” He ponders as he continues to soothe your body with his massage. You could only offer a small nod at the idea as you closed your eyes again. Just one more attempt wouldn’t hurt.

[grimesgirll]

you were never the type of person to need someone to help you fall asleep before meeting rick and daryl.

not even as a kid did you need your parents to hold your hand to fall asleep. but now? after having two men warm your bed, you could hardly stand to sleep alone.

this became a problem whenever daryl got into one of his moods of wanting to be alone or even when he went on hunting trips. usually, it could be quelled by rick holding you and lavishing you with his attention at night but when they were both gone? you hated it.

you typically spent your nights without them tossing and turning, a hand between your legs trying to relieve yourself of the itch that only they could scratch.

it was all the same that night. after eating dinner with carl and judith,and getting the toddler to bed, you skulk over to your bedroom. ready to spend the night staring at the ceiling until boredom finally kicked in like a nyquil.

you’d told rick before how you missed him when he was out on runs or taking watch shifts. his solution? count sheep.

looking back, you wish you would’ve strangled him. sleeping wasn’t as easy as counting sheep. you should know; you were the one who typically dealt with judith’s sleep troubles after all. some nights the girl couldn’t go down without another story or another hug, or being rocked in your arms.

not even judith was keeping you up tonight. she’d fallen asleep easily after a day of playing outside and running around with carl. had you regressed so much that a toddler was sleeping better than you?

you think so as you pull back the covers, shifting into the empty bed. it was unnecessarily cold without your boys. they were out on a long scavenging trip - most trips turned out to be long nowadays with how depleted everything nearby was. you’d wanted to go with, but they always insisted that you needed to stay home and take care of the kids. great! you loved hanging with rick’s brood and you loved alexandria too but was it worth being without rick and daryl? debatable.

before attempting to close your eyes and count sheep, you pop a sleep supplement, summoning the bottle from your bedside table and downing a purple capsule. you weren't the first person in this house to have night terrors and you wouldn't be the last, so you guys opted to keep some sleep medicine in stock, just in case.

it still takes a few minutes of rolling around in the comforter to fall asleep. then, you're in a deep, dreamless sleep.

you don't hear them when they come in.

you're catching up on the much needed z's that you missed the past four sleepless nights when the bedroom door opens and two pairs of feet thud on the carpet. with their muddy boots and battered outside clothing discarded, the pair of men slip into bed beside your sleeping form.

as daryl curls into your side, he's disappointed that you're not awake to witness him tucking himself in beside you not smelling like blood, or guts, or the woods for once.

they'd showered at a cabin, which actually not too far from alexandria. the cabin was nestled into a hill and some dense woods between two white picket developments, left to the dead who inhabited it. he, rick, and tara had found some bodies - middle aged - in the basement in a panic room, and evidence of a small, long gone group of survivors. their abandoned shit scattered throughout the place was the win alexandria needed. these scavenging trips weren't always successful, especially with every fucker in a fifty mile radius selfish, cruel, or insane. it was rare they met decent folk. but at least after going hours out and finding jack, they could bring back enough MREs, preserves, and siphoned gas to have those needs off their minds for a while.

daryl's mind immediately wanders to you as he lays back on the satin sheets you'd picked out. you're splayed out in the middle of the bed with your arms wrapped around a round pillow. lips parted; you look peaceful in a way that makes daryl's dick twitch in his boxers.

rick's already leaning against you, a hard outline starting to form in the pajama pants he'd pulled on before jumping in bed. odd choice given how fast they usually came off. his arms are wrapped around you as he settles in for the night.

"so glad we're back," rick exhales into your rising and falling chest.

daryl nods from where he is.

"thought i was gonna combust."

you and me both. he thinks, but just stares at the ceiling, enjoying the soft bed and the feeling of you next to him.

it's not long before the bed is creaking and he knows rick is yanking you closer, whispering in your ear, asking, "you awake, doll?" you don't stir. rick shoots him a look that daryl obliges by sinking down between your legs to work them open, testing a finger lightly against your entrance.

while your leader peppers your chest with kisses and slowly tugs down your tank top, daryl presses his finger inside of you. he hisses. "she's tight after all this time, man."

rick chuckles against your collarbone. "course she is."

you're still asleep when another two fingers are added to your cunt and you're starting to turn on like a fountain. "god, she's gushin'," daryl observes with a hard on while he scissors his fingers in and out of you.

rick has your tank top laying somewhere on the floor to make way for his mouth on your tits, alternating between the two. how you're not awake? they'll never know. not until you wake up the next morning and tell them about the sleep supplement you took before you crashed.

the sheriff's mouth rampages across your chest and up along your pulse point, before working back to your breast. when you were awake, you loved the feeling of rick's mouth on you. you loved it when you were asleep too.

"remember how wet you were when you woke up?" rick whispered in your ear, one time when he had you snug in his arms before you fell asleep, reminding you how good you would feel the next morning after they fucked you through the night.

okay, it wasn't all night but enough to make you feel the stretch the next morning and get your mouth watering at the thought of them enjoying your sleeping cunt. to get distracted during the day thinking about what you'd be up to that night, while you were asleep.

you stir now, body slightly tensing at the feeling of arms around you and three fingers in your pussy. "what?" you murmur, barely quelling a yawn.

rick holds you tighter in his arms, meeting your eyes when you ask when they got in.

"not soon enough," daryl mutters as he detracts his fingers and starts to shed his boxers.

before you know it, rick's pajama pants are nowhere to be seen and you're sinking down on his thick cock. daryl's on your left before you know it and suddenly rick's facing you toward his friend. you're met with the sight of his dick, which you take eagerly into your mouth, pumping what you were too busy waking up right now to swallow with your hand.

"you're always so good for us when we get back, darlin'," rick commends you as you slowly rise up and down on his cock.

you nod, moaning all over daryl as rick's fingers cement into your hips and he drives into you. "oh," you gasp into the man in front of you. he thumbs your cheek while you fit more of him into your mouth, thrusting shallowly.

"i'm sure you’re gonna wanna wake up like this every night now, huh, doll?"

with him buried in your nerve wrought pussy and daryl almost down your throat now, all you can do is nod and hum a sweet garbled yes. it's gonna be a long night, but at least they're back.

[frogspond200]

𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚟

Requested by: Anon

Ask: Hey, I really REALLY. enjoyed you Simon Hcs, Could you do one for just normal and not yandered, please😫🙏🙏💓

Warnings: None

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Simon absolutely adores you. He worships the ground you walk on, your presence has brought a sense of stability and warmth into his life that he thought was lost forever.

Simon loves reading with you. Whether it's ancient scrolls, magical tomes, or simply a good storybook, he enjoys the companionship and discussions that come with it.

There is some residual angst in the relationship due to Simon's deep longing for Betty. While he's found happiness with you, he still carries the pain of losing his beloved Betty. Your understanding and support help him through these moments of melancholy.

Simon is a fan of cuddling. He finds solace in your arms, and the physical closeness reassures him that he's not alone in his struggles. It's a way for both of you to express affection and provide comfort.

Simon occasionally lets you in on his scientific projects. He trusts you enough to share his findings, inventions, and research. Your curiosity and insights often contribute to the success of these projects. You and Simon make a dynamic team when it comes to problem-solving. Your fresh perspective and his vast knowledge often lead to innovative solutions to the challenges you encounter in the Land of Aaa.

While he continues to grapple with the effects of the crown and the loss of Betty, your presence serves as a source of hope and emotional support.

Simon occasionally surprises you with his musical talents, playing the guitar or singing songs he's composed. It's a beautiful way for him to express his emotions and share moments of joy with you. You help Simon regain his sense of self and independence. While you support him, you also encourage him to pursue his own interests and passions beyond his past and the crown.

Despite the complexities and challenges of your relationship, the love you share with Simon is unwavering. Together, you navigate the ups and downs of life in the Land of Aaa, always by each other's side.

Simon Petrikov tends to take things slow in a relationship, especially considering his complex past and the emotional baggage he carries as a result of the Ice King's crown. He's likely to proceed with caution, prioritizing emotional intimacy and trust-building before rushing into anything too fast. Simon values stability and a sense of security, so he would be mindful of not overwhelming the relationship with speed.

Simon Petrikov can indeed be a romantic partner who appreciates the beauty in small gestures. While he may not always have access to traditional roses, he would find creative ways to express his love and create romantic moments. For example, he might use magical flowers or other enchanting elements to create a path leading to a warm, cozy bath for you to enjoy together. Simon would certainly put effort into making your time together special and memorable…

To set the mood, Simon would light scented candles or diffuse essential oils with calming fragrances like lavender or vanilla. The soothing aromas would fill the air, creating a serene and peaceful environment for you to relax and unwind.

Simon is also a fan of playing board games or card games. He finds that they not only provide entertainment but also help to foster a sense of togetherness and friendly competition.

You can spend hours laughing, strategizing, and creating fond memories while staying warm and cozy indoors.

And of course, Simon's musical talents come into play here as well. He might serenade you with a beautiful song on his guitar or share some enchanting melodies on the piano, adding a touch of magic and romance to the cozy atmosphere.

[alpaca-clouds]

Hayao Miyazaki & Solarpunk

Hayao Miyazaki probably never planned to become this super influential voice for Solarpunk. He did become it though. In fact a lot of his movies are considered to be Solarpunk to some degree, which in a way does make a lot of sense. After all, not only does he generally feature stories about preserving the environment, and stories that are very much anti-war and often also anti-capitalist, but - and I think this is something often ignores - he also is heavily influenced by indigenous Japanese storytelling. There are very few creatives in Japan that outright reference the indigenous cultures of Japan - but Hayao Miyazaki is one of them.

The strongest Solarpunk vibes in his movies can obviously be found with Nausicaä, and with Princess Mononoke. One a post-apocalyptic movie, the other one a historical fantasy piece, which makes this entire thing even more interesting. Laputa, too, is often seen as Solarpunk - a story that is pretty much high fantasy with some scifi elements. And I would argue that you still very much can find Solarpunk themes in both Spirited Away and My Neighbour Totoro.

Not one of those movies is SciFi. And I very much find this worthy of discussing, because I think it is one of those aspects where a lot of people who would like to write something more Solarpunk could learn from.

One point that cannot be ignored is of course that Miyazaki aside from traditional and indigenous Japanese storytelling also drew heavy influence from Ursula K. LeGuin in some of his works - who also is one of the big influences on Solarpunk. And yes, there might be some essay of mine about LeGuin coming some day in the future - but not too soon.

From the very beginning of Studio Ghibli at least, Miyazaki's movies always had a heavy emphasis on some themes. These included feminism (by showing both women who can fight, and the importance of care work done by women), anti-war and pacifism, and environmentalism.

It should be noted that very much no Miyazaki movie is set in an utopia. Instead the movies are concerned with the idea of finding solutions for the characters - and with the characters empowering themselves.

Nausicaä and Princess Mononoke might be the clearest examples here. In both movies the protagonists take the role of creating peace between nature and those, trying to destroy it. However this ending is never quite a compromise, rather than the destroyers seeing that they are doing wrong and promising to do better. Which is another core thing that is there in most of Miyazaki's movies: They show a big hope for humanity and its ability to be good. Only rarely are we shown irredeemable villains in those movies - most of the times just people blinded by their lust for money and power. Or, at times, there is simply the problem that the two different sides can literally not understand each other.

This is a theme that gets explored again and again. How so many conflicts are rooted in the different sides not communicating - or at times literally being unable to communicate. With the protagonists being the ones who will be able to listen and understand.

The other aspect is that the protagonist in Miyazaki's movies also will empower themselves, while the antagonists do try and depower them. The protagonists have their own wishes and believes and stay true to them. They will also manage to succeed by befriending other people they meet along their way, by meeting them without any prejudice in many cases. Be it Ashitaka, who meets both the gods and the people of Iron Town without hatred, or be it Chihiro, who manages to befriend almost everyone she meets along her way.

The important aspect is, that the movies here offer a hopeful outlook and also show the importance of helping each other and banding up against a greater evil. In fact they do show a heavy emphasis on Mutual Aid in some interesting ways.

Here is the thing: Yes, I really want to see more Solarpunk fiction that is set in possible, but really positive Solarpunk worlds that dare to imagine anarchist and communist worlds. But we absolutely need these kinds of stories. Stories that are about the fight for the environment, for a better word. Stories in which the characters do offer mutual aid to others, work together and find understanding. And stories in which there can be hope found.

And I think we just need to give this more of a chance - and talk more about it.

[sanjisblackasswife]

Hiiii your a great writer and can I please have a hug from luffy? I really need one tatey ❤️

Even though…my requests are closed…u called me Tatey and I thought that was very cute. So yes.

“Hug Me!” Luffy x Fem Reader (FLUFF)

“Where’s y/n?”

“Where’s y/n?!”

“Y/N!?”

He searched and search, checking every barrel, every cabinet, every closet, but you were no where to be found.

“Y/N!” Luffy’s Whiney voice began to come out ringing in everybody in ear shot to be a victim of hearing. He only got like this when he was frustrated. His flip flops pattered all through the huge ship looking for you.

He wanted to see you for something.

Luffy felt a bit

Off.

He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t sad or angry he just felt a bit not himself today

This has happened before and you helped him with a simple solution and now he believes you and only you can do it again.

He tried Nami. Didn’t work got slapped.

He tried Robin. It helped for a second, but it wasn’t the same.

He needed you’s specifically for this, but you were no where to be found?!

“Namiiiii did we accidentally throw y/n overboard?”

“No! Of course not! She’s probably in her room? She said she was feeling a bit tired today.”

He slaps his head, OF COURSE YOU’RE IN YOUR ROOM!

He rushes out the kitchen, scurring with his hand on his hat merely in giggles at the thought of you.

“Y/N!” His eyes lit up, there you were. Laying on your tummy drawing. Your face was a bit startled seeing as you were interrupted from the peace and quiet you’ve already adjusted to for the pst hour. Luffy snickers quick to walk to you, put his hat on your head and laid his body on your back like a blanket. “I was looking for you!”

“Luffy…” You groaned slowly moving your lower half side to side to wiggle him off, but that only signaled him to squeeze harder. “Ah! I told you I wanted to be in my room today.”

“Well I need help!” Luffy got from on top of you and dragged you by your arm to sit up, you couldn’t get mad entirely his smile was so contagious you caught yourself smirking.

You raise your eyesbrows to see what exactly he needs help with and he just extends his string like arms and wraps them around your entire body closing you in now chest to chest with your Captain.

It wasn’t too tight, but it still managed to knock the wind out of you, your face now in his neck inhaling his natural sweaty/musky/rubbery scent. His nape tickling your nose because his hair is still unkept and growing even faster.

Luffy rocked you back and fourth lightly humming, just what he needed! He felt warm and happy again!

You look up from his chest and he looks down back at you and you both smile and laugh. Of course…

“Luffy you just wanted a hug?”

“Yeah! You give the best ones.”

“Well let me hug you correctly, Lu.”

He nods and released you from his grasp, arms now regular length but open wide similar to his smile, exposing his small dimples you found so cute when he smiled that hard—waiting for it.

“Okay! Hug me!” Luffy laughed, and You smile, you get up from the bed, you were a bit taller than him so your arms wrapped around his neck and you gave him the best bear hug you could, swinging him back as you both hummed in unison, even finishing it with a tiny peck on the cheek making them just a very faint pink at the soft touch of your lips.

“Thank you, Y/N I feel better now!”

He pecks your cheek back so quickly you almost didn’t notice it before he fixes his hat back on your head.

Luffy was a simple man and you were a simple woman. And sometimes little things like hugs from you was all he needed to feel better.

[haine-kleine]

Screaming crying throwing up about this brilliant visual storytelling. Both of the brothers having the same picture of their family in the background. The only part visible beyond Dabi is his father, he is the only part of the family Dabi is focused on. Dabi hiding his eyes, his true expression behind his hands, preventing himself from looking, leaving only a madman grin that is permanently etched into his face visible. Enji staring back at him with a solemn, determined expression, a picture of a hero before the fight with the final boss.

Shouto having his mother and two siblings behind him, looking with determined but earnest, supportive expressions. They have his back! Shouto is looking down, inside of himself, no longer dependent on his family members to make decisions, he wants to come up with the solution on his own. He's grown so far! His face is more open than ever, even his bangs not covering his expression anymore. Both the ice and fire sides of him working together, the trauma associated with them not forgotten. He is his father's masterpiece son, his mother's child who got hurt by her, Fuyumi and Natsuo's youngest brother, as well as Touya's. Shouto accepts all of these statuses, and he doesn't want to lose any of his family members.

The two sets of overlaid pictures are connected in more ways than one. Rei, Fuyumi and Natsuo's support of Shouto contrasted with Enji's conflict with Touya is one. Another is the three family members and Enji looking at each other. His stubborn, upset expression - accepting the guilt and the blame he holds for ruining their lives, Rei's open but almost cold, frozen expression, Fuyumi's unsure, wistful one, Natsuo's face looking like younger, broken version of Endeavour's. They are finally confronting their family situation that went unaddressed for twenty years, all the ugly avoided feelings about to be laid out in the open.

The third connection between the pictures, the catalyst for this confrontation, for the family's festering wound bursting - the contact between the youngest and oldest sons. The masterpiece and the failed masterpiece. The beloved son and the abandoned ghost. They aren't looking at each other yet, but their conflict is the focal point of the family's. The two boys who were born for the same purpose, and both tried their hardest to succeed at it. The ones who could understand each other better than anyone else, the ones who barely know each other. While Shouto is extremely open and at peace, having already accepted all facets of himself, Dabi barely looks like Touya, actively inserting the disconnect between the two personas. Denying Shouto the chance of getting to know his brother Touya, throwing the villain Dabi at him. The scars, the staples, the feral grin - this is all he is willing to offer to Shouto. For now.

[madou-dilou]

Harrow and Viren : analysis

Viren, since he resurrected in season 4, is constantly paralleled with Harrow.

"It's been a long time. Our kingdom is prospering. There is peace. My boys, they are growing up. Perhaps it's wiser to stay focused on these blessings."

"My whole life, I have been chasing after things I did not have. Now that I'm here and may have only thirty days left, do I really want to spent those days ... chasing ? Maybe I should stop and appreciate what I do have. A whole month, enjoying every moment with my daughter. Maybe it's time for me to accept that I am who I am. And when I reach the end, I'll be at peace. And it will just be the time to let me go."

Both reevaluate their lives, questioning the crimes they left in their wake. They feel like they have escaped justice. Their loved ones do their best, encourage them to continue living, of course, but they have come to the conclusion that if their life has left such a trail of blood, prolonging it will only spread more.

That at this point, the only right thing they could do for the world was leaving it.

For said loved ones, this attitude makes no sense and feels straight-up ungrateful. ("You are acting stubborn and ungrateful!"/"Please, dad, don't. Don't do this. Don't leave. It's a mistake. You can't. I saved you! You me your life! You have to stay...")

Especially since Harrow and Viren are both incapable of explaining themselves clearly. Viren straight-up tells Harrow he doesnt understand where he is coming from, and Harrow only answers "I know you don't. Leave me." Viren, meanwhile, talks about "a path of truth of freedom" that he needs to face.

In short, to quote Kaamelott's queen Guinevere "You slit your wrists in a bath I had myself prepared just for you."

Two kings caught in blood feuds, pushed by the devils on their shoulders to prolong an existence they no longer want, even at the cost of two being supposed to be sacrifices: a soldier, who signed for that (unlike the High Mage, side-eye Harrow), and this homunculus.

Both thus renounce dark magic by, as Harrow says, "calling it what it is" for the first time; and no longer “a creative solution to solve this” as Viren used to say.

And just as Harrow wrote a letter to his son Callum to free him from the wrongs of the previous generation, Viren attempts to do the same.

To Callum, Harrow tried to explain that the past, which we must nevertheless seek to understand, should not define the future; that his death must close the cycle of revenge that he initiated with the assassination of the Titan and for which he takes full responsibility; and that his sons must ensure a new era of peace. As he prepares to face death, he also makes sure his last conversation with Ezran is completely mundane, so the boy does not grow up thinking he abandonned him.

However, Harrow did not think to officially appoint a regent (Viren, Amaya or Opeli), which forces poor Ezran to assume a horrible role for which, at eight years old, he is obviously absolutely not prepared.

Which obviously puts the kingdom in a dangerous situation.

In his letter to Soren, Viren is very literal. He wants Soren to judge him, but for him to have all the necessary elements to do so; he wants Soren to understands why he made all these mistakes. Viren tells Soren that all the suffering he felt was never his fault, but his own.

It was Viren and Viren alone who chose to become a monster by violating Kppar then Lissa, thus causing her departure, then making Soren pay for it throughout his childhood.

The letter was intended to free Soren of all guilt. Because, when you get given the cold shoulder by your father throughout your whole childhood, you believe it has to be your fault. All divorce children think it's their fault.

The problem is, reading the truth might as well make Soren feel worse. Because this letter confirms that it was to save him that Viren destroyed the family, even if it was a choice that Viren made. According to Puzzle House, Soren remembers that he was sick, that his grandfather disappeared, that his father saved him, and that his mother left, but he could never connect the dots between all these events.

This letter means that the simple fact that Soren was alive was indeed the first crack that eventually caused the whole house to collapse.

Viren therefore chose to burn the letter, hoping to spare his son such a burden.

Both Viren's and Harrow's deaths have something of a suicide to them, and not just in the letters they leave behind.

Remember my post comparing their actions to the quote from the Kaamelott show ? "What is someone who suffers and spills his blood on the floor so that everyone is guilty? All suicides are Christ. All bathtubs are the Grail."

In short, I was trying to explain how their masochism made others suffer.

Harrow claims to consider himself a servant, and he certainly means it. He is humble, is aware monarchy is an unfair system and has a great sense of honor, not hesitating to defy certain traditions - by sharing his official portrait with Viren - and to put his own life at stake. But when, for example, he finds nothing better to do than deprive his people of food simply to honor a promise, his claims sound particularly hollow. He is out-of-touch enough not to know the state his kingdom is in, so he will certainly not have to see his own family starve. But he set out to restore some justice to the world, however stupid this justice is. He seems to consider that by sacrificing the kingdom, he is sacrificing himself. And during his heroic death, that by sacrificing himself, he will save the kingdom instead of plunging it into chaos.

Viren, most probably partly because of his social origins that he keeps getting reminded of (and a fun childhood too, the guy insults himself in front of the mirror until he breaks down crying and constantly devalues his son) is haunted by an inferiority complex. To be useless. He has a morbid need for gratitude. Hoping to matter, to serve a purpose, he spent years self-destructing through dark magic, constantly putting himself in danger, ruining his health, wiping behind the king's decisions, or letting Aaravos exploit his body in increasingly abject ways. In short, to see himself only as a means to an end.

This feeling of ungratefulness is not unfounded: not only is the king actually incompetent enough not to have the slightest idea of ​​the state of his kingdom's resources, but in addition, where any swordsman would display with pride the scars of his craft, Viren is forced to hide his swollen face - it is even part of the reason why his wife left him.

The problem is that his own self-sacrificing tendancies made him think he had the right to exploit others: his wife, Sarai, Harrow, the princes, Soren, and a few thousand others, and I'm probably forgetting some.

That since sacrificing others was difficult for him, it made him the hero.

Viren probably suffers from a huge martyr syndrome: being able to exist only through the gratitude of others, he begins to take charge of all their problems, even unsollicited, and even if it means creating others in the process. It doesnt make him evil. It's an unconcious strategy to simply survive.

Since he is competent, no-nonesense, pragmatic and literally magical, he ends up making himself absolutely indispensable. No one but him could save two kingdoms from famine. Even more so, Sarai, Harrow's wife, sacrificed herself to save him because he was a mage. This survivor's guilt may have made this problem worse.

His mentality, which he summed up as "get a grip" to a traumatized Terry, also likely played a role in the deterioration of his relationship with Harrow. After Sarai's death, Viren probably felt that he ought to be the immovable and unshakable pillar on which Harrow should be able to rely. That if he ever showed the slightest doubt, the slightest weakness, Harrow, and with him, the kingdom, would collapse. Whereas if Viren had been less constipated, Harrow would undoubtedly have felt less lonely, and would have been less likely to take his own life as he did.

Viren is the brain of the heart. He provides a safeguard to Harrow, whose sense of justice blinds him. Harrow has, after all, indeed chosen the Blindfold in his dream, to push him to imagine a system aimed at protecting everyone equally. An ideal, unrealistic and inconsiderate. Viren is the Scales, in my opinion: he compares the costs of his actions to the positive consequences that will result from them. He is a result-oriented person, measuring his self-worth by his productivity.

Now, it's time for me to talk about the Drama Triangle, theorized by psychiatrist Stephen Karpman in his article Fairy Tales and script drama analysis.

Karpmann first applies this schema to fairy tales: for example, the Piper of Hamelin saves the villagers, victims of the rats who persecute them; but instead of thanking him, the villagers throw stones at him and banish him without paying their dues; which pushes the Piper to take revenge, becoming a persecutor, by making all the children of the village disappear.

But this Triangle, as Karpman explains, is also an unconscious psychological game, a relational pattern between victim, persecutor and savior that cannot be applied to an emergency situation. It is not necessary for all three instances of the triangle to be present, but it is often enough for one person to play the game for the others to get involved. Stephen Karpman adds that the more roles are reversed in a single scene, the more intense it is in emotion and conflict.

The victim is isolated, passive and unable to make decisions to resolve their problems. The persecutor belittles them, minimizes their suffering and mocks them in the hope of making them react. The savior defends them, feels obliged to solve the victim's problems for him even unsollicited, which is very gratifying for them but maintains the victim in a state of dependence.

None of these roles are positive because they create unbalanced relationships.

The problem, you can see it coming, is that over the years, Harrow has become completely dependent on Viren to put his grand ideas into practice, and therefore on the "necessary" crimes that Viren lined up like pearls on a necklace. It's not just dirty, it's also infantilising. Viren constantly acts as a savior, which places Harrow in a victim role, unaccustomed to questioning Viren's decisions even when he is wrong.

Harrow couldn't take it anymore.

He became so fed up with his own dependence on Viren that he concluded the only way to get rid of him was to die.

Harrow could have hidden with the princes, or fired his entire guard and faced the consequences of his actions alone, but he just seized the opportunity to sell his skin dearly and die a hero.

I would even go so far as to say that for Harrow, his own death served three purposes:

Reunite with Sarai without whom his life no longer has meaning

Finally receive his rightful punishment and put an end to his own feelings of guilt

Make Viren finally feel guilty about something, even if it was his suicide. He wants him to see his blood spilled on the floor.

In short, to finally regain control by placing Viren in the role of victim, while becoming the persecutor.

"I have tolerated your arrogance for to long. But if this is my last day as king, I will make sure you will know your place."

Viren, throughout seasons 1 and 2, paying for Harrow's mistakes as he always did, tried to position himself as the savior of the human kingdoms, that were then facing a crisis situation: as a result, he is rejected at every turn, completely isolated, sentenced to death for treason and completely unable to resolve his problems. In short, a victim.

And who is it that "saves" him ?

Aaravos, by presenting himself as Viren's "servant", flatters his ego and points out persecutors to blame. However, Viren is not a fool: he is aware of being manipulated. He knows that Aaravos is deliberately withholding a lot of information from him. But he throws himself into it of his own free will. He's more stressed than everyone else as well as grieving, he back to the wall and isn't thinking like the rest of the world: as far as he is concerned, he has only made a series of unavoidable decisions, which had doors and doors shutting in his face over and over, plunging him further and further into sheer darkness.

Until he has "nothing left to lose". Until the man who he has chained to a wall is freer than him. Until the knife eventually becomes the border between two worlds, separating him from the only source of light, pale, artificial, unforgiving, coming from "worse than death": Aaravos.

Yeah, it's clearly suicide-coded.

Viren (believing he was doing the right thing) got the worst out of Harrow, just as Aaravos (wanting to cause chaos for fun) got the worst out of Viren.

And just like Harrow, the only way Viren had to get rid of the devil on his shoulder was to die.

And as for Viren's third death in the sixth season, heroic if ever there was one (on the very balcony where he looked at his wrist in season 2), it is also no coincidence that he repeats Harrow's last words to him, told to humiliate him : "I am a servant."

This term carries an ambivalence: the nobility of abnegation and the humiliation of submission.

Although Harrow saw himself as a servant of the kingdom and promoted equality in his reforms and symbols, he eventually grew tired of it. He does sacrifice his own life to end the cycle of revenge, but since he does not take the trouble to prepare for his succession, even if only by ensuring that the princes are safe, the result is a total disaster. He also devotes the last minutes of his existence to being completely unjustified cruelty towards Viren. His death was a way for him to finally regain control.

Viren, hurt that Harrow lowered him to the ground by mistaking his self-sacrifice for arrogance and once again leaving him to pay the price for his decisions, has made this term the justification for his crimes... confusing, in his good intentions, “serving the people” for “using the people”.

Viren was completely willing to sacrifice himself to save Harrow in Season 1, but Harrow, determined to regain control, didn't even listen to him; and Viren immediately recanted when Harrow refused to recognize him as an equal. Although it could not have been more sincere, the sacrifice of his own life was then rejected by the plot because it was done without humility.

(or maybe Harrow immediately understood what Viren was going to do and scolded him to dissuade him)

Viren was then reduced to his greatest weakness : his existential need for gratitude.

And more than ever, he was the only one with common sense in the room, on top of being belittled for his absence of royal blood. He still thinks he knows better than everyone else, just as he always actually did. Anyone who crosses his vision ought to be killed. No matter how much he has to harm others and himself (burning his own eyes, committing high treason and sentencing himself to death, giving in body and soul to "worse than death", letting Aaravos manipulate his body in absolutely gross ways, risking being burned at the stake) in the process. Aaravos sees straight through, exploits this, because it's what dark magic is: it's dehumanising yourself as well as others; seeing no longer people but components and obstacles. Viren harms himself to be seen as a hero, not a servant. He needs gratitude, admiration. To be seen as above. A servant is beneath, only ever doing what he is told.

But today, Viren, haunted by the vision of Harrow's blood on the floor, chooses to sacrifice himself, thus saving the population of Katolis in the face of dragon fire, to sacrifice himself alone and no one else, reviled, hated, and misunderstood. The official portrait of him and Harrow, symbolizing his noble deeds and the good they were able to do together, burned in the castle fire.

He dies not in court clothes but in rags, not as an official hero showered with praise, but as a traitor. Soren will never know what he did for him as a child, Viren doesn't want his death to haunt him.

Even though he dies as the Lord Protector of the Realm Ezran could not be, in the eyes of history, Viren will remain the traitor. The Evil Chancellor, Jafar, Richard III, Iago, Scar.

No one will see his blood as he spills it on the floor of Harrow's room.

Servants of the realm indeed.

[hangmanssunnies]

Inconceivable!

Summary: No one tells you how hard it is to have to plan to leave and hurt the love of your life. However, when you know you want different things, you must choose. And your baby is probably the only thing you can ever imagine choosing over Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem! Reader

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick 

Word count: 8.2k words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, fertility problems, panic attacks, Angst with a happy ending, threatening to break Brad's heart, so many references to The Princess Bride,Soft!smut, Soft!Bradley, Organized!Bradley. Let me know if I missed any others.

Authors Note: No use of Y/N. As always, I love BradBrad so much y'all. I don't know if I can write nonangsty smut. I was thinking of him and kids. The next thing you know I wrote whatever this is. Bradley wearing glasses 🥵. I hope you enjoy this! My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are always appreciated as well! I love reading through them.

You knew Bradley never wanted to be a father, which was just fine with you because you knew you couldn't have kids. You had known about your fertility problems for a long time and had long ago come to peace with it. 

Y'all had several conversations about children when you first started dating. Once you both felt like your feelings on the matter were hashed out, you had never really felt like revisiting the topic. Your life wasn't less or empty without kids. You were perfectly content with the life you and Rooster had made together. 

That's why you have no idea what to do with the situation you are in right now. You were at your gynecologist for your annual check-up. Taking a pregnancy test was standard procedure, something you didn't even bat your eyes about or worry over. What you weren't prepared for was the positive results back. 

"I'm sorry?" You choked out in disbelief. "That can't be possible."

"I know this is probably surprising, but," your doctor starts to say before you cut them off. 

"No. No, I have known since I was 17 that I can't get pregnant."

"Well, you are and can. Sometimes miracles like this can happen," your doctor responded kindly. 

She went on to ramble more and talk about some next steps and options. You felt shocked, not entirely sure how to process the information she was throwing your way. You left the office a bit later, promising to set up a follow-up appointment. 

Your first thought was to get an abortion. It was the obvious solution. Bradley didn't want kids, and you hadn't wanted them either. Right? You tried to think if it was true. Was it that you didn't want kids or just that you couldn't have kids? 

For the next week, you tried to run the pros and cons and sort out your feelings on what was happening. You tried to act as normal as possible with Bradley. You didn't want to bring anything up until you knew how you felt.

Part of you kept coming back to when you were a little girl to how growing up before you knew that you couldn't have kids, the promise you would whisper to yourself. The promise of how you would do better than your own parents did. 

You thought of the fantasies you used to have: the baby shoes, baking in the kitchen guiding a tiny pair of hands, sports practices, matching sweaters for family holiday cards, first recitals, proms and homecomings, dropping them off for their first day of college, and parent's weekends where you buy cheap booze, family trips, the possibilities of grandkids. 

Now suddenly, all those fantasies were a possibility again. A reality that could come true in less than a year. Thinking about them brought an ache to your chest. An ache that manifested as want, a desire so strong all the cons you could come up with didn't really matter, well, all of them but one. 

The biggest problem of the puzzle was Bradley, the love of your life. You had absolutely no doubt that he would do the right thing and stay by your side. However, you didn't want him to be a dad because he had to do it. The thought of him being forced to do something he didn't want to, just because it's the right thing, made your stomach roll. The idea of part of him resenting you, and eventually your child too, because of something you chose. That was something you couldn't live with. 

So even though you felt a heavy hurt in your chest, you knew you had to leave Bradley. You weighed that heartbreak compared to the want for this child that had bloomed in your chest, and one outweighed the other. So now, on top of thinking about the baby, you started to think through quiet plans of how it would hurt your husband least to leave him. 

You almost broke down one night and told him the two of you had been lying on the couch together. Bradley was casually spooning you from behind, one of his hands playing with a lock of hair while the movie he picked played on the TV. Of course, it was the Princess Bride, one of his all-time favorites. 

You were half watching the movie, half dozing. Bradley was too good at soothing you, and you had started noticing a significant change in your energy levels as of late. You mentally made a note to bring it up at the follow-up doctor's appointment you had scheduled. 

"I would do that," Bradley suddenly says, bringing you back to alertness. 

"Oh really?" you hum, unsure what he was talking about. 

"Yes, I would wait five years and chase after kidnappers, fight the prince, build a tolerance to poison, all for you, baby." 

Bradley's honest love for you warmed your chest like it always did. However, the current circumstances turned that warmth into a bitter aftertaste in the back of your throat. What you were doing haunted you. His hand drops your hair and traces down your arm until he threads your fingers together. His large hand in yours helped further break down your resolve. 

"What if I asked you to do something you didn't want to?" You ask him hesitantly. 

"If you wanted me to, then I would," Brad tells you plainly. As if that were a given, you should just expect that his desires would line up with yours. It doesn't put you at ease like you were hoping it would. 

"What if it was something you really didn't want to. Something bigger than sword fights and rodents of unusual size?" 

His hand flexes squeezing yours a little tighter. Bradley doesn't say anything for a moment, and you wait with bated breath. Finally, he nuzzles your neck with his nose before asking, "Do you have something specific in mind?" 

That was the moment, the moment that you could come clean to him. You could be honest and lay it all out on the table, but you don't. You can't. You aren't ready to let him go yet; it's too soon, you tell yourself. 

So you lie to him, finally pushing the words out your throat, "No, nothing specific. Just asking." 

Bradley's fingers that are laced with yours squeeze yours again, and you have the sneaking suspicion that he doesn't believe your lie. "Well, even if it was big. We would do what we always do. We'll talk about it and figure it out. Then I'll agree with what you want, just like I always do."

"You shouldn't do things you don't want to do just for me, Brad," you chastise him lightly. The heavy pit in your chest constricts even more. 

He kisses your head, pulling you a little tighter against him in his embrace. "Sure, whatever you say, babe." 

The whole thing sits with you for another week, and the doctor's appointment you made starts to creep closer. You are reading an article in incognito mode on your phone about nutrition during pregnancy and the importance of vitamins. Occasionally, you glance up to see Bradley sitting on the other side of the couch. 

He has a thick World War Two biography book wide open, nearing the end. His reading glasses are perched on the edge of his nose. Even though you had teased Brad relentlessly when he first got them, the glasses were actually really hot. The sight of them on him now makes heat start to bud in the bottom of your abdomen. 

You lock your phone and set it aside, looking more thoroughly at Bradley now. He was so so very handsome. You found it unlikely there would ever be another man you would allow into your bed after him. The edges of panic that seep into you every time you consider the inevitable end with Bradley makes a reappearance. You push it to the side as much as possible, but it creates a sudden desperation for him in you. 

"Bradley."

"Yes, my love?" He asks, not looking up from the page in front of him. 

"I need something."

"What do you need?" He turns the page of his book and pushes those damn glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. 

"I need you," you tell him, biting your lip. 

His eyes snap up from the page to look at you, and his eyebrows raise, processing your words. "What was that?"

"I need you to make love to me, Brad. I'm on fire." 

He dog ears the page he is on his book and sets it on the coffee table, turning to give you his full attention. His hands casually trace up your leg, massaging the tense muscles of your claves. 

You let out a soft sigh at the feeling. A few moments later, Bradley crawls up your body, pressing soft kisses to your neck and then melding his lips to yours. You sigh into his mouth, enjoying the taste of him, trying to savor it. You pull off his reading glasses so they aren't in the way, haphazardly tossing them away. 

When he starts to pull away, you wrap your arms around him, drawing him closer, not wanting any space between you. You trace one of your hands down his neck and under the collar of his shirt, tracing his shoulders, kissing him harder, slipping your tongue into his mouth. 

"What has got you so needy, sweet girl?" He asks you, confused, pressing a few soft sweet kisses to your throat.

"Just you, handsome man," you tell him, trying to draw Bradley back to your lips. Bradley smiles, hearing your words but then shifts off you and the couch. 

Before you can protest at his absence, he goes to pick you up. Like every time Bradley picks you up, you are hit with the worry that it will be the time he can't do it, or he will drop you, make heaving grunting sounds, or some other terrible mishap will come to pass. It doesn't, though; he secures you in his arms and starts to carry you through the house to your room. 

You start pressing kisses to the readily presented column of his neck then. When he reaches your bed and goes to put you down, you sink your teeth into the space where his neck starts to curve into his shoulder. Although he lets out a hiss, you hadn't held back with the bite. You made it intending to mark him. 

When he does set you down, you scramble hurriedly to start undressing him, desperate to see and feel the expanses of his golden skin. Unfortunately, you only get Brad out of his teeshirt before he stops you. His large hands close around your wrists, holding them tight, preventing them from moving further down, lower than the top of his abdomen. 

"Slow down, pretty girl. We got all the time in the world," he says. You know, he said it to be soothing, but he didn't know how wrong he was. He didn't understand the finite amount of time you had left together. 

So when he lets go of your wrist, you instead start to pull off your own clothes and settle yourself on the bed. You stare at him expectantly and let out the smallest huff. 

"Slow down." He tells you again, "And, don't move your hands off the headboard," When he is satisfied with how you are holding it, he starts to kiss down your body. 

"Why are you so worried?" he breaths out against your inner thigh, pressing feather-light kisses to the skin there. "You know I'm going to take care of you, my love. I always do. There's no reason to be so worried."

Bradley's words manage to hit the exact spot of comfort you are actually needing. Even though you are planning on leaving him. You still want him to take care of you; you want to do this with him. But, you also know that can't happen. So, regardless you feel more at ease; the desperation in you is not quite so hot, not making you jittery with need. 

Bradley rewards the way your body relaxes by licking stripe over you. You resist the urge to let go of the headboard and bury your hands in Bradley's thick hair. The way he sucks your clit into his mouth to roll his tongue over makes you arch, needing more. Bradley lays his arm across your hips, applying pressure to keep you still under him. 

The more you work to struggle against his arm, feeling your high edge closer and closer, a thought suddenly pops into your head. Is it still okay for Bradley to hold you down like this? Are you going to hurt your baby? It's an irrational thought, you know that, but your body instantly reacts to it. Of course, so early into your pregnancy, there is no reason this would be a problem, but you still drop your hips down onto the bed, no longer trying to move them against him. Your distraction pulled you far back from the edge. 

You try to focus on the feel of Bradley's tongue and how warm he feels with his shoulders caged between your thighs. But only a few breaths later, Bradley is lifting his head to look at you. 

He has a crease between his eyebrows, and his tongue that was just around you darts out to lick to own lips. "What just stopped you from coming?" he asks, concerned. His voice is thick and low. His hold over your waist disappears as he draws soothing circles on your hip. Bradley's concern draws you back to him and into the want you have for him. 

You let go of the headboard and stretch out your arms. Then, burying your hands in his hair, you tilt Brad's face to fully meet your eyes. 

"Make love to me, Bradley," you beg him. He stares at you for a very long minute, and you stare back at him, waiting. Finally, he pulls his eyes away from yours and stares at your center in front of him. 

"As you wish," he mutters the words. Rooster pulls himself off the bed and pulls his sweats off. You drag your eyes over his naked body, taking him all in. You lick your lips at the sight. 

"You are breathtaking, Brad," you tell him. That smile that melts your heart shows up on his face, and he glows under your praise.  

You crawl to the edge of the bed and trace your hands up his muscular thighs. You guide your hand upwards. You brush over his cock, not really giving it any attention, before outlining his side, watching his stomach and abs contract under your fingers. You go slowly, trying to memorize the feel of his skin under you. You kiss along his chest too. 

He leans down and captures your lips. You kiss Rooster back, glad that the fervor has left your body, but you are no less desperate for him. The desire to memorize him doesn't go. 

You urge him onto the bed, pushing him on his back. You straddle Bradley, settling over him, with his cock nestled in between your lower lips. You give a small rock, his head bumping into your clit. You moan a little and repeat the motion. 

Leaning forward, you rest your hands on his chest to give you more leverage. Rooster moves his hips with you increasing the friction. The pace is slow and almost teasing for both of you. 

Shifting your weight, you lean and kiss him again. Bradley's tongue slips into your mouth, running against yours. One of his hands comes up and rests on your hip, urging you, pulling you further down to rub against him harder. His other hand cups one of your breasts, his thumb running over your nipple in swirling strokes. 

You break his embrace just to reach your hand and guide him inside. Bradley lets out a heavy sigh as he slips into you. You resist the urge to slide all the way down his length, keeping it slow. 

"Fuck, you feel so good," he tells you, biting his lips. 

"Love how you fill me, Brad," you sigh once he is fully hilted. Both of you are breathing more elevated. When you start to move your hips again, Bradley closes his eyes and presses his head back into the bed. 

You immediately stop moving, glaring down at him. "No," you say, and his eyes open instantly, looking at you again. You reach up a hand to grip his chin affectionately, holding his face in place. "I need to see you." 

"You are so beautiful," he tells you. Bradley does as you want and doesn't break eye contact again. 

The room is filled with both of your moanings as you work together at a slow, steady pace. The way his hands run along your skin and back is almost reverent. The heat in you starts to build again. You grind down hard onto Bradley so that your clit gets more stimulation. 

Rooster's right hand comes around and settles on your lower stomach, applying pressure and letting his thumb dip down to brush your clit in light strokes. You gasp, a moan breaking from your throat. You freeze on top of Bradley's cock, enjoying the zing his thumb just sent up your spine. 

"That's right. So good." Bradley moans out, pressing his thumb harder into you. Even though he is filling you so deliciously, you don't feel close enough to him. You feel like you want to crawl into his skin. That would be the only thing that would satisfy your need for him. 

You grab his hand that isn't on your clit and thread your fingers together. His hand grips yours back. Bradley doesn't make any movement to shift either of your hips, content to play with your clit and stare into your eyes. 

"Fuck, I love you." Bradley groans out, biting his lower lip. You start to rock your hips into his again, but for the most part, keeping him fully hilted inside you. You almost feel like you are drowning in his eyes with how he looks up at you. His heavy-lidded gaze makes you clench around him.

Your moans and quiet pants mix with his. The tension in you grows as you swirl your hips into his. 

"Need this, need you." Bradley swirls his thumb a little harder and does break eye contact to nip your neck, sitting more up on the bed to get a better angle. Having more of your skin pressed together helps ease more of the ache in you. 

You grip his hair again, pulling him up, shifting, so you are chest to chest. Bradley's free hand clutches you close to him. You trace the scars on his cheek with your lips before kissing him again. 

"I love you," you sigh against his mouth. He groans and rocks his hips into yours, creating a bit more friction. Rooster understands just what you need, not pulling out of you. 

The two of you build a rhythm together; finally, you can't hold back anymore. The bubble in you bursts, and you clench hard around Bradey's cock. Bradley takes a few more gasping breaths and then cums in you with a low moan. Bradley starts to move like he is going to pull out of you, so you whine and hold him closer.  

"No, no. I need you closer," you tell him. You are still desperate to have him near. You press your nose into Rooster's neck, breathing in his natural musky scent. Trying to absorb the smell entirely, memorizing it before biting the skin and tasting it. 

"Woah. Woah," Bradley says breathily. You let out a low hum in response, trying to savor his sounds as well. You wiggle your hips against him again, where he is still half hard. You consciously clench around his dick, reminding yourself how full Bradley makes you. 

"Baby, stop," he says. Rooster's voice is wrecked, and his large hands hold your hips still. At first, you don't even hear his request until he repeats it more forcefully. Then he rolls you over onto your back and pulls out of you quickly. You gasp at the sudden loss of him. You have to lay there for a moment, trying to reorient yourself. Bradley is sitting on the edge of the bed, panting hard, his hands on his knees.

"Bradley?" You croak out, reaching a hand hesitantly towards him. He looks back at you, and his face is a mix of panicked and furious.

"What the fuck was that?" He asks you in a low growl.

"What was what?"

"Don't bullshit me."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," you tell him, drawing your eyebrows close together.

"That was was goodbye sex," he says slowly. Your mouth drops open, and you try to reach around your rattling brain to come up with an answer, an excuse. However, you find it completely empty. 

"That was the exact kind of sex we have before I leave and deploy. You had the same look." Bradley was almost shaking, and you had no idea what to say that wouldn't be a lie. 

"What's going on? Something has been wrong for weeks. I keep waiting for you to talk to me, and you fucking haven't." 

"I —" you start to say, but Bradley's eyes are so captivating, so genuine, you can't lie to him. So before you even know what you are saying, the words fall out of your mouth, "I'm leaving."

Rooster physically recoils at your words. The line of his back is taut, and his eyebrows draw together. His mouth presses into a tight line. His jaw flexing, and you can tell he is clenching his teeth. "What did I do wrong?"

"No, sweetie," you say quickly. "It's not you. It's me." You tell him gently. It was you, well, you and this baby, but Brad didn't need to know that. Your words only seemed to make him more upset. 

"Are you kidding me? You didn't just say that." He mutters it under his breath, pulling at his short curls in frustration and glaring at you. He is so tense the veins in his bicep and neck start to pop. 

"I'm sorry," you offer him quietly. 

"I don't want to hear sorry. I want to hear a reason. Were you going to tell me? Or just planning to disappear?"

"Of course, I was going to tell you."

"When?" 

"Soon."

"Why? "

"I can't..."

"No. I think I deserve to know why the love of my life is leaving me," Bradley says, frustrated. He stands up from bed, goes to his drawers, and pulls on some boxers to throw on. He also grabs one of his old Sigma Pi shirts out of his drawer and throws it for you to shrug on. 

You felt shame and frustration building in you. You didn't want to deal with this situation right now. You didn't want to have to tell Bradley why. Then to your absolute horror, and probably the hormones coursing through you, you burst into tears. 

Bradley's pacing halts for a moment at the sight of your tears, but then he resumes momentarily as he balls his fist tight. His knuckles turning a paler shade. 

"We want different things." You gasp out between the sobs racking your body. 

"We want different things," he repeats slowly, like he is trying to piece out some hidden meaning in the words.

"Yes," you hiccup nodding your head. 

"How could that be possible?" He questions you sharply. "If that were the case, we wouldn't have gotten married. And you didn't mention anything when we had our last relationship check-in."

Bradley was big on communication. He insisted y'all have seasonal relationship check-ins with each other to talk about anything that had happened and how you were feeling about your relationship. This conversation should have probably been reserved for the next one, but you couldn't wait a few more weeks before leaving, or Bradley would know.

You were going to start showing at some point; while all the articles you read were inconsistent about when that might happen, it would happen eventually. You knew it would probably be impossible to leave Rooster if he knew that you were pregnant. Every moment with him weakened your resolve to do the right thing. 

"Things change, people change." You weakly tell him. Not able to conceive a better excuse. 

"I don't understand why you are jumping into leaving me. Baby, why won't you talk to me?" Bradley suddenly dropped hard to his knees on the wood floor at the side of the bed. You winced at the sound it made. He pulls one of your hands into both of his. "Please talk to me," he begs you, holding your hand delicately in his. The puppy dog look Bradley has mastered coming out in full force. 

"I can't…"

"You can," he reassures you, swiping a thumb across your pulse point. You felt your stomach roll, the emotions in you going haywire. 

"I'm…" you trail off and then shake your head at him in denial of this situation. As soon as you tell Bradley, it will be over. 

"It's okay, baby. Anything. You can tell me anything. Talk to me. I won't be mad," he adds on for your benefit. Your plans all crumbled at that moment because how can you deny Bradley Bradshaw anything when he begs for it. 

"I'm pregnant," you finally whisper in a barely audible voice. With how Bradley reacted to your words, you might as well have screamed them. First, he flinches like a whole body flinch. Every muscle you can see tensing. He shutters and his grip on your hand tightens to where it is almost painful.  

Bradley freezes like that for a moment, blinking at you owlishly, before he drops his head down, hiding his face from your view. Finally, he presses his face down into the bed. 

You wait with bated breath. Rooster's grip on your hand didn't lessen in the slightest. You feel panic settle in the back of your throat when his shoulders start to tremble, and he still hasn't said anything.

"Bradley?" You flex your hand, resisting his tight grip, and he releases you. His hands fall limply on the bed. He still hasn't looked at you, though. 

Tears start to streak down your face faster, and a small sob hitches in your throat. "I am sorry," you tell him sincerely. 

"Are you really?" His low voice asks muffled. 

"Sorry, or pregnant?" You ask pulling up the collar of his shirt you are wearing to wipe away some of your tears. "Because it's both." 

His hands come to clasp themselves together, and you briefly wonder if he is praying. The shaking of his shoulders and the inability to see his face make it increasingly impossible to understand his reaction.

Finally, he looks at you, and those hazel eyes bleed back at you, tears still falling down his face staining his cheeks a bright red even through the healthy tan he has right now. Bradley's eyes trace over your face looking like he is searching for any trace of a lie. Then he examines your body under his shirt like he might already see a difference. 

As if there was a difference, he would be able to notice now that he didn't notice before when you were naked, and he was inside of you. You wrap your arms around your chest, hugging yourself under his scrutiny. 

"I'm going to keep it." You finally tell him now that Bradley's shining eyes are available for scrutiny again. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his face falls into a frown. "I'm sorry," you say again. 

You try to think of the right words to explain yourself to him. "When I found out, I realized I wanted this. I know we always said we didn't. But I really want this baby, Bradley. I am sorry I kept it from you. I just didn't know how to tell you. And then I saw these baby shoes in the store. They were so cute." Your fingers knot into the edge of the worn frat shirt you are wearing. His hazel eyes aren't giving you much to go off of. They are still darting around your face like he is trying to figure out what you are telling him. 

Brad abruptly stands up in the middle of your rambling. So, you halt your words. Watching him as he walks out of the room. You strain your ears, trying to listen to where he went. You hear the hallway door open and beeps coming from the safe. After hearing it click open and seal again, Bradley's feet can be heard on the hallway floor again. 

Your mind runs, trying to think of what he could have grabbed from the safe. Your important documents? You silently make a note that was something that you need to be sure to pack. You wouldn't want to come back to Bradley to get your passport or something after leaving. Could it be money? Was he going to give you money to leave with and give you some of the cash you two had been saving to move? 

The thoughts make breathing extra hard, and you start to suck air in and out rapidly. The panic floods your veins, making the walls of the room shrink inward towards you. Sharp tingles prick at your fingertips and toes. 

Before you can run through any other possible scenario, he gets back. 

You can't focus on Bradley enough to see him through the black that starts to edge in at the corner of your vision. You desperately try to pull a gasping breath in your chest. The action of breathing is suddenly too overwhelming. 

The panic of what you had just done finally cutting into you. That Bradley now knew the secrets you had been harboring so close to your chest. There is wringing in your ears, the shuddering wracking your body. You curl into yourself to try and shield yourself from the hurt and panic ringing through your body. 

Then, you are engulfed. There isn't enough weight on the outside of you to combat the storm of panic that was trying to burst out from the inside of your veins. Numbness fills your body, and you know you are close to passing out. The storm brewed inside you, desperate to escape your body, desperate to take you out at the same time. 

Heaving in breaths gets harder and more difficult. You dig your nails hard into the skin of your thighs, trying to scramble for anything to steady yourself. Fighting each desperate moment when there is s shift.

At first, you don't know what has changed. However, your breaths get a gasp longer, allowing slightly more oxygen, and the black in your vision starts to recede. You slam your eyes shut at the nausea you feel. The more air you can finally take in, the more you are allowed to start making sense of anything besides your own haywire body. 

You are wrapped in your weighted blanket, and the extra pressure is aided by Bradley. He is holding you tight within his arms and legs, and he has you pulled close to his chest.

His legs are wrapped around your hips and crossed in front of you. Giving the front of your body room. Your legs are trapped between you two. One of his arms is crossed over your chest, and the other is petting your head soothingly, playing with your hair occasionally. 

Bradley is humming to you. You try and focus on the tune. It's like a lifeline; you cling to the sound, letting it help your thoughts trail away from your panic. You keep trying to breathe bigger, longer breaths consciously now. 

It's a tune you have heard before. Finally, Bradley breaks from the humming, whispering one of the lyrics into your ear, and you can immediately place the song. 

"Love of my life," he mutters lowly into your ear, and then he returns to his humming. You are flashed back to a different time he sang this song to you. 

He had been perched on the bench of a piano. Fingers gliding over the keys in time, his sweet voice dipping between octaves. It was Love Of My Life, by Queen. It is the song Bradley sings to you before every single deployment. 

The song feels like a confirmation that you two will not be making it. A confirmation he is letting you go. This is the song that always fills the space between you when parting ways. The small semblance of recovery you had made is gone. Your breaths start to quicken again as you are dragged back into the panic. 

Bradley's arms flex hard, and there is slightly more pressure around you. The beads of the weighted blanket shifting under his hands. He continues humming the song, but this time he peppers in a few more of the lyrics. 

"Love of my life, don't leave me," he croons softly into your ear. 

You don't know how long Bradley holds you waiting for you to calm down. You don't ever feel at ease, but the slow breaths and Bradley's soothing voice help bring you down from the high and worst of the panic attack.  

You manage to let out a little whimper, and Bradley's arms start to loosen around you in slow intervals. You turn your face to the side, slotting your eyes up to catch a glimpse of him. Bradley has his eyes closed, and his face is splotchy and red from crying still. You fill in some of the lyrics to his humming in a cracked, barely there voice. Those beautiful eyes flash open, hearing your voice join his humming. 

He won't stop humming, though. Rooster's hazel eyes are so intense, a medusas snare, that even as hard as you try to close your eyes, you aren't successful. They have captivated you entirely. Bradley finishes humming the song and lets his arms slip from around you. His legs uncross, and they fall flat on the bed on either side of you. 

You push the weighted blanket off your top, so it is pilled around your legs as you ease out of your curled position. 

"BradBrad," you whisper for him. You are still trembling at the very tips of your fingers. The buzz and tingles at the front of your nose are still persistent, but feeling has returned to the rest of your body. The needles fade out of your hands and legs. 

"Love of my life," he hums sweetly again. His eyes have a tiny bit of worry, but for the most part, they are full of love and adoration for you. His body is borderline hot to the touch and feverish behind you. His heart is thumping loudly under your ear. 

Brad's now loose hands find new purchase, gliding over your hips, tracing slow, steady circles. Then his left hand starts creeping forward further. Bradley's large hand is suddenly under his shirt and splaying out flat against your lower belly. That is where it finds its perch. 

You gasp at the feeling of his hand, at the placement of it. Brad's fingers make the tiniest indents pressing into your skin. Your breath hitches at his squeeze. The metal of his wedding ring is warm against your skin, a nice contrast to the rest of his hand. 

Hearing the way your breath hitches, Bradley immediately lays his hand fully flat. Bradley now retreating to a feather-light touch. His fingers swirl in an unknown pattern on your skin. His hands like to trace the shapes of flight paths he has memorized. 

It was something Bradley had confessed to you one night during pillow talk. The two of you sprawled together. You were laying half on his chest. His fingertips were tracing the length of your spine, in feather-light trials, moving from the base of your spine to the small of your back, then following the path again. His fingers would sometimes brush into your hair and give small scratches before tracing your flesh again. 

"How do you do that?" You finally had asked him.

"Do what?" He responded, but something about the glint in his eye told you he knew exactly what you were referring to. Rooster just wanted you to admit it out loud. 

"You are so consistent, but you keep me on my toes." Bradley's hand stills where it had been gliding on your back. Then he started to trace once more, but this time his fingers making small movements and taking on a new drag like pattern dancing across your back. 

"Is that right?" He asked you, but there was a full-blown boyish smirk donning his face. 

You nodded your head, licking your lips. The tingles that his hands were sending through your body started to warm you up even after just having finished with him. "Yes, it rocks my world. So, why don't you let me on the secret?"

"I'm just that good, baby," he told you cheekily. 

"Bradley Bradshaw." You warned lowly.  

"It's flight paths." 

"What?"

"I use the flight paths I have memorized," his fingers danced in a looping motion doubling back and then tracing forward again.

"They make it easy to loop, but it's long enough that there is different pacing, or I use the piano," He told you, letting his fingers tap and shift along your back as if it was a set of ivories suddenly. It had made you giggle. 

"That might have been one of the sexiest things you have ever told me, Bradley." You had told him before you kissed him silly. And letting him showcase those skills with his tongue for the second time that night. 

Now, Brad's hand that is lying against your stomach also starts to follow a pattern. You open your mouth, but Bradley quickly cuts you off. 

"Please, don't say sorry."

"But I am."

"That was a bad attack."

It was true that you hadn't had one that severe in a while. "I'm—"

"Do not say sorry," he repeats. You sigh heavily and move to stop leaning against Bradley. However, he doesn't let you. The hand on your hip and lower abdomen fighting you and drawing you flush against him. He settles you, so you are comfortably leaning against his chest again.

"I am sorry," Brad finally says, almost a whisper in your ear. 

"You are sorry?"

"Yes."

"Why?" You question him. Not sure you understand what he is apologizing for.

"Why are you going to leave me?" Brad asks instead of answering your question. 

You sigh and close your eyes. You lean your head back, so it's settled on Bradley's shoulder. Then take a deep calming breath before responding. "I know you don't want kids. You have always been very honest about that, and it's not your fault I'm pregnant. 

"Well, I don't think you went and got pregnant by yourself. It's kind of a process that takes two contributing parties. Unless you are going to tell me that it's someone else's." Bradley says the words so incredulously that you know he has no doubt the baby is his. 

"I know you don't want this, but I realized I do."

"What if I do want this?"

"I'm not going to let you do this just because you feel obligated, Bradley," you tell him tiredly.

"No. I want this."

"How could that be?" You ask. 

You feel him shift behind you, and you open your eyes to see what he is doing. Bradley is reaching to the bedside table where you see a huge binder sitting. 

It is a binder that you know well. Bradley is a meticulous and organized person. He likes to refer to this binder as your Life Plan Binder. It was full of timelines, dates, references, and lists. Everything Bradley feels is necessary for y'all's life. 

You realize that this one is different from the one that lives on his desk. It is slimmer, and the front doesn't have a picture of the two of you slotted in the cover that the other did. 

"The LPB?" You ask him, confused.  

His left hand makes itself at home again on your lower abdomen, while his right hand puts the binder on your lap. Finally, you read the cover where it says alternative plans in bold lettering. 

"I'm sorry I left earlier, but I needed to get this." He mutters into your ear. Brad's tone is deeply apologetic. He flips the binder open, and there are labeled tabs. You fully realize this is a binder you have never seen before. You scan the tabs and freeze up in Bradley's hold when you see the one he is thumbing to.

It is towards the back, behind the different tabs, including restations, health, new cars, vacations, and retirement, is a tab that has a simple label. It's blue and just says, baby. Bradley flips to the tab, and you see the cover page of the section with the table of contents. In bold at the top of the page, you read Baby Bradshaw. 

A sob that ends up coming out as a broken laugh ripping from your chest. The section contents was filled out with thoroughly thought out plans on you having children, from a section with important timelines, appointments to schedule, college savings plans, and a section with boys' and girls' names that he likes. 

You bring one of your hands up to stifle the sobs that are bubbling in your chest. You hold your hand close over your mouth to try to hold back the sound. His fingers traced over the page and the table of contents for the section. 

"What is this?" You finally ask him. 

"It's my alternate life plan binder. For you know, if other things come up."

"Why do you have a Baby Bradshaw section?" You hesitantly ask. His hand is still warm against your stomach, and he flexes his fingers. 

"Well, a while ago, I started thinking about kids," he trails off, and you start looking through the table of contents again. You see that the most robust and largest section is actually related to adoption. You feel your heart melt in your chest. A new bright feeling of hope blossoms looking at the care, time, and thought he has put into this. As he continues, "and well… You know how I am. I wanted to be prepared for that possibility."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I've been ruminating, and I don't know. Maybe I would have mentioned it at our next check-in. But I knew you don't…" Bradley doesn't finish his sentence, and you lose your mind a little bit.

You pull the large binger up into your hands and shift. You struggle and move until you turn in his grip. Your legs wrapped around Brad's waist. You want to see his face, which is easier in this position. The hand that had been placed on your stomach curls around your back and waist, steadying you against him. 

"You changed your mind?" You ask him. You let your hands trace over his chest, settling on cupping his face. Then, staring into his eyes, you look for any trace of anger or deceit. 

"You seem to also have changed your mind, baby," he takes the binder from where it was awkwardly pressed in between you two. It allows you to settle closer to him. Bradley sets the binder to the side, momentarily breaking eye contact to make sure none of the pages are creased. Your chests were almost flush together. You wrap your arms around his neck, and then he is the one to hold your face. His eyes reconnect with yours, and you once again feel like you are caught in them. 

The intensity and openness in his gaze make your lips move faster than your brain to lay out the whole truth for him. "I don't think that I ever wanted to not have kids. I had just accepted it because I knew that I couldn't." You explain, not breaking eye contact. Bradley's thumb traces a slow circle against your cheek. 

"I would never let you do this by yourself."

"I can't just throw a wrench like this in your life, Brad." 

He immediately starts shaking his head in protest. "It's our life. I'm not going to lie to you and say that you didn't hurt my feelings. If you left me," Bradly heaves a heavy shaky breath. You briefly wonder if he is going to cry again. Then he continues to explain, "I would be broken… shattered. I feel even worse that you didn't want to talk to me or tell me."

You can tell how deeply you hurt him. Even though you knew what you were going to do was wrong, now that you and Bradley are talking about it. You know you need to try and explain your rationale no matter how messed up it was. 

"At first, I wasn't sure how I felt. I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't do that before I knew how I felt. But then I kept thinking about all the times we talked about you not wanting kids. How you had so many good, valid reasons for feeling that way. I know you, Bradley. I knew that you would do the right thing as soon as I told you. But you don't need obligation ruling anymore of your life that it already does."  

"So what if I was obligated? I agreed to be obligated to you for the rest of our lives when we got married. I want to be bound to you. I want to shoulder your burdens, just like you shoulder mine," Bradley says.

"A child is a lifelong burden for you to shoulder," you say. You need to know, need to be fully sure Brad understands. 

"Do you think so low of me? Do you think I wouldn't love something that was a mix of you and me?"

"There are plenty of people in the world who don't love their children." You tell him, swallowing hard. 

He lets out a long sigh, his breath fanning a bit over your face. "I want this baby. I want this baby with you. I want to be at every doctor's appointment. I want to know everything I've missed. I want family vacations where I can buy a Hawaiian shirt in three different sizes for all of us. I want little league games. I want a baby to sing to sleep. I want someone to put on top of the piano and sing to like my dad did. I want us to paint a nursery. I want Disney trips. I want to fight about curfew. I want to make breakfast on Saturdays and spend Sundays in the shop with football, restoring a beat-up first car. I want to make dad jokes. Fuck, I need to buy a pair of new balances."

Warmth fills you at his words. You let out a small laugh picturing Bradley as a stereotypical dad. How he wants all of that with you. That you won't do this alone like you have mentally been preparing yourself for since finding out. You run your fingers up and down his neck trailing it down his shoulder as far as you can reach before tracing back to his neck. A content sigh falls from his lips, and his eyes close, enjoying your gentle caresses.

"What are some of the names?" You break the silence after his confessions.  

"I like Westley," he says with a small boyish smile. You bite back a grin at the name, playfully rolling your eyes. 

"Oh, and is Buttercup on your list for girl names?" You ask him teasingly. 

"Maybe," he says. You lean forward and peck his lips. 

"You're not going to leave me," Bradley whispers with conviction. You know he is still coming down from the emotional roller coaster you just went through together. You also know Brad is going to need time to fully process this conversation and the change about to happen in your lives. However, you also know, without a doubt, that Bradley will be holding your hand at your next doctor's appointment. 

"No, I'm not." You confirm and brush your lips over his softly. 

"Stay with me forever," Bradley begs you in a voice a little too small for you to handle. 

You hold the hazel gaze for a very, very long moment. You let him examine you, see the truth, and honestly bleeding in your gaze before you respond. What you want to say at first is: I love you. However, those words weren't quite right; they didn't seem to fully capture your intention and the emotion in your chest you felt for this man. So instead, you settle on the words you think will most closely allow him to understand. You brush your lips against him again, whispering your answer into them. 

 "As you wish, Bradley."

[silence-burns]

A Snack of Mine

Fandom: Spider-Man universe 

smut 18+

The smashing noises coming from what Miguel called “the control room” sounded expensive. You may not have been an expert in all things technical, but you were pretty sure the room was in the process of a violent remodeling. 

“Right,” you said. “And you expect me to do what exactly?” 

“How am I supposed to know? It's not me who's usually had to restrain him in this kind of state. It's not my fault no one wants to get close to him. They kinda have a point, though.” Lyla flew around your head, ethereal as ever.

A crash louder than the previous ones came from behind The Door To Miguel's Lair. 

“You do realize he's just ripped a monitor off the wall?”

“You do realize I have no physical presence to do anything about it?” 

Point taken. It didn't make you feel any better and Lyla’s constant spinning didn't exactly help you get your bearings.

You waved your hand through her before the colorful but pixelated display of her panic blinded you completely. If it was an option, you would've gladly allowed anyone else to take your place. Sadly, none of the currently available Peters had a chance of getting to Miguel through his fury.

And hunger.

You sighed before moving towards The Door of Doom. 

"Miguel, I come in peace!" 

The kind of snarling that came from the other side was not something a human throat should've been able to handle. 

"Be a good, nonlethal boy for 10 minutes and you'll get a snack. Maybe even McDonald's!"

The silence that followed was heavy enough to imply precisely where you could shove all the burgers in the worlds, but it was better than blinding rage; you were already making progress! You shoved the door open, quickly closing it behind your back. You clicked the lock into place.

It wasn't sturdy enough to keep any of the Spidermen out, but it served as a symbol. You walked into his lair, and now you had to deal with the consequences.

Miguel was meticulous in his fury. The room used to serve him as both a personal space and one of his less official offices, where he spent time thinking and planning without anyone bothering him. He was the head of the squad meant for suppressing the threats to the entire multiverse, so he had to deal with a never ending stream of things to take care of. A little bit of private space was a healthy solution.

Unfortunately, due to the circumstances called Miles Morales Versus Bad Decision Making, the otherwise pleasant, calming space was now in pieces. Literally—half the furniture lay in ruin spread across the floor like rubble after an explosion.

"I think you missed a few." You kicked away a rather big part of what used to be a desk. "You gotta be more thorough, man."

As much as you wished to feel even half as confident as you sounded, it was a rather difficult task when the only part of Miguel you could see were his eyes, glowing bright red and piercing you through, unblinking. The only source of light was dim and came from behind the broken furniture. The outline of Miguel's body was hardly discernible from the darkness of the room, but you swore he was towering over you more than usual.

And completely still.

"I really hope you aren't too sentimental, because there's no way anything here is savable. You gotta invest in a proper punching bag, or maybe two just in case—..."

"You think this is a joke?"

His voice was low and on the verge of growling. The situation with Miles definitely got under his skin.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to face my problems with a healthy dose of humor rather than destruction of my belongings. You've got claw marks on your walls, Miguel, come on. Don't you think it’s a bit too dramatic?"

Before you could blink, he was on you. Your back hit the wall just inches from the mentioned claw marks—deep, sharp, and clearly torn through with a lot of force. Looking up into Miguel's glowing eyes and the barely hidden fangs, you knew how capable he was of using said force.

Miguel leaned closer to you, his hand holding you still by the shoulder. Pressed between him and the wall, you could feel your pulse rising, and it was only partially thanks to the heat emanating from Miguel's body.

"The structure of the whole multiverse could be destroyed because of one person."

His voice was so low you could barely understand the words growled from his clenched jaw. Miguel's eyes burned to the point where you could no longer turn your head away. It was hypnotizing and a part of you didn't want to fight it.

"He's a child, Miguel. He's fifteen and his whole world just came crashing down on him."

"It doesn't give him the right to destroy everyone else's."

"No, but he's scared. Scared children need supportive adults, not claws in their faces."

Miguel's eyes dipped down over your lips for a split second, but something shifted through his posture. Still tense, his voice got quieter and lost the aggression. You were so close together that he was almost whispering in your ear, and yet you couldn't hear anything around but him.

"And what would you prefer me to do?" he purred.

"Everyone is already looking for Miles, so let his friends talk to him first once he's found. He has nowhere in the multiverse to hide forever."

Miguel's hand moved from your shoulder to the side of your neck. The claws retracted and now his touch was almost gentle. You missed it, just as you missed the kind of heat that was rising up behind the flaming red of his eyes, different from what most people ever got to see. Something reserved for you.

You turned your face to the side, letting his fingers caress your cheek. Miguel froze, entranced by the way his thumb rested over your lip and how your smile seemed to widen when you noticed too.

"I prefer you like this," you said, making your voice come out as barely a whisper. In his state, Miguel would've heard you from another room. 

You didn't notice when it happened, but he was closer now, imprisoning you between himself and the wall. You both inhaled at the same time, chests pressing together a moment. His whole body was tense and wrapped tight around you. His thighs crushed yours and you wouldn't be able to move away even if you wanted to. 

"I know what you're doing and… this really isn't a good time."

"You say it with such a scary look on your face, and yet you do nothing to stop me."

Miguel's nostrils flared when you put your teeth over your bottom lip.

And pushed.

Miguel's hand wrapped around your jaw, holding your face up towards him. His fingers dug into your skin, the gentle caress long gone. There was only a firm hold and a predator that smelled blood.

His pupils narrowed in a split second and the breath he took was shaky, as if he wanted to smell every bit of blood rising from the tiny cut.

"You've been on that artificial shit for a long time now," you cooed. "But we both know it can never be quite the same as the real thing."

You could see him trying to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. You stood on the tips of toes and brushed his lips with yours.

It was as if an electric shock struck his body. Miguel growled as he forced your mouth open, and then again when his warm tongue licked the blood smeared over you. He forced you back down with one push of his hips and you could feel him growing harder despite his spider suit. 

He sucked on your lip, hungry for more, just as his other hand found its way onto your hip and held it firmly against his own.

Miguel's open-mouthed kisses were growing sloppier as he followed your jawline and down the side of your neck. You couldn't help but push your fingers into his curls, marveling over how soft they felt and how perfect they were for grabbing his head and moving it just to the spot you wanted him at. 

Despite the urgency of his need and all of his senses blurry, Miguel let you guide him, breathing in your scent. There were no words to explain how much he missed it every time you had to go back to your own universe and leave him thinking, wanting and alone.

Miguel loved the way your nails sank into his hair and tugged harder every time he scratched your skin with his fangs. He couldn't help himself when he heard the softest of moans leave your throat and felt the way you kept grinding yourself over his cock. Miguel bit your shoulder hard when your hand wandered to his still clothed shaft and lightly scratched over the thin, bulging fabric.

"You're really testing my patience," he breathed into your skin.

"I hope you earn a good grade."

Miguel's hand moved from your hip to the bracelet controlling the features of his suit, but you slapped it away before he could take it off. You pressed harder over his erection, stretching the suit more.

"Who said I'm gonna let you rush so much?"

"I really don't think we have the—..."

A loud knock on the closed door made you both jump. 

"They found traces of Miles' signature!"

Miguel pushed his head into the crook of your swollen, tender neck, cursing with passion in Spanish. You may not have known the language well, but some things were truly universal.

You kissed his temple and brushed his wide shoulders. "You've got this."

Miguel took a slow, deep breath of your scent, noting all the various changes in it. But he did not budge.

"Prepare the team," he finally shouted back. "I'll be there in five minutes."

He caught your eyes widening and smiled ominously. The flaming red was shining through his own eyes again. 

"I have something to take care of first."