#hes making my brain explode in several several several ways

[tandytoaster]

Whenver I try to examine omega ridley up close I feel like i'm looking at that image of what its like when you have a stroke

[lvl109]

oh captain, my captain ✶ caleb xia

summary.ᐟ fem reader. wc: 6569. ( ?! ) belated birthday smut because the caleb demons were perched on my shoulders for almost three weeks. half plot half porn because here goes yappatron 3000.

teddy says.ᐟ this was originally supposed to be under 2k words, lmfao. i haven't written smut in a hot minute and didn't know how to end it so show grace. big big linkon sized thank u to my local caleb girlie @neigepomme for answering my silly characterization questions. i told u i was gonna site u as a source and i meant it. surrendering myself as a member of #applegirlnation now bc wdym this started as a joke. there is absolutely nothing funny about six thousand words for a man. sobbing hysterically what is this life. + idk who started writing mc as 'emcee' in fics but i thought it was cute so i used it too. :)

“avoiding the question isn't going to make me stop asking, you know.”

you've been at this for almost two hours now. following him around your apartment with narrowed eyes as he whistled cheerfully and avoided your budding frustration. the shared space is warm with the afterglow of a shared meal and lighthearted conversation. 

or at least, lighthearted until he started ducking your questions.

“i don't know what you're talking about.” his grin is easygoing when he turns to you, blinking innocently as your stare turns into one of comical disbelief. “i did answer your question.”

“answering a question with another question is not an answer—!”

caleb only smiles sheepishly in response. you swear—if not for the fact that he looked cute when he smiled, you'd punch him for his cheeky behavior.

“ow—okay, okay, i'm sorry!”

arms crossed in petulant expectation, you watch as he sighs dramatically and sags into the couch. his head leans back against the plush material, closing his eyes briefly before another smile, this time a bit resigned, crosses his lips.

“i meant it when i said what is there to ask for?, you know.” when his eyes open, his gaze is soft. “i've got everything i could ever ask for, and then some. the two most important people in my life are safe and cared for. i don't really need anything else.”

your expression immediately softens. you knew how selfless your boyfriend could be. it was practically hardwired into his brain to be someone of use to the people he cherished close to his heart. hearing what he and emcee went through from childhood was enough to make anyone give up several times over—and here he was choosing to use himself as a pillar to uplift her at the cost himself over and over again. selflessness seemed to be coded within him.

so when she was able to branch out and fall in love… it had made him wary. the two of them had been practically conjoined by the hip. it made sense he wouldn't have warmed up to the idea immediately. the two of you had actually met that way—an embarrassing moment in time that ended with dropped papers, several spilled coffees, and emcee and her hunter-partner-turned-boyfriend xavier staring at the both of you with varying degrees of concern and amusement.

(‘your first meet was cute!’ is what she always says when you recall the memory with a little bit of embarrassment. the only cute (and hilarious) part was how close caleb looked to exploding out of sheer despair.)

now coming on a year of dating, you'd like to think you know your boyfriend well enough. turns out caleb will never stop surprising you with soft and tender moments of sincerity. and with the way he looks at you when you fall silent, you nearly forget why you're even badgering him in the first place.

shifting over to kneel on the couch beside him, you take his face in your hands and gently brush the pad of your thumb against his cheek. he leans into the feeling as if starved, his eyes fluttering shut once more. long lashes settle over faintly freckled cheeks in a silent show of letting his walls down and bearing his weak side to you. and you appreciate it. you always will.

too bad it still wasn't an answer.

“caleb xia,” you murmur softly, the words hushed in the space between you both. his answering hum is just as light and a kiss is pressed to your fingertips. “i love you dearly, but if you don't answer me, i’m using your hard earned money to buy a robot to do our laundry.”

his eyes fly open immediately. shock, surprise, and—funnily enough—a hint of betrayal shine through his widened gaze. they then narrow as if to gauge how serious you were about a useless technological upgrade before ultimately sighing in defeat.

point to you. (emcee really wasn't lying about his aversion to robots.)

“i really just want to spend time with you,” he concedes, shaking his head when you narrow your eyes at his words. “is that a good enough answer? pips and co. are on an important mission that week, and i'm not going to ask her to cancel for me—”

you nod in agreement. as sad as it was, it was reasonable. sometimes plans couldn't be worked around.

“—even though i could, but—”

caleb makes an exaggerated punted sound when you shove his shoulder, his hands raising in mock surrender. “i won't. not because she won't let me, but because she'll make me see true hell if she finds out i'm the reason behind it.”

your exasperated expression makes him smile, leaning forward to caress your cheek. “so really. i don't want much. as long as you're here and she's safe, then i’m happy. so don't don't stress yourself out about it, okay?”

he pinches your cheek, already knowing you'd swat his hand away for it, intercepting and lacing your hands together. your heart flutters a bit.

“this isn't over,” you grumble, trying your best to stay mad at him. though with how bright his eyes shone when he looked at you, it was a difficult task to maintain. “watch your back.”

“aye, captain.”

you stress yourself out about it. naturally, of course.

could anyone blame you? you wanted his birthday to be perfect. it's the least you could do right by him, someone who refused your help mostly because he was stubborn, but mostly because he didn't want to feel like a burden. 

but you had plans. and you would see them through.

you ask him to meet you near the fleet’s landing pad a few hours in advance, wanting to surprise him right after work, complete with vague responses to his confused but otherwise curious inquiries. the sound of your shoes are muffled against the flooring. as you make your way into the headquarters, a little robot flits around your head in greeting.

“welcome to the farspace fleet’s headquarters, miss.”

once you finish signing in, you quickly make your way to the designated meeting spot. confused stares and murmurs waft over your head as you pass his fellow pilots and staff members alike, but you pay them no mind. you were only here for one person and one person alone–the very same who happened to have his back towards you, engrossed in a game on a small holographic screen. fondness coloring your expression for a few seconds, you quickly change it before clearing your throat.

“does the colonel usually spend his hours playing mini games all day? maybe you get a pass for today. it’s very special, after all.”

with the cold press of a drink against his cheek, caleb startles slightly before whirling around at the sound of your voice, the hologram swiped away with a quick movement of his hand. briefly surprised, his expression morphs into one of mirth, rubbing at his cheek where the soda previously touched skin.

“so that’s your first birthday surprise for me?” a scoff pairs itself with a teasing eye roll. “thank…”

his gaze drops lower, holding you at arms length, and his words trail off. your smile falters a bit nervously.

the outfit you were wearing wasn’t just any outfit. black boots, a collared shirt tucked into black pants, and a jacket bearing the insignia of the farspace fleet’s logo on its slightly padded shoulder revealed you dressed in a similar fashion to the man standing before you, even to the hat nestled comfortably atop your head. it had taken you a while to even round up most of the items you were wearing, down to the gloves that adorned your hands.

because every colonel needed their lieutenant, right?

caleb sputters out something akin to a laugh, frayed around the edges with disbelief. “where’d you even…”

“i had some help.” your voice trembles a bit, clearing your throat before grinning sheepishly. “not saying who. but, um. i wanted to get to know your world, too. so i hope this is okay.”

his prolonged silence makes you increasingly nervous. his expression is a bit unreadable underneath the brim of his hat, and the more he stares, the more you fidget. until he opens his mouth again.

“i don't like how everyone else is looking at you.”

the words make you freeze, watching in real time as the weight of his gaze intensifies. it's then do you tune in the rest of your surroundings again, hearing faint murmurs and parts of conversation. your eyes meet. his hands travel from your shoulders to take your hands in his.

“caleb—” you sputter out in disbelief, similar to his earlier reaction as a laugh lodges itself somewhere in your throat. of all things to say—

“you want to be second in command? you look the part, lieutenant.” for a brief moment a hint of amusement glints in his eyes. approval. a small shiver runs down your back. “doesn't mean i like people looking at what's mine.”

you blink and he's on your left, the palm of his right hand at your lower back warm even through your clothes. “you know i don't like to bring work home,” he drawls lowly as he begins to walk, causing you to walk as well. “seems home came to me instead. how do you figure.”

you peek at him as you approach his private plane. he looks so pleased. this is going far better than you thought it would, making you exhale quietly in relief.

“can't believe you're gonna make me fly on my birthday, though.” 

caleb pouts a bit as he leans into your space, adding on, “was looking forward getting home and burying my face between your —”

onlookers titter as you smack the farspace fleet’s colonel’s arm in shocked dismay with him grinning as he lets you. 

dinner in the skies wasn't an easy feat to plan. but with a boyfriend who loved you enough to go with your odd directions, after two hours of jetting over the skies of skyhaven, picking up orders from your favorite spots, and gaining access to an airborne movie theater, the private jet was nestled comfortably in the air.

��cruising altitude?”

“somethin’ comfortable,” caleb’s voice pipes up from the front of the plane.

“coordinates?”

“positioned exactly where you asked, baby.”

you look out of a window and come face to face with a beautiful sunset. yellow and orange bleed into pinks, blues, and sharp violets reminiscent of your lover’s eyes. the thought warms your heart with enough heat to rival the lowering sun.

arms encircle your waist from behind when you straighten up, squeezing gently before a weight presses himself against your back. his chin hooks over your shoulder like he'd always meant to be there. 

“if i'm looking through the window and you're here, who's flying the plane?” you tease lightly, but make no effort to remove his arms. 

something around the lines of autopilot is muffled into your collar. looking through the reflection in the glass, you can just make out the sight of caleb with his eyes closed in momentary bliss.

“did you like the movie?” you ask softly. “i had some help with that, too. she sends her birthday wishes and her present is waiting for you at home.”

caleb squeezes you a bit tighter, nosing along the line of your shoulder before his eyes flutter shut. “you didn't have to do this all this for me,” he mumbles just as quietly. his brows furrow as an unreadable expression crosses his face. “but i love it. love you. thank you, baby.”

your own eyes flutter shut briefly when he kisses your cheek in thanks, the gesture sweet and loving. but his kisses move from your cheek to your jawline as his hands slowly begin to wander, a gasp leaving your throat when he gently tugs your tie loose to move your collar out of the way.

“can't believe you played dress up for my birthday. aren't i lucky?” your collar finally loosens enough for him to kiss right where your neck and shoulder meet, smiling against your skin when you shiver. “tell me who helped you put it together so i can fire them for insubordination.”

“wha—why?” you can barely think as his hands run through the buttons of your collared shirt, your jacket discarded somewhere on the aircraft. “don't fire anyone, shit—”

“it's my birthday.” his voice lowers with toying calmness to it as hands find skin, making you hiss upon contact. “i can wish for whatever i want for the next few hours. and the colonel,”

his lips brush just shy of your ear, nearly tipping the hat off your head. “wants his second in command out of her clothes. can she do that f’me?”

was the sky blue?

you don't remember how the two of you got home that night, let alone how caleb managed to land the plane without crashing into one of the city's many towering skyscrapers. all you can feel right now is the cold surface of the door through your shirt’s thin material before caleb surges forward to kiss you like he'd die if he spent another second away from you.

“you have no idea how much i wanted to rip this thing off you when i first saw it.” 

a hoarse laugh rips from his throat the second he pulls away from your lips, trembling hands sliding down the outline of your body. his gaze is reverent. hungry. you feel pinned to the surface and he's barely even touched you.

“really?”

“got hard immediately. that's why we left so soon.” and despite the heat between the both of you, he still makes you laugh, giggling as you push at his chest a bit. “what? honesty is the best policy ‘n all that.”

your tie comes off first, finally. the buttons you'd hastingly redone after just barely keeping his hands off of you aboard the plane fly off in different directions next as his frustrations build up. and when the material pools at your arms, he freezes again.

you duck your head shyly, the brim of your hat casting a shadow over your face. “surprise…”

black lace comes into view, sprawling over your chest and barely peeking underneath your pants. caleb stares.

“just one surprise after another.” he exhales through his nose, a gloved hand settling on your bare waist. “the perfect gift that keeps on giving. look at you.”

you can't discern whether or not he looks tormented from self preservation or the last fraying nerve desperately trying to hold itself together for his sanity’s sake. but the moment you shrug your shirt off and take a daring step forward into his space, you watch in real time as the last thread of his patience snaps in two.

with barely a grunt in sound, the floor gives as caleb hauls you over his shoulder to march towards your bedroom. pieces of your uniform lay discarded to form a path straight towards the plush mattress where caleb lays you down gently—but his eyes are anything but. darkened violet betrays the intense amount of arousal surely swirling through his head as he gets down on his knees before you.

“ah—wait, caleb—” your voice is already shot as he spreads your legs open, his nose brushing against the flimsy lace barely covering anything in between. his lips begin to part before he registers the calling of his name, his eyes flicking upwards. “i f-forgot to show you the cake–nghh—”

he licks a bold stripe against your covered core right as the last of your words tumble out of your mouth, large hands pressing your legs open as they begin to tremble. the sudden heat makes you flinch, reaching out to push at his shoulders with shaking fingers.

“you don't wanna eat the cake first—? we can—”

a faint snap! against your skin makes you jump, looking down to see his fingers toying with the band of your underwear. warmth spreads like fire across the surface of your skin. 

“can i take these off?”

huh? “caleb, the cake—”

“can i take these off?” he repeats slowly, his gaze dropping back down. “we’ll get to the cake later. wanna finish unwrapping my present.”

you lamely let your hand drop back to your side, nodding after a moment. “okay,” you mumble. “you… you can take them off.”

you lift your legs in preparation, fully expecting them to be slid down and tossed somewhere behind them. but a loud rip echoes in the room instead, and before you can even register what he'd done, his mouth finds your clit and latches on brazenly.

your trembling arms finally give out as you keen in surprise. the only thing preventing your thighs from framing his head is the strong grip keeping them apart. the mattress is soft against your back as your hands find purchase in the sheets and tug. small whimpers and moans leave your lips but it's nothing in comparison to how debauched he sounds. labored breathing and low moans paired with the growing wetness of his mouth against your most sensitive parts. 

you look down when a sharp feeling in your lower stomach begins to coil tightly, tears budding in the corner of your eyes as you part your lips to tell him such. but the sight you're met with sends yet another wave of heat down your back.

his face flushed red, his brows furrowed above eyes fluttered shut. the tips of his ears are bright red, and you know if you brush your fingers along the outer part, they'd be warm to the touch. what makes your heart stutter in your chest however, is the begging. and you barely even hear it at first.

“please… please, mmnnf please—” words slurred together between your legs, unintelligible and rushed. he tugs you further against his mouth, unwilling to let you go. all you hear is wet. “cum on m’face. please? pretty please? f’me?”

heat coils tighter and tighter until it becomes unbearable. your hands move from the rumpled sheets to his shoulder, momentary loss of mind making him forget to take his jacket off, but his shoulders don't budge against the sudden onslaught your hands bring. your voice pitches higher and higher, scrambling to grasp anything to hold until they push his hat off to find purchase in his hair and tug.

his answering moan, loud and unashamed, is your undoing. your orgasm crashing into you with the speed on a freight train, your back bowing taut and off the bed as your voice cracks on the near yell you let out. and caleb is unrelenting, slick sounds of him taking in every last drop of your essence dripping down your thighs and running down his chin. 

“that's it,” he breathes out, eyeing the way your thighs tremble as your hole clenches around nothing. without much hesitation, he licks another bold path on your thigh, grinning when you shriek in surprise. “what a sight for sore eyes. think you can sit on my face?”

you can barely lift your head up to stare at him in disbelief, your chest heaving as the toll of your orgasm rushes to your head. he blinks back almost innocently, his cheek pressed against your inner thigh. “pretty please?”

your head drops back down to the sheets. “you'll have to move me,” you say weakly. “i'm out of commission.”

his laugh is low in sound and it makes you shiver. he presses a kiss to your hip bone and immediately gets to work. mouth still wet, he pulls his gloves off with his teeth before gently maneuvering you to a dry spot before hauling himself atop the sheets as well. it takes a moment, limbs reduced to jelly, but before long your thighs frame his face once again.

you watch in real time as his gaze darkens at the angle change, his hands smoothing down your hips. “will never get tired of you looking at you,” he murmurs, turning his head to press a kiss to your knee. your body trembles in response, hands gripping at the headboard. “prettiest thing i've ever seen.”

“preparing for landing,” your voice cracks on the joke. caleb smiles, his thumbs smoothing shapes crossed your skin. up and down, almost v-shaped.

hearts. he was drawing hearts on your skin. your lower lip trembles when you realize.

oh how he loved you.

“least now i know you were really paying attention when i was talking.” his smile turns a bit sharp. hungry again. “land her on me. c’mon.”

slowly, with encouraging words and guiding hands, you lower yourself above his mouth. he releases a breath into the silence chalked tense with arousal once more. you look down to see his vision go hazy with want. and then he inhales sharply.

the sound makes you jolt, mortified at his sudden action, and before you can even choke out the first syllable of his name, he yanks your hips the rest of the way down. his tongue immediately gets to work swirling pointed circles around your clit, the pleasure skyrocketing high enough for you to immediately forget what you were about to say.

the first word you manage to blurt out is a curse, rolling your hips forward to chase the high you so desperately wanted now that shame had been discarded once again. “f-fuck—caleb, caleb—”

his nose catches on your clit and you scream, gripping the headboard so hard it hurts. he shows no sign of relenting, not even when your second orgasm ripples through your body. all he does is moan, the sound grateful.

two orgasms in less than ten minutes. at this rate, you'd be dead weight come morning.

trying to give his neck reprieve, you slowly begin to lift yourself up, clinging to the headboard. caleb immediately begins to complain, panting through slurred words. “where’re you goin’? ‘m not finished… ‘m not—fuck, come back? please?”

he blinks rapidly, adjusting back to the dim lighting. his hair is tugged in all sorts of directions from your frenzied grip, his face wet from the nose down and flushed red down to his neck. yet his brows remained furrowed with determination.

his hands reach for your hips again, gently trying to coax you back down. “i'll make you feel real good, y’know that right? prettiest present i've ever gotten. perfect… she's perfect, you're perfect, and you're all mine…”

you bite your lower lip, shifting above him. it draws his attention like a magnet and you let out another mortified sound, opting to move and sit on his lap instead.

big mistake.

caleb lets out a sharp hiss the moment you do, immediately tightening his grip on your waist. “don't move.” you take in his increasingly reddened appearance and pause, two things suddenly dawning on you.

one, caleb was still dressed. and two, the hard mass currently twitching underneath you was the reason why he'd tensed so quickly after you'd sat down. you rock your hips experimentally and get a slew of curses in response.

“or do,” he manages to wheeze out. he lowers his head for a moment. “jesus. don't wanna cum anywhere but inside of you, so if you would be so kind—”

your hips buck up once again and he whines. “you're playing dirty,” caleb hissed lowly, his expression pinched. it spurs you to action.

“can i let you in on a secret?” 

caleb eyes you with equal parts interest and weariness as the palms of your hands rest on his shoulders. “i've always thought you looked good in uniform,” you admit sheepishly, smiling faintly when he lets out a snort. “i’m serious! it's… i don't know. whatever they say about men in uniform.”

“that's real cute of you,” he drawls slowly, leaning back to look at all of you. “considering you're leaking all over it.”

the two of you look down to see a dark patch between your legs right where the outline of him is more than visible. the sight only heightens the arousal between the two of you, and that's when he decidedly has enough.

“here's what's going to happen.” 

he pats your side for you to lift your hips, groaning at the sight of slick sticking to the fabric. pearly whites sinking into his lower lip, the sound of his belt unbuckling masks the sound of your mingled breaths as his hand tugs and pulls at the material with budding annoyance.

“let me help.” your hands settle over his, tugging the leather out of the loop. the sound of his zipper is loud. his chest rises and falls the more your hands graze where he needs relief the most. “okay?”

“mhm.” his brows pinch together again, half-lidded gaze trained on your hands. “okay. okay. haah—just—mmnplease, take it out.” 

his rigid posture screams hurry. you slide your hand between skin and soft cotton and his head thunks against the headboard.

“caleb?!”

groaning, his hips buck into your hand. “‘m fine,” he sniffles, letting out a breath. “no, ‘m not. i dunno. can i fuck you already?”

you blink at him, taken aback as you sputter out, “are you concussed —?” your hand moves to pull out of his pants and he lets out a sound akin to a kicked puppy. “sorry—but that sounded pretty bad, i should look at—”

you're yanked back down, seated right on top of his cock again. it makes him curse once more. “can i make one last wish?” he doesn't wait for you to nod. “i'll let you in on a secret of my own. i've been dreaming about fucking you until either one of us cried.”

now you gape at him. he stares right back.

“with you on top, like this.” his breathing picks up, getting off on his own words. “ridin’ me. like you owned me. you do. you do. think about it all the time. and…”

he pats around for a moment, shushing your sound of confusion. his arms lift above your head and something a little bigger than form fitting settles on your head. when he pulls back, you swear his cock twitches a mile underneath you.

“yeah. yeah—even better than i imagined. fuck me.” 

he straightens the brim, tilting your head towards him. “my last wish,” he murmurs, “is watching you take my cock while wearin’ this. any objections, captain?”

oh.

a weird sense of exhilaration flows through you at his sudden address, emboldened by the slightest shift in power dynamic. your hand travels further into his pants, your grip unforgiving as his head falls back in faint relief. “no objections. but i do have one request.”

“ye–aah, baby?” breathless, he forces himself to watch through gritted teeth as you finally free his cock, letting out a sigh of relief. “what is it? what?”

“just something i wanted confirmation on from earlier.” your hand wraps around the girth of him, causing him to shudder. “i just think it's so interesting how much you know about planes. it's cute. but i don't remember if it was the f-22 or f-15 that was the fastest…”

you can tell he really wants to answer. but right as he opens his mouth, your grip tightens before slowly beginning to apply pressure as you stroke. caleb chokes, hips bucking up into your hand.

“it's the-the 15,” he answers quickly, groaning lowly. “it's b-built for mach 2.5 speed and—ohh fuck—designed for co–oh god, go faster, please.”

you stop instead and he flinches. “wha—no, nononono, c’mon—”

“designed for what? you didn't finish.”

caleb looks like he's about to burst, silently weighing his options before clearing his throat. “...designed primarily for air-to-air combat.”

“good to know.” the soft smile you give him gets you a weak one in return. “what else?”

his smile falls. your hand squeezes around him once more and he emits a broken sound. “fuck, okay, okay. c-compared to the f-22, which was designed for—shit, f-for stealth over aerodynamics and flies at—at mach 2.25 speed.”

his hips begin shifting again, chasing the warm heat of your palm, beginning to ramble and trip over his own words. “they both can, mnngh reach altitudes of over 60,000 feet or more making th-them perfect options for important operations. fuckfuckfuck—but they're not used for just combat, they can be used for training, search and rescue, and—god, that's so good.”

your fist is covered in precum, making it easier to slide over his cock at an increasing speed that makes him tremble. his mouth opens and closes over butchered attempts at words, face as red as his angry tip. 

“such a mess. not the only one leaking over your uniform anymore, right?”

“wanna cum.” he blurts out, his grips in the sheets white knuckled. “b-but inside. please? wanna fuck you so bad pleasepleaseee i—”

he groans when your fist works even faster, weak hands pushing at your own. “baby–baby no, fuck, inside—insi—oh fuck—”

caleb makes a sound between a disbelieving laugh and a moan as he resigns himself to your whims, chin dropping to his chest as his hips stutter once, twice, three times before coating your hand opaque white. stuttered breaths fill the air before an idea pops into your head.

you bring your stained hand up to his mouth. he blinks at first, surprise adding to the red flushing his face, but after a moment he leans forward to lick out of your hand painted white. desire strikes hot and heavy in your stomach as you maintain heavy eye contact, his tongue swirling over each individual finger. it doesn't take much for him to get hard again.

“did i pass?” he releases a breath, staring at the way your hips shift above him. “wanna be inside you now. you can keep quizzing me later. please.”

his eagerness spurs you into movement, letting out a small laugh of your own when his evol lifts you in the air as he searches for a condom. “been dreamin' about this for months and it's finally happening—you don't get to make fun of me if i cum in like three seconds when it's in all the way.”

your laughter grows in volume when you settle in his lap again, subject to his sudden onslaught of kisses. his nose bumps against yours in a silent moment of sweetness. his awkwardness with the condom eases your nerves a little bit, clumsily helping him stretch the latex over his cock. 

“would never.” your hand pushes his chest so his back is flat against the sheets, straightening up on your knees and using your free hand to position him right against your heat. “we take care of each other. it's okay if you do.”

caleb takes the hand placed near his heart and presses a kiss to your palm. an unspoken thank you resonates through the gentle action.

“ready?” he breathes out, his gaze trained on your face. “i know i've been… needy—”

“understatement.” the teasing lilt to your voice earns you a pinch to your side. it makes you bat at his hand with a grin, “sorry, continue.”

“but, if you want to back out, i don't mind going down on you again and we can do this another time. at the expense of heroically suffering through blue balls for however long it takes.”

you roll your eyes fondly, squeezing his hand. “you're very sweet, but i intend on fulfilling your birthday wish. besides… i want this, too.”

your hips lower as if to prove your point, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance before pushing in. caleb’s immediate moan makes you clench around him, his hands flying to your hips to help guide you down.

“all of it,” he murmurs as if entranced by the sight of you taking him in, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “takin’ me so well already.”

you don't expect to feel so full the more you slowly skin down, breathing through the stretch. whimpers fall from your lips without warning, biting your lower lip when he shifts his hips and you slip down even further. his praise is nonstop the entire time, more ramble than coherent words.

“feels so good around me. so pretty on top of me, yeah? doin’ so well, you're almost there. and then it'll feel so much better, okay?”

“caleb—”

“i know.” his voice is sweet. cooing, almost. “i know, baby. it's taking all me not to go all the way in just like that. but you can take it. i know you can. right?”

your head is nodding before you can even register his words, wiggling your hips before sliding down a bit more. “yeah. mhm—so big. can feel it in—”

you slide all the way down when he squeezes your hips, letting out a surprised squeak. ass flush against his thighs, caleb’s voice drops an octave lower when your walls flutter around him sporadically.

“see? you're—shit—doing so well. took it all just like you said you would. fuck.” his pupils dilate at the sight, sighing with pleasure as one hand moves to press against your stomach, long fingers spreading across your skin. “can feel me right… here.”

and as if a switch turns on in your brain, you begin to move in slow circles, breath catching at the fleeting sparks of pleasure. his hands settle on your hips to hold, fully letting you take control of both of your pleasures. with every sound you pull from him, every moan and sharp exhale of your name, your moves begin to grow bolder, walls clenching at each time you land back down in his lap.

“feels so good.” you pant lowly, the sound of skin slowly beginning to fill the room. the drag of his cock hitting deep inside you elicits a sweet sound from your throat that has him responding with a needier one of his own. “do you—does it feel—ohmygod—”

the sound between your legs is near sinful, wet squelches from the slippery glide turning easier the more you lift your hips. and all caleb can do is watch in awe as your head falls back with pleasure before you can even finish your sentence, committing the sight to memory as he begins to ramble once more.

“i'm the luckiest man to ever—ever walk the planet.” he begins to rub frantic circles on your clit, stuttering when you cry out and squeeze around his cock. “gettin’ to s-see this, to see you like this. fuck, thank you, thank you—take it, take it, it's yours. ‘m yours, always have been—”

unable to help himself, his hips start to meet your own in mindless thrusts, making you jolt and look down in surprise. “caleb—? ca—ahh, wait—”

his entire body trembles from the intense pleasure, his thrusts speeding up now that he's gotten to feel you. “can't—i can't, ‘m sorry, you're squeezin’ me so tight, feels like i can't breathe. gotta move, ‘msorrysosorry, angel—”

his hips slam against yours, wet and sticky with sweet and slick, his thumb still pressed firmly against your clit. the pressure makes you squeeze and flutter around him, drawing out more and more moans from your chest.

“your voice is so pretty, did you know? keep—fucking—singing for me. want everyone to know how good you're taking me.”

your entire body flushes with heat, skin prickling at his vulgar expression. but your body responds with short bursts of sounds pulled from your throat despite your best efforts, jolted whines and gasps filling the air. as a familiar heat coils in your stomach again, caleb’s thrusts also get sloppier.

“you're almost there—can feel it. sucking me in even more.” he sucks in a breath, brows furrowed slightly. “could stay buried in this pussy forever. and you'd let me, right? let me fuck load after load inside you, painting the prettiest picutre of you covered in my cum. full of me, about to burst. maybe even—maybe—”

your head lolls to one side, eyes half lidded as the brunt of caleb’s pussy drunk babbling and fantasies hit you full force. he'd made sure to use a condom before he fucked you, but the thought that maybe he… maybe one day, you'd let him fuck you raw. to really feel him inside of you without the protective barrier of latex. the thought makes your hips jerk, hands scrambling for anything to hold on to as the pleasure heightens.

caleb surges up to claim your lips in a bruising kiss, teeth clashing as your nails dig into his shoulders. his lips travel to your neck, the scrape of teeth causing the both of you to groan in unison. the sharp feeling of pain and pleasure mix into something indescribable, both of you hurtling towards a shared high.

“i love you,” he pants against your shoulder before whimpering low in his throat. “love you so much. best birthday ever. could die right now as the ha—ahh—ppiest i've ever been. ‘m gonna give it to you right now. say you love me and i'll let you cum.”

your lips part around a whine almost immediately. “i love you, i love you, pleasepleaseplease, caleb—!”

“sound so pretty when you say my name.” he presses a kiss to your jaw, nosing into your neck as his thumb doesn't let up on your clit. “go ahead and cum right… now.”

the pleasure is instantaneous. the coil snaps and heat rushes to your abdomen as your voice cracks on a hoarse moan, creaming all over his cock. your nails dig into his back, tears budding in the corner of your eyes as your orgasm rocks your entire body. 

caleb isn't too far behind, spurred on by the sharp tug of his hair when he nips at your shoulder. a sharp gasp is all you get in warning before he pulses inside of you, shuddering apart in your arms before he sags against your shoulder with a weak groan. 

closing your eyes to savor the haze post orgasm, you run your fingers through sweat slicked hair and press kisses to his forehead as he shivers and anchors your hips down.

“sensitive.” he mumbles against your shoulder. “don't move.”

“least you didn't cum early.” caleb lets out a low groan and you laugh, petting his head. “proud of you.”

“yeah, yeah.” he grouches through the brief showing of a smile, closing his eyes. “it's still my birthday so you're not allowed to make fun of me.”

“mm, is that right?”

caleb huffs, amping up the theatrics, refusing to calm down until you cup his face and silence him with a kiss. only then does he settle down enough for you to wish him a happy birthday with an even sweeter kiss, lifting your hips up to settle down in the rumpled sheets as he disposes of the condom. exhaustion hits your body even harder than after your first orgasm, nearly half asleep when he comes back with a damn cloth to wipe away the sweat and cum from your thighs.

“i love you,” he whispers against your skin when he settles back into bed besides you, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you close. “we’ll get to the cake and presents tomorrow. thank you for everything you did today, baby. i loved it and i love you so, so much.”

three squeezes to your linked fingers is your response before you fall asleep in his arms. i love you, too.

[satowooo]

kiss it better

Suguru always hated it when you break up with him when you're having a mental breakdown. So what's he gonna do to make his baby feel better?

contents. slight academic rivals to lovers (barely mentioned), suguru x reader, eventual smut, fluff, cowgirl, bottom suguru, slapping, rough sex, pet names, degration, not proofread.

Do what you gotta do, keep me up all night.

your relationship with suguru became on and off ever since you two started dating. he could vaguely remember why, but he knows one thing.

your relationship with him started off as enemies. he remembers how you were always so angry at him, your bratiness showing every time he was a step further than you in academics.

being a straight A student is something that he likes to brag about, knowing that you're right there to keep him on his toes because you're just as smart as him. he knows how you tire yourself to study every night and day, sleeping and almost living in the library whenever an exam week is coming, never going out of your room and not eating until you understood and memorized all your notes, and how you'd never talk to him the whole time you're busy studying. and what does he hates the most? you breaking up with him for it.

you're a top student, but you're always in second place because he beats you to it. it never fails to make you upset, but you don't really blame suguru for being good at what he does. rather, you blame yourself for not studying enough as if your brain is already not about to explode for every information that you try to force into your brain.

and suguru hates it enough that you have to break up with him just for you to torture yourself in the confines of your room with all the papers and academic works controlling over your body and mind. he hates it everytime because he knows how hard you are being to yourself.

“baby, i’m coming inside, okay?” suguru called outside your door after knocking several times. he didn't wait for another answer as he twists the knob, pushing the door open.

“suguru, no-”

he heard your sniffles. and his heart ache at the sight before him.

you were sitting at your study desk. papers scattered around in a mess, some of it drenched in your tears. your eyes reddened, and you looked at him in frustration as you stood up.

“i told you to leave me alone, suguru.” you said, wiping your tear stained cheek.

he looks over at your bed, to the crumpled sheets, feathers flying around from your pillow, knowing that you probably had been punching it in your frustration. he sighs and walks over to you, immediately cupping your cheeks to look you in the eyes.

“you think breaking up with me would solve the problem?” he whispers softly, kissing your eyes, your tears.

you looked away, tilting your head to the side so as to not look at him. “it's for the better. you're only distracting me from my studies.”

he closed his eyes tightly, before holding your jaw so you could face him properly. your hands clutched his shirt at the proximity between you. “i’m distracting you?” your words sting, his heart clenching at the way you're trying so hard to push him away. but he wouldn't have all that. “come on. i know you're mad. punish me then.”

“suguru-”

“i always tell you that i’m here to help. but you're too hard headed to ask for it.” his tone was firm, his eyes turning dark at the way you tried to get away from his grasp. he lets out an exasperated breath before loosening his grip from you. “don't hurt yourself, baby. hurt me instead.”

“suguru, you don't understand. i am angry, fine, i admit.” the grip you had on his shirt tightened, a shaky breath escaping from your lip as tears started to form on your eyes again. “i don’t want to take it out on you when i’m clearly a mess, suguru. you don't get it because you're always too good and i’m not enough. i can't be enough for you if i’m like this-”

once again, suguru cut you off. your words flying off his ear as he interrupted you with a fierce kiss. his tongue darting out for entrance and you didn't push him away. your words muffled from the way he pressed his lips, making you shut up and revel onto your desires as your lips parted, your tongue delving out to taste him.

all your worries easily slipped away. his thumb swiftly wiping the tear that escaped your eyes while not breaking the kiss. he pulled away for a moment before capturing it once again, this time gentler than the first.

to suguru, it was always the same words no matter how much he reassured you. so what's he going to do? make you feel like the queen you deserved to be.

“come on, princess. just like that.” he grunted, his hand gripping on your hips as he slammed you down on his cock. “come on, tell me how mad you are right now. let me hear you.”

“f-fuck you, suguru…” you gasps, your hips rocking back and forth deliciously on his shaft. your teeth were clenched in frustration, your anger still brewing inside your heart by the way he had you easily straddling him.

“that's it, baby. let it out, let it all out on me.” he coos, gently running his fingers on your spine. the action sent shivers all over your body, your thrust rapidly increasing by each second. “you're so mad, aren't you? you don't like it when i'm doing good?”

"s-stop... ahh..." you huffed, face flushed as your pussy clenched around him. your hips were beginning to ache for how harsh you were slamming against his lap. and he had that annoying look on his face that got you riled up.

you know exactly what he's trying to do. suguru wants a reaction. for you to let it out on him. to be mad at him instead of being mad at yourself.

he gripped your ass firmly, a knowing smirk etched on his lip. “do i make you cry, princess? because i’m better? in studies… and even in fucking you?”

that definitely strikes a nerve right there. your pace increasing, your nails digging on his shoulder from how hard you're holding onto him. “shut up… sh-shut up…”

“that all you got?” he said darkly, sweat forming in his forehead. he gave your ass a firm squeeze before landing a smack, making you jolt in pleasure. “you're so fucking pathetic, princess. you're really crying over that? you look so fucking dumb with my cock inside-”

a harsh slap on his cheek echoed all over the room. your breathing coming in short gasps, while suguru was smiling. he was fucking smiling.

the slap reddened his cheek but it didn't even look like it hurt him. he huffed and squeezed your hip. suguru was drowned in pure bliss as he groaned, your hips thrusting so harshly, squeezing his cock like there's no tomorrow.

“fuck, baby…” he growled, the sting of your slap erotic and pleasurable that it got him ramming his hip upward. you could see the veins on his neck popping out, his eyes darkening as his fingers found your breasts. “fuck y-yeah… do that again, hm? show me how much you fucking hate me…”

you moaned, your back arching and body pressing against his chest. his lips latched on your nipple, while his other hand found your clit. he rubbed circles against it, making you cry and scratch your nails on his chest.

“you’re so worked up for all your studies, and for what?” he sneered, chuckling darkly at you. you bit your lip as another slap went across his cheek, feeling all the anger forcing its way to give him what he wants. you knew damn well that suguru was enjoying on riling you up, coaxing you to take it out on him by saying those words that he knew would gain the right reaction that he needs.

“fuck you, sugu… f-fuck you…”

“doing so well for me, baby.” he leaned forward to capture your lips, his lips grazing your earlobe. “you can do more than that, don't you?”

your thrusts became more erratic as his voice rang over your ears. you grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging it down so he could look at you. your face was a mix of both anger and pleasure, a sight that made suguru feel more aroused. he groaned as your hand flew over on his cheek again, his eyes glistening with lust.

“ohh, f-fuck!” the thumb on your clit increased its pace, as slaps after slaps on his face kept coming, eager to erase that stupid grin on his lips.

suguru grunted, his moans getting louder each second that it syncs with your sounds. your hand traveled up his throat, pressing on gently enough to restrict his breathing.

he let out a strangled laugh causing you to land another slap on his face. he can't believe that he felt so fucked out, enjoying the pleasure and roughness that you were giving him. the angered look on your face made his cock twitch inside you.

your hips thrusts up and down. up and down. unrelenting. it became frantic as his cock hit your right spots, driving you wild in ecstasy.

he could feel your pussy clenching around his cock, your thrusts became more urgent, your gripped on his neck beginning to tighten. his eyes were tied shut, suguru’s chest heaving as your wetness engulfed his cock.

“i’m cumming, baby. f-fuck, you gon’ cum, princess? you're doing so good- f-fucking hell…”

he hears your whines. his name rolling out of your tongue in desperation to reach your high. he bucked his hips, thrusting forward to meet yours, pistoning in and out furiously as the pleasure built up.

“suguru! ahh! hhk-” your hips shattered, your body convulsing with your orgasm reaching its peak. suguru let out a growl in pleasure, his hands squeezing your ass firmly. his own orgasm quickly approached, hot semen spurting right inside your sweet hole.

he breathes heavily, thrusting his cum right inside you slowly, making sure that nothing would come to waste. your hands released his neck, seeing how it turned red by the way you gripped so harshly. even his face was all flushed from all the slapping you did, with a small bruise forming on his temple, but suguru had a grin on his face.

his hair disheveled, chest heaving as you both catch your breaths. “still mad, baby?”

you shake your head, looking at him apologetically. “not anymore. i’m sorry, did i hit you too hard?”

suguru chuckled, his eyes half-lidded from the pleasure you just gave him. he took your hand in his, kissing your palm softly. “i fucking loved it, baby.”

he looks at you lovingly. suguru has already memorized you like the back of his hands, from your body to your heart and beneath your soul. and he'll do anything to make you feel better, to make you feel loved and cared for. he adores you so much that he wouldn't allow letting your insecurities pull you down.

suguru holds your hips, rocking yourself gently on his cock. your eyes rolling back, a soft moan escaping from your lips. he smiled, resting his head on the crook of your neck. “you're enough, baby. always remember that, okay?” he looked up at you before placing a kiss on your forehead. you basked into the aftermath of your lovemaking, your head falling on his chest as you nodded at his words. “don't ever doubt your abilities. failure is inevitable, it's a part of ourselves that symbolizes the efforts we do for trying.” suguru whispers, gently placing kisses all over your face. “and i love you for all your flaws and failures. don't ever think that you're not enough for me.”

🙂‍↕️ i genuinely want to make an academic rivals to lovers fic/series with suguru

[thewritetofreespeech]

plot: you miss a lot of things when you are literally in h$ll. including the best show ever made.

genre: just some silly fluff.

--------------------------⚫------------------------------------

“What are you wearing?”

You look up from grabbing your drinks and the popcorn for movie night just in time to catch Abby’s sneer, then look down at yourself. “These are my Power Ranger pajamas.” You tell him. A little flabbergasted.

To be fair, they were not ‘official’ Power Ranger pajamas. More of an oversized, well loved, Power Rangers t-shirt and shorts that kind of matched. But still it was your favorite shirt that you had had for years. The fact that Abby was not a fan was giving you the ick.

“That looks like a shirt for children.” Abby said as you sat down. Your blood starting to boil. “What the heck is a Power Ranger anyway?”

Your eyes go wide, and suddenly you realize what the problem was. “You’ve never seen Power Rangers??”

Abby’s human façade was so realistic that sometimes you forgot that he wasn’t really a human and had spent nearly all of eternity in the demon realm. He was making the best effort to be human now, but he had still missed out on a lot of stuff.

The demon looked startled by your exclamation but then perturbed by the correct assumption that he had never seen the show. He started back tracking, saying that of course he had heard of it, but he had no interest in watching a show for tiny humans and their dumb little brains. He kept rambling but you were already looking for the series on various streaming services. You finally found it on a platform you already owned and hit play. The trademark guitar shred of the theme song blaring through the speakers.

“Go! Go! Power Rangers!”

Abby jumped at the loud noise but was immediately engrossed by the lights & sounds on the screen. The two of you watched as Rita was freed from her galactic prison, the heroes were transported to Command Center to receive their powers, then fight a giant mecha battle before pledging to protect the Earth from evil; all to very hardcore rock solos.

The episode ended and Abby turned to you. “Is that it? Is it over??”

“Well….this episode is…”

“Can we watch another?!” The two of you hadn’t really gotten into shows yet, so the prospect of being able to continue watching unlike a movie seemed very exciting to him.

“I mean, sure we can. There are lots of episodes. It’s a very popular franchise.”

“Can we do it now?!” You giggle and turn on another episode before Abby’s head exploded.

Several hours in, and all the popcorn eaten, Abby was totally transfixed in the series. You weren’t sure if demons needed to sleep but you sure did and told Abby it was time for bed. “Oh…ok..” He pouted.

You take his hand as you lead him to the bedroom. “We can watch more tomorrow. I promise.”

The demon smiled at that and followed you along willingly. “We should have done that then been some stupid boy band.” You heard him mutter along the way, and chose to just giggle instead of comment.

[possesseddesiress]

The Great Shift: Streaming

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

The Great Shift: Streaming

My name is Phil, I just got into college and I feel pretty lost about my life. I got into a career that I don't even like (but my parents said that money and opportunities matter more), I don't have many friends, much less a partner.

The few friends I have say it's weird that I'm so unsuccessful in love, I'm not bad looking, though maybe... yeah too skinny.

I don't have a hint of muscle, I'm small and scrawny. Also very shy, I do my best with regards to relating to others, but it's like I fail epically every time I try.

It was like my life was destined for unhappiness... and I was settling for that.

That afternoon was pretty quiet, I had a few chores (that I didn't understand), just me in my room at school because my roomie was out, and all my friends were busy. A pathetic afternoon, really.

I lay back on my bed, let out a sigh, pulling out my phone. Something I was quite a fan of, was video games, I liked the mechanics, the designs, and partly because I could pretend to be someone else: to know other worlds, other stories, although no doubt, it was also boring to play without other people.

So in part I also liked to watch some video game streamers. How they narrated the games, their charisma or their jokes, many times I just watched them while I was eating or doing something else.

There was one in particular, his name was Corey. Corey or better known as Noobro, was quite famous on Twitch, and had a certain charisma that I found quite attractive.

I looked up his profile, noticing that he was live.

- How are you today? - he said with a smile, he was playing something like Fornite. He said a couple of things but I didn't even pay attention thanks to a strange buzzing sound that started to play quite loudly. I couldn't quite identify the source, it almost seemed to be coming from my own brain.

I let go of the phone, clenching my head. I heard Corey moaning in the same way on the live feed, I swear even the lights flickered as if they were going to explode. And all at once, everything went black.

A second or two later, I felt some sort of tug, and I saw light again. I looked around confused, besides having a bad headache, I couldn't make out the noises very well either, they were like low murmurs of what seemed to be... music?

I wasn't listening to music before this, what the heck? I opened my eyes without being able to focus at all. Until I ended up glimpsing a computer in front of me.

A computer?

I blinked several times thinking that maybe it was a hallucination, but the computer with a loading screen was still in front of me every time I closed and opened my eyes. It seemed to be from a... game.

I noticed that he was also wearing headphones. I moved my face closer to the screen to notice that there was a camera above, and on the screen. A series of messages, and a thumbnail of someone's camera, seemed strange to me until I saw that it responded to my movements.

Wait... that wasn't someone's camera. That was my camera. But... Where am I?

I looked down at my hands, noticing thick fingers where small ones used to be, followed by a huge hand. I swallowed nervously, but mostly confused. I looked around, it was then that I noticed that the room looked strangely familiar.

I refocused my gaze on the screen, reading the comments, my heart pounding as I read some of them:

《 Hey, noob 》 《 What will you play today, noob? 》

I picked up a phone that was on the table, opened the camera and almost fainted at the sight of my reflection.

The man I watched almost day and night for his videos and live feeds was now in front of me... copying every move I made.

For a moment surprise was the only thing inside me, until I smelled his scent.

I noticed my new stench... strong, masculine, quite stinky, I almost let out a gasp. I wanted more, that was for sure, I tried to pull down a little more the sleeve of the t-shirt that was a little tight to expose my hairy armpits, but because of my new strength, I ended up tearing it.

Out of concern, I ended up cracking a smile, raised my arm and placed it behind the backrest, flexing it and enjoying the sensation; as my bicep swelled up and showed off my new huge muscles.

I almost didn't remember that Corey was originally on a live feed, until I heard the messages start coming out one after another.

Some confused, talking about how they woke up in other bodies and didn't know who they were now, but others were more... interesting.

《You're not him, are you? 》《 I was watching this video in my previous body, I ended up in someone else's who was also watching it, Noob, is it still you? 》

My shyness was about to cut off the transmission, but I felt a strange tingling, I had never felt it before, it was... courage?

- Nah, I'm not him - I said with unfamiliar confidence. It was strange for me to act like this but at the same time it felt so right, like something was finally finding its place in me.

《 And who are you? 》 《 How does it feel to be inside him? 》

- Well, I won't say who I was before. That's not important - I smiled, flexing my arms - It feels amazing, I look good, don't I?

I flexed my arms more and more towards the camera again, I also grabbed my pecs to start massaging them.

《 Let us see more then 》

- You sure are dirty, aren't you? - I teased, although I wasn't at all uncomfortable with what they were asking - I guess they're my fans now, so I must please you.

I spread my legs, feeling his thick build, wide and fat... I moved a little closer to the screen, starting to make slight provocative gestures: sticking out my tongue, biting my lip.

I looked like a fool at first though.... I felt good, and watching the messages explode with excitement did nothing but cheer me up more.

I continued to smell my new stinky, hairy armpits.

- You guys would love to be smelling this, seriously - I pressed my nose against my skin, ecstatic. Continuing that exploration for what seemed like hours, several of them even sent me some pretty juicy tips for getting.... more creative.

That day was somewhat chaotic in the streets, there was panic and no one knew what to do. It took the world at least a week to get used to the “Big Shift”, or at least that's what the scientists called it.

They explained that 80% of the world's population changed bodies without any control or pattern. Some changed between families, others with people from other countries, between genders... it was definitely chaos. Although it is quite lucky if we are honest, the exploration in private was undoubtedly... wonderful.

However, I did have a hard time adjusting to my new body, specifically because of the... work part.

Apparently, Corey's job wasn't just being a streamer, he was also an accountant. The career that I was about to study and that I didn't understand at all. So clearly, I ended up losing the job in a few weeks.

They gave me compensation for the whole body swap thing and at least to keep me afloat for about two months. I felt like it was all coming down but then I thought of something. Corey was famous on Twitch and other social media because he was charismatic, right?

Plus... He had a really good body.

Why wasn't I capitalizing on that?

The first bold move I took on his body was to wax my entire chest, I liked how he looked with hair, I must admit. Although seeing him hairless made it more... eye-catching. Two fat bulges that would catch anyone's attention.

I started uploading more racy stuff, pictures working out, in the gym, sweaty, with clothes that barely covered.

It was a risky move, but it sure paid off, in no time, I also opened a slightly more... explicit account, and suddenly I didn't have to worry about money anymore. I could have this glorious body in all its glory, play video games most of the day, make enough money to support myself and even have more for my personal tastes. I even bought a new car!

My life as Corey was going great, I finally had confidence with other guys (and none of them would miss the opportunity to get all body worshipping), I had money, I was doing what I loved. I finally had a purpose in life.

I'm sure you wonder what happened to the original Corey, don't you? Well, he ended up in my body.

Some people suffered a "direct" exchange, which was that two consciousnesses moved between their bodies, closing only between them.

I talked to him for a while, I thought he would be upset or going crazy, but no, he was actually happy to relive his youth again, study again the career he liked (and take advantage of his knowledge), even try to do streaming again. I think he's doing well even though he's more successful as an influencer or something.

I just know that I improve my appearance quite a bit.

And I know he also watches a lot of my new content (I checked the subscriber list so I know he's definitely there), I guess he likes to see his body still. Maybe he even fondles himself watching my videos.

Anyway, I feel pretty good about being Corey now, the big "Noobro", and not just "big" in video games, if you know what I'm talking about.

- Hey guys, welcome to a new video. I just got back from the gym all sweaty - I smiled before dipping my nose into my armpit, leaving it on display for the camera's delight - How about we play something new today?

----

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

---

[luvrlou]

Out with the Old, In with the New?

Pairing: Henry Hart x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Violence

Summary: When a certain supervillain returns to Swellview an old face pops back up.

A/N: just cause henry danger seems to making a comeback

Word Count: 1.8k

"Ray?" Henry's voice causes the man to jump and turn around.

He squares up to Henry before his brain computes who it is, and then he stands normally, "Henry, you can't do that!"

"Hmm?" He hums, staring at the man.

"Henry, you can't do that!" Ray repeats again in the same exasperated tone.

Henry makes a confused face, "I can't say your name anymore?"

Ray rolls his eyes before sitting down on the couch, "so what do you want?"

Henry takes a seat next to him, "you never talk about the sidekick you had before me, I'm just curious on who he was."

"Well first of all it was a she."

Ray dramatically looks off into the distance, his sidekick giving him a baffled look before shrugging and joining his gaze into the distance.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You and Ray were playing a very serious game of foosball when Schwoz started shouting for your attention.

"Guys! Guys! I found him!" He shouted, frantically flailing his arms in the direction of the many screens on the wall of the man cave, this immediately pulled you and Ray's interest from the game at hand to Schwoz.

"You found Doctor Rotten?" You sprinted over to the control panel.

Ray swiftly followed, "we've been trying to track him for months!"

Schwoz went on to tell you about his whereabouts while you and Ray mentally plotted your attack.

"Well let's blow some bubbles-" Ray began.

"-and give this doctor a taste of his medicine!" You finished his sentence.

Once you transformed you guys ran to the tubes, "I see what you did there." Was the last thing Ray said before you both disappeared up the tubes.

Once you guys got to the location that Doctor Rotten used to conjure up his evil experiments it wasn't an easy fight, well you wouldn't know, as you were immediately injected with some concoction Doctor Rotten had made.

"Y/N are you okay!" You heard Ray shout as you came back to consciousness.

You stirred before groggily speaking, "Ray? What happened?"

"That rotten son of a bitch grabbed you and injecte-" he began before he was cut off by you screaming and squirming around on the floor. He ran to your writhing body and held you down to the ground firmly.

"It feels like fire is running through my veins!" You screamed, whilst trying to catch your breath.

Ray scanned the room frantically trying to see if there was anything that even resembled an anecdote for the horrific condition you were in.

"Ray help me!" You yelled out in a pleading tone."

"I'm trying kid! I really am!" He shouted back, attempting to reassure you.

Then he spotted a large button, he hoped it would somehow stop the pain you were in. It was his last resort.

Ray jumped up and ran towards the big red button and smashed it down. He stood back, slightly confused at the button doing nothing. That was until...

An explosion.

Half of the building exploded, luckily not the side you were both on, although you still were severely impacted by the blast.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

When you woke up you were lying on a bed in the middle of the man cave being towered over by Schwoz and Ray, both with very concerned faces.

"Guys... what happened," you tried to sit up before being quickly shoved back down by both men.

"You are not fully healed yet Y/N!" Schwoz frantically mumbled.

This made you instantly sit up, "Not fully healed yet!" You shrieked, "What do you mean not fully healed yet?"

Both men stood back whilst sharing almost scared looks, mentally deciding if they should tell you.

Then Ray spoke up, "well... we went to take down Doctor Rotten, you made a great pun by the way before we left," you jokingly winked as he said that. "Then we got there and he grabbed you and injected you with some liquid that made your blood red hot."

You nodded, "and then?"

Schwoz quickly spoke up, "Ray pushed a big red button and it made half the building explode!"

"What? Ray! A big red button really?" You shouted.

"C'mon! It didn't have any 'don't press' signs!" He attempted to defend himself.

You shook your head in disappointment, "Ray almost every red button... means an explosion!" Your voice got louder with every word until you were yelling once again.

"Well, you're still alive!" He shouted back.

You took a deep breath and spoke again, "did we at least catch him?" Your question made Ray look away in embarrassment, "we caught him..." you gritted your teeth, "right?"

"No..."

This caused you to yell again, "you didn't catch him!"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Ray's memory was cut off by Henry, "Hello? Can you tell me now? You've been staring at the ceiling saying nothing for 10 minutes."

"Oh right, yeah sorry! She moved to Brooklyn after a mission that went very wrong." He told him.

"Oh... did she have any powers?" Henry further inquired.

This made Ray smile as he reminisced, "yeah she could talk to people through her mind. Was pretty cool, except for when she would tap into your head and just scream as loud as she could."

The pair were cut off by Schwoz running through and yelling at them, "he's back!"

"Who's back?" Ray replied, jumping up off of the couch, Henry following his actions.

Schwoz sat down and started clicking random buttons on the control panel until the screens turned on showing footage of a tall man holding a vial of a bright purple liquid.

"Doctor Rotten..." Ray sneered, looking closely at the screens.

Henry followed him, a confused look on his face, "who now?"

"He's the one who nearly killed-" Schwoz spoke before Ray shouted.

"Don't say her name!" He yelled, "she doesn't get to be known as the one who Doctor Rotten nearly killed."

"Okay..." Schwoz grumbled, "he's at Swellview lab."

Henry and Ray quickly changed suits and went up the tube. They arrived on the roof and walked towards the mancopter, Ray started to flip the switches to turn on the helicopter before something caught the attention of the two guys.

"Fighting Doctor Rotten without me?"

They were both caught off guard by the girl who was walking towards them. Especially Henry, this unknown girl was his age and gorgeous.

It was you.

"Y/N what are you doing here?" Ray questioned, very confused yet concerned.

You smiled widely and walked over to him, "I've been trying to find this bastard for years, ever since we lost him, and now I want him gone for good."

Ray nodded in response before wrapping his arms around you, "I'm so glad you're okay."

You hugged him back, smiling widely at the fact you've been reunited with your old best friend, "I'm happy to be back."

"Right, guys! We don't have time for hugs and talking, we have a criminal to catch!" Henry spoke sternly, seemingly envious of the bond between Ray and his old sidekick.

"He's right! Let's go give this doctor a taste of his own medicine!" You exclaim, walking towards the mancopter.

"That line gives me bad memories Y/N!" Ray shouts after you while he runs up to the mancopter.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Sticking to the plan you walked into the lab first, "Well, well, well look who it is... Doctor Moldy." You snicker at your own joke as you walk.

"It is Doctor Rotten-" The villain shouts before realising who you are and smirking, "well hello little girl, here for another round of fire blood?"

You smile back and stop in front of him, "I think it's your blood that'll be on fire."

On cue both of the other heroes break into the lab, coming up behind the evil man, who was preoccupied talking down to you.

Little did he know that in approximately 30 seconds he would receive a punch to the back of the head from Captain Man. Unfortunately, he didn't go out like a light, he was much stronger than anticipated so he immediately turned around and started trying to attack Captain Man.

You and Henry both seem to migrate to the side of the lab, watching the fight go down, "he's surprisingly good," Henry assessed.

"Who knew some 60-something bald man could take the Captain Man," you nodded before looking over to his new sidekick. "You're not jealous of me and Ray are you?"

This caught Henry off guard, "not at all! I understand that you guys had a close bond," despite seeming fine, his tone of voice told a different story.

"Trust me as soon as Doctor Rotten is gone I'm out of here, you have nothing to worry about. Now I'm gonna make this guy regret he was even fucking born." You smile and pat Henry's chest before sneaking over to the table with syringes full of glowing liquid splayed out.

At this point, Doctor Rotten is having to take on both Kid Danger and Captain Man. However, you have just found what you assume is the same poison that you were attacked with all those years ago.

To distract Doctor Rotten you tap into his brain and start to scream which causes him to grasp the sides of his head and drop to his knees. You happily saunter over to his distraught body and lean down.

"Payback is a bitch," you whisper, pushing your face against his before stabbing the syringe into his neck and injecting the fiery liquid, causing him to instantly pass out.

"Well, jobs done! Let's get back to the man cave girl and boy." Ray says while clapping his hands.

"About that Ray... I'm not coming, I'm going back to Brooklyn." You smile bittersweetly, "it was amazing fighting crime with you again, but it's not my place anymore."

This caused Ray to frown, "c'mon Y/N just for old times sake."

Henry suddenly felt quite bad for you both, and for feeling jealous. "I would love for you to come hang with us until your flight." The blonde smiled at you.

This made you smile and roll your eyes, "I guess I can come down for a few hours."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After hours of reminiscing, talking and many games of foosball Ray decided he was going to head to his bed.

"Shouldn't you head home?" You asked Henry as you stood up off of the couch.

He shrugged and stood up with you, "I told my mom I was staying at Jasper's tonight."

You laughed in response, "a rebel? I like it."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckled, scrunching his face at you.

"Yeah, you're cool Henry, I see why Ray likes you." You spoke softly and tilted your head.

This caused Henry to flush lightly, "you're really cool, Y/N."

"I think you should come to Brooklyn sometime," you walked closer to him, "come visit me sometime..."

He nodded, "sounds good, I'll be there," he mumbled, now realising the close proximity between you both.

"Sounds like a plan," you whisper whilst placing your hands on his shoulders.

As if on command his hands landed on your hips, "I think you're really pretty.

You grinned and leaned closer to his face, his breath fanning over yours, "and I think you're perfect."

He slowly lowered his head and let his lips meet yours.

[devilish-cherry]

i love your MWMS fic, it’s so lighthearted and cute and funny 😭 i saw you wrote a story that isn’t canon to MWMS but still in that setting for Nanami- can we get something for Choso or any other character? I can’t imagine a scenario, though, because the Nanami one just made sense, yk? Him helping the barista out and teaching them things, can’t imagine how the others would be as useful 🤭🤭😭

ᨳ♡₊➳ choso x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ pure crack with fluff

ᨳ♡₊➳ set in minimum wage, maximum suffering

Choso takes romantic advice from Yuji.

This is a mistake.

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: first of all, thank you so much!! i’m so happy you’re enjoying mwms—lighthearted chaos is exactly what i was going for, so i’m glad it’s hitting the mark!! and second—YES, i absolutely had to do a mwms side story for choso. it was inevitable. 😈

just like the nanami one, this isn’t canon to the main fic! think of it as a fun little “what if” scenario/alternate timeline. the main story remains completely unchanged. you don’t need to have read mwms to read this! hope you enjoy!! 🖤

It starts with a perfectly normal day at the café.

Which is to say, everything is a mess, you’re severely underpaid, you’re contemplating the legal gray area of unpaid breaks, and you’re internally debating whether you can sue your manager for emotional distress.

Yuji and his quiet, brooding older brother have been sitting at their usual corner table for a while now. Yuji’s been enthusiastically explaining something to Choso for the past ten minutes, and Choso has been nodding along, looking deeply concentrated like he’s trying to solve a math problem with no numbers.

You don’t think much of it. This is normal. Choso always looks like he’s staring into the abyss, and the abyss is just slightly out of focus.

You’re in the middle of making someone’s overly complicated coffee order when you feel a presence. Not the normal kind of “someone’s standing near you” presence. The kind where you just know that when you turn around, it’s going to be weird.

And you are correct.

Choso is standing at the counter. Staring.

Not in his usual “processing the weight of existence” way. No, this is something different. Something focused. Intense. Maybe even… nervous?

Which is terrifying, because what could Choso possibly have to be nervous about? He is a six-foot-tall, pigtailed enigma with the emotional processing skills of a Victorian child who was locked in an attic for too long.

"Hey, Choso," you greet, outwardly polite despite already bracing yourself. "Need something?"

He blinks at you, his expression still unreadable. His gaze pierces through your soul like he’s about to say something deeply profound.

Then, in the most serious voice known to mankind, he speaks:

"Forgive me my weakness, but I don't know why. Without you, it's hard to survive. Because every time we touch, I get this feeling."

Your brain buffers like a 2008 YouTube video on dial-up internet.

"...Excuse me?"

Choso does not elaborate. He just stares. As if those words should have conveyed everything.

Behind him, Yuji is at their table, looking like he’s about two seconds away from exploding with laughter. That’s when it clicks.

This is his fault.

"Is this a bit?" you ask, voice deadpan, still trying to piece together what kind of avant-garde performance art you’re being subjected to.

Choso shakes his head, still dead serious. "No. This is romance."

Oh.

Well, okay.

That was not what you were expecting.

You flick your gaze to Yuji again, who is gesturing wildly behind Choso like an unhelpful stage director, his hands saying Just roll with it!

You sigh. "Alright. Did you… want to order something, or are you just going to serenade me at my place of work?"

"I wish to express my feelings," Choso says, his voice so somber you’d think he was making a funeral announcement.

Then, before you can mentally prepare, he pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of his sleeve.

"I’d catch a grenade for you… throw my hand on a blade for you… I’d jump in front of a train for you…"

Your lips press into a thin line.

"Choso."

He pauses, tilting his head.

"Yes?"

"You do realize that song is about an extremely toxic and one-sided relationship, right?"

Choso looks down at his paper. His brows furrow.

"...I see."

There is a long, excruciating pause where he seems to be genuinely reevaluating his entire approach. Then, with all the solemnity of a man about to make a life-altering decision, he reaches into his sleeve again and pulls out a second crumpled piece of paper.

Oh no.

"You are… my fire."

"Choso, please."

"The one… desire—"

"No."

But Choso is committed to the bit—or rather, he is tragically serious about whatever this is. His face remains completely neutral as he powers through the lyrics of I Want It That Way with the same energy someone would recite their wedding vows.

You inhale sharply. "I’m begging you to consider alternative methods of communication."

Choso finally stops. He looks at you, then down at his notes. "...I see. You are unimpressed by just words alone."

Oh god. That is not what you meant.

Before you can clarify, before you can so much as process the surreal series of events unfolding before you, Choso does something deeply, deeply horrifying.

He gets down on one knee.

Your soul briefly leaves your body. You feel yourself ascending. Somewhere in the distance, Yuji screeches like a dying seagull.

Choso, with the most intense expression you have ever seen on another human face, grabs your hand. His grip is warm and firm, and suddenly you are hyperaware of how much bigger his hands are than yours. He’s staring at you like a man about to make a life-or-death declaration.

And then—

"Every night in my dreams… I see you, I feel you…"

Oh. Oh no.

"That is how I know you go on—"

"Choso." Your voice comes out strangled.

He does not stop.

"Far across the distance—"

"Choso, please."

He finally pauses, his brow furrowing in slight confusion. "Do these words and actions not move you?"

"I—move me?" You don’t even know how to respond to that. "Choso, what is happening right now?"

Choso stands up again, still holding your hand. You feel like you’re in some kind of fever dream.

"Yuji said music conveys feelings," he explains. "I do not have experience with romance, but I have strong feelings. I wish to express them properly."

Yuji, who is now doubled over in laughter, gives you a shaky thumbs-up.

Your eye twitches. "And he specifically told you to quote love songs at me?"

"Yes." Choso nods gravely. "I also listened to his playlist."

You immediately fix Yuji with the most withering glare you can muster.

Yuji grins sheepishly. "Look, in my defense, I didn’t think he’d take it this literally—"

"You are both on thin ice," you say flatly.

Choso suddenly steps closer, and you find yourself automatically stepping back until your back hits the counter. He looks at you with deep, genuine sincerity.

"I do not fully understand these feelings," he admits, his voice quiet but certain. "But when I see you, I feel warmth. And when I think of you, I feel light. And I wish to be near you, always."

Your brain ceases functioning.

You open your mouth, then close it.

Then you clear your throat, because there is absolutely no reason for your heart to be doing whatever it’s doing right now. Absolutely none.

"...You don’t need song lyrics for that," you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you.

Choso considers this. Then, with alarming decisiveness, he nods and pulls out his phone.

Yuji, recognizing the immediate threat, lunges. "WAIT, NO—"

But it’s too late.

Choso successfully navigates to his playlist. And the instant you hear the first note of Careless Whisper, your instincts take over, and you slap your hand over the speaker like your life depends on it.

"This conversation is over," you declare.

Choso looks at you, then at the phone, then back at you. "...Was this not romantic?"

You sigh deeply. "Choso, I don’t need grand gestures or song lyrics. Just… be yourself, alright?"

For some reason, this makes him freeze. Like you just spoke the most baffling sentence in the universe. "Be… myself?"

"Yeah." You cross your arms, trying to ignore the way your face is heating up. "I like you just fine when you’re not making me feel like I’m in a cursed karaoke session."

Choso processes this for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiles. It’s small, a little shy, but it softens his entire face. It’s… dangerously cute.

"...Understood."

You exhale. Thank god.

Then he reaches for his phone again.

"But I should still play—"

"Choso, I swear to god—"

[neurotic-sinkhole]

oh boy another hermitcraft court case. watched it and my brain exploded like a cuboom firework. the things i've seen as a real life judicial aid and law school student will never compare to the trial.

so here is my analysis of said case:

- glad the judge kept the plaintiff going first! he is right, the defense doesnt know what case to argue against without knowing the case to begin with

- while i love the addition of a jury, typically juries are selected before either side makes a single argument. theres also a whole jury selection process that takes a while, but seeing how one side chose to not prepare anything (which is a real defense i've seen used in a real case before) maybe this was for the better lol

- also, to my knowledge most of the jury (in some way) was a part of the case - i mean the defense even brought this up. the jury was never going to be impartial. however, what confused me more was the usage of "hermitcraft" in the overarching hermitcraft v mumbo case. this verbiage implies not just beef or xb, but the whole server are claiming harm from mumbo's actions.

- furthermore, outside the courthouse there was a banner boasting "xb vs mumbo" but bdubs said "hermitcraft vs mumbo" so i'm going with the words of the judge and what would be on the theoretical court record. this continues to make me wonder what "hermitcraft" classifies as. is it a sovereign nation? is it a state? is it a confederacy of hermits? if hermitcraft, in this specific case, entailed the server as a nation then this should have been a criminal case.

- i need to stop thinking about this aspect of the case or else my brain will explode but i desperately hope for some case law defining this in the future.

- similar to the zombiecleo v docm77 case, defense's lack of witnessess was alarming. defense having only one witness in comparison to the plaintiff's three is severely unbalanced, it only gave the defense a third of the oppurtunity to prove mumbo's innocence (not that they were claiming mumbo didn't commit the actions accused of him)

- i appreciate the judge not allowing for party reps/witnesses to act as agents of the case (objecting, arguing, ect). when bdubs asked jevin where his bar card was i actually felt tears welling in my eyes from laughter.

- the plaintiff's case did a good job in throwing a lot of stuff at the defense. however, i feel they spread themselves too thin with having so many elements to the case (vandalism, noise pollution, enviromental pollution, lost wages, ect), and if they had focused on one or two aspects their case would have been much stronger

- specifically i think they should have focused on the enviromental damage perspective. the other "charges" focused too much on the social ramifications of actions taken by both mumbo and "hermitcraft"

- as for the defense, i think they could have completely gone with the defense of "freedom of expression".

- every single charge could have been easily knocked aside with this defense. it would play to bdubs' (american) brain's inherent obsession with freedom of speech, protest, assembly- just the first amendment overall. oh, the bricks? that was a protest. it is mumbo's right to protest against actions he does not agree with. the noise? the "toxic" enviroment? that's mumbo's expressed creative thoughts. it's his own individual style. he's expressing his own thoughts.

- i think the defense was right on about the train of the food prices too high, but they focused on it too much.

- i also appreciated their use of their singular witness in cub- it is absolutely right to point out there are no written peramiters for zones of builds and such.

overall i think this trial was slightly more on par with a traditional american trial than previous tall claims court cases!! i think bdubs' judgement was just. and most importantly, i can't wait for more cases to analyse (:

[mobbu-min]

☆ yummy in my tummy ☆

part three

a/n i've been following the halloween event pretty closely for the jp servers, and omg, i have fallen deeper in love with leona! he's just so gentlemanly and honestly, the type of guy you would totally bring home to meet ur parents! plus he looks so damn good! also scully such a cutie patootie! love his little mannerisms and design! i was a little sad that ace and deuce wasn't in, but that just means that they'll both be there for the next halloween event!

edit: so this was meant to be posted like a long time ago hence my og author note, but better late the. never ig. but my point still stands that skully is a little cutie patootie <3

included ignihyde, diasomnia + rollo

tw nothing

want more? here's part one + two

ignihyde <3

⋆ He can’t help it! But the first thing that escape Idia's mouth is ‘Is this poison?’ He can't help it! He’s just a little awkward and has low self-esteem! Idia can’t phantom the idea that anyone, especially you, would take time out of their day to make and bring little, ugly him, food. (his words not mine) It’s literally a ten minute conversation where you have to explain to him that you wanted to this because you care about his skinny ass. And after he gets that through his thick ass head and into his big ass brain, does he explode into hot, hot red. Despite being a literal genius, Idia’s social department (self-esteem? self-love?) is severely understaffed. I don’t think Idia’s all that picky when it comes to food, he’s just not used to eating food out of his comfort zone. But batting your pretty eyes and asking ‘pretty please?’ is enough to get him to bend over.

⋆ If he could eat, Ortho would adore your food! (real talk, i can’t remember if Ortho could canonically eat through like idk a food cavity space thing or if i had just read that from a fic) Would ask for all types of things. But since he can’t, Ortho enjoys your food through Idia. He’s really happy that someone would take the time out of their day just for his big brother. By his data, doesn’t that mean you like his big bro? In all sorts of media, romantic partners make each other food to show their love! If Idia wasn’t such a danger magnetic in the kitchen, Ortho would force Idia to make you food too! So you’ll just have to settle with Ortho as your little helper instead. (he’s so excited to spend one on one time with his future in-law! teehee)

Diasomnia <3

⋆ My, make him food? How courageous you are, little human. Malleus gobbles your food down like it's his last supper. Food created by his child of man? How could he possibly let it go to waste! Compliments you to the moon and back. Though because it is Malleus, he does slip a few critiques. (he can’t help it! He’s a prince afterall) Malleus has never had an edible homemade dish full of love given to him, like ever. (sorry lilia, your food is full of love, just not edible) A warm feeling blossoms all across his body like blooming roses. If his tail was out, it would be swaying to the beat of his racing heart. Malleus didn’t think it was possible to fall deeper in love with you, but here you go, always surprising him. Perhaps, you’ll find a meal on your desk one day by the initials M.D.

⋆ Ohohoho? So you want to challenge a culinary master! Lilia will not be beaten by such a cute little human! You better start running tehehehehe- On another less scary note, Lilia enjoys your food immensely! Of course he could think of a few ways to make it much more protein packed and nutritious but that’s just his inner master chef coming out teehee. Beware, he insists that you must try his cooking, it’s only fair of him to treat you to a meal. Or even worse, insist that you too must cook together. Pray to the seven (or hope that Silver will be conscious enough to drag his father outta there) because you’re going to need it.

⋆ Wonderful… is the only word Silver is able to get out before he falls asleep. When he wakes, Silver is awfully embarrassed. Silver is blown away at your kindness. His face a perment baby pink the rest of the day. You thought of him and no one else. Surely this must mean something right? Still, Silver must do something for you too. It’s only fair. (what a sweet gentleman) he considers making you a treat as well, but considers otherwise. It might be unwise to be in the kitchen with his condition. But of course, it’s not like Silver won’t have any help! All the woodland creatures are more than happy to help Silver win over his crush’s heart! The next day you’ll have his treat flown to you by a couple of blue birds, chipmunks and rabbits gathering at your door with berries of all sorts. Silver thankful for such generous companions. If he had to face you, he might just fall into a coma.

⋆ He can’t help it when he says, “Are you trying to poison me?!’ and ‘Don’t you dare poison my Waka-Sama! I will fight you, human!” Sebek’s like a dog, barking and barking, until he smells the delicious scent of your food and suddenly, he’s stubbornly eating it at the table. Cursing himself for being so weak to delicious food (and your pretty smile) Oh how could he properly serve his Waka-sama if he’s weakened by such things?! THE CRUELTY! He does really enjoy your food. Typically he’s often left unsatisfied, his stomach growling with lingering hunger after his meals. But for some odd reason, every time he’s chowing down on your food, he’s satisfied. His stomach is silent but his chest is warm and fuzzy like dandelions. Are you sure you don’t have any magic? Sebek decides to keep his curiosity to himself. Just like the rest of diasomnia, you’ll find yourself faced with a box filled to the brim with food courtesy of the blushing, stuttering fae in front of you.

Extra <3

⋆ Very rarely does Rollo find time to sit down and eat. Between his studies, his duties as student president and world domination (kidding), he is much too busy to have anything more than a piece of bread and glass of water. You’ll have to drag him to sit his ass down to eat and even then he’ll be scolding you for messing up his schedule. But when the warm and homey scent of your food reaches his nose, his voice falls and mind clears. And all of a sudden, he’s very much aware of the ache in his bones, the growling of his stomach and the tight ringing of his head. Rollo listens to you tell him you made this just for him, heaviness hits his chest at the concern lacing your voice. Any other time he’d scoff and leave, but this is you. His friend. He doesn’t hesitate. The moment your food touches his tongue he’s done for. Perhaps the hassle of life is worth it.

[plaguewormart]

I wrote a one shot while in the waiting room before seeing my doctor,, on ao3 here but also posting it here 💀

Vincent tried not to think much about his past. Whenever nosy journalists or well meaning members of the Curia would ask him about his work in Afghanistan or Iraq Vincent would reply by talking about the love he had felt in those places - the way humanity seemed to be at its very best when the world around them fell apart. Vincent would never go into details.

As many things are in the church, Vincent’s PTSD was somewhat of an open secret. Many Swiss guards shared the uncomfortable experience of running into the papal rooms in the middle of the night after hearing the pope screaming as if being attacked - only to be met with a disheveled man with haunted eyes, hands shaking as he dismissed their offers of helping. The members of the Curia who were closest to the pope had slowly come to understand which subjects not to bring up around the Holy Father.

Vincent, to everyone’s dismay, refused to acknowledge his problems - constantly rejecting any mention of therapy or medication. “Compared to so many others,” he would say, “I’ve had an easy life.” He refused to listen when various members of his staff tried to remind him that serving God and the Church in active war zones most definitely counted as traumatic.

Vincent was an expert on hiding any and all feelings. He was the people’s pope - the sole man in charge of the Church - God’s representative on earth. He could not - would not - let anyone see him as weak. He had a job to do, and he had to do it well. If he was awoken by memories he’d tried to repress almost every night, then that was between him and God (and the guards who kept entering his room).

Vincent knew how to hide, how to keep secrets safe. He had plenty of experience in the field, after all. He would hide his trembling hands behind his back while walking through the Vatican. He would plan out each and every sermon well in advance, always standing hidden behind the altar as he prayed, refusing the offer of an altar boy holding the Bible for him - he would carry the weight himself, and the large book would hide his shaking hands and anxious eyes.

He couldn’t always hide. Once he had been walking through the gardens with Thomas when someone decided that the calm night needed some color, and had shot up a firework over Rome. The sound of the exploding lights had brought Vincent back to Baghdad, and in a moment of disorientation he had grabbed Thomas and thrown them both down on the ground - breathing heavily as he tried to find cover from what his brain registered as gunshots.

Two guards who had been walking a few meters behind them had rushed to their sides, thinking that the Holy Father had suffered a medical emergency or had tripped on something, and Thomas had to gently but firmly wave them away as Vincent started crawling away in fear when his panicked mind assumed the men with guns were going to hurt him.

It had taken Thomas several minutes and more than a few prayers for guidance before he managed to get Vincent to look at him, and the pope had not stopped shaking for the rest of the evening. Vincent had not allowed anyone else to tend to him after the incident, so Thomas was left to help the Holy Father change out of his dirt-stained white cassock and tend to the scrapes on his hands from the rough landing.

Vincent had refused - or been unable - to talk, yet Thomas had stayed by his side for the rest of the night, unable to do anything but watch as the figurehead of the Catholic Church broke down on the floor of the bathroom in the Casa Santa Martha.

Vincent couldn’t always hide - but he could pretend. After that night, Vincent resolutely refused to mention the incident. Whenever Thomas tried to get the Holy Father to open up, Vincent would change the subject or make his excuses to leave the room.

To absolutely everyone’s surprise, it was Tedesco who finally got through to him. Tedesco had been visiting the Vatican for Christmas celebrations, and had been keenly observing the new pope, taking long drags of his vape as he noted how the Holy Father seemed somehow even skinner and paler than he had been during the conclave that elected him.

Despite what some would assume, Tedesco didn’t disapprove of the pope entirely. He disagreed on many of the man’s moral and political views, but even he had been able to feel the Holy Spirit enter the Sistine Chapel as Vincent Benítez became Pope Innocent XIV. And he wouldn’t exactly be a good conservative Catholic if he didn’t believe the pope’s words were infallible.

So when he saw how Innocent seemed to flinch at every noise, jumping away from unexpected touches, and arrive at breakfast looking more tired than he had when retiring to bed - Tedesco understood that something was wrong.

One of the bishops in Venice, Johnathan Anderson, had been an American military officer for years before finding his true calling, and Tedesco had seen how the man would sometimes jump at seemingly nothing. He had asked the bishop about this once, mostly because he was bored out of his mind at a conference lunch, and Anderson had explained that his years in the army had left him with PTSD, that sometimes his body reacted to threats that weren’t really there, sometimes his brain created emergencies that didn’t exist, and that sometimes his mind would force him to relive his worst memories as if he was back in the war.

Tedesco - who had worked very hard for the reputation he had around the church - had cracked a slightly inappropriate joke in a mix of Italian and Latin, and then not mentioned the conversation further. However, if Tedesco’s office since then had been outfitted with an extra desk for anyone to occupy when in need to some peace and quiet, if one of the churches in Venice suddenly started holding support meetings for veterans of war, and if Anderson’s therapy sessions suddenly became a business expense, paid for by the church… well those were happy coincidences, and no one but Tedesco and God would have to know the truth.

Tedesco’s tipping point came when he watched the Holy Father in conversation with an old pilgrim, he was too far away to hear what the pair were speaking about, but close enough to see the Pope’s face turn as white as the vestments he wore, and how Benítez seemed to hastily excuse himself before walking away so quickly that Tedesco had to jog a few steps to be able to follow the man.

The Holy Father retreated into the men’s bathroom, and Tedesco felt a bit creepy as he followed the pope inside, but as he heard the unmistakable sound of reaching from the only occupied stall, he knew he had done the right thing.

He listened to the sounds of hyperventilation occasionally interrupted by gagging and the splattering of the Holy Fathers stomach contents as they met with toilet water. The sounds made him nauseous himself, but he breathed deeply and told himself that he was helping the Church by not abandoning the pope.

Tedesco stood silently at the door to the corridor, so that he would be able to intercept anyone entering the room - the Church did not need headlines about Pope Innocent throwing up in a public Vatican bathroom, God knows what the media would do with that.

It took almost ten minutes for the erratic breathing to calm, and for the toilet to flush one last time. The door to the stall clicked as the lock was opened, and out walked the Pope, his white cassock wrinkled from kneeling on the floor, his hands clenched tightly around the white zucchetto, presumably Benítez had removed it to prevent it from falling into the toilet. The Holy Father’s eyes were red, and his sweat-drenched hair stuck to his face. His eyes widened almost comedically when he noticed Tedesco staring him down.

“Your eminence?” Tedesco wanted to laugh at the tone in Benítez voice, a mix of suspicion, fear, and exhaustion. “Relax, your holiness. I won’t tell anyone, I was just making sure you didn’t drown in a toilet bowl. I fear our dean would consider becoming Protestant if he had to hold another conclave so soon.” At this the Pope’s shoulders seemed to relax a smidge, and a small pained smile appeared on his face.

“Oh well, I suppose I should be thanking you, then.” As Vincent spoke, he made his way to the line of sinks, splashing his face with water a few times before continuing, “But I really am fine now, Cardinal Tedesco.”

Tedesco didn’t even bother hiding his annoyance at the answer. “Fine? You think it’s fine for the Pope to be curled up in a public bathroom, puking his guts out because something reminded him of the past?”

Vincent went a few shades paler again, and Tedesco prayed that he hadn’t sent the Holy Father into another panic attack. Thankfully the man didn’t seem on the verge of breaking as he spoke. “How did you know?”

“I’m not stupid, your holiness. You have textbook PTSD. Like… actual textbok material, you could probably be a case study for medical students.” Vincent blinks at him, his mouth open in shock.

“Look, I’m sorry, I planned to do this in a nicer way, but unfortunately I genuinely don’t think you would understand me if I don’t speak clearly.” Tedesco stares into Benítez’s eyes, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern as he speaks, “Your Holiness… the way you are living, it’s not fine. You are suffering, and this way of living will kill you, sooner than later.” Tedesco sighs as he sees that the Pope doesn’t seem to understand how bad that would be. “And I know that you don’t really care about that. However, your premature death would make the church look bad, and even more so… it would kill your friends. Tommaso, Aldo, Ray, you would be making them suffer. Do you understand?”

Vincent finally looks shaken - Tedesco sees his adams apple bobble as he swallows nervously. Tedesco decides to press even further. “You are already making them suffer. I know you do not mean to, but they are terrified. I might not be friends with them, but I’ve known them for decades, and I can see how scared they are.” Vincent looks heartbroken, his face twisted in shock and grief. “They fear that they will find you dead one day, that a flashback will make you hurt yourself or that a panic attack will make your heart give out. Hell, we all see how thin you are - they… we’re all scared you will starve yourself to death.”

And then, to Tedesco’s surprise and horror, the Holy Father throws his arms around the cardinal and hugs him tightly. Tedesco doesn’t know what to do, yet when he feels the Pope’s shoulders shake slightly he lets his instincts take over and embraces the younger man.

They stand like that for a few minutes, and when they break apart Tedesco pretends not to see Benítez wiping tears off his face. “Thank you Goffredo, really.” Tedesco feels his face heat up at the Holy Father’s use of his first name, and immediately covers it up by taking a hit of his vape.

As they walk out of the bathroom, side by side, Vincent turns to Tedesco, a knowing smile on his face, “So, Cardinal Tedesco… you said ‘we’ are scared. Does that mean you worry about me?”

Tedesco scoffs and blows some smoke in the popes face. “You might be the pope, but you’re not that important.” Vincent just smiles, understanding the sentence as Tedesco-speak for ‘I do’.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 48

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Minors DNI. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘 (Thank you Scarlett for uploading the beautiful don John gifs, you're so amazing!! ❤❤❤)

48.  hostile takeover

You find yourself stuck in the middle of a fuck ton of drawn weapons, both crime syndicates distrustful of the other. The paranoia of the group is surely only made worse by the party tray that made its way around the circle, and you sense the room is one wrong twitch away from erupting. 

“What the fuck was that?” demands don Juan, clearly expecting a double cross. The drug kingpin has his arm around your neck, using you as a human shield with a gold plated gun gripped in his other hand. 

“I could ask you the same question?” demands Dante, clearly shaken by the explosion, his eyes saucer-wide. 

“You think I blew up my own boat? When were you going to tell me you pulled the tail of the fucking Baba Yaga?” snarls Juan beside you, fierce as a cornered jaguar. “You took his woman? Are you loco?”

“It wasn't your business,” Dante insists, and the lie so infuriates Juan that he squeezes you in his strong hand, hard enough to bruise. 

“Ow, hey, watch it motherfucker,” you protest through gritted teeth. 

“Shut up, puta,” snaps the jefe. “Or I'll do worse.”

That's when Juan’s head explodes beside you, and the room erupts into chaos, broken glass showering all around.

Everyone's first instinct is to dive for cover. Splashed in blood and you fear, bits of Juan’s brain matter, you snatch up the golden gun and do the same. Unclear on what is transpiring, the two organizations start shooting at each other. Under a hail of bullets, you keep your head down, and fire at anyone who presents you with a target. 

John’s here. 

You believe it to the marrow of your bones. He's out there somewhere in the darkness, maybe even on the boat. If you could just get outside…

Can you make a run for it? Ironically, you think that maybe this was the best fucking timing to try a lil’ Columbian bam bam–if your heart doesn’t explode first. You have plenty of energy, so much that it's hard to sit still and wait, even if deep down you know your survival depends on perfect timing.

Somehow, you have to make it all the way across the lounge, past several heavily armed trigger-happy people, to the door outside–or the broken window–or the staircase that will take you down a level. 

The good thing is: you feel invincible. 

The bad thing is: you feel invincible. 

Fuck.

One of Dante’s thugs sticks out his head and you fire off a round, only clipping him, your aim fucked by shaking hands. He retreats with a string of curses and a trail of blood. Someone tries firing over the couches at you, and it’s your turn to use every blistering bad word you’ve ever known, plastering yourself to the floor, trying to make yourself as small a target as possible. You hear it when their gun clicks empty, and you hope it's your chance. You slip off your ridiculous shoes so you can run, and you make to scramble past. 

Someone tackles you to the floor, knocking your gun from your hand. Your training with Mariko finally kicks in, and you fight to hurt, throwing your head back in a vicious headbutt as hard as you can. You feel his nose crunch against the back of your head. “You little bitch!” 

You realize it's Luca again, and you fight twice as hard, biting his arm that he tries to get around your throat. You grapple on the floor, and a wildness rises in you like nothing you’ve ever known, fueled by drugs and all your pent up rage. Not even when Dante’s commandos raided John’s cabin, did you feel this feral determination to survive at any cost. 

All you can think is that John is out there, and you want to see him again.    

You manage to get on Luca’s back like a spider-monkey, your arm latched around his throat and your legs locked around his middle, squeezing as hard as you can. He’s bigger than you, so much stronger, and in a ditch attempt to dislodge you he stands up. 

One of the cartel soldiers sees a target, and puts three bullets in his torso. Somehow the bullets miss you–at least you think they do–and Luca collapses back to the ground. Your gun is in reach, and you grasp for it. When he tries to prevent you with a hand on your ankle you twist to put a bullet in his head. 

As horrified as you are relieved, you hunker down to catch your breath, your heart racing.

That's when you see him. 

Through the bank of floor to ceiling windows, you watch the man you love mow through mafiosi like blades of grass on the outer deck. He is savage poetry in motion, shooting, kicking, striking–he blocks a punch, uses the momentum to turn to get off a shot, uses the first attacker as a human shield, before moving on to the next. One by one, they all fall down. 

Mesmerized, you watch, unable to look away from the carnage. You witness him commit murder, again and again, and your heart is filled with nothing but unadulterated love for that man. He is your monster, and now these fuckers get to feel his wrath. 

Unfortunately, you’re not the only one watching him through the windows. Someone opens fire with some kind of submachine gun, and John throws himself over the side in a quick bid for cover. 

“John!” 

He doesn’t climb back up, and all you can think is the worst. Was he hit? Did he fall to the deck below? Or even into the ocean? You have to get to the lower deck, and without any more thinking you run for the aft staircase, laying down cover fire as you go. Bullets rain all around, but somehow none find you. 

A cartel man is just making his way up the stairs, and you launch yourself with two feet forward and a battle cry, knocking him down and landing on his ribs with all your weight. You’re both stunned upon landing, but you get your wits first, and you empty the rest of your clip into him. 

You take his gun before running to your next point of cover. 

In your manic state you almost feel like you are stuck in a video game, as you duck around corners and shoot at Dante’s men, hyper-focused on your task. How many fucking bodyguards did he bring on this yacht? 

He definitely broke the twelve passenger rule. 

Pinned down behind a bar, you trade fire with someone ahead. You’ve lost count of how many bullets they fired. Your mind feels like a tilt-a-whirl, hopped up on cocaine and adrenaline. They let off another salvo of shots, and you scream as loud as you can, going very still in hope of baiting them into leaving their cover. You wait…and you wait, your heartbeat like a snare drumroll in your ears.  

Finally, you hear footsteps crunching broken glass, and you prepare to fight again. 

You hear a squelching sound, and the thump of a body hitting the ground. 

Confused, you watch the puddle of blood seep across the floor, fixated on the spreading pool of crimson. Then, you see a foot cased in shining black patent leather. Your gaze travels up a long suit-clad leg, and by the time your eyes reach his face they are filled with tears. 

“John!” 

He seizes you, dragging you into his lap behind the cover of the bar, his arms like bands of steel around you and his ravenous mouth on yours. He kisses you like you are the oxygen he needs to live, licking into your mouth, eating you, consuming you. Gladly you take the fury of his passion, even as your lips become sore and your teeth clash and he grips you so hard it hurts. 

This is the truth of your love with John Wick. It is pain, and pleasure, not always in equal parts, but you know more than ever that you would pay any price to have him, and maybe you wouldn’t even change a thing. 

Every fire you have walked through to get to this moment has tempered your love into something hard, sharp, and unbreakable. This man is your alpha and your omega. 

He is the reason you breathe.  

“Are you alright? I saw that fucker hit you,” he demands when at last he surfaces for air, holding your face in his blood-stained hands. His thumb traces the spatter on your cheek, all that’s left of don Juan’s head. 

Crying and laughing, you nod rapidly, your words spouting like automatic fire. “I’m fine. Everything is fine now. I knew you’d find me. Jesus Christ I missed you!” 

Through the shadow of his chagrin he seems amused by the delivery of this tirade. “Not as much as I missed you.” Then his eyes narrow, looking at you in a way that has never failed to make your tummy flutter. “Young lady, you are in so much trouble.” 

Once, this might have scared the piss out of you. 

Now? You’re not sure if it’s the drugs or the pure elation of being reunited with him, but all you can do is laugh. “Am I?” 

“Yes. I should bend you over my knee right here.” His big hand caresses your bare thigh, up to trace the high high hemline of your sparkly blood-spattered dress. He glares down at it with a fixation that could start a wildfire. “What the hell are you wearing?” 

“I think it’s a bedazzled napkin.” 

“Hmm,” he growls, unable to stop himself from groping your ass under the dress. “Somehow I hate it and like it too much.” 

You whine, clutching his lapels desperately as the tips of his fingers drift towards your center, his lips on your neck. On a scale from one to ten, how bad an idea would it be to fuck during a firefight? You’re having a hard time talking yourself out of it as his middle finger tests your aching hole, finding you wet and wanting. 

“Fuck, baby.” He forces himself to draw back to look at you, his eyes blown midnight dark with desire. From this close he studies you again, sweeping over your features, your eyes, to your mouth, to your eyes again. You're not the only one having trouble remembering where you are. “Your pupils are huge. What are you on?” 

“They made me do a line of cocaine to test the product and I’ve never tried it before,” you say quickly, unable to stop yourself. Your heart is a neutron star, spinning, spinning, burning bright. Now that John’s here, you’re not half as scared as you should be. 

John lifts his eyebrows, smiling wryly at you, the source of your high-energy revealed. 

“It probably won’t last much longer. You’re going to be fine, honey. Where’s your necklace?”

“They took it. But I swallowed the tracker. How long has it been? I’ve barely eaten anything in days, I was afraid to.” 

“My clever girl. It’s been over a week.” He continues to inspect you as you talk. When his search reaches your hand he frowns, regarding the damage with an excruciating regret shining in his dark eyes. “Kitten, I am so sorry.” 

However, you just shrug tearfully, buzzing inside like a happy hive of bees. You didn’t know it was possible to feel so happy, as you do reunited with John. You don’t think it’s just the cocaine that’s making you feel like you’re made of pure dopamine.

 “I’m ok. I’ve got nine more.” This wins you a huff of laughter that is a balm for your soul.

“I brought you something.” He reaches into his breast pocket again, producing something small and shining. 

Your ring. 

“Oh John…” More tears spring up in your eyes, clouding your vision as you offer him your right hand, knowing it won't fit any other fingers in your left. He slides it on, and maybe it's silly, but it does feel like a crucial piece of yourself has been restored again. “Thank you.”

Again, he holds your face in his hands. You know you must look like a wild creature, wide-eyed, wind-blown, spattered in the blood of your enemies. And yet he still looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. 

“God, I love you.”

You feel like the richest woman in the world. 

“I love you too. Can we go home now?” 

The corner of his mouth pulls in that rueful smile, and he nods. “Yeah.” 

Naturally, that’s when a fresh wave of combatants arrive, someone shooting your way from the corridor whence you came. “Go,” says John, draping you with his kevlar-lined suit jacket, pointing towards the front of the boat. “I’ll be right there. If you see a Chinese man in a suit killing gangsters, don’t shoot him, he’s with me.” 

“What?” 

“Caine. He’s on our side. Go. You’ve done so good, baby. It’s almost over. Go.”  

You don’t really have time to think about what he’s told you. He shoves you in the right direction, and you run, ducking low, trusting John to cover you. When the enemy starts shooting at you he picks them off ruthlessly with deadly precision. You don’t see the aftermath, because you make it down a hallway and then out to the deck again. 

The chaos feels more distant there. You hear people shouting in Spanish and Italian, fighting over the other smaller boats that arrived with Juan’s flotilla. You hope John has his own secreted away somewhere on the dark ocean. You creep along, not really knowing where you should go, waiting for John to catch up to you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You hear fighting around the curve of the deck ahead. Gripping your gun, you move forward to get a look, ready at this point to mow down any mobsters or narcos who might get in your way. 

But someone’s beating you to the punch. A Chinese man in a suit, as John so aptly described him, is making mincemeat of five men [attempting] to stand against him. His deadly movements are poetry in motion. He has a gun, but he barely uses it, opting for the lethal grace of a sword cane instead. As you watch him you realize he is pulling this off blind, and your amazement skyrockets. 

You cannot look away from the carnage, and this proves to be a very big mistake for you. 

You feel something hard poke you in the back. “You stupid puttana.” 

You recognize Dante’s voice as one of Caine’s opponents falls at his feet. 

As you try to turn he shoves the barrel of the gun into your ribs again. “Don’t fucking move.”

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

all chapters *loco - crazy *puttana - bitch, whore

[skellseerwriting]

5 Times Iida Thinks You’re a Boy and 1 Time He Finally Realizes

Oblivious!Iida x Fem!Androgynous!Reader

Part 5

Part 6: Dorm Rooms

Word Count: 1.5k

Content & Warnings: open ending(?), comedy, realization of feelings (implied), potential room inaccuracies

Summary: The truth finally reveals itself

The excited hum of the large group filled the hallway. Like bees, they swarmed in and out of rooms to admire and judge the living spaces of their classmates. Starting on the girls’ side, they made their way up the few floors; high off of the excitement of the new dorms they’d be staying in for their time at school. As you all neared the end of your tour for the first half of the building, the chatter slowly died down.

Exiting what he thought was the final room, Iida headed squarely to the elevator. Upon realizing no one was behind him, he turned back around to the group.

“Uh, Iida…” Deku scratched his cheek. “What are you doing?”

If you didn’t know Iida better you’d say he looked affronted. And you did know him better.

“I’m heading to the male dorms to continue the tour.” He stated matter-of-factly. Deku just gave him a nervous smile as several others picked up on Iida nearly leaving.

“You’re forgetting someone.” Deku said, pointing to the fourth door at the end of the hallway. Iida was baffled. Who had he forgotten?

As he encroached upon the hoard that was pressing up against the plain door, he saw one figure at the center grabbing the handle. Turning around and seeing him, you flashed a sweet smile.

“Guess it’s my turn to show off my room.”

Iida felt his brain shut down. He looked at the other two doors that belonged to girls then back at you. You, standing in front of that door. You, in the girl’s dorm.

Huh?

He started to splutter; eyes bulging out of his head.

“-You’re a girl?”

A moment of silence passed. Then, several people exploded in uncontrollable laughter. The noise filled the hallway and ricocheted around like bullets. Iida felt his face burn up as they all pierced him in the chest.

“D- Did you re- really not know?” Kaminari coughed as he banged on the floor with his fist, tears leaking out of his eyes. Bakugo faced a wall and it was receiving a similar harrowing treatment to the floor. Sero was desperately trying to breathe in air while Mina keeled over; absolutely sick with laughter. Many of the others were subject to chuckles and barely-controlled snickering with their hands indiscreetly covering their mouths, too amused at it all to not react, meanwhile Iida just stood there red-faced and about to die from embarrassment.

The person with the most out-of-place reaction, however, was you. You just stood there, looking at him in shock, or maybe something else. He couldn’t quite identify the look in your eyes, but it was surprisingly soft. It was gentle where the others’ were harsh.

Holding himself, he looked down to avoid your gaze while the cacophony of broken teenagers around him continued to berate his ears and made him want to crawl inside a hole and wither away at his own stupidity. Bakugo was picking on him now; pointing his finger and laughing out something he couldn’t hear. The noise had become a deaf buzz to his burning ears now. Iida shut his eyes tight. His face felt like it would explode from heat. Everything was too much. It was all too much and it-

“Iida?”

Your soft voice pierced the noise. The sides of his arms felt two warm hands make their placements. As soon as that happened, he realized his limbs were in tremors. But the contact changed that. Your touch helped still them. He finally opened his eyes again. The edges of his vision were blurry.

“Iida…” you said again lightly, his name on your tongue caressing his ears and calming the panic in his chest like a skilled rider calming a startled horse. “It’s okay, Iida.”

He gulped in a big breath of air; having forgotten to breathe. You just continued to look at him with those warm eyes while you rubbed your hands up and down his upper arms. It eased the anxiousness and embarrassment out of his body. Seeping out like… like oil out of a pipe. Okay, maybe he wasn’t the best at analogies. But that didn’t matter, just the effect. It was lovely and relaxing. He wasn’t sure how. Something about you was just… calming.

A hand appeared on his shoulder. “Hey, Iida…” Deku said, but you silenced him with a kind, calculated look and he backed off.

The muscles in Iida’s face began to scrunch up, and he could feel everyone staring at him; piercing their eyes into him as the water in his own eyes started to well up. He was like a display of some comedic art piece they couldn’t tear away from.

“Iida,” your reassuring voice broke through again, and when he looked back up at you, the things around him seemed to disappear just a bit. Seemed to slow down, like time wanted this moment just for you two. “Don’t worry about it... I promise I don’t think any lesser of you for thinking I’m a boy. It’s okay, please trust me on that.”

Blinking rapidly, he gaped a little like a fish as he nodded and finished catching back up with his breath. “Right.” He affirmed, arms limp at his sides thanks to your gentle touches. The heat in his face and ears were clearing away. You smiled at him when he answered you.

“Great.” You patted his arm, then dropped your hands back to your sides. The lack of contact felt a bit like getting untethered in space; floating freely. But, as he followed behind you into your dorm to tour the area, he felt unnaturally drawn in, like you were some force of gravity. Some body of matter.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you called back. “that stuff happens to me all the time. Though it normally doesn’t take…” you trailed off to spare him a hesitant glance. “this long for someone to figure it out.”

Iida rubbed the back of his neck in sheepishness. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t speak a word for the rest of your tour. He just watched in fascination with his world turned on its side. Every look in your direction was a new, blinding light of reality. His thoughts of you were permanently altered. Instead of viewing you as this strange boy he was friends with who had asked him on a date, you were this less-strange girl -a girl he was now realizing was very pretty- who had asked him on a date. And he said no! You had asked him on a date and he declined! No one had ever asked him out before. What a fool he was!

But there was no way you would ask him again. He realized that time had come and gone, even though the truth of his stupidity was out. That in no way meant you would feel inclined to proposition him again. Did you even still like him? Had you ever liked him? Had his opportunity shriveled up in the sun and died?

Once the class exited your room, Iida expected you to avoid him. Why wouldn’t you? He had been silently judgmental of multiple things that he was now realizing were in fact completely normally for you to have said and done. But just like the matter of your gender, you continued to surprise him. You stuck by his side for the rest of the tour. Not even mingling with other people… just him. And like the idiot he was, he continued to unashamedly stare. You either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. Knowing you, it could have very well been the latter. He looked at you and wondered how different things might have been if he had known from day one. How different things might have been if he had been so lucky as to go out with you.

But that wasn’t the reality he was in. You were right by his side for the remainder of the night. You and your beautiful personality. And yet, you would never be his.

You asked Iida a question and he was pulled out of his stupor. He was consumed by his thoughts, and you pointed out the crease between his eyebrows. Touching the area, he felt the muscles ease up and you smiled at him. The sight was a pleasant blow to the stomach. It was so unfiltered and pure. It was exactly how you smiled at him since the start of the school year. It hadn’t changed.

And then the idea hit him.

You probably weren’t going to ask him out again. The chances were non-zero but they were low. He had already relented to the obvious. However, he didn’t have to wait for the inevitable to happen. No, he realized with a grin, he didn’t have to wait at all. The answer was quite clear, and he would be a fool not to take it if he wasn’t already.  Without a doubt, he could do it. He could do it and his world would once again be on orbit around the sun that you were. Putting him right back on track. No more unfortunate misunderstandings and twisted confusion. With this, it was clear.

He would ask you out on a date.

Taglist: Tenya Iida

@electronicexpertshark @ragdol-666 @aceofspades190 @blue-sky336 @anxiety-is-mymiddle-name

[scribbledghost]

The Visitor - Part X - Final

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader (Vessel the character, not the real man behind the mask)

Rating: T

Word count: 2,606

Summary: Nothing lasts forever.

Notes: 3rd person POV, use of she/her pronouns for reader. Who's ready for a finale? Divider by @/enchanthings. Part nine can be found here.

"No."

The universe stops as soon as the word leaves Vessel's mouth. It is as if all the oxygen has evaporated, like all movement in existence has ceased.

"No?" Sleep says. It seems to be almost confused, in a way. As if it's never heard the word before. Like it's testing the way it feels on its tongue.

Just as he opens his mouth to repeat himself, another voice rings through the air.

"No."

The woman speaks for herself, though when she tries to step out from Vessel's shadow, he stops her gently.

"I made my choice. I decline your offer."

The fierce edge to her words makes Vessel's chest swell with pride. But Sleep seems to be violently yanked from its brief shock at the sound of her voice, and suddenly it grows again to gigantic proportions fit for the god it is.

"You have disobeyed me for the last time," Sleep utters. "You are no longer deserving of the title you wield."

The world quakes, sending the vessels and the woman's collective balance off-kilter. Darkness begins to creep into Vessel's vision from the edges, and he realizes what he needs to do to prevent a hostile takeover from the eldritch being.

"I rescind your title of my own volition," Vessel declares. With this, he removes his mask, and throws it over the edge of the cliff before him and into the inky abyss below.

He can feel when his connection to the veil has been severed; it is as if he has voluntarily torn a limb from his body. Vessel's body contorts in pain, a sharp scream erupting from his vocal chords. He bends forward, as if trying to curl into the fetal position.

Sleep's voice bellows in his mind, a thousand sentences curling around his brain and tightening like a vice. He feels the faraway sensation of someone gripping onto his arm, though who holds him, he cannot tell. It is as if his head will explode, unable to contain the wretched being that's infiltrated it.

But he does not break. He does not kneel.

For the first time in his memory, he fights. Truly fights.

He combats Sleep's onslaught with his own thoughts. Repeating how it cannot have her, how it has failed to convert her. Despite having nearly unfettered access to Vessel's very thoughts, despite having unholy amounts of control over him, it has failed.

Slowly, he feels the hold that Sleep has over him begin to dissipate. It is a minute, almost microscopic, change. But it is a change he can cling to. And it seems that Sleep has noticed its grasp beginning to weaken.

Just as he begins to recover some of his faculties, however, he hears a cry of pain off to his side.

II is kneeling, hands on his head, howling in anguish.

It appears that Sleep is attempting to convert him to its primary vessel; something that it can use to enact its wishes. It is a soul-crushing process when it is done slowly and delicately; Vessel shudders to think of what II is going through now that Sleep has little time or desire for gentleness.

"I can give you everything," Sleep purrs over the din of II's screams. Vessel knows it is directing its words to the other vessels, trying to tempt them to take his place as the Sleep's primary. "No wish shall go ungranted. All you could ever desire would be at your fingertips. Is this not what you wanted when you first converted? Is this not what you have been blessed with for centuries?"

III, to his immense credit, wastes little time ripping the mask from his face and flinging it over the cliff's edge.

"It's not fuckin' worth it!" he cries, defiant in the face of something he could never comprehend. Shortly after, he too falls to the ground, hands at his head as he struggles to cope with the loss of his ties.

Vessel's gaze turns back to Sleep itself, and he notices something. To the others, it would be nigh-imperceptible. But he's known Sleep for millennia, and the difference is as clear as night and day to him.

It is growing smaller.

It is shrinking, no doubt because two of its four vessels have renounced it and relinquished its rose-colored promises.

However, as its size diminishes, its anger grows.

Vessel watches helplessly as II claws at the mask on his face, desperate to remove it but lacking the fine motor skills to complete the task, his system wholly overloaded with whatever torture Sleep is subjecting him to.

His visitor must notice as well, for she begins to walk towards him. Vessel keeps a tight hold on her arm, forbidding her from going much further.

"We've got to help him take it off!" she yells over the rumbling surrounding them.

"It doesn't work that way!" Vessel replies, still struggling against Sleep's punishment. "If he doesn't remove it and discard it himself, it will return!"

This much is true; Vessel could take the mask from him and throw it into the ether for him, but it would not work. In an instant, it would be back on II's face, as if it had never left.

The title of "vessel" must be relinquished of one's own will - any attempt by anyone else to do it for them would only result in abject failure.

Vessel continues to fight against Sleep's projections, as do the others. IV seems to be the only one spared at present, and he comes up to keep the woman next to Vessel steady and upright. It is all he can do for now.

Vessel's charge yells at IV to take off his mask, to renounce Sleep just as III and Vessel have. In response, IV makes a critical error:

He hesitates.

II's body suddenly deflates, collapsing onto his stomach as Sleep's presence suddenly leaves him and jumps to IV. IV falls to his knees with a pained yelp, gripping his head.

"You," Sleep murmurs aloud, though it is clear it is addressing IV. "My youngest vessel. You will suit me well, yes? You remember how painful it was to be human. You remember the tragedy, the hunger, the thirst. You know how much simpler life is here. Surely you will not be so ungrateful as to deny me something so simple as worship?"

"Fight it, IV!" III calls from behind him. Of the four, he seems to be doing the best at prevailing against Sleep; he has managed to return to an upright position and is coherent.

Meanwhile, II has successfully managed to remove his mask, and Vessel watches as he weakly pushes it off the side of the cliff and into the dark. Sleep shrinks more, now at half the size it was before. It convulses, a high-pitched squeal emanating from everywhere piercing the air as black smoke begins to swirl around it. Vessel fears that II has lost consciousness.

"I understand you," Sleep says. "I understand how you feel... less than the others. How you wish for more. More power, more affection, more... recognition. I can give you all of that, my dearest vessel. All you have to do is give in. Become my primary, and this realm can be yours."

"No," Vessel croaks, hoping beyond hope that IV hears him. "It lies. It will always lie."

Just one true vessel remains. The fate of all of them rests in IV's hands.

IV catches Vessel's gaze, tears pouring from his eyes. Meanwhile, III is attempting to help II to his feet, and Vessel heaves a sigh of relief to find II still awake, though weak. The woman throws one of Vessel's arms over her shoulders, supporting his weight as best as she can as the ground continues to tremble beneath them.

Just as II had done before, IV attempts to remove his mask, but his hands refuse to cooperate under the weight of Sleep. Tremors violently tear through IV's hands, rendering him unable to even get a grasp on the mask's material. Desperate to help, and unable to see any alternative, Vessel reaches out and places a hand on the back of IV's neck.

Siphoning away pain is something he is deeply accustomed to doing, but not with the other vessels. He has only ever done such a thing with human visitors, and even then it has been sparing. He has no idea if the action will even work.

He does not need to remove much. Just enough for IV to regain his fine motor functions so he can break the bind between himself and Sleep.

Vessel's mind floods with voices; some he recognizes, many he doesn't. All begging for IV to give in, to allow Sleep to overtake him. The cacophony is so loud and convincing that even Vessel himself is nearly tempted to beg for Sleep's forgiveness.

But the opportunity for such a thing has long since passed, and Vessel continues to draw more of IV's anguish unto himself.

Just when he thinks his plan has failed, however, IV's hands still. They cease their trembling just enough for IV to curl his fingertips beneath the mask and remove it from his face.

Sleep lets out a final mighty, bone-rattling howl as the mask is thrown into the chasm below.

"You can't have me, either," IV says between heavy breaths.

As it disappears into the dark, IV's head twitches as if he's been shot. His eyes roll back, and he falls to his back, eyes barely open as he clings to consciousness.

Then, the world goes silent. In the blink of an eye, all movements cease, including Sleep's. Vessel's mind quiets, the sudden lack of activity jarring and unsettling. He helps IV to sit up, supporting the other's back.

Tentatively, the woman eases Vessel down next to IV, and he brings her with him as he kneels. III and II make their way there as well, the five of them grouping together as if preparing for the onslaught ahead. After all, Sleep still watches them, though it is still and quiet.

"Wh..." II breathes, struggling through his words, "...what now?"

Just as the words leave II's mouth, all hell breaks loose.

A violent shriek leaves Sleep, all of its limbs and appendages seizing as if in pain. The sound pierces through Vessel's skull, and II, III, and the woman instinctively cover their ears. The cliff they stand on begins to shake again, this time cracking as if it is coming apart at the seams.

All five of them grip onto each other, and Vessel feels IV's weak hold on his cloak.

Just as pieces of the cliff begin to fall away into the gulf below, Vessel's breath is stolen from him as he watches cracks begin to split through Sleep's form.

Bright, blinding light emanates from the cracks through the black smoke as they become more numerous. Sleep grips at them fiercely, as if attempting in vain to pull itself back together. The shrieking continues, almost a constant pitch as the cliffside continues to crumble away.

Then, one final, desperate roar permeates Vessel's skull, and the very ground beneath all of them gives way.

Vessel instinctually clings to the others and his beloved as they fall through the abyss,

down

down

down

into the inky depths below.

Then, as they fall, he watches as Sleep - the deity he had pledged eons to, the one that has been a constant in his life for as long as he can remember - explodes in a blinding supernova of light. The brightness envelops his senses, and he fades.

His eyes open slowly, the bright light above nearly painful as he attempts to adjust.

It feels warm on his skin.

Vessel groans, attempting to push himself to sit up, but the surface that he lay upon is soft and welcoming and for the first time in so, so many years, he finds himself sinking into its comfort.

However, he relinquishes the plush ground beneath him as he begins to hear the shuffling and groaning of others nearby. He pries his eyes open again, forcing himself into an upright position. As he does so, he feels a gentle hand at his back, helping him up.

It's the woman. His beloved, the reason he has been so blessed as to feel the sun on his skin again.

Vessel looks around, watching the others wake and move to sit up in their own right. They are in an open field, nestled into tall grass.

"Is... 's it over?" IV mumbles.

"I think so," Vessel replies.

II looks down at his hands, prompting Vessel to do the same. He watches as the permanent black ink adorning his skin evaporates, like dust blowing away in the wind. The others' ink does the same, and as Vessel looks around, he is almost surprised at how... human each of them look.

"Missin' a few eyes there, mate," III says with a chuckle. Sure enough, when Vessel reaches up to his own face, he finds only two eyes there, as opposed to the six he'd been accustomed to for so long.

"Too fuckin' bright," II mumbles, scrunching his nose in disapproval.

Vessel must agree with him; after so long in Sleep's domain, where few things are brighter than shades of gray, sunshine is almost offensive to his eyesight.

All of them move slowly, attempting to adjust to the sudden change in scenery. None of them stand, however, perfectly content to simply shift along the ground closer to each other until they are all leaned together in a huddle. They take several moments to simply breathe, allowing the fresh air and the scent of nature to fill their lungs. Vessel revels in the peace as he adjusts to the feeling of being the only inhabitant of his mind.

There is no trace of Sleep left.

"I must admit," Vessel says finally, "I... do not know where we are now."

The others look around, though it is only the woman who speaks.

"Actually, this place looks familiar," she says. "I can't tell for sure without walking a ways to civilization, but I think I know where this is. I think we're back on... Earth, I guess? I don't know where we were before in relation to... here."

That's a question Vessel has no answer to, nor do the others. But it matters little in the grand scheme of things.

"If it really is where you came from," II says, "then we'll be pretty out of place."

"Yeah, it's been... a long time since we've been here," III confirms. "One of us was here pretty recently, though."

"Y'don't have to talk about me like I'm not here, jackass," IV faux-grumbles. "Besides, the last time I was here, people still rode horses everywhere. Do... do they still do that?"

"Sometimes," the woman says with a laugh, "though something tells me it's way less common now than it was when you were here. Depending on when 'now' is, anyway... I think time worked funny in the domain. I don't know how long I've been gone."

"We'll find out together," Vessel says softly, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

"Yeah," she says. "Together."

Silence falls for a few moments, the five of them content in each others' presence as they bask in their hard-won freedom until Vessel realizes something.

"I suppose that would make you our guide then, my heart," Vessel says.

She returns the gesture with a soft laugh, and Vessel's heart fills with warmth as he gazes down to the white ribbon around her wrist.

"Yeah," she says. "I suppose it does."

[shurisneakers]

“i know we almost died just now, but… am i the only one who’s hungry?” is so harmless reader core… but what if it was Bucky saying this?

Also hi i love u

hi <3 hey <3 i love u too <3 harmless turns 4 years old next year she's like in school now

Catch up with the rest of the series here!

"Great job, team," you pant, raising your hand for a high five. "I think that was very well handled."

Bucky, still trying to process what exactly the fuck just went down, does not even respond when you match his indifference, dropping your hand to slap it against his.

"Is that how it always goes?" you ask him, looking around the empty lot. "I figured there'd be a lot more zing, y'know? Some oomph. That was like, fine."

The mission was going fine, calm even, until you managed to piss them off, leading to them calling in backup, leading to you both being severely outnumbered, leading to you deciding you'd gotten bored which finally lead to you ending it with a timeout-inator.

Things had exploded, Bucky had to pull down a door to shield you both-- it was a whole thing that he definitely did not mentally prepare for. This was just supposed to be a simple data extraction. He doesn't know at which point nuclear guns got involved.

"How--" Bucky stops mid-sentence, brain scrambling to put together things, "--how did you get assigned on this mission again?"

It wasn't like he claimed to be the expert on all things SHIELD, but he figured that a non-Avenger, non-agent needed a lot of clearance to be allowed on a mission, no matter how mundane the initial objective was. The fact that it devolved into madness was more on you than SHIELD.

"I wrote my name on the sign-up sheet," you explain, smoothing out your singed clothes.

"The what?"

"Fine, you caught me," you give in without even trying, dusting some ash off his shoulder. "I forged my name on some documents, used some white paint. Did an ol' switcharoo. You know how it goes."

"You faked your way here?" he shouts, dropping the damn door he was still holding. "What the hell was your plan?"

"Why does everything need a plan? Why can't I just tag along to see what you do for a living?"

"We nearly got killed. You--"

"But we didn't."

"That is not the point. You said it was a special mission, you said you had clearance from Nick to--"

"I said Nick would give me clearance for anything. And it is a special mission. I'm here, isn't that the specialest gift of all?"

"You didn't ask?" he screeches instead. "How did you get here? Who the fuck was supposed to be here in your place?"

"Clint," you say with a sheepish smile. "He told me he'd wash my garage so we swapped."

That fucking moron. "He'd wash your garage in exchange for you risking your life--"

"I didn't risk anything." You scoff. "I knew we would handle that like champs."

"We nearly got annihilated by a nuclear gun." He drags a hand down his face. "If he didn't trip over your stupid jacket in the last second, we would be dust."

"Well yeah, only if you put it like that," you relent. Bucky glares at you.

You look out at the empty room, one hand on your hip. Lot of rubble and shrapnel in places they had no reason being.

"Huh," you say after a while. "Guess we did just almost die."

"That's it?" he raves, still incredulous. "That's all you have to say?"

"That's crazy-sauce, man," you add, throwing your hands up when he glares at you. "What? What else should I be saying?"

"Where the fuck did you send them?" Bucky finally makes a move, wiping the dirt off his metal fingers onto his cargo pants.

"I put them in timeout," you reply, tapping the gun you'd put back into he pocket of your pants.

"Where is timeout?"

"Like, somewhere outside of time," you dismiss. "Time-out. You get it."

His eyes clench shut, taking a deep inhale in before exhaling, lest he pop a blood vessel.

"We almost died," he tells you again.

"If you say so," you nod.

He stares at you.

You stare right back at him.

The world keeps spinning.

"I'm hungry," he grumbles. "You want lunch?"

"I could go for a sandwich, yeah."

[saphronethaleph]

Lizard v Wizard

“Long have I waited for my grandchild to come home…” Palpatine said, then the smile fell off his face. “...you are not my grandchild.”

“Yeah, we swapped jobs,” Finn agreed, shrugging off a backpack and letting it drop to the floor. “Rey said she was having visions about her falling to evil and sitting on the throne of the Sith, and I said that I hadn’t had any of those visions.”

“Your arrogance will be your downfall, boy,” Palpatine informed him. “Either I will destroy you or you will turn to the Dark Side.”

Finn paused, frowning.

“...huh,” he said. “You really do call it that? I guess I owe Rey an apology.”

“Explain yourself,” Palpatine snapped. “What are you talking about?”

“The Dark Side,” Finn explained, stressing the word. “Seriously, you use that language and it’s going to make me think the Force is a bit racist.”

Palpatine sat in complete silence for several seconds, as his brain rebooted.

“I mean, if you were black yourself, I’d maybe buy the idea that it’s meant to be a matter of pride,” Finn went on. “Reclaiming the term, and all that. But then again you have this whole white power thing going on with the stormtroopers, so it’s not that.”

He shrugged. “And then there’s the bit where you blow up planets as a hobby, because that just makes it really obvious that you’re not even trying to pretend any more.”

“I am going to do you the courtesy of ignoring your nonsense,” Palpatine said, icily. “Make your choice. Turn to the Dark Side, or die.”

Finn laughed.

“Wow,” he said. “You’re making that sound like it’s a threat that works.”

Palpatine’s eye twitched.

“I escaped from the First Order and I was on a capital ship when it got hyperspace rammed,” Finn said. “Also, I came here to fight you, which I think qualifies as a particularly elaborate suicide anyway.”

He shrugged, walking around in a half circle. “I would like to survive this, don’t get me wrong, but… like… if I don’t, and you don’t, I actually think that’s an absolute win.”

“I’ve made my decision,” Palpatine said, with an almost glassy calm. “I’m going to kill you now.”

He raised his hand, which spat lightning, and the lightning stabbed out at Finn – and vanished, as it passed over his backpack.

Finn picked the backpack up again. “Huh, they work,” he said. “Lando said it would but I had to take it on trust.”

Palpatine looked at his hands, then tried to blast Finn for a second time. Again the lightning vanished, then both men looked around at the sound of running feet.

“Rey, I hope you’re in here!” Ben said, then skidded to a halt. “Aren’t you the traitor?”

“We call ourselves the Resistance,” Finn answered. “What are you doing here?”

“Running away from a dozen very angry ex-followers!” Ben replied. “I’ve turned back to the Light Side.”

“Huh,” Finn replied. “Away from the Evil Side?”

“It’s called the Dark Side,” Ben corrected.

“We already had this discussion before you turned up, I think the term Dark side is racist,” Finn said, then Palpatine tried to electrocute him again.

“STOP IGNORING ME!” Palpatine shouted.

“I never thought of it that way, but I think it’s meant to be the absence of light, as in starlight?” Ben guessed, as the sound of stampeding Knights of Ren came down the corridor.

Something exploded overhead.

“Huh, Rey must be doing well,” Finn said, ignoring Palpatine. “And, yeah, I can buy that.”

He reached into the backpack. “Blaster or lightsaber?”

“I don’t have a lightsaber and I would really like one,” Ben said, then caught the Skywalker Lightsaber as Finn threw it to him. “Thank you so much.”

Finn retrieved a blaster from the bag as well, then did something that went beep.

“Five,” he said, throwing the bag at Palpatine. “Four. Three.”

Palpatine raised his hand to bat the backpack away, and got hit in the face by it.

For his part, Finn dove to the floor, and Ben did so as well just before Finn’s count hit zero, and a thermal detonator went off.

The explosion did unfortunately kill the ysalamir in the bag, but by then Palpatine was a little bit too dead to take advantage.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom. Mature content.

A Voice in the Dark

Before he met Sherlock, John had no special opinions about voices. Not entirely true. Some voices could make his brain explode; if they were shrieking, and he hated whining with a vengeance.

When John first laid his eyes on Sherlock, he looked so young. Hence the shock of that deep baritone. In John’s (stupid) opinion, young people, people looking like Sherlock, shouldn’t have a voice best described as dark, melting chocolate. But that was Sherlock Holmes for you, a contradiction in every sense of the word.

***

Much sooner than John expected, he dared to make a move. If he’d been brave enough, he’d done it that first night at Angelo’s, because by God Sherlock looked so beautiful in the candlelight. Somehow though, John sensed it wasn’t the right time. Sherlock wasn’t ready. And he was working. He’d made it quite clear how important The Work, was to him. 

So, John waited patiently, until the opportunity arose.

Sherlock told him he sometimes did not talk for days on end. That was a blatant lie. The man never knew how to shut up. Which suited John just fine. Mostly. Listening to Sherlock’s voice was John’s favourite thing. It didn’t matter what he was saying. Mostly, he didn’t want an answer from John anyway. The great detective needed a sounding board, and apparently John was a considerable upgrade from the skull Sherlock had used in the past.

***

A week after John shot the bad cabbie, he started to drop the occasional remark about Sherlock’s appearance, touched him briefly when he passed him; everything transpired securely inside the flat. Sherlock got flustered enough as it were, and John didn’t want to spook or embarrass him when others were around.

The evening Sherlock addressed the matter, he’d been supine on the sofa for hours, not speaking a word. John missed his voice like a lost limb. He sighed relieved when the dark voice weaved its way to John’s mind and heart.

“John?”

“Yes, Sherlock.”

“Why do you…”

It was clear Sherlock had lost his nerve, but John didn’t want to wait any longer. The tension between them was a tangible thing at this stage, and the good doctor needed release, lest he combust.

“Touch you and – “

“Yes. I don’t understand. Do you…like me…that way?”

The man’s insecurity almost broke John’s heart, so he stood and walked over to the sofa where he crouched down.

“Haven’t you observed how I can’t take my eyes off you? That I close my eyes when you speak. How my steady hands tremble when you’re near me.”

“I have, but I didn’t trust my observations. No one has ever…”

“You can absolutely trust them. The question is, do you want me to continue, or do you want to take it further?”

“Further,” Sherlock whispered.

“I was hoping you would say that,” John replied in a hushed voice.

He lifted his hand to cradle Sherlock’s face, tilting it just so. Sherlock looked transfixed, his eyes roaming John’s face, resting on his lips. John leaned in, Sherlock closed his eyes, and parted his lips slightly. The sight made John’s inner organs sing with joy and arousal.

The kiss was soft and as tender as John could manage. He wanted to put every feeling he had for Sherlock into it. A moan woke him from his reverie, and then large hands pulled him closer. John deepened the kiss, teasing a bit with the tip of his tongue. The grip around his shoulder tightened, and John threw caution to the wind and devoured those plush lips as if his life depended on it.

“Take me to bed,” Sherlock murmured when they parted for air.

“God, your voice. Do you know how much I love your voice?”

Sherlock, having momentarily composed himself, smirked and nodded. A lovely blush graced his neck and John was desperate to taste it.

“Bed,” he commanded like the captain he was, and Sherlock was more than willing to abide by it.

***

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?”

John’s eyes took in the naked consulting detective, adorned with several hickeys and love bites. The flush was back, and John chased it down, licking and kissing, while his hands teased the peaked nipples until Sherlock all but sobbed.

“John, please. I need…”

“Talk to me, love. What to you need? Don’t be shy, sweetheart.”

The endearments, John realised, made Sherlock squirm and a shy smile formed on his lips.

“I need you. I’m so hard, it hurts. Whatever you want, John. Just…please.”

“Oh, love. Where’s your lube?”

Sherlock just waved a hand, the other hand moving towards his throbbing erection. John caught it easily, sucking two of his fingers, while simultaneously searching the bedside table for the preferred bottle. With a slurp, John released the long digits, and drizzled a generous amount of lube into his hand. He was just as aroused as Sherlock, but he had more experience and his iron will was legendary.

A relieved sigh escaped them both when John wrapped his hand around both their cocks.

“Oh, John!” Sherlock exclaimed. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

“Good, yeah?” John inquired.

“An understatement,” Sherlock panted. “Harder. I need more.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” John cooed and quickened the pace and tightened the grip.

Moments later, Sherlock erupted like a volcano, and the sounds he made, pulled John over the edge as well.

Later, John learned that Sherlock was the clingiest cuddler he’d ever come across, which pleased him immensely.

“I like it when you call me…those names,” the detective murmured into John’s neck.

“Mm, I could tell. You blushed adorably every time,” John told him. “Now, will you talk to me until I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, John. What do you want me to say? Do you want a story, or shall I just prattle on about inane things like – “

A tiny snore from the lovely doctor, shut him up.

“Rude,” Sherlock huffed, but his besotted smile fooled no one.

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

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