#ask space cabbie

[ask-the-space-cabbie]

*Boops you*

You have been booped

Guess I have! ..Thank you?

#space cabbie #dc #ask space cabbie

[maniacwatchestheworld]

Things to do with Jack and Maddie without them being abusive

As someone who actually likes Jack and Maddie as characters (I'm a fervent shipper of Maddie/Jack/Vlad), it's a real bummer to see so many people out there deciding that for their DPxDC AUs that Jack and Maddie are abusive, when that really doesn't represent how they are in canon. Now I fully acknowledge that doing this can be a very useful tool for telling certain types of stories, and if you want to make a story about recovering from abuse and finding a new found family, all the more power to you for that! But for any other type of story where them being abusive isn't necessary for the backstory of the story you want to tell... It's just a bummer to do that, y'know? If you don't want to tell a story with Jack and Maddie in it, that's entirely fine! I'm not asking you to. But there are ways to get rid of them without making them abusive or dying. Of the two, I personally would prefer them dying (I just like the story potential of that, especially as far as Vlad is concerned). But there are plenty of easy things to do with them to keep them out of the story that don't require them being abusive or dead! So I'm here to give a list of things that can happen to them (that have precedent within either Danny Phantom itself or the DC universe) that keep them out of the story that don't require much explanation as well as some other ideas for what you can do with them if you have no idea what to do with them otherwise.

Lots of ideas under the cut! (Feel free to take what you want. As always, credit is appreciated, but not necessary. But I would love to see what you do with it!)

If you need them permanently absent so that Danny can get adopted

Fell into the Ghost Zone and cannot be found.

They are gone for whatever reason and Jazz is currently Danny's legal guardian (she's 18 or older and is therefore a legal adult).

While in the Ghost Zone, they accidentally traveled through time/got transported somewhere where they can't get home easily.

They got severely Joker gassed and are in medical care. (This is actually what happened to Duke's parents!)

They got severely Scarecrow gassed and are in medical care.

Went insane for some supervillain-related reason and are now missing/in medical care.

They were kidnapped by a villain for some reason.

They were kidnapped by a villain and are currently in a lotus-eaters simulation and therefore don't even know that they've gone missing.

Abducted by aliens.

They got wrapped up in some supervillain bullshit and now have amnesia and are unable to recognize Danny and Jazz.

They got magicked into something that can't take care of Danny and Jazz.

They were experimented on and are now incapable of taking care of Danny and Jazz.

Some cosmic entity did a whoopsie that effected Jack and Maddie and now they're in a condition/situation where they cannot take care of Danny and Jazz.

Got arrested and are in jail for some reason.

Were arrested and sent to jail for a long time. Have since joined Task Force X/the Suicide Squad for lienency.

Got hit by a stray Zeta-Beam and are now on some alien planet.

They got teleported somehow. We aren't certain about the details.

They fell into a hole to another world.

They no-clipped out of their normal reality.

Stranded with no way home.

They somehow ended up on a different planet. They are just hanging out with Space Cabbie now, who is just having a ROUGH day and can't find Earth for whatever reason.

Inducted into a Lantern Corps and are VERY busy because of it!

Coma.

Effected by a debilitating illness/disease/condition that makes them incapable of taking care of others.

They were forced to go undercover for some reason and therefore vanished. (Letting their kids know is optional)

They were forced to go undercover for some reason and were forced to fake their deaths.

They died, but came back to life. Danny has not been informed of this.

They got possessed by a superhero or supervillain who just wandered off with their bodies.

They got separated following a disaster and haven't been able to find each other again.

They've been retconned to hell and back again to the point where no one is entirely certain where they are, what they're doing, or even if they're alive anymore. Don't worry about it! Only mention them when it's relevant and the rest of the time we aren't going to bother explaining what's going on with them. If they are mentioned, accounts of where they are and what's going on with them are contradictory.

They're around, but will go unseen throughout this story

Any of the situations in the previous section, but it only happened to one of the parents, and the other is just too busy working and taking care of the kids by themselves.

The same as previous, but they also moved to Gotham.

Retcon things so that the events of Danny Phantom actually happened in Gotham City all along. (Maybe Amity Park is like... A suburb in the greater Gotham area.)

They went on vacation/were hired for a job that would take them away from home. They left Danny and Jazz to be taken care of by Vlad. Vlad is an asshole, so they ran away from him.

They went on vacation/were hired for a job that would take them away from home, but now that Jazz is over 18, she's been left in charge.

Put into Witness Protection by the government/the Guys in White.

Danny and friends have graduated from high school and are now legal adults, perhaps in college.

Danny's whole family moved to Gotham City. They're just at home/working during the events of this story.

Jack and Maddie have been hired to do some work with the Justice League and need to be away from home for an extended period of time. They have left a member of the Justice League to take care of Danny and Jazz in the meantime.

Fieldtrip/school trip to Gotham City.

Danny is old and responsible enough that Jack and Maddie trust Danny (and/or Jazz) to travel on their own. His parents are just a call away if he needs help.

Jack and Maddie are separated for whatever reason (one went missing/one is working abroad/they are divorced/one died) and the other moved to Gotham and is taking care of the kids in the meantime, but is busy and so will not appear.

Something happened to Fenton Works and the family needs to temporarily stay somewhere else while the problem with Fenton Works is sorted.

The family was driven out of town and they ran off to Gotham to escape the angry mob. (Or at least to wait until things cool down again.)

Jack or Maddie are able to work remotely and so they've moved to Gotham to do so. The kids came along/are visiting.

Jack and/or Maddie were hired for temporary work in Gotham and decided to bring the kids along.

One family member was taken to Arkham Asylum. They moved to Gotham to be closer.

Jazz went to Gotham for college. Danny is visiting.

Danny is sent to Gotham/Arkham for specialized health reasons.

Jack and Maddie have gotten in contact with a specialist that lives in Gotham and are visiting for work-related reasons.

They are on vacation in Gotham and brought the kids along. Danny and Jazz have been let off the leash to go where they want while Jack and Maddie do touristy stuff.

Visiting family/family friends living in Gotham.

They were passing through but are now unable to leave. (Bonus points if it's a No Man's Land situation.)

They were passing through, but were robbed. Jack and Maddie are dealing with the robbery stuff where Danny is off somewhere else.

They were just passing through, but Maddie and Jack got SEVERELY distracted by something and have run off to who knows where!

They are traveling with Vlad and expected Vlad to take care of and watch the kids!

Danny was abducted to Gotham.

Danny accidently ended up in Gotham somehow.

Danny somehow got transported/teleported to Gotham.

Doing an educational trip/apprenticeship/internship over in Gotham.

Danny ran away impulsively.

Some villain threatened Danny's family and forced him to run away from home.

Danny has revealed his secret to his parents, and while they might worry about Danny being a vigilante, believe in and trust Danny to do the right thing and allow him to do what he feels that he must to protect people.

The same as above, but Vlad also came out and is supervising.

They died.

I cannot understate the sheer JUICY storytelling potential that you can have by killing Jack and Maddie off! We already know how it might effect people and events from what we see in The Ultimate Enemy, but there really is limitless potential in terms of ways to twist, turn, and play with things to have different outcomes! Additionally, Jack and Maddie being genuinely good parents that die protecting Danny and Jazz offers lots of ways for Bruce to relate to Danny and Jazz! (He decided to become Batman so that no one would have to face what he did ever again... And he failed...) And the way that they die can offer some lovely different flavors of angst, coping mechanisms, motovations, and learning to deal with their loss. So here are some ideas for how to kill them off!

The universe exploded again, and when it was put back together, Jack and Maddie ceased to exist in current canon continuity. (This happens more often than you'd think.)

Vlad Wins.

They were killed in an apocalypse-level event.

They were killed in the crossfire of some superhero/supervillain fight.

They were taken by some villain. They were killed before the heroes could arrive.

They were killed in a random act of violence/crime. (Much like Batman's backstory. Do this to gain extra points from Bruce.)

Died in prison/after joining the Suicide Squad.

Gang violence.

Any of the previous but Gotham is just THAT dangerous!

Same as any gassing or supervillain plan, but they died instead of being missing or in medical care.

Got transported to a place where they died very far away from home.

They just died suddenly or because of an accident. It happens sometimes.

Things to note

Believe it or not, but your parents can still be in your life AND you can join the Batfamily AT THE SAME TIME! :D

Examples:

Barbra Gordon is very much in the Batfamily and both of her parents are alive and well. She's a very important part of the family, and in the comics, it is not uncommon to see her calling up her dad and talking to him! They'll even call each other if they need help with something. This does not take away from the fatherly role Bruce often has in her life. (She can have 2 dads and good for her for that!)

When Tim initially became Robin, his parents were alive and well. They would later die because comic writers are just like that, but being an orphan without loving parents in your life is not a prerequisite to being Robin.

Duke's parents are also alive! They are under the effects of Joker toxin, but they are alive, and if they ever find a cure for it, I imagine that they would be more than happy to have Duke back in their lives!

Terry from Batman Beyond is not an orphan and was taken under Bruce's wing to be the next Batman! Terry is even going to inherit a fair amount of Bruce's wealth for deciding to take on the responsibility of being Batman. But while his dad did die, his mom is still alive and well over the course of the series! And he has a little brother too! Terry may still be a teenager, but he is a bit of a breadwinner for his household while also still being an important part of Bruce's family. (He is often someone who helps Bruce take care of himself.)

But if the story you truly want to explore requires being adopted specifically... Well... You don't have to be a kid to be adopted! Jack and Maddie can still raise Danny and Jazz into adults and Bruce is able to adopt them later if he wants, once they have been well and established in his family! Hell, you don't even have to wait! As long as Bruce asks permission from Jack and Maddie, they can be alive AND he can adopt Danny! There is more than one way to be in a family, you know! And sometimes it takes a village! And really, would Jack and Maddie really object to Danny being adopted by billionaire Bruce Wayne, especially if Danny really is enjoying his time being a part of his family and if Bruce has been an absolutely lovely person to them whenever he visits?

So I hope that you're able to take some inspiration from all of this for your own stories! If you need some elaboration on what I mean with some of these, or want to ask who could be responsible for some of these and how, feel free to drop on by and send me an ask! I would be more than happy to go into some more detail about these! Happy writing!

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #jack fenton #maddie fenton #dp x dc au

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Chasing Ataraxia

Always in motion, if not physically then mentally, the latter sometimes being more exhausting than the former. His brain never rested, and it made him frantically tug at his curls in despair before seeking out Mycroft and later Victor. Both were able to distract him and his thoughts that were whirling around in circles, making him dizzy. 

Mycroft wasn’t exactly the physical type and encouraged Sherlock to use his brain by solving puzzles. Oddly enough, that calmed him because his thoughts were focused on one matter instead of creating chaos, firing all sorts of information at him in a constant loop.

Victor took him on adventures with their wooden swords and tricorn hats, playing pirates at the shore of the lake. Sherlock was happy and free in those moments, laughing heartily, his brain occupied with finding hidden treasures and chase the invisible enemy. 

***

The six-year-old boys cried in each other’s arms the day before Victor’s departure to Canada. 

“Why can’t you stay with me?” Sherlock wailed. “We have a big house. You can sleep in my room. There’s space for you there.”

“I want to, Lock, but I can’t. Perhaps you can come visit?” Victor said while stroking Sherlock’s hair. 

Sherlock looked at Victor with red-rimmed eyes and hope rose in him. 

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “I will. Promise.”

Sherlock’s hopes were shattered by Mycroft. 

“Canada is far away, Sherlock. It’s better that you realise now that it’ll be difficult to travel that far, than to keep your hopes up. I’m sorry, brother mine,” Mycroft murmured when Sherlock threw himself into his arms and cried until his throat was sore.

***

“I’m going to find a new friend,” Sherlock stated when school started again.

“Be careful, Sherlock,” Mycroft warned him. “Not everyone is like Victor.”

As always, Mycroft was right. Sherlock was a passionate boy; it was all or nothing. When he got older Sherlock realised that his search to find another best friend and soulmate was a fool’s quest. 

In his Greek lessons at Cambridge, he read about Ataraxia, which was described as a kind of freedom from disturbance in the mind.

The phrase hit him like a fist to his solar plexus. That one word described just what he wanted to accomplish. He did sometimes manage to get the feeling from the drugs, but it lasted too short, and the aftermath was taxing. 

***

When Greg Lestrade decided to trust Sherlock, some of the excitement from his days with Victor came back. He got to chase visible enemies through a city he knew better than any cabbie, and his brain focused on puzzles. It was perfect except from one thing; he was alone on his adventures. Mycroft was no use anymore with his intricate government work, always too busy to pay his brother much attention.

Where can I find someone who’s willing to share this crazy life?

Sherlock knew he had built solid walls around himself. For protection against bullies, but he had a door in those walls. A door with a keyhole. 

When John Watson lent him his phone at Barts one of the last days of January, Sherlock gave him the key to that door when he asked him to meet him at Baker Street the next day. 

After John had tested the waters with him at Angelo’s, and later had shot that awful cabbie, Sherlock knew his search was over. 

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @safedistancefrombeingsmart @phoenix27884 @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @raina-at @peanitbear @sabsi221b @a-victorian-girl

#flash fic friday #sherlock fandom #sherlock #john watson #sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock #johnlock #FFF237 #a fool's quest

[justin-chapmanswers]

Hello! Hope you’re having a swagalicious time of day! Just wanted to ask what’s you’re writing process when coming up with funny little jokes/gags? When inspiration strikes from some random scenario that pops in my head I usually tend to write it down in some notes app, essentially saving it for later. Do comedic ideas just pop up when in the process of writing for a particular setting, or do you try to incorporate previous unused joke ideas into your work? Also what’s your favourite type of snack? (hopefully something better than oatmeal raisin), personally I like popcorn , it’s got an onomatopoeia in it and a vegetable at the same time! Pretty crazy stuff!

Very swagalicious!

I'd say the majority of the jokes I've written were in the writing process, as I was going. I think there's something really special about trusting that you'll find the humor in what you're writing as you go.

First that comes to mind is in s3e10, the first Indefinite rejoin episode. I block out some space ahead of time in an outline for reintroducing the former contestants with a few goals regarding what I'd like to re-establish about them, their relationships, and their scenario on the island. The Sinkers are a united/supportive front, Cabby is cold with them, Goo invites himself into Cabby's world, the've been waiting for news for a while and are confused, etc etc. MePhone's not there yet, the competition hasn't started, I just need to find a vehicle to explore this.

While writing out the convo about what the contestants guess will happen next, I happen to think it's funny to have Blueberry hope for "an explosion." Then I make myself chuckle at the thought of Walkie Talkie bringing that to the next level by actually doing a countdown. I tell myself it's stupid, aaaand run with it anyway, to see how it plays. And then I end up finding that's a neat way to show the contestants actually display the exact goals I mentioned earlier, via comedic stress. Lifering and Tea Kettle have a strong rapport and game-plan that they rope Blueberry into, Blueberry is defeatist about it all, Cabby is skeptical and cements herself in her isolation, and Goo tries to make a connection- all elements that come back later in the episode. Nothing crazy on a story-telling level, but that's the mindset. Once-written, the scene made me laugh, and I ended up sticking with the scene after it was written.

On the flip side, sometimes I go through a whole sequence like this, realize that my direction for conveying the info for the scene is not fun like it was intended to be, aaaand I just scrap the scene and start over. If you hear that "writing is re-writing," a lot of it relates back to this initial idea I mentioned that writing is a process. There's a thousand ways to convey the idea you want to get across. Sometimes it's worth seeing if you can write a scene with the same starting and ending points, but with a more-enjoyable middle to get you there. Maybe you'll like it more, maybe you won't.

Back to the original question, once in a blue moon I'll have a joke in my head ahead-of-time. In s3e6 there's a short scene basically devoted to the silly joke about Silver not knowing what a penny is. It's dumb, but I felt determined to get it in there. Or sometimes it's something more broad, like s3e4's "You are Cordially Invited" scene transitions, that can be funny but are also jumping-off points. Such as using that transition after a while of being away from it to cut off Inner-Flame-Candle mid-explanation and not letting Silver hear the answer to his Inner-Flame question. A little funny, a little sad.

...

Aaaaaaaaand chocolate. Any kind of chocolate that I'm not allergic to is the best snack. There's never enough of it.

[corn-fanfiction]

can you do a damien karras x reader where he takes you out for a good soup on a winter day

Omg anon this is about to be so fluffy it’s insane 🩷🩷🩷

Know it's for the better (Damien Karras x GN!Reader)

rating: T

word count: 1,809

tags: fluff, a deep and profound sadness, probably poorly translated Greek, mentions of religion (duh), some language

-·=»◆‡«=·- ♡ -·=»◆‡«=·-

Picture it: Georgetown, 1970. It’s midwinter, near freezing, and your furnace as died. Again.

You’re bundled up in an undershirt, a button up, a sweater. Doubled socks. You pace your living room shivering. Can't even think straight. You called your landlord and it went to voicemail again. It's at times like this that you regret being a penniless writer than can only afford shitty housing by campus.

A knock at the door. Your heart leaps at the idea that when you open it, a shiny new furnace, haloed by heat, will waddle its way inside.

Are hallucinations a symptom of hypothermia?

You open the door and, instead of a furnace, a Jesuit priest stands on the other side, rubbing his arms under a thick long coat. Snow dots his black hair and you get the urge to brush it away.

"Damien! Get in. Did you walk? Why the hell are you out in this weather?"

He steps in, but not before knocking the snow from his shoes against the doorframe.

"I took a cab. We're studying, remember?"

You groan inwardly and close the door behind him. Damien has been helping you with some Christian history for a novel you're working on. You've been floored by his intellect since you met at Georgetown.

"Shit. I'm so sorry- I forgot. My furnace went out yesterday and it's all I've been thinking about."

Damien's eyebrows furrow in immediate concern.

"You've been in this cold since yesterday?"

The chill in your bones is immediately replaced by a heavy guilt at worrying him.

"Yeah, but I'm fine! Lots of blankets and coffee."

Your teeth chattering don't help your case. Damien shakes his head.

"Alright. No studying-"

"But-"

"We're going to get you a space heater, then we're going for soup."

"Soup?"

"Soup."

-

Another cab and Damien pays. You beg him not to but he has a crumpled bill thrust to the driver before you can fish for your wallet. You're both poor, there's no arguing, but he also has the professor's salary, so it's ever difficult to argue with him about money.

You and Damien have grown...closer since you started studying together. Not in any particular way you can, or care to define. But you care for him, and he clearly cares for you. You also know it's foolish to think about it any further than that.

"Where to?" The cabby asks.

"Anna's Restaurant on 3rd."

You look at him.

"They sell space heaters?"

"Do you want to lug a space heater around a restaurant?"

You bob your head back and forth. "Alright, doctorate. You know best."

He rolls his eyes at you. You smile at the gesture.

The ride is short but sitting so close to Damien is dragging time through quicksand, or, rather, the heavy snow outside. Your shared body heat, the way your thighs are forced to touch, the mere smell of him- it all sends you a little dizzy. Even during your study sessions when you both share a couch, you've never been this...intimate.

You swallow thickly, your throat suddenly dry, and the driver pulls up next to a small unit tucked between two other shops, the blue lit sign reading 'Anna's' in slanted lettering. You and Damien both exit, and you know he's irritated you didn't let him get your door for you. He gives you a look, you smirk, and he does too. He makes a point to beat you to the front door and you allow him this small luxury and step inside.

Even with the heating in the cab, the warmth of the restaurant is everything to you. Damien closes the door behind you and while you wonder if it's a self seating situation, he stops at your back, and suddenly that's all you can think about.

And then there's a hand on the small of your back.

"Pick a booth," he says, and your feet move automatically just to shake the moment. It's too weird, too confusing. You're friends. Colleagues.

You sit at a booth with cracked vinyl seats. Well, most of the seats are cracked. And the veneer is peeling. Something about this tells you the food is going to be good.

Once you sit and remove your coats, a waitress comes over with a notepad.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asks, and you can hear by her accent that she is, herself, Greek in some capacity.

"Coffee, for me, please," you ask. She nods and looks to Damien.

"Black tea for me, thanks," then, "Échete kanéna frésko Avgolémono?"

The waitress's eyes light up and she smiles.

"Sígoura échoume. Dýo bol?"

"Nai, parakaló."

The waitress is beaming and smiles at you before leaving to get your drinks. You smile in wonderment at Damien.

"What did you say?"

"I asked her if they have something specific right now. They do."

You never forget how smart Damien is, but you can forget what all he is capable of.

"What is 'thank you'? In Greek?"

"Efcharistó," he says. You repeat the word back as the waitress approaches with your mugs. You smile up at her.

"Efcharistó," you say. She chuckles, likely at your accent, but nods.

"Kalós írthes."

She leaves again and you smile at Damien, proud of yourself, as if to say 'see?' like you really did anything at all.

"That was a decent attempt."

You take a moment of silence to sip your hot drinks and you relish in the way it slides down your throat and warms your stomach.

"How's your mother?" you ask. Damien sighs and clasps his hands around the mug.

"She's been better. I worry about her during the cold months."

You nod. Mrs. Karras lives alone up in Brooklyn in a building that could be better cared for. Damien has spoken on rare occasions about how he misses her, then even rarer about how he feels guilty for leaving her.

"Well, if you ever wanted to take anything up to her, like a space heater-" he chuckles. "Or need some help with handywork, I'm happy to lend a hand."

He watches you, his brown eyes boring into you and his smile falters, only for a brief moment. You can't decide why. You think, you hope, that it is a moment of clear sight. Of who you are beneath the person he donates his time to between all he does with the church and the school. Of who you are to suggest such a thing and know him how you do-

Oh.

You blush and focus your attention on your coffee.

"How's the book?"

You roll your eyes at him.

"Is that a joke?"

"I think you might be projecting, a little."

"Do I have to make the doctorate bit again?"

"Alright, fair enough. So no new inspiration?"

"No, nothing new."

Same old, same old.

You're afraid for a moment that he sees you a little too clearly before the waitress brings you two large bowls of pale yellow, creamy broth. You can identify chicken and some other spices. You both thank the waitress again and you dip a curious spoon into the soup.

"This smells amazing. What is it?"

"Avgolémono," he says, taking a spoonful and blowing on it lightly before putting it in his mouth. He takes a moment to process it, then smiles and hums in appreciation. "And it's perfect."

You take a bite. Lemon and dill light up your tongue immediately, along with a wide variety of spices not instantly identifiable.

"Oh my God!" you squeal. "This is amazing."

"It really is. Rivals my mother's."

"It'll be our secret," you joke quietly. Damien smiles.

You'd gladly freeze your ass off every day if it means having this soup and seeing that smile.

-

One bowl and space heater later, Damien is walking you back up to your apartment. You've tried to think of a hundred and one ways to prolong the day, but came up empty. You know he's already spent more time than he normally would on any standard study session.

He holds the heater while you unlock your door (but you had carried it in the store and up the steps, so you beat him there). You take the heater and set it inside, then linger in the doorway.

Invite him in. Tell him you need help setting it up. He won't believe you, but maybe he'll do it anyway.

But you don't say anything. You just brace a hand on the cracked wood of the door and stare at him for a moment. He stares back, that knowing look returning to his eyes. He's silent.

You both present with small smiles that carry with them a well hidden sadness. Any passing strange could take one look and know exactly what's happening here.

Even if you ask him in, he'll have to get back to the church for an appointment. If he calls about visiting his mom, you'll be busy that day. Who knew such strong magnets could find ways to repel each other so well?

So you tap your fingers against the door and he looks at the ground.

"Well," he says.

"Thank you. For the heater and...everything. You know."

He does know, you can see it in his eyes.

"Well, thank you, too."

You tilt your head. "For what?"

"Everything else."

You could cry. You might, once he leaves. Why, you have no real, concrete idea, though you can guess. It's just the cold. The stress of your work. The soup was just that goddamn good.

Or you love him. That's also a possibility.

"Need help setting that up?"

Your knees go weak and you tighten your hold on the door. You wish in this moment that you weren't so strong, that he were stronger. Even if nothing happens today, tomorrow, or ever at all, you cannot live with yourself if you entertain the prospect of crossing that threshold.

"I think I can handle it. Besides, don't want you to be late for five o'clock mass."

He checks his watch like he doesn't know what time it is.

"Oh wow. Didn't realize it'd gotten that late. Well, if you're sure..." he gestures vaguely towards the door.

No, I'm not sure. Tell me I'm wrong. Come in.

You smile and nod and bite back the words fighting against your teeth.

"Alright. Well, have a good night. I'll see you around. Next week?"

If he's dejected, he hides it very well. He heads for the steps.

"Yep, next week."

You don't close the door until he disappears down the stairs, giving you a final smile. If he's dejected, he hides it well. You begin to open the box of the space heater and your vision grows blurry. Maybe you made the wrong choice.

Go, go get him. You're making a mistake letting him go.

No, you know, it's for the better.

-·=»◆‡«=·- ♡ -·=»◆‡«=·-

So... I did not set out to make this sad I PROMISE anyway thanks for much for being the first req <3 Hope you enjoyed!

#damien karras #damien karras x reader #fluff #the exorcist fanfiction #the exorcist

[wormed-woman]

After the mysterious death of a B-list movie star Juliet Heartwood, people from her past start looking into her case.

After coming back from the death herself, still not having any idea what happened to her, she finds herself in a tangle involving UFO's, psychics and a mining corporation

NOTE: this is kinda rambly, ill answer any asks and stuff that come my way from this ✌

Setting; 1995 Nevada,

Juliet Heartwood, birthname Juliet Barker.

Juliet was a teenage runaway who left home after an altercation with her mom, where she threatened to send her to a private school if she didn't stop doing ''witchcraft'' with Jack. Juliet ended up stealing Jack's car to run away which broke their friendship.

Years later, Juliet was trying to make it as an actress. She found a partner she was happy with, but he died before their son was born. Grief-stricken and broke, barely being able to look after herself and the newborn, she gave custody of her son Lazlo to her ex-SIL.

Juliet ended up reconnecting with her high school friend Aston Morris, and the two began dating seriously.

While Juliet's future seemed to become brighter, with a new partner and getting a role in a rather notable movie, it was cut short due to her getting killed in a strange UFO event.

Jack Gore (he/him trans woman)

Jack is a psychic who was high school friends with Juliet, planning to help her run away from home together, but their plan was scrapped when Juliet outright stole his car.

After cutting ties with Juliet and finding out that his brother Vinny was moving away because he was divorcing, he decided to join him as a supernatural aid, even thought Vinny was a more sceptic type.

Vinny had ended his marriage to the mortician Heather Jason, after in a paranoid state, she had spent the couple's savings on a nuclear bunker after having a vision which Vinny dismissed.

While on his own, Jack met Jo Tamashiro and had a fling with her. While not an official item, he was her partner and a mother to her child, Cabby.

In June 1995, Jack got some of the worst news of his life. Not only was he going to die from liver failure, but that Juliet had died. Despite holding grudges, he wanted to talk to her a one more time.

Before he could even process everything, the Gore PI agency was contacted by Heather, informing them that she had acquired Juliet's body to experiment on a new form of contacting spirits.

While both were hesitant, they agreed to help her with the experiment.

The initial goal of the experiment was just to contact Juliet's spirit by hooking up a modified spirit box to her corpse, but in an unexpected turn, Juliet's spirit attached itself to the body, not quite resurrecting it, but haunting it like a doll.

While Juliet was now back, she had no memory of what happened to her. Just lights.

Before Jack could make it to the house, an alien creature named the Collection attached themselves to Jack. The Collection, a shapeshifting parasitic entity was sent by the mining company MantiCORP heiress, Midge ''Mittens'' Mantis, for unknown purposes why she was so interested in the case.

Despite seeing each other again, the relationship between Juliet and Jack is cold but volatile, both holding resentment and grudges, but being forced to be around each other to solve the case. It doesn't help that there seems to also be other parties after them for unknown reasons.

Aston Morris, despite being cleared of being a suspect in his girlfriend's death, wasn't so cleared with his boss, Mittens.

Years before, Aston had wanted to become an astronaut, but because of some head trauma he gained as a teen, he was kicked from the program. His anger lead him to jail, but he was bailed out by the heiress. She gave him an offer he couldn't refuse; work for me and you can see space.

The job ended up being a corporate spy and a hitman for MantiCORP. He hated every second of actually doing the killing, but he felt like he was in too deep. Back on earth, Aston found success in a sitcom that lead him to be a successful mainstream actor, eventually leading him to stumble into Juliet again.

Mittens is the heiress to the MantiCORP mining company, which she had to fight for due to her family trying to swindle her out of her fortune. She first started with the recruitment of the Collection (experimenting on the assassin behind her father's death) and Becky, who would later become her wife.

Coll was always Mittens' right hand man, but after massive screw up at the job, she demoted them and made Becky their overseer.

After Becky disappeared after a recovery mission, Mittens kept Coll's current position due to the lack of evidence that they had anything to do with it.

While this whole thing is mostly ramble-y, I do plan on elaborating some of this. I am working on the comic version of this, but this is all the lore that hasn't been elaborated on. TY for reading!

#metafog #my oc #writing

[blushinggray]

change of plans: part 10

sero hanta x fem!reader

part 10/12 (part 9 | part 1)

amor tonight

cw // nsfw; flirting, desk sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, slight(?) daddy kink, just some really nasty smut but also ardent love making, porn with feelings (x3)

—

You're amazed that Yaoyorozu thought ahead to contact the city's taxi headquarters and spread the word for all the local cabbies to be prepared to pick up passengers near her property for tonight. Because just outside of the gate to her estate was a line of taxis waiting to drive inebriated partygoers home, like this is a central train station or something.

There was a short line of people that one of Yaoyorozu's manor staff was guiding and grouping for each car, but you and Sero didn't have to wait long to get one. He held the door for you to step in first, so you gave the driver the neighborhood of your apartment as a destination.

"Are we going to your place tonight?" Sero had asked, looking surprised.

"Yeah, I think it's closer to here. And my roommate's over at her boyfriend's place tonight." You had explained, "That okay with you? I know you said your flight is tomorrow."

"No, that's totally cool with me." He grinned excitedly before scooting closer to you in the backseat, "Let's go."

The trip felt long, for obvious (horny) reasons, but now that you're finally in front of your own apartment door, you're a little nervous. You're reviewing every space you have or haven't cleaned in your head as you unlock the door and let Sero in.

It's not as big as his place, since he and Todoroki have a rather roomy living area and kitchen, but your bedrooms are pretty similar in size. You lead him straight there after getting your shoes off to place your bag down.

"Did you, uhm..." You turn to see Sero looking all over your room, scanning and studying all the details that he can before turning to you, "Did you wanna shower first or anything?"

He lets his eyes glance you over from head to toe before stepping forward into your space with a cheeky smile on.

"You know, normally, I'd say yes." He says, putting his hands on your thighs to slowly slide them up beneath your skirt, "But I wanna see you in this outfit for a little longer."

"Do you, now." You scoff through your nose with a smile, "What do you like so much about it?"

Sero lets out a noise of amusement, paired with an expression that tells you he could go on for a while listing everything. Then he backs you into your desk so he can lift you by the thighs to sit on top of it, quickly filling up the space between your parted legs.

"Well, first of all, you just look so fucking good in a skirt." He praises, looking down at said skirt as he rubs his hands around your thighs, watching the pleated fabric follow his general motions. "Couldn't tell you how crazy you drove me with just one dance in that."

A giggle bubbles out of your mouth before you can stop it, because while you were focusing on your mistletoe scheme at the time, you did, in fact, still feel Sero's eyes magnetized downwards whenever you swayed your hips against him. You almost wish you had stayed for a few more songs, just to enjoy his reaction.

"And also," he leans in to tease a kiss, only brushing his nose with yours, "You do look really damn cute in that beret. Like you belong at a table outside a cute, little French cafe. Mon petit chou."

You let out a laugh as he whispers that little pet name against your cheek, incidentally leaning into him and pressing yourself into his lips as you hug him.

"Oui? Merci, ma puce." You joke back, looking up at him with playful, but fond eyes before placing a quick peck on his cheek in return.

He chuckles with you, exchanging a few more affectionate kisses before he inevitably asks you, "What did you just call me?"

"'My flea.'" You answer.

"'Flea'?" He gasps jokingly, attacking you with another kiss to your neck just below your jaw, "How mean."

"You literally just called me a cabbage." You chuckle.

"I thought 'mon petit chou' was just a cute nickname. Yaomomo told me that people don't actually mean it as 'cabbage.'" He pulls away with a slight pout.

"I know, I'm just messing with you." You smile, pulling the edges of his beanie down to cover his eyes before you leave a kiss on his nose, "It's the same with 'ma puce.' Unless you don't wanna be my little flea?"

Sero drags out a long hum as he leans in for another kiss to your lips, even though his eyes are still covered. "I suppose it could be worse." he says when he pulls away.

While you're laughing, he pulls the beanie off his head completely to toss on your desk, followed by his puffy jacket. But he soon shuts you up when he leans back in to kiss you for a while longer this time. His big hands gently squeeze at your hips as his lips work yours open.

Wrapping your arms around his neck once more, you hold him close as you kiss back, moving in tandem as he leads you in yet another dance. You sway and pull and push one another, and he builds on the rhythm with a dip or even a twirl of his tongue. On occasion, you try to surprise him back, with a small nip on his lower lip or a slow lick along his lip ring.

The playful mood you were just enjoying together soon thickens into something darker, heavier, wetter. Eventually, it becomes harder to breathe, as you're panting for air every time your lips are freed. But neither you nor Sero seem to want to be apart for long, since the short breaths apart only seem to magnetize you back together like opposite charges.

You moan against him when his hands climb up your sides, squeezing and massaging you on the way up to your chest, untucking your sweater from your skirt in the process. Which creates an opening for him to slip his hands underneath to get to your breasts and knead them under your bra.

God, his hands are so big. You kind of love how they feel like they just cover the entire surface of your tits. And the way he pinches at your nipples every so often has you pulling away from his mouth to throw your head back.

You let out a whiny noise whenever Sero’s fingers pinch a little shock of pleasure from your chest into your core. He hums in return before migrating to your neck to suck and tattoo kisses into your skin instead. While he's never been shy about kissing, he's always been been a bit more conservative with leaving marks, usually only leaving one or two in more coverable areas like between your thighs or on your hips.

But you suppose that's changed tonight because he is not being shy above the collar, and the mix of sensational pleasure with the slightly possessive gesture builds a wetness inside you. You can already feel it starting to leak out a bit, and you're not sure how long your little thong can soak it up.

Between the kisses and touches, you can’t keep quiet or still as you start moaning and grinding against him, your beret inevitably falling off at some point. Which actually gives your head a little ventilation from all the heat building up inside your body. Being pressed against and wrapped around Sero is getting a little hot for comfort, so you take the opportunity to push him away for a moment to get your necklace and sweater off, too.

You want to take your bra off as well, but the look on Sero's face stops you as he just stares and admires the color coordination between your bra and skirt. They're almost the same shade of red, so in the warm lamp lighting of your room, you're sure that it's a cute little ensemble for his hooded eyes.

"What's the matter?" You ask with a smile, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek, "Do you want me to take it off? Keep it on?" You offer.

Sero lets out a shudder of a breath as he leans into your hand, eyes getting foggier by the second. He slips his hands high enough up your skirt to skim at the band of your underwear, before asking, "Does this match too?"

You only give him a little one-shoulder shrug, "Why don't you check for yourself?"

You take your hand back to place them both on the desk in order to you scoot your ass just a bit closer to the edge and lean your upper back against the wall. Sero takes your signal in stride and smoothly pushes your skirt up to fan out across your stomach and hips. Your tights are a sheer black, so it's still a bit tough to see through them.

"Hope you're not too attached to these," Sero mutters quickly before tugging at the fabric to rip your tights apart at the crotch, making you gasp in surprise and pulse in excitement.

The little red triangle of fabric of your panties and most of your inner, upper thighs are exposed to him, and Sero sucks in a deep breath again before sinking to his knees. He moves quickly, shelving your thighs onto his shoulders so he can dig his nose straight into the middle of your cunt, taking a deep whiff and long lick up your panties.

You squeal at the semi-dulled sensation, the fabric of your thong thick enough to block the flat of his tongue but still cut small enough to for him to make direct contact at the edges. It's such a teasing sensation that automatically makes your hips jut forward into his face for more.

"Ughhh, baby, you're already wet." He groans into your pussy, wedging the fabric of your thong into your slit with the tip of his tongue, "So wet and sweet. Just for me, right?"

"All for you, papi." You promise breathlessly, not even realizing what you said until it's already out.

You have no idea where that came from. You've never used that kind of term with him before, so you have idea how he's going to react to it. If he's going to laugh or cringe at you, or worst of all, stop what he's doing to you.

For a moment, he does pause, his tongue freezing as he looks up at you. But it doesn't take long for you to recognize the helpless, desperate arousal and eye-rolling lust in his eyes before he moans, long and loud, cursing out straight into your pussy as he hugs your thighs closer to him, like he's begging you to suffocate him with them.

"Fuuuck, baby, I— mnh!" He interrupts his own thought to reach up and around the top of your thigh to tug the string of your thong aside. Then he drops the thought altogether as he goes to work on you, sucking and licking and thrusting his tongue inside you like he has something to prove. Like he owes it to you or something.

"Agh! Sero— ah! Oh my god..." You whine out, sounding more and more desperate by the second, anchoring your thighs around his neck and shoulders so you can buck into his face and get more of that long, powerful, and skilled tongue inside you. Deeper inside of you.

Deeper, deeper.

You want him so deep inside you that he tickles at your throat from this end. So deep inside that he can stir your guts around like a whisk. You want him, you want to come. You want to come so bad. So bad.

Sero hums and the vibrations go straight into your core, practically making you sing as he starts to thumb at your clit right after. Your hips come off the desk as you chase your orgasm into his mouth, only your upper back against the wall and your thighs on Sero's shoulders holding you up.

"Oh! Yes! Yes! Agh!" You cry out as he laps at your walls and brings you closer. Until you practically slam the back of your head against the wall as you reach your peak.

Sero keeps his tongue inside you until your walls stop fluttering around it and your ass falls back onto your desk. Then he takes his time to slurp up everything that came out of you, cleaning off your pussy and thighs until you're sparkling.

"Fuck baby, you're so hot." He rumbles as he comes to his feet, leaning his forearms on the desk to meet you in a wet kiss that tastes like you, "But damn. That’s quite the weapon you’ve discovered."

“What? You mean ‘papi’?” You giggle as he groans at the mention of it and starts peppering kisses over your face, "You liked it that much?”

“Well, if you call me that again while you look this fucking sexy, then I can’t pretend like it doesn’t have an effect on me, you know?” He says, proving it to you by standing to press his tented pants against your bare cunt.

You hum as you reach over to give the fat bulge a little rub with your hand, “Well, you sure didn’t react this way when I called you ‘ma puce.’”

He snorts at your little joke before leaning down again to kiss your jaw, then he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, "I like both. Just be careful about when you use each one. I don’t know that I won’t go a little crazy if you ever used papi on me in public."

For some reason, you can't bite down the smile crawling up your face. You like this. You like finding new weak spots and turn-ons for Sero, and knowing that you can use them again in the future. You like the idea that you can freely and openly gather and save all this information, and know that he'll let you use it on him again.

Because you're going to be together to have that chance to do all of this again. Because you don't have to set limits on your time or your heart with him anymore. You can enjoy him and all the new things you learn about him to your heart's content. And honestly, that turns you on just as much as any words he could say or any pleasure he could give you.

So with this newfound confidence, you bring your feet up to plant your heels on the desk, using your hands to hold onto your ankles to keep yourself spread wide for him to see. You, in your disheveled red skirt and bra, red panties soaked and pushed to the side against one thigh, and a gaping hole in your tights that's ripped even wider after stretching them through your first orgasm tonight. You can't even begin to imagine what you look like in front of him.

"I'll be careful." You promise.

"Fucking god," he sighs heavily, briefly closing his eyes as if to find some patience within himself, "Fuck, I wanna take a picture so bad right now. Like I need to— to prove to myself that this is real..."

You hum, spreading yourself even wider, "Well, why don't you get inside me and see how real it feels?"

"My fucking god." Sero actually takes a step away, pacing along your room with his hands on his head, muttering to himself. And you just giggle from your desk as you watch him, struggling with himself as he yanks his sweatshirt and pants off.

Only his briefs and the silver chain around his neck remain when he positions himself back in front of you, putting his hands on your knees to keep you spread-eagled when he starts to grind his thick bulge against you. He’s still staring down at your body and face as he watches your bodies hump together, trying to attach to one another through the clothes. He’s watching, but his eyes get more and more clouded as he goes on.

Why is he teasing you like this? You’re more than ready for him, you’re already leaking out onto your thighs again and soaking into his briefs, for god’s sake! Can he please, please, please just— just bring it out and stuff it inside you? You want it. You want it more than anything right now.

“Take ‘em off. Please.” You beg, putting a hand on his navel to pause his hips, “Wanna feel you. Please. Inside me. Hurry, papi…”

His sharp gasp is the reaction you hoping for, but just to drive it home, you remove his hand from one of your legs so you lift it up and wrap your ankle around the back of his neck to gently tug him downward for a kiss. The stretch on your legs is a bit tough but Sero’s moaning surely means it’ll be worth it.

When he pulls back to stand upright again, the vision of your sheer black fabric-covered leg pressed against his paler skin while his hand keeps your other leg spread apart is quite the sight, even for you. You can only imagine how needy you must look to him.

“Goddammit…” he hisses, quickly pushing down and kicking away those annoying briefs before lining the bottom of his thick, heavy shaft against your slit, “I’m powerless against you.” He says with a pleasantly defeated smile and a kiss to your ankle and calf by his shoulder.

You're breathing hard as you watch him grip the base of his cock and drag the length of it up and down your soaking, swollen lips, bumping up past your clit several times to tease you further. It does feel a lot better than it did earlier with his briefs still on, but it's still just... not enough. You almost cry in protest when he pulls away to grab a condom from his discarded jeans on the floor.

You don't realize you're pouting as you watch him put it on until Sero playfully scolds you, "Don't give me that face, bella. I don't love it either."

Well if that's the case then why can't he just go without it... You're on birth control and if he hasn't slept with anyone else in a while...

Though it doesn't really matter now that he's got it on and has repositioned himself between your legs. He's even taken the liberty to lift both your legs up to rest against his chest, holding them there as he teases his cock along your slit again.

You expect him to start pushing inside soon, but instead, he pushes your legs together and stacks your ankles over one of his shoulders so that your thighs sandwich his cock. With one hand keeping your ankles crossed and his other arm hugging your thighs to his abdomen, he's made himself a little flesh toy to rub his dick into.

Your skin is wet with your own emission, so Sero's cock slides all too easily through your thighs to pop out between them and kiss your clit every time he pushes forward. It's so erotic, watching his thick, red cockhead pop out between your legs that are haphazardly covered in ripped black fabric, especially with that hopelessly soaked strand of red fabric that's bunched up into the crease of one of your thighs.

What a mess you must look like; barely propped up on your desk and your entire lower half kicked up in the air, entangled in Sero's arms. And your pussy, leaking and begging for a visitor that's just outside the door but won't come inside.

"Sero— Sero, please." You gasp as he continues to bump against your clit with his engorged tip. Even when there's already precum leaking into the tip of the condom. "Ughhhh, please. Put it in already. I want it so bad. I want it so bad!"

"Yeah? You want it, baby?" He answers your call with more teasing, smirking as he just thrusts faster between your thighs. "You want my cock inside your cute, little pussy? Can't wait any longer?"

"I can't—" You shake your head desperately, mouth going off with the momentum and just following his lead without really thinking about what you're saying anymore. "Can't wait anymore. Sero, hurry! Please, please..."

"God, fuck, you're so cute..." He lets out a groan before separating your legs to put one on each shoulder again.

It takes a little more whining from your end, but finally, finally he guides himself inside. The tip pushes through your lips and inner muscles like softened butter. It’s a long way in for his massive dick, but once he’s tucked in to the hilt, you both let out a collective sigh of relief. Sero goes as far as to close his eyes and tilt his head back, really savoring the first slide in like he usually likes to do.

You, on the other hand, need him to start moving now. Planting your forearms on your desk beneath you, and crossing your ankles together behind his neck to get a foothold, you lift your hips up to wiggle them against his. You shimmy and roll and squeeze around him to get more sweet friction, until eventually you're just fucking yourself on his cock in this position.

"Fucking shit... Holy fucking shit." Sero moans quietly as he watches you, hands just keeping your legs held up against his torso for support. He chews on his lip as he looks down at the spot where you're connected, where his cock keeps disappearing into your wet, glossy, little hole without any effort of his own — as if he's the one letting himself be used as a toy this time. “Fuck, just look at you, mami. You look so… so fucking slutty like this.”

You’re sure you do. But honestly, you are just way too strung up from all the teasing after that first orgasm that you don't even care how you must look now. Yeah, you're literally hanging off of him like tire swing on a tree and using his dick to make yourself come. You’re probably babbling out some stupidly embarrassing shit that you'll be ashamed of later. So what? He's here and yours for the taking, so you're going to take.

As much as you want. As much as he has.

"Ohhhh, fuck, daddy please I need this cock to destroy me." You whine into the ceiling as you throw your head back once you feel the peak approaching, "I want that stupid, fat cock to fuck and pound me blind. Gimme all your cum and just stuff me— stuff me until you wanna eat me whole."

At some point, Sero must give up his own restraint because you realize that he's meeting your hips with his own harsh, unforgiving thrusts. His hands are bruising your hips with his delicious grip as he holds you up and pounds into you, over and over, meeting all your feverish passion with his own.

"Fuck baby, you're so nasty. You really want all that? Huh?!" He growls with an extra powerful thrust that almost makes you crash into the wall behind you, "Need me to pump you up with all my cum until you're leaking from the ears, yeah? S'at whatcha want from me? Mm? Mmmnnhh..." He moans as he comes down for a sloppy kiss.

"Yes, yes! I want it! I want it, I want it, I wa— Ahhhh!" You keep chanting until you scream out through your peak.

You have no fucking clue what's taking over your body as this orgasm just swims through you, resonating into every tip of every limb and making you shake like Sero's cock pumped an earthquake straight into you.

Even through the blinding white pleasure, you feel your arms give out and your hands just start... clawing at everything. Your desk, your nearby chair, Sero's thighs, Sero's arms. You're not sure what you knock over or how your head isn't banging a hole into the wall behind you with how hard you're coming. Because fuuuuuckk.

Even when you're starting to calm down from this hard, rocking orgasm, your body is already thrumming and eager for another. Especially once Sero just scoops you up in his arms to hold up your entire body on his own, all to keep his cock wedged inside your pulsing walls while he brings you in for another kiss.

You at least find the strength to wrap your arms around his neck to melt into him as he sucks your sexual vitality out of your mouth like oxygen. He's completely taken over you, mind and body alike, claimed your pussy as his territory and is taking his time to break you in.

"God, querida, look at you." He fawns even when he pulls away from your mouth, "You gotta take a look at yourself. You need to see just how fucking sexy you look."

Sero makes a sound between a grunt and a growl as he sets you down on your feet and turns you around in a sweep so that you're face to face with your own full length mirror. And good god—

What a fucking mess.

Your skirt is wrinkled and askew, what's left of your tights are full of streaks of torn threads, one tit is spilling out of a bra cup since a strap fell off that shoulder, your messy hair falls over half of your face. And from what you can see of your face, your makeup looks like it's been smeared around with a wet tissue, but no technique.

It only gets worse when Sero wraps an arm around your abdomen to hold onto you from behind as he lifts one of your knees up high to show your pussy to the mirror. Your wet, swollen, needy mess of a pussy. That you can feel still throbbing even as he spreads you wide open to slip his cock right back inside from underneath.

"Ohhhh..." You let out a moan, but immediately look away from your reflection at the sight of your desperate, wanton expression. Is that really how you look when you're taking his cock?

Mouth open, eyes glowing, brows tilted up, tongue about to loll out...

It really is so slutty.

"Nuh uh, baby, eyes over here." Sero orders, bringing his hand up from your stomach to cup beneath your jaw and force you to look at yourself. Then he drags his hot tongue up your cheek before meeting your eyes in the mirror to whisper, "So fucking cute."

A shiver passes through your body at his gestures and words, making your eyes flutter closed and your pussy twitch around him, "S'cause you're so good..." you whimper out, giving him a more purposeful squeeze this time. “You’re so strong, and your cock is so good… I wish you’d fuck me every night, daddy.”

"God, you fucking vixen." He growls into your ear as he shakes your jaw in his hand until you open your eyes again. And when you do, you watch as his hand settles around your throat, and your own expression change with excitement as you feel him squeeze a bit.

With his hand on your throat, Sero's other hand that was holding up your knee now travels across the front of your body to clutch at your opposite side, keeping your leg held up by the crook of his elbow. Your own hands clutch to his forearms just to have something to hold onto as you feel him start to pump his cock back into your pussy.

Every time he's about to pick up speed, his hand tightens around your throat in warning. And every time it gets just a little harder to breathe, your cunt flutters in delight. Which Sero takes great delight in, judging by the proud smirk his face in the mirror.

"You fucking love that, don't you, bella? Hm? Love it when I choke you out." He chuckles victoriously, "And you love it when I'm rough on you. Don't think you can hide how wet you get whenever I throw you around. Your pussy's way too honest."

"Mnrgh!" You can only get out some noises of affirmation with his hand around your neck, which might be for the better. With your lust-addled brain right now, who knows how loudly you'd agree with him?

Because you do love it. You love it when he's hot and rough like this, humiliating you by forcing you to watch yourself come apart on his dick. You love how he fucks you so good that you get lost in your own desire and forget to hold your walls up.

You love how honest he makes you.

"God, just look at you. So fucking messed up over my cock. Bet that asshole Kaibara wishes he were me right now. " He says, putting on a more evil grin when he sees the surprise cross your face, "Yeah, I saw how he looked at you. I just know he'd fucking cry if he saw how good you look right now. 'Specially when he hears you say it's aaall for me."

You also love how honest you make him.

He's fucking you in the nastiest, most raw and exclusively intimate of ways right now, and he's still thinking about Kaibara. Because he just has to get that little detail in. To somehow prove to both of you that he deserves to be here.

It's pretty damn cute.

You'd laugh if you weren't being fucked like an animal and choked like a stress ball at the moment. Sero's strength is so fucking raw, keeping most of your weight held up while his hips just piston into you without pause to chase his own orgasm. Somehow you're always reminded about how strong he really is just as you start to forget.

When he starts faltering and grunting, "Come on, baby. Come with me. Want you to come with me. Let's come together." you bring one hand down to rub at your clit as he continues to pound into your guts.

"I'ma come— come with you!" You gasp when his hand loosens around your neck.

"That's right, baby. Wanna feel you come around me. You almost there?" He kisses your ear, then your cheek, "Can I come? I wanna come inside you so bad."

"Wait— wait, daddy... Just a little— mmh! Almost— almost— aghhh!" You whine out as you race towards your third orgasm of the evening, trying to time it so you really can come together with Sero.

"Fuck, angel. I'm gonna— m'gonna— ughhhhh..." He groans out as his harsh thrusting slows into longer pumps, with a few twitches in between.

"Yes!" You scream out not long after, walls dancing around Sero's cock in an excitable, squeezing hug as you come yet again. You're blinded by the familiar white pleasure as you throw your head back against his shoulder to cry out through your peak.

As you're coming down this time, you feel a deeply satisfying exhaustion that's similar to the endorphins that rush through you after a good workout. Like you've just sprinted through a marathon of orgasms to reach this finish line.

So you're only vaguely present as Sero releases your body and sets you down on the bed to help you take off your remaining clothes. And once you're as naked as he is, he lifts you up to lie your head properly on the pillow before he rests right on top of you, pouring another deeply moving kiss into your mouth.

Exhausted as you are, you find strength as you sink into the comfort of your bed and wrap your arms around his neck to kiss him back. And you just continue to make out with him like that for a while.

You don't get the least bit tired of it, because he's just that good at keeping your attention. The way he smacks his lips against yours when he pulls away just enough to press against them once more, like he's starting up a new kiss all over again. The way he scrapes at your lip with his teeth or lets you tongue at his lip ring before taking the lead once more. The way he just puts so much ardor and affection into the way he holds your face as he kisses you. It all sends enough dopamine into your brain to give you an overdose.

Before long, you're both breathing fast and humping against one another again. But this time, it's less hurried. Much less desperate and manic than the pleasure you were chasing after earlier.

This time, it's like a long walk on a sunny day. You're matching each other's pace, taking slow steps, hand in hand. Sero kisses you like he's savoring your taste, as if you're made of some sort of finely aged wine. And when he lifts his head to look down into your eyes, you're hypnotized.

The way he looks at you like he's clouded by desire but still very clearly intent with his actions makes you dizzy. How does he just... look at you like that? Like you're some vision out of a fairy tale or a manifestation of a dream? It makes your heart race and your brain crazy.

Unlike all of the gross, dirty things you were both spewing out thoughtlessly earlier, there are barely any words exchanged between you this time. It seems like all of the words or messages you want to convey to one another are shared through touch. Through kiss. Through eye contact.

One of his hands slides down your arm until it tangles with and laces into your own fingers. You can feel the intimacy increase just by the way he grips and brings your joined hands up to rest by your head.

Your free hand is buried into the hair at the base of his neck, just wanting to feel him and keep him close even though you know he isn't going anywhere. It feels like you could both just do this for hours until you fall asleep, but eventually you let out a soft moan into the fragile atmosphere, "Sero..."

"[Name]..." he replies, resting his forehead against yours as he reaches down to press his newly hardened cock against your lower lips, "Can I... Can I put it in... without the condom?"

You have no idea when he had discarded the first one, but it's no wonder why it already feels so much better... The direct skin on skin contact is warm and sweet, thick and smooth. No thin layer of film keeping you from him, or him from you.

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes." You whisper more and more hurriedly, pressing kisses up into his face as if to communicate your urgency, "Please. I wanna feel you. Completely."

"Ay querida..." He sighs into your mouth as he sinks into another kiss, slowly guiding his naked tip into your entrance, "Me vuelves loco..."

You drive me crazy.

"Mm... me, too." You mumble back against his lips as you feel him sink in deeper. And deeper. And deeper.

Until he finally settles completely inside of you. For some reason, you feel even fuller than you did earlier tonight. Maybe even more than you have all the times you've had sex before. It feels as if his presence reaches parts of your body beyond what he can physically touch. Like his own soul is soaking through your skin to fill every tip of your body from the inside with his presence, his affection, his passion. And he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Sero…” you sigh out, body about to start trembling from sensitivity. To pleasure and to him.

“Hanta.” He corrects, “Try that out for me, mami.”

“H-Hanta…” you obey, voice shaking as you feel him twitch inside your walls. “Hanta… how does it feel?”

Does he feel this too? This enveloping, bone deep connection happening between you? Are you still just too drunk off of all your cocktails and orgasms from tonight? Or does he feel what you’re feeling too?

He closes his hazy eyes with a sigh before he falls into you for another kiss. Long and sweet, thick like honey, smooth like wine, heavy as gravity. And when he finally pulls away, he speaks with pure veneration soaking through his voice, “Feels like magic, baby.”

He’s kissing you again by the time he starts moving his hips. Your skin just slides together like different moving waves, surfing along the motions of each other as you rock together. Both of your hands are now captured in his, resting by your head as he becomes your moon, pulling you into his gravity and ruling over your tide.

Your hips follow his ebb and flow as you wrap your legs around his waist, letting yourself get swept up in the current. He flows into you like he’s made of water, but touches you like he’s made of sparks. Your body tingles from the overload of stimulation, but connects so naturally to his that you wonder how you were ever meant to be apart.

“Se— Hanta!” You gasp, completely out of breath and sanity. All that fills you up is him. “Hanta, you’re so deep— You’re so, so… aghhh…!” Your whine drags out as he shifts his angle and hits you right there. Right where it hurts the best. “I love it. I love it so much! I love—”

You.

You almost say.

You almost say it, but he starts gliding against your clit and sending you right out of your mind. The slow, romantic build is finally approaching a crescendo, and you have no control over what happens to you anymore.

“You’re perfect, bella. So, so gorgeous.” He praises deep into your ear, his words making it straight to your heart, further winding up your core to spring back. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

It only takes a few more strokes and a few whispers of your name to get you to come around him. And you revel in the feeling of squeezing around his raw cock, your walls singing and licking at every inch of him as you’re kissed out of your right mind.

When Sero comes inside of you, you can feel your body temperature changing in mere seconds. Lowering in shivers as he spurts heavily into your cunt, then climbing another few degrees again as he twitches and kisses your pussy back.

Fucking shit, this is bad. This is so bad because it feels so damn good.

You love it. You love soaking up all the fruits of your laborious love making, and feeling saturated with Sero’s essence inside you.

Or in other words, you love being filled with his cum. Fuck, you love it. You’re absolutely high with euphoric delight at the feeling of his bare cock pumping you full of his cum, and knowing that you asked for it.

“You filled me up so good, papi…” You praise, using your new secret weapon in hopes of getting him up and twitching again.

“You really have no mercy, do you, baby?” He releases your hands to push your hair back out of your face before cupping it to give you another long, meaningful kiss.

Sero kisses you for a while, waiting until he softens enough to make the pull out as painless as possible. Which feels for naught because the incredible emptiness you feel when his body disconnects from yours is deep enough to leave even your bones feeling hollow.

But you suppose it’s for the better, because if you just kept going you probably wouldn’t be able to stop. The Sero-addicted parts of your brain just wouldn’t stop going off. So you appreciate the soothing balm of his skin as he brings your back against his front to settle your body down with cuddles.

He never seems to tire of the kissing though, because he leaves them lovingly along your shoulders as he rubs a hand down your arm and side and thigh. But even with the calming effect of his soft touch and unhurried presence, you can’t stop thinking about what you just felt. What you just went through, as an experience. Every moment and sensation is replaying in constant loops in your head, and you can’t bring yourself to understand how something like that just happened.

You want to ask him. You want to know if he felt something even remotely similar. If he was zoned in at the same intensity as you were.

Turning around to face him, you wrap your arm around his side and put your other hand on his muscular chest, looking up at him to say, “That was… I’ve never felt anything like that before. With anyone.”

His smile is effortless as he places a kiss on your forehead and asks, “You’ve never made love with anyone before?”

“Not like that.” You shake your head slightly, the fatigue setting in enough for you to omit the embarrassment.

He leans in for another kiss, this time to your lips, before admitting, “Me, neither.” Then he pulls you closer into a hug so that your face is fitted perfectly into his neck, “You are so special to me, querida. I’m so glad I get to stay with you like this tonight.”

You can only hum as you burrow yourself closer to Sero’s body, hiding your enormous grin into his neck as you reply, “Me, too.”

You're sure that tonight is going to stay with you for a long while, for better or for worse.

—

After a few more rounds of passionate, mind-numbing sex, you and Sero inevitably conked out in your sex-soaked sheets for the rest of the night. But you still somehow managed to wake up in the morning — feeling refreshed — for a deep-cleansing shower before bringing him out to one of your favorite breakfast spots.

Sero walks into the cafe with you in last night’s clothes, while you’re dressed in a simple outfit with a bare face. He’s holding your hand the entire time as you step inside, order at the register, and find your table. As you're enjoying your breakfast croissants and coffee together, flirting and chatting about his upcoming trip and other things, a few familiar faces walk into the cafe to greet you.

"Sero! [Name]!" Hagakure bounds up to your table with her bright smile, Ojiro following just behind, "Good morning!"

"Morning." You both return the greeting.

Ojiro goes ahead to order for the both of them while Hagakure pulls up one of the neighboring tables to connect with yours and Sero's. You all end up gushing about all the funny or crazy things that happened the night before at Yaoyorozu's party until their orders arrive as well.

"Soooo~?" She eventually asks, rubbing against your shoulder with her own, "What's the sauce on this little breakfast date? Did it finally happen? Are you guys finally together?"

You let out a slightly nervous chuckle, since you knew this was coming. But since you and Sero only just agreed to all of this last night, should you be spreading the word already?

"We're just eating together after he spent the night." You circle around the question, "Since he's actually flying out this... afternoon?"

You look to Sero for confirmation, who just gives you a warm smile before easily sliding his hand across the table to rest on top of yours. Then he turns to his friends to properly answer, "We're together."

"Ah!! Yes!!" Hagakure cheers, smacking her boyfriend's arm in delight, "Finally! I'm so happy for you two!"

"Good for you guys." Ojiro congratulates you both with a smile as well, patting Sero's shoulder with a heavy palm, "Really happy for you, man."

"Thank goodness." Hagakure sighs heavily, "If it took any longer, we were afraid we'd have to really start intervening. Since Sero's been simping for like—"

"Thank you," Sero interrupts with a loud clearing of his throat. Then he aggressively moves on to another topic before you can inquire further.

The rest of breakfast basically consists of Hagakure begging for details about how it all went down, and how excited she is for the both of you. At some point, she starts throwing out double date ideas for the four of you, which sound fun, even though they're eventually shoo'ed away by Sero.

"I literally just got her to agree to go out with me. And I don't even get to see her for the next few weeks." He points out, "Let me have her to myself for a little while."

You exchange a small laugh for his soft smile before saying to Hagakure, "Maybe you can take me on a date until he gets back."

"I'm so up for the job!" She agrees before Sero jokingly protests about you already cheating on him.

The four of you finish up soon afterwards, but Hagakure brings out her phone to take a photo of the four of you with the front facing camera. "Say cheese!"

She sends it to you all immediately, and Sero looks down fondly at the photo as he pulls it up. You don't think much of it until you and he have parted ways with Hagakure and Ojiro and you're walking him to the train station.

"What's got you looking all goofy?" You ask when you notice his grin hasn't died down for a good few blocks.

"Nothing." He says, squeezing your hand in his, "Just thinking about how our photo collection is growing already."

“Our photo collection?”

“Yeah. Photos of us together.”

Oh. Right.

You suppose photos must mean a lot more to him than you originally thought, if he's already this happy about a simple group picture.

You did give him that polaroid of your mistletoe kiss as a sort of gesture for the start of your relationship, but you figured it'd be a one time special memento for that moment.

But if you really think about it, every photo can celebrate a moment. No matter how seemingly big or small.

Maybe that's one of the reasons why Sero enjoys photography. Because he enjoys capturing beautiful moments in life so he can celebrate them. As many times as he wants even after the fact.

"Do you want to take another one?" You offer.

"Can we?" He jumps on it immediately.

"Sure. I mean, if you're okay with my bare face."

"Your face is as beautiful as your soul, querida. So you'll always be pretty no matter what." He says, pulling you close to his side as he brings out his phone.

You're not even finished rolling your eyes at the line when you hear the shutter sound start to go off, but you quickly fall into his chest and hug around his waist to properly look at the camera. Though admittedly, you do still want to keep your face slightly hidden, so you just tuck yourself into his shoulder a bit and try to pull off some 'mysterious' look as he snaps a few more.

He laughs as you both hunch over to swipe through them, watching as your unamused, dismissive look morphs into an indignantly fond expression before becoming more visibly affectionate. Until it actually resembles something more of a proper photo of a couple.

They're not super flattering, but they're certainly honest. Something Sero will probably appreciate with his unique interpretation of his subjects.

"I love them." He confirms your suspicions, smiling fondly down at the pictures before turning to look at you, "All of them."

You tilt your chin up expectantly, waiting for a kiss, which he happily gives you before taking your hand to continue down the street again.

A small part of you wishes that this walk didn't have to end so soon, so that you could spend just a little longer with Sero before you have to let him go for the rest of the year. But another part of you knows you need some time to yourself; to bask and reflect and accept that all of this is reality now.

And you can actually give yourself the time apart now, because you know he'll come back to you. You no longer have to wonder or worry about when or how you’ll see him next, or limit your growing feelings for him, or hold back the things you want to share with him. Because it's finally mutual. Wholly and openly mutual.

Finally, your heart feels free.

—

tbc

part 11

#sero hanta x reader #sero hanta x you #sero hanta #bnha x reader #yet another reference to a danny ocean song #yo ngl i kinda went off for the smut in this one #i didn’t really mean to bc this was such a spontaneous project from the start #*guiltily side eyes my other more Serious wips* #but sero and reader went through like 45k of miscomm to get here so i guess they deserve it #ty again to mia for helping with the french #drabble #mine

[strqxge]

Sick [Johnlock Fanfiction]

John leaned against the cop car as he waited for Sherlock to finish up with Greg. Rain was pouring down on all of them and John blinked the water out of his eyes, looking down so his eyes wouldn't burn. Sherlock didn't seem to notice the rain aside from moving his drenched mop of hair out of the way of his eyes to talk to the DI.

"Are we done here? I'd rather not be drowning in water." Sherlock commented and shook his head, water splashing onto John and Greg.

"Yeah. I'll take the guy down to the station. You two go on and head home; looks like the rain isn't letting up anytime soon." Greg replied as he playfully shooed the two away with a grimace of a smile. John lightly chuckled and looked at his raven haired friend.

"Thanks, Greg." Sherlock said as he began walking off. John's brow furrowed as he blinked for a moment, his eyes darting to Sherlock and then to Greg. The DI's eyes were wide open in shock as he opened his mouth and attempted to speak.

"Did- Did he just?" John smiled wide.

"He actually called me Greg." Greg nodded and laughed, "Bloody hell..Why do you think he did that?"

"He's just being nice." Greg was about to interrupt him, "Yes I know that's not like Sherlock but maybe he feels off because of the weather. He looked like a drenched otter." He said, casting an affectionate glance towards his friend. He's had a small crush on him since their first case but didn't say anything towards the detective, knowing that he would be rejected.

"You should tell him, John."

"Tell him what?" Greg glared at his friend's obliviousness and wiped the water from his face, the rain somehow coming down even harder.

"You have feelings for him." He said confidently which caused John's cheeks to tint red.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Greg." John tried to lie but to no avail as his friend rolled his eyes, "Plus, he's married to his work so what would be the point-"

"JOHN!" Sherlock called to his blogger, motioning to the cab that had stopped next to him. John politely excused himself from Greg who gave him a wink. The blond man groaned and rolled his eyes and turned to walk to Sherlock who was impatiently waiting, "What were you and Graham talking about?" The detective asked.

"Oh c'mon Sherlock." John laughed, "You just called him by his right name." Sherlock's face contorted into his mischievous little smirk as he rolled up his coat sleeve. It revealed a rain smeared 'Greg' that he had previously written on his arm, "Oh you utter cock." Both of the men laughed and entered the cab, returning to 221B.

Just like any other cab ride Sherlock quickly exited the car leaving John to pay the cabbie. After that John entered the flat and watched as Sherlock retreated into his room, shutting the door behind him. John also retreated to his own room deciding that he needed a shower after he saw all of the mud and small puddles of water that trailed after him.

After his shower John decided just to head to bed, barely able to keep his eyes open. Rain always made him sleepy. So once he was dried off he put on his sleep clothes which consisted of a gray shirt and navy blue pants. As soon as his head hit the pillow he was out.

---

BEEP BEEP BEEP BE-

John groaned in annoyance as he turned off his alarm, stretching his arms and letting out an embarrassingly loud grunt in effort. He slowly sat up on the edge of his bed rubbing and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. The blogger stood still for a moment as he thought he heard Sherlock call for him but shook his head. John came out of his room and closed the door, walking to their living room space. He raised his eyebrow in confusion as he expected to see a sleep deprived Sherlock in his mind palace on the couch.

"Sherlock?" He called out as he searched the kitchen. Nothing was touched ever since they initially left for the case yesterday, "Are you still asleep..?" He wondered to himself as he carefully walked to his bedroom door, wincing as he heard the floorboards creak loudly as he approached. He leaned his ear onto the wooden door, listening for anything.

"Jawwnn.." A croak weakly called out his name followed by a small shuffle from what John assumed to be bedsheets. Sherlock opened his bedroom door and the blogger gasped. The detective was still in his clothes from yesterday. His usual styled hair was tangled and his posture drooped like a wet piece of paper. His eyes were the worst, its usual shine replaced with a look of extreme exhaustion and fatigue.

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed as he examined his friend, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand, "You're burning up! Why didn't you get cleaned up when we got home?!" Sherlock groaned and moved his head to the side to cough into his elbow.

"..I was too tired to bother." He confessed quietly, making John's face change into one of pure worry. Typically Sherlock would shake off his concern but hearing that made the ex army doctor worry even more. The raven haired detective turned his head back and they held eye contact once more, causing the shorter of the two to blush ever so slightly.

"Come on, I'll set up a bath for you." John sighed and led his friend into the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and let the tub fill up, "I'll be back with your clothes and a towel." He exited the bathroom and went into Sherlock's room. His room was very neat and tidy except for the bed. The blankets were tangled and wet on one side--the spot where Sherlock had slept.

After a few minutes John returned to the bathroom with a long sleeved purple shirt and black sweatpants on one arm and the towel on the other. He noticed Sherlock wasn't standing by the sink anymore and was about to yell for him until he noticed he was already in the bathtub. His chest was slightly exposed as he lounged in the warm water, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open.

"You're back.." Sherlock said drowsily, "Yaayy.."

"Er- yeah." John cleared his throat as he held his eyes away from scanning the rest of the detective's body. He knelt down and stopped the water before it overflowed and looked at his friend. He looked so perfect even when he was sick. His face was abnormally relaxed and his pale body shivered as it got used to the warm water, "So- do you want me to help with anything?"

"My hair.." Sherlock hummed, "But if you mess it up even more I'll.." He paused as he thought of a threat, "I don't know what I'll do but I'll do something bad." John laughed as he filled a cup with bath water and poured it on the ravenette's head, covering his face so the water wouldn't sting his eyes. The bathroom was silent as John washed his hair aside from the occasional content sigh and hum from Sherlock.

John smiled as he rinsed out Sherlock's hair, gently massaging his scalp which caused the other man to let out what almost sounded like a moan. The blogger stopped for a moment and blushed madly, looking towards Sherlock who looked like nothing had happened. John cleared his throat and finished rinsing his hair.

"There we go." He said softly and stood up, laughing slightly as he saw Sherlock's face contort into a small frown.

"Okay.." Sherlock whined and then started to stand up causing John to turn away.

"ALRIGHT!" John exclaimed and the detective turned to him, confused, "You finish up! I-I'll be in the living room on my computer." He cursed himself for stuttering as he left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him quickly. He took a deep breath and sighed as he sat down in front of his computer and started on typing up a blog about their latest case.

Sherlock exited the bathroom wearing the clothes John picked out for him. His hair was still wet from poorly drying it and it dripped onto his shirt. He walked over to John swiftly and leaned down to him--so close that their noses almost touched.

"John."

"Yes, Sherl-" John was interrupted when he found Sherlock's lips on his.

Sherlock was kissing him?!

He sat there shocked for a moment before kissing back. Sherlock quickly pulled out of the kiss and smirked at his blogger, a red blush tinting both of their cheeks.

"Thank you." He nodded in appreciation and walked to the couch, grabbing the red blanket that laid on the top of it. He draped it around his shoulders like a cloak and looked back at John. They both smiled at each other again and Sherlock winked before plopping onto the couch, the blanket flowing after him as he pulled it around himself tightly.

John felt his lips with his fingers, already missing the sensation of the detective's lips on his. He looked over at Sherlock who was laying on the couch facing the cushions. John bit his lip as he then turned back to his computer and continued to type. Nothing could wipe the smiles off of their faces. They were much too happy from the events that had just occurred.

Especially Sherlock. It was his plan from the start ;)

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

Hope you all enjoyed this johnlock story! It's a bit unoriginal but I was really proud of how it turned out!

Find me on Wattpad @strqxge

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #fanfic #fanfiction #johnlock fanfiction #johnlock fluff #sherlock x john #sherlock bbc #sherlock fandom #fluff

[wander-over-the-words]

for the ship ask game: sam/tommy for who falls asleep mid conversation, AND/OR ethan/benny for who cuddles :]

Send me a ship and I will tell you: (Sleeping!) Think I'm supposed to do the whole thing and I'm gonna!! cause I like talking a lot!! >:D And I shall do so with Tommy/Sam, since I already did Benny/Ethan!

Who is a night owl:

Tom, if only slightly, and unintentionally. Sam’s mastered the art of Don’t Think About It, Tom…has not.

Who is a morning person:

Tom is. Sam is like…half a morning person.

Tom’s more or less raring to go in the mornings; his life as a cabbie made sure he was awake as soon as he opened his eyes (cause obviously can’t go sleeping at the wheel and all that). 

Once he’s part of the Family, he tends to take his mornings a little slower (granted that he can). He’s awake, but he’s taking the time to have a coffee, skim the paper, catch the morning news on the radio, make sure he’s got his appearance in order. Like that blissful little smile he gives when he’s sipping his coffee before Dino and Lou assault him in Running Man, he’s just..chillin. 

Sam…is not grumpy in the mornings, per se, he’s just quiet. He’s one of those guys that just doesn’t wanna talk to people at length cause he’s slow to wake up (plus he’s not used to people being in his apartment when he wakes up so Tom kinda stops existing to him for a minute lmao). He’s like a car that needs to warm up in the winter mornings: technically functioning but just needs a minute until 100% good to go. His morning routine involves staring into space for like ten minutes, thinking his thoughts and going over a mental checklist for today, before he ‘comes alive’ as it were and can contribute properly to conversation. You can talk to him, but you’ll just get “Mm-hm,” or short answers in response, and he won’t look at you when he does it. Not in a bad mood, just not focusing on you. He’s focusing on his own thoughts rn, he’ll get to you later. Wait your turn.

Everyone at the bar doesn’t rly know that about him cause by the time he gets there (hell, by the time he’s left his apartment), he’s 100% functioning and awake and whatnot; it’s rly only for a few minutes that he’s Like That and then he’s back to normal, so you’d only see it if you spend the morning at his apartment. 

Tommy finds it endearingly funny. He’s sittin there sipping his coffee and skimming the morning paper while Sam is sitting next to him, all stony faced and quiet, and then Tom sees him shift out of the corner of his eye and just smiles like “Mornin’ Sam.” In the extremely unlikely event that someone else stays around Sam’s place, Tom would become the “he’s fine, just give him a minute” guy

Obviously if they get called in, there ain’t no time for chillin nor staring into space, but without any urgency, Tom is just very “life is good c:” while Trapani.exe Is Not Responding.

Are they cuddlers:

Tommy more so than Sam; he’s the kind of cuddler who will gravitate toward Sam in their sleep. Fall asleep separately, wake up to find himself spooning Sam or with his head on Sam’s chest or something. Just happy to share a bed with him :3

Initially, Sam’s not one to cuddle during sleep; he likes his space and he’s not hugely used to having someone beside him while he slumbers. But the first time he woke up to find Tom spooning him made him stop and think “hold on this rules” so he’s become more open to it. While he still prefers falling asleep separated, it means he looks forward to waking up to Tom even more when he opens his eyes and either he’s in Tom’s arms or Tom’s in his 

Who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon:

Tommy’s the big spoon, Sam is little spoon c;

What is their favourite sleeping position:

(I think all mobsters adopt the habit of sleeping on their backs, no?)

Despite having a whole, big bed to himself, Sam favours sleeping on the edge of the mattress. When Tom ain’t around, Sam sleeps primarily on his back; when Tom is around, Sam tends to fall asleep on his side, with his back to Tom, which looks cold on the outside, but tbh it’s actually more a sign of comfort/trust cause. hey. he’s showing Tom his back. he knows Tom’s got it c: 

Tom’s always favoured sleeping in the middle of the bed. Before he joined the Family, Tom slept on his stomach a lot. After he joined the Family, that boy turned into a starfish sleeper - just arms and legs spread out - and does not show his back to the room, though he more often than not wakes up on his side anyways. In bed with Sam, he does the same thing Sam does and shows him his back (for the same reason ;3c), but God knows he inevitably ends up rolling over and moving toward Sam in his sleep, so it’s not guaranteed how he wakes up

Who steals all the blankets:

Sammy, but that’s cool cause Tom’s one of those blokes who is like. a walking heater.

What they wear to bed:

Well, we know what Tommy wears

Sammy wears PJs that are very similar. His are like a seafoam green tho

Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt:

I don’t think they would intentionally swap clothes, especially not to sleep. They got their jammies for a reason. If they ever did wear each other’s clothes, they’d probably do it accidentally, and it’d be during the day time - such as if they’re in a hurry - and don’t realise until Paulie looks at Tom weird and just “You start shoppin’ at the same place Sam does, Tom?” and Tom suddenly realises why his shirt and/or coat felt like it didn’t fit right

I do like the thought that they swap the smaller details of their outfits, though. Subtle ways to show they’re together. Like wearing each other’s cufflinks or having the other’s pocket square thingy. Swapping ties that they don’t usually wear around the Family cause hey Sam why you wearing Tom’s bright fuckin red tie?? I imagine Tom would like to see Sam wearing his coat if he gave it to him for whatever reason. Like that big trench coat he wears during A Trip to the Country, just. Wrap it around Sam’s shoulders

Who falls asleep mid-conversation:

Tom would. Sam’s more likely to straight up admit he’s not awake enough for this conversation rn, while Tom will try and listen/engage, but his eyelids are drooping and he’s yawning

and then Sam’ll say something and not get a response, and he’ll look over to see Tom’s drifted off

Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares:

Oh, both of em. Tom takes longer to go back to sleep, and he’s more likely to get out of bed to take a walk around the apartment or wash his face to try and chill out. Sam will turn on the light but he tends to just sit there and ground himself than move around.

Both will come for the other when they wake up and realise something’s wrong; Tom will fetch Sam some water and hold him until he’s okay, Sam will go and get Tom from wherever he’s gone and bring him back to bed and hold him as they go back to sleep. Sam doesn’t wanna talk about it, so they sit in silence in his case, while Tom’s more open to hearing “it’s okay” or “it wasn’t your fault” or “there was nothing you coulda done, Tom”. Both will also play the “no no I’m fine go back to sleep” card (Sam a little more aggressively than Tom) but the other ain’t having it.

Over time, Sam stops having so many nightmares, while Tommy just has more

Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep:

I imagine both have had moments where they’ve accidentally lashed out at the other, if only due to not being used to sleeping next to someone or because they were having a bad dream and didn’t wake up quick enough. For a split second, they forget and their brains go “DANGER” before quickly realising that’s just their man laying beside them. 

Sam’s succeeded at punching Tom in the face though. Just. straight up decked Tom before, just the once, when Tom’s tried to wake him from a bad dream.

Next day, Paulie was all “Jesus Tom what happened to your face??” and Tom just “...I fell, Paulie. Down the stairs.” 

“What’d ya do, hit every step with your face?”

“...Yeah, Paulie. That’s what I did.”

And Sam just stayed silent like

Who can’t keep their hands to themself:

I mean when he’s in the Mood, Sam will get handsy. Tom’s too much of a gent, he communicates his Moods with looks rather than touches, but Sam Trapani Doesn’t Fuck Around.

#Tommy/Sam #Tommy Angelo/Sam Trapani #Headcanon Hell #answering #reply #thanks for sending this in!!

[weliveinapokemonworld]

I’m having a thought about Raihan. Or more like a story.

Some days after the Darkest Day,

- the public demands answers he can’t give or that he has to repeat over and over again,

- and flings accusations against him being complicit in Rose’s plan;

- social media is going even dumber;

- he has to wait for the results from the experts checking the Castle’s structural integrity and if it can be repaired at all;

- Rose’s betrayal still is making him reel as well as the what-ifs;

- he’s worried about his family and friends,

- and scared about Leon’s health since he still hasn’t woken up at the hospital,

Raihan’s overwhelmed. He’s been keeping up a calm appearance to reassure the public and his loved ones, but he’s slowly crumbling from the stress.

His brain buzzes from anxiety and a pervasive feeling of helplessness. There’s so much going on where he can do little if anything at all. Checking his news feed makes it worse because castastrophes make money, so the news outlets regurgitate worrying headlines. So people panic.

He might be having a panic attack on his own, Raihan distantly notes in a Corviknight Cab. Or maybe hysterically, he can’t tell.

He must have told the cabbie to change destinations because next he knows, Raihan’s standing in front of Spikemuth’s main entrance. Next, Piers is leading him by the elbow into a brickhouse inside the town.

Somehow he managed to text Piers, alerting him to his arrival. And Piers, recognizing his physical and mental exhaustion, who has grown up in a tight-knit community where everybody helps everybody survive, takes care of him.

He calms Raihan down until he can message his gym trainers and his friends and his family that he’s taking a break and ask his secretary to reschedule any appointments in the next days.

Makes him a cup of tea or hot chocolate. Makes space in the living room so that Raihan can roll out his sleeping bag because he’s too tall for Piers’ tiny guestroom bed. Gets him something small to eat that he can stomach. Gently convinces him to block all apps on his phone except for calls and text messages from people he trusts. Sings a lullaby so that he has something to focus on until he falls asleep.

#pokemon raihan #gym leader raihan #pokemon piers #gym leader piers #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #swsh plot ideas

[almost-a-class-act]

Don't mind me over here, paddling my Liebgott/Tipper dinghy as hard as humanly possible.

Here's the fluffier one from last week, if it's of interest: The vendetta

--

There are three people living in their apartment, Ed thinks sometimes.

It occurs to him again now, watching that twist in Joe’s face, and the sprinkle of plaster that drifts to the floor. There are three of them, him and Joe and the part of Joe that has just put his entire fist through the wall next to the window frame, the punctuation at the end of a rant so explosive that the neighbour’s light had flicked on across the alley.

He’d had an argument with another cabbie, Ed gathers, or maybe it was something else that really set him off to begin with, or a combination of things; it is little different from the last time this happened, or the time before that, over the weeks and months before this. Ed has never been someone who does rage very well, so he hadn’t experienced it like this before Joe – so vast that it takes up too much space in a place this small, so that even when it’s not directed at Ed – and it’s usually not directed at Ed – it becomes the unavoidable context of everything else.

He has known Joe a while by now, so he knows that he has always had a temper, but this is not that. It is a very specific something that he brought home with him, that grew after Toccoa and Aldbourne and the places Ed knew him best, and it is so enormous that it seems he leans into it, in the hope of reaching the bottom, maybe, although Ed isn’t sure that there is one. Sometimes these things are bottomless, and you are meant to swim up, not down.

Not that he’s an expert. Not that either of them are.

Ed, for his part, has never been easy to rile, and he is not riled now, exactly – he is just very tired. He has been pretty good, he thinks, at not meeting anger with anger, sure that it won’t help. But he is also not an endless reserve of patience, and this wall in the apartment where he lived before Joe ever got here, his wall, might be a boundary as metaphorical as it is literal.

“Fix that,” he says, flat. “I’m going to bed.”

Joe’s resistance, already deflating after the sound – and no doubt the sensation – of fist hitting plaster had startled even him, goes entirely limp at that. He doesn’t say anything else, but Ed can hear him moving quietly around the apartment for a while after Ed has gotten into bed and turned the light off.

When Joe eventually eases the door open, Ed is laying on his good side, facing away. There is the rustle of clothing as Joe strips down in the dark, and then the mattress dips as he gets in. He doesn’t come any closer, but there is something expectant in the air, as if he knows that Ed is awake.

“I fixed the wall,” he murmurs, after a moment. “Once it’s dry, I’ll paint it.”

“Great,” Ed says. “Maybe I’ll get my deposit back.”

Joe is silent for a long few seconds. Then: “Sorry, Tip. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You – fuck.” I’ve never seen you look at me like that before. He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to; they can both feel the current in this that’s different from their usual.

“You think I don’t get mad?” Ed asks. He feels, rather than sees, Joe go still behind him. “I was in Normandy a fucking week. You think I woke up in the hospital with my face all fucked up and missing an eye and the doctors telling me I wasn’t gonna walk again, and I didn’t want to put my fist through a wall?”

Joe hesitates. “You never told me about that.”

“Not really the kind of thing you put in a letter when the person you’re writing to is still fighting a war,” Ed points out, grim. During those months in the hospital, finding out how deep his grief went after the morphine haze had worn off, he’d had no context for anything this fucking awful and thereby no words to write it with – even if he’d dared to complain about his lot when Joe was still out there, when there was still something that could be wrested from him. “I burnt out on it, anyway,” he admits. “It’s exhausting, being angry all the time. Aren’t you tired?”

“Yeah,” Joe says quietly. “Been tired for a while.”

Ed lifts his hand, and without having to be asked, Joe reaches out in the dark and clasps it so that he can help Ed roll onto his back.

“We need to figure it out,” Ed says firmly. He can’t see Joe very well across the pillows when he turns his head, but neither of them have let go of each other’s hand. “You can be as angry as you need to be. I don’t want you to pretend that you’re not. But you can’t be an asshole.”

Joe doesn’t argue with him. He knows, after all, how he’s been, though knowing and doing something about it are two different things. “I don’t always – I’m not as good at finding the line as I used to be.”

“Then I’ll tell you,” Ed says. “No more punching the walls is probably a good start.”

Joe lets out a breath. “Yeah, I’m real sorry about that, Tip. I’ll make it up to you.”

He means that. He always does, which is how Ed knows that this isn’t unfixable.

“Did you hurt your hand?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Joe replies. “Immediately regretted it, if that counts for anything.”

Ed releases the hand he’s holding and offers up his palm. Joe shifts so that he can gingerly place his injured hand in Ed’s. Very gently, Ed takes it and presses his lips to the heel of Joe’s palm before he lays it safely on his own chest, his fingers curled loosely around Joe’s wrist, where it doesn’t seem to hurt him.

“You forgive me?” Joe murmurs.

“Yeah,” Ed says. “But I’m going to hold the line on the don’t be an asshole thing.”

“I know you are,” Joe replies. “I – thanks.”

It’s a don’t let me fuck this up in not so many words. Ed will do his best.

-- There’s a ruddy pink sky outside, a shade in transition, but the summer evening is so warm still and the street so peaceful that it feels like sunset might last a long time. Ed is sitting on the porch with a book, but he’s not really reading it; beyond the page in front of him, past the porch steps and the front walk and the chain-link gate, Joe is standing on the sidewalk examining a half-deflated rubber ball while the two children who live next door, a girl nearing her teens and her much younger brother, look on gravely.

Joe says something to the girl, who nods and accepts the ball back, and then Joe turns and heads toward the house.

“Need to find my pump,” he tells Ed as he jogs lightly up the steps. “I’ll re-fill it, see if I can figure out where it’s leaking air.”

Ed looks past him, at where the children wait by the gate. The girl waves, and Ed raises his hand to return it. Mister Joe seems to have become the neighbourhood authority on fixing everything from deflated balls to bicycles with a wonky chain at some point. Ed has no idea what brought it on, but there’s something about watching Joe take their concerns very seriously that digs in somewhere, sweet in a way that aches a little – a wistfulness that he doesn’t feel very often.

He sets aside his book and gets up, making his way into the house with more ease than he did in the first year or two after the war, tracking down Joe in the front bedroom that they mostly use for storage. He finds Joe rummaging through a box stacked on top of a dresser, and slows to a halt in the doorway, watching him.

He blurts it out before it’s even fully formed in his mind. “Are you happy?”

In profile, he catches the puzzled dip of Joe’s expression. “With what?”

“With everything,” Ed replies. “With me.”

Joe stops rooting around in the box, then, turning his attention to Ed properly, that puzzled expression deepening. There’s something cautious in it, like he thinks he might have done something wrong and is trying to figure out what. “Do I not seem happy?”

“You seem fine,” Ed says, because he does. Nothing Joe has ever said or done has implied that he’s not satisfied with his lot in life here. And yet. “I just… I don’t know. You’re really good with kids. I know you think the world of your nieces. Is there a version of this where you got married and had kids?”

“Sure,” Joe says with a shrug, without even thinking about it. “Probably.”

Ed swallows. It’s the answer he was expecting, but not the one he wanted. “Stupid question, I guess.”

“There’s a version where I got married and had kids because there’s a version where you never wrote to me after Carentan,” Joe says, like he’s explaining something immediately obvious. “Just like there’s a version where you didn’t wait for me to come back. None of that stuff matters. It didn’t happen that way.”

Ed mulls that, for just a moment. “You don’t ever think about what it would’ve been like?”

“What are we talking about here, Tip?” Joe asks. “I don’t regret anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” He hesitates, like it has just occurred to him why Ed might be asking. That cautious look is back again, but this time, there is less of him that wants to know the answer. “Do you?”

��No,” Ed says at once. “Never. I just thought – there are downsides to every choice.”

“Not downsides,” Joe says. “Just differences. Anyway. We both know damn well no one else would have put up with what I was like when I got home.”

Ed almost smiles. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Joe agrees, repeating the phrase that had become his mantra. Asshole? He used to ask, short-hand after a while, checking in about his own behaviour. Borderline, Ed would reply sometimes. But Joe had never put his fist through the wall again.

He had learned how to garden instead. He had learned how to bake bread. He had learned how to fix bicycles. What are you doing? Ed had asked, years ago now, finding Joe manfully making his way through a book on growing your own vegetables from the library. Not being an asshole, Joe had replied.

“Anyway,” Joe says, tapping his knuckles deceivingly gently against Tip’s sternum as he passes him with the pump in hand. “Look on the bright side. When they start to yell, they’re someone else’s problem.”

“Would be nice if that were true about people across the board,” Ed says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Joe casts him a look back over his shoulder that makes Ed grin.

#band of brothers #fanfiction #roaroftheninth #LiebTip

[liminalpebble]

Eddie's Education: Chapter 16

Masterlist link

Minors DNI

Chapter 16

Eddie very nearly threw his entire wallet at the taxi driver as he rushed to pay up and get to his front door as soon as humanly possible.

Leia (just as excited but more controlled) picked it up where he dropped it, asked the cabbie what the fare was, and deliberately took out the right amount plus a generous tip for tolerating the two of them groping and kissing like horny teenagers in his backseat.

As soon as she thanked the driver and waved, Eddie was dragging her by the other hand, stumbling backwards up the steps to his trailer. He didn't want to stop watching her for even a moment, but resigned himself to it is as he turned and hastily unlocked the door, gathered her in, and slammed it shut. He immediately pinned her against the wall, kissing her hard, drinking her in like a thirsty man rescued from the desert.

She giggled, delighted by his clumsy, reckless enthusiasm for her. “You're like a tornado when you're worked up, you know that?” she said with a smile. He parted from her lips to meet her eyes with genuine concern.

“Did I hurt you, sweetheart?”

“No...no. Not at all,” she said, lowering her voice, eyes half-lidded and hazy, high on him. “I love it. I love your passion, your fire...I love everything about you. I love you, Eddie Munson.”

For a moment there was nothing but their heavy breaths suspended in the tiny space between their mouths, the weight of her confession floating between them. The tension broken as Eddie nearly shouted, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude at finally hearing it. “God! Leia, I love you too. I love you so much,” he gushed, then kissed her hard, full lips and long tongue claiming her mouth and moving further to the vulnerable skin of her neck. She gasped as his arm looped around her waist and his strong thigh found its way between her legs.

“Too many...layers,” he huffed, gripping handfuls of the white robe of her costume and pulling it over her head, mussing up her long loose hair as it fell in a shiny black curtain.

“Uh huh,” she affirmed, breathless, as she began to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers began to tremble and struggle with the buttons as she thought of something that troubled her. “I...uh...I can keep some clothes on, or we can turn the lights off if you want,” she said quietly, almost matter-of-factly. The banal tone of it, the assumption that it was a normal part of sex because no man would want to see her naked body, is what broke his heart the worst.

Eddie stopped in his tracks, eyebrows arched as he stroked the loose hair away from her flushed face and heaving chest. He eyed her whole body now that he could do so shamelessly, and saw nothing remotely in need of hiding. Here she was before him, in the tank top and shorts she wore under her costume, large breasts straining against the tight fabric, voluptuous hips and ass making him salivate as they filled the athletic shorts deliciously, the fleshy curve of her stomach making him ravenous as he bit his lip and hummed in satisfaction at the meal before him.

“Honey...no no no,” he said, kissing her more gently, “Jesus...no. I want to see every fucking delicious inch of you. Why wouldn't I...that's...” He trailed off, feeling his heart sink and shatter as he understood that this must have been what Sam always told her to do; that he made her feel ugly, only desirable if he didn't have to look at her. “Jesus...” he gasped out, eyes welling up at the thought of her being treated that way for so long. “Listen to me, Leia. You're gorgeous and perfect and incredible, inside and out, and I'm the luckiest man on the planet to have you like this...all of you” he declared, punctuating and emphasizing his words with kisses before his worshiping mouth moved over the swell of her breasts, tongue darting between them in an animalistic lap. “You know, I was going to ask you the same thing. Because of the scars. I wouldn't blame you if you don't want to see them.”

In response she ran a hand down the column of bare skin revealed through his unbuttoned shirt, watching and caressing him with nothing but love, curiosity and admiration. “No,” she said in a pained whisper, “No Eddie, I want to touch all of you too. I want to kiss them all...every single one...because they mean you survived to be in my arms now. You've been so strong and so brave.”

Speechless, he held her closer, hugging her tightly against himself, eyes squinting against a swell of tears. It'd never been like this for Eddie. His lovers thus far had been the occasional bored former cheerleader or prom queen looking for the thrill of bedding “The Freak” just to see if he lived up to his name. He always kept his clothes on, or the lights dim. They expected to be used and dominated. That's what they came for and that's all they wanted, but he found he could only give them softness, kindness, and attention when he took them, which proved too much, too vulnerable for them to handle. He wanted them to tell him who they were, what they liked, what they wanted in life and in bed. He desperately wanted a connection. He remembered every name and cherished them, appreciated what they gave him, even though he knew they wouldn't do the same. They'd just write him off as a disappointing notch in their bedposts.

This was different. This was so different. This was everything he ever wanted and more. They finished baring each other from the waist up, peeling off the other's shirt to feel more, skin to skin. Eddie watched her, dumbstruck, as her bra fell away. His hands cupped her flesh, caressing and kneading the soft skin. The cool metal of his rings and the slight prick of his callouses sent little shock waves of sensation through her skin and straight to her core where it rubbed against his powerful thigh. She nuzzled against his lean, bare chest and gently laid a trail of pecking kisses across his scarred shoulder.

“Does this hurt?”

“Sometimes, but not now. Not at all.”

“Should I stop?”

“Please...please don't,” he pleaded. He'd never let someone touch him there, like this, before and he needed it in a way he never realized.

Leia continued the journey of her mouth, peppering kisses and gentle licks over every scarred part; his shoulder, the dip of his sternum, his ribs. Leia anointed every part with her mouth. When she got to his slender hips she ran her fingertips over the leather and chains, then along the belt loops as she dropped to her knees and held his gaze.

“May I?” she requested, so sweetly.

Eddie smiled in disbelief. “Sweetheart, you can do whatever you want with me. Whenever you want.”

She chuckled and unhooked his belt sliding his pants down his legs. There was another patch of scarred skin on his muscular thigh, just below the hem of his boxers. She pressed her lips to it as her other hand snaked around the back of his leg, up under the cloth to grab the strong curve of his ass, pulling him closer to her hungry lips. She stroked over the stiff bulge between his legs. He was big and warm and there was a telltale spot of wetness on the plaid fabric where the stiff tent peaked. Leia looked up to Eddie, hoping for his permission to go farther.

He enthusiastically surrendered, groaning, “Fuck, princess...yes, yes!” as he turned to prop himself against the wall, throwing his head back, legs growing unsteady, as she pulled his boxers down and his hard cock sprung out. His eyes were glued to her as she explored him; hands massaging up and down the delicate engorged skin and the faint topography of veins. As her little red tongue flicked out to lick a pearl of precum off the slit, he went weak in the knees. Unable to stand upright any longer, Eddie slide down the wall.

Leia chuckled and joined him where he'd landed prone on the floor, snuggling and kissing his cheek before finding a spot between his legs to continue devouring him. He watched her sink her silky mouth down the considerable length of him until his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. Leia loved it...loved the taste of him, loved watching him come undone and enjoy her. She was slightly apprehensive, wondering if he would grab her hair, fuck her face, or at least buck into her a little too roughly, but he didn't.

She knew, of course, Eddie would never dare to take her like that unless he was absolutely sure she wanted it. In fact, he knew without a doubt, that he would give her anything in the world she wanted, but his first impulse was to coddle and adore her while she pleasured him. He stroked her hair so gently, as if she were a kitten, fragile and precious under his big hands. The torrent of affectionate praise from his lips was gratifying, overwhelmingly arousing.

He grunted and groaned, saying, “Oh...god, you're so beautiful like this...so sweet....ahhh...feels so good, Princess. Fuck, you're a goddess.”

Leia moaned around his cock, against his skin, his praise going straight to her cunt, painting an increasingly wet patch on her panties.

She released him for a moment, then he watched, rapt, as she licked one long stroke from his thick base to his swollen tip, lapping at the top. Then she implored, “Please, come in my mouth, scoundrel. I want to taste it.” What a sight she was, with those irresistible doe eyes meeting his and her warm buxom chest pressed against his muscular thighs, rising and falling with her breath. So fucking pretty. Eddie thought, in awe.

He threw his head back and panted as she took him back into her mouth, bobbing her head. He said, shuttering, “Anything for you, Princess. Anything...you want...always.”

Eddie came harder than he'd ever come in his entire life as Leia swallowed every drop eagerly. He had fantasized about this a thousand times and none of it could ever compare to what it truly was to have her this way. Leia lifted herself up to sitting between his legs, stroking his beautiful heaving abdomen in soothing little circles as he caught his breath, eyes still shut to savor the feeling. She purred as she caressed him, studying the lovely ladder of muscles running up column of his stomach with her fingertips, “You're even more gorgeous like this, Handsome...all fucked out. You were so delicious.”

Eddie opened his eyes, coming back to Earth as he listened to her sweet compliments and smiled a lazy contented smirk. Then he jumped up suddenly in one fell swoop, snapping her up in his arms which drew a yelp from her. He chuckled at her reaction as he held on tightly to her generous ass. Leia's legs automatically wrapped around him (an instinct not to fall, but also to get as close as possible to his body). Setting her on the edge of one of his amps, he leaned over, nuzzling a sensitive spot behind her ear as he whispered into it.

“I bet you taste pretty spectacular too, sweetheart, and I can't wait to find out.” He grabbed the waistband of her shorts and panties as he sucked on her neck, an appetizer to his delectable main course. As he yanked them down her legs, she leaned back, wobbling slightly on her perch. He rose up again in time to catch her, splaying a palm against her back. Seeing her bare tits and stiff nipples arched out like this, he couldn't resist taking one in his mouth and stroking the other. Leia let out a sharp whimper of pleasure and said, “Oh Eddie...Jesus, Eddie, that feels so good.”

“You're about to feel a whole lot better, princess,” he said going down on his knees, throwing her legs over his shoulders and beginning to suck and nip at the tender flesh of her inner thigh. She could feel his heat and breath dancing over the wet sensitive skin between her legs, as he moved further and further up.

She stopped him with a gentle hand in his hair, urging his eyes up to her. She looked so worried. “What is it, sweet girl?”

Leia struggled to get the words out. She was embarrassed. “Are...are you sure, Eddie? You don't have to do that.”

He met her eyes, gauging her responses with his inky perceptive ones, and said with stunned disbelief, “No one's ever done this with you before, have they?”

She looked away and shook her head, round cheeks flushed with arousal and a little shame. “Selfish prick,” he huffed under his breath, discovering yet another reason to hate her ex. Eddie stood back up and held her face, coaxing her eyes to meet his. He looked so enthralled, like he'd just received the biggest Christmas present under the tree, then heard that Metallica would be coming later for the turkey dinner.

Angling his face a bit closer to hers, he whispered to her in a conspiratorial tone, oozing cocksure charm. “Well, it's my absolute pleasure to introduce you to it, because I've been obsessed with fantasies about devouring that sweet thick juicy little cunt since the day I met you,” he confessed smoothly as he ran one finger gently up and down her slit. She whimpered at the sensation and the anticipation. The innocence excitement of her reactions completely unraveled him.

“Really?” she gasped, wide-eyed. She was genuinely surprised, since Sam had convinced her the every man on earth was disgusted by the idea of eating a woman out.

Eddie chuckled, charmed by the novelty of this. As he raised her chin, he asked, “Want me to tell you about all those dirty dirty thoughts I'd been having about my tutor?”

“Uh huh.” She whimpered, nodding enthusiastically and pulling her naked body closer to his, holding on tight to his sturdy biceps as he spoke between kisses.

“Well...I've been thing about sitting you on your desk, just like this. Kneeling in front of you, just like this,” he said, demonstrating by lowering himself again and mouthing gently over her thighs. “Every time you wore those fucking stockings and heels, it drove me crazy.”

She giggled. “Really?”

“Yeah. Absolutely feral. You have spectacular legs,” he said, kissing down one, as if to demonstrate their allure. “But most of all, I'd daydream about tearing those stockings and panties off that sweet pussy with my teeth, like a goddam animal so I could do this...”

In a split second his mouth was on her soaked folds, lapping and sucking at the juicy engorged skin as he held onto her hips, rolling her farther onto his face each time she tried to move back. He grunted saying, “...tastes so sweet...need more” as he greedily pulled her to his ravenous mouth, dragging her forward until most of her weight was now on his shoulders, his nose nuzzling her clit, and his tongue darting deep inside her.

She yelped, half in surprise and half in ecstasy, and said, “Eddie! Eddie, honey, can you breathe? Am I hurting you?”

He looked up at her with those dreamy brown eyes, and though she couldn't see his mouth where it was still latched to her sex, she could see the creases in the corners of his eyes, and feel his smile against her most sensitive skin. He was fine, alright. To wordlessly answer her question, Eddie latched his lips around her clit and began suck and swirl his tongue, while sliding his fingers inside of her, crooking them at just the right angle. She let out a sharp loud moan at the entirely new sensation and covered her mouth, but Eddie reached up, pulled her hand away, and shook his head. He wanted to hear every sound he earned from her. Before long, any thought or concern she had about any of this dissolved in the warm bath of abject pleasure. He only stopped to speak once saying, “That's right, princess, I know you're close. Come all over my face. Sing for me.”

Her body obeyed with no hesitation, no delay. Although she wanted to scream for him, all that came out was a strangled gasp, all breath taken away by an earth-shattering white-hot wave of climax.

He eased her through it; fingers massaging slowly inside as her thighs trembled around his head, his fluffy curls tickling her skin. He released his sucking lips from her clit, and smiled up at her adoringly, love-drunk, as his head rested against her thigh, sensual lips drenched with her slick. Eddie ran his thumb over his bottom lip then sucked her flavor off of it, holding her gaze hostage the whole time; a little private performance for her. “How was that?” he asked with a faux-innocent tone, knowing damn well how good it was.

But all she could do was heave and stutter, limp body lolling precariously on the amp, all thoughts sucked away into the sky by Hurricane Eddie. Finally she breathed out, “Eddieeee...Thank you.”

He chuckled, and took her hand, kissing it. “Come on, sweetheart. I think you need to lay down for now,” he suggested, curling his arm around her. She nodded in a haze, following his lead.

“There'll be time for more fun and game in the morning,” he said as he tucked her in beside him in bed, covering both of their naked bodies in the soft sheets.

He could see she was already fading, exhausted, and smiled at his good work. Eddie thought he'd never seen anything as beautiful as her restful face. Then her small hand reached out to his as she whispered, “Eddie??”

“Yeah, dollface?”

“I love you, Eddie.”

He pulled her into his chest, kissing the top of her head. “I love you, too, Princess Leia.”

@sunflowerdaydreamer

#eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #strangers things fanfic #strangers things

[silverjetsystm]

New to Moon Kn.ight? Here's What to Know!

Gathering my usual onboarding to new mutuals. I promise, I'm friendly! This may be updated in the future. Feel free to ask questions to the blog, in DM, or in the comments.

Welcome to the Midnight Mission~

OOC:

Since tumblr is a chewing gum webbed site, I abbreviate Moon Kn.ight as "MK" and Mr. Kn.ight as "Mr K" in asks. Both are Marc At Work.

Comic reading list, if you're into that. TL;DR - Moon Kn.ight (2021) #1 is the best introduction for new readers and then I encourage going back to the 1980 series.

If you don't want to be spoiled for current MK comic activity, please blacklist 'wednesday spoilers'

While I do not post current events on this blog, I may at times reblog historical/information posts related to antisemetism. This is because the system's history is heavily influenced by antisemetism. The tag is 'antisemetism cw'

Characterization:

616!Steven is a Wall Street financier/movie producer. He does not fight. He's in charge of taking care of the body's physical and the system's financial needs. Steven is the most assimilated but has strong Jewish ties to Tzedakah (philanthropy and charity). He's also the most stubborn and hates violence.

616!Jake is a down to earth cabbie. Other than a brief time as Moon Kn.ight, he also doesn't wear the vestments. Jake actively practices Judaism, keeps kosher, and is the emotional protector as well as gatekeeper. Protecting is usually when Marc gets bent out of shape about the more positive emotions.

I don't go into why/how the System developed DID. However, I will say I do not consider either the show's version nor Bemis' run to be canon.

Powers, Rumors, Currently

MK/Mr K has very little moon powers. A little bit of enhanced endurance, stamina, durability, strength so he doesn't go splat as often. Not much of a healing factor. Powers are tied to his faith in Khonshu, which has been waned for years. I also give him cool glowing eyes, night vision, and spooky voice.

The one thing most will hear if they're in M.arvel New York is that Moon Kn.ight ripped a guy's face off and went on a 'carve moons into bad guy's foreheads' spree. That was years ago. Marc doesn't do that now. But he's used to being treated with suspicion and fear over it. He's also used to people not believing him that Khonshu is real.

Currently, Marc runs The Midnight Mission in -mumbles, handwaves- Manhattan. People go to him to ask for help and he brings the fear and pain to whatever's giving his people trouble. He's got two main assistants who are vampires, Reese and Soldier.

Hunters' M.oon/Dr. Badr is the other Fist of Khonshu.

The Midnight Mission's space is really the House of Shadows. It's sentient.

Avengers and street heroes will know that Marc Spe.ctor=MK and that Grant and Lockley are also part of MK. Many people do not. Secret identities and all that.

Marc will very likely not remove his mask for a long time around new and long-term friends. He doesn't enjoy being referred to as Marc when he's wearing the mask.

#on the internet everyone thinks you're a duck #//save

[platonic-pals-punchout]

WELCOME TO PLATONIC PALS PUNCHOUT!

If Saturday cartoons taught us anything it’s that The Power Of Friendship is the ultimate weapon that can defeat any obstacle! But can it defeat...other friendships!? 

This tournament pits Dynamic Duo vs Dynamic Duo to see who has the Ultimate Friendship. They will do this by punching other pairs in the face winning polls!

We are currently running preliminaries, since only 1 pair can be allowed per fandom! Preliminaries are over. Congrats to the winners!

Tied preliminaries will not team up. Instead, ties will enter the bracket as separate teams, as if they were from different fandoms.

Links to polls:

Percy Jackson and the Olympians (book series) Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood vs Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase

Supernatural (tv show) Castiel & Sam Winchester vs Dean Winchester & Charlie Bradbury

Homestuck (web comic) Dave Strider & John Egbert vs Nepeta Leijon & Equius Zahhak

Inanimate Insanity (web series) Cabby & Bot vs Balloon & Suitcase

Pokemon (video game & anime) Ingo & Emmet vs Ash Ketchum & Pikachu

Good luck to everyone!

👉Absolutely DO NOT comment things like "These characters are totally dating!" This is an aro-safe space & insisting that 2 characters someone sees as platonic are ~actually dating~ is cruel. If you genuinely believe someone cheated & submitted an unqualified duo, DM or send me an ask.

(Note: I will NOT be going out of my way to organize every single piece of propaganda, bc that is WAY too much work. However, I will reblog all propaganda that comes to my attention, & I will answer all propaganda asks.)

Shameless self-plug: if you like my me, please check out my [YouTube channel] where I do art & science education, or my [Warriors/art tumblr]. You can also donate to [my ko-fi] to help me afford my meds & food. Thank you!!

#polls masterlist #platonic pals punchout #tournament #tumblr tournament #character tournament #bracket #team tournament #fandom poll #aromantic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #supernatural #homestuck #pokemon

[desktopmermaid]

Hello :] I've been meaning to ask, but what happened between jo and angel later in the story, like when jo and rod "are together" :0

Hi tiki! : D

Yesss, this means I gotta explain the timeline a bit lol. Incoming long ramble…:p

So! Jo and Rod first meet almost a decade before Jo’s storyline, Roadgame,starts.

They form kinda a close bond over the short amount of time they know each other. They go their separate ways (as Rod will always have to do sadly) and bump into each other years later, when Roadgame starts.

They again spend time together before Rod leaves again.

The next time they meet is when Jo is pregnant with Cabby. Rod tries his best to try and help out a bit during this time but yeah, he can’t stay in one place for long.

Jo meets Angel when Cabbys around 2ish. They have a relationship for a while before Jo gets pregnant with Ravi.

Angel is unfortunately kidnapped (He’s a bounty hunter. Both on earth and in space. Someone put a bounty on him and he got taken to space to be dealt with) and Jo believes that he got cold feet and bailed on her. : (

Rod visits again when her kids are young and helps as much as he can.

And then Cabby’s story, Afterhours is the next arc, is when Cabby is in her early 20s and Ravi is 19ish. And the first chapter of this arc is them trying to find Angel through psychic means..

So the tl;dr of it is, Angel is stuck in space for the most part❗️missing the chance to watch his kid grow up. When cabby and Ravi do save him and bring him home, there is some tension between him and Rod. Mostly cos Rod thinks he’s a deadbeat who ran off after getting Jo pregnant LOL. But they actually have pretty similar life stories and ideals, so they end up getting along after things are explained.

Rod is a very special person to Jo, and they love each other very much. But due to Rod’s curse and general lifestyle, he can’t settle down. Jo ends up getting married to Angel, but is still in a, kinda romantic relationship/fwbs with Rod?

Angel doesn’t mind, he’s a real “my wife can do whatever the hell she wants” kinda guy.Lol (jo is polyamorous, angel isn’t)

This might make no sense but..hope dis helps LOL.

#ask

[banannabethchase]

Claudio/Yuta mamma mia honeymoon ocean sex

Honey, to Say the Least, You're a Doggone Beast - also on AO3

~

Wheeler and Claudio finally arrive to their cottage for their honeymoon. What else is there to do but each other?

~

Bingo square N3 Marriage Fic, completed! Technically a cheat, since I already wrote them actually getting married and this is their honeymoon, but I'm counting it Because I Say So. Title from Honey Honey by ABBA.

~

They’d decided early on that Wheeler would be in charge of managing the honeymoon, since he was so dismally distanced from the wedding planning.

“It’s not my fault,” he’d said, staring panicked at a website describing linen options he couldn’t even pronounce, “I don’t even know what taffeta is.” He’d stared up at Claudio, confused. “Can you – can you and my dad and Renee take care of this? I don’t think I can do it.”

So the job fell on him to come up with a honeymoon to match the wedding.

As they step off the plane into the tropical paradise, Wheeler’s unable to keep from feeling cocky. He absolutely nailed it this time.

“This is incredible,” Claudio says, scanning the area. “How did you even find this place?”

Wheeler shrugs, trying to keep his smile for being too smug. “I know what you like. Other than snow with remote cabins, of course.”

Claudio gazes around the place. “Remote cabin? Yes.” His eyes settle on the blue ocean stretching out in front of them. “Snow? Not in the slightest.” He pulls Wheeler in, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Incredible job, darling.” His lips turn to Wheeler’s ear. “I cannot wait to do terrible things to you in our private cabin.”

Wheeler grins and feels himself blush pink. “Likewise.”

They stay touching the entire ride to the little row of cabins, the cabbie chatting the whole way.

Wheeler can’t focus on anything but his excitement – ten days on their own. No gym, no work, no distractions. All the two of them.

He throws the driver a smile as he and Claudio yank their suitcases up the road to the cabins.

“This is truly gorgeous,” Claudio says. “Number 215, correct?”

Wheeler nods, looking around. The ring of little cabins with paths give plenty of running areas, but also plenty of space between each family. He grins. He might be able to be loud tonight.

“Wheeler, you are thinking so loudly.” Claudio catches him by the waist. “You almost walked past our home for the week.

“Right!” Wheeler pulls out his phone for the digital unlock. He pushes the door open, Claudio gasps.

“Okay, I was wrong,” Claudio says, scooting in past Wheeler and looking around. “This is gorgeous.” He chucks the luggage down near the bed then takes Wheeler’s hand. “Let’s explore.”

Wheeler was hoping for something a little less…public, but any time with Claudio will do.

They got in early, the red eye jet lag being beaten by sheer excitement, and the noon day sun sparkles across the water in a way that feels pretty damned fairy tale. The step out onto the dock near the front door.

“Is it weird we’re on a different beach when we live by the ocean?” Wheeler asks. “It feels weird.”

“Near our beach, we’re never this alone,” Claudio says. He grabs Wheeler by the waist and hauls him in. “Always someone pestering.” He leans in, kissing Wheeler thoroughly, intentionally. Wheeler soaks in it. Claudio’s right – there’s no one there to interrupt them.

Wheeler pulls back. “I’m so glad we checked luggage. I have so many ideas for this week.”

Claudio lights up. “Ideas? What kind of ideas?”

Wheeler grins, grabbing Claudio’s wrist. “Why don’t you find out.”

“Actually.” Claudio toes off his sneakers and peels off his socks. “Come on, husband. Let’s go for a swim.”

Wheeler stares at him. “I had much more naked ideas.”

Claudio’s grin goes a little devious, a little intentional, and then he’s running at Wheeler. With a tackle around the waist, the two of them fly backward into the warm, blue water with a splash a cannonballing child would be jealous of. Wheeler expects to flail in the water as he tries to find the surface, but sure arms haul him back upward.

“You’re such a douchebag,” Wheeler laughs, flipping the hair out of his eyes. “I can barely see!” He pats Claudio’s head. “You don’t have that problem.”

“Rude,” Claudio says, and he dives under the water to grab one of Wheeler’s legs, but Wheeler is ready. He hooks the other leg around Claudio’s waist and thrusts his hips forward. Claudio makes a desperate sort of noise in the back of his throat. “That’s cheating,” he murmurs. He slides a hand around Wheeler’s back.

“Is it?” Wheeler asks. He grabs Claudio’s arm and uses the leverage to hop back up on the dock. “You’re the one who speared me into the ocean.”

“I was flirting!” Claudio says. He wades up to stand in the space between Wheeler’s thighs, hands on the wet denim. “Am I no longer allowed to flirt with you now that we’re married?” He hands slide a little higher, and the denim is doing nothing to conceal Wheeler’s interest.

“If a spear is flirting, I’m shocked your proposal went so well.” He traps Claudio in his legs and draws him in. “It’s stupid how tall you are, by the way.”

“I have never heard you complain before.”

Wheeler leans down and kisses Claudio. He expects something quick, something gentle, something sweet, but it quickly shifts. Claudio’s fingertips dig into his thighs, pulling him closer, and Wheeler’s too far away from him like this.

“This pants are a curse,” Claudio says, and it’s the only warning Wheeler gets before he slides his hand along the denim covering his dick.

“Get up here,” Wheeler says. “Up – go to the cabin.”

“Am I in trouble?” Claudio asks. He uses his stupidly giant arms to effortlessly lift himself onto the dock. Wheeler would push him back into the water as revenge, but he has more important things to do.

“Yeah,” Wheeler says, grinning. “Go to your room.”

Claudio laughs and throws his head back. “I like where this is going.” He stands and walks backward. “You are coming, yes?”

“Nah,” Wheeler says, rolling to his feet. “I think I’ll go for a walk or something.” He tosses a grin Claudio’s way. “See if there’s any hot guys on this island.”

Claudi’s eyes flash a little, that possessive undertone that makes Wheeler’s knees weak. “You be careful with that, Schatzi,” he says, a hint of a laugh behind his words.

Wheeler shrugs and peels the shirt over his head. He can feel Claudio’s eyes on him as he swings the shirt around his hand. “Careful with what?”

Claudio runs toward him, but, instead of throwing him into the water again, he throws Wheeler over his shoulder.

“Took you long enough!” Wheeler laughs. “I was worried I’d have to go fully nude before you’d pick up what I was going for.”

“I would never complain about that, darling.” He shifts Wheeler in his arms, and Wheeler narrowly manages not to hit any part of his body on the door frame. He considers that a good omen.

Claudio throws him on the king sized bed, taking up most of the hotel room. Wheeler bounces so hard he almost falls off as he yanks his shirt off over his head.

“We’re getting the bed wet!” Wheeler says, scrambling off. “I love you, but I don’t want to get stuck sleeping in the ocean.”

“Fair point,” Claudio concedes. He looks around rapidly, throwing his near translucent shirt somewhere in the room. “Oh. Oh, that’s perfect.”

Wheeler joins him at the balcony door. “You and your balconies,” he mutters, but he’s already shuffling out of his jeans.

“You see my vision, darling,” Claudio says, pressing himself up against Wheeler’s back. At some point he’d gotten rid of his pants and boxers, and it’s so close to enough but not there. “At this balcony there are no pesky family members or gym workers getting in our way.” He slides his hands down Wheeler’s sides. “And those cabins have their own little fences so they can’t see us.”

“You’ve already sold me on the balcony sex,” Wheeler laughs. He kicks his boxers away and they get stuck in a lounge chair. “Stop selling. It’s not necessary.”

“It’s dirty talk!” Claudio says. “I’m making it sexy!”

“You’re acting like you’re selling desks to an elementary school principal. I’m gonna buy what you’re selling, baby.” He pushes his ass back, eyes half rolling back when he’s met by Claudio’s hard cock. “And that is not dirty talk.”

“Yes it is,” Claudio says, kissing along the back of Wheeler’s neck. “I’m talking about us having sex.”

Wheeler turns around to find himself caged in Claudio’s arms. “Dirty talk is me saying I expect you to fuck me like it’s the last thing you plan to do.” He makes eye contact with Claudio as he licks up his hands, grinning at the patches on pink on Claudio’s cheeks. “Dirty talk is saying that I want you to shove your dick so far inside me I feel it for days, that I want you to make me come so hard I almost fall over the railing.” He reaches down to stroke Claudio’s dick once, with intent. “Dirty talk,” he says, leaning in, “is saying if you don’t get this cock inside me in the next two minutes, I’m going to die.”

Claudio exhales slowly, steadily. “If I had known marrying you would turn you into this sexual devil, I would have agreed with your elopement idea.”

Wheeler throws his head back, laughing. “I knew you’d come around to it!”

“If we eloped, however,” Claudio says, hips twitching up into the ring of Wheeler’s hand, “you wouldn’t have met your other dads, and Mox wouldn’t be watching our house right now.”

“Please don’t bring up my fathers when you’re about to rail me into oblivion,” Wheeler says, dropping his hand. “It ruins the mood.”

“I was continuing a conversation!”

Wheeler sighs. “You really are bad at dirty talk.” He slips under Claudio’s arm and walks back inside, digging in his bags.

Claudio’s surprisingly silent as Wheeler pulls out the lube. Silent enough that it makes him suspicious.

“What,” Wheeler begins as he turns around, “are you –”

He’s cut off by Claudio yanking him forward, hands cupping Wheeler’s cheeks. Wheeler gasps into Claudio’s mouth, winding his arms around Claudio’s neck. They’re both still saltwater-damp from the ocean, sliding against each other, and Claudio pulls them backward to the balcony.

“Hold onto the rail, Schatzi,” Claudio growls into Wheeler’s ear. “You’ll need the support.”

Wheeler’s entire body shivers with anticipation, and he does as Claudio says.

“Just for clarification,” Claudio says over the click of the opening lube bottle, “I intend to fuck you against this rail, outside, technically in public.”

“Stop talking about it and do it,” Wheeler whines. “Come on, Claudio. It’s our honeymoon.”

“Oh, now you don’t want me to talk,” Claudio laughs into Wheeler’s ear.

“Just – get in me!” Wheeler demands. “Quit making me wait!”

Mercifully, Claudio’s laughter comes hand in hand as his finger slides between Wheeler’s cheeks. Wheeler whines and wiggles back against it.

Claudio murmurs something in German that Wheeler can’t translate with all his blood away from his brain as he slides a finger inside of Wheeler.

“Yeah,” Wheeler says. “Finally. Okay.” He babbles, pushing back. “Another, come on.”

“Patience,” Claudio says. But he traces a second finger around Wheeler’s rim, teasing.

“This is the meanest thing you’ve ever done to me,” Wheeler snaps. “Am I not going to get dicked down on my honeymoon? Stop taking your time.”

“Don’t tell me how to fuck my husband.”

Husband.

All it took was the single word, and Wheeler’s pushing back on Claudio’s fingers with a moan.

“Ah,” Claudio says. “Interesting.”

He finally adds a third finger after Wheeler demands and insists. “I can handle it. Now, come on.”

“You must be sure,” Claudio says, and Wheeler’s about to throw a goddamned temper tantrum at the slick sounds of Claudio stroking his cock.

“Come on,” Wheeler says. “Fuck me.”

“I thought I was expected to make love to you on our honeymoon,” Claudio says, head of his cock catching on Wheeler’s rim but giving him no satisfaction. “Not fuck you like a wild animal.”

“I wouldn’t say no to either,” Wheeler laughs. “But, fuck, I need – I need.”

“Tell me,” Claudio says. “What do you need?”

“I need you to fuck me,” Wheeler decides. “Not make love. Please.”

Claudio’s laugh is low, the way it gets in their most fun of nights. “Why, angel,” he says, hands gripping Wheeler’s hips, “all you had to do is ask.”

He slides into Wheeler, up to the hilt, in one swift, magnificent movement. Wheeler’s breath catches in his chest as he grips the banister. “Yup,” he pants, grinding back on Claudio’s cock. “Exactly that.” He grins to the reflection of the two of them in the clear, blue water. “Come on. Make me get so loud the other people hear it.”

Claudio’s hand comes up around to circle Wheeler’s throat like a necklace. He can feel the cool metal of their matching rings against his skin, and pushes back in time with Claudio’s thrusts.

He’s wild with it, intent, and Wheeler thinks this is time he’s allowed himself to relax since the wedding planning started. Claudio is silent as he pounds into Wheeler, and Wheeler himself can’t do much but pant and ask for more.

His orgasm hurtles toward him like a train, and he moves one hand to circle around his dick.

Claudio drops the hand from Wheeler’s throat and slaps Wheeler’s hand away. “I’ll take care of that.” The words are smudged into the skin at the back of Wheeler’s neck, like a promise. Claudio’s hand curls around his cock and it’s one, two, and he’s coming against the banister and into the ocean a few feet below. His knees shake and he leans over the banister.

“All mine,” Claudio singsongs as he smooths a hand against Wheeler’s back. Wheeler swivels his hips, then Claudio yelps. Wheeler’s entire body goes hot with the way he can feel Claudio filling him up.

Claudio falls against him, skin on skin, hands sliding down Wheeler’s arms until they link with Wheeler’s hands. “I think we’ve christened the honeymoon well,” he says, pressing a kiss to Wheeler’s spine. He pulls back. Wheeler stands, deliciously sore, and looks around. It doesn’t seem like anybody heard. If they did, nobody reacted.

“I’m getting into the water,” Wheeler says, dazedly rolling over the banister. “Closer than the shower.”

“What?” Claudio asks. “Schazi, what are you –” He interrupts himself with laughter as Wheeler flops into the water with a splash.

Wheeler grins up at him. “What are you waiting for?”

Claudio launches himself over the banister and lands with a splash next to Wheeler. It’s only a couple of feet.

“Oh, ew,” Wheeler says. “I just realized we’re swimming in my come.”

“I refuse to dignify that with a response,” Claudio says, and he dives under the water, taking Wheeler out by the knees. Wheeler giggles and curls around Claudio until he’s standing up and carrying him to the side with the dock. “We should get back inside. We don’t want anyone to call the authorities.”

Wheeler sighs and rolls back up onto the dock, trying to avoid any splinters. They step under the outside shower for a quick rinse, and Wheeler is suddenly so, so tired.

“I’m going to bed,” he mumbles, grabbing a random pair of boxers from his luggage. “Taking a nap. I got fucked too good to stay awake.” Wheeler collapses into bed.

“I feel you should apologize for your comment about my dirty talk.” Claudio stands, pulling a pair of boxers on. Pity. “You seemed to well enjoy what I provided for you.”

Wheeler presses his face into the pillow, and throws a thumbs up behind him. He doesn’t have the energy to respond.

“Oh, now you no longer have the words to tease me,” he chuckles, and he slides into the sheets behind Wheeler.

“You didn’t do a great job with the dirty talk,” Wheeler manages to say. “But everything else was…” He sighs, letting the memory of everything wash over him. “So good. Beyond good.”

“See? I don’t need dirty talk,” Claudio murmurs, curling around Wheeler and pulling him in tightly. “I have other skills.”

~

Mini Playlist: Honey Honey - Abba Waterloo - Abba Lay All Your Love on Me - Abba Closer - Nine Inch Nails

#ClaudiYoots #wtf i like wrestling now??? #in which sara writes #SARAH IT'S YOUR FAULT #I also had fun with this one #Many shenanigans abound #Claudio apparently sucks at dirty talk in this universe #sarahcakes613 #Mamma Mia AU