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macabr3-barbi3 · 2 days ago

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Tethered- RadioApple (Hair Pulling)

WE'RE SO CLOSE TO THE END EVERYONE

Once again a huge thank you to all of the wives @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @minkdelovely @synamartia @sugoi-writes for letting me be part of this- I've had such a fun time getting into the prompts and getting to know everyone, y'all are so cool and talented and I'm happy to have been included 🥹

Come check out Syn's beautiful Masterlist for the event RIGHT HERE and see the other tasty stuff that everyone has cooked up over the course of the month! And make sure to come back on the 31st for the 6-way prompt 🦆

Summary: after an argument, Lucifer tries to walk away- Alastor reaches out to grab his shoulder and instead gets a handful of hair instead. Lucifer is into it Tags: hair pulling, inappropriate erections, dry humping

Lucifer’s first mistake was leaving his hat back in his bedroom. And he was still kicking himself for it- he didn’t have the height it gave him, and his hair would be at the mercy of wind in the garden if not for the product he had thrown into it this morning, something new that made his hair feel stiff and unclean. And of course, as soon as he stepped outside for some fresh air after another conversation with his excitable daughter about how Heaven was a sack of shit and no one should even want to go there, who should follow him but that fucking bellhop?

“Good afternoon, your Majesty! Fancy meeting you out here.”

“Fancy my ass,” Lucifer mumbled. “When you follow someone you tend to end up at the places they go. What do you want?” But he knew already- Alastor was itching for a fight, for some of their usual banter that may or may not evolve into one of them swinging on the other, just to see how much they could fuck one another up before Charlie or Vaggie stumbled upon them and made them stop. And normally he would be in the mood for it- something about seeing Alastor’s chest heaving with anger, his face flushed with embarrassment when Lucifer landed a zinger, was addictive, and he normally couldn’t get enough of it.

“Oh, just out for some air! With all the acid rain lately it does seem to be in short supply, hm?” And wow, how original, a joke about his height. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Alastor acting like a child desperate for attention today though, so he didn’t respond verbally and instead just continued walking, sighing internally when Alastor merely kept up his pace. “Come now, sire, surely you won’t deny a subject the costless gift of conversation!” And when Lucifer continues to ignore him, acid slips into his tone- “You’d think you might at least try to do one thing right as our ruler, after all.”

Lucifer whips around, wings exploding from his back as he turns to face the sinner- his rage fades when he sees how eager Alastor is for it, eyes tracing the lines of his wings with obvious excitement. He lets them fold again. “I’m really not in the mood, Alastor,” he says, figuring that matching energy was the only way to get him out of his hair. “Why don’t you be a good little overlord and go fuck off somewhere else?” He turns on his heel to continue his walk, hopefully without his new tall, creepy shadow, and misses whatever insult Alastor throws his way as he tries to escape.

And then there’s sudden, electrical pleasure that rips down his spine, the shock of it so sudden that a moan tumbles from his lips, forgetting where he was and who he was with. It fades after a few short seconds, and reality comes back to him; he was in the garden. With Alastor. Who… had a fucking hand in his hair in an attempt to yank him backwards. The grip he has is tight and unyielding, and when Lucifer tries to turn his head back to glare at the demon, the hand comes with, tightening strands of his hair across the claws and forcing him to still if he didn’t want another embarrassing noise to come out.

“Let. Go.” He says as calmly as he can, but he can feel the prick of his claws against his palms as his brain wars with his body about whether he was more angry or turned on.

Alastor is quiet for a moment, the silence making Lucifer nervous. “What was that?” He finally asks, his voice strained, and Lucifer starts to shake his head before the action pulls at his hair again, biting back another sound of pleasure.

“It was nothing. Let me go, get your hands off me.”

“I’m fucking trying,” Alastor hisses, and yanks his hand back- Lucifer comes with it, a pathetic whine escaping him as he stumbles backwards into Alastor’s chest. “I’m stuck. What is this repulsive, sticky substance in your hair?”

“It’s fucking hairgel,” Lucifer snaps, bringing his hands up to try and pry the demon’s fingers from his head as he turns to glare at him as gently as he can, without risking any further pulling of his blonde locks. “Of course that fucking bob of yours is natural, but some of us have to put effort into fucking looking good, jackass.”

“Hold still,” the demon snarls, and this time when he tries to jerk his hand out of Lucifer’s hair the tug against his scalp makes him fall forward and to his knees, white-hot desire shooting through his veins and making his legs weak.

He’s hard- embarrassingly so, the heavy weight of it straining his slacks at his unexpected response to the stimulus he was being subjected to. He needed to do something to get out of this situation, before something even more mortifying happened like coming in his pants, or worse- Alastor noticing.

Of course, as his luck would have it, the worst case scenario is the one that he’s been thrust into. There’s a soft “oh!” of understanding from Alastor as he looks down at the king on his knees, and Lucifer’s heart sank. Here would come the humiliation, begot of a bodily response he hadn’t known about, could never have predicted. Charlie would be terribly disappointed when he was forced to dispose of Alastor after this, but desperate times and all that-

“What do we have here?” The demon asks with his usual fucking smirk, and Lucifer is going to snark something back at him when he feels the man’s fingers shift in his hair; no longer simply stuck in his strands but purposely gripping a fistfull of it. When he tugs Lucifer’s head back slightly, the pain his scalp sharp, aching, delicious, the king can’t stop the desperate groan that rips free of his throat. “How interesting!”

Lucifer’s about to show him how fucking interesting it was when he tore the overlord’s arm from his body if that was what he needed to do to escape. The way he’s looking down at Lucifer with his dark eyes is making him feel uncomfortably… submissive. Which isn’t something that the King of Hell should be, and is probably why Alastor wanted to keep him on his knees as long as he could. He opens his mouth to retort, to tell Alastor exactly what was going to happen if he didn’t let him go, when there’s suddenly firm, perfect pressure against his strained cock, where Alastor has pressed the sole of his shoe against it. He chokes back a moan, clenching his eyes closed as Alastor smirks above him.

“Something the matter, sire?” He asks with a head tilt, eyes narrowed while he regards Lucifer on his knees. “You look like you have something to say.”

“Oh, I’ve got a lot to say to you right now, mother fuuuuuck-” The word collapses when Alastor applies pressure at both points of contact with Lucifer’s body- the hand in his hair yanks hard, Lucifer’s head angled almost painfully back, and Alastor’s shoe shifts and provides just enough friction that he can’t stop the roll of his hips against it. His brain is flooded with chemicals that course through his body, make him want to beg for more- he tries to bite his tongue against the pleas that threaten to spill forth but the effort is futile. “Oh, God-”

Alastor chuckles, just out of Lucifer’s line of sight with how far his head is being held back. “There’s no need for honorifics,” he says softly. “Though I suppose I could be persuaded to be generous with you, provided you can ask for what you want.” There’s no static to his whisper, just something akin to a promise in his tone, and for once he’s patient as he waits for a response- not goading the king into answering by insulting him or spewing bullshit. Lucifer debates on what he would be losing out if he does what Alastor is implying and begs. And fuck, it’s humiliating to be held like this and spoken down to and still feel his cock throb with need but now that he’s here with an iron grip in his hair and pressure against his erection- what did he have to lose by saying ‘please’?

If, down the line, Alastor tried to hold it against him? He would cross that bridge when he got to it.

He’s not even fully sure what he’s asking for when he opens his mouth- more pressure against his cock? A firmer hold in his hair? To be let go? Whatever it is that Alastor is going to grant him, Lucifer was ready for it. “Please,” he breathes out quietly, and only has to wait a moment before he’s being gently tugged forward, Alastor’s foot moving so that Lucifer now straddles his ankle.

The grip in his hair does loosen, and he’s able to tilt forward enough to see Alastor’s face again- his smile is softer, his eyes half-lidded and dark and not a trace of his usual maliciousness to be seen. He pets his finger gently across Lucifer’s scalp, and he resists the urge to simply rut against the man’s leg when the sensation of it still sparks pleasure through his body. It takes him a moment to realize that they’ve moved- no longer in the middle of the garden, but in a dark, quiet room where Alastor takes a seat against the navy velvet of a wide couch.

Alastor notices the inquisitive look and scoffs. “As though I would risk allowing anyone else the chance to see you like this. This,” he says softly, raking his claws gently along the nape of Lucifer’s neck, making him unconsciously grind into the firm surface under him, “is for my eyes alone.”

His face flames. “Don’t make it sound like something it’s not,” Lucifer mutters. “You just like seeing the King of Hell on his knees for you.”

“Nothing wrong with that when you’re getting something out of it as well, yes?” Lucifer is quiet, and Alastor’s chuckle echoes in the room. “And if the position doesn’t agree with you, you’re more than welcome to relocate.” He pats his thigh with his free hand, and Lucifer hesitates only a moment before standing on his shaky legs and straddling Alastor’s leg, one knee dangerously close to the apex of Alastor’s legs, the hand that had been in his hair waiting patiently nearby to help position him. This felt… different. Not necessarily bad different, but this close to Alastor he was hyper-aware of how much smaller he was than the other demon, and that feeling of submissiveness returns, not entirely unwelcome now with the change in circumstances.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” Alastor slides his fingers back into Lucifer’s hair- too soft at first, but then he gets the pressure back, strands pulling tightly between the demon’s fingers, and Lucifer doesn’t bother trying to hold the sound he makes back now that they’re alone in a secluded space. His cock aches, hard and wanting, the friction from his own slacks against Alastor’s leg somehow both perfect and not enough.

He sets a steady push and pull with his grip on Lucifer’s hair- pulling sharply and then easing up in even intervals, a pattern that Lucifer finds himself replicating with the movement of his hips. He thinks he should probably say something, but no words feel adequate- for once Alastor was quiet, no quips or barbed comments that fell from his smiling lips. He simply watches Lucifer rock on his thigh and takes in the noises he makes with a sigh.

A particularly sharp yank on his hair has his hands flying up to find purchase on something, his fingers ending up tangled in fur and digging into Alastor’s chest. The demon’s breath hitches, his own free hand coming up to settle on Lucifer’s hip and press his claws into the soft flesh under the king’s clothing. He uses that to help guide Lucifer’s movements, cock rubbing almost painfully against the fabric of Alastor’s pants but fuck, it’s too good to stop or slow down.

Alastor guides his head so their faces are mere inches apart- Lucifer thinks for one incredulous moment that he’s going to kiss him. But no, he just maintains eye contact and his cocky smirk while Lucifer grows more desperate, no longer any rhythm to the frantic fucking of his cock against Alastor’s leg. It’s debasing and humiliating, but the hand in his hair tethers him to the moment, reminding him of who he is and who he’s with.

That’s the thought that has him spilling, that it’s the untouchable Radio Demon himself allowing Lucifer to use him for his pleasure, in a place below the king that he usually seemed determined to displace at every opportunity. “Fuck, Alastor,” he chokes out as he comes, pulses of hot release that soak through his pants and drip messy into the lap of the demon under him; at the sound of it his head is wrenched back, claws breaking through the skin of his hip as Alastor’s grip tightens drastically. Tears slip from his eyes at the multifaceted pain-turned-pleasure, and the moment oozes languidly from something passionate and desperate to soft and quiet- words he never thought he would associate from an encounter with Alastor.

When he tries to lift his head up, Alastor doesn’t relent. “Fuck, let go,” Lucifer whines. It still feels too good, his cock twitching at the ache of his scalp, but even with his angelic stamina less than a minute was far too soon to go again. He doesn’t budge, and Lucifer can’t move his head to see what the problem is so he starts shuffling around in an attempt to dislodge himself from Alastor’s grasp, and-

Well. That was an impressive erection pressed against him.

Alastor does release his head now, as well as the hand on his hip, and then Lucifer can get a good look at him- his eyes are wide and frantic, hungry as he looks at Lucifer, and his smile is strained- a bead of blood drops from his teeth where he had bitten his lip. They stare at each other for a moment, the air between them tense with anticipation and Alastor’s lips parting to speak-

“Do you want some help with that?” Lucifer asks, breaking the softness of the moment before he can think better of it with a flick of his eyes into Alastor’s lap, and there’s a screech of feedback that fills the room, Alastor’s pupils clicking to dials before he’s suddenly unmoored. Alastor simply vanishes, dissolving into shadows beneath him, and without the solid form to rest his weight on Lucifer falls off the couch onto the floor.

“Mother fucker,” he hisses, elbows stinging from how hard he had landed, and when the darkness lifts from the room to reveal one of the hotel’s various offices Lucifer knows that Alastor has gone.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #coven works #covenkinktober2024 #kinktober #kinktober2024 #alastor #lucifer #radioapple #synamartia #hazelfoureyes #minkdelovely #sugoi-writes #fraugwinska #what a wild ride this has been

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noodle-is-unstable · 1 day ago

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It Pains Me

All of my writing is completely Gender Neutral Reader. There is no reference to gendered body parts (Imaging a Ken Doll if you will). Due to this I use more vague language, and nothing is as specific or specified. Please be advised this writing style isn't for everyone and it is okay to skip.

Ft ~ Takuma Ino x GN!Reader

Kink ~ CTB (Cock and Ball Torture)

Synopsis ~ Ino was being a little too needy, but it's nothing a cage can't fix

Content Warning ~ 18+, Smut, sub Ino, cock cage, clamp, rough treatment of Ino's cock and balls, cum eating. Idk Adult Content.

1.7K Words, I don't proof read

There was a soft sizzling sound coming from the pan behind you. Rhythmic chopping of vegetables keeping you occupied as you prepared dinner. That was until Ino walked into the room with a soft sigh. It was quiet at first, barely a sound above breathing. WHen you ignored him though he escalated. The sighs getting louder, adding in hand and arm motion. It was only when he dramatically fell on the counter, hand to his forehead and a sigh that forced all the air from his lungs that you finally paid him some attention.

“Yes?” You giggled at his dramatics.

“Oh so I’m not a ghost and you CAN see me.” Ino pouted, just as dramatically.

“Whoa, who said that?” You gasp, looking around like he is in fact a ghost. This only deepened his pout as he gently hit your arm. “Okay, okay! What can I help you with?” Your laugh was light before you put down the knife, giving Ino your full attention.

“Attention!” Ino groaned dramatically, once again. “I’ll die without attention!” He went limp, tongue hanging out of his mouth. You couldn’t help but laugh. He was so silly. You leaned down and started kissing his face all over until he cracked, a smile forming on his lips.

“Is that enough attention Tinkerbell? I’m in the middle of making dinner.” You move away to start chopping again when Ino grabbed your wrist.

“Noooooo. I need more.” Ino moved your hand to his cheek and began to nuzzle it.

“Kuma, I’m cooking.” A slightly annoyed sigh left your lips.

“But I need attention.” Ino’s brow furrowed, his pout returning.

“Takuma.” Your tone was warning. You could see Ino’s pupils dilate at your sudden tone change.

“What if I don’t stop?” Ino swallowed hard. So there was something he wanted this entire time, more than just attention.

“Go get it.” You sigh, trying to hide the smile sitting on your lips. Ino moved at the speed of lightning, sprinting to the bedroom. When he returned he was holding a small metal object and a key. He handed them to you, hands shaking in anticipation. It was his cock cage, one of many. This was a middle sized one, it wouldn’t hurt if he was soft but it would absolutely constrict him the second he got hard.

“Tell me why you chose this one.” You asked as you began to undress him from the waist down. You started fitting the cage on for him as he spoke.

“I chose this one because it’s-” Ino sucked air through his teeth as the cold metal toughed him.

“Because it’s?” You urged him to keep talking before you continued.

“Because I like how it’s restrictive when I get hard but I can still feel it on me when soft.” Ino rushed out. His hips bucked into the cage on their own.

“Good boy.” You smiled, locking the cage around him. You could see the space already being filled as blood pumped to Ino’s cock. The curve of the cage didn’t allow his dick to stand fully erect, fighting against the cage. You could see the veins pulsating as the restriction got worse. It was a never ending cycle. The harder Ino got, the more the cage restricted him, but the more it restricted him the more excited and hard Ino got. You stood back up, placing the key in your pocket before washing your hands.

“If you behave and keep that on until after dinner I’ll give you a reward.” You told Ino, returning to cutting the vegetables. He was just looking at you with a slight pout though.

“But-” He started before you pointed the knife towards him.

“That’s not behaving.” You warned him. He immediately shut his mouth and swallowed hard, giving you a small nod. You could see his cock harden more though. Constricting against the cold metal. Your attention went back to cooking.

While you cooked you could see Ino moving around, pacing. He tried to watch TV but would randomly peer into the kitchen to see how things were going. He never said anything but he was growing antsy. Pacing, fidgeting, unable to sit still. Though his pants were on again, you were positive he was impossibly hard beneath his sweats. Little did he know, you were purposely cooking at a slowed pace. Dragging out his torment by seconds, even minutes.

“Dinners ready.” You finally call out. Ino basically leaped into his seat as you put a plate down for him. He was shoveling dinner down like he was on a time limit. You had barely taken a bite and he was halfway done. The second he finished eating he eagerly sat across from you, watching your every move like a dog begging for food. You ate at your usual pace, trying to ignore his intense gaze. About halfway through eating you sighed, putting your utensil down to match Ino’s gaze. His eyes lit up when you finally gave him some attention.

“If you clean up dinner, I’ll give you your reward now.” You offer him a sly smile.

“Deal!” Ino almost jumped from his seat. His eyes were wide, legs shaking in long awaited anticipation.

“Come, come.” You chuckled, motioning with your fingers for him to follow you. Ino was on your heels before you could even stand. Grabbing the front of his shirt you began to drag him to the bedroom.

“Pants off pretty boy.” You instructed him as you went below the bed to drag out the box of toys. Sifting through you grabbed a few items. By the time you had turned your attention back to Ino he was on the bed, naked from the waist down. The cage was tight against his poor hard cock. Clear red lines were formed, his swollen dick was pooling out of the small gaps in the cage. From the looks of it he had been hard most, if not the entire time you were cooking dinner. The end of the cage was damp with drooling pre cum.

“What’s the safe word?” You asked him, kneeling down between his legs.

“Red.” Ino’s voice was closer to a whimper now.

“Good boy.” You praised him, laying the toys you grabbed on the bed beside him. “The cage only comes off when you cum, okay?” You looked over to him. His lip was in between his teeth as he nodded. “Let me hear you say it.”

“Understood.” Ino’s voice was almost as strained as his cock was.

“Good boy.” You praised again, watching his cock pulse at the words. “Let’s start then.” You grabbed the Wartenberg Wheel first. A small, metal pinwheel with spikes at the end. Gently you ran your fingers over the skin poking through the cage. Just your fingers was enough to have Ino gasping, eyes pinned shut in pleasure and pain. As a habit you moved your hand to his mouth. Ino’s lips wrapped around two of your fingers, sucking and gently biting them for comfort. With your free hand you gently began to run the spiked wheel over the cage and Ino’s skin. The sound of metal running over metal and Ino’s whimpering gags filled the room.

“What’s the safe action?” You asked Ino, knowing your fingers in his mouth restricted his words. His hand quickly moved to tap your arm three times. His glossy eyes watching you, waiting for approval.

“Good boy.” You cooed before harshly slapping the cage. Ino let out a gagged yelp, tears pooling in his eyes, abs tensing. You waited for a moment, giving him time to use the safe action but he didn’t, so you proceeded. When you slipped your fingers out of Ino’s mouth he let out a pained whine. Wet eyes watched you, wanting to know why you took his comfort away. He watched as you pulled his tight balls down and placed a clamp around them. You began tightening the clamp, slowly applying more and more pressure to the sensitive area. A broken mix of cries and moans caught in Ino’s throat. Tears spilled down his face as you continued tightening the clamp.

“Such a good boy for me.” You cooed, whipping his tears away. “Does it feel good?” Your free hand was gently rubbing the flattened flesh that poked out of the clamp. Ino nodded through gasping sobs.

“M-hm.” Was the most his broken voice could crack out.

“Good boy.” You harshly slapped his compressed balls. A pained wail echoed in the room as his head fell back, more tears. Your fingers returned to his mouth and he instantly began sucking and biting them again. The sound of metal echoed as you flicked the cage, teeth sinking into your fingers again. His tip was leaving like a faucet now, precum drooling out of the cage. You could tell from his glazed, dazed eyes he was close. His balls were contracting in the cage, abs flexing as he sobbed gently. In one smooth motion you roughly slapped his balls and pressed the spiked wheel into a gap in the cage. As he gasped on your fingers you quickly released the clamp, blood rushing back to the area. With a final harsh flick to his tip, Ino was choking on his wails, cum shooting out of the tip of the cage and onto your hand.

“Good boy, you did so good, Kuma.” You praised him, soothing him through his pained orgasm. His body continued to jolt as what seemed to be endless spurts of cum escaped him.

“That’s my good boy.” You continued until he stopped spasming, until he was only panting and silent tears fell. Your switched hands, allowing Ino to suck and lick his cum off your hand desperately. You went into your pocket and took out the key. Unlocking the cage, you freed his poor, abused cock, Thick red, almost purple, lines sat on his poor abused cock.

“You did so good.” You assured him, placing a few gentle kisses on his dick and balls.

“I love you.” Ino mumbled, tongue still swirling around your fingers.

“I love you too.” You continued to assure him. You already knew you’d have to clean up from dinner after what you put him through.

About the Kink: Cock and Ball Torture is a sexual activity involving the application of pain or constriction to the cock and balls. This may involve directly painful activities, such as genital piercing, wax play, genital spanking, squeezing, ball-busting, genital flogging, urethral play, tickle torture, erotic electrostimulation, kneeing or kicking. The recipient of such activities may receive direct physical pleasure via masochism, or emotional pleasure through erotic humiliation, or knowledge that the play is pleasing to a sadistic dominant. Many of these practices carry significant health risks.

How to Practice the Kink Safely:

With any kink it's important to have a safe word, action and sound. The action is in case it's not possible to be verbal. The sound is incase it's not possible to make words or move. Pick something easy to remember and wouldn't come up naturally. Eg. Red, 3 fast taps, 3 repeating grunts

Loss of blood flow is one of the greatest risks in cock and ball torture and may cause irreversible damage. Bleeding is an indicator of unsafe behavior. Because numbness may result from circulation problems in the affected member, the level of pain is not an indicator of a problem and signs of danger include numbness or loss of color and edemas. Bondage in which the testicles are tied to another object is especially dangerous, increasing the risk of damaging the testicles through excessive tension or pulling. The most serious injuries are testicular rupture, testicular torsion and testicular avulsion, which are medical emergencies that require urgent medical attention. Please use extreme caution when participating in this activity. Constantly be checking in on the person whose cock and balls are being damaged. Always have safety measures in place to immediately get restrictive devices off. Truthfully this activity shouldn't be participated in and can cause severe damage and trauma to the genitals. Exorcise caution and mitigate risk where possible if you do choose to participate

#jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #kinktober #jjk ino #ino takuma #ino x reader #gender neutral reader #sub ino

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bluewolfangel01 · 2 days ago

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Can you do the Obey Me! cast with an MC who finds out about their childhood pet getting ready to pass on and how they deal with the aftermath of the pet passing on. My dog is getting ready to go from the sounds of it and I’m looking for some comfort from my comfort character group. Take your time in answering! Here’s a picture of my sweet baby girl.

Aw, that's a very cute and sweet looking baby. I'll try my best to write something that'll help and comfort you as best as it can 🙏

If Mc tells the brothers that their beloved childhood pet is getting ready to pass on, they'll do everything in their power to comfort them

And even if Mc doesn't tell the brothers at first, they'll eventually find out why Mc is acting so strange and sad

Whose ever turn it is to cook, either for dinner or breakfast, they'll make sure that it's one of Mc's favorite or a dish that they like

Beel will make sure that Mc gets as much as they want to eat, even if he's really, really hungry he'll wait for Mc

Mammon will hang around and basically escort Mc everywhere when he's not extremely busy, kinda like an emotional support demon

Whenever Mc is hanging out with Levi, he'll play whatever games that they like best

Whenever Mc is hanging with Satan, he'll read to them if they like, and he's very much willing to listen to any stories that Mc has about their childhood pet

Asmo will steal Mc away, with permission of course, for extra long self care sessions that involve only the best treatments and letting Mc talk about any and all their memories with their beloved pet

Belphie will cuddle with Mc at night, or any time during the day really, and make sure they sleep extra well and dont have any nightmares while they sleep

If Mc wants to chat late in the night to better process things, Lucifer is very much willing to listen as long as Mc doesn't feel hurt that he may not be listening fully at all times since he is working away at the paperwork on his desk, but he'll try his best to listen fully as much as he can

If Mc wants, Lucifer will also talk to Diavolo about allowing Mc to go back home to the human realm

In the aftermath of Mc's childhood pet passing, the brothers would do the same stuff that they did beforehand to comfort Mc, but of course they'd do it with much more gusto

Whatever Mc wants or needs, even if it's something silly, the brothers get it so fast that Mc will get whiplash

Mc wants cuddles or to be held? Immediate line of the demon bros asking which one of them Mc wants to cuddle with or if they just want to have a cuddle pile with everyone

Mc wants to go back to their home in the human realm to be there for their pet's funeral? One or all of the brothers are willing to go as both support and company if Mc is okay with or wants that

This next bit is if Mc is okay with or finds being around "pets" to be helpful with coping

Don't forget that there's a giant doggo under the HoL in the catacombs

Although Cerburus is all teeth with the brothers, except Lucifer of course, he loves Mc and is willing to help them cope however he can, which is mainly via fluffy cuddles

If the brothers can't find Mc anywhere, then they'll check the catacombs, to which they'll find a Mc laying on top of Cerburus

Overall the brothers will do anything in their power to help Mc

Mc wants to forget about the whole thing for a while, talk through it, cry for a bit, sit in silence while being held, etc?

Mc is apart of their family, they'll do whatever it takes for Mc to feel even a little bit better

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baigepueckers · 3 hours ago

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Nika Mühl X Reader

Part 1

Road to Recovery Part 2

Mornings ever since Nika’s injury were a mix of accomplishment and aggravation. Helping her out of bed had become part of your routine, carefully guiding her legs over the edge and supporting her as she carefully tried to stand. Some days she managed it with a shaky smile. Other days her jaw would clench as pain rippled through her leg, and you could see the frustration cloud her eyes.

One morning (after an especially restless night where she had struggled to find a comfortable position) you helped her ease herself up. Her face was drawn, her shoulders tense with hardly contained frustration.

“I hate needing this much help” she muttered the words slipping out before she could stop herself. She looked away, her jaw tight. “I hate relying on you for everything. I should be the one taking care of us.”

You moved closer gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, your hand lingering as you offered a soft smile. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, honey. You’re doing everything you can and I’m here because I want to be, because I love you.”

She took a deep breath, nodding, and allowed herself to lean into your embrace. “I know… it’s just… I feel like I’ve lost so much of myself. I’m supposed to be strong and right now, I feel anything but.”

You cupped her face your thumbs brushing away the beginning of frustrated tears. “Strength isn’t about doing everything on your own. It’s about pushing through, even when you feel like giving up. And no matter what you’re still my Nika, nothing can take that from you.”

Her lips curved in a small almost shy smile as she looked down. “How do you always know what to say?”

“Because I know you baby” you whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “And because I believe in you, even when you don’t.”

Each day was a new challenge and physical therapy became both her outlet and her battleground. At the start she struggled with the simplest exercises, her body protesting with each stretch and movement. You sat by her side for every session, watching her grit her teeth through the pain while you whispered words of encouragement as she forced her body to respond.

“You’re doing amazing” you’d tell her after each grueling set, your voice filled with admiration and pride.

Some days she’d respond with a grateful smile, and a soft “I love you”.But other days the frustration was too overwhelming. She’d stare down at her leg, her brow furrowing as she whispered “I don’t feel amazing. I feel… broken.”

You’d reach for her hand intertwining your fingers, grounding her. “You’re not broken, Nik. You’re healing..and that’s not something everyone can do, It takes strength and patience.”

On the particularly hard days after therapy, you’d sit with her on the couch, her head resting against your shoulder as she let herself break down. Her tears were quiet, her frustration on fire as she clung to you, seeking comfort in your presence. You held her close rubbing soothing circles along her back, whispering gentle reassurances until the tension melted away.

“Thank you for putting up with me” she’d murmur, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without my girl.”

“You’ll always have me baby” you’d reply softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m with you.”

Slowly the small victories began to pile up. She could make it to the kitchen on her own, her steps tentative but determined. You started noticing a shift in her demeanor a renewed confidence, a flicker of pride in her eyes as she navigated daily tasks with more ease. One evening she surprised you by cooking dinner, a simple meal, but the sight of her moving around the kitchen brought a huge smile to your face.

“Look at you, chef!” you teased, leaning against the counter as you watched her stir a pot on the stove.

She chuckled a playful glint in her eye. “Don’t get too excited, dijete. I only managed to make pasta, but hey it’s progress.”

“It’s more than progress.” you replied wrapping your arms around her from behind, resting your chin on her shoulder. “It’s a reminder of just how unstoppable you are.”

She turned in your arms, her hands finding their way to your waist as she pulled you closer. Her eyes softened, a hint of vulnerability slipping through. “I feel like I’m finally getting a piece of myself back…nd I owe so much of that to you.”

You kissed her softly your fingers tracing gentle patterns along her spine. “I didn’t do anything. This is all you, sweet girl.”

Later that evening as you sat together in bed, she leaned into you, resting her head on your shoulder. Her fingers absentmindedly traced circles along your arm a familiar warmth in her touch. Slowly she turned her face toward yours, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that left your heart racing.

Without a word she leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and filled with a quiet hunger. Her hand slipped around your neck pulling you closer, her lips moving against yours with a need that was undeniable. You felt her hand drift lower, fingers tracing along your waist as she deepened the kiss.

You pulled back slightly, breathless, a soft smile playing at your lips. “Nika… are you sure?”

Her hands continued to roam, her touch growing bolder as her fingers trailed along your sides. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your lips “I need you so bad, moje dijete.”

You hesitated, a pang of worry flashing across your face. “Baby, I don’t want to hurt you…”

She shook her head, her hand gently cupping your face. “You won’t. I can handle this…I need to feel like myself again. I need you.”

Her words melted away your hesitation, and you leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both careful and intimate. Every touch was slow, each movement filled with tenderness as you navigated the delicate balance between passion and caution. Being mindful of her body’s limits while allowing yourselves to reconnect in a way that felt healing for both of you.

As the night went on you stayed close, whispering sweet words and promises of the future, your hands never straying far from hers.

The days that followed were filled with renewed determination. Nika threw herself into physical therapy with an intensity that even surprised you. Her focus was fierce, and the fire in her eyes grew stronger each day. You were by her side through every milestone, celebrating each small victory, reminding her of just how far she had come.

#ncaa wbb #nika muhl #nika muhl x reader #paige bueckers x reader #wbb x reader #caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin x reader #ncaa women’s basketball #paige buckets #kate martin x reader #kate x reader #paige bueckers #seattle storm #uconn wbb #wnba x reader #wnba #wnba basketball

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sandcobangevent · 7 hours ago

Text

Unforgettable

by @keirgreeneyes and @tiredmilkshake

Chapter 1

“Seriously, I can’t believe my luck. We go off, have these adventures, meet celebrities and then get to share it all with people through the podcast—and he makes the most amazing dinners after we’re all done!”

“This is Sherlock Holmes you’re talking about? The same Sherlock I introduced you to?”

“Yes, Mike. The very same. I mean, he doesn’t cook immediately. Usually he collapses for–oh, once it seemed like 24 hours, though he might have gotten up while I was sleeping at some point.”

“And you’re saying he cooks? That’s the bit that’s surprising to me. I mean, I thought he had a thing about pasta.”

“I mean, we do have pasta every so often. But like, he made this fantastic sauce with capers the other day.”

“That’s...surprising, yeah. Well, I guess maybe he’s changed a mite.”

“What’s that mean?”

“He didn’t used to, in uni, that’s all.”

“Well, everyone changes, don’t they?”

“I’m not sure Sherlock Holmes does.”

“Is that a crack about his autism?”

“No, no, I’m not criticizing him. Just, he’s unique and always has been.”

“Yeah, unique and pretty amazing, I’d say.”

“Agreed. You two are good for each other.”

“Some people might even say we have a rapport.”

“He really does seem happier now, actually. So, yeah, he does seem different.”

“Right. Well, Mariana just texted me that there’s a mess of chicken parmesan a certain unique detective and chef made that is waiting for me back at Baker Street, so I think I’ll say cheers and catch you later.”

“Have a good night, Watson, and tell Holmes hello for me.”

“Will do.”

Chapter 2

“Watson, what’s that smell?”

“Why are you asking me, mate? You’re the one with the sensitive honker. Shall I go back to the flat for Archie? I wonder if he’d be an excellent sniffer dog, you know, like those dogs that work for a living? I mean, he’s no German Shepherd, wouldn’t really be much good at roughing up the bad un’s. But he does like to give things a sniff or two. And a slobber. Yeah, well, I guess he might be good at a crime scene if we needed somebody all glommed up with snot and saliva.”

“Watson—that’s utter nonsense. Crime scene dogs require keen senses and are given intensive training. Archie’s much better at what he’s good at: giving someone’s leg a good time at the park.”

“Hey—he did that one time, and no one ever lets up—”

“As I was saying, something smells different, about your person. What is it?”

“Oh, well, we were talking about making that mushroom and camembert frittata, and I happened to see a nice thing of camembert at a shop and so I thought I’d just pick it up and..”

“Well, its scent is so strong I think that even Archie would be distracted by it if he was here, much less a genuine detection dog.”

“What am I supposed to do with it, then?”

“I don’t know, but please take it out of here. Perhaps Inspector Lestrade can put it in her car.”

“Oh, no, Holmes, you’re not stinking up my squad car with that smelly old cheese.”

“Right, well, if no one wants me and my smelly old, delicious cheese around, I’ll just take us outside and let you do your detecting on your own.”

“What’s that, Watson? Wait, wait, there’s something here we’ve been missing…”

“So, do you want me to go, or should I linger here with my great smelliness messing up your investigation?”

“Wait–Stop!! Fire, fire!!”

(Screams break out, there is the sound of gunfire and breaking glass.)

Chapter 3

“Sherlock, it’s alright, mate, we caught him.”

“Yes, well, after he’d wounded two police constables, destroyed significant amounts of evidence with that fire, and all this from a hidden place within the very crime scene that we had been investigating. And we caught him all thanks to you, by the way. Timely use of that disgustingly reeking round of cheese you had on hand to distract him while I tackled him. Good job, Watson.”

“Well, cheers, mate. Wasn’t exactly what I was planning, but I’ll take the praise. I still can’t figure why he did come out. He had a doozy of a hiding place all set up, what with that false wall and cozy little room he’d set up for himself.”

“That’s just it, Watson. When we entered the galleria, my immediate impression was that there was something wrong about it. The dimensions. But I didn’t follow through on my deductions. And look how much devastation has occurred.”

“Sherlock, mate, go easy on yourself. You couldn’t know he’d go all batty hearing us talk about sniffer dogs. I mean, turns out he’s phobic about pooches? You can’t predict this kind of thing. We all have our things, and there’s no reason why anyone, even you, should be able to pull a guess about something like that out of the air.”

“No, Watson, that’s just not true. And I never ‘just pull something out of the air.’ The signs were there. The thefts had commenced after the renovation project was completed. And even the canine connection should have been apparent to me—the owner of the art gallery has a pair of identical toy poodles, and the disappearances of these priceless minature pieces never happened on days when the dogs had been on site.”

“Toy poodles, miniature sculptures, she does really have something about tiny things, doesn’t she?”

“It was part of her aesthetic, Watson. Along with her charitable philosophy, all the proceeds went to provide building funds for tiny houses for people without permanent dwellings. Now her gallery is in a shambles, the work of established and budding artists in this field who had been featured there, destroyed. And all because I lost sight of what I’d immediately grasped when I entered the space. But I was distracted and forgot to follow up on it, John. It’s just unbelievable. I forgot. ”

“Hey, hey, it happens to all of us, Sherlock. You may be amazing and brilliant, and often what seems like miraculous, but you’re also quite human. But whoa. I might need a moment here, I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said my given name. Wait. Sherlock? Where are you going?”

Chapter 4

“Thanks for going through this mail, John. I’ve taken care of the bills, but there’s so much of this kind of thing” (sound of papers thwacking down on a counter) “and I can’t tell if it’s just junk or if there are some legitimate inquiries in there.”

“No problem, Mariana. They’re so sneaky with their envelopes these days, those spammers. And there’s no podcast to edit right now, so I’ve nothing better to do.”

“Any change in Sherlock?”

“No.” (Heavy sigh.) “It’s been the same since that case. He’s shut himself up in his room and won’t talk. At first he was at least playing his violin, screeching away at it all night. But now that he’s stopped that, I’m even missing that. At least I knew he was alive in there.”

“I’m sure he’ll snap out of it, eventually. I mean, hasn’t he before?”

…

“John?”

“I wouldn’t know actually.”

“You’ve never seen him go through this?”

“Well, you met him at just about the same time that I did, so your guess is as good as mine.”

“Oh, that’s right! You two are so close, I forget that sometimes. You seem to have always been together.”

“I can tell you, it did not feel like that right away. First couple of nights in the flat with him, I was afraid I’d become a murderer myself.”

“Then he could have come back and cracked the case!” (laughter) “He would have liked that.”

“Yes, I expect he would, at that. If anyone could come back from the dead and solve his own murder, it would definitely be Sherlock Holmes.”

“Well, what can we do to help him cheer up? Maybe we’ll find a nice juicy mystery in here and that will get him feeling better.”

“Maybe. But I already sent him a few leads from the email account, and he just told me to delete them all.”

“That sounds pretty bad.”

“I know. I’m pulling my hair out. I wish I knew what would make him feel better.”

“What about what he does to show his appreciation for us?”

“You mean cook him something? I couldn’t, he’s like a world class chef.”

“No, he’s really not.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been teaching himself to cook.”

“There’s no way—wait, why do you say so?”

“Who pays the bills around here? I’d noticed that there were certain charges happening frequently, paid to a Youtuber who runs private courses on cooking.”

“On the company card?”

“Yes, but neither of you had said anything about it, or sent me receipts.”

“And we both know how important those receipts are!”

“Yes, I think I made myself very clear on that after you two took that client out to rollerskate sushi and came back with absolutely nothing by way of documentation.”

“Yeah, I think I’m still paying off that outrageously expensive saki we drank out of little warmers on the harness they gave me. But it was so very good.”

“Huh. Perhaps it’s a good thing that you lost those particular receipts. Anyway, I asked Sherlock if he knew anything about it. He refused to tell me anything, just issued me a repayment and said I shouldn’t worry, there wouldn’t be any more charges. It was all sorted out, so I never ended up mentioning it to you. But did he tell you anything about it, John?”

“He never breathed a word about this to me.”

“I was worried it was some kind of scam he’d been caught in, that he was embarrassed to admit about.”

“Yeah, I can imagine that he would be pretty quiet about something like that. Should we be worried that he’s got some kind of gambling issue?”

“No. Not at all.”

“So you did figure out what it was?”

“I did.”

“Did a little detecting of your own?”

“Indeed.”

“How did you get it out of him?”

“I had noticed that the charges were paid at about the same time each week.”

“So you spied on him!?”

“No, no, I wouldn’t want to invade his privacy.”

“He bloody well does mine all the time. Do you know, he sat in the loo for fifteen whole minutes while I was in there, quiet as a mouse in the shower stall, while I’m shaving, clipping my toenails, taking a wee, moisturizing, have a nice little chat with myself…”

“Wait, moisturizing? John, I had no idea you had a beauty routine.”

“It’s not a beauty routine. It’s just good for my pores. It’s self-care.”

“That’s very wise of you, John.”

“Oh sod off.”

“What did Sherlock do?”

“Well, he startled me half to death he did. I was just giving myself a little pep talk in the mirror, reminding myself that everyone starts somewhere. Einstein didn’t pop off about E=MC<sup>2</sup> first thing. He had to do a bit of maths, a bit of calculus, a bit of physics first. And I was sure to get better at this whole podcast thing as time went on.”

“So, how did he startle you?”

“Oh, right. He hears me saying that and comes out with ‘You’re quite right, Watson. Even Einstein was a beginner once.” Of course, then he tells me how Einstein taught himself maths and physics, earned a PhD at the age of 26 while publishing four ground breaking papers in those fields. ‘But Watson,’ he says ‘he’d failed an entrance exam once and had to struggle on, so don’t give up.’”

“He’s just trying to help.”

“Right, I know. And the funny thing is, it did help.”

“Even if he scared you to death?”

“Yeah, I think he was just there because he wanted the company. After I calmed down, I didn’t mind, actually.”

“See, you are close.”

“Well, if we were, wouldn’t I know how to cheer him up?”

“You’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Yeah, if only I knew what made him happy.”

“Oh! That was the whole point of my story. Sherlock was teaching himself to cook. For us.”

“Wait, so the Youtuber—”

“Correct, they were private classes on cooking.”

“Oh, wow. Now I really want to help him out of this.”

“Right.”

“Okay. Well, I have heard something recently that may help.”

“What?”

“An old acquaintance of his said he had a thing for pasta.”

“Like, the penne he keeps asking for?”

“He’s been asking for penne?.”

“Yup. He texts me when he knows I’m going to shop or put an order in. Penne and tomato sauce. That’s all he’s asked for…”

“Since that case. Okay, well. If he can learn to cook for us, I can learn to cook for him.”

“Do you think you need to take a class to cook pasta?”

“To make the best pasta ever tasted? Yes, absolutely.”

(Laughter) “You think you’re going to be able to make the best pasta ever?”

“Yes, because he deserves it.”

“Well, perhaps we can count this as a work expense, since it is meant to help him be able to get back to working again. Just–”

“I know, send you the receipts.”

“Bingo!”

Chapter 5

“Watson?”

“Yes, Sherlock.”

“What is that?”

“That, mate, is a plate of my very special beef crumble and mushroom lasagna. I used wine to sauté those mushrooms, just like you did with that risotto you made two weeks ago–”

“And you want me to eat this?”

“Well, I didn’t put it on your plate because I want you to throw it at me. What do you think?”

“Are you being serious, Watson?”

“Yeah. Should I not be?”

“Well, I regret to inform you that I am unable to comply.”

“You’re not hungry then?”

“No, no, I am quite famished.”

“Then, what is it? I thought you liked pasta?”

“You thought I liked pasta?”

“Yeah. I also rather thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?”

“I was repeating what you said, Watson. I never said I liked pasta.”

“Well, all you’ve been eating is that penne stuff lately, and I heard you did like it, so–”

“Who exactly did you hear that from?”

“Stamford. Said something about you liking it back at uni.”

“You’ve been digging into my history at university?”

“Whoa—wait a mo’ there, that sounds way more sneaky and spy-y than what happened. We were talking about you—”

“Oh, you were talking about me, and my eating habits when I was a student? I hope you feel enlightened now.”

(Sounds of a chair pulling back, then cabinets being opened, water running, and a pot being settled on the hob.)

“Sherlock… I’ve done something to upset you, haven’t I?”

“Please, Watson, I am quite hungry, as I said. Thank you for your gesture, but I’ll be quite fine with my penne." (Sounds of a fridge door opening.) Wait, where’s the jar of tomato sauce I had in the fridge?”

“Ummm, well, I sort of used it in the lasagna.”

“Did you use it or not? It appears to have vanished.”

“Yeh, it’s gone.”

(Sounds of a chair being pulled out and Sherlock sinking back into it.)

“How about butter? I always love a bit of salt and butter on my pasta when I’m not feeling quite the thing.”

“I suppose that will be acceptable.”

“No, wait.” (Sounds of footsteps and a coat being grabbled.) “I’ll just pop down to Tesco and get a couple more jars of the sauce.”

“Really, Watson, there’s no reason–”

“There really is. I wanted to make something special for you and all I did was end up ruining your dinner. It’s easy as pie to make it right. Just let me, okay?”

“Well… I will enjoy the dish much more if there is sauce. Just the plain, however.”

“No mushrooms? Peppers? Spicy red pepper with paprika?”

“Watson, I was feeling grateful but now you’re becoming tedious.”

“Gotcha. Plain tomato sauce coming up.”

(Sounds of feet running down stairs, followed by a door opening and being slammed shut in the distance.)

(Sounds of fingers drumming on a table. A chair is pulled back, a lid removed from a pot and replaced. A long suffering sigh.)

(Sounds of a voice humming. Water starts to bubble.)

“At last!”

(Sounds of jumping up from a chair. Pasta shakes in a box, and cardboard is torn open. The sounds of pasta being poured into a pot of water, just as a door is thrown open in the distance, slamming into a wall.)

“What is going on?!” (Mariana’s voice sounds distantly, coming up from the front hall of 221 Baker Street.)

“Oh, sorry Mariana. Can’t talk.” (John’s voice is closer, as though he’s made it up a few stairs.)

“Is there a case?”

“No, no, something much more important. Dinner!”

(Sound of Mariana sighing.) “Dinner? You had me worried, John.”

“Can’t chat, water boiling. ‘Ta.”

(The sounds of feet clattering up the stairs sound, and then rapid breaths, a bit wheezy.)

“Got ‘em! Here you are, mate. (A gasping breath ) Fresh from the Tesc. I believe these are from 2024. A very good vintage, if I do say so myself.”

“Watson, you are being ridiculous. There is no particular advantage to having tomatoes packaged in this year over any other. The processing of the sauce makes it highly homogenized. One batch will taste much like any other.”

“Yes, but if it came from last year, or the year before, it might well be off, so you’d likely not want to eat it, yes?”

“Perhaps. But all this talking isn’t going to get me fed anytime soon.”

“Oh, sorry, ‘course. Here we go, let me just—” (Sound of a pan clattering.)

“Please—let me. If you don’t mind. I just want to heat my sauce and eat in peace.”

“Sure thing. Yeah. Well. Maybe I’ll just see if Mariana wants to eat some of this lasagna.”

“Excellent idea.”

“Well, alright then. I guess I’ll just go.”

“Mm-hm.”

(Sounds of Sherlock humming as John’s footsteps recede.)

Chapter 6

“John! This is sooo delicious. Is that white wine I’m tasting?”

“Yeah. Yup. ‘Tis. The mushrooms.”

“Mmmm…. Thank you. This is really quite good. I wouldn’t have expected—”

“No, guess you wouldn’t. I really put my back into it.”

“That class really paid off.”

“Hmph. Yeah.”

“Well, you don’t seem very happy with it. Aren’t you going to eat some?”

“I dunno. My heart’s not really in it anymore.”

“Because Sherlock rejected it?”

“He didn’t— It’s not that Sherlock rejected me—”

“Whoa–whoa–whoa. I didn’t say he rejected you.”

“The thing. The pasta. He didn’t..,well, I suppose he did reject the lasagna. But I thought he liked it!”

“What exactly was it that Stamford said?”

“Something like he had a thing for pasta at uni.”

“That’s pretty vague really. There are a lot of types of pasta. Why did you think he would like this dish?”

“It’s all fancy. Like he’s been making for us. I figured he was down about the case, and not up to cooking something big. So, I thought I’d do it for him.”

“And, at any time, did you actually ask Sherlock what he wanted?”

“...”

“I take that is a ‘no’?”

“Erm—” (Whistles.) “Correct. I did not ask him what he wanted.”

“He’s been pretty clear. He wants tomato pasta. Penne.”

“But this is clearly so much better.”

“To who, John? To you?”

“...”

“Go talk to him.”

“He just threw me out of the kitchen. I doubt he wants to talk to me right now.”

“Was he angry about it?”

“A little bit.”

“Then all the more reason to talk. Maybe you need to apologize, maybe not. Find out.”

(A big sigh.)

Chapter 8

Summary:

John and Sherlock talk, and peace prevails.

Chapter Text

“Hello Watson! I’m feeling much better. Did you and Mariana enjoy the lasagna?”

“Yeah. I’m glad to hear that. We did. And I’m sorry—”

“What for?”

“For...assuming you’d want the lasagna.”

“That was odd.”

“Are you still upset that Stamford and I talked about you?”

“No, not really. I am a bit surprised.”

“It was nothing bad. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to get some kind of intel about you.”

“Well if you had been, Stamford wouldn’t be a terribly useful informant. You might try Victor next time. Or my brother. He’s well informed about most things and could detail quite a bit of my likes and dislikes from those years. Although, I’m not sure how useful any of that information would be to you, truly.”

“No, Sherlock. I’ll not be asking Victor, or your brother. If I want to know what you were like at uni I’ll ask you.”

“Hm. Well, I might prefer it if you do ask one of them. Not the best memories of that time.”

“Oh. Was it…hard for you?”

“Well, I didn’t graduate, and I had only one friend, and I never talk about it unless forced to do so. So that might tell you something.”

“Jeez. Oof. Sorry, mate. I didn’t realize how bad it was.”

“It was rather stressful.”

“Oh! Is that why the pasta?”

“Watson, that question makes no sense. There is not really a why relating to pasta. There might be a when, or a how. But why doesn’t make much sense for such a generic food stuff.”

“No, I don’t mean all pasta. I mean your pasta. I take it you ate penne a lot in uni. And you’re doing it now again?”

“Mm. Well, I did go through a phase where the tubetti lisci was my preference, but I’ve come to feel penne is superior once again.”

“Is this something that makes you feel better when you’re out of sorts?”

“Ye–Perhaps. It doesn’t exactly cheer me up. It’s more that it’s dependable.”

“Because it’s always the same?”

“Because it’s straightforward. There’s no surprises in it. I know I like the taste, and the texture, and I know that each bite I’ll have will be 100% what I want.”

“No squishy mushrooms. No odd little nuggets of something.”

(An unhappy grunt.) “Do we really need to talk about those things. I just had a very satisfying dinner.”

“Oh, I’ll stop. ‘Course. But, so when you made those dishes for Mariana and me, was that just because you thought we’d like them?”

“No. Well, I did make them because you had indicated you liked those particular meals, but I chose the ones to make you’d both talked about that were also appealing to me. It’s a lot of effort to cook something like that, I’d like to enjoy it as well.”

“I’m quite glad about that. I would have been sad if you’d been making it just because we wanted it but you hated the thing. I misunderstood, and thought that was the way you liked to eat, but were, maybe too depressed to have energy to cook it.”

“I haven’t had energy to do that kind of cooking. I’m not depressed about the case.”

“You’re not? You’ve been moping about, and turning down cases. Looks like depression to me.”

“I’m considering.”

“Considering, if you want to continue?”

“More considering how I can avoid that kind of issue again.”

“Mate, ya’ can’t.”

“Well, that’s very reassuring.”

(A half-bitten off laugh.) “I’m sorry. I’m not saying you’re a failure. I’m saying you’re human.”

“But I’ve never had that kind of error creep in before.”

“Never?”

“Well, perhaps not never…”

“You will be tired. You will be hungry. You will be sick. You will miss something.”

“Unlikely.”

(Chuckling.) “Once or twice. Here or there. You’ve said I’ve helped you out now and then, what’s that if not maybe not having it all 100% in your noggin.”

“But I have your help now. And Mariana’s.”

“And we’re extremely human as well.”

“Oh, I know. Watson, you do realize that you snore, don’t you? You might wish to take your naps up in your bedroom.”

“Thanks for that. I never got complaints in the barracks.”

“That is because everyone snores or something, and in that situation there is no real remedy, so what do you expect?”

“We’re getting off track here. This is not about my sleeping patterns.”

“But you will nap in your room?”

“Sure, fine. Whatever. But are you feeling depressed?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, I’d like to help. Somehow.”

(Sherlock takes a deep breath and releases it with a sigh.)

“You are, Watson.”

“By making you lasagna that disgusts you so much I can’t even talk about it and making you think that I’m spying on you by chatting to your old friends?”

“Nooot really either of those things. But you are here. And you tried to do something nice. That is greatly appreciated.”

“Glad to. On both counts.”

“And you are dependable.”

(A chuckle.) “Like your next bite of manky pasta?”

“It’s not manky. You’re not gross.”

“I’m simple then? Like a tubal li-whatever you called it?”

“Tubetti lisci. No. You’re much more like a penne. Smooth, durable, but with a bit of a nice point at each end. A little bit of texture, a little bit of bite. And you take the sauce so well.”

“I have no idea what any of this all means. Is that good?”

“Excellent, Watson. You may not have the complexity of something like your lasagna there, but I always know what I am getting, and I always know that I will like the next bite.”

“Aw, thanks.”

“And I am very glad you made the lasagna.”

“Even though it made you want to sick up?”

“It didn’t.”

“Admit it, it did a bit.”

“A bit.”

“But you’re still glad?”

“Well, you and Mariana enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“Yes. We really did. Well, she did. I wasn’t really feeling it. My appetite was a bit off after making you so cranky.”

“Are you feeling better now?”

“I am. And I am feeling a bit more hungry.”

“Then why don’t you heat some up. I’m thinking I may have a second helping of my pasta and it might be...nice to eat with you, too.”