#not sure if this does him justice (or if this is even spicy at all 😭)

[suddencolds]

duffel bag, packed light (yves/vincent AU fic)

Hello! Happy (definitely-not-late) Valentines day. <3 I hesitated on posting this because it's a little disjointed, but I think I need to kick it out of my drafts (go! leave!) before it gets stuck in there forever.

My kind anonymous prompter dropped some of the most fire prompts known to mankind in their submission 😭🙏 These are the two which I went with:

Write an AU oneshot that is completely different from the current Yvescent setting using a combination of 3 or more of the following emojis: 🏝️🎒🛳️🗓️📓🌧️🍱🌠🎬 + hear me out what if we got um spicy kink!Yves or kink!Vincent au 👀 and flowers or an irritant of your choosing

This whole fic is AU!Yves + AU!Vincent w/ the kink, in which they are not coworkers, but instead meet as strangers on a cruise, and Yves turns out to be allergic to something unexpected 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️. I should apologize for the long exposition; the first half of this reads more like a character study. If you don't care about how they meet, you can scroll down to the section labeled "Firsts"!

—

The stranger breaks the silence first.

“It’s a nice view,” he says.

They’re on one of the rooftop floors. It’s surprisingly crowded out here—apparently Vincent’s idea to take an evening walk was far from original. Vincent looks out at the unending expanse of water before them, the sky dark, the cruise deck high enough that the waves below them are almost too small to make out.

“It is,” Vincent agrees.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the ocean plenty,” the stranger says, leaning out onto the railing. The wind picks up on the strands of his light brown hair. “Assuming you’re a cruise person.”

Vincent contemplates going with the assumption. He is not obligated to tell the truth, of course—that he is terribly out of place here; that, if he’s being honest, it is a little strange and embarrassing to be here alone.

“I am not a cruise person,” Vincent says. “I won the tickets through a work raffle.”

“A work raffle?” The stranger turns to him, perking up.

Vincent nods.

“You’re kidding me,” the stranger says, suddenly animated. “You should’ve bought a lottery ticket right after, with that kind of luck.”

“I think I’ve used up all my luck reserves,” Vincent says. “Out of everyone who could have won, I may be the least suited to be doing this.”

“What does that mean? That you don’t like cruises?” When Vincent shakes his head, the stranger stills, contemplative. “Do you get seasick or something?”

“I am not the kind of person who would pay for a cruise.”

“Huh. Well, I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t have to pay for this one.” 

Vincent supposes that is true. His coworkers had been happy for him when the announcement had come out—are you serious? I’m so jealous! And you’re going to love it! And Take lots of pictures! We’ll definitely be grilling you for them when you get back!—he thinks he probably ought to be happy, too, considering how expensive this kind of thing would be normally, considering how statistically unlikely it had been for him to win.

Instead, he’d felt a sort of blankness, bewilderment veering on apathy—but it would be ungrateful to turn this kind of thing down, or to sell it off to someone else, wouldn’t it? In the end, he’d nodded a little stiffly at them, and smiled, and promised them their pictures.

“And what about you?” Briefly, Vincent entertains the possibility that this stranger is someone who takes ten cruises a year—the exact opposite kind of person that Vincent is, the kind of person who likes being hundred of miles out from the nearest coast, who likes the extravagance of the room service and the on-deck waterslides and the quaint high class diners, who likes talking to strangers. “Is this your hundredth cruise?”

The stranger laughs. “It’s actually my second. I was planning to go with someone. We bought two tickets way back—not company-sponsored, by the way, though I wish they were.”

“Did they decide to call it a night early?” Vincent asks.

The stranger laughs—a short, curt laugh. Vincent cannot tell if it’s genuine. “She’s actually not here. She couldn’t make it.”

It seems strange, to Vincent, that someone might miss something as expensive as a cruise. “Something else came up?”

“To be frank, I was in a relationship with her up until two weeks ago,” the stranger says. Then he laughs again, a little self-deprecatingly. “Sorry, that’s probably too much information.”

“Oh,” Vincent says. “I’m sorry about the breakup.”

The stranger waves a hand. “It’s fine. She left me the tickets, which wasn’t cool, but I found someone to resell hers to, even though it was sort of last minute. Facebook marketplace is the maker of miracles. The guy who bought it is somewhere on this ship, though I don’t think I could point him out to you.” 

“Are you alright?”

The stranger blinks at him. He looks a little caught off guard. “Sorry?”

“With the breakup,” Vincent clarifies. “Two weeks ago is still recent. Are you alright?”

The stranger is quiet for a moment. “That’s very considerate of you to ask,” he says, at last.

Vincent looks away from him. “That’s not an answer.”

The stars are starting to come out. The ocean stretches out, wide and dark, beyond them. The stranger says, after a moment: “With a view like this, who wouldn’t be?”

He reaches up a hand to swipe at his eyes. His sleeve doesn’t linger for very long. If Vincent weren’t looking, he might mistake the motion for something casual, something unassuming.

The stranger squeezes his eyes shut, and takes in a breath. The exhale that follows is carefully, meticulously even. 

Vincent doesn’t know what it is that prompts him to open his mouth. It’s a stupid, impulsive decision, directed towards someone to which he has no allegiance. It’s entirely unlike him.

And yet.

“My cabin number’s 3-75-F.” he says, before he can think better of himself. “If you need company, or if you want to talk about how your ex was the worst person on earth, we can get dinner, or just take a walk. If you don’t, I won’t take it personally.”

He turns, starts off in the direction of the deck entrance—this is preferable, he thinks, to sticking around to hear the stranger’s response. Judging by the size of the cruise ship, there are probably two thousand people on board. Vincent tells himself that it’s statistically unlikely he will run into this particular stranger again, which means his offer doesn’t have to mean anything at all.

“Wait,” the stranger says, falling into step with him.

Vincent turns.

“That actually sounds really nice. I’m glad you offered. Dinner, tomorrow at 6?” The stranger extends a hand. When Vincent looks up, he is surprised to find that he’s smiling. “I’m Yves.”

Vincent takes it. “Vincent.” he tries to keep his surprise out of his voice. “I’ll be free.”   

Yves says: “Great! I hear there’s a restaurant on the third floor which people really like. Do you like seafood?”

“Seafood’s great.”

Yves grins. “I’ll make the reservation tonight. Goodnight, Vincent.”

“Goodnight,” Vincent says, before he can second guess himself into taking it back. He has the distinct sense that he’s just gotten himself into something he’s fundamentally ill-equipped to handle.

—

In truth, the first time Yves meets Vincent is not the first time they meet. Vincent meets Yves for the first time when he’s in line to board. This, like their second meeting, is a coincidence.

— 

Before.

The stranger is smiling.

The girl he’s talking is interested in him. That’s the first thing Vincent notices. It’s not a secret—it’s evident in the way she cranes her entire body towards the stranger as he speaks. Evident in the way she laughs, her shoulders shaking, after he tells her something Vincent can’t quite decipher; evident in the way her eyes snap to his hands as he gesticulates.

Briefly, Vincent wonders how they know each other. A couple? But the more Vincent watches, the more he realizes that that doesn’t make sense. His body language is so deceptively open, as if to dismantle any line upheld between the two of them, but he is careful not to touch her. Likewise, she doesn’t reach for him, even though—from the way her gaze lingers on his arm, too long, loaded—Vincent thinks she probably wants to.

Long-time friends, then? Whatever the stranger is saying is too novel, and the girl is nodding vigorously at him, now, and Vincent can see that she’s trying to make a good impression. Have they just met tonight, then? The girl rummages through her purse for her phone, pauses briefly to type something out. Holds the screen up so he can see it.

The stranger leans in, his face intimately close to her, to peer down at it, too. There is something so confoundingly thoughtless about the gesture. It is almost as though there is a gap in how long they have known each other—as if she is, to him, already a longtime friend. There is no nervousness to the way he regards her, no pointed self-consciousness.

It’s a little interesting, Vincent thinks. He wonders, briefly, if the stranger knows that she likes him.

What strikes him about the arrangement is how open he is. It’s peculiar. It is as if they are not strangers at all. He holds the conversation seamlessly, with such warmth that Vincent marvels at it, as easily as if he has known her for years.

—

Dinner.

It’s around 5:41 when Vincent hears the knock on his cabin door.

The cruise room is more comfortable than he’d expected it to be. The ship is large enough that it feels oddly stationary, and the room—despite its relatively low ceilings and narrow walkways—has an excellent view of the ocean when he pulls back the curtain—the unmoving blue line of it, the inky sky above it, the clouds low on the horizon. 

Vincent, who had been half expecting Yves to not show up at all, puts his book down on the nightstand and heads towards the door.

When he opens it, Yves is dressed in a button-down collared shirt and slacks. He looks boyishly handsome, Vincent thinks—kind of like he could be a movie star, probably someone who would play a childhood-friend-turned-lover. 

“You’re early,” Vincent says. 

Yves checks his watch. “I guess I am. Did I catch you unprepared?”

“No, I’m ready,” Vincent says, nodding towards the hallway. “Lead the way.”

The living quarters on the cruise are ordered in neat rows. They head down a long hallway toward the central elevators. Yves talks about his morning—about how he’d spent his time perusing the second floor shops, how he’d played one game at a casino, won twenty dollars, and now he’s determined to never go back. (“I need to keep the net positive,” he says, “statistically unlikely as it is.” “You’re already doing better than everyone else in the casino,” Vincent says.)

The elevator ride is short. The cruise technically has fifteen floors—more if you count the partial floors at the top: the rooftop bar, the rooftop garden and grill.

“I can’t wait till we get to shore,” Yves says. “Not that the cruise isn’t nice, and all, but whenever I take a walk on deck, it never really feels like I’m stretching my legs.”

It’s Thursday evening. They’ll dock early tomorrow morning at the Amber Cove cruise island, spend a few hours there out on the beach, and then head back onto the cruise for their next stop. Vincent has packed swim trunks, sunglasses, a couple bottles of sunscreen, but the idea of going to the beach on his own feels distinctly out of character. He’s never been the kind of person to seek out experiences like this—sunny and indulgent—on his own, without someone else to pull him into them.

He supposes this isn’t really an exception. The company tickets which landed him on this ship in the first place were the catalyst to everything.

“You haven’t eaten here before,” Yves asks, as they round the corner to the door of the restaurant, “have you?”

“No,” Vincent says. “I’ve only been to the diner on the second floor.”

Yves smiles back at him. “That’s good. I don’t have to cancel my reservation, then.” “I wouldn’t have made you cancel it anyway.”

“You seem too polite to do that sort of thing,” Yves says, with a laugh. “There are too many things to do on deck for me to be dragging you to the same few places.”

Yves relays his reservation name and time to the waiter, who shows them to a table by the window. The restaurant is dimly lit—the majority of the light is coming from a single candle that sits in front of them, next to a vase of tastefully arranged flowers.

“This place is very romantic,” Vincent says.

Yves blinks at him. “I guess it is. Does that bother you?”

Vincent thinks that he can easily imagine another version of this evening—a dinner in which the seat across from Yves is occupied by his ex. An evening where they talk and laugh over a shared bottle of wine and eat the best seafood on the ship.

“I can see why you would have wanted to come here with her,” Vincent says. “I’m sure you had a lot to look forward to. I’m sorry.”

Yves glances back at him, his expression unreadable. Then he looks down. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he says. “You didn’t have any part in it.”

“In your decision?” “In hers.” He shakes his head with a laugh that doesn’t quite show in his eyes.  “It wasn’t mine to decide. She rekindled an old relationship at a bar. It was with this guy who went to the same college as the both of us, though I didn’t know him that well.”

He unfolds his cloth napkin and positions it gingerly on his lap. “I didn’t even know that they were friends, or that she would be meeting up with him. We were still together when it all happened, and then suddenly we weren’t.”

“That must have been painful for you,” Vincent says.

“I probably should’ve known better,” Yves says, tilting his head up to the ceiling. He smiles, a little self-deprecating.“I think there were probably signs that I missed. It’s the sort of thing you dwell on, you know. If everything really came out of left field, or if she’s already been falling out of love for a long time. This is depressing, but I keep thinking about—well, if maybe I could’ve done something to fix things if I’d realized it sooner.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Vincent says. 

Yves blinks at him. “What?”

Vincent looks down—at the flowers between them, arranged artfully in a shallow glass vase. “You shouldn’t have had to do anything. You shouldn’t have had to speculate at all.” He doesn’t know why he’s saying this. It is none of his business, he knows, and besides, it’s not as though Yves has asked for his opinion. He finds himself thinking, abruptly, to Yves’s conversation with the girl in line, a couple spots ahead of him—the girl smiling, leaning close; Yves somehow reflecting back her interest with warmth.

It is part of the reason why Vincent is here, right now, if he’s honest with himself. Vincent understands exactly why people would be drawn to that particular sort of warmth. It’s the sort of warmth he doesn’t know how to cultivate, probably wouldn’t be able to cultivate, even if he tried. It is evident even now, in the way Yves seems to so readily offer his ex the benefit of the doubt, in the way his warmth extends towards her still.

“If she was having second thoughts, then she should’ve said something. You shouldn’t have been expected to read her mind,” Vincent says. Perhaps being so honest is overkill, but even if no one else in Yves’s life will say it, Vincent finds he has no such reservations. “At the very least, she should’ve ended things with you before looking for other options. Frankly, your ex sounds like a terrible person.”

Yves blinks at him, a little taken aback. “I’m sure I’m giving you a very biased impression of her. She’s a pretty reasonable person.” 

“Reasonable people can do bad things,” Vincent says, crossing his arms. On some level, he understands—of course Yves, with his proximity to the problem, would not see it this way. “Your ex hooked up with someone behind your back. I find it hard to believe that someone who had your best interests in mind would do that.”

Yves seems to consider this.

“I don’t think I’ll be in the business of forgiveness anytime soon,” he says, as if he is choosing his words carefully. “You’re right to say that what she did was pretty terrible.”

Vincent raises an eyebrow. “But?”

Yves is quiet, for a moment.

“I think it would be easier,” he says, at last, with a small smile. “If I thought about her that way.”

It’s a confession that Vincent has already figured out. “You still think highly of her. It makes sense.”

“She was my best friend for three years.” he shakes his head, smiling. “I thought—I don’t know what I thought. When I thought about a future with her, everything seemed so intuitive. Like all the problems that could come up would be things we’d already know how to work through.”

The waiter stops by their table to ask them for their choice in refreshments. Yves greets him with a polite smile—one that Vincent finds no holes in—and asks for one of the drinks on the cocktail menu. Vincent picks something at random, to match.

“Sorry,” Yves says, after the waiter leaves. “I didn’t mean to get into such a depressing tangent. We don’t have to talk about my ex. I’ll give you time to actually look over the menu.”

Vincent says, “You don’t have to apologize. I won’t take long.” He opens the menu—it is nice, he thinks, that all the food and drink is included in the cruise fare which he didn’t have to pay for—makes a mental list of all the items which look interesting, and stack ranks them in his head. Then he shuts the menu and sets it off to the edge of the table, so the waiter won’t have to lean over to pick it up.

He feels, without looking, that Yves is watching him.

“You weren’t kidding. You’re very efficient.”

Vincent meets his eyes from across the table. Yves has his own menu open, too, but he’s pretty sure Yves has been waiting for him. “You decided more quickly than I did.”

“I cheated and looked up the menu beforehand,” Yves says. “I didn’t want to subject you to my indecisiveness.”

This makes sense to Vincent—as does the early knock on his door. “You were looking forward to eating here.”

“With a hot stranger,” Yves says, with a laugh. “Yes.”  

The compliment is unexpected. It settles something inside of him, something nervous and wanting, though Yves says it offhandedly enough that Vincent thinks he probably shouldn’t take it to heart. He raises an eyebrow. “Am I still a stranger? We’ve exchanged names.”

Yves laughs. “I guess we can be acquaintances, then.”

The waiter arrives with their cocktails—Yves’s has a sprig of lavender near the rim, and Vincent’s has a dried orange slice and a stem of mint—and sets them down in the middle of the table. They place their orders.

After the waiter leaves, Vincent shifts his cocktail a little closer to him. He’s not much of a drinker, but his drink of choice is usually on the sweeter side. 

“Does it live up to your expectations?” Yves asks.

“The drink?”

“The cruise.”

“I don’t know if I had many expectations to begin with,” Vincent says. “The ship is bigger than I thought it would be. I’m still finding my way around.”

“Have you explored everything already?”

“Not everything.” Vincent thinks through his morning. “I walked around the shopping center, and then the fourth floor plaza.” he says. “I stopped by the theater, too, though I didn’t sit down for a show.”

He thinks, distantly, that perhaps the ship’s amenities are getting wasted on him—during his walk through the shopping center, he’d briefly thought about bringing gifts back for his coworkers and ultimately decided that if he’s going to do any shopping, it should probably be on his last day here, not his second. “I went up to the deck to see the pools. There were more distinct pools than I imagined—I had assumed they’d all be connected.”

“Did you go swimming?”

“I didn’t.”

“So you just walked around all twelve of the pools,” Yves says, incredulous, “without ever getting in?”

Vincent can see how this fact could potentially be off-putting. “The pools were all pretty crowded. I decided it’d be more symbolic if the first time I change into a swimsuit is tomorrow, after we dock.”

It isn’t entirely the truth. Truthfully—and he thinks this might be worse—he’d been more preoccupied with taking pictures of everything—nicely framed shots of the different pools, the different entrances of the shopping center, the crowds gathered around the theater for the midday show—half so he can have something to show his coworkers when he gets back to work (and thus, dispel any accusations of his own ungratefulness around winning) and half so he can have something to send back to his family (particularly Ji-Sung, who he thinks will get a kick out of seeing all of the amenities).

“You’re really serious about this,” Yves says, looking strangely amused. “Are the vacations you go on always so structured?”

Vincent says, “something like that. The cruise is not the main attraction, anyway.”

“For some people, it is.”

“For the same people who make it a mission to take a swim in all twelve of the pools, maybe,” Vincent says, and Yves smiles.

Yves, as it turns out, is an easy person to talk to. Vincent finds out that he doesn’t get seasick—or carsick, for that matter—but that he feels a little claustrophobic if he doesn’t go up to the deck (“to remind me that we’re actually still making progress towards some destination,” he says. “That way, I don’t feel as though I’m trapped in some giant feat of human engineering.”) He finds out that Yves has two siblings, both of them younger; that most of his extended family lives in france; that he likes vacationing in warm places; that the next time he steps foot onto a cruise, it will probably be with his younger sister and his younger brother. That he’d been working late for three weeks in a row to make this trip happen; that it feels a little wrong, now, to have nothing pressing to do.

It turns out to be a nice night, after all.

—

Firsts.

The cologne is an offhanded purchase. 

It’s not something Vincent thinks much about when he picks it up. It’s on the third day that he purchases it, after he holds too long of a conversation with the sales assistant—who seems to have an uncanny ability for translating whatever it is he says into one recommendation, and another, and another—to feel like he can walk away unguiltily. In the end, he settles with a tall, sleek bottle with a wooden cap. The cap is lined in gold—to suggest that this is a classy choice, presumably—to match the serif lettering on the front, which says Wood & Flame. 

It’s not something he intends on using, either—that is, until Yves messages him, dinner? And then, a moment later: feeling kind of lazy tonight. Mb we can order in 

Vincent texts back, Sure. Let’s order in. 6:30? 

Yves’s response is immediate. You haven’t been to my room yet, right? I can host :) 

It doesn’t mean anything, Vincent thinks, that the dress shirt he picks out is the newest one he owns, that he spends time ironing the creases out of it. It doesn’t have to mean anything, when he lingers longer than usual in front of the bathroom mirror, suddenly apprehensive. Yves is asking him out of friendly camaraderie, and nothing more. He runs another hand through his hair, catches himself, lowers it. Fixes his tie, straightens his collar, finds himself having to fix it again.

With a hot stranger, Yves had said, as if it was nothing. So offhandedly it seemed almost like it didn’t even matter—a throwaway comment, maybe. 

The cologne is an afterthought—he spritzes some on his wrists, and then, upon further thought, sprays some in behind his ears. It’s probably not going to be noticeable anyways, unless Yves gets close enough, which is unlikely. The scent of it is somewhat mild, understated—that had been one of the factors which had led him to pick it up in the first place—even when he lifts his wrist to his face, it’s not nearly as obvious as he expects it to be.

The bottle is large enough that it seems as though it will never run out—the liquid in it seems to be at the same level as before, even though he feels like he’s been generous enough in his application of it. He’s starting to think he won’t have enough occasions to wear it to.

Perhaps he will get some mileage out of this purchase tonight. Or perhaps, optimistically, this bottle will last him the rest of his life, he’ll never have to shop for cologne again in his lifetime. If he thinks about it that way, it doesn’t seem like such a financially bad investment.

—

Through his walk down the long, narrow hallway, and up two flights of stairs, Vincent prepares himself for the moment when Yves opens the door.

He’s still caught off guard, though, when the door swings open. Yves is dressed in a green button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows—the shirt is loose-fitting, but the way the fabric tightens around his arms does not do a good job of obscuring the muscle definition underneath—and well-fitted khaki chinos. His light brown hair is tied up in its usual low ponytail, but the strands which were too short to secure are tucked behind his ear.

“You made it!” He grins—it’s the kind of charming smile that completely overtakes his features—and steps aside to let Vincent in. “Now you can compare how different the rooms are three floors up.”

Vincent looks past him, at the arrangement of the room. “It looks like the same elements have undergone a few different transformations,” he says. “The wall art in this room looks more like it’s trying to remind you what you’re here for.”

Yves follows his gaze to the large landscape painting which hangs in the living room, to the right of the TV. It’s a watercolor drawing of waves crashing onto a white sand beach, except it’s drawn in a way that the waves closer to shore are saturated and dazzling, and the waves further from the shore fade out in color into the horizon. There’s faint detailing of buildings in the distance, too. Vincent is pretty sure it’s supposed to be the shoreline of Nassau, which they’re set to dock at two days from now.

“Huh,” Yves says. “It’s sort of like it’s taunting me. What’s in yours?”

“Mostly abstract art,” Vincent says. “Aside from that, a photograph of a conch shell, up close. There’s also a photograph of a ship out at sea, with no land in sight.” 

Yves laughs. “That’s pretty ironic. I heard that lower floors are better for seasickness. It would probably suck to be seasick, and then when you look up you’re forced to look at some sailboat in the middle of nowhere. Super on-the-nose.”

Vincent smiles. “It’s probably a good reality check.” he presses closer in to leave his jacket—which he is realizing now that he doesn’t need, but which he brought with him just in case, on the occasion that their evening culminates in a night-time walk on the deck—folded on Yves’s couch. “Were you thinking of ordering room service?”

“Yep,” Yves says. “I think everything on there is complimentary except for the wine. Do you need the room service menu?”

“I took a look at it already,” Vincent says. “I recalled that a certain someone does his research early.”

Yves looks briefly taken aback. Then he laughs. “You caught me. I totally did look at it beforehand. Though I was ready to act indecisive if you needed more time.”

“Very gentlemanly,” Vincent says. “Should we call in?”

Yves ends up calling for room service, on both of their behalf. (“That sounds really good,” he says, when Vincent recites his order to him. “It was probably my second choice.” “You can try some when it comes,” Vincent says.) He orders wine, too, to share, and waves off Vincent’s offer to split the cost.

After that, they settle on the living room couch. Yves says: “I’m thinking we can put something on while we wait for dinner to arrive? But probably not something you care about too much, because I might talk over it.” he passes the remote over to Vincent.

Vincent flips through the channels. There’s some sitcom which is playing which seems somewhat suitable, up until one of the couples gets into a sincere-seeming argument onscreen and Vincent thinks that, considering Yves’s semi-recent breakup, maybe everything with romance should be quietly vetoed. He eventually settles on one of those reality TV shows where people have to partake in increasingly difficult obstacle courses in order to not get eliminated.

“These are always fun,” Yves says. “You know about hysterical strength? I’ve always wondered if being nervous on these kinds of shows helps you or hurts you.” 

He reaches up with a hand to scrub at his eyes. Vincent looks over at him with a frown.

“Are you tired?”

“No,” Yves says. He blinks, and then sniffles—if Vincent isn’t mistaken, his eyes are a little watery. 

“Bored of the competition already?”

“Not at all. I think these kinds of shows are manufactured so that you can’t get bored.”

“There’s probably an optimal amount of nervousness,” Vincent says, “to answer your question. I’ve found that to be true with public speaking.”

“Huh,” Yves says. “Does your work require a lot of public speaking?”

“Not particularly. Mostly internal presentations, occasionally a conference.” He looks over at Yves. “If you weren’t tired before, talking about my work is going to make you tired for sure.” 

Yves laughs. “No way. I love hearing about other people’s work.”

“It’s not very life or death. There are no obstacle courses. Just a lot of regression analysis.”

Yves blinks at him. “Do you work in business, by any chance?”

Vincent nods. “I’m a quantitative analyst.”

“Huh,” Yves says, contemplative. “I heard it’s very competitive.” He sniffles again, quietly enough that it almost goes unheard. “You must be good at math.”

“A small subset of math,” Vincent says. “What do you work in?”

“Wealth management. It’s a little more client-centric, so I had to plan pretty far ahead to take time off for thihh-!” The inhale is sharp, unexpected. They’re sitting close enough to each other that Vincent can feel Yves stiffen beside him, can feel the sharp upwards stutter of his shoulders as his breath hitches again. “hHeh-!” He pivots away from Vincent, burying his face into his elbow—polite, Vincent thinks—and then, after a long, torturous moment, loses the fight to a loud, vocal, “HhHEh-IIDZschH-iEEw!”

Vincent wills himself not to look. “Bless you,” he says, staring straight ahead. Onscreen, a contestant loses her balance on a high mounted totem and drops straight down into the water, much to the dismay of her teammates. It is a wholly ineffective means of distraction.

Yves’s sneeze—like Yves—is painfully Vincent’s type.

“Ugh,” Yves says, sniffling again. He lowers his elbow slowly. “Sorry about that. Where was I?”

“You said you had to plan far ahead to take time off,” Vincent says. It’s no small miracle that he remembers this.

“Right, yeah,” Yves says, and launches into a story about the hoops he’d had to jump through to make sure all the clients he was assigned to would have their needs accounted for.

“That’s a lot of work for a week’s absence,” Vincent says.

Yves laughs. “Yeah. Sometimes the pickier clients really hate the idea of not getting round-the-clock attention. I’m— hh-! hHEH-!” He reaches up with a hand to scrub at his nose, though the look of ticklish irritation doesn’t quite leave his expression—Vincent really shouldn’t have looked. After a moment, he lowers his hand, takes in another uncertain breath, as if he’s still testing the waters. “Ugh, I lost it. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. This must be distracting for you.”

Distracting is an understatement. “Don’t worry about it,” Vincent says. “Is it worse during tax season?”

“Oh, yeah. No one in their right mind really takes off during tax season, snf-! It’s not like, officially against any rules, but it’s pretty openly acknowledged as one of those suggestions that’s not actually very optional. That doesn’t affect you guys as much, does it?”

“No,” Vincent says. “My free time is mostly dependent on project deadlines.”

“The ticket you won happened to not conflict with any of those?”

“I brought my work laptop with me,” Vincent says, a little sheepishly.

Yves’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“It’s not like I’m working long hours,” Vincent says. “Just some catch-up work, here and there. I don’t want there to be any surprises when I get back.”

“Always putting out fires,” Yves says, shaking his head. “It’s probably good that you won the—” He reaches over to lay a hand on Vincent’s arm—presumably as a comforting gesture—only he wrenches away at the last second. “The— Hheh-! Hh… hHEH-!” There’s another brief pause, as though whatever is affecting him has left him stranded again on the precipice of a sneeze. For a moment, Vincent prepares himself mentally for another false start.

But then Yves takes in another sharp, ticklish breath, and it turns out to be enough to set him over the edge. “hh’hEHh’iITSSSCHh-EEw!”

The sneeze snaps him forward at the waist to meet the crook of a hastily-raised arm. It’s just as attractive as the first, if not more—Vincent can hear his voice in the ending syllable, can hear the ticklish desperation in the release. Yves keeps his face buried in his elbow for a moment longer, sniffling wetly.

It takes everything in Vincent to not visibly shiver. What are the chances, really, that the attractive stranger-slash-acquaintance he’s having dinner with—someone who, when this cruise is over, he probably will never see again—just happens to have a sneeze which happens to be perfectly aligned with his tastes?

“Bless you again,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“I feel fine,” Yves says, with another sniffle, his eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t think I’m getting sick. I was fine earlier.” 

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of,” Yves says. “No seasonal allergies. Nothing pet-wise, either.” 

Vincent tries, and fails, to think of what else might be causing this. The cabins seem too clean, too well-ventilated, to be dusty. There are no flowers anywhere in sight. Is Yves coming down with something, then? But he’d said I don’t think I’m getting sick, with the certainty of someone who probably isn’t. 

“Let me know if you start feeling worse,” Vincent says.

Yves smiles at him. “I will. I’m really fine, I promise. It’s just—” he reaches up with a hand to rub his nose. A distant look crosses his expression for a moment—as though he’s warring against the need to do something about it—before his breathing levels off. “—tickish, snf! Not unpleasant.”

The sneezing doesn’t stop. Yves, for the most part, proceeds as though he’s completely unaffected by it—he’s no quieter than usual. It’s as though every time he feels the need to sneeze, he is intent on ignoring it until the need is too pressing to ignore. When that happens, he turns away just in time, except for a couple close calls when he misjudges and instead doubles forward with a sneeze directed into his lap, sniffling afterwards. 

Vincent blesses him intermittently, but otherwise offers up no comment. Yves apologizes sheepishly, after the fourth or fifth sneeze, for interrupting the show. Vincent doesn’t tell him that he probably couldn’t care less about the show. Truthfully, he has no clue what’s going on onscreen anymore—obstacle course shows are interesting, but not that interesting.

Dinner arrives not too long after. Vincent can barely focus on the seafood pasta he’s ordered, though he offers Yves a bite, as promised. Yves unfolds one of the napkins room service leaves for them and blows his nose quietly into it. He sniffles afterwards—as though his nose is properly running, now—and resumes talking as usual.

Vincent crosses his legs, does his best to ignore the heat radiating below his stomach. This is really bad timing. The entire inexplicable setup—the fact that they’re sitting so close to each other; the fact that he can physically feel Yves tense beside him, rigid with anticipation, his shoulders jolting upwards with every inhale—is honestly nothing short of torturous. 

It’s worse, too, that Vincent can see the ticklish irritation in Yves’s features—the crease of his eyebrows, the fluttering eyelashes, the sharp, uncontrolled gasp—before he wrenches forward with another desperate sneeze. It’s always a full-body endeavor—something that snaps him forward at the waist, leaves him bent over, a little breathless, sniffling wetly.

It absolutely doesn’t help that the underside of Yves’s nose is slightly flushed red, now, from the unusual attention—perhaps this is to be expected, seeing as Yves keeps rubbing it. More than once, Vincent contemplates asking to use Yves’s bathroom, and subsequently, well, getting rid of the problem at hand. Yves has no idea what this is all doing to him. After all, how would he know?

It’s only when they’re almost done with dinner that it clicks.

“Hold on,” Vincent says. Yves had said he wasn’t allergic to anything, but there’s a first time for everything, right? Particularly, there’s always a first time exposure to allergens. That first time might come later in life for those that are less commonplace.

It seems glaringly obvious, in hindsight. Yves hadn’t been sniffling when he’d opened the door for Vincent, had he? From the way he’d reacted to the first sneeze, it didn’t seem like this has been going on for long.

But of course. He’d been so focused on the environment that he hadn’t considered it. There’s only one thing Vincent did tonight which was pointedly out of the ordinary.

The realization leaves him feeling suddenly cold.

“Yves.” Vincent flinches away. “I think I know what’s causing this.”

Yves pauses. “What is it?”

“I’m wearing new cologne,” he says. “I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it earlier. I didn’t think much of it when I was applying it.” He feels a little like an asshole, now that they’re discussing it. It wasn’t his intention to leave Yves suffering. He hadn’t known. But still, the fact that they’ve been sitting in such close proximity this whole time definitely hasn’t helped.

The last thing he wants to do right now is look at Yves, but he forces himself to, anyway—wrenches his gaze upwards until he meets Yves’s eyes. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve made the connection earlier.”

Yves blinks at him. He doesn’t seem as upset about this as Vincent thinks he should be—strangely, he doesn’t seem upset at all. “Are you saying you think I’m allergic?”

“Allergic, or sensitive, yes,” Vincent says, frowning. “In any case, I take full responsibility. I should probably just—”

“Wait,” Yves says, reaching out with a hand to latch onto Vincent’s wrist. “I haven’t been allergic to anything before.” 

“It’s probably not something common,” Vincent says, wondering if he should pull away.

“You applied it to your wrists?” Yves asks.

Vincent nods, a little stiffly. He doesn’t quite trust himself to speak. It feels like Yves’s fingertips are burning holes into his arm.

Everything that happens after happens in a flash. Yves tightens his grip around Vincent’s wrist, pulls it gently towards him, and leans down to take a long, indulgent inhale.

Vincent feels all of the blood drain from his face. He rounds on Yves, wide-eyed. “What are you—?”

The reaction is almost immediate. Yves drops Vincent’s arm as if he’s been scalded. He shuts his eyes, barely turns to the side in time for a harsh, “hhEHH’iiDZZSHH-iEW!”

The sneeze is so forceful he coughs a little afterwards, his eyes watering. His shoulders jerk upwards again, his nose twitching. “hHEH… HEHH… hehH’IITSSCHh-EEW! Ugh… coughcough, you’re right, it’s defidetely… hHEH—!!”

Vincent can only watch, frozen in place, as Yves jerks forward again, burying his nose into his sleeve. “IHHHh’DZschH-IIEW! Snf-!” He lowers his arm slightly—Vincent can see him scrunching his nose up, trying to rid himself of what must be the worst tickle he’s been faced with all night. That thought sends a wave of electricity down Vincent’s spine. “Hh-hHeh-! Definitely the cologne that’s… hh-! that’s… hEHH… setting me… hh… HhEH’IDDzShHH-IIEW!! —off, snf, f-fuck… hh-Hehh-hhEHH’IITTSHhh-IIEEW!” The sneeze explodes from him, barely contained, snapping his entire body forward with the sheer intensity. Yves barely manages a breath in between before he’s doubling over with another: “IIIiDDDzSCHHh-YyiEW!”

Vincent swallows hard. He’s, well, so turned on that he can barely speak. It feels a little like the heat he feels—more of a full-body-flush, at this point—might actually melt the clothes off of his arms. “Bless you.” It’s remarkable that his voice manages to come out as evenly as it does.

He stands, heads over to the coffee table to retrieve a small box of tissues. Takes in a deep breath.

When he gets back to the couch, Yves has cupped both his hands over his nose and mouth. Vincent tilts the opening of the tissue box towards him without comment. 

“Thadks,” Yves says, with a laugh. He takes a handful and blows his nose. “I needed those. That was probably ndot the best idea, in hindsight.”

Understatement of the fucking century. Vincent stares at him, disbelieving. “Your first idea after learning you’re allergic to something is to test it out?”

“Scientific rigor, and whatnot,” Yves says. “I had to be sure. Like I said, I’ve never actually been allergic to something before. This was quite the… hHeh-!” He raises the handful of tissues back up to his face, his gaze going unfocused. “Just a sec—hh… hH… hHEH’IIDZSCHh-IIEW! snf!”

“Bless you,” Vincent says. “I guess this answered your question, then.” Yves laughs. “It definitely did.”

“I think you—” Vincent places the tissue box—which is at risk of falling off the edge of the couch—directly into Yves’s lap. “—should take this.” He takes a cautious step backwards. “And I should go take a long shower back in my room.”

Yves looks up at him, still a little teary-eyed. “It doesn’t bother me that much,” he says earnestly. “It’s just sneezing. I don’t mind it.” Just sneezing. Vincent shakes his head.

Yves stills, his expression probing. “Unless…” His voice comes out a little softer, now. Uncertain. “...Unless it bothers you?” 

That couldn’t be further from the truth. Not in the sense that Yves means it, at least.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Vincent says. “But I’ve been in your situation before, so I know what it feels like. I… know it isn’t pleasant.”

This information seems to surprise Yves. “You’ve experienced this before too?”

Vincent nods. “Every spring, more or less. I’m allergic to tree pollen.” His face feels hot from the admission—it feels strangely inappropriate to be admitting this, but then again, it’s not as though he’s bringing it up out of nowhere. “You can imagine that’s harder to avoid than a singular kind of cologne.”

Yves’s eyes widen. “That sounds terribly - hhEH-! hH… HEHh’iITSHH-iIEWW! snf-! terribly incodvenient. I can’t imagine having to deal with this feeling for an edtire season.”

“It is. That’s why I don’t want to subject you to this for longer than I have to.” He steps past Yves to grab his jacket from the couch, which he ties around his waist. It will be better for both of them if he leaves now. “I really should shower and get changed. Your symptoms are not going to get better if I stick around.” 

Yves seems to be coming around to this. “Sorry to have to end things off early,” he says, frowning. “You came all the way here.”

“It was barely a walk,” Vincent says. “And this wouldn’t have happened if not for me. I should be the one saying sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Yves says, with a laugh. “It was an illuminating experience. I’ll see you, then?”

The possibility is so fleeting that Vincent almost dismisses it. Could Yves really be disappointed?

“I have some Claritin back in my room,” Vincent says, trying his luck, though a part of him recognizes that this kind of confidence is categorically unlike him. “We can resume our night when you can get through two sentences without having to sneeze.” And after Vincent takes care of something else, and preferably spends enough time in his room flipping through boring travel pamphlets and sensational catalogues to get his mind out of the gutter, so he can face Yves again with some semblance of normalcy. “...If you still want to.”

Yves brightens.

“Of course,” he says, with sincerity. “I’ll look forward to it.”

[bisexualiteaa]

Omg! You should totally do one where he’s sexually frustrated. And the reader (female), teases him until he breaks! And when he does they get down to business BIG time if you know what i mean lol. But even when they do start to fuck the reader doesn’t listen to all his demands, making it more spicy once silco finally gets the reader exactly how he wants her.

On edge

AN: Thank you so much for this request!! I loved the idea so much and literally had so much fun writing this! Apologies that it took a few days, I again just wanted to make sure it was good and to what you asked! ♥️ I hope you enjoy and that I’ve done your ask justice! 🥺🫶

CW: no use of y/n, reader has hair, reader is AFAB, female anatomy, MDNI, cursing, teasing, heavy brät/brät tämer themes, Silco is t0uch deprived, r0ugh seggs, unprotected seggs, bïting, cream 🥧, slight dëgradation, p0rn w/o plot, äftercare, possible spelling/grammar errors

Also I’m not sure why, but as I was writing I was listening to this song and I just feel like it fits SO well! So listen along while you read if you’d like!

His forehead head sat in his hand as you entered his office, elbow leaned against the desk as his other hand held a glass, amber liquid and two ice cubes swirling around inside the ornate rocks glass. Whiskey, he only drank on the rougher days anymore, and judging by the cigar that sat in the ash tray on his desk, smoke emanating from it, told you he was having a day. You on the other hand, were in a different sort of mood, a bubbly, perhaps more mischievous mood. You weren’t quite sure what brought it about, whether it was your confidence just hitting a new high today, or what but you could tell from the sassy sway to your hips as you shut the door carefully behind you. Something you didn’t realize had in fact been noticed by him, he was just doing a very good job at hiding it.

“Rough day?” You asked innocently, sauntering over to his side as you stood beside him. The scent of your perfume filled his nose the moment you moved closer, leaving him to inhale its intoxicating scent. Sometimes he wondered if you mixed a sort of drug into it with the way he craved its familiarity, wishing to smell it on his sheets, his jacket. When he did, it drove him wild, the transfer of it from just a simple hug was enough to leave him clutching the large jacket and taking a whiff on occasion when no one was looking or when he was alone in his office. Each time he did, he could feel his cock twitch with excitement as his mind would then drift to you. Sinful thoughts filling his mind of how good you would look splayed against his sheets beneath him, or how you would look bent over his desk as he ravaged you. Shimmer had nowhere near the effects that you had on him, it was almost impressive as much as it was sad. How long had it been that the simple scent of your perfume could cause him to go mad? Or for your fleeting touches to leave him with such carnal need? He couldn’t remember, but you made him feel young again in that sense.

“Quite” he replied plainly, placing the glass down on the desk, trading it for his cigar that had already been halfway smoked. You watched as he took a long drag of it before leaning back and releasing the smoke in an exhale upwards, ensuring he wouldn’t breathe it into your face. You loved the scent of his cigars, something about the tobacco mixed with smoke and his own personal scent left you enjoying being around him as he smoked more than you probably should have. There was something just so alluring about it. “Every time I turn around it feels as if something has fallen apart and is in need of my attention” he finally explained, leaving you to look upon him sympathetically. The lines of stress etched into his forehead and brow spoke truth of this, the bags beginning to accumulate beneath his eyes only further evidence to his unrest. Your hand came to rest against his thigh, rubbing soothing circles along his skin. Something you’d done in the hopes it would help him calm down a little, but you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t have ulterior motives behind it.

You felt his body tense for a moment from the soft touch, looking down at your hand that rested against his mid thigh. It was so close, so close yet so far. He wondered how it would look in your small, dainty hands, how good it would feel. He turned his head and shifted a little to try and erase the thought from his mind, but even as you removed your hand, its heat lingered on the spot like a painful reminder. “Zaun looks to their leader for guidance and aid, but even a leader deserves rest” you said, smoothing your hands along his jacket, flattening any wrinkles that formed from his previously hunched over position. You were bent over as you did, the shirt you were wearing giving him direct sight to your cleavage as your perfume continued to intoxicate him. Did you have any idea the things you were doing to him? Surely you had to, you couldn’t be so oblivious to your effect on him, could you? He was ashamed of the hold you had on him, how weak you made him from just a simple touch. He tried his best to hide it, and hide it well, but as you stood here before him he knew today may very well be the day he reaches his breaking point. “I’m granted no rest when someone walks through my door just about every hour” he replied, making you hum as you stood back up, watching his eyes trail you as you walked back over to the door. He felt himself release a breath he had no idea he’d been holding in as you put a slight distance between you. “Then lock it” you said with a cute little grin, the bolt turning in the door with an audible click before you turned back around, watching him clutch the cigar between his fingers with a fierce grip. His eyes bored into you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, no one has ever looked at you like that, with such fire in their eyes, with such desire. It made your stomach twist in knots. “No one can bother you if they can’t get in” you finished before returning to his side, this time watching as you boldly sat on an empty corner of his desk.

You couldn’t quite read the look on his face as you did, but you had noticed the way his eyes would flit up and down your body when he thought you weren’t looking. He took in the way your pencil skirt seemed to raise past your mid thigh as you sat down, giving him a flash of your panties from beneath it when you would go to cross your legs, leaving him incredibly hard beneath his pants. You were toying with him, you had to be. There was no way you were doing this all unknowing of the effects you had on him. Pathetically, he was falling for it, and he hated that he was. He caught the glimpse of a grin resting on your sweet, plump lips as your downcast gaze trailed him up and down, waiting for a response. You were teasing him on purpose. “You play with fire” he stated, making you giggle. “I know, I can’t help myself. I like the possibilities of being burnt” you answered confidently, your foot dragging up and down his calf affectionately. Janna almighty you’ll be the death of him, but if that were to be the case, what a hell of a way to go.

You watched him as he stood before you, hands planting on either side of your thighs as his face hovered close to yours. “You think you’re so clever? Waltzing in here with that short little skirt, teasing me and think I wouldn’t notice?” He asked, making you hum as your grin only stretched wider. “Seemed to be working just fine, was it not?” You asked in reply, feeling as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart to allow him a place to stand between before pulling you to the edge of his desk where your hips met his. “You tell me, what do you think?” he replied, leaving you to gasp softly as you felt him pulse and twitch against your heat. “I think I have you wrapped around my little finger” you boldly claimed, your fingers walking up along his jacket before your arms looped around his neck, pulling yourself even closer to him but never fully closing the distance. “You think so?” He asked in response, making you giggle. That same smug grin rested on your lips as electricity thrummed between you, your faces mere centimeters apart, waiting to see if he would cave in. Your gaze flit to his lips with heavy lids, enjoying the mental turmoil you were putting him through as he fought caving in immediately. “You want me so bad? Come get me” you whispered, your breath ghosting across his lips as they hovered so very close to his own. He needed you in ways he couldn’t even begin to try and explain.

So he caved.

You felt his hand come to rest on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you even closer, finally closing the distance between you as his lips captured yours. The kiss was fiery, passionate and messy, a gravely groan leaving him into it. You could feel the rumble in his chest from it, paired with the way his lips danced against your own told you how long he’d been wanting this, how much he’d been needing this. Needing you. You couldn’t help the smile that stretched to your lips into it, thinking of all the ways that you could push his limits. Your hand smoothed down his chest, toying with his tie as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, an effort to push the kiss further into something more intimate. You giggled as you denied him, earning an impatient groan in response as his free hand groped your ass roughly, making you moan. The moment you did, he took his chance, his tongue exploring you as it tangled with your own in a messy clash of teeth, tongue and lips. It had you dizzy.

When he pulled back he looked you over, not caring this time if you laid witness to it or not. He took the moment to take in how your chest heaved with each labored breath, how your cheeks were flushed, lips shining with swapped saliva. “Gonna keep staring at me? Or you gonna do something about that problem of yours?” You asked with a cocky grin, making him chuckle darkly. “Oh it will be fixed, but it won’t be me fixing it” he said, yanking on your hair to pull your head back, earning a pathetic whine from you as it made you look up at him, finding yourself unable to bite back in this position. “You caused it, you fix it” he ordered, making you moan as he rolled his hips against your own, brushing his painfully hard cock against your panty clad cunt, allotting you some much needed friction and stimulation. All you could do was look up at him, excitement and anticipation filling your gaze leaving him to chuckle. “No witty come back to that? I give you the smallest taste of how good I can make you feel and you give up just like that, hmm?” He asked smuggly, making your face grow hot with defeat before he let up on his grip in your hair. “Strip” he commanded, making you stand up and work at untucking your shirt before unbuttoning it slowly. He watched as every button came undone, more of your gorgeous body was revealed to him, his eyes raking over your curves. The fabric soon dropped to the floor haphazardly next to his desk, to be forgotten about until later when it would be needed again. Next was your bra. His eyes were trained on you as he watched you unhook the backing, allowing it to slide down your arms and join your shirt in a growing pile. Your nipples had hardened from the temperature change, the exposure to the air and from the excitement coursing through you in anticipation of what was to come next. Then came your skirt, its simple button and zipper being undone allowing it to drop to the floor and pool around your feet with ease, earning a groan from him at the sight of you nearly naked before him. You hooked your thumbs into the sides of your panties, working them down from your hips before they fell to your ankles, leaving you to kick them off to the side with rest of the pile. You watched with much intrigue and entertainment as he seemed to twitch with anticipation and need for you, making you giggle.

“How long has it been?” You asked curiously, a cocky grin on your lips and confidence in your tone as you looked at him, looping your arms around his neck. There it was again, your perfume, overwhelming his senses. “I beg your pardon?” He asked, brows furrowed and sending a rather defensive look your way. “How long has it been?” You asked again, watching as he looked you up and down. “Since?” He asked in reply, not seeming to understand what you were hinting at, or maybe he preferred you just spit it out. “Since you had sex. Can tell by the tension in your shoulders and the way you practically moan with every touch that it’s been a while” you pointed out playfully, making him a little angry that you managed to get beneath his surface and figure him out so well. “You best be careful of that mouth of yours. My kindness, even with you, has its limits” he responded, making you hum. “Then go ahead, be mean. I’m a big girl, I can take it” you challenged making him walk closer to you, inching you towards the edge of his desk. “You want me to be mean, do you?” He asked, the rasp of his voice lowering to a much deeper tone, a crooked smile resting on his lips. He couldn’t lie, the slight tinge of fear resting in your eyes when you felt your back hit his desk, telling you there was nowhere left to go, awakened something dark within him. Something carnal, animalistic. You looked like nothing more than helpless, vulnerable prey, and he was about to eat you alive. You couldn’t deny the predatory look in his eyes certainly worked wonders on you in return. “Don’t look so concerned…” he started, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek gently before leaning in close, leaving his lips just millimeters from yours.

“I’m about to make your day” he finished, his words mixed with the feel of his breath ghosting your lips so closely send a shiver through you in excitement.

It wasn’t long before his pants were around his ankles, thrusting his cock balls deep into your soaked cunt. Your shared panting and moans, paired with the creaking and screeching of the poor desk beneath you that had been slowly inching its way across the floor with each thrust, filled the room. Should anyone walk past his office, there would be no mistaking what was happening just behind the door. Though you supposed your moans could have likely alerted all of Zaun at this rate, with your first orgasm of the night already past you, it’d be a miracle if no one could hear you. Your head was tilted back as he drilled into you, gripping your hips with a bruising pressure as your arms looped around his neck for leverage. You watched as he looked down to the space where your bodies were connected, watching his length disappeared inside of you with ease. He couldn’t help but to notice the little white ring that rested at the base of his length from your previous orgasm as the sound of his hips smacking roughly against your ass filled the room. “Fuck! Oh gods, yes!” You moaned, making him grin. “How long has it been?” He asked, looking to you, waiting for a response from you but your pleasure-idled mind was so foggy you could hardly understand what he was asking you. “Since? Oh fuck! Right there!!” You replied the best you could, tilting your head back again, leaving your tits just inches from his face as your back arched upwards towards him. “Since someone fucked you right. Since someone made you feel this good” he finished, making you whine as his hand grabbed your jaw, squishing your cheeks as he forced you to look back up at him. The cute pout that rested on your face, occasionally morphing into ones of pleasure each time his tip bullied your cervix, had him rutting into you harder. “Never! Not ‘til you- oh!” You managed, making him chuckle as he relinquished you from his grip. “Pathetic. You put up all that fuss, do all that teasing and yet I still manage to get you right where I want you” he said through grunts of pleasure, his neatly slicked back hair slightly falling against his forehead that had a thin sheen of sweat. “Feels so good! Oh gods, Silco!” You moan pathetically, knowing he was exactly right but you didn’t care. You’d spend every night here like this with him if he made you feel this good every time.

You felt as that familiar sensation in your lower belly began to take root again as his lips captured your own in a messy but passionate kiss, your moans raising in pitch and growing closer together a clear sign that you were close. As if on que, his fingers traveled between your bodies, coming to rub your clit to give you that added bit of friction you so desperately needed. You gasped before moving your hips against his and his fingers, meeting his merciless thrusts and fucking yourself on his fingers. “You’re right where you belong. Beneath me like this, cumming on my cock as I please you like no one else ever will” he said, rubbing your clit faster to make up for the way his thrusts were beginning to lose rhythm. You were so close to finally falling over the precipice, your body feeling as if it were catching on fire as your every nerve ending lit up. His words were what sent you there. “You’re mine” he growled, biting into your shoulder as you came together, his bite sending you toppling over the edge into pure bliss, while your walls squeezed him tight, milking him of everything he’d been holding in for far too long. Your body twitched and spasmed with the intensity of your second orgasm of the night, a pleased hum leaving you as you felt him cum inside of you, throbbing repeatedly as he emptied everything into you.

You both sat there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms together, fighting to catch your breath. You watched him smooth his hair back with his hand, doing his best to get it out of his face and back to how it was originally styled, or at least the closest he could get it. You smiled as he kissed you softly, leaving you to cup his dance gently in your hands. “Are you alright?” He asked into it, checking to make sure he hadn’t overdone it and hurt you. You gave a hum then a giggle. “I feel wonderful” you said with a bubbly grin, making him chuckle as he continued to kiss you, not wishing to leave your arms or the taste of your sweet lips just yet. “Good, as do I” he replied, making you grin even wider. “Fuck yes you do” you said, playfully yet truthfully, making you both laugh. “Oh is that so? Have I ruined anyone else for you?” He asked, the hint of possessiveness in his tone as his lips traced down your neck. “You might have. Not that I care to find out, you said it yourself; this is exactly where I belong, and it’s exactly where I intend to stay” you said, your head tilted a little to grant him better access to your sensitive skin. You heard him groan next to your ear as his lips lingered upon all your most sensitive spots.

What caught you by absolute surprise was the sensation of him throbbing within you, twitching to life again from inside of you. You gave a gasp with both intrigue and excitement as he looked to you with a grin. Apparently your words had let the monster out, because stay there you would for nearly the rest of the night, getting lost in one another without a care for how sore you’d be tomorrow. It was well worth it when you were with him.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Feel free to ignore but what about sending Simon a spicy pic while he's at work, he's h*r ny all day then goes ham when he gets home to you 🫣

A/N: Ahhh, I love this!! Hope this does what you were looking for justice, still tryna get a feel for writing smut😭😅

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), swearing, cream pie, spanking

You're a Minx, You Know That?

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

You found yourself pacing Simon's home office, phone in hand, finger hovering over the ‘send’ button. You’d just taken a rather sultry picture a few moments ago and were debating on sending it to Simon.

You had lingerie that you had just bought from the store, and were too impatient to show him.

He was currently wrapping up on base and would be returning home to you in a few days, but you just couldn’t wait that long.You’d taken the picture, sitting on his home office chair. Your legs were spread apart, and one hand was set across your lower abdomen. 

Deciding to just go for it, you hit the send button, and waited anxiously for Simon’s reply. 

Simon’s phone pinged shortly after you sent it, and he looked down to see a photo message from you. He looked at Johnny and Gaz who were sitting next to him and made sure they weren’t looking, and opened your message. 

His eyes widened at the picture, his breath hitching in his throat as he immediately went to hide his phone in his pocket. He didn’t know what to expect from your message, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll be back.” Simon cleared his throat, and made his way to his quarters, ignoring the confused looks from his teammates.

He hurried to his room, and locked the door. Pulling his phone back out, he stared at your picture and felt himself growing hard.

From: Simon

Naughty girl, you are, what’s with the picture?

From Y/N

What, didn’t you like it? Got a new set, couldn’t wait to show it to you.

From: Simon

Oh, I liked it. Why don’t you send me another, yeah?

You bit your lip as you read Simon’s reply, and settled yourself in a more comfortable position in his chair. You moved your hand down into your panties, sliding your fingers across your folds.

Lifting the phone to get the perfect angle, you took another picture for Simon in this position, and sent it to him. 

Simon groaned as the new picture popped up on his screen, and he palmed himself lightly.

From: Y/N

You like, baby?

From: Simon

I fucking love it, just wait until I get home. Can't wait to see that in person.

Simon was about to send a picture of his own, when a knock came at his door.

“L.T. Price needs us for a few.” Johnny’s voice came from the other side of the door. 

Simon bit back a groan. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. “Be right there, Soap.”

From: Simon

Got to go love, I’ll see you in a few days. Better have that little outfit on for me when I get back ;)

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

A few days passed, and it was finally time for Simon to come home. You couldn't have been more excited. The anticipation of what could ensue tonight had you feeling even livelier than usual. Simon had texted you not long ago that he would be home soon, so you'd put on the lingerie piece and waited patiently for him.

Simon was so glad to finally be home, the mission was long and tiring, and he just wanted to come home to you. He'd been horny as hell since seeing those photos of you, his hand just not doing enough to satiate his needs. As he walked in the door, he looked around to see you. Assuming you were just as horny as he was, he made his way to the bedroom.

He made his way into your shared room and found you lying on the bed, in the same lingerie from the photo.

You smiled at him and moved your hand that was resting on your side, down your body slowly.

“Fucking minx you are, you know that?” He asked, as he approached your side of the bed. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, I just wanted to show you some new lingerie I got.” You played innocent, moving your hand up and down your abdomen. “Hi baby. I missed you.”

Simon chuckled as his eyes raked up and down your figure. You looked absolutely divine. The lingerie had hugged you in all the right places, showing off your curves beautifully. “God you have no idea how much I have fucking missed you, sweetheart. I've been struggling for days because of those little photos you sent me.”

He leaned forward to kiss you, and you immediately pulled him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck. He ran his tongue along your lip before moving to your neck, sucking a small mark into your soft flesh.

"Wanted to surprise you. Know you've been working hard." You moaned, pushing your head back to give Simon better access to your neck. He nipped at the flesh again, using his tongue to caress the spot after.

"Nice surprise it was. Looks fucking divine on you." He mumbled as he kissed your shoulder blade. "'M gonna leave it on you while I fuck you senseless."

Simon flipped you over so you were on your stomach and pulled you up so your butt was in the air. He gave it a harsh smack, smoothing his hand over the forming red mark. He pulled back only to take his shirt off before returning his hands back to your backside, massaging gently.

Bending down slightly, he leaned in to give each cheek of your ass a kiss, before getting to his knees. “Fuck, I’ve missed this pussy.”

He pulled aside your panties and drove his tongue into your wet heat, flicking at your sensitive bud. You cried out into the pillow, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Simon’s hands gripped tightly on your ass cheeks, as he pulled them apart to get better access to your cunt. He ran his tongue along your folds at an antagonizingly slow pace while simultaneously palming at your ass cheeks. 

You couldn’t help the soft moans that escaped your lips, as you continued to bury your head in your pillow. He slipped his tongue inside your entrance and began to circle it in a slow motion.

“Taste like fucking heaven, love.” He cooed into your pussy, moving to suck on your clit.

You felt yourself growing closer to your orgasm, the coil in your belly tightening and threatening to snap at any moment.  “Gonna cum, Si” You wailed in the pillow. He gave another long lick at your slit before returning to suck at your bud.

“Not yet, want you to cum on my cock, baby.” He pulled his mouth away from your clit, slowly, wiping the remaining juices off of his face with the back of his hand. You whined at the loss of contact.

He leaned forward to place a kiss on the small of your back before pulling you toward the edge of the bed.

You heard the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor, then felt the tip of his cock rubbing at your folds. “God Si, fuck me already.”  

“Planning to love.” He said as he pushed himself inside you. The two of you moaned in unison at the feeling.”This pussy is always so tight.”

He pulled himself all the way out before ramming back into you. You squealed at the sensation, causing a wicked grin to form on Simon’s face. “Gonna fuck you good. Should be punishing you for sending pics like that."

Gripping your waist with a tightness that was sure to leave marks, Simon began pounding into you. You could only moan, as you desperately were gasping for air at his brutal pace.

“Dirty little girl aren’t you? What if the boys had seen that picture?” Simon’s hand came down to slap your ass hard. “Would you have liked that? My mates seeing you all dolled up in this lingerie?”

“N-No Simon, for y-your eyes only.” You struggled to get your words out, with Simon fucking you so hard you could barely think straight. “Only you.”

“Damn right my eyes only. You’re mine.” Another slap came down on your ass. “This pussy, this ass, everything. Mine.”

“All yours.” You chanted, turning your head to look at him.

He looked ethereal, covered in sweat, eyes concentrating on the sight of your pussy swallowing him whole which each thrust. He noticed your gaze, smirked, then picked up the speed of his thrusts. 

You couldn’t comprehend how someone could move as fast as he was, but you were hardly complaining. The noises that filled the room were obscene. The grunts from Simon, moans from you that were muffled from your pillow, and the sound of skin slapping against skin was all that could be heard.

“Look so good in this set, baby. Been wanting to fuck you in this since I saw it..” Simon breathed out, moving his eyes to rake along the backside of your body. “So fucking beautiful you are.”  

He started to pick up the pace even more, as his grunts started to get louder. His grip on your hips loosened as you felt yourself being pulled up against Simon's body.

He continued to jut himself into you as he moved his hand down your stomach, his fingers making their way to your clit, rubbing harshly.

"Simon!" You cried out, throwing your head back to land on his shoulder. "So good. Gonna cum."

"Cum with me yeah? Gonna cum in this pretty pussy."

Simon could feel you clench tightly around his cock, as you cried his name loudly, your orgasm tearing through you. He moaned at the feeling and felt himself nearing his own release.

His thrusts grew sloppy as he chased his high, and a tiny squeak from you set him over the edge. His cock pulsed inside you, painting your walls white with his cum.

He moaned loudly as his orgasm died down. "Fucking hell, never gets old."

You could only nod in response, still trying to catch your breath. He pulled out of you, laying you softly on the bed. He smiled to himself at the marks left on your body by him. Maybe he'd take a few more photos for himself next time he was on deployment.

"What do you say we take a shower, yeah?." He asked as he moved to scoop you back in his arms. "Gotta figure out how to get this bloody thing off you first, then it's round two."

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

A/N: Again, I hope you enjoyed!! Still new to smut so apologies if it's not super great😅

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Akaza x pregnant demon reader (she's pregnant by him) sfw +nsfw headcanons

Ask and you shall receive! Thank you for requesting anon, I hope that you enjoy and that I've done your request justice.

If you want to request something for Akaza - or anyone else - then my askbox is always open and ready to receive, so slide something my way again when you have time (^__^.)

I'll be putting the NSFW headcanons beneath a 'Keep Reading' line, so minors DNI

And just as a final thing,

Akkkkkkaaaazzzaa (ﾉ∀`♥) My beloved!

Akaza with a pregnant S/O - SFW + NSFW Headcanons:

SFW:

Upon first finding out that your pregnant this man is frozen in the spot before actually crying

Gets extra protective

Doesn't like being away from your side for more then 20 minutes

He is absolutely a hover.... he's always by your side

Will attack on sight if he thinks anyone - and i mean anyone - looks like they might cause you and the little bean harm

Makes sure that there's nothing in the house that could potentially harm you - "I'm sanding down the corners cause i don't want them to poke you or harm you!"

Straight up tells Muzan that he's caring for his wife + baby so won't be doing anything else unless it helps his family - does this mid-meeting and then leaves

Somehow always comes back with something new, baby books (books for new parents), clothes for the baby and toys

No matter how random the cravings if he can't make it, he'll buy you it - and if he can't get it at all then he resorts to hugging you with apology after apology falling from his lips

"You want Teriyaki glazed apple slices with honey rice? AND spicy noodles with broth and boiled eggs...will your stomach even be able to handle that?"

Makes sure to stock up on snacks that you enjoy - keeps them in places you can't reach

When it gets to the point that he can feel the baby kick akaza is glued to you even more - Face and/or hand placed against your tummy to feel the baby with a soft coo + smile

Comes up with a thousand nicknames for the baby - e.g. baby bean, firecracker, little kicker - and no, he will not stop

Buys you bigger + airy clothes so your comfortable

Massages your shoulders, back and ankles when you complain of pain and soreness - When he's not there he buys a wheat bag which you can heat up

Lots more cushions and blankets around the house so your comfy and never get cold

Gets you one of those pregnancy pillows

Has a notebook filled with baby names, what toys re good for babies, what they should be sleeping and playing with - he's honestly very prepared for this child

Somehow managed to rope Kokushibou into helping make and paint the baby's room - as well as giving him advice on what to anticipate as a dad

NSFW:

Incredibly gentle with you - not that he wasn't before - especially since your so much more sensitive

He's more focused on making sure that your comfortable, so sticks to a couple of positions that don't harm/hurt your body - although he does enjoy reverse cowgirl and you on all fours (with your head and arms resting so you don't have the baby weight hurting you)

Sometimes standing up if you have the energy

Also enjoys sex while spooning

Spends more time preparing you - oral and fingers until your essence coats your shaking thighs as well as his face and hands

His hands wander, pinch and soothe your thighs, hips and chest until you whine to get touched more

Isn't gonna fuck you against the counter as much as he used too but he'll eat you out with vigor instead

Lots of over-stimulation - sometimes accidentally but usually on purpose with a smirk and a rumbling purr in his chest

More creampies!

Enjoy's pushing his cum back into your twitching hole afterwards - tracing shapes into your clit with it as he hums as your hips jump and thighs twitch at his touch

His breeding kink really kicks into full swing

The feeling of sliding into your wet plush heat without protection makes him even more feral especially now that you pregnant - its like knowing that your already filled with him, already baring a child, makes his brain works at a mile-a-minute

Won't admit that seeing how heavy + full your breasts get with milk - and how you glow the rounder your tummy gets - goes straight to his cock

....absolutely gonna drink your milk - a dark lust filling his eyes as he runs his tongue along your tender nipple before taking it into his mouth with an obscene moan

Will absolutely play with your nipples until your a whimpering and whining mess or until milk comes out

Kisses are more desperate - planting open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat before locking your lips together

Leaves hickies along your breasts and shoulders alot more

takes things slower and gentler

[ladsheadcanoncorner]

*offers a candy bar and a Reddit coin (hey what’s that doing here?)* this is all I have to offer. can I request how the LADS guys smell? love your blog!

insert the: *i've been waiting for this one, turn it up!* tiktok sound. i accept your humble offerings with pleasure because this was SO fun to write! and something i randomly think about a lot??? so i hope i did our boys justice <3

rating: sfw cw: descriptions of specific smells ✉︎♡: ask box open, tumblr users + anons

Xavier: -His everyday cologne is Jean Paul Gautier’s “Le Male” - “the power and freshness of mint and lavender, evoking the familiar, comforting scent of shaving soap, is transformed by the sensuality of vanilla.” -Out of all of the boys, I can see Xavier wearing cologne the least. He just doesn’t remember to do it that often, unless the two of you are going on a fancier date -That being said, his natural scent is still wonderful -Think floating on a cloud of warm, fresh laundry -You steal his hoodies even on days he doesn’t wear cologne just so you can wrap yourself up in his natural scent

Zayne: -Wears Chanel “Bleu de Chanel” - “Features a fresh citrus accord followed by ambery cedar. Woody notes are amplified by tonka bean and vanilla for heightened sensuality. New Caledonian sandalwood unfolds at the base for greater depth, leaving a captivating trail.” -This cologne is inconspicuous enough that if he wore it for patient check ups it wouldn’t be overpowering, while still being noticeable enough that you think of him any time you encounter the scent -Most likely to wear cologne the most often. He prides himself in being perfectly hygienic and put together, and part of that is making sure he always smells good -When he isn’t wearing cologne, he smells perfectly clean. Like that just-cleaned-the-house smell, but no chemicals. More like a fresh breeze coming through the window

Rafayel: -His cologne is Tom Ford "Soleil Blanc" - “a floral amber scent that evokes remote private islands where summer lasts all year. Alive with seductive cardamom and refreshingly decadent ylang ylang, Soleil Blanc unapologetically exudes the endless pursuit of sun and luxury.” -We’re basically going for with a lighter scent, with some floral notes and a touch of the ocean -Likes to use scented lotion too, even if it’s yours, and will ask you if you think he smells pretty every time he does -It could be the length of his hair or the way it curls at the ends, but it holds product for so long and you can smell his shampoo every morning when you wake up together -It takes all of your strength not to stick your nose in his hair and inhale, because he definitely teased you about it the first time you tried

Sylus: -Y’all the way I struggled between choosing something for our boy’s expensive taste and something that I thought actually fit him from a scent perspective (I went with the latter) -Viktor and Rolf’s "Spicebomb Dark Leather" - “Like an illicit encounter between dark leather and bare skin. Explosive notes of spicy black pepper and nutmeg. Deeply masculine base notes of dark leather and tobacco, leaving behind a trail of something unforgettable, yet impossible to define.” -He is the one you smell the longest after going home from a date. With such strong notes, its no wonder that your skin smells like him in all of the little places he touched -When he isn’t wearing cologne, Sylus smells like all of the things he surrounds himself with. Leather, velvet, vintage records, the slightest hint of exhaust from his motorcycle -In the mornings, you swear that he has an almost sweet sort of smell. Rich and syrupy when his skin is warm, scent mingling with yours under the covers when he pulls you close to his chest

Caleb: -Wears Calvin Klein’s “Eternity” - “Celebrates the concepts of forever and modern, multifaceted masculinity. A powerful and elegant base of suede and vetiver is layered with a heart of warm geranium and cypress. Top notes of alluring sage and apple impart crisp freshness to the lingering and compelling scent.” -It has apple top notes, c’mon I couldn’t not use it -This is a scent he’s worn for forever, so the first time he wears it when you reunite with him is emotional to say the least -You definitely don’t admit to him that you have a bottle of it at your apartment that you would spray whenever you missed him -His natural scent is very outdoorsy. He smells like the embodiment of sunshine and fresh cut grass and endless summertime

[its-time-to-write]

jamie and reader used to date before he went back to his old team and broke reader’s heart 💔 now he’s back and wants reader back ANGST AND FLUFF PLEASEEE

I’ve been thinking about this request since FOREVER so I hope I did it justice!!

wonder what it’d be like

You don’t get paid enough for this shit.

“So you do know Jamie Tartt?” asks some journalist doing some piece on some footballer crap. You don’t know and you don’t care.

“If you’re not going to order anything, I’m going to get my boss and have you removed from the premises,” you reply, undeterred in your mission to wipe down empty tables. Brian loves his coffee shop and is fiercely protective of both his employees and his peaceful atmosphere. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s kicked someone out.

“Well, do you have any comment on the fact that he said you were the love of his life?”

You don’t miss a beat. “No I do not. Can I get you any coffee or should I get Brian?”

The journalist declines both, and is out the door.

Fucking Jamie Tartt. What does he even think he’s doing? How did you even come up in an interview? Was the question, who, Jamie Tartt, is the greatest love of your life?

(You’d find out later that yes, that was the question. The journalist was looking for an answer like “Keeley Jones,” or “Kiera Knightley,” something a little spicy.)

It doesn’t matter, the journalist (you think his name was Trent) is gone and you can go back to making coffee and chatting with the regulars.

—

You should have known that wasn’t the end of it.

God, why can’t you just work in peace? You have enough on your plate, between homework and student loans and the person who’s complaining that their iced coffee is “too cold.” 

You don’t need to add “prick footballer ex-boyfriend,” to the list.

But he seems bound and determined to add himself to your list of things to take care of, with the way he’s following you around as you hand people their orders.

“Trent said you wouldn’t talk to him,” he says.

He takes your silence as license to keep going. “Why didn’t you just take the money? Can’t be making much here.”

Do not let him get to you, you remind yourself. Do not sink to his level.

So you just shrug. “I’m not one of those people who fucks a famous footballer just for the money. Now I’m going to give you the same choice I gave that goddamn reporter: you can get a coffee or you can get. Out.”

So Jamie leaves.

—

It figures that your ex would find some way to make your life hell. Sure, you’ve gotten mostly over him and you have your own life and you’re on your way to becoming an accountant because numbers are fun and numbers don’t break your heart. So of course, now is when he decides to show up and have journalists poking around.

But you refuse to talk about him with anyone. It’s rude, in your opinion. It devalues your old relationship and yourself and you won’t do it.

So instead you stay after hours, going over finances at the café while Brian and his boyfriend chatter softly and try new coffee combinations.

You laugh as they bicker and and sip everything they set before you, grateful that you don’t have to think about the day Jamie got signed to Manchester City and decided that he was too good for you.

Unfortunately, you have to go home at some point, which means you’re wide awake in your bed, flatmates all asleep leaving you to replay that whole terrible day.

—

(He said, “It ain’t gonna work, babe, I’m in the Premier League now and I should be with someone who’s at my same level.”

You said, “Don’t call me babe.”

He said, “Don’t waste any tears over me, I won’t be crying so you shouldn’t either.”

You said, “I sure as hell won’t cry over a heartless dick like you.”

He said, “That’s a heartless Premier League dick to you.”

And that was it. A year-long relationship and four year-long friendship down the tubes.)

—

The article hits the papers and now you’re constantly being harassed by journalists. 

You read it, the part about you. It was written in interview format, with a bolded question and then Jamie’s response. It was like a glimpse into his personal life, who he was outside the pitch.

Jamie, you’ve had an astonishing career at such a young age, and made a name for yourself both on and off the pitch. Your name has been in the tabloids with many famous models and actresses in the few short years you’ve played in the Premier League. So my question is, in the history of your romantic entanglements, who is the absolute love of your life?

In your opinion, it was a long lead-up to a short question. 

Jamie’s response was two words. Your first and last name.

That fucker.

It makes work so bad that you had to hide in the back while Brian tells people to leave.

You apologize profusely once everything’s closed and everyone’s gone. 

“I’ll give you my official notice and everything, and I can still help out with finances if you want,” you say. “I’m- not trying to be annoying, but the extra money would be really helpful while I look for another job.”

Brian shakes his head. “I’m not firing you, kid,” he says. “It’ll die down. And Caleb and I are happy to have you over for dinner if you want to talk about it.”

You’re so relieved and grateful that you hug him.

—

It’s late again. You’re in your kitchen. All three of your flatmates are out and will be gone until the morning, so you have the flat all to yourself. You’ve lit some candles and turned on the soft lights, and are criss-cross on the counter listening to Fleetwood Mac with brownies in the oven.

You allow yourself to think about some of the questions that were thrown at you throughout the day.

How long have you known Jamie Tartt?

When was the last time you spoke?

Are you still friends?

You shake your head. Weird.

There’s a knock at the door. Even weirder. You’re not expecting anyone.

You hop down and pad down the hall, standing on tiptoe to peer through the peephole. It’s Jamie. You make a face, double-check that the door is locked, and turn back to the kitchen. 

“I know you’re there,” Jamie calls through the door. “I can see the light on, and your car’s out front. I just want to talk.”

You’re not going to open the door, but then he calls your name and you’re rooted to the floor.

You open the door just enough so you can look at him, but not enough that he thinks he can come inside.

“I can’t imagine what you’d have to say to me other than an apology, especially after the day I’ve had,” you say, more fire in your voice than you remembered you had.

The fire dies when you get a good look at Jamie’s face.

It’s different.

He looks… forlorn, almost?

“I do, I do have an apology,” he says. There’s no malice, no conniving look on his face. 

You say, “Ok,” in a tone so soft that Jamie could almost forget the anger you just held.

“Look,” he begins, but is cut off by your timer beeping in the kitchen. You sigh. 

“I have to get those,” you say. “Can’t burn down the flat. Do you… do you want to come in? Just for a minute.”

Jamie nods and follows you inside, closing the door behind him.

He follows you to the kitchen, close on your heels, where you motion for him to sit while you take out the brownies. 

“Right,” he says once you’re leaning on the counter across from him. “Look- I was a prick. I thought I was fucking special because my right foot was kissed by god. I didn’t know how to fucking handle it so I acted like a prick. And I never said I’m sorry.” He takes a breath. “Keeley’s always talkin’ about accountability, so… here I am. Taking fucking accountability.”

You just look at him.

“I’m not looking for forgiveness,” he hurriedly continues. “Just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry for hurting you.”

You’re still not talking, so Jamie gets up.

“Right,” he says. “Right. I’m going to leave ya now. Got fucking trainin tomorrow.”

He’s halfway down the hall when he turns and says, “Oh, by the way, I called your uni. Paid the rest of your tuition, gave them some extra in case you decide you want to keep going.” Then he turns around again and actually heads to the door.

For a moment, you’re too shocked to even move but the magnitude of what he just said sinks in.

“OI,” you bellow. Jamie freezes, hand on the door handle. 

“Get. Back here,” you say, voice tight.

“Jamie,” you say once he’s sitting again, “you can’t just pay my student loans. The whole reason I never talk to the press about you is because I don’t want to be like those people who just, like, use you for your money. I had it handled and I don’t need you thinking that I’m just- just- using you. And fuck off with saying that shit in a magazine,” you continue, “You can’t just use me to make yourself more family-friendly. Saying that you like the girl who works in a fucking coffee shop so she can get through school and become an accountant. I mean, what the fuck? Just say it was a model or an actress or something, but don’t use me, because I never used you.”

Jamie shakes his head. “But it’s not like that,” he says earnestly. “I know what you’re like. I know it ain’t about the money. That’s why I said what I said. You really are the love of me life.”

You’re silent, analyzing his face. There’s nothing that indicates he’s lying, and if you can claim to know Jamie at all, you’d have to admit that this might be the most sincere you’ve ever seen him.

All you can manage is a weak, “Oh.”

“I’m really, really sorry.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “you keep saying that. I forgive you. But that doesn’t mean that I want to be friends with you.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, no I get that, yeah. Right. I’m not looking for that. I just needed you to know.”

You’re both silent for an awkward moment.

“Right,” Jamie says again. “Guess I’d better go. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

You nod, letting Jamie see himself out.

—

“So, you’re not taking him back?”

“Brian,” you say, “why the absolute fuck would I do that?”

He laughs. “I don’t know, if I had some handsome, rich young footballer come to me with an apology that I didn’t ask for, I’d’ve snapped him right up!”

“Don’t let Caleb hear you say that,” you warn.

Brian laughs again. “Oh hon, he’s heard me say so much worse.”

You snort then turn back to the column of numbers in front of you. It’s bright and early, thirty minutes before opening. That gives you twenty minutes to finish what you’re doing before sneaking out the back door. You’re scribbling in the margins in blue glitter pen when there’s a knock on the glass door. You frown.

“Who on earth is knocking?” you ask.

Brian shrugs. “No idea,” he replies as he goes to look.

The frown stays affixed to your face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Brian just lied.

He’s back a moment later.

“Think these are for you,” he says, arm full of flowers.

You drop your pen.

“What the hell,” you whisper. 

Brian just grins and places them on the table. “A nice young man in a pink tracksuit dropped them off. Said to give them to you and that he’ll have more tomorrow.”

“Fucker,” you hiss.

“Me or him?”

You glare. “Both. Either. I don’t care. Take these home to Caleb or put them around the shop. I’m leaving.”

You shuffle your papers together and flee the coffee shop, door banging behind you.

—

“Twat,” you whisper to no one in particular. 

Jamie’s delivered flowers every day for a week and a half and you’re not sure how he manages it, but he always avoids being caught by you. You’re not sure why he’s delivering them to your place of work, but you have a hunch that somehow, somehow Brian and Caleb are in on it.

It’s fucking annoying, really. They’re so beautiful and in all your favorite colors and you’re absolutely pissed off that he still knows anything personal about you.

You’re even more pissed off that you like it.

I mean, come on, he has your forgiveness; what more does he want?

The worst part is you actually miss him. You miss the Jamie you dated, the one you fell in love with but are not particularly fond of the Jamie who dumped you when he got signed for Man City. What’s to stop him from doing that again?

You decide you’re going to talk to him.

—

Brian brings in a particularly large bunch the next day and you’re on your feet in a flash. You’re out the door before he can ask where you’re going, but he doesn’t need to. He already knows. 

You look up and down the street. You know Jamie couldn’t have gotten far. 

You catch a flash of blonde hair zipping away to your right. 

“TARTT,” you bellow.

The blonde hair freezes as you march up the street.

Jamie turns and grins sheepishly, “Hey, love,” he says.

“Stop bringing me flowers. It’s fucking annoying.”

It might be Jamie’s imagination, but there seems to be slightly less rage in your eyes today.

“Thought you liked that sort of thing,” he says.

“I do,” you say, “usually. When I know why it’s happening. I don’t know why you’re doing it. You already paid my student loans and apologized. I don’t really know what else you want from me.”

“A second chance,” Jamie says promptly. “I weren’t kidding in the article. You can tell me to fuck off right now and I’ll leave you alone. Can’t promise that I’ll never hurt you again, but I can fucking guarantee it won’t be on purpose.”

You’re silent, giving Jamie the tiniest spark of hope.

“Fuck you,” you finally say. Jamie raises an eyebrow as you glare at him. “Fuck you for actually fucking changing. And for making me love you again. You’re all I can fucking think about and it’s been driving me crazy, and Brian’s been no help with all his, ‘you should call him,’ and ‘he seems like a good lad.’ He’s fucking right and I’m fucking mad about it.”

“Yeah?” Jamie asks, “Why don’t you tell me more over dinner tonight? I’ll take you on a proper date.”

You actually smile at him for the first time in ages. “Alright,” you reply, “one date. One. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

Jamie doesn’t care. You’re smiling, which means he’s already won the whole fucking thing. He’s yours again, and he’s not going to fuck it up.

[smashingdollz]

Hi, i love your writing andjsndlw!!! May i request Adaman x touch starved reader who has finally started to open up to people since has arrived in hisui? Any pronouns are fine and can also be smut if that's ok with you

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

hi hi! im very flattered that you love my writing, thank you! i can totally do that! i dont do smut mainly because i feel like i wont do it any justice and ill write it super awkward- but im considering trying to write spicy stuff in the future so you could request stuff then! im also going to try a new way of writing heacanons, ive seen other people write this way and it seems easier. (also im not sure if you wanted a story or headcanons)

-he was actually happy to see you finally opening up to the people around you. i mean you kept to yourself since the day that you arrived so why would he not be happy about you physically opening up to people, hes especially happy when its him

-the first time you've ever openly craved his touch he lightly teased you as he had that smile on his face (you know the one) but then of course embraced you in his arms while his other hand played with your hair

-you dont mind hugging or clinging onto people in public. but with Adaman you'd prefer to do all that in a private place, you dont know why you just do. (you do know, you just dont want people in public to see the flustered look on your face and how vulnerable you look as you melt in your touch)

-he also finds it absolutely adorable when you cling onto people in public, he loves seeing your face. later he even asks you about it. And he smiles happily when he feels you cling onto his arm and lightly tug the fabric of his haori.

-i also imagine you just clinging onto his arm as he walks around working or judt doing things in your shared tent in the diamond settlement. or even when the two of you are walking in a secluded area surrounded by wild Pokemon.

-he honestly wouldnt mind spending his time or even missing part of a meeting just to lay down with you in his arms as you crease his back and he creases your hair/head. wouldnt mind spending his time with you at all because he's an absolute sucker for you

-he wouldnt mind doing that all day until you go to sleep in his arms. he would also constantly rub your back through out the night and make you feel all warms oh my god-

-one thing he would constantly do is that he would play with your finger tips, and after a while he will match your finger tips with his and leave it like that for a couple of seconds before slowly intertwining his hand with yours, and you absolutely love when he does that. (this has me blushing oh my god 💀)

-if he ever sees you hesitate to cling onto him or to grab his hand he'll just pull you close to his chest so you could cling onto him or slightly brush his hands against yours before intertwining his with yours.

-i also imagine that one day you were clinging, hugging, etc onto Adaman and your Pokemon appear and push that two of you even closer to each other. if you have a Sylveon i imagine it wrapping its ribbons around the two of you binding the two of you together.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You silently sat on the edge of the bed in your and Adaman's shared tent in the Diamond Clan settlement. Inside the tent was surprisingly big despite its small appearance on the outside. As you sat your feet slightly hoovered over the floor and you began to slightly kick your feet.

You let out a sigh through your nose as you leaned placed your elbows on your legs and propped your face in the palm of your hands. You starred at your swaying feet for what seemed like hours, you've been waiting Adaman to come back from a meeting. Of course you know that Adaman is an extremely important person and he doesnt just belong to you and only you, but in that moment you cant help yourself. You want to be in his arms and be engulfed in his scent.

After some time you saw a shadow being cast over you. You looked up and it was the one and only, Adaman. You hadn’t noticed his arrival because you were occupied with the thought of… well, him (funny isn’t it?) He had his usual smile on his face and his right hand rested on his hip. Your fingers lightly twitched against the fabric of your pants. Without a word you got up from the bed and embraced him tightly, your force caused him to stumble back a bit.

He regained his balance before wrapping his arms around you. "I missed you.." you breathed out against his chest. "I know I know..." he rested his chin on top on your head and began to rub circles on your back. A sigh of relief left your lips as you leaned more into his touch. "I know you're busy, but please stay..?" He smiled, "Im yours for the rest of the day. My attention is yours, my time is yours"

From then on the two of you spent the rest of the day together in each others embrace. You focused on him, all his attention was yours (same with him), and you made sure to keep as much physical connection with him as possible. :)

hi, so i formatted the story and HC's differently because i realized that i write in clumps and that might be difficult for others to read so i spaced them out a bit more. Let me know if this is better!

[pebblepathblog]

Tiktoker DEPORTS Her Ex For Cheating On Her…| Justice or Cruelty?

The Breakup Revenge That Broke the Internet | A woman’s viral revenge has everyone questioning if she went too far

When it comes to breakups, some people cry, some binge watch The Notebook, and some hit the gym with a vengeance. But one Texas woman decided to deal with her breakup in a way that has left the internet stunned. Instead of the usual tears and block-button drama, she decided to get even, by deporting her cheating boyfriend back to Mexico.

Yes, you read that right. Deported.

This isn’t just your regular “he left the toilet seat up, so I ghosted him” kind of breakup revenge. This is the “pack your bags, buddy, because we’re going on a one-way trip” level of petty. This TikToker’s heartbreak turned revenge story has racked up over 34 million views, with the internet split between cheering her on and clutching their pearls.

Let’s rewind to how it all started.

It all began when she discovered his dirty little secret. She was innocently transferring photos from his phone after a vacation probably reminiscing about their happy times when, BAM. There it was, messages from another woman. Flirty, shady messages. Her world cracked open.

She did what many of us would do, locked herself in the bathroom to cry. But as her tears dried, her mind shifted from heartbreak to strategy. Should she confront him? Kick him out? Key his car? But no. This woman wasn’t about to settle for cliché breakup theatrics. She wanted justice. And justice, in this case, involved a very creative interpretation of “deportation services.”

And then, inspiration struck. If she could bring him to the U.S., she could certainly send him back.

The plan? bold, almost cinematic-level diabolical. She sweetly suggested a spontaneous trip to Six Flags in San Antonio. “It’s just two hours away,” she told him with the kind of smile that hides a storm. He, blissfully unaware, agreed.

Here’s where things get spicy. Before hitting the road, she made sure he was well-fed and emptied his bladder. Why? Because this wasn’t a trip to Six Flags, it was a one-way ticket to the Mexican border. She couldn’t risk him waking up mid-drive and figuring out the plot. Let’s be real, her attention to detail deserves an Oscar.

With him snoozing in the passenger seat, she had two hours alone with her thoughts. Part of her wondered if she was going too far. Was this too much? Would people judge her? But then she remembered the texts. That woman. Those messages. And just like that, her anger reignited. She turned up her music and told herself, ‘I brought him, I will return him’. She said in her video, unapologetic about her actions.

When they reached the border, he was still blissfully snoring. But Mexican customs agents flagged her car for a secondary inspection, and that’s when he woke up. Confused, groggy, and probably wondering, “Why does this Six Flags have barbed wire?”

The confrontation was swift and savage. She told him she knew everything, and his face, according to her, went pale. “You want to be a bastard? Fine. Be a bastard. But you’re starting from scratch,” she spat. She handed him $50 (a generous farewell gift, honestly) and told him to get out of her car. And just like that, she drove off, leaving him and his cheating ways in the rearview mirror.

TikTok? Absolutely ate it up.

The video racked up millions of views, with people either calling her a hero or clutching their pearls in horror. “Best breakup story of all time!” one commenter declared. Others joked, “Girl, you should’ve gone to Six Flags after and posted selfies with a churro!”. Another chimed in, “Immigration needs to hire this woman”.

But not everyone was laughing. Critics were quick to point out that her revenge was less “queen energy” and more “questionably legal.” Legal experts weighed in, warning that what she did could be classified as kidnapping or even human trafficking. And while she jokes in later videos that no one wants to go to Six Flags with her anymore, the ethical debate is hard to ignore.

And here’s the twist, her ex somehow managed to return to the U.S. She claims she doesn’t know how and doesn’t care. “To this day, I don’t regret it,” she said in one of her videos.

Let’s not sugarcoat it, getting cheated on is soul crushing. It makes you question everything, your judgment, your self worth, your WiFi password sharing policy. But weaponizing someone’s immigration status as a form of payback? That’s not just petty, it’s dangerous.

Undocumented immigrants live with constant fear and anxiety, every day is a tightrope walk. The possibility of deportation looms over them like a shadow, and for someone to exploit that vulnerability, even out of heartbreak, raises ethical questions. Was this revenge, justice, or something darker?

The internet is divided, and honestly, maybe that’s the point. This story isn’t just about a cheating boyfriend and a scorned girlfriend, it’s about how we handle pain, betrayal, and power dynamics in relationships.

One thing’s for sure, This TikToker’s story is unforgettable. Whether you see her as a hero or a cautionary tale, she’s left an impression. And while she might have driven away with her head held high, the moral complexities of her actions still linger in the air!

But let’s end on this note, heartbreak can make us irrational. It can make us mean. But it’s important to remember that our actions, even in our worst moments, can have consequences bigger than we imagine. Revenge might feel sweet in the moment, but it rarely leaves you with a clean conscience or a clean legal record.

Enjoyed this story? If you love thought provoking stories like this one, make sure to follow for more! From heartwarming tales to controversial debates, we’ll keep you entertained and leave you with plenty to think about.

Don’t miss out, hit that follow button now!

[blarefordaglare]

a fic where nobody dies :000

@kikker-oma embrace the deviousness

Let. Them. Eat. Dirt.

In which wild loses his inventory and takes revenge.

Wild is a petty man, but then again he had a right to do this, as the captain should have been proud of him for burning down the forest. Controlled fires are a thing, you know? 

But seems the old main didn’t like it, and managed to rope in all the boring ones into the plan. 

“Legend, have you seen my fire rod?”

Silence. 

“Legend?”

“I think it will do well in my inventory where it’s organized.”

“Come on! Don’t make me get… someone to kill you again!”

…

“fAthEr tImE, where are my bomb arrows?”

“Twi, where did you put my flame blade?”

“Captain, where is my barbarian armor?” 

The answer was always the same.

They took his most prized possessions, only one thing could be done. Justice must be served. Revenge, even, as it is a dish. Best. Served cold by Hyrule.

“Rulie, come heather.” The champion called out, “You shall cook with me today.” 

“See! I knew my cooking wasn’t that bad!” The traveler smiled, perfect. He doesn’t know the suffering he will help me inflict on the evil people who think they can take away my stuff. 

“Just throw in about two jars of Goron Spice and these vegetables I cut. Plus a cup of…” Wild took a jar of mud, “Special water.” 

“Are you sure? Those two peppers look very small.”

“We’re making soup.” 

“Oh alright then!” Hyrule immediately through the ingredients into the pot, and started cooking until the peppers were nice and charred and the “soup” had a faint ominous red glow.

“Perfect, thanks.” Wild smirked, “GUYS, DINNER!” 

…

“This is too spicy!” Legend complained, “Can you make something else?”

Wild took his ladle, scooped it in dirt, and placed it in a bowl. “Here.” 

“Why is there mud in this? Champ, this doesn’t seem right.” Time muttered under his breath, “We still have those oats right? I’ll have that.”

Wild took the box of oats, and added some pebbles for added “crunch”. “Here.” 

“It is lacking vegetables. Wild, can you please add some more?” Oh, how sweet Sky was. He will get the good soup. 

“Here you go Sky, I saved some soup in my slate when we visited Skyloft.” 

“I don’t understand why you guys have so many complaints, soup tastes fine to me.” Hyrule rolled his eyes.

“Does this man HAVE tastebuds?”

“Probably not.”

“Coronavirus?” Four smirked.

“That’s it. Seems like none of you guys like me and ‘Rule’s hard work cooking.” Wild snatched the bowls, “Dinner is on the floor today.”

“But we’re starving for real food!” Wind cried.

“Let. Them. Eat. Dirt.” 

[starsfic]

Xiaotian did not, in fact, stop liking poisons.

its a genuine coincidence, when he smells poison in somebody else's food.

"Chef Zhu, I need you to not panic. We're at the hospital."

Contrary to Long Taitai's words, Pigsy felt panic twist his stomach. "Is Xiaotian alright?! Why are you at the hospital?!" Tang jerked his face out of his book on the other side of the bar, eyes wide. "What happened?!"

The dragon woman sighed on the other end, and Pigsy felt concern mixed with panic. In his opinion, Mrs. Long had always been a touch snooty, never allowing what she felt to show on her face. She allowed Xiaotian to play with her kid, Long Xiaojiao, and let Tang in to study the Long collection of artifacts for his research and, as far as he knew, never said anything unkind, but there was just an aura. Right now, he couldn't sense that aura.

"A person who I assumed was a friend tried to poison my family," Mrs. Long explained. Pigsy wasn't sure what expression he had at that tidbit, but Tang looked even more worried. "I cannot explain further over the phone. Could you please come to the hospital on Third and Lotus Street? We brought Xiaotian here at the authorities' request and they need you."

"Sure," Pigsy said, realizing that she couldn't see him nod. "Yeah, hang on, I'll be there in a sec." Before Mrs. Long could answer, he hung up. "Tang, look after the shop. Xiaotian ate poison again."

Before his boyfriend could respond, Pigsy was already out the door.

-_-

The Li Nezha Hospital had to be the fanciest hospital Pigsy had ever seen. However, that didn't matter. What did matter was being led into the private room and hear Xiaotian's delighted "Dadsy!"

They sat on the couch, Xiaojiao next to them and holding their hand. Mr. Long was holding Xiaojiao's other hand, his eyes red. Mrs. Long was nowhere to be seen.

"They're in perfect health, shockingly enough." The doctor explained. "They ate enough cyanide to kill two full-grown adults on the spot. Although," They flipped the papers. "According to their medical history, that has been covered already."

Pigsy nodded. "Yep. They keep trying to eat rat poison."

"It's spicy!" Xiaotian called from the bed.

The doctor's brows furrowed. "I see." They glanced at the papers and they furrowed even more. "Mr. Zhu, have you had a-"

"DNA test? Yep." The authorities had done about ten of them- eight were for trying to find the small mud-stained toddler's parents while the other two were after the third poison-eating incident. All were inconclusive. "If they have yaogaui heritage, it's nothing in the database."

"I'm a mystery!"

"Yes, you are."

"Well, the justice department does want to keep at least the children here, at least overnight," the doctor explained. "They want to see if they can get a sample of the cyanide from Xiaotian's stool and pee and make sure that Xiaojiao didn't ingest any of the cyanide herself."

Pigsy nodded. "Okay, I can do that."

The doctor led him out to sign the right papers and that was where he saw Mrs. Long.

Her eyes were also red, but she looked ready to throw the phone in her hands. Pigsy waved, and she immediately headed straight towards him. "Thank you," were her first words. "If it wasn't for Xiaotian, I am sure neither I nor my family would still be here."

Pigsy nodded. "No thanks needed. Just..." he sighed, rubbing his brow. "What happened?"

"I cannot give all the details since it's a live case," Mrs. Long said, tucking her phone into her pocket. Pigsy nodded in understanding and she continued. "But I received a box of chocolates from a family friend. The plan was to have them for dessert. Xiaotian and Xiaojiao found them, and the nursemaid found them after Xiaotian ate them all." A smile tugged on her lips. "She told me that the chocolate on them had a strange almond smell, since my husband is allergic to almonds."

"Yeah, I remember that."

"Something in my brain told me to call the justice department and the poison control officers identified the cyanide in them." Mrs. Long's smile faded. "If Xiaotian hadn't found them, according to the officer, my family and I would be experiencing an extremely unpleasant death."

Pigsy felt a shiver roll down his back. He didn't exactly like Mr. and Mrs. Long, but the thought of anyone suffering a death like that was enough to make him nauseous. Xiaojiao was so small...

"I'm sorry this happened." He pulled out his wallet. "I can repay you for the chocolates-"

"No need." Mrs. Long chuckled, her smile returning. Her aura of snootiness was gone, replaced with an unfamiliar warmth. "I already promised the children that we could go out for ice cream once the hospital released them, if that's alright with you."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

She laughed. "Fair. Hopefully, the ice cream's less poisonous."

"Yeah."

Although Xiaotian wouldn't mind...

[rockybloo]

I randomly got hit with this specific ass Licorice AU near the beginning of this month where Sweetheart and Bitterbat are point blank a hero and villain with no prior history together but they wind up hooking up and having a super secret relationship but Sweetheart winds up pregnant and having Angie but Sweetheart and Bitterbat remain on separate sides of justice.

So Angie spends her weeks with Sweetheart and some weekends with Bitterbat with some variations.

She doesn't have any siblings in this AU as, while Sweetheart and Bitterbat don't hate each other and do have deep feelings, they have more restraint on their hearts and are trying to keep a status quo of sorts.

One of the city's best heroes having a child with one of the city's most dangerous and brutal villains is highly taboo and the peak scandal any tabloid would kill over so Angie's parents do their best to keep their emotions down and give her the best childhood they can while keeping appearances.

This leads to a lot of telephone games where Angie is dropped off at Sweetheart's house after Bitterbat time and she tells her that "Dad said you looked really pretty today" and Sweetheart peeks out the door and sees him in the shadows on a nearby rooftop with his eyes glowing in the darkness before he poofs in a cloud of violet smoke.

And Angie is released into the shadows of the night by Sweetheart where she is scooped up by Bitterbat and Angie has a little goodie bag of chocolate covered strawberries courtesy of Sweetheart with a little note attached for Bitterbat's eyes only.

I don't know if Sweetheart and Bitterbat are actually designated as archenemies in this AU (aka her and him being assigned together like in canon) because the concept of her being a hero separate from him and his villainy really scrubs the mind right. Like her just being a free agent of a hero and him picking on various heroes. It hits the spot extra good whenever Sweetheart is taking on some villains at a crime bust and Bitterbat is one of the villains involved so that makes them running into each other more spicy because there is no fake fighting in this AU. They obviously don't aim to kill but they are more serious even if they still flirt.

Angie does ask occasionally why the two don't just get together like normal parents but they keep coming up with excuses even though they both would love to be together.

But in the mean time, they have that "Divorced but not really as they are madly in love but in mild denile but they have a kid together and are on good terms and occasionally while Angie is at school or with her aunties or uncles, they still hook up and make out" energy.

I imagine this AU winds up going down the route of Angie being what fully brings Sweetheart and Bitterbat together and saying "Fuck the world, I love you" and that's when they finally live in a house all together.

But for now, Bitterbat watches from a distance and thinks about how the mother of his child is the most beautiful being he's ever seen as she eats some ice cream with Angie.

And, after making sure Angie is asleep in bed, Sweetheart tunes in to news reports of Bitterbat's reign of terror and gorey battles against heroes with a blush as she admires how handsome and strong the father of her child is while he is covered in the blood of his enemies.

And occasionally Angie texts Bitterbat where she and her mom are when they are out and about because she knows he'll drop everything just to be near them.

It's led to a couple "surprise drop ins" from him that Angie plays dumb about and Sweetheart still hasn't caught on that her child is setting her up with her future husband.

Angie takes a lot from her mother in terms of looks (save for her batwing ears) but her personality leans heavily toward her father's mischievous ways.

[weyounthevorta]

For @femalehumanoid, who hoped I would write dating profiles for Harriman Gray and the Captain. Here you are my dear. Your wish is my command.

The rest of the Combs characters have had their profiles beefed up a bit as well, with my own spicy take on what it’d be like to be in a relationship with them, and what their ideal date looks like.

Fair warning, some of the descriptions below may be a bit nsfw!

Thy’lek Shran (Star Trek Enterprise)

Pros: Strong sense of justice, good at what he does, sexy, energetic. He’ll fight for what’s right and he’ll protect you with his life. He has a soft side and he’s not afraid to show it.‬

Cons: Hotheaded, a bit rash.

A relationship with him means you’re in it for the long haul. If Shran gets emotionally invested in you, he’s thinking of you as a potential long term mate and possibly as marriage material. He’s a physical being, so he’d be disappointed if there wasn’t a very strong sexual attraction between the two of you.

His idea of a good date involves a good workout. He’s taking you rock climbing, to the gym to be his sparring partner, or to a firing range. You’ll get a good deal of aggression out during the first round of physical activity, and an even greater amount of passion out during the next round. If the date doesn’t end with the two of you naked, drenched in sweat, and fighting to catch your breath on the floor of his quarters, he considers there to be room for improvement.

Anton Mordrid (Doctor Mordrid)

Pros: Fights evil, lives a quiet life. Financially stable. Has a romantic streak. Is an all around sweet guy who will bring you breakfast in bed and read to you. He teaches you wizardry.

Cons: Absolutely tragic sense of style. He may need to leave on interdimentional missions on short notice.

A relationship with him would provide stability and a quiet comfort that few can boast. He’s got boundless knowledge to share with you on countless subjects, and if you love to learn, you’ll love having such a patient, enthusiastic teacher. His favorite part of the day is slipping from his street clothes into his comfies, settling in with hot coffee and a book, and reading to you in his deliciously soft voice. Every time you two retire to the bedroom, you rediscover another subject he has seemingly unlimited knowledge in. He never fails to bring you to completion, stroking your back and murmuring praise as you come down from your peak.

His idea of a good date is a night in with a warm beverage and stimulating conversation. He’s a bit old fashioned, so he doesn’t get intimate until the two of you commit to being exclusive. In the mean time, he’s happy to conclude a date with a sensual over the clothes massage and a steamy makeout session.

Chaz (Dead Man Walking)

Pros: Is objectively very cute. He’d risk his life for yours without question. He works past his fear to achieve his goals. No doubt a snuggler big on showing affection.

Cons: Is a bit whiney, possibly has the plague. Tragic taste in nicknames.

A relationship with him means he has your back, no matter what. He’s the first to come to your defense, the first to jump in when you need help, and he’ll walk through fire to make sure you’re alright. He may complain on the surface, but deep down he’s proud to be needed. He’s small and fragile, so he’d be happiest if you reciprocated, coming to his defense when he needs it, and offering protection when he’s scared or feeling vulnerable.

His idea of a good date is hanging out somewhere clean and safe. He prefers it if you’d come over to his humble lodging and play a board game, play cards, or listen to music together with a glass of wine. He’ll happily have sex with you if you’re the one to initiate it. He thoroughly enjoys it when his partner tops, preferring to be entirely submissive in bed.

Crawford Tillinghast (From Beyond)

Pros: Brilliant scientist and inventor. Submissive and sweet. Romance with him would be chaste and old fashioned. He’d do his best to keep you safe. Cute little guy in a big sweater.

Cons: Sexually repressed. A bad luck magnet. Despite his best efforts, trouble finds him.

A relationship with him would be sweet and oh so charming. He’d show up on your doorstep, holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine, and would be content to snuggle on the sofa under a cozy blanket, watching a movie. He’d look at you with his big green eyes, delighted to hear stories about your day, thrilled to tell you all about what he’s working on. Every time the two of you make love, it’s slow and sensual, him looking at you in awe, enraptured and in love. He’s a sexual novice, but his sweet naïveté has an allure you can’t deny.

His idea of a good date is the kind of corny romance you typically see in movies. Carriage rides through the park. Moonlit walks on the beach. Getting serenaded by the violinist at an Italian restaurant. But the way his face softens when you’re happy, the way he lights up when you’re excited, the way he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, make these dates magical. More than the activities do.

Harriman Gray (Babylon 5, S01E17)

Pros: He’s honorable, ambitious, and gorgeous. He has a wholesome sense of humor. He can use his telepathic abilities to his advantage in bed. He’ll hear your mind when you enjoy something he does, making him the best lover you could imagine.

Cons: He’s on the timid side, which allows stronger personalities to railroad his. He’s not always the most tactful. He tries his best not to invade your privacy with his telepathy but he slips sometimes, opening the door for awkward discoveries.

A relationship with him would require patience, but would be well worth it. He travels a lot for work. When you do see him, he’s very affectionate. He wants to spend all day with you under the warm bedcovers stroking your hair, tangling your limbs together, and sharing stories about your respective days.

His idea of a good date is a romantic candlelight dinner followed up with hours of mind blowing sex, after which you both collapse bonelessly into sleep. The date concludes with him waking you up with breakfast in bed, his hair combed back, in full uniform, carrying your tray, which he’s decorated with a single rose. He leaves you for work with a kiss and a promise to see you again soon.

Andrew Paris (Phantom Empire)

Pros: Strong sex appeal. Wears the tightest pants in existence. He wouldn’t object to spontaneous adventures. He’s impulsive and quirky.

Cons: Anyone who flirts with him is a legit threat. He’s a slutty little strumpet. He’s not secure enough to think anyone would like him for his mind.

A relationship with him would be focused heavily on physical exploration. He’s aware that he’s charismatic and magnetic, and he’s aware that he’s attractive. Part of him wonders if you just want a pretty boy toy, and he’s equal parts happy to fulfill that role and disappointed that people don’t often see the potential for more in him, given he’s an egg head, studying archeology at Miskatonic University.

His idea of a good date is finding a fun bar to check out. Dive bars, sports bars, tiki bars, and local watering holes wherever he travels all amuse him, and he wants to explore them with you. He’d love to end the date with playful, enthusiastic, energetic sex. He has boundless stamina, and wants you desperate for more of what he has to offer in that department.

Bill Knight (Felony)

Pros: Handsome, charismatic crime fighter. Eager to hop in bed with you if you show a smidgeon of kindness toward him. He whimpers very prettily. He’s quick and agile.

Cons: He is a total hazard. You’re in the line of fire if you hang with him. He may break into your house. He’s flown through an absurd number of windows.

A relationship with him would be interesting. He’s persistent. He gets a trifle obsessive about getting what he wants, and what he wants from you is entirely unclear. He may push you outside your comfort zone frequently. Whether that be recruiting you to help him with an FBI case or the fact that you’re only dating because he broke into your house looking for a place to hide and you didn’t have the heart to kick him out.

His idea of a good date may be unconventional or unexpected. He may want to stay in and make love in front of a roaring fire, or he may be in the mood to get beers and chicken wings at the local strip club. The more adventure you’re down with, the more he’ll indulge in with you.

D-Day (Fortress)

Pros: Adorable, good with machines. There’s kindness in him. He will risk his life for his friends. He’s a little guy with a big heart.

Cons: He is easily led into dangerous situations. He needs a dentist. Hes in jail.

A relationship with him, while he’s in prison, would consist of letter writing and conjugal visits. He’d write to you like he’s writing diary entries. He’d tell you about his plans, his dreams, his fears, and his fantasies. He’d look for the mail cart every day, wide eyed and hopeful, and his heart would swell when he finally receives one in return from you. He’d read your letters over and over, imagining he could smell you on the paper. When you came for your bi-annual visits, he’d be so excited he’d be shaking like a leaf, stealing glances up at you shyly. When you were intimate, you’d always marvel afresh at how beautiful his eyes are when you gently remove his glasses from his face. He’d take his time gently and tentatively worshiping every inch of you as you made love. Big, wet tears would stream down his face and heart-rending, whimpering sobs would make his small chest heave as you left him behind again in Fortress prison.

His idea of a good date is heartbreaking in its simplicity. When he gets out of prison, he wants to take you on a real date. Dinner and a movie. He wants to walk you to your door at the end of the evening and, if you want to, kiss each other goodbye.

Weyoun (Star Trek Deep Space 9)

Pros: Ethereal. Obscenely sexy. Knows what he wants and how to get it. If he chooses to be devoted to you, he’ll be loyal unto death. Loves to have fun, loves to explore new things, and loves to tease. Kinky.

Cons: Religious nut. Can’t appreciate art, food, and many simple pleasures. Manipulative.

A relationship with him would likely be largely secret. He wouldn’t want you seen as a vulnerability or weakness. He also wouldn’t want to give the Founders the impression that he wasn’t focused enough on his work. You’d have clandestine meetings. Hurried make out sessions in dark, quiet places. Impromptu, fully clothed, frantic sex against a wall in a quiet corridor. Fingers meeting and intertwining under a conference table. If you’re not careful, you can become his obsession, and he may have a crisis of conscience if he believes he’s worshiping you more than he worships the Founders.

His idea of a good date is sharing a love of play. He adores games, and loves making jokes at people’s expense. He may take you to try a food you’ve both never sampled before, so you can enjoy discovering the new textures and new tastes respectively, followed by gaming tables and some good people watching.

John Reilly (Castle Freak)

Pros: Handsome DILF. He wants to improve his life. Repentant of his sins, affectionate.

Cons: Touch starved, desperate, directionless, alcoholic, and when he falls off the wagon he falls all the way off. He also comes from a family of lunatics so there’s that.

A relationship with him, if you’re lucky, is during a sober period. If it is, you can expect plenty of quiet evenings at home. Him reading a book or grading term papers while you busy yourself with your own tasks or hobbies. You may go to a play on a Friday night that the drama department is showing. You’d go to bed together, have enthusiastic but unimaginative sex, and spoon each other to sleep.

His idea of a good date would be dinner at a favorite restaurant. He needs your support staying away from the drink menu. It’s a great date if it ends in a makeout session during your after dinner walk, you wearing his tweed jacket over your shoulders, and him holding your hand.

James Wilkins (Hunter S07E13)

Pros: Sensual as fuck. He can’t keep his hands off you. Life with him would be a roller coaster ride of sex and danger. He’s the sexiest kind of bad boy. Think tattoos, leather, fast cars, and adrenaline.

Cons: He’s a thief and a murderer. He’s not interested in redemption or in getting his act together. He’s attracted to women more dangerous than he is.

A relationship with him would be mercurial. He’d darken your door and you’d be swept off your feet by his charms, swept up into his latest scheme, and swept into bed. Then when he leaves you can go long stretches without hearing from him. Left to your own devices indefinitely, waiting for him to roar back up your driveway in his black convertible like a summer cyclone.

His idea of a good date would be a trip to a race track or casino. He’d want you both to dress in your finest and act like high rollers for an evening. Gambling, drinking, winning, losing, and topping off the evening with plenty of energetic and inventive sex.

Captain (Spoiler)

Pros: If you’re a masochist, the Captain is the man for you. Sexy and dominant, the Captain will happily tie you down and mercilessly overstimulate you until you’re a mewling puddle.

Cons: Sadistic, obsessive, controlling, and aggressive. He enjoys intimidating his object of focus, and wouldn’t be above getting off on keeping you constantly on your toes.

A relationship with him would be like navigating very treacherous waters. One minute he’s running a gloved hand down your face and calling you his good little pet, the next he’s viciously backhanding you for any number of perceived grievances. You wouldn’t know whether he loved you or merely tolerated you.

His idea of a good date would be to take you to a dark, smoky jazz club. He’d sip a whisky neat, smoke a cigarette, and give you a smoldering gaze across the table as you talked. He’d want to dance with you, his body pressed as close to yours as possible, enjoying the sultry music as he moves seductively against you. The date would conclude sweaty and breathless after he’d given you a dizzying sample of his BDSM proclivities, his strong hands threaded through your hair in an iron grip as he asks you if you liked it, and if you’d like to experience more.

Milton Dammers (The Frighteners)

Pros: Once upon a time he was probably a sweet guy. He wants to rid the world of evil so desperately that he’s sacrificed his own sanity to do it.

Cons: He’s a broken man. He’s completely lost his grip on reality. He’s scarred, scared, troubled, and no you can’t fix him.

A relationship with him would be challenging. He has a lot of deprogramming he needs to complete before it could be a safe partnership for either of you. You’d be tasked with being his unofficial therapist, a shoulder to sob into, and you would need to be merciful and patient as you gently work him past his nonsensical ramblings and bouts of paranoia. If he’s ever intimate with you, it means he’s reached a point in your relationship where he trusts you implicitly. If that trust is ever broken in the smallest degree in any way, you’ll never regain it.

His idea of a good date would be quiet. He’d take you to a rooftop to stand at the edge, observing the city and the stars side by side. There’d be no physical contact. He may or may not share why he’d rather not hold hands. He’d be happy if you’d just consent to be there with him and help his mind find peace.

Herbert West (Reanimator)

Pros: Definitely handsome. On some level he wants to do something great for humankind. He’s capable of affection in his own bizzare way. Life with him would certainly never be dull. Despite his abrasiveness he’s got an undeniable magnetism.

Cons: Morals? Never heard of ‘em. Healthy boundaries are a non starter. His definition of intimacy likely won’t be aligned with yours. He will latch onto you like the codependent, murderous, evil little gremlin he is until one or both of you is dead or in jail.

A relationship with him, to an outside observer, may not look like a relationship at all. Unless of course the observer looked very closely and had a good benchmark for how he treats everyone else. They may spy him gripping your arm or reaching for you when he’s nervous or frightened. They’d perhaps notice him wanting to involve you in parts of his life he turns other people away from. They may notice that he lives with you, if he ever ventures out of your basement. But there would be no dates as folks commonly think of them, and there would be no observable PDA.

His idea of a good date would be an entire evening, well into the wee hours, working by your side. Few words may be spoken, mostly notes said aloud by him to be jotted down by you. But this is his happy place. Doing what he loves with someone he trusts. And he’d never say it aloud, but he wants you there with him, and he wants you to want to be there with him too.

[malarkgirlypop]

He's the Boss Part 3 (Bull Randleman x F!Reader)

MATURE WARNING! 18+

GUYS! Got me all hot and bothered on a Tuesday afternoon bahah. This chapter is SPICY so be warned, 18+, if you're a minor scroll on! This is not for the faint if heart. If you want to listen to a song, this is it! I hope this does the lack of Bull content some justice. If anyone else has any other ideas let me know I can write it for you. Also if you want to be added to my tag list let me know!

Based on the HBO Show and the actors who portray the characters. No hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @next-autopsy

I tossed and turned. I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes his face popped into my mind. It was so wired, I didn’t even feel sleepy. My brain is running through the almost kiss. I’m sure he was going to kiss me. I was sure he was leaning in too. Right? Or did I imagine it? I groaned, shoving my head into my pillow. I threw my blankets off too hot. I stared at the ceiling. Was he going to kiss me? The moment looped in my head. His face was wearing an expression I’m sure was desire, the same way I felt. I closed my eyes, trying to get some sleep. I sat up in bed. Fuck it I’m just going to find out.    

I tiptoed down the hall, missing all the creaky floorboards trying not to wake anyone. I was on a mission. I was going to knock on Bull’s door to see if he was awake and then confront him. I was going to confess, my body couldn’t hold it in anymore. It was driving me nuts. I needed to sleep, but I couldn’t sleep with that question swirling around in my head. I made my way to his room. I took a breath steadying my nerves, I knocked quietly. I stood waiting but there was no sound of movement from behind the door. Lucky him, guess he can sleep. I huffed turning away and making my way back down to my room. The door swung open frightening me, Bull’s puzzled face peered out the door. 

“Y/N?” He asked. “Is something wrong?” 

I walked back to him, standing in front of him, his build taking up most of the doorway. “I couldn’t sleep.” He smiled, stepping back, inviting me in. I walked in, his room looked the same as mine, but the smell is what caught my attention, it was just him. He smelled warm, woody, leather and it was slightly sweet. I wanted to bottle the scent and keep it with me forever. He shut the door and made his way past me sitting on the edge of the bed. He watched me curiously. I smiled at him, feeling happy just being in his presence.    

“What’s that pretty smile for?” He asked, taking in my face. I walked forward, standing in between his legs, so that he had to look up at me for a change. 

“It’s for you.” I said seriously. He grinned at me, his hands reaching up to my face. He cupped my cheeks pulling me down to him. We were so close, his breath fanned over my face, the smell of his tobacco and mint. 

“Don’t tease me darling.” He whispered looking in my eyes. I shook my head, telling him with my expression I wasn’t teasing. He moved forward gently brushing his lips against mine. Pulling back to look at me. I stared at his lips waiting for him to kiss me again. I flicked my eyes up to his when he didn’t move. As soon as he looked at me again he crashed his lips against mine. He pulled me into his lap, my legs either side of him. I ran my fingers through his hair as we kissed. Bull was gentle normally, but the way his lips moved against mine was anything but. He kissed me like I was going to disappear. His hands held me like I was going to vanish if he let go. His hands ran down my back, landing on my butt. He squeezed my ass firmly, causing me to moan into his mouth. I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss, our tongue’s dancing with each other. I rocked my hips as we kissed, needing to be closer to him. His lips trailed down my neck kissing softly, his breath tickling my skin. I tilted my head back, enjoying the feeling. My arms pulled him further into me.

He stopped kissing me, looking up at me from his position. “Take it off darling.” I nodded, pulling my shirt over my head like he wanted. I was now in my shorts and bra. He took in my body, I watched him as he looked over every inch of skin, as if memorising me. He admired me. He lent forward, kissing me softly at the base of my neck. Then inching down kissing as he went, I watched him enjoying each kiss he placed on me. Decorating me in his lips. He got to my shoulder, the scar from the bullet wound looked ugly but he kissed it still. 

“I like that scar.” He hummed lowly in his country accent. 

“Why?” I uttered softly. 

“Cause it brought me to you.” His eyes found mine, sincerity shone in his stare. I lent down, kissing him gently on his lips. He kissed me back harder, his hands dragging down my thighs as I rocked my hips slowly. My hands found the hem of his singlet, pulling it off.

I pulled back, it was my turn to now admire him. I dragged my fingers down his broad shoulders and muscular chest. His muscles were ones that had been formed due to hard work. I bent my head down pressing my lips into his chest, adorning him with my own kisses like he had done to me.

His hands ran up my back finding the clasps of my bra, he undid it quickly. I pulled it from my shoulders, tossing it to the side. His eyes were on mine, they slowly dragged down my form landing on my exposed chest.

He leaned forward kissing me on my décolletage. I whined wanting his lips on the soft flesh he was so close to. He grinned at me, watching me as he dragged his mouth down. I bit my lip to stifle my moans, as he covered my erect nipple with his mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive skin, sending bolts of electricity through my body. His large hand cups my other breast firmly massaging it with his fingers. I push my chest further up into his mouth needing more.

He hums in satisfaction as I tilt my head back groaning with pleasure. I gasp as he stands easily lifting me with him. My legs wrap around his sides. His mouth finds mine again, his hands coming down to cup my ass again.

I grind my hips into his stomach, needing some friction between my legs. He places me on the ground, we step back from each other. He kneels in front of me, pressing a kiss to my hip. His hands slowly pull down my shorts and underwear. I stand naked in front of him. I grip his hair as he presses kisses between my legs. I bend down kissing him on the mouth.

I pull him up by his dog tags, he stands over me. I kiss him while I pull down his pants. I feel his cock spring free and press into my stomach as I kiss him.

I yelp as he picks me up again. He walks us back over the bed, lying me down across the bed so my hips hang off the end. He trails kisses down my stomach, settling himself between my legs. He places my legs over his shoulders, his hands hold me down. His lips dragging down my centre making me buck against him, overwhelmed from the sensation.

His mouth finds my core, tongue pressing into my clit. I cover my mouth to suppress the loud moans that fall from my lips. I watch him devour me. His tongue dragged over my most sensitive parts, dipping into me.

His hands hold me still, fingers gripping my hips. Just watching him has my head spinning. I grip onto the sheets below me, needing something to grab onto, I feel like I am floating.

I pant, my heart beating so hard and fast I can hear it in my ears. He pressed his tongue firmly into my clit. His teeth graze over the soft flesh causing me to almost scream in pleasure. He continues his assault sucking and licking. He looks up at me, seemingly pleased with himself, seeing me come undone under him.

I gaze at him though heavy lids, my whole body shuddering. He holds his stare as he presses his mouth back to my skin. I feel my whole body tense as the orgasm hits me. My toes curl as I arch my back, throwing my head back in pleasure. I feel like I can barely breath, it lasts for so long, my eyes rolling back in my head.

 I catch my breath, looking down to find Bull grinning at me. I sit up, my legs still wrapped around his face. I move them apart, shuffling back to sit on the bed. I pull his face towards me, kiss him harshly on the mouth. His arms hook under my knees as he stands, I wrap my arms around his neck. I reach down, finding his hard cock, running my hand down his length. His eyes darken as he smirks. I lift my hips away from his body guiding him to my entrance.         

“Would you like to ride a real cowboy?” He smirked at me speaking in his low country drawl. I gaped at him. A furious blush rising on my cheeks. He raised his eyebrows waiting for an answer. 

“Yes.” I nodded. He lowered me down onto him. I gasped feeling him inside me. His cock stretching me out. He looked down watching himself slide in and out of me. He thrusted his hips in a steady rhythm, slowly moving back and forwards. I panted lifting my hips up and down in time with the pace he was setting. I lent back taking in our bodies moving together. Each thrust was toe curling. I didn’t know it could feel this good. 

“Bull!” I panted, pulling myself closer to him so I could smash my lips into his again. He groaned with pleasure, as he slid in and out of me. He moved towards the bed, sitting himself on the edge. I moved so I was straddling his lap, using my legs so I could bounce up and down on his cock.

He leaned back watching me, a smirk on his lips. I ground my hips into his, arching my back as I did so. His hand snaked out taking my breast into his hand, pinching my hard nipple. A whimper fell from my mouth as I did so, enjoying the pleasure and pain of it. His other hand found its way to my ass, squeezing the soft flesh. A yelp left my mouth as he landed a slap to my asscheek. He massaged away the pain with his fingers. I looked down at his red hand print that marked my skin. I liked it. 

“You like that?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. I nodded, still panting and bouncing up and down on him. He slapped me again, causing me to groan.

He flipped us over in a swift movement back onto the bed. He took control again, moving deeper inside of me. I raked my fingers down his muscular back, clawing at his skin. He watched me through lust filled eyes, enjoying my pleasure. I looked down again, as he moved in and out of me. His hips rocking back and forth. His pace quickened, his brows knitting together. I watched his face, enjoying his reaction to me. I kissed him. He opened his eyes looking down at me. 

“I want you to come darling.” He growled, I nodded, biting my lip. I was so close to the edge, so close to coming undone, that’s all he had to say to send me to my finish. I shudder as I felt him finishing too. I stared deep into his eyes as we watched each other reach our climax. I felt him twitch inside me as I shook. We panted together. I smiled up at him, kissing him softly on the lips. 

“What a ride.” I said, we laughed together at my stupid joke. He lay his body on top of mine wrapping me in his big arms. He hadn’t left me yet, we stayed together even after we had finished. He rested his face against my chest, as I rubbed my hand up and down his back. I would be completely happy if I never left this bed again. All I needed was him.   

“Here I was thinking that you hated me.” I giggled. Bull raised his head grinning at me. 

“I told you darling, I quite like you. Hell, I think I love you.” I grinned at him feeling giddy from his confession.  “I love you Bull!” I pressed my lips to his, I’ve never liked the taste of tobacco but on his lips it’s heavenly. 

[g0ldenboi333]

spicy take time: Ace Attorney 5 is not THAT bad

Dual Destinies: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly -- An Opinionated Review (not spoiler free, hehe)

As I was progressing through the series, I noticed that fans really seemed to dislike Dual Destinies, so as I finished Apollo Justice, I was worried about what I was going to come across and, it wasn't terrible. I've begun to replay some of the game and compile some thoughts.

The Good

Characters

Whether it be the complicated, the quirky, or the downright enjoyable to be around, Dual Destinies has all sorts of new characters to fit this bill. Some of my favorites include:

Athena Cykes -- The newbie lawyer with a loud and colorful personality and a neat little game mechanic involving her being able to hear emotions Simon Blackquill -- The prosecutor on death row who's very… persuasive (why does he get to have a sword?) "Bobby Fulbright" -- The game's eccentric detective. While he's no Dick Gumshoe or Emma Skye, he actually managed to grow on me, making the twist that the final antagonist was disguised as him the entire time all the more impactful to me.

Some other characters that I really enjoyed: Juniper Woods Jinxie Tenma Aura Blackquill Orla Shipley (the orca)

And some of my favorite puns, for fun: Candice Arme Robin Newman Sasha Buckler

The Introductory Case

Case 5-1 is one of my favorite introductory cases after 2-1, AAI2-1, and TGAA1-1. Its twists and turns had me on edge the entire time. I've seen some crazy shit in Ace Attorney -- exorcisms, cross-examining animals, children that are victims of murder attempts -- but a terrorist bombing was not something I would expect, weirdly enough.

I also think it's fascinating how it's the only intro case to span over multiple days and the second to chronologically take place after the main filler cases (after AAI1-1).

And I really like how it ends by leaving these two questions in the back of my mind: "What's wrong with Apollo?" "Who exactly is Athena?"

Prosecutor Blackquill

Out of all of the prosecutors in the series, Blackquill has one of my favorite concepts. The idea of a prosecutor being able to continue his job while awaiting the death sentence for a crime he did not commit, but rather, took the fall for is just soooo… AAAAAAA. I love it. How he also utilizes psychological mind games opposite to Athena's own.

I was originally terrified of Blackquill and his unique "Silence!" callout, but as case 5 progressed, I actually almost cried learning Simon's true colors. How he willingly went to prison to protect a young Athena and Athena's mother, Metis', work, refusing to accept help despite Athena's and Aura, his older sister's, pleas. He was genuinely willing to be executed for the sake of protecting Athena.

Athena and Apollo's relationship, Apollo's Skepticism, and Athena's Trauma

Throughout the course of cases 2 and 3, it was demonstrated how Apollo and Athena grew to trust each other. To me, they gave off sibling energy, which was made even better by the fact that, in Greek mythology, Apollo and Athena are siblings (half-siblings, but siblings nonetheless).

So when Apollo started feeling skeptical towards Athena regarding the whole Clay situation, it kinda hurt, Apollo even willingly wearing a bandage over his eye to prevent himself from perceiving Athena's suspicious ticks. (I love this concept and wish more could have been done it.) And Athena had a past of her own that wasn't helping the situation that she herself wasn't even sure of, traumatized by the idea that she might have killed her own mother.

This is what I would say to be Dual Destinies' strongest feature.

The Phantom

Like I've mentioned before, the twist of "Fulbright" being the final antagonist really got to me. And his whole breakdown with him being in a mad panic, questioning who he really was before getting sniped, has to be one of my favorite breakdowns in the entire series (second to the exorcism)

Turnabout Reclaimed

The concept behind this DLC case is a fascinating one. The defendant being an… uhm… orca and the murder being an accident makes this case really unique.

3D Models

While the models take a bit to get used to, I think, ultimately, they weren't a terrible idea. I love the sprites but there are some things that the models did that the sprites couldn't -- and vice versa. And I believe it was a great gateway into what we got with The Great Ace Attorney and Spirit of Justice.

The Bad

Phoenix's Role

I have problems with Phoenix in this game in general. His model, his voice, but overall, I think the biggest downside about him in this game is his role. How him losing his badge was basically ctrl-z'ed and he's back to basically steal the spotlight. His role in Apollo Justice was great. He was there, but not on the front lines, helping Apollo from the side. I was hoping that, with the introduction of Athena, she'd get help from him like Apollo from Kristoph in his own game or Phoenix from Mia in the first game, rather than being essentially sidelined herself.

Yes. Dual Destinies is a Phoenix Wright game, but with how much focus it gives to Apollo and Athena and their… Dual Destinies… it's a bit frustrating with him in the picture as much as he is.

Turnabout Academy

I don't believe in the "3rd Case Syndrome" that goes around in the fanbase (4-3, 6-3, AAI2-3, and TGAA2-3 were pretty good). However… replaying Dual Destinies, I can't bring myself to replay this case. The concept was okay, but, that's all I can really say. The characters were… eh? I like Junie, Robin, and Mirriam, but Hugh is insufferable and what they did with Klavier was… (I don't wanna be harsh but)… ew. How Robin was treated before revealing she was a girl, was kind of gross (in the initial 2013 release). Overall, it was an… okay case. I don't really have much else to say about this case other than I didn't really enjoy it.

Turnabout Reclaimed

I love the concept, but that's about it. I had a bit of trouble staying awake while playing this one. It felt a little reminiscent of 1-5, which best sums up my feelings about it. The characters were okay and the idea is great, but this case is just… there.

The Ugly

Main Menu

That menu is boring. There's nothing... here. At least previous releases had the gall to put an image in the background, whether it be a courtroom or silhouettes of the main characters. I can't tell if that's supposed to be a bulletin board or a closeup of a basketball, but it's likely neither of those are right.

Voices

I understand replacing the older VA's because of cutscenes and all that, and I'm okay with Apollo's new voice, but when it comes to the other characters with NEW voices, they kind of miss the mark. Apollo and Phoenix sound virtually identical, Klavier sounds… wrong, and I don't think anyone told Edgeworth's VA that he's only 34 because he sounds twice that.

3D Models

When it comes to characters being translated into 3D, that's where the models miss. Apollo's, and Klavier's models are … not the best and Phoenix's is actually disgusting. They got a much-needed update with Spirit of Justice, but they don't compare to the beauty of their sprites.

-----

Overall, I personally think that Dual Destinies is one of the weakest in the series, but it's not as bad as everyone makes it out to be. It's different and takes a bit to get used to, but it's fun :)

[i-hate-people-1]

This is the final part of my Warren Rojas fic I know it’s been a while but I wanted to do this series justice hopefully y’all enjoy it! thank you so much for reading you have no idea how much it means to me!

It's a little under 3.k words and it's a little spicy towards the end but there’s nothing explicit

Warren Rojas x reader

Masterlist

Not my gif

Warren                                                                  

"Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I had to come up with a way to tell her that I really did love her, and it wasn't just drunken rambling.”

“I think you should just tell her how you feel.” Karen sighed.

“He can't do that,” Eddie laughed.

“Why not girls like that? Besides, you know that she feels the same way,” Karen said, looking at the boy, exasperated.

“I know, but she said, I think what if now she thinks that she hates me?” Warren told them, falling dramatically onto the couch face first as Karen and Eddie laughed at him.

It's been two weeks. TWO WEEKS! Since Warren said he loved you, he still hasn't said anything. absolutely nothing.

You've still been hanging out every day. He’s just done nothing, and it’s killing you!

Every time he opens his mouth, you pray it’s those three words you oh so want to hear, but nothing!

Your strategy has been waiting things out, but enough is enough. Whoever said a girl can’t make the first move?

And you were so sure it was going to happen right up until you knocked on the door because you swear every bit of courage that’s ever been in your body just took a vacation. With no notice, your palms started sweating, and there was this quiet, incessant ringing in your ears as your brain came up with every possible way this could go wrong and then some.

But just as you were deciding between running back home and never talking to any of them again or making up a reason you were here and playing it off, a man you didn’t recognize opened the door. He had longer, unkempt curly hair, sad green eyes, and an unpleasant frown on his face as he noticed you standing on the other side of the door.

As you were opening your mouth to ask who the hell he was, he held his hand up, making you shut it. “We don’t want whatever you’re selling." He told you, slamming the door in your face.

You stood there for a while before snapping out of your shocked state. I mean, what the actual hell who does that? It’s so rude!?! You have half a mind to stomp in there and tell him to learn some manners. I mean, the nerve of that guy. You banged on the door more aggressively, ready to give this guy a piece of your mind. Unfortunately for your anger, but maybe good for your sanity, it was Camilla who opened it this time.

"Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?" she asked, seeing your upset state.

“No, who the fuck was that guy?” You asked, trying not to scream, but with your aggravation, it was proving to be difficult. “I mean, he didn’t even let me talk; he just held up that condescending hand and slammed the door in my face. Ugh, what an asshole," you complained as you walked in the house, not letting Cammy get a word in edgewise.

“That asshole is the owner of this house,” the guy snapped from the kitchen doorway. “Who the fuck are you?” he bit back, his glare intensifying as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Instead of letting the man get to you, you turn to Camilla, choosing to talk to her instead of him. "Seriously, Cami, who is this dude?"

"Y/N, this is Billy Dunne, my husband,” she sighed.

Suddenly it all made sense. This was the Billy Dunne two-timing asshole dream-crushing dick and every other bad name. In the book extraordinaire, I mean, you’ve heard story after story, and so far, they’re looking to be true. This guy sucks.

"Oh,” was all you said. I mean, how are you supposed to respond? You were at a loss for words; all you could think was just poor Cami, unfortunately for you, though Billy took your silence as a win.

"Oh, that’s all you got. I should think you’d at least offer me an apology,” he said, smugly smirking at you, which pulled you right out of your speechless state.

“Excuse me,” you said, getting upset. “I owe you an apology. You're the one who slammed the door in my face, but no, your right. I owe you an apology. I’m sorry." You paused with a serious tone, waiting just long enough to make him cocky before finishing “that you’re such an asshole,” and the smirk was immediately gone as Cami hid her laughter behind her hand.

Billy went to reply before you stuck your hand in his face to shut him up as he did to you earlier. "Ah, ah, the adults are talking,” you said, motioning between you and Camilla. "Now, Cam, I love you and I respect your life choices, but this guy is a dick." Billy’s jaw clenched, his fist balling at your words.

Luckily, before your mouth could get you in too much trouble, the front door opened again, revealing Karen, Graham, Eddie, and Warren. They looked at you all, surveying the situation with confused looks. Billy looked pissed while you seemed perfectly fine, and Camilla was trying not to fall on the floor in fits of laughter.

They had caught Mount Billy just as he was erupting, and unfortunately,them being there wasn’t enough to stop it. “Who the fuck are you?!" Billy yelled at you. Billy yelled at you, and Warren snapped, punching Billy straight in the nose and jumping on his friend, who had fallen to the ground, laying on punch after punch.

Warren

"Man, I don’t know what happened, dude. It was just like my body went into autopilot. I don’t even remember jumping him until Eddie pulled me off.”

“Don’t you fucking yell at her, you asshole, I’ll kill you. I swear, Billy Dunne, I’ll fucking kill you!.” Warren continued to scream at him as Eddie pulled him out of the kitchen. Warren struggled against him the whole time.

You all stood in shock at the events that just unfolded. Warren was normally so calm that you had no idea he was even capable of something like that. You came too as Camilla passed you to check on Billy.

He was fine, a little bruised, nothing he didn’t deserve, but he’d be fine. His eye, lips, and cheek were starting to swell already as Camilla and Graham helped him up to his and Cam's room to clean him up.

“He's calming down in the bathroom,” Eddie said as he walked back into the kitchen. “I think you should check on him,” he told you, putting a hand on your shoulder squeezing it gently.

“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding. You tried to shake the nerves out as you walked towards the bathroom.

"Warren,” you knocked on the door softly after a quiet come-in. You interred Warren was sitting on the counter, staring at the wall in a kind of dazed-out state. You knew he was just as confused at what just happened as all of you, so you chose not to ask any question right now that could wait till later.

You walked to the cabinet below the sink. You took out the small first aid kit you knew they kept under there, grabbing the boy's bloody hand and gently cleaning it, trying not to focus on how close you were to him.

“This is going to sting a little,” you whispered, putting on the antiseptic. He winced softly but didn’t pull away.

You finished wrapping his hand and setting it back in his lap before stepping in front of him to get a better look. His eyes widened when they met yours before falling to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Your heart hurt at the boy’s dejected tone.

"Hey,” you tried to get his attention, but his gaze stayed glued to the floor. Putting your hand under his chin, you lifted his face, moving it to look at you. "Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. You lost your temper. It’s okay. It’s not like it happens a lot. I’m sure Billy will forgive you."

“No Y/N That’s not why I’m sorry. I don’t regret doing it. I’m just sorry you had to see that side of me." Warren told you, and you nodded, unable to keep the oh expression off your face as you listened to him. “Billy deserves it and more. I mean, I love the guy, but he’s such an ass and so arrogant. I can’t believe he yelled at you like that, I swear.” You could tell he was getting angry again by the way his fist clenched and his eyes filled with rage, so you stopped his words by bringing a finger to his lips. Those gorgeous, perfectly plumb, oh, so kissable lips. Wow, you were whipped, you thought, catching his puzzled expression, pulling your hand away, clearing your throat, realizing you probably made him uncomfortable.

As you moved to take a step back, Warren's hands found your arms, keeping you in place as you met his gaze again.

You stayed there a while in comfortable silence, staring at one another. With Warren's hands still on you, yours had moved to rest on his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful." Warren whispered breaking the silence you blushed profusely at his words moving to cover your face and brush the comment off but Warrens hands kept you from hiding “I’m serious,” he told you noticing your disbelief “That first day we met me and the guys spent thirty minutes just staring at you from our house before Karen said we should offer to help you I almost said no too” he paused chucking as he recalled that day as you were practically hanging onto ever word he said “ I was so scared because I swear the moment I saw you out that window my heart stopped and going over to talk to you that was even scarier I mean I was just a guy in a dying rock band and you well I didn’t even know you but you were everything even if I didn’t know it yet”

"Warren,” you whispered to caution him because if this wasn’t what you thought it was, you’d be crushed and you couldn’t live with that, so maybe just maybe if you stopped it now, you could still be best friends. You could just pretend none of this ever happened. It was a terrible existence, but one where you kept him was better than one where you lost him.

"Wait, please, just let me finish. I need to say this." Warren understood your whisper to be one of rejection, but he needed to get this off of his chest; it was eating him alive. Your gentle nod told him to continue. He took a deep breath, hoping it would calm his nerves before he spoke again. “You were even prettier up close, and you were so humble trying to refuse our help. I figured you’d never want to talk to us again, but when you did, I was ecstatic. I couldn’t believe that such a pretty girl was even giving me the time of day, but I thought you just saw me as a friend, and I settled for that because as long as you were in my life, it wasn’t really settling." He paused again, unable to muster the courage to finish his confession, before looking into your eyes. Those beautiful Y/C eyes that took his breath away in most other circumstances just gave him courage this time.

“But I can’t do that anymore; it’s killing me, and I know you don’t feel the same anymore, so everything will go back to the way it was right after I get this out, I swear, but I love you so much, I just had to tell you just once,” he finished, tears falling down his cheeks as he did, looking at your shocked face as emotions washed over him. He couldn’t quite place it; it wasn’t regret; he definitely didn’t regret it, perhaps sadness for the friendship he felt he’d ruined maybe even defeat from his pending rejection.

As Warren was stewing in his emotions, you were trying to come up with a way to tell him you loved him to prove to him that you did just as much, but he had just poured his heart out to you. How are you going to follow that? So you stood there in shock, racking your brain for the perfect response.

"Okay,” Warren sighed, letting you go as he got up from the counter. "Look, I know I said things can go back to normal, and they can. I just need a day to feel miserable, and then it’s business as usual,” he chuckled somberly, trying to make light of the situation before exiting the bathroom, leaving you behind so utterly confused it took you a second to process.

Realizing he must have taken your silence as rejection, you quickly left the bathroom to catch up to him, calling for him to explain how he had made it all the way outside. You’d never know.

You finally caught up to him as he was opening the car door. “Warren!” You called again, running up to him and closing the car door for him. Poor thing looked so confused and upset.

"Look, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a day."

“Shut up and kiss me,” you cut him off, to which his face contorted in more confusion, and he tilted his head like a puppy, making you laugh at his cuteness. You rolled your eyes, pulling him by the collar of his shirt into your lips. He snapped out of his daze, his lips quickly moving against your arms, wrapping around your waist.

“Finally!” Eddie shouted from the porch, where he Camilla, Graham, Karen, and a bruised Billy stood, everyone but Billy and baby Julia in his arms were cheering.

The two of you pulled away, bashful. You hid your face in Warren's chest to cover the blush as you both laughed with your friends. Warren pulled you closer to him, with one arm around your waist resting on the small of your back and the other on the back of your head, playing with your hair.

“Hey guys?” Warren shouted at your friends as they stopped cheering and paid attention to him. “You’re kind of ruining the moment!”

“Or we’re making it more interesting,” Graham yelled back, shooting finger guns at the boy.

“Go away,” you said, lifting your face from Warren's chest.

Cami and Karen respected your wishes, pushing the boys inside as Graham and Eddie awwed, “I still don’t know who she is.” You heard Billy complain as the door shut, and the two of you laughed, turning your attention back to each other.

“So…” Warren started rubbing the back of his neck with the hand that was in your hair.

You smiled coyly, pulling him in for another kiss, which he gladly reciprocated.

This kiss was longer; you got to feel the way his lips felt on yours, how soft they were, and the way his arms wrapped around you to pull you closer, finding their way into his hair, tugging on the ends slightly so you could pull away.

“I love you,” you said in between breaths, your lips still so close together that you could feel the smile that overtook his features.

“I love you,” he said, quickly reconnecting your lips and lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist, smiling into the kiss, breaking away from his lips and leaving kisses across his face as you made your way to his neck as he started to walk the two of you to your house.

As y’all entered the house, he kicked the door closed with his foot pressing you up against it, pulling your head from his neck, and smiling at the small pout you gave him for having your attack on his neck interrupted.

He chuckled, taking the opportunity to kiss your pouted lips, which in turn made you smile.

“I love you,” Warren told you, pulling away from your lips. He made a trail of kisses down to your neck, whispering “I love you” in between each kiss, making you grin like a crazy person.”

He only stopped when he found a spot on your neck that made you whimper as he kissed over it, deciding to suck on the spot and grinning into it when you let out a quiet moan.

"Fuck, you drive me crazy,” Warren panted as he pulled away from your neck, resting his forehead against yours, beautiful brown eyes meeting your own.

“How crazy?” You asked, pecking his lips and capturing the bottom one in between your teeth as you pulled away.

“So crazy, you have no idea,” he replied, tilting his head back and groaning, his eyes shut tightly.

“Oh yeah?” You egged on kissing his neck again as your hands found their way under his shirt.

“Yeah,” he whispered in between gentle moans. The effect you had on the boy was insane; he full-on whined when you pulled away, grabbing his head in your hands to have him look at you.

“You want to show me?” You asked cheekily, making a giant grin take over his face. His eyes clouded slightly, but you could still see every emotion in them. You could feel the love he had for you in that moment.

“With pleasure,” he smirked his lips on you once more, leading you to your bedroom, never breaking away from your lips.

Warren

“One of the best nights of my life.” Warren smirked at the camera, giving you a wink behind the camera.

[wuxiaphoenix]

Book Review: Grand Theft Sorcery

Grand Theft Sorcery, by Elliott Kay. I’m giving this a no-holds-barred five out of five stars as an excellent urban fantasy. Not just for the worldbuilding, but the characterization. We have good guys, bad guys, and plenty of people (human and otherwise) just trying to get by. And they’re all distinct.

I find it fitting that our hero is named Evan Murphy, because we meet him when everything has gone horribly wrong. Working as a freelance repossession agent, he’s snuck into a party which is technically a public charity event, so he has the right to be on the premises and snag the car in question so long as nobody stops him.

This, plus his worry about, if I die, my cats-! immediately establishes Evan’s character; a guy who’s clawed his way up from the streets, but lives as moral and legal a life as possible. He is, in short, that rarity of modern protagonists: a good man.

(We need more of these. So much.)

As you can guess, someone who’s brushed off making the last five payments on his Lamborghini Countache is not a good man. Worse, he’s tied up with even less good people, several of whom turn out to be supernaturally evil. In fact there’s a whole gathering of various supernatural leaders going on upstairs, using the mortal party as cover.

(Here we get some excellent foreshadowing of who these people are and what they suspect each other of that becomes really important later.)

But as they say, oft evil will shall evil mar. Anatole, the bad guy in charge here, is a very cunning, smart, manipulative guy; smart enough not to kill Evan yet, when it might lead to trouble with the party. Yet not quite smart enough to realize that the horde of stolen artifacts he leaves Evan locked in with might not all be evil artifacts. Which is just enough to let Evan make a daring escape....

I won’t spoil you for the plot, because it has twists and turns that all make sense but are often something I never would have expected. We get to see, among other things, street-racing, smuggling, a secret FBI agent team, all kinds of odd supernatural creatures, ongoing rivalries and stereotypes held by such creatures about each other, and some truly creative use of magic.

The FBI team is of particular interest to me because it’s such a common urban fantasy trope; secret government organization fighting supernatural evil. But this story shows how that only works if everyone on the team is a hero, morally upright, and dedicated to justice. Get in one bad apple, when your team’s not accountable to regular law and order? Even if all the rest of the team is honestly trying to be on the side of angels... it’s not good.

...On the flipside, I have to say a part in the book that made me break out laughing was when a seriously powerful Big Bad who’s assisting Anatole looks at the collection of heroes a group of bad guys has captured, all of whom are seriously injured (but still together in the same room!) and goes, Nope. Screw This I’m Outta Here. And then does his best to cut his losses and leave. Intelligent bad guy. Awesome.

There are two spicy sex scenes, and I’d more comfortably rate this whole book R than PG-13. Not for young readers. But. There are genuine good guys here. And also distinct lessons about what happens to you when you know something evil has happened to someone you know, but you brush it off with, “not my problem”. Because letting that evil slide leaves it free to act against you next, and it is definitely your problem now!

I’m not sure I’d go for the related Good Intentions series by the same author, I’m not into polyamory. But this one? This one is good.