#or am i prattling on about absolutely nothin

[vaguely-humanoid-form]

his ass is NOT listening

[dreamingofscully]

5x12. “Bad Blood” - X-Files Rewatch

This post is going to be a bit different than all the others. Because Bad Blood is just so special. Above pictures are (some of) the funniest contrasts in the stories told by Scully (left) and Mulder (right). I’ll include others in my summary below the cut!

"That's not the way it happened at all. I mean, what are you afraid of? That if you tell it the way it really happened, that you'll look like an idiot, like me?" - Mulder, to Scully

Here's some opinion as opposed to observation. Bad Blood is maybe the best episode. It is just so brilliant. It's fantastic to see the story from both Mulder and Scully's perspectives, and see them in a more humorous and exaggerated light. They are both inaccurate in their own ways, but I think overall Scully's side is probably more correct, Mulder's being coloured by wanting to exaggerate his side because he loves LOVES trolling Scully and he's a bit miffed at her inaccuracies.

The teaser has to be the absolute best of the whole show. Well, except for all things.

Their facial expressions this entire episode. 

Mulder kicking the garbage can. XD I love love LOVE this. Throughout the whole show you see him lashing out with physical violence when he's frustrated, and you see it manifested in such a light-hearted manner here.

"I didn't do the ... (She makes a stabbing motion) with the thing."

Gillian covering her face trying not to laugh. Do we have bad blood bloopers? I'm sure they are wonderous.

***

SCULLY’S VERSION

"C'mon Scully, get those little legs moving."

Mulder admiring the dead guy's clothes. He's so innappropriate haha.

Leaning close over the dead body.

Mulder's jealousy over Scully's flirtation with the Sheriff.

"Dana" LOL

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What am I even looking for?" - Scully (Mulder puts his hands on her shoulders.) "I don't know." - Mulder

Some Sheriff Hartwell flirtation analysis/relationship analysis

Scully enjoying attention from an attractive guy. We saw in Chinga, trying to get Mulder to react to her subtle hints of giving a gift to a "guy". He didn't take the hint. I'm SURE she's exaggerating her attraction in the story to make Mulder jealous. Also possibly still pissed at him, wanting to get a reaction out of him. A meaningless fling would take some of her pain away, perhaps, because he doesn't really matter to her - there are no emotions beyond lust. She enjoys being desired, as would any woman. Pursuing something with Mulder is dangerous because of how strong her feelings are. After Emily - she's hesitant to risk anything, to take any chances emotionally, because of how much pain it caused her to love someone only to lose them so shortly afterwards.

During Mulder's tale, he tells Scully "Never say I never did nothin' for ya", giving her some alone time with the Sheriff. indicating he's still not thinking he and Scully could ever be together. He thinks she deserves a normal guy, or at least someone who isn't him.

I love the autopsy scenes. Scully talking about stomach contents like it sounds delicious, then ordering the same thing later. Scully is WEIRD you guys, and I love it. Someone like this just ... doesn't stop being weird. Doesn't change specialties so drastically. She LOVES this shit you guys.

"I just put money in the magic fingers!"

Jumping on the bed with her and laughing evilly. Poor Scully.

When Scully figures out the pizza was laced, her concerned gasp and "Mulder!"

Doctoring him in the room, touching his face when he's lying on the floor.

"Shaft!" LOL

Standing close when they argue about her version.

*** MULDER’S VERSION

Scully's look making Mulder feel like a moron. He's so nice and concilliatory in his version, haha.

"Well, it's obviously not a vampire." - Scully "Well, why not?" - Mulder "Because they don't exist?" - Scully

“Hoo boy.” - Scully, at Sheriff Hartwell

Mulder giving the Sheriff buck teeth.  😆 Jealous much?

Prattling off knowledge about the history of vampires. He knows how to stretch out a tale - keeps delaying telling Scully about the meaning of the shoelaces.

Scully's "Why skip ahead? What happened then? (silence) Mulder? You shot out the tires, and what then?" XD Mulder (AND the Sheriff) can't shoot, which is where the trope comes from perhaps? Contrast with Scully's incredible marksmanship from the previous episode.

Mulder's puppy dog eyes when he comes to Scully's room all muddy.

"What do you mean you want me to do another autopsy?! And why do I have to do it right now?! I just spent hours on my feet doing an autopsy, all for you. I do it all for you, Mulder. You know, I haven't eaten since 6:00 this morning, and all that was, was a half a cream cheese bagel, and it wasn't even real cream cheese, it was light cream cheese. And now you want me to run off and do another autopsy? What the hell happened to you?"

"Finally you left" ouch. 😥 Mulder's pretty bitter about the Sheriff so he's definitely making Scully look worse than she is. TBF Scully made Mulder look pretty random and nonsensical in hers.

Mulder using Scully's room/bathroom. In his tanktop + boxers. *heart eyes* Also, they agree on pizza toppings. IT'S MEANT TO BE!!!

Concedes that he ate her dinner. 😆

Her "Creep" in Mulder's version of the phone call Scully got at the morgue, haha.

*** AFTER THEIR STORIES

Walking close in the cemetery. Putting his arm around her neck when giving her the alone time with the Sheriff.

Drugged Scully.

Mulder riding the coffin.

Examining her neck at the end. Where des he put his hands after that??

"That is ... essentially, exactly the way it happened." - Mulder "Essentially." - Scully

The ending with Skinner must be EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY FINISH A CASE. Which makes it funnier.  😆

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

CAN I GET ME SOME PETER FROM BOC? (I promise he's overage ajdjfjff) he has no content and he's just,,,adorable 🥺

listen here, I’m now head over heels for Peter and I’m blaming you

WHAT A MAN,,,

I hope this doesn’t disappoint, it’s full of feels and there is a LOT to unpack here! I based it on this set of headcanons I did a while back wherein someone saved the circus members and nursed them back to health, so that person (tho I went with a lady) is this reader’s boss

also this got WAY longer than I meant it to but considering the absolutely criminal lack of Peter content, I don’t think you’ll mind

Sometimes, on nights when it’s warm, you’ll find those two sitting in the courtyard behind your employer’s manor.

(Mistress) never told you what the story was with these circus performers, and as far as you know, she’s never told any of the other servants either. Hell, she may not even know herself. If PETER and Wendy are anything to go by, this lot doesn’t open up easily. They’ve all been living here for six months, and the only thing you really know is that (Mistress) took them in after finding them horribly injured, that Peter and Wendy are basically adults stuck in bodies which never matured, and that they used to be trapeze artists in their troupe.

They’re both very hard to read, though Wendy is marginally friendlier than her brother. The two of them seem closer to each other than even to the other members, and the whole lot of them keep to themselves, perhaps trying to avoid the household’s staff entirely, so you’ve not had much interaction with any of them.

These two, though? They intrigue you; Peter in particular. He seems on edge all the time, a shock that so much anger seems to exist in someone so small. Even if you didn’t trust their word that these two aren’t children, you would know he was an adult. No child is that angry all the time without any discernible reason.

You just want him to be able to relax. Whatever the reason he’s always ready to fight, he would be so much less stressed if he could let go of it just a little bit. Doesn’t he know he and his sister are safe here? Don’t they all know that? If they don’t, someone ought to clue them in.

When you step out into the courtyard, the balmy night air welcomes you.

There they are, the two of them, and Wendy looks to be lying down in the grass. Sleeping, maybe? It’s late, but not past midnight quite yet. (Mistress) has no strict rules for her staff nor her guests except that she would prefer everyone be inside the manor by midnight. Oddly enough, unlike anyone else you have ever worked for, she’s very concerned with everyone’s safety.

The grass rustles between your feet as you walk. The closer you get, the more Peter’s shoulders seem to shoot up toward his ears; indeed, until they’re buried in his hair. Wendy, on the other hand, only moves by breathing, so she’s definitely asleep.

After a moment of standing, staring at the sky, you lower yourself onto the ground next to Peter. Close enough that you could touch him, far enough that, hopefully, he doesn’t feel crowded. “Lovely night,” you hum, crossing your legs. “It’s nice when there are no clouds at night. You can see the moon so well. Lady (Mistress) is happy someone is finally enjoying the courtyard. She’s never really been one for stargazing or―”

“Oh, what the bloody ‘ell d’you want?!” Peter interrupts you before you can even finish your sentence. His voice is harsh, not loud, likely because he doesn’t want to wake Wendy. “Did y’ come out ‘ere just ta talk me ta death?!”

His bad attitude is still a bit surprising to you, but to have such rude comments coming from such an innocent-looking mouth is no longer the shock it once was. “Well… it wasn’t my intention, no. I’m sorry.” You tilt your head at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

The look he gives you is equal parts incredulous that you’ve said such a thing and sorely tempted by the offer. At last, his face contorts into a scowl, his head jerking back down to the grass he’s yanking out of the ground. “That ain’t what I said. Just stop prattlin’ on about nothin’.”

A moment passes in silence, then you reach over to tear out a couple blades of grass yourself. It’s not that you pretend to understand why he’s doing it, but you want to show him that whatever he’s doing, you’ll join him if he wants, even if you don’t know the reason why.

“… What should I prattle on about, then?” you speak up once he seems to have calmed down a little. “I started with the sky, but… I get the feeling you’re not actually out here to look at the sky. Not as dumb as I look, you know.”

Peter huffs, and a small sigh comes from Wendy as she turns over in her sleep.“So, y’ saw a bloke what didn’t wanna be bothered, ‘n’ y’ came out ‘ere ta bother ‘im, is what y’re sayin’?”

A small shrug is what he gets from you before you say anything else. “Well, no, I’m not trying to bother you. I just wanted to see how you’re doing… if you’re settling in alright. Wendy seems pretty comfortable.”

He snorts, the bitter look from earlier taking over his face again. “We ain’t ‘settlin’ in’. We ain’t gonna be ‘ere longer’n a year, I’ll bet, if we even make it that long.”

“Why do you think that? Lady (Mistress) says she likes you all and that you’re welcome to―”

He lets out a violent grunt as he pulls a clump of grass blades from the ground. They’re tossed down in short order, accompanied by a growl. “(Mistress) don’t know nothin’ ‘bout us! Y’ think she’d want us ‘ere if she knew the truth?! Y’ think anyone’d want us anywhere if they knew the truth?!” He presses his hands into the dirt, digging it under his frayed fingernails, and hisses furiously. “There’s a reason we were left ta fuckin’ die ― because we should be dead! We’re BAD PEOPLE, (Name)!”

Now his voice has gotten louder, causing Wendy to stir and make noises of what sounds to you like distress. You scoot over a bit, reaching around Peter to give a few soft pats to her shoulder. Then you turn your attention back to Peter. “… You’re not,” you say softly. “You in particular, you’re a little rough around the edges, but you’re not… bad.”

You shift around some to get more comfortable. When you cautiously set your hand on top of Peter’s, he flinches, but ultimately lets your fingers stay where they are. “Even if you were bad… you’re not the only bad people to ever exist. You don’t deserve to die.”

“What d’you know?” he grinds out lowly. “Y’ don’t know nothin’ ‘bout us either. Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout me. Y’ don’t get ta make that judgment.”

“Then what judgment am I fit to make?” If you sound frustrated by now, it’s because you are. Why does he seem so insistent about this? Doesn’t he think that if they all should have died, they would have? “Do my feelings really mean that little to you? Does what I think really not matter to you? Because whatever else you may be, good or bad or somewhere in between ― I’m glad to have you here. Perhaps this comes as a surprise to you, Peter, but I happen to like your company, and Wendy’s, and the others’.”

You curl your fingers around his, tightly, securely. “If you should have died, then God wouldn’t have let you live. You’re still alive for a reason.” Despite that you move closer to him, he doesn’t pull away. “You’ve all been given a second chance. Regardless of whether or not you think you deserve it, you have it. And you’re prepared to spend it feeling sorry for yourself, saying you don’t deserve it, instead of doing something with it?”

What surprises you is that he wraps his fingers around yours in response, holding your hand as if you’re his last connection to life. When he looks up at you, his expression is old enough to betray his youthful face. “Y’ don’t know what y’re talkin’ ‘bout, (Name). We shouldn’t ‘ave this chance in the firs’ place. It should’ve gone ta someone else. Y’ don’t know us, er what we done, er anythin’ else. Y’ don’t know… me.”

“But I want to.” Something strange thrums in your chest, your heart fluttering against your ribcage. “I don’t know you because you won’t let me. None of you will let any of us in even the smallest bit. Meanwhile, Lady (Mistress) and I and some of the others… we want to know you. Whatever that means. Even if there are things about you that aren’t pleasant. We like you. I like you. How do you know we wouldn’t accept you if you won’t give us the chance?”

What comes out of his mouth is a mix of a scoff and a laugh. That look in his eyes is so dark and tired you don’t know what to make of it. “Lord, y’know, I never met anyone like y’. Mos’ people don’t want us anywhere near ‘em, even the parts of us that ain’t so bad. But y’re tellin’ me, y’ expect me ta believe ― y’ actually want the bad parts?”

You lean even closer, almost desperate that you’ve come so close to potentially getting him to open up and be vulnerable with you. “Yes,” you breathe. So close you are now, your noses are almost touching. “I want the bad parts. I want the good parts. I want all of you. Is that so crazy?”

“Yeah!” This time it’s a full-blown laugh, though it’s so mirthless, he nearly sounds closer to crying than laughing. “That’s very crazy! Y’ oughta be locked up in some asylum! It ain’t enough yer lady took us in, but y’re tellin’ me y’ actually want every single part of me? Y’ take a look at me lately, ‘uh? I ain’t no gentleman! I ain’t refined, I ain’t sweet… I mean, damn, I look like a little kid!”

The tip of your nose presses to his. “You’re not, though. You’re not a boy,Peter; you’re a man.” You get the feeling very few people acknowledge that about him. He looks like a child, so he must be!

“And I don’t care about refined or sweet… and anyway, who says I want a gentleman?” Your hand stays in his, and your other arm snakes around his shoulders. “What I want is you. I understand if you can’t… or don’t want to… give me all of you. Or any of you. But… no matter anything else… know that there’s someone who will take every part of you. There are people here who want to accept you… if you’d only let us in. You’re not alone.”

Peter lets out a shuddering breath, and you can feel its heat against your lips. His hand clutches yours with such ferocity that his arm is shaking. After a long, long moment, his other hand comes to rest against your waist. How long must it have been since anyone’s treated him as the adult he is ― how long must he have been holding himself back so that he doesn’t make people angry or uncomfortable? “Stop,” he murmurs, and his hand bunches the fabric against your waist in a fist. “Stop bein’ so… good. I can’t… I can’t take it. Jus’ gonna make it ‘urt more… when we get chased outta ‘ere…”

He presses his forehead against yours, his chest heaving as if he’s using his whole strength to stave off the sobbing he’s already been holding back for his whole life. “… If I open up… if y’ do accept me… ‘n’ then I ‘afta leave y’ be’ind…” He’s still holding himself so tensely, wound so tight that he could snap at any moment.

“… I can’t…”

That he gives no resistance when you push forward and kiss him is something you didn’t expect. The way he leans into the touch, bowing to you with a stunning softness you weren’t sure he possessed, speaks volumes about how much he needs someone to embrace his whole self. He seems to even lose himself in your approval for what feels like an eternity.

You draw away, only to be pulled back in against him for another kiss. This one is rougher, hungrier, with a neediness that’s somehow the same as the first kiss and yet wildly different. It’s the kiss of a man who just wants to be wanted, who has tasted that someone desires him and became addicted to that in an instant.

When he pulls you back, you’re only too happy to submit to his wants. You can feel his hand at your waist, his fingers fanning out from that fist so they are splayed against your side.

As soon as you come up for air, you move your arm from his shoulders to let your hand rest on his cheek.

“Don’t worry, Peter,” you whisper as if you can quiet all his fury and anxiety with just those words. “You’re not going anywhere.”

[ask-chef-teruteru]

you’ve said yourself that your tastes are pretty open, but is there anything you absolutely won’t do in the bedroom?

[There are going to be mentions of some potentially triggering sexual topics here, so please skip this one if you’re sensitive to that kind of content.]

“Hmmm... I won’t lie to y’all, I’ve been holdin’ onto this question for a long time now. Not because I’m uncomfortable answerin’ or feel any shame about what I will or won’t turn down, but rather because I wasn’t sure how thorough I needed to be. I have had some pretty serious accusations hurled my way in terms of things I would never do that I would’ve assumed went without sayin’, but... Well, I don’t really wanna go listin’ off every thing that don’t even qualify as a kink that I wouldn’t do, y’know? So for sake of this question, let’s all be on the same page and understand that we’re callin’ a kink anything that two or any number of rational consentin’ adults could agree to do together with no negative impact upon anybody else.

That said, I’ll admit there ain’t a whole lotta kinks I can prattle off of top o’ my head that I generally wouldn’t at least give a shot before decided it for sure ain’t for me...”

“... But that said, of course there are things I don’t exactly need to experience firsthand before decidin’ that I for sure ain’t interested. Nothin’ against those who favor it or would love nothin’ more than to get to try— believe me, I don’t judge n’ I wish you all the best!

Most o’ the ones people could call unsanitary ain’t really my forte. There’s a few bodily fluids that aren’t a bother and some that are. Personally I ain’t gonna be enjoyin’ myself if filth comes into the picture though. Scat, vomit, smegma, not bathin’ for a while—and/or a heavy focus on takin’ in that scent— just personally is more of a turnoff for me. My stomach’ll turn too easy to be in a space where I’ll be smellin’ things like that. Likewise, takin’ in things like that with my other senses don’t exactly bode well for me feelin’ my best, and if I ain’t feelin’ my best, I ain’t gonna be down for much of anything, y’understand.

Similarly to there bein’ limits on what I can handle when it comes to bodily fluid type things, there’s a limit on how much pain I can take, what type, that sort o’ thing. ..:Probably got a stronger masochistic streak than is entirely for my own good, but... Well, when you’re as open minded n’ curious as I am, the name o’ the game really is trial n’ error. Can’t handle, for example, ball bustin’. Can be whipped ‘til I’m red n’ beat ‘til I’m black n’ blue too, but I don’t want to be hurt right there! Too sensitive of a spot! There’s a turnin’ point where things are more painful than they are pleasurable, n’ I haven’t been struck with the desire to go tryna map out that particular fine line.

The last thing I can think of is bein’ averse to certain roleplayin’ type scenarios. I’ve gotten some accusations tossed my way that’re upsettin’ enough as is given that both of my step siblin’s are escorts, so then to have familial stuff bein’ such a huge, and frankly unavoidable category in porn, it just ain’t comfortable.

Don’t think of this as a comprehensive list, but more like a guideline type thing to give y’all an idea of what things at the very least ain’t my all time favorites. You’re free to ask about specifics since I’m sure I’ll wind up forgettin’ somethin’ as I’m wont to do. I didn’t bother mentionin’ ones that ain’t necessarily eager to try or try again but could be convinced, more just the things that I don’t want to try in the first place.”

[hrina]

Apericena (Il Ritorno Extra)

PAIRING: Alex/Y/N RATING: R WORD COUNT: 2.5k REQUESTED: yes!

hi my lovelies!!!! unfortunately, this isn’t the 3rd part of il ritorno, but i thought i’d write a little something to keep u guys satisfied until then!!! this is an extra (basically just a lil event taking place in the il ritorno universe) :D it was requested and i got inspired, so i rly hope u guys like it!

if u do, here’s my inbox (feedback really motivates me just saying) and my masterlist!! xx

here’s a short list of songs that came on shuffle as i was writing and that i think fit the theme fairly well. if u wanna listen to them as u read, be my guest!!! 

night changes - 1d lost in your light - dua lipa the edge of tonight - all time low

if u haven’t read il ritorno yet, here’s il ritorno (part 1) / l’amato (part 2) / il devoto (part 3) :-) happy reading!

“She had no right!” you fume, clenching your jaw so tight you think your teeth may actually crack. Alex has got a tight grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white against the worn leather. You’re huffing angrily, your arms folded over your chest and your fists clenched against your ribs.

“She’s got nothing better t’do, love,” Alex says, attempting to soothe you. 

You stare pointedly out the window, watching as small shops pass by. Alex had tried taking you out somewhere nice, somewhere no one would really bother the two of you. You’d been sat at a table, waiting to be served, when you’d overheard a syrupy voice carry through the air from a group gathered only a few feet away.

“Came back with her brother, I think,” someone had said. Both you and Alex had stared at each other with wide, panicked eyes, your backs stiffening. After a few long seconds, however, nothing else had been said. Just as you had begun to relax once more, you’d heard a high-pitched simper.

“Easy for it, isn’t she? Apparently, he’s living with her.”

Your bottom lip found its way between your teeth, and you pushed back abruptly from the table. The group of people looked up in shock when your chair screeched loudly against the floor. You stared evenly at each individual, hoping that you had gotten it wrong: maybe they hadn’t been talking about you.

But then you’d caught a glimpse of one girl nudging her friend and lifting her eyebrows, as if she was trying to point you out.

“It’s none of your business!” you’d said loudly, glaring at her harshly. 

And yeah, it had been quite satisfying to watch her mouth pop open in surprise. You’d wanted to say more (or perhaps scream would have been a better description) but Alex had suddenly wrapped a hand around your wrist, pulling you out of the restaurant before you had the chance to cause a scene.

And now, you’re here.

“I thought it would be far enough,” you whine, leaning your head back against the seat, “Thought nobody would recognize us there.”

“We’ll just go further next time,” Alex suggests. He pulls onto a dirt road, and you squint as the sunset bathes your face in a dusty orange glow. You sigh dejectedly, and Alex removes one hand from the wheel, reaching for yours and lacing your fingers together.

The two of you sit in silence for the next few minutes, with Alex focused on the uneven road and you studying the way the sun slowly dips into the horizon. It’s quiet and peaceful, though your stomach still lurches grossly when you remember how condescending the girl’s tone had been as she gossiped. 

Alex can tell that you’re still thinking about it, and so he turns the steering wheel to the side, fighting off a smirk when you squawk in surprise. You stare at him questioningly when he veers off the road and shifts the gear of the car so that the two of you are securely parked in place. 

“She just had nothin’ better to do,” Alex repeats his earlier words, unbuckling his seat-belt so that he can face you properly. You bite the inside of your cheek, sucking in a deep breath.

“Is she right?” you ask in a small voice, avoiding his gaze, “Am I easy for it?”

Alex scoffs, rolling his eyes. The noise is enough to get you to look up at him, your lips pursed into a fine line. Alex squeezes your hand reassuringly, shaking his head. “’Course not, love.”

You don’t look convinced, and Alex swears under his breath. “Christ,” he says, “’M sorry. Dunno how else to prove it to yeh.”

“No,” you tell him quickly, sitting up straight. You unbuckle your seat-belt as well. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m just...I’m sorry, I’m just being difficult.”

“Not bein’ difficult,” Alex counters, “Just nervous. An’ I get it, y’know? When people say shit like that...’s never pleasant.”

“Yeah,” you lament, blinking sadly. Alex’s chest aches, and he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and pepper kisses to the crown of your head. He absolutely detests seeing you so torn up, especially when it’s a result of meaningless, insensitive prattle. 

“Hey, c’mere,” Alex mumbles, untangling his fingers from yours so that he can bring a hand up. He cups your face gently, leaning forward over the console of the car and guiding you up to meet his lips.

A warmth spreads over your body when his mouth glides smoothly over yours, and you let out a soft, satisfied sigh. After a few short seconds, Alex pulls back, but you whine at the loss of contact. Your hand catches the back of his head, fingers finding purchase in his short hair. You’re not quite sure as to what’s come over you, but it’s okay. It’s okay.

“Come back,” you plead softly. 

Alex chuckles but follows your command nonetheless, kissing you again. You part your lips quickly, urging him to take control. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you whimper when you taste the complimentary soda that he’d been served at the restaurant before your little outburst. 

Your quiet pleas and whines grow in volume and frequency, and soon, you’re grappling at the material of his jacket. Alex breathes out a curse, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Gonna be the death o’ me,” he tells you, and it makes you giggle shyly. 

Warmth pools in your cheeks, and you’re scared that he can feel it when he strokes the side of your face. You lean further into him, nearly falling over the console of the car. Your hand lands on his thigh so that you can steady yourself, and Alex reaches for your hips, tugging you forward.

You grunt as you try to coax each of your legs over the midpoint of the vehicle, and Alex laughs loudly when you bump your head on the roof. You merely pout at him, and he presses a soft peck to your lips to appease you.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, though he’s trying desperately to conceal a smirk, “’S not funny.”

“Then why’re you still smiling?” you ask, frowning childishly. Alex’s hands cup each of your thighs, slowly sliding up your legs and bringing the material of your dress along with them. A shiver races down your spine, and you feel your stomach somersault with desire.

“So beautiful, y’know that?” Alex tells you, his eyes sparkling. The last rays of the sunset reflect strikingly off his irises, bringing out flecks of gold and bronze.

You bite your lip to keep a wide grin from splitting your face in half, and instead of answering him, you merely kiss him again. Alex hums happily, his fingertips digging into the plush skin of your thighs. You gasp when he growls and flips up the skirt of your dress, evidently done with keeping things slow. Goosebumps erupt along your legs, and you shudder vehemently when Alex hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear.

“Cute.” He grins when he pulls back, studying the material.

Your panties sit quite high on your hips, the silk of the fabric soft against his calloused palms. The pair is one of the fanciest you own, the white colour appearing silver as it creases with your movements. You inhale shakily when Alex slowly begins to inch the material down, exposing more of your abdomen.

“’S okay?” He asks, and you nod eagerly. He’s already had his mouth on you, for God’s sake. You’re not nearly as nervous about baring yourself to him as you once were.

“What d’yeh want?” Alex asks, his warm breath tickling your lips.

You whimper softly and wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand down and gasping when he cups your cunt.

His touch is feather-light—deep down, a more primal part of you wishes that he would apply a bit more pressure, be a bit rougher.

You don’t realize that you’ve said this out loud until Alex growls low in his throat and squeezes his eyes shut. His lips warp into a pained grimace and he exhales slowly. “Bloody hell,” he hisses, “’S that really what y’want? Need me t’be a bit meaner?”

“Not ‘meaner’,” you correct breathlessly, subconsciously rolling your hips into his hand, “Just…dirtier.”

“I’m gonna die,” Alex croaks out, staring up at you with helpless eyes, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, darling.”

You snicker quietly and bury your face into his neck, trailing wet kisses up the column of his throat. Alex’s hands work rapidly to tear your underwear down your legs, and the new pace makes you gasp. Your panties get stuck around halfway down your thighs due to the fact that you’re straddling Alex’s lap, but they allow enough space for what he has planned for you.

“C’mere.” Alex coaxes you out from where you’re burrowed against him, “Gimme a kiss, yeah?”

“Okay,” you say, your voice scratchy. You smear your lips against his, sighing when his index finger spreads your lower lips and presses flat against your clit. He begins to rub delicate circles around the bud, not wanting to overwhelm you with too much right away. Plus, he’s quite enjoying the way you keen softly and begin to move slowly against him.

“Good so far?” Alex asks, pulling back from your mouth.

You can’t help but to notice how swollen his lips are, the skin around them slightly red from having been pressed so tightly against yours. His nostrils flare as he strokes his middle finger up and down your slit, feeling you out. You’re slick, but only slightly, and he knows that if he were to try to slip a finger inside, it would hurt without the proper lubrication.

“Need—,” he fumbles, and you whine when he pulls his hand away from you, bucking against the air. Alex slides his index and middle fingers past his own lips, wetting them with his spit and lolling his tongue around them. You watch him with hooded eyes, your lips parted.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper.

Alex snorts, drawing his fingers out of his mouth before placing them back where you need him.

“‘Pretty’?” he echoes, cocking an eyebrow, “Not handsome?”

“That too,” you assure him breathlessly, twitching when he begins to stroke his fingers against your clit again. You lean into him, your thighs growing tired from having kept the rest of your body upright. “But it’s m-more than that. You’re just—oh!”

You moan loudly when his middle finger dips only slightly into your cunt. It’s not enough to fill you, but you can feel him circling your entrance before sinking in again, this time a bit further. You look at him with wide eyes, and he’s about to ask if you’re alright, but then the words leave your lips in a rushed slur.

“More—I want more.”

He eventually gets the entirety of his finger inside of you, until the cool band of his ring is pressed tightly to your entrance. Your eyes have drifted shut, and your lips move around silent breaths and indistinguishable words. Alex swallows heavily, his cock aching against the confines of his trousers. He’s sure that you can feel the bulge against your thigh.

“’S good, right?” Alex questions, pulling his finger back slowly. He feels your walls pulse around the digit and has to bite back a string of colourful curses. You nod quickly, your eyelids fluttering open as you watch his face morph into an expression of concentration. The tip of his pink tongue pokes out from his lips, and the space between his eyebrows creases as he gazes down at where his finger has been withdrawn, shiny with your arousal.

“I—,” you choke on a gasp when he dips the digit back into you. He doesn’t hesitate or pause this time, following through on the action and curving his knuckle upward. You let out a loud yelp and your hips jerk forward reflexively.

Alex smirks, satisfied with himself. He continues to tickle that special spot inside of you, relishing in the way you squirm in his lap. “Definitely good,” he quips, answering his own question.

You can’t form words, only able to communicate through gasps and squeaks. Alex’s eyes fall from your face to your chest, and without a second thought, he leans forward and fastens his mouth to one of your breasts over the thin fabric of your dress. Even through your bra, he’s able to locate your nipple, giving forceful sucks until the bud puckers proudly and strains against the material. He pulls back, admiring his handiwork and pressing his thumb against your clit.

“Beautiful,” he tells you, “Wish we could stay like this forever, love. Just wanna play with yeh, find all those special spots that make y’feel good.”

“Alex,” you whisper, your hands diving into his hair. You play with the strands, brushing them away from his forehead and running your fingers along the close-cropped parts on the side of his head.

He’s so damn handsome.

“Like it?” Alex hums, scattering soft kisses against your lips, none of them firm enough for you to catch his mouth with your own. “’S nice just being able t’let go, yeah? I wanna be the one t’make you feel like this—just me.”

“Just you,” you confirm, nodding your head zealously. There’s a tight knot in the pit of your stomach; it seizes and contracts with each passing second, winding you up higher and making it hard for you to keep your grip on reality.

“Want a kiss,” you whimper, pressing down on his hand to gain just a bit more friction.

Alex smiles and nods.

“Sure, my love. C’mere.”

After a few more minutes of heavy kisses and hurried fingers, you come undone. Alex watches in awe as your shoulders hunch and your lips part in bliss. He helps you ride out your orgasm, rubbing dainty figures against your clit and only ceasing when you push his hand away. With his help, you’re able to pull your panties back up and rearrange the flowy material of your dress so that it covers your thighs.

You kiss him again, your eyelids drooping slightly. The way he moans into your mouth has you feeling drowsy, but then you brush against a very prominent bump in his trousers, and you stiffen.

“I can help,” you say, reaching for his belt.

Alex begins to protest as you undo his pants. “’S okay, love, honest. I’ll just—”

He cuts himself off with a moan when your fingers dive past the waistband of his boxers and wrap firmly around his hard cock. His hips buck up instinctively and you lean in, pulling the collar of his shirt to the side and sucking a dark bruise into his skin.

And okay. Okay. You’re obviously determined.

Alex really fucking loves you.

[kondo-hijikata]

Crack fic : cake, falling. Saito and Cho

Pairings: implied Saito/Cho, SaisaRating: MSummary: Cho has a realization about his boss that turns the universe upside down. Also on AO3.

Tough Love

“Hnnn?” It was a pensive sound, starting low and risingsteadily. “You’re tellin’ me this iswhat them westerners eat?” Cho brought the plate closer to his face and hisnostrils flared. The rectangular-cut dessert was a rich brown and, though notunpleasant, carried an unusual scent.

“Mm.” At his side, Officer Tsukamoto stood with his own helpingand nodded in agreement. He used a pair of chopsticks to break a corner off hisslice. “I tried it for the first time when I took my family to Yokohama thisweekend. It’s kind of strange at first but we all ended up liking it very muchso…” A kind smile crossed his features. “I thought to bring some back for thestation.”

“Guess I know who’s eyin’ promotion ‘round here. Though, that’dnever work with my friggin’ boss.” Cholooked up, watching his colleague slide the morsel into his mouth. “And yousay they call this…what again?”

“Mmph.” Tsukamoto nodded once more to fill in for thesilence as he chewed. “Chocolate cake. Try it!”

“Chocolate cake, huh? Well!” Picking up his chopsticks, Chocut his piece in half. “Here’s to eatin’ like a westerner, then!”

The first bite was…he frowned, wrinkled his nose, andsnapped his face to the side, swallowing quickly.

“Eh?!” A laugh erupted. “You should see yourself! It isn’t poison,Cho.”

“What…the hell…isthis? It’s so…”

Still chuckling, Tsukamoto supplied, “Sweet? I thought sotoo, but you get used it to real fast.”

“More like unbearablysweet. And…” Cho chewed on nothing several times to kick up the taste in hismouth again. “…strong. Weird.” Heshook his head. “Hey, look, I appreciate it but nah. This ain’t me. Hell, Iwouldn’t even give it to my—” he trailed off as an idea formed.

“Your…?”

With a smirk pulling out to Cho’s cheeks, his chin lifted. “Onsecond thought, never mind.” He gave a friendly shove to Tsukamoto’s shoulder.“Thanks, man! Think I’ma take the rest to my desk.”

“I told you you’d get used to it!” Tsukamoto called afterhim in a jovial tone.

“Haha, yeah!” Cho waved over his shoulder and when he wasout of earshot, muttered beneath his breath, “Get used to it, my ass.”

He wasn’t cut out for this kind of decadent indulgence, with hispreference for a bland diet. But he also wasn’t the only one around these parts who enjoyed so-called boring sustenanceand in fact, compared to plain kake soba, Cho thought his meals were quitefancy.

That’s how the idea formed to use this sweet chocolate caketo serve up some equally sweet revenge. Saito had been exceptionally dickish inthe last two weeks—constantly hovering over him, bitching about this andbitching about that. He hadn’t said even an inkling of a nice thing since thislatest case broke and it was getting on Cho’s nerves.

Your attention todetail is severely lacking. (Istayed up all night doing this shit, asshole.)

You’re late. Again.(By five whole minutes, oh wow!)

The deadline was movedup by two days. After hour work is required. (Yeah, because I ain’t got nosocial life. Yep. You got it, Fujita.)

Get out of my officeunless you have something important to say. I don’t have time to idly prattlewith you. (I was just askin’ about your weekend. Damn.)

Don’t ask me toexplain things you can easily find out on your own. (Why are you likethis?)

It was really more of the same business as usual, just inheavier doses, but Cho was more put off about the potential explanation of Saito’srecent extra irascibility.

Rooster-head hadn’t been around lately and the lack of hispresence seemed to be directly correlated to Saito being in the worst mood ofall time. He was inapproachable at best, and the number of smoked cigarettesbuilt higher and higher over the hours until the ashtray was holding a smallmountain by evening.

Figures. Cho had long suspected something was going onbetween them and while this development would satisfy his curiosity as solidevidence (and even be amusing gossip), it annoyed him more than anything. Whyshould he have to shoulder the bruntof their fallout, after all? He just worked here, damn it.

As Cho strolled down the hall, he sucked his teeth. Leave itto the fuckin’ rooster to get involved with such a demanding, thanklesshard-ass, who had ice in his veins and never smiled if not for sarcasm. Hell,those qualities were the exact reasons Cho had wanted—more than once—to punch Saitosquare in the jaw, especially over the last few days since they seemed to haveamplified three-fold.

Unfortunately, such an option was out of the questionbecause thatwould’ve meant he’d also be out of a job, but this sugar-laced weaponin hand would allow him to annoy Saito in a way that appeared entirelyinnocent.

As Cho approached the stairs, he could see thesituation unfolding:

“Ey, boss! I just atethis really, really delicious thingfrom Yokohama and it was so good that I had to bring you some! Here, try it.It’s amazing! You will to~tally loveit.” Wink wink, nudge, nudge.

“Sawagejo. I am anabsolute asshole who will not thank you for such a kind act. But I’ll acceptyour offer anyway. Because I’m a dick.”

Then, Saito would take a bite and be so totally shocked and horrified that those stupid antenna bangs would stand straight up and his perpetuallyserious face would contort into something hilarious. And with due justice delivered, the triumphantCho would exit his office to go laugh his ass off.

‘Good! It’ll serve him right!’ Cho thought as he started descendingto the landing separating the first and second floors. However, betweenbeing both too smug and overly eager to achieve his vengeance, he managed to miss a stephalfway, lost his footing, and began to stumble.

A snapshot of the situation flashed through Cho’s mind. Theplate was in his right hand. That’s where the banister was, too. He managed topivot and swing his left arm toward it so he could regain his balance, but thefloundering put the railing out of reach and with a shout, his eyes shut tightas he fell backward. The dish crashed against the floor and tumbled in a clamor:a prelude to the pain that Cho’s body would also experience.

…only, it didn’t.

He remained flinching.

…because he landed somewhere soft.

The realization slowly dawned.

…as in, half bridal-style in someone’s arms.

At that, Cho’s eyes snapped open to find Saito’s golden onesboring into his and his body went rigid. Unblinking, he stared blankly as amillion observations hit him at once; perhaps, it was from all the adrenalinecoursing through his system, but whatever the reason, he was suddenly extremelyaware of several things.

Those long black bangs didn’t appear so awkward from thisangle and the hard lines of Saito’s face no longer as threatening. Up close,these features were actually…quite handsome. Cho could feel breath spillingacross his skin, could smell cigarettes and soba and a trace of mint. Saito’sarms were strong and warm and they’d caught him effortlessly and…

‘Holy shit, he hasnice lips.’ Another most unfortunate intrusive thought.

“Sawagejo.”

“Hn!” A kneejerk reaction had Cho attempting to surgehimself forward without success, and Saito simply pushed him back up on hisfeet.

“Be more careful, you moron.”

“D—” Cho cleared his throat and pressed his back to thewall, gathering himself. “Don’t talk to me like I’m rooster-head or somethin’!”

Saito’s brow merely twitched and he then pointed to the mess.“Dare I ask?”

“Uh, yeah. Tsukamoto bought somethin’ called, uh, chocolate cake from Yokohama and…”

“Cht. You’ll eat anything, won’t you?” Tossing his face tothe side, Saito turned to the stairs and began to climb. “You really are like him.”

“H…hey!” Cho called, the fire all but gone from his voice bythis point. “I’m nothin’ like rooster, y’hear?”

A heavy, sarcastic sigh fell from Saito. “Right.” Then, he disappeared on the second landing.

Blinking, Cho’s attention fell to the sad sight of cakeon the floor. He may not have liked or even wanted to eat it, but afterspending too many days of his childhood starving, he hated seeing food go towaste. His whole plan for petty vengeance was looking more and more ridiculousby the second, because it was clear that Saito wouldn’t have taken the offer to begin with.Cho should’ve known.

And as for Saito…

Cho swallowed, not feeling much like revenge anymore. Infact, he was more confused and terrified than anything because he’d totallyjust realized his boss was attractive…and his boss had totally just comparedhim to his ex. …Or his presumed ex.

With a hand coming to up his mouth, both of Cho’s eyeswidened.

Holy shit.

Did Saito have a type, and was he it? His heart fluttered.

This was not good.

~

Several ideas marinated overnight and by morning, Chodecided that, yes, there were some glaring similarities between himself andthat damn rooster after all. Saito had always been prodding Sano and trying to whiphis ass into shaping up when he’d been around; it was the same treatment Cho received.

It was logical to assume, by these facts, that the boss did, indeed, have a type.

…And if Sano was it, then so was Cho.

He slammed a hand on his desk at that thought, startling anearby colleague, and began drumming his fingers. How could he have gone fromnever seeing Saito to seeing Saito withinthe span of five seconds?

Landing in his arms had somethingto do with it, along with getting a glimpse of his lips up close and beinginundated by his scent…not to mention having the impression that Saitoactually cared more than he let on, but…Cho groaned and rubbed furiously at thesides of his head.

‘Don’t think about it,don’t think about it!’

He continued to think about it.

This was not goodat all.

~

There hadn’t been any reason to go into Saito’s office, butCho found himself shuffling down the hall anyway. Halfway there, he scowled andwondered what he was even doing. That’s when he heard a familiar voice.

“Aw, c’mon. You knowyou missed me! I bet you spent all week brooding and pining while I was gone.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“Uh-huh…”

Cho peered into Saito’s office to find Sano halfway throughthe window from outside, leaning on his forearms and wearing a huge satisfiedgrin. Saito stood facing him, tobacco in hand.

“By the way, I got you somethin’, old man…” Sano sang. He reacheddown and reappeared, extending a large peach in Saito’s direction. “For makin’you wait so long for me to come back. You can have this one now.” His voice lowered. “Andthe other one later.”

Saito huffed. “Aho.” But he did accept it. And Cho was suddenlyaware that there was endearment inhis insult. In fact, Cho had begun to realize that every time Saito had eversaid something he’d presumed as offensive, it had carried with it backwardencouragement or some kind of tough love.

Tough love.

Holy shit. That’swhat rooster-head saw in him. And because it was so cleverly disguised, no one else noticed.

“You’d better go,” Saito said. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah! See you tonight.” Sano winked and loweredhimself slowly to his feet. Lingering for a moment more, he fluttered his eye lashes, smiled, and disappeared from the window.

Cho watched as Saito turned, regarding the peach—andsimply wasn’t ready to see those shapely lips curved into a tiny smile. An actual smile.

Saito placed the fruit on his desk and then glanced up. Cho’sback straightened when their eyes met and he shoved himself out of sight.

“Sawagejo.” Cho heard from inside and his stomach dropped. “A suggestion.”

Slinking back into the doorway, he swallowed and looked up. “…Yeah,boss?”

“Lurking outside your superior’s office doesn’t look good.”Saito cocked his head ever so slightly. “So, unless you’re here for a reason, Iwould immediately get back to work.”

Nodding, Cho held his hand up and forced a laugh. “Iwasn’t—I mean.” A piecing gaze sized him up. “Yeah, lemme go do that. The analysisis almost done, so I’ll just…” He pointed down the hall. “Yeah.”

Using the frame, he hurled himself out of Saito’s view again and stalked back to his desk with his cheeks burning. How stupid could hehave been? All Saito cared about with Cho was work getting done, but when it came to a damn rooster-headed idiot, it was all accepting peaches and smiling softly and…ugh, fuck it all.

When Cho slumped into his chair and flipped to the page heleft off at, the sudden sound of the Chief’s voice surprised him.

“Ah, Commissioner Kawaji! This way, Sir.”

Kawaji?! Cho threw himself back into his task, making sure he looked busy as the twoof them passed by him and when they turned the corner, he gazed over his shoulder.The commissioner was someone who made the sound of even Saito’s criticismssimilar to a kitten’s purr. If he’d seen Cho just standing around outside hisboss’s door, it wouldn’t have gone over well.

…Had Saito been looking out for him just now? Surely, he’dknown Kawaji would be around today.

Cho blinked. Was that more tough love? Possibly… But thetoughest thing about this all was that he’d begun falling for someone who hecouldn’t have—at least not without a fight.

With a groan, he rubbed at his face, but when Cho peeredover the tips of his fingers, his eyes were determined.

“Hope you’re ready for war, Sagara…”

The Great Score of Broom VS Rooster was about to get intense.