#Macaroons and Sex

[eclipzee3]

˗ˏˋ 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝔂 𝓷 𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓴𝔂 ˎˊ˗

𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

˚ʚ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 ɞ˚

•°`` 1.9k? ``°•

ㅤ`✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹°｡･:*˚:✧｡☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:

➵ title came from putting kinky and pink together. Pinky just didn't sound right, so I put both, lol.

➵ tw sex toys, price being the sweetheart he is. Oral sex, p n v, not very kinky, but idk what to put for a title 😭

Tip: If you just want to skip to the smut, go to the image of the cat! (It's okay, I understand).

He loved your pink room, your pink clothes.. your pink everything. (And your pussy obvs) He loved spoiling you for your plushies and makeup... even going as far to get you hello kitty toilet paper. Which you only convinced him to do by telling him it was limited edition or something. He couldn't quite remember. But what he did was one of your orders following that one.

You often asked him to get you things, which he wasn't opposed to. He'd do it every time, happy to see your joy when the packages came. But this time, he just liked to see what you would get.

It was some link you sent him from Amazon. A link to a cart. Which he rightfully looked through, curiosity taking over his thumb. He was greeted with multiple sex toys. What my cock isn't enough now?

Needless to say, he was a bit jealous. Jealous of a dildo? Maybe. But could you blame him? It was a fucking pink one too. Even the dirty stuff had to be cute. He continued through the order, buttplugs.. specifically the ones with gems. All sizes for some reason. He knew you were far too tight for all of them, but that would be a problem for later.

Ribbons. Ribbons? Why ribbons? And why is it the thickest ribbon he'd ever seen? He knew. But he didn't want to know. Not now.

Up until this point, you thought he'd never go through your orders. He had never before, why would he when you decided to get sex toys the one time?

One time, it was indeed. Price kept looking through the order, the classic fuzzy handcuffs making eye contact with him. He loved you. He really did. He loved the sex life you guys had. He loved everything about it, but everything in his being was him praying those ribbons weren't to tie him up and do weird shit to him.

John wasn't a very kinky man. Dick inside pussy, done. He never got the extra stuff. It was sex, not a Damm puzzle trying to figure out which hole the toy went in? He knew you. Inside out, and this was something he was.. clearly not familiar with. He was a bit scared. But at least the rest of the order was body wash.. and 2 large bottles of lube.. for some reason.

`✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

You never knew he had gone through the order, so when it finally came a few weeks later you were intending on surprising John.

So when you perked up on the couch bolting to the door, John was already getting nervous. He really hoped you weren't about to cuck him with a damn dildo and tie him up with those fucking stupid ribbons. John was making his own personal vendetta against the ribbons.

Like you didn't have enough already? He groaned, rubbing his face as you had already brought the package on the dining table. He got up walking over to you.

"Why don't we open it later, yeah? Watch a movie?" He suggested. Jesus, he could already feel his body betraying him. Getting tied up wasn't something he would like, but his groin was really telling a whole other story. Maybe it was just ribbon? Right?

"No.. I wanna open it now. You'll love the stuff I got, I promise." You smiled at him, not noticing his whole little crisis going on. You just went to get a knife to open the package, revealing.. thankfully, the body wash on top.

"I wanted to try out a new scent, I heard good things about it." It was vanilla macaroon or something like that. He was mainly focused on the pink underneath the bodywash. That dildo hated him. Stupid fucking piece of plastic.

He could see the fuzzy pink.. the shiny metal of the 3 fucking butt plugs. Fucking three. "I bet it smells good." He choked out. It was only now when you finally started to notice his demeanor. And his odd placement. His hands were on the table, right at the edge. His body was pressed into them, perfectly aligning his junk with his hands. Thankfully, he was able to hide it.

You grinned, knowing what was under the bodywash before pulling the bottle up, revealing your.. toys. John let out an audible sigh, slight relief he didn't have to act like he didn't know. Now, he didn't know what to say. Maybe what he had thought about the toys?

"Why'd you get all this? Is my dick not 'nough now?" He said in his gruff voice, slight chuckle following. You just laughed, shaking your head. "No, I just thought it would be funny. I already named the dildo, his name is Bartholomew."

"Wonderful name." John followed, swallowing. You even named the thing. Part of him wanted to know if you had named his.. or if that would just be weird. Maybe it's just john? Or captain..? John was really overthinking the dildo. Hated the dildo.

"You really need the dildo- Bartholomew?" He corrected, immediately feeling self regret. Was he now respecting it?

"Yes, because what If you're not here and I'm lonely?" You were really just fucking with him. It was a dildo, just something to fuck when you were bored or something. Or when john was deployed.

"I think that I'm much better than a hunk of plastic, love." He said, glaring at it. He couldn't stand the thought of that taking his place. If anything, you could've gotten a mold of his instead. Not some pink thing with little to no detail.

"I agree." You responded, glancing at him. "I think it'd be better if you had cuffs on, though." You added, watching him turn his glare towards you. "If anything, you should be wearing the damn cuffs, sweetheart." He moved off the table, pouring the box out on the table.. little clunks following before he grabbed the dildo packaging, opening it and pulling it out before putting it to his junk.. trying to compare sizes with his memory. "Mine's bigger anyway." He concluded, dropping the dildo on the table with a plop.

"What if this is bigger? You jealous?" You teased, grabbing the dildo as well before slapping it for fun. It did have recoil. That was obvious.

"No." John replied dryly.

It was a few weeks after the purchase of the sex toys. You had really forgotten about the dildo until john walked in your room one day, messing around in there for fun. He was just messing around with you, looking at the various things in your room. It was all pink. All of it. Pink comforter, pink anything. If It was in there, it had pink.

"Why do you have so many serums..?" John turned back from your vanity, looking through all of them. You did have too many, but they had cute packaging, so it was fine. "'Cause." You replied, leaning back on your bed. You had a princess bed, obviously. You were a princess, after all. John was the one that insisted on them, actually. And he was definitely correct on getting them. You had little things scattered through the curtains, like personal items. Pins from places you been, little self awards, etc. John looked at your vanity for a second more before going to your nightstand out of curiosity, opening the drawer, only to be met with what he dreaded most. That stupid fucking dildo. He'd stand by that til the end of time.

His dick was better. He knew that, you knew it. So why did you need this pink dildo? "Why you still got this?" He held it out, earning a laugh from you. "I was gonna put a sharpie face on it, never got around to it. Do you want it?" You teased, and he just gave you a glare. "No." He said, observing it before dropping it in the drawer and getting on the bed as well.

"You have a boyfriend, dear." He said dismissively of the dildo. He no longer wanted to call it by its name. It didn't deserve to. If anything, his dick should have its own wardrobe and identity. But even his dick knew he belonged with you.

"So I'm just supposed to suffer without you when you're gone? Or use my fingers? It's not exactly ideal, john." You said a smile on your face. He only watched you silently. Thinking.

"Have you used it yet?" He asked. He really hoped you hadn't.

"Why are you asking?" You only answered with a question, john moving atop you.

"I just wanna know.. tell me." He purred, obviously sweet talking you before he kissed your neck, nibbling on it as you only giggled.

"Why should i?" You said, playing with his dog tags as he practically ate at your neck.

"Dont make this hard for me..." He pecked your lips, one of his hands creeping down your legs and rubbing them.

"What're you doing, john?" You asked playfully, watching his hand cup your pussy, rubbing it through your panties. His hands were always better than yours. John really knew how to make you melt because soon he was in between your legs, his tongue lapping at your heat.

His nose pressed against your clit as his beard tickled you a bit.. you hands tugging at his slightly grown out hair. "Fuck- god..!" You bucked your hips, watching as he grinned. His hands were placed over your thighs, keeping you close as he licked and sucked your poor clit. His nails dug into your skin while he continued to ravish your pussy, keeping you still.

You were a mess already. John knew you. Like he knew every spot to make you moan his name, to make your hips jolt into his face.

He shook his face in your cunt, your breath hitching as he slurped vigorously. His lips moved up and wrapped around you clit, sucking hard as he watched you writhe above him.

One hand came down.. one finger probing your entrance as he sucked your clit hard.. then soft.. then only giving it little licks as his finger slipped inside you, easily with how wet you were. He curled it, watching as you squirmed even more. He added a second finger, repeating the action, but faster. You moaned, eyes rolling back. It felt so good coming from him. Any other man and you would've been dry, but john wasn't some stupid man. He was experienced with you, of course.

"You like that ?" He edged you on, only making you nod as he continued to slurp at your cunt. You were so much wetter than you thought. The room was filled with lewd sounds of John's fingers entering you and leaving you and his sucking.. it was all too much. "John.. oh my God. Don't stop.." Your words were barely audible as you shut your eyes, your pussy tightening around his fingers as they slowed down, his tongue hardly licking your clit now as he watched you melt above him. You licked your bottom lip, looking at john as your thighs tightened around his head, his tongue gliding back down to suck your juices. "Tastes so good, babe." He purred, only making you more lustful.

He finally stopped, moving up between your legs before giving you a kiss, John's hand slipping up your top to cup your tit. You kissed him back, tasting yourself on his lips before he began undoing his belt, quickly getting rid of his pants and boxers.. slipping his shirt off as he nibbled on your neck, his cock rubbing against your clit as he moved his hips slowly. It was purely just to rub your clit and get him off while he groaned softly, taking in your scent.

John was covered in hair on his chest, and his happy trail made you go mad. His dick had to be better, though. As you bucked your hips, moaning a bit yourself while you tried to get more stimulation. John then slipped himself inside you, earning a gasp from you as he started slow. Even after fucking him so many times you never really stretched enough for it not to hurt a bit.. so every time you did fuck his cock always managed to make your cunt falter. And that's what he was doing now. "Tell me.." He taunted.

You watched him slip in and out of you steadily.. his nose still buried in your neck as he began to get quicker.. your hands squeezing at his back a bit only for him to begin to pound into you, at the perfect spot. You moaned, not holding back as he suckled on your neck, surely marking you. He didn't hold back, eventually moving from your neck and holding your face in place as he fucked you.. really pounded into you relentlessly. "No.." you weakly responded, getting a smile from him.

"I can tell you're just as tight as were last time.." He grinned, knowing his effect on you.

You weren't really capable of making noise now. Not when he was hitting right at your cervix, little whimpers streaming from your mouth as he kept going. "Is that dick good? Hm?" He grunted out, hardly getting a little nod from you. You could barely move. Your nails were clawed in his back.. and you could only register how good it felt... and how good he was. "Yeah?"

He fucked into you, beginning to rut his cock further inside you instead as he inched closer to release, only making him go rougher. "Fuck.." He hummed roughly, keeping a strong hold on you as your cunt only leaked more arousal.. he was practically milking you of everything you had while you just let him, the pleasure far too much to stop.

Soon, john was even getting sloppy, trying his best not to cum, but it really was the inevitable. He stayed inside you, rubbing your clit as gentle as possible, strings of little whimpers and moans coming from you. Your neighbors were definitely sick of the weekly fucks.

"Shh.. quiet, princess." He said softly. He was a gruff man, so his soft voice was more of a soft smokers voice. To shush you, he leant down and gave you a long kiss.. rubbing circles into you clit while his cock began to slowly piston into you. You kissed him back, his tongue entering your mouth as you made even more noise for him.

Your back arched, hips bucking into his hand while you tried to get more stimulation, and john gave you exactly that. His hand quickened, as well as his thrusts, while you just couldn't take it.

Your pussy was absolutely covered in your arousal, and the base of his cock was collecting your juices, creating little froth. John's finger grazed over your clit, and that was what made you break. You let out a lengthy moan, and it didn't take long for him to realize you came. He took his finger off, instead pulling from the kiss, creating a string of spit between you two. "Good girl.." Your pussy appreciated those words, your thighs trying to close desperately as you shook a bit, squirming while you felt him fuck you a bit faster, helping you come from your high.

Your mind was blank.. you couldn't even think of the consequences if he came inside you, but by then he was buried deep in that cunt of yours, fighting back moans as he came.. rutting up a few times. "S'so good." You mumbled, barely audible. John just chuckled softly, pulling out despite your pussy trying to suck him back in.

He moved back up, kissing your neck again before getting off the bed and slipping his boxers on, taking your shirt off. "I'm gonna run you a bath, alright?" You nodded, him picking you up while you clung to him, allowing him to bring you to your shared bathroom, turning the faucet on for the bath while you stood in it.. only feeling his cum seep out of you. John acted with a towel, cleaning you off with pleasure and a sweet smile. He was definitely better than your dildo.

He would be throwing that out tonight, for sure.

Honestly, I lowkey hate the dildo too. Don't blame him.

Anyways, this took a while. Sorry if the smut is bad, I tried my best, lol 😭🫶🏻 I could've added more detail to the smut, but idk I kinda just wanna get this out of my drafts, so here you go

[therealslimshakespeare]

Even my Friends just Love Her

|| Dear John Series 💌

Warnings: 18+ sexual and thematic material, not a lot in this chapter but some brief voyeurism and mention of naughty photographs, letters and imagined sex acts

Coauthored: honestly bless my baby Bri who I begged to beta read this when I was stumped three quarters of the way to completion and she went above and beyond and gave the ending of this segment so much life, pretty phrasing and a beating heart. It was a total joy to work on this with you, darling, thanks for your lovely idea that spawned this whole series in the first place.💋 so many thanks to Christi and Ashley who endured my screams about Spangles and writers block

April-May 1945

Her tenth night in Paris found Marge Spencer hard at work earning her keep as a trusted member of The Lana Tierney’s retinue.

She didn’t mind the labor, it had paid for a boat ride and a plane over the pond and the prettiest shared suite in the Ritz, with a view of the iconic skyline and more macaroons than Marge knew what to do with. An American girl of average means, moderate schooling and a vast imagination, Marge felt like pinching herself that her view consisted of the Eiffel Tower; instead, she applied herself more earnestly to her occupation and diligently set about petting the soft white fur fringing Spangles’ little pink nose.

That was the extent of Marge’s job description, pet Spangles, feed Spangles, brush Spangles, wash Spangles, walk Spangles, carry Spangles; anytime Julie Jean couldn't tend to Spangles herself, Marge was at the ready.

Spangles, you see, was a white bunny rabbit of the masculine sex given to Julie on her latest War Bond tour by a Marine gunner and nothing short of death could part the two. He had a blue velvet collar, a fetching little name tag hanging from it and a very active set of whiskers.

“Spangles was my dearest friend before you.” Julie had told Marge when she first introduced them and Marge had done her best to not crumple at that unwittingly dismal revelation.

There had been a lot of those. Julie Jean, as Miss Lana insisted Marge call her, was a unicorn of sorts. Very magical, very shiny, very fragile, dubiously real even to herself. For someone so universally adored she was the loneliest creature Marge had ever encountered, before meeting her she had assumed that waifish little fairies like Julie didn’t exist outside of rather maudlin novels. That felt like a very cruel denial of a very real predicament in retrospect. Julie's happiness was unbounded, universally ignited and childlike in its exuberance, her sadness was without a bit of restraint beyond some brittle and fleeting acting capabilities of keeping it together until she got to the powder room.

During their brief friendship, Marge had already spent a great deal of time hugging the starlet and patting her milk white shoulders in powder rooms. Anyone else indulging in such frequent fits might have caused Marge to give them a little shove and advice to ‘chin up’, but Julie did “chin up” so thoroughly and profitably in between -more than anyone Marge had ever known- that Marge felt rather unentitled to that specific sermon. When Julie was up, she was really up and so was everyone within a mile radius of her. And when she was down -only the single person with her or Spangles knew it. And Marge figured that was a pretty decent way to live; as were three room suites at the Ritz and more flowers on flat spots than a funeral home.

What was missing was someone specific to channel it all into. But that, Marge knew, was why they were in Paris: so that Julie Jean could pour out what she had to offer to an entire crowd of furloughed GI’s or else the recently liberated POWs still waiting for transit and looking altogether too thin and too shocked by their first female sighting in over a year. Julie managed them all beautifully, standing under hot afternoon suns and chilly evening spring breezes like a champ, in spindly heels and fetching chiffon straps, collecting flowers and kisses and horror stories with unfading aplomb.

Tagging behind her each day, cradling Spangles and the overflow of flowers not even Herb could manage, Marge grew tired just by observing. You had to have some kind of heart to keep doing what Julie did day after day. Wake up looking forward to it. You had to have an awfully large receptacle to receive what she had to give, too.

A revolving crowd of hundreds of GIs -or Bucky Egan.

Tagging behind, ever watchful for threatening Hollywood acquaintances or freshly liberated boyfriends in the crowd, Marge had no luck so far. She went to each show, mingled in each press of the crowd before and after, scanning, always scanning for blue eyes and golden hair and the sweetest face she’d ever known.

Gale. There was no reason to think he’d be here, but it had been ages since their last letters, only word had been that they’d been moved and that was from some other pilot in the same gargantuan holding place. As the flurry of a world war wrapping up took hold of bedraggled Europe, no one knew where anyone was. Unless you were a world famous starlet residing at the Ritz in a very promoted continental tour -then folks knew how to find you and serenade you under your hotel window.

Communication lagged terribly and it was a roll of the dice whether your next bit of news would be the most tragic or joyful you’d ever received. Whether you’d hold the person you missed or the telegram regarding them first.

So Marge scanned the crowds and tried her best to receive the overflow of flowers -and the occasional kiss- from the men around her with half the grace Julie showed each. It was really all very flattering, very exciting, and while back home in America there was felt the buzz of approaching victory, nowhere exuded it in such frantic merriment of expectation like Paris.

“Everything’s better in Paris.” Julie had told Marge on the way over, dreamy and giddy herself that her plan had worked, that they were headed over to the same land mass as their men, and that Marge was with her, “Even the best things in the world get magnified in Paris. That’s why everyone doubts it’s real. But it is Marge! It is!”

So far, even sitting on the carpeted floor of the suite, staring out the balcony after ten nights spent here, and petting Spangles wet fur for a living, Marge had to agree it felt more than a little magical.

“Laaaa!” Julie’s exclamation interrupted her reverie, silver belled voice matching the atmosphere to perfection, “Wasn’t that a bop?”

She’d been soaking in that tub for two hours, tap turning and on and off to add more hot water and Marge thought her poor, no doubt sore, feet deserved every second of the extravagance. Plus the room now smelled of bath salts that Marge was pretty sure were the very distilled essence of seduction. And that complimented her view of the Parisian skyline, too.

“Always is with you at the mic.” Marge swore, meaning it, too. Nine shows in ten days and even though she had ulterior motives for attending Lana’s shows -scanning, always scanning- Marge was astounded by the variety and interest the entertainment retained after repeated tastings.

“Yeah? Really? Honest?” Julie sat herself cross legged on the fluffy duvet at the foot of their shared, king sized bed, and chewed her lip like it was her first performance ever. There had been another suite with another bed, and after the second night when Julie heard Marge crying her little heart out over Gale, the consolation had been made. Julie was eager for sleepovers. Never had them before, she swore.

Now these chats happened each night.

“Honest.” Marge got up from seat on the floor and came over to the bed, setting Spangles between them, “You gotta know that? Like those screams and yells were all hoo haa. Trust me, Julie, it was electric. You were electric. Again.”

They sat and pet Spangles in silence for a few moments before Julie spoke up again, soft and sweet as she watched Marge’s dimple deepen, “You’ve made this trip so much better than any other I’ve taken, you know that, Margie? Paris is how it should be with you.” she proclaimed triumphantly, “Lovely and pretty and makes me feel like I can float.”

“You can in my book.” Marge drawled, chucking under Julie’s chin, the girl looked half too young without the makeup and Marge felt it was easier to be friends like that.

Just two girls and a bunny in Paris.

“What do you think they’re doing right now?” Julie whispered.

They spent most of their sleepovers talking about them -the boys. Speculating happy little comforts for them and spinning happy little ever-after’s for themselves when this all wrapped up.

“Hopefully cuddling for warmth.” Marge’s grin grew sly, the mental picture too amusing even if it was bittersweet.

A small commotion in the hall outside sent both girls into high alert suddenly, Spangles’ whiskers twitching in solidarity for their anticipation. This had been happening most nights, too.

“Is it them do you think?” Julie gleefully whispered, untangling her legs and tiptoeing to the door with Marge begrudgingly protesting but following nonetheless.

Julie was generous with the peephole and Marge had given up pretending to be above the jovial pastime of people watching -especially when their swanky floor at the Ritz meant they had the most shocking sort of neighbors. Ingrid Bergman for one, and as of the last six days; accompanied by a man who was not her husband.

“He’s dark.” Marge reported, finally getting a better look at the man in question as the illicit lovers grappled in a kiss and fumbled longer than usual at their key.

“Lemme!” Julie shoved at Marge’s giggling frame and tiptoed to line her eye up, “Ooooh, lord! Marge, Marge I think that’s Capa!”

Marge made a disgusted little face. “Frank Capra? ‘Why We Fight’ Capra? Isn’t he old?”

“No, no.” Julie swatted at her without tearing her eye from her spying view, “Robert Capa -life magazine. War Photographer, Hungarian, very dangerous profession.”

“Being hungarian?” Marge snorted, “Or stealing wives?”

“Oh hush they’re so in love.” Julie whined, rapt attention until the door of the opposite suite banged shut with a decisive crash. “They’re so in love.” she moaned, letting her forehead thud against the door, allowing herself to dramatically slide down the length of the door to the plush carpet.

“He’s very hairy.” Marge was amusedly unimpressed.

“I don’t want him for meeeee!” Julie whined and Marge sensed another little fir coming on and cast a furtive glance at the macarons and tissues across the room on the side table. “It just reminds one of being in love.”

“Well, don’t fret, that’ll be you and John Egan in no time, clawing wallpaper and ruining respectable people’s evenings.”

Julie looked up at her unimpressed and Marge could have recited from memory the next fussy little cry: “He’ll probably hate me.”

Marge sighed and knowing this was going to be a little bit of a moment, sat down beside her, back to the door, matching pajamas a cool silk rub against each other as she hugged the poor girl. “No he won’t.” She insisted, “He’ll think you’re a silly little goose for crying so much over him and he’ll think you’re smart as anything for all the money you’ve raised -and the good you’ve done. He’s an ambitious man, he’s not one to knock a good idea. I bet he’s proud as anything. If he knows about acorn -he’s proud. You can count on it.”

They did this every evening, too.

Julie had never known a lovelier creature more convinced they were unlovable. It helped that the comforting sentiments she dished out like tranquilizers were firmly true; in fact, if anything, Marge was a little braced for the shock of Julie being quite happily eaten alive by the most voracious man she’d ever had the fortune to meet.

“I might as well jump into the Seine if not.” Julie commented casually.

“Yeah, well,” Marge tempered with a squeeze, “maybe don’t come on to him with that one.”

After some time of more innocuous conversation, a commotion startled them, the triple rap of knuckles on the door behind their backs -Herb’s special little knock. They shared a spooked look. Marge, quite settled in her protector mode, rose first. She gave the peephole a cursory little look to make certain before sliding the lock and cracking the door open as wide as was respectable in silk pajamas.

“Herb?”

“Miss Spencer, Miss Julie,” he gave a nod, something odd in his bearing, a simmering thing near to nervous excitement that jarred with his sober expression, “sorry to bother, but there’s been a development in the lobby -I, ya see, I’ve been turnin’ all the young bucks away after you go up, as you asked but -there’s one down there now-“

“Does he need a room?” Julie inquired anxiously, she’d put up about ten refugee families in various little suites and over a couple dozen servicemen, “That silly concierge not letting you put it on my tab?”

“No miss, this one’s not lookin’ for a room.” Herb’s keen eyes skittered to Marge, an almost cautionary expression on his face, “He says he recently escaped a camp and by the look of him I’d belive it. He’s asking for -for Miss. Spencer, Miss.”

“What?” Marge was not one to be cautioned against hope, “Herb! What did he say? Where is -what’s he look like? What did he say his name-“

“Gale.” Herb let it drop gently. “Said his name was Gale Cleven, and that Miss Turner didn’t know him but her Bunny Friend did. That he saw Miss Spencer’s face in the papers when he got in this evening, he’s meant to be flown out tomorrow.”

“Julie’s Bunny Friend!” Marge repeated with a hysterical little cry, watery smile gone megawatt, “Julie!! Julie it’s gotta be him!”

“Well, well should we-“ Julie patted her pajamaed self down in a bewildered state of companion joy, “-should we go down? Should he- Herb!” too flustered she begged for some direction.

“Up here, I’d think miss.” he advised, “If he’s not the one, there’s no scene made, I can keep him in the hallway while Miss Spencer’s makes use of the peephole -as she is so fond of doing ages after I knock.”

Marge gave him a wry face which he returned in kind.

“Herb, is he -alone?” Julie asked suddenly, voice quite small and Marge could have knocked herself over the head with the ice bucket for being so very callous.

“Yes? Is there a dark haired, tall, big, loud-“

“-American major with him named John?” Herb supplied, ever astute and dampening in the extreme, “No, he’s alone. Or that is, besides the army man who drove him in.”

“Right.” Julie wiped her sweating palms on her thighs, sitting heavily on the bed but doing her damndest to maintain a bright smile. “Don’t leave poor Major Cleven down there any longer, Herb! Bring him up! I’ll wring for room service.”

“He -he may not be-“ Herb cautioned once more but Julie was adamant, already dialing:

“No, no more buts, it’ll be him. And he’ll have news of John. Go! Go go go!”

Marge gave Herb a pitying shrug of solidarity but the minute he was out in the hall she gave all pretense of calm, turning in a giddy spin that spooked poor Spangled and took out an already precarious floral arrangement. “Should I dress? Should I-“ Marge patted herself down now, but Julie, having primly placed her order and tipped it with a sugar coated thanks came over to her, and merely began to take Marge’s blond strands out of their rag curlers.

“No, you should have your hair undone.” the actress proclaimed, “And your top button, too.”

“Julie!“ Marge gasped, somehow it all felt so very likely, with him possibly downstairs, maybe in the elevator now, all their naughty little girls chats suddenly leaving the realm of hypothetical at the likelihood of Gale actually seeing that extra sliver of skin in mere moments.

“Marge.” Julie gave it back to her, fingers insistent on the silk, “It’s up to you to welcome him home.” she preached with girlish simplicity, “And as you’re not home yourself, you must make do, bring home with you.”

“How?” Marge stressed.

“There is nothing more domestic than a lady in a carefully crafted state of repose.”

“There’s not?”

“No, there’s not. ‘Me? Just rolled outta bed to welcome ya honey!’ See?” Julie parroted her alter ego with a little shimmy that sent her own curves jiggling beneath the shiny fabric in such a blatant way that even Marge had to admit she had a point. “Besides,” she added with practicality that sounded very much parroted from Marge herself, “we don’t have time and there’s nothing sexy or welcoming about a woman struggling into her house dress.”

“Ohhh shooo!” Marge began to hit at her when another knock sounded.

“Oh god.” Julie vocalized for her, squeezing Marge’s hand encouragingly, “It’ll be him.” she rallied.

“Yes.” Marge set her chin firmly and having plucked up her bravery, strode to the door purposefully. Somehow it felt like a doubt unworthy of their love for her to use the peephole, so without even a moment's delay in turning the handle, Marge flung wide the suite door and stared back at the two men outside in the hall.

He was pale as spector, those dear and onetime soft features nearly gaunt from deprivation, a criss-cross of purpling scars cutting across parchment skin; but the eyes were the same, sunken and dulled as they were, the same soul stared back at her and the thread between them held firm.

“Marge?” that voice was just as deep and thrilling and homey as she remembered, it had melted her belly and filled her with devotion from his first greeting in Texas. She had not stood a chance, not then and not now.

She was throwing her silk clad self against his filthy overcoat before she could fully comprehend anything else beyond it being him -it was him.

“Gale, Gale, Gale it’s you!” Marge panted in his embrace, the heavy feeling of his hand cradling her head a long imagined thing that winded her in reality.

Julie stood back mildly stunned. She fiddled with her own turban, having forgotten to see to her own appearance. If watching Capra and Bergman hurt so good this- this was bone deep beauty that hurt like a hundred little cuts soothed by a warm bath. Major Cleven was muttering about dirt and redefining what missing her meant into something eternal and something else comparing Marge to angels.

Julie and Herb exchanged the communicative glance of well satisfied colleagues over the lovebirds’ shoulders. If she looked hard she thought she could see commiseration in his face, too. It was intolerable, and she turned her back on the scene and fumbled on the bureau for her cigarette case. The latch was being pesky, it made a clatter as she tried to wrestle it open on the tortoiseshell table top. She’d dropped the thing one too many times, and now the latch was busted just so that it was a bore to get it open.

“Miss Turner.” her real name spoken by a man made her jump, all the more so as he was so close behind her, suddenly deep into the suite as Julie had let too many moments go in her fight with the case.

Julie braced herself on the bureau and turned round to give Major Cleven his deserved smile. He really was as beautiful and ethereal as Marge talked of, recognizing in him some matching features to her own made her want to giggle in embarrassed disbelief at Egan’s obvious preferences. But her quips and greetings died on her tongue at his intense stare, a pink flush making it into his sallow cheeks the longer he looked at her and she recalled how he had seen her picture. But still he held her gaze and behind him Marge looked encouragingly expectant, and as if he could feel his girl’s prodding, he rallied.

“Miss Turner I-“ Gale Cleven looked at a loss for a brief moment, “-for everything! Thank you, for everything.”

“Why, whatever for? I-“ Julie’s batting little laugh was smothered by a sudden and engulfing hug of her own, and while she’d endured and repaid many a hug from soldiers and men alike, this one was different. “Oh Major Cleven, it’s alright, it’s a joy really.” She patted at his back and tried to grin back at Marge’s watery eyed happiness. Herb had gratefully closed the door behind the bedraggled major.

“You saved his life, ya know?” Cleven had pulled away suddenly, very emphatic hands on her shoulders and Julie caught a glimpse of something fatherly like she’d only imagined. “You’re what kept him going.”

“Did he-“ Julie felt her voice grow thin, in aggravation she about stomped her foot in his embrace, “-did he hear? I tried to send messages after-“

“He heard, ‘em.” Gale’s little nod shook her, too.

“He did?” Some chipped and unsettled hope was suddenly falling right into place in her heart, cemented and sure, “He did. But, he’s not with you?” she couldn’t help the little beg.

Cleven’s face fell and so did his hands. Marge approached them, feeling a presentiment. “What happened?”

“We planned to make a run for it together.” Cleven sounded guilty as hell, “Had to be that night. Two went over the wall just fine and I was following and he was behind and they spotted us.” If Julie could have found it in herself to hate him, the wretched look he flashed her would have compelled forgiveness on the spot, “He told me to go -and I did. And I heard shots after and I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Stunned, not at all expecting something of that nature, Julie clung to her furniture a little harder and tried to lean on that newly fastened hope in her heart. They had been connected all this time, she had felt it and now Gale had confirmed it and, she may be insane for it but- “It’s alright, we don’t know, which means we don’t know anything bad either.”

“Yes!” Marge’s voice was a little overly emphatic for the quiet moment, “That’s true! Nothing bad.”

“I know he’d take care of himself,” Gale offered, “-he has been. Just for you. Only thing keeping him on the straight and narrow.”

“Then I think,” Julie dared, feeling her cheeks growing hot and wet, this night being altogether too much to pretend at something close to sanity when with dear friends, “I think we’d know, don’t you? Me and you, we'd

know if he wasn't ... here anymore."

Gale looked at her like she was crazy but at the same time, understanding unfurled behind his eyes, as if he wasn’t used to relying on feelings like this, but it didn’t mean he didn’t know they were real.

Julie meant it, and believing it made some loathsome part of himself calm under the comfort of it. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I think we would.”

“Now!” Julie clapped her hands, Lana’s mask coming to smooth her face and brighten her smile, it wasn’t fair to Gale or to Marge to make this a somber evening, late as it was -this was Paris! The Ritz! If a celebration couldn’t be had and comforts procured, where could they be? “What we do have on our hands -is you! And you look as if you could use a burger and coke and a bath! And I’ve got all of them here, don’t argue, don’t you dare, Marge deserves to see you fed and moderately clean, don’t you think?”

Put that way, as a service to someone else, Gale Cleven only had weak thanks and pale rebuttals about needing to be at the newly rebuilt airport outside the city to get back to Thorpe Abbots tomorrow. He was still enthralled to military time, he hadn’t counted on this, not at all, but it didn’t change things-

“I’ve got a valet, Major, he could get you to Siberia tomorrow if you needed. Now hush, I’ve rung for food. Where are they? Herb! Herb!”

“It’s best to just go with it.” Marge teased him as he catatonically watched the starlet boss about the waiters and her valet, bewildered and bamboozled at the sudden luxury. The sudden proximity of his girl, too.

Suddenly there was nothing else on his mind but one thing, “You said yes.” he reminded in the middle of the chaos swirling around them.

“Yeah,” Marge’s dimples popped, “yeah I did.”

“You still of that mind?” he nudged closer, noses brushing and he was aware that he was filthy, but she was magnetic and willing.

“You’d have to drop off the earth to get out of this one, Major Cleven.”

Gale refused to sit on anything while Julie and Marge fed him from a sumptuous buffet off the cart. He swore he was too dirty to even stand in such a nice place like this but he was also shaky, pale and in dire need of food and with two little blondes plying him with the first bits of American cuisine he’d had in years, he wavered and stayed. His insistence on going to his original billet grew weaker with each passing moment as Marge smiled at him and fed him fries. By the time Herb had been sent down to inform Major Cleven’s jeep driver that his passenger was lost to welcoming arms, Gale had quite forgotten much of anything beyond the feel of a full stomach and the promise of a bath.

For a long time he sat in the cold porcelain shell and ran the water over himself, such a terrible amount of filth and grim didn’t deserve a bath, it would turn even his hardened stomach to sit in the juices of a year and a half’s captivity. So after being shooed by Julie Jean into her intolerably bright and ornate en-suite bathroom, complete with a star’s assortment of toiletries and the bunny’s monogrammed food and water bowls, Gale gingerly let his ratty clothes fall to the marble floor and stepped into the tub.

Over the roar of the faucet he was unaware of the tittering whispers at the door -still slightly ajar and unlatched as Julie Jean was nothing if not a little wicked. And concerned.

“People drown in bathtubs where I come from all the time!” She refuted Marge’s scandalized objections.

“Yes, because they’re pickled with booze!”

“After what he’s been through he’s in about as good of shape.”

Marge knew that statement wasn’t false exactly but her hand still fluttered over her belly in nervousness at the impropriety. “Alright.” she went with it, breathlessly anxious and a little flustered at the blurry something beyond that chink in the hinge.

“Aren’t you going to peak?” Julie unfolded the rest of her play with an alarming smirk. “Come on, he’s going to marry you, how many times will you see him in his natural state at the ritz?”

It wasn’t fair to put it like that, to remind Marge she was living on borrowed fairytale time. It was a deep seated fear she had shared with Julie once as they had the covers tucked up to their chin’s and their hearts out on their pillow cases -that she woke sometimes with a feeling of terrifying urgency and nothing but regrets for a laundry list of bypassed chances she had not taken. Upon waking further and regaining some sanity, she couldn’t for the life of her recall what these fateful omissions that startled her so badly had even been. But times like these, when she went to be good but then was asked if that really was worth her time, such urgency crept back, nagging. “Go on then.” Julie slipped aside, her battle won as Marge surrendered and delicately placed her cheek against the door frame, an eye to the crack.

She had spent many nights imagining the whole of Gale, a beautiful back she had only seen beneath drab olive, the nipped waist and the lanky legs that sent his trousers on a mile long spill of fabric. Her breath hitched at the pale expanse now before her, each proportion how she lovingly recalled but this time without obstruction or disguise, a strange dichotomy: the youthful taper and swell of his backside jarring with stark ribs and a mottle of ugly bruises and festered creases. She didn’t know if her gasp came from desire or commiseration, jerking her face back from the sliver of light as Gale turned his head sharply, as if feeling her observation even as the water had hid her inadvertent noise. Either uncaring or convinced he was mistaken, she watched as Gale stepped into his tub and promptly sank his head beneath the splash.

Julie watched Marge as she watched Gale and she wondered if this is what it was like in fairytales when the gates of the kingdom are thrown open, everything wanted and wished for is there. The protagonists never know what to do with a dream come true, do you eat it? Fondle, crush, preserve it in a glass case? Such a cruel kindness, dreams that come true; Marge’s twitching fingers and gasping lips suggested a torture going on inside her, heavy lidded love and belly hot want.

Julie swore to herself then, she’d feel it too. Soon, she’d be watching the man who owned the jacket as he showed her himself, just as he’d written his heart out for her eyes alone, one day soon he’d be naked and hers and she could watch him and do what people do with dreams.

Perhaps feeling vindictive for being ignored, or perhaps merely thirsty, Spangles suddenly made a series of determined little hops across the suite floor, threaded the blockade of the girls’ feet with ease and, perhaps seeing his chance, nudged open the crack of the bathroom door only to bounce along the marble floor in a cacophonous clatter of little paws that even Gale could hear over the faucet’s roar. Like a slippery fish, he skidded to his side along the bottom of the wide tub, a pink, bath-warmed hand clutching at the edge and hauling his sopping head above the lip to observe his long eared visitor -and the guilty little audience of girls in their night clothes at the threshold.

The look he leveled Marge made Julie’s toes tingle and second guess how chaste these two’s reportedly tame trysts pre-war had really been. “We merely wanted to make sure you didn’t-“ Marge clasped and unclasped her hands, “-drown.” it was a deflated little excuse by the time she got it out.

Spangles had begun to sneeze, ever sensitive to steam and Yardley’s lavender soap, his poor little legs skidding apart further and further on the damp floor. Gale bit his lip from laughing at the cute little creature’s plight.

“Oh laa!” Julie gave up all pretense and entered to save him -the bunny, that is- causing Gale to flail a little harder as if there was a deeper level to the bottom of his tub where he could take refuge. “Add in the bubbles, Major,” Julie always had a remedy, “it’ll hide everything nicely. Don’t ruin poor Marge’s first evening with you by being a prude, she misses you. It’s been years, you know.”

They spent much of that evening in the following way, Gale in his topped off tub, Marge with a mostly useless cloth beside him on the ledge, and Julie primly sat with Spangles in her lap on the closed toilet seat.

“Bucky’s confirmed as best man.” He told Marge, sheepish grin breaking out until both girls laughed at the thought of the boys indulging in their own wedding planning.

He tells them about the radio he built, about the first time they heard her broadcasts, of the photo she’d sent which Bucky and him divided in half each keeping their girl in their pocket,

about Brady and the liturgy of devotion he made up for Egan to recite to Julie’s printed picture on the combine wall. The particulars were left out, Gale being a gentleman to the last, but Julie glowed and wept under the obtuse assurance anyway.

“I trust you kept him warm.” Julie demands, “Seeing as how it’s your fault he didn’t take his jacket.”

Gale tells her of Egan’s presumptuous bunk sharing, how strange things were happening every day and that grew to be commonplace. At her inquiring look he only blushes and stares down at the water, the bruise on his throat blooming under the flush, and for once Julie thinks she knows Gale Cleven better than his Marge.

“I’ve gotta be on that flight tomorrow early!” Gale had just enough energy left to fret even as he was led in a fluffy terry cloth robe to the sofa and made to lay down on fluffed pillows under a velvet duvet.

“Don’t worry about it major, I’ve got everything sorted. We’re coming with you.” Julie insisted, without having even discussed it with anyone as it didn’t require it -of course they’d be going to England with him! And no, she had nothing sorted but as soon as she had Gale deposited on the sofa with Marge’s hands entwined with his from her place on the floor, Julie Jean sent for Herb and summarily entrusted him with sorting it.

“Before seven thirty am tomorrow, please.”

Alone in bed, as Marge had made a poor showing of joining her only to go “check on his breathing” and predictably not returned, Julie lay awake and thought of John. Fat, hot tears rolled out the corner of her eyes and into her ears, tickling her, making a miserable spot on her pillow. Whispering prayers with her eyes on the skyline, she begged him to stay alive for her. “We’re so close, sweet man. We are so close and I love you too much.”

By next morning Herb did indeed have things sorted. Or close to it. There was a small hitch. “Mr. Huston is confused by your change of plans.” Herb informed her as he oversaw the bellman with the last of the trunks. He had ensured Major Cleven’s threadbare uniform had been cleaned and pressed in the night, and when Gale appeared out the en-suite bathroom this morning he looked a modicum closer to how Marge recalled him shipping out.

“What doesn’t he understand?” Julie asked, feeling cross and dreadful suddenly.

“He asked to hear it from you. Room 608.”

“Well I, I suppose I should run by it and then we can be on our way.” Julie decided with brave sprightliness, fixing the little net on her hat to cover more than just her eyes.

“We’ll go with you.” Marge decided with forceful kindness; her pull on his arm was all the command Gale needed not to protest.

“Who’s Huston?” he asked as the elevator whirled them one floor higher.

“My business partner in the broadcast.” Julie replied, “And the man paying for this excursion. I suppose he’d like to make certain I’ve not gone looney.”

Mr. Huston’s cuban valet opened the door and behind him, despite the fresh morning hour, was a scene out of one of Gatsby’s parties. Multiple women in little clothing and a significant amount of discarded booze littered the place, and Huston, smoking a cigarette and flicking through the paper, did not even bother to leave his perch against the headboard. Julie suddenly felt as if she were seeing the scene through newcomers eyes and her face burned to be associated with it.

“Jack.” She greeted, knowing that despite how he had moved on for the most part, he would have teased her maliciously for trying to distance herself in front of her friends.

“Baby.” He flopped down his newspaper, “What’re you doing in here wearin’ tweeds? You know how I hate tweed, does nothing for your assets. God take off that jacket and pour a drink -who’re your friends?”

Julie clutched the donned sheepskin even tighter and could almost sense Gale Cleven shifting from one foot to the other, a loose stance of being on guard. “This is Major Cleven of the mighty eighth, and you know my dear friend Marge -she’s is his fiancé.”

“Ah, a fellow airman!” Jack perked up, rising off the bed with his full chest on display under a gaping embroidered robe and approached Cleven with a smug sense of equality. He stuck out his hand and Gale made him wait five whole seconds before he returned the grip, tightly. “Pleasure, Major.”

“Do I know your squadron?” He drawled.

“Oh, I’m an observer mostly. But I’ve seen some combat.” Jack didn’t have a group, those wings on his uniform meant about as much as Lana’s broach collection in regard to brave service.

It was like Gale could smell the costume party off him, and Lana admired him immensely for that. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Pacific theater mainly”

Gale was smiling sympathetically and it was the most unsettling thing Marge had ever seen, and it satisfied something deep inside her that had loathed Huston since she first met him in the lobby ten days ago, his hand encroaching down her back and his language towards Lana so territorially possessive it gave the impression of her friend being a collectors item instead of flesh and blood.”Heard it was real windy on those atolls.” Gale remarked.

Huston’s smile wavered but only in confusion, no shard of doubt finding its way into his mind that it was derision curling Gale’s lip. “So- London?”

“East Anglia, actually.” Julie dared, “Major Cleven is in need of a ride” that wasn’t exactly true but “and I thought it would mean a great deal to give him a lift.” After a lengthy pause where Jack just stared at her with a smokescreen between them from his cigarette she added, “Great press, too.”

“You soft hearted little dolt.” Jack barked a laugh and it made Julie jump like all his rash emotions did, he pinched her cheek and tickled her ribs right beneath the swell of herbrassier as he went around her to his desk. “Ok, ok, you can have it. I’ll swing by to collect it and maybe get some footage for the documentary. What’s your group?” he asked Cleven.

“100th.”

“Oh, hell, I’ll definitely be swinging by.” Huston whistled, mind already ablaze with prospective press. “And you,” he pointed at Julie with his checkbook poised like a loaded gun, “better find something to do over there besides playing chauffeuring cupid, something that’ll make your mother think you aren’t going off script.” Julie gave him a frantic nod as victory was in sight and he went on, “But I’ll definitely be swinging by, I’ll pick you up, we’ll go back home out of London. Say, first week of May.”

Julie had no capacity to argue with her benefactor and meekly accepted his proffered momentary advance. She could only pray that John Egan would be in East Anglia by then, and she’d know something of her future: whether ‘home’ would depend on men such a Huston and their fickle lust or a steady ever after with an honest man like John.

“Thanks Jack I-I-I won’t forget t-this.” she managed, before they all dashed out the suite, Cleven having to be pulled from measuring up his seedy benefactor, and down to the taxi stand -England bound.

————————————————

Harry Crosby was taking sharp turns down the long runway at a pace and tempo Rosie Rosenthal did not find suitable but they made it alright, just as the anomaly of a jet came to a full stop on the runway, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the utilitarian bombers stacked alongside on the hardstands. When the radio tower had gotten buzzed for landing instructions from a foreign craft everyone had gone a little bizerk with speculation, but the pilot himself put them out of their suspense when he told Kidd that his cargo included The Lana Tierney and a Major Gale Cleven.

Harry had raced Rosie down the stairs to the nearest jeep and had begun to accelerate before his friend even fully landed in shotgun. Now they were just in time to see the hatch opened and the lanky and familiar figure of Gale Cleven drop to the tarmac in a graceful crouch.

“Harry!” He greeted as he straightened, his voice robust even if his constitution appeared battered by captivity, “They still got you at this dump?”

“Fresh outta the stalag Major,” Harry gave him grief back, “and getting dropped off on base in a private plane with Lana Tierney?”

“Yeah,” Rosie added, “What kinda war you been runnin’ anyway?”

Gale laughed off their backslapping greetings before suddenly recollecting, “Oh, right I forget. Ladies?” and turned back to offer his arms for Marge to take and he swung her gently to the ground.

“Boys, this is Marge.”

“Of course it is.” Harry admired with a hand outstretched to shake hers before he peered up into the plane, not being disappointed when he caught sight of a pair of ever so delicate ankles. “Holy mackerel, it is Bucky’s girl.” he blurted loudly as Lana’s angelic face peered back at him, as pristine and fuckable as her photographs but the delectable whole of her was swathed in Egan’s goddamn sheepskin.

“Aren’t you pretty.” Julie Jean admired Crosby right back, liking him immensely already for the fact he recognized her as Bucky’s girl. “Are you also strong?”

“I- I mean, sorta, not as much as-“ Harry stammered before realizing her meaning and so stretched out his arms to be of use, “allow me, Miss Tierney.” he helped her to the ground with a swing that was perhaps the most graceful of his life, gods be good. She was holding a little white bunny and Harry was instantly charmed.

“Thank you.” she kissed his flaming cheek.

“Who’s this?” Harry pet back the floppy ears, if only to have something to do besides gawk, he knew he needed to not gawk at Johnny Egan’s girl in Johnny Egan’s coat even if the girl in the coat was about as mouthwateringly perfect as—

“This,” Julie proclaimed with all the pride of a mother, “is Spangles.”

“You guys weren’t joking when you said Major Egan was pen pals with Lana Tierney?” Rosenthal shot Cleven a bewildered look.

“No, we weren’t.” Gale agreed.

“We should get you situated again.” Crosby rallied after Lana had sent Major Rosenthal siren red from a cheek kiss of his own, Harry was still vibrating under Lana’s assessing looks and the fond weight of her hand in the crook of his elbow, “We did not expect the company of ladies but I’m sure something could be sorted and uh, well, uh, we’ve got your billet, Major and we’ve got your footlocker. Bucky wouldn't let us ship it back to your folks. He kept saying ‘I expect him back.’ Heh, yeah he said his buddy was just MIA is all. Yeah.” Crosby trailed off before asking in a watery voice, “He not make it with you in the breakout? He ok?”

Julie watched Gale’s face go wretched again, truth dangling off his tongue too close to a damnable thing and she gently cut in for him, “He’s alive.” was all she supplied. “When have you ever known Major Egan or Major Cleven to leave behind their boys without either one of them?”

Harry’s eyes glittered dangerously close to tears before he gave a curt nod that so poorly disguised his emotion Julie immediately felt a kinship to him, “Probably just laggin’ behind, primpin’ his mustache for ya. He’ll be here in no time when he catches wind of our esteemed visitor.” Harry had also gone a little drunk under the influence of Julie’s perfume and Rosenthal had to admit it made him a little charming even if the balance could tip into cringeworthy at any moment.

“Oooh a Jeep ride.” instead Julie bounced Spangles gleefully in anticipation of utilizing the boy's regular mode of conveyance, taking a seat between Rosenthal and Crosby, the gearshift between her legs much to Harry’s driving distraction so that- “Gale and Marge can canoodle in peace” in the backseat.

Harry took the scenic route to Cleven’s old barracks, perhaps to give Gale and Marge more time, to brush Julie’s knee more often in shifting down or out of genuine desire to show her each storied handstand and Nissen hut. Probably a mixture of all three knowing Crosby. But the end result was Julie pink cheeked and wide eyed as a child, soaking in every bit of lore about the man she loved and never recalled, a hanky dabbing at errant tears now and again and Spangles being happily allowed to roam between her lap and Rosenthal’s.

Near the end of their little tour they stopped at one hard stand where Major Cleven seemed close to beside himself in joy to reunite with one of the mechanics, there were two children lagging about as well, civilians and Gale was very eager for them to meet his Marge. Not wishing to be aloof, Julie alighted as well and extended her hand to each of the ground crew, learning of their contributions and their marital status. There was a giggly stir amongst the group when suddenly a bouncing ball of fur attacked Gale from the back, bouncing on hind legs and nipping joyfully, it would appear the loving assailant was an overgrown husky.

“Meatball.” Gale sounded about as fond as he had when he first saw Marge and it made the girls titter behind their gloved hands.

Meatball, having exhausted his greeting of his old friend, turned to inspect the other newcomers, licking at Marge’s outstretched hand before turning with great interest to Julie. She was also inclined to stretch out her hand to him and give the pretty baby a good ear scratch when a sudden perk in the husky's face warned of a different interest: Spangles. If Gale had not noticed at the same time, there might have been a rather gruesome outcome but between Julie’s careful pivot with her precious rabbit and Gale’s strong restraint on Meatball’s collar, both pets lived to be reconciled another day.

“Guess we’re gonna have to train him not to think of Spangles as dinner.” Rosie laughed.

Their final stop was at Buck’s old hut, average in every way from the outside as the next cylindrical skinned hut, muddy path outside that the boys kindly spared the ladies by carrying them to the threshold, even if they protested they weren’t scared of a mired heel. Julie walked up and down the rows of beds, feeling the chilly air inside the metal shelter, footlocker names catching her eye as she scanned them. Somewhere behind her Gale was opening his footlocker, sounds of Marge’s pleased murmurs over finding her picture there reaching Julie from the end of the row. They deserved a minute to themselves and Julie had a specific thing she was searching for.

“Lookin’ for something in particular?” Crosby’s kind voice was very near her.

Julie turned and gave the mild mannered major a soft smile, shrugging her shoulders and her bunny before admitting her sentimentality, “I was trying to find John’s bunk. Felt like I might- know it somehow. But I’ve come up at a loss.”

“Oh he wasn’t in here.” Harry informed her, he always seemed beyond eager to talk about Egan and it warmed her, “He was with the 418th, you know, so he bunked with his boys. When he bunked at all.” He added as an afterthought and Julie’s mind went to all the letters she’d gotten from John dated with a slash between entries, as he wasn’t sure which date to sign as he began most of them at night and finished them at dawn. “Though he hung out here plenty to be with Buck and the other way around.” Harry added.

“Do you, do you think-“ Julie began, feeling shy despite how moderate she knew her request was.

“Wanna see his bunk?” Harry lept at her unspoken desire, “We kept his footlocker, too. We were all too scared to open it after he’d threatened us about your property in it.” Crosby’s creasing cheeks were flaming pink and Julie wanted to pinch them, then he went on, “And for the same reason we hated to send it to his mother. I mean, who knows what was in there, I mean, you’d know what but, I’m not saying there’s anything bad I just, we just-“

“Major Crosby, Harry, I’d love to see it.” Julie took his arm and he swallowed his tongue to shush himself, “Have you got the key?”

“I know a man with the keys.” Harry demurred his own influence yet his smile was sly.

“Major Crosby,” she murmured again as they slipped away from Gale and Marge’s preoccupied chat on his bunk and back out into a misting afternoon, the jeep left for them by a considerate Rosenthal, “I want it known I like you very much.”

Another metal hut. Nothing remarkable from the rest, but to Julie, stepping inside with Crosby at discrete hovering distance, it felt as hallowed as a cathedral. He stood here, he slapped this doorframe, knocked his fool head on that beam, paced a hell of a furrow between these bunks. Crosby had been generous with the anecdotes on the way over, and Julie had allowed herself to pester him, he liked it she could tell, and so she knew that Major Egan spent little time in here anyway, except to occasionally sleep, to dress and to read her letters.

Three of the most intimate activities she could conjure up, one’s she’d laid in her own room and imagined him doing. Basic, human, unpretentious necessities, she imagined John at them all the time until she felt like she’d truly played voyeur: the straightening of a tie, the scratching of an itch, the bleary coming to with a face down in the pillow.

He did those things here. Crosby was scraping a hefty metal thing from under one of the nondescript beds, and with a catch in her breath Julie realized it was his footlocker. “We couldn’t bear to stow it away, all the rookies who slept here after him had to deal with it. This was Major Egan’s bunk, they were just passing through.”

All the rookies. All of them. That meant many had slept here and then, truly passed through, passed on, a fiery death and mud hard landing. Sometimes she felt like the only girl in the world who’d lost something, and then she got told of rookies passing through his bunk and she thought of their mama’s who’d never allow their rooms to become the “spare.” Those rooms would always be theirs, even if they never came back. Just like John’s bunk.

But he was coming back. He had to.

“I-I imagine you’d like a moment to go through it.” Crosby had turned the key but left it dangling there, lid ponderously shut, Egan’s threats of evisceration and testicular imbibement still hanging loudly in the air for Harry, as if not a week had gone by since the last threat. No one looks into Major Egan’s footlocker.

“Yes, I would.” Julie whispered.

“Think you can manage the lid?” Harry hoped she’d not ask him to open it for her, that was too close to losing his balls for comfort. Jean needed them.

“I think I can.” Her voice was weak and her hands a little shaky but she wanted it, and what she wanted she always managed to find strength for. “I’d like to spend a little time in his bunk. Just -just to think of him.” she found herself saying, forgetting to blush under Crosby’s understanding gaze.

“Of course.” he didn’t bat an eye. “I-I could, I could take Spangles for you.”

A laugh bubbled out, “Why, you think I’ll need both hands?” Julie teased.

“Major Egan always did.” Crosby teased right back and Julie never would have suspected so puppyish a man could wear so lewd a look, it made her heart flip flop pleasantly.

“Shh, you’re awful!” She swatted at him with a beaming smile that she knew did the opposite of discourage him. “Take care of him, and get him somewhere warm.” she charged him with her pet, handing over the dear bunny.

“The officer’s club is two huts down.” Harry told her, “Turn right and it’s the second hut, you can’t miss it. Silver Wings. You’ll need to warm up too and that’s where we’ll be.”

“Alright.” she muttered and watched him leave before the slam of the door confirmed her as alone in vast space. It was chillingly sterile and looming as she turned to his footlocker in desperate need of something less monotonous and impersonal.

The lid was heavy and it had his name printed nearly on it. She kissed the C that stood for Clarence -what kind of middle name was that for a young buck anyways? It made her choke on her laugh before she bruised her fingertips by forcing the metal open. It was well stocked, all various sorts of items one might find in any man’s footlocker, soap that she had already become intimate with the scent of from the fleece of his jacket, a baseball, ever so many playing cards, razors, photographs of what she assumed were his family, a brown parcel that screamed of his mother so she left it untouched and books. A lot of books.

Guys and Dolls by Runyon was on top. He’d said that he was reading it in one of his last letters. She put it on the bunk. And then took out another book, and another, admiring the breadth of his taste, the way knowledge was balanced with humor in the collection, just like him. At the bottom of them she found an odd little wrapped thing in silk that her heart whispered was the thing it was secretly pacing its beats for.

His scarf came undone under her cold fingers and from its little makeshift bundle her envelopes poured out. Not a single one unaccounted for. She scooped them up and sat on the bed, allowing them to fan out, testimony and evidence of how much she cared, confession and declarations inside that could damn her a thousand lifetimes over.

-I love you.

That was the only line missing in them. Oh how she hoped he knew it. One envelope was an oddity. Blank, not from her, conspicuously fresh and unbattered by the postal system. She opened it and with a zap of arousal spied her photographs inside. She took them with her as she carefully laid back on the pillow. Sheets had been changed, pillows no doubt swapped, it wasn’t his bunk in more than metal and history but she laid there and held up the black and white prints and imagined him doing the same. The way her figure silhouetted against the hut’s curving ceiling, the patter of rain on the metal roof, the dismal gray light filtering through.

The fact he’d found inspiration to write her such stirring things from so blank a place suggested what kind of mind he had and she had ached, ached for him to not be restrained to suggesting only, but to doing, acting on every wickedly wonderful impulse his pen had confided. The throb grew so badly she wept, clutching and creasing the photographs to her breasts -they were so worn from his constant tracing and kissing and sticky with his smearing that a few more bends would be of no consequence. She pressed them to her face, wondering if she could smell his appreciation off the lewder ones. She could not, if she were being honest, but she felt her nose smudge against something tacky and imagined swallowing.

At the Silver Wings, Harry was trying to recollect if he’d ever been so popular. Maybe when he returned from Breman, they’d all slapped his back and joked about his charting them into a tree and they’d all meant it so admiringly he’d finally felt like he belonged a bit. But that was mostly Ev’s day, as it should have been. And then he’d been promoted, and he’d sent all his friends off into hell, and now days no one but the bartender and Rosie cared for him here as much as he’d have liked.

He should have brought a white rabbit with him sooner.

“The hell did you get that from?” Ev asked him, more intrigued than shocked at this point in the war, little bunny rabbits were a mild apparation.

“This is Spangles Egan.” Crosby informed him, being obtuse just to prove he could be funny when he wanted.

“Egan?” Jack barked from beside the bar, “Who’s naming their pets after Bucky?”

Harry grinned, “Well see, it’s his girl’s rabbit. Which makes it sorta their rabbit. Which means it’s an Egan.”

Ev didn’t look impressed but Jack just looked ever more concerned.

“Lana Tierney is on base and this belongs to her.” Harry finally fessed up although his original explanation still stood as true in his mind.

A repetition of her name and “Acorn? the Acorn?” rose up in the club, a battle between acorns and their varied associations rising up between the old timers, who recalled movie night with John Egan, and the youngsters, who’d spent their recent nights with an ear pinned to her broadcasts.

“Yeah, the ACORN.” Harry confirmed as both stood.

By the time Julie Jean had wiped her cheeks of tears and carefully folded her letters into her coat pocket for safe keeping, snapped the lid of his dear locker and set her sights for the outdoors, she had her face back in place: by the time she entered the Silver Wings, she was everything those service boys had ever dreamed of.

Platinum and cherry lipped and ever so thrilled to see and hug each and every one, Lana Tierney was well and truly in the house and those who knew it whispered amongst themselves about “Bucky’s girl.”

Upon meeting Jack Kidd he received a smattering of kisses on his face as she thanked him endlessly for sending her his jacket.

His laconic, “Glad it made it, ma’am.” was perhaps a little thicker than usual.

The newer arrivals couldn’t share any stories they personally had with Major Egan but they were more than happy to share stories told to them regarding the leader. Like how he paid off that one farmer after Meatball slaughtered his chicken. Or how he let a man from the village throw a dart at the apple above his head. From then on it continued and Lana delighted in hearing stories of her man told over and over again, of the impact he carried with these brave men and the life he brought to the crew. She sat in the middle of all of them as they regaled her with tale after tale, and she only wished he was there to tell the story from his perspective. She was sure he would have the most vibrant commentary.

“… told me he’ll buy me a jacket just like his,” one of the boys was telling Lana when Gale and Marge entered the Silver Wings. They were both flushed and her lipstick was on the collar of his jacket. “Major Cleven!” The soldier stood to attention at the sight of his superior being back.

Gale patted him on the shoulder, “At ease, soldier. And don’t go buying another ugly jacket like his. One on base is enough.”

“Major Egan said it’s about how one wears it.”

“I’m sure he did,” Gale returned, looking over how it currently cocooned Lana’s form. He took in the sight of her surrounded by over a handful of young boys and men, all eyes gawking at her and vying for her attention. Even Ev Blakely was seated beside her with his chin propped on his fist. He looked close to a lovesick idiot. “Now I’m sure you boys don’t want me telling Bucky you were all over his woman while he’s away. I trust you are being polite and proper and nothing else.”

Once again Lana beamed at being labeled as Bucky’s woman or Bucky’s girl. She had never felt so damn proud than in those moments; not even the achievements of Lana Tierney compared. If it was up to her she would gladly belong to Bucky Egan for the rest of her life.

But she also couldn’t shake the feeling of how wrong it felt to be there without him. He was supposed to be the one showing her the base. He would have loved to invite her to his bunk. He would take her to his favorite pub and introduce her as his girl to all the people in his life and having to do any of those greetings and events without him was only managing to further break her heart. Bucky would be so proud to show her around; she wouldn’t take that chance from him. As much as possible, she’d save that for him or not have it at all.

“Rosenthal says he knows a family who can put you and Marge up in the countryside,” Gale informed her. “They’re real big fans of you, he says. It only takes about twenty minutes to get there and back so you ladies can come down to base any time or, uh - I could go visit up there, as well.”

His cheeks tinted pink at his last admission, like anyone would bat an eye at Gale Cleven taking a day’s leave to visit his girl after everything he had recently endured. Julie Jean had half a mind to lock Gale and Marge in a room and let them have at each other, all propriety and waiting for marriage be damned. She didn’t begrudge their beliefs one bit, she saw the passion the two carried for one another and although she had never been in her Johnny’s presence, she knew all the longing and desire and love she had for him would have her undressing and bowing before him in seconds. She would gladly kneel before her man and knowing John Egan would just as happily do the same, settled any feelings of womanly resentment or weakness. Gale and Marge’s pent up passion made one wonder at the fire and electricity that would erupt their wedding night. Julie felt hot under the sheepskin collar simply thinking about it.

“I’m sure Marge would love having you come, sir,” she cajoled, patting the fist he rested on the table between them. Gale didn’t seem all too amused by her sentiments as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh, hush! I mean coming to visit. Get your mind outta the gutter, Buck Cleven!”

Gale sent her a look that said he didn’t believe a word out her lying little rosebud of a mouth. She was all mischievous passion under the dusting of make-up.

“Uh huh. I’m going to have my hands full with you and Bucky,” he states with a head nod, like he’s already resigning himself to the fact. There’s a comment on the tip of Julie Jean’s tongue - something about how happy Bucky would be to fill Buck’s hands and how she’s sure he’d enjoy watching Buck touch Julie - but she bites it back. She means no disrespect towards Marge and her loyalty is only to Johnny. She’s also no idiot and the love the boys carry for one another knows no bounds or familiarity, yet, if they wanted to choose to be blind and ignore it, who was she to step in on what they had going on?

Her eyes settled on the bruise on his neck once more and Gale seemed to feel her looking, tucking his neck further into the collar of his coat. Julie Jean bit back a smile. She didin’t want Bucky’s best friend to think of her as mean.

“John Egan is my best friend,” Gale started suddenly, and for a moment Julie Jean wondered if this is where he professes his love for the man or if he was going to interrogate her on behalf of his best friend’s best interests. Turned out to be the latter. “He’s got a real big heart, Bucky. Wears it on his sleeve and gives and gives and never expects anything different than what you give him back in return.” Gale had pondered that a lot over the years. How Bucky was always so openly affectionate and loud in his love and trust in their friendship and how Buck never managed to give that back to him until the end during the train ride. Curt was like that too and Buck wonders if that’s why the two men clicked so easily and never shied away from any of the jokes or weird looks. “If you aren’t here to stay, Miss Turner -” and by stay they were both aware he meant for forever. “- then maybe you shouldn’t be here when John gets back.”

Julie Jean clocked Marge at the center of the club, preoccupied under the arm of Douglass as he no doubt regaled her with stories of their brave Majors, and for Buck to stay away from Marge -she wondered how long he had been planning to say this. Waiting for a moment of privacy to lay it out on the table and not upset Marge while doing so, because this was between them.

“I don’t feel comfortable sharing my feelings with you when Bucky himself hasn’t had the chance to hear them,” she admited, tears burning the back of her eyes again. She took in a deep breath. “He had to have known though, right? Be honest with me, you know him better than anyone and he loves you the most and you him. Do you think he knew, Buck?”

Once again Gale wondered what on earth John must have written in his letters for this woman to understand and suspect the deep nature of their relationship so completely. It was just like him - a stone in Gale’s shoe even when he wasn’t aware.

There was a hope in her glistening eyes that Gale was aware can be crushed by him. He’d never felt so much like father than he did now.

He had no interest in hurting this sweet woman who embraced John and Gale and Marge exactly for who they are. This selfless woman who he was so thankful brought Marge to Paris. A gorgeous woman who kept John mildly sane in the camp when there was no hope - an, admittedly, tempting woman as Buck recalled the photo he picked up from the floor all those years ago. His thumb pressed against her black and white nipples -it had a flush setting in and he had to avert his gaze.

“He knew, Julie. He knows.” Truth of the matter is, Gale knew John was aware. John, who was self deprecating and going crazy stuck in the camp, with not enough sky or land to keep him occupied but who woke up every day and tried to stay alive and out of trouble because of a pinky swear he had made to the woman sitting across from Gale currently. John was frightened and he fought against believing it at his darkest times but Gale remembers times when John would stand too close to the fence and guards would point their guns, images of John getting pushed and provoked but one thing always brought him back from that point of no return. Julie Jean Turner. If John didn’t believe he had love to return, he wouldn’t have bothered.

Julie released a breath neither realized she’d been holding waiting for his response.

“What about your fiancé?” Buck asked.

“What about him?” Julie returned. “In my line of work, Major Cleven, a fiancee is the only guarantee against a husband. One ya don’t want. I can tell you this, there’s one man in my future, there’s only been one man since the one letter I got on the 18th, years ago. One sweet man who calls me acorn and tells me he adores me and asks me for naughty pictures in exchange for him staying alive.”

“And you’re okay with that? With him asking?”

“He doesn’t need to ask. I’d do it anyway. But he loves me so he still asks.” Sitting across from his best friend, she’m was near glowing in the love Johnny had for her. Gale wouldn’t give her the time of day if it wasn’t real.

“I’m glad we had this chat,” Julie slowly eased back into being Lana Tierney before Gale’s very eyes, a charming smile on her face with white teeth glinting behind her red stained lips, looking every bit the movie star like when he’d seen her on film or in magazines. She looked different than in the photos she sent Bucky. In those she always looked younger, vulnerable, needy even. “Now that I've got your approval I can breathe easier, Major.” She teased him and he managed a bashful smirk.

“He’s got two protective sisters and a momma who turns his world,” Buck warned in jest and that was how Marge found them at the table. Julie warm and beaming at the thought of hearing about his family and getting to meet them one day. Bucky hadn’t been shy to tell her his mom was his best friend before Buck came along and she was the only one able to keep him out of trouble.

—“Not scared of no Colonel’s or SS officer’s - they haven’t met my momma he wrote in a letter one time. She’s a one woman army.”

Julie took the conversation she had with Buck and held on to hope even when time continued passing and no word of Bucky reached them. She kept the promise she made to herself - she refused to spend any more time on base or at the officer’s club or at any spots Bucky wrote about in his letters to her, because she wanted to wait for him. Instead she spent time with the boys when they visited her and Marge at the swanky estate with the kind English family. In order to appease her mother she booked performances at local bars where they are more than happy to accommodate her and the hordes of army boys that followed her around.

The first week of May arrived and Julie found herself white knuckling her mic in anticipation of Huston showing up any minute and whisking her off. She was not sure if she was sadder about being torn away from her vigil as she was terrified of being stuck back in an enclosed plane cabin with that man for over a day. Marge too, began to fret a little on the second day of the month when Gale told her he was going to be flying mercy missions to Holland. He was too happy about and too assuring about its safety for her to question him, but it was hardly assuring with a war still on.

But Marge knew better than to show that, so she went to Thorpe to wave him off and watched him at his craft while Julie went further north to help co-host a charity event for servicemen’s families. The joy had gone out of it, worse than Paris, she used to be decent at distracting herself with the task at hand but as her days flitted by as uncaring and ephemeral as dreams, the end of the first week of May came in sight, and nothing could keep her mind off John Egan and the heartbreaking notion of not meeting him. Not even the supreme pleasure of dueting with Vera Lynn. All that honored pleasure made her think of was how much her John would have enjoyed listening to it.

Huston came on the sixth. He also left on the sixth. And he didn’t loiter at Thorpe to interview anyone. There were bigger fish to fry out near the Solomon Islands, according to him, and he was off to film it and at his side was an intrepid little secretary he’d met in Paris and thoroughly vetted in between his sheets.

Julie wondered if he’d entirely forgotten her own existence, an unlikely thing, seeing as how she was the entire reason his plane was in East Anglia, but as she was removed at a distance from Thorpe and he had a new adventure and a new lover, perhaps it was a happy case of out of sight out of mind. She breathed easier the minute she heard that he was off in a roar over to another hemisphere.

And right after, or later that evening to be precise, interrupting a charming dinner of rationed butter and plentiful pheasant, was a phone call from mother. The gig was up, in as many words, Huston had lost interest, the fiancée had only gained more and that of the suspicious sort, and mother wanted to know what on earth there was in bombed out England for Julie to find time and payment for. Julie had to list a growing set of fabricated engagements for her mother to even countenance another day spent there, working her name-dropping way up from canteens to a dazzling venue in London which gained her a hem-hawing allowance of three more days.

All the while keeping her sane and functional was one singular thought : John Egan coming home. It was terribly cruel and unfair of the world to have him be within her fingertips, to finally allow her to land in Europe, and then to take him so far away again. Sending his best friend back and leaving him behind felt like the punchline to the joke that was so obviously her heart.

Take that, the universe was saying, you still don’t get to have him, spoiled girl. In her lowest of times, right before she went on stage or nights that she spent having everyone around her praise her she wondered if fame was the price for her man. She didn’t want it either way; she wanted him always.

“Take it all away,” she prayed one night, once her tears had dried and her pillow was soaked and the smell of him on his jacket had wafted, “I only want him. I only need him.”

Meanwhile mother chided, “Have them send me the details on the honorariums, you’ve lost your head over there girl, just like I knew you would, I warned you, remember how I warned you? You’ve lost your head and you’ve grown very lax about these things. Make them send it to me before you even put your foot out for them to applaud, if it’s not top notch we aren’t doing it. And afterwards, you’re coming home and we’re getting this wedding settled. I’ve already got the dressmaker holding a nice dove gray-“

It all blended together in the end, her own lies and her mother’s requirements and in abashed desperation she had managed to plead and finagle Herb to actually book her into “something swanky in London, anything Herb, I just need it to be legitimate to stave her off!”

It was cruel torture to say goodbye to everyone at Thorpe, Julie took her sweet time with it and permitted herself to get a little sniffly about it. This prompted a flurry of produced tissues and solicitous hugs and assurances of Major Egan’s love. It made her sorely tempted to curl into a ball of sheepskin and hide in a footlocker in this nice place till doomsday -let the world try and find her if they dared.

“Send me word!” she charged Gale and Croz, gripping jacket sleeves for extra emphasis, “If he gets back -I’ll still be in London until late tomorrow. Send a telegram, call, whatever you must. Even if you just hear of him, you must tell me, you must! I’ll -I’ll change everything for him. If he comes, I’ll leave it all and come back. Tell him that.”

On the way to the airport Julie Jean only had their promises to do so reverberating in her head and Spangles on her lap to keep her warm. Croz’s eyes had been sadder than she’d ever seen them, sadder still then when he had asked Gale why Major Egan hadn’t followed him back home. And Buck - oh, sweet, virtuous Buck Cleven who had pulled her into his arms tightly and whispered promises of Bucky’s love and intents for their future in her ear. He had spent the entire week thanking Julie for making it possible that Marge stay with him longer with no worry for money or anything back home but in the moments where they had said goodbye, the last words he had left her with were only of Bucky.

Leaving Marge was no easy feat either. The girls had wobbled in their heels and held onto one another tightly and cried and laughed whilst feeling so ridiculous because they were aware the friendship they had formed was for life. Julie wasn’t sad to leave Marge - the only sad part of leaving was losing another piece of John - most of her sadness stemmed from having to be thrusted back to the land of selfish vultures with no care for her after being around the loveliest humans she had ever met. Everyone had been sure to level Spangles with kisses and cuddles and assuring him they would tell his father stories of the joy he brought to base.

“I’ll be sure to give him a stern talking to for getting back so late!” Marge had insisted, clutching at the jacket she had never seen Julie without. “That Bucky Egan - it was bad enough when he changed my Gale’s name. I’m not the pen-pal type, that’s what he told me the night he shipped out. He had no idea you were right around the corner, Julie Jean.”

Her heart beat with the hope that she would never make it to the airport but now here she was. Julie Jean had convinced herself there’d be something happening that would stop her reaching their destination. The driver wouldn’t arrive. Her mother would call to inform of a high paying job. The sky would fall. Bucky would run in front of their vehicle and announce he was back. Anything. But no, none of that happened. The traffic was light and the drive was quick and every step she was taking was a step further away from the future she wanted. Away from her Johnny.

Julie Jean would have to marry Vincent. None of her future children, if they allowed her any, would be safe. Her mother would never relent. The studios would never stop demanding. With each passing thought her vision began to blur and the breaths she was taking came out quicker. On her own accord, she felt herself reach for Herb’s arm in order to maintain her stance. Paparazzi were snapping photos and journalists were yelling and a few regular folks had came out to speak with her - everyone unaware she was losing the love of her life and any chance of happiness.

Bucky had promised her babies. Bucky had promised her safety. “I’d marry you first chance I got,” he had written one letter when she teased possibly visiting Europe. They had been hopeless fools in love and the world wouldn’t relent to them it seemed. She was never going to get any of that.

“We’re almost there,” Herb reassured with a sympathetic pat to the hand gripping his suit, opening the door to allow her entry. “The cameras will know you were poorly from the change in weather and tired from the shows.”

Inside the airport she didn’t feel any better but at least there were no people there to yell in her face. Herb had led her inside a private room and had been sure to lock the door behind him and now he was allowing her silence and her grievance for what might have been. She clutched the jacket tighter around herself where she had curled up on a reclining chair, Spangles asleep on the open spot beside her. This would be all she ever had. And even maybe this they would take away. After all, they had taken away her letters.

The only way they will get this off me is if they pry it off my cold, dead body.

There was a knock on the door and whispers following it. “If it’s the press I’m not pretty enough to be looked at, Herb.” She said. Her make up was running and her hair was disheveled and hiding inside the thick coat of the jacket certainly wasn’t helping the heat in her face but Julie Jean didn’t care.

She was allowed to be heartbroken. John had always told her he would take all her moods, even when she wasn’t behaving like the Hollywood starlet her mom conditioned her to be.

Herb answered the door then, but only a crack so that he was able to see the person on the other side but allow no one to look inside. He excused her, saying the traveling and working hadn’t left her feeling her best but offering her apologies to England. Whoever was on the other side of the door was clearly disconcerted. Star-struck, possibly at getting so close. Their words were breathy and they were stuttering. Julie Jean could faintly make out them saying they adored her but actually - and everything else couldn’t be discerned. Whatever it was, it held Herb’s attention long enough that the door remained open a couple more seconds before he thanked the person and turned to Julie Jean.

“Well,” the tone in his voice, amusement for the first time all evening, had Julie Jean turning in her seat. Taking her face out of his jacket for the first time. There was a paper held in his hand, brown with an approval stamp from the army and the English postal service. “This certainly changes things.”

Julie Jean quickly stood to her feet, approaching Herb with her hands outstretched so she would reach the mail even before she was next to him. She startled poor Spangles who had been deep in sleep, causing him to hop to the floor. Herb wasn’t a cruel man, not to Julie Jean he wasn’t - he extended his own arm so it was within her grasp even faster.

Julie Jean [stop] hope this finds you well and in Europe [stop] Major John Egan is back [stop] Has returned to Thorpe Abbots [stop]

Sincerely,

Major Harry Crosby

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[scr11bles]

Hi! Could I have a medic x fem! Reader Italian espresso with a side of chocolate macaron and chocolate cake?

order up for anon! wanna order something for yourself? here's the menu!

- italian espresso: "Try to stay quiet, understand?" + chocolate cake: forced proximity + chocolate macaroon: rough sex

(MDNI UNDER THE CUT!)

cw: technically cnc (reader wants it but theres no explicit permission given), a little bloodplay but its barely there so??, unprotected sex

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Honestly, you thought Medic hated you. Really, most of the team did when you first showed up, mainly because you were a new face (and also a woman but you reprimanded them swiftly and proved yourself overtime), but Medic always seemed to be the one that would ignore you the most. Even Spy treated you like you existed, which is saying a lot in reference to the Frenchman and his closed off put together personality.

Medic ignored you so much that you haven't even gotten your surgery to have the ability to be Übercharged. Which, in retrospective makes the situation worse for him and you. Ultimately more him than you, since without the ability to Übercharge, you were a prime target for the other duplicate team, constantly being the main focus of their ire. With this, Medic had to follow you around more, pushing himself away from the group and heal you with his medigun before walking away with a scoff and grumbling under his breath.

That particular incident was even happening now, Medic having to strafe away from the group and running behind you to heal you as you outran and skillfully shot at the Blue Scout that wouldn't leave you the fuck alone. Though just as you turn the corner with medic in tow, the enemy Heavy and his own Medic appear, causing you to skid to a stop and turn around, your shoulder crashing into Medic's, making you to trip and catch yourself before running in the opposite direction, barely avoiding the rain of bullets that whir from the Blue Heavy's gun. Running on pure adrenaline and the fear of feeling the pain of being killed (You bitched about that for weeks when you began- how do these people have the ability to literally undo death, but not be able to prevent the pain that comes from it?).

You feverishly turn another corner, entering one of the spacious rooms of the Teufort location and scrambling towards one of the nearby doors, opening it wide and grabbing onto Medic's arm to pull him through with you. Sure, the man probably hated your guts and didn't give two shits about how you ended up, but that doesn't mean you would leave him behind, he is your teammate after all.

Though when you expect to run into a different room, you slam into the wall of... A closet? Fuck. Medic crashes in after you, his medigun clattering to the floor as the door is shut behind the two of you. The closet is smaller than it appears to be, forcing you to squirm against the doctor as your heart pounds in your chest from the combination of fear and adrenaline, making your chest rise and fall quickly, your lungs screaming for the air that was stripped from you during the chase. All of the sudden you feel your heart drop as Medic's large hand wraps around your mouth, silencing your frantic breathing. The smell of latex and blood making your head feel fuzzy.

"Try to stay quiet, understand der Schatz?"

His voice is silken but with a twist, the tone he uses holding a sort of rumbling growl in its depths. You feel Medic's other hand snake around your waist, tugging you towards him to press your back against his chest, and you can feel that he too is panting, his warm breaths ghosting against the back of your ear. You turn your head to the side slightly, making eye contact with him and letting your expression get away from you as your eyes go wide from the shock of him being so close and willingly touching you. The way your eyes must've been bugging out of your head makes Medic smirk down at you, the man chuckling darkly. It isn't the first time you've heard the sound, but when he's so close you feel the rumble and baritone of the sound, causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

Footsteps pound against the flooring outside the door to the closet and you swear you feel Medic pull you closer to him, his hand still staying pressed against your mouth to keep you quiet. Your eyes stay wide as you hear the enemy Medic and Heavy talk, praying to whatever god that they wouldn't find you and your own Medic and shoot the two of you dead. As the footsteps of the enemy fades, you imagined crying from the relief. Thinking that Medic would let go, you try to move forward and reach for the doorhandle until you feel Medic tighten his grip on you and keep you in place, making you cinch your eyebrows together and crane your neck to look up at him behind you.

"We should wait. They could be lingering..."

He murmurs against the shell of your ear, immediately feeling your face burn from the close proximity. You suppose he was right, and this position didn't really hurt, in fact- you really liked this position. Medics hand splays across your stomach, his gloved fingers practically teasing the edge of the shirt of your uniform, threatening to slip the cool latex under the fabric and tease your skin. You in turn arch you back into him, the chill of his gloves making you squirm, causing Medic to tighten his hold on you even more.

"Careful Schatz, you're not trying to provoke me, are you?"

He teases, sliding his gloved hand under your shirt and letting his fingers roam across your stomach, slowly inching his fingers up to your ribs and feeling him shudder as he touches the bottom of your ribcage. His deft fingers prodded at your ribs before sliding his hand up further and cupping your breast through your bra, giving the sensitive mound of flesh a rough squeeze that elicits a hiss from you. Once again, Medic chuckles against your ear, lowering his face to nuzzle the side of you neck before biting onto the curve where you neck meets your shoulder, sinking his teeth deep into your skin and pulling away when you whimper to lick at the blood that pools at the marks.

You murmur his name, and you feel the twitch in his pants start to grow behind you, his hand around your breast tightening once more for a rough squeeze before trailing back down to your pants, sliding his gloved fingers beneath the fabric and pushing aside your panties before swiping a finger across your slickening folds. The wet sounds that echo off the closet walls make you whine, embarrassment and pleasure flooding through your veins at the sound of your arousal.

"Don't be shy Liebe, I've wanted this too."

Medic growls against the skin of your throat, his gloved fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit while relishing in the small noises that escape you and the quivers of your body. You swallow shakily, letting a particularly large moan tumble past your lips when Medic pushes two fingers into the depths of your wet heat, the texture of his gloves and thickness of his fingers making your brain short circuit. He curls his fingers deep inside you and keeps his thumb on your clit, the stimulation making your knees grow weak and pathetic whines exude from your throat. At a particular brush against your sweet spot, a loud moan escapes past your lips. Medic curves his fingers deeper into you, thrust his fingers knuckle deep into you and eliciting a louder moan from your lips. When you part your lips to make more noise, Medics hand around your jaw shifts, the doctor forcefully shoving his fingers into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue.

"Ich hätte nicht erwartet, dass du so laut bist."

He murmurs into your ear, withdrawing his fingers from your cunt and grinning wickedly when you whine from the loss of stimulation. Bastard. Though your whining comes to an end when you feel him yank down your pants and undoing his just as swiftly, shuddering as you feel his cock brush against your skin. Medic shoves his fingers deeper into your mouth, causing you to gag on the latex of his gloves while he pushes your head back against his shoulder. The doctor loops his other arm under your knee, forcing your thigh to press against your chest to give him easy access to your weeping core. He guides his cock to align with you dripping cunt, rubbing himself through your folds to create a makeshift lube before plunging deep into you, ignoring the gagged moan that drips from your lips at the burn and stretch of him within you.

Medic doesn't let you adjust, needlessly and roughly thrusting up into you and letting out faint pleasurable grunts while pressing down harder on your tongue with his fingers, not caring that some of the blood from his gloves is smearing onto your lips and your tongue, the copperish-iron taste making you gag further. Your body convulses beneath the doctor as he doesn't relent in his pace, the piston of his hips making you hiccup and stutter over your already barely formed words. Medic bites down on your neck again, sucking what you know is going to be a deep hickey later into your skin. At the sound of your muffled moans, Medic chuckles his usual dark chuckle into the skin of your throat, his grunts morphing into deep moans.

"So tight Schatz, I should've done this sooner."

The man grunts, a piece of his usually slicked back hair falling from its hold and brushing against the lens of his glasses. His thrusts start to stutter, turning his body and pushing you up against the wall of the closet to pound into you harder without abandon. The new pace and angle makes you weak in the knees, bracing yourself up against the wall as you moan and whimper while drooling over his fingers. Through the flutter of your walls, he knows your close, shifting his hold under your knee to position his fingers perfectly over your clit, rubbing harsh circles onto the sensitive bundle of nerves.

With the stimulation you feel the heated band growing in your belly snap, your hold against the wall becoming weak as you cum and squeeze him like a vice, the pressure pushing him over the edge too, making him paint the inside of your cunt with all he has. Medic thrusts harshly a few more times while nipping at you neck as the two of you come down from your highs.

Medic pulls out of you with a strangled grunt, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and patting your cheek with a small chuckle as he helps you back into your pants, the sentiment coming off as odd but endearing all the same.

"You failed!"

Fuck. The Administrators voice rings out through the whole area of Teufort, signalling your loss against your mirror team. You turn to Medic and grimace, the two do you are definitely getting interrogated on where you were instead of helping. Surely you can come up with something convincing, right?

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

first request!!! i hope i did medic justice he was my og crush when my brother introduced me to tf2

[notapradagurl]

In Your Dreams.

Pairing: Incubus! Tyler, The Creator x Black Fem Reader.

Summary: You were a royal queen in a passionless marriage, it seemed like these vivid wet dreams fueled your desire. until one night you had one of those vivid wet dreams of an incubus, little did you know that he was real and so was your dream.

Taglist: @henneseyhoe @soft-persephone @sageispunk @planetblaque @justhornyyme @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackerthings @roeroe-world @playgurlxoxo @vile-harlot @siqueth @harmshake @westside-rot @megamindsecretlair

Warnings: profanity, piv, wet dream, cheating, biting, overstimulation, breeding.

——————

You were sitting across the table from your husband in the spacious dining room as the chandelier hovered over the two of you with your fork still absentmindedly poking at your chicken parmesan and spiced mashed potatoes, half of your plate was already gone as you stole a glance from your husband Marcel. The moonlight spilled through the large window, casting a soft glow on your brown skin.

All he did was attend to his duties as a king and peck your forehead absentmindedly as if it mended your relationship with him. It didn't help that the two of you barely had sex lately, this marriage was to only save your family from ruin, Marcel’s family was very wealthy from oil fields, He had earned riches through his profitable business endeavors, growing and selling agricultural products from his greenhouse throughout the country.

“Are you enjoying your meal honey?” he asked in a dull tone, his gaze shifted to you then back to his plate.

It all began with occasional wet dreams about an incubus with dark cocoa skin, full lips, and captivating red eyes that would return to their usual deep brown hue. His deep voice had a chilling effect on anyone who heard it. Mirroring your memory of him, he too remembered your name, and you discovered that his name was Tyler.

“Yeah, it's good.” you replied lowly, nodding your head. It was almost nine-thirty which meant it was your bedtime and you could dream of Tyler again.

As you and Marcel rose from your seats at the dining table, you handed your empty plates to the butler, Sebastian, expressing your gratitude in unison. As you and Marcel made your way around the table, you shared a brief but tender kiss, a gesture that had been absent between you two for quite some time.

Marcel's thumb swiped over your cheek, “Goodnight my love..” he said in a soothing tone, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. In that fleeting moment, your eyes met his, creating an unspoken connection.

“Goodnight, my love..” you replied in the same soothing tone, smiling briefly.

Marcel and you parted ways in the dining room. You and Marcel slept in different rooms; he had a room specifically for studying and working, while you had your own room solely for sleeping.

As it turns out, you discovered that you actually prefer sleeping alone in silence rather than hearing Marcel work throughout the night. You made your way through the hallway and turned right into your master bedroom.

As you turned the doorknob and stepped inside, you were greeted by the spaciousness of the room and the smell of warm vanilla, adorned with walls draped in red floral wallpaper. "Room, sweet room.." you sang playfully, smirking mischievously.

You were eager to escape in your dream and approached the dresser, switching on the lights to illuminate the bedroom. As you pulled the handle, the dresser moved closer to you, prompting you to remove your evening red gown and toss it into the hamper.

In the moonlight, your black box braids was tied up in a bun as you wore a cream silk nightgown with a hue resembling macaroons, which hugged you figure.

The queen-sized bed was adorned with light green blankets that matched the bedsheets, creating an inviting and comforting space.

You settled down at the edge of the bed, gradually inching towards the pillow. As you reached for the blanket, you wrapped it around yourself, creating a cozy cocoon. Finally, you reclined on the plush mattress, your back supported by its softness. Your eyelids gradually closed with a sense of anticipation, knowing that once you drift off to sleep, you will be transported to a realm of passion and desire.

As sleep began to wash over you, your mind started to drift to thoughts of Tyler, the incubus who had been haunting your dreams lately. His touch, his voice, and the way he made you feel ignited a fire within you that had been long extinguished in your marriage.

And just as your consciousness slipped away, you found yourself standing in front of a grand oak door, the very same door that always led you into the world of your dreams. Taking a deep breath, you turned the doorknob and stepped inside, your heart pounding with anticipation.

The room was bathed in a seductive red glow, the walls adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes of passion and pleasure. And there, in the center of the spacious room, stood Tyler, his presence commanding and intoxicating.

He looked at you with those captivating red glowing eyes, smirking as he approached you slowly. "Well, well, well, look who decided to pay me another visit," he drawled, his voice laced with desire.

A shiver ran down your spine as you felt his warm breath ghost over your skin. "Tyler," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. "I can't believe you're real."

He chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "I'm as real as the desires that burn within you," he said, his voice dripping with seduction. "And I'm here to fulfill every single one of them."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through your body, igniting a fire deep within your core. You couldn't resist the temptation any longer. With a boldness you never knew you possessed, you pulled him closer, crashing your lips against his in a desperate kiss.

"i missed you so much..." he mumbled in the kiss, pecking your lips again.

The room seemed to spin and the walls changed back to the same red floral wallpaper in the bedroom. your bodies plopped onto your bed with the slight creak filling the room, the soft smack of your lips colliding with his urged you on. Tyler's hands roamed your body, He assisted in removing your nightgown, tossing it to the side as it dropped to the ground.

Additionally, he unhooked your black lace bra and lowered your panties to your ankles, throwing them alongside your bra and nightgown on the floor.

"Can I touch you baby?" he asked, his voice raised an octave. His eyes fixed on you.

"Yes please.." you whispered softly, your hands cradled his face.

He gently parted your legs, his desire evident in his eyes as he passionately kissed you. Tyler, known for his directness, wasted no time once he rolled

his tip around your clit, The pleasure overwhelmed you, causing your moans to be muffled by the intensity of the kiss. “So beautiful..” he spoke softly, He licked your neck and roughly suckled around it.

The sensation was so intense that you couldn't help but gasp, noticing the glistening precum that left a wet trail between your folds. Dazed with desire, you couldn't help but plead, "Tyler, please..." As his tip continued to tease your folds, a soft, squelching sound filled the air.

Tyler pushed his manhood between your moist folds, rolling his hips in a mix of roughness and speed. His low, husky moans filled the air while your head fell back onto the pillow. "This pussy is mine?" he asked softly, he rutted into you, his thick manhood filled up completely, Your nails sunk against the bedsheets, “Yes! It's all yours!” you chanted with no shame, you didn't want this to end if it happened to be a dream. Tyler shared the same sentiment, desiring the encounter to continue indefinitely.

Tyler adored every inch of your body, cherishing it with a tender touch. His hands caressed your curves, gently teasing and caressing your breasts. The room filled with passionate moans, resonating through the air. "I don't want this to end," he spoke softly, sinking his teeth into your neck. you glanced out the window, you watched the radiant sun gradually dimmed to the luminous white moon, accompanied by a tapestry of sparkling stars against the ink-black night sky.

You wondered if Tyler would join you in this reality. His fingers traced a path between your breasts, guiding your gaze to meet his own. The fiery red in his eyes gradually swirled into his usual deep brown, reflecting his return to the real world. "Please, don't ever leave me," he pleaded, showering your brown skin with tender kisses. After each rough thrust, he delved deeper, his love for you evident in every touch, his thick dick filled you up, each movement filled with unwavering tenderness.

As your husband Marcel's voice echoed through the air, was that really him? Your fingertips gently grazed against his warm, cocoa skin, his face hovering intimately close to yours.

Deeply captivated, he observed the sheer delight etched across your face, his heartache palpable in his tender words, "I dream to claim you as mine, why can't I be the one to hold you?" His voice quivered with emotion, on the brink of lovesickness as he witnessed the affection shared between you and your husband.

The fleeting kiss between you and Marcel threatened to shatter him completely.

Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine an incubus having such profound emotions for a mere mortal? Tyler occupied your thoughts far more than Marcel ever did. "Oh, fuck! fuck!" you wailed, feeling Tyler's relentless persistence as he envisioned Marcel tenderly kissing your forehead.

Rivulets of tears carved trails on your cheeks, while your voice grew hoarse, without any association to smoking or the like – it was simply naturally raspy. “Fuck me good..” you mumbled, Tyler cherished the subtle rasp that laced your voice, reveling in the ecstasy of hearing you passionately call out his name.

The bedroom morphed into yours around you and Tyler as the door swung open revealing Marcel standing there, his eyes wide with shock and anger. "What the hell is going on here?!" he shouted, his voice filled with betrayal.

In the heat of passion, “fucking your wife..”he let out a low, guttural sound through clenched teeth. His gaze shifted back towards you, and with a sudden burst of intensity, he threw his head back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as your essence enveloped him.

Tyler paid no attention to your husband, losing himself completely. His warm cum spilled into you, causing your scream to resemble a mix of pleasure and pain. “Tyler!!” Your body trembled uncontrollably beneath him, both of you lost in the depths of an intense connection.

Tyler withdrew from you slowly, his fingers snapping with a practiced grace. In an instant, thick tendrils of red energy swirled around him, transforming him back into his fully dressed self.

Before leaving, he leaned in and pecked your lips, a sly smirk playing on his face as he directed his gaze toward Marcel. With two sharp claps of his hands, the room reverted to its normal state and Tyler vanished.

Marcel blinked twice, rubbing his eyes in confusion before closing the door behind him. "Thank God it wasn't real," he muttered under his breath.

Your body curled up in a ball as you were in your nightgown, wrapped in the blankets, your gentle snores filling the room.

You found yourself no longer trapped in the dream, but still connected to reality through Tyler. Strangely, you could still feel him buried inside you, as if his essence filled you up. A faint bite mark on your neck served as a reminder of his claim on you. It was an unfamiliar sensation, yet you yearned for Tyler's presence by your side.

——————

[merakiui]

Mera your new event is so <3333 menu events are always such a cute idea

I'm here to put in my order, can I please have assorted macaroons and lacy lingerie from the miscellaneous menu? With Malleus and Azul, with sea salt caramel and lemon squares from the midnight menu?

Please and thank you (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

yandere!malleus draconia & azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, drugging/aphrodisiac use, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, delusion note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ᴍᴀʟʟᴇᴜꜱ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴɪᴀ

☆ Malleus adores you more than words can possibly describe. This love he feels is sugary and all-consuming; when he’s with you he feels whole. He feels as if the stars are aligned, as if nature has brightened and grown ten times more lush, as if he was meant to meet and cherish you from the very beginning, as if, even if the two of you were to be separated, he would still find you in another lifetime, drawn to you like a bee to flowers. So perhaps words can describe these feelings, if only in the most poetic of ways.

☆ Malleus knows he differs from human partners. For one, he’s much larger and he has two cocks that are inhumanly shaped. He knows you’ve held off on intimacy with him because you’re nervous, and truthfully he’s avoided it as well. Not because he wants to, but because he fears harming his beloved child of man. You must be properly prepared for such sizes. He only wishes to see your tears if they are tears of pleasure, after all.

☆ He’s very patient with you, and he doesn’t feel the need to rush into sex. He’s content with reaching the various bases at a pace that’s comfortable for you. In fact, he finds great enjoyment in exploring you, learning just how wonderful it is to hold your hand or to snuggle up to you late into the night, holding you close and hearing you whisper interesting stories. 

☆ But even with this patience, Malleus finds himself distraught. He wants to love you in more ways than one. He wants to do all that lovers do. He wants to experience every side of this love: the sweet, the comfortable, the pleasurable, the pleasurably painful. Perhaps he has found himself enchanted by the romances he has read alongside you, where he envisions the both of you in the place of the main characters in the story. These characters connect in the most bodily of ways. Malleus would like that.

☆ He has been content to tell himself that kissing and holding hands is enough. That the occasional lustful tryst late into the night is enough, where wandering hands only stray so far, but there is an itch that grows increasingly persistent with each day. He thinks of how glorious it would be to consummate your relationship of nearly one year with you, the both of you virgins in love. He tries to broach the subject without appearing forceful or awkward, but you tell him you’re just not ready. He understands. He does. But even so...

☆ Malleus has heard that aphrodisiacs are powerful. In a way, it feels insincere, almost as if he’s cheating. But he reassures himself with the thought that this aphrodisiac will help you to be more pliable, to help you loosen up and take him, inch by inch, until he’s completely buried inside your tight warmth. This will help you; it won’t harm you.

☆ Though the drug turns you into an insatiable mess, Malleus thinks it’s endearing. The way you cling to him, asking him so innocently if doing this will help. Of course it will. You’ll feel much better when he satisfies every urge that you’re still too hesitant to act on. Malleus will take care of you; he always has. He spends so long between your legs, lavishing every part of your body with soft, loving touches. He’s going to prepare you well so that he won’t cause you any discomfort when he slides in.

☆ Even in this state, you still become very nervous when you see his size. The thick head of his cock kisses your hole, which has been properly stretched and lubed, but even with the preparation you’re still terrified. You squirm anxiously under him, squeezing his hand so tightly, asking him if you can try this another time. You’re scared, and your fear has Malleus frowning. You have nothing to fear. It’ll be okay. He tells you to look at him rather than what’s happening below. You’ll feel much better soon; he’ll be gentle. All these assurances gradually melt your fears, and you think part of that is due to the aphrodisiac. 

☆ Even though you aren’t entirely confident or accepting of this, you trust Malleus. Though maybe that’s also the aphrodisiac. It’s twisting your senses, making you crave both of his cocks even though you and Malleus know you’re in no state to take both, no matter how lust-drunk you may be. 

☆ And when he pushes in so slowly, thick inches stretching you wide and filling you so snugly, the final bits of hesitation ebb away, quickly replaced with a euphoria so delicious it has you raking your nails across his back. Malleus is pleased to be marked by you, a symbol of this love, but he’s even more pleased to be inside you. You’re just as warm on the inside as you are on the outside, as expected. You’re truly the only one he could ever love to this extent. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ᴀᴢᴜʟ ᴀꜱʜᴇɴɢʀᴏᴛᴛᴏ

☆ Azul likes to consider himself patient, but this is his first romantic relationship and so you can’t exactly blame him for his excitement, no matter how overwhelming it may seem. He tries to hide his eagerness, but it’s obvious he’s immensely pleased when he gets to do all of the wonderful things couples do. He’s only ever dreamed of sweet moments like that, so the fact that he gets to experience all of it with you, his most beloved angelfish, makes him the happiest octo-mer alive. 

☆ Almost all of it. He’s only been dating you for six months, which is a world record by his standards, but in that time the both of you haven’t gone as far as he would have liked. He’s kissed you hundreds of times, the both of you exchanging breath and saliva in the alluring privacy of his VIP room, and each time it feels as though it might become something more you stop him. He's a gentleman, so naturally he respects your boundaries, but he can only enjoy so many handjobs and blowjobs before he starts to want more.

☆ Azul is greedy; this is a fatal flaw he recognizes well. He’ll mask his greed behind pleasant smiles and charms, always handling you with such kind consideration. He’s a gentleman, so he won’t ask to stick it in outright, even if that’s all he can think of when he watches you take his cock in your pretty, warm mouth. He suspects your hole is just as warm and welcoming. What he’d give to be inside you... To have you bent over his desk, to have you folded into a mating press in his bedroom, to have you fucking yourself on him as if he’s the only man in the world. 

☆ As shady as he can be, he’s still your boyfriend and he cares for you so much. Azul would never do anything to hurt you, and since you can’t use magic you’ll be unable to sense the aphrodisiac he’s mixed into your tea. This is no ordinary aphrodisiac; he’s taken his time crafting it in solitude in the alchemy lab so that the desired effect will be much stronger. It won’t hurt you; if anything, it will bring you and Azul closer together! This is the push you’ve been needing!

☆ Azul acts as he normally does, happily chatting with you over tea and a board game. He occasionally glances at you the deeper into the game you get, watching the way you slowly but surely succumb to the effects. He asks if you’re okay, the question spilling from his lips so smoothly, and you insist that you’re fine. But you’re fidgeting in your seat, awkwardly looking everywhere that isn’t at him.

☆ When you’re completely overwhelmed and unfocused, he stands from his seat and easily walks around his desk, lowering to his knees in front of you. He rests his hands on your thighs, smiling up at you so fondly. If you wanted to play other games, you should have just said so. You try to push him away from the spot between your legs, insisting that you’re okay and that it’s his move for the game. But Azul doesn’t want to play it anymore; he looks you in the eyes and asks if you love him. And you do; you love him a lot. So then you’ll trust him to take care of you, right? 

☆ You can’t possibly say no to such a pretty face, even if it’s all you’re trying to do. But the aphrodisiac muddles your mind, twisting your apprehensions into acceptance. You let him have his fun between your legs, your fingers curled in silvery locks, and he has you crying in your seat, working you through a total of three orgasms before you manage to push him away, panting wet, hot breaths.

☆ Azul helps you stand on shaky legs, lowering you onto his desk, all while whispering the sweetest of praises to you. He calls you all the things you love to be called. You look up at him through bleary eyes, nerves alight with ecstasy, and when he’s slicked his cock up with lube and the head prods at your hole you grab his hand, shaking your head. “Not inside,” you mumble, but Azul knows you don’t mean that.  

☆ He leans in to capture your lips in a chaste kiss. “Just the tip,” he promises, all lovestruck smiles. “You’ll feel so good, angelfish. Just trust me.”

☆ And you do, but this lust-induced trust has you arching your back against the desk when he slides all the way in in an impatient thrust. You gasp out little moans and lust-drunk mumblings of how you like it, how good it feels, how big he is, how you want him rougher and deeper... And who is Azul to deny his angelfish of such perfect pleasures?

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

Vil's Lemon Cookies

A/N: This is a commission for @starshiningsirius . I am happy I was able to write it. Vil is very handsome... I secretly love him a lot. I will express it more in the future I hope.

tags: fem!reader, aphrodisiac, closet sex wc: 4.6k+

You looked at the macaroons with a defeated sigh. They looked horrific. You stayed up all night making them. The entire recipe was made from scratch to show the person you wanted to give them to that you were capable of putting your heart into something like this. You tried to make them in cute little heart shapes for Valentine’s Day but it was all in vain.

They were oblong and abstract in shapes. The cream filling was the only appealing part. You knew the task would be extremely tedious, however the effort was necessary for the person you wanted to give the cookies to. “They don’t look that bad…” Grim yawned in the wooden chair, nodding off with lazy blinks of his big, round eyes. He had stayed up all night to help you, but now the desire for sleep was here to claim his conscious state. “They’re supposed to look like hearts, Grim.” You mumbled as the defeat melted into an expression more forlorn. “Close enough.” He yawned with a wide stretch of his jaw as you looked at the clock on your phone. It was 5:50am, consequently your classes started at 7:30. You didn’t really have time for a power nap AND to get ready. But you also didn’t want to be too exhausted to give the cookies to your Valentine. 

Sam promised that the strange vial of lemon extract would bring you closer to the person you baked the liquid into. Part of you wondered if it was bull, since it sounded more like some mystical love potion. And you were pretty sure during your History of Magic classes, the Professor had mentioned that was extremely illegal. But Sam could have been pitching you a metaphor. Or maybe he really did sell you a crime. Thinking about it in detail was starting to give you a headache. “Grim, do you want to go to school today?” You questioned the beast through your own exhaustion as your eyes roamed across the table. Covered in excess flour and remnants of your baking tragedy. You were only met with his soft snoring. Taking that as a firm ‘no’ to your question you sighed. 

You would be flying solo today, or perhaps even sneaking off to the library to catch up on some sleep. After cleaning up and tying your ugly macaroons up in a thin plastic bag and violet colored ribbon, you carried Grim upstairs to bed. You tucked him in and began to get ready for school with your eyes threatening to shut at every moment. The cafeteria sold espresso shots. You thought that grabbing one would be the best course of action for when you made it to the building. If you didn’t fall asleep walking down the path first. You showered and washed your hair, brushed your teeth while scrubbing the crust from your sleepy eyes. Finally, you got into your uniform. You looked yourself over in the mirror as a quick glance over for any possible imperfections. Maybe some lip gloss? Mascara maybe?

It was Valentine’s Day and you wanted to look your best to take away attention from the disfigured macaroons. But for now you just wanted to sleep on the couch. You grabbed your school bag and your phone, heading down to the lobby of Ramshackle for a swift power nap. The ghosts promised they would wake you up in time for classes, but they seemed worried. You were up all night. They thought that maybe it would be better for you to skip the first few hours to catch up on a few hours of needed rest. But you refused. With sorry expressions, they promised to wake you up in time. 

-♡- 

You walked to school with haste. A scowl on your face with your eyes glued to your phone. Your blazer shielding you from the rain pelting against you. And it was only going to get stronger. The ghosts did wake you in time for classes. But only for that. You wouldn’t have any time to go hunting for the person you wished to gift the macaroons to. It could be that they intended for you to get some much needed sleep. But you didn’t have that in your timetable for Valentine’s Day. You had the cookies tucked into your school bag, pouting in silence as you made your way up the wet, stone stairs of the college. 

As you entered, your tired eyes spotted Vil walking far ahead on his way to class. You didn’t have time to stop him, and Rook was already singing his praises. The moment you reached your first class, the bell had rang. With a joyless and exhausted sigh you sat in your seat and pulled your notebook from your bag. The least you could do was get ready for a long lecture. But you didn’t realize that when you closed your eyes, the bell would be ringing again to signal the end of class. 

You actually fell asleep at your desk. 

Whipping your head around, seeing most of the students already heading to their next class. It left you with a sour taste in your mouth. This had to be the worst Valentine’s Day you had ever experienced. You shoved your things back into your bag, quickly rising to your feet to make it to your next class. However the thought of skipping to sleep in the library sounded more and more appealing with every step. As you left the classroom, a familiar face was waiting for you. A wide and friendly smile, his blunt bob pulled back into a ponytail and his hat missing from his head. “Bonjour! Did you sleep well?” Rook asked in a way most found unsettling. 

But with your attempts to be in the gaze of Vil, you had gotten used to him. “Very funny…” You mumbled as your pace began to slow as he walked beside you “Non, non! It is not a jest, I was sent to fetch you!~!” He chuckled as you finally slowed to a stop in the bustling hallway. A warmth settled in your face as you looked at him with suspicion. There was only one person that Rook would ever obey. “Do you have time after school?” He asked and you swiftly nodded. No hesitation needed. “Très bien! Please go straight to the Film Club at the end of the day. Someone will be waiting for you there,” Rook followed after you as you walked to your next class with your heart jumping excitedly in your chest. “And this is from me.” He handed you a small violet box as you reached the classroom door. Giving you a small nod farewell as the bell rang above you. You pulled open the box and frowned. It was an anatomically correct heart made of red chocolate. 

Gross. But fitting for someone like Rook to give as a gift. 

-♡-

The school day had finally ended, and you took in a small inhale as you stood outside of the Film Club. The chocolate heart Rook had gifted you was loaded with caffeine. Just enough for you to make it through the rest of the day. Hopefully there would be no one else present, you knew how aggressive some of the other students could be towards Vil. You rehearsed what you wanted to say in your mind as you started to pace. Smoothing out wrinkles in your uniform and trying to fix your hair. Should you try to play things cool? Maybe acting aloof and sultry? Be friendly, but not too friendly… Right? You swallowed down your anxiety and raised your head. Your hand clutched the brass knob tightly.

Just his acknowledgement would be enough to make you happy. It was quiet on the other side.

You took in a slow inhale, and let it all out before announcing that you were coming in. You forced open the door, eyes filled with determination. “Excuse me, Vil-” You stopped as a boiling warmth stung the flesh of your face. Amethyst colored eyes locked with yours as Vil frowned, holding a script in his slender, well manicured fingers. His hair was up in a neat braided bun, his ears had shimmering crystal earrings dangling softly with each delicate movement. “What? Come in, don’t just stand there.” He instructed firmly from where he leaned against the table. A silk, royal purple shirt exposing the flesh of his chest. Not a scar or freckle to be accounted for. It was tucked neatly into a pair of black Victorian styled trousers that naturally accentuated the gorgeous silhouette of his body. Down to blood colored stilettos, making Vil four inches taller than before. You were taken aback by his appearance. You didn’t expect him to be dressed for the club already.

Now you felt far too underdressed to see him. 

Your disheveled uniform made you feel the urge to spin on your heels and leave the room. “Um…” Your rehearsals were all in vain as you awkwardly closed the door to the club room behind you. “Yes? Did Rook send you? Perfect, I needed to speak with you this morning.” He wasn’t waiting for you to explain yourself and jumped to his own conclusions with a grin. The soft rain pelting against the glass windows. It pulled you deeper into the room as the adrenaline you felt began to wane. The script in his hands was discarded to the table's surface. He curled his finger with a smile. “Come here my little sweet potato. I have a gift for you.” His voice was silky as he walked over to another table and began to dig through his school bag. Your heart was pounding as you came closer, smiling to yourself as the burning reached the sensitive tips of your ears. He called you his sweet potato.

It was rare for him to use that nickname. Since you had gotten closer, he only referred to you by name or the appropriate title of Prefect. You stood before him. Your face was hot as you struggled to remain still. To fight the urge to fidget from excitement. “Hold out your hands.” He instructed sweetly with an arm hidden behind his back, towering over you with a soft expression.

He really was gorgeous. You swallowed down even more anxiety, inhaling the faint floral scent of his cologne as you held out your hands obediently. “For you, happy Valentine’s Day.” He cooed sweetly as he handed you an expensive bar of chocolate. Lined in gold foil and telling you it was number one in the world. Almost like it was made to be photographed; not eaten. “I had it imported from home. No other chocolate can compare, so I know it’s something you will enjoy.” He chuckled softly as you looked at it with wide eyes. Traditionally, girls were to present boys with sweets on Valentine’s Day. The favor was to be returned on March 14th, White Day. Maybe things were different in Twisted Wonderland considering Rook had given you that chocolate heart earlier. Either way, you appreciated it a lot.

“I planned to give it to you first thing this morning. But I couldn’t find the time to give it to you. I know it’s inconvenient since my club starts in,” He paused and reached for his phone. Only to click his tongue in annoyance. “Ten minutes.” The Housewarden appeared dissatisfied as you marveled silently at the expensive treat. “I actually have something for you too!” You looked up at Vil, your heart drumming in your ears as a wave of surprise flashed in his face. 

You felt that bubbling insecurity rise as you rested your school bag on the table, digging through it to retrieve the now slightly smashed and so-very unsightly macaroons. You pulled them sadly from your bag and your shoulders sagged in disappointment. “They… They’re supposed to be macaroons…” You muttered sadly as you looked at the bag in your hands. It was far worse than this morning. The overwhelming urge to break down and cry began to snake its way to the front of your brain. You were so tired, even after having three espresso shots and power napping in the library instead of attending P.E you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Valentine’s Day truly felt like a disaster. 

You weren’t sure if the tears starting to well in your eyes were from exhaustion or if they were from the feeling of failure. “Did you make those for me?” Vil asked as you hesitated, before nodding with a small sniffle. “I tried… I shouldn’t have stuffed them in my bag.” Your fingers brushed his own as he accepted the treats with a smile. He reached out and gently thumbed away your tears with a soft hum. “I can tell you put in the effort.” Vil teased softly as you leaned into his touch. “I’m supposed to be dieting,” Vil began as he pulled away from you. Watching as you blinked yourself back into reality.

His elegant fingers pulled the ribbon free as he sat at the table and you took the chair across from him. “but I think since it’s a holiday I can have a few of these. After all, you worked so hard on them.” He smiled softly as he took one of the macaroons still intact. Instead of what was supposed to be a perfect circle, it looked somewhat like a misshapen heart. “Are these lemon flavored?” He asked curiously, biting delicately at the corner of the treat as you sheepishly nodded with a soft sniffle. “I had bought lemon extract from Sam’s shop. I thought it would be unique instead of the traditional chocolate. But… It didn’t come out right…” You explained as Vil ate slowly, chewing and smiling as he went for another. You couldn’t tell him that the lemon extract may be magical. 

“I wanted to make them perfect but I hadn't made macaroons until last night… I’m sorry.” You apologized as your body began to feel heavy with the exhaustion creeping through your body. The tears didn’t help either and the gentle pat of rain started to lull you into a comforting state. Vil shook his head in disagreement. His brows creased as he finished off the cookie. “They taste amazing actually. The appearance is appalling, yes, but the flavor is beyond expectations. And I have a very expensive taste.” He cooed as the flush in your face returned as you propped your head in your hands with a dreamy smile. He liked them! “Did you even try your own creation?” Vil hummed and you shook your head in response. 

You didn’t have time. “Here,” The Housewarden grabbed one of the pastel yellow macaroons, this one had taken a shape similar to a boot. “Ahhhh~” He sang as you nervously parted your lips, tasting the lemony cream and the softness of the flaky macaroon against your tongue. Vil was right, even though they looked hideous, they were actually really good. A perfect balance of bittersweetness, the shells were soft and easy to eat, the cream coated your tongue and was the perfect thickness. “Practice makes perfect of course. I’ll be expecting some more of these soon. I’ll pay for whatever ingredients as long as you work on your piping skills.” He laughed, soft like windchime bells as you chewed slowly and savored the taste. The two of you sat and talked, the conversation flowed perfectly. Even when he scolded you for sacrificing your sleep for the sake of a pastry as you started to nod off in front of him.

The cookies and the chocolate had been finished. As the other club members started to file in you sensed that it was time for you to go. But you couldn’t shake this feeling. It wasn’t the overwhelming desire to lay on the ground and sleep. It was a burning sensation deep inside your stomach. Filling you with a dull ache that made you cross your ankles and rub your knees together. You felt… Horny. 

You weren’t sure if it was that time for you to be ovulating already. Something absolutely felt off. Your cheeks were burning, and you looked across the table at Vil who was now resting his head in his hand. His cheeks were a soft rouge as he stared at the empty plastic bag with only remnants of the cookies the two of you had finished. Vil had eaten most of them. “My little sweet potato…” He sounded irritated as he pulled a smile across his face, looking at you with his eyes darkening. The lemon extract. 

Sam said it would help you get closer to the person you fed it to. It wasn’t poison right? “You said you bought that lemon extract from Sam’s?” He asked as he straightened up, folding his hands across the table as you tried looking away. You felt guilty now, writhing nervously in your chair. “Are you sure it was just lemon extract?” He asked through clenched teeth as you felt the cotton of your panties starting to cling the longer you sat. Images of Vil’s angry expression swarmed your frontal lobe and all you wanted was to be forced to apologize. 

There was absolutely something wrong. 

Sam never said how much to use, so you had used the entire bottle in your cookies. Clearly that was a bad idea with how your bodies seemed to be reacting. “I see the club is starting!” You jumped to your feet to escape the interrogation. Swaying slightly from tiredness as the rain sounded much heavier now. Grabbing your bag with haste, your palms sweaty as you rushed to the door. “Thank you for the chocolate.” You breathed out as the burning feeling grew and grew. There was the debate between holding back the carnal hunger until you made it to Ramshackle, or sneaking into a janitor's closet to quickly relieve yourself of the hungry feeling. Either way you wanted a nap afterwards.

“I’m not finished with you yet.” The breathless growl made the hair on the back of your neck stand straight to attention. Vil was right behind you with his hands clenched into tight fists. Your thighs quivered in excitement as sweat began to pool beneath your stuffy uniform. Some of the club members called out to the two of you, bringing you both back to the current reality. “I’m going to walk the Prefect to the bathroom. Just in case there are male students lingering in the halls.” Vil’s excuse was flimsy, but of course his club was filled with sparkling eyes as they nodded and commented on how kind Vil was. 

You weren’t sure either of you would make it to the bathroom. 

As you left together, you could feel Vil close behind. A hand lingering along your lower back as you stumbled your way to the nearest door. Funny enough, it was a janitor's closet. You glanced around. Taking note of the hallway's emptiness, grabbing the handle to the door. Vil urged you forward, a silent command as you swallowed and obeyed. You opened the door as Vil gave you another soft push. It was small and cramped. Dark and filled with the faint scent of lemony-scented cleaning supplies. The door shut behind you with a click. Now shrouding you in the black shadows as a pair of lips found your throat, and strong hands began to pull and yank at your uniform. “I want you to take responsibility for whatever mistake you made.” He snarled against your skin. Sucking and biting at the flesh as you were pushed deeper into the closet. Your skin was on fire, your hips rubbing back against his clothed crotch as he pressed you against the wall of the closet. You were like pliable clay. Submitting to the idea of being molded into whatever it was your queen wanted. 

The roughness was pleasant, the fantasy of wanting to be closer to someone you once saw as unreachable was pleasant. You continued to grind as Vil’s hips moved in tandem with yours. Soft moans and cries filled the tiny closet space. The sounds echoed through your skull as you pulled up the fabric of your skirt, silently begging for more. Vil was of course quick to pick up on things. “You did this on purpose?” He asked and you shook your head. Your eyes screwed shut as he panted softly in your ear. Cool hands slid along your hips as your panties were forced down the plush flesh of your thighs. “Liar.” He chuckled in amusement as a slender finger slipped inside of you. Your body jerked in surprise. Vil pumped and curled slowly as your walls constricted and relaxed around the digit. Your body was so excited to finally feel your more intimate needs satiated. “I know you did this on purpose. Poisoning me like this… All for a little attention?” His voice tickled the flesh of your ear as his finger pumped and curled vigorously inside of you. “It was an accident.” The words came out breathless. Hardly audible as Vil continued to kiss and suck at your neck. 

You felt happy with the lingering knowledge that it would bruise on your skin. The affectionate and hungry welts by someone you had wanted to be recognized by for so long. “You could have just asked me.” Your head jerked in surprise. Asking and or suggesting your affections directly was a herculean feat you could only dare to dream of. The curling finger pressed and prodded at a rough patch of nerves inside of you. It caused your body to jump in surprise as you shook your head. “Your fans would kill me-”

“So you DID do this on purpose?” He teased and you started to pout. His mouth was much kinder now as he pressed kisses against your hot skin. A second finger slipped inside of you. “No… I… I didn’t know it would…” You were starting to feel light headed through your confession. “Sam said it would get us closer… But I thought it was… It was one of those lame metaphors so I would buy it…” You grumbled as Vil chuckled softly. He was amused. His pumping slowed. Sensually rubbing your wet velvety insides. Coating his digits with your juices as he continued to kiss and suck lightly at your flesh. “Such innocent intentions. I choose to believe you, my little sweet potato.” The nickname appeared again. “But,” He paused as the pumping stopped, and you started to pout. Your head pressing against the wall as you gnawed at your bottom lip in frustration. Vil gently patted the flesh of your ass as the sound of shuffling clothes muted the silence between you.

“there are consequences for being so naïve. Especially since you’ve pulled me into your little mess.” You could feel something rubbing against the plush meat of your moistened entrance. Round tip, smeared with something sticky and wet. Twitching and throbbing with anticipation for more to come. “Now, now my little sweet potato. How badly did you want me to do this with you?” Very was the correct answer. Vil knew that. But he wanted to hear you say it. To push the pleas’ past your own lips for him to savor. He wanted to egosurf your sentences. To hear you admit how much you’ve wanted him and for how long. The once unattainable, has become attainable to you. And only you. You reached back, curling your hand through Vil’s champagne colored hair. Once in its neat braided bun, but now loose with the ends curled from accumulated sweat. You carefully craned your neck. Your lips are just now brushing against Vil’s as you feel his cock start to slowly slip inside of you. Your walls stretched open for him. Allowing him to penetrate deeper and deeper as the two of you panted quietly in the dark.

Your lips caught his in a chaste and starved kiss. “I really like you… I’m sorry I tricked you.” The apology was breathless as your stomach coiled in excitement. The filling feeling made your eyes start to roll back into your skull as Vil took the chance to rub his tongue against your bottom lip. “I’ll apologize with my body. So I can show you I mean it.” You couldn’t believe your words were your own. Maybe it was the magical lemon extract. Maybe it was Vil giving you what you always wanted. Maybe it was you finally feeling confident after all of today’s stumbles and mishaps. His hips started to slowly thrust as a cacophony of soft moans filled the tiny cleaning closet. 

“I forgive you. I always will.” Vil grunted as he pistoned his hips against yours. His hands rubbing along your flesh as he slipped them up your uniform shirt to fondle the flesh of your breasts. Not bothering to remove your bra as his hands forced themselves under the fabric to squeeze, knead, and tease. Your nipples were rubbed and pinched by his slender fingers. Pulling all sorts of whines out of you that you didn’t know you were capable of making. His lips caught yours. Eating your weak mewls and giving you the reminisced flavor of the lemon macaroons. Even if they were clumsy, they got you this far. His thrusts were steady as Vil pressed his body flush with yours. You could hear every sound. You could smell the salt of his skin and the fading fragrance of his floral cologne. The feeling of his clothes and skin rubbing against you, slowly growing overstimulating and too much to bear. You only wished that you could see his expressions. And that he could see yours. 

You wanted Vil to know that you felt just as amazing as he did. Accepting his thrusts and how they quickened from excitement. How you could feel that coil in your stomach preparing to snap. 

Your legs quivered as you braced your hands tightly against the wall. Your walls clenched and convulsed. Wet juices coating your inner thighs as Vil’s thrusts began to grow sloppy. Throbbing inside of you with each punch to the special bundle of nerves inside you. Stimulating you both to the awaited end of an orgasm. He panted in your ear. Moaning softly how he was so close. And so were you. “Can… I’m cumming…” He whispered weakly. His perfect appearance had become disheveled. His voice cracking and whimpering as he jerked his hips against you. Your body growing limp as the lewd smacks of skin filled the small, pitch black closet. The faint scent of lemony cleaning supplies had vanished now. Replaced with the intense smell of salty skin and lust. 

You were cumming. Your body seized as Vil flattened your body against the wall. You felt so tired. Your eyes shutting as Vil peppered your face in kisses, rubbing his hands along your sweat slicked body as the warmth of his seed filled your body as the two of you came together. Twitching and throbbing together with your head growing heavy against the wall. You panted softly with Vil in the small closet. Just barely processing his words. “Will you be okay heading back on your own?” Vil asked quietly and you slowly shook your head in refusal. It wasn’t necessarily that you didn’t trust yourself to make it back to Ramshackle. You just didn’t want to go alone. You wanted Vil to go with you. You wanted to be with him longer. 

Just for the rest of Valentine’s Day. 

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. I'm made for you, we can't deny it .𖹭 ݁

. . . daily menu !! 🍰 : a list of our upcoming sweets and treats for the week 

꒰  macaroon monday  ꒱

﹙ dark. ﹚a journalist trying to expose them : herrera husbands 209

﹙ fluff. ﹚pregnant reader : hàoyŭ 1311

﹙ smut. ﹚office visiting : rasui 9948e

﹙ fluff. ﹚affectionate reader : talisen 781

꒰  tiramisu tuesday ꒱

﹙ smut. ﹚post top-surgery reader : valerius

﹙ fluff. ﹚cheek kiss :alessio 781

﹙ smut. ﹚angel assistant : jìngyí verseless

﹙ dark. ﹚run-away darling : herrera husbands 209 

﹙ misc. ﹚rishen 781 being a mean girl : ft rishen 209

꒰  waffle wednesday ꒱

﹙ fluff. ﹚domestic with kid : herrera husbands 209

﹙ smut. ﹚brat taming : talisen 164

﹙ dark. ﹚unsure about him : hàoyŭ 9948v

﹙ fluff. ﹚telling him that you're trans :  hǎitāo 9948e

꒰  trifle thursday ꒱

﹙ angst. ﹚fighting to save you : yìzé 9948e

﹙ dark. ﹚when she turns a lover : vamp au ming xu

﹙ fluff. ﹚angry meenu : xīyáng & denara 9819

﹙ smut. ﹚calling her at work : rishima 781

﹙ fluff. ﹚who's attracted to single parent reader : multi

 

꒰  flapjack friday ꒱

﹙ smut. ﹚ you keep polaroids of them after sex : alessio, rishen, talisen 781

﹙ dark. ﹚new 'friend' : vamp talisen 781

﹙ smut. ﹚begging to suck him off : rishen 1311

﹙ smut. ﹚inexperienced reader : takara 9948e

 

꒰  shortbread saturday ꒱

﹙ misc. ﹚r/aita? : multi

﹙ smut. ﹚dumb human : alessio & jìngyí 1311

﹙ suggestive. ﹚captured demon reader : rishen 99848e

﹙ smut. ﹚scissoring with her : denara 9819

﹙ angst. ﹚can't love you like that : alessio 164

 

꒰  sundae ꒱

﹙ smut. ﹚friends with benefits :  multi

﹙ dark. ﹚taking a morbid interest in you :  alessio 9948e

﹙ smut. ﹚giving her the best head :  denara 9819

﹙ smut. ﹚watching over you in your sleep :  talisen 164

[canirove]

Friends, lovers… and an orange | Chapter 13

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Masterlist

“They have a sex tape.”

“They have what?”

“A sex tape” Mason repeated.

“Yours?”

“Obviously” he laughed.

“I’m sorry, I… I… How? When?” Adele asked.

“Why don’t we sit down and I explain everything?”

“Yes, sure.”

“Ok” Mason said, taking a deep breath. “Where should I begin?”

“From the beginning?” she chuckled.

“Yes, of course. It was… it happened during my 21st birthday. I don’t know if you remember, but I was working in the US. I had spent some time in New York, and for my birthday I was in Los Angeles.”

“Oh, I do. I remember seeing all the photos on Instagram while laying on my couch feeling like shit because of a cold. You sent me chocolate macaroons to make me feel better.”

“I wish I had been taking care of you and eating them instead of… Anyway” he sighed. “My friends threw a big party to celebrate because 21 is a big number in the US since you are finally allowed to legally drink and all that, and they invited many people, most of them girls. By the end of the night I was very drunk, and I’m pretty sure I had hooked up with a few girls already. But then, I saw her. She was stunning, and when she came to talk to me, I just couldn’t say no. She was… hypnotizing. Hypnotizing and a bitch” Mason chuckled. “Instead of going to one of the rooms of the house where we were throwing the party, she took me to her hotel room. I think she said she was visiting from Florida, I can’t remember. And then… well, you can imagine what we did. When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. She had only left a note behind saying that I should pay for her room before leaving if I didn't want to get in trouble.”

“Oh, how nice.”

“Yeah… A couple of weeks later, my agency called me. Someone was trying to sell some compromising photos from my birthday. They were just me being very drunk, nothing that you hadn’t seen before, but I had just gotten my first big contract, was starting to make a name for myself and being recognized because of me and not because I was Toni Mount’s son, and they didn’t want them to jeopardize everything we had been working so hard for.”

“Look at them being nice for once…” Adele said. “How did they get the video?”

“Whoever was trying to sell the photos wasn’t happy that we had managed to stop them, so they tried with something more juicy. My agency had to ask for many favours and pay a good amount of money to stop the press from publishing it.”

“That juicy is it? Wait, sorry, I…” Adele said, feeling her cheeks burning.

“You can see me completely naked while she gives me… and then she…”

“I can imagine, there is no need to get into details” she interrupted him, her face about to burst into flames. “So your agency paid for the video?”

“Yes.”

“Do they know who was trying to sell it? Was it her?”

“It was her, that bitch had planned it all. Somehow she had found out that there would be famous people at the party and went looking for a victim who would allow her to earn some easy money and maybe become famous. When she took me to the hotel, the camera was already there, ready to film everything we were about to do. I was so stupid…”

“Mason, it wasn’t your fault. How could you have known it was all a trap? Besides, you were drunk. You are lucky you remember all the details you do.”

“I know but… Anyway. That’s what my agency has against me. They say I owe them. Big time. And if I don’t do as they ask, they will release that video and the photos and end my career.”

“That’s blackmail, Mason. You could report that to the police.”

“And the moment they find out, they will release the video and everything will be over” he sighed, letting himself fall on the bed. 

“You don’t know that, Mase. People these days are very aware of what a video like that means. It is a violation of your intimacy. I’m sure your fans would do everything in their power so it doesn’t get shared everywhere, it has happened before. You are so lucky you are a man…”

“But what about the brands I work with? About the designers? What will they think?”

“If a sex tape makes them stop working with you when they keep doing it with people who have done worse, it probably is for the best” Adele shrugged.

“And you? What about you?” Mason asked, sitting up again. 

“What about me?”

“What do you think about me?”

“Can I be completely honest?”

“Please” he said.

“I think you are an idiot.”

“What?”

“Not because of the video. Again, that isn’t your fault, you are the victim here. Double victim if we add what your agency is doing. You are an idiot because you thought I would look at you differently or stop caring about you because of it.”

“But Addie… It’s a sex tape.”

“And?” she laughed. 

“Aren't you like… shocked? Scandalized? Outraged?"

"The only thing I am is angry at that bitch and at your agency. She used you and filmed you without your consent, and they are blackmailing you."

"So if I had known she was filming and had agreed to it… you would not mind?"

“Can I confess something?” Adele said, biting her lower lip.

“It can’t be worse than what I just confessed” he chuckled.

“Remember Ben, my last ex?”

“I do. Why?”

“Well… We liked to take photos or film ourselves from time to time to spice things up.”

“Adele Antonia Turlington!” Mason laughed. 

“You can’t tell anyone. Anyone, you hear me?”

“I won’t, I won’t. But wow. I didn’t expect that from you” he chuckled.

“I’m full of surprises“ she smiled, still not believing she had confessed something like that to Mason. “And here is another one… I will walk that red carpet with you.”

“Wait, what? Are you sure?”

“No, not really. But until we find a way to get rid of your agency, I’m gonna do everything in my power to help you and protect you. And if that means posing in front of a bunch of photographers, then so be it.”

“Addie, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“A thank you will be enough for now.”

“Ok, thank you” he smiled. And this time, it was one of his smiles, one of those that was all dimples. “I love you, Addie.”

“I love you too, Mase” she said as she hugged him, trying not to think too much about the three words they had just said to each other.

[thomatri]

You,me and our adopted teenage son Steve (Charles)

Synopsis- your best friend Shidou promised to hang out with his soccer friend Charles so now what was going to be you asking Shidou out has turned into you and Shidou co parenting. Lucky for you Charles got your back

Paring- Shidou X mReader

Warning - cursing, sex jokes💀(there teen boys), chaos,

——————————————————————-

Today is the day. I finally ask Shido out!

That’s the 10th time I told myself that today I need to actually call Shidou but my phone just lays in front of me with his contact open

“If you don’t call him I’ll snap your neck” my twin brother Raichi says. Isn’t he just an Angel

“I’m trying to calculate what I’m gonna sa” before I can finish my sentence he presses the call button

“RAICHI YOU SON OF A BITCH”

“Am I interrupting something” I hear Shidou voice say with a hint of amusement

“No no haha you know Raichi my biggest op” I say laughing awkwardly

I clear my throat

“Anyways I was wondering if your not busy do you wanna hang out today” I ask

“Hell yeah!”

“Really?!”

“Yeah I need help babysitting this kid anyways” he says and I hear a muffled voice of what sounds to be a teenager?

“Kid?…”

“I’m not a kid asshole I’m 15!” The teenage voice says

“Instead of saying bad words introduce yourself “ Shidou says and I hear some words fly and rustling

“I’m Charles I play soccer with Shido his ass promised to hang out with me but I don’t mind his boyfriend coming along” Charles says

“He’s not gay dipshit”

“I AM DONT WORRY” I say

Shit I just came out to Shidou

“See im always right” Charles says

“Anyways we gotta go so Shido can do his 40 step skin care routine” Charles says

“Nice meet ya tho”

“Uh nice meeting you too”

“Shut the hell up it’s only 30 steps” Shido says

“Yap yap yap thats all you do” Charles says and I bust out laughing hanging up

Maybe this Charles guy ain’t too bad

Plus he helped me with step 1 of asking Shido out, letting Shidou know I’m into boys

———————————————————————

I texted Shido the info and what we’re doing today

“Hey y/n feels like it’s been forever” I see Shidou handsome face and feel my pants get tigh- oops wrong body function I mean I feel my heartbeat fasten

“Woah! Your y/n damn your fine” Charles says cheesing and I feel a little violated a 15 just called me fine

“Uhm thank you, you actually pretty adorable considering Shido I expected some a monster or something” I say smirking and Shido laughs making my bone- I mean heartbeat fasten

As we start walking to our destination I feel Charles pull my hand so we stumble a little behind Shido

I quirk my eyebrow in confusion

He has a cheeky smile on his face and I’m terrified not gonna lie

“I’m gonna help you and Shido get together!” He says with jazz hands

“Uhm thanks” i say smiling and he smiles back running up to Shido

———————————————————————

We enter the cafe and go to the counter to order our food and drinks

“Hello welcome the cafe, and may I say your son is quiet adorable” the lady at the counter says with a smile

I’m confused last time I checked ion really look like Charles and Shido definitely don’t look like him but I shrug

“Thanks!” Charles says smiling and I laugh to myself. This guy I swear

“Alright what can I get y’all” the lady at the counter says pulling out a notepad

“Do you guys have macaroons?” He asks almost jumping up and down with joy

“We do, is three okay for you?” She asks and he nods

“And what can I get for you as a drink” she asks Charles and he ponders for a second

“A vanilla milkshake please” he says and she smiles and nods

“How about you sir” she looks over to Shido

“Can I get yukhoe” he asks Hand on his hip scanning there menu for drinks

“Oh Uhm were not currently serving yukhoe I apologize” she says still smiling. I know her jaw hurt

Shido groans and I glare making him smirk making me confused

“Fine I’ll order whatever Y/n ordering” he says a hand on his hip

“Oh uh I’ll have f/f and f/d” I say and the lady nods giving us a table

“Why were you smirking” I ask and he laughs he

“Aren’t you perceptive?” He says smiling

“Sure”

As we wait for our food Charles sips on his milkshake

“Can I have a macaron” Shido asks

“Nope!”

“What Why?! What happened to friendship”

“Dude these macarons were 734 yen(5 dollars each)each” Charles says and Shido and I are shocked

Our food arrives and we eat and chat here and there. For the most peaceful experience and that’s saying a lot considering I’m hanging out with the two most chaotic people known to planet earth

“So where to next” Charles asks

“The movies, you guys might wanna buy some snacks just in case y’all get hungry” I say and they both nod

“What genre is it romance?” Charles asks wiggling his eye brows

“No it’s actually action” I say. In reality I had 2 panic attacks trying to find a movie for us to watch and just went with a mediocre action movie, yes I regret it

—————————————————————-

We buy our tickets and snacks. Charles insisted Shido and I share a popcorn while he get his own.

We sit down with Shido sits in the middle

Shido acting kinda weird though he’s been stiff ever since we’ve enter the movie theater but I shrug it off

When we sit down and the movie starts a little I feel something warm on my hand

I look down and see Shido holding my hand

I don’t look at him cause I don’t want to make anything weird. I’m sure it’s taking everything inside of him not to tweak out so I just enjoy

But what feels like a few minutes later Shido snoring laying his head on mine. This man is 6,1 so he is not laying his head on my shoulder but who am I to complain

Charles looks over Shido to me and smirks. I roll my eyes with a smile

I don’t blame Shido for falling asleep this movie is trash

—————————————————————-

Shido yawns and stretches

“That movie was ass” Shido says and Charles yawns

“Charles ride should be heading this way soon and I actually live near here so I’ll just walk home” Shido says and I nod. Today was fun just a couple of guy friends hanging out

I mean guy friends don’t usually hold hands in movie theaters or call each other boyfriend but I mean I don’t want to ruin our friendship honestly. Even if there’s an off chance Shido does like me back what if he gets tired of me? And just leaves me or worse cheats on me with Sae

Charles people pull up and we say our goodbyes. He may have not been the most helpful but I have to admit he made today way more fun

“Welp I’m gonna head out see say” Shido says sticking his tongue out walking away with a single hand wave

…

“Shido wait” I say and he turns around with a smile

“I don’t know why but I like you. Wait no that’s rude I mean I like you bu-“ I say but Shido kisses me. It’s surprisingly soft but for like a split second until he slips tongue in. And if you think just seeing him gives me a boner what do you think gonna happen if I French kiss him

We break the kiss and he smirks

“I like you too” he says grabbing my hand and walking

“Where are we going?” I ask and he smiles

“My place”

I’m shocked

“Haha don’t worry I’m not gonna fuck you I wanna watch an actually good movie let’s go” he says smiling

[tizzyizzy]

Stede’s back, and Ed plots revenge. The only snag in the plan is that is he needs someone aboard Stede’s new ship, guiding him into his cunning trap.

Ed gives Izzy the order. But, Izzy says, Stede and the crew hate me. They’ll never trust him, if they even let him set foot on the ship. Ed makes it very clear this isn’t his problem, and if Izzy wants a position when he gets back, he’ll be creative.

So Stede ends up in a chance meeting with Isabella Palmes, a former associate of Blackbeard’s who is willing to trade information for passage. She’s a well-built, older woman with an aquiline nose and gray streaks in her raven black hair. Unwilling to disappoint such a dignified lady, and without other leads, Stede invites her aboard.

At first, Izzy is taciturn and solitary, afraid the slightest misstep will reveal his ruse. He nearly has a heart attack when the Swede asks what Izzy Hands is doing there, and why he’s in a dress? But the entire crew comes down on him like a ton of bricks and Stede spends the rest of the day apologizing, claiming the crew aren’t used to the company of the gentler sex on the boat, swearing that nothing of the sort will happen again.

Izzy thought this would be hell. Mostly, its just boring. Izzy can’t remember the last time he was free of responsibilities, but Stede won’t allow him to help with even the most mundane tasks. “You’re our guest!” he says. “If you need anything, just ask.” All he can do is read, and drink tea, and talk.

It’s strange, being talked to like this. For years now, he’s been Izzy Hands: First Mate. A taskmaster to the crew. A dangerous enemy to outsiders. Right-hand man to Edward. But Isabella Palmes commands neither fear nor contempt. Roach asks for her opinion on his latest macaroon recipe. Wee John sews the ruffle back to her gown, chatting about his mother. Lucius, miraculously alive, shares juicy gossip while he sketches her on deck (clothes on). She takes tea with Stede every day, who apologizes for their sparse accommodations and inquires after her every comfort.

Soon, Izzy finds the support of the stay and weight of his skirts more freeing than the leathers of First Mate Izzy Hands. He doesn’t need to be tough here. He just needs to be himself. He sits by Stede during story time and makes wry comments that send the crew into peels of laughter, but puts his hand on Stede’s knee so he knows Isabella means no harm. They tell him about themselves. In return, Izzy reveals things he never has before, altering only the most identifying of details.

But this can’t last forever. Izzy is in distress for days as they approach the trap, hiding from their concerned looks in his room. He betrays his friends, or Blackbeard. Either feels unconscionable. Revealing his true identity would, somehow, be even more painful.

In the end, he leaves a note in Stede’s bedroom. He confesses to having tricked them. He tells them how to get the drop on Blackbeard, and prays that Edward and Stede can reconcile. Then he takes a dinghy out in the middle of the night.

Unfortunately, stormy weather roils in and capsizes the dinghy, the sodden folds of the gown weighing him down. Worse, Stede’s crew come to the rescue.

Izzy expects fury and confusion. He knows what Blackbeard would have done in similar circumstance. Instead, he is offered forgiveness and concern.

If he hadn’t spent weeks as Isabella, Izzy might have maintained a grip on his emotions. As it is, he bursts into tears. He tells them he’s so, so sorry. That he doesn’t know what to do. That things used to be good between him and Edward, but it had all gone rotten, and he was just trying to fix things. To prove his lov-loyalty. That he knew what he was doing was wrong, but didn’t know how to back out, felt like he had no choice but to go through with it. That he’d betrayed Edward and now had nothing.

He spends the evening bundled up with one of Stede’s robes in the captain’s quarters to beat back the chill. Stede and Izzy talk about Edward. About love, and regret, and hope until Stede insists Izzy take his bed for the night.

The next morning, Stede finds Izzy watching the sunrise on the quarterdeck. He dismisses Buttons, then asks whether Isabella has ever had the pleasure of steering a ship before. Izzy says she hasn’t.

He finds himself urged to take the helm. Stede covers Izzy’s hands with his own in guidance, pressing the length of his body against Izzy’s back. He rests his chin on Izzy’s shoulder, and speaks in a voice so soft it is almost a whisper.

“You were ill-used by Edward,”Stede says. “No matter what happens at the end of all this, you’ll be taken care of. Edward and I, you and Edward...you and I. I promise.”

Izzy body burns. He swears he can feel his heart breaking in his chest.

[bahllinsqrews]

Something Only You Can See...

Lee Know x Male!Reader

Male reader has 'lady bits'

SoftDom!Lee Know in the bedroom

Sweet Lee Know Hours

Dildo Usage

Gentle Cursing

Gentle manhandling

Minors DNI

Bit of Vanilla Sex

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You and your man Lee Know had been a little at odds with his attitude lately, you mentioned how fake he was acting when around you came near him. He didn't mean it, so he'll show you that you're still his one and only.

The night was smooth in the practice room, at least..you thought so, the calm before the storm. You and Lee know had a bit of an argument about how he was behaving and you didn't want it anymore. He watched as you stormed off, your little boots hitting the floor as you went, your ass in your jeans and so much more that made him want to devour you. But in front of the others, he had to keep a calm face. The night continued and Lee Know had left the practice room, thinking of you.

He went to the store nearby and got you some flowers and some chocolate since he knew they rang as your favorite, then came back to the shared room where you were laying on the bed. He hid the items behind his back and shifted quietly until he put them in the vase, then took the chocolates and laid on top of you, he placed them right next to your arm as you were face first in the pillow, listening to some soothing asmr on your phone to calm down from your angry streak. You felt a bit of weight on top of you, only to see Minho above you. You put your head back down and chose not to look at him. "What are you looking for, Minho...?" You say in such a dull tone. he doesn't respond. He only acts like a cat and gently headbutts you, snuggling into your skin to pick up your body wash scent of Cherry & Vanilla Macaroon and your lotion. You only sighed as you turned over onto your back so you could look at him, that's when he laid on his back, looking at you with big eyes.

You giggled as you pet him gently, him learning to purr really put his cat mode into a deep play. He stopped when he kissed you, that's when it all began. Him stripping of his clothing and you getting out of yours, you two shared deep kisses and gentle touches as he went closer and closer to your little hole. That was one of the reasons that Lee Know started dating you, you were different in all sorts of ways. His long fingers reached your clit, starting to slowly rub at it and building those sparks that you loved to feel. He gave you a smile before moving his two fingers inside at a slow pace, just how you liked it, you felt is growing cock resting under your thigh, rubbing ever so slightly. he truly wanted to fuck you senseless but with the way he treated you recently, he felt as if he didn't deserve it. Instead, he pulled away for a moment and you watched as he grabbed a box from under the bed. "Min..." you called, knowing what that meant. He only looked into your eyes, then took the toy out of the box. He laid back down beside you and opened your legs.

You smiled a bit as he did this, using the toy, stuffing it slowly into your wet cunt, moving it in and out, letting the bumps on it rub on you. There was a small row of them that specifically hit your clit, making you shiver moan and quake in his hands as he continued to use the toy. You gripped onto his arm, letting his name slip from your lips as he kissed your face, and neck. You smiled, giving his lips a few kisses before almost curling up at the stimulation. He moved the toy faster, his eyebrows knitted together, him rutting against your ass to cum himself. He said sweet I love yous and I'm sorrys as his hand moved faster. You gritted your teeth and let out a bit of a loud moan as you both came together, sighing in happiness as you came down from your high with him.

He spent the next few moments taking care of you, change in sheets, cleaning your toy, your favorite drink and snack with kitten cuddles as you two got as comfortable as you could. His last kiss to your forehead came as you both fell asleep, him treating you much differently from them on.

[owlnsfwsstuff]

MD x fem reader bj alex smut!!

Y/n pov

"And thats the end of my stream guys  come back next time where ill rate more toys for you~" i wink and shut off my camra i was a bj  for my braudcasts i would rate sex toys ibe never really gotten naked on screen ive always warn my underwhere and bra i sigh softly checking my watch " agh its ten already" i get up getting dressed today i was going to my boyfriends house his name was kim myung-dae hes tall and hadsome i lived him we met at a bar where i watch him get slapped by a small guy with blond hair and black roots i was later told his name was chanwoo he didnt like that myung never wanted to really be seen with him i comforted him from his brake up a few months past and we went from friends to lovers i would come over to his house and chill...he never really told me what he did for a living but i assumed he just didnt wanna talk about it i was really curiouse though "hey myung" i smile as he opens the door he looked a little distraught "uh hey " i look confused and came in seeing papers and his computer he removed everything and sat with me on the couch"uh are you ok you seem stressed" i tilt my head he sighed "y/n can i ask you a favour " i smile " definatly! Sure anything babe" i smile he held my hand a bit " i need you to help me with...my job" i smile " sure no problem what do you need help with ill do anything " he softly smirked and stood up telling me to follow down the hall there was a door i never really have went inside before"is this your office?" He smirked "you could say that...open the door~" i looked at him he stood back i turn the knob my eyes widen it was a...sex room!? With monoters,camras,a bed and sex toys coverd the walls  i blush deeply he closed the door " uh...t this...this is" i was so red and shocked alot made sence now

*Flashback*

"Good girl~"

"Can you sit at me feet...i want to pat your head~"

*Flashback over*

"A sex room y/n...is it to much" he said softly "uh n no!?" I said quickly he raised an eyebrow smirking "so...you like this sort of thing kitten~♡" he shut the door behind us moving falward " u uh....w w whatta you need my h help with i thaught i was helping with your work m myung" i blush dodging the question he smirked " you are helpingwith my work...im an MD i need..." he walked falward lifting my chin wispering " a sub~" i was 50 shades of red (lol or gray) h he wanted me to be h his sub i mean ...we havent had sex yet i said i wanted to know him more before i committed to it " u uh b but" he smiles softly " my job is broadcasting i do a live BDSM show where i play with subs the viewer's send in a point system calld chestnuts that converts into money that gets sent to me they can also request things ...dont worrie your face will be masked as will mine i wont say your name or who you are...so what do you say i know its a bit much you dont have t-" i cut him off " y yes" he looked suprised " yes?" I blush nodding  he smirked " wow that quick such a naughty girl~ i didnt know you where so eager you should have told me you liked this " he took me to the bed " i i thaught youd think im wired...also i know how the bj system works...i im one to i mean ive never been naked on c camera but i review...t toys" i blush he was more shocked " you share my beautiful  property with others thats rude~♡" i blush being calld his we discussed our safe words and how things would work as usual his safe word was 'macaroon' i choose 'strawberry' he told me to strip and get on the bed i obey he did his intro i where a red eye mask and he wore a black one "hello everyone MD is back ive been away for a while since i needed to find a new play toy~ but now i have found a beautiful one im sure youll like them as much as i do and to spice it up its a lovely woman since i havent had any woman on for a while~" the chat room flooded with commenters and chestnuts he stood up coming over showing me off " look how gorgeous this baby girl is~ such a cute kitten and that will be your name is that understood kitten~" he asked i blush nodding then he grabbed my chin " use your words~" i shake softly " y yes u understood.....master~♡" i purr out softly he was delighted as the show went on he had me binded up in red rope, nipple clamps on my now hardend buds and a vibrater deep inside i shake moaning as he walked over to a box "hmm what should i use dear viewers on this naughty kitten a riding crop....orrrr a paddle~♡?" He viewd the comments to see and smirk " riding crop it is~♡" he walked back over and moved my tied legs apart " oh look your dripping everywhere ...such a mess~..bad kitten" he strikes my thigh i shudder and moan out drooling " a a ah a a ah m mggs  s sorry" i wimper,smirking he struck my thigh over and over soon i was so pent up i squirt all over the toy the bed and the crop " oh my already~ well ill have to teach you a lesson next time then wont i because i didnt hear me say you could cum~" i whine as he went over to the camerai lay panting tired as i hear him say his outro ...that was a new ecxpiriance that i wanted more of...i loved that man our love was binding

"MD...out~♡"

Sorry for poor spelling and punctuation 😅

[cap-tveit-ed]

A Sweet Macaroon

Topher x Reader

Trigger warning: Abuse reference

You haven’t been happy since your high school sweetheart, Chris, came home after his sophomore year of college and announced he was dropping out to travel coast to coast and find himself. You loved him deeply, and he broke your heart. Devastated, you married the first guy who asked. Now, it’s 10 years on, and you’re stuck in a childless and loveless marriage. Your husband hit you before, but he’s always controlled himself enough not to smack your face. That changed last night, and you leaned into the bathroom mirror applying makeup to conceal the damage.

“You can’t go to the restaurant like that. People will think I’m a monster,” Earl said.

“I’m putting on coverup. It will be fine. Besides, we need the money,” you countered with the one argument you knew would work.

“Okay, but I’m taking you to see how people react. You can stay if no one says anything,” he said.

This was not what you wanted. You wanted to pack a big backpack, but if Earl was driving, you could only pack a small tote. There was enough money stashed in your locker to buy a bus ticket. Whatever tips you could earn during this shift would be your spending money until you found a new job.

“What’s that bag for?” Earl asked.

You lied, “I always bring an extra outfit in case I spill something on myself.”

He said he never noticed before but was more focused on reminding you it was his bowling night, and he couldn’t pick you up. You were grateful. You took inventory: two t-shirts, a denim skirt, a nightgown, 2 pairs of panties, flip flops, and a few toiletries. You had rolled everything tightly to fit in your tote. You prayed you didn’t forget anything essential.

Fortunately, customers were generous with their tips. You went straight to the bus station after work. The bus drove through the night, but you were too anxious to sleep. You only had one relative who lived outside your town, your cousin Alex in Schmicago. You would see if she could help you get a fresh start.

It was sunny when you arrived in the city. You brushed your teeth and splashed icy water on your face in the bus terminal restroom. It washed off the last of your makeup, but oversized sunglasses were the fashion, and you slipped on yours. It took an hour to find where Alex lived. You double checked the address because it was a junkyard. There was an odd little man in the center, kneading dough on a table. He had a sweet face and long dark hair. He wore a newsboy cap.

“Hello, friend! I’m Michael. Welcome to the tribe.”

You introduced yourself, deciding it would be safer to use your middle name. You explained you were looking for your cousin. Michael told you that you were in the right place, but Alex was off doing odd jobs. He offered you food and took you to her tent. He kindly suggested you take a nap. You slept for three hours.

After spending the afternoon with Alex, she took you to meet her tribal leader. As you entered the large tent, you were shocked to see a ménage-a-trois on the bed. You’d never even seen a dirty movie, and here it was live before your eyes. Alex didn’t even react as the two women were taking turns sucking the man. Another man sat on a cushion checking things off on a clipboard, as if he didn’t see what was happening two feet away from him.

Your eyes should’ve been glued to the action, but instead, you stared at this man. From the angle you were standing, you couldn’t quite see his face, but he had a glorious head of curly hair, and the vest he wore emphasized the definition in his arms. As he wrote, you thought his forearms may be the sexiest thing you’d ever seen, even though there were people having sex right in front of you. He turned to greet the two of you.

You scanned this super-hot guy from his bell bottoms to his face, and your heart jumped into your throat, as you said just under your breath, “Chris-.”

“Topher, this is my cousin y/m/n,” Alex told him.

“Nice to meet you, y/m/n. I’m Topher,” he said, reaching out with one hand while placing his other over his heart. “I’m getting a vibe we know each other.”

You shrugged. Your hair color was different than when you last saw him. Your curves had developed a bit more. You hope the sunglasses hid your face enough to function as a disguise. You’ve dreamt of seeing Christopher again but not like this.

But he reached to remove your glasses and said with surprise, “Y/N?!”

He motioned for the two of you to exit the tent, and he followed. It was evening but still light enough he could see your black eye and the large bruise on your upper arm. He slipped his finger under your chin and turned your head to examine the damage.

“Y/n, who did this to you?” Topher demanded.

Alex replied, “Her no-good husband, Earl. That’s who.”

“Hunterson,” you added.

“You married Earl Hunterson,” he said incredulously.

Afraid you would cry if you answered, you merely nodded, but his hand stayed holding your chin.

Alex asked, “You guys know each other?”

Topher answered yes but provided no other information.

So, you added, “We went to high school together.” (Instead of “We went together in high school.”)

Alex explained to Topher that you needed a place to stay until you worked out your next steps, but unfortunately, she was already sharing her small tent with Marissa and asked for his help in pairing you up with someone else.

“Not a problem. Y/n can bunk with me,” he said.

You and Alex both exclaimed, “What?!!!”

“It’s perfect. She’ll be safe with me. I’m the only one sleeping here,” he said, and pulling the tent flap open, he yelled in, “You guys wrap it up.”

Alex laughed so hard she snorted, and it reminded you of when you were kids.

“I think they might think you mean something else,” she giggled.

Getting the condom reference, you and Topher started laughing, too. The three of you were still snickering when the other three exited. Alex skated off, and you went into the tent with Topher.

“Well, well, well,” he said, but after looking into your eyes with his gorgeous baby blues, he went a different direction with the conversation. “Are you hungry, Y/n?”

“No, thank you. Alex and I ate at the Kander Cafe. I applied for a waitressing job there.”

“Ah, the Absinthe Café, huh? Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder,” he said. “Ooh, I should write that down.”

“Since I can sleep here, I’m assuming you don’t have a wife or girlfriend,” you said.

“My manifesto is to foster love wherever it grows. As such, I no longer believe in the confines of a traditional relationship,” Topher said removing his vest and tank top.

Then, turning his back to you he removed his jeans. As he bent over, he revealed a perfect juicy peach ass, and you just wanted to take a bite.

“I guess you no longer believe in the confines of underwear either,” you giggled.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled. “I thought you might not be as comfortable with nudity as we are. So, I was slipping on these gym shorts. I didn’t think about being nude while changing.”   

“You should be comfortable in your own abode.”

“Sit,” he said motioning to the bed. “It’s time for you to unburden yourself.”

“Pardon,” you asked.

“Let it out. Verbally let go of the weight you’re carrying,” he said and crawled on to the mattress behind you.

You were startled and asked, "What are you doing?”

“I’m going to physically help ease the tension while you emote,” he said.

As his fingers kneaded your neck, you let out the breath you had been holding for the last 48 hours. You knew he wanted you to talk, but you only purred.

“Y/n.”

You managed a breathy, “Yes.”

“Take off your top so I can get to these knots in your upper back."

In a trance, you did as he said.

“I haven’t seen one of these in a while,” he said.

“A knot,” you questioned.

“No, a bra,” he answered.

As his fingers worked their magic, you moaned in gratification.

“Y/n, your sounds are making things…um…hard on me.”

“I can’t help it. I'm so turned on right now,” you answered.

“Then let’s get naked,” he whispered in your ear.

You nodded in agreement, and he smoothly unhooked your bra and slid it forward, cupping your breasts with both his hands, causing your nipples to pebble and heat to pool between your legs. Topher turned your face toward him and kissed you deeply. You ran your tongue over his pointed canine teeth that you always adored whenever he smiled.

He got off the bed and stood in front of you. You removed his shorts. He was so hard that every vein in his cock was defined. You dropped onto your knees and licked the glistening precum off his tip.

“Don’t tease, Y/n,” he said.

You stared up at him, and desperately wanting to please him, you begged, “Teach me!”

He contemplated and replied, “Just make love to my dick.”

His direction seemed vague, but you knew each other well enough that it was clear to you. You hoped your enthusiasm would make up for your lack of skill. You started by kissing up and down his shaft, while massaging his balls. He groaned. You took him as far into your throat as you could. He held your hair back and wiped your tears with his thumb until he threw his head back in ecstasy. Just as he was on the borderline, he pulled out of your mouth. You whined.

“It’ll be worth the wait,” he said.

He had you stand. He unbuckled your sandals and removed your skirt. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly pulled them down, trailing kisses on the outside of your legs as he went. After you stepped out of them, he gently pushed you back onto the bed and kissed his way back up on the inside of your legs, pausing to tickle you behind the knees.

“And there it is,” he smiled, remembering that was a particularly sensitive spot for you.

When his tongue ran along your slit, a pleased sound escaped his lips.

He picked up his head and said, “Baby, you are so wet for me. I love it.”

He dove back between your legs and pushed up your hood with his fingers while he sucked on your clit. You cried out. He slipped two fingers inside of you and curved them forward. You writhed on the bed, but just as you were about to climax, he stopped licking. You whimpered.

“It will be worth the wait,” he promised. “Get on your knees.”

He was so hard when he entered you. His cock hit your g-spot. His hands grabbed your breasts, and he held on as he plunged into you. He hummed and rocked his hips to the same rhythm. His hands slid down your body. He used one to balance himself, while the other pressed on your love button.

“Now,” he ordered. “Come all over my cock, Y/n.”

Topher’s touch and dirty words made you explode like never before. You lost your balance. Your head dropped forward onto a pillow. He held your hips tight while he ejaculated into you. Your walls clenched around him, milking every drop. He held still for a moment before pulling out and flopping on to the bed next to you. You stretched out on your belly and turned your face toward him. He ran his finger along your jaw and leaned in for a kiss.

“That was incredible. You are so beautiful. Even more than you are in my memories or my fantasies," he confessed, pushing your hair off of your face.

Topher laid on his back, stretching out both arms, making room for you to snuggle into him. You draped one leg over both of his thighs and ran your fingers through his curly chest hair. He kissed the top of your head. You were sad and blissful at the same time. You knew you couldn't stay at the commune because you would never be able to share this gorgeous man. You also knew it would take at least a week to figure out your next move, and after a decade of misery, you deserved seven more nights of pleasure.

[episodeoftv]

Prelims, Vote 5 of 8

The top 4 finales will move on to be included in the main bracket

Propaganda is under the cut, may include spoilers

CSI: NY - 9.17 Today is Life

CSI was always copaganda and admittedly NY got cancelled midseason but jesus fucking christ. Weird semi-bottle episode of cops trapped inside their station because people are protesting the shooting of a Black man as the others desperately scrabble to prove he was armed as if that automatically makes it okay. No closure for any characters other than making previously sympathetic characters look like racist dicks.

Faking it - 3.10 Up in Flames

This series finale was so underwhelming that I didn't even realize it was the finale and not just another episode. Yes, the show was cancelled early but it didn't even read as a season finale...

Imposters - 2.10 See You Soon‚ Macaroon

Ok listen so no I wasn’t expecting much from this show like I knew what I was getting into. But oh my GOD the way you could FEEL how rushed this finale was. Early cancellation‚ I believe there was meant to be one more season. (Also personally did not enjoy it bc I did not find myself compelled by Ezra’s storylines this season but he is the main character so the last scene of the entire show was something I thought was SO stupid). Also broke up the found family. Unsurprising but I’m dying out here and they couldn’t have thrown me one line? The actual structure of the majority of the episode was pretty tight‚ like if it were a normal episode it would be fine. But then they had to go and try to wrap everything up before it was meant to be wrapped up and nothing has ever been less satisfying

Jane the Virgin - 4.17 Chapter Eighty-One

context: back in season 3 the protagonist jane was married to michael. he died in a heartbreaking and brilliantly done episode, and then the series jumped forwards 3 years in time. michael, his relationship with jane and his death was always treated with respect, even as jane slowly began to fall for her old flame and friend rafael. in the season 4 finale, it seemed like rafael was going to propose to jane, which was lovely. but then the very annoying drawn out villain told rafael ""something"" that made him withdraw and lash out at jane for reasons she and the audience didn't understand. they still had sex which was disturbing considering his anger and drunkenness, and then at the end of the episode it was revealed that the information he found out was that michael was alive. he'd been alive this whole time. the last moments of the episode are jane and michael seeing each other again. this made NO SENSE considering he died in a public place from an aortic dissection (a sudden blood pressure spike from a pre-existing injury) and they had a casket at his funeral - but apparently the villain has been keeping him alive all this time!! for some reason!!! this finale not only ruined the main romantic relationship between jane and rafael for pointless drama, it also spat upon the memory and fans of michael, and michael and jane's romantic relationship. not even to mention the ridiculous drama that another fan favourite petra was put through this episode. the entire thing was full of cheap shock value moments and cliffhangers to try and get audiences to watch for the final season.

My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! - 2.12 My Graduation Ceremony Happened...

incest

True Blood - 7.10 Thank You

so much wrong (really) with this show (which i love) but that final fucking image just does me in! sookie, our protagonist, who's been battered back and forth between stubborn heroine and hapless waif for 7 seasons seems spends her final (on-screen) moments sitting at her table surrounded by loved ones - which would be heartwarming if tara (abused for 6 seasons and then fridged, thanks alan ball) wasn't missing, a woman wasn't sitting next to the groomer she married (they meet near the beginning of the show when she is 17 and he is almost 30, they start dating immediately), and sookie were sitting at the head of her own fucking table. it's nice that sookie gets what she wants - she's tough but pretty milquetoast (don't get mad at me! i love our twee fairy vixen!), and she really has wanted to just be cozy and settle down this whole time. it makes sense to close on her enjoying a semi-mortal evening with the people she has left. but to leave on her tropily pregnant (even if it's in character - if it were just the pregnancy it wouldn't irk me so) and centre her nameless, faceless husband in the final frames of 7 seasons that have been (for better and way worse) about nothing but sookie? despicable! it's the series finale i've hated the most, but in some ways it's almost perfect because it totally exemplifies the political identity crisis true blood has for 7 years. edge vs. wholesomeness, agency vs. damselhood, change vs. status quo. it's such a disappointing result of the struggle that not only sookie (a character so many fans hate for her simultaneous stubbornness, ditz, and naivete - and who i love btw!) but the writers struggled for (sorry) 7 seasons. it's like witnessing your dear, baby faced, precocious & clever kid relative exit an intense emo phase only to become corporate law student. it's the cold fear that can only be induced by a white teenager with a briefcase. it's the slump end to a potentially fruitful struggle. in this sense it feels inevitable...but does it HAVE to be?...at least bill died.

The Who Was? Show - 1.13 Julius Caesar & Bruce Lee

the show got cancelled before season 2 released EVEN THOUGH it was certainly meant to have a season 2 so i will never see my silly blorbos ever again, nor will we be able to see who ate those grapes. It has been 5 years and I am still not over it :'(

[patientlibrarian]

AU. Flynn has fun! Something is happening in the safe house that night and everyone tries all sorts of ways to find out what it is. Only Flynn and Dave know the answer. And what about those underpants? Introducing FlamBam! Includes Teddy bears! A ‘demonstration’ with a difference! Who likes dark chocolate coconut macaroons? With so little to amuse them, sometimes you never know what to expect next. Dave Baumgardner is in on the fun. Consensual protected sex. Suggestive sexual thoughts/comments/innuendo.

Flynn: “You do realise that Lucy will try everything to get me to tell her?”

Dave gave a very broad smile, nodded and chuckled.

[dollscircus]

Cue Alexis' blue screened! SDNFLKDSNFLK AWW, THAT'S SO CUTE!

Also -

William: Dear heart, you must bring your darling over for dinner sometime. I like her! She handed me a bag of macaroons on the way out.

Alexis: WHAT THE HELL, OLD MAN!? I NEED ALL OF YOU TO STOP -

Meanwhile, her poor human GF nearly had a heart attack when William introduced himself!

Alexis is so not used to affection that doesn’t come with the expectation of sex, just a cute little kiss and a hug.

William left like 3 hundred dollars in the tip jar on his way out and gave the baker a heart attack.

Bonus if William being seen at the tiny bakery plus it’s late opening times, it soon becomes a hot stop for vampires with a sweet tooth.

God a Solaire dinner? Our poor baker wouldn’t survive, she’s just gonna hide in the corner with Lovely and treasure.