#ah yes the 'fingerbang'

[postpunkblunt]

you were trying to WHAT?

[chameleon-on-lsd]

Tatort Zürich liveblogging E1 + E2

so I watched Von Affen und Menschen (shoutout to Severin, the current director of the zoo that was there to say 3 words <3) and am now 30 mins into Züri brännt. some things: it's so funny to recognize places and then also be like 'how did they get from THERE to THERE in 2 seconds' (like some of the bike delivery guys path was insane) i like noah. no surprise there I skipped SO many of the abduction scenes. idk if it's the swiss german or that actor in particular but my god, the cringe. "can you knock??" is apparently just a Tatort running gag "du schlafsch? ohni mich?" iconic also all the fucking un-subbed french. I know we have that in school and most of it is also get-able with context clues. but also some is just SO fast. noah and his stupid lil phone lanyard <3 what the fuck is going on with the brother and the weird ass halloucinations of his sister oh girlie tried to off herself with a gun? oh boy noah, that is an ugly ass green/orange tie they're really going for a fucking horror vibe for a police procedual huh he has nice high-german though lmao singing mani matter how swiss you wanna be? yes. we had to sing that shit in primary school lmao (I'm also not really paying HOLY FUK SHOWING THE FULL SUICIDE OF POLICE CHIEF GUY? MY FUCKING GOD but also means that grandjean is not his successor xD

E2: ah, another man xD what a surprise that the swiss tv show has an episode called Schöggiläbe lol now frenchie is singing let Hörk sing! xD (do not) lmao the chocolate fountain WHY DID YOU PUT YOUR FULL TONGUE IN IT. WHAT THE FUCK. this is why I find the huge choco fountain at the Lindt House of chocolate so disgusting what the FUCK is this 4th wall break'????? ew??? now what dark past does mr. 'jugo mit 2 sterne' chef have I keep forgetting that she has a son ......why the 4th wall stufffffff. stop talking to me directly lmao what the fuck was that song???? the Drogehandel one lmao the grandma's introduction as 'vorgängerin und.. nachfolgerin' "die familie isch so abgfuckt!" lmao preach girlie lmao does her laptop have the company logo on the back? that's not how laptop branding works noah my baby <333 "ih de best uflösig bitte. was, nöd mal 2k??" xD also is that a KNITTED TIE? what the fuck my guy (also just learned that is surname is Löwenherz. bless) ?? subplot? random people secretely hidden in random cellar? HARDBRÜCKE! xD wHAT is this conversation xD with the hungarian also, a snazzy shirt from mrs Staatsahwältin what a moustache from the Vermieter xD also I love the random police men they have with them sometimes. and my god the hungarian guy is cute and tall, jesus ohh the neighbour is the lady that hid the other ones away oooooh you're a rent boy (did we know that?) the fucking 80s hair of the daughter is so weird xD they really googled "business graphs" and pulled up the first result xD burning a testament? classy damn, also NOOOO stop the 4th wall bullshit but also lmao at her knocking back shots "20 kleine mohammeds" my guy XDD I like his jacket with the little bird on it welp, he also has kiddos I guess OH, she signed her Kündigung lmao, is she doing VR drunk?? oh no, next day xD noah is so adorable "langsam, susch chunts zmorge wieder ufe" lmao girlie pops is not doing great xD FRENCHIE WITH THE ACTION ROLL!!! ...did tessa not have to do ANY shooting training or certification?? at least things like 'c'est quoi ton problem' are easy to understand xD also, putain lol god the fucking iPhone ring tone xD ??????????????? WHY DID YOU KICK OFF THE MIRROR OF A PARKED CAR? YOU'RE A POLICE OFFICER xD wait, what is her job title? oh, right, she's Fallanalytikerin. but like... maybe don't commit crimes WHAT THE FUCK. grandma is actually mom? ohhhh yeah, so she's the sister of the dead guy and not the daugther oh god tessa, do we need to see you hook up? he's kinda cute at least JESUS fingerbanging her on the dance floor??? whew boy JESUS salfkfaklfasdlaskjd ??????????? should we know the old guy'????? that wasn't charlie right?? idk the hair looked wrong. but she's back there now I guess thank you hot police guy for bringing charlie to frenchie oh hey, the lady and child are still here what the fuck is that outfit mrs staatsanwältin "kei chance sorry, ich schwör" xD you can do it girl. also hurrrrr uniformed guy the brother that got money from the chocolate guy shot him? rent boy guy is adorable in that cableknit sweater d'awwww he's so cute oohh, honor killing ....did she say Schwulenhass so she didn't have to tell the woman that her brother/dad used rent boys? is that the Stadionbrache? I feel like they also dumped the last guy in the car there xD welp heart attack incoming for old mrs matriarch and the young one is such a cold ass bitch xD you'd think she's be sweeter being in the chocolate business~ god, that they almost end both episodes with a suicide d'awww just tossing the money, bless JESUS. just actually shouted NO (at him holding the gun against his head) that was a shot in the shoulder. he'll be fine. see. you did okay tessa oooooh contract killer. I guess. awww Milan. (my love for curly haired scruffy men persists) sadlkasjfklasjl "Ich cha das nöd ohni dich. du blibsch" The ship does sail itself. Because she just made out with a guy who wants to keep her in Zurich but looks happier that her colleague (Ott. Not Tessa. sure honey) wants her to stay.

[ubemango]

7, 29, 56 tts! couple pls 👉🏼👈🏼

7.  “That’s it, that’s a new kink I never knew I had.” + 29.  “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.” + 56.  “You better muffle yourself with a pillow then, because I’m not stopping.”

+ pre-marriage tts. literally. warnings: (an attempt at) orgasm control, squirting

Yoongi blurs the line between cruelty and mercy with every hard drive of his fingers in your pussy. He only uses two because he knows you’ll come too quick with three. You race right into thick heat, feel it spiral to the final surge—

—and then he stops.

“Oh fuck you,” you cry, “Yoongi no—”

He grinds the heel of his palm where you pulse heat to tease that slow build again. “Yoongi yes,” he mocks. He’s not sorry at all.

“I’ll—I’ll be so angry with you and I’ll tell everyone we called the wedding off because you’re being so mean to me.”

“You can do better than that.”

He’s not playing fair. It’s been an hour of one long dizzy spell, fucking you to steep levels of an orgasm but denying you the pleasure eight times already. Begging has never been off the table but it pisses you off knowing he’ll enjoy it even more now that you’re desperate enough to resort to it.

“I’m—I’ll die—I’m going to die if you don’t let me come.”

He curls the tips of his fingers as an evil reminder. “Now you’re being dramatic.”

“You see what it’s like to almost-come eight times!”

“But it’s so hot,” he coos. He’s not wrong. There’s a you-shaped print of sweat on these sheets. “Watching you squirm like that. You think you’ll squirt?”

Your cheeks burn high. “Do you want me to?”

“Only if you’ll scream.”

Oh you’d scream alright. Bark any command till he finally lets up, drills your pussy till you blank into white. You’ve both got a long day ahead. One that starts in approximately seven hours but Yoongi likes to drag things out at the most inopportune times. “Yoongi I’m tired and we’re literally getting married tomorrow so you’re not even supposed to be here much less finger-blasting me to no end!”

“I know you’re tired. Is this getting your mind off things?”

"I wanna come!” You bellow.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he confirms. He bends over to bloom kisses on your pelvis, little apologies. “Just trust me, okay?”

You resign with limp defeat. He’s got you in his hands—literally—and he knows you’re reaching levels of frustration even an orgasm won’t fix. So he starts up again: the gentle pump of his fingers in your slick, molding your walls with all the heat of his loving.

Your eyes roll back. It’s your favourite part. The barely-there sensations, craving the intense satisfaction but he won’t give it to you just yet. Yoongi drags it out, doesn’t go for your clit but for the tiny moans you’ll grant him if he curls inside just right.

“Love feeling you like this.”

“Hm?” Yoongi grazes soft lips along your stomach, kisses your heaving chest. He prods deeper with a stroke when he circles your tit with a slow tongue. Your hand curls an automatic grip on his hair. “Oh god…”

“So… good. Letting me do this to you. Makes me feel important.”

“I-I’m glad,” you laugh. Trust Yoongi to confess that having his hands coated with wet pussy is a good confidence builder. If anything, you’re just happy to provide.

He comes up for a kiss. He’s easy with it because he doesn’t want you getting carried away. You’ve always had a thing for your tongue on his. “You’ll look so beautiful tomorrow,” he whispers.

“Oh don’t get sappy on me now.”

Not when he’s got your legs open to blatant exposure and he’s still got all his sleepwear on. His words don’t work to turn you on but to ease the anxiety you’ve got churning in your stomach. All your exhausted efforts coming to matrimonial fruition tomorrow, and Yoongi was nothing if attentive to your need for recourse after the busy rehearsal dinner today.

Yuri would kill him if she knew he snuck out his room across the hall just to fuck you. Bridal superstitions and all. But you’re too far gone to chide him for breaking rules because you’re the one being taken care of right now.

He picks up to steadier movements, dragging that sticky sound louder till you’re blushing. He still won’t touch your clit. Probably deciding if he wants to give in and finally let you come, so you moan just for the preview. A little incentive to promise him you’ll make it worth the ache of his wrist come morning. “Fuck—please��go faster.”

“You wanna come?”

“Yes!”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

But he doesn’t tease another quick stop. He heeds your earlier request, lets himself indulge in harsher fucking, scissoring those fingers, curving till your nerves are set on fire. You’re tempted to close your thighs from how hard he’s going but Yoongi distracts you with a pink tongue behind your teeth, swallowing your heavy exhales like he wants to consume you whole.

“Oh fuck yes. Just like that, mm—!”

He challenges your desperate stare, watches you dwindle into whines because you’re already so close again. “You gonna come for me?”

“Please,” you mewl. “Don’t stop ple-ease—”

“What if I do? You gonna beg me like a good girl? Gonna kick and scream till I give you what you want?”

“Yoongi—Yoongi!“

Your panting eases into half-sobbing. You’d accuse him of being a sadist but you love the chase just as much, succumbing to the ache of submission. Creaming his knuckles wet, feeling that throb build to an unbearable fever.

Then he stops. Again.

You shiver. “Yoon—!“

“Sh.” You’re positive his fingers have pruned up, coated diligently in your essence. He won’t lick it yet because he knows you like the stringy feeling.

“Yoongi I need—“

“Promise I won’t make you wait now. Just breathe for me.”

“Y-You better,” you sniffle. You don’t want to admit defeat, don’t want to give him the satisfaction of driving you to tears from one more stolen orgasm. When he said he wanted to take your mind off things you didn’t think he’d mean to replace every single thought with mind-numbing desire. It’s bordering on painful at this point—heart, soul, pussy.

He sates your crumbling sanity with a soft kiss. “I love you. Really.”

“Love you too. Even though you’re being horrible.”

Yoongi takes it as a nice compliment. Opposite to the nasty rubbing he starts teasing your hole with, almost like it’s a gift. “Think you’ll squirt for me?”

“Mm… We’ll see.” You grind into his palm.

“I really wanna see you squirt.”

“Then you better make me fucking come or I’m making sure I’m two hours late to the cere—h-ah!”

Yoongi promises no pretence of evil when he dives right for the spot that curls you at the spine. He claims it, claims you—shoves those knuckles deep till the heel of his palm rubs perfectly on your clit. You grab at his hair. Grip tense, body tenser.

He leans down, mouthing love on your neck. “Feel it coming?”

“God yes,” you squeal. “Fuck that’s so good, baby.”

“Yeah? You like it when I fuck your tight pussy like this?”

“Mhm—!” You hug Yoongi to your chest as if you were slipping, slipping, slipping—finally coming, head first into rapture, unravelling with a loud shriek. “Oh fuck yeah, yeah, ngh—!”

Yoongi takes all those near-highs and pulls taut at the heat where he thrusts. And he gets what he wants, too: drawing out thick splashes till it wets his wrist, the bed; watching you shake with every intense pulse. You’ll tip double to the housekeepers changing the sheets later.

“Holy fucking shit,” you breathe. You think you’re still coming. Yoongi strokes with lighter touches, gets you twitching into the feeling.  

“That’s it,” he whispers, kissing you softly into the comedown. “That’s a new kink I never knew I had.”

“Wha-what? What is?”

“Pre-marital fingerbangs.”

You flick at his forehead, bask in the sight of his dewy face in the dimmed lights. “Now your fingers are all wrinkly. Pussified fingers.”

“Ah.” He brings his hand up to marvel at his handiwork. Flexing at the soaked middle and ring fingers, and suddenly you’re reminded of the fact that you’ll slide a ring on him tomorrow. “I like it. Almost like they’re battle scars.”

“I leave no one unscathed.”

“How dare you wound me,” Yoongi jokes. He doesn’t expect you to grip his wrist next, bringing him closer till your tongue tastes the remnants of his hard work. His gaze zeroes in on your puckered lips stretched along his knuckles. “You...”

“Taste good.” You pop your mouth. “But I bet you taste even better.”

He laughs abashedly. “I think I’m blushing.”

“C’mon big boy, roll on over for me.”

He does. He’s very obvious with the way he stares at your tits when you crawl over him.

“Now I could be mean and do the same thing to you.” You drag his sweats down, stare at the bulge between his thighs. “Or… I could be meaner, and do the opposite.”

Your hands are cold on his skin when you pull at his briefs. “What?”

“I’m gonna make you come. A lot.”

It doesn’t sound like a threat. But you make it dangerous when you keep your eyes on him, bending over to lick at the tip of his dick. Yoongi stutters a gasp.

“Mm. Y-You gonna make me scream for it?”

“Would you do it if I asked?”

You watch him struggle. To submit, to enjoy the way you suck on him. Probably realizing neither of you will get good sleep tonight for the sake of drawn-out highs.

“Maybe,” he decides.

“Good.” You slobber through one mouthful of cock till his hands seek refuge in the sheets. “You better muffle yourself with a pillow then, ‘cause I’m not stopping.”

[nat-roman0ff]

keep it quiet

keep it quiet

-

You and Shawn spend the night at his parent’s house and can’t help feeling a little frisky in his childhood bedroom.

-

words: 2,8k warnings: smut, nostalgia, no actual plot.

-

Laughter erupts at the dinner table. Karen makes a joke about something embarrassing Shawn did when he was a kid. As an eye roll ensues from him, his hand slides higher on your thigh beneath the table. 

 When he was home, you both made an effort to try and spend an overnight at his parent’s house; equipped with Karen’s delicious dinners and Manny’s delightful breakfasts. You weren’t exactly a stranger in the Mendes household. Quite the opposite, actually. A childhood friendship had grown to more sometime towards the end of high school and while you and Shawn took a break here and there when his career was speeding up, your relationship had been running solid for the last two years.

“Shawn you really have the worst luck with Ferris wheels,” Aaliyah laughs, bringing up not one, or two, but three instances of Shawn throwing up on a Ferris wheel.

 “I don’t like heights!” He defends

 You giggle and nuzzle his cheek. Karen brings a round of tea with dessert and you all settle into the living room for a movie. You and Shawn have changed from your day clothes into pajamas, and he drapes a blanket over the both of you as he pats a spot on his lap for you to sit on. 

 Your hips instinctively grind against him and he bites his bottom lip to mask a groan. 

 “You good?” You ask, knowing full well he wasn’t.

 Shawn gives you a glare, “just fine, Hon.” 

 You go to twist in his lap again to get more comfortable when he cups your heat, “I know exactly what you’re doing,” he says lowly, just between the two of you, “you’re really getting all hot and bothered at my parent’s house?” 

You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder, which gives you access to peck at his neck as you whisper in his ear, “just reminds of all the times we snuck around when we were younger. If memory serves me correctly I’m pretty sure you gave me a sloppy fingerbang on this very couch.”

 He scoffs, “sloppy? I was sixteen, what did you expect?” 

 You chuckle and shift again, this time laying in front of Shawn, letting him wrap his arm around you as the big spoon. His hand rests on the waistband of your pajama bottoms, and you wriggle against his hardening length to settle in. 

 “Keep doing that and I’m going to bust before the opening credits are done,” he says, nipping at your earlobe. 

 You’re both thankful that the lights are off for the movie, so Shawn can steal kisses and love bites and suck a deep purple mark into your neck. You did your damndest to concentrate on the movie, although you couldn’t even remember a single character’s name at this point. Aaliyah only made it about twenty minutes into the movie before calling it a night. Manny fell asleep just after the first act and Karen woke up him fifteen minutes later to drag him to bed after he swore he was ‘just resting his eyes’. You and Shawn were too comfortable (and he was hiding a semi) to get off the couch, so you continue to watch the movie.

 But all hope of actually watching the movie is broken when Shawn’s hand slithers under your pajama pants. To his delight, you’re not wearing underwear. A very concise move you made while changing earlier. Just one less layer for him to have to deal with.

 “Fuuuck, baby,” he growls lowly in your ear, “no panties? Are you trying to kill me tonight?” 

 You respond by grabbing his wrist, pulling his hand down lower so it just ghosts your wet heat, “keep going and find out.” 

 The rough pad of Shawn’s finger collects the wetness that has already pooled between your legs, “fuck,” he whispers from the back of his throat. 

 Your hips buck against his hand when he circles your clit for the first time and you let out a high pitched breath. Shawn’s fingers stop immediately, “shhh, baby. Keep it quiet. Don’t want to make any noise and wake anyone upstairs. I’m going make you cum on this couch,” he bites the tenderest spot of your neck, “but only if you don’t make any noise. Then I’m going to properly fuck you in the bedroom.” 

 You nod, too scared to open your mouth for fear of a moan coming out. 

 “Good,” Shawn cooes, letting his fingers go back to work, “now pay attention to the movie.” 

 He starts off slow, letting just his middle finger circle your clit. A warmness starts in your belly and drifts further south slowly. Your hands clutch the blanket Shawn has covering the both of you when he dips his middle and index fingers between your folds. He bites down on your neck to stop his own moans and thinks about what your pussy is going to feel like later when his cock is filling you up. Your walls are wet and you’re so fucking tight already against his fingers, his cock aches imagining how you’ll feel later tonight. 

 “Fuck Shawn, like that,” you whisper when his thumb circles your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you. 

 Shawn is relentless. While at first he was starting slow, greed took over and now he worked your walls so intensely you were going to finish any second. With each curl of his fingers inside of you, pressing against the spongy spot that only he knew how to reach, you came closer to your end. 

 It starts as a warm prickling heat in your toes, building up your legs and thighs until it lands in your belly. You grind against his hand for more friction, fucking desperate to reach your high, Shawn’s hips occasionally bucking into you, feeling his fully hard cock against your back. Fuck, you couldn’t wait to have him inside of you.

 “So close,” is all you can breathe out. 

 Shawn knows it too, he can feel your walls starting to contract and as you’re about to let out a moan in celebration of your high, his lips are on yours, muffling the sounds with a kiss as his fingers slow down, your body shivering when he pulls them out completely. 

 “How’s that for a sloppy fingerbang?” He jokes, eyebrow cocked and peppering soft kisses all over your cheek and forehead. 

 You reach behind you, between the two of you and palm his length through his sweatpants. He bites the bit of skin he just kissed on your cheek, “so how about you take me upstairs now?” You say, using your free hand to pull him down for a hungry kiss, “want all of you now.” 

 Shawn shakes his head, “not yet baby,” he says, although his cock is aching to have her, “wanna make you cum again.”

 “Shawn, I’m already so sensitive I don’t think I can take - AH!”

 With one motion the blanket is off of you and he’s pulled your pajama pants down to your ankles. The cool air hits your core, and you snap your legs together, your nerves still buzzing from your last high. 

 “Baby, what are you doing?” You whisper. 

 Shawn drops your pajama pants to the floor and spreads your legs back open slowly, licking his lips at the night of you spread wide open before him. He lays flat on his stomach, settling between your thighs, throwing one leg over the back of the couch and the other atop his shoulder. 

 “Second dessert,” he says with a sly smirk, peppering your inner thighs with kisses. 

 You roll your eyes, “you’re so fucking cheesy. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you? Your boner looks...painful.”

 Shawn smiles against your skin, “no, baby. Just lie back and relax. We’ll take care of me later, hmm?” He says, pressing a kiss to your core. 

 You manage a shaky yes before he starts getting to work. Shawn’s more deliberate this time, he wants to make you wait for your second orgasm, build you up over and over again until you can’t take it anymore. He wants you soaking, writing and begging underneath him. 

 His tongue laps you slowly, the muscle tracing figure eight patterns against your clit. Shawn’s arms snake around your thighs, locking them in place, his large hand sprawled across your belly to keep you from moving. He knows you get greedy when he’s eating you out. Your fingers thread his curls, scratching at his scalp the way he likes before tugging lightly. 

 “Holy shit,” you moan. 

 “Quiet,” Shawn reminds, his breath hot against you.

 Your back arches off the couch when his middle finger slips between your folds and curls in a come hither motion. Your mouth opens but the moan gets lost somewhere in your throat. He’s edging you now, bringing you to the brink, just when you’re about to reach your high and then he stops, kisses or nips at your inner thigh before going back to work. 

 You’re spent before you’ve even reached your orgasm and the sweat starts the build at your hairline as you grow impatient. Your hips squirm against his tongue, grinding against him for any added friction that would allow you the high you’ve been patiently waiting for, but Shawn is calculated. 

 “Not so fast,” he says, kissing a wet trail from your heat to your knee and back up, his chin slick with your wetness, “you’ll cum when I think you’re ready.” 

 “But baby,” you whine, “I’ve been so so close, please.” 

 The knot in your belly grows when his mouth is on you again; tongue and fingers working their synchronized magic on you. You feel it starting again, you walls starting to contract around Shawn’s fingers and you’re half expecting him to stop but this time he doesn’t, and he watches your body rise and fall against the couch as your body is rocked with your second orgasm of the night. Your hands leave his hair to cover your mouth and muffle your moans as he continues to lick you through your high. 

 Your body is trembling when he stops, and Shawn reaches for the pajama pants on the floor and gently tugs them back onto your lower half, your skin still electric as you work on coming down.

 Shawn stands, and the tent in his sweatpants looks excruciating when he turns to face you. You sit up slowly, face level with his cock. Leaning forward you press your lips against it for a kiss through his sweatpants, tongue swiping at a wet spot of precum that had leaked through. When you look up at him through your lashes Shawn is tipping his head backwards, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. 

 “Fuck, as much as I’d love your mouth right now, I’m already so close and I need finish inside of you,” he says.

 You stand, your legs a bit wobbly and Shawn doesn’t hesitate in throwing you over his shoulder and marching the two of you into the bedroom. He shuts the door quietly and tosses you onto the bed. You giggle at the bounce and he wastes no time stripping off all his clothing. You bite down hard onto your bottom lip when his cock springs free from his boxers. 

 You really wish he would’ve let you suck him off.

 You peel your shirt off and toss it across the room, Shawn taking care of your pajama pants while you slide backwards onto the bed, resting against the pillows. He kneels at the foot of the bed, crawling slowly towards you, drinking in your naked body. 

 “This brings back memories, huh?” You say, looking around his childhood room. It remained mostly unchanged since when he moved out; band posters on the wall, a little amp in the corner covered in Vans stickers and framed achievements from his first album, “you remember our first time?” 

 “I try to forget it,” he jokes and you pinch his side, “what! You sneezed on me, and your forehead gave me a black eye!” 

 “It was allergy season!” You laugh in a hushed tone. 

 You both erupt in a fit of giggles as Shawn lands between your legs, your bodies shaking with laughter. You can feel his length against your inner thigh when he bends down to kiss you softly. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead, the tops of your cheeks and your nose, “you are so fucking beautiful,” he says, nudging your nose against his, “and all mine.”

 “Yours always,” you breathe, “now fuck me.” 

 Shawn snorts and kisses you one more time, “as you wish, my love.” 

 He reaches between your bodies and lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock as he slides it up and down your folds. 

 “Ready?” He asks and you nod. 

 He pushes himself in slowly, his jaw slacking at the feeling of your wet walls soaking him in. It takes a second to adjust to his size, always relishing the feeling of how full he makes you feel. He stops when he’s bottomed out and remains unmoving, “I just need a second,” he groans, “gonna fucking lose it too soon, you’re so fucking tight tonight baby.” 

 You kiss his shoulder, “I’m ready when you are, take your time.”

 Shawn slowly pulls out of you, slamming back in with full force. You both groan in unison, too loudly, and pause for a moment to make sure no one hears you. When you’re met with silence, he does it again, but this time he places a hand over your mouth, “quiet!” He chokes out. 

 He thrusts relentlessly, face buried in your neck. You lock your legs behind his lower back and pull him in closer to you, hips rocking at an excruciating pace. The sound your damp skin slapping bounces off the walls as Shawn desperately tries to hide his moans. 

 “F-fuck I’m not going to last much longer,” he pants, “are you close?” 

 “No, but it’s okay, let go baby.” 

 Shawn shakes his head, “nope, want you to cum with me.” 

 His hands slithers between your bodies and lands on your clit. The added friction of his rough calloused fingers against your bundle of nerves is the exact thing you needed. Shawn’s thrusts grow sloppier but rougher and you know he’s close to meeting his high. You’re not getting there fast enough so you grab his wrist to stop him. 

 “Let me do it,” you say, letting your own fingers rub your clit. 

 A new wave rushes through your body and Shawn takes a second to look back down at you, between your bodies, watching himself fuck into you while you rub yourself; he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. 

 “Fuck that’s so hot, keep going,” he begs, “cum for me please. Want to feel you clenching around my cock.” 

 You add another finger and rub in furious motions, the knot in your lower stomach expands and blooms like a flower. Your skin buzzes with electricity as you feel yourself spilling over the edge. A couple more thrusts and Shawn is coming with you, halting and spilling into you, burying his face in your neck while he breathes out a mixture of moans and curses and declarations to God.

 “That was amazing,” he breathes, collapsing onto you, feathering your face, neck and shoulder with soft kisses, anywhere his lips could touch. 

 His lips tickle you, and you know you’re going to wake up sore and bruised in the morning, the dull ache already settling in, “you’re amazing,” you say.

 ---

 The next morning you awake just as you expected; legs wobbly, with a soreness between your legs and faint purple marks speckling your body. You’re both awoken by the smell of bacon, and untangle yourselves from each other’s limbs and put your clothes back on to make it downstairs for breakfast.

 Aaliyah is sitting in the living room watching TV and just says, “dad made pancakes,” and “your hair looks like shit,” when the two of you pass through. 

 Karen and Manny are dancing around the kitchen and singing to each other when the two of you enter. You just smile and watch them for a second, admiring and watching pure love in action. Shawn holds you a little tighter and kisses the top of your head.

 “I’m surprised you’re both up this early,” Karen says with a slight chuckle and blush to her cheeks when she notices the two of you standing in the kitchen. 

 She shimmies towards you with a plate of pancakes and bacon in her hand and gives it to you, “need your, uh, sustenance this morning?”

 Confused, Shawn raises an eyebrow, “it’s not that early, I usually get up around this time to go to the gym and she has class during the week.”

 Manny flips the last pancake onto a plate and hands it to Shawn, giving him a wink and a pat to the shoulder, “next time, pull the bed out a bit, we share a wall.” 

[whifferdills]

(iDk if youre taking fic requests still?) but just one to throw on the idea pile: "Clara and the TARDIS"-style multi-Bill smut with some nice foot worship and/or bondage thrown in?

okay so i wrote this without re-reading the prompt and all i remembered was ‘Multi-Bill’ so uhhh kinda fucked it. no porn, no kink, very fluff. if you’re dead-set on filth try again in a bit, you would not be the first person to tell me ‘ummm no that’s not what i asked, try again’, and i do not mind that

anyway

Bill/The TARDIS, Bill&12, ~1.2k words, rated Teen for Implications and Situations but it’s very gen lbr

[alternately on the Ao3]

It wasn’t a fight, really. Barely even a conversation, just one of Moira’s monologues (exhausting under the best of circumstances) that, tonight, included a classic throwaway line about how it’s fine they want to get married, she’s all for gay rights, but do they have to throw it in our faces like that?

Bill entertained a brief fantasy of unleashing a stirring speech entitled “I Am A Lesbian And Fuck You”, before garbling out some stream-of-conscious rebuttal that Moira absorbed not at all. And then commenced to feel completely and utterly awful, now alone in the flat, staring down at her late-night prawn cocktail crisps, vaguely thinking about her Netflix queue.

Maybe a fight would have been better. Like where she could have come out (metaphorically) swinging, something she might have felt obligated to win, instead of letting it…not slide, exactly, but there’s a limit to how aggressive you want to get with the person paying the rent. So. Here she is. And then, without much conscious thought: here she isn’t.

She could call someone, though she won’t, since she’s got friends but not friends like that, where you ring them up at 11 pm cause you can’t stay at home and you’ve got nowhere else. No one she’d impose upon with a ‘hey can I crash on your couch tonight because I feel weird and it’s a whole thing.’ (Would be nice though, wouldn’t it? To be close to someone like that. She thinks about it a lot, and tries not to let the thought choke her too bad, not be too heavy of an emotion. It’s fine. She’s an independent woman.)

Ten minutes into her ‘Just Out For a Walk’ walk, Bill realizes she’s headed towards uni. Specifically towards the Doctor’s office. And as much as she isn’t into the idea of considering an old white man any sort of safe harbour, the ancient git kind of. Is? In a weird, elder-gay, won’t-ask-personal-questions sort of way. So she’s here, on the green facing his office windows.

She pulls out her mobile and debates for about a minute over whether she actually wants to do this, before sending a text.

     U awake?

     7777777777shiaifge 🔥 the eventual heat-death of the universe

Close enough? Close enough.

“You’re normally here in the daytime,” he says, hurriedly sweeping a stack of papers and textbooks off the chair across his desk.

She flops down on the chair, swinging her purse off and resting her feet on the haphazard pile of 1990s Phaidon art books. “Yeah.”

He stares at her, kind of wild-eyed but in that distanced way he has sometimes, like his brain isn’t quite processing the situation in the way a human would.

“Sorry about the text, I made a thing, it responds to the telephone but, ah, there’s some kinks to be worked out.” He points at a toaster on the desk, and then shrugs, and sits down gingerly.

“No worries.”

“So.”

“Yeah.”

One of the benefits to being mentee to incredibly awkward mentor is how their shortcomings reliably make you think better of yourself. Bill lets the moment play out, almost nearly feeling incrementally less awful.

“Is everything okay?”

“No.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

The Doctor exhales, visibly relieved. “So what d'you want, then? School stuff? Chit chat? Maybe go for a ride?”

“Kinda just hoped you’d let me crash here.”

“Uh.”

“Sleep on your sofa,” she elaborates.

“Oh! Yes. Of course. But also - ” He grandly gestures towards the TARDIS, with that face that indicates he’s feeling very clever. “Infinite space. Probably still a couple of bedrooms. Or you could make your own, if you’d like. Also there’s a park, park naps are excellent. Better than the couch, which was marginally comfortable before Nardole engraved his arse groove, and now is…not great.”

There’s acceptable-weird and there’s upsetting-weird, and right now, when what she wants is a warm blanket and maybe a cup of tea, sleeping in the unfathomable eldritch horror of a time-space ship is maybe the latter. But it’s not like she expected anything normal, coming here, and the Doctor looks so genuinely earnest and happy to offer up his TimeBnB, so.

“Right. Okay.” She stands up, grabs her bag off the floor, then pauses. “You coming with?”

“Nah. Got work to do. Calculus.” He nods at the guitar propped up against the bookcase.

“Right,” she says again. She makes a face, and it’s a weird face, she’d been going for a casual sort of 'Life: am I right?“ thing but it feels very much not that. “Thanks.”

“No thanks required. You’re always welcome here. Or in the TARDIS. I think she’s missed you, actually.”

He smiles; he means it. She tries not to let that choke her up too much.

“If you get lost or – whatever, text me. The toaster will probably just load up Doom in response but I’ll get the message eventually.”

This place is odd, odder than usual, here alone. Not in a bad way. From somewhere, nowhere, there’s a happy-sounding warble.

“Hey, you,” Bill says. “The Doctor said I could make a room? For sleeping in?”

The ship chirps in what she hopes is affirmation.

Does she finger the console now? There’s a bit which is definitely just for fingerbanging a sentient spacecraft. She stares at it warily.

The ship chirps again, and then turns the lights on, one by one, down a hallway. Bill shrugs, and follows.

There’s a corridor, which is a forever corridor, branching out into other forever corridors. The lights turn on in front of her, one by one.

Bill sees something out of the corner of her eye, and tries very hard not to be scared. “No one else here but us girls, yeah?”

The ship hums back.

More corridors. She sees something cross the t-junction ahead of her. Someone. Who looks a lot like her. Okay.

“Am I…am I here too? Like future-me? Is this some time-travel paradox thing?”

The ship sort of sighs, like no, like c'mon.

She turns a corner, and there she is. Her clone, future self, robo-duplicate, whatever. She resolutely does not panic. “Hey,” she says, waving.

“Hiya,” other-Bill replies, also waving.

“Are you me?”

“I’m a projection. You’re very pretty. I thought it would be nice to look like you.” The projection waves again.

Bill squints. Who knows why she’d actually thought she could just have a normal sleepover here.

“And I can do more than one,” says another not-Her, projection-clone-robot-thing, springing out from the wall behind her. “We can kiss. Many humans enjoy kissing.”

“Right. Okay. See.” Bill attempts to find her inner Zen. “I just want a good night’s sleep, yeah? Not, uh. Making out with myself, or whatever.”

Not-Bill No. 1 smiles, and takes her hand. Feels weird, like it feels real but not human-real. Like the touch is flickering between flesh and some indefinable buzz. “Come with me? There’s a pillow fort.”

Not-Bill No. 2 takes Bill’s other hand. “We can cuddle.”

Bill lets herself be lead onward. “Yeah, cuddling’s fine. I think. Let you know when we get there.”

She wakes up the next morning in the console room, feeling relatively well-rested. A memory of snuggling up with herself. Weird, good-weird, nice-weird. The ship is bleeping at her cheerfully. She’s got ten unread texts from the Doctor, nine of which are penguin-arse-typed keysmashes and one of which is a video of Doom gameplay. She settles her purse around her shoulders and exits back out into the real world, waving behind her as she goes.