#anyway I'm so happy with this coat!!! I will not take it off until next spring

[nipuni]

I got a new coat! So I had to style it 😆 which outfit is your favourite? 🤔

[osachiyo]

✧˚ 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐗 — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, atsushi & tetchou .ೃ࿐

˚➶ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — female reader, n/sfw content (mdni), fluff + crack some of y'all will get second hand embarrassment, prolly the only thing i'll write about period sex, breaking the bed, spicy cunnilingus, accidental anal, reader hits her head in one of these but dw it's fine, overall just some silly stuff ! wc for each character is like 300-400 words long :) not proofread !

˚➶ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — i've been putting this off for too long 💀 anyways, happy reading and enjoy ! also is it tetchou or tecchou idfk how to spell this dude's name 😭

"Nghh - fuuck— you're s'good at this, angel—" Dazai moaned, encouraging you to bounce on him faster. He had you in reverse cowgirl— watching your ass bounce on his pelvis as you jumped up and down on his cock, desperately trying to chase that release you've been working for.

"Feels— feels so g-good!" You cried out, pretty nails digging into his thigh, making him let out a pornographic moan - which made you clench on him even more.

Dazai groaned, grabbing handfuls of your ass and spreading them apart to see the mouthwatering view of your cunt greedily swallowing his cock. That's when he saw little streaks of blood coating his cock - mixed with your slick and his precum... and he realized that you must be starting your period.

If Dazai was being completely honest - he didn't really care about the blood, and no way he was stopping right now— when you're riding him so deliciously and looking so fucking sexy while doing it - he'd be insane (like he isn't already) if he were to stop you now. Plus, he didn't want you to get embarrassed— no, that's the last thing he wanted.

He definitely told you after sex, though. He was like, "oh yeah, you're on your period, by the way." It kind of shocked you how casual he was about it - which he noticed, of course. He'd laugh at your bewildered face, chuckling as you ask him if he's not grossed out. He'd wave you off, "sweetheart, do you think i'm a boy? Trust me, a little bit of blood doesn't bother me."

You were about to reply when a cramp hit you straight in the guts - making you hiss out and curl into yourself in pain. Dazai frowned, quickly sitting next to you to brush your hair out of your face - "you alright, sweet girl?" You groaned in response, "mm - yeah, j-just these damn period cramps are killing me."

Dazai pretended to think for a bit, even rubbing his finger on his chin to add the extra effect, making you roll your eyes at his silly antics. he looked deep in thought for a moment until you heard him snapping his finger, pointing at you with a wink - "aha! I know exaaactly how to get rid of your cramps." Your eyebrows pinched together at his words, knowing it's gonna be something dumb.

"Let's go for another roun— oumph!" You threw a pillow at him, resulting him falling backwards on his butt. "I knew you were gonna say that!" You groaned, kicking your legs - snickering at the way he rubs his bottom. "Gosh, you are just the meanest, aren't you?" He whined - making you giggle, "oh? well, that would make you the horniest!"

"Hey! I was serious - it really works— oumph!"

You were currently face-down, ass-up on Chuuya's lavish bed— as he pushed your face further into the pillow, cunt greedily sucking his fat cock in. He didn't even bother with taking off your clothes— just ripping them and grumbling about buying you new ones when you went to protest.

"Argh— shhiiiit- takin' m-me s'well, babydoll," growling, he pulled you up by your hair - back against his chest and fuck, you could feel him in the deepest part of you - hammering inside of your puffy pussy while reaching a free hand to play with that tiny clit. "Chuuya— C-chuuya!" You squealed, face landing on the pillow with an "oof!" as he pushed you back against it. "S-shut it, fu—ck! 'yer so tight," he almost whimpered, hand untangling itself from your hair to pinch and tweak at your nipples - before landing a mean smack on your ass.

He was speeding up - almost at an inhuman pace, as the headboard continuously slammed against the wall. But the both of you failed to notice the cracking noise - too lost in the pleasure, before the bed came crashing down.

'fuck, you're doin' so good ba— whAT THE FUCK—?!" Chuuya screeched as you both fell on the floor along with the broken bed. "Shit - are you okay, baby?" He quickly checked you for any injuries— only to see that you were still dazed, your mouth agape and eyes glossed over— too cockdrunk to even process that the bed broke.

“Argh— fuck it,” he thought, just going back to pounding your cunt as if it didn’t just break down. Making his pretty girl gush all over him was way more important— and plus, he could easily buy another bed.

You scolded him after getting your back blown out. But he couldn’t care less, if he was being completely honest.

In reality, it actually turned him on even more— his new goal from now on is breaking the bed everytime while fucking - from the sheer force of it. So um.. goodluck walking..?

You were cuddled up on the couch with your boyfriend of 6 months, watching a cute movie when you suddenly felt something stiff poking against your ass— how cute, you thought - biting your lip as you ground back against him, earning a sharp gasp from Atsushi.

Things escalated from that to you being on top of him— fervently making out, shy fingers digging into the plush of your hips as you continued grinding on his dick— moaning into each other's mouths.

Eventually you ended up on your back, with Atsushi rutting into you fast and hard as you threw your head back. He was inexperienced— but you had to say, what he lacked in technique, he made up for in enthusiasm. His face was buried in your neck, letting out puffs of hot air as he suppressed the urge to bite down on your shoulder and mark you up— he didn't want to hurt or scare you off.

"Oh— god, 'sushi that feels so—" you moaned, lips parting as you silently begged for a kiss - to which he gladly complied. "Fuck— yes, s'good—!" Atsushi moaned, eyes rolling back slightly as you clamped down on him further, you were close and so was he.

But somehow, he managed to slip out of your tight cunt— making him whine and quickly try to push it back in, desperate to feel your warm walls around him again. He slipped in with some issues— it felt like you had gotten tighter but he didn't mind. Holy shit though, it felt so much warmer and tighter no— "OW OW—! ATSUSHI!"

He immediately jumped upon hearing your pained shriek, "what's wro—" "Pull out - right now!" You sneered, glaring at him as he complied. "That was the wrong hole— you idiot!" You scolded, but your gaze got softer when you saw him sulking - he didn't mean to hurt you!

"I- I'm so sorry— it just accidentally slipped out a-and then I tried to push it back in and—" he was speaking really fast, trying his best to explain himself before you put your hand up, palm against his chest.

"I get it— sorry for yelling at you," you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you climbed onto his lap. He nodded, still sulking because he felt so guilty— god, he just can't do anything righ—

"Don't beat yourself up for it, okay? It wasn't your fault," you spoke as if you could read his mind, making him relax his tensed shoulders as he nodded.

..You two just decided to continue the movie and cuddle the night away.

Akutagawa had you backed up against some large shelves inside a storage room, while you two were on a mission. He'd normally prefer to have you somewhere else— somewhere more private and comfortable but you just had to be a damn tease the whole fucking day, and now he's finally got his hands on you.

"So— fucking— desperate—" each word that fell from his chapped lips were accompanied by a mean thrust, the tip of his cock brushing against that one spot inside of your walls. He had you completely trapped against the large set of shelves with rashōmon— leaving you with no ways to escape him. "Haah— d-did a little bending g-get you this worked u-up?" You added fuel to the fire— making his right eye twitch in annoyance, what a lousy mouth you had.

He said nothing, though— only speeding his pace up, as heavy breaths and pants left him— an unusual flush spread across his cheeks. "You really— shit!— d-don't know when to shut the fuck up," he growled, as a pale hand found your tits— slapping the jiggling fat before landing a harsh slap to each.

Your back arched with each pound of his hips into your gooey cunt— both of you feeling lightheaded from the pleasure circulating through your veins. So lightheaded in fact, you both somehow failed to notice the heavy book on top one of the shelves inching closer and closer towards the very edge— a small impact against the wood would most likely make it fall.

"oh— AkuOWW—!" And fall it did— right on top of your head before it bounced off and fell on the floor. You yelled in pain, the dull pain making you head throb. Akutagawa just...paused— eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. He didn't know what to say— should he ask if you're okay? He's never been good at this stuff — so he just.. kinda... stood there and stared.

Made sure you're alright after he was over the initial shock, though — telling you that you should've seen it coming, earning him a few curses from you.

Tetchou had you spread on the couch, strong hands holding your thighs against your chest, giving him a perfect view of the soaked cunt he was about to devour.

"You look so pretty between my legs," you cooed, running your fingers through his burgundy locks. "Yeah? Well, I wish you could see my view, gorgeous girl," he spoke while nibbling the insides of your thighs— placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses wherever his lips could reach. His face was lightly flushed pink — your praises always made him hot and bothered, it encouraged him to do even better — make you feel even better.

A small moan caught in your throat when your boyfriend slowly peeled away the slick-soaked panties from your juicy cunt, pulling them down your legs before flinging them off somewhere. The cold night air hitting your bare sex made you try to clench your thighs back together — but to no avail, as Tetchou kept them apart firmly. He felt himself salivating at the sight of your exposed cunt — wanting to dive right in.

And dive right in he did, licking a fat stripe up your cunt, collecting your juices on his tongue before smearing them all over your clit, feeling your thighs shake and tummy clench at the stimulation. "Don't hold them back f'me," he let out a muffled grunt. "Your moans — don't hold 'em back," he clarified, before shamelessly shaking his head back and forth on your cunt — causing you to arch your back as your fingers tightened their grip on his hair.

"A-ah, Tetchou—" you threw your head back with a whine, trying to lift your hips up to grind into his mouth, to which he responded to by pushing you even further into the couch, "don't move," he panted, basically growling into your pussy. He couldn't help but hump into the couch — way too turned on by your pleasure.

It was all going great — amazing even, until you felt a light burn on your cunt, confusion lacing all your features. It didn't take long for the burning sensation to build up — the pleasure slowly disappearing, as discomfort kicked in.

"W-wait — Tetchou," you panted, trying to pull his head away from your aching (literally) cunt. Tetchou only growled in response, latching onto your pussy harder — you knew better than to interrupt him during a meal.

But it fucking burned! So you just yelled out, "it burns!" And felt him immediately pause — slowly lifting his head from the spot between your thighs and looking utterly confused, "what?"

"I — I don't know, but my pussy fucking burns," you snapped, worry laced all over your features.

Then suddenly, a look of realization mixed with mortification fills your boyfriend's face. You cocked an eyebrow at him, "what is it?"

"... I forgot I ate those... spicy noodles and... some of the sauce was probably still on my lips...."

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @sukiischaotic @squigglewigglewoo @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter-archived @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

[whorekneecentral]

Winter Wonderland

Toto Wolff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: toto would do anything for reader, some friendly teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a bit of an age gap (reader's late 20s/early 30s), handsy toto, the two of you are kinda drunk, daddy kink, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slight edging, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie.

Word Count: 1,772

Author's Note: this one goes out to all the dilf lovers.

merry smutmas series

--

Your husband skips out on Christmas every year due to work but this year, he ends up in London. You make it your mission to introduce him to some holiday fun.

Toto had one last work engagement to do this week before he's officially off for the holidays and it took him to London. So by extension, you made it to London as well.

Your husband had left you in the hotel, promising you that he'll be back in a few hours after doing his final work meeting before he was on holiday break.

When he returns, he finds you in the same spot he left you, on the couch. "Babe, have you not gotten up all day?"He asks, shrugging his coat off.

"I did, I ordered room service so I had to get it from the door," you tell him, eyes glued to the TV.

Toto laughs, making his way over to sit next to you. You lean into the man, his arms wrapped around you and you can still feel the chill on his skin despite him wearing a coat when he was outside. It takes him a second to realize that you weren't in your pyjamas, but you were dressed as if you were going out.

The man looks at you with raised eyebrows, there's a hint of a smile on your face. "I know that look, what are you up to?" He asked.

"Okay I know you're probably tired but we leave for home tomorrow and I really wanna go!"

"Go where?"

"Hyde park," you tell him, showing him the pictures of their winter wonderland on your phone. "I saw the ad already for their winter wonderland today and then I looked it up and I fell into a loophole, so now we have tickets." You smiled sweetly at him - if there was one thing more important to Toto than work, it was you and your happiness.

"Are you serious, y/n?"

"Yes, now come on," you get up, trying to pull him up. Toto huffs, "I have emails to answer." He reluctantly follows you to the door.

"The emails will still be here when you get back," you handed him his coat before putting your own on. "Let's go."

Toto drives, of course - not like he ever lets you drive anyways. The first half hour was just the two of you trying to find your way around, it was a lot more packed than you were expecting but to be fair it was a week until Christmas, so it was to be expected you suppose.

You grab his hand and pull him towards what seems to be a circus tent. Toto looks at you a bit unsure for a moment, "is this.. an actual circus?" He followed you in and his question was answered; it was.

He sits next to you in the back row, the two of you waiting for the show to start. "Are you 5? Why are we at the circus ?"

"I mean, in comparison to you, I basically am." You smiled and he chuckled, his hand in yours as you two watched the show.

He would never admit it to you but he enjoyed doing things like this with you, it was nice to see that you kept a bit of your childishness alive.

After the circus, you made your way around the park once more, taking a million photos and trying out all the games until Toto was lugging around a big bag with stuffed animals.

"Do you think that's enough?" He asks, walking towards the car. You shrugged, "I guess but I'm hungry now."

"Dinner then?" He suggests, nodding to the busy street. You're not, fingers interlocking with your husband as you walk down the street towards no actual destination in mind. You were just hoping to stumble upon a place that wasn't too busy.

And eventually you did, a little restaurant tucked away between all the madness. You and Toto sat at a table by the window, the table covered in junk food and a bottle of cheap wine.

"Did you have fun tonight ?" You asked your husband, popping a fry into your mouth. He shrugs, taking a sip of wine. You can't help but roll your eyes, "you totally did! Don't lie."

Toto laughs, a grin on his face. "Yeah, okay. I did have a little fun, but maybe next time find an indoor activity?"

"Nope," you popped the P, "as your wife, it's my job to make your life unnecessarily complicated, just for fun."

He rolls his eyes, taking some fries off your plate. "You'll be the death of me."

You two ended up topping off the bottle of wine, Toto pays the bill and his fingers interlock with yours as you walk back to the car. The streets have calmed by now, but there's a few people walking around on their way to wherever.

Your husband pulls you into his side, your arm wrapped around his torso as you make it back to the car. The man has you leaning on the hood, his cold hands cupping your cheeks before he kisses you. His hands wander and you blush, stopping him.

"Not here."

"Don't tell me you're getting shy on me." He kisses along your cheek, the tip of his nose cold as it rubs against your skin.

You giggled, giving him a slight shove off of you. "We're in the middle of the street, it's more like stopping you from getting arrested for public indecency."

He laughs, opening the car door for you and letting you get in. Toto's hand rests on your thigh the entire drive back to the hotel and he can barely keep his hands off of you to make it up to the room.

His lips on your neck, arms wrapped around you from behind, the two of you giggling as you attempt to open the door.

"It's not opening," you grumbled, trying to unlock the door.

Toto pulls on the handle a bit, pressing the key to it. "Finally," he says when the lock clicks, "let me unwrap my gift."

You giggled, rolling your eyes at your husband's cheesy use of the words, but you let him drag you into the room and drop you on the bed.

He's careful, even though he's drunk - his movements are exact as he undoes the buttons on your shirt, tossing it into the pile of clothes that's developing on the floor.

"Move your legs, baby." He whispers, moving them up to rest on the edge of the bed as he drops himself down onto his knees. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Toto drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy. 

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the red lace that covered your cunt.

You smile, “I know. Wore it just for you, daddy." The name makes the man smile.

Toto can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the red lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt. 

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him. 

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. He knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more.

Two fingers pushing into you, he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit. 

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much. 

He's sick and twisted and pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers wiped on your inner thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness. 

"I hate you," you grumbled, your husband smiles as he kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "You love me."

"Sometimes."

He smiles, standing up to undo his pants. Toto pulls you back to the edge of the bed, one of your legs hitch on his hip as his hand wanders.

Your eyes fixed on his hand that was moving down your chest at the moment. Toto's lips follow his fingers, kissing and leaving little marks as he goes along his way. His tongue brushes over your nipple, your back arches involuntarily; your body betrays you. 

Your eyes find his and his hand rubbing along your thigh before pulling you toward the edge of the bed a little more before he pushes into you. The other ankle is over his shoulder now.

He fucks you the way he knows you like it; rough.

You were a sight to see; back arched off the bed, hair sprawled out in perfect curls, eyes closed and your head tilted back, his name tumbling from your lips for what felt like the millionth time.

He’s never seen a prettiest sight.

He feels you clench around him, the hand on his shoulder digs in, your nails leaving behind their own set of marks. His hand reaches between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit once again.

“Oh my god,” your hips bucked, his fingers matching the pace of his hips, your body rocking back and forth to get the most out of him.  

“C’mon pretty girl, want you to cum for me.” he says, knowing it won't be long more, especially not after him leaving you on the edge earlier.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut and he reaches you with his other hand, holding your jaw and pulling you up a little, your elbows holding up the weight of your body.

"Open your eyes, baby, look at me." He whispers, kissing you softly.

A few more sloppy thrusts and between that and his fingers, you’re over the edge.  He kisses you, muffling the noise you were making. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, he follows behind you. 

It takes you a second to gather yourself and register that your husband has collapsed on top of you. Your hands rubbing over his back.

"You okay?" you asked him quietly and the man nodded, moving so you two could lay comfortably.

Your leg draped over his, his arm wrapped over your shoulder. You catch him staring at you and you smile, nodding. "What?"

"We should come to London every year."

"Yeah," you nod, resting your head on his chest. "I'd like that."

---

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[maggplays]

Bio? Something like that.

How did I start modding? Literally no one has asked this, but here's my story, don't worry it's not long... I guess that depends on what your definition of “long” is, haha! Hang on, here we go.

On a random day in January, 2024, a few days before my birthday, I might add... I woke up to stars in my right eye. A few days later, I was told I had a very rare injury and it would never heal. Those are not words an artist/gamer wants to hear! Long story short, I am now legally blind in my right eye. If you think, oh that's not a huge deal, you can still see. Humor me, get a cheap pirate eyepatch, put that on, then pour yourself a cup of coffee. Not as easy as you thought, right? Depth perception. It’s a thing. Anyway, on with the story. Suffice it to say, I was depressed. Majorly. Then, through some random conversation somewhere, I found Stardew Valley.

Perfect! 2D animation, cute pixel art, story that's not sugar-coated anime, I love it! Got to year 3, TBH I've never played past year 3 because ADHD, and realized the dialogue was quite lacking. Then I discovered mods. What the-, it's a freakin' goldmine! Downloaded a lot of things, mostly dialogue, and tossed half of them. While playing through a Sebastian run, I saw it. Oh. My. God. It's a coding error glaring at me in my dialogue box. This is NOT acceptable. I tried to ignore it, but then it happened again. Okay, time for some investigation. I opened the folder and found... json files. Interesting, I wasn't entirely clueless since I do know HTML code from back when the internet was a baby, Facebook had no ads, and dinosaurs roamed the earth. Okay, okay, the internet was more like a spoiled toddler. Yes, I'm old. Shut up. But I digress. It didn't take long to discover the misplaced punctuation and go on my merry reality-avoiding way. Until I got bored again.

I looked for more Seb mods, but there were like seven. Three were yandere, not my jam, and only 2 were updated for 1.6 and were dialogue-only. Solution? Make my own mod for myself. I spent six weeks downloading mods, learning code, Googling to very little effect, writing dialogue, learning how to make an event, discovering I knew nothing, and on and on. The perfect distraction from the whole eye thing. I finished a decent draft, loaded it up, and praise Yoba, it worked! And on we play. At some point, I saw a comment complaining about the lack of Sebastian dialogue mods. Huh, yep, they're right. Too bad. Oh. Well, I guess I could load this thing I made, it's really just my own internal story monologue while playing the game, I'm NOT a writer, and most people probably won't get it. But I did spend a lot of time on this, and maybe someone out there will like it. Heck, no skin off my nose since it's free. So I took a deep breath, made peace with my inner demons, and threw it out into the void of Nexus, expecting it to be swallowed up and ignored. That... didn't happen.

In the first few hours, several people downloaded it. Huh, Nexus must have a decent search algorithm. That was literally all I thought about it. The next day, 300 downloads. And comments! Mostly positive with the exception of one wild demand I subsequently ignored. At one week, it had 3,000 unique downloads. I was floored, 3,000 weirdos downloaded my mod. Add to that, people seemed to actually like it! I've never gotten so much positive feedback for anything in my life. Seriously. Apparently, my oddball internal monologue, thanks ADHD, is quite entertaining. Heck, might as well make another one... and here we are. Yes, I've gotten negative comments and unreasonable demands, but I do my best to ignore them and practice staying positive. Trolls be damned! It's a lot harder to do that for yourself than for other people, turns out.

So, bottom line, found something interesting? Try it! Does it make you happy? Keep doing it! Even if it's only for yourself, do the thing and let it make you smile. Share it with the world if you're so inclined. Get out there and kick ass!!

[untitled5071]

your drabble of taffy meeting the creature earlier on the film makes me want to see those two being friends. but also taffy realising the creature likes lisa but lisa is too focused on michael to notice. catch her putting some colour on his face and painting his nails. she makes him watch romantic films to give him ideas on how to win lisa over

I'm glad you liked the last one! I have no idea of you meant for this to be a request but I took it as one anyway, please enjoy some Creature/Taffy bonding time!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Okay, the next thing we have to work on is your nails, because no offense, but judging by these cuticles I can absolutely tell that you were in the ground for a century and a half.”

The corpse across from her grunted in indignation, but the effect was skewed by the blush that dusted his cheeks and the fluffy pink scrunchie that was currently holding his hair back. 

Taffy rolled her eyes teasingly and held out her hand, gesturing for the creature to give her his. He complied, and she grabbed the manicure kit she had gotten for Christmas the year before and got to work, pushing his cuticles back gently and cleaning up his nail beds as best she could while her TV announced the next music video it would be playing behind her.

They were sitting on the floor of Taffy’s bedroom; Lisa had gone out for a snack run and left her step sister alone with her secret undead companion, and Taffy hadn’t hesitated to use the opportunity to give the creature in her sister’s closet some much-needed pampering.

 He had protested the idea until Taffy had told him it would make him look more presentable for Lisa, and soon he was reluctantly sitting cross-legged in front of her on her bright teal carpet while Taffy tried and failed to find a foundation shade that matched his pallid skin. 

The process of applying makeup hadn’t lasted long since the creature wanted to remain as natural (unnatural?) as possible, and soon Taffy was taking his hand in hers and applying a base coat of nail polish onto his left hand while he watched curiously. Her TV was tuned into MTV, and she could see Creature stare at it for short bursts at a time before looking away, slightly overwhelmed by the colors, sounds and images he was being exposed to for the first time. 

Taffy hummed along as she fixed up his nails, and when she finished up the left hand she mimed blowing on it and told him to copy her, which he did as she moved onto the right hand, ignoring the stitches as she got started. 

A few minutes of silence lapsed between them; the creature was probably still a little unsure of whether or not he should be hanging around with her; they had a shaky introduction, but he seemed harmless enough to Taffy and she was just happy that someone was around for her sister in a way she herself had never quite been able to despite her best efforts, so he was okay in her book. And Taffy was clearly the family member that Creature had the least amount of disdain towards, so they had formed a tentative friendship, one that Taffy was currently trying to strengthen with this little makeover. 

Deciding to break the silence, she looked up into the corpse’s bewildered eyes and smiled, tearing him away from his staring contest with Billy Idol in the “Rebel Yell” music video.

“Don’t even think about getting bleached, buddy. Blonde would not be a good look for you.”

He grunted again, slightly offended, but she waved him off.

“Let’s rap. When did you first get the hots for Lisa?”

His grunt pitched up in surprise, and he gave her a look that was somehow sheepish, guilty and mortified all at once. 

“Dude, it’s totally obvious. You aren’t subtle AT ALL, I think everyone but Lisa herself can see that you’re totally smitten.”

His cheeks darkened under the artificial blush she had given him, and she nodded sagely. 

“Told you. So, when did it happen? When you got reanimated?”

The creature shook his head and pointed out an arched path with his left hand. 

“Oh, before? When you were still in the ground?”

He nodded, and Taffy whistled, impressed. 

“Damn, that’s some dedicated crush. Who knew grave tending was such a good way to meet guys?”

The creature snorted out a laugh, and Taffy raised a well-plucked eyebrow inquisitively. 

“So when are you going to tell her that you’re head over heels, huh? Frankly I think she should have noticed ages ago, but she’s always needed a bit more help in matters of love than most people and she won’t take my word for it, so you’re probably going to have to do some show and tell before she gets it.”

He hummed distractedly, his blush still very much present as he thought about ways to woo Taffy’s stepsister. She finished up his right hand and took his left again, his brow sill deeply furrowed in thought as she picked up the bottle of black nail polish that she had gotten for the Miss Tristate Teen Halloween pageant and began applying it to his now-dry nails. 

“I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head, you know. If you need any help we can go raid her VHS collection, I know she’s got some rom coms in there that you could get some inspiration from.”

He groaned in agreement, eyebrows still scrunched together. Taffy rolled her eyes fondly at the lovesick, oblivious idiot in front of her. 

“But you know, you probably don’t need much help. She may not realize it yet, but I can tell she’s got feelings for you, too. I don’t have to be an I.P. for that, I just know. I haven’t seen her talk or smile this much since I met her, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’s turning heads in the hallway. That’s all you, and I’m sure she’ll realize it eventually. Just so long as you keep doing what you’re doing and practically worshiping the ground she walks on, she’ll figure it out. I promise.”

She switched to his other hand as the creature absorbed her words, and when she looked up he grunted, the words lost but the message clear. 

Thank you. 

She beamed at him. 

“You’re welcome. Just don’t break her heart, or else I’m going to put you back in the ground for good this time, okay?”

She said it brightly, but her eyes were anything but joking. Creature’s own widened in turn and he shook his head vigorously and with complete conviction. Taffy nodded, satisfied. 

“Now hold still or you’re going to mess me up.”

The corpse complied, letting Taffy get back to work. She hummed along to the music video playing behind her, and she was just about to put the finishing touches on his thumb when the front door opened and shut under them, and the sound of combat booted feet trampling up the stairs caught their attention. A few seconds later, Lisa poked her head into Taffy’s bedroom door, arms laden with candy bags and eyes bright. 

“Oh, hey guys! Are you doing makeovers?”

“Yep! Come join us, though I should warn you I require payment for my services in the form of Bottlecaps.”

Lisa smiled and walked into the room, handing the previously mentioned candy to Taffy before plopping down next to her corpse, patting the top of his head before taking a look at the spread of self-care items before them. 

While Lisa was absorbed in her examinations, Taffy absolutely did not miss the absolutely adoring eyes the creature was turning her way, nor the way his longing practically radiated off of him in waves. She grinned, and the corpse looked up and caught her eye. She winked at him and gave him a quick double thumbs-up out of Lisa’s view, and his eyes widened, before he relaxed slightly and gave her a shy, conceding smile. 

The moment was interrupted by Lisa straightening, her hands wrapped around the same bottle of nail polish Taffy had just finished using on the Creature. 

“Oooh, can you do mine? I didn’t even know you had black in your collection and I’m awful at doing my own right hand.”

Taffy smiled, utterly delighted at the idea of helping her sister out with a fresh coat of paint. She stretched out her hand and Lisa took it, fingers spread as she bounced a little. The goth looked over at her undead companion as Taffy began painting, and when she noticed his nails her smile widened. 

“Hey, look at that. We’re gonna match!”

He beamed at her in turn, his devotion lined in every crease of his face, and Lisa scooted slightly closer to him, their thighs pressed together. 

Taffy turned her attention to her work, just barely keeping the smile off of her own face. 

They’ll figure it out. Eventually. 

[avocado-writing]

Hello, writing req prompt if you're up for it: Aziraphale x reader first time intimacy

Btw I'm eating your every fic they so good!

notes: my fav thing is when people eat my stories. Reminds me of that Maurice sendak story. Anyway hope you enjoy!!!

pairing: aziraphale x reader

rating: E, minors dni

The first time he touches you it’s totally without realising. His mail got delivered to your shop and you’re bringing it over, grateful to have an excuse to talk to the man you’ve quite fancied since you met at the last Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Street Traders Association. As you pass him the small pile of letters your fingers brush together and you feel a little spark of electricity. You’re not sure if it’s static, or something… else. 

He offers you a cup of tea, and you accept it happily. He’s very easy to talk to. Before you realise, the day has slipped into evening. 

The first time he touches you on purpose it’s because you’ve walked into his shop and slipped over, falling heavily on your arse. It’s raining outside and you apparently brought in a puddle with you. The only thing bruised is your pride but he rushes over and offers a sturdy hand to get to your feet, all worry and care. 

“My dear, are you alright?”

“Yes, sorry! I didn’t mean to get your shop floor all wet. I can always mop…”

“Don’t be silly. You need a cup of cocoa and some biscuits on the double. Sit down, I’ll get you both. Oh, but let me take that wet coat first.”

It’s nice to have him fuss over you. You only came round to ask if he could see about getting a book in and, if you’re honest, that was just an excuse to say hello. He helps slip your raincoat off of your shoulders and he must also realise how intimate an action it is, because as he goes to put it on the coatrack his cheeks are flushed pink. 

Another lovely chatty afternoon. He reveals he’s never seen Notting Hill, and you simply can’t allow that to continue unremedied. So the two of you sit on his couch (he seems more than happy to close the store early) and enjoy the movie as much as each other’s company. 

The first time he holds you, it’s on one of the film nights you’ve scheduled with him. It’s your favourite part of the week, closing up your shop and scuttling to the bookstore with a dvd in hand. You’re watching the 1995 Sense and Sensibility, and he seems very tense the entire way through. For a while you’re not sure why until he finally gathers up the courage to put his arm around you. Your heart leaps up into your throat at the gesture, but you snuggle in tight next to him, letting him run his thumb up and down your shoulder in a little caress. 

And the first time he kisses you is as he walks you back to your shop that night - you live in the flat above it, so he doesn’t have to accompany you as it’s just over the road, but he insists it’s the gentlemanly thing to do - and, at the door, you spin and give him a quick peck. He seems dazed, but manages to get ahold of his senses enough to bring you back for a second, proper kiss. 

At your next movie night, you don’t pay attention to Four Weddings and a Funeral. You’re too busy snogging. 

And now, here you are. In his lap. The kissing has gotten hot and heavy, he’s unbuttoned your shirt nearly all the way down; you’ve stripped him of his waistcoat which makes him seem positively nude. His hands slide under your thighs and grip you tightly, moving a little closer to your arse as you breathe hotly into the shell of his ear. 

“Aziraphale…” you gasp, stretching your legs open wide so that he might fit between them better. Your hand runs down his beautiful thick chest to the front of his trousers, where you rub the strained tent. He gasps and his head rolls back at your sure touch. 

“Can I…?”

“Yes. Please,” he chokes. You make quick work of his fly and reach in to take him in your hand. He’s hot and heavy in your palm, throbbing with need, and you give him a couple of pumps just to hear the little overwhelmed noises he makes. 

He slips his fingers away from where they dig into your soft skin and presses them at the sweet point between your thighs. You moan and keel into him, letting his deft and precise movements sweep over you with pleasure. You kiss him again, moving only so that you can take off enough of your clothes to return with your lower half naked. To disrobe further would mean you’d have to stop touching him, and you can’t stand that thought. You need him close. As close as he can possibly be. 

Aziraphale settles his hands on your waist as you take him once more into your grasp. You line him up with your entrance and, checking that he’s ready with sultry eyes, sink down on him. He moans, bloody moans, and it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard; you want to bottle it and keep it for yourself so you can listen to it again and again. He fills you, stretches you, makes you one with him. You’ve never felt so warm and complete in your life. 

Hands on his shoulders you tip forward to be able to rest your forehead against his. You’re both a little sweaty, both a little breathless, but both more than a little elated. His soft curls tickle your face as you begin to ride him with gentle but deliberate motions. You roll your hips and he squeezes you tighter, your name falling from his lips like he’s offering up a prayer to you. 

As the London rain pelts the windows, you make love to the bookseller in the back of his shop, and it’s perfect.  -

Taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul @@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@cool-iguana@this--is--music @ilyatan

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

Needed kisses with Silver x Fem Reader. Take your time and no pressure <3

Hey! Thanks for the request. Sorry for how long it took I've been suffering with lack of inspiration for a long while now. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this little fic!

My Kofi is here if anyone feels like donating. It helps a lot.

Warnings: Female reader, lots of kisses, short fic.

Request: Yeppers.

Words: 748

New chapstick was always something you favored getting, and you'd gotten quite a few various flavors this time. Really, it was all a plan so you could get some extra kisses. Really who doesn't like kisses?

Applying the chapstick across her bottom lip before rubbing them together she turned towards Silver, who was sitting on the other side of her bed cleaning off his magic pen after a day of training. Noting your pleasing stare he looked over at you, tucking the wand shaped pen away. “What is it?" He asked, noting the glossy texture of your lips.

“What flavor do you think this is?" You pointed to your lips, making Silver's eyebrows raise.

“I don't know. Blueberry?” He gave a guess, and you shook your head. "You're supposed to taste it and then guess, silly.” Silver gave a blank look for a moment, before a smile grazed over his face.

“You know, if you wanted a kiss or two you could've just asked," He shook his head, “I would've been more than happy to oblige, (Y/n)." But ultimately he decided to play into his girlfriend's little game anyways. Just for the fun in it.

Leaning in and sweeping your hair out of your face, Silver pressed a chaste kiss against your lips, before pulling back, licking his own after. It was a long pause before he answered.

“Is it apple pie?"

The smile that broke out across your face had him huffing in amusement. "I'll take that as a yes then.”

"Okay okay next one!” You rubbed a paper towel over your lips to get off the chapstick before applying another coat of a different flavor, motioning with your hand for Silver to turn away before he spied at the flavor which he'd obliged, glancing over at the wall until you were finished putting on another flavor of chapstick.

“Okay, ready!"

Silver hummed and turned towards you, cupping your cheek before guiding your lips together a second time that hour. His eyes eased shut and he ran a hand through your hair, gently rubbing fingers against your scalp until you hummed against his lips enjoying the pleasant feeling of him playing with your hair. Slowly he pulled away again.

“Hmm… Vanilla?” He guessed.

“Nope!"

"An ice cream flavor?”

"Nope!” You laughed as he leaned back in, delivering another kiss before pulling away. Silver found himself stumped. It tasted a lot like vanilla of some kind. A bit sweeter than that though.

"It's some type of vanilla flavor, right?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together when you shook your head no. If it wasn't vanilla what tasted similar to it. "Honey?” He guessed, watching as you shook your head yet again.

“What is it, then? I surrender."

“Marshmallow." A sly grin spread across your face. He'd been duped.

“Which has vanilla in it, you sly dog.” Silver pointed out, delivering a playful tug to your hair. "So I was correct about there being vanilla in it.” Silver tapped on your nose, a smile lifting on his face at watching you giggle and swat away his hand.

“You guess too easily. I had to make it harder.” You insisted, rubbing off the chapstick again. “Alright, last one." You motioned for him to turn away, which he did before applying the last selection of chapstick you'd purchased. “Okay."

Silver turned and this time gave you multiple little kisses, tongue flicking across your lip directly before he pulled away.

“This one is Watermelon."

“Watermelon what?"

“Watermelon lime. You bought this one before a few months back. Have you already used all of the first one?" Silver asked, watching as you nodded your head.

"Yeah, I had to get a restock. I'm surprised you remembered I'd already bought it once.” You said, a coy smile decorating your face. “Which one did you like best?"

Silver gave a hum in thought, tapping on his chin. "I think you'll have to apply them all again and let me repeat the process a few times before I decide. I have to be fair, don't I?"

"You just want some more kisses.”

"Says the girl that started all of this.”

[sleekervae]

New York Romantic .5

Masterlist

a/n: Happy new year everyone! I'm so sorry I've been MIA in recent weeks. I've been going through a depression spell over the holidays, but I'm trying to come out of it. I promise I'll be updating my other stories, slowly but surely as always. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this update!

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: a soft snow day in new york

word count: 5181

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

The hallways were relatively quiet, a handful of students were cleaning out their lockers and studio spaces for the winter break. Tom didn't have much in his own locker, just some loose papers and a couple of text books. He wasn't too pressed to notice somebody walking upon him until the lockers thudded and shifted under the weight of someone's shoulder ramming into them. Tom glanced up to find Daniel staring back at him, sharp almond eyes reminding him of a cat with a mouse narrowed in his gaze while sidling up beside him with a disarming smile.

"Hi!" he greeted cheerily.

"Hi," Tom nodded back, "You're... Daniel, right?"

"Yeah! You're an acting major, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm Tom," Tom put his hand out for Daniel to shake, though the spindly dancer shrugged him off. Tom didn't think anything of it and continued to sort his things.

"Nice to meet you. I don't wanna be brash right before the break, but I've noticed you've been talking to Noelle quite a bit lately," he said.

The mention of her name caused Tom to pause; he straightened his posture and turned back to the dancer.

"Yeah... she's my neighbour," Tom replied cautiously, sensing an unspoken tension in Daniel's words.

"Do you like her?" Daniel asked.

Tom shrugged back, "Yeah. I mean she's very nice," he replied, itching to get to the point of why Daniel wanted to talk about this.

Daniel's smile faltered, a touch of protectiveness entering his voice. "Look, man, I've had feelings for Noelle for a while now. We're kind of a thing, you know?"

Tom fidgeted uncomfortably. Not once had Noelle, Bianca, or anyone in her circle mentioned that she had a boyfriend, "She's not your girlfriend, though,"

Daniel's expression turned stern, his tone more forceful, "Not officially, but we're getting there. It'd be best if you didn't get too close. Just to avoid misunderstandings,"

Tom hesitated, struggling to articulate his thoughts, "I-I'm just -- I didn't mean to —"

Before Tom could finish, Daniel's demeanor stiffened, a hint of displeasure flashing across his features, "You kissed her at Josh's party, didn't you?"

Tom's gaze faltered, "Well, yeah... but it was truth or dare," he shrugged back, discomfort tingling up his spine.

Daniel refrained from scoffing, "Well, next time either pick truth or take the shot. Because you may be all cool with your British accent and your Shakespeare, but I saw her first,"

At that, Tom's discomfort turned to a subtle anger, "I haven't done anything wrong. She's not your girlfriend and she can do as she pleases," he replied.

Daniel was about to rebut when his friends called for him at the end of the hall, "Daniel! You coming?"

Daniel straightened up, his expression firm and his lips feigned a smile, "Just mind your business, man," just to add insult to injury, he reached out and popped the collar of Tom's button-down before sauntering away. Annoyed, Tom adjusted his collar back into place, trying not to glare a hole into the back of the dancer's head.

School was out for the winter, Julliard's halls were empty and students had taken off from the break. Tom woke up two days after school's end and found the city glittering absolutely glittering. Overnight, a gentle blanket of snow had delicately wrapped itself around the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, transforming the usually hectic urban landscape into a picturesque winter wonderland. The snowflakes continued to gracefully fall from the heavens, painting the cityscape in a pristine coat of white. The delicate snow-covered branches of trees along the sidewalks added a touch of ethereal beauty, creating a breathtaking contrast against the steel and concrete structures. As the city stirred to life, there was a palpable sense of awe and wonder within Tom at the enchanting transformation that was downtown Manhattan.

Sunny had left the day previous, fearful that the snow would hinder his flight to Birmingham, so Tom was left to his own devices in the apartment. Noelle's family was supposed to arrive today as well, just in time for her department showcase in a couple days. Tom hadn't spoken much to her after that party, he wasn't sure what to say -- if he should say anything at all.

He would be lying if he said he hadn't thought back to that kiss, replaying moments in his head as he laid awake in bed. He could still feel the ghost of her soft lips imprinted on his, the tang of her cherry lip balm against his tongue, how easy and natural it felt to have her in his embrace. The giggling and snide comments afterwards didn't phase him so much as his own fears did. It was a dare after all, it wasn't supposed to mean anything.

So why was he still so affected after a few days? And why was Daniel so suddenly possessive of Noelle?

He went about his day as per usual, oatmeal for breakfast and lounging on the couch with Netflix. Despite the heavy snow, he could still hear the cacophony of traffic blaring just outside his window, the pane itself was covered in beautiful, delicate curls of frost. He checked in with his mum as well and she spent about fifteen minutes showing him all the decorations she and his sister had put up. She reiterated that it wouldn't be the same Christmas without him, but as long as he was safe and having fun with friends then she wasn't worried.

And Tom wasn't going to be completely alone, there were a couple friends sticking around in the city he would hang around with; Jordan being one of them. And not to mention he still had Doris' dinner offer on the table if he felt so inclined.

It was peaceful, tranquil, and by the time the early afternoon rolled around Tom was close to falling asleep on the couch. That is until he heard a knocking at his door. Tom figured it might've been Doris checking in, but she would've been hollering for him. And then he heard it:

"Tom? Are you home?" it was Noelle.

Why was she still here? She should've been downtown with her family at this rate. Nevertheless, Tom threw on his slippers and shuffled over to the door, and sure enough he found Noelle standing in the threshold, bundled up in her coat, boots and toque.

"Hey. What're you doing here?" he asked, leaving against the door frame to offset his nerves, "Aren't you supposed to be downtown?"

"I was," she nodded, "But my aunt called and their train got delayed because of the snow and it's a whole mess right now. They're hoping to catch the one tomorrow," she explained, "But I mean -- I was wondering if you had no plans today... do you wanna hang out?"

His anxiety lessened, endeared with her big brown eyes and wistful smile, "Yeah, yeah I'd love to," he replied with a nod, "You're going out somewhere?"

"I'm getting some groceries at Paddy's. Leave it to Bianca to forget to stock up before she left," she chuckled, "I should be back in about thirty minutes, I just wanted to catch you early,"

"Well, how about I come with you?" he offered.

"Oh, it's okay. I'll be fine," she assured.

He scoffed back, "Well maybe, but you shouldn't have to take all your stuff by yourself. Not in this weather, anyway," he replied, "-- I'd feel better coming with you, I mean,"

Noelle pressed her lips together, trying hard to bite back her smile. His own lips held a half purse, his big blue eyes blown as he feigned a pout.

"If you're sure, then yeah! I wouldn't mind the company," she said.

He went to grab his snow boots and coat -- grateful his mum had shipped them over a month early -- and ventured out into the cold alongside Noelle. There was a moment of hesitation in the back of his mind, wondering if he should've taken Daniel's warning more seriously. But on the other hand Noelle wasn't his girlfriend, nor was she Tom's, and if she wanted to hang out with him then who was he to deny her?

If he thought he was cold within his apartment then he would've been laughing, a sharp cold wind immediately nipped at his nose and eyes. The usual walk to Paddy's was a little more chaotic then usual, snow had piled onto the sidewalks as high as mid-shin -- well, for Noelle at least. Tom was bemused as he watched her stomp heavily into the snow banks, almost hopping from foot-to-foot. Despite his entertainment, he offered her his hand, helping guide her along until they came to the already shovelled walkways. Neither of them bothered to unlatch their hands on the stroll over.

Stepping inside Paddy's was scarce with people, two store attendants were shovelling snow out of the entrance while another was struggling with a large bag of melting salts. Tom grabbed a cart and his hands stung at the frigid cold on the hand rail. Nevertheless he planted his foot on the bottom rail and sailed in right past Noelle.

Noelle quickly caught up to the young actor strolling down the baked goods section, having now collected a few necessities. Tom already had thrown in some fruit, vegetables, cereal, a gallon of milk and a bag of pretzels. His eyes were scanning over display case filled with cookies, small cakes, and croissants. They were a pretty decent size, dusted in powdered sugar and appeared flakey and soft. He had asked for two from the bakery attendant just as Noelle had come over with a plethora of goodies in her arms.

"What's all this?" he asked curiously, his eyes skimming over the packet of sausages and box of pancake mix.

"You ever do brunch?" she replied, her eyes glimmering in excitement.

"Not very often," he admitted, his intrigue spiking, "Do you?"

Noelle dropped her items into the cart, sporting a satisfied smirk, "Only when I don't feel like eating instant noodles for the third time in a week," the attendant had just placed the bag of croissants on the countertop for Tom, "What's that?"

"Croissants," he replied simply, "Would they be acceptable for brunch?"

"Is the pope a catholic?" she simpered, "We should get some jam, then -- rasp--"

"Raspberry?" they spoke in sync, bashful grins exchanged in tandem with lithe chuckles and blushing cheeks. Tom placed the croissants in the cart along with the rest of their goodies.

The snow had began to fall again as they trudged back home, hand-in-hand. Neither Tom nor Noelle mentioned it, both silently reassuring themselves that their joined hands were merely for stability on the slippery ground. But as they walked along sidewalks meticulously cleared of snow for easy passage, Tom wondered if that explanation held true at this point.

Nevertheless, Tom did his best to help Noelle as much as he could, keeping shells out of the eggs he cracked and doing his best to avoid grease spatter. Frost curled across the glass window panes, snow continued to pile anew across the cityscape, and yet Tom and Noelle remained safe and warm in their little sanctuary, the tantalizing smell of bacon and sausages wafting through the air while music drifted softly from Noelle's small speaker set up.

There was a jar of open peach jam on the table, to which Tom happily took advantage of to smear across his croissant. Noelle had settled for butter on her own, noting how Tom's face seemed to fall in disappointment after one bite.

"Is it okay?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah, not as crispy as I'd like it to be," he nodded.

"Probably because it sat in the bag for about an hour," she shrugged back, "Or grocery croissants don't usually tend to match up with the elite bakeries,"

"Probably," he agreed, "But I love them, anyway. My dad used to bring us croissants from this bakery on Saturday mornings -- and I swear to you, they were the most amazing croissants I ever had in my life!"

Noelle grinned, his enthusiasm rubbing off on her as she cradled her chin in her hands, "Most amazing croissants? That's a pretty bold statement, considering where you are," she chuckled back, 'But that's a really sweet memory. I bet he was a really great dad,"

"He was. When I saw him, anyway," Tom nodded, "He was always working on the show, even before my parents separated. But he did his best to make time for us, and every time -- even if we just stayed home and watched movies, we always had a great time," his voice harboured a lilt of sadness, ruminating for the things he missed most. He didn't want his face to betray his feelings in front of Noelle, though it wasn't hard for her to pick off his demeanour change.

Her expression softened, her chest tugging at the shift in his gaze, how his words drifted into nothing. Without a second thought Noelle's hand slid across the small dining table, at first her finger tips simply nudged his, then slipped over them. Tom was brought out of his headspace the second her chilled hand fell over his, so small and dry, but nevertheless her skin was so smooth, carrying a few blemishes in the form of paper cuts and unevenly filed nails.

"He sounds like he was wonderful man," she smiled, "I think I would've loved to have met him,"

He began to relax into her touch, it all felt so natural and cozy, although he began to remember:

"-- you may be all cool with your British accent and your Shakespeare, but I saw her first,"

And with that Tom pulled his hand away. Noelle's smile disappeared.

"I'm -- I'm sorry," he stammered suddenly.

"No, no, I'm sorry," she shook her head, "I didn't mean to overstep --"

"You didn't!" he exclaimed quickly, then brashly scolding himself for raising his voice, "Sorry. I just don't want to..." cross a proverbial line? Get his ass handed to him by a neurodivergent hip hop major?

"You didn't do anything wrong," she assured him, her fingernails began to scratch at the faded wood top, "-- I know we haven't really spoken since the party... but if that kiss made you uncomfortable --"

"Not at all," Tom shook his head, "I mean -- I mean, I knew it was for a dare. I just don't want to put you in any awkward position,"

Noelle cocked a brow, "How do you mean?" she asked.

He was a little uneasy as he blurted out, "... Well, I don't want to put you in an awkward position with Daniel, is all," he replied.

"Daniel?" she nearly scoffed, "What does he have to -- oh God," she sat back in her seat, her eyes rolling, "What did he tell you? That I'm his girlfriend?"

Tom shrugged, "In not so many words,"

She began to snigger, "Oh, he wishes. We went on one date at the beginning of the summer, but we didn't have a spark -- I didn't, anyway. And of course he didn't get the hint. I can't really avoid him because we're on the same floor, so I grin and bear it for a few minutes until I find an out. If he said something to you, I'm really sorry,"

Despite how selfish it may have been, Tom began to feel better knowing that. He too let out a chuckle, "He does seem like he's a little bit in his own world," he said, "You don't have to apologize for him, either,"

"I know. But I promise you he's harmless," she replied, "And he has no right going around to my friends and telling them off, either. I'll handle it,"

"That doesn't seem fair to you," Tom noted, "Have you thought of reporting him?"

"To who? The faculty?" she scoffed back, "What're they gonna' do?"

"Well, something if you report him for harassment," he said.

"Honestly it's not that big a deal," she smiled, hoping to settle his worry, "I'm a big girl, you don't have to worry about me, Tom,"

Tom smiled back, "I never doubted you could handle yourself, but I'm still allowed to worry," feeling cheeky, he reached over with his fork and stabbed into a grape, popping it promptly into his mouth.

Noelle gaped dramatically, then she began to pout like a grumpy child, picking up another grape and hucking it at him, "Stop stealing food from me! I'll fight you!" she cried defiantly. Tom simply laughed as it bounced off his chest.

Not soon after the dishes were placed in the sink and the table was cleaned. The pair settled onto Noelle's couch for another movie, with Tom insisting she could pick the movie this time. She decided on Die Hard -- the truest Christmas movie out there. She had also fetched a bottle of gin, from where Tom wasn't so sure, orange juice, and two glasses.

"Aren't you supposed to be twenty-one to drink here?" he asked, giving her a playful side eye.

Noelle glared back, smirking, "Who are you, my dad?" she quipped back.

"Certainly not," he chuckled, "And if you ever call me such, we'll see what happens to you,"

Noelle rolled her eyes, bumping his gently with her elbow as she poured them drinks, "Okay, okay," and she handed him his glass, " -- how would you feel if I called you 'mom'?"

He paused momentarily before taking a sip, eyeing her up and down as she tried to bite back her growing grin. The moment felt all too uncanny, though Tom had no complaints. His best form of retaliation was to reach over and tousle the top of her hair. Noelle whined and tried to push him away, shaking her hair back into place with one last glower thrown his way. Bear in mind she made no move to slide away from beside him.

The movie started as normal, and both Tom and Noelle had seen it a handful of times over to know how the fallout opens, how the terrorists take control of the building, how McClane shoots at the police car as his only form to get help. So it was any wonder Noelle couldn't find herself to focus.

Tom was -- in not so many words -- hot. Temperature hot. She couldn't deny she found him attractive as well, but his body radiated heat like a human furnace, it was near impossible for her to not want to come in closer. The warmth was taking its toll on her, and she had to wriggle out of her sweater to get some relief.

Her movement struck Tom's attention, he couldn't help but peak out of the corner of his eye. His eyes flitted over her chest, skin tastefully covered by her tank top but he still couldn't help himself. He blushed when he met Noelle's gaze, realizing he'd been caught and grinned bashfully. Noelle shook her head and made a face, diverting her eyes back to the screen but on the inside she had to fight to keep herself together.

Paying attention to the film at this point as near-impossible, Noelle's mind was somewhere else. Specifically focused on her friend; emphasis on friend. Thought nevertheless she noted how much bigger he was then her, slim physique overall but he bore broad shoulders, long legs stretched out in front of him. Tom appeared a little younger then twenty-one and despite that, he was so mature beyond his years. And old soul.

Her brain flickered back to that party, that damn kiss, all the same flustering as it was breath-taking. She hadn't kissed many guys in her twenty-years of course, but she had never been as electrified as she had been when she tasted the whiskey off of his lips.

Noelle sipped her gin and juice, hoping to hydrate her suddenly dry throat. Alan Rickman's character was suddenly commiserating on his first meet with John McClane, and she suddenly had an idea.

She turned to Tom, "Would you rather be the good guy or a bad guy in an action movie?"

Tom chuckled, "Bad guy, obviously. But it depends on what my goal is,"

"Okay then, what would motivate you to take over the world?" she asked.

"Power, of course. But I don't want to be a psychopathic trigger-happy, domineering villain. The good villains are slick, charismatic, and well composed, like this guy," he pointed to Hans Gruber, "That guy is so smooth and so compelling he could sell water to a fish. Lulling you into a false sense of security. I'd be that villain,"

Noelle simpered, "Remind me to stay on your good side if you were to go power hungry,"

"Well, how about you?" he asked, "Hero or villain?"

"Villain, of course," she replied, "I'd be an Ursula-type villain. Or Maleficent. Just bat-shit crazy magical and maniacal, and I'd get to turn into a giant monster if I so please,"

Tom cocked a brow, "You want to grow into a giant sea witch?"

"Well, yeah!" she nodded, "You think I asked to be this short?"

He laughed, shifting away ever so slightly as though she may grow at any instant. Noelle pouted back and crossed her arms; but she couldn't help but smile when he moved back beside her.

Tom couldn't lie, he was still nervous around Noelle, but she always managed to put him at ease. She was so laid back, and after all, it was hard to be intimidated by a beautiful girl when she was comparing herself to campy Disney villains.

As they watched the movie, Noelle's gaze darted to Tom now and again. She flitted over his sharp profile, and his cheeks and nose still held their tinge of soft pink, a delightful contrast against his pale complexion. And the curve of his lips was pure... temptation. The inkling struck her, she wanted to kiss him again, she wanted to kiss him so badly.

God, you're ridiculous, she chided to herself. He only kissed her because Iseul dared him to, that was all. And if Daniel was already giving him flack, chances were he wouldn't want to be wrapped up in that in any way. And who was to say he even found her attractive, for all she knew he had a girlfriend waiting for him back in England.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked suddenly.

Tom nearly choked on his drink, "No," he replied, "Why?"

"I'm just curious," she shrugged back, "... You met anyone you'd consider asking out?"

"In drama? Nah," he shook his head.

"What about outside of drama? The opera majors are gorgeous," she noted, why she was talking about this she wasn't so sure why. She blamed the gin for the most part, though her own inhibitions were playing their part.

Tom smirked at her, "Are you trying to set me up?" he asked suspiciously.

She simpered back, "Uh -- no. I don't do the whole match-making thing. Iseul on the other hand is like a friggin Korean cupid," she shook her head.

"Was that her intention at the party?" he asked, "Trying to set us up?"

Noelle refrained from rolling her eyes, "I don't know. I think she's just sadistic of something. But... if that dare made you uncomfortable,"

"-- It didn't," he assured her, his deep blue eyes meeting hers, "If it had I would've said something. So please, don't worry," he assured her with a grin.

Noelle pouted back, "I'll worry about you if I please," she retorted.

He feigned shock, his hand coming over his chest, "She worries about me, oh my gosh!" he mocked, much to her amusement.

"Don't let it go to your head," she poked at his nose just for good measure.

His nose twitched, his gaze falling over her again in a hot, lingering perusal crackling over her skin like a live wire. This time there was no mistaking the interest in his eyes.

Should she make a move?

Could she cross that line again?

Lean in closer, ask if she could kiss him, or better yet ask if he could kiss her. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she hadn't even realized the credits playing over the screen.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked.

His posh voice startled her, and she realized she hadn't made a move to turn off the movie.

"No, I mean -- you're more then welcome to stay. If you can handle putting up with me any longer," she tried to joke. But it was reigning true, she didn't want him to leave.

Tom grinned bashfully, "As horrible as that sounds, I'll try to pull through," he replied.

"But if you're tired --" she began, "I don't mind if you want to --"

"I'm fine," he nodded, "If you don't mind having me over, that is," he found it odd how suddenly she seemed so nervous, perhaps he ought to take that as a good sign?

"I don't mind at all," she replied, "I like having you around. It's your turn to pick, anyway,"

She likes having me around, he hoped his face wouldn't betray how his chest swelled, the heat in his body suddenly elevated, "How about Elf?"

Suffice to say, another movie turned into another, and then another, and before neither of them could realize they had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up together as the snow continued to fall over the city.

All was quiet, peacefully so as the sun broke out over the Eastern horizon. The snow stopped at some point during the night, glimmering in sun rays like millions of Swarovski crystals bejewelling the skyscrapers and cars. And in that tiny apartment Tom and Noelle slept soundly, cozied up with arms wrapped the other, the laptop screen having gone black hours ago.

As the light peaked through the curtains, Tom couldn't help but begin to stir, blinking sleep from his eyes as he realized he wasn't in his apartment. The previous night came rushing back in a flood, and if he were more awake he may have jumped to find Noelle swathed in his arms. Though she continued to sleep, her button nose buried in his chest and her lashes fluttering as she continued to dream. He wondered what she dreamed about, if she enjoyed her dreams or if she slipped into a thick state of time-stopping nothingness.

It was Sunday, there was nowhere for them to be, no need to get up, no need nor want to move from that very position. The wall clock, though a few minutes ahead, indicated it was somewhere around nine. He wondered if her asking about his dating life was a ploy, or sheepish way in to test his interest.

Tom settled back into the couch, cradling her close to him, pretending for a moment that maybe, just maybe, this could've been his life; their life.. His eyes slipped shut and he inhaled sharply, unable to help but smile as Noelle wriggled to get comfy against him. He too would've fallen back to sleep, if not for the sudden knocking on the door.

Tom thought he was imagining things at first, but sure enough there was another knock. Perhaps it was Doris? Or Bianca? No, Bianca was out of the city and she had her own key anyhow. Nevertheless, Tom didn't feel it was right to answer Noelle's door.

As much as he hated to wake her, he nudged her gently, whispering her name until she too came to consciousness. Her head lulled from side to side, taking stock of the mess on her coffee table, the mess they were on her couch. She rubbed sleep from her eye as she yawned.

"What's up?" she grumbled groggily.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but there's someone at the door," he mumbled.

The seemed to light a small fire under her, she sat up promptly and did a quick stretch, "Maybe Doris wants to collect rent before Christmas?"

"Is she allowed to do that?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her as she started for the door.

"Probably not, but she's also not supposed to be splicing cable from her neighbours and yet..." shuffling in her fuzzy socks, Noelle pressed up on her toes as she peered wearily through the key hole. Who she saw on the other side made her heart stop, "Holy shit!"

"Who is it?" Tom asked, vividly more awake now. The knocking continued.

"I'm coming!" she then turned to him, sheer panic befalling her face and she clawed her fingers through her hair, "Put the gin bottle behind my bedroom door and smooth out your shirt. You got here ten minutes ago and we're trying to decide where to go for breakfast,"

"-- What?"

"Just trust me! Go!" she waved him off. Tom didn't argue, snatched the gin bottle and glasses for good measure. He disappeared down the hall, figuring the open door was Noelle's bedroom.

Slipping the glassware behind the door, he paused momentarily to take a glance around her room. It was a small space, soft grey sheets and pillows were messed and unmade with a few clothes sitting untouched overtop. Papers and books were stacked and scattered across her little white desk, and Ikea special from the looks of it. There was a clothing rack of clothes hung up, a few more folded and sitting next to the line of the three pairs of shoes she owned that weren't ballet related.

Tom froze suddenly when he heard a loud exclamation from the door, "Surprise!"

Smoothing out his shirt wrinkles and tousling his hair, Tom wandered back into the main area of Noelle's apartment, finding her embraced by an older couple and another young girl. The older gent was bringing the suitcases into the apartment while the young girl was trying to upkeep some conversation with Noelle through the older woman's fawning and preening.

"What're you guys doing here? I thought your train wasn't coming until later?" Noelle gaped.

"We were able to get a late train last night, it just missed the snow storm coming in!" the older woman exclaimed.

"And checkin's not until eleven so we thought we'd swing by and surprise you!" the older man added.

Tom stood in the mouth of the hallway momentarily, just watching, bemused and taken with who he assumed was Noelle's family. The young girl suddenly turned, just to take a look around the space at first when her gaze fell on top. She nearly jumped out of her nikes.

"The hell are you?" she snapped, prompting the other's attention to turn to him. The fawning and happy reunions came to a sudden halt, with Noelle slipping out of the woman's grasp to get everyone acquainted.

"Uh -- right. Sorry, um -- this is Tom. He's my friend from school," she introduced, smiling assuringly at him, "Tom, this is my Aunt Franca, my Uncle Maurice, and my cousin Chiara,"

[heartfullofleeches]

Clown reader ! What about yandere manager ?

Clown reader ! My second favourite from Jester reader ( i'm sorry )

( basically a yandere manager ;-;;)

They have their number one fan, whom will always be there at their shows and buying each and every merchandise that got released.

But what about the fan that's been with them for the longest of time ?

Their manager has always been there - since the first day of their debut. And going all the way with them until now !

So why not go grab a meal with their dear manager after the show ? After all, it's just for asking how both have been and some talking.

Nothing could go wrong..

..right ?-

( this is my first time sending an ask so :')) My apologies if it was too long! And i also apologize if I got anything wrong about the character cuz i don't have very good memory ;-;;

I hope this ask get through)

Sincerely,

🎠

You furiously scrub as your face with a wet paper towel as you exit the bathroom. If you had known they were taking you to such a fancy place after today's recording, you would've brought a change of clothes. Walking back to the table, wandering eyes follow the colorful corners peaking from your coat. You do your best to hide them. A fellow customer from a neighboring table lifts their phone to take a picture of you as you sit; camera lens blocked by a menu.

"Sweetheart, there you are! Kept me waiting, but you're lookin stunning as always. I can't tell if I like you more with or without the makeup. Get comfortable, order whatever you want.

You can't help but grin at the nickname. They've been using little pet names since the beginning of your partnership, but they feel more sincere now than the faux kindness that they showered everyone in. It makes you happy to know they see you as someone good to spend time with other than for the paycheck. Your manager hands you the menu; drilling in the notion you could have whatever your little heart decided. With a quick look at the menu, you notice there's no prices next to the entrees.

"Are you sure you don't mind paying? This place seems really high class. We can split it if you like."

Your manager raises their hand to stop you. "Y/n, please. I gotta treat my star player well, plus you deserve the finer things in life. It's my pleasure."

"If you say so... Just kinda feels like someplace you'd take someone on a date."

The thought slips out before you can realize what you've said, but it's no harm on their conscious. Quite the opposite in fact. They fold their hands together.

"Well, like I said, I wanna treat you right. Probably the only person in town who can. Not to mention, ratings for this quarter came in the other night and viewer scores are through the roof. You can think of this as a celebration."

"Really?"

"Would I ever lie to you? Got the papers right here." Your manager places a folder on the table. You don't have to look at it to believe them.

"That's great." You look at your reflection in an empty wine glass, paint smeared into the corner of your lips. "Makes saying goodbye just a little harder."

Your manager chokes on a mouthful of water. "Bye? You're not thinking about leaving us, are you?"

You raise your hands in surrender. "Course not!... Not yet anyway."

You tug on your frilly sleeves. You're happy where you are. That's something you know for sure, but you're not positive it's the life you want anymore. The word is your stage; audience far bigger than you ever could've dreamed, but it's suffocating. Your fans love you. Not just your character, but the face benath. Sometimes it feels like that love goes beyond the screen and fan letters. Sometimes - you feel like you're being followed.

"I... wanted to keep this private until I was sure, but I think I've been followed home before. Obviously I don't want to ruin everything for one person's actions, but I know it's more. On top of that I'm pretty well off financially. This was never for the money, but I just kinda miss things before I got big, you know?"

Of course they know. Your manager knows your story better than any of your little fans could ever imagine, even if they squeeze every detail of your life from everyone in it. They had been with you through it all. Your small failures, and your biggest leaps. It was an insult to think otherwise, and that they'd give up everything you built together.

"Y/n." Your manager reaches across the table to grab your trembling hands. "Everything's going to be fine. We'll get through this - together, and nobody's going to touch a hair on your head. To start off, we're moving you out of that shoebox you call an apartment and getting you a real place to live. You can stay with me until we find something."

You close your eyes, nodding along to their proposal. "Okay... that sounds like a good place to start."

Your manager draws closer, touch working up your arm. Someone taps on your shoulder before they can reach.

"Hi- I really hope I'm not interrupting, but can i take a picture with you? The kids I babysit love the show your costume is of."

You glance at your manager. They're already looking down at their phone. "Sure."

Taking photos with the stranger, your manager is left at the table alone; reliving memories of the past immortalized by old photos. Why did they ever agree to this? If you hadn't got so popular, they wouldn't have to share you with the world, but now they used the grounds of that success to remain stable in their own right. Maybe with you in their home they'd find a new start in your relationship.

Lord knows they'll never let you leave once you're inside.

[hwashotcheeto]

Incubus!San learning how to properly love his human partner 🥰 When his s/o doesn't want to have sex, he gets confused and doesn't know what to do, making him sad and starts thinking he's unworthy of their love but they teach him other ways of showing affection and San feels his heart swell up and tries to remember all of the other ways to love them :3

Aaaaah, yes! I love it!

This was an idea that @malldreamprincess and I came up with a LONG long time ago when we were obsessed with incubu/succubi, and I'm so glad it came back (Thank you my love 💜).

And before we get started, here's what I think "Incubus San" might look like

WC: 1k

CW: Fluff, really fluffy. Some crying, comforts, cuddles, honestly just really sweet

"Not tonight, San," you mumbled as you rolled over in bed. Your incubus boyfriend sat in confused, stunned silence as you went to sleep without him.

You'd been dating (or what one could consider "dating," since he was living with you) for a month now, and whenever you'd been stressed or sad, San had soothed the pain with sex. You'd thought it was for him, that he was the one tired and needed sex to feel better.

But in truth, it was all for you. He truly cared about you, but he didn't know how else to show it. Through sex, he was able to take care of you and make you feel better. He was unsure of how you saw it, but he saw it as therapy.

So as he laid back down that night, he felt powerless. He didn't want you to suffer alone. But he didn't know how to help you.

You slept in the next morning, not getting up until almost noon. It was your day off, who cared what time you got up?

You pulled yourself out of bed and made your way into the kitchen. San was in the other room, he heard you rummaging around in the kitchen for a sandwich. Just something to stave off the hunger that was gnawing at your stomach.

With sandwich in hand, you made your way to the living room and stopped when you saw him. He was curled up, hugging one of the pillows, his head down. When he looked up at you, his eyes were red and puffy.

"Are you crying?" You asked softly. San rubbed the tears off his cheeks and cleared his throat before he replied.

"I want to help you," he said, his voice hoarse. "I don't like seeing you sad, and I want to help, but I don't know how." His voice broke on the last few words, and he hugged the pillow tighter.

Your heart broke in your chest. "What do you mean you don't know how?"

"I don't know what to do to make you happy. Please, tell me, I..." The tears poured from his eyes again, with a little choke as he tried to continue.

You put your sandwich down on the table and went to hug San. The pillow was forgotten as you pulled him into your arms and he hugged you back.

When you decided to keep an incubus around, you weren't expecting this level of affection, this desire to make you happy. He's a sex demon, why would he care about anything besides, well, sex?

But San was clearly more than his title presented. He wanted you to be happy. He genuinely cared about you if he was begging to know how to make you happy.

There'd be a learning curve, definitely. But for the both of you, it was worth it.

A week later, you returned home starving. You didn't have the chance to get dinner on the way home, as you were low on gas, and couldn't afford either currently anyways.

But as you were taking off your shoes and coat, you smelled food. It smelled divine, your mouth watered and your stomach growled in need.

You went into the kitchen and stopped dead in your tracks. San was putting the finishing touches on two sets of foods, which again, made your stomach growl.

San looked up at the noise and smiled at you, his eyes turning into slits. "I knew I timed it right." He stepped back from the counter and motioned to the food, presenting it to you. "I tried to make it how you said you liked it."

It was the most gorgeous plate of food you'd ever seen.

You threw your arms around San's neck and hugged him tight. You hadn't asked him to make dinner, you never asked him to make you food at all.

But here he made you a food you mentioned in a passing conversation, not even thinking about it, and made it so you'd be able to eat it right when you got home.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Anything for you."

The two of you sat on the couch and watched a movie while you ate. It tasted better than you'd ever had it before.

You dropped your phone onto the coffee table and covered your face, tears springing from your eyes.

Almost like a dog, San heard you crying and came running, sitting next to you and hugging you tight.

"What's wrong?" He asked, but you shook your head as you leaned into him, hugging him tightly. You didn't want to talk about it, you just wanted to cry.

"Okay, you don't have to tell me," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your head. "I'll be here when you want to talk, okay?"

You nodded, then pulled yourself up to sit on his lap sideways, your legs over his. San held you tight against him, keeping his hand on your head to hold you against his chest.

And there you stayed. For who knows how long, crying in the arms of your attentive, caring boyfriend.

You felt safe. And loved.

You were cleaning up after dinner when San came up and hugged you from behind. He kissed your head and nuzzled into your neck.

"Dinner was wonderful, angel."

"Yeah? I thought it could've been better."

"No, no, I really liked it." He squeezed your waist as he closed his eyes, breathing in your scent. You'd been gone for long hours lately, so San was extra clingy today.

All night, he found some way to touch you, hug you, be with you, anything. He wanted to be at your side, taking care of you, being with you.

And that's what he was doing. No lingering touches on your chest, no kissing on your neck, nothing with an ulterior motive.

San just wanted to hold you. To be with you.

To make sure you feel loved. And you did.

Your boyfriend had made you feel so, so loved.

You turned around in his arms and hugged him back, leaning into his neck. He squeezed you tight.

"San?" You asked softly.

"Yes?"

"I think I love you."

A smile spread across San's face, making his eyes turn to little slits again.

"I think I love you too, angel."

Aaaah, I love fluffy character development like this, it's so cute 🥰 I hope this was good enough for you @malldreamprincess.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[uncannily-adroit]

the watch

eighth doctor x gn!reader

rating: g

warnings: none

a/n: i wrote this as a little comfort drabble for myself, i haven't written properly in over a year but i'm actually really pleased with this! eight certainly needs more love too <3

"Doctor, do you want me to wash your coat?"

He looks down at himself for the first time since he stepped foot outside the TARDIS. After a lively- or deathly, almost, in this case- adventure, his green velvet frock is covered in mud. He smiles a little, happy you noticed, because he probably wouldn't have until it was too late and there was dirt everywhere. "Thank you," he murmurs to you as he slips it off his shoulders. "Just empty the pockets, please."

You nod in response and head off, taking a few twists and turns down to where the laundry room usually is, setting the coat down on top of the washing machine to dig around in the nooks and crannies. You pull out his sonic screwdriver first- you set it aside to take back to him once you're done. Then a half-eaten paper bag of jelly babies. You swipe one- maybe two... maybe three, because that's the magic number. Then a yoyo, some lock picks, a spare TARDIS key in a funky shape on a ridiculously long chain, and lastly, a silver fob watch.

Something about it catches your attention. It's rather unassuming, honestly, a plain little thing, but you decide to open it anyways. The watch face is also pretty normal, but the noise that comes out of it isn't. Instead of ticking, you hear a tinkling sort of noise, like wind chimes. A pleasant chill runs down your spine, soothed in a deep way by it.

The Doctor's already made tea, yours waiting next to the comfy red chair, and he's preparing to start doing a bit of work on the TARDIS, making a move to grab his sonic screwdriver. He pats himself lightly multiple times, trying to find it, before he remembers he'd given you his coat. That makes him realize how long you've been gone. He figures you're wandering around one of the closets again; he found you one time practically submerged in a box of old scarves, happy as could be. He heads off in the direction of the laundry room, opting to check there first.

He finds you laying on the floor, thankfully with nothing wrong with you. Next to your ear lays his fob watch, open and playing its little songs. He can't help the smile that crosses his face. "What are you doing?"

"Vibing," you respond. "It's so pretty..."

He lets out a laugh on a breath and walks across the tile, settling himself on his back beside you. You look over at him and he meets your gaze, the smile still lingering on his face. His hair's spilling in his eyes; you push it away, and he captures your hand and presses a kiss to your palm before releasing you. "Do you want to know how I got that?" He nods his head at the time piece between you two. You nod. You always want to know more about him. You could listen to him for hours, and he can talk just as long. The chiming becomes background noise as he starts his story, still laid on the floor with you, the coat and sonic forgotten on top of the washing machine.

Eventually, your back does begin to hurt. You sit up, stretch and snap crackle pop. He grins, pleased by the sight of you from behind with an arched back. He follows suit, picking up the watch. He snaps it closed, looks at it for a moment, then takes your hand and presses it into your fingers, closing them around it. "Here. I've got plenty, and this one makes you happy. I'd like you to keep it."

Your heart skips a beat, fingers tightening around the cool metal and underneath his cold fingers. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

[eyelessfaces]

intoxicated

llewyn davis x reader

summary: you take care of a drunk llewyn knocking at your door :]

warnings: alcohol consumption and a drunk person, obviously

tags: gn!reader, fluff, mutual pining. mostly unspoken feelings

word count: 0.8k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

You sighed softly as you carefully helped him sit down on your couch, his arm around your shoulders and yours around his waist so he could keep balance. 

This was a first: you were fairly accustomed to Llewyn knocking at your door to crash for the night, but it was the first time he came in drunk. 

You had welcomed him because you couldn’t refuse him anything, and you certainly wouldn’t let him wander around Greenwich Village in the state he was in, who knew what would happen to him. 

He had already gotten beaten up behind the Gaslight once, and he wasn’t even drunk.

“I could’ve gone somewhere else but I really wanted to see you” he slurred as he pushed away the cushions on your couch, the smell of whiskey and cigarette obvious in his breath as you sat down next to him.

You scoffed, surprised. “Really? Why?” you smiled as you helped him get rid of his coat, unwrapping the scarf around his neck and grabbing his hands to take off his fingerless gloves.

He shrugged and gently squeezed your hand, making you look down at them.

“Because you’re my favorite friend in Greenwich Village” he declared, nodding. "No, that's not even true. You're my favorite friend."

You chuckled and gently caressed the top of his hand with your other hand before getting up.

“Happy to hear that. Did you drink water? Eat something?” you asked, walking to your kitchen to pour him a glass of fresh water in hope that it would prevent a terrible hangover. You highly doubted he could escape it, but some water wouldn’t do him any wrong anyways.

“No. I wanted to get properly drunk” he admitted as he sank deeper against the back of your couch, a grunt escaping his mouth when he laid his head against your plumpiest cushion.

You smiled when you came back into your living room and saw him looking comfortable on your couch. “Sit up. I’ll let you sleep soon I promise” you said sitting down next to him again, watching him as he did what you asked. You handed him the glass of water and gently rubbed his back up and down while he drank the entirety of it.

He handed it back to you and you put it down on the coffee table.

“Hey. I’m sorry I’m an asshole sometimes” he declared before a hiccup escaped his mouth.

You wanted to laugh at the fact that it was so sudden, but it seemed sincere so you tried not to. You put your hand over his shoulder, and smiled softly at him.

"It's alright" you shrugged, still smiling at him. "Everyone's an asshole from time to time" 

"I'm an asshole most of the time" he said as he looked up at you, and you tilted your head and shrugged again.

"You have reasons to be. Life’s not very kind to you" you shrugged again. "And I like you that way." you admitted, pinching your lips in a small smile.

He smiled at you, and his eyes were glassy from having drank too much. You did your best to not stare at them for too long, looking away and lowering your gaze to your floor until you thought about something.

"Oh I'm gonna bring my pain killers here for when you wake up tomorrow. You're probably gonna need them" you said standing up from the couch, and his gaze followed you as he nodded.

You came back with the pills and put them on your coffee table, and chuckled at Llewyn struggling to unbutton his shirt. 

"D'you need help with that?" 

“Yeah” he simply huffed out, and gave up on trying to persist with this task. You sat down next to him again, working on each button of his patterned shirt, your fingers more deft than his.

"If I wasn't drunk I would kiss you" he declared as he looked at you dazedly.

"Yeah sure, and you're saying this because you're drunk" you scoffed, looking back up at him, unbuttoning the last button, revealing his white shirt underneath.

“Whatever you may think honey” he groaned as you helped him get the patterned shirt off before he laid back against your couch, getting comfortable for the night. You unfolded the plaid resting on the back of your couch and laid it out over him, tucking him nicely while you felt your heart thumping in your chest.

"Here you go" you smiled, brushing away a curl falling over his forehead.

“Thank you dove” he muttered softly, his eyes struggling to remain open. You kissed his forehead, feeling his skin still so warm from the alcohol. “Love you” he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep before he finally shut his eyes.

You knew he was drunk, but you kind of hoped he truly meant it.

—

feedback is always appreciated<3

masterlist | taglist | ao3

inside llewyn davis taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @beccabecs521 @campingwiththecharmings

[honey-on-your-tongue]

FWB

Part 4 Logan Howlett x fem!reader Series masterlist

Logan isn't sure when or how it happened. It just…did.

He wakes up next to you every morning now. He falls asleep next to you every night. It's become routine, part of his day, as natural as if he's always been doing it.

Somehow, falling asleep next to you turns into cuddling, which then turns into late night conversations until you're both too exhausted to keep talking.

And Logan is…happy. He feels lighter, he's got more energy. Suddenly the world isn't the sullen place he always thought it was.

He convinces himself it's the sex. Convinces himself that's what has him in such a good mood. It couldn't possibly be anything else other than the sex.

It's his favorite part of the day now. He looks forward to lying next to you, to listen to you talk about your day. He just focuses on your words, on the sound of your voice, as he gently caresses your skin.

And he shares with you, too. Little, but he shares. He likes the way you pay attention, the way you actually listen to what he has to say. It makes him feel…seen. And it sounds silly, but that's how he feels. That's one of the many things he likes about you.

You're smart, you're sweet, you're funny. He enjoys talking to you so much, that the idea of going somewhere with you and just talking about anything and everything slowly starts to grow in his mind. It takes shape; he thinks of places, of times, of days. And he decides that an afternoon coffee with you would be the most suitable. Now there's only the matter of asking you.

And despite everything you two have done, this has him nervous.

He's antsy and jumpy as he walks up to you one day, hands balled into fists.

“Hey, bub,” he greets casually.

You turn to face him, eyes bright. And you smile and he's lost.

A little voice in the back of his head is insisting that a girl like you would never want him, that you're way out of his league. But he gathers his courage and pushes himself to ask anyway.

“So, I was wondering,” he says, “if you're busy today? In the afternoon?”

“Today? No, I'm not busy,” you reply. He sighs in relief. “Why?” you add curiously.

“I wanted to see if you wanted to go out with me? Like to go get coffee?”

You blink and his heart drops. She's gonna say no.

Is…is he asking me on a date?

You're pretty sure he did. At least that's what it sounded like. But he said it so casually, maybe he just meant it as friends or something?

“Um. Coffee?” you echo, grimacing internally. You sound like an idiot, but you hope Logan doesn't notice.

“Yeah, coffee. Or an ice cream, or…just, anything, really,” he replies, nodding. “I just meant if you wanted to hang out.”

You nod softly. “Well, yeah, it sounds fun,” you reply, smiling.

Logan offers a half grin in return. “Great. We could go into the city and just see where we feel like going,” he says.

You nod. “Yeah, great. So, it's a date.”

His grin widens into a smile. “It's a date.” He nods.

That afternoon, he takes you on his bike to the mall, enjoying the way you hold onto him for life. When you get to the mall and take the helmet off, he grins. Your hair is all messy and you've never looked more beautiful.

“I've got helmet hair, don't I?” you ask, pouting.

He hums gently. “A little,” he responds as he tenderly combs your hair some.

You grumble a bit. “I was all fixed-up and pretty,” you complain.

“You still look as beautiful as ever,” he tells you, studying your face carefully, just taking you in.

A soft blush coats your cheeks and he smiles, tracing your cheekbone with his knuckles softly.

It's almost odd to see Logan be this calm, caring, affectionate. But you're not complaining at all. If anything, you like it. It makes you feel wanted. He makes you feel wanted and safe.

You two walk into the mall together, talking and laughing, and he lets you pick the place. You end up in a cute café, cozy and quiet, sitting close together in a booth in the far corner.

Logan is more open than usual, still somewhat reserved, but he offers you more insight to his thoughts and feelings. He talks and laughs, and you can sense he’s different. Almost as if the weight he always carries on his shoulders is gone. He’s just a man, a happy man on a date with a girl he likes. He’s no longer that tough, hardened, hurt man that’s been hurt by the world to the point of no return.

The conversation flows. It’s natural, easy, and before you know it, it’s been hours of you two sitting in the café and talking. When night falls and it starts getting late, Logan takes you back to the mansion. With most of the mansion asleep, you two walk in quietly and it feels like you’re sneaking back in from somewhere you shouldn’t have been.

It’s not like dating between the X-men is forbidden, just…Logan isn’t the type for that and you understand that.

Logan leads you to his room and locks the door after himself.

She’s beautiful. Just standing there, staring at him with those gorgeous eyes…you’ve got him hooked.

He reaches for you, studying your expression, taking in your scent and the sound of your heart. It’s as if he’s seeing you for the first time. Really seeing you.

You, that puts up with all his bullshit, that stands him and his dumbass, that demands respect, that amazes him, that makes him feel like he’s not a complete monster…

What did he ever do right in his long, fucked-up life that ended with the amazing karmic event of you giving him a chance? What did he ever do to deserve you? He’s not sure, but he’s grateful for whatever good luck has befallen him.

He grabs your hand and gently leads you to his bed, his heart racing.

His heart racing? Is he nervous. Since when is he nervous about sex?

He tries to ignore the thought as he lays you down on the bed. Without a second of hesitance, he kneels in front of you, spreading your legs so he can nuzzle against your thighs. He kisses them softly, one after the other, as he pushes your skirt around your waist. He mouths his way up to your pussy, inhaling her scent through the thin material of your panties. He kisses your mound, his eyes fluttering shut. He just lets himself feel, lets himself do whatever he wants however he wants, focusing on you and wanting to give you everything.

Your breathing grows heavy, your hands move to tangle in his hair. He goes slow, every lick and kiss calculated and measured. There’s no trace of the animal here, no trace of that hunger that seems to take over him more often than not. There’s just…him. It’s just him and you in this moment, together.

He gently tugs your panties off and smiles, glancing up at you. He can see the look in his eyes and he recognizes the affection there. And, for once, it doesn’t scare him, doesn’t send him running off. It makes his heart skip a beat and his stomach flutter.

He eats you out gently, taking his time, just enjoying your taste and the way your body writhes under his mouth.

By the time you’re tugging him away, telling him you can’t take anymore, he’s made you come about three times. Smiling, he undresses and crawls onto the bed on top of you.

This time, there’s no screaming. There’s no headboard slamming into the wall or bed springs squeaking. No crazy positions or choking or spanking.

Logan fucks you slow, deep. His cock reaches every spot in you with a tenderness that takes your breath away.

Every deep thrust is punctuated by a groan from him, his breath hitching as you clench around him. He kisses your neck, mouths at your jaw. His hand caresses your cheek, his eyes on yours as he fucks you.

The gentleness of it, the soft care, the warmth in his gaze…it’s too much.

His fingers touch your clit and rub in soft circles, and it takes nothing to push you over the edge. You tumble, back arching, eyes rolling back. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, your voice breathy as you whimper into his ear.

“Logan,” you whisper. “Logan.”

And he loses it. You’re not begging for sex. You’re not begging for him to go hard and deep, or for him to relieve you of your stress. You’re begging for more, for the one thing he shouldn’t give you and the one thing he wants to give you.

Your pussy clenches his cock tight as you come and he loses his train of thought. With a shudder and a low moan, he comes in you, spurting his release into your soft cunt. He’d forgotten the condom, but that’s an issue for another day.

He stays where he is, on top of you, and leans his forehead against yours. “Are you okay, bub?” he asks softly, nuzzling his nose with yours.

You nod. “I’m good,” you reply.

He meets your gaze and smiles softly. And, God, the way he’s looking at you…it almost looks as if not only cares about you, but like he could almost, almost…

Love you.

---

a/n: I'm sorry babes!!! I can't believe this took me so long but omg, finals actually kicked my ass and I'm surprised I didn't have a breakdown lol. Buuut, it's finally here. Enjoooooy!!!

---

Taglist

@nerrivm @rosiahills22 @d3vils-adv0c8 @thychuvaluswife @18lkpeters @daddy333 @e-nonsense @ch3rryblossms @ayamenimthiriel @thesecretlifeofmo @simming4sims @raideaters-blog @1cam8 @angelicbbsblog @giuliahowlett @lemonsquaredd @meadow-field @secretpandaconnoisseur @givenoutlaw @wunder-blunder @aredheadednerd @fictionalmen-dilflover @insanesociopath @m1cky-y-y @fictional-hooman @ion-even-know @znerac @steviebbboi @insanesosciopath @reidsworld @arrozconpepitoria @meadow-field @sir-thisisadndserver @wolviesgirl @rooroen @tezooks

---

Blog masterlist

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi: 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬 (2)

In which he doesn't realize all the things that are going to happen when going on a trip with you.

Tags/Warnings: Vampire!Yoongi, Human!Reader, mentions of 'being high' (drug usage in a way), friends to lovers, blood (duh), red haired Yoongi, Listen I am Jungkook focused but I will put Vampire Yoongi on the menu and you'll better finish your plate

Additional Chapter Warnings: consumption of blood, there's that sweet tension again, yes I will torture you on this ride

Chapter Length: short/mid

<- Previous | Next ->

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"Alright- did you check everything?" He asks you again, knowing how forgetful you can be sometimes- and you nod while he opens the passenger door of the Campervan he'd rented out. "Here, let me help.." he offers almost immediately when he sees you struggle a little to get in, hands offering help to make sure you won't fall by accident.

All while simultaneously trying not to stare at your butt too much.

"Thanks." You beam at him now seated, and he tells you to be careful before he closes the door, walking around the van to get to the driver's side. He's both excited and also a bit unsure at the same time; you'll be sharing the same sleeping space for a week after all, compressed to the confined space of the campervan for the duration of the trip. And while he's internally very much happy at the thought of having you this close, he's also worried of something potentially happening that'll make you uncomfortable.

Though he's promised himself to stay respectful of your boundaries. He'd never try and persuade you into something you might not truly want, after all.

"You can sleep, by the way." He tells you as he starts driving, pulling out of the parking lot. "It'll be a while until we're at the camping ground." He informs you, and you nod, taking off your shoes for now. It's still early in the day, sun having not even risen completely- so you happily take the invitation to nap, trying to get comfortable. "Here- there's my jacket, you can put that, I don't know.. against the window, maybe." He mumbles, offering his coat towards you.

"Thank you, Yoongi." You say, doing just what he suggested- his scent on his clothes giving you immense comfort. "For.. the trip too, I mean." You say more quietly, and he shrugs.

"I needed some time off anyway." He tells you. "Can't really produce anything if I don't have any inspiration, you know." He offers, keeping his eyes on the road.

"How're you gonna.. you know, go about the whole blood thing by the way?" You wonder, watching him drive.

"I fed yesterday, if that's your question." He chuckles a little, though you seem awfully.. disappointed almost.

"Oh."

You're not sure why you're a little bummed out by that. Sure, Yoongi is a guy that isn't tied to you in any way, he can have fun with whomever he pleases. But still, it kind of makes you a little upset that he just isn't at all interested in you whatsoever. It's something that doesn't surprise you though- he truly seems to just see you as family maybe, a little sister of some sorts.

"I couldn't take the bag with me anyways, it was about to spoil." He shrugs, and you perk up at that- something he notices in the corner of his vision.

"Oh." You repeat again- but this time, a lot less upset.

"Did you think I bit someone?" He jokes, and you turn away from him at that, rather snuggling into his coat to avoid seeing his shit-eating grin he's got on his lips, gummy smile showing as he laughs to himself.

It's small moment like these that give him hope. Hope that you might see him like he sees you after all, hope that there is potential for something more down the line, that you're maybe just shy.

He hopes, at least, that that's what's actually going on.

"We're you hoping I'd feed from you instead?" He asks impishly so, and you squeeze your eyes shut at that.

"I'm asleep." You argue.

"You're not." He laughs, still concentrating on the road to make sure you're still on the correct road.

"I mean-" you ramble, pouting a bit as you speak, voice muffled but definitely clear enough for him to understand. "-if you, you know, wanted to- or needed, I don't know, I mean.." you shrug. "-I wouldn't mind. I'd let you, you know." You mumble, and he shakes his head.

"You shouldn't." He tells you. "What if I can't stop?" He lowly suggests, and you look at him intently.

"I'll kick you in the balls."

He bursts out laughing at that, absolutely amused by your honestly dizzying change of boldness every few sentences. You'll say the oddest things with a straight face sometimes, and it's just one of many things he truly fell In love with over the course of your friendship.

"That'll certainly stun me for a good moment, I'll give you that." He praises, making you giggle as well next to him.

"You'd be nice though." You nod, closing your eyes again. "You wouldn't hurt me." You say, and he nods to himself.

"Hmhm." He affirms softly, changing lanes while you slowly doze off next to him.

And as he continues to drive you to the camping ground, he avoids any bumps in the road to make sure you'll sleep just fine.

[alexanderlightweight]

Before prompting (which woo boi pushing through my anxiety to do this took a hot second XD) just wanted to say thank you for all the absolutely outstanding content, my first day off every week is Wednesday and your writing has become the perfect way to detach from work and destress my brain so again thank you!

I saw a tiktok today that I just went omg mobwife!Alec and I am sharing a screenshot but also more mobwife!Alec please?

i'm so proud of you! good job even though that must have been a lot pushing through the anxiety. i'm glad the days work well together and i'm happy you look forward to my writing! i was very happy getting your ask and prompt and just everything! i'm really happy to share wednesdays and writing with people!

here we go! more mob!wife alec and i hope you enjoy and i love this picture and image and he absolutely wears it and he also wears these a lot cause i realize i never added a picture

-

“You know he’s gonna bring Alec, honey.” Mari warns as she fluffs her skirt and pats down her waist. “There’s never a chance he’ll show up anywhere without him, but especially not a strip club. What were you thinking, anyway?”

“Jamie changed the venue.” Leo grumbles and he sounds as miserable as she feels. “You’re not gonna be able to pull him away from Bane, are you?”

Mari shakes her head, truly sympathetic and also filled with a little vindictive glee.

“Alec didn’t like that secretary touching Bane, you think he’s going to put up with girls hoping to score? He’ll be sticking close tonight.”

—

“When you said a strip club, this is not what I thought you meant.” Alexander admits and his nose crinkles in distaste as the vast amount of naked, mundane bodies on display.

“Would you have stayed home?” Magnus asks, genuinely curious and Alexander gives him a grumpy, petulant look and sighs.

“No Magnus, I would not have stayed home. I just wouldn’t have worn something with so much skin myself.” Alexander looks intensely uncomfortable, “it’s suspiciously sticky in here and for once, I wish it was ichor.”

Magnus muffles a chuckle in Alexander’s hair and uses his magic pass over his boy’s skin.

“Better?” He murmurs and Alexander nods against him in relief, his entire body coated with a thin layer of magic that will look like specks of glitter when he shifts.

“I love you.” Alexander murmurs into the crook of his neck and Magnus genuinely wishes they didn’t have to worry about a faerie aphrodisiac being leaked into the mundane world. If they didn’t, he could have Alexander back home where they could be reading together, in bed or having dinner just the two of them in some country across the world.

“I’m taking you to France, in the morning.” Magnus tells him, “we’ll go to that place with that little river you loved, the one you spent the morning hunting crayfish in.”

Alexander genuinely looks interested at that and he perks up a bit before he eyes the stage and deflates again.

“Just stay close.” Magnus tells him, because the last thing he needs is Alexander away from him and being swarmed by mundanes who think he’s pretty. Which is something that has happened before on the mundane levels of Pandemonium.

“Like I’m going anywhere.” Alexander scoffs and he steps even closer, letting Magnus wrap his arms around him and pull him flush to him.

Magnus hums and kisses his neck and lets his fingers play with the threads of Alexander’s corset and he wonders just how much it would cost him to bribe Alexander onto the stage.

“No,” his boy mutters, giving him an unamused but loving glare, “I can see something going on in your head, Magnus. I don’t know what it is, but no.”

“Next time.” Magnus promises, because that would be a little cruel to try for tonight and then he’s guiding Alexander over to the group they’re supposed to be a part of.

The start of it goes well enough, until the drinks start coming and then things go sour.

Alexander freezes from where he’s drinking his champagne and he eyes the cup consideringly before he reaches out and plucks Mari’s glass away from her and he instead drinks it.

To the increasing shock and horror of the man across from them all.

“Alec?” Mari asks, confusion and wariness in her voice as she eyes the glass Alexander is now holding.

“Magnus—” Alexander slurs, eyes going hazy almost instantly, “sa’ hot in here babe.”

“What was in that?” Magnus asks, voice furious and heated as he takes the glass from Alexander and sniffs it. He recoils a moment later and sends a vicious, seething glare to the man he was supposed to meet tonight.

“This is an extremely volatile aphrodisiac.” Magnus says lowly and he stares at the mundane, “it’s been known to kill half the people who consume it.”

Mostly because half of the people consuming it are mundanes and it will kill them with pleasure.

A little death still kills, after all.

There’s silence in their little section for a bare moment and then the man is being penned down by Leo’s personal security and Mari is being sat down by Leo into a chair.

“Leo, you will deal with this. Won’t you?” Magnus asks, voice cruel and casual as he gets an arm around Alexander’s waist. His boy is stable, even while drugged and listless and the arm he slings around Magnus’ neck is firm and sturdy, meaning Alexander is playing up the affects to a degree.

“Do you need a doctor?” Leo offers, shaky and worried, and Magnus knows that he means well but he scoffs and shakes his head.

“There are very few I trust with my husband, Leo. Especially on nights like tonight.”

—

“Why did you drink it, sweetheart?” Magnus asks when he finally gets Alexander to their loft and his boy is sweating and miserable and touch-hungry and grumpy about it.

“The dosage would have killed a mundane.” Alexander gasps out, “I didn’t recognize the scent, but I knew it wouldn’t kill me.”

“Not good enough!” Magnus bites out as he gets Alexander undressed and in the cool, tepid water of the bath. “You don’t put yourself in danger like that, ever. Especially not for something as reckless as this. “

Alexander pouts up at him and sighs and then admits, “I knew we’d have to leave if I drank it. Plus, it was evidence, someone is definitely leaking faerie drugs into the mundane world.”

Magnus hisses like a scalded cat and cups Alexander’s wet face between his palms. “I’ll make up a reason, if you’re going to be dosed with something like this, it should at least be a good experience. Not this!” Magnus sighs in exasperation and adds oils to the cold water that Alexander is shivering in.

“Honestly, darling.” Magnus chides as he lets his magic untangle the aphrodisiac and drugs apart from each other so he can purge the mundane drugs from Alexander’s body. It won’t be so easy with anything else, but mundane drugs don’t affect shadowhunters accept as a mild allergy.

“Love you.” Alexander slurs cheekily and Magnus uses magic to make him hold his breath and then dunks him, scrubbing his hair viciously before pulling him back up.  Alexander splutters and shakes his hair, water going everywhere as he pouts up at Magnus.

“Menace!” Magnus tells him, suddenly exhausted and relieved and far less likely to destroy half of New York’s criminal underbelly.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Under Orders - Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1 🔹Part 2🔹Part 3🔹Part 4🔹Part 5

Pairing: (soft?)Dom!Marshall x reader (Described Marshall x reader)

Summary: August comes home after a business trip, only to find out his princess is under some highly inconvenient orders...

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, BDSM, D/s dynamic (technically D/s/D), praise kink, bondage, anal sex (toys, fingering, p-in-a) (f receiving) (unprotected, anal creampie), double penetration, slight hurt/comfort, use of pet names/titles (Daddy, Sir, princess, kitten, sweetheart, love and darling), established relationship, extra light dacryphilia, spanking, phone sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, humiliation/degradation kink xxs?, bratty behavior (XXL), punishment/funishment, edging, orgasm denial, Also check-ins and aftercare... Tell me if I missed any because... Yeah, it's a lot.

A/N: So this took a slightly different turn, but I'm happy with it... If anyone still had any doubts if subbing for these two guys was intense, they'll be gone after reading this. Ask about part 3, I dare you ;)

I'm tagging everyone who expressed any kind of interest in a second part of this

✨filth✨

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @peaches1958 @know1udno @dedicated-to-mr-cavill @7eamfan7asy @ylva-stark @summersong69 @kingliam2019 @mayloma @sloppyzengarden @youve-yeed-yer-last-haw

Anyway: loads of smut under the cut

It’s almost seven when your cab pulls up to Marshall’s house. The lights are on in the kitchen, and you can see him through the window. As you walk up to the door, your hips sway with every step because of the heels you’re wearing, and it exaggerates the movement of August’s latest gift. The cold air of the night causes goosebumps to erupt all over your legs, and a particularly harsh gust of wind sends shivers down your spine when it finds its way underneath your trench coat and directly brushes past the sensitive skin of your pussy. The one time August can’t – or won’t, you’re not quite sure – drive you and he insists you wear nothing but that damn coat.

“Hey,” Marshall says as soon as the door opens, and he grabs the bag you’re holding, “dinner’s almost ready.” You sigh in relief. At least you get to breathe before you’re toast for your disobedience from last weekend. That being said, you’re not exactly looking forward to having dinner naked, so you’re not in a hurry to discard the only garment you’re wearing. Your stomach growls when you take in the scent in the hallway; whatever Marshall is cooking smells fantastic.  

“It’s a simple pasta,” he says when you comment on it, “can I get you anything to drink? Water?”

“A glass of wine, maybe?” Your breath catches in your throat when you see him shake his head.

“No alcohol tonight, darling.” You don’t know what to make of it. All you know is that he needs you sober tonight, and that can be for all kinds of reasons.

“Aren’t you going to take your coat off?” Either he hasn’t caught on yet, or he’s pretending. In any case, it makes you feel insanely uncomfortable – in a way that exaggerates the sticky situation between your legs, and you cross your arms in front of your body to shield yourself from Marshall’s helping hands. It’s enough for him to realize what’s going on – he’s a detective, after all – and the grin on his face proves it. You aren’t surprised at all when the next time he asks if you are going to take your coat off, it isn’t really a question. He takes it from you with the calmest expression on his face and hangs it up before telling you to go to the kitchen. He deliberately walks behind you; Walter Marshall loves a good ass, and he’s especially fond of yours.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says as you walk into the kitchen. He means ‘sit down’, but he’s not in the mood to give orders outright yet. It’s happened before that he waits with that until after dinner.

Let the records show that you love food, and therefore had never expected to find yourself in a situation the phrase ‘suffering through dinner’ would apply to. Yet that’s exactly what’s going on here; it’s not particularly warm in the house, and the hard plastic of the chair you’re on feels weird against your skin. You’re barely even able to enjoy the meal Marshall has prepared, which is a shame; he’s quite a good cook. By the time you’re almost done eating, you’re completely unable to sit still anymore.

“Darling, stop squirming,” Marshall says for the second time, and you whimper. Your legs are shaking, you just can’t help it, but you can tell Marshall is losing his patience. After a while, he gets up from the table and disappears for a minute.

He returns with something in his hand, and you immediately recognize the icy blue silicone.

“Get up.” He seems to have moved past dressing up his demands as request, and seems to think you are in dire need of direct orders right about now. He might just be right… You do as he tells you, shaking on your heels, and he looks down at the chair with a sly grin on his face.

“Are you making a mess of my chair, love?” “No, Sir,” you answer before thinking about it, then bite your lip when you realize your mistake.

“And lying about it, too.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly and you gasp when his hand connects with your ass in a rather unfriendly manner. “I had really hoped he’d have taught you some manners by now, but I guess not. Bend over.” You lean forward, putting your hands on the table and sticking your ass out behind you. Marshall’s warm, large hand roams your back and kneads the flesh of your ass roughly before dipping between your legs.

“Now, let me ask again: Are you making a mess of my chair?” You whimper again when two of his fingers find your entrance and he pushes them in harshly. It doesn’t hurt – you’re dripping – but it’s unexpected and startling.

“Yes, Sir,” you say through clenched teeth as he moves his fingers inside your core. Apparently something feels unexpected to Marshall, too, because you hear a low chuckle before he takes a small step back, and his fingers withdraw, leaving your drenched pussy clenching around nothing. He spreads your cheeks to get a better visual, and laughs again when he sees the only thing August allowed you to wear apart from the shoes.

“That’s new.” The observation is followed by a few swift spanks that make you squeal, and then you feel the tip of the toy he’s holding between your lips, teasing at your entrance. “It’s bigger, isn’t it?” He begins to push the toy into you, easing it in so agonizingly slowly that you’re sure you’re going insane.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Is Daddy stretching you out for me?” His mouth is next to your ear now, and you can feel the warmth of his breath and the scruff of his beard on your skin. Of course he doesn’t accept your furious nodding as an answer.

“Yes, Sir.” Marshall laughs when you throw your head back and moan when he finally slides the rest of the dildo inside you. The feeling is amazing, even though the toy isn’t anywhere near as big as either of your guys – neither of the toys comes even remotely close to their sizes.

“Sit.” What? You look at Marshall wide-eyed, and you are met with the no-nonsense look he saves for those times where he really isn’t going to take any attitude from you. Still, your mouth opens to protest, even though you can’t for the love of everything that’s holy figure out what the fuck is wrong with you that you would dare.

“I don’t think it was a question, darling,” he says before a single sound can escape from you, and you give in, gasping loudly as you sit down. If you couldn’t sit still before, you sure as hell can’t manage now that both of your holes are filled.

“Squirm all you want, love, but you’re not allowed to come until I say so.” You mentally curse him to hell and back, but wisely keep your mouth shut as you sit as still as you can possibly manage. It’s safe to say dinner is done, and you push your plate away with an agitated sigh.

Marshall tells you to stay put as he clears the table, and it becomes harder for you to sit still with every passing second. He doesn’t mind your pitiful whining and moaning, in fact, he seems to relish the noises you make while he cleans up. When he’s done, he joins you at the table again.

“I think we need to talk, darling,” he says. His tone is serious, and so is the expression on his face. You swallow hard, and the butterflies from before you arrived return to your stomach. There’s guilt in your eyes as you look at him, which makes him grab your hand and squeeze it lightly. “Would you come upstairs with me?”

You follow him to the bedroom, keeping both toys inside you, which earns you an impressed smirk from Marshall. The first thing you notice when you step into the room is the rope that’s lying on the foot of the bed – the same kind he used to tie you up the week before. The sight alone is enough to send shivers down your spine and set fire to your core, and you wonder what he’s got in store for you. Marshall tells you to sit on the bed, and you oblige with newfound enthusiasm.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks. The tone of his voice is sincere. He joins you on the bed and pulls you into his broad chest before you can answer the question.

“Yes, Sir,” you murmur. It’s not a lie, per se; it’s almost ridiculous how nice it is to feel filled up like that, it’s just annoying that you’re not allowed to come, and the fact that you keep unconsciously squirming and clenching the toys is inconvenient and distracting. You expect to be reprimanded for saying all of that, but Marshall kisses your neck instead.

“Good girl,” he says before pulling the dildo out. You whine at the loss and glare at Marshall, who no doubt misinterpreted your words on purpose. “Sweetheart, I’ll let you come as many times as you want, and then some, but right now, I need your undivided attention. Can you give me that?” You nod and tell him you can, which he really seems to appreciate.

And then he starts the conversation you’ve been anxious about for a whole week, but not in any kind of way you had ever expected.

“I’m sorry I left you to make a call about the ropes by yourself last week, baby,” he says softly as he strokes your skin. You look at him as if you don’t understand. It was you who didn’t listen to his orders, why is he apologizing for that? “I should have considered the possibility that you wouldn’t listen to what I told you to do. August told me off about it, and he was more than right to: I never should have risked your safety, and I really do apologize.”

“But I didn’t listen…” The words are barely audible, muffled by the fabric of his sweater as you murmur them into his chest.

“That’s right, and you’re not off the hook for that, darling,” Marshall says, “but it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. I should have made you aware of the risks that came with going against that order. Which is what I want to do today, are you okay with that?” You look at him, your eyes no doubt glistening with curiosity.

“Yes, Sir!” The words sound eager even to your own ears, and Marshall laughs.

“It’s very important that you do as I tell you, and that you pay attention, alright, sweetheart?” Now you know why he needed you both to be completely sober tonight… You answer him with the same amount of enthusiasm and do what he tells you immediately when he orders you to sit on your knees.

The next few hours are filled with explanations of different basic knots, practicing them, and a very detailed safety briefing on circulation and nerve damage, and you’re loving every second of it. You start by practicing on yourself, which is quite exciting.

“That’s too tight,” Marshall warns you every so often – especially in the beginning, “you have absolutely nothing to prove, darling.” He says that a lot, and you can use the warning. It’s almost as if you’re tempted to pull every single knot tighter than you actually want it to show Marshall you’re tough, that you can handle it, but he stops you every single time.

“Sweetheart, when I ask you whether you’re still comfortable, always tell me the truth.” He says when he catches you lying about your comfort level, and he shows you a knot that’s shifted to a place where it’s no longer safe. “It’s okay to be uncomfortable, it’s not okay to be unsafe.”

As if the little shibari-masterclass you’re getting wasn’t exciting enough on its own, Marshall has you practice some of the things on him, which is strange, but also extremely fun. Your cheeks heat up when he compliments you.

“You’re getting good at this,” he says. At first, everything he tells you to do to him happens in his sight, and you find the way he’s watching you while you work very exciting. And then he makes the big mistake of letting you tie his hands behind his back. In your defense; he should have known better. You ignore the warnings he gives you as you secure the end of the rope to the bedframe, and smile deviously as you make your way to the foot of the bed, grabbing the toy you used earlier off the nightstand on the way there.

“I’m giving you one final chance to reconsider this.” His tone is annoyed, but his eyes are not, which tells you he is secretly having fun – probably thinking about all the ways in which he will be punishing you for your bratty behavior later. Right now, you can’t be bothered by it, though you know you should probably know better.

“Are you uncomfortable?” You ask, knowing very well that the only reason you’re risking taking that tone with him right how is because he can’t smack the brat out of you – yet.

“I’m not.” There was a significant part of you that didn’t expect the answer you’re getting from him. There’s no doubt in your mind he’s telling you the truth: Marshall lives by his own rules. That being said; the last thing you want from him right now is for him to fake discomfort so he can get untied to gain the upper hand again. And he knows that.

You sit at the foot of the bed and smirk at Marshall, who seems to get calmer with every passing second – which you don’t like one bit. Slowly, you spread your legs to give him a good view of your pussy. You shudder when you slide the tip of the toy between your lips and tease yourself a bit, using your fingers to spread yourself even wider for the entertainment – or torment – of your spectator. He didn’t bat an eye; he didn’t scowl at you or tell you to stop, nor did he give you the impression he was enjoying this. His indifference is provocative, so much so that you go as far as looking him straight in the eye when you push the dildo all the way in, and don’t break eye contact as you start fucking yourself with it.

Something in his eyes drives you wild, pushes you to keep going, until you can’t keep your eyes on his anymore because it’s just become impossible to keep them open altogether. One hand pumps the toy in and out of your pussy while the other finds your clit and rubs tight circles around the sensitive bud until you can’t take it anymore. Fuck, you’re going to be in so much trouble. You have a decision to make, and you don’t have a lot of time to do it.

It’s either time for some serious damage control, or you finish making your bed with needles and pins. You make your decision a split second too late, deciding it isn’t worth it just as you tumble over the edge. When your eyes open again, they’re met with an icy blue gaze that tells you you’re more than screwed. The feeling you get from it is surreal. There’s a whirlwind of butterflies in your stomach, fighting to make their way out of you, and your breath catches in your throat.

“I hope you enjoyed that, baby, because that was the last one for the foreseeable future.” He means it, everything about the way he says it tells you that immediately, and there is absolutely no part of you that is willing to challenge him right now. You know you can’t keep him there forever. Everything you do that goes against him is just going to piss him off more, yet you’re frozen, both unwilling and unable to deal with the aftermath of your attitude just yet. So you sit there, in front of him, with a guilt-ridden look on your face and a trembling bottom lip.  

“You made the conscious decision to go against me. Now you’re going to have to make the conscious decision to face the consequences of those actions. Untie me.” You move as slowly as humanly possible, until he tells you to speed it up. With each knot you untie, your heart beats faster and harder, your thighs clench together and the knot in your stomach tightens.

“What do I do with you now?” It’s usually a rhetorical question, but the way he asks it today is a bit different. He also doesn’t seem to appreciate your silence; he’s genuinely waiting for an answer.

“I said; what do I do with you now? You’re clearly in charge here, so tell me.” His fingertips gently stroke your cheek, which makes you shiver even more than you were already doing. “What do girls like you get for behavior like this?”

You’re frozen, unable to answer – perhaps because you don’t have an answer to his question – and incredibly curious as to what is actually going to happen to you.

“You don’t know?” he asks you, and his fingers move to the back of your head, where they grab hold of your hair. “You don’t want to make a decision?” You violently shake your head in reply to his question, but it’s not good enough; he tells you to speak up.

“N-no, Sir,” you say as you avert your eyes. He orders you to get on your knees and you listen. Your insides are on fire, anticipation courses through your veins, driving you wild with desire, and the insane curiosity is making you jittery. Marshall starts ties you down in your kneeling position, making sure your hands are secure behind your back. Then he retrieves your favorite vibrator from the box in his nightstand, and you know you’re screwed.

“No, please, no,” you beg as he walks over to you with a sadistic grin on his face, but it’s too late now. He straps the toy to your thigh and turns it on before briefly leaning on your thighs and bringing his face close to yours.

“And before you even so much as think about asking if you can come, the answer is no.” The vibrator is a corded wand, so you don’t even have the luxury of knowing the battery will run out, and within minutes you’re squirming, breathing heavy and whining. Not long after that, the whines turn to cries and pleas. And he just sits there, in front of you – the fucking bastard – for what feels like an eternity, slowing the speed of the vibrations every time you’re close to orgasm. Somehow, it’s better than when he gets up and takes his phone out of his pocket. He sits behind you on the bed, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Squeeze my hand, darling?” He follows the question by checking for damage in a few other ways before turning to you again. “Where are you, comfort wise?” You understand his question immediately – and sigh when he presses his lips to your neck.

“Green,” you say, “pushing yellow.” You’re beginning to reach an uncomfortable stage of overstimulation, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of it.

“Good girl, keep talking to me, okay?” There’s something special about his check-ins, and you especially love that he stays close to you now, even though you’re fairly sure you won’t love what’s coming next. You feel another peak coming and you beg Marshall to let you come, but he denies you again.

“Please, Sir, please let me come, please, I’m begging you.” It’s all music to his ears, you’re sure, but he’s enjoying this far too much to just let you off the hook.

“I don’t know, you don’t seem to be listening to me very well, lately,” he says and his phone appears in front of you. The first thing you see is your face. You’re fairly sure there is no more mascara left on your eyelashes; all of it seems to be smudged across your cheeks from the tears you can’t fight back anymore because of the overwhelming sensations, and your lipstick is ruined from biting your lip.

“What did you do, princess?” Fuck. Your eyes widen as soon as you hear August’s voice through the phone, and you turn around to look at Marshall.

“Answer him,” Marshall says bluntly.

“I didn’t listen to Sir,” you murmur while heat gathers in your cheeks.

“I think you did more than that, sweetheart,” Marshall says. There’s a subtle threat to his voice that you can’t make out completely. You tell August the whole story, in between cries and gasps as Marshall keeps edging you relentlessly.

“So, a week?” August asks when you’re done talking. The question is clearly not aimed at you, but at Marshall, who gives a decidedly affirmative answer. You whine as you’re denied yet another orgasm – and because you won’t be having any for at least a week. You curse yourself. Marshall loves a little bit of defiance, but you just had to tie him up

“If she keeps misbehaving, I'll have to make it two. It would be a shame, though.” Marshall says. He’s smiling, and so is August. The guys clearly have something special planned.

“I understand, although I agree it would be a pity. But I know our little princess can be a good girl.” He turns his attention to you: “Can’t you, kitten?” You cry when the vibrations slow down again, keeping you away from yet another peak, and you know you can’t take more of this.

“Yes, Daddy, I can. I can, Sir, I promise. I won’t disappoint you, please, please let me prove it!” Tears roll down your cheeks and your words are interrupted by cries and sobs, until you finally hear the click of a button and the vibrations stop altogether. It leaves you with a strangely empty feeling, and you clench your thighs instinctively.

“You did very well, love,” Marshall says softly. He gently traces his fingers over the skin of your thighs and calves, raising a hand to August when he tries to ask a question.

“How are you doing, darling?” Je starts untying your wrists, which is very welcome. He was definitely pushing some boundaries, but you loved every second of it. August chuckles when you tell Marshall that – you can hear the sound come from somewhere on the bed. He loves it when you push yourself for them. Once your hands are free and Marshall is working on freeing your legs of their confinement, you reach for the phone, only to receive a literal slap on the wrist.

“Ask.”

“Can I talk to Daddy, Sir?” The look on his face – an unamused, eyebrow-raised side-eye kind of look from the ‘watch it’ category – tells you enough. “Please, Sir?”

“Of course, love. As a matter of fact, I think he mentioned he’d love to see what I’d do to you for last week’s disobedience.” Your eyes go wide. Somehow, somewhere along the way, you managed to forget about that.

“But, Sir, you just-“

“I just what, love? So far, we have unnecessary and distracting squirming during dinner, and making a mess of my kitchen chair,” he counts your infractions on his fingers for dramatic effect, “tying me up, playing with yourself and coming without my permission, an absolutely insufferable attitude, and several counts of disobedience while you went about it. Everything up until now has been for the trouble you got yourself into today.” For some reason, you grab the phone off the duvet and look at August.

“Daddy!” Big mistake. Both of them laugh and you feel smaller and smaller every second.

“Oh no, Princess, you made your bed, now you lie in it. Besides, I think I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Not as much as I am,” Marshall says as he sits on the edge of the bed and gestures at you to come over. He puts you over his knees without trouble.

“Can I hang up the phone?” you try, but you’re met with scornful laughter from both men.

“I don’t answer silly questions, love,” Marshall says as he pinches your backside hard. Ten slaps on each side, he says, and you have to count them. Mess up and start over. It’s pretty standard, but they’re going to drag this out, you just know it.

You do pretty well until the eighth smack is a particularly harsh one that makes you swear.

“Language!” You clench your thighs when they say it, and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot straight to your core. Your little fuckup means you’re starting over. You mess the next one up on purpose – who knew eight comes before nine, not after? And then Marshall is done warming you up. You love it when he starts playing for keeps; he’s brutal, and it’s nearly impossible to keep your head on straight while counting. So much so, that you mess up two more times.

“Do you need a break, sweetheart?” You want to tell him you don’t, but it would be such a blatant lie you’d be in trouble all over again. Your ass is on fire, and you know the next set will bruise – marks you’ll wear with pride, no doubt – so the break is welcome. Marshall’s soft touch is soothing on your red hot, stinging skin, and you love to hear August’s voice.

“Good girl, taking your punishment so well for us.” Now your cheeks – the ones on your face – are burning as well.

“She’s doing fantastic,” Marshall says as he very, very gently squeezes your ass, “enjoying it, too.” You can feel your blush deepen as he says it, and it’s all because his fingers dip between your legs and he runs them through your folds. He takes a minute to tease your soaking wet pussy. You squeal when two of his fingers slide in, and a third follows nearly immediately, stretching your drenched little hole out so good it makes you want to cry – and you do. There’s no need to hold back, your makeup is already ruined and both of your guys get off on the sound, anyway.

“Is that good, baby? Do you want me to keep going?” Your answer is a weak moan that prompts both Marshall and August to ask you to use your words. Of course, as soon as you say ‘yes’, Marshall’s fingers disappear from your core. They reappear on your lips, a clear order for you to open your mouth and let them in.

Sucking Marshall’s fingers clean while August watches does something to you; you clench your thighs and wriggle in Marshall’s lap as you take his fingers as far down your throat as possible.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl, princess,” August groans, and you swell with pride when you realize he’s getting himself off to the sight of his little princess being smacked around by his friend. You put on a little show for him, sucking on Marshall’s fingers with an abundant enthusiasm both men really seem to appreciate, giving August your best ‘fuck me’-eyes while you choke on the digits that occupy your throat. You whine when Marshall pulls back.

“Think you can make this the last set?” he asks, as he gives your ass another gentle stroke.

“Yes, Sir,” you say determinedly, and you look at the phone to see August smile proudly. He praises you all the way through while Marshall focuses on spanking you, and this time around, you make it to ten without any more problems.

“Good girl,” he says, “I’m impressed.” August agrees with him. You’re burning, skin tingling all over and butterflies are roaming free  through your body as they shower you with compliments and affection.

“I’d love to stay, kitten,” August says, “but I have some work to finish. Be good, I love you.” It’s a little sad when he hangs up the phone, but your attention is captured by Marshall again when he gently takes out the butt plug you’re still wearing. For a moment, you feel empty, but you have a feeling it won’t be for long.

“Are you still up for it, darling?” You want to scream that you are, but you think it over for a moment.

“Can I move around for a bit, Sir?” you ask him, and Marshall gladly allows you to. It’s one of the easiest ways for you to figure out just how sore and ‘done’ you are. The first thing you do is ditch the shoes, and your calves protest slightly when your feet are flat on the floor again.

You’re good, you decide, which Marshall seems very happy about, but you do ask to go a little slower. Naturally, he complies. He’ll be pushing you enough trying to work his massive cock into your ass. The thought is intimidating; he’s bigger than August and a part of you refuses to believe it’s going to fit. A substantial part. But something about the way he goes about this, almost as if he’s urging you – but not in a way that pushes you past any limits, convinces you that he’s doing this for you. The boys have something planned and you have an inkling it involves two excessively large appendages shoved into two relatively tiny holes; it’s better to be prepared. You need to know you can take him.

His approach reminds you of the exact reason you’re happy he wasn’t your first. He’s gentle, but the pace is significantly higher than August’s was last week. It’s a good thing August wasn’t born yesterday, and that the two are well acquainted, because without his preparation throughout the week, you would have been startled by it to say the least – and you might just have given up on the whole endeavor altogether. He’s already fucking three fingers into your ass by the time you get out of your head and back to the present.

It’s harder to match his rhythm while you’re on your back, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. Marshall checks in on you constantly. You pull at his sweater, impatient to get it of him so you can curl up against the fur of his chest, and he happily obliges. You whine when he pulls his fingers out, but you don’t get a lot of time to mourn the loss, because they find their way back swiftly, along with copious amounts of lube.

His naked body feels good against yours; you’ve missed him, and you take some time to let your fingers wander over his skin, lingering a bit longer at that one scar he never gave you an explanation for other than ‘he got shot but it was no big deal’. He takes his time with the last digit and slows his movements to gently work you open until he reaches a point where he feels comfortable to even ask you if you’re ready to proceed.

“Yes, Sir,” you say, unable to open your eyes due to the overwhelming sensations of the experience. He surprises you when he shakes your head and shushes you.

“Use my name,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. You push him away from you again to look in his eyes, and you see it. He’s reached a limit: aftercare starts now. You stroke his cheek and pull him back in, kissing him gently for a moment before pulling back and grinning.

“First name?”

“Never,” he says before you both burst out in laughter. Where there is a certain solemnity to aftercare with August, you and Marshall have a tendency to turn into idiots. He grins widely as he asks you if you still want to finish what you started, and you sigh.

“Will we ever make love like normal people?” You wouldn’t want to, he knows that, but he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t play along.

“We still can?” You feel the head of his cock slide over your pussy and you moan.

“I need to know,” you say, “I have a pretty good idea of what you and August have planned for next weekend, and I have to know…”

“Smart girl,” Marshall mumbles as he presses his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck. You feel the coolness of even more lube against your skin, and you hear the obscene sounds of him, stroking his cock, coating it in the same cool wetness before positioning himself. “Don’t be a hero, baby.” He winks – tries to – and gently applies pressure.

“Fuck!” That vowel lasts a solid two seconds as you’re being stretched tight around his dick. “You’re way too big, this is rude. Rude!” You both laugh at that, which helps ease him in further until his pelvis rests against yours. You’re fortunate that the position you’re in doesn’t allow him to go deeper, because you see no way those logistics would pan out – ever.

“Rude, darling,” Marshall groans in your ear, “is the fact your arse is so tight, I think I’m going to come on the way out. Fuck.”

“Come on, you can give me at least a few good thrusts, can’t you?” He doesn’t seem to need any more motivation to begin moving; he gently rocks into you. He’s careful not to hurt you, and it works.

“No pain?”

“Just the amazing feeling of gigantic dick up my ass,” you moan in between gasps. His lips find yours again and he kisses you. It’s still gentle, but passionate, and your mouth opens automatically. His tongue slides into your mouth, dancing with yours for a moment before he pulls back and breaks the kiss.

“I can’t- Sorry, love,” he groans as he thrusts in a last time and fills your ass up with cum. He lies on top of you for a minute before pulling out and moving away. “Come take a shower with me?”

You nod and let him pick you up, asking for the same minute you did when it was August last week. Again; There are some things your not-boyfriend-but-boyfriend’s-college-roommate-bestie-who-you-also-kinda-fuck-questionmark… Fine, things your other boyfriend – or something – doesn’t need to be a part of. Just yet, or maybe ever. He turns the water on before he steps out of the room, and patiently waits for you to call him back in. You’re already the shower, and he steps in behind you, hissing as the water that hits his skin is far warmer than his preferred temperature, but he sucks it up. Marshall wraps his arms around you and kisses you on your head before he starts gently massaging your neck and shoulders – a welcome massage he’ll surely continue when you get back to bed.

“Is there anything we need to discuss?” He asks as he turns you around in his arms and pulls you into his chest. You shake your head and tell him everything was perfect. Marshall is quick to agree with you. He knows all too well that he gets ten times the attitude August does, but he doesn’t mind at all.

“Are you excited for next week?” It’s a redundant question and he knows it, but you meet his gaze with a wide smile on your face.

“Yes, Sir.”