starfirette - Tumblr blog

starfirette · 1 year

Text

daryl dixon nsfw alphabet

❄️ 17+ | masterlist

❄️ I remember staying up past my curfew every Sunday to watch this show. I was convinced that I could audition to be a Walker and make it. I was also convinced that Norman Reedus would see me, a 13 year old in zombie makeup, and be willing to commit crimes to be with me. Anyways here's this. Veterans to this blog May remember my old Daryl fics and I hope to god I've deleted every trace of them so yahoo and tallyho I guess. Requests are open and I'm going to post two of them tomorrow!!!! 🥳

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It took time for him to warm up to you, but eventually he became comfortable enough to carefully pull you against him. Falling in love with you and warming up to you were two different things for him. The first time you two have slept together he felt awkward and he pulled away, sitting on the edge of the bed and dressing before leaving with a mumble. He returned to find you crying. "You just left," you had sniffed out. It was painful. You'd been through total hell: hoards of walkers, trapped in abdandoned houses, fights with random survivors. But this had you crying. Still naked in the bed, body bruised and hickied, and tears standing your face.

Daryl scrambled to grab you. He pressed a kiss both wet eyes. He laid with you, fully clothed with the night air in his beard and hair. Your naked self curled up against him, but the grasps were chaste and loving.

Daryl felt guilty beyond measure.

It is now custom for every night that he kisses his chapped lips on your body. Soft. Careful. Slow. He eases you back to the earth. Daryl never thought he was capable of being tender until he first held you in his hands. Covering you in blankets or helping you get redressed. Passing you water. Then kissing your forehead before tucking you in for the night. When you've fallen asleep he'll tell you he loves you. He doesn't like to do it often because he feels almost uncomfortable to say it, out of fear that he's going to be rejected. At least when you're sleeping he can say it over and over.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your tittiesssss. It's a primal urge to love and be loved by a comforting woman. I wouldn't say that he outwardly has a mommy kink. I don't think he'd ever call a girl mommy, actually! But he finds relief at the end of the day by laying on your stomach and sucking your tits into his mouth. Groaning and swirling his tongue around your nipples as your hands comb the knots out of his hair.

He worships them.

"Best pair I've ever seen," he promises, each and every time.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Also on your tits. Massaging the slick seed over your nipples while your lashes catch tears like drops of water on a spiderweb. It's mesmerizing and it's enthralling. It magnetizes on his cock to hear his skin sticking to yours with the semen between them, or to see your pretty breasts glisten in the lanterlight.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

That he was morbidly inexperienced in the area of romance. I think he's had plenty of sex but I don't think it really had feeling. I think that brought him down. All Daryl ever really wanted was to feel loved. It's so much better to fuck while knowing you're his woman.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Again, I think he's fairly experienced. I think he's not exactly happy or proud by the situations he's been in, but he also knows what he likes in the bedroom.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Missionary is likely, however I also think that he likes to stand behind you. Pinning you to his chest so he can look over you and watch your face control and your tits jiggle while your cute pussy keeps him in a chokehold. Actually, I know it's this position.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

When he cracks a joke or laughs then you know all is well in the world. That you and your people are safe; that you won't go to bed hungry; that you'll have a proper breakfast with Daryl come morning before parting ways for 'work'.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I personally doubt that he bothers to trim or shave anything and idk if I'm weird for thinking it's hot, but 🤷‍♀️🫡

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very much extremely so 🥳

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

I imaging that Daryl looks so delicious when he's touching himself. He's all alone and he's vulnerable. He's himself without any fear or worries. His mouth parted, maybe he'll even let out the smallest of moans as he thumbs his slit. And he's not afraid to keep going. He will make himself cum over and over until he feels satisfied.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Size difference 😜 or when you're crying. When you're face is just streaming with tears while your cunt and thighs are slick with cum, after hours of being fucked and worshipped. And he's going to keep going. So also overstimulation ☺️

But please. I implore you to turn the tables. Sneak up on him and worship this man. Kiss him all over. Make him feel good. Please. He needs it. Pleasure him and most of all PRAISE HIM. He has a HUGE praise kink that he didn't even know about!

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

MAYBE on a run. MAYBE. I imagine that the minute you two almost get caught by another group or by walkers, he's banned the both of you from fondling while on a run. I think he'd like the idea of having a secret hideout. A place with the essence of just you and him, decorated only for two pairs of eyes.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

His own mind. But sometimes he won't even have dirty thoughts, however, and then you'll whisper the filthiest thing in his ear. Then he can't think of anything else.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Impact play. Aside from clit or tit spanking, just sexy spanking, things like whipping or slapping is a no. It's too personal and he'd never get off on it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Prefers giving because he's silently insecure. He's meticulous in his tongue strokes. Presses kisses to your puffy lips and licks between them before nuzzling your clit with his nose. His scruff feels so ticklish against you. It makes you squirm. He'll use his rough hands to pin your hips down, forcing you to bear the pleasure he bestows while tongue fucking your tight hole or sucking your clit like a lemon slice. This is what I mean when I say size difference, btw. Man handling might be a better term. I wholeheartedly want Daryl to throw me around like a rag doll and use me the way he needs 🥹

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

I think he typically ends up in a slow and steady jackhammering motion. I can't explain this right. Like a dotted quarter note in music theory...? That's the best way I can start to explain. Like every thrust has to settle for a second before he goes again-he wants to revel in the feeling. But it gets to a point when he's on the verge of cumming that his pace might get uneven. He'll push forward with choppy thrusts that take you higher and higher (deeper and deeper as the wise Kate Bush once said)

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Occasionally he gets in a cheeky mood. He'll probably do this while on watch at a more se the settlement, like the prison or Alexandria. He'll lick his two fingers before shoving them down your panties. Sometimes he'll fuck your throat while he's on watch, trying his hardest to keep an eye out. It's sexy when he grunts and muffles his own cries.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Probably not. Once you two have established a comfortable rhythm, he gets attached to it and he wouldn't want it to change. He'd be a little sad if you ever told him you weren't satisfied with the sex life you two have

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Oh my god he can last forever

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Nope

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

In the sense of "punishments" he might, but generally he gets off on making you squirm or cum

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Can be very loud or very quiet. He typically is good at keeping quiet. It's pornographic when he lets himself make sound. It's all groans and grunting, growling and dirty talking. "Little girl" is his go to sex pet name.

I was heavy stalking the Daryl fanfic tag the other day and saw one where he says "cuntmuffin" and I can't get that out of my mind

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

When Daryl got the hang of the punishment-dom/sub dynamic he absolutely had a field day. He's GOOD at it. Total brat tamer. He's an amazing dom and he doesn't even realize it. He's just naturally in tune with you. He enjoys having someone to love and someone to tease. When he trusts you, the sky is the limit

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

HUNG KING. I cannot even lie, I know that he's gigantic. Long AND thick. The only man whose balls I'd ever fondle 10/10

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He's a horny bastard when he lays his eyes on you. I'm sure when he first met you, at whatever point you joined the group (you may choose but I personally give myself too much credit and imagine I joined straight out of Atlanta), he totally imagined you in all sorts of nasty situations. Watching you with the other ladies washing laundry? He jerked off in the tent, took about 60 seconds. Merle had no clue.

When you first got an attitude with Shane? Okay, he took his sweet time and groaned your name. Edges himself a couple times.

When you opted for a long dagger rather than a shotgun, going for close range kills? Okay, he was in officially in love.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He'd be more than happy to snuggle up and fall asleep, but more often than not he's going to count ammunition stocks or take watch. He can't help but want to contribute morning, noon, and night.

#starfirette writes #starfirette renaissance #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd imagine #I'm so into daryl right now #I feel 13 again

333 notes · View notes

starfirette · 1 year

Note

Hi! I don’t know if you are taking requests or not but I was hoping you’d write more for Jace! Yours are my favorite pieces for him. If not that’s totally okay! Have a good day!

Hi, lovey! I am totally accepting requests if youve got any Jace requests in mind! There's a smut Jace request that I've strung a big plot into if you're interested! It's in the works of its first draft so maybe another week...?

I'm so glad to hear you like the Jace content! ❄️❤️

#starfirette speaks #my badass anons #i wish queue well

2 notes · View notes

starfirette · 1 year

Note

I'm not saying that Dori Sakurada has my heart but that's what I'm saying THANK YOU FOR GIVING US CONTENT SERIOUSLY YOU ARE A LIFE SAVIOR I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW MANY TIMES I REREAD YOUR WORKS SERIOUSLY.... I think I'm obsessed

Omg 🥹this made me so happy!!! I'm glad you like it all! I love Dori very much and the lack of fanfics sorta kills me!!! If you've got a request, feel free to send it in! I'm slowly but surely working my way through my old requests (I've got a poly BlackPink chapter coming up and some Harley Quinn requests too!) so feel free to send some in ❤️this goes for anyone btw

Hope you're having a lovely winter ❄️thanks again for the sweet message

#this made my night #kairasworld #i wish queue well #starfirette speaks #dori sakurada

6 notes · View notes

starfirette · 1 year

Note

Did you have a good Christmas?

I had an alright Christmas!!! The day itself was fun, if not stressful, being that I'm the oldest girl of many children so I'm what I like to call assistant mom. I've also been having fibromyalgia flare ups and it's been difficult to do anything but lay around and sleep. I hate taking muscle relaxers and Xanax (despite being prescribed them 😶) when I ACTUALLY need to take them, for no reason other than I don't like it.

But I got slippers and typewriter so

How was your Christmas? Do you celebrate? If not, did you have any other Winter holiday festivities to partake in? I hope everyone had lovely winter parties and warm nights ❤️

#my badass mutuals #zhellas #i wish queue well #my arms hurt so bad #if anyone has remedies or tips for fibromyalgia then #I'm all ears #fibromyalgia #it hurts bruh #can't wait to use my typewriter though #for the record the starfirette renaissance fics are still happening #I've just been sleeping

5 notes · View notes

starfirette · 1 year

Text

tenth doctor | nsfw alphabet

❄️someone requested a regeneration fic where the doctor is always really horny after a regeneration and I'm working on it! It's become really long! I hope that it turns out good ❤️ Merry Christmas and Happy Winter Holidays!!!

❄️masterlist

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

A needy, giddy man in need of a good meal! You two wrap up in bed and snack. He's got his arms around you in someway!

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

The Doctor is extremely self aware. He knows he's hit the regeneration lottery with this face. His favorite bit is the hair.

On you, absolutely your pussy ☺️I got nothing else to say. He of course admires all of your body. He loves to hold your hand. He loves to cuddle. But the chokehold your cunt has on him is impossibly strong and he'd do anything to touch it, to lick it, to just feel it tight around his cock....yeah

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Inside. Of. You. INSIDE OF YOU!!!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Not sure if he has secrets. More like dirty war stories

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's got tons of it. 900 years of experience under his belt, he's got the ability and patience to make you scream and cum until you wish you never would again.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He's controlling and sometimes sadistic. He's more of a dom. Whether you want a daddy or a master, you can decide but he'll be on board with either.

Of course he'd never really want to hurt you, but he gets kinky and caught up in the moment. His dark side can easily jump out. He could tie you up, pin you down, have you in your knees, and he'd be happy. But on the more heartfelt note, when he really loves you he could be so easily on his knees for you, worshipping your pussy and sucking on your clit with moans of his own.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Totally. He's always got a witty one liner up his sleeve!

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I kinda doubt it. I see 9 as the guy who trims and 11 as the guy who shaves. 10 probably just does enough to keep neat, for your sake.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

It depends on how close you two are. Upon being in total love with you, he'd become very intimate, and he'd quickly go from fucking to love making!

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Probably not often, unless he's given a real reason. Being with you gives a real reason. Watching you prance around the Tardis, seeing the fun outfits you put on for trips in time. He'll totally find the excuse to rub one out. He's an absolute vision when he jerks off. He's got his head tilted back and his plush mouth opened up to let his little gasps and moans out. He jerks himself hard and rough, edging himself over and over while he thinks about you: your ass in those bell bottom jeans, your breasts in the corset you wore when you took the visit to 1700s France. But also your smile when you see grand waterfalls or a cascade of shine meting meteors.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Edging! Making you beg to finally cum makes him feel so proud. He feels so pleased with himself when you grovel and plead, clawing at his chest and hair. He's also, as I mentioned earlier, a massive dom. Being in control is his forte. He'd feel awkward otherwise. I think he can sometimes let you take control but like I said he'll feel awkward the entire time!

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

ON👏THE👏CONSOLE. Literally every Doctor would feel this way! But also perhaps in his room or your room just so you two can play hard with toys and other things

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Sometimes he gets really really horny. Like after a regeneration (ANON IM LOOKING AT YOU 🥹🥹🥹) But also watching you glide into the console room with a bright smile makes his heart swell and his cock go hard. Whether you're dressed as a Gibson Girl or in pajamas with hair tied up in a towel, he seriously feels the desire to grab you by the hair and fuck your cunt until it gushes 😭

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Probably something obviously gross. I can't see him being turned off to more degrading or intense kinks. I think he'd find pleasure in impact play or something similar, but consent obvi comes first.

He'd be capable of using context clues before pitching ideas. If he thinks you'd be into it, then he'd find it easier to suggest it. He knows you, after all, and he can gauge your preferences if you haven't shared them already.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

It depends on the mood he's in. If he was more upset or frustrated, he'd have no qualms in fucking your mouth.

But he also finds pleasure in locking you up and slowly licking your pussy. Pushing his tongue through your puffy folds and kissing your clit is one of the ways the Doctor likes to unwind or even reward you.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough for sure! But I think that the Doctor gets in a romantic mood where he just wants to slowly please you

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

All the time! In countless worlds, eras, places, etc. He likes the thrill!

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He's absolutely willing! He doesn't find it necessary and he'd probably be happy with you no matter what! However if you were willing to get risky, he'd be absolutely excited!

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

A LONNNNG time! You probably have to call it quits by the end of the night.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Oh hell yeah he does! He uses them on you, predominantly, but he'd be willing to experiment on himself!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Total tease! Especially if you're being subjected to a punishment!

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Vocal. He is talkative. He cannot shut up. He seriously likes to hear himself talk.

He'll grunt and groan and growl, and especially he'll moan out praises for you. You're his very special girl. He takes the extra time for you to know this.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Has had experiences with men, and generally other alien beings. Pansexual king

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's thick, probably average five or six inches, just due to his height, but probably not bigger than that.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

HIGH! It makes it so difficult to love you. He can't keep his hands off you. He's always fondeling your breasts or sneaking his hands down your pants.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Does the Doctor even sleep? He probably does once in a blue moon. I think he'd rather watch you sleep. He likes that you're so normal. He likes that you sleep with your limbs sprawled out, mouth open, snoring the night away. He looks at you and observes the sexiest creature in the universe.

#starfirette writes #starfirette renaissance #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor imagine #doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor imagine #10th doctor #tentoo #14th doctor #I actually boycott the 14th Doctor phrase #I don't think he's the 14th Doctor #I've seen the phrase echo Doctor and I like that more #like John hurt is the war Doctor

272 notes · View notes

starfirette · 1 year

Note

merr cribmus

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE-EVE MEIN LIEBLING

#my badass mutuals #zhellas #I haven't checked ANY messages

5 notes · View notes

starfirette · 1 year

Note

Glad to have you back! :D

❤️❤️

#I love you sm my guy #my badass mutuals #zhellas

3 notes · View notes

starfirette · 1 year

Text

School Reunion

He was a a lithe figure of all rhyme and very little reason...

...especially he gestured for you to come closer. Tousled tufts of soft, brown hair flopped over his forehead, not so strictly gelled back today. His hair was ultimately the first thing that warmed you up to him. His previous face was undoubtedly your first, true love--all blue eyes and ears, knit sweaters under leather jackets, and a secret soft side...

❇Tenth Doctor x Fem Reader

❇hmmmm this took a month to perfect! I shall page @bellaswansrealgf because this does indeed have a size kink portion :)) this is cross posted to my ao3 (username is the same if you want to check that out!)

You were the illustrious and young English teacher, and he was the older, more experienced Physics teacher.

But it had only been a game. It was the ruse for a job at some school.

Of course you had "just" graduated college; you needed a guided hand to show you how to handle those rowdy students. "Professor Smith," you said as you batted your eyelashes. The size difference between you two was enough to make you squirm, thighs clenched and heart beating in anticipation.

"Poor thing," 'Mr Smith' had said. His hand is ruffling up the chiffon of your knee length skirt. "You're so needy for attention. You'd take any bit of attention from even the science teacher."

You wouldn't yet go into further detail of what conspired that day. After all, it was a little bit inappropriate of you two to do such fooling around during the hours of an investigation. Rose would have been livid to know that while she was slinging chips and pizza to students and staff, you and the Doctor were rather preoccupied with teaching not the students but yourselves just how Miss [L/n] and Mr Smith ought to behave.

Of course, the roleplay was divine. Mr Smith was a role that the Doctor deeply enjoyed to act with, especially when it came to shamelessly flirting with you as if he didn't know you. You suspect he had all his fun that way.

Apart from the canoodling in the workplace, everything else was really a ruse. The way it all started is a little bit convulated, but Rose heard from Mickey who must have heard from someone else that strange things were going on back in her hometime. (Hometime was a bit of a private joke between you, Rose, and the Doctor, it's a play on the word hometown! You and the Doctor fight for the credit of who actually coined the term but Rose often sides with the argument that you truly did.) The Doctor went into full dramatic effect, as he tends to do, and he created you a full fledged identity and a college degree. In real life (for lack of a better term)you're almost done with college where you're honestly pursuing a degree for English Literature.

The Doctor surprised you with the position at this school. Albeit it's undercover, he wanted you to have some fun. His face lit up like the lights on a Christmas tree when he saw how excited you were. Granted, this was a far cry from being an English professor at a prestigious university, as you drunkenly confessed to his prior face while celebrating the win against the nanogenes during the second World War. Though he looked different then, he still loved you with the same, big heart.

Hearts.

Force of habit.

Day One of the mission was the easiest mostly because day one didn't require real work. Rose helped you research the winning numbers for some lottery tickets. She dropped off two winning tickets at the homes of a couple teachers from the school: one from the Mathematics department, one from the Literature.

Needless to say both resigned in an instant. Unfortunately this sparked nasty rumors which accounted the two teachers (who really didn't know one another at all) were having an affair. Well, so long as they enjoyed the money. And since neither of their spouse's seemed to believe these rumors, you supposed there was no real harm done.

Day two consisted of applying for the jobs and actually getting them. The interview process went well. You interviewed with the superintendent who claimed the headmaster was busy.

'This isn't fair,' Rose said. 'I want to be a teacher.'

'You'd look so cute as the lady administrator,' you pointed out from the sofa of the Tardis common room. 'You could wear fake specs. Y'know, look over them and give students dirty looks. Type obnoxiously on your clunky laptop. It's such a shame mini iPads weren't invented sooner. I'd look soooo cute carrying mine around.'

Rose groaned theatrically as she collapsed onto the sofa. She rolled on top of your lap, pushing the remote out of your hands so you could pay attention to her. 'Tell your boyfriend to make me a teacher,' Rose indignantly said. Her nose scrunched as you shifted your thigh to push her off.

'My hands are full,' The Doctor said through a mouthful of snack food. He tossed a sprinkle of crumbs at Rose, consequently catching some on your lap. You shoved his face with mock disregard. 'You mean your hands are tied,' you corrected.

'Sure,' he said, 'that too.'

The start of day three. You dressed in a knee length skirt with pointy flats and a smart looking blazer. You decided to forgo a pair of fake specs (though you were known to occasionally need a pair of real lenses ever since a strange trip with your blue-eyed, prominent-nosed Doctor to an interesting laser show which had some nasty effects on your eyes; it was some sort of festival on Mars in the year 3000). As you walked down the hall to your class room the Doctor walked past, heading the opposite way to the Mathematics department. He sent a prolonged look up and down your outfit.

"Hello, Mr Smith," you said curtly. You had to fight the grin that tussled with your lips. You enjoyed playing your role too, too much.

Mr Smith uncharacteristically fumbled over his feet as he looked over his shoulder to meticulously study the way your bum and hips moved as you went about your merry way. Needless to say this is when he decided to amp up his game.

The children in your classroom couldn't have been older than fourteen. You didn't expect anything outwardly startling at this point, because you didn't yet realize the secrets this school held.

You took a look at the lesson plan the students had been going through before their previous teacher took a miracle vacation to Sicily to renew their marriage vows.

Good for them.

"Who would like to examine the motifs of this scene?" you asked. You were picking through a bit of Macbeth. A beginning scene with the three witches; it should be easy enough. How typcal to have stumbled upon their Shakespeare unit. An obligatory staple of middle school. Or highschool. Whatever grade these kids are in. You tried thinking of it in terms of Harry Potter; are they fifth years? Harry Potter was certainly fifteen during Order of the Phoenix.

You contemplated this as no one actually tried discussing Macbeth.

"Would anyone like to mention anything?" Your attempts to get them talking was dismal. Perhaps they missed their old teacher. You felt a little guilty. Even more guilt poured in you when you obnoxiously thought that their old teacher wasn't missing them, not while they were having a second honeymoon in Sicily!

"Anything?"

You could have heard an eyelash drop in that room.

"Going on about motif, it's rather interesting that when Macbeth enters, he notes...? What does he say that directly links him to the witches? Oh, goodness, I've lost my place...'So foul and fair a day I have not seen.' Does anyone remember what the three witches say in the opening scene?"

Finally a hand is raised.

You want to thank the kid profusely as you call on her. "What's your name?"

"Addie Jones," the girl said.

"Wonderful! Nice to meet you, Miss Addie. Do you remember the line?"

"'Fair is foul and foul is fair. Hover through the fog and filthy air.'"

"Excellent," you tell her with a smile. "Not only does this line set the overarching theme for the story, it also is a neat trick Shakespeare put in. Macbeth enters a few scenes later and by repeating their words, he's effectively sealed his own fate. This is a pretty good example of a motif. Does anyone know what a motif is?" You scanned the room, hoping for another arm to pop up, but Addie's hand waved shyly in your sight. You understood, then, why teachers threatened to call on students at random. You'd threaten that yourself if you knew anyone else's name. Besides, Addie seemed eager enough to share her answer. "Addie!"

"A motif is a series of repeated patterns, often dialogue or imagery, in literature used to further a narrative."

Whoa.

"Great answer," you told Addie, a sincere smile capturing your lips. "Given that definition, can anyone find other motifs in the play?"

Addie raised her hand.

"Does anyone other than Addie have an idea?" you tried. To no avail, you nodded at Addie. You took a seat behind your desk, grabbing a pen to jot down a forethought about Harry Potter.

Addie took a loud and deep breath. "Another integral motif in the play is sleep. Banquo states, act two scene one, 'And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers restrain in me cursed thoughts that nature gives way to response.' Act two, scene two, Macbeth by now has killed the king. 'There's one did sleep laugh in's sleep, and one cried Murder!' 14 lines later, same scene, Macbeth then says, 'Methought I heard a voice cry 'sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep. The innocent sleep, sleep which knits-,'"

You were extremely puzzled. You tried to gently interupt Addie's train of thought, which seemed to be more than just reading directly from her book than actually answering your question. Taking a stand, your flats smacking the linoleum floor, you strolled back to the front of the classroom, your lesson plan in hand. You caught a glance at Addie's desk. Wherein you'd been expecting to see her fingers eagerly scanning along the pages of her open book, you found that her textbook was rather shut, her hands clasped atop it as she waited for you to say something.

Blinking in surprise, you looked back at the lesson plan. You skimmed through a couple pages. Just when did they begin studying this play? That thought was muting all of your prior Harry Potter saga theories. Only at the start of the week...and they were only assigned an at home reading for the first four scenes.

Perhaps Addie liked to read. Perhaps she enjoyed Macbeth so very much that she chose to memorize the entire damn play.

You hadn't seen any notes marking Addie's remarkable abilities in the subject, so you wondered on about how she could have done such a quick study of the play. "He certainly prattles on about sleep, doesn't he?" you asked Addie, who grinned toothily and nervously. "What do you think it means?" you continued as you hugged the lesson plan to your chest.

That smile faded. "Oh. I'm not sure." Addie, who had memorized all the lines and their scenes regarding 'sleep', was at a loss for words.

You felt a little bit guilty to find that she seemed incredibly embarrassed to be without an answer. You didn't necessarily care, but you wanted to probe for more answers. "Want to venture a guess? Why do you think sleep is so important here? What might it symbolize?"

Addie went red in the face. She played with the edges of her textbook. Her nails pulled apart the layers of the hard cover, flaking specks of cardboard across her desk.

"We could ask ourselves what a literary symbol is," you continued, quickly trying to move on before Addie could explode. "What's a symbol in literature? Maybe someone aside from Addie?"

You sighed. Defeated again. Tomorrow you'd have to try harder. "Alright, Addie, take it away."

After taking a breath of relief, Addie prattled away, "A symbol in literature is one of the literary devices that an author might use to convey a hidden message or theme. Symbols often are represented through objects or ideas that serve with a literal purpose but have metaphorical meaning which furthers the narrative, much like a motif."

Puzzled by her in depth definition all you could really do was nod in response. 'That's correct," you informed her. Though it was far too correct. It didn't sound at all like the answer of a thirteen year old girl. It sounded like a line from a thesis paper or even from some dictionary. Her knowledge us certainly expansive but robotic in nature. She can identify patterns, like motifs and sleep and what not, but she can't analyze their meaning.

You frowned. More accurately, she couldn't form her own thoughts on the subject matter.

During lunch break, you searched the cafeteria for the Doctor. You went through the line, declining food after food. You made a scene of asking Rose for an apple, and then you leaned in close as she handed it to you. "I found something a little bit strange. Sweet girl in my class basically memorized her English textbook. She might as well have memorized mine. Have you seen him?"

Rose's brow twitched with contempt. "No," she said sharply. "Fuck 'im, really, I'm stuck back here slinging chips at bratty kids and he's off doing who knows w-oh, there he is." She pointed him out in the crowd of students, the man sitting at a table and picking apart a turkey and cheese sandwich layer by layer. "He's bein' weird again," Rose snickered. The Doctor smelled one slice of bread. "Oh, God, go stop him. I can't watch him deface himself like this. Wait, take your apple, now. If I was working on commission then you'd be of no use to me. That's right, take some milk, too. Not the skim, you daft. That's basically water. Take the two percent."

You tried to juggle the milk and apple that Rose had tossed in your arms as you sped walked towards the Doctor. You dropped the apple on the table as you took a seat in front of him. His nimble fingers dropped the bread in a split second and he eyed you close. "I've got something," you said.

"Ah, ah," the Doctor said sharply with a wag of his finger. "I don't even know you and you're going to sit down, without even asking, and try and engage in conversation? Tsk. You naughty thing."

You rolled your eyes. "It's nice to meet you," you told him, playing into his game. "I'm Y/n L/n, yada yada. Anyways. Girl in my class-"

He shook his head. "Nope. You didn't ask my name."

"I know your name," you mocked his tone. "We met at the staff meeting."

"How do I know you actually remember it?" the Doctor challenged you. "Go on, just ask my name!" He looked much too amused as you angrily peeled open the cap to your milk.

"What's your name," you therefore said monotonously, trying to void the words of any inquiring tone.

"John Smith, physics professor. I'm single, by the way."

"Anyway! Girl in my class! Basically memorized the entire textbook. She had an answer for most of the questions. However, those answers were all...materialistic. I don't know how to describe it. She didn't know how to input her own thoughts. It was like she just downloaded all the information to her brain. Does that make sense?"

The Doctor nodded. "I've had a similar experience. Kid in my own class has knowledge way beyond planet earth." He pushed his plate of food forward. "Try some."

"No, thanks," you said politely. "I'm not very hungry. Something about this food weirds me out," you drawled as you poked his lightly tousled food around. He was more sampling everything rather than eating. "I've always hated school food. The chips look...odd. The smell of them is somehow off. Does that make any sense?"

"Come with me," the Doctor responded, not saying anything to your earlier rebuttals regarding the school food. "Toss that, I'm not going to eat it," he added. He took the tray and dumped it. You followed behind him as he slid his tray with the other dirty ones. Rose sent him a glare so foul you were surprised he didn't collapse on the spot. A glare like that could make him regenerate. "Found anything strange?"you ask Rose before she and the Doctor can get into a cat fight, an occurrence which frequents the TARDIS.

Rose gossiped, "Half the kitchen staff got replaced not too long ago. And this lot are weird. Get this! The entire lunch menu has been designed by the headmaster himself. What qualifies him to even do that? Don't you have to study...nutrition?" Rose shook her blonde fringe from her milk chocolate eyes. A flare of mischief came in her eyes. "I bet he didn't."

"Is nutrition a course of study? Actually, it is, isn't it? Oh, Rose you should be a nutritionist!" You said gleefully.

The Doctor sighed. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to keep up with his two companions.

"Oh, shush," Rose chided to you. "The point is we've been at this for three days! We don't even know what's going on. More like you two don't even know what's going on. I've done my part! I reported back to you an' all!" She looked at you both with arms folded across her chest and her eyebrows raised indignantly. She licked her lower lip in a dare for you or the Doctor to argue back, her chocolate-brown eyes strangely malicious. "That's right, isn't it? You've got nothin' to say but-"

"Stop yelling at us!" The Doctor finally dished back. He seemed irritated beyond his senses, which was typical of him. "Your boyfriend is the one who called us."

Rose's mouth quivered at the term. Her lips opened and closed as though she was a fish out of water. "Mickey's not my--hang on a minute, where are you two going?" she finally demanded as the Doctor started to manhandle you. You looked vaguely surprised, staring at him with incredulity.

"Research!" the Doctor called without looking as he kept his deft fingers tightly wound on your wrist. "We've get a lead!"

You struggled to let her know as he escorted you away.

The halls were empty as the Doctor pulled you contently down the Mathematics hall. His classroom was certainly empty, all students eating their lunch for the next thirty or so minutes.

"Show me what you've got," you told him excitedly as he turned the lock on the door. You looked around eagerly for whatever gadget or gizmo he was going to produce. You waited for another moment before you watched with curiosity as the Doctor settled himself easily on the edge of his desk. "Where is it?" you asked.

"What do you mean?" The Doctor countered, crossing his arms with some semblance of an attitude. You mimicked the pressing of a sonic screwdriver. "Where's the...gizmo...aren't you going to sonic something?"

"Oh. No gizmo," the Doctor said. "Not this time. Well, not right now, actually, I'm sure I'll sonic some sort of gizmo sometime soon. No, I actually wanted this time for ourselves. I'm not fond of your attitude, Miss L/n."

You raised a brow. "My attitude?"

The Doctor nodded. "Exactly. Your behavior has been nothing short of abysmal. Neglecting me, running about with Rose, and entirely disregarding your duties here. I supplied you with a title of superiority and you have sorely misused it. There's only one word to describe you these past two days."

For a brief moment your heart stuttered with genuine fear, but then you watched the sparks which flickered in his hazel brown eyes burst into a large flame.

"Naughty."

You barked a laugh. You put a hand over your fast beating heart. "That's not funny," you chastised. "I thought you were being serious!"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

No going back now. Not with the rapid pooling of warmth in the bottom of your belly. The Doctor shook his head, tutting his tongue as he folded his arms.

He was a a lithe figure of all rhyme and very little reason; especially he gestured for you to come closer. Tousled tufts of soft, brown hair flopped over his forehead, not so strictly gelled back today. His hair was ultimately the first thing that warmed you up to him.

His previous face was undoubtedly your first, true love--all blue eyes and ears, knit sweaters under leather jackets, and a secret soft side with a not so quiet splash of kinky foreplay. There were zero hints of that face in this one, and the first time you saw it you didn't know what quite to think.

The Doctor had burst into a bright, ball of golden light. Spheres, marble sized, of such light fizzled around him, orbiting his figure while Rose gripped your hand. Her fingers slipped on the fresh blood, making you wince as she slid over the fresh slice. The fight against the Daleks had been the most important matter in all the world just moments ago. And now you felt as though...you were about to lose everything.

Your mouth burned with the hard kiss the Doctor had given you. His tongue had meddled against yours, sweeping the roof of your mouth the way he knew you liked. His thumbs swiped away the tears that dotted the corners of your eyes, and just like that, he was saying goodbye. And then this.

Dizzying rushes of blinking in and out of reality coursed through you. This almost felt like a dream. The image charading in front of you didn't seem right. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, afterall. You three were supposed to find Jack and go home, wherever 'home' was. No matter where home was, the day would always end with you laying on the Doctor's chest, ear to dual hearts while he played with your hair.

And yet that wasn't how this was going to end.

Rose gripped your hand tight. Your vision flickered with stars as her fingers slipped into the gash on your hand. Nausea punched you in the gut as the light grew brighter and brighter. Stop, you wanted to tell him. It's not funny.

It wasn't funny at all.

The energy surged, so loud you could almost hear it, you could practically feel it sizzling inside of you. Energy sang inside the TARDIS: the chime high and loud, the pitch far beyond any regular frequency. And God, it hurt.

The ringing ascended frequency and finally it shut off as the Doctor cried out just a bit.

The light disappeared.

And so had your Doctor.

You crept closer.

He pushed his leg out, patting the top of his thigh. "Take a seat, Miss L/n," he sighed, making a point to sound disappointed. He would really be if you didn't play along! So you hopped up to take a seat, holding onto the back of his neck for leverage as you made yourself comfortable.

It wasn't unusual for him to become unexpectedly horny, especially in the midst of a mission such as this. He was one for taking fortified risks.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked.

"Just that I've been a very bad girl," you informed him with an exaggerated pout. You puckered your lower lip. "I just wanted your attention, Mr. Smith."

"Consider it done. You've certainly caught my attention with this little garb," the Doctor said as he pushed a hand up your skirt. His lean fingers squeezed the inside of your thigh, making you squirm. The flash of quick pain on the easily bruised skin made your heart rush. Looking up at him, it was easy to spot the remnants of the other Doctor. Your first Doctor.

Though his face has changed, and you love him all the same-if not more-he'll always have that face.

"Professor Smith," you said as you batted your eyelashes. The size difference between you two was enough to make you squirm, stomach clenched with eager anticipation.

"Poor thing," 'Mr Smith' said. His hand kneaded the jiggling flesh of your leg, pinching it and grinning at the way you wiggled in his grip. "You're so needy for attention," he cooed. "You'd take any bit of attention from even the science teacher."

His mouth pressed against yours. Lips against lips, both soft as the petals of a flower, but clashing hard, as if you two had never kissed before! But kisses are less than few-and-far; they're frequent. They're the Doctor's favorite past time.

Even with this face you two spend nights in his study, laying in the chaise lounge, your ear against his chest and listening to his dual hearts. Even with this face do you two kiss passionately into the hours of the ambient night lights that the TARDIS has set for you. Your hands plucked at the buttons of his shirt. His build was entirely different from the previous one he bore. Where then he'd been slightly bulkier with more muscle and mass, he was now slender, lithe, and graceful. He walked like a cat with cunning mischief on his mind. His deft fingers were slipping up your skirt, hooking across the band of your underwear and cheekily tugging them down as he pushed his thumbs into your hips.

He loved, loved, the curves of your body (he always had. It wasn't something that would ever change). He liked to grip the fleshy parts of you tight, squeeze and fondle any parts of you he could get his hands on. You splayed your fingers out like a starfish, pushing your hand on his sternum just between both hearts. You could feel them both beating fast as his shirt drifted open, framing his clavicle and abdomen like a picture. He couldn't be more gorgeous than this; freckles constellated his pale skin. The shades that stood out on his skin compared to yours made your lips curl. The colors were like blots of paint on a pallet in the hands of an artist.

Confidently, you believed that a painting with every shade your two bodies had to offer would outshine the Mona Lisa or Starry Night.

The Doctor's hand crept below the threshold of your underwear. His thumb padded through the plush lips of your pussy, nudging at your pearled clit. "Not nearly as wet as I'd prefer," the Doctor chastised as he flexed his thumb in a circle on your clit, not bothering to start at a slow pace. The quick lashings of a hurried pleasure made your body tremble. Like a startled newborn you spasmed in his hold, nearly collapsing backwards. If he hadn't had an arm around your waist you would have made a fool of yourself.

"Can't stay still?" The Doctor cooed. "The more I rub this little clit, the more wet that oozes out of you. That makes it so easy for me to simply..."

Your voice strained as the Doctor slowly pushed his middle finger inside of you. He moved slowly so that you could feel every bit of your cunt that he stretched out. For all the times you'd ever attempted to stick something inside of yourself, this really took the cake.

Every time you tried it just felt...like you were sticking something inside of yourself. Like there was just something inside a vaginal cavity; Just something inside that was vibrating.

Not sexy, nor pleasurable.

The amount of times you'd attempted to do gymnastics around your bedroom in your home time, stretching your legs or doing back bends, all to find the magical spot that the internet claimed existed. These exploits were all for naught.

Imagine how strange a feeling it was for you to be proven wrong by the Doctor. You swore up and down there was something wrong, something maybe even broken, but no matter what, you just didn't have what other women suspiciously claimed to have. Well, the Doctor loves to prove others wrong. You can imagine how that first night went, with him grinning down at you and touching both the inside and outside of you at once to bring about a genre of pleasure you hadn't realized existed.

You gnawed on your lip as the Doctor slowly pushed a second digit inside, still tending to your clit to keep the feeling from being too uncomfortable. "It's alright," the Doctor said softly. He shifted his body, making a swift stand as he set you on the desk and settled between your legs, without removing his hand from you at all. He widened the gap between your legs so your knees laid hip length apart. His tall figure stood straight as he looked down at your cunt which dropped over his hand.

"And there it is," he sighed. "You're taking it like a good girl, aren't you? Even though we're in a school. A learning facility. Have you no shame?"

Whether or not he wanted an answer, you couldn't say. Your vision was blurry as he pumped up into a secret place inside of you while also stimulating your clit. The small bundle of nerves was pulsating, having become a bulbous bud of despair and anxiety. It tensed and twitched under every touch but ultimately it yearned for more. You kept tensing around his fingers, holding onto the lapels of his jacket tight.

The Doctor looked down at you. He smirked.

"You're holding onto me with quite a strong grip. Afraid I'll pull away? Afraid I'll stop? Your cunt just keeps squeezing onto me. So hot and wet. So comforting. Don't you wish it was my cock?"

You panted out a reply, not bothering to sound witty or naughty. Not the time. "Yes."

A laugh. A genuine sound. The musical chime of it faded before the Doctor replied, "I do, too. But first I'll watch you cum on my fingers. It's alright. Door's all locked. My attention is entirely on you. You've been working so hard, so eager to please Mr Smith. Now you ought to let Mr Smith please you. Although...I should be punishing you. Shouldn't I? I'm sure it wouldn't be much of a real punishment, though. After all, you tend to enjoy it when I spank your sweet ass."

The mere words sent the images into your brain. The thought of it made your pussy flinch, and the Doctor laughed again though this time round it was a touch harsh sounding. "I knew you enjoyed it," he said quietly. He kissed your forehead, his lips curled into a smile as he did so. "It's alright, dear, it's only me. You can be honest. I quite like it. Oh, my, you're dripping all the way onto my wrist!"

He feigned annoyance. "Just look...look at this mess you're making."

You dared to take a look.

A small gasp choked in your throat, the sound making the Doctor chuckle. The muscles of your thighs twitched. The knee length skirt was thrown back so you were sitting bare assed on the cool desk, the skirt gathered around your hips. Your panties were stuffed in the Doctor's trouser pockets: you could see them sticking out. When had he done that?

The tendons in his wrist were flexing as he thrust his two fingers up and in, while his thumb angled upwards to continue the steady pace on your clit. The lazy rhythm which he had set was making you sweat. He didn't seem terribly bothered by the writhing around you were doing.

"Don't you like the sight of it?" The Doctor's content was evident in the way he spoke, looking at the mess with a dreamy sparkle in his eye.

He appeared visibly intoxicated as a long and loud 'mmm' escaped you. You had a difficult time remembering that the sounds were your own; you didn't always feel physically mounted in your body during your horny escapades. Sometimes the thrall of an orgasm separated your physical self from your metaphysical self like the whites and yolk of an egg. You were being gradually poured apart with every furthering motion the Doctor made. Joules of an intense pleasure rumbled inside of you. Your stomach had a slippery feeling, like a pad of hot butter on a skillet, fuzzy and warm and enticing.

Your legs jerked around, ankles flanking into the back of his thighs and effectively pulling him closer. He was trapped between your legs-just the way he liked.

Tension unfurled in your shoulders, slipping away like drops of rain on a window pain. It tingled down your back and you tilted away, Your chin raising towards the ceiling as one of your hands roughly gripped the edge of Mr Smith's desk. Anchored to the British classroom of 2005, you started to feel the edges of a smooth and velvety orgasm close in on you. It was a feeling that couldn't be physically embodied by much else than a velvet ribbon, or a warm vanilla latte, or-

"Fuck!" You whined. "It's-"

The Doctor pushed the familiar feeling forward. It was an intensity that you could only ever feel with the Doctor, with his hand or his cock or his anything. It no longer mattered that the year was 2005; the pressure on your clit felt nothing short of a pulsing burst of energy and fire. Gold fizzled in your vision. Your cunt felt heavy. Something tickled behind your bladder, the feeling making you beg. "Doctor, wait!" You urged him as you pawed at his torso. "I think I'll-"

"That's what I want," the Doctor muttered. "Don't worry, darling, I'll take good care of you. It's alright. Just keep squirming like that and let me rub your pussy to completion. Don't tire yourself-I want to feel you with my cock, too, so just relax and enjoy it. Can't you try?"

The urge to clench your walls and even the muscles around your clit was hard to fight. But when you did, it allowed an enormous wave of pleasure to drown you. You tremored and babbled a string of incoherent words. Some kind of begging, you think, or perhaps declarations of love, hatred, or anything in between. Passions had built up inside you and now they're spilling out like the waters from a broken dam. Judging by the bleary grins of content through your teary eyes, you were praising him to high ends. Likely spilling out your love for him and his hands.

Pressure started to release as the gradual high came about. It wasn't an overt transition from pleasure to climax; it was never black and white, it was a grey scale that slowly blossomed to a bright gold and silver. Weight transpired from the top of your head to your torso and then to your belly. It sank low, behind your ovaries. A heavy, swollen sensation was hanging right over you, taunting the burst of energy that would soon make a mess over the Doctor's hand and shirt. You feared the worst as you pathetically tried to wiggle your hips around. You were so close to that feeling. If you just pushed yourself a little bit more than you could reach it.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're about to cum all over me," the Doctor murmured in a harsh tone. "That's repulsive. That's so human of you. It's disgustingly easy to make you leak with just a hand."

You buried your face into the chest of the Doctor, trying not to be too loud with the whimpers and shallow breaths you were releasing as though you were a television woman in labor.

Babbling out vowels, your entire body released a burst of warmth; like pink ribbons and fresh croissants and the tops of your thighs after you sat by a bonfire. The convulsed through you as that swollen feeling finally burst, indeed making a mess on the Doctor as you feared.

You looked down at yourself in shock. A grim sense of shame started to take over the pink-flakey-croissant-bonfires-with-Rose feeling. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, your voice a cracking piece of foil as the Doctor licked the corner of his mouth. He quickly licked his fingers clean before shaking his head. "No, no, don't apologize," he said as he quickly moved his fingers to the button of his pants. "It was quite a learning experience, I should say. I learned that you are a very cute, young, little cunt in desperate need of an older, wiser cock. I'm just going to give you what you want. You don't have anything otherwise to say. I know you don't."

You shook your head as you watched the Doctor palm himself. His bulge was prominent and you had to restrain a whimper as he pulled back the boxer briefs he wore, which you insisted on because he wanted to wear boxers, but you found boxer briefs undeniably sexy, and so he wore them; he couldn't exactly do otherwise when the Tardis was replacing his go to wardrobe with other garments--it was totally accidental the way the Tardis now listened to your opinion before his. But he couldn't deny: blood runs thicker than water. And your blood had sizzled on the heart of the beloved Tards. So yeah, sometimes the Tardis chose to play Christmas music when it was only November (according to the earth-calendar programmed into the mainframe, but that was also another story).

You pulled him down by the scruff of his neck, forcing him to kiss you as he played with himself. Your sloppy kiss was all tongue against tongue, open mouthed groans into one another as you guided his hand up and down on himself.

Now leaking precum, he smothered himself In the lubricant and thumbed the slit of his cock, a clenched-teeth hiss escaping himself as you urged him to prepare. But the Doctor likes to edge himself; he likes the discomfort of wanting to chase an orgasm, the self control it required to ignore the body's instinct.

"Come closer," he groaned against you. His forehead rested on yours. You both watched him pump his cock a few more times; your chest was rising and falling as hard as his.

He guided himself inside you, kissing your forehead as he slowly inched forward. The brief discomfort as he pushed past the curve of your walls was strictly rewritten into a song of bliss. Mint green paint, fresh croissants with oozing chocolate, an open campsite by the sizzling fire.

He hunched over your little figure; he was completely towering atop you, the size of a dire wolf pinning a rabbit against his own torso. He grunted as he pulled himself out only to slam his way back in, the motion making you feel full and heavy.

He worked his hips to thrust in and out of you, pulling himself practically to the tip each time. His hand was tending to your clit as he moved. Each touch on your clit felt like torture, in the best sense. You already felt swollen and every touch was amplified. The starts of a new orgasm made you tired and shudder, your mouth desperate for water as it worked its way through your body.

"You're so small," the Doctor huffed through a laugh as your figure jerked with each thrust. You were trapped against his torso, feeling the doubly beat of his hearts pounding as he plowed in and out of you. "So pliable," he added as he groped the side of your thigh exposed by the wrinkled fabric of your skirt. "So hot and tight while I have my way with you. You couldn't help yourself. You just had to be fucked right now, just like this. Always needing my attention, always, always. I never thought you'd be so bratty in public! I like it."

"Stop talking," you groaned. "That's all you ever do. Talk, talk, talk. I think you like that, more."

The Doctor gripped your chin, slowing his movements down. His hand skittered away from your clit but you were quick to pin it in place. You pushed one of your fingers inside of his mouth, watching him pucker his lips around the digit and sucking. His thick eyelashes fluttered before he jerked his head back. "Not your turn, princess," he sneered. "I'm in charge right now."

"You like when I'm in charge, too," you retorted. "You could just give up, you know."

The Doctor once again groped at you, squeezing hard on your pebbled nipples with a growl of warning. "Not the time," he told you with a rough thrust up. It made you gasp and heel over as the spotlight of sudden pleasure shone over you; the Doctor smirked as he carefully weened his way back into a quicker pace than he had been previously going at. "Don't you dare stop," you pleaded as you gripped him by the collar of his button down. "Or you're in for a load of trouble when we get home." The Doctor's brown eyes twinkled at the idea: home on the Tardis, being straddled and used by you, it sounded like a marvelous plan.

"I'm not the one who's about to get a load," the Doctor said, grinning at the gross slang, but he was unable to really care because your cheeks had tears dripping down them. "Can't wait to see how full you become. I'll be dripping down your legs the rest of the day."

"Shut up," you whimpered as you tilted your head back.

Honestly speaking you quite enjoyed his babbling chit chat. He really did like to hear himself talk. You liked it as well.

"Make me."

You two pressed your mouths into a rough mold, your tongues slithering over tips and teeth. Your arms wrapped over the back of his neck, locking him in place. His chuckles dripped down your throat as he vocalized his own pleasure. Your breathing hastened. Panting like a dog in the summer heat, you were kissing him back as if it were a fight for your life. You clenched all your body into a rigid stake as the peak of the orgasm finally prodded into your cunt. The Doctor's hands pressed into your hips and legs, his thumbs rubbing calming circles into you as he moaned. He was much more accepting of the pleasure wave as it rode through him.

Hiccuping whimpers fluttered into the Doctor's mouth as your slick, wet released. The feeling made the Doctor groan, loud and strong as he finally released the gates of his own seed. He grunted as he made sloppy thrusts; cum mixed and squeezed out of you like the lemon custard in a powdered donut, a rare, sweet, tart taste that made your eyes water.

Your mouths pulled apart with a loud smack. You both looked down at the mess. He pumped in and out a few times, hissing as you suckled a bite on the underside of his jaw. You cried out a curse as he swiftly pulled out and gripped his cock, the limb still half hard. He pushed the tip of himself against your clit, making a harsh circle so your bodies both shuddered. "Too much," he said between clenched teeth. He released a breath as final spurts of his seed painted on the lips of your pussy.

The strain on his chest eased.

The Doctor swayed forward. His face lulled into a lazy grin, tucking itself within the crook of your neck. Carefully exhaling your last deep breath, you slid back so you were laying face up, looking at the ceiling as the Doctor remained curled atop you. He hummed with content, rubbing his hand over the soft skin of your pelvis. Your skirt was still flipped up; his pants were unbuttoned.

Panting. The fluorescent lights seemed so homely in the aftershocks of this feeling. Left over in your core was the tingling of the orgasmic pain on your clit, now soft and bruised, but for good reason.

"I really think there's something strange going on," you mentioned after a few minutes of calm silence. You softly scratched his scalp, combing through his soft hair while he purred at the feeling, reminding you of a cat. "This school seems off."

"I'm tired," the Doctor said. "Work seems boring, now."

"It's life or death," you pointed out.

"Is it?"

"You're just fucked out, aren't you?" you pointed out again but with a laugh this time.

"Yeah, you're probably right...probably."

"I'm always right," you informed him. "The sooner you realize that, the easier your life will be."

2K notes · View notes

starfirette · 1 year

Text

15 year old me trying to explain I can't think about people in a sexual context without feeling gross

#congrats to me i just didn't know that i was demi #demisexual #hehe #i'm only just now coming to terms with this #I genuinely couldn't relate sex into real life #the only time i really thought about it was when I was reading fanfic about characters I liked #i can't tell if this is a universal experience #lowkey seeking reassurance right now aha #late night shitposting #starfirette speaks

32 notes · View notes

starfirette · 1 year

Note

Hey!anon here! Since you made a Fluff Alphabet for Dori,can you maybe make an NSFW version? If not,or request are closed then it's okay 🍵🌷

❇starfirette renaissance day two...?!?!?!?! I thoroughly enjoyed this!

❇Dori Sakurada NSFW Alphabet | more Dori fics here! | masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Pillow talker meets attentive retail staffer. Encourages you to pee and shower up; engages in aftercare behaviors you additionally require, such as reassurance or food. He’s very much your dom so he takes his role seriously. Your health and wellbeing is incredibly important to him so he’s going to pay attention to that first!

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He prefers his mouth or his hands; he is self aware and he knows that he was asked to model a lipstick for a reason. As for you, he loves your hair. To pull it, to control you with it; or to softly play with, braid absentmindedly…

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

On your tongue. “Be good and swallow it”

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Is a kinky, kinky man. He wouldn't consider this a secret if he weren't so well known. Being that he is famous he keeps it on the down low. Very likely to be into BDSM as a dom only.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Average experience. Has had sexual relationships with partners and BDSM experiences with strictly sexual partners.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes when you're on your knees or intricately restrained

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Maybe strikes jokes in a mocking way, sometimes are your expense but he wouldn't ever mean it

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I doubt he'd shave at all. Maybe to keep things neat but he doesn't bother trying to stay bare

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

If he's in a relationship and he loves you, then he can be tender and romantic. But with a strictly sexual partner or a one night stand, he wouldn't bother/feel comfortable

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Makes you watch while he edges himself. He likes the JOE

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dom and Sub, as well as pain infliction and degradation. He thoroughly gets off on being in complete control. He edges himself and he'll edge you, too

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Mostly in his own place just because his toys and his ‘area’ is there

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you whine. When you misbehave. When you obviously are in need of his attention

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don't foresee him being into the Daddy thing. He's more of a master

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes to grip a fistful of your hair while you guides your mouth up and down on his cock. He also likes to tie you up and put a gag in your mouth before he goes down on you. Sometimes, as a punishment, he'll overstimulate you. He won't take it easy. He won't let you think of it as a prize: he'll suck your clit like a jolly rancher while you scream over the gag. He knows it gets uncomfortable after a while and that's why it's a punishment

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough over slow and rough

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not his forte

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Oh yes, absolutely!

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can be pretty tired after a long day of work and filming and everything else. It really depends on how far you two want to go and if he has the time and energy to do anything. Of course if you two want to have a chill quickie he's totally down! I think he doesn't mind being a soft, service dom, especially if you ask!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Why yes he certainly does. I imagine a sex swing, rope, floggers, and gags are some of his favorites. Just anything to keep you restrained. He is content with using his hands and mouth to punish or reward you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Very much likes to edge you! Most of the experience is foreplay. Generally getting you wet and excited. You like to be teased, he likes to tease you, so it’s a win-win.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s loud and he LIKES being loud, he PREFERS it. If he has to yell at you then we will. Brats will be punished. But good girls get their praise. Loud encouragement is the best encouragement. He is vocal about his own pleasure and he is sure to let his girl know she’s doing such a good job.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You two have made sex tapes, but they’re kept on your phone and not his

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I imagine he is chiseled and sharp edged, toned with slight muscles that make him bulkier than he typically would be. I also have to say he is hung as a horse

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I think that the more he loves you the more he finds himself craving you. He thinks about you all the damn time. You consume his thoughts when he is bored or daydreaming. He finds himself fantasizing about everything he wants to do to you when he sees you next

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Once you’re all cleaned up and taken care of he’ll feel comfortable to chill and fall asleep. Part of being a dom means looking out for your sub. He takes it very seriously and he’d never want to leave you without the aftercare that you need

#dori sakurada x reader #dori sakurada smut #dori sakurada imagine #dori sakurada #starfirette writes #starfirette renaissance #requested!#I have no more tags #that's sad #I refuse to clickbait yall with Dori characters x reader #but I have those :)))#if you're interested #if you're reading this tags #I just want the continue reading thingy for the tags #so #i'm watching miss congeniality #my sister is eating chips #yeah #i think this works

489 notes · View notes

starfirette · 1 year

Note

LOVED living a lie! I need to see a part two where reader finally has the family she’s always wanted with someone else and Bruce is forced to watch through pictures she sends Alfred who shows Bruce. Kind of based on that Taylor swift song Last Kiss. I want the angst to leave me heartbroken. If you can’t and you have something else in mind that is totally fine 😊

He was a lonely, little boy, waiting for his schoolyard playmate to return

♥️I don't even know what to say other than this is at least five months overdue 😶 welcome to the renaissance...?

♥️part two of Living A Lie | masterlist | requests CLOSED | I will never apologize for Tom Welling! Clark Kent being the only valid Clark Kent 🥹 but I guess technically it can be whatever Clark Kent you want; this post was queued at 1:30 because Star is a dumbass and doesn't ever sleep even when she had class!!!!! EDIT: I just reread the first part. Bruce and Y/n were engaged 😶not married. So I'm going to make a quick edit to the first chapter and if you remember that mistake, no you don't

Mr Pennyworth was a former MI agent, and this fact might have attested for him being a remarkable liar.

Even to Master Bruce.

It was easy to say that he wasn't sure what Mistress Y/n was up to when Bruce mustered up the courage to ask, his shoulders rounded at the edges like the worn cover of a hardback book. But hardback books were typically worn because they were loved; Bruce was worn because he had no love.

The divorce had been finalized for at least an entire year, now. The state of Illinois requires that a couple has irreconcilable differences before divorcing, and any couple who has been separated for at least six months already is assumed to be in the daunting face of irreconcilable differences. The easy part about this was that Mistress Y/n could say that she wanted children and Master Bruce didn't: that was a difference that was irreconcilable by nature. Pepper in the fact that she had caught him in a compromising position and she had been granted her divorce exactly nine months and seven days after she'd left the gala in tears with the vague feeling her whole world on the verge of collapse.

Mr Pennyworth was a liar because he knew what Mistress Y/n was up to-and he didn't call her Mistress anymore. He called her Y/n, or Miss, because some things never change.

While Bruce had always been like the dark side of the moon, Y/n had been transformed into the sun. She'd gained weight: her face was plump and her tummy had rounded out.

Her eyes were alight with a new regard for life.

And her hand was typically intertwined with a man's. One man.

He was taller than Bruce; perhaps his shoulders were somewhat wider, and his eyes a starkly deeper blue. His hair was curly and dark, and he regarded you with a love so strong it made even Alfred’s heart sing.

So, Mr Pennyworth was a liar because he knew exactly what “Mistress Y/n” was up to. She was celebrating with her friends the unexpected pregnancy she'd tested positive for after two years, eight months, and twelve days.

There was nothing bittersweet about it. Alfred loved Bruce deeply, like his own child, but he could see where Bruce had greatly fumbled the ball.

No, there was nothing bittersweet about this pregnancy.

Alfred had been aware of everything Y/n was up to because she stayed in contact with him. Sometimes the two met for lunch in Star City. He was family to her and she didn't have much of that, so how could he break such ties for Master Bruce’s sake? He couldn't. That's how.

Even though he loved Bruce so dearly-like his own flesh and blood!-he wouldn't resign himself to forfeiting a relationship with a dear friend.

If he loved Bruce like a son, then Y/n was certainly his daughter.

He knew that Y/n was shocked at the sudden pregnancy. He knew that she had been frightened at first-too frightened to tell her boyfriend. She had gone to Alfred first, afterall. She was on the cusp of tears; she tried so hard to stay composed on the line.

Like a father would, Alfred had calmed Y/n down; soothed her, gave her encouragement, and convinced her to tell her boyfriend.

The man in question was over the moon with happiness. Not that Alfred had any doubts in the matter. He had suspected the man in question would be rather happy.

It was just a few days later that Y/n informed Alfred she was now engaged, just for tradition’s sake.

There was a lovely little engagement party, and then a small, Metropolis courthouse wedding ceremony where Alfred had been Y/n’s witness. She wore a lovely, knee length white dress with a net wedding veil. She wore baby blue, wrist length velvet gloves, which had actually belonged to Alfred’s late wife. That was her something borrowed and something blue.

The groom bore a stunning black suit, with his curly hair swept back and a pair of thick, black glasses sitting on his nose.

Y/n had briefly been an L/n once more, but she looked her happiest when she was officially declared a Kent. It didn't seem to matter that the wedding was rushed. Alfred had a suspicion that this engagement had been a one sided plan for a few months, now; judging from the way Clark had heartily shaken hands with Alfred while sweating up and down to keep her happy , Alfred could just tell that he'd been planning this for a little while longer than he was letting on. From the calculated respect you both regarded the other with, to the mutual love and adoration, it was easy to see that you had found your true love.

Upon the conclusion of the ceremony, the wedding party loitered on the courthouse steps with the groom conversing happily with his witness while Y/n and her own did the same.

“Won't you stay a little while?” Y/n asked Alfred. She had plucked the hair pins out of her head, removing the net veil and moving her hair back into standard position. “I miss you.”

Alfred kissed the top of Y/n’s head.

She didn't know that he missed her, too; very greatly. Alfred would never tell her that her presence in the manor had always been reassuring. She had been, for lack of a better term, his security blanket. She had kept Bruce happy and well grounded. Alfred had unfortunately become dependent on her for that sense of ease.

Guilt often chewed him away for this.

Bruce’s well-being was pinned on her for a long time, and now that she was gone? Alfred worried for his master.

However, that isn't the only reason he misses seeing you prance happily around like a child in big girl clothes.

Truth be told, Alfred tended to see children when he looked at both you and Bruce. A little girl with her boy, dragging him around and playing happily while he pretended he didn't like it--but he actually did.

Where had the time gone?

Looking at you now, in your vintage wedding gown on the steps of the courthouse, he sees a child still. So wide eyed and happy spirited. You'd always be this way. Always.

“I miss you, too,” Alfred told her. “I'm never far away. Is a forty five minute drive too much for you to bear?”

Y/n rolled her eyes with faux contempt. “I suppose not. But it's forty five minutes both ways! Oh.” She started to pull the gloves off by the fingers when she remembered them.

Alfred stopped her. “Keep them,” he implored her. “I want one of my children to have family heirlooms.”

Struck by sudden emotion, Y/n’s smile fell into a quivering pucker of lips as she hugged Alfred tight. “I love you.”

Alfred kissed her hair one more time. “I love you, too.”

Mr Pennyworth would lie that evening when he returned home. Given that he'd been asleep all day, Master Bruce was none the wiser of Alfred’s trip to the city.

Home was home, still.

The manor was the same as it had always been and likely always would be.

He trekked up the staircase to awaken his master-the one child he still had to worry about.

“Long day, Alfred?” Bruce asked in a thick, tired voice as he slowly peeled out of his bed. His torso was beaten; ghastly swollen and painted with thick, scabbed over gashes.

Mr Pennyworth helped Bruce into a button down shirt.

“Not at all, sir,” Mr Pennyworth said. “Mistress Al Ghul has left a message for you, sir, something regarding the usual issue. Shall I call her?”

Bruce waved a hand. “No,” he groaned. “I’ll…do something. Any other messages?”

“None, sir.”

“None?”

“You heard me correctly, sir. Shall I prepare a meal?”

“Breakfast sounds lovely.”

“Does dinner for a human qualify as breakfast for a bat, sir?” Mr Pennyworth quipped.

“I should think so,” Bruce muttered.

“Very well,” Mr Pennyworth confirmed with a nod. He made a turn out of the room before glancing back to Bruce to ask one more question.

A little boy with weary eyes and an oversized shirt hunched his shoulders. "When will Y/n come back to play?” the boy asked in a soft voice.

Mr Pennyworth’s earlier question was long forgotten as his mouth went dry. “...Pardon me, sir?” Mr Pennyworth said as he feigned absence of a belly ache.

It took only a blink for Alfred to see Bruce's tre self: grown and hunched at the shoulders, buttoning up his shirt as he tried to appear neutral. “Have you heard from Y/n recently?” Bruce repeated.

Mr Pennyworth weighed his options in half a second. Y/bwouldn't be angry for Bruce to know the truth-it wasn't Y/n's sake he was keeping things a secret for, however. Unlike Bruce, Y/n was understanding. She would have been just fine to know what Bruce had been up to. But Bruce was rash. He was quick to judge, whether in others or on himself. It's that reason that Mr Pennyworth suavely replied, "I have not, sir. Did you require anything else?”

Defeat echoed in Bruce's eyes. “That's all,” he said.

He was a lonely, little boy, waiting for his schoolyard playmate to return and drag him around. But she never would.

That's one thing Alfred would never lie about.

#clark kent x reader #bruce wayne x reader #the batman x reader #the Batman imagine #Superman x reader #Smallville #?#how the fuck do I tag this?!#i wish queue well #bruce wayne imagine #dceu imagines #dceu x reader #dc x reader #dc imagines #requested!#starfirette renaissance #starfirette writes

340 notes · View notes