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Your eyes flutter open slowly, taking in the unfamiliar room as your mind catches up to your vision.

The realization that you slowly come to — that you definitely weren't in your room — makes you jerk in the bed.

A surge of pain shoots through you, making you gasp and throw your hand towards the pained area. You finally notice the IV in your arm, and the stand it was attached to — there was still medicine being pumped into your IV.

"what the fuck?" You mutter sleepily, sitting up in the bed and looking around — it was a castle of some kind.

But … surely it couldn't be that castle.

Why would the villagers of drum island have you sent to this castle?

Grabbing the butter knife from the bedside table, you hide it behind your back and attempt to rip the IV out frantically, checking your surroundings to make sure the witch hadn't caught you yet.

"you shouldn't do that!" A boy's voice calls out, he sounded like a child, so you look down to find the source, but when your eyes land on a reindeer standing on its hind legs, your eyes widen and your hand freezes on the IV cord.

"am i dreaming?" You ask rhetorically, reaching your hands up and rubbing your eyes while staring down at the creature.

That comment seems to upset the reindeer, who grumbles while holding a plate of bandages, with scissors on top of them.

Boots clacking on the floors makes you turn your head towards the entrance of the room, hand tightening on the butter knife hidden behind your back.

Kureha rounds the corner, in all of her leather and crop top wearing glory. she held a bottle of alcohol in one hand as she strutted into the room,

"Finally awake? I was just about to send you to the morgue." Her voice is rough, sarcasm laced in her tone.

"How long have I been out?" You ask, gulping as she slowly approaches you.

"Five days. You've really made yourself at home," Kureha responds, leaning over and taking the tray of bandages from the reindeer and placing them on the bedside table. She silently dismisses the young boy and he waddles out of the room.

In doing that, she seems to notice something is missing from the table, but before she could accuse you, you push forward and press the butter knife to her throat, gripping her leather jacket with your other hand.

A smirk of amusement slowly appears on Kureha's face as she stares down at you, eyes daring you to slice her with the weapon.

"Take the IV out, and let me go, witch," You demand, voice cracking slightly — vocal cords still recovering from your time asleep.

"And let you die before you make it to the front door? That'd just be embarrassing to watch." Kureha laughs — a long cackle — before grabbing your wrist that held the knife, slowly creeping her long, slender fingers up your hand.

You falter slightly, allowing for Kureha to disarm you and slam the knife back on the bedside table, "Now, I like a bad girl, me, but don't ever try that again," She warns, glaring down at you and pushing you back to a laying position with the tips of her fingers.

Letting out a gasp, you reach out to grab her wrist, trying to fight against the urge to submit to the woman, who didn't seem all that much like a witch to you.

Kureha just seemed like a normal doctor — if you ignored the leather and crop tops… and that belly button piercing.

"Don't make me restrain you, little girl," Kureha seethes, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head before tossing her leg over your body and sitting in your lap, legs clamping down atop yours so you couldn't move an inch.

Your breath picks up, you can't remember if you'd ever had another girl on top of you like this. The position made you flustered, butterflies swirling in your stomach that slowly move down to your abdomen, a feeling of lust slowly creeping up on you.

"Now, will you let me change your bandages or do I need to knock you out?" Kureha loosens her grip on your wrists, and you don't try to attack her again, even when she fully pulls back, reaching her arm out to the tray next to the bed.

You expected her to get out of your lap, but she doesn't, simply moves further down your lap so she can lift your shirt with ease — which you now noticed was covered in blood stains.

You wince when she takes off your blood-stained bandages, staring down at your stitched up abdomen as your eyes fill with involuntarily tears.

"You really got yourself into a rough spot, kid. I'm surprised you didn't bleed out." The use of kid almost sounds demeaning with her tone of voice as she works on replacing your bandages.

You watch silently, unable to focus on anything but the pain from your stitches and the lustful feeling her weight on your lap causes.

Kureha finishes the replacement of your bandages in silence — a bit of awkwardness lingered in the room from her placement on the bed.

When she's done, Kureha doesn't move from your lap, her hands move down your chest and slowly move your shirt back down, nails catching on to the end of the fabric before her gaze falls back on you,

"You can borrow some of my clothes, but it'll cost you extra."

Your eyes widen when she mentions the bill this would leave you with — you could barely afford food for yourself, let alone a hospital bill.

How were you going to pay for this?

And now she was talking about charging you up?

Did you die and go to hell?

"No! No… it's okay," You deny frantically, trying to move, but unable to due to the woman still in your lap.

Kureha's lips quirk up into a smirk from your sudden change in attitude, hips gyrating slightly from your attempts to move.

"Worried about how you're going to pay for all this, huh?" Kureha coos mockingly, leaning over your chest and letting her face fall inches from yours, hand carefully pressed on your stomach, just below your stitches.

Your breaths become shallow, unable to fully process your predicament, you wished you could move, run away, but you were trapped underneath the weight of Doctor Kureha.

"I don't know if you've seen the state of our village, but we can't exactly afford savings," You bite back, a sudden confidence daring itself to leave your mouth. So many emotions coursed through your body, but not a single one was fear — at least not anymore.

"I take other forms of payment, I'm not a complete monster." Another cackle leaves Kureha and you could smell her breath, which reeked of plum wine. It wasn't necessarily a disgusting scent, but it made you scrunch your nose either way, the smell of alcohol assaulting your nostrils.

Your entire body relaxes once you hear those words. You may not have much money, but you were incredibly skilled at house keeping and even knew how to make a few good meals thanks to spending your entire life in a village where the community helped each other all the time.

"I'll do anything you ask," You blurt without really thinking about it. Thinking she'd just ask you to be her personal maid for a few weeks or go retrieve medicine for her — simple things you could accomplish easily.

Kureha's smile that follows your words is dark in a way that sends chills down your spine and makes you regret saying you'd do anything, because now it was hard to tell what she had in mind for you. Dread pools in your stomach, but you can't get any other words out, Kureha's face rendering you speechless.

"How skilled are you with your tongue, girlie?" Kureha asks, free hand reaching up to graze over your lips, causing you to freeze up under her touch. Your eyebrows knot together as confusion becomes clear in your features.

"What?" You practically beg for clarification, legs twitching uncomfortably under Kureha's weight — stinging with the all-too-familiar feeling that encroaches after your leg falls asleep, a sharp pain that makes you wriggle underneath her.

"Oh, don't make me spell it out." Kureha moves her hand that laid upon your stomach down to one of your own hands that were now pressed tightly against your sides. With that hand, she moves it towards her, landing on her belt buckle and your fingers gently graze her visible stomach.

Your eyes dart from Kureha's belt to her eyes, now filled with lust. Your breath hitches when your brain finally catches on to what she meant. You'd never done anything like that, in fact, under Wapol's rule, it was almost looked down upon. It was never illegal, but it was certainly taboo.

So this, Kureha being so open with herself, terrified you.

"I've never — I'm not…" You couldn't seem to find the correct words for what you wanted to say. You couldn't possibly please her in the way she was expecting, especially with your incredibly lacking hands-on experience.

Kureha cocks an eyebrow, fingers unbuckling her belt with ease, even with your frozen fingers almost entirely blocking the buckle, "Take your time," Kureha replies flatly, though her tone makes it evident that you should hurry up and spit it out.

"I've never done that before," You finally manage, although your voice shakes embarrassingly, "So I wouldn't be any good." You wanted to offer to do something else for the woman, to take care of the large castle for an entire year, but you weren't sure you could even get a full sentence out without your voice betraying you even more than it already was.

"I forgot how boring you townsfolk are." Kureha clicks her tongue in disapproval, but doesn't stop the movements on her belt. In fact, she tugs it out of the loops and moves to unbutton her flared leather pants instead.

You watch as she moves off you for a moment to rid herself of her pants before joining you back on the small hospital bed, "Maybe I'll keep you around for awhile then, you can build your skill while I use you whenever I please." Kureha's hand is back on your lips as she speaks, parting them and you allow her to press her thumb inside your mouth.

You hated how that made desire pool in your stomach, you haven't felt like this for someone since you were a teenager and still coming to terms with your sexuality, but now your doctor was pushing buttons in you that you didn't even know existed.

Kureha slowly moves up your body, one of her hands reaching out to grab your hair and tug your head back, forcing you to stare up at her as she towered over you. On instinct, your shaking hands reach out and grabs her thighs near her hips.

"So eager and I haven't even sat down yet, you'll make for a wonderful little student." Kureha purrs, pushing her hips forward so she was balanced right above your face, causing your breath to hitch as the realization of what was happening finally hits.

The hand in your hair tightens its grip as Kureha sinks down onto your face. You dig your nails into her thighs and press your tongue out of your mouth quickly, wrapping it around her clit and sucking gently.

"Ah, shit," Kureha pants, nails digging into your scalp as she rocks against your face, heavy breaths leaving her as you suck her clit.

You try to ignore the searing pain in your stomach as you work on making Kureha feel good — mind flowing with worries about being inexperienced and things that made you feel good when you would touch yourself.

You slowly twist your tongue and lick up her folds, causing the older woman to shudder above you. She was sensitive, but wasn't vocal — at least not yet.

As you focus on her entrance, pushing your tongue deep into her hole, Kureha's weight against your face becomes heavy as she grinds her clit against your nose.

A groan leaves her lips, "Thats it, kid. You're a fuckin' natural." Kureha pants out, curse instinctually quieter as she leans her head back, staring up at the ceiling whilst her hip rocking begins to become less calculated and more desperate — a need for pleasure taking over her body.

Her small noises are so pretty, you want to draw more out of her.

Your pelvis lifts off the bed as you pull her impossibly close to your face, flicking your tongue over her clit rapidly.

Kureha's thighs begin to shake and it's becoming hard for her to keep herself up, having nothing but your hair to hold onto. A quiet mewl leaves her lips as her orgasm builds in her lower abdomen.

You feel your own desire pooling in your panties as the older woman writhes above you, clearly trying to hold back her noises, which ends with her breathing becoming harsher and she was soon practically panting.

"Won't be any good — my ass." Kureha manages to tease through her panting, a broken laugh ringing in your ears as she finally breaks, letting a moan pierce through her laughter.

Your brain begins to feel foggy from the lack of breathing you're doing, the only thing you can focus on is the movements of your tongue, the sounds of the woman above you fade into the background, buzzing around in the back of your head as slick falls neatly down your chin.

Before you lose consciousness entirely, nails scratching roughly against your head grounds you back to reality. Your nails dig into Kureha's thighs on instinct, who was murmuring a mix of praise and soft degradations above you as she came on your face.

You slurp up as much of her as you can before she removes herself from your face, allowing for you to take a deep breath, licking your lips as your chest heaves. A few moments pass where you're staring at the ceiling absentmindedly when suddenly a napkin is gently placed against your lips.

Your eyes dart to Kureha, who was dressed once more, and cleaning herself off the lower half of your face. Kureha gently cups your chin with two of her fingers and smirks down at you, "I'll have chopper bring you dinner, sweet dreams, girlie."

With those words, Kureha takes a long drink from her bottle of wine and tosses the napkin into a nearby trashcan before disappearing behind a pillar and exiting the hospital wing of the castle.

in your defense — you had warned him.

you told the master that if he kept acting so reckless he was going to end up hurt, or dead.

of course, he hadn't listened to you. spouting some bullshit about his superior time-lord physiology.

and while he did have a point, he could regenerate, he wasn't as frail as humans, regeneration wasn't as simple as he made it out to be — even you were well aware of that.

so when your traveling partner comes barreling through the tardis door, something clearly off with the time lord — considering he loved raving about his achievements, but now he was almost eerily silent, you knew something had gone wrong on his latest revenge seeking tour.

"you have fun, then?" you asked, just to clear the air.

the master lets out an amused puff of air at your weak attempt to start a conversation, a strangled groan following shortly after.

"are—"

"not another word, you insignificant pest." he snapped before you could even finish your sentence.

you clamp your lips tightly together and slam your hand down on the console, averting your gaze from the alien as he typed coordinates into the ship.

the insults hurt at first, but you had grown used to them. it's not something you particularly liked, but complaining would get you nowhere but the grave, so you put up with it.

after all, you loved him.

and you hated that you loved him. you could never tell him and it ate away at you slowly, it was getting harder to hide your feelings.

unable to watch him suffer in silence and his own stubbornness, you spoke up again, "let me help you. we're supposed to be partners."

"that's laughable. i don't need your help." he countered, eyes slowly turning to glare at you, they seemed to be in a perpetual state of sadness. you can't count the amount of times they appeared to be filled with tears.

"then think of it as… forced labour." you toss your hands in the air and roll your eyes.

the master's furrowed eyebrows soften the longer he stared at you, "will you finally shut up if i let you do this?" he questioned, feeling blood seep through his deep magenta coloured button up.

you're silent for a few moments, as if contemplating his question, "i doubt it." you land on, you weren't about to test your luck with an alien that had a photographic memory.

the master rolled his eyes in response, pulling his hand back from his abdomen, a long sticky rope of blood following.

you didn't have a weak stomach, but the sight almost made you gag, he'd been hiding that all this time? what had he expected to do? wait until he passed out? which, judging by the blood that spreading across his shirt rapidly, wouldn't take long.

"master, let me help you… please."

his eyes flickered toward you, a glint of surprise evident in them. neither of you were the begging type, you were both so head strong and refused to grovel. your plea made him gulp, his well-being must be extremely serious for you — silly human.

"fine, but do try to keep your incessant jabbering to a minimum."

you immediately step forward to place your hand on his wound. your fingers brushed together which caused you to shiver and refuse to look at the alien, who had tensed up from the feeling of your hand. whether it was from pain or your sudden closeness, you weren't entirely sure.

the coldness of the alien makes your stomach drop and its then that you realize you'd never been this close to the master before,

"are you usually this cold?" you asked with fear evident in your tone as you held onto him tightly, guiding him to the medical room.

you were surprised at how he didn't push you away, the last time you tried to touch him, simply to pluck a branch from his hair, you were met with a rough wrist-grab and a long lecture about not laying your disgusting human hands on him again.

"yes, please don't burst a blood vessel about it. time lords have —"

"superior physiology. i'm aware, but that doesn't explain why you're as frigid as the arctic." you fumbled with the door knob as you spoke, the time lord's weight leaning on you making it difficult to perform the simplest of tasks.

both due to the fact he was heavier than you and the fact the person you had a crush on was pressed flush against you, relying on you to keep him steady.

"because, butter fingers," the master moved one of his hands atop yours on the door, making you freeze as he turns the knob and shoves the door open, "we regulate our body heat better than humans, making us less susceptible to heat stroke or hypothermia."

you move into the medbay and sat him down on one of the hospital beds, shoulders beginning to ache from supporting the alien such a long way, damn the tardis' long halls.

"must have had some crazy weather on gallifrey, then. to cause an evolutionary tactic like that." you comment absentmindedly, moving to the other side of the room to gather the supplies to help your injured time-lord.

the master doesn't speak, and for someone who spent most of his time on a never ending rant, it was worrisome. so you glance behind yourself, immediately catching his gaze, but he doesn't look away quickly as someone who had been caught staring usually would, instead matching your stare with the ferocity of a big cat stalking its prey.

"lose the layers." you manage, pointing toward his chest. he grins at that and you immediately realize the implications behind your words, "i meant so i could help you." you shake the medical supplies in your hands vigorously, heat creeping up your neck.

"stop embarrassing yourself, butter fingers. i know what you meant." the master's voice is softer than usual, it wasn't a real threat. he shrugged off his blazer, then unbuttoned his vest and pulled it off, revealing the blood soaked button up underneath.

"i think i preferred insignificant pest to butter fingers." you sigh out helplessly, knowing it was a nickname you wouldn't be able to shake anytime soon — until he found another name to torment you.

anything but using your actual name.

your heart seemed to drop even further seeing the state of his shirt. you immediately took a quick stride over, which appeared more as a pathetic run. you dropped the supplies on the mayo stand near the bed and reached your hands to unbutton the master's shirt, hands colliding with his.

"i do believe i can remove my own shirt." the master teased as your eyes slowly moved to meet his, you were so close you could feel his ragged breath against your face.

"unless you pass out from blood loss." you challenge, but your shaking voice revealed how nervous you really were. that only seemed to amuse the master further, who cocked his eyebrows and leaned back, moving his hands behind him to support his weight.

you slowly unbuttoned his shirt, trying not to think about how intimate this was. you'd rip his shirt off just to get it over with if you were certain he wouldn't kill you for it.

once he's finally out of his shirt, you grabbed gauze from the mayo stand and begun wiping down the blood, dropping to your knees in front of him in an attempt to find the wound that no longer seemed to be gushing blood, the hair on the alien's body didn't seem to help your search.

once you had the area mostly cleaned of blood, your now-bloodied hand searches the metallic stand for the sterile saline you had found in the cabinets while the other puts pressure on the wound, "do you want lidocaine? or can you handle the pain like the big evil time-lord you are."

you grab the bottle of saline and manage to open it with only one of your hands, something the master appeared thoroughly impressed by, a shame you couldn't see him.

you bring the bottle down as you move the gauze away from the wound, pouring the saline over his injury.

the master winced in pain, hips thrusting up towards your face and under any other circumstances, you would've thought about how hot he looked.

"stick me with the anesthetic and cease your taunting, lest you lose your tongue." the master hissed, watching as you grabbed the syringe full of medicine.

when you bring the needle close to his wound, you slowly look up at him, "is now a bad time to admit i've never done this before."

"yes." the master's expression never changed, he wasn't shocked, in fact it almost seemed like he expected it.

just when you think he may stop you entirely, shoving you away from him and saying he'll do it himself, he spoke up again, "insert the needle directly into the subcutaneous layer."

your hand doesn't move, revealing you had no idea what he was talking about. you brace yourself for the insults he was going to throw at you, but they never come.

"the wound edges." he clarified and you nodded, pushing the needle into the edge of his injury quickly, to avoid pain from doing it slowly, you knew that much at least.

"inject slowly while withdrawing the needle," the master explained and you begun to carefully follow his instructions, "this is to cover the entire length of the wound."

you nod as you push the lidocaine into him, listening to his explanation intently, he sounded so soft in this moment — unlike anything you'd ever heard from the master.

when you pulled the needle out, you sighed in relief, you hadn't fucked it up and accidentally caused a regeneration or something.

"now do the other side."

fuck.

you listen, of course. lidocaine still present in the syringe as you push it into the other edge of the wound, repeating the process from earlier, his words of instruction echoing in your ears, like a mantra.

"good girl." the master praised when you pulled the syringe out once more.

at first you thought you'd been hearing things, not only was he praising you for your hard work, but he chose the most sexually charged phrase in the english lexicon.

heat rose up your neck and onto your cheeks as you slowly looked up at him, your place between his legs making it look like a rather compromising position.

the master only smirked down at you, he knew exactly what he was doing.

you stood up quickly, slamming the lidocaine syringe on the mayo stand, "well, since you're so well versed in first aid, maybe you should do the suturing." you babbled nervously, trying to get out of the room before you lost whatever was left of your dignity,

which wasn't a lot.

"ah, ah, ah." the master hooked his leg around your ankles, leaving you unable to move away from him unless you wanted to fall on your ass, "you begged me to let you help. you're going to finish the job. i'll guide you."

what was he playing at? his expression was entirely unreadable. was he trying to lead you on? mess with your feelings? had he caught on to the fact you were hopelessly in love? how long ago?

"that's a horrible idea."

"it's brilliant. what if you're all alone bleeding out with no one to help you?"

you furrow your eyebrows, knowing him, it could be read as a threat — or a promise. of course, you had always suspected your partnership would end in betrayal, so perhaps you were letting your own fear get to you.

"you're insane." you shook your head in disbelief, searching the mayo stand for the needle driver, scissors, and forceps.

"thank you, love." the master replied earnestly, watching you tug open the suture pack and pull out the thread and needle.

you finally look to him for instruction, he was rather calm about the situation, you couldn't imagine letting anyone who wasn't a medical professional near you with a needle.

did he trust you, or was it just morbid curiosity?

"hold the needle on the needle driver at a ninety degree angle," the master says, and you quickly follow his instruction, "a little angle forward may help, makes things easier."

you nod, a pout playing at your lips at you listen to him intently. your hands were shaking slightly from the fear of being guided through a medical procedure, but you're quickly able to get them under control as he begun to speak again.

"thumb and ring finger in the driver handles."

you do as you're told, but it felt weird and unnatural, unlike using your index for scissors.

"twist your wrist to the left and push the needle into the skin at ninety degrees, then once it's at the desired depth, twist your hand around and pull the needle out, and you've completed your first bite."

the master babbled as you sutured his wound as best as possible. there were no more praises or insults, simply him explaining as you stitched him up.

by the time you were done, your bottom lip was raw from how hard you had been chewing at it. you drop the supplies onto the mayo stand and kicking it away.

you moved towards the sink and washed the blood off your hands, you weren't sure you'd ever be able to purge to scent from your nostrils.

"where'd you learn to do that?"

"i'm over two thousand years old, been alone for most of it." the master shrugged, running his hand over the stitched up wound.

"if you weren't such a human-hating recluse, i'd feel bad for you." you turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing your arms as you stared at him.

he looked exceptionally beautiful like that. shirtless, hair messy as his arms flexed under his weight. he wasn't looking at you, so you had free reign to admire his figure.

"good thing i despise pity." the master seethed, turning his gaze toward you to send you a glare that used to send shivers down your spine.

"pity and empathy aren't the same thing, master."

"it's a fine line." with that, the master sat up and immediately winced, the stitches rubbing against eachother and almost snapping already. he laid back on the bed, propping himself against the pillows.

before you can ask if he wanted help, he beats you to it, refusing to be 'helped', "fetch me new clothes from the wardrobe."

you tense up, he noticed.

"don't make me repeat myself either." he seethed, but it was a sad excuse at trying to be intimidating.

you nod, leaving the medbay without saying another word to the time-lord, his avoidance hurt more than you cared to admit.

you sometimes wish that he'd just be honest with you, a real moment of domesticity, considering you lived together, but he could never award you the satisfaction of seeing him in such a vulnerable position.

it made you question if you were cut out to travel with him.

when you returned he was standing by the sink in his birthday suit — his blood stained trousers and boxers abandoned by the bed. you freeze in the doorway, trying not to let your jaw hit the floor as you eyed him up and down.

"the clothes?" he pointed towards you, and since you weren't thinking clearly, you threw them at him and turned around.

the master catches them, but was clearly caught off guard by the display. he then broke out into a cheeky grin, his infectious laughter filling the room, "you humans, so easily flustered."

"i'll be in my room." you squeak out, trying to get the image of his naked body out of your mind — to no avail.

"no you won't. if i'm to be stuck in this medical hellhole for the night, i refuse to suffer alone." the master demanded as he tugged on the clothes you brought him. you had been so kind as to bring him something comfortable to sleep in.

"no one said you had to stay in here." you try to reason, knowing it was a futile battle. even if he didn't want to stay in here, he would just because you didn't want to either. to prove some kind of point.

"the old girl insists. and if i don't listen to her, she scrambles the ship around, very moody. i don't recommend acquiring one."

you roll your eyes at his ship's antics, but don't move your place from by the door, not daring to turn around and catch a glimpse of his body.

"come here."

you don't move, you don't even acklowedge he'd spoken.

"do not ignore me or i will attach a leash to your neck and force you to follow me on all fours like the mangy dog you are."

your stomach churns from the insult as you slowly crane your neck to look at him, he was sitting on the bed, he was still half naked, shirt in his hand.

the master points his finger towards you, then to the ground in front of himself, beckoning you towards him.

you slowly walk towards him, even as every nerve in your body screamed to bolt out the door, to run out of the tardis and never look back.

"thank you. for helping me"

well, you didn't expect that.

"of course." you weren't sure what else to say, if you had kept talking, you were certain you'd never shut up, and in turn reveal how much you cared for him, how much you loved him.

"i see why the doctor keeps you little humans around, you make for spectacular maids." he immediately changed the subject, you aren't surprised in the slightest when he does.

"i'm almost entirely certain thats not why she does it." you had only met the doctor a few times, but she seemed to value her companions a hell of a lot more than the master. she didn't see them as pets, but as people.

you'd never admit to wondering what it would be like to travel with her — to not walk on eggshells around a time-lord that could kill you in an instant.

the master's hand finds its way to your belt buckle, tugging on it gently, "ah right, for companionship, she claims."

your breath hitches when his hand reaches you, and you're rendered unable to breathe when he tugs you close to him. you file perfectly between his knees, staring down at him in shock.

"i doubt… this kind of companionship. didn't you say time-lords don't…do this sort of thing." you were flustered, trying to get a full sentence out without sounding stupid grew to be a near impossible task.

"not usually, but she's never been a good time lord."

you don't know how to respond, partly because of how he was playing with you belt buckle, and because he hardly ever spoke about the doctor in a way that wasn't angry and filled with centuries of loathing.

"and i suppose, neither have i."

was he toying you? seeing how you'd react only to break you? you refused to give in, straightening your back as he finally unbuckled your belt, "what are you playing at, master?"

he groans hearing his name, leaning his head back as a smirk makes his way onto his face, teeth shining under the lights, "perhaps i'm extremely thankful for your assistance and am feeling generous."

"that'd be a first." even his touch was foreign to you. you didn't hug after a job well done, didn't dance when he blasted music in the tardis, but now here he was, unzipping your jeans.

"well, hell has frozen over, dear." he doesn't move his hands into your trousers once he'd unzipped them, they stalled against your abdomen.

"oh? and have fat pigs flown?" you joke, cocking an eyebrow.

"across the galaxy."

with a smirk still plastered across his face, you leaned down and captured your lips against his. you were almost certain this was an experiment, to see what the doctor liked so much about humans, but when your body pressed against his bare chest, you couldn't seem to care any less.

the master wraps his arms around you, hands finding themselves to your ass to pull you up onto the bed with him. you run your fingers down his chest, knees at either side of him as he shoves his tongue into your mouth with an amount of dominance you had fantasized about more times than you'd care to admit.

he lays back against the pillows and you fall forward to keep attacking his lips with kisses, one hand pressed against his chest as the other ventures to his face — beard scratching at your fingers as you cup his cheek.

he groans in pain slightly when you press against his wound, which caused you to pull back and straighten up — hand still laying on his chest as you stared down at him, trying to catch your breath.

his hands find their way under your shirt, signaling you to take it off, which you do. you felt weird being studied under his gaze, it almost felt like being judged.

"you very well may be the most beautiful human i've ever laid my eyes upon." you flush at the compliment and the master's hands run up and down your hips, circling around your back to unclip your bra.

once that falls off you, you stand on the bed, looming over him as you tug your jeans down, throwing them across the room and kneeling back down above him.

the master reaches his hand to the back of your neck and tugs you back down towards him, kissing you once more, his free hand snaking down to rub your clit through your panties.

"fuck." you gasp as soon as he touched you, you felt weird masturbating in his tardis, especially since the ship was technically alive, so it had been quite awhile.

"you've done this before, yes?" the master asked, pushing your knickers aside and sliding one of his fingers through your wet folds.

you shiver while nodding in response to his question, hips bucking forward on instinct. your reaction only seemed to make his smirk grow wider, turning into a grin as he pressed one of his fingers inside you.

"just not in awhile." you felt the need to clarify as you gripped his shoulders from the feeling of something entering you after so long.

"if this is how you react to my fingers, dear, i dread to inform you that you maybe have trouble taking me." the master grinned big as he pushed another finger inside you, curling them meticulously.

that thought excited you. sure, sometimes he had an ego that far surpassed his capabilities, but more often than not, he always backed up his statements with fact.

you moan when he presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing the nub harshly as his fingers move in and out of you, sounds of your wetness filling the medbay.

you can feel his length hardening against your abdomen as you breathed against his neck, biting down onto the flesh of his skin harshly.

he grunts, his legs jerking from the sudden pain, which quickly morphed into pleasure, "again." the master demanded, quickening the pace of his fingers as you bite down on the nape of his neck, feeling your orgasm building up quickly.

when you come, you bite down on the alien's neck so harshly you can feel blood pool into your mouth. it tasted more tangy and metallic than humans and you fight the urge to gag, instead licking the space on his neck as he pulls his fingers out of you.

you slide your hands down his body, unbuttoning his pants quickly and rubbing the master's bulge through his boxers.

the master's chest heaves, relishing in the feeling of your lips on his neck and hand on his crotch, but he craved more, he wanted to be inside you, push you until you couldn't take it anymore.

but he couldn't tonight, not in this state, not when he's at risk of snapping his stitches. you were in full control of the situation, and a part of him was scared of that — if not entirely indignified.

he sighs when you pull away from his neck, straightening your back once more and releasing his cock from the restraint of his boxers.

he hadn't been exaggerating, he was big… and thick. you collect spit in your mouth and let it fall down onto his tip — which managed to still have some blood mixed in it from his neck.

"fuck — i'm sorry." you freeze, unsure what to do about the bloodied saliva that was now already dripping down his shaft.

"keep going." he urged, grabbing your hand and moving it up and down his cock slowly, his breath quickening in pleasure.

you weren't sure how to feel, that was going inside you, and wasn't blood a total health hazard?

the thought is purged from your mind when you hear him moan, your thumb rubbing his tip. he seemed more sensitive than you imagined.

"this body is fucking sensitive." he seethed, practically reprimanding himself under his breath.

the master's hips even buck up when you remove your thumb from his tip and continue moving your hand up and down, but at a faster pace now.

his hand reaches down and grabs the space right below your ass — at the top of your thigh, and tugs you up onto your knees, "let me watch you sink down onto my cock, love."

your entire body shivers from that, but you do as he requests, lining his cock up with your entrance as you stare down at him.

then, you slowly start to press yourself down onto him. the stretch is painful, but in the best way. you let out a long breath as your walls envelop around him, trying to keep your breath steady.

"thats it." the master praised, and it made you want more, you craved more praise from the alien who only seemed to have crude things to say about you and your species.

he moved his hands up to your waist once he had bottomed out, bucking his hips up teasingly to press against your cervix. you let out a strangled cry from that, your hand gripping at his chest helplessly.

the master lets out a dark chuckle from watching you struggle above him.

slowly, you start to move, up and down against his impressive length. you don't make eye contact, instead opting to close your eyes, you almost felt ashamed.

as ashamed as someone who willingly lets someone degrade her all day could be.

"talk to me, love. i feel like i'm holding a one sided conversation by a thread." the master urged, it almost sounded like a plea coming from the depths of his soul.

"you usually are." you retort, panting quietly as you get used to his size, pleasure creeping up on you.

"don't be like that." he pouted, something you couldn't see until you opened your eyes slightly, eyelashes blocking most of your vision.

you quickened your pace, hips rocking up and down quickly as the master occassionally bucked his hips up in rhythm, careful not to exert himself to the point of tearing his wound open.

"call me by my name." the master urged as he could feel his orgasm building up.

"master." you obliged, fingernails clawing at his chest, you were close. the sounds the both of you created drowned out by the pure ecstasy you were feeling.

"again."

"master."

he reached one of his hands from your hip to your abdomen and following it down, finding your clit as you rode him vigorously. the added pleasure makes you lean your head back and moan obscenely.

the master smirked in triumph, thrusting his hips up in rhythm to push you over the edge — he didn't remember caring so much about his previous sexual partners' pleasure before.

you could feel your orgasm building, it was getting harder to ride him as your legs shook, knees going weak and ready to give out any moment.

i love you, you wanted to say.

"master!" you had cried out instead as your second orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train.

you practically collapse over the alien, whose orgasm arrives shortly after yours, shooting hot white spurts inside you as he muttered your name.

you thought you must have been hearing things, taking a few moments to collect yourself before pulling off him, his come trickling down your leg as you stand up.

you collect your clothes off the ground, you supposed you'd head back to your bedroom and let the regret and self-loathing seep into your bones as you cried yourself to sleep.

though before you could move away, the master reached out and grabbed ahold of your wrist, yanking you impossibly close to the bed, "don't leave me." he begged, unlike his usual demands.

his words make you freeze, they were so guttural, so entirely broken. it made you want to stay with him forever, to hold him.

"i just need a shower."

"at the far end of the medbay, there's those shitty emergency showers." he points down the other end of the large room, you hadn't even noticed how big it had been before.

"gee, thanks. way to make a house a home." you joked once finally released from the alien's grip. you hold your clothes tightly to yourself and step away from the bed, beginning to walk away towards where he had pointed

"why would i need to do that? it already is your home." the master called after you, genuine confusion laced in his tone, and it took everything in your not to trip over yourself.

your home.

sfw:

you’re her companion — you accidentally walked into her tardis thinking it was a normal diner😅

ashildr didn’t approve of bringing you along at first, but clara insisted that you should come along, so she really had no say in the matter.

after everything she’s seen, she’s become quite jaded and you almost remind her of a younger version of herself, when she first began traveling with the doctor

which is why she tries her hardest not to pursue anything with you.

“i want to be good.” knowing she’s far past that point.

probably called you “kid” at first which slowly morphed into other nicknames like love or baby.

she’s so protective of you and is not chill about it in any way. a guy is a little too pushy? she threatens to chop his dick off.

will flirt with other people to get your attention, loves it when you get all pouty and jealous.

“go wait in the tardis” when she plans to do something you won’t approve of — like kill someone.

physical touch is BIG with her, she’ll offer you a hug or a hand whenever you need it. though she also enjoys words of affirmation; always telling you how brilliant you are.

make sure to offer her a hug or a hand every once in a while, she always claims she’s fine, but she hardly ever is.

let’s her hand linger against yours for a bit too long while showing you how to do something

pressing her forehead against yours while whispering about how she shouldn’t do this, questioning what kind of person it makes her when she leans in to kiss you.

first date was probably a DISASTER, clara saying all the wrong things while trying to be funny and then getting defensive about it.

her teacher lectures are no joke😫😫don’t fuck up around her you’ll never hear the end of it.

CUDDLING!! she loves holding you in her arms, she’s quite short, so if you’re taller, you’ll just have to put up with it.

playing footsie under the table of the diner booths while you share a milkshake >>>

can’t sleep well anymore (since she doesn’t technically need it) so you’ll often wake up to find her staring at the ceiling deep in thought.

sometimes you’ll catch her crying in her room, she doesn’t cry much anymore, but when she has a really rough few weeks, it’ll manifest into a breakdown.

she’ll try to stop her crying once she notices you, but it’s damn near impossible once she’s started, so she ends up letting out pathetic little sobs as she avoids eye contact.

it is VERY important you hold her during these moments

she’ll say something like “god, i feel so stupid” after she manages to calm down

she can be kind of an ass when her ego gets to her. most of your arguments stem from her refusing to admit defeat bc her controlling nature won’t let her.

“just admit you were wrong” “NO!”

so many “i don’t deserve you”s. for someone who is so egotistical, she can be quite insecure in your relationship.

“can you help me with my dress? i can’t reach” knowing damn well she can reach.

if you get kidnapped or hurt, she will do everything in her power to get revenge, the perpetrator will NOT get away with it if she has anything to say about it.

she’s still VERY reckless. she’s already kinda dead and she knows it so what’s a little danger to her? might as well get a leash if you don’t like it

she loves reading and will offer you recommendations with the hope you come to her with your thoughts after, she was an english teacher after all.

she loves teasing you in any way possible😭😭she’ll say something with a straight face, watch your panic, then drop “i’m just messing with you”

her ideal date night is a chaotic adventure on another planet, but if you prefer nights in, she will happily oblige.

will psychoanalyze you sometimes??😭 “do you have adhd? …are you sure?”

anytime you have to be in disguise she refers to you as her wife or “the missus” …for the sake of the disguise, of course.

honestly, i think a relationship with her would be VERY messy, but worth it.

nsfw:

she hasn’t slept with many women herself, a few times during college (and jane austen), but it wasn’t an opportunity that presented itself often.

so she isn’t an all-knowing woman pleaser, expect a lot of “does that feel okay, love?”

if you’re a virgin she’ll hesitate to take it further, wanting your first time to be special (even if that means it isn’t with her)

though after a particularly rough adventure, she spreads petals all over her bed, lights candles, uses her best lingerie the whole nine yards😭😭

she makes a whole thing of seducing you too

if you’re nervous, she’ll guide your hand to where she wants you to touch her and it’s sooo sexy.

likes following you into the wardrobe under the guise of helping you pick out an outfit to watch you change.

doesn’t even attempt to hide her perversion, there’s a smirk on her lips the entire time.

will sometimes touch herself in a room she Knows you like being in so you get all flustered when you catch her

doesn’t bother shaving unless she plans on putting on a show

the control freak is a dom, go figure.

she’s a switch though.

“get on your knees, now.”

LOVES oral. giving or receiving. she’ll go down on you for hours until you can only whimper and tell her you can’t come again.

on the other hand, she loves to ride your face while gripping her headboard — whispering curses and praises.

“thats it” “fuck you’re brilliant”

does this super hot thing where she’ll lean back in a chair and use her eyes to guide you over to her thigh. (refer to the gif at the top)

clara is vocal with her words, but not ridiculously loud with her noises.

she loves to ride your strap.

makes a few comments about coming inside her even though it isn’t possible.

her guilty pleasure is messy drunk sex. both of you giggling and unable to get your clothes off so you’re just rutting against each other — it really gets her going.

she’s fucked you in the diner, even with people walking by — she’s no stranger to a bit of exhibitionism

hair pulling.

not a fan of hickeys, thinks they’re kind of tacky. but loves having her neck attacked with kisses.

her libido isn’t insanely as high as someone like river, but she does like a good fuck every now and again.

sfw:

starting off, i think river runs a STRICT program in her dating life (she erased the memory of one of her husbands because he annoyed her??). like don’t play with her, she’s not afraid to pack her bags.

that being said, i also believe she’s a very attentive lover. she’s very in tune with her partner’s feelings and can always tell when they’re feeling upset. so never try that “i’m fine” shit with her — she doesn’t buy it and it’s a sure-fire way to irritate her.

as she makes so obvious in the show, she’s big on pet names. like she has so…many for you. sweetie, hun, darling. you name it, she’s probably called you it.

the type of girlfriend to say “hey good looking, you come here often?” while in your shared flat. it’s very endearing.

not the jealous type in the slightest when in a relationship, she’s very confident in your partnership and doesn’t feel the need to dwell on something as trivial as someone flirting with you in a bar. however, if say a coworker flirts with you before you’re dating, she’ll lurk creepily in the background before walking up and flirting easily with you, trying to direct your attention away from the perpetrator

an open book but it also feels like you don’t know her at all?? she’s very open about her feelings and will often tell you stories about her adventures, but at the same time, she’s VERY tight lipped about them, especially if they’re particularly hurtful.

despite her guise of being a “psychopath” she often wears her heart on her sleeve. when she’s upset, you’ll know. even if she won’t say it, it’s very evident in her demeanor that something is off

LOVES when you read her books and talk to her about them, sometimes she’ll tell you beforehand it was based on a real story, but other times she wants to hear your honest opinions before she tells you.

speaking of books, when she reads a new one, she often likes to leave little annotations in the margins/on little sticky notes before giving you the book to read — she’s done this with books for as long as she’s been reading, but she likes when you add onto her thoughts.

probably doesn’t like the idea of you coming on expeditions with her (danger is HER middle name, not yours) but if you’re already on her team, best believe she’s keeping you RIGHT where she can see you, hand on her gun the entire time — the last thing she’ll ever do is lose you.

big on physical touch, hope you like pda!😁. no, but on a serious note, physical touch is her love language. she always likes to be touching you, even if it’s a simple hand hold or a hand lingering against your back. loves when you come home after a long day and just crawl into her arms so she can hold you and kiss your forehead.

date nights are ALWAYS extravagant events with river. she will take you to a beautiful planet with little to no threats and take you to dinner there, always dressing to the nines — she’s grown used to running in heels, if ever need be. as for you? she enjoys any date you set up for her, whether it be a candlelit dinner with flowers or a night in with movies and cookies.

DANCE WITH HER, especially without warning. pull her out of her chair and into a slow waltz and she’ll be giggling into your neck, leaving chaste kisses against your jaw.

despite the fact she’s on the more extroverted side, she often gets very sick of people very quickly, especially if they can’t match her quick wit and intelligence — so public outings with coworkers usually end in you side-eyeing each other like “let’s leave”

because of her time lord dna, she’s much colder than the average human, which makes her the perfect body pillow to cuddle up to at night. you can both curl up together under a thick blanket without having to worry too much about overheating from shared body heat.

river is the type of woman who has spent her entire life yearning for a family, a sense of domesticity, but not in the same way humans do. she doesn’t want to “settle down” behind a white picket fence and stay at home with the kids. she still wants to work, have her adventures, but the idea of having children is something that she’s always wanted — likely due to her own messy childhood

she doesn’t strike you as the maternal type, either, you’re surprised by how good she is with kids whenever you too are in a situation that calls for interacting with one.

she doesn’t want to talk about having children with you, it’s one of many secrets she keeps, because she thinks that maybe you’ll laugh at her for the idea, that maybe she’s too dangerous to raise a child.

REALLY good at giving advice for literally anything?? if you’re ever feeling down or just need someone to talk to, she’s your woman. she’ll listen to your woes and offer feedback to your problems, though sometimes it can come off as rude because she’s quite blunt.

in all, i think river is probably one of the best lovers you could have in the whoniverse. she’ll show you stars and threaten to kill anyone who puts you in harms way, but she also enjoys quiet nights in with you in her arms talking about her latest expedition.

nsfw:

to the surprise of absolutely no one, river is extremely talented in the bedroom. she’s dominant, even when she’s on the bottom. doesn’t relinquish control on a whim, if ever at all.

i can definitely see her as a woman who prefers to receive, especially cunnilingus. offering to spend hours between her legs drives her mad. BUT she also loves to watch you fall apart beneath her (especially if she spent hours teasing you in public)

big on handcuffs, it doesn’t matter who’s wearing them — though it usually ends up being her in them. she likes to play a little game of “how long will it take me to get out of these and ravage you” spoiler? it’s a minute tops everytime, but sometimes she’ll act like she can’t quite pick the lock so you’ll keep touching her

she’s so freaked out, willing to experiment with anything once, but if you aren’t as kinky as her (few are) she’s perfectly okay with that. VERY adaptable in every aspect of your relationship, but especially in bed.

as opposed to her usual impatient nature outside the bedroom, she loves to take her time with you. of course she’s always down for a quickie before work or in a bathroom trying to keep your voices down, she does prefer having you in bed, preferring to cover every inch of your body in kisses as she holds you tightly.

oh she knows her way around a strap too. she’ll have you leaking tears onto the pillow while she fucks you from behind. you’ll be gripping the sheets as she whispers sweet nothings into your ear

big on praise, not so much on degradation, she’ll use more simple ones like “naughty girl” but her dirty talk is almost always praising you. river will worship your body for hours if you let her (especially if you’re particularly insecure)

a little bit of roleplay can’t hurt anyone, eh? she’d probably be into something like professor/student or maybe captor/hostage. despite her usual lack of degradation, she does love the thrill of getting to ‘punish’ you

she’s quite the screamer… especially when she’s receiving (whether it be oral, fingers, or a strap). her moans border on pornographic and sometimes you wonder if she’s playing them up for your pleasure. your neighbors are owed a handwritten apology…

due to her profession she can’t exactly walk around with hickeys on her neck, so she loves when you give them to her in places that no one else can see — usually her inner thighs.

as for you, she doesn’t leave a lot of marks, but she does love capturing you in a deep passionate kiss in public and leaving her red lipstick lingering on your mouth the rest of the day, that way EVERYONE knows that you’re taken by river song.

her safe word is probably spoilers tbh.

everyone loved the doctor’s lectures, but no one more than you.

you enjoyed when he strayed from the topic he was supposed to be teaching, when he gave assignments that didn’t have anything to do with science.

once he assigned a five page essay about a shakespeare play of the student’s choice — you had been so shocked you marched right to his office to question him about the assignment.

that’s when his infatuation with you started, but he can’t deny the way his eyes would search for yours in the sea of students when teaching something particularly difficult from the very beginning of the year.

in all truth, the doctor was bored. he missed traveling, missed exploring planets and interacting with different species that weren’t mind-numbing pudding brains, but of course, he had a vault to protect — and nardole was not going to let him forget about it.

“i see you eyeing the tardis. don’t even think about it.”

“it’s a time machine, nardole. i could be back before you finish your cup of tea” the doctor reasons, practically begging to leave the planet, if only a few moments

“you think she won’t sense your departure, doctor? i’m sorry, but you’ve made your bed. best to lie in it”

nardole shrugs the doctor off, which only makes him reach his hands up and rub his face in frustration. he was over two thousand years old — why did he continue to stay shackled to this university?

a few beats of silence follow nardole’s sharp decline of the doctor setting sail in his blue box. things were growing tense — that was until the loud creak of the door caused them to snap their heads over.

you immediately tense up, the hand holding a bag of takeout crinkled in the deafening silence, “sorry mate.. didn’t realize you were busy” you rush to defend yourself immediately, the term of endearment slipping out in your embarrassment.

the doctor stands, hands pressed firmly into the wood, “i’m not, nardole was just leaving” his voice is tense and nardole glares at him, but leaves without much of an argument,

except a grumble of annoyance only you could make out as he moves past you and out the door.

you gulped, the tension in the room not fading even now that nardole had left — you wondered what they were talking about, you were certain you heard them talking about someone when you came close enough to hear, but you didn’t exactly want to eavesdrop any further than you already had,

“i can just… go? i brought you some chips, but if you aren’t in the mood…”

he waves his hands around, trying to play like he wasn’t as frustrated as he was, but you could tell by his tense posture that something was wrong and it almost made you want to cut and run, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the man,

“no. stay, please.” he stumbles over his words while pointing to the seat in front of him, gesturing for you to sit down across from him — you obey almost immediately, sliding the bag of takeout over to the man.

this had been happening more frequently in the recent weeks, sometimes you’d talk so late into the night that you’d have to skip your first class just to get sleep. you always saw a flicker of remorse in his eye the day that followed, but he never outwardly apologized to you.

you assumed that was because he wasn’t really sorry, and you didn’t want him to be — you talked to him out of your own accord, it wasn’t a damn hostage situation.

even when that’s what your roommate calls it, she says that he’s way too old for you. that he’s been working at the school for seventy years, but you didn’t think of the doctor in that way,

except for when you did…

your thoughts are interrupted when the doctor’s hand grazes against yours while taking the bag, and you think that it must’ve been intentional — your hand hadn’t even been near his.

you look up to catch his eye, his grey eyes boring into yours as his fingers touch your knuckles. his hands were cold, colder than you would have expected.

the feeling makes you shiver and when you do, the doctor finally pulls his hand away from yours — fishing through the bag for the chips you had offered him.

the doctor wanted to grab your hand, to take it in his, but of course, he didn’t want to scare you away. he couldn’t bare losing the one human that had made him feel a spark of excitement in the last seventy years because he couldn’t control himself.

he tried to remind himself that he was a time lord, biologically above the reproductive frenzy that the human race was so obsessed with, but each time he saw you, he doubted himself a little bit more.

something dawned on him as he thought, you had called him mate — in your embarrassed state, you let it slip. you saw him as a friend, not just a professor, that small step made his hearts clench with success,

“mate?”

your eyes widen from his words, shocked by his sudden voice and confused by what he was saying, “sorry?”

“you called me mate earlier, when you came in without knocking.”

“right. you’re right, i’m sorry — that was inappropriate. i should’ve minded my words … and also knocked” you were rambling by this point, scared you had somehow angered the doctor, but he only chuckles at your frightened state,

“it’s fine. just don’t go calling me that around the other students, they’ll start to think i have favorites.”

“don’t you?” you counter, raising an eyebrow as a smirk spreads across your face. the doctor feels one of his hearts skip a beat as he takes you in,

“that’s besides the point” his voice is merely a whisper when he answers, as if she had completely knocked the breath out of him. and honestly, it felt like she had.

soon, the room is filled with your chatter as he eats the chips you had gotten for him. you ranted about other classes, asked questions about his most recent assignments.

all the doctor could do was stare and force himself to answer your questions — it was like his brain had completely short circuited, this was a new development. and he wasn’t sure how he should feel about it.

he was completely enamoured by you and he was certain nardole would never let him hear the end of it if he had found out.

it made him feel dirty, not being able to focus on anything but you. he was no longer the young dashing man in a bow tie you surely would love. instead he was a shell of a man, old and grey — his wrinkles only growing the more time he spent in this body.

but you, you were young, you had so much ahead of you. if only he could take you across the stars like he dreamed of — maybe then you could understand him. want him.

he curses under his breath and you furrow your brows, cutting yourself off from whatever rant you had been going on, “you alright?” you ask in a concerned tone, leaning over the table to get a good look at him, concerned that he had injured his old frail body or something,

your scent immediately hits his nose and it almost sends him flying back. you had never been this close to him before, usually you kept your distance seated in front of his desk, but now you were mere inches away from him, staring at him with nothing but concern in your eyes,

“course i am, y/n. please relax” he tries to brush you off, but you furrow your brows, not quite believing him.

the longer you spent near him, the more he felt his control slip from his grasp — the more his mind wandered about what he wanted to do to you.

he thought about how miserable it was, how most of his nights as of late consisted of rubbing one out while thinking of his student — this was so beneath him.

he watches intently as you maneuver over the desk, careful not to knock anything over as you sit right in front of him, gesturing for his hand. he gives it without much of an argument and watches as you check his pulse, he lets out a low laugh,

“you’re not having a heart attack, are you?”

his eyes widen in surprise, “my heart is much stronger than you’d think” he leaves it vague, almost letting his unusual amount of hearts slip from his tongue, but he manages to bite it back.

“just got scared, people say you’ve been working here for seventy years, so i thought…you must be in your nineties now, you could really keel over at any time”

his hearts sink hearing you talk, hearing the confirmation that you saw him as nothing more than some old man. worse, an old man that you had to care for.

not someone desirable in the slightest.

the hurt that crosses his face is more than clear and it makes your own heart clench, “but don’t worry, you look really good for your age. would’ve assumed 65” you try to reassure, but it doesn’t seem to help the man, who just silently stared at you.

“you’re sitting on my papers” he changes the subject, and it’s then you realize you had been sitting on his desk this entire time. your face heats up in embarrassment as you try to scramble off the desk, but he raises a hand and places it against your knee. it was trembling, for a reason you weren’t certain of, but you passed it off as his age.

“how old do you think i am, y/n.”

“i dunno, how old are you, doctor?” you shoot back, thinking it would be rude to guess an age only to be way off just because of rumors spread around some old school,

“much too old for you. and yet here you are, sitting on my desk with your foot between my knees” as he speaks, you finally notice that in your rush to make sure he wasn’t actively dying, you had rested your foot on his chair, right between his knees. anything closer would have been scandalous, maybe you wanted it to be.

still, you tried to pull your foot down, but he grabs you by your leg, firmly keeping it in place. he had much more strength than you would have thought he did.

“jesus” you mutter, shocked by the way he grabbed you, he’d never done anything of the sort and it made your heart race in anticipation.

he lifts one of his fluffy eyebrows in amusement, “you’re jumpy”

“i think it’s fair, given the situation”

his hands twitch on your leg, staring at you intently, as if waiting for your next move, but you were too scared to do anything.

you knew you wanted to press your foot further up, to test how far he’d let you take it, but your senses stopped you from doing it.

“i graded your essay on anthropology”

“and?” you try to stop your voice from shaking, but it doesn’t do any good.

“it was brilliant, as always. you’re so fascinating, y/n. so clever” his voice is low as he speaks, gently stroking your leg which sends shivers down your spine and a familiar feeling right to your core.

he can sense your arousal and it only feeds his ego, you wanted him. there was no denying that now.

“what do you want from me, doctor?” you ask, your nails digging into the wooden edges of his desk,

“no…that’s not the right question.”

you shoot him a confused look, but he only smirks at you,

“the question is, what do you want me to do to you, y/n?”

you gulp, your nails pushing impossibly deeper into the wood, you were sure you had cracked at least one nail from the grip you had on his desk.

“i ..i don’t know” you answer truthfully, your feelings had been so jumbled lately, you weren’t sure what you wanted from your professor. maybe you just enjoyed the company and mistook it for attraction, but the way he touched you now, you were almost certain you needed him.

“of course” he responds, pushing your leg off his chair lightly and for a second you’re frightened that you had said something wrong, but instead, he pushes himself out of his chair and gets on his knees, staring up at you with lust apparent in his eyes,

“always the teacher” the doctor husks, his hands slowly reaching up to push your skirt up your thighs at an agonizing pace.

you can feel your heartbeat quickening upon watching the grey-haired man below you touch your skirt. you push yourself further up the desk to give him better access, gently placing your legs behind his shoulders.

he grins up at you, “please, make yourself at home” he teases and it almost makes you pull away entirely, but the way he grips your thighs make you lean your head back expentently.

you shiver when you feel his fingers touch your panties, pushing them aside with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. he leans in closer than he already was, lapping at your wetness with his tongue as you gasp over him.

“fuck—” you gasp, half expecting him to pull away to chastise you for your foul language, but he doesn’t. only licks your clit slowly before pursing his lips to suck on it in a way that makes you lock your legs around his head, bringing one hand off his desk to tangle in his messy grey curls.

he brings two fingers to your entrance as he laps at your pussy as if he was a starved man. when he pushes those fingers inside you, your body tenses as you let out a strangled groan.

“so good” you praise, tugging at his hair as you arch your back to push yourself further onto the fingers he was pumping in and out of you.

you could feel your climax creeping up on you as he curls his fingers in all the ways that make you squirm and scream from over him. you never liked being loud, but the noises he brought out of you were borderline pornographic.

you come at an embarrassing speed, crying out his name and clenching your legs that rested around his head and yanking on his hair with a force that was surely painful for the man beneath you.

you feel the doctor lay his tongue flat against your core so he can lick all of you up, he was addicted to your taste and would stay between your legs for hours if he could,

it takes you a few seconds to collect yourself, heavily breathing as you slowly release the man from your grip.

he stands up slowly, towering over you and at first you notice the way your juices glisten against his lips and chin, but when you look down, you realize he’s straining against his trousers.

on instinct, your shaking hands reach forward to grab his belt and unbuckle it. suddenly his hands are above yours, trying to push you away, “it’s alright, you should go, before your roommate comes looking for trouble”

“why’re you shy all the sudden?” you argue, yanking him forward by his belt, clearly willing to put up a fight. the doctor’s breath hitches, his hands tightening against yours as he’s pulled flush against you.

“i’m not shy.” he lies, providing no further explanation. he hadn’t had sex in this body yet and he was scared of how it’d react to something like this. especially since he was now on the older side, he feared disappointing you above all else, given that you were so much younger than he was.

“then what’re you waiting for?” you challenge, but you don’t push him further, keeping your hands gently rested against his belt buckle. as of now it almost felt like you were the teacher.

“i just — i haven’t worked out my stamina in this body, wouldn’t want to disappoint” he confesses and you shoot him a confused look about the phrasing of what he said, having zero clue what he was talking about. in this body?

you decide to brush it off and ask him about it later, “oh doctor, i thought you knew… you could never disappoint me” you answer softly, reaching one hand up to cup his cheek gently.

he leans into the touch, his grip on your other hand loosening, allowing you to unbuckle his belt — with a bit of a struggle since you were doing it with one hand instead of two.

your hand slips off his cheek and falls back down his trousers, unzipping them and palming him through his boxers. he leans into your touch and you swear you can hear him whimper softly.

the doctor’s hands rest on either side of you, pressing further into the hand that was palming his erection. he rests his head against your neck, breathing in your scent as he thrusts into your hand needily.

you reach inside his boxers, slowly pulling his length out and jerking it softly. he whimpers again in response, but to mask his noises he attaches his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking at the warm skin.

suddenly, he moves his hands to your hips, yanking you forward to align himself at your entrance, even as you were still jerking him off.

in this moment, you forget all about protection and move your hand so he could push inside you. and he does, at an agonizingly slow place, as if he was savoring every moment. his hips twitch eagerly as he pushes as far in as your body will allow him.

your hands find their way to his shoulders, clawing at his back through the layers of cloth that protected him from scratches.

he doesn’t wait long for you to adjust, pulling out then pushing as far in as he could go, testing his waters as you moan out. you could tell by the shaking of his hands on your hips that he wanted to quicken his thrusts, but he was being patient, working up his stamina instead of wearing it all out in a few quick thrusts.

“you feel so good — better than i imagined” he mumbles into your neck and it causes your walls to clench around him desperately, he’d been imagining this?

“harder, doctor. fuck me” you beg, grinding down onto him as he continued his slow thrusts. the doctor smirks hearing you, digging his nails into your hips as his pace quickens, pounding into you at a pace that almost stung, but it stung in a good way.

in a way where you were certain you’d be sore tomorrow, but it felt so good right now.

his hips twitch when he’s deep inside you and you can feel when his thrusts start to become more erratic. that’s when he slows down again, breathing heavily into your eyes as he brings back the slow thrusts, but with an added harshness.

you could feel the coil in your stomach winding up again, bound to burst at any moment as he thrusts into you. the doctor brings his hand between the both of you and rubs your clit as he continues his thrusts, causing a loud moan to leave your mouth,

“i’m close doctor” you babble, grinding your hips down against him as he continues his well calculated pace. when your walls clench around him as your climax hits you once more, his thrusts speed up again, biting at your earlobe as he whispers something in a language you can’t understand, but it was hot either way.

the overstimulation began to hurt, so you grab onto his shoulders tightly as he thrusts into you. you let out a long whine as his fingers fall off your sensitive clit, placing his hand back on the table to fuck you into it harder, “my y/n. you’re mine” you could understand him again, but he was still babbling.

his hips jerk as he pushes deep into you before releasing his load, there wasn’t a second thought about whether to pull out, in fact it was almost like he wanted to fill you up.

he doesn’t pull out, in fact, he continues weakly thrusting in and out, even as his semen leaked out of you onto his desk. you card through his hair silently while listening to him breathe heavily.

“one day, i’ll show you the stars” he murmurs into your ear and you chuckle gently, assuming it was some kind of metaphor.

he kisses your cheek weakly before standing up straight and pulling out of you slowly, more of his seed spilling out as he manages to button himself back up.

“shit…you didn’t pull out did you?” you ask suddenly, sitting up and clamping your knees shut, using your hand to maneuver your panties back into the right place

he shakes his head slowly, “no” he admits without much shame, shrugging as he helps you off the desk, staring down at his cum-soaked paperwork. with a deep sigh, he picks it all up and tosses it into the trash, prepared to annoy nardole about copies tomorrow.

fixing yourself up the best you can to remain presentable, you approach the man, “goodbye, doctor” you whisper quietly, giving him a small peck on the cheek and rubbing his arms before leaving the room so he couldn’t get another word in. you wondered how this would affect your days in his class moving forward.

once you leave he collapses into his chair and rubs his face, finally realizing what he had done wasn’t a dream, it was completely real. he hoped you weren’t angry at him, maybe you’d drop his class…

it’s barely 7am when you hear the familiar groan of the tardis materializing in your bedroom — waking you up from the deep sleep you were in.

you cover your ears with your pillow, hoping that if the doctor saw your tired state he would get back in his tardis and fly away.. you really should have known better.

stepping out of his blue box, the doctor freezes seeing you, “what are you still doing in bed? you silly little humans, always sleeping in. did you even set an alarm?” the time lord rambles, picking your clock up and examining it, as if trying to find out if you had set an alarm,

you hadn’t and even if you had, it would be on your phone. sometimes you really question his technological genius.

“go away doctor, i’m exhausted.”

“no.”

“excuse me?” you snap, sitting up in bed to see if you had heard the man correctly,

“i said no, you need to learn some discipline and besides, i have something i need to show you”

you try to throw your pillow at him, but he simply moves out of the way and stands by the tardis, holding the door open and expecting you to just hop inside in your nightie.

“what could possibly be this important — did you turn your microwave into a metal cat again?” you sigh, pushing yourself out of bed instead of arguing further, knowing it would get you nowhere with the stubborn alien,

“even better! a concert on iroria 7X”

“you woke me up for…a concert?” irritation seeped in your voice as you searched through your closet for something to wear, apparently something concert appropriate.

“not just any concert, y/n. this planet holds a big mega concert every millennia! species from all different planets come together, the celebration lasts a month altogether it’s brilliant”

“so…? we can go at literally any other time, are you forgetting the fact you live in a time machine?”

“that’s the thing, the tardis can’t travel to these concerts out of their designated time spans, not sure why, but the old girl doesn’t like doing it”

“how convenient” you roll your eyes and gesture for the doctor to turn around so you could change, which he quickly obliges to with zero argument — you suspect that stems from his eagerness to head straight for the planet he seemed so excited about.

once you were dressed, you push the doctor aside lightly to maneuver around the cramped bedroom and enter your bathroom — finishing your morning routine quicker than you usually liked.

“shame, i quite liked that nightie” the doctor comments and your eyebrows lift in surprise, it wasn’t often the doctor complimented your physical appearance. it wasn’t necessarily that he was rude — at least you hoped he wasn’t trying to be.

“can’t exactly show up to a concert with my knickers hanging about, now can i?”

the doctor raises an eyebrow in thought, “last i heard, musicians enjoyed that”

“doctor! i am not a groupie!” you shriek and if you were still holding your pillow, you would have thrown it at him again. instead, you simply push past him and enter the tardis.

the doctor follows swiftly behind like a puppy with his tail between his legs, “i wasn’t trying to imply you were!” he counters and really, he wasn’t. the thought made his skin crawl. another man’s — god forbid multiple men’s hands exploring your body? he thinks he may vomit.

you watch as he types coordinates into the tardis and then pulls the lever, your body lurching forward as the tardis takes off — something you were still trying to get used to.

in a second, something dawns on you — something the doctor said to you that you completely overlooked in your tired state, “wait… a month?! we’re not staying the entire time are we?”

“of course we are, y/n! the next time this happens you’ll be long dead and won’t ever get to experience it again!”

the mention of death makes you shiver, he really needn’t have been that harsh about it, but what else can you expect from the doctor at this point.

“long dead… alright then. a month-long concert celebration. this better be good.”

“it’s better than good, my dear y/n. it’s absolutely life changing” the doctor smirks while leaning all too close to you, for a minute you think he’s going in for a hug, but then he swerves and heads for the wooden doors of the tardis, swinging them open as the air from the new planet fills your lungs,

“iroria 7X! it’s been so long old girl!” he exclaims and you find yourself laughing at his excitement, something that was often a rare sight for the older man — who was usually so cross and grumpy.

“old girl? the planet is a girl?” you ask as you follow him outside, the planet was very colorful and you weren’t sure if it was the decorations for the upcoming concert marathons or just how the planet normally looked.

“every planet is a girl, y/n. keep up.” he scoffs, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

noted. you thought.

you follow the doctor as he brings you into a large building, it seemed to be the entrance into the main city where the event was being held, built similarly to an entrance to a local zoo back on earth.

you stand in the long line for what felt like centuries before the two of you finally make it to the front desk, the doctor spent most of the time explaining the customs and history of the planet.

the woman up front was an aquatic looking alien, her skin was blue and there were gills where a human’s ears should be. if you were honest, she was quite beautiful — someone you’d take out on a date. well.. you were going to be here for awhile, maybe if you saw her again,

but after glancing up at the doctor, you knew you could never bring yourself to do it — your heart had already been stolen by an alien.

“name and place of origin?” the aquatic alien asks the both of you, she sounded exhausted — you would be too if you had to sit behind a desk filling out wristbands for hours on end, especially considering how big this event was hyped up to be.

“the doctor. gallifrey.” the doctor provides and then looks towards you for your answer,

“y/n. earth.”

as soon as the words leave your mouth, the room falls impossibly quiet for the amount of people crammed inside. you gulp, wondering what you said that would warrant such a response.

thankfully, the lady up front is graceful enough to fill you in as she wraps the wristband around your wrist, “we just don’t get many humans here. you’ll have to ignore them, i hope you have a wonderful time” she says sweetly, giving your hand an encouraging rub before you and the doctor enter the main city.

the doctor notices your slight anxiety from the previous interaction and furrows his eyebrows, “you needn’t be frightened. they’re just confused. humans never venture this far”

“have you been here before? that lady didn’t seem surprised that you came from gallifrey.”

the doctor didn’t respond immediately, as if deciding on whether to tell the truth or not. of course he decides to come clean, “i was here last time it happened.. with some old friends of mine… also human. the only other known humans to walk this planet”

you could hear the sadness in his voice and decide not to press further, instead changing the subject and asking about the food on the planet and if it was even digestible for humans,

“so.. is any of this food actually safe for me to eat or am i finally going on that diet i’ve been meaning to try — extreme fasting” your question was serious, but you add a joke at the end to try and get the doctor to crack a smile, it doesn’t quite work, instead he just gives you a concerned glance,

“there are no humans cuisines on iroria 7X, but there are some from the vrukriks, who have a very similar diet to humans”

“good enough for me, let’s find a restaurant and eat before the concerts then, old man” you say with a smile, ignoring the way he glared at you for the ‘old man’ nickname as you grab ahold of his hand and lean against him — walking through the busy streets of the city, scared that if you let go you’d lose him in the crowd, he was very easily distracted.

after you ate, the doctor rented you both a tiny flat for the month, where you spent the rest of the day searching through magazines and the concert slots on the wall, before starting to get ready for the night — you found it a little weird that the closet was filled to the brim with clothes and you didn’t want to ask whether it was the planet or the doctor’s doing.

the doctor had spent most of the time in the city, which was surprising considering he wasn’t the most sociable man. still, you couldn’t help but crack a smile when you finally hear the door open as the sun was starting to set,

“y/n!” you hear him exclaim your name five times in rapid succession as he runs down the hall, finding you sitting in front of the vanity, “i found a discontinued flavor of jelly babies! i searched through 300 universes looking for these and finally found them! open wide!” he was like a kid in a candy store, well quite literally, a large grin on his face as he holds a jelly belly in his hand,

you open your mouth and he tosses it towards you, he misses and hits you square in the eye, but before you can move to reach your hand to the newfound pain, he throws another one which lands directly in your mouth and you nearly choke on it, but manage to chew and swallow it.

you finally understood his excitement, those were good. you didn’t dare ask for more though, you knew the man was very stingy with his jelly babies — especially a discontinued flavor.

it’s only then he notices your attire, teased hair and heavy makeup, paired with a plaid skirt, a ripped up shirt, and a leather jacket — in true 70s london punk fashion.

he thinks you’ve never looked more attractive.

“the first show is rock, and i know this is more punk, but i don’t really care — it’s not like these aliens really know human subcultures” you shrug as you stand up, visibly taller which makes the doctor confused as he looks you up and down, “did you get taller?”

“it’s the boots” you say, lifting your foot to show him the platform boots, to which he nods in understanding, still stuffing his face with jelly babies, “well, i got us floor tickets, right in the front where the magic happens” he grins and it almost makes you forget about the copious amount of gummies in his mouth.

“in that case, lead the way doctor”

and he does. he guides you to the venue and to the front of the floor — right in front of the stage. the arena shaped dome was cramped, you and the doctor squished together like sardines among the various alien species that had come to see the performance

with every passing minute you grew more and more excited, you nearly threw up as soon as the band took the stage. most of the members were clearly alien, but the lead singer looked humanoid — similar to the time lords, you wonder how many alien species look similar to humans.

you can’t explain the rush you feel when the band begins to play, of course you’ve been to concerts before, but this felt like something entirely different. it was almost like you could feel the music in your veins as it was played and oh god…you could, couldn’t you.

that’s what makes this place so different, you can feel the music sloshing about inside you. you grab ahold of the doctor’s arm, the new sensation making you nauseous.

“i’m sorry, i should have warned you” he seemed genuinely apologetic and appeared to have no problem with you clinging to him, these things would make you think twice in any other situation, but when you can feel the chords of the guitar vibrate in your veins, you can’t bring yourself to think about anything else.

your heart flutters when the singer looks at you, you realize that you probably stand out a ton, being the only human in the crowd. sure, there were other humanoid species, but your bright orange wrist band is one that no one else on the planet possessed.

there is no hatred in the alien’s eyes, nothing to fear, if anything, it seems like he’s giving you bedroom eyes. if you had looked at the doctor right now, you would’ve seen the way his eyebrows furrow in anger at seeing the man look at you like that and maybe if you hadn’t been so focused on the way the singer’s voice felt underneath your skin you’d notice how the doctor went rigid under your touch.

when the singer leans over the stage, dangerously close to you as if he was singing directly to you, lewd words that the doctor has already tuned out, he finally dares himself to look at you, hoping to see some sort of disgust, but instead, you were smiling at the man. you were enjoying his affections.

it felt as though one of the doctor’s hearts had stopped, his stomach churned but not because of the music. it’s then that he finally pulls away from you, as if you had burned him.

you pry your eyes away from the singer and look in the doctor’s direction, but he was already gone. you search around for him in confusion — his face should be so easy to spot in the crowd, and yet it was like he vanished out of thin air.

at first you feared the worst, that there was an alien threat here. that the doctor had been kidnapped, but then your eyes land on him. on the stage — walking towards the singer.

your eyes widen, what the hell was he doing? this was supposed to be a vacation, he wasn’t supposed to get the both of you kicked out on your very first night.

you watch as the doctor reaches his fingers up to the singer’s temples and he almost immediately surrenders his guitar and microphone. the doctor wanted to play, but why? he was so excited to watch performances, not be apart of them.

unless that was always apart of the plan and he just didn’t mention it to you. you honestly wouldn’t be surprised.

after attaching the microphone to his head, the doctor grins as he flings the guitar strap over his shoulder and plays a few chords to get used to the instrument. those few chords send a shiver down your spine, as if they’d been directly sent to you,

“what’s up my alien dudes!” he yells into the mic and you internally cringe, he was never like this. what the hell has gotten into him?

it reminds you of when older people tried to appeal to younger audiences on the internet and failed miserably, which seemed pretty on brand for a two millennia old alien.

“xelkor got a wee vocal strain, so stand by as i blow your minds” his tone drops a few octaves towards the end of his sentence and you bite your lip in response, he was so hot when he spoke low, even if you were infuriated by his impulsive action.

it only takes a few chords for you to realize what song he was playing,

are you gonna be my girl.

the feeling of your stomach twisting was a harsher feeling than the other singer, you weren’t sure if it was because of the feelings for the doctor you harboroued or the way he was stringing the guitar.

the doctor’s voice was rough and clearly not meant for singing, but in a way that was almost sexier than an extreme vocalist.

he bounced about the stage as he sang and played the guitar, showing much more enthusiasm and strength than someone who looked like him would often be able to withstand.

despite the cheers and singing of the crowd, the only thing you could focus on was the doctor — and he knew it too.

it made his ego swell three times its usual size. knowing that you thought he was the only person in the room, why else would he do this?

he smirks towards you, trotting over as he strummed the guitar — you bit back a comment about his peculiar run as he leans forward and momentarily stops strumming the guitar to pass his sonic sunglasses onto your face,

“i said, are you gonna be my girl”

he sings, those were the lyrics of course, but for a moment you start to think they were meant for you specifically, but before you can ask, he was gone, back on the stage performing,

he always did love an audience.

after his surprise concert, you meet him off the side of the stage, where people crowded around, looking for autographs, he waved the people off and honestly you felt a little bad, “you know you’re usually supposed to sing a song you actually made, right?”

the doctor scoffs as if you had offended him, “i did”

“…no”

upon seeing the doctor’s signature grin and nod, your jaw nearly hits the ground, “oh my god, honestly what haven’t you written”

“a shakespeare play” he answers truthfully and it was now that you realized how close he was, how he was peering down at you. despite the strobe lights, you could recognize the grey eyed stare.

“xelkor didn’t really have a vocal strain, did he?” you ask, changing the subject. you watch as an unidentifiable emotion flashes on the man’s face, only to be replaced by a sly grin,

“do you take me for a liar, y/n?”

“when you want to be” you shoot back, taking the sunglasses off and attempting to give them back to him. the doctor only closes your hand and pushes it back to your chest, indicating he wanted you to keep them,

“a girl must always keep a souvenir from her first off-world concert”

“this isn’t a souvenir, doctor. these are your sonic sunglasses.” you scoff, but put them back on either way — it was nice to have something of the doctor’s.

“well then, better find you a souvenir then” he settles, holding out his hand so he could guide you through the crowds, but you don’t take it yet,

“hey doctor?”

he doesn’t answer you, simply shoots you a confused look and shakes his hand around, as if saying ‘well hurry up then’

“yes” you say simply, and this only seems to confuse him further,

“what are you babbling on about?”

“i’ll be your girl” you respond, grabbing his hand tightly and you watch as he falters — as if he was having an entire database reboot inside his head, but when he manages to contain himself, he grabs your hand tighter than ever before, dragging you through the crowds without a word,

an adventure with no threat of death — that’s what the doctor had promised you.

you watch as he double, triple, and for extra measure even quadruple checked to make sure there was a zero percent chance this supposed vacation could somehow go awry.

the low buzz of the tardis is what finally manages to pull the doctor out of the trance he’d been stuck in, pulling his hands away from the levers as if they had burnt him, “we’re here!” he announces, spinning on the heels of his boots to face you.

you walk towards the wooden doors of the tardis, but the sound of his voice makes you stop in your tracks, “wearing that?”

“what’s wrong with what i’m wearing?”

“besides the obvious? it’s not era appropriate y/n! i thought by now you’d understand the importance of blending in”

you bite back the opportunity to call him out on his hypocrisy and simply roll your eyes, “you forgot to mention what era we’re in, doctor”

the doctor’s eyes widen in realization, “of course — you’re right. i believe it’s the 1920s… or around there..”

with a sigh, you decide to not say anything else and just drag yourself back to your room in the tardis to find an outfit to wear and when you do, you slowly emerge from the long hallways — clad in flapper inspired attire, only thing missing was the long cigarette holder.

the doctor eyes you with a surprised expression and for a moment you expect him to make a comment about your man-ish hips or excessive makeup, but he doesn’t. instead he controls the shock on his face and claps his hands urgently, “come on come on! you silly humans take forever to get ready, we’ll be late!”

he opens the tardis doors and lets you exit first, by the look of things he had parked the old girl in the baggage section, “what a lovely view” you say sarcastically, trying not to trip from the shakiness of the cart as you make your way into the main hallway,

“welcome to the original orient express, 1928” the doctor whispers in your ear and a shiver goes down your spine at the sultry tone of his voice — you were almost certain he hadn’t the slightest idea what it did to you, at least you hoped he didn’t.

you couldn’t stand the rejection if he found out how you felt. he’d likely dump you right back at your flat and disappear, never to see the handsome man in a box again.

your anxiety filled thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching and as you look towards the source, you realize the men look as though they work on the train.

instead of acknowledging both of you, the man in the front looks directly to the doctor — as if you didn’t even exist, “my deepest apologies, i don’t remember checking you and your granddaughter in at the boarding area, is it possible you might’ve slipped past us?”

the doctor’s eyes widen and his face contorts in disgust hearing the word granddaughter describe you and all you can do is let out a laugh of disbelief, causing the man’s head to snap towards you, “quiet, woman.” he spits bitterly and your eyes widen, clamping your mouth shut despite the way every bone in your body fought to not smack the bloke straight in his nose.

you watch silently as the doctor puts out an arm in front of you in a protective manner, shoving his psychic paper in the man’s face.

the worker’s face completely drains of its color as he reads whatever was on it, “i’m sorry, sir. i didn’t realize you two were newly weds! the honeymoon suite is right this way”

you almost burst into laughter seeing the shock on the doctor’s face, turning the paper back to himself at a speed faster than light and blinking at it as if it would show him what the man would see.

you must’ve been standing there with the doctor for quite a while because you hear the worker whistle from the end of the hallway, causing you to elbow the doctor in the side, “pick your jaw off the floor, love. it’s our honeymoon” you say in a faux sultry voice, wrapping your arms around his elbow and practically dragging him along. for once, he doesn’t seem opposed to your physical touch.

once you two arrived at the suite, the worker left you to ‘settle down’ in which he likely assumed you two would spend the whole night fucking like rabbits during a particularly flourishing mating season, if only you were so lucky.

it occurred to you suddenly that maybe you should stop thinking about how you wanted the telepath to bend you over every surface of the room.

to distract yourself, you walk around the room and inspect it, seeing a little gift basket on the bed you grab it and rummage through it — dumping the contents onto the bed, “wine…chocolate..aww how sweet, they got the old man viagra”

the doctor whips around from where he was standing by the window, “i beg your pardon?” his face is astonished and you swear you can see a light blush coating his wrinkly features,

before he can go on a rant about how a time lord would never need medicine to get his body working or that he wasn’t even that old, you speak again, “kidding. just breath mints. you could still use some” you quip, tossing the metallic box towards him, which he catches with ease — pink still lingering on his cheeks.

“awful attempt at humor, y/n. viagra wasn’t invented until 1989.” the doctor corrects and you just roll your eyes, popping one of the chocolates from the basket into your mouth, “not all of us are comedic geniuses, doctor. besides, your reaction tells a different story.” you reply blandly, more interested in the basket than whatever stuck up comment the older man had in store for you.

a few beats of silence pass before you speak again, “alright smart guy, tell me what this is then. thought it was some old kinda diva cup, but then who gives a diva cup as a wedding gift?” you explain as you hold up the mystery object in your hand

the doctor approaches you, taking it out of your hand and inspecting it before the realization hits him, he doesn’t drop it — no, that’d be childish, instead he gently hands it back to you, “it’s a diaphragm”

“like the thing in your throat?”

he gives you a look of disbelief, “in your chest cavity, your slim knowledge of anatomy truly concerns me, but no either way. it’s a contraceptive, the opposite of a menstrual cup, in fact.”

“cant believe i’ve just had to have a female contraceptive mansplained to me by an alien” you toss the diaphragm back into the basket, since you clearly won’t be needing that tonight — or however long the doctor planned this vacation for, he doesn’t exactly tell you these things.

“are you going to spend the entire time looking through that basket, y/n? there’s nothing of remote interest in there, but there is an entire train full of history to explore”

rolling your eyes, you shove everything back into the basket and put it on the floor, flattening your dress out with your hands before looking back towards the doctor, “fine. show me the history”

his face basically lights up hearing those words, it wasn’t often you got to see the doctor smile so brightly so it always makes your stomach churn with desire, there was something about the crow’s feet and scrunch of his nose that made your heart beat three times faster than it should.

he holds his hand out to you, inviting you to grab it, and you do without a second thought. you let him drag you through the confusing halls of the orient express while explaining every little detail from when it was founded until it’s ultimate conclusion in 2009 — earning you two some pretty confused looks from the other passengers.

your tour and information dump of the orient express ends with the two of you in the bar cart — you were sipping a glass of champagne while the doctor watched, he wasn’t much of a drinker himself. claiming time lords had a much higher alcoholic tolerance than humans he didn’t see the enjoyment of drinking, but you remember a one off comment he made the first time you two had met, ginger is the only thing that can intoxicate him.

you thought it was a joke, a code word for being able to take alcohol well, but as you grew closer to the man, you realized it was likely true — he wasn’t human after all. so with a slight smirk, you look towards the bartender, “you wouldn’t happen to have ginger beer would you? my husband isn’t much of a drinker” you put emphasis on the word husband to watch the doctor squirm in his skin — reaching your hand out to place on his, you rub his knuckles gently

the bartender leaves momentarily and comes back with a bottle of ginger beer, sliding it over to the doctor with a slight mumble of acknowledgment, “well bottoms up, dear”

the doctor chuckles huskily and honestly you think it may be the hottest you’ve ever seen him — his hair slightly unkempt as he man-spread in the barstool, one of his clothed knees grazing against your bare ones, a movement that sends a shiver down your spine.

without argument, he takes a long sip of the beer before placing it down and sliding it over to you, “try it. I remember telling you i’m not much of a drinker and you’ve already had far too much tonight, i cant show you the stars if you’re too intoxicated to admire them correctly”

“jesus, you sound like my dad” you scoff, pickup the bottle up and downing the rest, wiping your mouth and opening your wallet, tossing bills at the bartender, probably more than what your total would be in this economy, but you didn’t really mind if he pocketed the change. the bartender gave the doctor a judgmental look and even without telepathy you could hear him berate the doctor for not paying the tab like a man should.

“let’s carry on then, y/n.” the doctor insists, standing up and attempting to usher you out of your seat and back into the long hallways.

“more walking?!”

“always complaining, it’s never ending with you humans. i’ll carry your damned high heels” the doctor complains, but kneels down to unbuckle your shoes. the look he gives you when pulling off your shoes isn’t one of annoyance — if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was devotion.

but you did know better, at least you thought you did, the doctor was a very devoted man — you knew about his past lovers, but that wasn’t the case for you. you were nothing but a pudding brain he felt sorry for, almost like a human would feel bad for a monkey in a zoo.

he once called you his significant annoyance.

so a look of devotion was completely off the table for him, but a small part of you hoped it wasn’t. a feeling that gnawed at you every waking minute, the small glimmer of hope that maybe the doctor could fall for you. see you in the way you saw him.

the doctor brings you to an empty section of the train, one lined with windows, leather seats, and tables with lamps sitting on them. the floor was this bright orange color with a beautiful design — you wished that the architecture back home was this full of life, creativity has faced a rapid decline in the most recent years.

“take a seat anywhere, i’ll name the constellations as we pass by”

“aren’t we going a bit fast for that?” you question, but take a seat at one of the leather booths with the biggest window, gazing outside it to get a look at the moon — it was full tonight.

“you underestimate the speed of my brain, y/n.” the doctor responds as he sits next to you, not closely like the two of you were at the bar, but almost across from you, your high heels resting in his lap as he peers out the window, and just like he promised, he names the stars and explains their origins.

you want to look at the stars, with everything in your body you try to stay focused, but you can’t help the way your eyes linger on the doctor as he speaks with such passion, the glint in his eye — the way he speaks when he thinks no one is looking at him, when he has no one to one up, when he can truly be himself, it’s a beautiful sight.

it only takes a few moments for the doctor to realize you weren’t looking out the window and rather at him, “y/n, the stars.” he gestures to the window, but your gaze doesn’t falter,

“i’m looking at them”

for once, the doctor is rendered completely speechless as the gears in his head fight to turn, to comprehend what you’d just said. realizing your mistake, your face heats up, “i’m sorry, it’s the alcohol. i meant to say that i was looking at them and just glanced away momentarily — you caught me at a bad time” you ramble nervously, looking out the window and biting your nails anxiously.

it wasn’t the alcohol, of course you’d had a few drinks, but it took a lot more than that to get you anywhere near intoxicated enough to start outright flirting with the doctor. in all honesty you weren’t sure what caused that reaction, simple old distraction, probably.

“you’re a horrible liar”

“mm, well, takes one to know one doctor” you snap back but there’s no real venom behind your words, if anything you sounded pathetic. your heart was practically thumping out of your chest from how anxious you were, you only hoped the doctor couldn’t sense the fear coursing through your body.

you can feel the way the doctor shifts in the booth, placing your heels up on the table, “i mean seriously, just horrible — if they gave out awards for being awful at lying you’d certainly be winning the gold star” he almost sounded nervous, maybe it actually was the alcohol getting to youl — the doctor didn’t get nervous.

“okay asshole, i get it.”

“language.”

instead of arguing further, a back and forth battle that’d likely last hours, you roll your eyes and stand up, snatching your high heels off the table and beginning to walk out of the cart, “i’m going to bed, doctor”

“y/n!” he calls after you and you can hear him struggle to shimmy out of the booth,

your attempt to leave the room to cool off is rendered futile by the sound of the doctor’s footsteps trailing closely behind, placing a large hand on your shoulder, “y/n” he says again, his voice softer this time, “what i… what i meant to say was, why do you feel the need to lie? tell me the truth, we won’t get anywhere if you insist on lying to me”

you clench your jaw so aggressively you can hear the way your teeth creak against each other, causing a nauseating sensation to shoot through your brain — it almost makes you forget about your current predicament.

with a deep sigh, you speak up, begging your voice not to shake, “how am i supposed to focus on the blurry stars outside when you’ve brought me up close to thousands of them.” you begin, reaching your hands up to gently grab the loose bow around his neck, “you’ve changed my life doctor, that’s what i meant”

the older man’s features soften, his grey eyes sprinting around your face, as if he was taking in everything you had said. then suddenly, one of his hands reach up to grab yours. you stay like that for a few seconds, silently watching him hold the hand that was rested against his bow tie,

“y/n…” he starts, but before he can finish, the grip on his bow tie tightens and you yank him down into a kiss while your other hand sneaks it’s way into his curly greys — which you tug on needily.

he responds immediately, but not in the way you’d like, he gently pushes you away, “maybe it really was the alcohol. y/n, i’m not your boyfriend”

“what if i want you to be?”

“i’d call you a maniac — i’m far too old for you, especially in this body” he gestures to himself briefly, “it’s my mistake, i shouldn’t have let you get this comfortable”

your grip on him loosens, but it doesn’t stop you from snapping back, “i don’t give a shit how old you are or look, i want you and i think you want the same” you counter, your last remaining shred of confidence fleeting with every second that passes.

without a word, the doctor backs you up against one of the tables, your bodies nearly touching, but of course the doctor wouldn’t give you that satisfaction — not yet, at least.

“you have no idea what i want.”

“then tell me”

instead of using his words, you should’ve known the doctor would never voice his desires — the very idea of it was laughable, he captures your lips in a deep kiss, causing you to press against the table he had backed you into.

you kiss him back almost immediately, like you spent every waking minute waiting for him to make a move, and honestly you probably did. the kiss quickly evolves from deep to messy, the doctor’s large hands finding their way to your waist.

you gasp as he grips your thighs and pushes you up onto the table, your arms reaching out to balance yourself and shoving the lamp off the table in the process. the doctor barely even flinches from the noise of glass shattering as he hikes your dress up and over your hips.

you involuntarily giggle into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and sliding your fingers into his hair. the gentle tug on his curls elicits a whimper from the man, something that makes you smirk — you hadn’t expected the doctor to be that kind of man.

“hush” he half-heartedly demands through kisses, his mouth moving down your jawline as he presses up impossibly closer to you. it’s then you finally notice the straining bulge in his pants — he was big and you could tell from just the outline.

“don’t tell me to hush” you bite back, reaching one of your hands down from his hair and palming the bulge in his pants. in turn he bites down on your neck to suppress the moan that leaves him — a motion that makes you gasp,

“how long has it been for you, doctor?” you say breathily, trying to mask the effect his bite had on you.

he almost tells you to shut up again, but before he can, you steal his lips in another kiss, the hand pressing against his bulge moving up to unclip his belt — a motion that proves to be more difficult than you expected.

as you begin to reach your other hand down to acquire better dexterity in removing his belt, the doctor beats you to it, his large hand grazing over yours as he removes his belt with ease, “you pudding brains have the most endearing difficulty with mundane activities”

“pudding brains? oh do keep going doctor, i’m soaked” you moan dramatically, arching your back to press against him further. in response, the doctor chuckles once more with the husky tone that makes you squirm in your skin.

he uses his other hand to grasp the back of your neck and pull you into another kiss, one of his hands ghosting over your thigh while he pushes your panties aside, something that makes you shiver in his grasp.

he slowly rubs your clit as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, desperate for your taste as he works his fingers on your most delicate places.

you pull away from his kiss, a line of spit connecting the two of you as you take a deep breath, a whine quickly following as he pushes one of his long dainty fingers inside you, “tell me you want this, y/n” he whispers, it was a beg, a plea to be wanted despite being perceived as a daft old man.

“doctor, you’re already inside me.. of course i want this” you whisper, not trusting yourself to speak louder without moaning. it’s then the doctor truly let’s go, adding another finger into you and pumping them in and out at a gruesome pace — curling them for extra measure.

you throw your head back, allowing for him to assault your neck with kisses as he pushes his fingers deep inside you and the feeling is so euphoric you almost come on the spot.

another strangled whine leaves you when he pulls his fingers out of you, “should’ve known you’d be a tease” you pant, gripping onto his shoulders as you bring your head back down to make eye contact with the man,

his cheeks were flushed pink and as your eyes scan his body you notice he had been jerking himself off while fingering you. the doctor was big — bigger than you had previously anticipated. he may have been lacking in width, but the length made up for it. another thing you noticed was the fact he was uncut, for a moment you wondered if it was different for each regeneration or a time lord custom.

“you’re staring”

you look up hearing his deep voice, his scottish accent only thickening with the arousal surrounding the both of you.

in response to his comment, you reach your hand down and rub the head of his cock, smirking when he involuntarily bucks into your hand, craving more, “d’ya like that?” you ask even if you already knew the answer.

“yes” he answers curtly, a slight wobble to his voice. he was never good at small talk, so it’s to be expected that dirty talk wasn’t much his forte either.

you swiftly wrap your legs around the doctor, pulling him impossibly closer as your hand moves down his length that was now almost perfectly lined up at your entrance. the doctor’s hips stutter as he grabs ahold of your thighs, lining himself up with you and pulling your hips down onto his cock.

you gasp as he fills you perfectly, nails digging into the wooden table as he makes small thrusts, barely moving out before pushing back in, as if he was trying to force himself impossibly deeper.

“you’re brilliant, y/n” he whispers, his voice shaking as he tries to hold back a moan. you legs around the man tighten, trying to pull him deeper into you as you moan.

the table creaks underneath your weight as his thrusts become deeper and more aggressive, you try to keep as quiet as possible so the passengers in the adjoining cart wouldn’t hear, but you couldn’t stop the deep moans that left your body as the slight curve of his cock pressed against your g-spot in a way that would have you seeing stars in minutes.

“do you want them to hear us, noisy girl?” he scolds, but doesn’t cease his thrusts, if anything, he speeds up — almost as if the thought aroused him further.

you can’t bring yourself to answer, simply biting your lip to suppress your sounds as he thrusts into you at a grueling pace — you can tell it’s been quite some time since he’s done anything like this, he’s needy. desperate for your warmth.

“you’re perfect” he whispers in your ear, he was getting close and his tone of voice causes you to curl your toes and arch your back, his praises sending over the edge and you could tell you weren’t too far from an orgasm.

his hand is shaking as he reaches it up and presses it firmly against your belly where his cock had been bulging against it. you writhe in his grasp, but his other hand only tightens, forcing you in place as his thrusts become more directed and harsh.

the sensation of his hand over your tummy bulge is what makes you throw your head back and moan loudly as your orgasm hits you full force. your body shakes as your vision turns white — nails digging into the doctor’s clothed shoulders.

you feel the doctor’s hips twitch as your walls tighten around him following your orgasm — the grip of your legs around his waist showing no sign of loosening,

“come inside me, doctor” it wasn’t a demand, it was an invitation. one that the doctor was more than happy to give into.

you could feel his thrusts getting weaker as he leans over you, kissing your jawline gently, “y/n…my y/n” he chants, it’s then that his hips reach a halt as he spills his seed inside of you.

he rests his forehead and the both of you stay like that for a few minutes as you catch your breaths. it’s when your legs fall down from his hips that he finally pulls away and he’s quick to button himself back up.

sitting up, you take a look around the area you were at, “well…we’ve trashed it” you sigh as you glance at the shattered lamp on the floor — expenses you’d be forced to pay for since the doctor wasn’t exactly swimming in money.

before the doctor can answer, there’s a scream that echoes from the cart beside the both of you. when you look at the doctor, his face is brightened with a look you recognize immediately, the curiosity of a new alien threat,

“so much for a safe vacation” you mutter under your breath — you knew you’d never be able to talk to the doctor about what just happened,

your heart will continue to ache for the time lord, even more so now.

— fin.

general headcanons 🐺:

♡ expect to be serenaded. music is how isadora conveys her emotions

♡ mandatory karaoke nights

♡ if you can’t already, she’ll definitely teach you the piano

♡ doesn’t sugarcoat ANYTHING.. will accidentally hurt your feelings by being a little too honest

♡ can always tell when you’re uncomfortable and will find an excuse to exit the situation immediately

♡ you come visit her in the music room and have tea over lunch breaks

♡ she hates to admit it but you literally take her breath away 💀 she finds it hard to breathe around you, especially early in your relationship

♡ LOVES holding your hand, shes always messing with her hands so holding yours is a good way to stop that habit

♡ sassy woman apocalypse. do not date this girl if u can’t handle a little banter

♡ very aloof. keeps a lot of her past to herself, but that’s what makes her so interesting

♡ loves when you wear her coats! (mostly because you smell like her. it’s a werewolf thing.)

♡ can be very possessive/jealous. you can practically hear her clench her canines when someone flirts with you

nsfw headcanons 🔞:

♡ her claws come out when she’s about to finish..

♡ she loves to be in control

♡ you know what they say about pianist fingers…

♡ will scratch up your back if you let her, has a little thing for pain

♡ loves eye contact when you go down on her and vice versa — she will force you to maintain it

♡ orgasm control, loves to hear you beg for a release.

♡ did someone say mean top & bratty bottom. she’s a switch with two sides

♡ loves marking you, makes her feel like she has a ‘claim’ over you. another werewolf thing.

a/n: this is shorter than i would have liked, but honestly i may add more after part 2 comes out!

being a nepo baby was probably top five most embarrassing things that have happened in your entire life.

you were technically only hired because your mother was friends with the mayor. you had the skill, sure, but would you have been hired if not for her? you had known georgia for about a year now—some crazy shit transpiring in that time period. your mother had stayed by georgia’s side though, she was loyal like that. you had often found yourself bringing meals over to georgia during her trial, it was eerily quiet after her kids were taken, you felt bad for her.

now here you both were, a few months after the trial, and georgia was the goddamn mayor. turns out the people really didn’t like that paul randolph abandoned his innocent wife in a time of need. she stole his job right out from under him—you hate how much you think he deserved it. although there was something you couldn’t quite shake about georgia miller… how absolutely gorgeous she was. if she wasn’t your mother’s friend—and a decade older than you—you’d have asked her out a long time ago. sometimes you swear she wears those outfits on purpose, which then makes you angry at yourself because you’re ogling like a man. you assumed it was some dumb crush when you had first met her, but it had never really gone away. as you feel a nudge to your side, you whip around to snap at the person—but then realize it was georgia. and you had been standing at the printed this entire fucking time.

“darlin’ did you sleep okay?” she asks in a concerned tone, reaching out to touch your arm. you back away as if her hand was an open flame—it sure felt like it. it’s then that you can really take in her beauty, she was wearing regular dress pants but a shirt that surely was not appropriate for the workplace. you feel your gaze lingering on her cleavage before you look back to the printer, “i—guess not. i have those event plans you wanted” you respond, grabbing the papers out of the printer and turning back to her with a big grin on your face. just grin and bear it, your mother had always taught you.

instead of asking you to come to her office, she simply does the ‘come here’ motion with her finger—walking slowly to the door—you almost thought she was moving in a more seductive manner.

your heart feels like it was going to beat out of your chest as she reads through your plans, she had never been mean to you before, but maybe these ones were really bad and she’d make fun of you before shredding them and firing yo—

“these are so good, peach” she beams, placing the papers on her desk and leaning back to get a better look at you. you were absolutely stunning, she didn’t entertain younger men—especially not girls ten years her junior, but the way your eyebrows furrowed as she read through your papers, scared of rejection, then softened again when she spoke truly drew her in. when your mother had mentioned you were between jobs, she gave you this one without hesitation, maybe a little too quickly. she couldn’t help it, this way you could stay right next to you and she could admire you all she wanted, a little selfish sure—but if she had it her way, you’d never leave her side.

she remembers when she first met you, you were beautifully creative, but she never imagined she’d be able to work by your side. it was exhilarating—working with someone just as intelligent as her, she knows it would be wrong to pursue you, so she watches from afar—hoping one day you’d make the move so she wouldn’t have to.

“georgia…?”

her thoughts are interrupted by your beautiful voice and she shakes her head to clear her mind, “i’m sorry, the days are catching up to me”

“catching up to you? please, you're in your prime!” you shoot back, gesturing to georgia as if that explained everything. it did. georgia chuckled in response, rubbing her face and taking another look at the papers you had turned in, “i do have one idea that didn’t make it into the paper…” you start slowly and georgia looks up at you immediately, a soft smile making its way onto her face, “the floor is yours”

“so i was thinking about how we did that bake sale for years, but when you came to town and did a poker night—which was extremely successful. what if we switched it up every year? this year could be a carnival night…y'know it is all for the kids…” you trail off slowly after explaining, georgia’s unreadable facial expression making you more nervous about your idea. you chew on the inside of your mouth as your gaze falls onto the floor, “it’s not even really an idea—we could go back to the bake sale.” you add, your voice losing more of its strength as you continue, god you really needed to just shut up.

georgia notices the way your gaze would sometimes flicker back to her, eyelashes batting with a puppy dog stare—begging for approval of some kind, how adorable. georgia finds herself biting her finger while staring at you, but once realizing how long she’d been silent—she clears her throat, “a carnival? austin would love that” she murmurs, which causes your head to jerk up towards her—no more batting eyelashes, but a curious stare.

“see? this is why i have you on my team y/n, you really are brilliant”

georgia praises and you practically light up—georgia almost swore you were blushing by the way you avert her gaze as she desperately tries to find it. you clear your throat, more confident now as you approach the desk—placing your hands on some papers and leaning closer to georgia, “and it’s better for business. since we’d be including the kids, that means more people—we’d have to pay for all the carnival equipment, but we’d still be making profit. and who knows, maybe teenagers can tell their little friends from out of town…they show up…that’s even more money” you smirk as you look her in the eye, there’s that cunning confidence she adored, anxiety didn’t suit you. georgia finds herself leaning in, maybe to kiss you, but she aborts at the last second—turning her face and letting out a breathy chuckle,

“you’re an enigma, y/n. you’re so smart, but you get inside your own head too much, be more confident in your pitches, others are more inclined to listen to you with a good head on your shoulders” georgia advised you and you nodded, standing upright and fixing your tie. had she leaned in for a kiss? no way, you were seeing things. she was simply playing along with you, you were friends. well… she was your mom’s friend…you’re her assistant. but still…you’re kinda like friends.

“noted. thank you.” you reply quietly, leaving her office even quieter and taking a seat at the desk closest to her door—she had insisted you work there—as her assistant of course.

you work your ass off all day—desperately trying to forget about georgia, but it was hard as she always flashed you a smile everytime you glanced in her direction, like she’d already been watching you. you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten until georgia slides her hand across your keyboard—fucking up what you had been writing. you raise your head to curse out whoever just messed you up, but upon realizing who it was, the words immediately dissolve in your mouth. you turn your head back to fix what she’d done, but instead she grabs your jaw lightly, turning it to face her,

“no.”

“okay…”

georgia laughs at how easily you agreed to anything she said, reaching her hand down to rub your shoulder, “i just meant it’s 10…let me drive you home i don’t want you walking” she says sincerely and you laugh, unintentionally, but when was the last time someone got kidnapped in wellsbury? you shake your head, “it’s fine, the crime here is practically just jaywalking…and that one time you got accused of murder…so crazy”

“so crazy” georgia parrots—it seemed like her voice was strained, “but i’m serious, i’m driving you home. end of story.” it seemed as though she’d already made up her mind—shutting off your computer and spinning your chair around so you can get up. and you do. immediately.

she wraps an arm around you as you both walk out of her office and to her car.

ᯓ★

the weekend was fairly eventful for you. you had hung out with your mom and georgia on saturday—finally having the time to spend time together without talking about work. it didn’t help that she looked so much hotter out of formal clothes, you had mentioned as much. well maybe not that blunt, “you look so pretty in casual clothes” had been your exact words—what if she had been offended by that?

and sunday…well. you went clubbing with hours friends. you knew you shouldn’t have—it was a work night, but they begged and cried until you agreed. you only wanted to stay for a few hours, but you ended up so wasted you landed in another girls bed. she was older and blonde. for a second you almost thought it was georgia. go figure.

you sighed in relief upon realizing it wasn’t hers or your house you were in. you ended up having to go to work in the clothes you wore to the club last night—which wasn’t that bad, since you managed to find a blazer to button and hide your skimpy shirt. as you walked into the office, you noticed the stares—who the hell wears leather pants to the office—you imagined they thought. you tried to ignore them as you walked to your seat, you just needed to stay in your chair all day and you looked normal. you tried to just focus on your work, but it was hard with the whispers and the pounding in your head from a hangover. when it feels like your head was going to explode, you see georgia approach and place a bottle of ibuprofen down on your desk—as well as a water bottle.

“you look like you had fun last night”

“you can’t even see my pants!”

“your neck.” georgia sounded mad—and truthfully, she was. god she didn’t even know you were old enough to go clubbing, let alone follow a girl home and let her mark you up. georgia fights the urge to twitch her eye, a short breath leaving her lips, keeping a cool exterior as always.

“come to the bathroom, i’ll show you how to cover a hickey.” her voice is calmer now, but there’s an edge to it. you down the pills and quickly follow her into the bathroom—where she does exactly what she said she’d teach you. all while glancing down at your pants every few seconds, “i didn’t have time to change this morning” you chuckled out—you were nervous, she loved that. georgia let her body press a little too close against yours… so close you could feel her breath on you. you felt as though your heart would beat out of your chest everytime she drew closer.

“no judgement, i’ve had my fair share of walks of shame”

“but i don't do walks of shame! or anything like that!” you don’t even notice your voice raise as you spoke, this was so embarrassing. she thought you were a total slut. god you ruined everything. you were never going to have a chance with her so apparently you found the closest version—oh my god she could never find out who you slept with.

the walk back to your desk was silent—almost hauntingly so. georgia walked slowly behind you and you could feel her gaze fixated on you, though for a reason you couldn’t quite detect. you find yourself unable to get any work done that day—thoughts lingering to other things…like georgia. more than your thoughts had wandered to her before. once the clock hit 8 and everyone was long gone, you clicked off your computer—leaning back in your chair with a heavy sigh. you’d be able to get back on track tomorrow, you just needed time to process.

“y/n, my office please”

you look over to see georgia standing in the doorway of her office, she waits a few seconds before disappearing back into it—expecting you to follow. you do… rather nervously. were you in trouble? as you walk in, you try to fix your hair as best as possible, “am i in trouble, georgia?” you ask and she smirks—which made you more nervous.

“not at all, peach! you just didn’t seem focused today, are you alright?”

“oh yeah…i’m sorry—i’ve been distracted.”

“about last night?” she walks dangerously close to you after the accusation. you step back on instinct, but she only steps closer in response—like a lioness stalks her prey. you manage to shake your head vigorously, “no! i don’t even remember it… i was … so drunk!” you try to explain but you can’t find the words, not with georgia so close to you. she only chuckles in response, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re so cute” she whispers breathily.

you should definitely back away, this was so inappropriate. you worked for her, you were younger than her, she was friends with your mom! this was morally wrong on so many levels… but you couldn’t back away. it was like your feet were glued to the ground. georgia moves impossibly closer, her face just inches from yours—like she was waiting for something. you wanted to lean in and kiss her, but you hold back, waiting for her to make the first move. she was the expert after all.

“if you want me, take me, because i won’t make the first move” she whispered, but it almost sounded like she was shouting. your ears rung upon hearing that and you couldn’t help but listen—grabbing the sides of her face and kissing her. georgia returns the kiss immediately, grabbing your waist to push you up against her desk.

your breathing becomes labored as georgia’s lips make their way down your jaw to your neck, fingers fiddling with the blazer buttons. once she discards the blazer, her hands feel all around your waist, lips moving to your chest—leaving behind stains of red. your hands tangle in her hair as she kisses your cleavage, fingers fiddling with your belt. her hand soon finds its way into your pants, rubbing your clit gently before looking up at you with a smirk. you grab the back of her head, yanking her back into a kiss and moaning into her mouth as you feel her fingers enter you. your thoughts are too fuzzy to process the fact that you probably shouldn’t be fucking your boss on her own desk—or what would happen if your mother found out about this.

“you’re so good for me” georgia whispers onto your lips and you grip her hair tightly while whining, “you like when i call you my good girl?” she continues and your hips jerk against her fingers.

“yes…please—fuck” your words become jumbled, your mind was foggy and you could tell you were reaching the end. georgia presses further into you, lips venturing back to your jaw—not kissing hard enough to leave any lasting marks.

“you’re so pretty like this…fucked out on my desk” she mumbles—curling her fingers. you moan louder at that, your other hand gripping her shoulder tightly as you rut against her hand. it only takes one more curl of her fingers for you to cum, moaning her name as you throw your head back. when she pulls away you try to pull her back, to kiss her again, but she was much stronger than you in this state.

being home was a disaster.

some people were lucky to be born into a loving family, not you. your mother hated the fact you chose music as a career instead of something ‘respectable’. fights were inevitable when you came home from touring, she always had something to say about your music, and it was never positive.

so that’s where you were now, fighting with your mother in the living room about your latest album, “i don’t see how it’s any of your business! you don’t even come to my fucking shows!” you yell, hands swaying aggressively. your mother laughs bitterly, slamming her hands on the coffee table, “i don’t need to! my delinquent daughter is all over the internet!”

“it’s like you’re not even listening to me!” your words echo in the house as you make your way to the front door—just needing some goddamn air, “i should’ve never bought you that guitar, y/n!” your mother shrieks, trailing behind you to continue the fight, as she always does.

“you’re impossible!” you fumed, swinging the door open, but as you do, you see someone standing there. it was a young blonde woman with a container of food in her hand. she grins upon seeing you, “well hello there! you’re new!” georgia pointed out and for a few seconds you just stare at each other silently. then your face twists back into anger, “have fun, shes pissed” you seethe, shoving her out of your way and walking off the premises through the grass.

“and don’t walk in my grass with those disgusting boots!” of course your mother had to get the last word. georgia looks between the two of you, eyebrows raised in shock, “wow! teenagers!” she beams awkwardly, hands clutching the container tightly

“oh she’s not a teenager anymore.”

“so it just never gets easier?”

“nope.”

you don’t return to the house for about an hour, opting to sit at the end of the street and smoke a cigarette. of course when you do get back, your mother can’t help but open her mouth, “and now you smell like cigarettes?” she asks in a petty tone from the dining table.

you roll your eyes, “do you have anything positive to say about me?” your question was rhetorical, you knew she didn’t. at least not anymore, you missed the days where you and your mother were close, “i think you would be really beautiful if you stopped wearing that clown makeup” your mother smiles at you and you can feel the anger boiling in the pit of your stomach once more. you slam your phone on the dining table and take a seat next to the mystery woman, who had tensed up the moment you entered the home. you notice she was staring at you, but her face was unreadable, “what.” you bark—causing your mother to hit you in the arm for your rude demeanor.

“nothin’! i like your outfit! it’s very punk vampire!” your eyebrows raise at the compliment, it was something you hadn’t expected from one of your mom’s friends. clearly, your mom didn’t either, as her gaze falls on georgia in shock—the woman chuckles nervously at that, “…come on. she’s a very beautiful young lady” she’s trying to mediate. how sweet of her.

“i don’t need your help” you scoff, crossing your arms as your gaze settles back onto your mother—her face had softened, but she didn’t speak, just returned to her food. you didn’t put any on your plate, after all that bickering you weren’t that hungry. georgia gives you a concerned glance, “you not hungry, peach?” her voice is soft, completely disregarding your last statement.

“not really.”

your mother is the one who speaks next, “all that arguing tucker you out?” you immediately shove your chair back, grabbing your phone and stomping up the stairs—it wasn’t worth it to keep arguing with her.

what you weren’t expecting was for georgia to be standing against your doorframe about two hours later, taking in the sight of your bedroom. you slowly turn to her from your desk—where you had been retuning one of your guitars, “uhm… hello?” it felt a bit weird for another person to be in your room, you never brought people over.

“hey peach!” her voice is as chipper as ever as she walks over to you, placing her hands on your shoulders, “what’s got her panties in a twist anyways?” she whispers loudly, playfully looking back to ‘make sure’ your mother wasn’t standing there. you take a deep breath, revelling in the feel of her hands on you, “i’m in a band and she hates it because that’s not what she wanted me to do with my life” you explain carefully, which causes georgia to pout, it was an odd sight. georgia’s hands find themselves rubbing your shoulders in a comforting manner, “i’ll talk to her for you”

“you really don’t have to do that.”

“i’m very convincing”

you roll your eyes once more at that, “i’ve noticed” you quip quietly, turning your chair around to return to your guitar.

“will you at least tell me your name?” she didn’t sound like she was asking, more like demanding in a kind way. so you scratch your chin in an irritated manner, “it’s y/n. and yo—“

“georgia!” she cuts you off, removing one of her hands to extend towards you—for a handshake. you slowly take her hand in yours, shaking it firmly. after this interaction, the room is filled with a less than awkward silence—as she lets you return to your guitar. she doesn’t leave your room, though, finding herself walking around and messing with your little knickknacks. if it were anyone else, you’d chastise them and demand they’d leave, but there was something different about georgia… and it didn’t just have to do with her beauty.

“you’ve gotta let me come see you perform. do you have anything planned while you’re home?” your head raises in shock, she wanted to come see you perform? this was new, but definitely not discouraged, “uh yeah.. sometime we perform at bars in boston when i’m home, we’re performing at lucky’s lounge this saturday, you should totally come” if anyone else saw you, they’d say you were babbling, but it was rare for your mom’s friends to be interested in your work beyond comparing you to their own kids.

suddenly, your mother is at the doorway, “georgia? you said you were using the bathroom?”

“yes—i got lost and…asked sweet y/n here to remind me where the bathroom was”

“right..well come on! our favorite movie is on”

you give georgia a confused look on her way out, “really? the bathroom?” you had mouthed and she just shrugged, sending you a wink before she disappears down the hall.

ᯓ★

you hadn’t expected georgia to actually show up, so when you spotted her in the crowd, you pressed your hand down against the guitar strings too hard, causing a loud screech.

your bandmates glance at you as you quickly recover, but you find yourself staring at georgia for the rest of the set, she seemed to genuinely enjoy the music. you were shocked by this, she didn’t seem the type—but maybe you were just used to suburban parents. one of your bandmates grabs your arm as you start walking in the opposite direction as them, “you guys hit the bar, i’ll catch up with you” you insisted, yanking your arm away from them as you continue on your way to find georgia. and oh do you find her, you nearly bump into her—guitar swinging a bit against your back as you quickly make as much space as physically possible in the bar between the two of you.

georgia only chuckles at your attempt to get away from her, “you were amazin’! honestly i’ve never seen someone have so much skill with their…hands” the pause makes you flush for a reason you can’t quite pinpoint, but you simply try to laugh it off.

“thank you, it’s rare that wellsbury mom’s like that sorta stuff” as you speak you realize you were sweating quite a lot, likely from the activities you were doing on that stage, “sorry i’m probably dripping all over you” you laugh nervously, trying to back up further, but the place was too cramped

“that’s quite alright, honestly i think it’s kinda sexy”

you heart stopped, it was kinda what? your ears had to be playing tricks on you. clearly they weren’t as georgia took ahold of your studded belt, yanking you close to her, “i’ve always thought rockstars were super hot” she whispered in your ear boldly, bringing her lips down to brush against yours. you push her away lightly in shock, more nervous laughs leaving you involuntarily, “i’m sorry—it’s just that…you’re my mom’s friend…and that would be—wrong” you come to the crushing realization that its hard to articulate your words in a moment like this.

you realize in a second that she’s giving you fuck me eyes, her hand never leaving your belt, “okay peach…let me atleast walk you home? your mom… won’t be there” she speaks lowly and you almost miss her words due to the volume in the bar.

as if comically on time, that same bandmate from earlier walks up, grabbing your arm once more, “stop flirting with the damn wellsbury moms, alex has us hooked up with those university chicks” georgia’s face flickers through a few emotions you can’t make out with the strobe lights, but you slowly look between your friend and georgia, as if making a decisio—in a second, you do, “sorry dude, i’ll pass. i have a headache and i want to head home” georgia smirks at your response, grabbing ahold of your hand and leading you out of the bar—a confused glance by your friend follows you both to the exit.

once outside the bar, you get a look at georgia—she looked beautiful. black skirt with a skull black crop top and a red smokey makeup look. as if knowing what you were thinking, georgia speaks up, “ya like? i stole it from my daughter”

you can only laugh in response, mesmerized by her, “yeah—i do like” is all you can manage to get out, but noticing her shivers, you instinctively slide your leather jacket off, handing it over to her, “here”

“my hero” georgia drawls as she puts the jacket on, looking at you before her eyes widen and she bursts out into laughter, “i didn’t notice in the bar, but all that sweatin’ and your face paint is comin off” your eyebrows raise in surprise and you instinctively move your hands up to touch your face.

georgia grabs your wrists before they can reach, “you’ll just smudge it more!” the shock of being grabbed causes you to stumble back—now you find yourself pinned against the wall by georgia. there is about six agonizingly long seconds before the woman pulls away quickly, as if being knocked out of a trance. once back at your house, you both find yourselves sitting on the couch with a glass of wine—yours left untouched, you weren’t much of a wine person.

“tell me the truth, why’d you come home? you could’ve been bangin’ hot college chicks” you don’t respond to her, in all honesty it felt like a trap. georgia seems amused by your silence—it let her come to her own conclusions, “maybe you wanted to bang your mom’s friend instead” you gulp, fuck. what kind of effect did this woman have on you? you watch as georgia gently grabs your hand and starts leading it up her skirt, “i’ve always wanted to fuck a guitarist..i hear they’re amazin’ with their fingers” she breathes out, stopping your hand at her panties and grinning darkly at you.

“fuck it” you mutter, leaning over and using your other hand to yank her into a kiss. you find yourself ontop of georgia, your body pinning hers to the couch as you begin rubbing her through her panties. she moans into your mouth, your kisses becoming hungrier as your makeup begins to smear off onto the older woman. her hands slide up your shirt littered with holes, placing her hands on your back and pulling you impossibly closer to her.

your makeout session is cut short by the sound of the front door opening. you leap off her, grabbing your guitar off the floor and angrily pointing at her, “you said she wouldn’t be home!” you whisper angrily, sprinting up the stairs as your mother walks into the living room.

“georgia i—is that y/n’s jacket?”

“mom get up”

georgia groans at the noise, instinctively turning away and grabbing the covers. ginny only grabs the sheets in response—ripping them off of her. georgia whines, hitting the bed with her fists like a toddler, “mom, it’s already ten get up” ginny scolds, grabbing her mother’s arms and trying to drag her out of the bed.

“alright alright! give mommy a minute!” georgia protests—making ginny finally let go of her, “fine. i’m making breakfast” she snaps, walking out of the bedroom and leaving georgia to fight off her own sleepiness.

once georgia manages to drag herself down the stairs, the smell of food makes her take a deep breath in, “what’s for breakfast, mom? it smells good” georgia mocks and ginny rolls her eyes at her mother’s antics. plating bread onto the table, ginny speaks, “egg in a hole” she admits, looking at her mom with a grin.

“oh yes, a true delicacy—thanks so much peach” georgia throws back, smirking as she takes her seat at the table. it’s soon after that austin can be heard running down the stairs—almost knocking his chair over with the speed in which he sits down.

“so mom… i’m going to this cool artsy hippie place today, i saw this really cool stained glass piece in the window that i neeeeed” ginny explains, poking at her food as austin gasps.

“i wanna go too!”

“so do i! we’ll all go!” georgia beams, her smile big and fake, she had absolutely no interest in the kind of store ginny was describing, but she wanted to spend time with her kids—something so rare these days. ginny groans in response, rolling her eyes, “whatever. fine. but act normal mom, no judgmental southern woman.” she warns, glaring at her mother who grumbles at being caught.

the rest of breakfast is spent with mindless chatter, the three soon heading upstairs to get ready for what was originally meant to be some alone time for ginny. once she finally makes her way back downstairs, georgia wraps her arm around ginny’s shoulders—kissing her head chastely.

“alright austin! we’re ready to go!” she yells and ginny flinches at the volume, wincing painfully. austin giggles as he runs up to the front door, putting his shoes on with haste,

“yay hippies!”

“yay hippies!” georgia parrots back to him, ruffling his hair gingerly and pushing him out the front door. ginny smiles absentmindedly at seeing austin so happy, maybe this was a good thing after all.

ᯓ★

upon entering the shop, georgia looks around with curiosity—well a little judgmentally, “well this is…interestin’!” her voice is loud and fake, like a mother trying to be overly supportive of her daughter. ginny only rolls her eyes—hitting her mom in the chest lightly, “mom shut up” she chastises, making a beeline for the stained glass she had mentioned earlier that morning while austin breaks off from the family to look around—leaving georgia on her own.

the place was colorful, filled with beautiful art pieces and cute outfits, ones that she would never wear—but maybe ginny would.

she stands awkwardly by the entrance before she sees ginny approach the register—then she quickly walks up, “hello there! this place really is wonderful!” georgia’s voice is loud—she was trying her damndest to be supportive and it made her volume raise at least five levels. you give her a weird look—glancing between her and ginny, were they sisters? maybe an aunt trying to be supportive? you chuckle weakly, never looking away from the ethereal woman in front of you,

“uh—thank you! just this then?” you point to the stained glass and ginny nods, but georgia has other plans—grabbing a headband that was on display, “and this cute lil thing!” she adds, dropping it next to the stained glass.

“and this!” austin adds, running over holding a glass object covered in paintings—it was a bong. as soon as georgia looks over, her eyes widen in shock, “austin!” she sputtered out, side-eyeing you, who was getting a real kick out of this. you take it from him slowly, putting it behind the counter, “maybe when you’re older” you say slowly, looking at georgia and hoping it was the right thing. clearly it was, because she couldn’t keep her eyes off you. ginny looks between you both, clearing her throat and interrupting your stare session, “i know someone who would be obsessed with your whole vibe, can i take a picture?” ginny asks and you look over with a smile, but before you can answer, georgia chimes in, “vibe, huh? i really like it too, you’re real pretty. still have those cheekbones of youth” she’s babbling, is she nervous? clearly it’s unusual, as both of the children stare at her like she’s grown a second head.

“right …so that picture?” ginny chuckles nervously while speaking.

“oh yeah! of course!” you agree, posing politely to show off the outfit in full. georgia throws more than enough money on the counter, wrapping an arm around austin, “alright you two! let’s get out of here!” she says through gritted teeth, picking up the headband and stained glass—quickly leaving while dragging austin along. ginny sighs while looking at you, “i’m sorry i have no idea what her problem is—i think she’s just scared by how much she likes all this stuff” you can only smile and nod at the girl, she seemed to only be a few years younger than you, maybe four or five years give or take, “relax, you’re fine. i get it—i’m glad you liked the stained glass—it’s one of my favorites” ginny smiles at this, giving you a small nod before leaving—meeting her mom by the car.

“what the hell was that???”

“i dunno!”

ᯓ★

you honestly never expected to see that woman again, especially not alone. your assumptions were proven wrong the very next day, as you were in the back working on a painting—you hear the door chime which signaled someone coming in.

you put your paintbrush down and wipe the excess paint onto your overalls, standing to go greet the customer. as you walk into the main part of the store, you’re shocked to see the blonde bombshell from yesterday. she looked really out of place, like a beautiful lioness dropped in the middle of the arctic.

“hi there! i came back for the bong!” she announces from the other side of the store and you chuckle, “for the little boy?” you inquire playfully—but she glares at you.

“for me!” she pouts after speaking, but she wasn’t looking at you—instead looking through your clothes collection with what you can only describe as a focused expression. in response you pull out the bong from behind the counter—the one austin had grabbed yesterday.

she comes over a few minutes later, holding a hand tie-dyed shirt and brown shorts with little designs sewed onto them, “these are for the little boy. he just adored your little shop” georgia admits with a smile, this one less fake than the one she had sported yesterday. you find yourself smiling back, but before you can respond, georgia licks her thumb and reaches out—wiping at your face. you step back, confused and shocked by her actions and the woman all but freezes in place, “darlin’ i’m sorry! you had paint on your face” her gaze lowers, noticing your paint covered overalls, “and—all over your clothes…” she trails off and you giggle lightly at her antics.

“oh yeah—i was working on a painting… do you wanna see it?”

“absolutely!”

you carefully lead her to the back room, it was covered in plants, paintings, and tapestries—very similar to your shop. she looks around, at first you think it’s in judgment, but as you look at her… she seems amazed, “did you paint all these?” georgia points at the walls, and at your nod, she makes a soft ‘wow’ noise before her eyes land on your current painting.

“show me your process” your head whips towards her, she wanted to watch you paint? well that was a new development, “uhm—i mean sure why not” you chuckle nervously, sitting down in front of the easel and picking up the paintbrush. you feel georgia walk up behind you, staring for a while before her hands reach your shoulders. you gasp, looking up to catch her eyes, but she was staring at your easel—not you. you clear your throat, focusing your vision back down and returning to painting—as best as you could with georgia hovering over you. she stood and watched as you finished your painting, not speaking once. but as soon as you finish your last stroke, she speaks up,

“i’d like to buy it”

“sorry?”

“no need to be, i wanna buy it, how much?”

you stand up, turning to face her—she’s just smiling beautifully, “uh, nothing. just take it.”

her eyebrows raise in shock, “peach no. i’m not takin’ this beautiful piece without paying you” she protests, but you only grab the painting and shove it in her hands, “please, take it! nothing like a little kindness and free paintings to make the world go ‘round” your nervousness is clear through your words, but georgia doesn’t seem to mention it.

“you’re not a very smart girl, if there’s ever a chance to make money, you take it.”

“that’s not how i live.”

georgia frowns at your words, but she doesn’t say another word—just walks out of the back and around to the counter, you following right behind her.

once you ring up the clothes and bong, you bag it and hand it over to her. she thanks you quietly, mind still clearly on the painting you refused to let her pay for. on her way out, she turns back to you with a half-smile.

“we didn’t have many hippies in the south, i like you”

and then she’s gone, but now you knew, she’d definitely be back.

you wanted to cry.

one of your coworkers had asked you out on a date and you excitedly agreed. it was rare to be asked out, since the queer population in wellsbury was surprisingly low for how outwardly ‘liberal’ it seemed. you had spent all day psyching yourself up for it and sure maybe that was a little embarrassing, but you couldn’t help but be excited.

now here you were, hours after your intended date time, downing glasses of wine like you were a millionaire. you had wanted to leave after the first hour, but willed yourself to stay just in case. she never turned up—you were angry at her, but also yourself for being dumb enough to accept the date in the first place.

as georgia entered blue farm, her eyes scanned the room on instinct—vision landing right on you. she made a wince of understanding, piecing together what a pretty girl like you would be doing in a cafe alone right before closing.

she takes it upon herself to strut over, “darlin’ i am so sorry im late! you’ll never believe the traffic” she announces loudly—multiple heads turn in response to the woman’s loud voice. the attention causes you to sink deeper into your chair, because that was certainly not the woman who asked you out. still, the woman sits down right across from her—large grin never leaving her face. she reaches across the table and you half expect her to grab the wine glass, but instead she gently grabs your hands. her hands were surprisingly cold, contrast to your warm ones, “you’re sweatin like a whore in church, peach—what’s your name?” her voice is barely above a whisper now.

“y/n.” you respond shortly, not trusting your voice not to crack under the embarrassment

“well ain’t that gorgeous, im georgia” she introduces herself and you can almost feel your heart swell, feeling much better than you did a few seconds ago. you recognized the name, she had moved in a few months ago. you find yourself chuckling nervously, “it’s great to meet you, have as much wine as you want. i’ve already drained my bank account” you mutter, pointing to the multiple empty and discarded wine glasses. georgia only laughs in response—grabbing a menu, “I’m not letting the girl who was stood up pay for the meal, are you crazy?” she raises her voice at that last part and you raise your eyebrows.

“i’m not really in the mood for a pity date, georgia.” you snap, you hadn’t meant to be so rude—but you were really in a horrible mood after being ditched. she looks up from the menu with a shocked expression, “well. i guess that’s too bad.” she responds firmly, placing the menu down with a triumphant smirk, daring you to contest her—you don’t. joe, who had been walking over to see if you actually wanted to order anything other than wine, gets one look at georgia and immediately tries to walk back behind the counter—to no avail.

“joe joe joe joe joe!” georgia sings, using her hand to wave him over. you notice him sigh in defeat, dragging himself over to the table.

“what can i get you both?” he asks with a strained voice, looking at you instead of georgia.

“i would just love a chicken piccata, joe” georgia speaks up first despite the fact joe wasn’t looking at her, of course she does, it didn’t seem like she had much experience in keeping her mouth shut.

“that’s great, georgia. and for the beautiful woman who’s spent the last three hours draining my wine collection?” your cheeks heat up almost immediately at the way he called you out. you gulp back your nervousness before speaking, “just a turkey club is fine, no mayo or tomatoes.” you respond, then take a few beats before responding, “and no matter what my date says, i’ll be paying for the wine” you finish and joe just awkwardly nods, finally freeing himself from your table.

“no mayo or tomatoes? you sound like my son” georgia teases you and you roll your eyes, though you weren’t really that bad—it was rare for people in wellsbury to be anything other than picket fence perfect and while georgia looked it, she certainly had more spunk than any suburban mom in a 15 mile radius.

“how lucky am i to get a comedian for a replacement date?” you shoot back with an eyebrow raise. georgia surprises you when she actually chuckles at your comment.

“very, i’d say.”

“why’d you even sit with me? chivalry doesn’t seem your style”

“ouch?”

“i just meant—you seem more like the type of girl to be waiting for your prince charming.” the look on her face told you that your hypothesis was accurate. georgia quickly pours a glass of wine at your accusation, finishing off the almost empty bottle.

“i just didn’t want to give those neighborhood vultures something to gossip about” she changed the subject quickly—that was odd. she seemed like such a confident woman, yet the mention of her love life and she’s sent scurrying. “fuck…they really are vultures” your response is breathy, willing yourself to not laugh loudly in such an enclosed space. you find yourself really looking at the woman, she was absolutely gorgeous, you were certain she had everyone falling to their knees before. she was so different than the usual residents of wellsbury, especially the neighborhood moms. you wondered if they‘ve already sunk their claws into her, especially since she mentioned a son. it wasn’t unusual, but it was shocking that she had children—she didn’t look a day over 30. you realize you’ve been staring far too long and been quiet for even longer, so you clear your throat, “i love your accent, where are you from?”

“a little bit of a lot of places, but i was born in alabama.”

“oh damn—the deep south…how was that?”

you see her contemplate a response, almost like she was deciding whether to be truthful or not, “awful. how about you? you born here?”

“unfortunately. but i wouldn’t call it awful, so maybe i’m doing a little better than you.”

“so then it’s a competition?”

“it’s not…but if it were…i’d be winning”

she laughs and rolls her eyes playfully—in response you feel your heartbeat quicken, how did you get so lucky? this beautiful woman didn’t want you to feel humiliated so she pretended to be your date? miracles really do happen.

your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of porcelain clanking against the wood table—your food had arrived, “thanks so much joe” georgia beams with a toothy grin and before you can thank him, he’s muttering a quick “of course” and walking away once more. you wanted to ask more about georgia, but you held your tongue—you guys weren’t even on a real date…right? clearly georgia had other plans, as she strikes up conversation once more.

“being stood up is the worst, peach. but keep your chin up, show them that you don’t care what they think” she sticks her chin up in demonstration, leaving you to chuckle gently.

“you? stood up? please..”

“happened more than you’d think…when i was younger at-least. this happen a lot to you, darlin?”

“i don’t really…go on dates. the dating pool is scarcely low for me.” your voice gets quieter as you continue talking—thinking your best option was just to stuff your face with food so you had no choice to stay quiet. the woman nods her head in understanding, shooting you a sympathetic look—you hated that.

the rest of your so called date is spent in mostly silence, saved for the occasional question asked by georgia, she was a surprisingly curious woman. once you had both finished, she excuses herself to the bathroom—really walking up to the counter and pulling her wallet out. she pulls her card out and waves it around in front of joe, “for table 5” she states and joe lifts a brow at her words, but takes the card.

“how’d you convince her?”

“i didnt, so hurry up and scan that damn card joe.”

the man huffs, but scans the card—handing it back to georgia. the woman casually struts back over to the table, “tonight was the most fun i’ve had since i moved in, so i decided to get the bill for you”

your eyes widen in shock, abruptly standing up, “georgia! no!” you scold—ready to match up to the counter and give joe a piece of your mind, but georgia grabs your arm, “let the man close. it’s fine, peach.” she reassures as she slowly lets go of your arm. you sigh in defeat, you had done so much pity drinking it was unfair to drop that all on her. you run your hands through your hair in a stressed manner, “you okay to drive?” georgia asks, eyeing the glasses of wine on the table.

“i walked”

“wow, that really eases my nerves” georgia’s voice is laced with sarcasm as she speaks to you—then it softens, “let me drive you, peach.”

ᯓ★

once she pulls up into your apartment complex, you sigh while unbuckling. this was the best date you’d ever been on and now it was likely you’d never see her again, might as well make the most of it.

“you wanna come inside?” your voice is low, more flirtatious than you’d intended to lead on. georgia only smirks, cocking an eyebrow in response, “sure thing, peach” is all she says, exiting the car at the same time as you.

the walk up to your apartment is dangerously silent, but as soon as georgia gets you inside she has you pinned against the door, kissing you desperately. you moan into her mouth, grabbing her waist and pulling her impossibly close. she ruts against your thigh as she shoves her tongue in your mouth—this makes you grip her waist tighter, her dress riding up as she grinds against your jeans. she pulls away from you to attach her lips to your neck, nipping and sucking in all the right ways. you pant, using her hips to push her off of you, “bedroom” it was a demand and your lips capture hers again. you lead her back into your room, and it’s safe to say she could barely keep her hands off you. she shoves you down onto the bed, causing you to breathe out a “jesus georgia” as she crawls onto your lap, leaning down and kissing you once more. she grinds against your lap as you intertwine your fingers in her hair, thrusting upwards to give her more friction.

“again” she mutters—and you comply almost immediately, “good—that’s good” georgia praises you, turning your entire body hot with need. when you feel her lift herself onto her knees you’re confused. you open your eyes to find her shimmying her panties off, albeit having a difficult time due to being sprawled out above you.

it takes a few more moments before georgia huffs in defeat—sliding off the bed she lets her panties fall to the ground, then uses her foot to fling them across the room, you can’t help but chuckle quietly. she moves back on top of you, slowly crawling up you until she’s kneeled right below your face.

“you’ll let me sit on your face, right peach?” she asks, bringing her fingers down to press against your lips. you notice the way her hips sway in desperation, she wanted this deeply. you find yourself smirking, “i dunnoooo” you begin to tease, but the fingers on your lips grip your jaw, not tightly—it was almost shocking how gently someone could grip your jaw while still being demanding, “i know you want it” georgia purrs…and fuck. she was right. so you nod, “of course, clearly you know everything” you claimed somewhat sarcastically, expecting something just as cheeky in return, but it doesn’t come. in response, georgia just slowly sinks down onto your mouth, gripping the head board tightly as you grab her thighs and immediately stick your tongue out.

you slowly lick up her folds, at an agonizing pace. georgia whines above you, rocking her hips and bringing one of her hands down to grip your hair—which makes you gasp into her. you grip the fabric of her dress as you suck on her clit. the little noises that escape her are like heaven to you, urging you to keep pleasing her. your mind almost seemed to blur as the woman rode your face, it made heat pool in your jeans, desperate for any kind of friction. georgia’s grip on the headboard became harsher, thighs locking against your head as she mindlessly rutted against your mouth.

“so close—fuck don’t stop” she babbled and it almost made you want to stop, to see how she’d fall apart and beg, but you didn’t. her words encouraged you to press on—to cum all over your face. you feel her nails dig into your scalp as you devour her with your tongue, a certain movement sending her over the edge. she doesn’t scream, which you almost expected, instead it’s a quiet moan—almost a whine.

her knees shake as she lifts herself off you, but you don’t let go of her hips. she reaches her hand down once more and wipes the juices off your face—smirking as she does so, “you’re good” georgia praises and you find yourself mindlessly rubbing her hips.

“thanks? i think?” you say nervously, pushing her hips down to your lap and sitting up—kissing her gently as you bring your hands up to run your fingers through her hair. georgia lays a hand on your chest, pushing you away gently, “i’ve got you.” she whispers, gently dragging her pointer finger down your body to your belt buckle, working on getting it off. once she does, she tosses it onto the floor. though out of the corner of her eye, she notices a box poking out of your closet, “is that a sex toy box?” your eyes whip over to your closet upon hearing those words.

“kinda? it’s a strap on. stupid gag gift from my friend really” you admit, there was no point in lying to her.

“can i use it on you?”

“have you ever used one before?”

“no.. but men do it all the time, how hard can it be.” she lifts herself off the bed and walks over to the closet, grabbing the box and opening it, “help me put this on, darlin”

you walk over as if you were on autopilot, unzipping her dress and taking the box from her so she could slip it off. with her dress discarded you pull out the harness and help her get the harness on and attach the dildo. georgia messes with the harness straps and you’re unsure why, but before you can dwell on it she unbuttons your jeans and yanks them off for you, shoving you back down onto the bed.

her next kisses are hungry and desperate, her long hair falling in front of her face to frame you both.

georgia pulls your panties aside and grins upon sliding two fingers inside of you, “you’re so wet, peach” she mumbles into your mouth, pumping her fingers in and out of you—using her thumb to rub your clit. you moan into her mouth and buck your hips against her hand, she pulls away from your lips once more to attack your neck with bites and kisses, things that would surely leave marks.

“the girl who stood you up will know how much fun you had without her” georgia mutters into your neck, her breath against your throat sends a shiver down your spine. you close your eyes in anticipation—feeling your climax nearing, but as it inches closer, georgia pulls her fingers away.

“georgia—c’mon” you whine out, but she only shushes you. she rubs your clit quickly as she slowly presses herself inside you—causing you to shut your eyes and groan. your breathing picks up as she bottoms out inside of you, grabbing your knees to spread them out further.

“how’s that feel, peach?” she purrs, cold hand grazing over the bulge made on your stomach. your body lurches at the cold touch, only accentuating the bulge further, “use your words, you like me deep inside you like this?”

“yes—god. please fuck me” you beg, grinding down against the strap before she starts to move her hips slowly, adjusting to the feeling of the strap. once georgia gets more comfortable, she smirks, her thrusts getting harder and deeper—all sorts of noises begin falling from your mouth.

“you take me so well” she drawls, knuckles turning white due to the grip she hand on your thighs to keep her balance.

her thrusts become harsher and you arch your back, grinding down against her strap desperately, “so needy— stretching you out real good and you still want more?” georgia speaks in faux innocence, pressing a hand against your bulge clumsily as she thrusts into you.

this movement causes a cry to leave you and you could feel your orgasm building up once more

“are you close, darlin?” her words feel like ice on your hot body—you don’t respond, but the way your legs lock around her hips gives her the answer she wanted.

leaning forward she breathes heavily in your ear, “lockin’ your legs, it looks like you want me to cum inside you” her voice is husky and out of breath—any words you try to speak would be incoherent, so you nod and whine.

“filthy lil thing, i’ll fill you up”

those words were all you needed to send you over the edge, desperately holding onto georgia as you came, who was kissing up and down your jaw—her thrusts only slowing when you came down from your high.

your hand finds its way to your face, wiping sweat off your forehead before just letting your hand lay there.

you can hear georgia chuckle as she pulls out of you—then you can hear her fumble with the harness as she manages to finally get it off. you breathe heavily, losing focus on your surroundings for god knows how long before georgia speaks up, “help me with my zipper, darlin?” she asks sweetly—your hand slides off your face and you look at her, sitting up as she walks over. you slowly zip her up, “i’ll fill you up” you mock in georgia’s southern accent, laughing gently.

“oh hush, i was recycling from old boyfriends”

“oh so it’s what you like?”

“im demonstrating for next time.” georgia smirks, leaving a piece of paper on your bedside table, it looked like a number—probably hers. before you can react, she was gone.

next time..?

a shower. that’s what you needed. a shower.

ᯓ★

a/n: this kinda dragged me out of my writers block….

georgia miller was a force.

something you quickly grew to love about her as she spent more time around you. sure, she could be cunning—but her love for her children was admirable.

there was a point in time where you had planned to ask her out, but soon realized she was on a date with mayor paul randolph in the restaurant you worked at. ouch. but no hard feelings—it wasn’t her fault you were hopelessly and irrevocably obsessed with her.

you were surprised at how quickly her relationship with the mayor moved, it seemed as though she had just moved to town last week—and here they were engaged!

when georgia asked you to be a caterer at her wedding, you begrudgingly accepted—it wasn’t exactly on your bucket list to watch the woman you loved get married to someone else, a man at that. it proved she could never love you like that.

when she was arrested, you were more than shocked. georgia miller—randolph now, you corrected. a murderer? wellsbury had a surprisingly low crime rate, so it came as a shock to everyone else as well—who flocked to her like hungry vultures ready to pick her apart until there was nothing but bone left. you thought it was embarrassing and low-dignified, to bombard a woman at her lowest point. record her as she has her children ripped from her? nothing but suburban savages in this town.

you had wanted to visit her since the moment she got arrested, but you never thought there was a good time—especially since you two didn’t hang out outside of when she came to bug you at work. nevertheless, things were starting to look really bad for georgia in court. it was almost guaranteed she was going down for the murder of tom fuller, so you thought now was a better time than ever to visit her—in case she needed someone in her fleeting moments of freedom.

searching through your many recipes books, you decided to make her chicken and dumplings—a southern dish that sounded comforting enough. you grab your best bottle of wine, you weren’t much of a drinker, but you could deduce that showing up to a woman’s house with cheap wine would get you a door to the face. upon thinking further—you decide on two bottles of wine, going down for murder seems like a multiple bottles of wine occasion.

ᯓ★

as you ascend her stairs to the front door, you’re greeted by a loud bang coming from inside and your heart jumps in your chest. your hands are full so you desperately move things around in your arm and shimmy the knob open—shoving your way into the home.

inside stood paul a few inches away from georgia, backing away with his hands raised as georgia looked damn near ready to collapse onto the ground.

“you should leave.” the words fall out of your mouth before you can ever think of stopping them. in response to hearing your voice, paul whips around—clearly shocked by you entering the house.

“i didn’t hear you come in.”

“too busy beating your wife?”

“no i— i know what you’re thinking, but this is not what it looks like”

rolling your eyes, you place the wine and food on the small counter by the door, “just go, i didn’t come here to scold the mayor” you sigh out, but as he moves to leave, you step in front of him—hand placed roughly on his chest.

“the media would eat you alive if they found out about this.” it was a threat. and by the look on his face, he knew it.

he’s quick to leave after you move out of his way and you slowly walk over to georgia—who was trying to control her breathing. you wanted to ask if she was okay, but clearly, she was not. “are you hurt?” you decide on, you hadn’t seen enough to know if he had actually hit her. upon the shaking of her head, you let out a sigh of relief. a breath you head no idea you’d been holding.

you didn’t know what georgia had been through, she was mysterious like that. even without truly knowing her, it was clear paul had triggered something deep within her and it made your heart clench to see her in this state. scaring a woman when she’s already at her lowest—paul wasn’t much of a man at all where it really counted.

“i brought wine—and food. but you look like you need a drink” you say softly and the woman nods, wiping the tears from her face as she slowly walks to the kitchen. you bring the wine and food over, pouring her a glass of wine and opening the container.

“is that-?”

“chicken and dumplings? yeah. i have like three cookbooks on southern dishes alone.” she chuckles at this and you break out into a smile, you were glad that you could manage to make her laugh in a situation like this.

you make her a plate first, then yourself—silently sipping on your wine as you focus more on your plate than actively staring at her.

“are you not gonna ask?” her voice startles you, causing you to snap your head up, “didn’t think it was appropriate. we hardly know eachother—just thought you’d want some company” you explain, and she shoots you an unreadable facial expression, so you continue against your better judgement.

“look—it’s clear you’ve been through some shit, and if you want to talk about it, i’ll listen. but you don’t owe me an explanation for anything.” you finish with a shrug, taking a bite of your food as you stare at her—waiting for a response or even a reaction to your words, but nothing comes, so you take a long chug of the wine.

“i faked a pregnancy.” she admits and you almost spit your wine up all over the table, “what?”

“that’s what he was so angry about. i used my daughter’s pregnancy test so he wouldn’t leave me during the trial. i guess that went to shit.” georgia shrugs as if it was nothing, chugging the rest of her wine and pouring herself another glass.

“well that’s—not great, but i cant say i dont see where you’re coming from. it’s shitty that he tried to bail when things got rocky.” georgia laughs bitterly at your words, shaking her head.

“can’t believe i thought he was the type of man to not waver when the storm came bursting through” she spits and when you look at her again, you notice the tears forming in her eyes.

“i’m about to go to jail for life, and my husband just abandons me.”

“listen, i won’t lie to you georgia. things look really fucking bad. but something i know for certain is that if i were paul, i would’ve stuck it out to the very end. for you. and you deserve a man willing to do that.” you speak tenderly, but the last thing you expected was for georgia to pull you into a tight embrace, sobbing into your neck.

“you have no idea what this means to me” her voice cracks as she speaks, clinging to you desperately. you move your hands to rub her back, not exactly sure what to say so you decided to stay quiet. when she manages to pull herself together, she separates from you, wiping her nose aggressively, “i’m sorry—i cried all over your sweater” she frantically rubs the tear stains on your shirt as you speak, but you just grab her wrist gently. “it’s okay georgia, i don’t care. it’s just a damn sweater” you reassure and she stares at you with these puppy dog eyes that almost make you fold like a damn lawn chair. you stand and gather the plates, preparing to wash the dishes—turning back to georgia while walking to the sink,

“if you ever need a cellmate in prison, i’d be happy to kill paul for you” she rolls her eyes playfully at you, chuckling gently.

“oh please, i have like five different men higher than paul fucking randolph on my ‘need to kill’ list”

“was tom fuller up there?”

“…that ain’t funny.”

you shrug, “it was a little funny.”