It's October Tomorrow....

it's october tomorrow....

*vibrates excitedly*

marc spector- slow songs

Summary: Your friend, Marc, pretends to be your boyfriend at a wedding, but is it pretend? (~2.3k)

Contents: f!reader, fluff, fake dating/friends to lovers, language

part of @moonknight-events: MK spring ‘24 Bingo Event

This is the slow song:

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“Okay, just be calm. Stay cool, lay low.” You run your hands down your pale, blue dress.

Marc frowns at you. “That’s a terrible pep talk.”

“It’s not for you. It’s for me.” You give him a dirty look. “You’re used to lying to people’s faces, but I’m not.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, I deserved that one. But as a reminder, I don’t even want to be here. How’s the suit?”

You look him up and down. He has on a dark suit with a bow tie. His curly hair arranged in neat waves away from his face. He was on a mission somewhere sunny and came back tan.

He looks so gorgeous you want to scream.

“It’s not the worst you’ve ever looked.” You grab his hand and haul him into the reception hall.

“Well, I think you look amazing, cupcake,” Marc says with a grin. “My little candy heart-shaped nugget love, whatever.”

He stretches his neck in his shirt. “I’m gonna kill Steven.”

You sigh. Steven had volunteered to be your pretend boyfriend at a friend's wedding. The only way to avoid being put at the singles table, plus you’d have someone to joke with.

But when you’d told your friend you were bringing your new boyfriend, you’d lied and said you’d grown up together. So, not Steven because of his accent, and Jake was too charming to let loose on unsuspecting bridesmaids.

So, Marc had reluctantly agreed.

Not that you weren’t friends with all three of them, but you and Marc weren’t as close. You were never sure why. Probably because his walls were up so high you could see them from space.

“Can’t we just say we’re friends?” Marc says, loosening his bow tie.

You stop walking and re-tighten it. “No, or she’s going to try to set me up with her cousin. He’s had a crush on me for years. I want to tell him to fuck off, but he’d make a whole thing about it.” You give him another once over, smooth a stray curl off his forehead. “Maybe it worked out better this way. You’re intimidating. That’s good.”

Marc looks grim as you enter the ballroom, quiet classical music playing in the background.

“Anything I should know?” Marc says. “What even is your last name?”

You turn to him, mouth open. “We’ve been friends for months. You don’t know?”

He shrugs. 

“Okay, you know what,” you say, annoyed, “why don’t you pretend to be someone else? Someone who doesn’t walk around with an ancient God’s arm stuck up his butthole, working him like a puppet?”

“Guess I can’t argue with that,” Marc mutters.

Your friend’s parents walk up to you and hug you enthusiastically. You say what a beautiful ceremony it was and turn to introduce Marc.

You hold his hand. “These are my friend’s parents, Maureen and Sidney. And this is my boyfriend.”

Marc holds out his hand, a tight smile on his face. “Tony Wrinklebottom. Nice to meet you.”

You feel like you're having an out of body experience. WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Maureen’s eyes go wide. “It’s nice to meet you too. We haven’t heard a lot about you, but you’re very handsome. And such an unusual last name. Where did it come from?”

“I got it from my father,” Marc says unironically.

You squeeze his hand hard. “We’re going to go get a drink. I’m sure everyone is dying to talk to the parents of the bride. I’ll see you later.”

You plaster on a fake smile and push Marc toward the bar.

“I didn’t mean you had to make up a fake name,” you whisper scream at him.

“I panicked.” Marc leans on the bar. “Whiskey neat and a vodka soda with two limes.”

“You know my drink order, but not my last name?”

Marc takes his wallet out of his jacket to tip the bartender, generously you notice.

He looks at you from the corner of his eye. “What’s more important to our friendship? Your last name, or my knowing what you like to drink?”

You open your mouth. Shut it. Cross your arms. “This is a disaster.”

“Sure is.” Marc knocks back his first whisky and taps the glass for a second.

He holds his refill in one hand and holds his other arm out for you. You take it reluctantly.

“Let’s find our table,” you say, sipping your drink.

“Whatever you say, cookie-poo.” 

“Ugh,” you say, unable to stop the disgusted look on your face.

Marc smiles. “I take it back. This might be fun.”

And weirdly, it kind of is.

You and “Tony” are at a table with complete strangers. He’s not great at casual conversation, but with a face like his, people kind of go along with whatever he says.

He takes off his jacket and bow tie, and relaxes. Something you usually only see when you’re at his place watching a movie, or bringing him something you’d stress-baked.

Someone asks how you met.

Tony puts his arm around you. “My sweet pumpkin pie and I’ve known each other for years. She finally got the hint. All those times I stopped by with take out, or let her sleep with her head on my shoulder, we weren’t just hanging out.”

You smirk at him. “Pardon me for thinking we were friends.”

Marc’s eyes are almost black in the low light. His long lashes blink at you.

“You think friends plan their entire schedule, international travel, around Thursday movie nights? Friends go out of their way every night to walk you home?” His fingers tickle your neck lightly. 

You frown, your stomach feeling funny. “You said it was on your way from the gym.”

“I picked that gym because it’s close to your work,” he says with a raised eyebrow.

Marc’s face goes serious again. He pulls his arm away and takes a drink. “Look, just forget I said anything. I must be drunk.”

You watch uncertainty pass over his handsome face. You rub your hand over his forearm.

“You want to dance, Wrinklebottom?” You ask with a smile.

Marc huffs a half-laugh out of his nose. “Sure, pookie bear. Long as it’s a slow one.”

Marc’s broad shoulders are strong under your arms. His hands warm and wide as he holds your waist. He smells good. You get as close enough as you dare, breathing him in.

He hums along to the song. You're surprised he knows it.

“Jake says you’re the prettiest thing here,” he says quietly. “And Steven says he apologizes for not bringing flowers. Wait. No. He thinks I should apologize for not bringing you flowers.”

You and Steven had been in limbo for awhile now. You liked each other as more than friends. Jake had already told Steven to go for it. But you didn’t want to make Marc uncomfortable.

“Thank you, and thank you,” you say. You tilt your head away slightly so you can look at him. “And what does Marc Spector say?”

Marc’s eyes trace over your face. He licks his bottom lip. “The wedding cake was dry.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. I’m going to return the gift I got them.”

Marc grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “One of those clocks where the cat’s tail swings back and forth?”

You smile. “Yeah, a big one.”

“Maybe it’s not the cat’s tail then.”

You snort out a laugh. “Stop. Weddings are romantic. No dick jokes.”

“Okay, honey lump, no dick jokes.” He pulls you a little closer. Close enough that your front sides are touching, swaying back and forth in unison. One of his hands rubs the small of your back.

“We can probably leave after this dance,” you say, even though you don’t want to. “We said hello to the bride and groom, ate, had drinks. I think that’s everything.”

“Leave? Tony Wrinklebottom doesn’t leave a party until he slow dances about four times with his girl.”

You rest your forehead on his shoulder. “Where the hell did you even get that stupid name?”

Marc’s hand rubs back and forth over your upper back now. “Jake’s watching one of the neighbor’s cats.”

“You named yourself after a cat?”

Marc shrugs. “My last name is Spector, which, given my profession, isn’t exactly subtle either. Besides, you should be so lucky. You could be Mrs. Wrinklebottom one day.”

You laugh, pressing your mouth into his shoulder to keep from drawing attention to yourself. “I always forget what a ridiculous sense of humor you have.”

“Makes you laugh, though,” Marc says.

You raise your head to argue with him, just for the fun of it. Your words die in your throat.

Marc’s looking at you with unusual softness. His head tilts slightly and you think, hope, that he’s going to kiss you. Instead, he cradles the back of your head with one of his hands, and slots it next to his, so your faces really are touching now.

“Your shampoo smells nice,” he says.

Your stomach flutters. “You look really hot.”

“I thought I looked like shit,” Marc says dryly.

You reposition your arms so they’re around his middle, your fingers brushing a little lower than they probably should.

“You’re hot and you know it. In this suit, or your other one when you’re all bloody and sweaty. As much as it pains me to compliment you,” you say.

“Yeah, we don’t really have that kind of friendship, do we? More likely give each other grief than go on and on about how you make the best lasagna. Or thank you for staying over that night last month. When you could tell I didn’t want to be alone. How good you feel in my arms. How much I-“ Marc stops. You feel his jaw tense.

“How much I love you?” You say.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But I did.”

You’ve stopped dancing. Both you standing in the middle of a crowd of people who are still moving back and forth slowly. You desperately hope that you haven’t made a mistake by saying something.

Marc’s gaze burns into yours. “Do you mean it?” He asks.

You smile. “Yes. And, not to sound full of myself, but I think you feel the same way.”

A grin cracks his serious facade. “I meant what I said earlier. About the things I do for you. Showing you how I feel.”

Love washes over you, covering your memories with Marc in warm light.

Part of you is grateful. He’d given both of you time to really know each other, set down a solid base together. But at the same time, he’d been so slow about it you want to shake his muscled shoulders.

“You’ve never even tried to hold my hand,” you say. “I thought we just had this awkward friendship, where you overdid it sometimes and retreated from me other times.”

“I was trying not to scare you away,” Marc says. “And you know how I am with feelings. I don’t like admitting that I have them.”

You roll your eyes. “I know. Talking about your feelings would really eat up your punching-people-in-their-faces time.”

“Punching people is easy.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you say.

Marc’s hands nudge your hips and you start dancing again. He doesn’t look tense, or anxious.

“If we do this,” Marc says, “I’m still your awkward friend.”

You pull him close, leaning in to kiss his cheek. His facial hair is already a little rough under your lips, even though he’d shaved just before you’d left.

“Maybe you’d get the upgrade to awkward boyfriend,” you say with a smile.

He kisses the side of your head. “I’d like that.”

“But just so you know, any time we go out, the reservations are going under your alias.”

Marc doesn’t even sigh. He just keeps dancing, his hands tracing over your body. “Mr. and Mrs. Tony Wrinklebottom.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Anthony G. Wrinklebottom.”

Marc chuckles. For the first time, chest to chest with him, you feel the deep rumble under his rib cage. You press in closer.

“Deal,” Marc says. He rests his knuckles under your chin so you’ll look at him. “So you’ll go out with me?”

“On one condition,” you say with a sweet smile. “What’s my last name?”

Marc’s smile freezes on his face. He shuts his eyes tight, but if you know Jake and Steven, they’re more likely to laugh at him than to give him an easy out.

He does that frowny smile that means he gives up, spins you around the dance floor.

He pulls you back in close to him. “I know other things about you. Like, we’re going to that place with the burgers and the fancy french fries for our first date. You can’t make reservations, but Jake knows the manager and we could skip the line.”

You groan. “I love that place.”

“I know,” Marc says smugly. “And the shop with the raspberry gelato for dessert. Walk through the park with the fountain you like. On Fridays the buskers that play Fleetwood Mac and Springsteen are there. We'll sit on the bench under the broken light, more privacy. That's where I want to kiss you.”

“Wow, that’s a good date,” you say, breath knocked out of you by Marc's words and eyes and plans.

“It should be, I’ve been fine-tuning it for three weeks,” he says self-deprecatingly.

You rest your hand against his cheek, rubbing your thumb on his skin. “This Friday, then.”

Marc nods, one of his hands resting around your waist, the other so light on the back of your neck you can barely feel him. He rests his forehead against yours as the song comes to a close.

“You look beautiful. Did I tell you that?” He says. “My little sugar bunny, cherry pie dove bean-“

You clap your hand over his mouth. “You’re what my grandma would’ve called, ‘a real piece of work.’”

He smiles under your palm, picking up the rhythm of the second slow song and easing you into it. You remove your hand, slide it back over his shoulder.

If this is the last thing you ever do as just friends, then Tony’s right. You don’t want to leave. You want to stay for all the slow songs.

-----

Square B "Fake Dating"

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teehee time for my weekly reread of this series!!

was just. hit. with a thought. you and anselm going down on blue at the same time, but one of you sucks his cock while the other eats him out, thrusting into his hole with your tongue. wanna make blue scream and cry from the pleasure (again)😵‍💫

I... I... shaking. This one sure did get away from me. (Thank you so much this thought is just *chef's kiss*)

Trine [3]

Anselm Vogelweide X Blue Jones X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Part One • Trine Masterlist • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • request info

Summary: Blue wakes up after the events of Anselm's dinner party.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: errrrrrrr, reader is married to Anselm, Anselm refers to reader as ‘my love’, Blue sort of being in subspace again, blow jobs, sixty nine, face fucking, ass eating, anal fingering, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, hand jobs, cumming on someone’s face, cream pie, begging, teasing, edging, not full blown choking but like squeezing someone’s neck during sex, Anselm being a little naughty consent wise - so I’m gonna say dubious consent, cum eating, dacryphilia, Blue really being in subspace, Blue being upset (he thinks he’s let reader down, he hasn’t)

Word Count: 4743

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The morning light sneaking through a gap in the curtains woke Blue. The angle perfect to get right in his eyes. 

He sat up slowly, his muscles aching pleasantly. 

He remembered the evening with you and Anselm, the warm bath and kisses after. A light meal and snuggled up pressed between you both in bed as he drifted off to sleep. 

The bed was now empty. 

Slowly he got up. He took the thin linen dressing gown (dark blue) from a hook on the door and put on the pair of slippers (also dark blue) by the bed. Where his clothes were from yesterday, he had no idea. 

There was a little thud of anxiety in his heart as he made his way downstairs. If you were both out, surely you would have-

“Mr Jones?” 

He jumped, turning quickly to face the butler who had apparently appeared from nowhere. 

“Mr and Mrs Vogelwide are in the second dining room.” 

“Right… thank you.” He paused, realising he had no idea where the dining room was let alone a second one.

His eyes lingered on Blue for a second. “I’ll show you the way.” 

Blue nodded and followed a step behind. Heat rose to his face. What must this man think? What thoughts were running around in his mind? Did he wonder why Blue was walking around in very obviously just a dressing gown? Did he know? Did he care? 

Suddenly Blue realised how low the neckline of the dressing gown really was, exposing the bites and sucked on bruises that littered his skin. He pulled at the material, trying to force it higher without loosening the belt. 

The butler stopped and knocked on the wooden doors before opening them for Blue.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime sir.” He closed them the moment Blue set foot in the room. 

It was a fair size, like the parlour, and further into the heart of the house. It was also more lived in, homely. Blue supposed that these were the rooms you and Anselm preferred to use yourself or with those closest to you. Leaving the large grandiose spaces for entertaining many guests, or gentle intimidation. 

You were both sitting next to each other at the dining table, a variety of breakfast foods before you. 

“Good morning.” Anselm smiled.

“Don’t you look absolutely ravishing in that robe?” You grinned, jumping up from your seat and walking over to him. 

“Absolutely.” Anselm echoed. 

“Thank you,” Blue smiled, all his insecurities melted away as you embraced him and kissed him deeply. 

“Come,” you took his hand and led him to the table, pushing him down gently to sit in your seat. 

“But aren’t you-” Blue tried to protest, but you just tutted at him and pulled up another chair so that you were now sitting directly on his left, Anselm on his right. 

“Where’s my morning kiss?” Anselm raised his eyebrows teasingly, his tone made Blue flush, his breath catch in his throat. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled quickly before moving forward and pressing his mouth desperately to Anselm's. 

The older man chuckled. 

“He hasn’t been up an hour and already you’re teasing him.” You pretended to scold your husband as you ran your fingers along the back of Blue’s neck, just dipping under the linen. 

He shivered under your touch. 

Anselm broke the kiss and grinned. “I’m doing nothing of the sort.” 

“Hmm.” 

Your husband winked at you before looking back to Blue. “Are you hungry? There’s food here, or if there’s something special you want we can get it for you.” 

Blue opened his mouth to speak but cut himself off with a low moan as you pressed close to him and left wet kisses just under his ear. 

Anselm watched with interest for a moment. “Now, what do you think you’re doing, my love?” His voice was low and rich. It would have made Blue’s cock twitch even without the added stimulation of your mouth on his skin. 

“I’m hungry.” You whispered between kisses, lightly dragging your teeth against his pulse point. 

Blue swallowed, he’d let you devour him. He’d let you do anything you wanted.

“Oh,” Anselm said innocently as he started to run his hand up along the inside of Blue’s thighs, pushing them further apart and slipping under the robe. “Are you?”

“Hmm.” You groaned against Blue’s neck, taking hold of his chin with your right hand and forcing his head back for easier access. 

He moaned breathily, squirming a little as you dragged your left fingers over his chest, slid under his clothing, and pinched his right nipple. 

You chuckled at the little high-pitched mewl he let out. “So sensitive.”

Blue was breathing rapidly already, his heart racing with every touch and word you both graced him with. “Please.”

“Oh, begging already are we?” Anselm tutted, inching his hand higher up Blue’s thighs and lightly caressing his balls. 

Blue jumped at the sensation, gasping and whimpering as Anselm slowly massaged him with his right hand, using his left to press on Blue’s inner knee and his own leg to spread Blue as wide as possible. 

Anselm shook his head, all mock disapproval, and turned to you. “He’s already rock hard.” He gripped the base of Blue’s cock, squeezing it briefly before going back to kneading his balls with his warm palm.

“Already?” You chastised. 

Blue moaned, his mouth dry, his head light. Both of your gentle reprimands went straight to his cock. Made it twitch and smear precum against the inside of the dressing gown, the drag of the linen sparking deliciously against his weeping head. 

“He’s such a needy thing.”  Anselm sighed. 

“So needy.” You tutted.

Oh god, he was. If you could just both keep talking like he wasn’t there, like he wasn’t worth speaking to directly, just a plaything for you both to toy with. He bit his lip hard, trying to stifle his moans. 

You could both just play with him forever, lazy and disinterested and he’d thrive on even the smallest attention. The simplest praise. He’d be so good for you. He’d cum again and again, whenever you wanted, whatever you wanted. He’d do it all for you. 

Your grip on his chin tightened and Blue’s eyes rolled back, the noise that escaped from his lips was obscene. 

“Please, please, please,” the words came without a solid thought of what he was begging for, just the need for you both. For you both to keep touching him and loving him and keeping him safe as you used him like a disposable object. 

He wanted to tell you, voice all these things he wanted you to do, but the full sentences just wouldn’t come. 

Slowly Anselm dropped to his knees, still massaging Blue’s balls and the very base of his thick cock, as you stood, urging Blue up at moving him with you so that he stood with his back pressed against your chest. 

You let go of his jaw to undo the belt at his waist and slip the robe off his shoulders. 

Blue gasped, shuddered as the material fell and Anselm sucked the tip of his cock into his warm and eager mouth. 

“Oh god,” he sobbed as Anselm deep throated him, easily taking him to the very base. Despite Blue’s previous experience with this particular skill of Anselms yesterday the sudden and intense pleasure was still a bit of a shock to the system. 

He shuddered, his thighs clenching and you held him tight, sinking your teeth into his neck and running your hands over his chest. 

You waited a moment, let Blue adjust to the feeling. His heart beat crazily under your hands, the filthy sounds of Anselm sucking and moaning at the taste of Blue’s precum echoed around the room. 

Anselm kept pulling back, taking Blue’s cock completely out of his mouth and lapping at the head before slowly sinking all the way back down, watching Blue’s every expression with dark, hungry eyes. 

Blue couldn’t even recall a time before when he’d had a blowjob like this, with someone so eager to consume every single part of him. God, if his girls could just give head half as good as this then he’d be a multimillionaire in less than a week. 

“Blue,” you whispered close to his ear, your voice rich and velvet soft. The sound so sweet he nearly came right then and there. 

He nodded desperately, not trusting his own voice. 

“If you want us to stop at any point, say ‘red’, is that okay?” 

He nodded again. 

“Blue,” you put a little more command into your voice and he moved to look over his shoulder at you instantly. “What do you need to say if you want us to stop?” 

“Red.” He breathed. 

You smiled. “Good boy.” And kissed his cheek softly before you also sank to your knees. 

Blue whimpered a little at the loss, craving your close presence and reassuring touch. 

But then suddenly you were kneading his buttocks, pressing your fingers against his skin with a firmness that made him shudder and moan. He bucked forward, thrusting deeper into Anselm’s mouth and the older man growled approvingly. 

Slowly you spread Blue’s cheeks, squeezing gently. You basked in the soft sounds of his hitched breathing before you inched forward and ran a board, flat lick over his hole. 

Blue cried out. Pleasure erupting along every nerve. He grabbed a fist full of Anselm’s hair with one hand, the table with the other, to keep himself from falling, disintegrating under the dizzying onslaught of sensations. 

You grin, moving your mouth away from him for a moment as Anselm still hungrily bobbed back and forth. 

“Did you like that Blue?” You tease. 

“Yes, yes,” he moans, the words falling out his mouth like a prayer. “Please.” 

“Has anyone ever done that to you before?” 

He shook his head rapidly, tears building in the corners of his eyes. 

“Do you want me to do it again?” 

The answer was instantaneous. “Yes, yes, please, please, I need you to, I need, oh!” He moaned so loudly as you leaned forward and did it again. Just as slow, relishing in the twitch of his muscles, his little gasps for breath.

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod!”

Anselm pulled his mouth off Blue, swirling his tongue around the head once. “I think he likes it, my love.” He said before he sank back down. 

You hummed an approving answer, sending the vibrations across Blue as you licked him.

“I do, I do, oh fuck, I do, so much! Please don’t stop!” He moaned again, tears spilling down his cheeks from the pleasure as you both worked his cock and asshole in tandem. Building him higher and higher to than tantalising peak. 

He rocked back on the balls of his feet as you and Anselm urged him back and forth. Pleasure coiled so tightly in his belly, threatening to explode at any moment. 

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-” Blue sobbed as Anselm pulled back and off him. 

Blue tried to tighten his grip in the older man’s hair, tried desperately to push him back to his needy cock. But Anselm quickly grabbed hold of Blue’s wrist, halting his actions with a dangerous look in his eyes. “Only good boys get to cum Blue.” 

Blue recognised his mistake almost instantly, quickly letting go. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, please.” He sobbed. 

You moved your mouth back, your hands still spreading his asscheeks. “Is Blue not being a good boy?” 

Anselm slowly shook his head, not breaking eye contact with the younger man as he whimpered above him. “He’s being very bad.” 

“Oh no.” You tutted. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- oh god!” He moaned wantonly as you traced around his tight ring of muscle with the tip of your forefinger and pressed against it. Not enough to push inside, but just enough to make liquid lightning crack up his spine. He arched back into your touch, desperately and you giggled. Gently nipping at his left cheek before you dropped your hands to your sides. 

“No, please,” he turned to you, begging for you to keep touching him.

“Shh,” you soothed, kneeling up and kissing his hip as Anselm stood, pulling off his own clothing. 

Your husband moved to the sofa in the corner, his heavy cock hitting against his stomach as he walked. You got a perfect view of his ass as he laid down, shifting a little so that he was comfortably on his back. 

When he was ready he made a slow come hither motion. 

Blue tensed, unsure if he should leave your arms at first. You chuckled and gave his ass a playful smack, encouraging him to walk over. 

Anselm took his hand softly as he approached, rubbing his thumb soothingly over his skin. Gently he directed the younger man to get on the sofa on top of him in the sixty-nine position. 

Blue breathed unevenly, his mouth watering at just the idea of being able to take Anselm’s cock in his mouth again. He was so thick and wide. Red and leaking and just begging to be sucked. 

Blue licked his lips as he got into place, carefully tracing his slit with the tip of his tongue and groaning. 

Anselm chuckled, his dick twitching in approval. “So needy and eager, that’s it. Take it in your mouth.” He pushed at Blue’s shoulders lightly. “Remember what you learnt from before, not too fast and not too deep, relax your throat, don’t choke yourself.”

Blue moaned and nodded as he slowly eased down as far as he could. 

“So good Blue,” Anselm moaned, turning his head to you and biting his lip as he held out his hand. 

You took it, stroking your fingers through your husband’s hair, before you moved to stand with the armrest in front of you. In this position, you had a perfect view of Blue’s ass. 

Softly you took hold of Anselm’s chin, tilting him up, and Blue’s cock guiding it down, until the head tapped against your husband’s lips. 

Anselm’s breathing rose, a light flush of his skin as you controlled his movements. The sensation giddy in his stomach. 

You opened Anselm’s mouth with your thumb, urging his bottom lip down before pressing Blue’s length into his hungry mouth. 

Anselm moaned as he swallowed around him, shivering from the still controlling grip you had on his jaw. 

Blue cried out in harmony, his sounds muffled by Anselm’s cock. 

You watched them for a second, the tears on Blue’s cheeks, both of their lengths disappearing into each other. 

Firmly you ran your hands up Blue’s thighs, spreading his asscheeks again and leaning over to lap at his needy hole. 

Blue groaned, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. 

You were firmer this time, harder, just thrusting your tongue into his tight ring of muscle and making him squirm and buck helplessly. 

It felt so good, he wanted to tell you, cry it out to you. Beg and beg and beg for you to keep going, for you to never stop. 

You bent even more forward, leaning against the armrest for support and spreading him even wider. 

He was so full, his mouth, his ass. Stuffed and just desperate for more. You grinded against him, forcing your tongue in deeper, pushing his hips up and down to roughly fuck your husband’s throat. 

Anselm growled happily, grabbing hold of your hand on Blue’s hip and squeezing. 

Blue sobbed. He was so close, so close. The edges of his approaching orgasm beginning to cloud his mind. His dick twitched in Anselm’s throat, his thighs shaking, stomach muscles contracting and-

Anselm pulled away from him with a loud pop. 

Blue sobbed. 

Your husband squeezed your hand, a whispered “stop, please,” coming from his lips. 

You pulled your mouth away and looked down at him. 

Blue forced Anselm’s cock deeper in his throat, gagging on it. Maybe if he made him feel good, maybe if he was good, he’d get to cum. Maybe if- 

Your hands are soft but firm on his shoulders, easing him back off Anselm. “Blue,” you kiss his cheek, “sweetheart, you’ll choke.” 

He sobbed, so horny and frustrated. “Please, I need it, please, I need to cum.” 

“Shhh,” you kiss him again, soft and sweet. “Do you want to stop?”

His answer is instant. “No, please, I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean the teasing.” You rub soothing circles on his cheeks. “You can say red, we’ll stop. I’ll make sure you cum straight away.”

He relaxed into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. “I don’t want to stop, I like it.”

“Okay, good.” You kiss his lips again. “I just wanted to check.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, floating and weightless for a second like he was supported completely by your touch. 

Anselm kisses Blue’s thigh before flicking his tongue over the length of his dick and smiling when Blue shudders. 

“Come on Blue,” Anselm begins to shift underneath him. “Time for us to change places.” 

You help Anselm to move Blue so that he’s lying flat on his back on the sofa, he looks up at you both with large eyes. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes, my love.” Anselm trails his lips along your neck, slowly running his hands over your body.

Blue moans softly as he watches you lean back against him, arch into his touch as he undresses you. 

Anselm makes a bit of a show of it. When the last piece is finally off; he presses his chest to your back, rubbing his cock against the swell of your ass and spreading your folds for Blue to see. 

You moan softly as he kisses your neck, sucking lightly as he plays with your clit. His eyes locked onto Blue the whole time. 

You start to writhe under Anselm’s touch, he knows every single trick and move to work you to your release as quickly as possible. But he's steady and slow, gently working his thick fingers in and out of you and groaning as your slick coats his skin. 

Languidly, he lifts up your right leg and rests your foot against the edge of the sofa, so that Blue can see even more clearly, before he starts his slow torture up again. 

Blue watches mesmerised. His eyes flitting from Anselm’s face and his mouth on your neck, your face and how you gasp in pleasure, the way he rolls your left nipple in one hand, your chest as it rises and falls, how his fingers sink into you, the slick coating them. 

The sounds of your arousal are obscene, growing louder and louder as he keeps working you over, needing you wetter. 

Blue’s cock aches painfully. Burning arousal thumping between his legs. 

Finally, Anselm seems satisfied. He slowly draws his fingers out of you, making sure you’re stable before moving to the side cupboard and taking something out. 

“I want you to ride him, my love, please.” 

You nod, your thighs a little shaky from how he stretched you open. “Is that okay with you Blue?” You ask. 

He nods desperately, holding his arms out to you as you climb on top of him and straddle his thighs. 

He lets out a little whimper and sob, relief overwhelming him like the buzz of a drug. You kiss his tear stained cheeks as you line him up with your entrance and sink down. He’s hot and heavy in your hand, and you don’t tease. 

Blue throws his head back in a silent scream as he fills you. Your tight heat a remedy to the deep agony of his arousal. 

He moans, holding your hips tightly as you bounce up and down on him, fucking him perfectly into the sofa. He sobs, relief flooding his veins. So good, so good, so good. He fights to keep his hips still, to just let you use him, to be your good boy and just take whatever you’ll give. 

“Thank you, thank you,” he mewls, fresh tears in his eyes from just how perfect it is. 

“You’re so good Blue, such a good boy.” 

He moans loudly, biting his lip in an effort not to cum and fill up your sweet pussy. “Please!” He grabs your right hand and presses it against his throat, squeezing your fingers against his skin and begging you with his eyes. 

You get the hint instantly and can’t help but groan as you press firmly against his neck, not enough to choke him, but just enough so that he can really feel it.

Blue cries out, putting both his hands back next to his head as if you pinned them there, closing his eyes and completely giving into you. 

Every breath is a moan, every movement just another dizzying push, edging him nearly to finally burying that sweet ache. 

He mumbles your name constantly between hiccups of pleasured gasps. 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

Anselm lets out a long groan, jerking himself off desperately as he watches you both. His length is covered in lube from the small bottle he pulled out of the cupboard. 

You hold your free hand out to him, beckoning him closer and he moves into your touch instantly, pressing his chin into the palm of your hand. 

You pull him closer and kiss him softly as you ride Blue. Anselm moans into your mouth, his hand a blur on his cock, the slap, slap, slap of skin filling the room. 

He breaks the kiss, pressing himself close to your side and nuzzling into your shoulder. 

“You both look so good.” He mumbles. “Want to watch this every day.” 

You kiss his forehead, his sweat salty on your lips. 

He gazes down at Blue. The younger man’s eyes are slightly dazed over, his mouth open. 

Anselm can’t help himself, he takes his hand off his cock briefly to hurriedly pour lube over his forefinger before taking himself back in hand. 

He reaches his finger down, sliding it between Blue’s slightly open legs and presses the tip against his puckered hole. 

Blue gasps, a different sound from his others. The pitch higher. 

It takes you a moment to realise what is going on, a flash of anger cutting through the pleasure in your core. You grab hold of Anselm by his hair, forcing him closer to you. He lets out a little shuddered breath, still sinking in and out of Blue and still pumping his own cock. 

You don’t slow the pace of your hips but you snarl at your husband. “Did you ask permission?” 

He bites his lip and shakes his head. 

You look back to Blue, softly touching his cheek as you grind down on him, your voice sweet. “Blue, baby, you okay?” 

He nods desperately. 

“You okay with what Anselm’s doing?” 

He nods again. “Yes, yes, please. More.” 

You smile. “Of course, good boy.” 

As you turn back to your husband you tug his hair again, pulling his mouth to yours. You kiss him harshly, all tongue and teeth, and bite at his bottom lip before you pull him back.

He stares at you, hazy and breathless. 

“Ask permission next time.”

He nods, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’.

“Or I’ll punish you.”

Anselm’s eyes close as your words, a deep groan rising from his chest. 

You tug his hair again. “And not in a way you’ll like.” 

His eyes snap open, blown wide with lust and he nearly cums on the spot. “Please.”

You smile wickedly, your fingers curling around the back of his neck as Anselm slides his forefinger past Blue’s ring of muscle and groans at how tightly Blue squeezes around him. 

Blue eyes go wide as Anselm sinks into him, his back arching uncontrollably. 

He lets out the softest moan, an almost strangled sound as pleasure explodes along every nerve, flaying him raw. 

He cums deep, bucking and thrusting and screaming his throat red. He can’t stop moving, can’t stop cumming as more and more spurts out of him, filling you completely. 

Anselm moans watching him, biting into your shoulder. You keep bouncing, trying to prolong his pleasure for as long as possible. 

You slow and stop as he does, keeping him deep inside. Anselm slowly eases his finger out of Blue, leaving him strangely empty. 

Blue’s mind is foggy, hazy from how hard he’s cum. He swallows, blinking heavily. “I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth. 

“Blue,” you soothe, “what are you talking about?” You lean down so you can kiss him gently.

He kisses you back, tears in his eyes. “I finished before you’d cum.” He lets out a small sob, but unlike his previous pleasured filled ones, this is painful and cuts into your chest. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” you hush, kissing his nose. “I don’t mind, hmm? I don’t mind.” 

He looks up at you, trying to calm down as you stroke his cheeks. He nods.

“I liked it, you understand? Liked seeing you cum, liked that you felt so good. Okay? You’re my good boy for cumming like that, did it feel good? Cumming that hard?”

He nodded desperately, his eyes still shining. “Yes, yes I did. Loved it, love you.” 

“I love you too.” You kissed his lips again. 

Anselm bites his lips together, trying not to ruin the sweet moment but unable to stop fisting his length. The tears on Blue’s cheeks, fuck, how he wanted to smear them all over his cock. 

You sit up and glance at your husband, a small smile on your face at how worked up he is. 

“You gonna cum, hmm?”

He nodded, unable to speak, so close, so close. Just a little more. 

“I want it.” Blue moaned, suddenly desperate for it. He opened his mouth and held out his tongue.

Anselm groaned loudly. You guided him, your hand on your husband's arm, towards Blue. He was sure he wouldn’t have made it without your steadying touch.

He jerked himself quickly, pleasure so tight in his muscles, tried to aim, and, and- 

“Shit!” Anselm spurted all over Blue’s face, his tongue, his cheeks, some of it even hitting his eyebrow and lashes. 

Blue moaned as it hit him, revelling in it and letting Anselm squeeze out every last drop. 

Anselm breathed heavily, his whole body turning to jelly. You wrapped your arms around him to stop him from collapsing back and helped him to sit on the floor as best as you could with Blue’s softening cock still in you. 

“Okay?” You kissed your husband’s forehead. 

He nodded, breathing hard. 

“Blue?” 

He nodded as well, his dick twitching. Slowly he looked up at you with lust blown eyes. “Want to make you cum now.”

You smiled. “Blue, you don’t hav-”

“Please?” He pouted. How could you say no to that? 

You got off him gently, making a little bit of a mess on his cock and abdomen that Anselm hurriedly cleaned up with his tongue. He even went to lick away the spend that was left on Blue’s face but he shook his head. “Not yet.”

Both you and Anselm let Blue direct you softly. Anselm sat back onto the sofa, his back against the armrest, you between his legs with your back to his chest and your husband’s arms around you. 

“Is this how you want us?” You checked and Blue nodded as his eyes raked over both of you. 

Slowly, his muscles aching, he laid flat on his stomach, his face between your legs. 

You didn’t last long. Blue ate you out like a starving man, curling his tongue and sucking his spend from your throbbing pussy. Some of Anselm’s cum that still clung to Blue’s cheeks rubbed onto your thighs, as Blue moaned and lapped, and stared up at you like you hung the moon. 

You came against his lips with one hand bent back and holding the back of Anselm’s head, your husband’s mouth on your neck. 

You coaxed Blue up and into your lap, all three of you wrapping each other in your embraces. Just holding tight. 

After a long moment you frowned. “Why was there lube in the cupboard?”

“Forethinking, my love.”

You snorted and Blue nuzzled into your chest. 

“How did you know we’d need it in here?” You asked. 

“Ah,” Anselm smiled, rubbing Blue’s back and kissing your head. “Well that’s easy, I put some in every room in the house.”

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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hey! hope your having a good day/night. i was just wondering how to make the sentences blend together better? and also any tips on like how to go into more detail? sorry if that sounds stupid lol. sorry if you already wrote about this!

I did touch on this on my writing blog @pygmi-says-hi (which has all of my writing advice/writing tips, go check it out!) on this post but I can also write about it here!

As far as details go - here are some do's and don'ts :)

don't: be too flowery.

too many adjectives or adverbs gums up the sentences and makes it hard to read. If you are trying to convey something's appearance while also describing important plot details, it's important to keep it streamlined and informative. The thesaurus is gonna be your best friend.

Keep the descriptions concise and separate from the plot sentences. My rule of thumb (not the law, do what you want, this is my process) is to keep action descriptions (fight scenes or movement montages) short and sweet, and spend more time on the exposition paragraphs. That way, the readers know what the setting looks like beforehand so that the action can still be fast-paced and easy to follow.

don't: worry about the little things

naturally, humans fill in the blanks with their imagination. You don't have to go into every nook and cranny to provide a well-rounded setting. Atmospheric writing is a way to convey the accurate mood/vibe of a setting that avoids 'white room syndrome' (aka not having any description and feeling lost without a location). Get the basics outlined and move on.

do: keep it consistent

overdescribing certain places/things and underdescribing others is not a good way to go. maybe your story works best with minimal setting and heavy emotions. or it has a sumptuous environment with richly detailed clothing and merchandise, but the plot is slowly meandering. as long as it conveys your story well, that's all that matters.

that being said - keep the style consistent. the audience will get confused if you hyperfixate on something and then ignore other things of potentially more importance.

do: prioritize

what really needs describing? what could do without the adjectives? outlining this reduces the 'heavy' feeling of paragraphs bogged down with setting descriptions.

do: maintain the vibe

group the descriptions and details together. find synonyms with a similar feel to them. example:

slimy, viscous, gelatinous, gluey, oily all kind of have the same vibe, but slippery, slick, gluey, sticky have a different vibe. the first set of words feel gross and alien. the second (to me) feel like an earthier description.

they might mean the same thing, but the sound and feel of the word has a different tone. play around and see what works!

xox hope this helps!

this is so cute! also i think you have thw wrong header bc it says 'rydal keeps asking you out' on it ❤️

Ask The Question

Outcome 3 x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 3: Drinking Game

Summary: Rydal keeps asking you out.

A/N: Opps, this is basically fluff. Thank you @thexsanctuaryx for saving my butt and beta-ing again!

Warnings: fluff, teasing, drinking, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 649

You take a shot, the whiskey burns your throat. You can’t remember if it’s your fourth or fifth, your tolerance having been consistently burned down during the course of the evening. 

There’s a pleasant buzz at the back of your head.

He chuckles, his dark eyes twinkling. “I can’t believe you didn’t want to answer that one.” 

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so relaxed, without every single muscle tensed, posed and ready to strike.

You pull a face, “I have my reasons.”

“Which are?” Amusement dances in his expression.

You pause then shake your head. “Nope.” 

“That’s unfair.” 

“Is not.” 

He shifts a little closer to you on the floor, pressing his arm against yours, “Is too.”

Outside the wind is howling, the night dark and cold. 

The light from the fire plays across his skin dreamily. 

“I took my shot.” You gesture to yourself. “I’m playing by the rules.”

He tuts playfully, “How is, ‘Are you interested in anyone right now?’ so difficult to answer?”

“You can’t trick me, mister. I’m still not gonna tell you, besides it’s your turn.” 

“Fine.” He gives you an eyebrow raise and then pretends to think. “Truth.”

You pout at him for a second and then grin wickedly. “Are you interested in anyone right now?” 

He snorts.

“See?” You gloat. “Not so chatty now are you?” 

“Yes.” 

“What?” 

“The answer’s yes.” He gives you a smug smile. “Your turn.”

“What?” You splutter. “Who?” 

“It’s your turn.” 

“Hey-”

“Rules are rules,” he nudges your shoulder again, “and it’s your turn.”

You sigh dramatically. “Alright…” You know he’s going to ask something similar again, and again if you say truth until you’re too tipsy not to answer honestly. You swallow. 

Part of you wishes he wasn’t so beautiful, wasn’t so charming. That you weren’t hopelessly head over heels in love with him. 

But he obviously had someone he had eyes on. You tried not to let the disappointment that was tearing at your insides show. 

“Dare.” You finally say. 

“A kiss.” He speaks so softly you think you must have misheard.

“Sorry?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, breathless.

“A kiss,” he repeats, leaning closer until he can brush his nose against yours. 

“I…” You don’t know what to do, what to say, your mind racing and also unhelpfully blank. 

He reaches up slowly and lightly touches your cheek in a silky sweet contact. Your skin buzzes, practically hums where his fingers brush against you. 

“A kiss.” He says a third time, barely moving his lips this time as he tilts his head to the side and closes the gap. 

He kisses you softly, gentle and sweet like he doesn’t want to break you, but he groans when your lips move against his. His touch on your cheek grows firmer, his fingers slide down to cradle the back of your neck as he flicks his tongue along your bottom lip. 

This can’t be real, can’t be happening. You’d had too much to drink and passed out on the stupidly plush carpet. 

He hums against you, his kisses growing bolder, more demanding as he licks into your mouth, teasing your tongue with his own. He tastes like the whiskey and that stupid lemon you’d dared him to eat six rounds ago. 

His lips are softer than you expected, but as skilled and firm as you’d daydreamed of.

When he finally pulls back he keeps his eyes closed, a soft lovesick smile on his face. 

You swallow nervously, all words empty from your mind.  

“You can ask me that truth now.” He says softly, his hand still on your neck, tracing soft circles along your skin that makes you shiver deliciously and ache with want. 

“I…who are you interested in?” You finally stammer out, getting lost in his dark eyes. 

He kisses you again, lightly and whispers against your lips. “You, dummy.”

Thank you for reading!

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clever boy - MK x GN!reader

reader gender is not described could be literally anything. inspired by this post that made me giggle for ten minutes

sfw, no risky content, just silly cuteness. jake isn't mentioned sorry lockley stans but maybe I'll do another version w him <3

Steven and Marc, Marc and Steven. The two of them, peas in a pod. Keeping each other company in Steven's tiny flat.

Until, you.

You'd caught both their eyes, really, but Steven called dibs because he was fronting when you'd met. Though, Marc argued, he was feeding the poor guy lines because he was blushing so hard he couldn't think straight.

From the first day, Steven wanted to jump the gun and tell you how pretty you were and invite you over forever and gush and gush but no. Marc was patient, reminding him to breathe, to take his time. They were in this together, and he didn't want his hope for your affection to be crushed by his headmate's eagerness.

So Steven sat back, hands wringing his sleeves and a stupid smile smarting his cheeks. You thought he was the sweetest thing you'd ever seen. His sass made you keel over laughing, listening to his funny recounts of ignorant customers or mishaps on the bus.

He was sweet and pretty and so, so clever.

Which is what first planted the seed of doubt that he didn't like you the way you liked him. Steven, as much as he stuttered, was sharp as a tack. He loved puzzles and trivia and escape room games (though the real thing made his hair stand on end). You thought for sure he'd sniff you out in an instant; your growing crush wasn't discreet.

But he never mentioned it, never made a move, nothing. Marc, whom you'd met a few weeks later, was also very smart. He liked deeper conversations, and his warm gaze would be intensely focused on whatever subject you'd picked. Surely, if Steven missed your hints, Marc would give him a wink and a nudge and bam, game on.

Still, nothing but platonic smiles.

Little did you know, a tug of war was raging in your friend's mind the second you left his flat.

The three of you shared a wall, so Marc ensured his whisper-fights with Steven stayed quiet.

"Too soon," Marc hissed into the kitchen mirror. It was small and round, and you had left a little sticky note with a smiley face on it for them to see in the morning.

Steven was tearing his hair out in the small frame, eyes round and watery. Mate, I've never had this much courage to do anything in my life, you know that, please, it can't be that bad!

Marc gritted his teeth. Naive little Steven.

"What if you scare them off, huh? We've known them for a month and you think they'll jump in just like that?"

Steven paused his worrying, realizing for the first time the kind of fallout that might occur. His cow eyes saddened, imagining the empty space that would replace you, if you didn't reciprocate. He couldn't live with that.

"Just a bit longer," Marc sighed, rubbing his face. He needed to sleep. Steven continued to fume, for once at odds with his best friend.

You'd noticed his distance. Steven, always happy to see you, had withdrawn. He waved quietly in the morning, and mumbled a good night when you passed his door. It stung. Marc was stoic as ever, but his jaw was tighter and he didn't look you in the eye.

Something was wrong.

So, like any good friend would, you picked up takeout and a few movies and knocked on Steven's door.

It took a few moments, but your favorite mop of curls soon peeked out from behind the frame.

"Oh, erm, uh, heya, sorry, did we plan something? I, um," Steven still didn't look you in the eye, fumbling with the latch as he stuttered through an apology. You stepped forward and touched his shoulder.

Smiling what you hoped was gently, you eased his worry. "I just wanted to say hi. I brought snacks," you said, holding up the warm bag of food.

Still nervous, Steven nodded and beckoned you inside.

Bollocks, he griped. Marc was having a conniption, trying to come up with a reason to push you back out. It's raining, Steven pleaded, and we haven't hung out for ages and Thai smells really good and they've got that cute sweater on-

That's the problem, Marc tossed back, you'll trip all over yourself like a fool. Lemme front-

Steven had to bite his lip to stop from yelling his dissent. He'd been pestering Marc to invite you over for days, now was his chance.

You were dividing the curry and rice into equal portions while he poked through the movies and games you'd brought. There were a couple of his favorites, Clue, James Bond (The originals, of course) and some he didn't recognize.

"Hey, what's this?" He grabbed a small box and peered at it. You paused your chopsticks and leaned over.

"Oh," you said around a mouthful of rice, "I dunno, Rachel from work recommended it." You picked at your food as he flipped it over to read the back.

20 Questions, it was titled. Forty different cards, each with a subject. One person had the subject and the other had to guess what it was in twenty questions or less. Only three hints allowed and nothing made-up.

"Let's do it," Steven decided. He enjoyed a challenge and if it meant he could hear your lovely voice, he wasn't complaining. Marc had fallen silent, taking to brooding in the background. Probably for the best - he wasn't very good at puzzles.

You wiped your hands on a napkin and took the first card.

"A classic movie," you read. Steven rocked on his heels for a moment, fiddling with his plate.

"Got it," he said.

You knew what to start with. Steven loved classic movies, but none of the scary ones. Probably something historical.

"Does it take place in the last fifty years?"

He nodded, chewing. One.

"Does it have a female protagonist?" Two.

He shook his head gleefully. That familiar Steven sparkle was back, and it eased the worry in your head. He wasn't so off, then. Maybe just a bad week.

"Does the man have a whip?" You were grinning, sure you'd got it. Steven's lips twitched - he knew he'd been found out.

It took only two more questions for you to guess Indiana Jones, to his shock. You blamed it on luck rather than the adorable predictability of your friend.

Steven's turn next, and it took him halfway to guess "Fondue" at Favorite food. You went back and forth, giggling at each other on the floor of his rainy flat. Steven protested when you argued that he couldn't use himself for Favorite Superhero.

"I am a hero," he wheedled, gesturing to the Moon Knight stuffie you'd got him as a joke.

"Yeah, but you can't guess yourself," you argued. Nowhere in the rules did it say that, but it felt good to have your bickering sessions. You'd missed this - bantering over stupid issues with tummies full of food and a fun game to play.

Steven blushed when you mentioned it. "Sorry," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "I got busy, 'n Marc was being pissy 'cause - yeah you were, don't be a knob," he muttered to himself. Your grin twitched at the mention of your other friend.

"How is Marc?"

He swallowed thickly. "Uhm...he's, uh, he's swell. Hang on, sorry-" There was a pause as he flickered between scowling and mumbling.

You ignored his stuttering and resumed eating. He needed space at the moment; Marc was probably arguing over something. You didn't want to make them uncomfortable.

"Sorry," Steven said sheepishly. "My turn, yeah?"

Setting down your empty plate, you nodded. Flipping a card, you saw alarm flash across his face. You laughed nervously.

"What?"

He swallowed and smiled nervously. "Nothing, nothing. Ah, I guess, we can skip it if you want...?"

You snatched the card and froze. Longtime Crush.

Fuck. Stay calm, this will be fine. A door of opportunity glowed in your mind, and you smiled.

"No. Let's do it."

Steven, still wary, nodded and tried to push away the intense shame inside. This was going to crush him. He could feel Marc's annoyance through the barrier. Told you so. Not wanting to ruin your game, he soldiered on.

"Is...are they...a man?" You nodded, eyes glittering. God this was worse than torture.

"Have you known him very long?"

You thought about it. "Yeah, I guess. Feels like forever." Great, you'd had a childhood crush all along. He never stood a chance. Marc was burying his head in his hands. Steven wanted to push him to the front so he could have a good cry, but he needed to face it. His fault you were here anyway.

"Do you see him at work?"

"N....Sometimes," you added. He scrunched his nose.

"Whaddya mean sometimes? Either you do or you-"

"Next question," you laughed. Steven wracked his brain.

"Oh, bugger, uh...." he didn't want to pry, but he couldn't think of anything.

"Need a hint?" You were on the verge of cackling. Grumpily, he shook his head.

"Does he live nearby?"

"Definitely."

He pursed his lips, thinking of your small social circle. Your work was a tiny office, there had to be a few guys that he knew.

"Does...Is he friends with our friends?"

You nodded. "He's very close."

He had to be missing something. "Fine, gimme a hint."

"Well," you began, smile stretching to the moon, "he's very clever. He'd like this game, I think. He likes to laugh, but he can be quite serious too." Ignoring the fact that you'd given him two hints, Steven's heart wilted as he noticed the starry look in your eyes. Whoever this guy was, he was a lucky chap.

Marc was miserable, gloominess radiating. Steven felt awful, he hadn't meant for this to go so poorly. Just get through the questions, Marc grumbled.

"Where does he work?"

You tapped your chin. "Well...he's got two jobs."

His eyebrows raised. "Busy fella, huh?"

"Yeah." Your lips quirked. "Almost seems like he's two people."

"What's his jobs, then?"

"Let's see...it's very unconventional," you said slowly, a cute smile on your face, "Sorta self-employed."

Steven cocked his head at the confusing answer. Self employed? That's not really a second job. Marc shrugged. We're kinda self employed, so it could be.

It was strange how many similarities he found between himself and this mystery man.

"I'll give you a hint," you said after the moment dragged. Steven vehemently shook his head.

"No, I've got it, swear."

You giggled. "it won't count, promise. He's got a pet fish."

Steven threw up his hands in exasperation. "How've I never met this man?! We sound almost identical, I'm sure I'd remember him!"

You were bent over laughing now. He sat there, bewildered, while Marc watched with growing understanding.

Steven, he hissed. Steven, hang on.

Stop being a spoilsport, I know you're mad, Steven retorted, too invested in the game.

"Marc's met him," you said between fits, tears streaking your cheeks. Marc opened his mouth again but Steven waved him away.

"Nuh uh, I can do this," he said determinedly. STEVEN! Marc was shouting now, thumping his hands in vain.

You'd stopped laughing, grinning like a loon while you waited. He'd get it now, surely, you hoped, the fading laughter revealing your anxiety.

Steven had short-circuited, eyes flicking around like a pinball machine.

"You're clever," you murmured, "you'll get it."

He snapped out of it and raked a hand through his messy curls. "Hang on, hang on, what? This doesn't- how can he be friends with our friends when the only man friend you've got is me?" He was genuinely perplexed, triggering a sympathetic smile from you.

Marc was in fits now, and Steven was getting a headache. Oi, Marc, chill out a bit, yeah? I'm trying to-

Steven for once in your life listen this is important oh my God-

"What?" he relented, mouthing sorry at you. Marc heaved a breath and closed his eyes.

You. Us. Steven, it's so obvious.

Steven rolled his eyes. "Me? You've lost it, mate, really, you've gone mad."

He froze, clapping a hand over his mouth. "Oh my days, sorry, I didn't mean to guess so soon, sorry-"

You did nothing but grin, leaning closer. "Clever boy," you whispered, then pressed your lips to his.

Marc fainted.

Steven, sweet man, had frozen, too preoccupied with his internal screaming do understand what was happening.

Oh.

oh.

His hands found their way to your cheeks and he giggled, the sweet sound muffled against your lips. It was clunky and off-centered, but it was real and he was laughing and every insecurity he'd ever had vanished in a puff of smoke.

You pulled back for a breath, but Steven hadn't finished, chasing after you with a huff. Marc, finally back online, was sitting in a lovesick stupor. Your lips were soft and your hands were rubbing soothingly down his back. A quiet solitude had blanketed the flat, now dark. Steven leaned his head on your shoulder and you hugged him tight, smiling into his neck. The two of you breathed together, winding down from the excitement of your game.

Once you'd sufficiently relaxed, you pulled away and were met with Marc's twinkling gaze.

"Y'know, I was the one that gave Steven the head's up, so I think I-"

"C'mere you," You huffed, peppering his cheeks in light pecks. He preened, taking a heavy sigh of relief. Marc leaned in and captured your lips, licking gently into your mouth. He'd definitely had more practice, and your heart sang with joy.

Game over, plates empty and hearts full, you curled up and watched the rain pitter-patter in the warm comfort of your home.

yes i think steven loves james bond. he is the type to try and figure out the mystery along with the movie. also 100% knows all cinema trivia Ever To Exist. Marc hates it.

xox thank uuuu

part 2