#dear lord it's just too fucking much i guess

[pardonmydelays]

i guess it's not normal to be scared that i will lose my job just because i am taking a week off

[randomminty]

Hbubhhuhub. Rais ea suillen

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

I'm glad nicky came up with a cool new tune because according to period movies and shows greensleeves is the only song anyone ever knew

look at that meek little smile, ughhhh. nicky is like two days old and this asshole has already figured out he's the perfect prop for her murder sprees. and these poor women are calling her sister and are willing to help too.

the spell is te accipimus in circulum, we accept you in the circle, and yes that makes me cry a little. we accept you in our community. and the spell is yellow air magic, which sounds like the most empathic kind if Lilia is any indication.

that's interesting, you can't really tell that well from screencaps but go rewatch the scene, this witch is making mushrooms grow with yellow magic instead of green?? is it just a spell (she is holding a book) or have I been getting it all wrong and color has nothing to do with the type of magic one has?

or maybe??? the color depends on the coven you're in?? the salemites all had blue magic for example. and now that I think about it the stone circle is a protection spell but it's not red/orange.

the meaning of this scene is so glaring dear lord. agatha was never going to give these women a chance to prove that yes, there are people out there who could love and help and accept her. she has shut herself up to that possibility a long time ago.

and she stole the soup too. awful.

I've seen all the different theories about nicky needing to feed on witches too, or nicky needing soul sacrifices to survive because he's the son of death etc. we don't have enough evidence to prove anything yet, but personally I headcanon nicky as a totally normal kid, that makes this story even more tragic.

and aww that baby suckling on the little pudgy fist

nicky doesn't look that happy about what he's been asked to do, does he?

we establish that nicky was sickly (maybe he was born with some internal defect that rio temporarily patched up?) we also see him steal the bell agatha will use for her Road scam in the future.

and we meet yet another witch being kind and wanting to help.

agatha: I love this six year old so much I'm gonna make him accessory to murder

dO yOU ShaME YouR MOtHER

and the big fake gasp too. as usual this bitch has conned a whole community

like, she's convinced herself that other witches are bad and are after her WHILE relying on witches's good hearts to con and kill them. what sort of mental gymnastics???

color goes from yellow to purple. nicky waits outside while his mom commits murder, it's not a good look on agatha. completely fucked up, actually.

(I'm terrified that the goat will end up being an agent of mephisto or something idiotic like that, lemme tell you. I hope they're just keeping it for milk and company.)

and here's the million dollar question. nicky has seen his mom kill literally since he was born, and now he's old enough to start realizing what that means.

oooh I know that look, that's agatha when she's put on the spot. she avoids his gaze, she can't be sincere with him.

and of course she's teaching herself spells from a book. nerrrrrrd

nicky, bless his soul, appears to give it a good thought and then offers a practical suggestion. I guess he wouldn't mind to have a roof on his head and some friends too.

GREAT acting from kathryn here. the quick OH SHIT face followed by the super final NO, with her jaw so rigid. in typical agatha fashion, when she's upset she becomes avoidant.

this is evanora's legacy. despite agatha's immense love for nicky, she is passing all that pain down and inflicting it on him.

remember when she called billy a survivor? this is the greatest asset in her opinion, the one she wants to teach her son. the truth is, she is angry at witches because she is scared of them, she's scared of being targeted again. but look at that kid's dark circles, I can't believe she's making him sleep in the woods, sick as he is!

really really fantastic subtlety. agatha wants to sound wise and strong, but she looks scared, uncertain, guilty.

see how nicky looks at agatha while he sings? he's checking to see if she's noticing, because his mom likes music and likes his voice. he's afraid he has upset her and wants to make her smile. he tried to reason with her, and now he tries to soothe her. this is what happens when you have an immature parent, a child will want to help, they will try to fix things. they'll end up parenting their parent, and it should always be the other way round.

agatha takes the bait. she's relieved that the conversation has moved to a safer subject. but oh, this script is so good. this is a mostly innocent, mostly sweet remark, but with a possessive undertone. don't forget that you are mine, she says.

and still, the love is real. even in a fucked up situation like this, these moment of happiness are precious and genuine and will linger on. look at how adoringly nicky looks at his mom, she's literally the sun and center of his small world, and that's how agatha likes it: she created nicky because she needed someone who could be hers without any baggage or consequences. but it turns out that raising a child is not a cheat code for love, it's one of the most difficult, most significant and impactful decisions a human can make.

go to episode 9 part 3

[appocalipse]

summary: you were way too drunk last night and said some funny things...so, of course, steve had no other option but take you to his place to take care of you. :)

read part 1 here

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

Your head hurts.

Everything feels a little weird, in fact, but especially your head, spinning and throbbing and, when you try to pry your eyes open, the sudden harsh light streaming into the room feels like it's physically boring straight through your brain.

"Fuck," you whimper pitifully, eyes squeezing shut once more. Your ears are ringing, there's a coppery film lining the inside of your mouth and, for a terrible second, your stomach churns dangerously. "Fuck."

Someone hums somewhere near your right ear. A low, gravelly, vaguely amused sort of hum. There is absolutely nothing and no one alive on this green earth that would hum in that particular fashion except your best friend.

You peel your eyelids apart with great difficulty. When you tilt your head to the right, you see Steve sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing down at you with a soft look on his face.

Naturally, you proceed to freak the fuck out.

"Jesus Christ," you cry, scrambling backwards until you feel the back of your head slam against the headboard with a resounding thud. The dull throb in the back of your skull intensifies, and you have to fight back the urge to throw up. "Ow! Shit, I—What—what happened? Why are you in my—"

Hold on a second...this is not your room.

You cast an anxious, furtive glance around the unfamiliar setting of Steve Harrington's guest room. Panic floods your veins and has your heart hammering in your chest when you notice that you're clad in only one of his shirts and sweatpants that definitely don't belong to you.

Oh, Dear Lord.

Did something happen last night that you can't remember? Did something — oh, God, no.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you as though he can read your mind. "Relax. Nothing happened, relax, come back down," he coos gently, placing a placating hand on your arm. "And I...I didn't see anything, if that's what you're worried about. Nancy and Robin, uh...they helped you shower and get changed last night. Not me."

You cover your face with both hands, letting out a muffled groan as your memories come trickling back in. You don't remember every little detail from the previous night, but what you do remember is already more than enough to fill you with mortification and regret.

"...you said some pretty interesting things while you were drunk, though."

"Shut up," you mumble, peeking up at him through splayed fingers, "go away."

"Really, though," Steve continues, the teasing glint in his eyes a sure sign that he is very much enjoying your suffering, "who knew you found me so attractive?"

"Oh, Jesus," you mutter, groaning as you slide down to hide underneath the comforter, "where are my clothes? I want to leave now."

Steve snickers but makes no move to get up from his perch on the bed. You can hear the rustling of fabric, like he's adjusting his position as he waits for you to come out from under the blanket. "Clothes are in the wash, sorry," he says, sounding very much not sorry at all. "You, um, thought it was a good idea to lie down on the grass last night."

"Kill me now."

"Nope," he chirps, quite cheerfully so, "can't do that, because then who would watch Back to the Future with me tonight?"

You part the comforter just enough to peer up at him from beneath the thick layer of blanket.

"'Back to the Future'?" you echo, trying to ignore the fact that you feel a little lightheaded when Steve smiles down at you.

He looks nice. He always does, but even more so now for some reason — you're guessing it has something to do with the fact that you just woke up and haven't had the time to mentally prepare yourself for seeing him up close yet.

"Mmhmm. You up for it?"

"I'm pretty sure that my head is literally going to explode any time now." 

It's really not that bad anymore, but Steve doesn't need to know that, does he?

He nods seriously in agreement. "Right, because you drank way more than you should've last night. Might have mentioned something about rules and...mhmm, what was it? Oh, yes, dying if I didn't let you touch my hair…?"

"No, I didn't."

"You really did," he tells you, leaning back on the heels of his palms, "but don't worry, it was cute."

"I am very much worried," you say miserably.

Steve lets out a quiet sigh and leans forward again, hands reaching out to tug the blanket down far enough to uncover your face completely. "Come on," he says, "do you need anything? Aspirin, maybe? Food? Water?"

You consider his offer, taking the time to mull it over while you avoid his gaze. 

"Why did you bring me home with you?" you ask, curious despite yourself. "Why didn't you just take me home?"

"You, uh...really didn't want me to. Pretty much refused to let go of me all night."

"Steve."

"No, really!" he insists, holding both hands up in surrender. "It was like trying to pry a koala off a tree. You even asked—"

You let out a helpless moan of protest and turn away from him as much as you can, hiding your face in the pillow. Steve laughs, clearly delighted by the fact that he's managed to thoroughly embarrass you in less than ten minutes.

"You asked me if I—"

"I don't wanna know!"

"—would sleep in your bed with you."

"Nope," you whisper, your voice coming out a little garbled due to the way you've pressed your face into the pillows, "don't wanna hear it. Shut up, Steve, oh my God. Please."

"It was very adorable."

"I was drunk."

"Still. Cute."

You prop your head up on your elbow so that you can see him a little better, keeping the blanket held tightly around your shoulders as you do. "Sorry I called you. I don't even remember doing it, Tina just told me to and…sorry."

Steve looks down at his lap, shifting a little uncomfortably on the bed.

"I don't mind," he says, lifting his gaze up to meet yours briefly. "You said you missed me. At the party."

A dry, humorless chuckle leaves you and you cringe when the sudden motion sends a sharp pain lancing through your forehead. "Ow. Of course you would remember that," you say, cheeks heating up.

"Do you...remember everything?"

You blink, momentarily confused by the sudden change in conversation. "Everything?" you ask, more to buy yourself some time than anything else.

"You, um..." Steve trails off, clearly unsure of how to broach the topic with you, "you said I made you feel…stuff inside. That you felt stuff. Or something like that. Do you...remember saying that?"

You can practically feel all the color draining out of your face, leaving behind a blank canvas that hides none of your inner panic. 

"Uh...no, no, I don't. Do you have a...I need to, um, use your bathroom, like, right now, if you don't mind."

Steve blinks. "Oh, okay. Sure. I bought you a toothbrush earlier, by the way. It's in the medicine cabinet if...if you want."

"Yep," you say, climbing out from under the blanket with as much dignity as you can muster (which is very little), "yep, okay, thanks. I'm...gonna go do that. Now. Okay, bye."

You spend a good five minutes inside the bathroom splashing water in your face while silently wishing for death to come claim you sooner rather than later. Then, you brush your teeth with the toothbrush Steve left out for you — which is totally not cute, it's not cute, why did he do that, ugh, damn him — before venturing out into the hall.

"Steve?"

"Kitchen," he calls out from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, "you want pancakes?"

You hesitate.

The idea of staying to have breakfast alone with Steve Harrington seems oddly intimate after last night, a dangerous prospect that will undoubtedly lead to awkward small talk and more teasing. However, he did go out of his way to buy you a toothbrush this morning...

You swallow down the nervousness you feel and pad barefoot down the staircase into the foyer, following the sounds of clinking utensils and soft humming to the kitchen.

Steve looks up from his place at the stove when you appear in the doorway.

"Hey," he greets, giving you a quick once over. "How's your head?"

"Feels like there's a little person in there hitting it repeatedly with a little hammer," you admit, grimacing a little as you come further into the room and sit down at the island. "Thanks, by the way. For helping me out last night. And today. I really am sorry for...um, you know, that."

"'That'?"

You purse your lips and Steve grins.

"Yes, that," you mutter, swiveling your seat from left to right while you watch him attempt to read a recipe on the back of a box of pancake mix. "Drunk me is like, twice as embarrassing as sober me."

"Embarrassing isn't the word I'd use."

"Please," you scoff, "I was pathetic. I could barely walk by myself."

Steve glances back at you. "I didn't think you were pathetic."

You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically.

"Okay, maybe a little pathetic," he concedes with a little snort, "but mostly just…sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Yeah, sweet. Don't know if anyone's ever told you that before."

"Sweet," you say again, the headache suddenly no more than an afterthought. "That's how you'd describe me?"

Steve, apparently having given up on making sense out of the instructions on the back of the box, turns around to lean against the counter behind him and studies you with his arms folded loosely over his chest.

"Yes," he says, tilting his head to the side a little. "Not the word you expected me to say?"

There's something about the way he's looking at you. It's warm and piercing all at once, like he can see right through you. It makes it hard for you to breathe all of a sudden, hard for you to do anything but gape at him like a goldfish that's been pulled out of water.

"Uh, I'm...confused."

"Me too," he admits with a little huff of laughter. "I was thinking about what you said."

"About your hair?"

"No, well, yeah, but—" Steve pauses, dragging a hand down his face with a weary sigh. "Look, what you said to me yesterday, about the things I make you feel, I—"

"I said I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize," Steve interrupts, shooting you an unamused look, "I'm trying to say something here, come on, give me a sec."

"Right. Sorry. Go on."

"You're not supposed to apologize for apologizing."

"I'm s—okay, right. Mouth shut."

Steve purses his lips to stifle his amusement at your antics. You fold your arms in front of your chest and keep your gaze fixed firmly on the marble countertop as you wait for him to continue.

"I, uh," he says, pushing himself away from the counter so that he can wander over to the other side of the kitchen, where you sit, "I feel things too, you know. With you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he stops beside you, "'Oh'. Weird, right?"

You'd like to, but can't think of anything clever to say that would serve as a suitable response. You don't think Steve's looking for one, anyway, because he reaches out to tap his fingers lightly on the back of your hand, taking a seat on the stool next to yours.

"S'weird, 'cause I don't know if you meant what you said when you were drunk, or if it was just the alcohol talking, or what."

You shake your head quickly, and then wince because of the way the headache thuds behind your right eye.

"Robin says I'm an idiot and should stop being such a chicken," he continues, with a slight roll of his eyes. "And Eddie says if I don't 'shut up and tell you how I feel soon', he'll do it for me."

You nod, smiling despite your hangover. "Eddie's, uh, got a point, no?"

"Maybe," Steve allows, rubbing absently at the side of his neck.

He lets his hands slide down to the legs of your stool, fingers curling around the metal of each side. You don't quite understand what he's doing until he gives them a light tug, jerking you closer to him without warning.

You let out a little shriek of surprise as you reach up to clutch onto the first solid thing your hands find — his forearms. 

"Ah! What—Steve!"

He's got an amused smile on his face, but his eyes are bright and nervous all at once. Steve pushes your stool even closer to him, until your knees knock against his own and he's forced to lean down to keep his eyes on you.

You hold his gaze steadily as he edges closer. "What are you doing?" you murmur, watching his eyes flit downward to track the movement of your tongue as it peeks out to wet your dry lips.

"Not sure yet," Steve hesitates when your lips are a hairsbreadth apart. He watches, half-dazed, half-entranced by the way you stare back at him, unblinking. "But I've got a theory."

"A theory?"

He lowers his head toward yours. You press your hands flat against the hard plane of his chest to steady yourself, fingers splaying over the soft material of his t-shirt as you curl them around the fabric. Steve exhales, and you can feel his breath on your skin, a soft tickle that raises the goosebumps all over your skin.

"Wanna hear it?"

You nod slowly, aware of the way his eyes darken as they trace your face. He's so close that you can make out the fine dusting of freckles and moles that litter his skin, the long fan of his lashes as they flutter to a close. If you moved even slightly, your lips would brush against his.

"What's your…your theory?" you whisper.

You can feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest as he releases his hold on your stool, lifts both hands up to cradle your face instead. He slides the tips of his fingers along the side of your neck, lets his thumb trace your jaw.

"I think," Steve says, and you can tell he's struggling to string two coherent words together when you feel his thumb quiver against your cheekbone. "I think that, uh, you're—Christ, I—"

His nose brushes against yours and you tilt your chin up instinctively, chasing the brief contact. You smirk. "Christ, you...?"

"Shut up," Steve huffs out a breathless laugh. "I'm getting to it."

"Are you?" you tease, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, your turn to pull him towards you gently.

Steve goes easily, moving his hand from your face to brace the back of your neck. "I think," he starts, eyes crinkling at the corners, "that I might be in love with you."

It's such an unforeseen, unexpected confession that your heart almost gives out in your chest. 

You gape up at him, at his crooked grin, at his rosy cheeks. "You think?"

He blinks and then squints down at you like he can't decide whether he wants to be annoyed at your antics or kiss you. You hope for the latter, but he says, "What're you, a parrot?"

Shrugging, you're unable to keep your lips from quirking into a grin of your own. "Rude."

Steve's head falls forward and he rests his forehead against yours. You can feel his pulse thundering wildly against the hand you've pressed flat against his chest, and it makes you feel a little better about your own pounding heart.

"M'sorry."

You smooth a hand over his shirt and hook a finger under the neckline. "Forgiven," you tell him.

"Good," Steve says, nudging his nose against yours playfully.

You want to say something else, maybe tease him about his hair or something equally as inconsequential, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he leans down and closes the distance between you with a slow, tentative press of his lips to yours.

Now, Steve's mouth is soft and warm, and he kisses you like he's got all the time in the world. You shiver when he drags his fingers up the back of your neck, tangling them in your hair so that he can pull you closer yet.

You only pull back when the need to breathe becomes too urgent, giggling at the little noise of protest he lets out as you do. But Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he pulls you back in almost immediately, the movement so abrupt that you nearly topple backwards off the stool.

"Steve—I..." you manage to say, between your giggles and the heated press of his lips against yours. "I still...need to breathe, mister."

He huffs out a little laugh against the side of your neck, nips at the sensitive skin in retaliation. You squeal in delight and jab him playfully in the stomach, laughing as he recoils in mock agony.

"Stop laughing," Steve complains, the warmth of his own laughter tickling the underside of your chin when he nuzzles his nose into your neck once more, "come on, you're ruining the moment."

"Wait," you breathe, right before his lips meet yours again, "so...no pancakes, then?"

He drops his forehead against your shoulder and shakes with quiet laughter."You," Steve mumbles into the side of your neck, "are something else, you know that?"

You grin. "Apparently, you like that. Love that...no?"

You can feel him smile, the stretch of his lips curving against the skin of your shoulder.

"Apparently...yeah, I do. I do."

[mari-the-bimbo]

Bus stops on dodgy roads

Sukuna x reader

A/N: Hey my lovelies! I know i been gone a while but he’s just a random thought I made into a fanfic! Enjoy! <33

Going to University in a rough area is definitely not for the weak.

Classes finishing at 7 in the evening, studying the notes in the library until 11 because your dorm doesn’t have a desk, meaning you’re waiting at the bus stop in the dead of the night with the local drug dealers, police sirens blaring in the back, but you try to tune it out with ‘like a tattoo by Sade’ blasting your your earphones.

But you just happen to be god’s strongest soldier.

Well.. at least you think you are.

Strangely enough, you do not feel threatened by the drug dealers who wait for the same bus, the silent agreement to mind your own business is mutual.

But more strangely, you notice the drug dealers aren’t here today, so you sit alone at the bus stop, the dry air hitting your face.

“Here all alone sweetheart?” Says a croaky voice in the silence, you turn your gaze to the ugly looking man who reeks of blood and alcohol. You don’t recognise him so you pretend you didn’t hear him, silently praying it’s not your blood splattered next.

You flitch as he snatches your earphones out your ear and throws it to the ground, shit, why did it have to be you?

“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me you stupid bitch, how much for a fuck before I make you do it for free”

You subtly reach for your pocket knife and you answer him defensively “I’m not a whore, go ask somebody else”, calling police would be useless, by the time they arrive you’ll already be roadkill.

You watch him seeth at your attitude as you gulp, realising a bit too late that was the wrong move.

You watch a black Bugatti pass, a car you knew probably belonged to an even dodgier person but you were desperate. You throw a rock at the car and scream “HELPPP!!”.

The man only gets angrier as he punches you for drawing attention, you fall to the ground with curses from your mouth but luckily the sleek car halts, before reversing slowly until it’s in front of you.

“g-get up you bitch” the man hurriedly orders, reaching out to pull you up but your new found confidence allows you to kick him before you hurriedly stand up yourself.

Before you can react again, you hear a deep voice boom through the abandoned road’ “Oi”

The black tinted windows of the Bugatti slides down to reveal a tatted man, a bit older than you but scarily handsome nonetheless. The creep’s eyes widens before speaking “Boss! I- I was just going to deal with this bitch becau-“

“Who asked?”

You stare quietly, taking in the interaction between the creep and his boss in the car.

“Did I not order you to report back to me once you were done with the job?” The boss asked. You didn’t even want to guess what the ‘job’ was.

“Sir this bitch got in my way so-“

“Shut up” the boss cut him off before his red eyes connected with yours, a shiver travels down your spine at the contact.

“Leave us alone” he says, you take a step backwards thinking he’s talking to you but realise you’re wrong when the creep walks away shakily.

Your own legs start to shake slightly in realisation of who this man could be.

“Hey pretty girl”

You gulp “Hi s-sir”

A chuckle erupts from the man at your immediate obedience compared to how animalistic you were with the other. “Why you calling me sir, you work for me too?” He asks. You struggle to find words so you simply shake your head.

He keeps eye contact with you as he puts out his cigarette that was hanging from his mouth. “Call me Sukuna”

The leg almost threatened to give in from the shake as he confirms your fears, he was the city’s drug lord Sukuna.

“Thanks Sukuna”

“No worries dear, why don’t you be a good girl and let me drop you home” he asks, you know it’s a command rather than an offer.

“T-thanks but my bus will be here any minute” you reply with a shaky smile.

His gaze is unnerving as he answers “your bus won’t be coming”

Your confused silence allows him to answer the question you were thinking.

He points in the direction that the creepy man left, “You see, I ordered him to kill some rats on that bus, the bus will be terminated in 3..2…”

“What” you whisper in disbelief.

“..1”

You look up at the digital bus stop timer.

“Zero”

‘Service currently unavailable. We apologise for this inconvenience’ the digital screen reads.

You stare back at him in disbelief. He was too good, devilishly good, and you were now putty in his tatted hands. All the questions left on the tip of your tongue disappears, Sukuna only offers an illegally beautiful smile to you.

“Well?” He says, “I really don’t like offering repeating myself dear”

Without missing a beat, you run to the passenger side door and enter the car.

To hell with morals and ethics, when you live in the ghetto, survival is your main priority.

You sit in the luxury leather seats with cowardly stature. Sukuna starts his engine and drives off.

“You know it’s breaks my heart to see a pretty girl like you wait in the cold like that dear” he teases gruffly, a new cigarette hanging from his lips. “Not your first time waiting there is it?”

“No” you reply but then you pause, wait how does he know that?

“How do you-“

“I know my city better than anyone, every corner and.. bus stop” he adds to lighten the mood, you can’t help the small giggle that escaped you, it’s hard not to when your saviour happens to be an big, attractive, clearly untouchable man who smells like oud and leather.

“Think I’m funny doll?” He says with a smile, red eyes still on the road.

“Only a little-” you reply before immediately closing your mouth in fear, you fix your posture when you suddenly remember this isn’t some friend of yours but rather the most powerful man in the city that could easily have your head.

He chuckles, “easy, easy doll. No need to humble me like that”

“Sorry” you say with a meek smile.

He looks at you and back on the road. There was no denying Sukuna found you adorable, you were amusing to him, and what kissable looking lips you had.

“You can joke around with me doll, consider me a friend hm?” He says as his hands move to the back of your neck, stroking it ever so gently, goosebumps quickly rise making the tatted man laugh as you look at him embarrassed.

He parks in the uni dorm car park. Before slowly turning his head towards you, you feel comfortable enough to look him face to face now, you offer him a smile “thank you dropping me off Sukuna… and also saving me back there.. I know he’s one of your man but still-“

Your sentence dies at the back of your throat when his rough hand strokes your cheek, “did it hurt?” He says, he’s serious now. “A bit..” you answer.

Your breath hitches as he leans forwards and presses his mouth to your ear “I’ll take care of him when I get back, you will never see him again, okay?” He says and you nod in understanding of what that entails.

“Such a smart girl” he coos gruffly as he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Thank you again Sukuna”

Another smile comes to his handsome face as he tilts his head “and how exactly do you wish to thank me dear?”

You gulp as you stare at the handsome devil, seducing you so easily, you feel embarrassed when he notices your thighs squeezed together, while Sukuna makes a mental note of the dirty things he’s going to do with those plush thighs next time.

He licks his lips, and you unintentionally imitate him. He shakes his head and bites his bottom teeth, he can’t hold back anymore, oh girl.. what have you started?

Suddenly his wet lips press against your own, moulding with the shapes of yours, his sloppy tongue makes sure you can taste the tobacco as you moan at the feeling, he chuckles into your mouth before pulling away.

You pull away with a gasp, he smiles, looking nowhere near as breathless as you, just admiring your beautiful face. He thumb plays with your bottom lip

“Well shit.. You’ve started something I gotta finish doll”

[mt-oe]

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧…𝐃𝐖𝐌𝐀?—soul eater au mizu!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Firstly, thank you so much for always leaving funny and kind replies on my fics, and being so nice all the time <3 All of you motivate me so much and make me enjoy writing more ////

Second, I know this isn't a request, but it's my birthday today! I have no idea how to celebrate this year and what better way than to make a crossover with the first anime I've ever loved?

Truly, I'm so happy to be making something anyone can enjoy on my birthday. Thank you so much for appreciating my writing <3

Hope all of you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, mentions of weaponry, she/her he/him they/them for mizu, reader thinks mizu is a man

note/s: made mizu the weapon because of the scene where she said she was made of mixed metal

...

Ah...

It's so motherfucking hot.

Is Nevada...always like this?

Fuck.

"How much more?" you groaned out loud to yourself, collapsing on the seemingly never-ending staircase for the nth time that morning. Sweat was dripping down your forehead and back like bullets. You could feel your head pounding and spinning from the sweltering heat, too painful to even look up at the sun that was, quite literally, laughing at you.

But, you knew you couldn't give up right now. Not when the school of your dreams was just at the top, waiting for you. Your index finger hooked itself under your collar as you got up again and started making your way up again. "Ah damn it. Why the hell is the sun laughing?!" you yelled, voice hoarse from the drought in your throat. Step by step and complaint after complaint.

It took you a while—a long long loooooong while—but after a few more collapses and some prayers to Lord Shinra, you finally arrived. Wiping the sweat off of your face, you looked up and marveled at the grandeur of the building in front of you.

Death Weapon Meister Academy. DWMA for short.

The place where weapons and meisters from all-over the globe gather. A well-known institution dedicating itself to preventing the formation of another kishin through training students in combat and teaching to control their abilities as weapons. Entrusted and funded by countries all-over the globe, that's how much of a bigshot this place was.

Everyone on the goddamn planet knew about it. The school that the world's hero headed and where the world's heroes were formed. Anyone in their right mind dreamed of attending school here. Heck, this was your life long dream since you were a little kid. Luckily for you, you were born in a family with a lineage of meisters so admission was an easy process.

Thank you, dear ancestors. I hope all of you are resting well.

With a bated breath, you took a step forward, the wind cooling your body down as you looked around. This place was absolutely beautiful. Even more than what you had imagined or seen in pictures. The strong breeze blew against you, making the vastness of the place felt. Turning around, you gasp at the beautiful view of Death City.

'Guess this'll be my new home,' you thought with a small smile, taking in the scenery. The houses looked like little dollhouses from above, so cute and quaint. Despite being surrounded by the desert, the city did not look even the slightest amount of dead. In fact, it looked quite busy with all the people out on the streets.

You sighed dreamily, thinking about the life you'll be living from now own. All the lessons you'll learn, the friends you'll meet, what the dorms looked like, how the food tastes. You'd probably face a lot problems too.

But, first things first, you have to find a weapon.

That shouldn't be a problem, right? I mean, look around. Students were walking and mingling all around you and some of them were alone. There's probably lots of weapons that were in the same situation as you. Maybe you could ask them?

Stepping inside the building, you fully expected someone, maybe a student or a faculty member assisting the newcomers. But what you saw was the last thing you could have thought of. The moment you came in, by a table where some brochures were placed, you immediately found...a zombie?

You looked up at him, eyes wide open and shaken by his existence. The zombie stared—was he even staring? You couldn't even tell—back at you, a slightly serious but overall neutral expression on his purple face. 'Welcome Freshmen!' the sign above the door near him said. This was definitely a unique welcome. You opened your mouth to say something but couldn't find the words.

...

"Weapon or meister?"

HOLY SHIT IT TALKS.

Your body jolted at the sound of his voice before looking behind you to check if he was talking to you. You nodded before opening your mouth to reply, a string of stuttered incoherent words could be heard before you finally replied. "M-Meister," you replied nervously.

The figure nodded and handed you a brochure and a nameplate with the word 'meister' on it. "You can find a partner inside. If you don't, there's a dorm warming party in the evening." His blank eyes stared at you for a moment longer before he spoke again, "I'm Sid. A faculty member. Welcome to DWMA."

Attaching the tag on your shirt, you nodded at him with a slight smile. Seems like he was a good guy after all. "Thank you sir," you said, heading inside the room.

Inside, lots of students have gathered already. Some were just chatting amongst themselves and some where trying to convince others to be their partner. There were some who were arguing over who another person would choose. However, there were those who just sat somewhere, waiting for someone to approach them.

Similar to them, you sat down on a random chair, looking around at who could be your potential partner. You knew you couldn't choose just willy-nilly. The wavelength of your souls had to match and so does your personality. No one wants a partner that they couldn't get along with after all.

After a few more students entered, Sid closed the door before clearing his throat to gather everyone's attention. "I guess this should be everyone," he said, looking around and nodding. "I'll reintroduce myself. I'm Sid, a faculty member here in DWMA. All of you are gathered here to find your partner."

At the mention of 'partner', your heart began beating faster from excitement. The thought of finally finding someone whose soul matches yours, to go on adventures with and defeat bad guys with, thrilled you. "Once you're sure, head over to me to register. Registration ends a day before class starts."

With that, you pushed yourself up from your seat to begin interacting with others. Though it soon dawned on you that interacting wasn't the hard part nor was it finding someone who's personality was compatible with yours.

It was finding someone whose soul was on the same wavelength.

The first attempt you had tried was with a young woman who claimed to have lived in Nevada her whole life. Her weapon form was a baseball bat, and you would soon come to know that weapons that were incompatible with their meisters were immovable. Literally.

Upon transforming in your hands, an indescribably heavy weight suddenly pulled you down to the floor. With determination, you placed your hands on the handles and tried your best to lift her up to no avail. Both of you apologized to each other before going off to look for another person to try connecting with. In short, your souls didn't match. Incompatible.

You tried again, now with a morning star. Again. Incompatible.

Again. A 9mm pistol? Incompatible.

A butterfly knife? Incompatible.

A sabre? Incompatible.

A gauntlet? Incompatible.

A karambit? Incompatible.

A rapier? Incompatible.

Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible.

A sense of defeat washed over you as most people in the room soon found a partner, some even a trio. The event finally ended with you being one of the only people who wasn't able to find a partner. Your stomach twisted with disappointment though Sid tried to reassure you.

After receiving your monthly allowance, you headed to the dorms to finally get your room assignment. You knew it was childish to feel so down especially when the deadline for the registration was still a few days away, but you couldn't help yourself.

'What if I don't find one?' you thought to yourself, frowning as you watched your senior introduce the dorms to everyone. Worry was running through you, making it impossible for you to pay complete attention to what she was saying.

Going up the stairs, you were finally introduced to your room. Trying your best to cheer up, you thought maybe your roommate could be the weapon you were looking for. Or maybe you could be besties or something.

However, as soon as you reached your room, your senior suddenly stopped before you could enter. "Err...I know this is a bit difficult to understand, but as of the moment, you don't have a roommate yet," your senior, who you found out was named Tsugumi, said with a sheepish smile. "B-But don't worry! They said they already had someone in mind. Your roommate just..umm...didn't appear today."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. What do you mean you don't have a roommate yet? Was this some sort of joke? You haven't even made a friend yet nor have you found a weapon, and now your roommate was missing.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking a bit nervous from your reaction. You tried your best to give her a smile, but the curve of your lips just wouldn't cooperate as easy as it usually did. "Yeah. I'm okay! Just a bit worried," you replied.

Tsugumi doesn't seem to be convinced but decided to let you be anyway. "I'm sure she's fine. I heard she was penalized for dueling with another student without faculty supervision. She'll probably be here by tomorrow. For the meantime, why don't you settle in?" she tried to reassure you, to which you nodded with a small smile of your own. "I will. Thank you."

After she left, you opened the door to your room before stepping in. Closing the door behind you, you sighed and made your way to the bed. The bed squeaked slightly under your weight, echoing throughout the room. A sigh leaving your lips as you looked around.

"The dorm warming party. If I don't find a partner or a roommate there, I'm speaking to the faculty," you whispered to yourself with a push of exhausted determination. You stood up again and gave yourself a little puff of air. For the meantime, you fixed your side of the room. At least you could pick which bed was more comfy.

---

Evening soon came by and most students in your dorm had gathered to celebrate the dorm warming party, though it was obviously turned into some weapon-meister finding event again, you didn't mind. You were just as desperate as the other students.

As everyone interacted with one another, you once again tried your best to find a weapon whose soul matched with yours.

You met a man, a karambit, who hailed from the same country as you so you got along quite well immediately. Having someone to talk to about familiar experiences especially in terms of culture and tradition comforted you despite your situation. Maybe the similarities you had could tie your soul's frequencies together?

After a few more chats, the two of you decided to try and see if your souls matched. However, upon his transformation, the familiar physical and emotional weight of rejection pulled you down. You, once again, couldn't lift him up. Incompatible.

Oh death, what was going on? Why can't you find someone to be your partner?

Apologizing to the man, you mingled with the other students, determination wavering but not depleted. No, you weren't going to let the night end without a weapon.

A flail? Incompatible.

A scythe? Incompatible.

A tanto? Incompatible.

A machete? Incompatible.

An M16? Incompatible.

A musket? Incompatible.

A double-crossguard long sword?

You didn't even know those existed but still...Incompatible.

Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible.

A deep disappointed sigh left your lips as you stepped out of the dorm to get some air. This was unbelievable. You've been trying all day! At this point, you were starting to doubt if you were ever going to find a partner.

Dear ancestors, I'm sorry if I disappoint you.

Groaning, you made your way to the city. Maybe a bit of exploration would cheer you up. Step by step, you made your way down the stairs to the streets of Death City. The streets were a lot more quiet than it was earlier. Only a few shops were still open and it looked like they were getting ready to close too.

It didn't really matter to you though. You were just here to take a walk anyway.

As the night deepened, the streets soon grew dimmer and dimmer. Soon enough, you found yourself lost within the city's labyrinth-like streets. An eerie aura soon covered the dark streets, as if you were going to get kidnapped any mome—Hey no! Don't think like that! You're fine, you're fine! Perfectly fine haha.

Nervously, you hummed a small shaky tune to distract you from the spooky atmosphere, turning around to try and make your way back to the dorms. Suddenly, the wind blew incredibly cold, goosebumps ran down your skin. A feeling that someone was watching you suddenly loomed over you, making your stomach flip.

"N-No that can't be haha," you told yourself, rubbing your arms to try and get rid of the shakes in your system. "The city is safe. The city is safe. It's just my imagination. I'm just really upset and I'm imagi—"

crash!

"—ning..things.."

Your blood suddenly ran cold at the sudden loud sound, heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears. That was definitely not your imagination. That sounded very real and that sounded like it happened right fucking behind you.

Hesitantly, you turned around slowly to take a look, hoping it was just a cat or something. But upon looking, the only thing you saw were sharp blue orbs staring at you. Glaring at you.

Oh shit.

Immediately, you sprinted forward, hoping to find someone or something that could help you. Your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and your legs ached as you continued to push yourself beyond the limits of your corporeal body.

This was absolutely the worst day of your life.

First, you couldn't find a weapon whose soul matched yours. Second, your roommate, who you had hoped to be friends with, didn't appear. And now, you were being chased by someone or something that you couldn't even see from how dark it was. Worse of all, you couldn't fight because you didn't have a FUCKING WEAPON!

You could hear the mysterious figure's footsteps following close behind you, chasing you down tirelessly through the dirty and smelly streets. Your knees trembled from fatigue, heartbeat echoing louder than your footsteps. But the person chasing you sounded so close, you couldn't stop now.

Suddenly, the footsteps disappeared, the sound no longer following you as you ran. A part of your brain sighed in relief at it's disappearance, but the other part felt more paranoid from its absence. The logical side of you knew that it didn't disappear. There was no way it would after chasing you for so long.

Your suspicions were confirmed as a new sound could be heard behind you from a distance. Footsteps significantly heavier than those chasing you before. Looking back as you ran, your eyes widened in fear as you saw red eyes staring at you hungrily from a distance. A big burly bald man, reaching past 6 feet, carrying a mace heading your way. To make things worse, as you ran forward, you were immediately stopped as the streets cut off into a dead end, leaving you with nowhere to go.

Turning around, you looked at the person chasing. Without a doubt, this man's soul was definitely a kishin egg. But fuck, you can't do shit. Not without a weapon.

A shaky breath left your lips as you looked up at the sky, slowly accepting that this was where you were going to die. A weaponless meister whose journey in DWMA barely began. Your eyes glazed with tears, both of frustration and fear, looking up at the moon that was...grinning?

"Oh why the hell are you smiling?" you muttered, glaring at it. Hearing the man's footsteps close to you, you turned to look at him fearfully. The man didn't smile, nor did he talk, his arms merely lifted his mace up as he approached your defeated figure.

Man...at least this dude had a weapon, you thought. Ears ringing, you closed your eyes and waited for your impeding death.

...

Why is it not hurting yet?

...

Any moment now?

"Are you going to keep standing there?" a strained voice asked. Immediately, you opened your eyes to see a tall figure, hair in a bun, blocking the mace with what seemed to be a katana. You opened your mouth to speak but before you could, the figure had already turned to look down at you with a glare.

A soft gasp leaving your lips as you saw his eyes.

Blue. Like the ones from earlier.

The hypnotizing shade shaking you to the core, but at the same time hypnotizing your soul.

Realizing that you were frozen in place, your savior let out a loud "tsk" before looking back up at the kishin egg. As the enemy lifted his mace to swing it down, Mizu parried it with great force, a loud metallic crack resonating in the air as small bits of the sword flew. Upon seeing this opening, his hands grabbed your wrist, slipping away from the enemy and dragging you along the streets.

Static went through your mind as the two of you ran. Your eyes never leaving the mysterious new person's figure. It seems that there weapon from earlier wasn't a demon weapon as you expected, so you still didn't know if he was a meister, a weapon, or a regular person. You didn't even know if he was actually a good person.

Your savior wore what seemed to be a haori, tied close with an obi at his waist. His body seemed to be lean and his grip on your wrist was firm, but not enough to hurt you. A gasp left your lips as he suddenly pulled you into a corner, holding your body close to his. His heartbeat was so loud, you could feel it against your back.

"What are you—mmph!" He immediately covered your mouth with his hand, peeking around the corner to take a look at the enemy before immediately pulling back. Pulling you closer, a shiver went down your spine as you felt him lean down close to your ear, breath tickling your skin. "I'll distract him, you run. Got it?"

Breathing deeply, you tried your best to think, but the upcoming footsteps was making your anxiety rise, fogging your mind. With no other choice, you nodded. Taking your signal, your savior released the hand covering your mouth, putting the broken blade down on the ground.

Your eyes widened as you watched his hand transform into what seemed like a blade. Blue like his eyes with wave-like patterns, sharp edge telling you that this person was definitely already used to transforming.

The moment both of you felt the enemy's footsteps stop near your hiding spot, his untransformed hand immediately pushed you away before jumping in front of the enemy. Without another thought, you ran away, feet picking up the pace immediately.

A small part of your heart ached, feeling guilty for leaving the man behind after he had helped you. You felt horrible. Like something was wrong and you should go back to help him. The uncomfortable feeling running so deep you could feel it in your...soul?

You couldn't take it anymore. Before you could go on any further, your feet slowed down until they halted. The moment you did, you heard a loud crash by the street where you had come from, and that was all it took for you to run back.

On the ground, your savior laid, trying to pick himself up, but it was clear to you that he was hurt and exhausted. Your eyes darted for anything that could help you until they landed on the broken blade from earlier. Hurriedly, you picked it up, rushing parry the upcoming attack.

Anticipating the pain of the impact, your savior gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw. But to her surprise, the sound of metal crashing against metal could be heard before metal shards flew in the air as you parried the attack with all your strength.

Her eyes widened in shock, hands immediately pushing herself up before his sharp blue eyes glared at you with such ferocity. But before he could tell you to run away once again, you threw the sword away and gripped his hand, preparing to pull him away.

The moment she felt your hand in hers, Mizu didn't know why, but her mind went blank.

The rage inside her quelled and her heart began beating faster. She was so used to fighting alone, to using her abilities as a weapon for herself, to closing herself off. But right now, it felt like she wanted to transform for you.

It felt safe. Like your souls were connected.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Mizu had transformed into a weapon in your hand. A small gasp leaving your lips as you felt her form shift into something different and her weight become lighter. You turned your head to look at her, eyes widening as you gasped.

In your hand was a katana. A beautiful one at that. The blade itself was a distinct shade of blue which reminded you of the sky before sunrise. A wave-like pattern adorned the hamon in an almost artistic sense. Despite the beauty of the blade, the cutting edge itself was extremely sharp. Almost scarily sharp.

The handle felt different to the usual Japanese swords you have seen around the school, having no cords wrapped around it. However, it appeared to be a slight cream-ish white with patterns on it, reminding you of handles made of ray skin. Around the handle, you couldn't help but smile ever so slightly at the menuki wrapped around it. It was...cute. Not something you'd expect from someone so intimidating.

"Keep your eyes on the enemy!" you heard his voice say, snapping you out of your trance. Immediately, you looked up before dodging another attack just in time. Your body shook with fear and the adrenaline rushing through it. You couldn't even feel your face with how scared you were. Before both of you could comprehend it, you were already running.

Fuck. You could feel your soul shaking.

Unbeknownst to you, Mizu could feel the fear running through you too. She could feel how erratic your wavelength was becoming as she watched you flee the scene with her in your hand. But it was no use, the enemy was close behind both of you, hot on your trail.

Your feet continued to run as fast as you could until you found a small corner to hide in. Panting softly, you looked at the blade in your hands, biting your lip in shame. "I'm sorry," you whispered to him, curling up into a ball. "I...I'm scared."

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. A part of her wanted to tell you off for being such a coward, but another part believed in you even if she didn't know why. Mizu sighed, looking down at her own feet, before looking off into the darkness. "I understand," he mumbled, making you look up.

He groaned to himself, unable to comprehend how compelled he felt to open up to you. Maybe she just didn't want to admit it, but deep inside her, she was scared too. "I...my soul is impure. Made by a kishin egg's and a good soul," he started, the sudden revelation making your eyes go wide.

"Not many meisters wanted to pair with a weapon whose soul was mixed with a sinners, and those who did...were incompatible." He looked up at you, before giving you a small smile. "That was until you," he chuckled, voice resembling a sigh. "It's fine if you're scared. We're both new to this after all."

You gulped thickly, looking at Mizu guiltily. His story tugging at your heart strings but at the same time calming you. No, you weren't going to let both of you die like this. You're not going to disappoint your savior who trusted you enough to let you hold him for the first time.

Gathering as much courage as you could, you shakily stood up, hand gripping the handle tighter. Her eyes widened as she watched your eyebrows knit together and your slightly swollen lips part as you took a deep breath. Her smile turned into something more genuine, more proud of you. "Look sharp, okay?" Pulse pounding loudly, you made your way out of your hiding spot, scanning the area until you made eye contact with the kishin egg.

The coward in you wanted to run, seeking the comfort of safety. But, you were a DWMA student weren't you? This was finally your chance to prove it.

The ground trembled as the enemy ran towards you, you swinging his mace aiming for your head. Dodging swiftly, you took the opportunity to stab the enemy's foot, making him keel and bend over in pain. With the new opening, you cut his hamstrings to render him unable to stand. All slashes done with ease, amazing you with how great of a weapon your savior was.

In attempt to save himself, the enemy prepared himself and parried your incoming attacks. But it was no use, with how light the katana in your hand was, you easily overwhelmed him, slashing his arm off before finally cutting his head off.

A loud thud could be heard as his body fell to the ground, head rolling to your feet, making you shudder. You watched as the enemy's remains turned to ashes, revealing a soul. A red soul. A kishin egg, as they called it.

You gasped as your savior suddenly pulled half his body out of the blade's sword and reached for the soul floating in front of you. His blue eyes narrowed at it, inspecting it before putting it into his mouth. Your eyes followed the outline of his throat as the red orb traveled down in what you could describe as an oddly smooth but very ever-so-slightly attractive manner.

But wait...

...

I think we forgot an important detail here.

"What the fuck?!" you yelled in surprise, making the man jolt back into the sword before glaring at you. You stared at him, then to the wave pattern on the flat of the blade, then to him, then to the cutting edge, then back at him.

Mizu looked visibly confused as you lifted him up and continued to stare with awe and wonder, wondering why you were acting so weird. "I'm holding...a weapon," you breathed out, grin tugging up your lips. "I'm actually holding one. I'm holding you."

You couldn't believe it. In your hands was a weapon.

An actual fucking weapon. One that didn't slam against the ground when you tried to carry it. One whose soul matched with yours.

Finally.

A katana? Compatible.

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow. Admittedly, the situation made her feel weird, but the look of amazement in your eyes told her that although she wouldn't like to admit it, your soul actually felt at peace with hers just as hers was with yours.

As if the two of you were sharing a moment more intimate than it seemed.

Taking a step back, you watched as Mizu went back to his human form. You've watched students transform before, but seeing Mizu transform made your heart soar with joy. After all, you were watching your partner transform. Your weapon They were your weapon.

Yours.

His eyes stared down at you as you continued to look up at him in amazement. Eyes tracing his features, taking in every detail, the way his mouth moved as he spoke. The sound of him clearing his throat snapped you out of your trance and to look at his expectant expression. "Mizu."

"P-Pardon?" you stuttered out sheepishly, pinching your arm lightly to make sure you weren't dreaming. "It's my name. You'll need it," he said with a nonchalant tone, turning to head back to the academy. Letting out a series of incoherent stutters, you walked right behind him. "I'll need it...?" you repeated, a smile of confusion and excitement tugging at your lips.

"Don't look so confused. You're my meister now, aren't you?"

[deadpool15]

Unexpected Visitor P2.

Before I knew it, two men had just pushed me in the ground, hurting my stomach in the process causing me to scream out the first name that came to mind. “MANNY”.

Abruptly the phone call ended, I had never felt a sense of fear like this before. Not me for me though, my child. Right before Armando went to prison I wanted to tell him about the kid but too much was happening, a part of me wanting him to be involved in our life though the other part of me had to be logical and as much as it hurt, I had to let him go. Armando wasn’t the father but with the way our relationship was going he damm sure had no issue stepping up and showing me he could be.

We were huddled up and moved to another location before that fucking asshole received a call from a partner I’m guessing to move the hostages. Then we were planted in cars and boats apparently traveling to Cuba. “Are they gonna kill us?” I had completely forgotten Callie was here alongside us. I felt worse if anything, I couldn’t even reach out to hug her, I knew she needed comfort right now more than anything.

“No, sweetie we are going to be fine. Mike and Marcus are going to come for us. No one will hurt you ok?” Pushing myself closer to her to offer her a shoulder to lean on. Since, in this situation that’s all I could really do. “Look at you, mama bear giving her false hope. Already entering your mama phase and it hasn’t even started.” Looking at this asshole who had already pissed me off for yanking my locs. “It’s not false hope and last time I checked your boss gave you orders to not walk around speaking to me and my fucking family asshat. So, how about you do everyone a favor and check the perimeter, lord knows u could use the walk.”

He moves closer to push some of my hair back into place before caressing my cheekbones. I hurry and bit the shit outta his finger when he gets closer causing him to scream aloud and slap me. A gray haired man comes over to check the situation, head butting guy before sending him off to check the area leaving me. Christine sits there in tears worried for both me and Callie. Eventually, we hear noise from outside causing someone to yell out commands and we realize we are being moved. “Come on, ladies it’s your big day. Don’t let them outta your fucking sight, especially the feisty one.” Motioning towards me.

After a moment of waiting outside we notice something out of the ordinary and sadly so did our kidnappers causing one to grab my fucking hair again and push me back into this stupid gator park. Gunshots ringing straight through my ears causing pain. And then the man holding me falls, shot dead right in front of me. “O my fucking god, I think I’m gonna be sick.” Tears running down my face cloud my vision causing me to trip a couple of times trying to run away from the constant gunfire. Managing to untie the knot that had broken skin off my wrists, I immediately look for sight of Callie.

Crawling on the floor trying to find my 16-year old god daughter in the middle of an abandoned gator park is not something I thought I would be doing today. Finally, I look over and find Callie trying to run away from two men. Without a second thought, I run over towards here as fast as my body would let me. Grabbing ahold of her, causing her to shout not knowing the identity of who she believed was another attacker. “Callie, Callie stop it it’s me.” Holding onto the girl for dear life I check for any injuries. From the corner of my eye I see movement causing me to turn around while shoving Callie behind my back.

And right before I thought my life had came to an end. He appeared. Armando pushed us both behind him. Looking at me, while holding onto my arm not letting go. “Stay behind me. You gotta trust me.” Hearing those words hurt, made me realize how dangerous the situation was, maybe one of us wouldn’t make it. Fighting off a group of men while getting sliced up relentlessly, made me shriek in fear for the man I love. Grabbing Callie and pushing her towards the door as we try to run away a man pushed us back and Armando fight him off taking a knife to the shoulder. Leaving him on the ground in pain, I’m quick to grab him and try to pull him up. Before, I hear Callie scream.

Looking down all I saw was blood. Rushing down, but it wasn’t from Armando, it was me. My blood was pouring down. My vision started to become blurry and suddenly nothing was coherent. They were speaking but my brain couldn’t comprehend anything in that moment. Armando gathers his strength and looks at me, like a burst of adrenaline he shoots to quick while grabbing me with Callie’s help and moving towards the door. I soon feel us stop and look up and can make out a spec of what looks to be Armando’s face and his mouth is moving. “My baby, no..o the b-baby. Help.” And then everything fades. Trying to grab ahold of my stomach as a last resort to protect my son.

Armando

Sitting here facing off with Callie’s mom, while holding onto my girl. I watch my father and Callie plead for my life. “Go.. before I change my mind. Grabbing a hold of her I move with my father to find a boat. Before starting it up he looks at me, “Take this, head south. Don’t look back, and be good.” Smiling I look at him, thanking the world I got to know him. “That’s not your choice, detective.” Grabbing ahold of her and starting up the boat looking back at him, “take care of them.” With one last smile I nod and drive off. Seeing him for the last time.

2 weeks later…

“Manny, are you ready to watch the stars.” Hearing nothing my random little noises as my respond I smile. Grabbing ahold of my son I make my way to the patio to oversee the stars, “pretty right baby?” Hearing boots hitting the pavement I look up seeing Armando. “Ain’t got a thing on you, though baby.” Smiling while I watch him move closer to grab our son and play with him. Reminded how much I love him and our litter family. “What you thinking about, Girasol?” Pulling him closer for a kiss, staring into his eyes while running my nails through his hair. “Us, baby. Always about us.”

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet: wrapped with a bow

@laurencem told me to write Mulder gift-wrapping Scully as his own birthday gift, and I really had nothing else to do tonight. So this is for you, Yeti! You ask, I ignore the state of my apartment and write fic. (I mean, does it really matter whether I clean the bathroom now or tomorrow morning?) This is just a quick little thing, but writing them being silly is so much fun. tagging @today-in-fic

“Scully?” he says, panting and boneless, “Scully? Come up here.”

She lifts her head where she’s kneeling between his legs and wipes her mouth. “Huh?”

“Come up here.” He waves at her limply, his arms heavy, heart still hammering hard in his chest. Are you ready for your first birthday present of the day? she’d asked, slipping between his legs and sucking him off until he was seeing stars. He’d thought he was ready. But good god, he’s amazed she didn’t transport him straight to the afterlife. In fact, he’s not quite sure that this isn’t the afterlife. And if it is… He squeezes his eyes closed. Holy fucking shit, what a way to go.

She stretches out next to him and he brings up a hand to her face to wipe a last drop of his come from the corner of her mouth. She looks so very pleased with herself and she has every reason. He’ll buy her a trophy. He’ll learn to cross-stitch and make her a little thing to hang up above her side of the bed: Dana Katherine Scully, Birthday Blowjob World Champion.

“So you liked your present?” She grins at him, her lips red and swollen, and he grins back at her.

“I did. I loved it.”

“Good.”

“Better than good.” He puts his arms around her as she rests her head against his shoulder. She cuddles up close to him and if they’d be doing nothing but this for the rest of the day, he would be more than okay with that. But as his heart rate returns to normal and he regains the ability to formulate thoughts beyond ‘Oh dear lord yes’ and ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move again,’ he realizes what would make the morning even better. “Hey Scully?”

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering…”

“What?”

“Is it too late for one more last-minute birthday wish?”

She frowns, propping herself up on one elbow next to him. “That depends entirely on what it is. You know I’ll let you talk me into anything against my better judgment four times out of five, but I’m not going Bigfoot-hunting with you today. The rain’s really coming down out there.”

“Oh, it’s very much an indoor activity,” he promises. “Well, not that it doesn’t work outside. I mean, we have done it outside. And that was pretty fun, actually. But it’s definitely mostly an indoor thing, and I think maybe you could even consider it a gift for both of us, if you think about it. I know you enjoy it too. I was actually planning to give it to you for your birthday in a few months, but that’s the good thing about it, really. It can be gifted over and over, and—”

“Mulder!”

“Yes?”

“You have to—” she starts, and then squeaks as he rolls her over and tackles her to the mattress.

“I’ll even wrap it myself.”

She laughs. “Mulder,” she says again and wiggles underneath him, not really trying to get free. “Mulder, stop it.”

She giggles uncontrollably as he tugs at the bedsheets with one hand and wrestles her underneath. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m usually better at gift wrapping.”

“You’re crazy,” she gasps as he rolls her into a tight blanket burrito so her arms are pinned to her sides. “You’re completely crazy.”

“You love me.”

“I guess there’s not much point in denying that anymore,” she mumbles, face half smushed into the pillow as she’s lying immobilized on her belly, wrapped up nice and tight.

He kneels next to her and tilts his head pensively as he takes in the picture. “Something is missing.”

“Yeah,” she says, trying to blow at a strand of hair that’s clinging to her cheek. “Your sanity.”

“No, that’s not it.” He brushes the offending strand of hair behind her ear, then holds up a finger. “I know. Hold on. Stay just like this and don’t move.”

“Oh, haha, very funny.” She does her best to sound annoyed, but he can see the sparkling in her eyes as he climbs off the bed.

He searches the floor, their clothes in a trail from door to bed where they hastily discarded them last night, and finally picks up his sweater. He jumps back onto the bed, landing on his knees, making her bounce a few inches on the mattress.

“You’re in so much trouble,” she says. “Once I get out of here. So much trouble.”

“It’s my birthday.” He says. “You can’t be mad at me on my birthday.”

She sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

With a triumphant grin, he slides the sweater under her head and ties the sleeves neatly over her forehead. “There.”

“What on earth…?” she asks.

“Every nicely wrapped present needs a bow.”

“You’re not normal, Mulder.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I suppose. Are you going to unwrap me now?”

He runs a hand over the blanket from her shoulder to her thigh. “Hey, no card?” he asks, doing his best to sound upset. “Where’s the card?”

“Mulder, I swear to god—”

“Okay, okay.” He leans down for a kiss and feels her smiling into it. “I guess I’m ready for my present.”

“I think your present is ready for you too.”

“Are you saying that because you want me to unwrap you or is there something else you had in mind?”

The look she gives him is the one that makes him do whatever she commands without a second thought. “At this point? There’d better be a ‘something else’ after the unwrapping.”

She’s trying so hard to look angry with him and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Oh, as often as you want,” he promises. “I swear. Part-time-Bigfoot-hunter’s honor!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she says dryly.

He unrolls her slowly and carefully, and feels actually, seriously, honest-to-god excited. He feels giddy as he finally pulls the covers off her and watches her lying here, glaring up at him. She’s so beautiful he can barely breathe. “Scully?”

“What now?”

“This is a really good birthday so far.”

“I’m sure it could be even better,” she says, and he kisses her. First her lips. Then the rest of her.

As he lowers his head between her thighs and finally gets his mouth on her, he’s already getting hard again—not surprising, he thinks. Nothing is hotter than getting her off. He lets himself drown in the smell and taste of her, and then she gives him his real present as she arches off the mattress and comes with a cry that makes him happier than any Happy Birthday anyone has ever sung to him.

“Hey,” he says, looking up at her, taking in her flushed face, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes heavily through the aftershocks. “Thank you for my present.”

“Oh god.” She lets her head fall back with a long exhale. “You’re welcome.”

“And I really liked my birthday breakfast.”

She starts laughing and he crawls up the bed, looking at her, high on love and happiness.

“You know, I liked mine too and it’s not even my birthday,” she tells him, then sighs deeply. “There was no coffee though.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “We’ll have a second breakfast.”

“We can have breakfast as many times as you like,” she promises, and he lays down next to her and pulls her into his arms.

She’s his real gift, he knows it down to his bones. More than he deserves. But she tells him she loves him and he’s always been a believer, so he’ll believe this too. And give her as many gifts in return as she wants, whenever she wants. Anything he has to give. It’s all hers already.

[nanami-is-nanamean]

I imagine that nanami, out of all the sorcerers ever, is so Normal that it circles back to being crazy— i kept thinking abt how gojo says that "every jujutsu sorcerer is some kind of crazy" and started thinking abt nanami and how much he just yearns for a normal life but cant do that because his sense of justice and fulfillment in sorcery is much too strong for him to be in a normal life and caused him to go back and like—yeah no i can see nanami having that special type of crazy, that even other sorcerers would claim is weird KJDFGKSR

if the "crazy" people say ur crazy, then babygirl ur a special one 💖💖

cuz i can see him being like—so dedicated to the idea, that he actually looks fucking nuts abt it. he talks abt his being a sorcerer in terms thatll make you think he's in some kind of freelance work and YEAH SURE HE KIND OF IS I GUESS but also like in vague enough terms that were it not for the fact that the people he usually talks too are sorcerers too, youd think that hes like—a freelance financial advisor, or a freelance bodyguard or, someone who helps run a martial arts/gym space, or a stunt man trainer/choreographer, or something—

like—"my last job? the client was quite happy with the results, there was minimal damages to the asset i was assigned to take care of, and minimal personnel required. overall, I'd say it was one of my smoother jobs."

and you'd think like "oh okay, he's probably some sort of hired security. maybe he was helping transfer some important item to a storage facility"

and in reality—it was actually a cursed object that started to go fucking haywire and attracting crazy cursed spirits to the area. the client was happy because the windows caught it early before any big damage happened to the area—just a couple of broken doors and windows, and like 3 destroyed walls which is actually on the LOWER END of collateral damage concerning curses. ESPECIALLY considering that there was such a large number already gathered there. and nanami's a bit of a self sacrificial bastard (beloved), so you bet ur ASS that he took a direct hit, and broke multiple bones and made the executive decision to not get anyone else involved because DAMMIT if he misses an episode of the great british bake off, he doesnt know what he's gonna do. he cant risk extending the mission too much, he cant let prue leith and paul hollywood down—

every single person he's worked with has, at some point in time, wondered why he just hasnt become an assistant manager instead—the threat to ur life is SIGNIFICANTLY LESS, and there is some overlap between what he did in his salaryman years and what the managers do. HELL, you can even see him training some of the newer managers (with ijichis approval and permission ofc) (hell sometimes ijichi assigns the newer ones to work with him to secretly give them training) (he always fesses up after the mission tho fdkbjgk)

and then while they're chillin in the breakroom, shooting the shit and drinking coffee, someone mentions his salaryman past. and dear LORD the pure vitriol and venom that started spewing out of his mouth when given the opportunity to shit talk having a regular job—if he didnt have such good control over his CE, he wouldve spawned a Special Grade from how much he DESPISED his old job JKHFDLKJhgbLS

and considering the similarities between that old job and being a manager, yeah no—everyone understands why he doesnt become a manager instead LJKSDfhLGJkSDFKLh

[merakiui]

Mera. Mera. Mera--

That new riddle fic, MERA!!!! OTL OTL

Bestie, I have no words to describe how I felt after reading that—literally the ending got me staring at the wall like,,, "lord, what--??" but HOLY SHIT DID YOU DO A ONE HELL OF A WONDERFUL JOB WITH THIS PIECE LIKE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Anyway. I am still speechless, but this part stuck with me the most so i just had to draw it:

RIP to Azul. You will be missed our dear italian fren u_u

BESTIEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! AAAAAAAAA OMG OMG OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!!! KHEYY, YOUR BEAUTIFUL ART BLESSES MY EYES ONCE MORE!!!!! THIS IS GODLY, AMAZING, STUNNING, SHOW-STOPPING, AND SO MANY MORE ADJECTIVES BECAUSE WOW!!!!!! I spent so much time staring at this when I read your ask because it's truly a masterpiece. I feel like I'm in a museum pondering the meaning of it because it's just that wonderful!!! I gasped in delight when I saw it!!!! (≧ᗜ≦)

Did you grab the image directly from my brain........ this is exactly how I imagined Rido sitting there on the steps, eating his tart while covered in blood. >:D ohhhhhh he is so cooked. I love him and I love your art so much WAAAAAA!!!!!! His tired eyes, the blood on his clothes and shoes, the blue lights from the police, the lighting (shadows) itself, the bright red tart, his nonchalant "guess I'll just eat this fucking tart" LOL everything about this is scrumptious. I'm devouring it with rapture!!!!!

Thank you so much for reading the fic and for drawing such a beautifully haunting picture!!!!! (✿´꒳`)ﾉ💖 I was actually going to write him eating an apple instead of tart, but I thought that would feel too Death Note hehe. If Riddle had the Death Note, he would scribble Azul's name one-hundred times just to get him out of the picture....... he is obsessed. My dissociating king. orz I just love when those nerds are playing complicated mind games. They're both smart enough to keep up with each other. It's really fascinating!!

(rip Azul indeed,,, he will be missed, but not by Riddle... ;;;;;)

[animeismyhappyplace]

Passion Blooms Under the Influence

Female MC x Barbatos Smut

Summary: After a quick study session with her tutor Solomon, MC finds herself feeling hot and bothered. Barbatos finds her and calms the heat scorching through her veins.

TLDR, MC gets dicked down by Barbatos 🥵

TW: Aphrodisiac use, mildly dubious consent due to aphrodisiac usage, they do cover consent but just to be safe, pet names, Barbs demon form makes an appearance, monster fucking I guess? (You'll see what I mean)

Word Count: 3,217

The last few weeks in the Devidom had been a bit of a blur for MC. Leviathan had summoned Lotan again after a fued with Mammon which left her room flooded and unusable luckily Diavolo offered her refuge in the Demon Lord Castle in one of the many spare bedrooms.

Today's lesson with Solomon had taken a weird turn, after practicing some simple spells they had gotten onto the topic of her little crush on the demon butler himself Barbatos. Her mentor had given her the usual pep talk about just being upfront about her feelings over a shared cup of tea, he had also given her a potion which he clamied would help boost her confidence in the matters of her heart before sending her on her way to her temporary home.

On her walk she noticed a prickling sensation starting to climb up her arms and down her legs. At first she brushed it off but the nearby demons began to start staring at her as her skin got hotter and hotter. In the end she had to teleport herself to the guest bedroom she'd been staying in to save herself, and the rest of her demon friends, too much public embarrassment.

Barbatos, being the immensely powerful demon he is, much have sensed the magical power entering the Demon Lord Castle and came to make sure the human exchange student was well after her trip out.

He knocks on her door a few times but when he doesn't get an answer he makes his presence known and enters the room, just to make sure she was unharmed, "MC, I assume your lesson went well?" He smiles as he opens the door before stopping in his tracks when he finally lays his eyes on the girl.

He sees her laid on the neatly made bed with her body streached out, sweat is streaked across her forehead and she's panting hard "B- Barbatos! Thank you for checking on me, I know you're probably busy..." She gulps down the saliva pooling under her tongue as he watches her curiously "It had been going well until Solomon gave me a potion to drink that he's currently working on and now I feel hot..." His green eyes flick from her body to her face as he watches her "Oh dear... Well... I'm here to take care of you, MC. You don't have to thank me, I am just doing what Lord Diavolo would expect me to do" He reaches his gloved hand down to push the hair back from her face causing her to shiver and push her body towards his retreating hand making him frown.

His finger curls under his chin as he thinks about your predicament "Did he tell you what the potion was for?" She shakes her head as she lifts her body to rest her weight on her elbows to look at him better "Just said... It would help me... Express feelings I've been hiding or something like that... I can't remember anymore". Barbatos can't help the hiss that falls from his lips as he looks away feeling irritation bubble in his chest "I have a... Suspicious of what that devious human has given you... Let's see" He hums as he returns his hand to her forehead, pushing his fingers through the strands of her hair and down to lightly caress her cheek watching to see her reaction to the soft and almost non existent stimulation.

MC can't help the whines that tumble past her lips as she tilts her head back to present her neck to the demon before she realises what she's done and gasps "I- I am SO sorry Barbatos... I don't know what's wrong with me" She looks down to the bedsheets with a slight pout before another wave of heat flows through her and she flops back down onto the bed, chest heaving.

Barbatos chuckles softly at her apology as he places one finger under her chin lifting her gaze to meet his own eyes. "Don't worry about it, MC." His voice is warm and soothing as he runs his gloved thumb over her lower lip, slowly trailing his way along her jawline as her tongue slips out of her mouth in an attempt to chase his clothed digits "I suspect Solomon has given you an aphrodisiac" Her eyes widen at his words before he continues "It would explain your temperature and your body's... Shall we say responsiveness..." His voice begins to trail off as he watches her intently.

She nods as she tries to take in his words "Is there any way to... Reverse it's effects?" Her fingers reach up slowly to hold his arm in place as she leans fully into his touch, Barbatos bites his bottom lip softly as he watches the human girl keen for his touch in ways he's dreamed of but never thought would become reality "We'd have to call the shady sorcerer himself to know for sure... But based on most aphrodisiacs the only way to rid you of the effects would be to-" He can't help but hesitate to finish the sentence but she nods to him to continue "You will need to satisfy your desires" He finishes with a slight blush dusted across his porcelain cheeks.

MC frowns for a moment confused before the realisation flashes across her face, a dark blush rising to her cheeks "Well with that I shall bid you farewell so you may... Rid yourself of your afflictions..." The demon clears his throat and bows with his hand across his chest before he turns to leave "NO!" She shouts across the room as she bolts upright grabbing his hand to stop him, she looks away from him embarrassed by her own neediness.

Barbatos stares down at her in surprise, his brow furrowing slightly as he waits for her next move. "No?" He can't help the grin that spreads across his face as he looks down to see the place on his uniform her hand has gripped to keep him from leaving the room. "I-" She can't quite find the words to ask him what she wants, she grips his arm tighter and tugs him towards her as she gets on her knees and comes to the end of the bed to face him.

Barbatos' smile grows as he sees her come to kneel before him, his hands come to gently caress her cheeks as he takes in her beauty. "Tell me what you want, MC" He mutters softly as he brings her face centimetres from his own. A shiver racks up her spine and settles in her chest as she feels his breath hit her lips "Will you help me Barbatos?" She reaches her hands up to hold the base of his neck enjoying their closeness.

Barbatos smiles softly as he hears her plea, leaning forward to bring his mouth to hers as he kisses her gently almost treating her like she's ready to break apart at his touch. As he does this, one of his hands slides around her waist and pulls her closer to him, bringing them both even closer together. "Of course, my dear. I'm always at your service" He whispers huskily as he pulls away just enough to speak and give her a moment to back away from him if she doesn't want to continue.

A loud whine escapes her at his words as she tugs his back to her kissing him with as much passion as she can "You can't say things like that Barb... It makes me feel so hot". His eyes widen slightly at her response but he quickly recovers and continues to kiss her passionately, running his tongue along her own and down to her jawline while his free hand goes to her hair, pulling it into a tight ponytail so he can run his fingers through it.

After a few moments he breaks off the kiss and looks deep into her eyes "Last chance to back out little lamb before I can no longer hold myself back". She shakes her head as she looks at him as seriously as she can given her almost delirious state of lust "Want this... Want you Barbatos" She runs her hands over his covered shoulders as she pushes his jacket off "Please". The last threads of his resolve break as he helps her remove his coat and tosses it aside, then wraps an arm around her waist and lifts her onto the bed beneath her, taking advantage of her smaller frame to get on top of her pinning her beneath him as he leans down to kiss her again. "My pleasure little lamb".

MC bites her lip as she looks up at him and whispers softly "You don't know how long I've wanted this" Her arms loop around his neck as she keeps him close to her, licking her tongue into his mouth as she starts to explores his body. He feels her lips press against his and gives in completely, wrapping his other arm around her back and pressing himself against her as he begins to explore her own body. "I can't guarantee I'll be gentle with you my dear" He says breathlessly, letting his tongue slip between her lips and dance with hers.

She nods quickly to show her understanding as she threads one of her hands into his hair tugging gently at his soft ombre locks while the other caresses her thumb against his cheek, continuing to kiss him while she pushes her hips up to grind against his covered length. He groans softly when she pulls his hair and presses their bodies together more firmly, enjoying every moment of her kisses as well as her grinding movements. His hands slide from her waist to her ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh he finds there as he moves his hips slowly against hers. "You're driving me crazy little lamb..." He confesses to her as he enjoys the slow rock of his hips against her own.

She gasps as she feels his length pushing against her already wet clothed pussy "N- Need you... Please~" She begs sweetly as she moves her head to kiss and bite gently at his bare neck. He smirks at her begging tone and moans quietly, using his free hand to push a lock of her hair behind her ear. As she nips at his skin marking him as her own he reaches for the clasp on her dress and undoes it, pulling the fabric away from her body and exposing her to his hungry eyes while he pulls his dress shirt over his head.

He bends his head down to softly kiss her neck before moving down to her collarbone and littering her skin with bites marking her in turn "Now everyone will know you're mine" He grins at her slightly possessively before returning to her heated body. He skillfully unclasps her bra exposing her breasts as he encases her pebbled nipple in his mouth.

She lets out an drawn out moan as he gently bites and suckles on her nipple teasing the sensitive bud before moving to her other breast giving it just as much attention until she's squirming against the bed desperately needing him further down her body. Sensing her frustration he gives each nipple one last lick before trailing more kisses down her body before finally sliding down further to lick and nibble her thighs. She shivers under his touch and arches her back pushing her body closer to his teasing mouth.

As Barbatos pulls himself upright he takes a moment to enjoy the sight of the young girl in front of him marked up and desperate, the view he has from above her is enough to make his hardened length throb with need let alone the thoughts that invade his mind of what he would like to do to her. MC spreads her legs for him and he can't help the chuckle that leaves his lips "So wet already. My my that aphrodisiac worked rather quickly" He pulls her soaked panties down her legs and throws them to the side watching as more slick leaves her pussy and trails down her thighs.

Barbatos lowers himself back down to the bed as he removes his gloves throwing them to the floor then places his bare hands onto her thighs pushing them further apart so he can place himself between them. He moans as he finally gets a taste of her essence, first licking up the lines of wetness that coated her inner thighs before giving her pussy a long lick from her hole to her clit "You taste, dare I say, heavenly my little lamb" The way he slurps up her wetness lights her body on fire, only contributing to the aphrodisiacs effects.

MC's thighs twitch as she grasps his hair with both hands tugging harshly and shaking her head with tears rolling down her rosy cheeks "S'too much! I need your cock" Her head tips back as she rocks pussy into his face moaning as she cants her hips forward despite her pleas for him to just fuck her already. Barbatos lets out another laugh at her impatience as he feels her pulling on his hair. Had it not been for the aphrodisiac he may had punished her for being in such a rush, maybe next time he thinks to himself with a sinister smile. His emerald eyes dart over to her breasts and he smiles softly at how she's trying to push herself towards him. With a firm grip on her thighs he holds her still and licks her again from bottom to top and back down once more before circling her clit with his tongue "Need to prep you MC" He slides two of his thick fingers into her waiting pussy rubbing them against her throbbing walls.

MC's hand reach backwards to grab the sheets and grip them in her hands as she moans loudly "Barb" She whimpers out as her body trembles underneath him. The feeling of her inner walls tightening around his fingers causes him to groan out as he looks up at her face. Her juices are flowing freely and coating his lips and chin. He gives her one last kiss on her abused clit before moving backwards he licks her juices off his fingers "I believe that's enough teasing now my dear".

Keeping her legs spread for repositions himself and gives his leaking member a few sharp tugs before he runs his cock down to her sopping pussy to collect her juices lubing up his cock before pushing himself into her slowly letting her feel every inch as the burn of the aphrodisiac slowly starts to decrease. The dark haired demon smirks as he watches her reaction, seeing the relief spread across her face as he pushes himself into her. A low moan escapes her lips as he enters her fully. He waits for her to adjust before starting to thrust inside her gently but firmly, Barbatos reaches one hand up and intertwines his fingers with hers as he holds their hands above her head while the the trails down her side to grip her ass pulling her leg over his own keeping her close to his body. Each time he pulls out he leans down and kisses her neck before pushing himself back in, knocking the wind sinfully out of her chest.

As he starts to build up his pace rocking into her harder and faster her unoccupied hand finds purchase on his waist holding onto her demon lover as he pistons his hips into her own making the bed shake and buckle under his immense strength. Barbatos lets go of her hand as he feels her pussy throb and tighten around his cock and grabs onto her hips tightly. He begins to pound into her harder and faster each time slamming her further up the bed, her moans and whimpers increase in volume her hands reach up to grip onto her pillow tight.

His own moans are getting louder as he feels his cock head leaking precum into her pussy, he starts to feel himself losing control of his emotions when he suddenly shifts into his demon form due to the pleasure that racks through his body. She can't help the gasp that escapes her as she feels his body change under her fingers, seeing his demon form only makes her skin burn hotter. MC's hand grips his waist tighter her nails leaving crescent shaped marks as she reaches her other hand up to his hair to grip the base of his bone like horns.

The sensation of her touch sends waves of pleasure throughout his entire being. He lets out an animalistic moan and slams himself deep inside her "'M not going to be able to hold on much longer" He grunts while snaking his hand down between them to rub his fingers against her swollen clit. Her legs shake as he plays with her sensitive nub, she wraps her legs around his waist while her hands grip onto the base of his horns and his fork ended tail wraps around her waist to keep her steady. She matches his thrusts the best she can moaning loudly as pleasure shoots down her spine at all of the stimulation.

Barbatos kisses her deeply before moving his lips to her neck letting his fangs pierce her skin as he bites down in an attempt to control his moans, the painful pleasure from his bite sends her body over the edge into orgasm as he licks at the wound he's left behind "Cumming! 'M cumming!" MC moans loudly gripping onto her lovers body to steady herself as she cums hard, legs shaking violently.

Her pussy clenching hard on his cock and feeling her hands gripping his horns is the last drop of stimulation he needs to finally cum, Barbatos grunts loudly as he releases his load inside her as he continues to pound away at her releasing every bit of cum he has left. After several minutes of his own body shaking he pulls out and collapses beside her panting heavily.

As they both lay beside each other coming down from their highs the demon pulls her body to him as he gives her a soft kiss on her lips "Feeling better?" He asks chuckling softly as she simply nods her head clearly tired "Yes...I'm good now." She finally replies resting her head on his chest as her fingers draw delicate shapes on his sweat soaked body. His fingers slip under her chin to lift her head as he shifts out of his demon form "I'm sorry for shifting like that" He mutters as he caresses her face.

She leans into his touch enjoying the tender moment between them "No need to apologise, you're beautiful no matter what form you take" She smiles at him as she closes her eyes an ache seeping into her bones. "Thank you for taking care of me Barb.." She whispers quietly to him before drifting off to sleep. He gives her one last kiss placed against her forehead "Anything for you, my little lamb" He grins to himself softly as he allows sleep to take over his spent body.

[ivymarquis]

Blind Date

Me: “why the fuck is this fic taking so long to finish?”

The fic: *is the longest singular piece I’ve ever written for one chapter*

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 8.4k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Drinking (everyone is clear headed), run ins with a shitty ex, mentions of abuse from prior relationship, these two are incredibly down bad for each other, oral (m! and f!receiving), protected piv, squirting

There is a certain catharsis in lamenting your dating horror stories with men to a married lesbian who’s over a decade older than you. Kate is always willing to lend an ear, and you’re positive that she gets a kick out of your misadventures in the way so many married people did while listening to their single friends.

“I swear I’m this close to just giving up all together and embracing spinsterhood,” you grouse with a drink in your hand after the work day had concluded.

You like to think your standards aren’t unreasonable. Someone kind, with their head on straight. It felt like finding a man who respects you as a person is becoming too big an ask and you very simply would rather be alone than deal with the endless hoard of men who seem hell bent on destroying any confidence you have in yourself.

“What about the guy you went out with yesterday?” Kate inquires with her head tilted. Must be fun, listening to your ramblings with a devoted partner at home.

“Oh did I not tell you? He was engaged!”

Kate pulls a face like her drink soured on her, matching how you’d felt at the time.

“Even better- guess how I found out he’s engaged.”

“She showed up at the restaurant?” Kate hits the nail on the head on the first try.

“Bingo,” you raise your glass in a gesture of affirmation before finishing it off. “Somehow I ended up being the one getting yelled at in that situation. Un-friggin-believable.”

You don’t abuse your work privileges to creep on people you meet in your personal life, but public record could have spared you if he’d been married. Harder to find out about an engagement from a total stranger who was determined to not let you find out about it and didn’t have social media.

“There’s always the other side,” Kate teases.

“Women scare me too much, I get all nervous.” You could appreciate an attractive woman as much as the next gal but good God you just could not help yourself when it came to men. The subtle way their breathing would change before they made their move, that low timber growling in your ear. The sheer weight of one on top of you as he manhandled you into the bedding-

Dear Lord, you need to get laid. Maybe you’re fixating on it too much because you’ve had an over 2 year dry spell. That tends to happen after a baby though. Especially with a pain in the ass ex who thinks he can pick and choose when to be around (and becomes absolutely incensed each time you remind him he could be consistent or he could stay home).

Kate is thoughtful for a moment, clearly kicking around an idea she hasn’t fully committed to in one direction or another. You can see the moment she decides to proceed with the thought. “Depending on what exactly you’re looking for, I might know someone.”

—

And here you are on a Saturday night, nerves clawing at your belly like a rabid dog.

Most (well, all) of the men you’ve dated you met online. There’s almost additional butterflies beyond the first-meet jitters knowing that the date is set up by a mutual friend.

There’s more at stake, even if the stakes are relatively low pressure. If the guys you met online did something incredibly out of pocket you never had to see them again, and held no qualms divulging the events to friends. Your romantic life has been full of misadventures but has given you a handful of stories, and as strangers you never have to consider any possible fallout in telling those stories.

Your son is with your mother for the night, allowing you the opportunity to focus solely on yourself this evening. No concern about keeping an eye on him while getting ready, worrying about what possible trouble he’ll get into when your back is turned.

It is hard at times- striking that balance between wanting to be a good mom and also wanting to be acknowledged as a desirable woman who has needs. A lot of men are shitty about it. You’d grilled Kate for every detail of his reaction when being informed of your young son. You don’t need another ambush regarding your disinterest in making it work with your son’s father.

She’d soothed your nerves- he hadn’t batted an eye, was about as worried about your reaction to how often his job pulled him away as you were about him having a poor reaction to being a single mom. You both have responsibilities that have to be placed above a relationship, now go play nice and have fun.

You tell yourself you can have one drink while waiting at the bar of the restaurant you’d agreed to meet at.

White wine ends up being your pick- not quite so easy to suck down as a tasty cocktail full of liquor, but gives you something to occupy yourself with.

You’ve only had the drink a handful of minutes before hearing someone clear their throat slightly behind you, and then your name.

Kate has shown you a photo of what he looks like so you’re not caught off guard when you turn around.

He’s handsome. You expect that but it’s different seeing him opposed to just the photo. Kind eyes, a warm smile on his face as he takes you in.

At least you both seem pleased with the big reveal.

“I’ve got a table waiting for us if you’re ready, love.”

He holds out a hand to let you balance yourself as you dismount from the bar seating, allowing you to steady yourself in your heels.

His hand is warm on your waist as he guides you and you’re already smitten by the time the pair of you sit down.

You’re fifteen minutes into dinner when you decide that so long as he a) is willing and b) doesn’t say or do anything completely deranged, you are going to ride Captain John Price like a mechanical bull at a shitty dive bar at the end of the night.

Perhaps the bar is in hell but either way you have been utterly deprived the past few years and he is checking plenty of boxes for you.

“So you work with Kate?” Starting off on the easy footing- the common ground that leads you both here.

“I do. Not directly- I work more on the tech side. I’m an independent contractor, I basically built the entire system she runs off of.”

“Beauty and brains,” his praise warms you, an impressed expression on his face. “Would explain how we’ve never crossed paths if you were hiding in a backroom surrounded by monitors,” he teases.

“You’re actually not that far off the mark,” not that you hide persay, but keeping that contract keeps a roof over your head and food in your child’s mouth. That keeps you busy. The fewer people who know how to work your program, the harder you are to get rid of.

You may or may not have hidden a few kill switches. Job security you call it. Though it’s not exactly first date material to talk about how you’ve got a government agency in a mutual understanding- keep extending your contract, and the program continues to work.

Either way, you don’t have much contact with the soldiers. Maybe you have passed each other in the halls but probably not- you’re certain a face like that wouldn’t have escaped your notice, introduction via a mutual friend or no. But you decide to utilize that mutual friend to shift the conversation. He’s hedged around talking about his work- on his end, sees that as the thing that might be a deal breaker for you. Probably wants to delay that until you've at least gotten your entrees.

So you go from business to hobbies. And it’s probably not entirely fair, but you’re about to see what his sense of humor is.

“Kate mentioned you’re a big soccer fan?” You make sure your expression is wide and doe eyed as you ask the question.

His eyebrow twitches- caught, no doubt, between wanting to leave a good first impression and biting back it’s football over here, love.

You crack far quicker than you initially plan, the wide grin on your face as you let him off the hook he’s good naturedly trying not to bite.

“Beauty, brains, and a comedian, lucky me.”

“I’m sorry, I had to. In fact, it was in her terms for this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand.

“Trust Kate to wheel and deal just to get my blood pressure up,” he muses as he takes a sip from his drink.

The conversation rolls easily enough- an ebb and flow as one of you poses a question, the other answering before allowing the first to say their contribution to the subject and moving on.

He’s charming, attentive, and a good storyteller. The way he carries himself screams military without being overbearing. He’s relaxed back into his chair and something about the scene in front of you makes you want to climb into his lap like a domesticated house cat.

Being the field captain to a specialized task force it’s no shock that he’s in incredible shape and you find yourself slightly distracted on more than one occasion by his hands and forearms.

The food is wonderful though the company is better- you end up moving back to the bar for fresh drinks and to free up the table for the server.

You spend a good length of time just talking with him at the bar.

John’s attention is on you but it’s clear he’s proverbially chewing on something the further on you go.

“That is the look of someone with a question they’re not entirely positive they want an answer to,” you’ve got a habit of being a touch direct at times. Amazing how it streamlines a conversation though.

“Observant one, aren’t you?” He pauses, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s probably none of my business, but ah- is your son’s father in the picture at all?”

It was your turn to take a drink. This was always such a fun topic of conversation. Frankly the number of men who took your ex’s side when the whole custody arrangement gets brought up alarms you.

But he has a right to his son.

Fuck that.

Your child is not property and you do not give a singular shit about your ex’s feelings- especially if it comes at the expense of your son’s safety. But it saves you a substantial amount of time not wasting energy on someone who could not understand the reason for your decisions.

“The short answer to the question is no. I had already left him by the time I found out I was pregnant, and given I left because he’s a raging alcoholic- with the emphasis on the rage-,” what a nice, polite way to say he is an abusive asshole. Your gaze shifts down towards the bartop, missing the way John’s expression softens as he reads between the lines of what you say. They’re not pleasant memories, but you’re not a wounded bird anymore- you’ve tended to your clipped wings and grown new feathers. “I didn’t want him involved.”

“He ended up finding out from a mutual acquaintance, and while he claims he wants to be around, he hasn’t done much other than blow my phone up at midnight trying to throw his weight around every time he gets a new girlfriend. So I get to be the cold blooded harpy that he gets to cry about- which is fine by me. On paper he says he wants to be involved, but he’s made absolutely no effort to arrange plans or anything while sober. I haven’t seen him in over 2 years. I can’t trust him to be a safe parent, and since he’s not on any official records I get final say unless he wants to go to court over it.”

Your whole little house of cards hinges on the fact that your ex wants everyone to bend over backwards for him while doing nothing for anyone else. All it would take would be one subpoena for a paternity test and your hands would be tied. He is an incredibly functional alcoholic, so there isn’t a criminal record or anything you can do to prove he would be unfit. There’s no proof of the abuse he inflicted on you.

Which means, if push comes to shove, you would be forced to relinquish sole custody and hand your child over for unsupervised visitation.

But that requires effort on his part. And that effort is the only thing keeping your little house of cards afloat.

“Sorry that’s probably way more information than you wanted-“ good job. Everything was going great until you laid out your drama.

“No apology necessary; I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

And there’s no lecture about how you should give your ex a chance, that the opportunity to raise his son could make him change for the better. No dissertation on how you owe it to your son to do whatever it took to make things work with his father (that had been a weird way to end a date, and the only reason you hadn’t gotten up sooner and left was because it was such a bizarre conversation you’d half convinced yourself the whole thing had to be a bad dream).

You’re not a wounded bird and on the one hand it’s a good thing to get everything laid out on the table, but on the other you don’t want to sit and mope about your personal troubles. You’re actually enjoying John Price’s company, and don’t want to think about your problems.

And yes you are enjoying the time for what it is but part of you can’t help but also keep an eye out for… any opportunities for a transition.

As hot under the collar as you are, John’s gaze makes warmth coil in your gut in a way that has nothing to do with the wine- he’s being a gentleman.

It’s sweet. He’s being polite and respectful and showing sexual discipline while making it clear he’s interested.

And for all your bemoaning of prior dates with other men who aren’t captains of specialized task forces about how they were too pushy and too presumptuous and a nice dinner paired with drinks doesn’t entitle them to you dropping your panties—

Yet here you sit, hours into a conversation when you’d decided 15 minutes in you want to jump his bones. And you have to be patient otherwise you’re a total hypocrite.

You’re not entirely subtle. The pair of you are perched on barstools again, much closer than the table allowed you to be with the two of you angled towards each other.

Your dress looks good on you. A jewel toned blue that compliments your skin beautifully, the hemline stopping above your knees and loose enough to bounce tantalizingly when you hit your stride walking.

It’s not exactly an olive branch, but it is an offering of sorts when you carefully take the leg closest to John and cross it over the other. The hemline of your skirt slips up your thigh, exposing more of your leg. It stops just shy of exposing the top of your stockings and the clip to your garter. It does show just a hint of the darker border to your stockings, the lace peeking ever so slightly before transitioning to the sheer material that covers the rest of your legs.

You’re incredibly pleased with yourself when his eyes flick down for a split second and linger before snapping back to your face. Got you. He tries to hide behind being caught with a sheepish clearing of his throat. It’s adorable, really.

Your cheeks are starting to get sore from all the smiling and laughing that’s occurred over the past few hours. But he’s pleasant company so it’s a discomfort you’re happy to deal with.

You look past him for a split second- nothing in particular catching your attention but just taking in the scenery of the restaurant behind you. Your eyes are back on him in a moment only for your brain to process what it saw after a delay.

There’s no fucking way-

Yes. Yes there is. Your ex is mingling in the background, and you don’t even realize the smile on your face has fallen to a flat line like all the previous giddiness is draining out of you and pooling on the floor below.

It would not take a captain of an antiterrorism task force to see your sharp shift in disposition, so John notices immediately.

“Everything alright, love?”

Maybe he won’t see you. Maybe, if there is a God and he is merciful, your ex won’t look in your direction, won’t see you, and you can continue your cheerful plan of trying to seduce your date.

And whether there is not a God or he is just not merciful- either option remains with you having the same shit result. He turns his head and makes direct eye contact. God damn it.

You look back to John. You’d hoped you could move past talking about your ex for the evening. “Remember how I said I haven’t seen my ex in over 2 years?”

There’s a twinge of relief on his face- the look of a man grateful to not be the cause of your displeasure.

“Let me guess- he’s right behind me?”

“Not quite “right behind”, but yes. Hopefully he’ll just-“ a short huff off agitation leaves you as you cut yourself off.

So much for hoping he’d simply mind his business and stay with his group. He’s making his way towards the pair of you at the bar, and you can tell he’s had a good number of drinks in his system just looking at him.

You’d become extremely proficient at gauging how drunk your ex is at a glance. A skill you developed while still with him and one that doesn’t seem to have faded.

This is, you know without question, going to end up being absolutely humiliating for you. You just know it.

“I am going to go ahead and apologize now for whatever is going to come out of his mouth,” you inform John.

His hand finds your knee, giving a light, reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be alright, love.”

“Well what do we have here?” is the warning shot letting you know he’s not going to show any form of civility.

“Hello, Michael,” you greet cooly, mind spinning a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out how to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“You don’t have time to answer my texts but you’ve got time to go out. That’s good. Good to know you’ve got your priorities in order,” he starts.

“Answering your texts isn’t even remotely on my priority list, you know that.” You’re trying incredibly hard to keep yourself from being outright nasty but a whole lot of old wounds float up to the surface at the sight of your ex.

Maybe your new feathers aren’t as filled out as you’d initially thought. You feel raw and exposed and it’s difficult to think. You know what you should do, how you should handle it- and there’s still that one little part in your brain that is keeping tabs on John and his response to all of this.

“Your priority should be my son-“ he starts,

“-who is with his perfectly capable grandmother for the evening, thank you,” you finish for him, jaw set tightly. “Why are you here?”

The direct question is aggressive but you know the cycle with him too well to allow him to steer the conversation. He’ll run you in circle after circle until you’re so frazzled you can’t discern left from right.

“Can’t say hello and introduce myself to your new fella? Come on now, where’s your manners?”

Your eyes widen as Michael reaches a hand out- there is no way this asshole is about to grab you in public.

Quick as a snake, John runs interference and drapes his arm across the back of your chair, his fingers holding the shoulder furthest from him lightly.

The entire length of your back and shoulders are blocked by the SAS captain, forcing Michael’s hand back as there was no easy place for it to land that wouldn’t also be touching John.

Up until now, John has been quiet and assessing the situation. Not bowing up or trying to assert himself- letting you deal with your ex and navigate the situation for yourself.

The look on his face is downright unpleasant to put lightly. This is the man in charge of an elite task force, who barks orders at soldiers who drop everything at once because he told them to-

-and you don’t feel so exposed anymore. You find yourself sitting up a bit straighter only for John to gently stroke his knuckles against your shoulder in a soothing gesture. The gesture isn’t a miraculously grand one, but one that makes you realize you’re not alone in this situation even as disorienting as it is. And if you’re being honest with yourself, the upright posture and shifting of your thighs isn’t so much a stress response to your ex as you keying in on John’s response to the whole situation.

“John, Michael- Michael, John. There, now you’re introduced.” Go away now please.

Your ex is too drunk and too full of himself to see the writing on the wall, and continues to poke the bear. “Well, since she doesn’t seem to want to give a proper introduction-“ he sticks an arm out, and you can’t help but notice how the simple gesture causes him to need to correct his balance. Good lord it was barely dark out and he’s already-

Well. Not your problem. Not anymore, at any rate.

John is sitting to your left, his right arm the one that’s draped across the back of your chair. The pair of you flash a quick look to each other, John lifting his arm from your chair to take Michael’s hand and-

God.

Damn.

It.

The exchange is actually as hilarious as it is embarrassing (You can’t quite decide if it’s all the second hand cringe variety, or first hand because Look, John! Here’s the father of my child! I sure know how to pick a partner! Is still coiling in the depths of your stomach). You’d prefer if it simply never occurred at all.

You can see your ex’s forearm flexing as he shakes John’s hand. The microexpression that flicks across your date’s face confirms your suspicion- Michael is (for some reason) trying to use an overexaggerated grip to establish some sort of dominance in the situation.

The quick really? that reads on John’s face rapidly turns to a bemused and subtle if that’s how you want to play then, a barely noticeable shift in his own grip resulting in Michael wincing.

“Captain John Price,” his tone is easy, betraying none of the pissing contest your ex instigated and is failing miserably to get one over on John.

Your ex mumbles his full name, clearly realizing that whatever his brilliant little plan is a) isn’t so brilliant to begin with b) he might just be alert enough to acknowledge the fact that he clearly has no true plan. He came over with the intention of being an asshole and has been flying blind the entire time.

There’s one woman from the group your ex split off from who is watching the three of you keenly. If you were to guess, she is probably his new girlfriend.

You can’t help but wonder- does she know enough to know that this is routine behavior for him? That he throws himself headfirst into a situation he hasn’t planned out- isn’t sober enough to plan out? Situations that don’t need to occur just so he can throw his weight around? Too petty to give a genuine “Hello, how are you? It’s been a while. I want to talk to you about Sam when we’ve both got some free time?”

Everything is vindictive. Constantly worrying about not being undermined and being respected to the point he gets in his own way. Actively sabotages his own opportunities. In dire need of therapy to work through his issues because you know the alcohol is how he copes and you’d sympathized at first but the reasons became excuses and then he’d started blaming you and-

-John places his arm on the back of your chair again and you pull yourself out of your mental spiral.

“I think your date is waiting for you, Michael. Best not to keep the lady waiting.” John observes, his tone neutral despite being a clear dismissal.

“You’ll be hearing from me later. I want to see my son.” Michael’s ignoring John’s presence but taking the hint.

You don’t fling a final barb at him. The venom has been drained out of you and you just want the interaction over and done with. Let him have the last word. You just want him gone.

You merely cast a look over at the woman who is Michael’s date for the evening and hope she’s got better sense than you did- that she leaves before he sinks his claws in her too.

The weight that settled in your stomach upon first seeing him is finally lightening up on you. You know you’ll wake up tomorrow to a barrage of phone calls and text messages that you won’t answer. It’s probably not good you’re so desensitized to the idea that it barely registers as a problem. Merely one of life’s many inconveniences.

“You alright, love?” John’s voice helps you shake the last of the tendrils that cling to you.

“Yes. Sorry. Wasn’t expecting to run into him of all people tonight, is all.”

“Never fun being ambushed, is it?”

You take a bit of a risk- you know enough about his job but he’s steered the conversation away from it every time the topic would naturally shift that direction. You know how Kate’s work can go and you assume his is very similar. “Well you’d certainly know more about that than I would.”

It works. The two of you break out in grins, and you find yourself no longer worrying about Michael and your focus readily settling back on John where it belongs.

At some point- long after the single cube in John’s drink has melted, and the condensation of your wine glass has soaked the bev nap underneath it, and more importantly long enough that you don’t feel that you’re fleeing the restaurant- the suggestion is made to go back to John’s. “No more surprises, hm?”

You gladly follow him. You’d taken an Uber to get to the restaurant, anticipating drinking and hoping to go home with him, so you have no worries about your own car.

You can easily see him being the type to give you a quick, chaste kiss on the doorstep after safely dropping you at home. In another universe you’d appreciate the restraint, enjoy fleeting touches over the course of a few dates that get more intense each time before finally finding yourself in his bed.

In this universe however, you don’t have to wait. Don’t want to, either. You get to indulge your earlier impulse of crawling into his lap, knees spread wide on either side of his waist. Lowering your hips allows you to feel him and what exactly he’s packing between his own legs. Your hips cant in short motions and heat coils heavy in your gut.

From the feel of things he’s proportional and John is not a small man. There’s a brief flicker that runs through your mind that you might be in over your head with him. The pent up lust and desire stifles that flicker. You’re more than game to see what a night with him ends up being like.

His hands are warm against your skin- one cupping the back of your head and keeping you close as the pair of you make out, the other settles on your hip and keeps you steady as you grind down on him.

You are possessed with the desire to get his cock in your mouth.

It’s cute how his face follows yours as you pull away from him.

“Help me with my dress?” Your question is perfectly innocent as you turn your back to him, presenting the zipper that runs down the length of your back.

His pleased laugh warms you, a shiver of desire and anticipation running down your spine as his breath fans across the back of your neck.

You’ve got a surprise waiting for him underneath your dress, partially revealed as one of his hands holds the top of the dress steady while the other draws the zipper down.

You gave him the hint you were wearing stockings when you’d baited him back at the restaurant, letting the heavy fabric of the dress fall to a heap around you before kicking it off to one side.

Turning back to face him, John seems quite enraptured with his surprise.

The lingerie set is a matching shade as your jewel toned dress, the garter belt clipping to the sheer black thigh high stockings.

There’s always that split second hesitation when revealing yourself to someone- the anxiety of if they’ll be pleased with what’s presented to them.

John is the first person you’ve been with since you’ve had your child, and the slight anxiety quells quickly at the look on his face.

John looks like he wants to eat you alive. Any insecurity is knocked firmly aside by desire quickly ramping back up.

Placing one hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you lift a leg to take your shoe off, John is quick to stop you. “Leave them on for now, love.”

It’s a request but it’s not. Really that doesn’t surprise you- he is someone who is likely used to having his whims accommodated to. You find yourself having no urge to defy him, nodding in compliance. If John wants your heels to stay on, then they’ll stay.

He guides you between his legs, enough space between his knees for you to slot yourself in. With him sitting on the bed he’s shorter than you standing straight up in your heels. Bending down to give a quick, teasing kiss you let yourself drop to your own knees.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” you assure him with doe eyes and are rewarded with him settling into the bed as your hands go to work on his belt.

Unable to resist teasing him, you mouth at his bulge through the thick fabric of his pants. You’re rewarded with a soft cant of his hips, having his belt undone and working on the button and zip of his pants in record time.

Your earlier suspicions are correct. John is a big boy in more ways than one. You want him in your mouth- now.

While you’re occupying yourself with getting his pants off, John shucks his shirt and shoes.

He is, simply put, delicious to look at. From the broad muscling to the thick dark hair running from his chest down his abdomen. He doesn’t have the hard chiseled abs of a man who lives in the gym but the sturdy build that comes from having useful, functional muscle that’s put to work.

And that’s incredibly hot. He’s girthy as hell in your hand as you give a few strokes before putting your mouth on him.

You’re not entirely certain if deep throating him is going to be an option, but by God you’re going to try.

“Bloody hell, love.” John grunts while you bob your head up and down the length of him. You’re gauging just how much of him you can get in your mouth- where your threshold is before your gag reflex wants to kick in.

He’s petting you. Doubtless trying to fight the urge to fist your hair, his hips struggling to stay still on the bed.

You want him to. You feel feral, all the pent up sexual energy you’ve been storing for God-knows-how-long welling up all at once. You want this man carnally and your brain presently thinks having your hair held in place and your throat fucked is a fantastic idea.

John clearly has other plans, restraining himself and letting you work at your own pace. That low, deep breathing paired with his soft grunts and voiced encouragements stoke the flames of your arousal hotter.

Eventually you do need air, pulling off of him for a moment. Your hand works his shaft and teases the tip of him as you lean forward to run your tongue up and down the length of him, dropping a bit lower to lave at his heavy sac. He jolts which only encourages you to do it again.

You know your eyes are one of your better features- you’ve heard the compliment enough times both in and out of the bedroom, holding John’s gaze as you lick him back up the length of his shaft and circle the head once before having caught your breath enough to wrap your lips around him once more.

The second time around you’re able to get a bit more of him down your throat, but not all the way. What you can’t reach you stroke with one hand, the other resting on his thigh to help balance yourself as you work. You can feel the tension building in his thigh as he gets closer, pleased with yourself.

It’s a heady feeling. You don’t know exactly all the dirty details of his job but understand enough to know you’ve got a powerful man at your whim right now and that scratches a deep seated itch in you.

“Good girl,” his praise washes over you, warm and welcoming. “Just like that-“

You’re intent on sucking the soul out of him, all doe eyes and hollowed cheeks with those painted red lips. Eventually he gives into the urge to grab a fistful of your hair. He doesn’t do anything to interrupt the rhythm you’ve settled into, letting you move as you see fit.

He bites out your name and you feel the muscles in his leg drawn tight. “I’m getting close, love.”

It’s not quite a question. You give your not-answer by doubling down on him. You’re so close to having him in your mouth all the way to the base. You don’t want to back off. What you do want is for him to finish down your throat.

You get your wish. John’s fist tightens and you let out a grunt as his thrusting results in your nose pressed against his public bone.

The taste of him doesn’t really register as he spills inside your mouth, your focus on breathing through your nose and keeping your gag reflex down.

He’s petting your hair again, praises falling freely from him and soft apologizes. “Lost myself for a moment there, love. You alright?”

You keep your mouth hilted on him for a moment to prove a point- you’re fine, he didn’t push you past threshold- before finally releasing his softening cock.

He’s pulling you up to him after that, an open mouthed kiss that flusters you considering he just came in your mouth. “You’re just a treasure,” his voice purrs in your ear. “Only fair I return the favor, hm?”

He guides you to lay on the bed, knees hanging over the edge before he turns to settle between your legs.

He starts at your neck. You’re ticklish at one spot his lips, squirming in his hold with a giggle. “Sensitive, hm?”

You nod out a “mhm,” that breaks into a breathy moan as he works his way down your chest. Rather than removing your bra his hands work to pull your breasts free from the cups before paying particular attention to your nipples.

His hands are warm as they roam your ribcage, the heat of his body seeping through the lace of your outfit as his fingers trail across your skin and the delicate material.

“You’re so soft, love,” you don’t quite know how to respond to the compliment, mewling wordlessly in pleasure at the attention.

That seems to appease him as he kisses his way down your sternum and to your belly, the expanse of most of it covered by the fabric of the garter belt.

His eyes flick up to your own as his lips travel closer to the apex of your thighs. Where you’ve been lying patient and pliant in his grasp, the eye contact draws something tight in your core and you squirm again.

The next thing you feel is teeth as he nips you. “Be a good girl for me,” he tells you, soothing the soft throb of his bite with his tongue.

You force yourself to still as he moves lower, lower, lower- taking his time and having you thoroughly worked up before moving to the next patch of skin.

When he’s down far enough he slides one of your thighs over his shoulder, that arm looping under your arm and banding across your abdomen.

It’s his turn now to mouth at your clothed sex.

He pulls the gusset of your thong aside after a moment of teasing, his lips descending on you.

“Oh,” your hand immediately finds purchase in his hair, a pleased whimper escaping you at the feel of John’s tongue.

John feasts on you. There’s not much else that can be done to describe it. It’s lewd and wet as he laps at you, the flesh of his tongue doing little to soothe the burning ache inside you and only ramping it up.

Those eyes are wicked as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. The hand resting on your lower stomach is pressing ever so lightly, like John wants the pressure there but not too much yet and you’re once again struck with the idea you might be in over your head with him.

“John, please,” you beg. It feels good but you need more, lust clouding your brain as your hips rock against his face.

“You need to be patient, love. I’ll take care of you. Just relax, hm?”

It dawns on you that he’s probably running down the clock until his refractory period is up. That he doesn’t want to get you going too quick and then be stuck not quite ready to perform.

It’s an assumption, and you’re not 100% sure that you’re correct, but it’s a solid enough option that you move forward with that in mind.

The thought almost makes it easier to relax into the bed- the idea that John is going to pleasure you with his mouth until enough time has passed and he can get it up again. That he’s not just mindlessly toying with you with no end goal in mind.

It feels good you’re just stuck being greedy and wanting more stimulation despite knowing that won’t happen until John decides he’s ready to give you more.

You almost jump when the fingers you’ve been waiting for make their presence known. His mouth moves to focus on your clit, lips making a seal and sucking on it. You cry out, hips canting as his fingers gently rub at your labia.

He starts with one, gently sliding it in and out of you. Your back arches in satisfaction of having something to clench on and rub against. It’s more satisfying than just one of your own- that was for sure.

“That’s it love,” John praises you while easing a second one into you.

The second finger is what you were looking for, stimulation wise. John pets and strokes you, thumb gently working over your clit in soft circles before putting his mouth back on you.

He doesn’t just find your g-spot. John’s fingers are placed so they hone in on that spongy bit of tissue tucked inside you. He doesn’t let up on it, tongue working on your clit as you arch your back helplessly and moan.

That pressure is back on your abdomen, the hand not currently stroking you to nirvana pressing down on your belly.

You moan and buck against his hold. Your orgasm is creeping up on you and it’s like he’s determined to make you squirt.

“You keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess,” you warn him- not entirely certain how he’ll respond to the prospect of you squirting on his face.

John looks delighted and you realize that yes, you are in over your head with him.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he pulls back from you, “You promise, love? Don’t tease me.”

Oh dear God- Next thing you know he’s reaching over you to pull a pillow from the top of the bed, wedging it underneath your hips before returning to his place between your thighs.

You’re flustered at how eager he is to see you squirt. His mouth is back on you, sucking on your clit and making your legs shake as two fingers go right back to abusing your g-spot, his free hand pressing on your belly increasing the pressure that is mounting by the second.

There’s nothing else for you to do but grab a fistful of his hair and hang on. “Please- oh! J-John! Right there,” at your encouragement he locks in on the spot that’s got you arching your back and your thighs trembling.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me,” he’s moaning encourments against your skin and you feel like a bow drawn tight and ready to snap. You’re so, so close.

The sounds he draws out of you- both from your mouth and between your legs- are filthy and vulgar and you don’t care at all as he gets you teetering just on the edge.

You’re practically gasping for breath, eyes screwing shut as the hand not buried in John’s hair fists the sheets next to you. You babble his name, chants of John all your brain can muster.

All that pressure coiling in you snaps and gushes out, literally and metaphorically.

“Good girl, making such a mess for me,” John’s praise has you flushing hot while his fingers work you like he’s making sure he can wring out every single last drop.

He stops when you have nothing left to give him, a trembling mess shivering in his hold.

Your brain at some point made the windows shut down noise, needing a moment to settle as you process what John just did to you.

This is the hardest you’ve cum in ages, certainly better than the orgasms you’ve given yourself during your little dry spell.

You return to the land of the living with his lips on yours, tasting yourself as he soothingly strokes your side. “You back with me?” He asks, eliciting a nod from you.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” your tone is pleading. You still want to ride him but you’ve learned your lesson about practicing safe sex. Once was, in fact, all it took for things to go off the rail.

“I do,” he stands, moving to the nightstand and opening a drawer.

Now that your legs feel somewhat compliant you sit yourself back up.

No sooner than John’s got the condom on then you’re guiding him back down, having him lay on the edge of the bed.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, getting yourself situated so your heels don’t catch on his sheets, but you’re straddling him with the leg closest to the edge of the bed hanging over the side as the opposite leg folds underneath you. You hover over him while getting everything lined up. The position of your legs allows you to alternate which one is supporting the brunt of your weight, a factor that is going to be fairly important once you’ve hilted yourself on John.

Even with how pliant your body is it takes a moment for the head of him to breach you.

“Oh,” you let out a breath as you sink down on him. You’re not able to get all the way to the base of him on the first go, getting your weight underneath yourself and lifting almost completely off of him before dropping down again. You get a little further this time, a moan escaping you.

“That’s it, love. Nice and easy,” his voice coos in your ear, that low timber having you liable to melt.

He’s thick. Not in a way that’s insurmountable to manage, but you have absolutely no complaints with how he fills you and anticipate being pleasantly sore in the morning.

Two more slow bounces have you sinking low enough to hilt yourself on him, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of sitting fully on his lap.

One of his hands braces on your hip, the other his thumb circles your clit. You squirm at the stimuli, relishing in the feel of him before getting to work.

This is what you’ve been drooling over all night. Your reward is very well earned in your opinion. Moaning lowly as you bounce up and down, your movements are initially slow and languid but pick up speed as you get your bearings. John’s heavy exhales and grunts when you clench only serve to wind you tighter.

“You feel good, pretty girl? Hm? You like bouncing on my cock?”

You flush- a ridiculous notion given how you’re quite literally hilted on his dick-, face hot from the dirty talk.

The hand on your hip helps guide you to a pace that’s pleasurable for the both of you, eyes rolling as he thrusts his hips in a way that makes you see stars. “Yes! John- yes! Oh it feels so good,” your voice a low purr as he delivers on every fantasy you’ve had this evening.

The stretch of him in you feels absolutely incredible, knocking the air out of you on each bounce. It doesn’t take long until that knot begins to form again, growing steadily as you rise and fall in his lap. The press of his finger circling your clit draws staggered moans, bracing on him for support.

“Been thinking about this all night,” John grits out. “Wanted to flip you over the bar top and have my way with you right there on the dining room floor.”

You moan at the confession, feeling less like a rabid dog with no impulse control now you know you’re not alone in the intense desire that had struck once you’d laid eyes on him.

“Probably wouldn’t have- ah! st-stopped you,” you tell him. The grip on your hip tightens at that, another moan escaping you as you bounce on him.

Your eyes roll in pleasure, cunt practically fluttering from the way he keeps getting you to clench. The thickness of his girth doesn’t just let him keep hitting that spot in you with lift of your hips so much as the mushroom tipped head of his cock drags across it.

“Aren’t you just a fucking treasure,” he praises.

Your thighs are burning, eased by the position of your legs and John’s grip helping you but becoming more present with each wet clap of your sex against his lap. It almost helps you tip closer to another climax.

Your eyes squeeze shut, a staggered breath escaping you.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you and you comply immediately.

“John, please I’m so close,” your thighs are shaking again, threatening your already precarious balance.

“You need more, pretty girl?”

You shake your head. “No-no. Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

And bless him, he doesn’t do anything to fuck up your rhythm. The fingers circling your clit keep the same tempo and pressure perfectly, his free hand still helping guide you up and out of his lap before sitting you back down.

You know you’re about to come but are caught off guard by how sharp it is as you squirt for a second time.

The sight of you spurting across his abdomen nearly severs any control John has left. The next thing you know John’s abandoned your overstimulated clit in favor of rolling you onto your back, your heels clattering to the floor from the motion. Your legs go instinctively to clamp around his waist for security- only one of them does, the other stopped by wet fingers gripping your thigh by your knee as he spreads you open. His weight is held on the forearm bracing next to your head by the time you process the shift in position.

“You alright, pretty girl?”

You can’t quite get your words out but manage a nod. “Ye-yeah,” you eventually stagger out as he waits for a verbal confirmation.

With the comfort that you were fine, that gives John the assurance he needs to seek his own pleasure.

More than satisfied with your two climaxes, you lay limp and pliant in his grasp while he chases his own end.

The wet squelch of his cock splitting you open with each thrust was loud and obscene although you were too far gone in the blissed out pleasure to care. Your whole body feels delightfully tingly, your head swimming pleasantly.

You clench down on him a few times, more for his benefit than anything else. You’re spent but more than willing to help him across the finish line as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muttering praises that are punctured with short, sharp thrusts before he stiffens as his own climax hits.

The two of you have both broken into a light sheen of sweat by the end of things. After a moment to recuperate John stands with a “I’ll be right back.” (And you unabashedly enjoy the view of his ass while he retreats to the bathroom.)

True to his word he returns shortly, evidently having disposed of the condom with a towel in hand for you.

The pair of you get yourselves clean and sorted. Before you can decide how you want to ask, John seems to already know what the question is.

“You don’t need to leave, do you?”

Again it’s not entirely a question, but still gives you an out if you want to take it.

You don't want to take the out.

[theblueboxscholar]

People who think the Classic Doctor era Doctors don't fuck, have eyes clouded.

Like. I'm sorry. ONE had 13 children. Then collected son and granddaughter figures like crazy. Fell in love and got accidently engaged and was VERY OBVIOUSLY upset about having to leave her (Cameca), keeping the token of her affection.

TWO quite LITERALLY met Jamie, Polly said "can we keep him", Jamie said "ive got no better options. It's you or the south Americas." And TWO spent the better part of a season earning Jamie's loyalty. Jamie literally repeatedly fights off time lord mind wipes so he's more often than not plucked from time to do missions with Two whose also often out of time for Time Lord nonsense. Jamie is basically all TWO needed.

THREE (whooooo boy you guys are blind) literally was so smitten with Liz, but she was too smart to tolerate his nonsense, and he was SO grumpy about it. And then there's Ms. Josephine Grant. THEY LITERALLY MIRROR HIS MEETING HER WITH HER MEETING HER FUTURE HUSBAND. THEY ARE MIRROR IMAGES. JO LOVED THE DOCTOR AND HE LOVED HER! HE LITERALLY WENT AND STOLE THAT DAMN CRYSTAL, FOR HER! But too late, so it was a wedding present and he literally drove sadly off into the sunset.

Enter Sarah Jane who he also very quickly began "My dear"ing (something he does if you're special. Note two and three say this to the Brigadier as well 👀). They have such a short time together, but the amount of times he gently touches her face. They WHOLE fast cut away from Three nearly kissing her at one point (i believe it was Sarah not Jo, but that cut edit makes me so livid. Jon was going for the LIPS), and the way Sarah looks at Three. SHE WHOLE BREAKS DOWN when he's dying. And all he can do is touch her face and say "a tear for me Sarah?" He's so gentle and kind. She was so enamored with him. Very early Clara Twelve of her tbh.

FOUR and Sarah Jane are literally soul mates (my own preferences aside, I cannot deny them). Four is so into her. The way they act together is so Nine Rose, the way they behave. But then he runs away because damn those Time Lords again.

Enter Leela. Honestly. She's the first Classic Who lady (Vicki, Victoria, Polly, and Zoe don't count, they're too young) who's not romantically interested in the Doctor. And while he definitely loves her, it's more akin to platonic best friend soulmatism; Leela joins Barbara as a "Best Friend" of The Doctor. Aka both become Donna Nobles before Donna Noble. "I shall miss you too savage." Is a line that tears my heart out every time. He is so sad to leave her, but at least he knows where she is. (And whole rescues her from the time war during the day of the doctor event. What a man.)

Romana I. Now this one is tough. They're very obviously flirty, but there's a sort of school ground resistance about the attraction. She makes Four feel old because she thinks it's funny and he has to up his game to impress her cause she's not a backwaters human with no knowledge. (I'll be honest. She's my least favorite of the two so while I enjoy her and she's in great serials, I retain basically nothing. Will hopefully change with the next watch through.)

Romana II. She whole changes her face and body and shows it off like she's showing him new clothes. But she's also teasing him. They whole both fall into "well we have a son now... that's..fuckin great i guess" when they meet Adric. They both are such begrudgingly parental figures but they do it and they care about him so much. Romana's departure is lame. I said what I said. But it's fine. She eventually goes to do dubious lebianisms with Leela and her girlfriend and husband it's fine. Shhh.

Tegan. (This one might get me crucified ngl) Tegan and Five. I know. I hear you. But Tegan is bisexual. And she definitely had a developing thing for Five. The way they act together is so "we could probably be epic together, or at least satisfactory... if you'd just stop being an asshole for TWO SECONDS--!" They're the screaming cat kinda couple. That never manged to couple. Because there were kids (Adric, Nyssa.) And so much bullshit happening constantly. But also don't forget Five and his fling(s) with Harry Houdini. Harry definitely thought Five was pretty.

Five and Turlough. Did you even watch Five and Turlough? Are your eyes THAT clouded? That's a Doctor and his twink. And Turlough is a different brand of twink than Jamie, and he's not much of an attack dog. But Five quite literally knowingly and willingly rehabilitate and gives him more than a 2nd chance. He tends to Turlough. But also, like Sarah Jane, Turlough was 100% a writer getting back at BBC. "Oh you thought Jo Grant wasn't weak and feminine enough? You want us to make someone the opposite of her who will be a weak damsel? FUCK YOU! CURSES YOUR HOUSE WITH SARAH JANE SMITH! AN EVEN BIGGER BAD ASS THAN JO! HAH!", "you're homophonic? Fuck you, writes a literal faggy ass twink with long legs to fawn around with The Doctor, fuck you!" And best of all, it is canon that Turlough would have stayed forever if he wasn't trying to make The Doctor proud and tend his responsibilities. (You're a good boy T.)

PERI BROWN did not breast boobily throughout the Doctor Who backdrops (nearly catching her (the actress') death btw) for y'all to say The Doctor wasn't into her. FIVE was so into her. Sure it's a rebound so he tries to play it off, but Turlough sees it. Sees the "God i miss Tegan" vibes Five gives off. Peri Brown forcefully and loudly insinuated herself into the Doctods hearts. And good thung too, cause she is the ONLY companion who can handle the SIXTH Doctors nonsense. Only an American could tolerate his ass and still actually truly wholly love him. I'm sorry. Six whole would have murdered a man and changed so much history that earth would have been unrecognizable ALL because he thought Peri was dead. Like. Six would burn up a sun to bring Peri back to life. His only concern is "is Peri alive?!?" And relieved enough to see her alive and content (it's dumb) when the time lords lied and said he'd lead her to her death.

Mel. Oh sweet Mel. She joins the Pre-Donna Noble's gang (Barbara, Leela). But unlike the rest she is PLATONIC SOULMATE BEST FRIEND TO ALLLLLL THE DOCTOR, REGARDLESS THE FACE~ (bless her.)

Seven MAKES the CHOICE to be celebate Meaning, The Doctor's before him, FUCKED. SEVEN IS NOT ASEXUAL OR AROMATIC (you keep your headcanons going tho never stop ever ever ever youre doing amazing sweeties) and shows on a few occasions the desire to be close, but knows he's not worth it. (He's kinda right, but i still would REDACTED his REDACTED till the cats come home.)

Eight. ... HAHAHAHAHAHAHhHaha....

HahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANANAHANAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

You think Eight doesn't fuck. Get the hell outta here man. Fuck haha. That's hilarious.

"The world doesn't end just because The Doctor dances." Did... did you miss that Dancing is a metaphor for sex? Oh... sweet innocent bean. Baby. Baby. Rose Tyler was talking about fucking. Jack Harkness was talking about fucking. The Doctor was embarrassed bevause he's rusty/he HIMSELF that version, had yet to fuck. And then they all three did. A lot. There was so much weird fucking and flirting between The Doctor Dances and Boom Town. It's not even subtle.

Ten. Rose is RIGHT there. You're an idiot. ♡ ilu tho.

Martha wishes, but she dodged a bullet.

Donna Noble is best friend shaped, they literally show no sexual chemistry. They are platonic best friend soulmates. They love each other, would die for each other, but fuck each other? No. Not even a little. Having to kiss even under duress might mean avtual death because neither of them could pull it off convincingly.

Eleven fucks way more than Nine OR Ten but it's so far and in-between he always feels kinda awkward about it. But also he's FAKING the hip with the youngins stuff. All of Eleven is an act. He admits it A LOT. And he showcases a few times he CAN turn on the sauve I know what I'm doing thing. Usually at the wrong times but still. He and River fuck. So much.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND ESTEEMED MEMBERS OF THE NONCOMFORMING--CLAAARA OSWALD~

Clara and Eleven start off as awkwardly flirty, a sort of unintentional cat and mouse. I mean the whole "this isn't a ghost story, it's a love story" scene wasn't exactly subtle. Yes he's referencing Ten and Rose unintentionally most likely, but narratively it's telling us the audience that it's talking about 11 Clara. It's also the first on screen moment we see the light bulb go off for Clara. She KNOWS now that he likes her for sure for sure.

Oh Twelve Clara we're really in it now huh? Like Sarah Jane Smith before her, Clara Oswald wants to WRECK that old man. She has a whole tirade to madam Vastra about how she's always been into old dudes so The Doctor is TOTALLY still her type MORE so in fact now! (Look. She was unprepared for a traumatic regeneration event. She comes around, grow up. AS if Rose Tyler wasn't there sobbing like a baby about it.) And then she spends the rest of her run doing nastier shit than fucking with Twelve until it literally kills her. She fucks so much with The Doctor, matches his fucking freak in ways companions of the past (Jo Grant you are excluded from this) just haven't! She manages to make The Master (Missy) jealous! HA! YOU THOUGHT THE MASTER WAS JEALOUS BEFORE???? NOOOOoooOoooo hahahahahha. Not since Delgado!Master has The Master sort of had a situationship with the Companion. Clara matched Twelves freak so much it literally killed her, and then it didn't.

Bill is a lesbian and that's her grandad.

Again. River Song is right there, and Twelve spent 24 years fucking her. And probably crying after, because let's be real... we'd cry to if we got to fuck River Song.

Yasmine Kahn... you're kicking yourself for not fucking The Doctor. And she's definitely kicking herself to stop her from kicking you too for not fucking her! (From the show alone, there was definitely no fucking. At least not between Yas and Thirteen. Thirteen does fuck however.)

Fourteen. Personally, I think he fucks. I think companions will be calling him up, catching up, and they're definitely going to end up in bed together. Like, the ONLY reason he wouldn't fuck Tegan now is because she's married to Nyssa and that'd be weird cause she's a daughter figure. /he'd make that great grossed out face David does./ But you cannot tell me he doesn't invite Dan out to France and they end up getting down and dirty in a way that would have NEVER happened with Thirteen. It briefly makes Dan wonder if he's a lesbian now. Fourteen just says he doesn't think that's how it works.

But in all seriousness, Fourteen probably could, and probablt gets offers, but more often than not he probablt just wants to chill, share dinner, maybe watch telly nothing more.

Fifteen. /Will Smith gesturing meme/ LOOL AT HIM! YES OF COURSE HE FUCKS! (Begrudgingly I gesture to Rogue. If the night had been longer they definitely would have fucked. But we'll probably never see him again so I'm not holding my breath.)

Let the scales fall from your eyes! Go, rewatch, SEE.

(This message is NOT for repulsed asexuals. You just keep doing what you're doing~ 👍🏻)

[rootspiral]

I'm curious if you have anything more to say on the fight at the start of ep8 between Agatha and Rio. Like, about anything, the face acting, why this was Rio's last straw, why Agatha was surprised it was Rio's last straw.. Or just how good they looked lol.

Fuck, am I really going through these scenes to screencap them again? I guess I am. Let's pretend it's an extra deep dive.

Agatha has just left Lilia behind dealing with the Salem Seven. She was acting super casual and unbothered with Lilia, but as soon as the door of the iron maiden closed and Jen started screaming, she bolted. And she's running now and she looks terrified, but of what? The Salem Seven killing her? Or Rio catching up with her now that more bodies are dropping? Does she feel particularly guilty about Lilia's death, after seeing her display of incredible power and grace in the trial? All these things together probably, and whatever she's running from, here is her face when she sees Rio ↑

Then she has to close her eyes and steel herself like we've seen her do so many times, she was completely unfiltered a moment ago, terror showing plainly on her face, and now she's trying to regain control, but notice how it doesn't quite work: she's too shaken and her true feelings are still showing. Also heartbreaking and maddeningly stupid that she feels the need to hide and posture in front of Rio who is just begging for the opposite.

It's also interesting that Rio, as angry as she is, takes the time to tell Agatha that the Salem Seven are dead and she can relax and stop running – at least from them. Despite putting on her angry face, despite being determined to confront Agatha this time, she still wants to make things easier for her too. But it's no coincidence that she mentions Alice and Lilia, we saw her reap Alice's soul at the beginning of the episode, and right here? She just reaped Lilia. Like, that literally just happened. And it's obviously affecting her. Add to it the whole issue with Billy and Agatha's general behavior, is it any surprise that Rio is upset?

The finger pointing, the pursed lips and strained smile. "Here you are, breaking rules and breaking my heart again. And here I am, letting you do it like the fucking loser I am." I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really like Aubrey Plaza's more subtle acting choices.

And the more she talks, the more Rio gets subdued. She stops acting menacing and scary and you can see vulnerability coming through. I know how you feel about him. I watch you just as close as you watch everyone else. This walk with another's woman son. This is Rio trying to keep it professional when it couldn't be more personal. She's hurt, she's jealous, she's lonely. Fuck, why can't Agatha acknowledge it?

Meanwhile Agatha is just fidgeting and grimacing and shaking and trying to deflect and run away from the conversation. Rio, even when she sets out to yell at Agatha, ends up trying to reach out and communicate and do the emotional work instead, she still wants this to work so much. Agatha won't let her. She won't move an inch.

You call what you did special treatment? Look at all that venom, dear lord. Here we have Rio practically begging Agatha to see things from her point of view, to at least try to understand. Agatha, in pure Agatha fashion, grabs her pain like a weapon and starts slashing. She's jealous of her pain, she protects it, she feeds it. It's what helped her survive. Carrying around those three swords in her heart is the only way she knows how to function, no matter how agonizing they are.

You know when a parent is trying to reason with a toddler, and they sit down at their little table and say stuff like, "I know that you're angry, but your words are making mommy sad," and the toddler inevitably throws a pen or yells or calls them names? And the parent just wants to slap that little shit, and it takes them a hot second to collect themselves? Yeah.

Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, Agatha is not a toddler and Rio shouldn't have to do this. It's undignified, it's unfair, it's too painful. Rio is supposed to be her partner, not a surrogate parent.

And Rio does collect herself, and she keeps trying. Look at her body language, she's leaning back, tentative, less intrusive. She did the same thing when she was trying to help Agnes, she pushed a little, and when Agnes recoiled she stepped back and regrouped. She's pretty much spoon-feeding Agatha at this point. "Okay, let's talk about the case" becomes "Okay, let's talk about Nicky. I know it's hard but I'm with you. One step at a time. I only need to figure out the best way to save you from yourself and then everything will be fine."

This is what Rio has been doing, watching Agatha and studying her, acting like a therapist, trying to ease her out of her pit of despair as Agatha yells and throws stuff at her. And what I find really poignant is that Rio is literally the physical embodiment of balance, but she's going against her very nature and putting Agatha before everything else, even herself. Rio loves Agatha that much. And it's wrong. It's not sustainable. No wonder Rio lashed out so spectacularly at the end of the episode, she needs to feel big after shrinking and shrinking and shrinking in front of Agatha.

And yes I still love that Rio the Agatha wrangler has managed to calm her enough to sit and talk. Defenses are tentatively lowered, Rio's plan for getting through that thick skull is going splendidly. Or not.

Agatha is not letting Rio have her way, not even for a second. She's going to make it as hard as she can. And like I said in my deep dives, despite all she is still expecting Rio to always come back, no matter how much shit she throws at her.

There is a lot to be said about the way Agatha is addicted to hurting people. It is an addiction, it's her main/only source of endorphins at this point. It makes her feel powerful and in control of the narrative. And it's a vicious circle, she punishes people so when they lash back she can go, "See? See? They hate me, I was right, I was justified!" Rio was only feeding that addiction by coming back over and over again to let herself be pushed around.

Hey, Agatha? You don't want Death to look like someone just kicked her in the stomach. You literally took her breath away, and not in the fun way.

You dumb fuck.

Wow, this is still really fun to do, despite it being maybe the two of them at their lowest.

You know what? If you guys want you can send some other scenes my way, especially from the first episodes because I didn't comb them that thoroughly. And Agatha's scenes in WandaVision too, I want to watch those again. But only one scene per ask, please.

[1-have-no-idea]

how they kiss you; part two

Pairing(s): 501st, implied fem reader

Overview: literally just how they kiss you. It’s literally just that.

Warning(s): Hardcase refers reader as ‘pretty mama’ at one point, cursing (in Mando’a and English), implied smut, descriptions of smut, yeah, basically just smut, tiiiiny bit of angst but it’s not

Word-count: I honestly did not count

Rex:

-OH YEAH

-why not start with our dear old captain first??

-just look at that smirk, you know this man would DEMAND kisses before any mission. It’s religious at this point

-well- I mean. Not in the beginning.

-Rex is a lover boy. Straight up.

-I mean, did you see his face when he stumbled onto Cut’s family?

-he’s a family man 😭

-so, he thinks you’re an absolute dream come true

-I mean, c’mon. A pretty partner? A loving partner? He loves you with all his damn heart, Maker.

-…buttttt, despite his love for you, he’s actually really shy. He doesn’t wanna mess up, or rush into anything.

-so, this translates into you having to kiss him first :/

-which, hey! That’s not bad whatsoever! Cuz guess what?

-YOU TOOK HIS FIRST KISS

-that’s something to remember. Especially for Rex.

-and for the first time, he actually does well!

-once he learns, he can’t stop.

-his kisses are firm. Real soft, though. Like he’s afraid if he kisses too hard, he’ll hurt you. Like he wants more but also wants to break the kiss and hold you instead.

-oh, but don’t worry

-you should see him when he’s all worked up

-he actually won’t use tongue, but he’ll use his tongue anywhere else (take that as you will.) As for kisses, they’re deep. God, you can guess what else is deep.

-he won’t come up for air. He’ll kiss you until y’all are breathless

-“Maker—- love you, love you s’much, mesh’la- take it- take it deeper f’me, haah—“

-yeah, ahem. So, that’s him.

———————————————————————————

Jesse:

-Good Lord

-so, uhm.

-this guy’s smooth. Really. Smooth.

-I’m pretty sure it’s canon that he goes to the 79’s, along with Kix, and well, with the people there and letting loose an all, it’s not that surprising that Jesse most likely has a body count

-at least like, two or three people he fucked in the refresher

-so, he’s experienced

-unlike Rex, he’s not shy

-he will GLADLY make out with you all day

-…once you two become a thing, and behind closed doors

-yes, even though Jesse’s a bit freaky and lowkey kinda a slut in the 79’s, once he meets you and actually well, gets with you

-he settles down

-due to how y’all are serious, he becomes more private. I mean, he definitely wants people to know he’s yours and you’re his, but he doesn’t want to flaunt you out there

-in the beginning, his kisses are hard. Demanding. Teasing, even. Tongue down your throat in seconds. Would literally always lead up to sex.

-but, as your relationship progresses and he realizes this isn’t just to get in his pants or anything, the kisses become softer

-more tender

-they don’t shorten, don’t misunderstand me, but they’re not demanding anymore. At least, not all the time

-this time, he kisses you because he loves you

-he kisses you because he really can’t know when the last time he’ll be able to

-he kisses you because he wants you to know how much you mean to him

-it’s a lust-to-love thing

-oh, but sometimes he may swipe his tongue over your bottom lip. Just to tease you. He’s not a total softie, doll.

———————————————————————————

Kix:

-aw, just look at him

-so, as mentioned before, Kix would go to the 79’s with Jesse a lot

-but, he wasn’t really a slut 🤷‍♀️

-he’d go there for the drinks and for fun. But not to get laid

-I mean, c’mon. There’s too many health risks. STD’s, potential pregnancy…

-what else would you expect from the medic

-BUT! That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t flirt.

-if he was interested, he’d talk. Say hi, hello, how are you, bla bla bla, but he wouldn’t take them to bed. It was always just hello for him.

-until he met you

-Kix is very old schooled

-very gentlemanly.

-it will at least take three to four dates and consistent talking for him to actually be hooked, and want something more, let alone kiss you

-oh, but once you get there

-he’ll kiss you when he thinks the time is right. It has to be the perfect moment.

-maybe when a quiet moment appears during one of your dates, or after a heart to heart or when he’s dropping you off or before he goes off on a mission

-the first kiss is soft. Firm, though. Full of meaning and unspoken confessions

-and then he’ll part, just for a second before returning one last time for a second kiss, and then he’ll be on his way.

-if you were to get intimate, though, his kisses are somewhat the same

-the only difference is there’s a hint of desperation in his kisses

-they’re chaste and a tad frantic, as if he’s rushing

-he is.

-like he’s trying to convey all his love to you while also struggling to hold back and not just—- pound you until you can’t sit right

-don’t worry, he’s a gentle lover though. But if you ask, who is he to deny?

———————————————————————————

Hardcase:

-oh, my silly little hyperactive adhd clone

-with no hesitation or anything, Hardcase absolutely geeks over you

-he’s jumping up and down when he sees you, grinning so hard you think his teeth might crack, laughing boisterously while scooping you up into a hug

-cuz you’re his baby, his hot stuff, his pretty mama

-and he’s NOT SHY in letting you know

-believe it or not, Hardcase actually wasn’t experienced before you. Surprising, right? Well, not really. Hardcase is somewhat of a himbo, and usually can’t take a hint on whether someone’s hitting on him or not. Plus, whenever he hit the bar, he’d usually be too drunk to realize if someone was or not. He’s there to just have fun.

-but he was eager to kiss you

-extremely. Extremely. Eager.

-you think he’d be a natural his first time?

-HAH. That’s cute. But no.

-the first kiss is sloppy. Rushed. I mean- it’s deep, don’t get me wrong, but just- very sloppy.

-noses squishing together, lips not even locked, teeth clacking together—

-yeah, it’s not the best. But it was for him!!

-at least, he thought it was

-until you actually taught him

-and for the first time, he froze. Everything in him went calm. Well, for a couple seconds, at least

-then he was giggling like a school-girl again and pecking all over your face

-Hardcase’s kisses are quick. Sometimes sloppy, and rushed, but it’s just because he gets so excited!

-s’not his fault, babydoll, believe him. It’s just easy to get too excited around you.

-and, well, that also transfers in the bed

-hope you can last a couple of quick rounds. He doesn’t plan on taking any breaks.

———————————————————————————

Dogma:

-guys, be for real. You think this man would know how to kiss?

-nah.

-he’s clueless. I mean, c’mon, all he does is work, work, work, and follow orders!

-he doesn’t get out much, give him some slack!

-so, well, you’re gonna hafta initiate everything and everything.

-Dogma is uptight, and fiercely believed that a clone’s person is strictly only to follow orders, so don’t get your feelings hurt when you try to initiate any affection for the first time and he flinches away or scowls. It’s nothing personal, really. He just doesn’t know how else to react.

-reassure him. Praise him. Tell him that he’s more than just a number to you, that you don’t just see him as a piece of hardware

-Dogma absolutely craves praise

-so when he first kisses you, he instinctively starts worrying and asking you if he did alright, if it made you feel good, if you were happy with him

-do him a favor and just kiss him to shut him up

-it works. It really does.

-Dogma’s kisses are shy. Barely there presses, fluttering and fleeting.

-you’re gonna hafta hold his face to keep him from pulling away almost immediately

-and then, once that strict and by-the-book soldier melts away, leaving the praise-starved and lowkey needy man beneath, Dogma will melt.

-you just need to guide him

-tell him what feels good, how good he’s being, how much you love him

-and Maker, isn’t he a pleaser

-he’s a suck up. He wants to please you.

-and doesn’t he do a damn good job of it

———————————————————————————

Tup:

-sweet baby, right?

-probably has no idea what he’s doing, right?

-WRONG

-look, sweet baby, yes, he is, he’s a sweetheart

-but he’s not a prude

-and he’s DEFINITELY not innocent

-I mean, c’mon. Have you seen his brothers? They’ve probably shown him holoporn at one point or tried to hook him up with someone

-that being said, he’s still newer, but he’s not completely ignorant

-and it’s not like he really liked playing around that much, either. He didn’t wanna hurt anyone’s feelings 🥺

-and when you appear? Well, you can guess how sweet this boy is to you

-he courts you.

-he’s not timid, but he can be shy, but it’s not like, really shy. He’s just very polite and doesn’t wanna scare you away, because in all realness, Tup is a bit insecure

-please reassure him.

-he may be shy of touching you at first, but once you assure him, he’ll start to. When the moments right, of course.

-his kisses are short and sweet

-a peck here and there

-oh, but don’t be disappointed. If you want more, he’ll give more, you just have to ask

-but, then again, he’s still a little hesitant about it. Just take the reins with this one.

-like I said, Tup isn’t innocent, he’s not a prude

-but he’s still a virgin. He could kiss, he could flirt

-but he’s always been to scared to give his virginity away, because that was special to him

-well anywho- we’re not on that topic! Yet :)

———————————————————————————

Fives:

-and last but not least! Fives!!

-look, Fives is a stud

-he’s goofy, flirty, cheesy, oh, so cheesy

-and he turns up that cheesiness all the way when he meets you

-so he’s experienced

-he 100% his, but when it comes to you, he’s not all ‘oh, yeah, to the bed, baby,’ but instead more of a, ‘hey, got a map? Cuz I’m getting lost in your eyes—-‘

-yeah. It’s bad.

-oh- but just- just give him a chance- kay? He’ll prove it to you—

-his kisses are DEEP

-PASSIONATE

-he uses tongue

-not to where it’s overwhelming, but to make you breathless and yearning for more

-kisses hard, one nip to your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue and then just going for it

-you know he has you pinned against some place while he kisses you

-Makes out like his life depends on it

-but it’s not just lust for him, don’t worry!

-he’ll be breathing out his love for you with every kiss, growling under his breath while he thrusts into you deep and slow

-“Kriff— hold on- hah- fuck! Feel me right there- like that? Yeah, hahaah, yeah, ya like that, baby? Yeah, I know you do—“

-yeah. It gets heated really quickly.

-he’ll have you squirming in no time

-you’ll be yearning for this man in every way

-so yes.

-Fives is a very passionate man.

-and he just gets even more passionate when he’s with you

[barrenclan]

ok ONE more music ask bc i think this is the third one i’ve submitted for the new issue so far:

so i went back & read issue 37 while listening to “drunk walk home” by mitski (both the original and the live at palisades version), timing my reading with the listening so that certain panels & passages would line up with the right points in the song, and dear. fucking. LORD. i wanna make a rainhaze pmv with this so badly. the only question is which version of the song to use

so the best way i can explain it:

*drumbeat intro* - the title page

“i will retire to the salton sea/at the age of 23” - that comic panel at the beginning showing how much he changed

“for i’ve started to learn i may never be free/but though I may never be free/fuck you and your money/i’m tired of your money” - idk exactly how it’d line up with the issue but something something him being influenced by defiance & ranger, something something “you can love someone and still hate/hurt them”

*guitar picks up* - the canine realization and/or slug’s reaction to the murder reveal. some combination of the two.

“and i sit on the curb ‘cause it’s the prettiest night/with no one else in sight/don’t you know i wore this dress for you/these killer heels for you” - rain gets all defensive & tries to justify the murder with the sleep thing & the hypocrisy

“see the dark, it moves/with every breath of the breeze” (+ the buildup before the guitar solo) - “convince them…okay”

*guitar solo* - slug attacks him, big fight scene

and of course the screaming at the end correlates to him screaming as he’s gutted like a baked potato

Nice!! I always love how much thought you put into song choices.

As a Johnny Cash enjoyer I must say I do prefer his cover but of course I love Nine Inch Nails too. More dark and gritty does fit Rainhaze better.

I've never actually listened to or seen Repo, but it does seem like something that would be up my alley. It does fit him too, driving in what he's done and forcing him to remember killing Asphodelpaw.

I remember every dying whisper Every desperate murmur I remember when I gaze upon her She looks just like you I remember, I remember

I like this from Rainhaze's perspective, like he's constantly trying to guess what Ranger wants from him, how much he has to hurt himself to please Ranger.

The waves suck you in then you drown If like, you'd just stay down with me I'll swim down with you Is that what you want?

You hang the anchors over my neck (Saw your end) I liked it at first but the more you laughed The crazier I became

Haha aww, Pinepaw.

I lost some weight from anxious pacing talking on the telephone If I look cool I'm fooling you At any point you can assume My mind's computing every path that screws up what I wanna do

The things that I can't shoulder well I pass onto my older self And hope I learn to cope so I don't end up broke or overwhelmed 'Cause vocally, I'm not the best

Poinsettia is an interesting pull, but I can see it. I hate to say Rainhaze once again but yknow... kinda Rainhaze...

The feelings of regret And now I'm running to forget But know, the consequence of imagination's fear I met a man downtown the other day With ruby eyes that took my life away

Thе antidote we look so hard to find To purge yourself of fear, relax your mind But heaven only knows Where my mind leads, the feeling grows

Someone has actually recently made an incredible animatic set to Ptolemaea, actually! You can see it here.

That's alright, I usually do all the lyric quoting!

Pick up another cigarette Smoke it now and soon you'll forget If only your silver lining had better timing 'Cause there's no crown for one on the way down

Your dull blade and your dusty attire Can bring back all those burning desires So go back to the pit or roll over

I'd love to see the animation if you ever make it! It does have big synergy with "The Death of BarrenClan" event.

Heed the sirens, take shelter, my lover Flee the fire that devours But the sight held me fixed like a bayonet against my throat

It was a pale white horse With a crooked smile And I knew it was my time

Not a song in the world that doesn't make me think of Rainhaze... anyways, I always like a good Hoosiers song.

Everything you love turns to dust, You'd make more of it but you felt rushed By all that's periphery, You held tight, but on the contrary

Don't look your life passed you by, 'Cause you're too attached to it, Don't look your life passed you by, 'Cause you're too attached to it