#i was compelled to draw them kissing

[doodoodinklefart]

you are everything

my most demanding dream

[saltsig]

played the first case of dgs2 for the first time the other day and? I needed to get this out of my system don't mind me! ^_^

[widowshill]

happy aro week to everyone who celebrates. give your local aro a hundred dollars to compensate for their suffering (me).

[coyoxxtl]

my understanding of Light/L is so far beyond what the fandom can fathom

[sirjo-esque]

sorry i had a vision

[swytdoll]

emoloser!choso, who nearly breaks down when you hint at removing the condom for the very first time. “are you for real...?” he gasps, his eyes fluttering, toes tensing up at the mere thought. a gentle smile creeps onto your face as you nod. “i’m for real real.” you hum, savoring the way he trembles. his breath catches with each caress of your hands across his bare chest. "ugnh, i...i’m not sure if i’ll be able to—hold on!" his voice cracks as your hand clasps his shaft, pad of your thumb teasingly circling the sticky slit.

choso's hips twitch uncontrollably, the warmth emanating from him palpable. he mutters that he might faint as you tighten your grip, his whole body quaking. and in that moment, he thinks to himself, this is how i could go. my pretty girl playing with my cock, really, what more could a guy ask for?

you choose to show compassion to the unfortunate loser as you float above him. he truly is a gracious victor, and honestly, you enjoy being the one in charge. watching him writhe underneath you. slowly you take the condom that dangles loosely from the rubber ring and slide it back over his arousal, playfully building up the tension. “ah! don’t i’ll cum—“ choso shudders, hands sinking into your thighs.

a slight shift is all it takes to position the tip just right. then you lower yourself onto his fat size, observing the way his eyes flutter shut, his jaw slackens, and his eyebrows arch in surprise. the sounds he emits are captivating; he starts with a whimper that evolves into a deep moan. his body tightening, muscles taut with the overwhelming sensation of your walls inviting him.

it sends chills down your spine, knowing you can turn emoloser!choso into a quivering mess with just your cunt. you revel in the sensation of his hands gripping you tight, fingers pressing into your skin as you rock back and forth, savoring every bit of his length as he splits you. he wants to tell you how good it feels, how good you’re doing, but the words come out as mangled sobs.

delicately you grasp his hands, guiding them to your chest. his thumbs caress your stiff nipples with a natural ease. a soft moan escaping your lips as you tilt your head, lost in the moment. you’re so fucking pretty, eyebrows scrunched over flickering eyelashes, waves of hair splashing down your back as you ride his taut cock. he see’s the way your plump lips quiver each time he bottoms out inside you, you’re enjoying this just as much as he is. if not more. "oh my god, oh my god—can’t take it anymore! m’sorry!” he stammers and with a sudden shift, he turns you onto your back, parting your thighs before diving back into your warm pussy, his mouth forming a perfect 'o' in bliss.

your fingers tangle in the sheets as he drives into you with increasing intensity, each thrust more urgent than the last. your heels press into his backside, drawing him nearer, compelling him to push harder. a deep groan escapes him, resonating through his body. "cho!" you gasp, the pleasure overwhelming. his fat dick throbs and swells, his eyes squeezed shut, while his hands clutch your waist with a possessive grip.

he doesn't mean to be so rough with you, but god, does it feel good. "feels so— fuck, fuck, fuck," he's crying out, leaning down to press the sloppiest kiss against your lips, his black hair falling into his eyes. his purple-tipped fingers hold your cheeks and pull them apart, the dark eyeliner on his nose smudged while his heated skin glimmers in a light sheen of sweat.

he pushes into you deep, the tip of his cock bumping your cervix. any other time he'd be embarrassed to be acting like this... so pathetic for your pussy, but he can hardly help it. you're so damn warm, sucking his length in, letting him ruin you. he’s tugging his lip ring between his teeth as he fucks you ditzy, hands intertwining with yours as he fucks you into the comforter. “look at me... please?” his voice is desperate; he wants to fill you up. he swears he’s gonna come when you flutter open those pretty little eyes and lock them with his. “oh my—shitttt. can’t b-believe you’re m-my girlfriend—m’so lucky. hah!” his breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel the tension building in every thrust.

choso imagines this is what heaven feels like, he swears he can feel every ridge of your cunt.

emoloser!choso who forces his tongue down your throat as he shoots his load across your cunt. he’s mortified. he’s come before you. “fuck fuck, i-i’m sorry!” he’s whimpering, remaining spurts of cum emptying from his sore balls. you giggle, running your hands over his lips then his eyebrow piercing, then burying them in his sticky wolf cut. “it’s okay baby boy. . .” your hand guides him down, and he immediately catches on. “let me take care of her, yeah?” and before you know it he’s spreading your thighs apart, eating you like a starved man.

[siriuslylantsov]

home

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

description: in which spencer gets home and he needs you.

tags: MDNI smut! and fluff, established relationship, sleepy sex, pinv, little praise, brief nipple stuff (im a creature of habit), cockwarming, aftercare, this is just sweet and quiet.

a/n: anon who sent in the req, this is for you :) little gilmore girls adjacent line there at the end because i have that show memorised and i think its silly. smut is slowly getting easier for me to right and im really happy about that. happy reading! tell me what you think

wc: 1.3k

you feel the all so familiar lips on your shoulder and you know. you stir awake. with a groggy groan, you open your eyes and turn your head around. the strap of your tank top is peeled down to your arm and a messy mop of curls is tucked into your neck. he's home.

“hey,” you whisper. “you're home.”

spencer lifts his head up, “yeah, baby.”

you scoot back into him, needing him to be closer. chuckling, when you feel an unmistakable hardness against your ass. you nudge your nose against his. 

“you okay?”

“mhm. you're just so pretty,” he responds, lip caught between his teeth, eyes glistening even in the low light. you could see the need in his eyes, and even barely awake, you felt compelled to tease him.

you turn to face him, subtly wedging a leg between his. action ever so slightly causing some friction, just enough that it seemed innocuous. you scrunch your nose up appreciatively, muttering a quiet “thank you”, pressing your thigh more firmly against him. 

he pouts, knowing what you're doing. “please,” he mumbles.

“please, what?” you taunt, playing dumb.

“i need you, please angel,” he whines, hand finding your waist.

you caress his cheek lightly with your knuckles, the gentleness making him shiver, so sensitive. you smile at him and he returns it. “you have me, spence. whenever you want.”

he leans into your touch, eyebrows furrowed in mild exasperation. “why tease me then?” he implores. 

“it's fun,” you offer up uselessly with a shrug. everytime you do, it draws something whiny from him and you find it so endearing. 

he huffs, in disbelief and amusement. “you're impossible.”

“you love me,” you retort, melting into the pillow.

“i do,” he confirms with a nod, leaning in to kiss your lips, lingering for a moment to see if you'll kiss him back.

you do, it's a little sloppy but he's okay taking the lead. his tongue slips into your mouth as he slowly pushes you to lay on your back. finding the waistband of your shorts, he pulls them down along with your underwear. your legs instinctively part as he lifts himself to settle between them. he dips his head down to capture your lips again, the kiss more frenzied this time. his hand trails up to your shoulder pulling the other strap of your tank top too and bunching the fabric at your waist so your tits were out. you weakly paw at his t-shirt and he takes it off, kicking his pants and underwear off in the process, clothes in a tangled mess somewhere under the duvet.

he mouths at your neck, sucking lightly. his hand trails over your breast, kneading the flesh. his thumb grazes your nipple and it stiffens. he rolls the bud between his fingers, making you quiver, causing arousal to pool between your thighs.

“spence,” you whimper.

“i got you,” he responds quickly, dipping his fingers between your folds. groaning when he feels the wetness there. “always so wet for me,” he murmurs. your eyes flutter shut as he gently circles your clit.

“do you need my fingers first? or are you ready?” he inquires.

 “‘m okay. i can take it,” you reassure him, your tone a little petulant because of the lingering sleep. 

you look so unbelievably soft, he's afraid that he might break you. “i know you can, angel, but it's been a week.”

“need you inside me,” you slur.

your gaze meets his, equally clouded in lust. he takes the plunge, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance. he pushes in slowly, matching your sigh when he bottoms out. 

he stays there for a moment, relishing in the way you wrap around him. it's warm and soft and wet and overwhelmingly you, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. 

you seem just as content as him when you don't urge him to move immediately, raising your arms to pull him closer. your fingers trace the subtle lines of muscle on his shoulder blades, hallowed paths that you’re well accustomed to. 

your walls flutter around him and he buries his head into the crook of your neck, whispering sweet nothings into your skin, lips pressed firmly against you because he wants you to have it all, to absorb it, to take it. 

“perfect girl, you feel so good. so so good for me,” his words are muffled but heard by you all the same as he draws his hips back, only to somehow push in deeper. 

it goes like this. languid thrusts by him and soothing passes over his spine by you. it’s tranquil, the way that he fucks you–for a lack of a less crude word. it isn't making love either, in the sense that it isn't passionate or intense. but it's sweet, done with ease. practised motions of his hips has him dragging against your sweet spot incessantly. he can hear the hushed ah’s you let out, and god does he love how you sound. 

“i missed you,” he drawls into your neck, lips pressing feathery kisses to your skin.

your hand snakes into his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. “i missed you too, sweet boy.”

his pace quickens, ever so slightly, in mollified desperation. you almost feel a little bad that he's doing all the work, but you're too tired to think about it–and he feels fucking incredible inside you–so you happily let him. he lurks his hand between your bodies to rub at your clit again, angling his thrusts higher.

“fuck, baby, like that,” you keen.

“yeah?” he pants.

just like that. your orgasm washes over you in a wave of bliss–high, high and higher. the feel of you squeezing around him, drives him over the edge too. his hips snap as he fucks you through it, once, twice, and then he stills. 

he raises his head from your shoulder, “hi pretty,” he whispers, soft smile gracing his lips.

you hum in acknowledgement, the post orgasmic haze lulling you back to sleep. he chuckles quietly, brushing his lips over your forehead. he cautiously pulls out as to not wake you, corners of his mouth twitching when you make an incoherent noise at the feeling. 

he grabs a damp towel, warily cleaning the mess. he's careful when he redresses you, slipping on a clean pair of underwear and pulling the straps of your top over your shoulders, kissing either joint before lying down next to you. he pulls the covers up, starkly reminded of how cold you keep the room, holding your hand as he falls asleep too. 

your eyes flit open hours later at the feel of his fingers skimming over your face. rays of sunlight peek through the gap in the curtain. you look up at him, already staring down at you.

“creep,” you rasp, though there's no malice behind your words.

“i'm sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologises.

“which time?”

“both,” he lets out sheepishly.

“it’s okay, i'm not,” you counter as you throw an arm over him and tuck yourself into his side.

he wraps his around you in turn, smiling into your hair. you rest your chin on his chest, half-lidded eyes staring into his wide eyed brown ones.

“what time is it?” you inquire, too lazy to check the clock that sat atop your bedside table.

“late,” he says, running his hand down your arm and up again.

“i’m hungry, i want pancakes. can we make pancakes?”

“we can make whatever you want, sweetheart,” he answers, prompting you to grin and spring upright.

you notice the clothes on your body and you stick your bottom lip out, “you’re sweet.” you look at him a moment longer, eyes following the features of his face in awe. you pull him up to hug him tightly.

“oh, i’m so happy you’re home.” you chirp giddily.

he squeezes you, “they say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

you let go of him, jumping out of the bed. “yeah, well. sex does that too.”

m.list

[seredelgi]

Do they get jealous?/ JJK x fem!reader

Featuring: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro, Megumi Fushiguro, Yuuji Itadori, Kento Nanami, Ryoumen Sukuna

tw: kissing, making out, jealousy, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, implied/referenced sex, raw sex, groping I guess

Disclaimer: all featured characters are depicted as adults

Gojo would never admit it. He loves to think of himself as the carefree type, one confident enough not to fear other men stealing you away from him. However, he is also very much aware of how hot you are, and he can’t help but count heads turning when you stroll down the street, your arm securely hooked around his. You pretend not to hear his teeth gritting and not to notice the way he possessively circles an arm around your waist to keep you closer to him. He’s not jealous, they’re just too damn greedy.

Geto’s eyes immediately darken as soon as he catches sight of another man looming over you at the club. They’re awfully bold, honestly, considering you’re usually already grinding against him as they confidently approach the scene. As soon as the poor things meet his gaze from over your shoulder they’re able to catch a glimpse of the silent threat hidden within them. But he’s not satisfied with just that. No, he carefully snakes an arm around your waist, his palm shamelessly spreading across your belly to make them unequivocally aware of who you belong to. And if they still dare touch you, then they deserve what’s coming to them.

Toji acts cold. He freezes you out until he can have you as he properly wants. Whatever he’s had to endure while out with you, whether it be yearning looks from other men eating you up with their eyes or you exchanging words with way too lustful strangers in lousy bars, he patiently waits for you two to be alone to vent it out. As soon as you’re past the threshold of your apartment he slams you against the wall and claims your lips in a heated kiss. He takes you raw that night because he can, making you moan his name so loud that you’re sure the whole building can hear. That’s what you get, after all, for putting him in such misery all night.

Megumi’s not the type to get jealous. He knows how beautiful you are, and he loves the way boys look at you whenever they notice, too. He’s not scared of such attention, as long as you’re not bothered by it. His only response to the occurrence is to provide the comfort of his presence whenever it makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable. It always does the trick to pull you flush against his chest and start peppering sweet, passionate kisses down your neck, driving looks away and shifting your attention back to where it ultimately belongs: to him.

Yuuji’s not possessive in the slightest. He knows that you easily draw the attention of other men, and he’s okay with it. However, from time to time he does get a bit insecure about it. He wonders if you could find someone to satisfy you better than he can, if you would leave him were that to ever happen. That’s when he comes looking for cuddles and pitifully pouts at you as he asks “ You love me, right?”. You can’t help but chuckle at the display, affectionately bumping your nose on his before answering him “ Only you, always”. It’s enough to dissipate any lingering doubt, enough to make him playfully nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck and inhale in your scent.

Nanami’s fully confident in your loyalty, that’s never been a matter of concern to him. However, as soon as anyone tries to do anything even remotely disrespectful in your regards he feels compelled to step in, first and foremost politely asking them to back off. Unfortunately, sometimes that doesn’t work, and considering the size of the man, you’re dumbfounded by how often he’s got to resort to the second option. Let’s just say none of the boys that have made him go with it have left his sight unscathed.

Sukuna’s not so much jealous as he is proud to showcase you around. You're always the prettiest girl at any part he takes you to, and it shows in the way jaws immediately drop to the floor as soon as you walk by. He’s happy to circle his arm around your shoulder and dive into deep make-out sessions in front of anyone who dares look at you as if you were up for the taking. You’re his alone, and if the hickies covering your neck are not enough to make them stay away, then he’ll make sure to give them a little show by shoving his tongue in your mouth instead.

So what about the way they kiss you?

What gets them going?

And what pet names do they use the most?

What about AOT men?

[kinda-indecisive]

.⋅ ˚̣✧ :–⭒  Lingering Affections pt. II⭒–:✧ ˚̣⋅ .

How I imagine the guys would react to you (MC) surprising them with a kiss that lingers a bit longer than expected. Caleb's was a little more angsty than I meant, but he's just so angst-coded!

Part 2: The Zayne, Sylus and Caleb Edition! 

:✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧:

Zayne 

Continuing to pout, you hold on as he rolls your office chair toward him.

“Don’t be a meanie,” you sulk, as if the doctor had personally offended you and not the random cat from the video you two had been watching.

“I was hardly being a ‘meanie’ and merely stated a fact. That cat couldn’t manage the jump onto the counter because it was too fat,” he reiterates. You continue to keep your back to him and he chuckles, pushing your hair away from your neck and laying his chin on your shoulder, “But I never said it wasn’t cute.”

You snort, then laugh, eagerly reaching back. You feel the corner of his mouth raise in a soft smile as he presses his cheek to your palm.

His voice is a hum when he speaks, “Thank you for today’s lunch.”

“You deserve it.”

The statement is obvious whether you’re taking today’s actions into account or not. Zayne is a paragon of everything a doctor should be. 

Today’s example? He had to postpone your original lunch plans because of a new patient of his. The man had undergone a big procedure and Zayne didn’t want to leave the hospital in case there was an emergency or if there was something else that prevented the patient from getting adjusted while he was out.

Hearing his reason for canceling, you decided to bring lunch to him, happy to spend any time with him, even if it meant he’d be called away at any minute.

As fate would have it, the patient is well and Zayne wasn’t needed, therefore you two have been able to enjoy an entire lunch together, giggling over silly videos on your phone and chatting about the trip you are planning for next month when things are expected to be less busy at the hospital.

You’re in such a good mood, you don’t even mind that the end of his lunch break is looming ever nearer.

The casual thought makes you check the time and Zayne tenses in surprise when you shoot up straight in your chair.

“Is everything alright?” he inquires, concern lacing his voice as he watches you stand.

“I’m late! I didn’t realize your lunch break was over. I told Jenna I’d have that report in before 4 and I’m not exactly close to finishing it,” you frown, wondering what compelled you to empty nearly all the contents of your bag in Zayne’s office during your visit.

While helping you get yourself in order, he offers, “I’m sure there’s a computer here in the hospital you could use. Even mine, if it’s that important.”

“I would, but I left the paperwork related to the report on my desk back at the Association. I wouldn’t be able to complete it without referencing it and I can’t reference it if I don’t have it on me.” 

“I would offer to drive you--” he begins and you cut him off, touching his forearm.

“You have work to do,” you reassure, “I promise, I’ll be fine.”

“Let me call you a cab,” he suggests, “Otherwise you’ll be exhausted from running back to the Association and pass out at your desk before getting anything done.”

You accept his offer only because he has a point. You begin to open the door before suddenly turning on your heel. Zayne has his phone in hand and stops abruptly, having intended to escort you out. 

“Is there something else?” he asks, a small frown between his eyebrows.

You stand on your toes to kiss his cheek, then quickly change your mind to find his lips instead.

He is by no means a stranger to your kisses these days, but the suddenness of this one takes him by surprise and he tenses for a split second before sighing softly and hooking a finger under your chin, his other arm closing around your waist as he draws you closer.

When you two part, he looks at you with those piercing eyes turned soft from your lingering affections.

“What was that for?” he asks, his voice only slightly teasing.

“I enjoyed our date today, Dr. Zayne.”

“Well… I’m glad.”

:✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧:

Sylus 

This is supposed to be a quick trip. Your role is to attend the auction like normal while Sylus shakes down some big, bad bosses upstairs using intimidation tactics that only he is capable of. It’s a typical mission you’ve done with Sylus over a hundred times now. However, from the second you arrived at today’s auction, you found yourself growing more and more agitated.

You’re used to the looks of others as you and Sylus walk together. A man with his presence is hard to miss; not to mention that he just so happens to be one of, if not the most attractive men anyone here has ever seen in their entire lives. So of course people are going to look. But that doesn’t explain why it’s really getting on your nerves today.

“You’ve gone quiet on me. Is everything alright?” Sylus asks, that teasing tone in his voice, though he fails to hide the gentle concern in his eyes.

“Everything’s fine, Sy,” you reassure, then gesture toward the crowd, “Didn’t you say I’d be handling things down here at the auction while you took care of business upstairs?”

You stop walking and turn to look up at him. At the corner of your eye, you register movement and, for the faintest of seconds, you make eye contact with one of the women who has been watching Sylus with a keen interest. As a matter of fact, this woman had been outside on the balcony when the two of you arrived and must have come in intending to intercept and introduce herself.

Or it could be a coincidence.

When her eyes land on Sylus again, seeming to appraise the width of his aggravatingly broad shoulders, you are certain it’s no mere coincidence.

“...again. Are you certain you’re up to doing this tonight?” he asks with a deep frown and you realize you had accidentally blocked out what he was saying. It’s not hard to guess, though.

“I’m perfectly alright,” you insist, “You go. We’ll do everything as planned and then go home, right?”

You feel a little guilty for the way he looks at you right now, concern etched into the corners of his deep, crimson eyes. After a long moment, he sighs.

“Alright, we’ll stick to the plan,” he says, thoughtlessly brushing off jacket sleeve, “Though you’ll tell me instantly if something’s wrong.”

It’s a command, not a suggestion, and you nod with an innocent smile.

He regards you for another second before leaning down and pressing a quick, departing kiss on your cheek.

This is your chance! Seeing the silhouette of the same woman looming ever nearer, you drape your arms around his shoulders before he straightens up and bring your lips to his.

Warmth fills you from head to toe and you feel his heavy hand hesitate for no more than a second before landing delicately against your waist.

You linger, but not too long. Just enough, however, to feel his shoulders soften beneath your forearms.

When you lean back, he opens his eyes, looking at you through heavy lids that make your stomach flip. After a second of collecting himself, he speaks, his voice coming from even deeper in his chest than usual. 

“Now I know for certain that you’re up to something…” he purrs.

Still a little warm in the face yourself, you admit in a small voice, “She wouldn’t take her eyes off you. Or didn’t you notice?”

His eyebrows raise ever so slightly, the concern disappearing from his features instantly, only to be replaced by his usual humored, smug little smile.

“Who is there to notice, sweetie? You’re the only other person who exists in the entire Universe,” he hums, bringing his fingertips to the side of your face with feather-light touches, “Although…”

“Although…?” you question, putting a gentle warning in your voice that he acknowledges with a soft chuckle.

“Although I like the idea of you staking your claim on what’s yours, kitten,” he says, straightening up as you watch the woman turn away as if she’d merely taken the wrong turn, “And I like the idea of being indisputably yours.”

:✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧:

Caleb 

Caleb was leaving again. It was something you were starting to get used to. He’ll come down from Skyhaven for a day or two, sometimes a week if you were lucky, then take off again for weeks at a time. You know it could be worse; you survived the worst of the worst after the incident, and you always try to remind yourself of that.

You remind yourself, also, that you can always get a response from him when he’s in Skyhaven. That, knowing him, even if he were in the far-out depths of the Deepspace Tunnel he would do everything in his power to find a way to get a message out to you if he needed to.

This still doesn’t make his departures any easier.

He has no doubt noticed your silence. It would be hard not to, even if he weren’t eternally hyper-observant toward your every discomfort. And crammed into the back seat of the cab together you’re certain he feels it.

And it’s not like you’re angry at him. You had a great time with him this week. Every day after work he was there to pick you up from the Association with a ready smile and plans for your evening. Always guessing exactly when you were too exhausted to go out and already having a backup plan of a homecooked meal and a silly movie from your childhood lined up.

You two went shopping for groceries together, met up with friends, and even managed to get a private viewing of young Caleb’s favorite aviation exhibit at the museum after it closed for the day.

This week was perfect.

Maybe that’s why you’re feeling so frustrated right now. You don’t want to give him up to the stupid fleet and the others in Skyhaven who you’re 100% certain he cannot fully trust even 50% of and that scares and annoys you. 

The cab comes to a stop and you get out, startling a little when Caleb clears his throat, “Got a lot on your mind?”

You blink, looking up at him. Then, “Oh… I’m fine.”

He continues to peer down at you, reaching out with the hand that isn’t carrying his suitcase to touch your cheek.

“That wasn’t very convincing at all.”

Sighing, you place your hand over his and lock his fingers between your own. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mumble and he grins even wider.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice oozing with that same annoying playfulness that has made you wanna tackle him to the ground for as long as you can remember, “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s chilly out here.”

Your fingers still intertwined, you allow him to guide you into the train station. The further into the area you go, the more you feel the urge to yank him to a stop. To whine and complain until he has to give in and stay in Linkon City for as long as you like.

You sigh at how childish the thought is and keep walking even when you hear the announcement of his train’s arrival in five minutes.

His brisk walk finally slows and he stops at a bench, gesturing for you to sit. You hesitate for a moment before shaking your head. He frowns, his head tilting as he tries to get a better look at your face.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks innocently.

“No,” you respond, stealing a quick glance at the arrival times one more time. Caleb catches the movement and looks over his shoulder, grimacing slightly at the numbers.

His entire body tenses when you suddenly hook an arm around his shoulders and yank him down toward you, your lips finding their target effortlessly as you kiss him as deeply as you dare in public.

His eyes are as wide as saucers when you part, his guard completely faltering and crumbling before you. He tries to play it off, however, chuckling, “Geez, pip-squeak. Your training at the Hunter Association has paid off. You could have folded me in half with that move.”

Unable to resist a giggle, you bury your face in his chest, murmuring, “I know you know how to watch your back, Caleb. But… be extra careful out there. For me?”

“Of course,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his voice suddenly full of emotion as he realizes what’s been eating you up all morning, “You’re my reason for everything, you know that.”

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MY LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MASTERLIST

[beenbaanbuun]

first kiss with ateez

park seonghwa

i’m of the belief that seonghwa is a gentleman through and through

unfortunately that means no kiss until at least the third date, and even then your lips would have to look particularly plush and tempting for him to even dare

a bit of pink lip gloss does the trick, drawing his gaze to your lips more than once during the restaurant date that you find yourself on

he studies them when you talk about what’s going on in your life, watching your pretty teeth peeking out from beneath them

in fact, the more you talk, the harder it gets to pull his gaze away to look you in the eyes

how can he when your lips look so, what’s the word, kissable…

and before he can even stop himself, he’s leaning across the table and is oh-so-gently holding your face in place with a hand on your cheek

your words stop in your throat as he breathes against your lips and perhaps you can’t help but find his lips a little tempting too

you close the gap, pushing your lips against his own soft pair and holding yourself in place for just a moment or two

neither of you forget that you’re in the centre of a restaurant so you pull away, sharing a silent promise that it would be the first of many

kim hongjoong

hongjoong didn’t quite know why he felt so compelled to show you his studio so early in the relationship

it was his safe space away from the rest of the world, and yet there you were, stood right in the centre of it looking like you belonged there

and he believed that you did because why else would you look so pretty under the dim lights that shone from the ceiling?

why else would he be so tempted to pull you over to his desk chair and have a long, passionate make out session with you?

he tries to shake the dirty thoughts away, but a few linger on for longer than he’d like

and as you look around the space, he can’t quite help but imagine what it would feel like to hold his lips to yours

feeling braver than usual, he struts up to you and leans into your personal space, mouth barely an inch from your own

“can i?” he whispers, eyes flickering down to watch your lips part and your tongue dart out to wet them, “want to feel your pretty mouth on mine…”

you nod and before you know it, he has a hand on your shoulder, pulling you close and his lips on yours, drinking you in

he doesn’t pull away until you’re both dizzy from a lack of oxygen, but before you can even fully catch your breath, he’s delving in for more

jeong yunho

another gentleman except he is more than happy to kiss you on the first date as long as you’re as willing as he is

because he never really believed in love as first sight, but when he sees you for the first time, kissing you is all he can thing about

spends half of his time staring at your lips, and half of his time staring at your eyes wondering how pretty it would be to watch them flicker closed as he kisses you

tries his hardest to listen to you as you talk but how is he supposed to concentrate when all he wants to do is lean in and press his own lips against yours

ends up asking you to repeat yourself pretty much every sentence but you don’t really mind because you like the way he pouts when he asks…

both of you so desperately want to kiss the other and yet neither of you say anything, until…

“is that lipstick on your teeth?” yunho asks. you try to rub it off but you’re rubbing at the wrong tooth and yunho is just giggling to himself

you ask him to get it for you, and he freezes up because he’s unsure as to whether you’re genuinely asking him or whether it’s some sort of weird way of you asking for a kiss

he plays dumb and hopes it’s the latter, leaning in a little and extending the invitation for you to close the gap, which of course, you do

you giggle against his lips as he pushes the tip of his tongue into your mouth to wipe away the lipstick

kang yeosang

you’ve been dating for a while and you both desperately want to kiss the other but you’re shy and yeosang is clueless

the two of you are trapped in a weird sort of tango where one of you will get just about brave enough to lean in for a kiss before uncertainty kicks in and you take it back

your friends can’t be around you two anymore because it’s genuinely annoying to watch you two perform this weird ritual

they’re all silently begging for the two of you to just quit the bullshit and make out (preferably not in front of them)

but even with the hints the guys drop to yeosang, he still doesn’t seem to understand that of course you want to kiss him as badly as he wants to kiss you

until one night, you’re at his dorm for a movie night that yunho invited you over for

eventually, though, he gets fed up of watching you two love sick idiots watch one another instead of the movie and he stands up with his popcorn bowl and his blanket

“i’m going to bed,” he grumbles, shooting the two of you a frustrated look, “you two need to get a grip and make out already…”

it’s the most direct hint any of the members have given to yeosang, and finally it sinks in that holy shit! maybe you want to kiss him too???

your lips are already on his the second yunho is out of the room and he can’t help but squeak in surprise before fully leaning into the kiss

it’s unsure to start with, but the two of you soon find your feet and as per yunho’s instructions, you do in fact ‘get a grip and make out’

choi san

another gentleman but only in the sense that he likes to get verbal consent before kissing you

and he’s been waiting so patiently to ask you all night but he can’t quite bring himself to interrupt you as you very cutely ramble on about some random topic

but as much as he could sit and listen to you talk about anything with your angelic voice, he just wants to lean over to where you’re sat on his bed and kiss you

you notice him zoning out after a while and your sentences trail off

“sorry, was i rambling?” you ask, growing shy

“huh?” he shakes himself out of his trance and pouts at you, “aw, you could never ramble, babe…”

while you’re grateful that he’s so quick to squash any insecurities you might have about talking too much, you can’t help but wonder what had him so deep in thought

but before you can ask, san gets there first

“can i kiss you?” you nod, but san doesn’t do anything until you actually say it

when you finally get the word out, he smiles and lunges forwards to let his lips crash against yours

it’s not a gentle kiss, but it’s not an aggressive one either

it’s more like a long awaited one, switching from slow and sensual to desperate and depraved, before going back to the former in mere seconds!

song mingi

this man can and will kiss you whenever he feels like it

don’t get me wrong, he gets so incredibly shy around you, but he is also so incredibly impulsive that the moment he gets the idea to kiss you in his head, he can’t shake it out until he’s done it

it’s only your second date, but the two of you click so well that mingi thinks he might already be in love with you

and then he says something jokingly mean, purposefully to make you pout, and he just freezes

have your lips always looked that kissable? because right now, that’s the only thing he can think about

they look so soft and pliant and pink and before he knows it, mingi is leaning down to your height, his own lips just a breath away from yours

“do you want to kiss me?” he asks with a dopey smile, “i want to kiss you…”

you nod with a dazed expression and he closes the gap, wasting no time in deepening the kiss

he puts his huge hands on your waist and holds you flush against him as he explores your mouth

after what feels like a blissful eternity, he pulls away, panting deeply as he licks at his own lips that are covered in your spit

jung wooyoung

this little shit wants to kiss you soooo bad and unfortunately for you, he can tell that you want to kiss him too

with anyone else, that wouldn’t be a problem, but wooyoung is evil and is absolutely determined to make sure the only thing you can think of all day is his lips

he spends all day biting at his lips and flicking his pretty pink tongue over them the make them glisten in the sun light

acts extra pouty just in case he didn’t already have your full attention on his lips

he can tell by the way you zone out mid sentence to stare at his mouth that he does in fact have your full attention but that doesn’t stop him

oh no, it only drives him to be oven more of a little demon

he decides he wants to get ice cream with you despite it being the middle of winter, and for some reason you agree

he eats it in such a way that gets it smothered on his lips, but with the smirk on his face you can tell it’s intentional

you try and dab it away with a napkin but he just pouts and leans in close

with a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you take the hint and press your barely concealed smile to his own lips

he transfers the ice cream to your own lips before letting his tongue dart out to lick it up

you pull away with a grossed out whine, but he pulls you back in immediately for more

choi jongho

for jongho, the urge to kiss you built up over time

like sure, on the first date he notices how pretty your lips look but all of you is pretty and that doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to kiss you

but then on the second date, he can’t help but notice that you like to chew on your lips and somewhere in the back of his mind is a thought that has him shocked at himself

like, he’s known you for a little over a week, why is he daydreaming about tugging your bottom lip between his teeth before diving in for a kiss

and then suddenly, it’s the fifth date and you’re sat on his sofa curled into his side and he just can’t stop staring as you nibble on your bottom lip

there’s a deep internal conflict about what he should do because he just can’t sit and watch you unintentionally tease him anymore!

decides to be a little bold and takes a deep breath before using his thumb to tug your bottom lip free of your teeth

you look at him in surprise, but you have barely enough time to be shocked before his lips are descending on your own and you’re leaning into the best kiss of your life

it’s slow and passionate and jongho is holding onto you like your made of glass with his hands splayed across your lower back

you pull away before delving back for more immediately, gasping when you’d feel jongho’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip…

[sillysiluriforme]

Hi! IDK if you're still cool with MLB La Terreur oc's and stuff but I really really really wanted to show you mine because your au has captivated the very corners of my soul and have awakened an intense and fiery love for the characters that I have not felt since I was eleven years old. And omg the senti-children cult thingy and the Galattaca Girls? Mwah, mwah, mwah, a million chefs kisses!! They're probably my favourite thing out of this au! Anywho! I made an oc! Her name is Vivienne Shin-Auclaire! She's a student in the main gang's class, and while her family is super rich, she got into the school through a ballet dance scholarship. And she's kinda the worst about it! She's very bossy and extremely snarky and condescending about how she got in, claiming that she could've relied on her money but she ended up relying on her hard work and talent. She does treat other scholarship students a bit more kindly though and has more respect for them. She's got this 'work hard, play hard' mindset and believes that only people who put in a lot of effort should be the ones to succeed. So she absolutely DESPISES Chloe and her family at the beginning. She's also very, very strict about rules, kind of like a cross-breed between a teacher's pet and the most pretentious ballerina you will ever meet. But she acts like this a lot because she desperately wants people to think she's important and to prove to herself and her parents that she's important and influential. That's also why she likes dancing so much; when she's on stage, everyone is looking at her and admiring her. And she feels that if she shows people how hard she works, then they'll have to respect her! They'll have to shower her in praise! Right???? I'm also thinking of making her a senti kid because I really, really like that concept, but I'm still figuring out how to make that work lol.

I'm not very good at drawing, so I just made a picrew of her! I hope that's okay :) she is my stinky baby, the girlbossiest girlfailure, she will ruin the lives of others and then herself. Anyways, thank you so so much for giving us such a compelling and intriguing story! I can't wait to see what else you have in store for us! Mwah mwah!

love me an angry girl w big feelings

[comically-blu]

special thanks to the mad lad who donated 5k for the billford kiss to be real on the draw-a-thon

now I felt compelled to draw them smooching

since I did drew billford in my portal pinecone au based on that promo… ⬇️

[indigovigilance]

A Nightingale Sang in 1941

This is my inaugural meta (yay!) Eventually I will learn how to add gifs and whatnot to make this more interesting but today, I give you a wall of text.

I need to give credit where credit is due to three existing metas that I’m drawing upon heavily here:

A speculative continuation of the 1941 story, which includes an almost-kiss while “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” plays on the gramophone,

A behavioral analysis of Aziraphale during the S2E6 finale (will find ref later if possible)

A meta-analysis of the way in which “coffee” is used as a symbolic equivalent for liberty and freedom of choice, a running theme of this show (will find ref later if possible)

I’m going to expand upon meta #2 and #3 and explain why I think there is are very compelling reasons to believe that #1 will be canonized.

At the end of S1E6, an instrumental version of “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” plays diegetically, but the lyrical version plays non-diegetically over the credits (we hear it but the protagonists don’t). So we the audience could plausibly say “that’s their song,” but as of the close of S1, we have no reason to believe that they know that it’s their song. Even Aziraphale’s S1E3 (1967) suggestion that they dine at the Ritz could be a reference that only he gets, or just a fancy restaurant suggestion.

So when I was watching S2E6 and Crowley said “no nightingales,” I was jarred. What does that even mean? We know it has something to do with dining at the Ritz, but what does it mean to them? The reference only works if they know it’s their song. But we’ve only ever seen them hear it together after the averted apocalypse; if this is the direct reference that Crowley is making, it leaves our 1967 reference contextless and twisting in the wind.

If we assume that there was a romantic story beat in 1941, wherein “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” (which, incidentally, was written in 1939 and saw the height of its popularity at the end of 1940, so timeline-wise it’s spot-on) became their song, then a lot of events get renewed interpretations through this lens, in a way that makes this story much more cohesive and the “no nightingales” comment even more soul-shattering than it already was.

Let’s presume that immediately after this became their song and just as they were discovering their romantic potential, they were forced back into hiding. Forever after, references to the song serve as a macro for “I’d like to pick up where we left off that night.”

The 1967 suggestion of “dining at the Ritz” now becomes a directly romantic suggestion. It also gives better context for “you go too fast for me.”

Actually going to the Ritz in 2019 is not simply a celebration or even a callback to 1967, it’s a callback to their almost-romance of 1941.

When Crowley says “no nightingales” in 2023, this isn’t to say “we’re not going to eat together at the Ritz anymore.” It’s saying that the romance that began that night, the precious, fragile romance, is over.

I’ll give you a moment to dry your eyes before we move on to metas #2 and #3.

In light that this is what has been going on - they know they want a romantic relationship but have gotten so used to hiding and denying it that they are more comfortable keeping the status quo static and quo-y then trying to achieve their ideal - a lot of S2 behavior can get a fresh view.

Crowley’s reaction to Nina isn’t a realization that he’s in love - he knew that already. You can only ask someone to run away with you so many times before you are forced to admit some things to yourself. No, he’s realizing that trying to hide it (which was justified by survival), hasn’t been working, but despite failing at being stealth nothing bad has happened. He’s realizing that it may finally be safe to show it.

Crowley’s confession, then, is not a revelation. It’s making the subtext text. He’s not telling Aziraphale anything he didn’t already know. He’s saying it now because he thinks he’s safe to do so. Pin in that.

Lots of people have lots of theories about Aziraphale’s motivations in the S2 finale, which can more or less be divided into 4 camps: the genuinely held belief, the coffee theory, the lie theory, and the mutual trick theory (some version of the body-switching at the end of S1). Let me start by saying that I love all the fans and all their theories and I find their analyses to be insightful. The genuinely held belief theory, while I believe it to be erroneous, has been incredibly conducive to so many wonderful conversations and I love being in a community that has those conversations. But I’m going to explain why I think the lie theory finds the most support in canon.

Re-watch the finale (when you feel like you can) from 35:18 to 36:19 and then from 40:45 to the end, paying very close attention to Aziraphale’s words and his eyes. Michael Sheen is telling us a LOT with his eyes, and in the back half of the finale scene, with pacing.

For 60 seconds of footage, this setup is doing a lot of work. If Neil Gaiman wasn’t doing enough to beat us over the head with how evil the Metatron is, that glare at Crowley at the end with the non-diegetic ominous horns should convey the message. But again, focusing on Aziraphale. He initially refuses to talk to the Metatron; he’s made his position quite clear. There is no hint of regret or wavering; this is not someone who’s aching to return to the fold. The Metatron ignores his refusal and functionally forces him to accept a “cup of coffee.” The coffee isn’t spiked, but it is a metaphor. It is symbolic of choice. The Metatron is going to force Aziraphale to make a choice. Meta #3 does a great job of exploring the idea that a choice between anything and death is never really a choice. Hang onto that thought.

Notice I had you start up again 3 seconds before “The Conversation.” That’s because it’s important to note where the Metatron is right now. He is across the street, staring straight in through those giant windows to where our protagonists are about to have The Conversation. He is watching.

When Aziraphale returns, Crowley begins his “let me talk” riff. Aziraphale ought to be interested in what Crowley has to say, since the preamble is pretty compelling. You’ll notice that Aziraphale quickly turns to the window and back, through which he (but not we) can see the Metatron standing there, watching them. Aziraphale is then doing his best to get Crowley to STFU without raising the suspicion of the Metatron, eventually having to cut him off.

Because unfortunately, Crowley’s entire impetus for speaking up now is that it’s safe to do so. Only Aziraphale knows that they are in very real danger (or at least, Crowley is, but I’ll come back to that).

You might take something from the fact that he’s shaking his head while talking about “incredibly good news,” and seems to self-censor his criticism of Metatron (or more specifically, he takes ownership of any criticism of the Metatron, censoring out Crowley’s role in that, with the emphasis on I in “I might have misjudged him”).

Notice in the flashback that he begins the conversation reasonably relaxed. The Metatron also says a series of things about him that not only are false, but everyone, including the Metatron and Crowley, know are false: Aziraphale is not a leader, he’s a defector; he’s not honest, he lies all the time, in fact this entire season revolved around his one huge lie of hiding Gabriel. Not only does the justification not make sense coming from Metatron, but it shouldn’t make sense that Aziraphale would accept these reasons and it shouldn’t make sense to Crowley either. So is Aziraphale including these details in his recounting to Crowley so that he will get suspicious and figure out the jig? Maybe. Let’s continue.

Immediately upon being offered the job of Supreme Archangel, Aziraphale says “but I don’t want to go back to Heaven.” This is direct evidence against the genuinely held belief theory. If returning to Heaven and making a difference was a genuine motivation, we would have gotten a different response at this moment. But then we get something more.

“Where would I get my coffee?”

This is a beautiful response for a number of reasons; coffee should be trivial compared to the opportunity to be a Supreme Archangel, so it serves to highlight just how little interest Aziraphale has in returning. Taken at face value, it’s the Aziraphale equivalent of “not even at gunpoint.” But remember that coffee is a metaphor for liberty in this universe and this season. So what Aziraphale just said, in the language of Neil Gaiman metaphors, is:

I don’t want to go back to Heaven, I would rather have free will.

What does the Metatron do next?

He brings up Crowley.

Watch Aziraphale’s eyes before and after the mention of Crowley. He goes from confused to eye-flicking panic in the space of two syllables. Aziraphale already understands that his “no” is not being accepted, and that bringing Crowley into it can only possibly serve as a threat.

So the coffee, the choice, is a false choice. No one ever orders death. The Metatron has forced Aziraphale into a situation that looks an awful lot like a choice (it comes in a blue cup, after all) but it isn’t.

We definitely have some reliable narrator problems here. I’m going to presume for purposes of analysis that these cut-outs are accurate but incomplete, and that a more explicit threat about what would happen to Crowley if Aziraphale did not return to Heaven was made.

If we assume that Aziraphale has been made aware of a threat and is trying to hide that from Crowley, the rest of this scene reads very differently. Aziraphale cannot say, “you are in danger but you will be safe if you swear your allegiance to Heaven” or “I have to go, no matter what, and the only way we can be together is if you come with me,” but nonetheless he now has to convince Crowley to do the one thing he ought to know Crowley definitely doesn’t want to do all through subtext. Which we’ve spent an entire season establishing that they can’t communicate well when they are allowed to use their words. Disastrously, this is not a magic trick that Aziraphale can make work when it counts. Their failure to practice good communication means that, right now, when it counts most, they are not going to pull it off.

We see that Aziraphale is very hopeful that Crowley will pick up on his cues and play along. Obviously, he doesn’t.

If the whole riff about Hell being bad guys and Heaven being the side of truth and light is taken as genuine, it discards a massive amount of character development that we’ve witnessed in Job, Edinburgh, etc. (again, to all the genuine belief subscribers, I think it’s a compelling argument but it simply doesn’t account for the evidence). So if it’s not genuine, why say it? Again, to alert Crowley that something is Off, because Crowley should know that Aziraphale doesn’t actually believe that. They saved humanity from Heaven and Hell. They hid Gabriel from Heaven and Hell. Crowley knows that Aziraphale knows that Heaven and Hell are just two sides of the same coin. Notice again that Aziraphale glances out the window while he’s talking up Heaven; he knows the Metatron is watching, he can’t not defend the position of Heaven. I think it’s also worth noting that Aziraphale forcefully glances and gestures off to Crowley’s left (away from the window) when talking about Hell, and then turns his head to Crowley’s right (towards the window) to try to get him to realize that a representative of Heaven is literally standing right over there, just look out the window please dumbass!

When Crowley is asking Aziraphale if he said no, and we see the back of Aziraphale’s head, again we can see him turn his head to glance out the window. This is also when he changes strategies, and admits that Heaven could use a little reform. Because now there’s a problem almost as big as getting caught, which is that he won’t be able to get Crowley to go with him.

Which unfortunately makes the next part of this so much more heartbreaking. Because when Crowley begins his speech about being a team, Aziraphale wants to hear it. He can’t bring himself to shut down Crowley again, even though it could get them both in massive trouble. Notice that he glances out the window again during this, and the look of panic on his face. He begins to shake his head when Crowley mentions that Heaven and Hell are toxic; this can be taken a lot of ways but I’ll argue for the interpretation that he’s trying to get Crowley to STFU and stop saying shit that could get him destroyed.

After Crowley puts on his sunglasses we are in the “back half” and Sheen is doing a lot with phrasing here, specifically pregnant pauses.

“Come with me… to Heaven!”

“We can be together… as angels!”

Based on the pacing decision I am thoroughly convinced that the first half of each of these statements is intended to be the message to Crowley and the second half is always a qualifying statement to satisfy the Metatron.

Unfortunately, these pregnant pauses are completely backfiring in their effect on Crowley. The sentiment gives him hope and the qualifying statement crushes it again immediately. He is being taken on a horrible emotional rollercoaster with these declarations which are only further amping up his instinct to run away.

The only truly genuine, unaldulterated statement I think we get from Aziraphale is

“I need you!”

When it becomes clear to Aziraphale that there’s been an irreparable breakdown of communication between them and the subtext is not getting across, he says:

“I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you.”

He means this literally. Crowley has not understood that Aziraphale is offering him protection from whatever threat the Metatron has made.

Which makes this part extra-devastating and also absolutely in keeping with a major running theme of this season.

“I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do.”

Your understanding and my understanding are different understandings.

Crowley views the offer to return to Heaven through the lens of his trauma. He understands what life in Heaven would be like. But he doesn’t understand that Aziraphale is offering him protection.

But Aziraphale just heard Crowley say that he understood everything, and he’s still going to leave. There might be a little suspense of disbelief here to believe that Aziraphale really interpreted the statement this way, but we know that Aziraphale isn’t always the brightest battery-operated candle in the drawer. So under the assumption that Crowley did understand him and is still rejecting the offer, rejecting him—

“Well, then there’s nothing more to say.”

Please pay very close attention to Aziraphale’s body language for the next part. He’s active, agitated, turning side to side, arms swinging. This is a very fidgety angel.

“No nightingales.”

Aziraphale is now completely still. He’s feeling that feeling. You know it. The one where your entire body is getting sucked into the pit of your stomach. The aching paralysis.

This is their song, the one that began their romance in 1941, the secret code for all other attempts at flirtation. Crowley has walked out on him before, Aziraphale has been stubborn and obstinate before. But they always came back together, sometimes with an apology dance or other rituals that belonged solely to them.

But now the song is over.

By saying this, Crowley has broken up with Aziraphale. We can see in Aziraphale’s sudden transition from fidgety to paralysis that he has understood it this way.

Then he turns away from the window so that the Metatron won’t see him cry.

The kiss was heart-wrenching already. But we’re not done with this analysis.

During the kiss, Aziraphale has a choice to make between two very compelling bad choices. This is the Job dilemma. But worse.

If he doesn’t kiss Crowley back, he will let Crowley think that he doesn’t love him. He will have missed out on this (maybe/probably their first kiss?) and regret it forever.

If he does kiss Crowley back, in full view of the Metatron, they are in deep trouble.

He seems to do his best to split the difference. I would even go so far to say that the awkward arm waving is Aziraphale acting for the Metatron’s benefit, to try to portray that he doesn’t want this even though he absolutely does (just not like this). The anguish when they break the kiss is absolutely real, and the first thing he does is glance out the window. Through all this he has remained painfully aware of their spectator.

He wants to say I love you. He mouths it. He breathes it.

But the Metatron is watching.

He can’t tell Crowley I love you. So he has to say the only other thing that has always unequivocally meant “I love you” when he said it to Crowley. He has to hope that Crowley understands him now, even though he never has before.

Spoiler alert: Crowley doesn’t.

My forgiveness and your forgiveness are not the same forgiveness.

One more point against the genuine belief fans (I love you): if the offer to let Crowley back in is what changed his mind, then Crowley declining removes that incentive. Aziraphale should/would have consequently retreated to his last stated position of “I don’t want to go back to Heaven, where would I get my Crowley—I mean, coffee?” [post-publication nod to @theonevoice for a great little meta] It simply doesn’t hold up to scrutiny.

I think a lot of fans were already making these assumptions about the use of the nightingale song so this meta may not feel revelatory, however, it isn’t canon (yet), and I’m sure I’ll find company that agree that canonization of this connection would strengthen a lot of these story points, as evidenced by how it is already assumed by many fans.

If you made it to the end - omg thank you! Please leave a note and tell me your thoughts!

Bonus: somebody already made the song connection here

~~~

if you liked this, you may also like:

Book of Life and what it means for Crowley

The Erasure of Human!Metatron

Baraqiel and Azazel

~~~

Recommended related (lie theory) metas by other people:

making the subtext text by @theonevoice

Aziraphale's Decision Matrix by @yowlthinks

Nothing Lasts Forever: META by @phoen1xr0se

[hxltic]

imagine having an attitude w miguel o’hara

Even though he’s quick to anger, and very easily irritated, he’s never had that problem with you. You were his treatment in a way. You always dealt with people in a more kind manner, so he just lets you speak until you’ve given him permission, but today it seems as though the roles have reversed.

It’s even more angering with the fact that he just can’t seem to take you seriously, your cheeks bursting red with anger and fists unconsciously clenching, but he just leans against the wall, staring at you. Through you, almost. To be fair, whatever you were mad at you would probably get over later. But that wasn’t the point. You were angry and pissed off.

And you also hadn’t seen him in a relative amount of time; Spiderman work wasn’t easy. This was something you’d come to accept when you got with him, and you don’t mind being alone, but somehow it’s brought itself to matter in this very moment.

So how did you end up bent over as he plowed into you from behind? His brain pieced together that you just needed some dick. Whenever you two were intimate in any way, the next day he’d see you extra happy, beaming even, and the memories would flash in your head every now and then.

Of course, when he kissed you the first time, you pushed him off and said he was deflecting.

He doesn’t really run away from his problems, but this one could wait.

“You’re givin’ me the silent treatment, you can’t still be mad at me amor?”

Truth be told, you were quiet because you couldn’t speak. Your neck was upright, your throat dragging back and forth on the bed sheets, and your arms were forced back into his large, calloused hands. Your eyes fall closed when you grunt in response.

If he was being honest, this wasn’t even his favorite part. It was watching the scowl on your face dissipate into ecstasy and the irritated deep sighs transform into moans each time you came.

He rectifies his position by adjusting his foot placement and dropping his tight hold to your wrists, effectively finding a deeper way into you. It was messy and rough, the stickiness around where the two of you meet and the reddening skin pure evidence. Miguel bent his body over yours so your back was flush with his carved chest.

A muffled sound fell into the bed with every snap of his hips. His hair slightly stuck to his face when he forced his mouth into your right shoulder, digging his sharp canines past your skin. Not enough to draw blood, but it hurt and left a mark nonetheless. He sucked the skin and kissed it as if soothing. The senses were too much combined with your low pain tolerance, compelling tears to swell in buds.

He groans, “Not so upset now are you? If it was dick you wanted, you could’ve just said so.” He adds, “fuck, eres una belleza.”

You couldn’t even snap back. With this he flipped you over and spread your legs wide. Before you had the time to look down, his pink tongue was sliding through your folds eagerly.

“Miguel wait-“ you attempt breathlessly, but it was no good. He ate like he’s never eaten before: pushing his face between your thighs and wrapping the plush of them over his shoulders to press both palms on your abdomen. He shook his head sloppily, continuing regardless of your pleas.

The man wasn’t satisfied until the slick of you was dripping down his chin and coating his nose. Your back arched off the bed as you came, allowing those tears to fall in streams to your ears. Of course, he continued to slurp and suck and moan as you twist your hips in an escape to shake him off, but those muscles weren’t just for show. He only moved with you and gripped harder, almost taunting you, or giving you permission to try and escape from him. You couldn’t.

It wasn’t until you were pleading for him that he considered giving you mercy.

“MiguelMiguelMiguel- fuck! c-come off please,” you’d beg, accompanied by a futile effort to push his arms away. Like he was shaking his head no, he’d shake into you.

“mmphh.”

©️hxltic

i don’t speak spanish spare me

[fandoms--fluff]

Can you do more katherine and Elijah having a child? 

Safe

Flufftober, October 12th

Baby daughter witch reader x Katherine Pierce x Elijah Mikaelson

Warnings: None

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"Dada!" You exclaim and run up to where Elijah entered the apartment. He closes the door behind him before lifting you up into his arms. "Hey, Sweetheart." Elijah tells you, placing a kiss on your forehead.

"Hello, Katerina" Elijah smiles over to Katherine. She followed your little toddle run and stood back as your father picked you up.

"Hey, Elijah" She smirks as he walks over to her with you on his hip. He places a kiss to her lips and she leans in, it's been longer than usual since his last visit.

He's been busy with his family and everything happening in town with the Salvatores and her doppelganger. And he didn't want to draw any unwanted attention by anyone by visiting you guys.

The apartment Katherine compelled is massive, to the point where it shouldn't be called just an apartment. But it's in the downtown area of town. It may be in the middle of town, but it's more hidden away than one may think.

But he's finally got the chance to come over and Katherine couldn't be happier. She's missed her husband, and she could also tell you missed him as well. Katherine gave birth to you almost two years ago now, her and Elijah still aren't sure how it happened, but they wouldn't change it for the world.

You're a first born Mikaelson witch, so there are obvious complications with your magical abilities going haywire when you don't mean to do anything. Though, when you were almost a year old, Elijah found a witch who charmed a bracelet to help control your magic and keep it at bay while you grow up and learn to control them.

So that's the reason why a dangling silver bracelet is looped three times around your wrist to stay in place. You don't mind it, the only problem is sometimes your Mama will have to pull your arm away from your mouth when you start to suck on it. Instead, replacing it with a pacifier.

"No one followed you, right?" Katherine asks, just wanting to be sure. "I made sure no one following or any spell was cast" He reassures his wife as he bounces you in his arms.

You cuddles into your Dada's chest, paying no mind to what they're talking about. You missed your Dada a lot, you haven't seen him it so long. At least that's what it feels to you.

Your Mama doesn't take you out a lot. And when she does it's already dark out and your in the forest or in a different town. Either way you have fun with her.

"Alright, that's good. I just wanted to make sure. I don't want anything to happen to her" Katherine places a hand on your small back. "Of course. And speaking so, how has our little girl been?" He asks, leading Katherine to the couch, and sits down.

She follows and sits beside you guys, leaning into Elijah's side. "She's been a perfect little girl. The only thing we've had to worry about is bathroom clean up after her baths. She likes to splash the water and bubbles everywhere. Don't you, Sweetie?" She runs her fingers up and down your side.

You let out a round of giggles caused by your Mama and nod your head the best you could while nuzzling your head into your Dada's chest.

"She's also found a liking for colouring. Our little angel has a colouring book full of them" Katherine says. "Well, that's amazing, she's our mini artist now, huh?" Elijah leans down and places a kiss on the crown of your head, making you snuggle more into his warmth.

"Has she drawn on the walls yet? I've heard kids her age tend to do stuff like that" Elijah asks, remembering hearing a conversation between the Forbes and Bennett girls as they were talking about old memories.

"Thankfully, not yet. But I doubt it's going to happen. Y/n's a very good listener" Katherine hums and rests a hand on Elijah's thigh in contempt.

"I'm sorry for not being here enough. I know it must be hard raising a child, a powerful witch baby, at that, by yourself" Elijah tells her with anxiousness laced in his voice.

"Lijah, you don't need to apologize. I know the circumstances, your siblings and the supernatural world can't know about her. Not yet. What we're doing is for the safety of our child. And this child right here knows you love her very much, and I know you love me as well. Yes, raising a child is harder than it seems, as many things are, but I learn along the way. Plus it's not like you're dumping everything on me, I know you're doing all you can for our little family in this world of ours. And I love you for it. It's why I married you" She tells him, everything coming from her heart. A heart many have said is ice cold. But it's not. Not for You or Elijah. You both are her world.

Elijah's mouth agapes, not knowing how to respond to her heart touching response besides for, "I love you too" He tells her, the adoration filling his eyes.

As you doze off in your Dada's lap, your parents lean in for another kiss. This world may not be safe for you to live in, but they will protect you at all costs.

[leroiestmortvivelareine]

Ok. Let's do this. My attempt to describe the brilliant move that of all Nora's brilliant moves is my absolute favourite.

It helps if you've read 'The Little Prince' by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (which you should anyway). There's a scene where the airman is trying to draw a sheep for a young boy who simply cannot be satisfied. The sheep is always too big, too small, too old, too young... until the airman realises the problem is not the sheep, the problem is the sheep has been revealed. So, now thoroughly annoyed, he draws a box and says something like: 'the sheep you want is here, but it is safe inside this box, you'll have to imagine it for yourself'. A sheep that was believable but at the same time a delicious and forever mystery, and of course exactly what the boy wanted.

The thing about all the great love stories is that they have a moment of revelation, and then they become... ordinary. The romance is no longer numinous, no longer a majestic and compelling mystery, no longer somewhere between the world of the gods and our own. There's the 'I love you' that somehow becomes lost among all the other 'I love yous', proposals that can only be varied in so many ways, the consummation that for some reason involves every single sexual position known to science (seriously, why do film producers do that, are they so unclear about what constitutes intimacy?)... all these attempts to say 'no you don't understand, this love affair is different from all the others, it is immense, it is significant, it is written in the stars...' when the only thing that can truly meet that test is time.

But if you're a writer, time is one thing you don't have. You need the cymbal crash. You can't end the third book of the trilogy by casually inserting thirty more books of domestic bliss to show it actually was an immense and significant love.

So Nora constructs a box to keep this great love safely housed, while allowing it to remain a mystery. She shows us the pillars of Neil's life (survival, exy) and Andrew's (the deals with Keven and Aaron). We see how central they are to Neil and Andrew's personas, to their very existence. I mean, we really BELIEVE in those pillars.

We feel Neil's bond with Andrew strengthen because we see Neil's priorities about survival falling further and further behind. We see Andrew increasingly choose Neil's interests over those of his liege.

We see, in this story titled 'all for the game', Neil offering to give up the game entirely if that's what Andrew wants. A declaration of love that isn't told, via vain attempts to describe Neil's feelings for Andrew, but shown by what he's prepared to give up.

We watch these two construct a new world, from pillars that are even stronger than the old ones. The feeling of inevitability is reinforced by countless parallels criss-crossing this narrative.

Then the final plank clicks into place: Andrew choosing Neil over his deal with Aaron, the deal we knew was iron-clad. The certainty in this choice is irrefutable. Andrew declared himself for Neil in a way that goes far beyond a simple proposal. And, to complete the symmetry, it involved Aaron giving him a key.

So their love never needs to be fully revealed to us; we only ever catch a fleeting glimpse. When we see Andrew and Neil kissing it isn't trying to be THE kiss that shows everyone this is for real... it's just them, being them, one more memory they'll share among countless others in the privacy of their own, unbreakable, world.