#ruby sunday x reader

[ramen-flavored]

I still wanna know what Old Ruby was saying/doing to make everyone terrified and hate Younger Ruby

[jamiedc-they-them]

Rest (Platonic)

Summary: Travelling the universe is something you adore, with your sister and newfound best friend, but old demons still haunt you, no matter what...

Notes: Bad headspace, needed a comfort fic and it turned into a vent fic I'm sorry :))) Also in this, R is Nb and Aroace, but it barely plays in. So do substitute what you wish :))))) topics covered in the case of trigger: Depression; Suicidal Ideation; Premature Birth; survivor guilt.

You couldn't remember the name of the system you were in, but it looked breathtaking. a shimmering horizon. It reminded you of your favourite book series, Dune, with the number of stories going on at once, and yet the small scale it seemed to have in such a vast galaxy. That, and the beauty of the shimmer of the sun as it ran off the planet, this one being a shade of red instead. It was odd, how despite the distance things seemed to rhyme. It reminded you of one of the things you heard the Doctor say:

"No job. No boss..." Yeah, that was you, but not by choice. You were looking. Looking with all you had in you. Ruby used to joke with you. "you're putting in a full-time effort to at least be paid for it."

You leant your head on the Tardis door, sighing. You wish you had the freedom he had, and yet you were human and tired. So, very tried.

"Hey," you jumped at the sudden voice. Turning, you saw the Doctor. He smiled at you, "you alright over here, babes?"

You snorted at the nickname. Your asexual-aromantic nature, along with just how your brain worked in a desperate attempt to fit in with society, made you read it the wrong way when he first used the nickname. He, seemingly with second nature, spoke to you about it. He was open, that was one of the many things you loved about him. He was open. You could go to him about anything and everything. And you did. You, him, and Ruby had good chats on your adventures, sometimes just having a picnic and talking. Hell, he was the one who helped you feel at home in your gender expression as a non-binary person, showing you some dresses to wear. Whatever you wanted to wear on the day, he was there to help. Ruby helped with a bit of makeup when you wanted it, and the three of you became inseparable.

But still, all this running around. Ruby had already gone to bed. Yet, here you were, mind still running amok.

"Can I ask you something?" you ask. The Doctor nods, leaning against the other door, his full attention is on you, "do you ever sleep?"

He smiles, part of him knows you're joking, but it doesn't fully meet his eyes. How can he read you so well? Are you that predictable?

He looks out at the system you're in as well, "I do," he says, "should see me on that console some days. Just out like a light," he even clicks his fingers to emphasise the point. You hum.

He then turns serious, "But I do. Don't worry. I mean, it took 15 generations, but I do rest, Y/N. Just, the hyperactive mind sometimes," he taps his head, "always onto the next thing, you know?"

You nod, not meeting his eyes and looking out at the system again.

"Ruby ever tell you about how I came to be in this world?"

The Doctor shook his head, "she didn't," he said, "but I always felt she thought that it wasn't her place to. I never wanted to pry."

You nod, appreciative of your two friends, "Premature. Didn't weigh much at all, like a pound or so, can't remember UK measurements for babies," you smile, "but yeah, not a lot at all."

The Doctor nods, smiling a bit at your humour, but stays silent as he lets you continue, "Some of the kids on my ward didn't make it...and I just, I don't know. With all we've seen, you know? Fate and all that? With Ruby's snow and everything...maybe it's like, like - I don't know, sorry," you put your face in your hand. Your hand goes into a fist, and you knock it on your head a few times.

"Hey. Hey, no," The Doctor says, voice gentle but having a bit of firmness to it, as he pauses your movements, "it's ok," he says, "take your time. I'm here," he puts your hand to his chest, and you can feel the two hearts beating, "I'm listening," he promises, "I'm right here. Take all the time you need."

You don't even clock the accidental pun. You just look at the eyes of your best friend. How you've grown to care and love this man in such a space of time, you don't know, but you have grown attached to him, and him to you. His earnest gaze, love of life and all around him, and time he makes for you and himself, you think it is. Someone who just has this comforting aura around him and how he exudes it to all who need it.

You don't deserve -

"Hey," he says again, dragging you out of your mental hell, "I'm here, Y/N."

"I just -" You can feel the emotions inside of you - they may not always come out externally, but here they are. Tears, you can feel the tears pricking at your vision, "why did I make it, you know?"

The Doctor softens. His gaze went from concerned, to protective, to loving, to sadness. The emotions all dance around each other at once, then coalesce.

Physically, that comes in as a hug.

"Oh, honey," he says, hand going to your head, "I may have met many a human, but none like you. They're all unique people in their way, and I am so, so, sorry that one way that you are is with this pain."

"Who's in pain?" a tired question is asked. You both part, seeing Ruby rubbing her eyes and stretching. Her eyes are still shut, and she's wearing some pyjamas she found in the wardrobe.

She locks eyes with The Doctor first, a silent moment of communication passing by in an instant, before she looks at you:

"What's wrong, Y/N?"

"I, uh -" you stutter. The Doctor puts a hand on your shoulder. He feels you shake under it.

Ruby softens as well, "oh, sweetheart," she says, holding out her hands, "why don't we take a seat, yeah? All of us?"

The Doctor looks at you: your call.

You sniffle a bit, before nodding. Before you move, you put a hand to The Doctor's, giving a squeeze. You move to your sister. He shuts the doors.

Ruby takes your hands, giving them a soft squeeze, before sitting with you on a sofa that the Tardis had recently added to itself near the console. You had passed out a few times on there, and it (or she? you weren't sure how to refer to the TARDIS) created it for you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Oh, no, don't apologise," Ruby says, trying to meet your eyes as you look everywhere but your sister, "I'm not angry at you. Not ever. Not with this, especially. I'm not expecting you to just be ok with what happened."

"Trauma never fully goes away," The Doctor says, crouching down near you and putting a hand on your knee.

"It feels like it should though, right?" You argue, "You said that, like, you're the one who is more open."

The Doctor smiles a soft one, "I am," he says, "but that doesn't mean it just goes away. It never does. It lingers. What I'd say though," he says, "is it's leaning on people and talking about it that can help you take a step forward if you ever stumble. It can manifest in different ways and feelings."

"It's just --" you look at Ruby, her face falling more at the pain in your eyes, "you're trying to solve your birth mother's identity. And" you look to The Doctor, "you have your pain. I just - I don't want to add to that."

The two best friends look at each other, before you. Ruby holds you tightly to her. The Doctor sits next to you on the sofa, hugging you as well.

"Oh, love," Ruby says, "I'll say it as many times as needed, you're never a burden. Ever. We've always got time for you. And" she pushes back a bit - The Doctor with his hands around your shoulders - and puts her hands on your cheeks, "you are always going to be my sibling. And you are always going to be one of the best people I know, ok?"

You bury yourself in Ruby's shoulder. She kisses your head before holding you tightly.

The Doctor and her meet eyes. They'll make good on this promise.

You pull away from Ruby, the pair having a hand on your back.

"I'm tired," you say. Despite the meaning going both ways, given the way you rub at your eyes, they can tell which way the pendulum swings right now.

"Understandable," The Doctor says in a non-judgemental tone. He looked at Ruby, and she nods.

"Here," The Doctor says, holding out a blanket. You take it. You then notice that he's given a blanket to Ruby as well and holds his one.

"What -" you sniffle, "what are you doing?"

"Sleeping here, of course," Ruby says.

You look between the two, "Guys, no -"

"This is your safe space," The Doctor says, "and I love that. We're your safe space, too. I know you're tactile and love deeply. So, why not combine the two?"

You chuckle. You don't know what to say.

You look to Ruby, and she just nods, before getting up.

Ruby lays down near the sofa on one side, The Doctor on the other.

"Thank you," you say.

"Always," they say in sync.

You all rest. Or find it, in the end.

The Doctor is right, the trauma may never fully leave you. But this is your safe space. It holds value to you and has helped you both find yourself and through many a crisis. And it always would.

As they always would.

[meshla-cyarika]

Okay...where are all the wholesome 15 fics and Ruby fics 🤨

[agent-barnes40]

Boom

Ruby Sunday X GN!Reader

Mega Boom Spoilers. I MEAN IT MEGA Spoilers. I havent been able to get this out of my head since I watched the episode yesterday.

ANGST ANGST ANGST

Also drabble hopefully more will come but I doubt it.

You've never moved so fast in your life, running around the back of The Doctor, skirting around him and the landmine, and running for the tumbling body of Ruby. She's not moving. SHE'S NOT MOVING.

You slide across the dirt, plopping down right next to where her body lands and your grabbing onto her as Mundy starts to sprint down the little ramp of dirt to Ruby and you look up at her, eyes wide as Ruby finally starts to speak, and her voice is panicked.

"Doctor.. What happened?"

You quickly look down at her and give her a watery smile, as finally the tears start to build. "Its me. He can't move he's still on the landmine. You got shot, love. We.. We're gonna get you better, okay? We're gonna get you help."

The ambulance starts to whir, sounding out something, you couldn't quite hear it, you were so focused on Ruby. You were so focused on her and then the thing, the needle, whatever it was shot into Ruby's shoulder and your first thought was to just rip it out of her skin, and Mundy stopped you, grabbing your hand. "Don't. The ambulance should help her."

"We aren't your people! We're from.. Don't let her die. Please. Please don't let her die. Please."

[creelkobblelaufeyson69]

Starry date

Warnings: none

They felt so alone in this planet that they were on. They’ve lost so many people to really bad people, and now it was just them left. The golden streets once crowded with so much life had looked more grey nowadays. The colorful buildings drained of each color from time passing. The sky was also alone, but once had beautiful constellations covering it

The cars all drained of fuel; plants dying left and right. Food was getting harder to come by for them since they were the only living person on the planet. They sat on the mossy sidewalk that used to look prettier than it currently did. In front of the sidewalk was what was their home

They tried for the first few days to keep it tidy, but failed when the sadness kicked in fully. It was hard for them to feel motivated enough to keep the house clean. Tears left their eyes, but out of the blue, it started snowing. They looked up at the sky with curiosity. It never snowed there, but they’ve heard many stories about what it was like

They wiped their tears away as they stood up now. It felt like magic to be seeing snow here, and they would wonder where the source of the snow was coming from, but they were more focused on the beauty of it. A smile paints their face as a snowflake hits their face. They heard footsteps, which catches them off guard. They were hoping it wasn’t the people who killed their people

They were scared, but ready to fight. It’s all they’ve been doing all their life, and they didn’t plan on stopping now. “Oh my god” a male says once in view of them. “Don’t step any closer! I know how to pick up a good fight” they warned, but had tears leaving their eyes again. “It’s okay, we’re here to help you” he continues, and they put down their fists and started to sob

The Doctor goes over towards them to hug them. They except the hug, and sobbed into his chest. “Where is everybody else Doctor?” Ruby asked him. “Gone. They’re all dead. A war happened…” The Doctor felt like this was deja vu. “Oh no!” Ruby goes over to stand in front of the Doctor to see what they looked like a bit better

“Why didn’t we land to stop it Doctor?” Ruby asked, which makes them immediately leave his hug. “Who are you people…?” They asked as they felt a bit frustrated that someone could’ve helped them out, but decided not to. “I’m not sure Ruby…” The Doctor admitted, which makes them feel frustrated. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve had a way to help, but didn’t?!”

His face goes blank as tears continue to leave their eyes. “It’s not that we didn’t want to help, we just couldn’t make it on time to stop it. I’m terribly sorry for all that you’ve lost. I can relate to you” he says, which makes them more frustrated. “Well if you do, then fix it!” They shouted at the end with tears streaming down their face. “I will try my best” he says as he runs off now

Ruby had looked at The Doctor, and then back at them. She had finally took notice of the snow falling down. “Who are you?” They asked as they looked at her. She looks back at them, and then told her and The Doctor’s name. “He is really trying to help you here. He’ll do whatever it takes to help you, okay? I promise”

They scoffed since they didn’t believe her one bit

****

The planet was back in shape thanks to The Doctor, and now they traveled with him to see places they’ve only heard stories about. The trio went to Ruby’s home planet first. They were shocked to see the differences, but also the similarities between the two planets. It astounds them after they stepped out of the blue box

Ruby looks at them with a smile; “what do you think?” “I like it here. It’s so much like home, but yet so different at the same time” they said as she continues to look at them. Over time she had started to develop feelings for them. She found them very interesting and funny at times when they want to be funny

It took a while for them to warm up to her and The Doctor, but the two became friends once they did open up. “The food here is different though, but I think you would like it. Do you want to go and try some?” She asked them, which makes them smile. “Of course I would!” She smiles at their enthusiasm

“Can I come with, or is this a date?” The Doctor asked with a playful smirk. The two looked at him; Ruby was blushing and they were just confused. “A date, if that’s okay with you” she says as she looks back at them. They looked back at her, and were smiling again. “I’d love to go on a date with you Ruby”

“Ooo!!! You love birds have fun! I’ll just be in the Tardis, okay?” The two looked back at him to give him a look that tells him the two don’t believe him. “Okay! Fine, I’m gonna explore to make sure everything is in check” he says, which makes them chuckle. “I knew it” they said as they looked back at her. “Same! It was so obvious” she adds with a laugh leaving her afterwards

The two go find a place to eat at. She finds a pizza place that she likes, and decides to take them there. The two get seated, and they’re instantly confused. “Oh! Those are menus. I just assumed that your planet had those too, but now saying it out loud, that makes me sound like an idiot” she laughs off the awkwardness at the end there, but they didn’t mind

“It’s okay Ruby. I’m not gonna get offended if you just assume I know something. I’m not like those people on what you guys use called Twitter” they say with their hand taking hers to calm her down. She smiles, and told them she’ll just order for them. “I’ll let you try a cheese pizza first. I’m not entirely sure how you’d feel with other stuff on it as your toppings”

They nodded their head, and then looked around the place. “Actually I’ll just get a cheese pizza for us to share” she says as a waiter comes over. Eventually the two are eating pizza, and they definitely were enjoying it. Time had passed and now stars were out now. They looked up at the stars once out of the restaurant. The stars they’ve heard stories about were right there in the sky

They looked so mesmerized by the stars as their hand was in hers. She looks at them in awe. She was definitely in love, and now she wanted The Doctor to show them the stars up close. “You know The Doctor can show you the stars up close” she starts, which makes them look at her with a look of awe from looking at the stars

Their eyes lit up. “That would be amazing!” They said with pure excitement they’ve hadn’t felt in a long time. She smiles, and now the two went to track him down. The two found him at Ruby’s house talking to her mother. Carla Sunday looks at her daughter and then the person she’s holding hands with

“Hold up, how long has this been going on for?” Carla asked her daughter in confusion. “Oh just today” Ruby introduces them to her mother. They let go of her hand, but then felt nervous to mess up. “We do handshakes too” Ruby reassured them, which makes them felt relieved. “Oh, are you from another planet as well?”

The two shook hands when Carla asked that question. “Yes. I will treat your daughter like a princess ma’am, don’t worry. Cheating and manipulation is completely frowned upon from where I come from, and I wouldn’t do that to her anyway since she deserves the universe”

Ruby was in shock, but absolutely in love with them even more. “Good, but if you break that promise I’ll break you” Carla says, which makes Ruby worried that would scare them off. They smiled; “I understand, and you’ll have my utter respect to break me in half if I do” Carla was in shock, but it turned to amusement. Ruby felt relieved by that

***

The Tardis was moving around, and they were excited to see the stars up close. It made her smile and adore how excited they were to see the stars up close. “I have the perfect song lined up for when you see the stars” she says, which makes them look at her. “That’s intriguing since your music is definitely different from ours, but in. A good way”

“It’s called Stargirl by The Weekend featuring Lana Del Rey” she says as she goes over to stand next to her lover. “That sounds interesting” they say as the Tardis comes to a stop. “Alrighty! We’re here! Don’t step out of the Tardis though unless you want to meet your fate” The Doctor warns, which makes them chuckle. “I won’t Doctor”

Ruby goes over to open the door, and they were in shock. “Oh my god…” they sat down on the ledge and she follows along. She plays the song as she sits down. The two hold hands and stare at the stars in awe together. The Doctor looks at the two with a warm smile on his face

[slurrmp]

he's here. she's here. send me your doctor x reader ( maybe ruby x reader ) prompts :)

[loveandrelativedimensioninspace]

Companion Masterlist

Hi! Welcome to the masterlist! This is where you can find my works for the companions! I hope you guys like them! I will be adding links to this post of my other masterlist and other things when I get the chance!

Rose Tyler

𝑂𝘯𝑒-𝑠𝘩𝑜𝘵𝑠

𝘏𝑒𝘢𝑑𝘤𝑎𝘯𝑜𝘯𝑠

Martha Jones

𝑂𝘯𝑒-𝑠𝘩𝑜𝘵𝑠

𝘏𝑒𝘢𝑑𝘤𝑎𝘯𝑜𝘯𝑠

Donna Noble

𝑂𝘯𝑒-𝑠𝘩𝑜𝘵𝑠

𝘏𝑒𝘢𝑑𝘤𝑎𝘯𝑜𝘯𝑠

Amy Pond

𝑂𝘯𝑒-𝑠𝘩𝑜𝘵𝑠

𝘏𝑒𝘢𝑑𝘤𝑎𝘯𝑜𝘯𝑠

Rory Williams

𝑂𝘯𝑒-𝑠𝘩𝑜𝘵𝑠

𝘏𝑒𝘢𝑑𝘤𝑎𝘯𝑜𝘯𝑠

River Song

𝑂𝘯𝑒-𝑠𝘩𝑜𝘵𝑠

𝘏𝑒𝘢𝑑𝘤𝑎𝘯𝑜𝘯𝑠

Clara Oswald

𝑂𝘯𝑒-𝑠𝘩𝑜𝘵𝑠

𝘏𝑒𝘢𝑑𝘤𝑎𝘯𝑜𝘯𝑠

Ruby Sunday

𝑂𝘯𝑒-𝑠𝘩𝑜𝘵𝑠

𝘏𝑒𝘢𝑑𝘤𝑎𝘯𝑜𝘯𝑠

[kinglivv]

One Bed

Kate Lethbridge-Stewart x Reader

Summary: Being Kate Stewart’s personal protection was a job full of challenges - aliens, monsters, the supernatural. But none as big as finding yourself in a hotel with her… and only one bed.

Warnings: Implied PTSD

A/N: Realised I’ve never done this trope so rectified that immediately! Also, first time writing for Kate - what do you think?

You couldn’t believe it.

It was classic. You couldn’t write it. One bed, one room, you and Katherine fucking Lethbridge-Stewart.

It was a work trip. Travelling out to Belarus to look at some potential satellite launch sites. UNIT was still regrouping after it’s recent Brexit dissolution, and your commander was desperate to begin scraping back that hard power. Seemingly pointless trips like these had become the norm in the absence of anything existential such as the Flux.

The trip had been last minute. You knew you were going to share a room with Kate - a product of budget cuts and a HQ concerned that as her protection detail in a hostile country, the room next door wasn’t close enough. The hotel however, had apparently royally screwed up by giving you a double instead of a twin.

“Right,” Kate said in a matter of fact tone. You both stand in the doorway, suitcases in hand, clutching yours like a rubber ring on a sinking ship. It feels like a dangerous threshold between sensibility - your job, your boss, your professional relationship - and something else unwritten.

“There’s obviously been a mix up,” she states.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, “I’ll go down to reception, get it sorted?”

She looks at you. Her hand clasps and unclasps her suitcase handle.

“You could… But I mean, it’s fine. Right?” She says, “It’s the middle of the night, we’ve just been travelling 12 hours. If you’re not bothered, I’m not.”

You take a breath. She had a point. It wasn’t a big deal - two grown adults just sharing a bed on a business trip.

“Alright ma’am,” you agree, “it’s only one night either way.”

“Great,” she musters, and powers on into the room.

It is alright, you tell yourself. It was just Kate. Your boss. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to being glued to her side. That was what you were paid for - her personal protection. You were one of her “strays” as the office called it. One of her impulsive job offers. You’d been a mere police officer in the right place at the right time, when in the middle of an alien incursion, you’d knocked her out the way of a deadly bullet, almost getting hit in the process. She’d quickly made it her business to know everything of use about you; did you go to the gym a lot? How many languages did you speak? Were you satisfied with your job?

Upon finding you had the reflexes of a cat and couldn’t stand the police, you were hired.

You’d been by her side ever since. Everyday in the office, the occasional night shift, the odd weekend at her house in the country. It was fairly mundane work, lurking in the shadows and watching her every step, but you’d quickly learned that there wasn’t much downside to being paid to stare at Kate Stewart all day.

Back in the present, you find that co-existing with her in such close quarters is fairly uneventful. She takes a couple calls, does her emails. She showers and changes into checkered pyjamas. She asks after your dog and you ask after her kids. You go over the car’s planned route for tomorrow and at 11 o’clock it’s lights out. You curl up as close to the edge of the bed as you can get and try to ignore the smell of her fruity shampoo.

You wake to the sound of a muffled groan.

It’s pitch dark and hot. At first you jump, forgetting that you’re in a shared bed and you feel like duvet shift slightly. Then again - a groan. Followed by mumbles - scared mumbles.

You sit up to look at Kate. She’s a dark silhouette, but you can make out her tossing against the sheets. She’s having a nightmare, you realise.

Roll over, a part of you thinks. Spare her the embarrassment. But it’s difficult to listen to. Your heart twinges for her as her brow furrows in anxiety over imagined monsters.

You were her protection - it was your job to protect her.

“Commander,” you whisper gently, reaching out for her shoulder, and then more firmly, “Commander!”

Brown eyes snap open as she’s wrenched out of her nightmare and back into reality. She all but jumps away from you, narrowly avoiding falling out of the bed.

“You were having a nightmare,” you pull your hand away as she frantically wipes away tears and catches her breath.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you respond softly, “I get them too. More often than I’d like to admit.”

“I - um. Sorry,” she repeats, shifting to prop herself up against the pillows, and it’s only then that you realise how close you are and how wildly inappropriate this is, “I woke you didn’t I?”

“It’s alright,” you say firmly, “Can I… ask what it was? I don’t know - sometimes it helps me when I get them. To talk.”

“Oh,” she says dismissively, “just… you know. Sutekh stuff. The usual really.”

Your face falls. You felt a lot of guilt about that day. Seeing your death approaching and being able to do nothing about it. Watching her crumble to dust seconds before you did. You had failed her in that moment.

“Kate-“ you try to say but it chokes in your throat slightly. “I never apologised for that day.”

She frowns at you through the dark. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t do my job properly that day,” you state, as if it’s obvious. “I should have been quicker. Done something. You died - as your assigned protection I literally can’t have cocked it up any moreso.”

“Cocked it up?” She repeats with a sort of sad myrth. “Darling, a god of death appeared in our office. The bloody Doctor couldn’t prevent it and you certainly couldn’t have done anything. You died seconds later, I seem to recall learning.”

You blink back tears and look away, picking the duvet pooled around your waist. She’d called you darling. You’d called her Kate. Uncharted territory.

“Have you been blaming yourself for my death all this time?” She asks quietly. Her hand reaches out, cups the side of your face, forcing you to make eye contact with her. Her touch is electric.

You nod silently against her palm.

“Darling,” she whispers again, and God you could die happy hearing her say that. “It’s not your fault,” she murmers. She’s closer now, leaning in, “it’s not your fault.” She whispers against your lips and then you’re kissing her.

It’s soft and cautious, and your mind goes black for a minute as you try to process the fact that all your fantasies are coming true at once. She breaks the kiss - perhaps to mentally list through all of the protocols and policies she’s currently breaking, perhaps just to catch her breath - and you stare at her dumbly, mouth open like a fish and tears drying quickly.

“Sorry,” she rambles hurriedly, “that was unprofessional. Was that alright? I can’t bear the thought of you carrying that guilt when -“

You lean in again and this time the desire hits you like a wave, taking everything within you to keep it at bay. There’s a sigh and her hand sneaks into your hair, the other fighting off the duvet tangled around her legs to get as close to you as possible. You slip a hand under the hem of her pyjama shirt to find hot, smooth skins and you moan into her mouth.

The noise seems to bring you back to yourself and the tension in the room snaps, reality flooding back in. The kiss breaks and she stares at you for a moment with a sort of wonder in her eyes.

“Wanted to do that for a while,” you confess before she can say anything.

“Me too,” is all she manages. She leans in again, but you muster every resolve within you and pull away after a few seconds. She pouts.

“You have to be up at 6am tomorrow,” you point out.

“I’ll sleep in the car,” she quips back.

“Someone has to drive that car,” you retort.

She laughs and it’s a nice sound, much better than her whines of fear as she shook in the grip of her nightmare, only minutes earlier.

“I never get to tell you how much I appreciate you,” she says, shifting to lie back down and pulling you down with her. Her golden hair splays around her head like a halo, and fingers thread through yours. “You make this job a damn lot easier for me, you know that? Not just the safety stuff, but just… you.”

You know what she means. You pull her into you and she sleeps sounder than she has in months.

[bethsvrse]

maestro is genuinely one of the scariest doctor who villains cause what do they expect me to do during a car ride??? look out the window?? like HUH????

[pauldanoofficial]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

hello danonation!! i have noticed a severe paul dano drought and decided that i will fix it myself. feel free to send asks or requests!!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　who i write for　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

jay

burt fabelman

calvin weir-fields

eli sunday

tim klitz

pierre bezukhov

keith gill

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

i hope you will send requests, i'm open to anything! feel free to dm me if you have any questions!!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[doctorwhittaker-13]

Dancing together for the first time - 15th doctor and reader

Best to listen to this song while you’re reading this.

Ruby had gone to bed and the doctor was standing by the TARDIS console. You walked into the room with your phone in your hand. You pressed play on your phone and held out your hand towards him. He gladly accepted it. You two started dancing together and he span you around. After the song ends, he dipped you and kissed you deeply. You both headed to bed and needless to say you were both smiling bigger than the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

[chetndassi]

कबीर परमात्मा की भक्ति पूर्ण गुरु के माध्यम से करने से प्रेत बाधा की समस्या से भी छुटकारा मिल जाता है।

वर्तमान में पूर्ण गुरु संत रामपाल जी महाराज हैं।

[madaqueue]

FALL FROM GRACE

do not desire her beauty in your heart, and do not let her capture you with her eyelashes. put to death that which is earthly inside you.

pairing: priest!sunday x succubus!f!reader

themes/content: dubcon (char!receiving - he says "stop" and it's basically ignored, and there's some heavy coercion/corruption stuff going on here), somno depending on how you look at it (succubi technically visit people in their dreams, so he's asleep ? sorta?), lots of religious guilt around sex, heavy catholic religious imagery (literally straight up bible verses). smut. handjobs, fingering/masturbation, p in v. i wanted to explore the rigidity and internalized shame sunday feels so uh . here's this ! (wk: 3.6k)

a/n: me when he's burdened and tormented (also i had to put my religious trauma somewhere ! hope it's yummy) :3333

The first night is always the most fun.

They never wake, not on this visit; the mind is a simple thing to trick, eager to make excuses for the gentle touches trailing over one’s torso, down their chest. A dream, they call it, a ready and waiting path to forgiveness.

The second night is usually the same - feather-light hands, breathy kisses - but you find Sunday to be a near-impossibly light sleeper when he begins to stir beneath you. Pinned under thighs that straddle his waist, his eyelashes flutter, nearly roused; his lips part, almost a sigh. It’s an uncanny thing to be so beautiful and so unaware; you wonder if he’s grateful for this gift. With a quick peck, you send him back into the waiting arms of slumber.

The third night you visit him, his eyes open slowly, still clouded by dreams. It’s rather obviously unexpected to be found in this position, with a stranger resting over him, smiling, trapped beneath their weight.

“Who are you?” he breathes, barely above a whisper. There’s no fear behind his gaze, only shimmering curiosity.

“Who do you think I am?”

Your fingers trail lower, tracing circles into his abdomen. It’s a fitting pattern for what you’ve seen of him: controlled, precise, predictable. No hard edges or uncertainty, just smooth and calm. Something about a vow, you think, has made him like this. Poverty. Chastity. Obedience. A promise to a power too self-righteous for your taste.

His eyebrows furrow as he attempts to focus upon you, vision still blurry. The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, curves casting shadows under the fading starlight, black lace and soft skin. Then, there’s a flash of horns, a flicker of your tail, the markings below your abdomen pulsing through the dark. He swallows. “What are you?”

Ruby lips spread into a grin, one that veers sinister - he’s such a cute little thing, a chocolate covered strawberry, all sweet and flesh and blood. “An angel.”

The silk pillowcase rustles as he shakes his head, too innocent, too naive to do anything but be truthful. “No, you’re not.”

“No,” you lean forward, feeling his pulse thrum below your palm. “I’m not.” You kiss his cheek, and whisper a goodnight.

The fourth night, he’s more awake, but less verbal. Instead, sun-bright eyes follow your movements, the crackling fingerprints that travel his skin. He lets you touch him, lets you trace out the muscles lying below the surface, feel the nerves and arteries that quicken under your touch. Drowsy little whines leave his throat, barely a sound, as you work. Up wrists, over shoulders, to collarbones, counting ribs and diving into his hips, along his thighs, and back again. It’s a beautiful routine, just light enough to keep him half-slumbering.

From there, it’s mostly the same - you touch and trace and tease him, and he watches, silent and mostly unconscious. A week passes, maybe two. The time doesn’t matter, not to you, not really. What matters is the way his skin sparks beneath your fingertips, the way his eyelashes flutter under the moon’s silken glow.

You aren’t granted the privilege of visiting him awake, not yet, at least. There’s no way for you to see the way he pours over text, books with cracked spines and dusty pages, to find the source of these…dreams, of the being that visits him and steals him from the respite of sleep. The word succubus is heavy in his mouth, more bitter than communion wine, with no unleavened sanctity coming after to dull the taste.

On the seventeenth night (you think, if your count is right), he wakes in a notably different position, no longer cradled by the mattress upon which he put himself to bed. Under the mottled moonlight, he finds himself sitting upright, the bare skin of his back resting against something much warmer than the wooden headboard.

“Good morning, Sunday,” you purr into his ear from behind.

He murmurs something, slowly turning over his shoulder to face you. For the briefest moment, you think you catch the flicker of a smile.

“Good morning, demon.”

“Oh?” you let out an airy chuckle. “So you’ve figured it out then. Good, I was worried all you priests were nothing more than fools.”

The lightest laugh brushes past his lips, allowing his eyes to rest for a moment. “I’m no fool. Now tell me, why are you here, demon?”

Through a feigned pout, your hands make their way back to his chest. “What, are you sick of me already? You don’t like me, is that it?”

“I have no particular feelings towards you.” He’s quick to respond, quicker even to remind himself of his place, of his duties, as your palms threaten to burn through his skin. Poverty. Celibacy. Obedience. Important ideals. Good ideals. Holy ones, at that.

Through a hum, you travel lower over his body. It’s a test, really, to see if he’ll stop you, grab your wrists and yank you from behind him and banish you from this place forever. It would take so little: a splash of holy water, or even a simple curse, and he’d be rid of you. Surely he found that little fact in his readings.

And yet, he simply follows your path downward with his gaze (you can’t say you’re truly that surprised - it has become your routine, after all. And Sunday cherishes his routines).

“No feelings for me, you say,” you say, pensively. Lower, and lower, and lower.

Just as his lips open to speak, to throw some calculated retort, your fingertips brush between his legs and the sound twists into something else, something needier, a noise he couldn’t have controlled with all the constitution in heaven.

You gasp at the response, too, awe bubbling inside your cheeks.

“Oh, Sunday,” you breathe. “You poor thing, you must be so pent up.”

“I- mmm.” With a second run of your palm over his hardening length, his eyes dance shut, his entire body shuddering.

“Don’t they allow you to touch yourselves here?”

It’s evil, this touch, coursing with sin and dark, dirty blasphemy. He ought to shut his mouth, rip out his vocal cords if that’s what it takes, and wait. Perhaps a blood smear above his lips would protect him, make you pass him over tonight and all nights thereafter.

“N-not in the monastery,” he chokes out. “It’s against the rules.”

He grants you the privilege of grazing his warming skin, before letting out a shaky breath. Thou shalt not covet. Dispel desire.

“You…you should stop.”

“Stop?” The absurdity leaks into your voice. “You’ve given up so much for this silly church, don’t you think? Why give this up, too? Don’t you deserve it?”

A pause, a steadying breath, to quiet your dissatisfaction disguised as rage.

“And besides, look how badly you need this. It feels good, doesn’t it?” An angel, caught in your trap; to think you may not even have to clip his wings. “Don’t you want to feel good, my dear Sunday?”

Eyelashes delve into the creases of his eyelids as he tightens them closed, lips pulled into a gasping frown. Everything in his mind, in the years of his training, of memorizing verses and teachings and sermons and rules and rules and rules, tells him to say no, to force a stop to this nonsense.

“And,” you perk up at his hesitation, “it won’t even be violating your so-called ‘rules’ if I’m the one touching you, right?”

Even through the feather-light touches, Sunday worries he’s losing his mind, like your fist might as well be piercing through his chest and ripping his soul from it, dragging it into hell with you. The thoughts that make it up his spine are too blurry with lust to let the more sluggish Reason through.

“Right.”

Smiling into his neck, you feel his carotid jump under your teeth. “Good, good. So just let me do this, okay?”

So put to death the sinful, earthly things lurking within you. Have nothing to do with sexual immorality, impurity, lust, and evil desires.

He says the words over, and over, and over in his mind.

Do not be greedy, for a greedy person is an idolater, worshiping the things of this world.

He knows better than to make idols.

And yet, all he can do is nod his head.

He doesn’t face you, of course, buried under the shame of it. If the church was any older, he’d worry the brick would collapse in on him at any second, to punish him for the sin he was too weak to avoid committing. Perhaps he should be turned to salt, a fate befitting of his pathetic disobedience.

“Okay.”

It’s immediate, the way he relaxes when you finally reach below his boxers. The heat of your touch melts him, his throat craning as it releases strained whines. He’s heavy in your hand, a weight his so-called gods would surely commend, if they could spare such thoughts. Soft skin, unsoiled, untainted. Utterly holy.

As you stroke him with a tenderness only known to the clouds of salvation, he looks nothing short of angelic, the arch of his spine making space where wings ought to be, the tickle of his hair soft like a crowned halo. And you, wrapped around him like a flame, carry him through the air. Lower, and lower, and lower. To soften the blow when one falls from grace.

It takes so little for him to shake, to shudder and cry and bend, until you worry his shoulders may snap if you weren’t caging his torso against yours. His head falls back, slack-jawed and awe-struck, as he releases into your palm, pumps of white coating your hand.

It’s a beautiful thing, the sounds he makes, the purity of it. White and cream and gold, just as you’d imagine heaven to be.

There’s waves of pleasure, his stomach clenching with each one, pushing him further and further into you, and you swallow him whole, welcoming with open arms.

Slowly, you press your lips to his cheek, scalding hot.

“Goodnight, Sunday.” And he falls into your chest.

It grows increasingly difficult for him to hide the dreams (at least, that’s what he would convince himself they are). It’s been months now, although truthfully, you’ve stopped counting.

Every night, he falls into a troubled, humid sleep. Every morning, he wakes to a mess, still half-hard and panting.

And yet, he’s more relaxed, his shoulders less tense. When he turns to the parish, his neck moves more easily. As a well-educated (well-trained) man, he assumes he hides it well, but his relief is palpable, a taste too thick to anyone who knows him.

“You seem different lately, Sunday,” Father Wood observes casually.

With his back facing him, Sunday conceals the way his spine tightens. “How do you mean, Father?”

Pensively, Father Wood lights the altar’s candles, an honor given only to those most highly ordained, an honor Sunday used to dream of performing (now, of course, his dreams are consumed by other desires).

“Just…different, is all.”

Sunday’s attention falls to the flames before him, to the way they dance nervously despite the still, stagnant air inside the church. Perhaps they know something he doesn’t.

“I’ve been spending more time in the library lately. Perhaps my reading has enlightened me.”

“Perhaps,” Father Wood echoes. With quiet purpose, he lights the final candle. “This church is your home, my boy. You had nothing before you came here. I remember the day we took you in, the day you were saved.”

There’s a pit in his stomach, one that grows and grows and grows; he’d expect it to taste like acid, but all he gets is honey. “I remember it, too.”

Father Wood hums, facing away. “‘If our minds are ruled by our desires, we will die.’” A pause, a flickering flame. “Sunday, I trust you not to forget the oaths you swore.”

A shiver runs up his neck. Poverty. Chastity. Obedience. “Of course not, Father.”

That night, you meet Sunday in bed. Normally it’s little trouble to untuck the sheets, to find the welcoming skin of his thighs, but tonight he seems determined to bury himself within the blankets.

“Sunday,” you say. He fails to respond, but his ears twitch. “Sunday, I know you’re awake.”

One eye slowly cracks open, revealing the sun behind his eyelids. “Go away.”

“Excuse me?” you choke a laugh. “You want me to ‘go away’?”

Closing his eyes, he hums in affirmation.

Within your chest, your heart flutters - he’s so cute when he thinks he’s in control. Perhaps that’s why you chose him (the chase is always the most fun, the tension of it all; you think Eve’s first bite of the apple must have been underwhelming compared to its weight in her palm).

Perhaps your routine will bring him back. Slowly, you trail a finger along his collarbone - before he pulls away. Curling himself onto his side, he tucks his knees to his chest and shuts you out.

This is certainly a novel development. And it certainly will not do.

“Fine then,” you state, leaning back to the corner of the mattress.

In response, his left ear twitches, but he gives no other response. So be it.

Against the wooden footboard, you open your legs, visible if he were only to turn towards you. With well-practiced hands, you easily slide the black lace panties down your knees, letting them fall at your ankles and leaving you bare (it requires few garments to do your work successfully, after all - they’re made for this).

Silently, you spread your ever-wet folds open. With your other hand, you draw circles around your clit, slowly, tauntingly. Delving into your own heat, a sound of relief comes as an exhale, one that finally has Sunday’s gaze peeking from between his eyelashes.

“What are you doing?”

“If you don’t want me to touch you, I guess I’ll just have to touch myself instead,” you say. The words flow easily, thick like milk and honey, something sweet, something to help him sleep.

This time, his eyes remain open.

His mouth does, too.

Silent except for the ragged breaths coming past his lips, he watches you pleasure yourself, the way your fingers curl, knuckles disappearing only to reappear shining. The inky pattern adorning your womb morphs and glows; a spot of saliva catches in the dim light, and he makes no move to wipe it away.

With an arch of your back and a tilt of your head, you beckon him closer - always such an obedient little thing, your Sunday (he was praised for it, once); he slowly rises. The mattress shifts beneath his weight, holding it unsteadily, as he crawls towards you. Unwavering attention held raptly between your thighs.

“Sunday,” you say, to snap him out of the trance that pulls him towards you. He says nothing, a small trail of drool spilling from the corner of his perfectly eager lips. “Sunday.”

His eyes snap up to yours, the sun eclipsed behind the growing shadow of his pupils.

Your palm cradles his jaw, thumb wiping away the glistening desire. “Are you going to behave now?”

A blank stare.

A fragile nod.

“Good.” Your grin splits the earth open with wicked flames, poking between your teeth. He drinks in the heat with a starving throat, ignoring the way it burns (or reveling in it).

A sparkling star shines in his eyes, nearly glowing. You pull the two fingers from your cunt, still warm and sticky and sweet, and hold them before his face.

You don’t even have to tell him to open his mouth - obedience is such a lovely thing.

When your taste lands upon his tongue, he releases a moan like molten gold. His lips close around your fingers and he sucks and licks the essence from them, hungry and gnawing. Your fingertips glide over his molars and he fights the urge to bite, to claim (a well-trained dog is still just a dog, after all).

There’s a half-hearted whine when you remove your skin from his, one that makes your cheeks ache.

“Tell me what you want, my dear Sunday. Anything you want.”

If our minds are ruled by our desires, we will die.

Perhaps dying here tonight, with your taste still lingering in his throat, would be a graceful demise. A martyr of his sacrilege.

Already, he looks ravished, his cheeks dusted red and eyes wild and unfocused. The pretty ones are always the most fun to ruin, to dirty with desecration; they look so beautiful as they fall.

“I want-” there’s a lump in his throat where his servitude lives, where the years of holiness coalesced and stayed. He swallows heavily. “I want to feel good. I want you to make me feel good.”

“Ah,” you breathe. “I suppose I can do that.”

“But-” he catches himself. Rules, and rules, and rules. They clog up his esophagus, his vocal cords straining to get past them.

With a gentle finger, you hush his worries. “Just let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good, okay?”

He exhales, a shaky sound. “Okay.”

It takes little pressure to recline him onto the bed, the sheets already dampening from the sweat collected in the hollows of his back. He lets you undress him, lets you place scalding kisses into his skin, soft and sweet as a fig. Ripe like one, too.

Only two pumps of your fist up his length and he’s already leaking, twitching and aching.

“So eager,” you coo when his hips rut into the air, chasing your touch.

“M-my apologies,” he says weakly.

“Nothing to be sorry for, my sweet Sunday. Pleasure is a thing to be worshiped, don’t you think?”

They’d bury him for this. The other priests would crucify him and leave his body out to rot. He’d deserve it, he wouldn’t even complain, he’d be perfectly obedient until his very last breath.

As your thighs encase his, as you line his tip to your entrance, as you sink down, slowly, slowly, slowly, until you’re flush with him, until you’ve swallowed him whole and nestled him inside of you, his vision goes white and he feels the warm smile of forgiveness.

“Yes.”

From behind, your tail twitches into his peripheral vision. A cruel reminder, a crash and burn. Melted wings and the sea. But then your hips circle, once, twice, and he forgets himself again, he enjoys the fall.

His hands fly to your waist, before they’re swatted away with a click of your tongue and a sparkle in your eyes. “Ah, no touching me, remember? Those are your rules, after all.”

“Right.” Instead, his fists dig into the sheets, knuckles turning white.

With each plunge of your warmth up and down his cock, he’s reborn, fresh and gasping, each breath burning like the first. Crescent moons carve into his palms, and he groans.

“Is this…is this real?”

A chuckle bubbles from your throat. “Do you want it to be?”

He hesitates for a moment, lets your hand rest on his unsteady heart, lets your skin stick to his. Just below it, a knot forms, the strings tightening and tightening and tightening under years of strain.

“Yes.”

You fill his vision, all-consuming, eating the space between you with sharp teeth. When you speak, it’s a low sound, a rumbling purr. It makes his stomach clench. “Good.”

His breaths come in faster, now that he knows it’s real, that the heat creeping up his neck and down his legs is real, that this is happening. That something exists that feels this fucking good.

And then, all at once, the knot unties itself. The moans he releases are holy, more beautiful than a choir with all its ordained voices.

Damp palms grab at your hips, and you let them. With greedy fingers he holds you in place, fucking himself up into you. Tears well in his eyes and in the blurry haze, he thinks he sees heaven. It opens itself before him, warm and beckoning, in the space between your thighs.

“God, fuck,” he exhales, and you grin.

“How blasphemous, Sunday.”

If he hears you, he gives no indication. Curses tumble from his lips, raw edges cutting his lungs.

He chases a high with urgency, with uncoordinated thrusts and a too-tight grip. His dedication is truly a virtue.

It’s only a moment before he stills, eyes widening, jaw falling open to release an angelic cry. Truly beautiful as he falls, as he comes undone. In the space below his arched spine, you swear there’s a momentary flutter of wings.

Eyelashes open and close, as if to prove that this is not, in fact, real. But the heat still encircling him is proof enough. He shivers.

“Fuck,” he whispers, more to himself than anything.

“Oh Sunday,” you hum, fingers tracing ribs that rise and fall unevenly. There’s a twinge of something mixed into the pride, something sadder, something longing. “This certainly has been fun.”

“Fuck,” he says again. Dread settles on his shoulders, heavy, heavier than duty or scriptures or a grave, than a cross. “Will I…?”

“Be excommunicated for this? Probably not,” you smirk.

Weakly, he shakes his head, sweaty strands of hair sticking to the pillowcase below. “Will I see you again?”

The question makes your heart flutter. How cute.

“If you’d like to, my dear.” With a gentle hand, you brush the fringe from his forehead. “Anything you want.”

At that, he relaxes, his shoulders sinking deeper. With heavy eyelids, his blinking slows. “Good.”

How beautiful he looks like this, half-conscious and spent, utterly debauched. Utterly holy.

“But for now, get some rest.” Warm lips press into his cheek, and he leans into them with a hum. “Goodnight, Sunday.”

[6gumi]

jealous little angel.

synopsis ﹒” oh mr. sunday 、you really need to work on your jealousy ! it was just a prank ! ”

pairings﹒sunday x f!reader

cw﹒ nsfw MDNI. jealous s3x 、rough ! sunday :< 、some possessive themes / tendencies 、usage of petnames ( angel-face、dove、etc ! ) 、wall s3x 、semi-public s3x 、slight breeding kink if yew squint ! ^-^ 、he rips your stockings . . hehe 、we luv possessive sunday !

note﹒hai hai ! ! decided to write for sunday . . . ooh he’s so dreamie . . . he’s such a red flag but i luv him . . . x.x hehe here’s a special taggie for a special someone ! @cubffections | reblogs are highly appreciated. if you would like to talk to me, send in rqs or thirsts, feel free to send me an ask ! — rubi ♡

this party was going to drive him to the edge. sunday can't contain his excitement as he examined his surroundings . . . the anticipation of seeing his beloved made his heart race. he knows you’re waiting for him, dressed in something that's bound to drive him wild. It's maddening, the way you tease him, playing with his emotions. he steps forward, closing the huge door softly behind him. the scent of you permeates the air, and he can't help but inhale deeply, relishing the familiar comfort it brings. sunday knew you were off talking to a few ipc members here and there, so he took his sweet time trying to find you, savouring every step.

rounding the corner, he spots you in profile, your body bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light. the sight of you in that red lace nightgown, the way your breasts sway with each step, is enough to make his cock ache. it’s an irresistible sight, and sunday moves toward you with predatory intent. but wait . . . why were you speaking with someone else? sunday’s smile faded . . . lost in the immediate shuffle of emotions as he examined the man that was way too close to you for comfort, that dopey smile on that man’s face wasn’t fooling anyone . . and he was aware of that. his vibrant gaze slowly faded away, clouding the atmosphere with nothing but tension. he clenched his fists as hard as he could, enough for his nails to draw blood to his delicate skin.

sunday really couldn’t stand it.

he couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else. even so, he knew very well you were doing this on purpose just to tease him . . . seeing you having such a great time with someone else triggered a primal protective instinct within him. the way you touched that man’s shoulder . . . those pretty doe eyes of yours staring into someone else’s eyes other than his . . . the way your breasts squeezed together when you crossed your arms, fuck. he couldn't ignore the need to discipline you when you behaved like this, and he knew he had to put you in your place.

with a smooth, fluid motion, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you away from the party, away from your new little friend you made and any distractions. “huh . . . ? sunday?—“

“not another word from you, my love.” sunday tried to act firm . . yet he couldn’t stop his heart from skipping more beats than one at the sight of your cleavage in that god-forbidden revealing dress, the memory of how they felt in his hands coming back to him in a rush. sunday swallows thickly, his gaze locked on your exposed cleavage. he can almost smell your arousal now, faint but undeniable. "what were you thinking? were you trying to seduce that fool?“ he was moving closer. He can't resist the temptation, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek . . . his thumb pressing against your lower lip.

"you know I can't resist you, and you know i can’t stand it when you’re all dolled up talking to someone else but me. have you learnt nothing from the punishments i’ve given you? is that it?” a devilish glint sparkles in his eyes, promising an evening full of sin and pleasure. who knew such an angel like him would have eyes this dangerous. sunday leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "you belong to me . . ." he whispers, taking in the scent of your fragrance, “. . . or have you forgotten that?”

you couldn’t help but shiver against his body, you wanted this as much as he did and he could tell, he knew very well you did. “baby . . . i just wanted to play a little prank on you, ‘s nothing serious . . . promise!” sunday kept his mouth shut as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, tugging you flush against his body. his lips find the nape of your neck, where he plants a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. "it is serious when there’s another man involved," he growls, his voice deep and rough with need. “ . . . and you know i don’t share, darling.”

with a hand, he reaches down and eases your pretty lil’ dress up, exposing your ass. his gloved fingers dig into the soft flesh, tracing the curve before giving it a firm, possessive squeeze. "bad, bad girl.” he murmurs, already envisioning the way you’ll shred under his touch. “what am i gonna do with a bad girl like you . .” sunday examines your facial expression, giving your cheek a gentle slap, inserting his thumb inside your mouth. “should i tie your arms around your back? shove my cock inside this slutty mouth of yours . . . or fill you up with my cum? or maybe . . . i should fuck you in-front of everyone else, let them know that you’re mine and mine alone . . do you want that, my love?”

sunday’s lips curve into a wicked smile, and he nods, his hand still firmly gripping your ass. "i wish i can hide you away from the world, angel-face . . . you need to be taught some more.” he warns, his voice thick with lust. “guess those punishments didn’t work on you . . . how pitiful.”

sunday kept your body pinned against the wall, the grip on your ass never wavering, the feel of his beloved pressed against him driving him wild. he knew you both had to be careful . . his little wings would flutter at the loud sound of music from below, there were still people around . . and getting caught was not something he would want. once you both were in the clear, he doesn't waste any time. with one swift movement, he lifts you even further up against the wall, your legs parting to reveal the wetness between them. sunday’s sinful eyes devour the sight, and he can't help the predatory smile that spreads across his face. "such a naughty girl, wet for me already,"

"now, what do you say we do something about that wetness of yours?" he asks, his voice low and suggestive, the air thick with the promise of pleasure and sinfulness. “ . . ‘s not fair i’m gettin’ punished for a prank . .” you murmured, legs trembling under his hold. sunday chuckles darkly, giving your ass a hard slap, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“now, now, baby . . no need to act all innocent," he teases, his hand never leaving your hip . . gently pinning you with his body even more. “i like how feisty you can get, angel face . . . but there's a time and a place for everything, right?" he purrs, his eyes dark with lust. “you won’t be acting all innocent once i fuck you dumb on my cock.” your husband traces his fingers down your chest, pausing to tease your nipples through the lace of the dress. his mouth finds yours, his lips soft as he explores your mouth with his tongue, taking his time to savor the taste of your lips he yearned for all day. when he pulls away, he's breathing heavily. the young male tsked, shaking his head as he reached your chin again, “you know how i feel about disobedience, correct?”

"tonight i’m going to show you who you belong to," he murmurs, reaching for the hem of the dress. with a swift yank, he pulls it over your head, revealing your body in all its glory. “the man you will belong to until the end of time.” sunday’s eyes drink in the sight of your black stockings, licking his lips. "you’re not getting away from me anytime soon, my love, i hope you and your pretty little head realize that.” he asks, his voice thick with desire as he starts to tug the stockings down.

“you’re not escaping me, angel-face.” he growls, his hand gripping the delicate fabric of the pair stockings you wore . . . with a swift and violent motion, he tears them down your legs, the sound of the material tearing filling the empty hall. he relents, pulling back just enough to grip your inner thigh, his grip firm but not oppressive. . . admiring the rip he caused with your stockings, giving him easier access to those pretty panties you wore.

sunday’s eyes gleam with a deranged excitement, gripping your hips, positioning himself at the entrance of your pussy . . giving it one painful slap. "you’ll thank me for this someday," he growls before gently sliding himself inside your wet heat, the friction sending shivers down his spine. “you’ll thank me for claiming you, my dove. you will.”

“a-ah . . sunday . . !” the young halovian’s lips curve into a wicked grin as you gasp, the surprise at the sudden invasion of his cock into your pussy more than apparent. he’s not gentle, not this time. sunday needs to claim you, to make sure you knew who owns you in this moment and forever. his thrusts were harsher than usual, tongue lolling out as you were slowly losing your mind already when his cock filled you completely. “you’re mine, angel. you’ll always be mine," he growls, the possessiveness in his tone thick. he pounds into you with desperation to get his message across your head, the rhythm erratic, as if he's trying to claw his way into your soul . . fingers nearly turning white as they dug into the flesh of your hips, pulling them back to meet each thrust of his cock.

his own heat was rising, the scent of sweat snd sex filling the air around you. with how loud you were moaning, he was almost certain someone would catch you both. “let the heat pass through you, and i’ll mark you. i’ll claim you, my love.” he was going to breed you, to leave no doubt that you were his. his thrusts became more erratic, more urgent, as he fights to push aside the thoughts that threaten to consume him. the single thought of his seed filling you only intensifies his need to dominate, to control . . to keep you all to himself.

"nobody will take you away from me. nobody.” sunday grinds his hips against you, his cock sliding against your tight entrance. sunday already came inside you multiple times the previous times you both had intercourse, but it's not enough. he wants your body to be filled with his seed. his fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he thrusts forward, filling your cunny with his throbbing dick. sunday’s eyes roll back as he relishes in the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him once more . . only raising his urge fill you up even more. “s—so tight, so perfect. i wish i could fill you up every day . . let everyone know you’re mine.” sweat drips down his forehead as he drives into you with a newfound fervor. each thrust is a powerful assertion, “easy now . . you don’t want us to get caught now, do you?" his voice is a low, gravelly growl, laced with desperation.

“sunday . . f-feels weird . . feels like i’m goin’ stupid . .” drool slipped away from your lips, a chuckle left sunday’s lips as he slowed down his thrusts . . giving you a moment to adjust to his size again, taking that moment to kiss and mark your neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin. “you were sent to me by the angels of this world,” he whispers, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. “you look so pretty pressed up against the wall like this . . . are you enjoying yourself?”

“fuck . . yes, yes!” sunday’s eyes flare with delight at your whine, your need for him clear, and it makes him even more aggressive in his thrusts. sunday was close, so close. he leaned over your shoulder, his teeth finding their mark on the juncture between their delicate skin of neck and shoulders, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. “mine, mine, mine . . ." he whispered against your ear, burying himself deeper and deeper, caging your hands above your head, holding them there as he filled you completely, ensuring that when you cum, you cum for him and only him. he’s not going to let you go.

with one final, brutal push of his cock, the halovian came inside your aching cunny, flooding your walls with his seed. he held you tightly against his body, shifting gently further into the wall. his release was intense, seed spurting deep inside as some dripped down on the floor. he nestled close against your neck, breathing heavily, refusing to let go of you even after he emptied himself inside. “ . . . so tell me, angel face, did you learn your lesson?”

© 6GUMI 2024. modifying 、translating 、sharing my works on other platforms 、or considering them as yours is strictly prohibited.

[jamiedc-they-them]

Ahhhh this is so goood!!!! Thank you so much!!!

Hi!!! Could I send in a request for what it would be like to be Ruby Sunday’s sibling please?

Hello! Thank you so much for the request! This did end up spanning with plot points from Church On Ruby Road because I genuinely couldn't help myself. Hopefully this is to your liking, I based this off my own sister and I's relationship.

So, like Ruby, you were also adopted by Carla.

Your very used to having other kids in the house and growing up with Ruby

You and Ruby are peas in a pod, where one goes, the other tends to follow

As you all got older, the more the two of you become more of a pair

Ruby's friends are your friends, and while you do have your own friend group, they all overlap.

You were excited about the move into Cherry's apartment, yes you and Ruby have to share a room, but the two of you wouldn't have it any other way.

You knew Ruby was somewhat curious about her birth family, and along with Carla convinced her to go on Davina's show.

You were also probably offered, but you declined.

You were probably on set with her when the bad luck started to happen, and thus you were also roped into the events

You decided after the first few incidents (accidentally tripping on the stairs and smacking your head, stubbing your toes on the paint cans in the hallway, just little things) that you'd tread a bit more carefully around the apartment and when going out, so you declined going out with Ruby and her friends.

She told you all about the "Gin and Tonic" guy.

The two of you were up most of that night discussing everything about him.

The Next day, you surprised her with a present (Because damn bad luck, your gonna get your sister a gift for her birthday) it was a simple necklace you saw while window shopping.

Ruby went out, while wearing the necklace, to get the groceries and thus you were at home when Carla got the call about the newborn.

You were the first to call it a coincidence, and were eagerly helping Carla get the crib ready for the baby when Ruby got home.

It was hectic from the moment that baby arrived, one second Lulu and Ruby were inside the flat, and the next Ruby, Lulu and her friend were walking inside.

"Rubes! Is this the gin and tonic guy?"

"Yeah!"

"You didn't tell me he was tall!"

The Doctor is absolutely losing it btw, hearing the two of you while you both situate Lulu back into her crib and Ruby filled you in on everything that had happened.

The Goblins, the bad luck, and how you were probably being roped into it as well.

The Doctor took a lot of interest in the Sunday kids, (being you and Ruby)

You were the one that came up with "maybe they're behind all bad luck"

You don't remember much after that except being extremely confused and The Doctor pulling the both of you into a hug.

Yeah, there was a large crack in the ceiling, and a consistant draft in the flat, but you only had a smile on your face.

Thats when you and Ruby made the connection

"What did he mean? He went back..?" Ruby looked over at you, and you were staring right back at her.

"He said that, didn't he?" You asked right back, the two of you having the same look on your faces.

"Where did he come from? Why was he here in the first place?" Carla barely focused on the two of you, more focused on the crack in the ceiling. You and Ruby were trying to figure out The Doctor.

"I don’t know, he kind of… popped up at the right moment, and then…" Ruby said.

"He was also at the club, he's your gin and tonic guy from last night." You said, pointing toward the door.

"He was gone. Like. Now." Ruby said, slowly.

You grinned, brain scrambling for a solution. "This can't be some sci-fi stuff right?"

"Sci-fi?"

"Rubes, we both know what we saw on that polaroid. That isn't normal."

"No, hush hush hush hush hush. Because, he went back?"

"He said he did. Back when you were a baby."

"When was Houdini?" Ruby asked.

"1900's at least. 1920's max." You said, and the two of you took a minute to look toward the door.

The two of you had a silent conversation, and then nodded. The two of you sprinted out the door. Ruby stopping to grab her jacket, and you just left yours behind.

The Sunday kids were off on their next adventure, with The Doctor.

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (but it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed)

Rule no. 5: Never leave him unattended

“Are you going to stay with us, To–”

“I am not helping you babysit your demon. I already deal with Megumi on my own,” Toji said. You rolled your eyes as you walked into the vast shopping mall. It was the morning time on a Sunday. Not too many people meandering about, but the ones who were looking found the trio (rightfully) strange. Sukuna stood behind you like a guard of sorts, and no matter how many times you told him that you were fine he was insistent on not standing too close. 

“The market has changed,” he said gravely. 

“It has quite a bit,” you responded. You tugged on his robe, wanting him to follow you into the closest store that you found. Sukuna squinted at the mannequins with no face posing with the latest season trends, tapping his fingernail on the lifeless body. 

“Are they cursed?” “They’re not real.”

You carelessly turned your attention away from Sukuna. A new shimmery gold handbag grabbed your attention, and you wheeled it around in your hands trying to find the price tag. The scent of burnt plastic tickled your nose, and you were going to call Sukuna to follow you back when you realized that the smell was coming from him. 

The mannequin that once was jumping in joy now bubbled and hissed in a molten puddle on the floor. You had no idea what happened but Sukuna stood over it with his arms tucked in his kimono. 

“It was weak.” 

“Don’t just stand there, move before an associate comes by,” Toji hissed. He grabbed your arm, pulling you out of your shock and in turn you grabbed Sukuna’s hand. 

“I thought you were leaving?” You gasped. 

“And leave with that lunatic?” Toji exasperated. “It’s almost time for school to start. I could buy Megumi some new clothes.”

You were going to ask about Megumi when Sukuna caught your attention again. People who worked in kiosks that usually have no shame when it comes to shoving a new product in passerbys, were distancing themselves from Sukuna. The only person brave enough was a jeweler who looked at Sukuna with bright eyes. 

“Hey, why don’t you come over here so we can get you dripped out? Let’s see a smile, we can get you some grills.”

“N-no, we’re good,” you answered for him, tugging Sukuna away. 

“It’s a shame. We got diamonds as big as he is!”

“Trust me, we don’t need them,” you waved. You were yanked back into place despite your attempt to move forward. Sukuna had stopped walking and was looking at the kiosk intently. 

“You used to be adorned in jewels. Emeralds and rubies were your favorite.” He gazed back at you. “Did your preferences change?”

You had no idea why your heart fluttered at his words. Maybe it was the fact that those were still your favorite stones but you only wore them on special occasions. Maybe it was the sincerity in which he asked you. You shook your head, taking his hand in both of yours. “It’s still the same. I just don’t have the money to buy you a cuban, that’s all,” you laughed. 

“Money should never be a barrier,” he insisted. He rummaged through his robes in search of something but with no avail. “But then again, if you want something, take it.”

“Slow down, big guy. I don’t need it that bad,” you stopped him. If he did to those workers anything like he did the mannequin you’d have a lot more trouble on your hands. The mailman was an easy mess to sweep away considering that he barely remembered anything, but there were cameras everywhere in the mall. 

“Yeah, when you guys are done fucking disgusting in public we can go to another store,” Toji rolled his eyes. 

Once again you three trailed into a new story with Sukuna under close surveillance. You were glad Toji decided to stick around so he could help you choose the clothes to put on Sukuna. 

Some outfits the demon agreed with and you cheered happily. Others he turned his nose up at and Toji would mutter “what the fuck does he know” under his breath until you pinched him to keep quiet. 

When you had a large pile of clothes in your arms, you directed Sukuna to a dressing room to try them on to ensure the sizing was correct. You sat on a couch next to Toji in the waiting area for Sukuna to flaunt his new clothes. You leaned back into the chair, letting out a deep sigh while looking up at the ceiling. 

“Oh– how is Gumi by the way?”

“He’s fine,” Toji grunted. “Worried since he can’t take the dogs with him to school and is convinced that I don’t feed them on time, but fine.”

You snorted. That does sound like the Megumi you know. He was the main reason why you ended up with Toji for a short while. He was so quiet yet inquisitive you immediately grew a soft spot for the kid. It just so happened that his very attractive father was into you. It didn’t last, your incompatibilities stacking up faster through the months, but you still cared for the little kid. You fondly smiled at memories with Megumi when Toji pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Hey, are you really gonna stay with… him?”

You took a peek at Toji. His arms were crossed over his chest and he had his signature frown on his face, the one he got when he was trying to work out a problem. 

“Sukuna?”

“No. The other demon you’re tethered to,” he deadpanned. 

“Um… I don’t know. I really don’t know what to do in the long run,” you answered honestly. 

“He can’t stay here. In our world, I mean. He has to go back,” Toji concluded. 

You weren’t sold on the idea. Toji could feel your hesitance and attempted to talk some sense into you. “He has a natural form that has twice as many arms, eyes, and legs than needed. You didn’t see it, but he burnt that mannequin down with his hand,” he said raising his palm “Oh and let me guess, he probably doesn’t have a normal diet. You cannot expect me to believe that a burger will satiate him.” 

Your silence was confirmation enough. Toji sighed and shook his head. “Send him back.” 

“I can’t,” you admitted. 

“Why not?”

“The book is technically lost,” you mumbled through your hand but Toji has impeccable hearing. 

“You lost the book,” he repeated. “You lost the only thing that can send him to whatever hellhole he came from.” 

“I didn’t lose it, thank you very much,” you snapped. “There was a mixup at the library and it was gone before Sukuna popped up. You can use his name every once in a while.” 

“Do you know how to get it back?” Toji asked, ignoring your suggestion. 

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be back at the library soon.” You twisted your hands together, biting your lip. “But Toji, he said that we are soulmates.” 

“He’s a demon. They lie,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Perhaps it was. That would be the most logical thing to consider. “He could be using you to free him and then he can really start destroying shit.” 

“You’re not wrong,” you mutter quietly. “I just don't feel that way. I think he’s telling the truth.” 

Toji stared at you like you had grown four eyes and horns. “I can’t explain it, okay? If he really wanted to hurt me, he could’ve easily done so and found someone who’s much more willing. Even though he can’t stand you, he seems to be getting along with you for my sake. You can’t tell me that’s normal for demons, whatever that is.” 

Toji returned to his usual thinking frown. You patted your knees and stood up abruptly. 

“He’s been in there a long time, don’t you think? I wonder if he needs help,” you say, already drifting to his stall. Toji didn’t stop you from walking down the hall and you rapped the stall door. 

“Sukuna? Are you okay in there?” 

“It’s all children's clothing,” said his voice from within. 

The door clicked open, a sliver of the inside appearing to you and you pushed it forward. 

Inside you found Sukuna in a tangled mess of clothes. One t-shirt was far too small despite being the largest size you could find and his pants bulged uncomfortably from his thick muscles. The expression on his face was utterly annoyed. You stifled  a laugh, not wanting to offend him. 

“Okay, let’s try something else,” you offered. After struggling to remove the shirt for five minutes you managed to remove it from his body without tearing it, a feat you mentally patted yourself on the back for. 

“I think we should stick with shirts with buttons,” you said, grabbing one of the white button down short sleeves. “But it just makes it a little harder since you have long nails.”

“Put it on for me,” he ordered. 

You raised a brow. “‘Please’ would be nice to hear.”

“You expect me to beg?”

“Not beg. It’s called manners. I won’t do anything unless you ask nicely.” 

An annoyed puff of air pushed through Sukuna’s nose. ‘Please’ was a desperate word. Sukuna was not desperate for anything. However, you were not changing your stance. You stared at him expectantly and another huff left him. Only you could bring him to his knees. 

“You’re as stubborn as ever. Please put it on,” he said through clenched teeth. 

You beamed, a reward that made the unbecoming plea worth it. “Of course I will.” 

You filled the air with bubbly conversation. “I think these shirts suit you the most. I could buy it in a couple of different colors so you have something that matches the time when we go out. I know another place we can stop by and maybe they’ll have t-shirts in your size so that you can put on your clothes without assistance. What do you think?” 

You faced the mirror to admire Sukuna. You wanted to step out of his way so that he could take in the shirt properly, but his hand slipped perfectly into the curve of your waist. He tilted his head, giving the shirt a quick glance before capturing your image. He leaned down and whispered in your ear. 

“I believe you have great taste. I am forever in your care.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Demons are meant to be smooth talkers, you reminded yourself. And this one wanted to talk you out of your clothes. 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

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