#it just mattered that it was neil speaking

[grooviestguru]

sometimes i think about how neil's first words to the foxes after baltimore was to immediately ask where andrew was, and i wonder if andrew heard him

#i wonder if andrew was already hustling back to the room #and he heard neil's voice #maybe it didn't matter what neil was saying #it just mattered that it was neil speaking #but like... if he DID hear neil say 'where's and-' #i wonder if he even had the emotional capacity to process that he was neil's very first concern above all else #i'm normal about them #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #aftg

[eff-plays]

Ok so I watched the interview with Stephen Rooney, Astarion's writer, and here are some highlights. (I'm an aspiring writer and current game design student who wants to write for games so I'm sorry if some of these insights aren't as interesting to you as they are to me <3)

He calls Astarion his "horrible little vampire boy"

He loves seeing the fandom around Astarion<3

He did write other characters in the game, but mostly NPCs surrounding Astarion or his storyline, so it mostly revolved around Astarion

Astarion is not as connected to other companions/Origins as, for example, Lae'zel and Shadowheart, or Wyll and Karlach are to each other, but he is still reactive to their stories, even if it's just to stand off to the side and laugh when something terrible happens

He had a clear sense of where Astarion's story would start and end, but it got "muddy in the middle", but those are also moments where the best ideas come from

They write from the general idea that every character has one "good" and one "evil" ending, in order to give the player choice. RIP Ascendant apologists :(

According to Stephen, two of the most important aspects of Astarion's character (to keep consistent when bringing him to Idle Champions, at least) is that he enjoys violence, but is also fun about it

"He has a certain appreciation for violence, I guess? A bit of a murdery streak. [...] He's a vampire, he's all about blood, and he's all about, kind of, those darker sides of humanity. [..] But at the same time, he is ... He is really fun, he's really fun to write, he's really fun to have in your party, and it's very important for me that that is also represented."

"He's gonna stab you, but will have a smile on his face as he does it? I mean, I dunno. That's kind of him in a nutshell."

Larian would not have allowed for Astarion to be a typical brooding Dracula type, and there were scenes that were shot down for not being original enough

The main thing about Astarion was trying to get a "sense of fun." It would be easy to write a character that was very unlikable, and they absolutely did not want to do that

Rooney says Astarion is consistently terrible throughout the game and awful in a whole lot of ways, but he also needed to be charming enough that you could tolerate his presence and wanted him around

Rooney also had a lot of input on Astarion's stats (meaning the 10 Charisma is probalby 100% intentional)

He also had input on how certain lines should be delivered, even though the writers didn't directly work with voice actors

The way Astarion moves and poses is "all Neil"

Apparently, Neil Newbon worked on the character for years and Rooney did not speak to him once, though his voice work did influence how Astarion's lines were written and it became a "feedback loop" (Possible context for "ONLY SLIGHTLY, NEIL")

There were no points where a line delivery drastically changed Astarion's writing; rather it was a constant, slow evolution

However, there was one very spoilery moment where Neil gave such emotion to some "basic" lines that it fundamentally changed the scene (WHAT IS IT OMG)

It's difficult to balance approval, as you don't want to straight up write a monster. Every character needs to have some humanity in them. So if it comes to leaving the party, it needed to be the result of something central to said character. They wanted to be mindful of situations that would cause actual rifts between characters. (I assume this is why most generic disapprovals/approvals are +/- 1 or 2, while character-related ones give +/-5 or more)

However, as they don't write straight up horrible people/monsters, it doesn't come up as often as one might think.

The interviewer makes a point about how characters like Astarion and Lae'zel are good examples of how to play "evil" characters, as they are maybe not the best people but are still eager and willing to stick around the other party members

They worked to make sure the characters would work as a group, no matter the configuration of the group. The characters needed to be on the same path, even if they don't always agree or walk that path the same way.

Stephen Rooney is very proud of the "climactic" scene of Astarion's story. (AS HE SHOULD BE.) He even had to step away from the computer and have an emotional moment. Me too, man.

He's also "extremely pleased" that there's a point where you can punch Astarion in the face. "Actually, that one might be my favorite part" A MAN OF THE PEOPLE!!

Stephen Rooney's tip on what specific thing you should try out with Astarion: When he's trying to get a "sneaky nibble" at night, you should "probably" let him bite you. Way ahead of you there, sir.

No discussion about Astarion's romance unfortunately, but that's that!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #anyway ... after dragon age it feels so mindblowing to have writers who aren't apologists for their characters

[astralnymphh]

fuck and pretend ౨ৎ

𖤐 .ellie williams with a breeding kink⊱.

౨ৎ "gon' make you a baby mama, hm?" 🌸

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

⋆' summary; bright blessings, aphrodite. hazy harbor of your lust, loose ribbons, and smooth touch. a strawberry sun kisses the earth with its sunset, a gradient so divinely captured above your picket fence visible from the kitchen window. a front row seat to dusk settling as you get fucked, the soppy wet clashing of your loins erupts. ellie, with her goddess given right, will knock you the hell up.

⋆' cw; dom!ellie, horndog!ellie, farm!ellie, breeding kink obv, depictions of cum + spit + nipple play + slight food play + spanking + fondiling + very slight lactation kink + rough mannerisms + dirty talk + rough talk + cum kink-ish + gentle dominance + cocktip teasing + strap sex + fingering (r, barely) + finger sucking + multiple positions (bent over, on the counter) , 'her cock' used more than 'strap', some plot + backstory, very detailed descriptions of fucking, smut heavy, reader has fem style/wears skirt, petnames; babe, baby, mama(kinda), slut, whore(not in dialogue), bitch(not in dialogue)

⋆' pairing; farm!ellie x housewife!reader

⋆' a/n; i'm horny. ⋆' wc: 6.7k ellie's masterlist 𖤐

a brilliant orb in the sky permeates a hot singe to your skin, making a day meant for mundane mutilation of vegetable roots drinking up the rich soil, dreadful. oh how you longed to be inside with your girlfriend, ellie, the rufescent headed mutt that pawed you to take a break, on the bed, in her lap. 'later, baby.', you just had to say that. but no, you just had to work, huh? the autumn sun bearing tidings of a good harvest just had to sing an enchanting tune, lulling you to the outdoors.

a heap of green already lines your wheelbarrow, a yelling chance to dip and jump into ellie's arms, who ensconces her bottom to the pleasures of a springy sofa in the family room, scribbling away matters that clot her noggin. oh, it would be so divine to just die of exhaustion in her grasp, straddling that tepid lap beckoning a cozy seat, melding your fingertips with the tense ache that mantles her neck, while she lewdly palpates the chub fat of your ass she deems 'a cute tush' with those strapping hands of hers.

"fuck it." the barrows handles drop to the grassy ground, giving the produce in the basin a bit of a bumpy ride.

the most salivating notion wins, food, fucking food. you burst into that kitchen with a sugar craving, a hellacious craving that puppeteers your fingers to fondle the beige flour into a meshy dough, powdering up your fingertips til it caked under your nail. eugh. 

 a strawberry and cream pastry of crispy golden beige delight is your end goal, pictured to be a celestial five star treat in your rather delusive fantasies. the butts of ruby strawberries stabbed through as you pull the stems out, gleaming juices of a translucent pink coating up your fingers so sweetly, you just had to pop them in your mouth. sucking all that flavor off, like a fuckin' lollipop.

you drift your finger out clean, a long smack squeaking from your lips, and then hum in rumination, "hmm, lemons– or no lemons? lemons.. or no lemons?" quietly spoken, tossing your eyes between a ripe lemon and the pulped strawberry.

"no lemons," ellie, bearing the element of surprise, intrudes on your introspection. speaking with a low, coarse timbre, pitch breathy, "hi babe." her body is then suddenly pressed into your backside, hand slithering down your hip and caressing your pantyhose– clad thigh gently. 

"oh shit– ellie!" you yelp, instinctively pushing your rump back on her groin devoid of purpose, "ya' spooked me.." a throaty whine thrums from you.

"nah– u're just easily spooked." her brows pinch opposingly, slowly creeping her jaw in the cornered nook of your neck, parched lips nipping the flesh with summery hot licks.

"hehe– that tickles.." you jerk away slightly from her scruffy tuft of coppery hair like a plume stroking your skin.

a smile grows pliable against your skin, "good.." muffled ellie, wet smacks eliciting from her hungry latch.

"bored of ur' journal?"

"uh–huh.."

"or just happy that I'm here?"

"mhm.." she dozily agrees, slinking her head off your scruff, "missed you' out there."

"oh, i bet." you frolick kittenly, snatching up the same strawberry you pulped through earlier to cut it, "got fucking tired of hauling that barrow 'round anyway." you complain, speaking with discernable strain in your tune.

"hmm." she hums in consideration, worried about the amount of work you lug on your shoulder from a day–to–day basis, "l'mme help." 

her fingers cottonly twine through yours, biceps hugging yours, chin perched softly upon your neck, taking both the strawberry and knife from you and cutting it deftly, chhp, chhhp, chop!– goes the sound of buttery slices.

you slump your head aside, just relishing the warmth for a moment, at genuine peace that your girlfriend was there. she was so soft with you, softer than petals, gently domineering at any split mention of fatigue. laying the midday away on the couch? joins you instantly, pressing and kneading the tender skin of your swollen feet while discussing more than humdrum topics. stomach rumbling loud enough to raise the dead? she immediately rounded the kitchen's trim to cook you a plethora of meals, taking every picky craving into heavy consideration. indecisive about your outfit? she would glide an oaken chair up to the dresser, plant you on her lap– in your undergarments, and choose what she personally fancies, sneaky hand groping your thigh.

"there you go." she mutters ardent to your shoulder with throaty rasp, knife clanking as she sets it aside.

"thanks baby.."

"n'problem.." her lips fumble the words, settling on bespattering the biome of your stretched neck with wet kisses– subtly hungry ones, and reposes her arms to slink over your hips, enticing them closer into her groin.

you scoop one pile of diced strawberries into the gullies of both palms, letting them plummet into a plastic green mixing bowl, plop.. plop, humming a tune, "hmmmm…hhmhmmm…" 

you hear her chuckle, a small vibration amassing the length of your skin with an accompanied smile growing.

"you laughin' at my song?"

"mhh, that's not a song." she criticizes, lips pursing into a bud.

"hmph, rude." you circle your eyes in offense, faintly swaying your hips while you pestle the fruit into a sweet puree.

her hips react and ungulate a sluggish grind into your rump, acting impassive to it, "s'bored.." she croaks, clammy forehead sticking to your jaw.

"hmm?"

she doesn't clarify, instead, begins to nick your neck with pinched lips, letting the skin gingerly spring out each time. her hips, however, grow rough– wanton. little bounces of her humps smush your thighs into the counter, mind clearly anchored in her imagination.

"els?"

her relentless chafing continues, piling up the fabric of your skirt into a creased mess which only gets worse when her hand wedges between your bodies, palming her crotch with a few squeezes, "mhhn.." 

your fingers nearly slip off the pestle, the stimuli of her humps withering away that poise calmness, "baby.." you whine.

"so, so– bored, baby." her grubby mitts fall and knead the shallow flesh of your hip bones, applying detectable pressure in the crevice beneath your hip bone. smutty, balmy prints sunk into your skin.

this fucking horndog, this auburn maned lovergirl could never let you rest on a busy afternoon like today. all the time, she was just pleading for pussy– pussywhipped, grinding her pelvis on your thigh amidst cuddling, to nudging your butt against her groin with both hands, whenever you bend over. you can hear the indecencies boiling on her wicked tongue right about now, pleading for a tryst.

a long suspire whorls from your nostrils as you turn in her embrace, nudging her fervid laps off.

she pouts a petulance, wet lips sheer in the frosty panes light, "why'd you move?"

"talk t'me," wisped sweet like honey, "what's on your mind?" you lace your fingers with hers, swinging your linked hands side to side playfully.

she pours a groan out, screwing her lids tight and throwing her head back, "baaabbee.." ellie was plagued, at minimum. lewdly plagued. a notion that topped her mind and wouldn't let go.

you thought it was, temptingly cute. the way she reels her head back down, jarring her weary eyes open to beadily gaze upon you, lips parting moistly.

"i have this.." a sharp gust waves off her throat, humbled to even say this, "dirty fuckin' idea.."

"enlighten me."

"i just think.." her eyes deviate from yours, staring at the cupboard, "you'd be really hot as a mama." a hint of smokiness grits in her voice, gazing at you with the most haunting bedroom eyes known to womankind.

"oh really? that's illuminating." you knit your brows, feigning marvel.

"tcch–" her textured lips creak into a cresten grin, hissing shortly, "like.." her fingers flee yours, drifting two brawny grips on your waistline, inching closer with each idea she lists, "i could take care of you, start baths for you, cook you meals and carry you to–"

you intervene gently, "you say it like you can get me pregnant." and laxly cross your arms.

her forehead creases in offense, "uh, i mean," and eyes barrel roll to the ceiling, then on you, chiseling a smirk opulent with smutty intention, "don't need a baby t'do.. whatever."

"whatever?" your tune curls.

"could just.." she pulls your groin snug to hers, pelvis protruding farther than her torso, thighs melding together, "fuck, and pretend." 

you blush, mouth gaping in muted elation observing the way she pushes her crotch into you, "so foul.." you giggle.

"so?" a hand lifts from your hip, notching your chin firmly up to face her, "can i convince you?"

"how?"

an absolutely mischievous look casts over her features at that 'how?' , prominent dimples that plot her next words to flow out.

"here," she releases your chin and swipes a grip on your wrist, jerking you forward as she tugs that hand between her legs, "feel that, baby?" whispering a fingerbreadth away, toasty breath misting like perspiration on your earlobe.

you palpate the inseam, knobbing over a phallic bulge with her hand guiding you. oh my goddess, she's been wearing that shit all day.

"can i fuck y'with it, hmm?" she begs, voice drenched with silken clemency, and leathery callousness– control awaiting your word, lips of coquetry avid to your ear.

truth of the matter, at the back of her perv–diluted noggin, she knows she can't exactly get you pregnant. however, that's the hidden perk nobody talks about. play the part, make it feel real, and it still sticks the same. she can fuck you over, and over– and over again, sow her seed and never reap the physical consequences.

that girl can pretend well.

you feel the heat clump on your cheeks, turned on by her forthright request, "here?" you question foxily, feeling the excitement slowly trickle through your loins.

"yeah– right on this fuckin' counter." unfiltered and dirty, so suddenly, so tantalizing. her hands pitch up and draw upon your skin like a woven page, lurking the entire span of both arms around your hips.

"god, els.." you cling your arms around her nape, chest pressing firmly on hers, "i'd fucking love that." 

her face lit up brighter than all the stars combined. reclining brows, smug–smothered eyes, and the most uneven smirk to ever jerk her lips. a brightness– so carnal.

"yes.." sounded so relieved in her breathy mutter, wetting her chapped lips before she slinks onto yours, dragging hers over the plush of your buds with a passion.

"mhh..mh.." you moan onto her lips, pushing with tantamount force to her hungry kisses.

a wet smack snaps the huddled space as she parts, "can taste those strawberries, ooh~" she huskily frisks with arching brows, returning to your lips with a pucker and slobber.

all during your tepid makeout eggs you both on, pink muscles entwining, mouths nearly trying to swallow each other up, bodies rocking like a ship riding the tide– her willowy digits tuck under the fat of your asscheeks, groping and pulling the two globes apart in rounded circles tight enough to cleft the chub with creases, frilly fabric of your skirt snagging on the ridge of her bouncing palms.

"love' this cute tush." she states with a satisfied scratch in her voice, a deep laugh gusting onto your lips.

"a fuckin' slut for it huh?" 

"yeah baby!" she halfway hollers into your mouth, gripping your asscheeks like crab claws and giving a good shake– featherlike slap included.

you buck your ass out for her usage, urged to wave your hips in a figure eight motion, which she really likes, too much maybe. a booming smack! resounds the kitchen as her hand draws back to indulge a harsher slap, rubbing the red streak left in its path.

you yelp throatily, spitting from her avid lips, "fuck! ellie.."

"hey– c'm back here." her head follows your retreating one, plastering your mouth sealed and tongue–fucking you with that pushy muscle worming past your teeth.

her horny ass just kept spanking both cheeks, which triggered a proud "mmm.. mhm…" to intone on your lips as you jolt in reaction, caressing the flush heat gathered by each whack.

"more?"

"ghhnn– elli.."

"fuckin' take more." she veers that hand back and lands another blow, creeping over your shoulder to perv at the nylon–confined skin. right, your pantyhose.

you tuck and bat your lashes in the crook of her neck, whining right into the ears eager to hear you break.

but, she couldn't do that with all this fabric, could she now?

"nice.. but.." her grubby claws then prod the cloaked crack of your ass, a shrill ripping through the air as she tears a massive hole in your pantyhose– wholly for better access, now exposing your full behind.

you quench a lapse in your throat, "oh, my god." and peek over to eyeball the torn material, noticing how discolored your butt has become and poking your hip out.

"hurt too much?"

"n–no.." you swallow again, reverting your pupils to her, "hurts just right.."

she smirks merry to one cheek, hollowing an alto, "makes' you a dirty fucking slut, amiright?" spoken on a crescendo, second–guessing with her lips gravitating back to yours, but she pauses.

it dawned on her.

something even more impure tethers her attention, down– down, on that chest of yours.

the rustiling of fabric chafes as her hands slide from torturing that delicate rump further, then splutters, "take ur' fuckin' tits out, 'gunna suck on them." just straight up, stern edge like metal to her tone.

no hesitation hurdles your hands, straying from her neck you pleat your shirt over your head and stretch back to unclasp your bra with a pinch, letting it tumble off your chest and hit the ground with a padded thud. the gale of cold air hardens your nipples, perking up two nice targets for ellie to ogle– both in sight, and in taste.

a sweet– tart taste. 

"hmm," ellie's pupils wander off your drooped chest and fixate on the separate dish of intact strawberries, glowing pink in the dying suns' radiance. her elbows straighten and forearm extends towards these gems of interest, scooping one up with her thumb, index and middle combined.

"what are you doing with my–"

"shh, just watch." her prudent fingers then toughen and squash the berry above your clavicle, letting the barmy pink liquids squeeze through her knuckles and drip onto your chest.

a gasp dries your throat, "ellie!"

a few mashed bits plunk down amongst the heavy fall of berry juices, managing to drizzle down the rise of your breast and split over your nipple. mission success? though now the victim strawberry– squelched to a gross chunk, makes a home chucked into the handy trash bin.

ellie licks her lips and stares dead straight on your hardened nipples. itching for a taste of that strawberry deluge.

"fuck.." her throat quivers, taking no time in searing the distance between her tongue and your breast promptly with a hunched back, bringing her heart–shaped pucker to the strawberry–saturated nub and locking on, sucking hard, making you jerk. ellie definitely has a thing for this.

"was wasting that strawberry– mhhf'– worth it?" you sport a quip quickly, the small vacuum sensation on your nipples only just starting to nip that pleasure kernel in your brain.

it definitely was. cause ellie had already vampire–suckled all the flavor off your bud, now snaking her tongue up the excess stream of juices and retreating back. those juice–coated lips squelch open, muttering, "so' fucking worth it." 

so fucking worth the lady boner penned behind that zinc rivet.

her lips wrinkle around your other nipple, opening and closing her mouth around the bud with a slow nutate of her head. inside her mouth was so warm, so wet, and the fleshy texture of her lips felt fucking riveting. the stimulated twang of salacity brought in the form of sucks and licks has your pussy sappy and caked in precum, and ellie could tell how wet you've gotten by the yearning chafe of your thighs, so she forcefully wedges her knee there– making you grunt at the pressure, and her giggle at your response.

you card your fingers through her hairline, fondling her autumn tuft while she sucks that swelling nipple dry, causing an 'mmhhh.' to vibrate from the depths of her lungs, guttural on your boob. one of her hands rove up and cusps the same boob against the webbing of her thumb and pointer, squeezing the blubber of mass further into her wet rosy hole– like she's genuinely sucking something out of them– thirsty, her parched tongue laps a gloss of gleaming saliva over the bumpy node, determined to have you unravel.

"oh, els.. baby~" you tug on her hair, piqued by the blossoming ache in your clit raring for ellie to just get on with it.

"mhhpghmm.." her lips suction with a pop, roads of ruby red mottled on her cheeks from your angle. so eager to toy with that forming arousal, but with persuasive control.  "s'this convincing enough?"

you toss your head back, extending the curved surface of your neck, "i'm already convinced.." you gasp for air, surfing a breathless moan behind the carry of your voice.

another pop sound has her lips wandering up from that sensitive bump and craning to your lips, taking advantage of the situation. her fantasies overrun that dirty mind of hers, aching mentally– and physically, to have that pussy engulfing her thickset cock. to fuck you raw. fortunate for her, you were already won over by the rough terrain of her tongue setting you over the edge.

"m'kay baby.." her humid syllables shudder over the span of your midface, promptly, churning into a demanding growl. "turn around, n' bend over the counter. doin' it right here, c'mon." her words usher you and fingers force you, contorting your hips with her steely grip without even giving you the chance to move yourself, other hand reaching over to knock the bowl of strawberries– now scattered across the tiles like the starry sky.

you wobble around on your ankles as she bucks you into the counters' rounded steel rim, laying her palm plumb between your shoulder blades and pinning you down, pitching a yelp from you when the cold surface practically freezes your nipples.

that's when you realized, she wasn't playing around.

ellie's spindly fingers pleat your skirt up with a swat, then drift down to catch and tuck in the lacy band of your panties and tug hard, pulling the thread to the point of frayed snapping– without giving you a wedgie– until she could remove it from your hips through the hole in your pantyhose, chucking it somewhere east of you. now she could gape at everything. the bare truth of your engorged pussy rearing for her, splayed out like a whore. nuder than an amaretto.

and it made her giggle in gratification, lugging that adams apple around with her wheezy laugh.

"look at 'chu bent over like this," she gruffily awes at your ass jacked to her hips, golfing up a 'hawwkkk' and a 'puh!' as she aims a spit down the crack of your ass. 

it streamlines through the canyon of your backside 'til it mixes with the slick of your slit. can't let it go to waste, so– she jams the soapy spit into your hole, to which you clamp her in.

a jerky chuckle croaks from her chest, rustiling her mullet with each jounce, "sensitive now, are we?"

"ellie–" 

"okay, okay– i'll stop." she slides her fingers out, popping them in her mouth while she observes you from this lewd position.

in the sorbet light, you were gorgeous. cunt dripping nectar like a waterfall to your thighs, ass hiked up and sloping into the plateau of your back. you looked so perfect. perfect for her hands to melt into. perfect for her cock to sheathe into. just divine. positively divine.

"alright.." her voice rattles deep, slightly muted in a gulp after tasting your cunt on her tongue, swishing her spit around to pick up every note of flavor.

moments later, you hear the metal clank of a buckle jingle from behind, the prongs strike the floor as her jeans clump up at the base of her ankles, blanketing her feet. then, a silicone tip slots it's bulbous nature between the top of your thighs, smacking up onto your slickened labia playfully.

"god– it's like a fuckin' waterpark back here babe."

her feet scoot closer, poking the chub of your globes with her jutting hip crests, enraptured in the pure way your folds already look like they want to swallow her up. they faintly part as the silicone cockhead smears your arousal from clit to hole, hole to clit. a half–moon smile dilates into the apples of her cheeks, prideful. a smirk you can hear loud and clear in her dirty, outrageous comment. 

"gonna knock that pussy up, hmm? gonna fuck a pair of twins in you so good baby~" she coos, delirious seeing the head of her cock slosh around the fat lips of your pussy, grooving two concentrated lines between her brows and wagging her peachy muscle wedged in her lips. she was like a devil in heaven, and you an angel in heat. two strapping grips slap and clutch onto your ass, the fat bulging through each finger gap, calloused fingertips blending with the texture. her knees bend to crouch her hips slightly, dragging the hem of her brown button–down up by the protrusion of your ass as she aligns her frame level to your cunt. one hand drops down to catch hold of the faux cock and toys the rim of your gummy hole, sinking the head in just barely.

your sensitive entrances' involuntary answer to this scant plugging of your hole clenches the tip up fast, sucking it further in. ellie loved that. loved how your pussy was taking her without a halt. a love so dazing, she begins slipping and inserting the head only, eyeing the contracting hole gorging over the rotund spade each and every small thrust.

a whiny complaint trebles off your gullet, "are y'putting it in? baby.. please." but the petulance in your plea just rouses ellie up– excessively.

ignoring you, her focus tunnels solely on the tight hole kissing her cock in intervals, pleating up her earth brown shirt to eye her constricting muscles speckled in freckles, the pale blue–glossy v–line cadreing her hunter green cock that only deepened the lines in her abdomen with each pump. with her gaze aimed downwards, she speaks directly downwards, "be a good pussy and take my cock, yeah?"

that was her game. her conflicting game. the only words you heard before she fastens the dick bulky in her wrapped grip and lugs her entire length inside, blowing your vulva thin with how straining her size was. wow. a sight she froths over.

"mhm–" she continues, tensing her chords up to flow out a breathy, gritty, whisper, "take my cock like a good pussy." 

you feel the force impact your cervix straightaway, globs of clear lubricant slip and pool through the slim opening her cock barely provides and drips onto your thigh, cold and sticky, marks like paint. "ellie– h'oh fuck!" you wail in the stinging sensation of sudden brimming, which only drives her to crack another slap blistering red on your ass, "eeah!" you squeak, tears scorching the shoreline of your blurred eyes.

she wanted a tear to slip out. she wanted a cohesive sign that her cock felt tight, warm, filling. a kind of filling that bumps your stomach, makes you feel pregnant. cause you would be, take my word for it.

ellie analyzes the new ring of creamy serum wrapping her base like a ribbon of white lace, milky delight. it fades as she drags her length out, and bubbles when she sheathes back in. nothing could stop her finger from sampling the slimy slick, but, no. not this time. 

in her mind, that's her precum. her sperm. not a drop should be dripping out of you.

"g'nna fuck my seed– so, so.. deep." 

and by her word, she knurls her torso into a convex bend as she swathes over you, cottony shirt to back, tickling your flesh. like a dog licking your ear, she mashes the lobe of your ear with her soaked lips. chanting a one–lined hymn in your ear as her cock skids along your ridged walls and returns with a pumping rhythm, keeping your pelvis steady in her slack grip.

"makin' you–" slap, slap, slap, "a mama'," plop, plop, plop, "with my c-cock.. no–one else's." her huffs fan the baby hairs near your ear, lips brushing so dearly on the conch. each sticky bop of your hips plays like a hand smacking water, bringing shame to the ears of every wall witnessing this dirtier–than–porn event. 

your features tog up into a woozy countenance. lips wedged open like an orange slice, pupils reading your upper lashes like a string of musical notes, head jiggling with each lavish pump into your pretty little pussy. it feels so fucking good. spurts of pleasure that make you wish on every damnable star for her to actually get you pregnant. the way she fucks you like this, all pathetically horny with her own ass clenching into each thrust. you'd take her babies in a yoctosecond.

her bushy brows curl and furrow in enthrallment, enthralled by every honeyed whimper she pulls out of you with her dick. it fed her ego, the greedy ego telling her she is impregnating you. each vein, bumpy on the creasing skirt of your blushing hole shaped to fit her cock, felt so real– it hurts. ellies' had enough. she skims her palms just a hairbreadth down the planet of your ass to sink her talons in the supple crevice of your hip and thigh, held hard enough to move you. this meant only one thing.

ellie was tired of playing it safe.

her torso pastily unsticks from your back, casting a gray shadow with her hover, grunting, "listen– t'me," her hips sway and punch with heftier, vehement– stickier thrusts, the fat plastic cockhead sending a flux of pressure with each smash into the tacky wall of your vagina, "answer– d'ya think, mhh– our kids will have auburn hair, like me? frhm– freckles, like me? my eyes?" 

the constant abuse to your cervix chokes up your throat, warbling and going "guh, guhp– unh! fhhummk.." with your flaccid lips damp in slob, like a filthy mess of a bitch.

wrong answer. 

you should have just offered up her name in an exaggerated moan instead.

the extent of her hand extracts from your hips– not without her gift of nail–birthed sickles indenting your skin like scales, and coils back to whack your vainly treated glute. it makes your vision go white, tenderizes your skin and makes you scream.

"n–nnono, els–"

"so– no they won't look like me?" she laughs to herself, and it almost sounds– amusingly disappointed.

"n– yes, yes! they w–"

your throat then nearly guzzles her fingers base knuckles deep, muffled and choking on their stacked width.

"just shut up." ellie warns in a gruff. thing is, she knows that as long as her thickset tip keeps slamming into that assaulted cunt– she'll never hear the end of it. and that's the best part. confliction.

the counter was virtually warming up on your compressed cheek from how long you were in that position. slippery sweat dampened a puddle under your face in a thin pellucid coat. from your current view, you could only see her wrist pushing on your chin– cranking your jaw ajar, and her humping motions bleary in your peripherals. not like seeing her was necessary, you already felt her through and through. 

ellie, with her hips strapping you down in prolonged rams that cause a sharp sear on the hind of your thighs, with the downright sedative pleasure brought by the bumping base to her neglected clit, finds herself earnestly thinking about how a family would look on this farm. her baby, growing in you. her kids, skipping through these rustic halls. her wife, devout enough to nurture them through childhood. but on the perverted hand, her cock fucking a future generation into you, 'her' pussy gluttonous enough to consume it up to the hilt, her whore, eager enough to be the cumbucket to breed as she pleases.

she's gonna breed you like the horndog she is.

but you want to be full of her offspring.

"baby–" a stiff moan pours from her lips, and she glides her cock and digits out. snow white cream follows in strings, strung to her shaft and springs out like paint splatter on the ground as her strap bounces down to a flaccid level. wow. she moans again, this time, breathlessly, "baabby.. get'on th' counter.." 

"hmmuh?" flubbed you, barely able to see the picket fence outside the kitchen window through your graying haze– shapes blurred and melted into each other.

"said," the lone grip on your hip is replaced with the clammy bend of her elbow, tucking under your womb and flipping you around, "on' the counter." and lugs you hurriedly onto the sudor–coated surface with her grasp under your knees. her hands flatten on either side of your shaky thighs– vividly like jello– as her torso huddles close in your space. now that she could see your face, it was sexually comical. 

doe–eyed and glossed, lids puffy and red. patterns of your own saliva glissade down your chin and gleam in the soft light behind you. so hot.

her teeth bear in a parted smirk and she drunkenly stumbles her face down. then, she notices something. a pearly strand of sleek cum trickling over your perineum. like a melted popsicle, you drip everywhere, all over that counter space.

ellie's tongue ticks on the roof of her mouth, sighing, "mmh' fuck, pussy dripping everywhere– clean this counter afterwards, won't you?" spoken like a silken demand, index pointing at the mess.

you keenly nod, squinting with those weepy eyes as you try to discern the moving colors of your girlfriend right as she heaved her fat cock right back inside. stars. stars heat you skin and strike your vision. a night of black spots burn through your eyes and caper around– obscuring ellie's blissed out face. you were already fucked out from the last position, so fucked, you nearly came at the meaty expansion of your aching hole.

ellie could tell, and that was her cue. her goddess given cue to bottom out. the friction of her girth akin to a fist stuffing you up was pushing up on your g–spot, and that knocked a tear out. the ones lashing at your ducts to release, finally did. 

you couldn't feel anything else– anything, but her cock.

moist sloshes cram up the space between you too, smacking and dragging as before. faster, harder, her hips never lapse and pick up the speed. tapping you out like a nozzle draining syrup from a tree, gushing and coating her cock beautifully. smack– smack– smack– goes her groin deluged in your sweet sex juices connecting like webs with each bash of your hips.

on comes a dirty row of her impudent and vile comments– barely stable voice from how fast she pumped, all tepidly whispered on your neck.

"knockin' that fhckin' pussy up– huh?"

you can feel the warmth radiating off her face a breath away, a cheek–length strand of hair now sticks to the sweat veiling her hairline. pores beading with glassy perspiration. just as red as you. huff, huff, gasp.

"that pretty pussys' mine– mhh, all mine."

ellie's palms leave two clammy prints on the marble slab when her fingers pop off and clasp your pelvis. with this grip on you, she pushes your hips hard on her relentless pounds. no wall of your vagina lacks a thrashed kiss from her dick, your hole was just too tight for any air pockets. that tight. just pure ush–gush.

"god' m'sucha dirty slut for ur' pussy, such a fucking whor– ughhn!– wantin' to make you–a mama." grizzled her in a lower voice, but still so rough, sweating and huffing like a dog in heat.

the cupboards creak and squeak, scarcely bearing the racket she induced with her fucking into you.

the intensity marches on.

"els– els, I'm gonna cum.." 

it was nice to hear, but she was infinitely more focused on cumming herself. she was close. very close. eyes screwed tight in the straps kickback digging her clit with firm pressure,  knuckles flushed white as they bent and tried to carve into your hips. ellie couldn't get enough of you.

"yeah– me too, nghh~"

her own slick begins to lather up her crotch, sticking up that auburn bush, dripping off the strapbase and staining the crinkled jean pile directly underneath her.

the kitchen reeked of cunt– yours and hers. delicious sex miasma. the scent of raw arousal coats your nasal cavity, lulling you both to climax– two hearts on the same beat.

but there was one thing. one thing you could give her, that'd change your lives from there on out.

"baabe–" a shallow utter gusts from her lips, shuddering, "can' i fuck you– god, fuck you like this? mate you– make babies with you, more often?" her voice warbles, fighting back the breath that wanted to give away.

the plunging and swelling of her dick parting your walls made it potently harder to answer– but, you creak, taking all the breath she would give you, mouth to mouth.

"yes, ellie– i want to have them."

her eyes squinted ever so slightly, sharpening, pupils blown. a wicked, scantily–contained smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, a glint in her eye revealing the excitement she felt by your words. in a heartbeat, her lips met with yours– wisping and wetting each other up.

but it was no feat to the sudden acceleration of her pistoning hips.

ellie's lips withdraw, moaning rigidly with buffering pants, "gon' make you a baby m–mama' now– ooh fuck!" feeling the same rise to orgasm tighten her stomach. 

"yes– yes! unh‐ uh fuck, ughh!" 

the clanging cupboards bang and thud as they do, but your moans eventually clamor up over them. her cock, sought the last final blows to your gummy ring inside, gathering up all that viscous serum in strings stuck to her bulbous head. this was it. she was finally getting her reward– viscously.

"love you–"

it tightens.

"s'much–"

it pulls.

"thank y– unngghh!"

she snaps.

your thighs convulse and lock around her hips as she buries her dick deep inside, plugging that bruised–to–hell mucousy cervix up. a high so heavenly it curls your body up to hers, cumming all over that filthy fucking cock in clear spurts, plashing all over the veiny shaft that had you weeping moans.

ellie had came too, matter of fact, all over the floor.

a dense and husky moan grates from the lowest region of her diaphragm, "hhhggn– uhhugh– fuck, baby." 

her eyes grew taut and scrunched in ecstasy, jutting her hips and clenching her ass to ride out the orgasm. a spew of her release taints the straps footing and leaks down her thigh, saturating in her skin. veins popped in her gripe, incisors bit her lip nearly hard enough to break skin, and eyes twitched back tenfold, casted heavenward.

a sunset clasps the shingle roof from above, depicted so innocently behind the pane, unknowing to what has come of you two. 

the moment softens.

and you're left with two fatigued bodies.

her arms loosen and flop on your sprawled lap, and her head finds a collapsed purchase on your shoulder. ellie's chest rose, fell, and rose again, swallowing up all the air her lungs lost in the heat. 

"think I just died," she dramatically heaves from her chest, gulping up the pooled spit in the trenches of her gums. a giggle shakes her, "hehe~ did you die?" she jests, nudging her limp hand to your shank.

the words carrying to your ears mish–mashed into an agglomeration of sounds strewn from her actual sentence, "there's n'pie in the oven.." you slur breathlessly, tongue nearly lifeless in the pit of your mouth.

ellie tries her darndest to compress the laugh grizzling from her throat, still winded, "w-what babe?" her head tilts to gawk at you.

"god i'm so dizzy.."

she blows a raspberry from her lips and knits her brows– amused. of course she's a tad worried your energy had been worn from the fucking, but, that's the funny part. she actually did that. her buzzy voice coaxes you back to animation, "want some'in to eat?" 

wait.

that's literally what you came in here for.

wait.

you peek at the green dome next to you, toppled over with dotted strawberry wedges scattered all over the stony tile– and your strawberry jam. really ellie? a pout cockles your lips into a plumper shape, notching your head on a slope, "did'ju knock over.. all of my strawberries?"

she swings her head 'round, feigning innocence, "umm– nope, wasn't me." puffing up her cheeks.

"ellie." 

she blows tersely, "i didn't!" and throws her hands up defensively– in playful spirit.

"and you ruined my panties!" you scold lightheartedly and jab your heel in the back of her thigh– a little bit of punishment. 

"ow!"

a reaction spurns from your lips, replaced by a jaded expression of hushed brows and trying lips that curl your face into one of, content. ellie forced a few puffs to spill from her open oval lips, hereafter curling into that same shit–eating grin that knows she's guilty– chuffed by herself.

then it wanes. wanes like the moon bearing its shrouded cycle. she softens up, softer than the bunny hopping across thick green grass in the season of beltane. this felt more fundamental to her than you might think, but, caring for you was her duty of worship. ever since that day she met you– the evening plait with a crimson ember engulfing air at the center of an autumntime bonfire in jackson. cold perspiration stuck to the glass held in your hands, talking the very ears off every owl present to listen. you had shared, sung, flirted, and saved the kiss for later. a later spent in her bed, all night– rising at dayspring, where she asked you to be her girlfriend at the foot of her door, just as you took your leave. 

every wound you tended to, she tended to yours, and led you here. on this farm. in your own realm of heaven.

"but seriously– do you want something to eat?"

"yeah, i'll um.." you shoo her away from her parked poise between your legs, sliding your weight off the counter with a heft of your forearms pushing you off, "clean the counter." your toes ease onto the floor with a shaky wobble, unable to even straighten your legs out at first. damn, ellie, what have you done.

"yeah, nuh–uh," she briskly bends at the torso and bars her robust arms underneath your mid–back and in the fold of your knee, sweeping you off your heels.

"els, what the f–"

she tousles her woody auburn mullet in a wag of her head, crunching you up closer with her biceps, "you, babe– are going to rest. i'll clean the counter." her brows raise at the end of her emphasized sentence, a silent 'capeesh?'.

her amenability never ceases to blossom those heartstrings of yours.

"yeah, yeah.." your eyes toss around the rim of your brow bone, and land back on her in time to spot a chuckle churn her watermelon pink lips.

those lips then settle and purse into a pucker, idly sidiling her face plumb to your forehead and peppering a moist kiss, pulling back slowly with unhindered affection tugging the corner of her lips into a satisfied smile.

"see? m'taking care of you. just as if–"

"if i was pregnant?"

"mhm.."

"you want it that badly?"

".."

"well– maybe.. jackson has some adoptable kids?"

now you're just feeding that fantasy of hers.

taglist; @whore4abby , @picklesarenice69 (im too dumb to know who wants 2 be on my permanent taglist so pls tell me directly if u ever wanna be tagged in all of my fic posts)

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #farm!ellie #horndog!ellie #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams concept #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #dom!ellie #breedingkink!ellie

[adamsrcnan]

OKAY OKAY here we goooo an annoyingly long-ish post about all my thoughts on The Sunshine Court

Spoilers Spoilers Spoilersss you've been warned

First things first it is so interesting to see Nora writing from not one but TWO new people's perspective. Jean's perspective is just devastating being inside his head is heartbreaking the constant fear and panic and how much of his energy is used on just pushing down every memory of what was done to him. His coping mechanisms are terrifying and i truly do hope by the end of book 2 he has a healthier way of dealing with it bc baby boy stop hurting yourself :( Every sentence was so painful to read. But also his resilience the entire time to get through it no matter what, god i fucking love him!!! He is a fighter.

Jeremy's perspective is sooooo refreshing. He is such a little sweetheart i could cry. The fact that he sends hand written letters and he's so caring and genuine but he can also be so stern. When he dropped that "i asked you a question" to Lucas fkehdjdfjdh OK SIR. I'M SAT. His relationship with the family butler is so endearing as well i need more background on that for sure! My only one criticism is that he didn't have enough pov chapters and i'm hoping we'll learn more in the second book of course because there's still so much about him and his (dysfunctional? toxic?) family dynamic that we don't know yet but also i'm greedy and i wanna know EVEYTHING about him !!!

Kevin and Jean are so just tragic it actually breaks my fucking heart like "you didn't have to slit my throat on the way out" JEAN??? and "promise me you won't try again. I can't lose you." KEVIN??? And the fact that Jean to this day is still keeping that promise. Also Jean's obvious but secret long term crush on Kevin the way it's subtly dropped every time Jean has to stamp down on his desire's and "temptations" GOD PLEASE I CAN'T STAND IT

SPEAKING OF!!! BISEXUAL JEAN ??? BI JEAN??? BI JEANNNN !!!!

Neil and Jean oh my God like where do i even start?? The guilt Jean feels at what happened to Neil in the Nest and him finally calling him by his name after Riko's death and telling him his game was good. And Neil seriously needs to give himself more credit for how much of a caring person he is because the way he indirectly told Jean that he thinks he is worth saving and didn't even hesitate before asking Stuart to send someone after That Guy after what Jean told him. Neil Josten the man that you are!!!

Jean's little sister Elodie what a beautiful name. Them being so close and him reading to her. The way he found out about her death jolted me differently. It was so awful and i'm so sorry Jean didn't get to see her grow up and meet her again.

Renee and Jean oh my god. Jean thinking she's beautiful (bitch me toooo) And the whole right person wrong time ugh i can't stand it. Him wearing her necklace all the time, enough that Jeremy always notices it. And unabashedly stealing her picture from the foxes lounge. Like he did not give a fuck. He said this one is mine. One good reason to stay alive being rainbows i'm gonna FKSJSKDHDH. Theirs would be such a soft love.

Speaking of soft loves Laila and Cat are EVERYTHINGGGG. God they are so cute with their little domestic life and their rich gay boy son who crashes on their couch with his cardboard cut out dog. That whole friendship dynamic is beautiful. Their fierce protectiveness and care over Jean as well and the patience they have with him even after the little kitchen incident. When Cat took Jean out for a drive on her motorcycle god that was such a heart warming moment and Jean helping them cook as well and becoming the girls' little sous chef it's so cute so endearing !!!

FINALLY FINALLY THE JEREJEAN DYNAMIC

PLEASE I'M GONNA SCREAM

Jeremy being the one who told Jean that Riko was dead i don't even know what to begin with THAT like hhhhhhh. The way they're both stupidly attracted to each other but won't/can't do anything about it. THE WHOLE "say yes Jeremy" SCENE WTF WAS THATTT I WAS GOING INSANEEEE. Both of them having to stop mid sentence when they catch the other looking FINE as hell. Jean being so obvious that even Lucas picks up on the way he looks at Jeremy. Jeremy being there to ground Jean in a Moment and helping him come down from it. Grabbing his face and telling him he's okay. Moving into the room with him to make him feel more comfortable !! The way Jean grabs Jeremy's chin (boiiiii). Jeremy constantly reminding Jean that he is NOT A RAVEN ANYMORE no matter how many times he has to say it. Jeremy saying he'll wait as long as it takes until Jean speaks to him. JEREMY GIVING HIM A HUG AND JEAN CLUTCHING DESPERATELY TO HIS SHIRT FUUCUFHDHSJHSSUHDH and then the "will you help me?" And the "Anything you need" AND THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE A CERAMICS CLASS TOGETHER?!?!?!!!! i can't i can't i can't i caaan'ttt

There's so much more to say but i'm gonna leave it at this for now because i need to go re-read it again and take my time with it this time round but i really could not have asked for anything better Nora truly outdid herself here !!! I'm forever grateful she blessed us with this after so long.

#i will probably be talking about all of this and more when it's safer to do so without spoilers #but yeah i just i cannot stress enough how PERFECT it was #everything i could want and more #god i love nora sm #the sunshine court spoilers #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court #tsc #all for the game #aftg #jean moreau #jeremy knox #renee walker #kevin day #neil josten #laila dermott #catalina alvarez #usc trojans #jerejean #jeanee #kevjean

[chronologicalerrors]

Why Crowley Was an Archangel, And Why it Matters: A Fan Theory

Neil Gaiman has said that Season 2 is a bridging season, setting up what is to come in Season 3, which will be based on a story he and Pratchett outlined many years ago. This season is therefore moving characters into place and establishing facts and mechanics of the Good Omens universe that we need as an audience in order to understand what comes next. It moved Aziraphale back to Heaven, and removed Gabriel and Beelzebub. This season has also been heavy on the references to Crowley’s past as an angel.

Season 2 of Good Omens has been practically inviting us to speculate on who Crowley used to be. If we’d just been given that one glimpse of him in the first scene I wouldn’t make so much of it, but we also saw him return to heaven in disguise and reject an offer of being returned to full angelic status. We have to conclude that there’s been so many sustained hints at this because it will be important next season!

Some of this has already been suggested by others, but GO2 has taken over my brain and I need to write this all out. So, let’s have a look at what we already know about Crowley’s angelic past in-universe, and what else we might be able to guess at from that. 

What’s special about Crowley’s powers?

Crowley is the only demon or angel who is shown being able to stop time. When asked about this Pre-S2, Neil Gaiman said the following:

We first see him do this in Paris in 1793, and the second time to speak to Adam to avert the apocalypse at the end of S1. The first time was something he did casually, while the second required a huge burst of power – it needed to hold off Satan, after all - and happened at Aziraphale’s urging.

A: Come up with something or… or I'll never talk to you again.

(GIF from fyeahgoodomens. There’s a collection of gifs of Crowley stopping time through S1 here.)

When we see him stop time this season, in Edinburgh in 1827, it’s also directly at Aziraphale’s request:

This bit is absolutely key to me, as this establishes that stopping time is something Crowley can do that Aziraphale cannot.

This also seems tied to the crank handle of his Bentley. When Crowley has stopped time to hold off Satan, he is gripping the handle in the same way Aziraphale carried his flaming sword, and spins in when he comes to restart time.

C: I'm going to start time. You won't have long to do whatever you're going to do.

By itself, this doesn’t mean anything. Until we see the same handle at the start of Season 2, in the hands of Angel Crowley. He uses this to start up his nebula, as a tool for setting time into motion.

Is this the same handle? It certainly appears this way. Like Aziraphale’s flaming sword, was this a gift from God that he’s managed to hang on to for thousands of years (And it just miraculously happens to fit his Bentley)? It certainly seems that the Bentley crankshaft handle is more than it seems, and that Crowley can use it as a conduit for power – as he needed to when stopping time to hold off the ruler of Hell himself.

The link between this object, a relic from his time in heaven, and his rather unique ability to stop time, suggests that Crowley was once an angel of great power.

What rank did he hold?

We saw Crowley return to Heaven, in disguise, in S2 E6, with events hinting that he was once a very high-ranking angel:

So, we know for a fact he was above the level of Thrones and Dominions. So where does this place him on Heaven’s organisational chart? My analysis here is metatextual – I don’t think looking at external hierarchies of angels is that helpful to understanding the Good Omens universe, so I will only focus on what Neil Gaiman has confirmed when asked, or has been demonstrated within the world of the show itself.

Good Omens has its own Hierarchy of Heaven, but Neil Gaiman has clarified that the Archangels we see are amongst the most senior personnel in Heaven. This runs counter to many hierarchies of angels (which are often contradictory in and of themselves) but is consistent with the depiction in John Milton’s Paradise Lost as well as Jewish tradition, where the highest ranking Archangels are given the title of “princes” of heaven. “Prince of Heaven” is also a term that Metatron applies to Gabriel in S2 E6.

Of the heavenly entities mentioned in the show, we can infer the following angelic hierarchy:

God

Metatron (NG confirms here)

Supreme Archangel (Gabriel, now Aziraphale)

Other Archangels (Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon, in that order – See NG here)

Cherubim (Aziraphale at the Garden of Eden, when he was the Angel of the Eastern Gate –NG Confirms here)

Thrones & Dominions

Principalities(?) (Aziraphale after the Garden of Eden – NG doesn’t state if this is a promotion or demotion, but it feels very demotion-y)

Other lower-ranking angels (As a Principality, Aziraphale was supposed to lead a platoon of angels into battle in S1 – so there must be many levels below him – see NG here)

Scrivners (Muriel and the level Gabriel would have been demoted to. Appears to be the lowest rank in Heaven, suggested by NG here)

There are likely many other levels in-between these that have not yet been mentioned onscreen. Saraqael, for example, seems lower down than an Archangel (addressing Michel and Uriel as “your beatitudes” before approaching them in Episode 1), but above Aziraphale. You’ll notice Seraphim aren’t in this list, because they’ve not been mentioned on screen – but I suspect they do exist in this universe and are a class below Archangels but above Cherubim.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that Crowley was an Archangel, but confirms pretty explicitly that he was once near the top.

So who was he?

Neil Gaiman has stated that his name when he was an angel was not Crowley/Crawley, and the first scene of Season 2 sees a bit of redirection when Aziraphale tries to get angel-Crowley’s name:

This is quite deliberate, and sets up his name as something important to be revealed later. However, I can’t see why his name would matter to the narrative, unless it’s something recognisable from biblical canon – or, that it’s not necessarily his name, but his rank as an angel that was important.

There are numerous pointed references throughout Season 2 to Archangels, in such a way that feels like the show is setting up for this to be revealed in the future. The misdirection about Angel-Crowley’s name may have been because Aziraphale was likely to have recognised the name of an Archangel.

More than this, I personally do think, that before his fall Crowley wasn’t just any old Archangel, but the Supreme Archangel. This is based on the following 7 points (you know God likes sevens):

The very deliberate way the camera pans to Crowley’s impassive face after Gabriel says “I’m the only first-order Archangel in the room or, you know, the universe.”

2. Metatron’s statement, “For one Prince of Heaven to be cast into the outer darkness makes a good story. For it to happen twice, makes it look like there is some kind of institutional problem.”

While it’s quite clear that we’re supposed to associate this line with Lucifer himself (and yes, I know NG confirms that's who this was alluding to!), it’s interesting that ‘Prince of Heaven’ is a title associated with Archangels in Jewish tradition and very specifically with Gabriel on screen in the universe of the series. That Jimbriel also repeats this line to Crowley in the bookshop specifically feels significant...

3. Crowley also recognises Metatron in the bookshop, where no other Archangel does. Metatron deliberately avoids using his name in this scene, calling him ‘demon’. Which is not inaccurate, but may suggest the Metatron remembers Crowley’s angelic name. It may also explain Metatron’s very dark look at Crowley as he exited the shop – the two of them have some history.

4. It’s never stated explicitly that Gabriel hasn’t always been the Supreme Archangel since the beginning, but there’s enough vagueness in the text to guess at this. When Michael and Uriel are discussing what to do in Gabriel’s absence, Michael and Uriel have this exchange:

M:There is, of course, no question of replacing the supreme archangel. I am the Archangel Michael, you are the Archangel Uriel. U: We aren't in charge. Right now, as of this moment, Heaven does not have a supreme archangel. M: There is always a supreme archangel.

“There is always a Supreme Archangel!” not “Gabriel has always been the Supreme Archangel!” According to some traditions, the Supreme Archangel was the first angel ever created, which would support Michael’s statement: There is always, and there always has been, a Supreme Archangel, since the time of creation. It’s possible that someone else held this role pre-Fall, and Gabriel was appointed as successor after the War in Heaven.

5. The way the other Archangels behave around him. There’s a wariness, but also a strange deference. On being discovered by Saraqael in heaven, they don’t immediately throw him out, but let him watch Gabriel’s trial – even ordering Muriel to show him it. Michael and Uriel then follow him back to Earth without much fuss, giving him quite a look, while Crowley seems to be enjoying himself:

(This also feeds into why I think Crowley looked so different during the Job segment. He knew he might encounter a few Archangels he’s not seen for a thousand years or so, and so appears in disguise.) 6. The lightening! I’ve seen someone point out that Crowley’s electric temper tantrum in S2E1 mirrors the lightening used by Gabriel to travel to Earth in S1E6. This could be a coincidence of VFX, or it could be a Clue.

7. That last conversation between Aziraphale and Crowley:

A: I don't think you understand what I'm offering you. C: I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do.

That’s such a weighted statement, and could be interpreted in so many ways. But, viewed in this light, it sounds like a warning from a former angel who used to be very high up in Heaven indeed – and has absolutely no desire to return there.  

Why does any of this matter?

Obviously just theorising here…

The story is setting us up for a reveal here – Crowley’s status as an angel, and who he was before the Fall is clearly going to factor into Season 3 in some way. Why tease us with it so much and so often if it’s not important?

In terms of the narrative, a powerful revelation would be that Crowley used to have Aziraphale’s new job. That it led him to asking questions about the Almighty’s plan and then, ultimately, falling. And that the Supreme Archangel, for one reason for another, eventually turns against Heaven – it happened to Crowley, to Gabriel (after a few thousand years), and then will have to happen to Aziraphale too.

I could be way off here, but at some point the show needs to explain why Crowley is so different from other demons and has powers that no other demon or angel seems to possess. A reveal that he was once very, very senior in the organisation of Heaven, before asking too many questions and being cast out, would serve as a explanation and be a meaningful development to the narrative of Season 3.

I don’t think we’ll necessarily get a name (because we don’t need one) – but I do think we will get a rank or some idea about who he used to be, and that’s what’s going to be significant. TLDR: Supreme Archangel Crowley!?

#good omens theories #good omens theory #good omens season 2 #crowley #archangel crowley #go2 #good omens spoilers

[darthannie]

thursday night out

2.1k / neil lewis x f!reader

Pairing: Neil Lewis x f!reader Summary: Neil can't sleep and neither can you. A late night conversation leads to revelations. Warnings: 18+, minors dni. fluff, no use of y/n, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort if you squint really hard, Neil cries because of course a/n: I'm a lil rusty y'all but I had to take matters into my own hands.

You were absolutely restless in bed. You had come home from the bar your friend Jonathan worked at, Balanza, after needing some liquid comfort and a close friend. He was one of four. Your little group was all you needed, but more recently it was feeling like three. You, Neil, Lucien, and Jonathan were basically inseparable as you all emerged into adulthood together.

Now, you all found a little bit of community at Gumshoe Video, your and Neil’s video store. It wasn’t much but it was what you and Neil cared about the most. It was your baby, so to speak. Yet another thing that kept you and Neil stuck to each other’s sides. 

Neil was special. He had gone through it all with you. When you were in high school together you both skipped school dances and watched movies all night long while getting drunk on whatever was close by. You had comforted each other through numerous breakups, spent many long nights taking care of each other when the other was sick, and now ran a video store together. Growing up, your parents would make jokes about how you would end up together. Neil thought that was the funniest thing ever. “What a cliche.”, Neil would say. You would always laugh and agree but deep down, there was a piece of you that resented his indifference. It was only natural that you both felt something for each other, right? Neil was your rock and you were his. 

But nevertheless, Neil was seeing someone. At least you thought he was. It wasn’t totally clear what was going on, but you knew when he wasn’t at the video store he was running around with her. That left you, Lucien, and Jonathan to hold down the fort. This always happened when Neil got involved with a girl and it always left you feeling… odd. You never wanted to admit it but you had been in love with him for years. Brushing off that feeling was the only way you could disconnect. 

This constant yearning was exhausting but you just wanted to see Neil happy. Only now, you couldn’t tell if he was happy. He had been a bit secretive about the girl he was seeing. If you knew Neil, he was in over his head. Whenever you saw him at the shop he seemed drained and a bit stressed, but he never stayed long. He’d say, “I’m gonna go in about an hour. We’re getting dinner tonight, I think?” I think, was the key phrase. His remarks were rooted in confusion. Maybe his status with this mystery girl wasn’t so solid. You had hoped, for his sake, something good would come out of this. You couldn’t bear to see him hurt again.

After some overthinking, you were finally getting a bit drowsy. Right as you were about to drift off your ringtone shocked you awake. You answered it before you could check the name and heard a familiar voice on the other line. “Hey”, Neil said. “Can I come over? I can’t sleep” The clock on your nightstand read 1:34 AM. “Yeah sure what’s u-“ 

He hung top on you and within a couple of seconds, there was a knock at the door.

You scurried out of bed and headed towards the door. You weren’t prepared for what met you on the other side of the door. It was Neil, of course, but he looked sad. His eyes were puffy and red. He looked like he had been crying for hours. He looked exhausted. It took you a second before you realized you had been staring. You moved to the side and silently gestured for him to come in. 

He went right past you and towards the couch, face-planting into the cushions. He groaned and you stood over him for a moment before squatting down to his level. “Neil?” You heard a sniffle come from him and he turned to face you. Even now, he was just as gorgeous as every other time you saw him. Handsome in a classic sense. You fought every urge not to brush the hair away from his eyes but eventually, you gave in. You reached out and he closed his eyes after feeling your touch. “Neil, what’s going on?” 

“Jonathan and I got into a fight. Well, not like a fight fight. We just argued a bit and I got pissed and left.”

You removed your hand from his face. That was the last thing you expected to hear. There was never any conflict in your friend group that went beyond friendly film debates, but you were waiting for the shoe to drop. You had spent your time at Balanza tonight blabbing to Jonathan about how annoying It was that Neil was never around whenever he started seeing someone. He pushed you about it you admitted it was because you had liked him for years. Jonathan laughed “Well no duh! I could smell that shit from a mile away. You guys already treat each other like you’re married.” And he was right. There were things you and Neil did that felt like you were married. Apart from movie nights, you had spent time cooking dinner for each other, taken a couple of trips together, and confided in each other about everything. Your bond was unbreakable. 

You were thinking about what to say when Neil interrupted your fractured thought process. 

“I was at Balanza tonight, thought I’d go in for a quick drink, you know? And I got to talkin’ with Jonathan and he mentioned how you had been there a bit before me and how I’d just missed you. I thought was weird because you always told me if you were going so we could go together. Plus you’d told me you were going straight home after closing up the store. But anyway, he started joking about you and me. I mean, what the fuck right?”

You briefly paused before responding, “What did he say about us exactly?”  

Neil sat up before he began his story, gesturing as he began, “He made a quip asking where my ball and chain was and I said “What ball and chain?” and he said you. It kinda took me aback. And really annoyed me because you would never be a ball and chain, you know. And somehow he started going on about how I should maybe be a better friend.” Your heart sank. He continued, “He said I should be more “mindful” about our relationship and I thought what the fuck, you know. I know he doesn’t really have a way with words but, god, how cryptic. Who says that? Especially about us. We’re close, right? Super close! No one really gets it!” Subconsciously or not he now had your hand in his.

“Our friendship is special you know. It means the world to me and to have that questioned made me a bit upset. Then it really got me thinking. Have I not been paying attention to you lately? Then, I started thinking about all the things I’ve been doing recently. Spending time with you know who, which by the way isn’t happening anymore.”

In all honestly, you didn’t really know who. You’d only seen her a couple of times. You interrupted him, asking what he meant.

“I broke things off with her. She was, frankly, insane, and as fun as it was it was just that. Fun. Unsustainable. Unstable. Plus, I was barely meeting up with the group. Fewer movie nights. Less time at the store. Less time together. And I thought, fuck maybe I have been a shit friend. And now that I don’t have her in my life I feel like I can actually see clearly.”

He finally took a pause and looked you in the eyes. You were stunned. Neil was always a talker but it was rare he got this candid about his relationships. When you were younger, he’d tell you almost everything, but now he rarely ever spoke about his escapades and you were grateful for it. Just when you thought it was over, he continued. 

“So, I was so fed up with Jonathan I didn’t even finish my beer. I just left. I got home and tried everything to shake the guilty feeling off of me but nothing worked. I did a- a cold shower and even made some tea. I tried to watch City Lights, but I couldn’t.”

That was your and Neil’s favorite film. You had watched it the first time when you stayed home from junior prom. You both started off by doing voices for the characters and by the end you were both touched by the film. Ever since then, that was the film you both watched when you couldn’t think of anything better for movie night. It became a ritual that wordlessly brought you closer. 

“I got really restless and upset. So, I thought I would just call you.” He broke eye contact for a moment, and you could’ve sworn he looked at your lips before making eye contact again. 

Your voice was light, “But you got here before you called.”

He shrugged, “I just got in the car and started driving.”

You chuckled at his response. “Well you know you’re always welcome.” He smiled at you before he let it falter. He seemed to hesitate before he continued talking. The shoe was about to drop.

“ I, ah. There was something I left out of the story.”

You swallowed before asking, “What?” 

“Jonathan told me about… you and… Probably not everything but he told me.” It dropped.

There was a moment of silence as the tension between the two of you grew. Your world was crashing down. You’d have a word with Jonathan soon, call him a jackass for betraying your trust. You wanted to speak and deny everything, but nothing came out. 

He spoke first. “How long?”

Without hesitation, you replied “Years.” 

He sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. He muttered what you thought was fuck under his breath, but you preferred not to listen. All you could feel was the pain in your chest as you prepared to have your heart broken. Tears started to fall before you could stop them and a small whimper left you. He wiped your tears away and leaned forward again. You were now sitting on the ground as he sat over you on the couch. Neil felt a couple tears of his own begin to fall. You both sat for a moment. His silence made it hurt even more. You were ready for his rejection to slap you in the face. The sting would last long after, you thought. You heard him speak up softly, “So you… you feel it too?” 

You hesitated, “Feel what exactly?”

He laughed at himself and clarified, “You know this, um, tugging feeling in your heart when it feels like it’s trying to tell you something.” 

You avoided his gaze, “Yeah.”

You looked down at your hands. Your fingers were now interlaced with his. Space had closed between the two of you and it was getting hard to breathe. Your heart raced and you swore his did too. He brought his free hand to your face, resting it on your cheek. You looked down at it, foreign on your skin. You looked back at him and searched his face for any sign that this was some sick joke. All you found was sincerity. He was willing and ready to risk years of friendship on the off chance that you felt the same as he did. He unraveled his hand from yours and placed it softly on your neck as he pulled you in, careful not to make any sudden movements. 

The kiss was soft, at first. As it deepened you placed your hand on his chest, not to push him away, but to feel if his heart was beating as fast as yours. It soon became breathless, both of you refusing to break for air. Your fingers ended up in his hair. You felt his tongue on your bottom lip. He was testing you and you gave in. It was feverish. You both moved in sync until, finally, you both pulled away to get some air. The room was spinning. You were kneeling after he had pulled you up. He pulled you up further and sat you down on the couch. He pulled you close to him and just held you, hoping to feel as close as possible to you. You both felt like you’d just won the lottery. He traced your arm with his fingers. You looked up at him and he was already looking at you. You slowly broke out into a smile and he did too. Soon enough you were both giggling and chuckling. It was pure bliss. He leaned in to give you another kiss. There was no testing the waters this time. He pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“What took us so long?”, he sighed. 

You whispered back, ”I don’t know.”

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #neil lewis fluff #watching the detectives fanfic #neil lewis x you #i proofread this but no one is perfect #first fic in so long ahhhhh #cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis x f!reader #annie writes

[sorencd]

EVERYONE ADORES YOU (AT LEAST I DO)

pairing: neil perry x shy!reader

word count: 1k

a/n: here it is! i finally got around with finishing it :) anyways NEILNEILENEILENEMWA

masterlist

the piece of paper you erratically scribbled your poem onto crumpled as you clutched it harder in your clasp, your palms sweaty and jittery. no matter how hard you tried convincing yourself that the other students in your class are all mature, sensible, and rational people, it never ceases the perpetual fickle thumps of your heart.

it annoyed you to no end. how easily it was for situations like this to put you in a wave of emotions. you took a deep breath for the upteempth time before standing up on weakened legs. it always annoyed you, how you’re this impossibly nervous to speak in front of a crowd of people. numerous times has people told you to just ‘tough it out’, but it was never that easy.

you slowly walked to the front on shaky legs and a laser focus on the board, trying to ignore the few stares the others had on you. it felt like a million people had their attention on your every single movement, and amongst the handful of observant stares, lies a worried and concerned one. neil knew how shy you were and it takes a bit of coaxing for you to peek out of your shell. he could already tell that you were having a hard time from the moment he saw you clutch your piece of paper.

you were standing close to the board with your back against it, now everyone was surely looking at you. you couldn’t help but tilt your head downwards and you tried muttering a word out, any word at all. but nothing came out.

"ms. (y/l/n)?"

the invisible weight that rested upon your shoulders made its presence known as you heard your name being called, depriving you of the ability to properly function. the air was acting as if it was non-existent and the atmosphere was suffocating. it made you feel trapped, you hated it. it was hard putting this much pressure on yourself, but you didn't know how to avoid it. no matter how many words of encouragement you mumble out of your lips, it all never seemed to help. tears were starting to prick your eyes as you tried rubbing your hand against your clothes to maybe relieve the stress that had you on a chokehold. it came to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore, and made a beeline for the door to exit the room, ignoring their calls and not hearing the footsteps that came after yours.

standing outside the hall was refreshing. it was empty during these times due to class hours and you were so grateful that no one would see you crying because you were so shaken up by merely presenting to an audience. you slid down and crouched against the wall and held your face, your feeble attempts of wiping the tears away proved useless and you rested a hand atop your chest to atleast give you some purchase from your heaved exhaling.

"(y/n)?"

you quickly lifted your head up at the voice above you, shock filling your veins. it was neil. he must've been so worried because of your sudden departure.

"are you okay?" neil asked in a soft tone, his voice waking you up from the daze you didn’t know you were in, you didn’t notice how tight your chest was. you couldn’t fully focus on the words that came out of his lips and you couldn’t fully process what was going on. you looked so small, keeping your knees close to your chest and beads of sweat continued running down your forehead. he knelt down beside you and sat down on the ground, not wanting to intimidate you if he were to stand up and talk down on you. he wanted you to feel comfortable with him no matter the circumstance.

“i’m-i’m sorry..” you hid your hands, no longer being able to hold back the tears that your eyes desperately wanted to release. you know yourself that it’s no good trying to bottle up your feelings, but you weren’t exactly good at doing that and you had a difficult time expressing your thoughts. what an amazing combo bestowed upon you. “i shouldn’t have made a scene.. i was being overly dramatic.”

neil patiently waited for you to pour everything that was flooding your mind out, not wanting you to get overwhelmed by immediately telling you how to handle things. he didn't want you to pushing down and invalidating your feelings. he gently rubbed your back in circles, his warm touch steadying your ragged breathe and pulling you back from the headspace you threw yourself in.

"they're probably laughing at me right now. i'm not going back in there."

he saw your lips quiver at the thought of possibly returning inside and resuming where you left off. you bet the class paused because of your sudden outburst, you felt ashamed. another batch of fresh tears and a soft sob resounded into the quiet hallway. just the mere scene of you being so vulnerable and your cheeks painted with tears shattered neil's heart into a thousand fragments─ it felt like a knife jagged itself into his heart,

"they're not. you don’t have to talk in front of all of them. i could talk to mr. keating, i'll ask if you can just present in private. just you and him. how does that sound?"

your heart squeezed at each syllable that entered your ears. neil knew just what you needed to hear, you don't know what you'd do without him. he saw you give a weak nod and your nose scrunched up while you wept a little bit more.

"you're doing great, (y/n). you can always try again! don't push yourself too much, my love. if they heard the poem you wrote, i know they'll love it as much as i did! i'm proud of you."

now you were full on sobbing. neil pulled you into his arms and stroked the back of your head and tenderly kissing the spot behind your ear. a gesture that you've grown to love everytime he did it─ he always knew what to do.

"we'll go back in whenever you're ready, sweetheart."

© sorencd . 2023 ─ do not copy, repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

#neil perry #neil perry x reader #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader

[deceitfuldevout]

Struggle

Soft!Dark!Neil Lewis x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count: +1,857

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Misogynistic remarks, Manhandling, Play fighting gone wrong.

Author's Note(s): I was inspired by a soundgasm audio

You and Neil were childhood bestfriends. As thick as thieves. He had been there for you since day one. You grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and eventually became co-owners of gumshoe movie store. Neil was always the one who wiped away your tears. He was your shoulder to cry on after a nasty breakup. One of the perks of living with your best friend are movie nights. You and Neil would pick out some movies to share.

He knows you love them as much as he does. His was up first, then yours would be after. You would switch the order every weekend. Neil's choice was alright, it was one of those old western movies. You on the other hand picked something newer. One of those action movies with a powerhouse female lead. You thought it was going well. That is until Neil scoffs, you turn to the side and look at him, "What's wrong? You don't like it?"

"No it's just...do you really think she could take them all down in hand-to-hand combat?" out of everything the movie had, that was his biggest concern? Your brows furrow, "Are you saying you could take her on?" now sitting up. Neil tilts his head, "Well, I mean yeah? She's a twig, it'd be hard not to win," he's dead serious about it too. You don't take his remarks seriously. It's not like he meant it, right?

That's when you felt the need to speak up, "Neil it's just a movie, and besides, size doesn't matter in a fight," when you turn your attention back to the screen Neil looks away, "Size doesn't matter?" he's taken aback. He pauses the movie, "Let me get this straight: You're confident that size doesn't matter?" he wants to test this hypothesis out, "Because I'm a lot stronger than you," it's not that Neil thinks he is, it's that he knows so, "I don't mean to sound insensitive but, there's also a biological factor,"

You turn towards Neil and raise a brow, "You're that confident you'll win?" previously, you've won the last several fights against him. But then again, you were both nine years old. He nears, "I bet I could pin you down in less than ten seconds," he wants to test out that theory. So, You decide to test it out, getting into position, "Three...two...one-" but before you've had a chance to even find solid grounding, Neil already has you pinned to the couch.

It stuns you, for a moment you were left in disbelief. How did he? When did he? It was so fast you hadn't even seen it coming. You try lifting yourself up but Neil shoves you down with a light 'thud'. When you try to sit, he does it again, only harder. This was nothing to him. He didn't even seem tired. For a moment you question yourself. Had Neil been holding back the entire time? It was almost surprising how strong he was. "C'mon...fight back, I said fight back..." Neil hovers over you. Both of his legs now straddling your sides.

He manages to trap both your wrists together in one of his hands. You try to pulling them free but his grip is unbreakable. You've never noticed how strong he actually was. Sure, he'd let you sit on his shoulders during concerts, or even lift you up in a hug, but this was the first time you've really noticed his concentrated strength. It took little to no effort pinning you down. He leans in, now face-to-face, "Do you give up?" he taunts, "Just admit that I'm stronger than you...there's no use fighting it..."

You didn't want to lose that easily. You kept twisting and turning in an attempt to escape. It was futile. Neil had won fair and square. His hands began to roam under your shirt, playfully caressing your rib cage. He brushes his fingers against the bare skin. You couldn't help but giggle at the ticklish feeling, "O-ok ok! You win!" a burst of laughter erupts from you. After a moment, Neil finally stops. He takes in the sight of you, staring at the peaks forming on both breasts. He licks his lips, ducking his head down. He places a few kisses on your jawline, then down the side of your neck, all the way to your shoulder.

They quickly turn into wet kisses, then suckling. It felt ticklish. Neil had always been overly handsy around you. Even sharing a first kiss in grade school. His hands grip your hips in a tight grasp. You grab his wrists and start to pull, but it was like trying to move metal bars. His brows furrow, obviously annoyed now. He pulls both your arms above your head before tugging at your shirt. It didn't take much for him to drag it up. He knows you detest wearing a bra indoors. He doesn't mind that at all.

You gasp, "Neil! What the hell?! S-stop!" At that moment you did something you never thought would happen. Never in a million years would you have imagined putting your hands on him. You slap Neil across the face. His hair falls down to his forehead. There's a visible red mark on his cheek. His jaw clenches. For the first time ever, Neil Lewis is at a loss for words. You scramble to the other side of the couch, attempting to fix your disheveled clothes. You look back at your best friend in disbelief.

His pupils are blown with lust. His cheeks are a flushed pink as he darts his tongue out to lick his lips, "Let's make a bet, if you can break free, I'll let you go," he captures your ankle, pulling you across the couch towards him, "But if I manage to keep you pinned..." he cups your mound, digging his finger into the slit, "I get to tryout this pussy..." he's dead serious too.

You couldn't believe it. This isn't him. This isn't the same Neil who would comfort you after a nasty breakup. Or be the first one to wipe away those tears away whenever someone tried to hurt you. This wasn't just anyone saying it, this was your best friend. He may have a reputation of being a notorious prankster, but this was taking it too far. You start tearing up, "Neil, you're scaring me..."

He snickers, playfully swiping at your tears with his tongue, "C'mon, keep fighting," he shook your shoulders, "Fight back if you don't want it," his expression changes. It contorts into a snarl as he starts tugging at the fabric of your clothes. You try to fight him off. Neil grins with delight. This was all a game to him.

It was entertaining to Neil, watching your feeble attempt to stop him. He rubs his hard on against your mound, bucking his hips a few times with a moan, "Yeah keep struggling, no matter what you do...I'm bigger than you...stronger than you..." he juts his hips again, only harder this time, "Fuck you have no idea how much this is turning me on..." his voice is much deeper. There's just something about the thrill of it that turns him on. No matter how much you twist and turn, or how hard you try, it was nothing compared to his strength.

Neil may be on the leaner side but he could manage in a fight. His free hand reaches under the waistband of your panties. He lets out a gasp, "Oh fuck..." rubbing his digits up and down your slit to collect any slickness. He yanks down the fabric with ease, taking in the sight of your folds. Neil moans, "Already so wet, yet I haven't even touched you" he clicks his tongue, inspecting your now glistening folds. His eyelids are hooded as he examines the slickness sticking to his fingers, "My, my, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted this..."

Neil lowers his head to your mound. He whispers, "Lemme just..." he flattens his tongue against your core. He gives a long stripe from your leaking hole to your clit, wrapping his lips around it with a moan, "Mmm..." his eyes are blissfully shut. His lashes flutter with pleasure as his brows furrow in delight. Fuck...you taste so good. Everything about you is so fucking perfect. Neil never saw a flaw in you. All those ex's were dumb as shit for dumping you. But no worries, he's here to make up for it.

His fingers slide in with little to no resistance. He began to pump them vigorously in and out your channel. Your toes began to curl from the angel he hit, throwing back your head in pleasure. Neil releases your clit for only a moment, "Fuck...you're enjoying me using you huh?" he teases, then returns to tasting you. He adds more pressure to that sweet, spongey spot inside.

You came, hard. A gush of arousal hits Neil's face as he sucks in your bud. He's having the time of his life, moaning through your climax. He parts, now licking his lips, "Who knew you were such a slut?" he chuckles. His cock twitches at the sight of your tuckered-out form. He's eager to finish what he's started.

Neil frantically unbuckles his belt. He lets his pants slide off, reaching into his boxers to pull out his semi-hard cock. He gives it a few tugs before aiming the leaking tip at your entrance. Neil had never been more desperate in his life to feel a woman. He's only ever imagined this moment while lying in bed late at night. But now? He's not going to waste another second. He buries his cock deep inside, muffling his moans into your shoulder, "M'yeah...just stay still and be my cocksleeve, yeah?" Neil thrusts his hips at a more rapid pace.

You could hear him choke out, "Fuck...fuck...fuck..fuck!" Neil was right. He is too strong. All you could do was lay there as he took what he wanted, staring blankly at the ceiling as he chases his high. He suckles and kisses against your skin to mark what was his. He sighs, "So good...so good for me..." he playfully licks against your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue. His hands held your head in place as he dips it inside.

After he's finishes inside Neil doesn't let you go, no. Instead he manhandles you onto his lap. You're still pierced by his cock. You could practically feel it still twitching inside. Neil catches his breath, he has an arm wrapped around your waist. He leans back against the sofa, pulling you in with him. He reaches for the remote to play the movie. Unbothered by what just happened. You're splayed across his chest with your shirt still on.

Every now and then Neil lazily juts his hips up just to feel you gripping him. He rubs small circles on your lower back, reaching down to squeeze your ass. He doesn't look away from the T.V., not even after he hears you sniffling. You choke out, "I-I hate you..." those words don't bother him. He knows you can get a little emotional and doesn't think too much of it. He places a kiss on your temple, "No you don't," he's sure of it.

#dark!neil lewis #dark!neil lewis x reader #reader #reader insert #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark!fanfiction #dark!smut #neil lewis x reader #dark!neil lewis x you #neil lewis #neil lewis x you #fab!reader #afab!reader #fem!reader #my work #my works #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy smut

[mostlymaudlin]

would you still love me if i was a worm?

ive always wanted to manufacture a situation where andrew gets to ask neil this bc i just think he deserves to be a ridiculous bf who seeks validation in silly, petty ways <3 and i think I’ve finally got something — it’s def silly but that’s the point lmfao

Andrew wakes when Neil gets up to pee.

“Sorry,” Neil whispers, brushing his knuckles against the back of Andrew’s hand as he slips out of their bed.

Andrew doesn’t bother trying to fall back asleep immediately. He’ll just wake up again when Neil returns. Instead, he pulls his phone from under the pillow and scrolls through iFunny, staring blearily at memes that do not live up to the app’s name and fighting sleep.

By the time Neil gets back, Andrew has lost the ability to move his heavy thumb, his eyes drooping as he stares at a pixelated screenshot of a screenshot of a Tweet posted to Facebook. Neil takes the phone out of his lax grip, turning off the screen and shoving it back under the pillows.

“Go to sleep,” Neil whispers. Andrew opens one eye to glare at him. He would still be sleeping if Neil hadn’t chugged a whole can of seltzer water right before bed and damned them both. Unfortunately for Andrew, the act of looking at Neil in his rumpled, tired state only makes his chest go tight in that angry, riotous way that only Neil can inspire in him. He shifts closer to Neil, pushing at his shoulder until Neil gets the message and rolls onto his side. Andrew presses up against Neil’s back, shoving his face into his bedhead and inhaling deeply. One arm wraps tightly around Neil’s waist, the other wiggles underneath the pillow they now share. Andrew throws a knee over Neil’s thigh for good measure. Neil sighs happily, resting his palm over the back of Andrew’s hand where it rests on his chest.

The lure of sleep threatens to pull him back under, but the meme he’d been staring at is still burned into the backs of his eyelids.

“Hey,” Andrew murmurs into Neil’s hair. Neil hums in acknowledgment. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Neil stiffens for a second, and it takes a beat for Andrew to register that they don’t really use that word. They talked about it once, a few years ago. Neither of them have anything against it, but agreed it felt shallow. Andrew thinks the word sometimes, when his brain is too lazy to be specific about what exactly Neil stirs in him. It doesn’t really matter. It’s just a word. He presses a kiss to Neil’s shoulder, and Neil relaxes immediately.

“I don’t know,” Neil says. “Why would you be a worm? How would I even know who you were?”

“You’re supposed to say yes,” Andrew says, squeezing in reprimand. “That your feelings for me transcend species.”

“Okay, well, mine don’t,” Neil says. “Worms are gross.”

In a flash of irritation, Andrew releases Neil and rolls back to his own side of the bed.

“Andrew,” Neil says, sitting up. “You can’t seriously be upset about this.”

“I can do whatever I want,” Andrew says.

“I mean, yeah,” Neil says, interrupted by a yawn. “But you’re not a worm. And I do love you.”

Andrew wrinkles his nose, flopping onto his back. “That’s gross.”

Neil huffs. He reaches a hand toward Andrew, waiting for Andrew to roll his eyes and nod before running his fingers through Andrew’s hair.

“It’s true,” Neil says. “And also based on reality.”

“Whatever,” Andrew says, he catches Neil’s wrist and tugs. “Come here.”

They resume their earlier position. When they finally settle, the slow, steady rhythm of Neil’s chest rising and falling has Andrew’s consciousness slipping. He jolts a bit when Neil speaks again.

“Would you love me if I was a worm?”

“Yes,” Andrew says, even though Neil is so annoying that Andrew should squeeze him until he pops.

“What would that even look like?” Neil asks. “Would you kiss my worm body?”

“I’d put you in a little worm enclosure,” Andrew murmurs, eyes closed. “I’d get you good worm food and toys, and keep you in a room where you could see Exy games on TV.“

“Oh,” Neil says. “That’s really nice, actually.”

“Mmhmmm.”

“I’d do that too,” Neil says, yawning again. “But different. I’ll think about it more tomorrow.”

Andrew doesn’t really care anymore. He’s warm, and he’s human, he’s holding a warm and human Neil. Sleep finally pulls him back under.

#my writing #shdjfjdjfjf I’ve been trying to do something w this for so long y’all have no idea 🤣 #aftg #aftg fic #flash #Andreil

[nightgoodomens]

I feel like I should write this super eloquent answer about what’s happening with the haters nowadays but the main thing I have on my mind is:

“Why so mad bro”

This is basically them:

They only believe MS/AL and DT/GT is a real thing. If you point out anything off about the relationships or criticise one of the women and explain why - you are a sexist.

It doesn’t matter what you say, the moment you criticise - you’re a sexist. It’s just wrong to dislike the two women. You can’t do that, according to them. (You can spew hatred about other women on tumblr though, according to haters).

You can criticise the men, of course, just not their female partners.

Anything to do with MS/DT - a joke. Neil says they are in love? It’s a joke. Michael says he loves David? A joke/he means that platonically. Michael calls David his partner? A joke/platonically. There is an excuse for everything they say. Because they simply cannot be together. They can’t actually be in romantic love. PR? No such thing. Everything celebrities say is the utmost truth - UNLESS a man says anything romantic about another man - then it’s a joke.

It’s the hypocrisy that’s funny. They need to reduce everything they do not like to a joke and yet we are the tinhatters because when Michael says David is his partner and he loves him, and Neil says these two are in love - we say we believe them. So we are meant to believe what they say - but only the part about their female partners. A little selective when it suits them, aren’t they?

This group also rage/hate reads what people they disagree with write. They’re obsessed. They create new accounts when you block them to still have ability to view what you write. They send anon hate. They send “bait” anon hoping for you to give them material to hate over. They copy what we write to send to each other and publish on their blogs to spew venom all over it, and if your words are not “hate-worth” enough, they will twist your words so the hatred grows even more and of course select bits and pieces to share for best effect even if it changes what you said because if loses context. And then they pat each other on the back because they’re just such fantastic good human beings and fans. They believe they have the higher moral ground behaving like this.

Meanwhile you have shippers, not sending hate, not forcing their opinions on anyone, I personally stopped my posts from being rebloggable so they wouldn’t leave this blog (which haters have no respect for either), even keep my posts out of tags and from the beginning told people they can block my tags to never see what I write or just block the blog, I blocked haters before they blocked me, I always open posts for discussions because I don’t say my opinion is the only right one, and I say when I don’t know things, or I am not sure, or that I might be wrong, or I changed my mind - but it’s me who’s the Devil! Not them going after me and others now and working extra hard to see what I write just to spit venom about it.

Because only their story is right and everyone who believes them is right and everyone else is a sexist tinhatter who deserves hate and humiliation.

But what’s new? When fandoms didn’t have sheep behaviour? When fandoms didn’t have groups of people only out there to spew hate about anyone who thought differently? When these people didn’t reduce people who thought differently to “tinhatters” and *insert other insults* and tried to humiliate them into silence and oh there’s only like ten shippers anyway - who cares - oh, well, apparently YOU CARE haters. Maybe you should ask yourself why it bothers you so much that more and more people speak up if it’s apparently all just wrong so who cares. And yet you do. Maybe you should ask yourself why you want to ship but you cover yourself with “it’s just a joke and shippers are sick” because you’re scared of the people you associate with.

It’s always been like this. That’s the world we live in.

Maybe they should find better things to masturbate to but I’m glad my content is that good.

#NightGoodOmens talks Michael and David #NightGoodOmens talks PR

[otdiaftg]

Neil antagonizes Aaron.

"Are you at all sorry?" Neil asked. "You took his family away from him." If looks could kill, the one Aaron shot Neil should have flayed the skin from his bones. "That man was not his family." "Technically, he was only a couple signatures away from being Andrew's legal brother. I didn't mean him, anyway. I meant Drake's parents, Cass and Richard Spear," Neil said. "They were going to keep Andrew. Drake was an inconvenience Andrew was willing to live with in exchange." "An inconvenience," Aaron echoed as he surged to his feet. "You fucking—" "And now Drake is dead," Neil said. "Do you think Cass will ever forgive Andrew? It doesn't matter what Drake did to him. She won't be able to look at Andrew without knowing her son is dead because of him." "I don't care." Aaron gave a savage jerk of his hand. "I don't care if Andrew never speaks to me again. I don't care about Cass or Drake or anyone. What Drake did—no. If I could bring him back from the dead and kill him again I would." "Good," Neil said quietly. "So now you understand why Andrew killed your mother." It was not at all what Aaron was expecting. He was so angry it took a couple seconds for the words to really register, and then he recoiled from Neil. "Why he—what? That isn't the same. He didn't do that for me." "He told me he did," Neil said. "I didn't even have to ask him. He warned her to stop hitting you and she wouldn't. He had no choice but to get rid of her. Just like last night, right? Drake was hurting Andrew, and you made him stop. Except I lied," Neil said, getting to his feet. "Unlike you, he's not angry that you interfered. I just said that because I needed you to understand." "You don't know anything," Aaron said. "I know you've got a couple weeks to think about it," Neil said. "When Andrew comes back sober you're going to have to talk about this. You won't get anywhere if you start with Drake, so you might as well start with your mother. Now let's get out of this city.”

Day: Monday, November 13th Time: 3:40 PM EST

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #trk #the raven king #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #palmetto state university #psu foxes #andreil #on this day in aftg #otdiaftg #palmetto state foxes #otdi all for the game #nora sakavic #the foxes #on this day in all for the game #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #coach wymack #betsy dobson #abby winfield #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds

[portablegoose]

Woooo so the Magnus Protocol premiered and I have things to say and things to overanalyse!

As we know, 'Chester', 'Neil' and 'Augustus' are, maybe?, Jon, Martin, and Jonah, respectively. Hence this:

And, of course, there's 'J1', 'M1' and 'J2' in the trailer.

However, I've seen confusion over the fact that the third 'Error' is voiced by Tim Fearon, who as far as I'm aware has not previously voiced any characters in the Magnus universe. Even though the name is distorted, I can make out what looks to be an H at the end of the name, so this very well may be Jonah.

My theory is this: 'Augustus' is Jonah (or just his voice). However, since the body of Elias was killed in the Panopticon, Jonah does not use Elias' voice anymore. Jon, Martin, and Jonah are all disembodied, if we are to believe they are somehow inside the computer/other technology (ie Alice/Sam's phone in the pub scene) or in some way somewhere adjacent to the world of Protocol. So it could, in a dream-logicy eldritch sense, follow that Jonah is able to survive in his own creepy old ass man way, and use his original voice. Obviously, I cannot corroborate this claim in any meaningful way. We have not heard Augustus speak yet, but I think it is a possibility nonetheless.

The fact that Augustus supposedly shows up to read cases aloud significantly less than Chester and Neil could also be a clue. Maybe Jonah is weaker than Jon and Martin due to his injuries, and is therefore unable to materialise as often as Jon and Martin. Maybe the voice that speaks the true cases (because, similarly to how true statements were identified using the tape recorder in TMA, I imagine true cases will be singled out using the text to speech system) is relevant to the case itself - ie, Jonah only speaks when a case is heavily linked to the Eye, etc.

Furthermore, there's the question of who is spying on who and when/why. By this I mean that we hear our perspective switch between devices (the phone, the computer, the security camera during Colin and Sam's interaction, etc), and I believe that this happens because one or more of the 'Errors' (as I am going to refer to them henceforth) is travelling between devices to spy on the characters' conversations. What we hear is dictated by what the Errors, characters who have prior knowledge of the Fears, deem important. This is backed up by the episode's closing scene: Colin's paranoid closing lines. It is clear that Colin believes someone is listening to them, and it is implied that he has made a connection between this and the Errors. What intrigues me is the Errors' motivation for doing this at all. If what they deem important is what we hear, and this is the first that we are hearing, then it seems to me that it is Sam's arrival that has given them cause for concern, or (in Jonah's case) hope (if he is plotting to return, or something, I don't put it past the scheming weasel). So, why are they listening? And how can we really tell if what we are hearing is the spying of Jonah, or of Jon and Martin?

Another thing. Jonny makes a point of letting us know that Alice does not think the work they do is of any significance, or is checked by anyone. She constantly mentions it in passing and is very casual in her attitude towards work. We obviously have the foresight to know this isn't true. The reason I point this out is because of what Sam does when filling out his paperwork: he ticks the 'Response' box, to which Alice responds that it doesn't matter. This could be nothing, it probably is nothing, but I feel like the fact that Sam has ticked the onboarding box of a mysterious department of an already mysertious organisation might come up later...

Yes I know I am jumping to a lot of conclusions, especially where the Errors are concerned. Please take every theory you hear, from me or anyone else, with a grain of salt, this is all speculative. From a writer's perspective, I honestly think it's pretty likely that Chester and Neil aren't actually Jon and Martin, and just their voices taken by the Web or something, but shh I can dream.

Edit: oh my god they changed his name to Norris that is even worse. Jonny and Alex were fr like 'neil is too kind, we need the name to be Chester levels of horrific'

#tmagp premiere #tmagp spoilers #tmagp trailer #tmagp arg #tmagp #tmagp speculation #tmagp theory #tmagp sam #tmagp alice #samama khalid #alice dyer #colin becher #gwendolyn bouchard #lena kelly #tmp arg #tmp #the magnus protocol #magnus protocol

[astarionsdarkconsort]

So about the "Hmmm" Acsended Apologist Neil dissaproval stream moment.

Hello yes, I'm the person that requested the Streamily autograph signing where I refered to myself as "The no. 1 Ascension Apologist" and I just found out people are talking/fighting about it so figured I'd say my piece here.

For me, the whole thing really wasn't That Deep? I submitted my request literally back in early September, before I even knew about any spawn/ascension drama. It has just taken this long to get it signed and by now the energy in the fandom/streams has really changed. I had requested, word for word "If you can add a "little love" or "my dark consort" before my name I'd like that! I'm the no. 1 Ascension Astarion Apologist. Fantastic voice work!" and now with the past two months of fandom drama and all that, I definitely would have phrased it differently. My friends were jokingly calling me "The No. 1 Ascension Astarion Apologist" and that had become my blog header, so I thought it was just a cute nod to that and the fact that I was requesting ascension-related voicelines. At the time I didn't know what sort of Context that would carry. I like the ascended ending, that's as far as it goes. I don't think it's the superior or correct ending, I totally understand and vibe with it being the more evil of the endings. It fits my Tav well, I thought it was fun. I'm definitely not like an Apologist in the way a lot of people have adapted the word in the fandom.

As for Neil's reaction, I'm not upset by it, which is something I saw was getting said? Like, it's Fine? Kind of funny imo. If anything, I thought he seemed really tired and I felt bad that the cast has all been working so much. He did a nice autograph and wrote what was requested and thanked me for the compliment of his work and we moved on with our lives. Yeah, it felt shitty to see the kind of comments that were coming in, but that was mostly due to me being embarrassed by what I had written and forgotten I had written months ago.

I just feel like this blew up on both sides of the fandom/argument so to speak and I kind of got blindsided by seeing it talked about on other blogs not in a very good light and just wanted to say my feelings on the matter, as I'm the "no. 1 ascended Astarion apologist" that started the whole thing.

#if anything now my husband and I have a new joke of going “hmmm :/” when one of us says something #I was really excited about the signing/stream until I saw all the fandom fallout lmao #I just. don't really care that much. i just worried I made him uncomfortable which would have sucked #ascended astarion #ascendant astarion #astarion bg3 #neil newbon stream

[actually-azi]

GOD'S INEFFABLE GAME

I've seen this headcanon/theory here and there and I love it, so I felt the need to lay it all out. Hold on tight, yall.

Everyone knows how perfect Aziraphale and Crowley are for each other. The Angel of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent of Eden, the sword and the snake - they've been drawn together since before the beginning.

The way that these two compliment each other seems almost perfect. They each have what the other one lacks; they challenge and make each other better. It seems a bit... ineffable.

But then, it happens again? (if it happens again, it'll seem like an institutional problem!) Seemingly against all odds, the Grand Duke of Hell and the Supreme Archangel fall in love. Beelzebub and Gabriel, probably the most unlikely pair, end up fitting together so perfectly that they become each other's heaven and hell.

And here's the part where I'm reaching a bit more since I'm leaving what we know to be canon, so take it or leave it. But have you seen the way that Dagon, Lord of the Files, looks at the Archangel Michael? Could it be that they're also ineffably connected? Honestly, I dare you to tell me that they don't seem... smitten.

Next up, we have precious Muriel, 37th Order Scrivener, and "Disposable Demon" Eric. Equally low-ranking but lovable entities whose personalities match so well? Sure, sure, they never even speak or meet (yet!?) so maybe I'm delusional, but I have a strong feeling that these two will end up together. Personally I think they'll be something like a QPR, but who knows. They're just such perfect mirrors of each other, and as we all know, things are always on purpose when it comes to our lord and savior Neil Gaiman.

Even though angels and demons are supposed to be "hereditary enemies", it seems like they all end up liking each other just a little too much to be a matter of chance. We know that there are 10 million angels and 10 million demons... what are the chances that that was an accident? A perfectly even split, by coincidence? Nah. We know that God plays an ineffable game with the universe, and it seems like She might have been in the mood for a romantic comedy. Creating ten million sets of perfectly matched beings, and then putting them on opposite sides, seems like just a thing that God would do for Her own amusement. She's probably sitting back and laughing to Herself, seeing how long it takes Her creations to find their way back to each other.

#good omens #good omens headcanons #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #beelzebub #gabriel #boxfly #ineffable beurocracy #dagon lord of the files #archangel michael #angelfish #ineffable administrators #eric disposable demon #muriel #disposable duo #ineffable juniors #good omens season 2

[darthstitch]

Professor Mysterious and Professor Wet Cat

This is my take on that Dreamling post making the rounds about Hob and Dream being uni professors and that Hob is surprisingly NOT the prof who overshares and Dream is the one who inadvertently does.

Buckle up, kids, let's have some fun with this. Also, gentle reminder: NOBODY TELL NEIL. SHHHH!

This time around, Hob's using his proper name, Robert Gadling, because it's been a while since he's trotted that one out and he kinda likes the seeming rightness that the once upon a time near-illiterate medieval peasant that he'd been was now teaching at a rather prestigious university. However, he's not prone to sharing much about his personal life to his students. He's still warm and friendly, but he's cautious about letting Certain Things slip.

Hilariously, the things that do slip end up making him everyone's favorite university cryptid. Sometimes Hob slips into Middle English when he's stressed or emotional. Sometimes he might use odd old-fashioned sounding oaths like "God's wounds," "Holy Jesu," and "Mother Mary's teats" (this last one sends everyone into spasms of laughter).

The literature department ADORES him because they can always drag Professor Gadling off to read Chaucer in its original form or even medieval French, his pronunciation perfect and dead on. Shakespeare is the only thing he'll flat out refuse to read because in any universe this Fuzzy Blue Alien's gonna write, his hatred of the Bard is the stuff of legend.

The students universally agree that Professor G is basically British Indiana Jones, because he's also known to have lethal expertise in medieval weapons. There's been more than a few fantasies inspired during the booked-solid outdoor demonstrations where he works in tandem with the other medieval history professors to show everyone how medieval weapons worked. Apparently, his favorite weapons are the longbow, the bastard sword and daggers.

Obviously, this all leads to Professor Gadling being the campus crush and his relationship status is a matter of hot speculation even if he's made it perfectly clear he was not about to violate his ethical standards or position as a teacher. It still doesn't stop the fevered fantasies of more than a few grad students, though. But that's all they're gonna get.

And then, there's the new literature teacher, Professor T. Murphy.

To everyone's disappointment, Professor Murphy is only going to be at the university for a limited series of lectures. Word of mouth spread fast, and his classes were now booked solid and he was going to be asked to return, once his apparently very busy schedule is cleared.

7. Of course, he's an instant campus crush, with the "Goth angel" looks, the Edward Cullen jokes are definitely flying and there's more than a few students melting after they heard him speak. "That Voice" is always referred to in capital letters and it's well deserved.

8. "Campus crush" turns to "Official Precious Blorbo" once the students all discover that behind the whole regal and imperious Goth Prince vibe that he gave off, was an adorkable darling wet cat who was just completely gone on "my beloved." If he's discussing a love sonnet or poem, there's definitely going to be a reference to "my beloved" or "my dearest" or "my love." It's never sickeningly cloying and the sweet tiny little smile that takes over his normally serious face is like sunshine. The kilig feels are real.

9. He's also forever worrying that he's not enough for "my dearest" as he's rather painfully aware "of my lack in human graces" - which everyone translates to "OMG HELP I HAVE THE SOCIAL SKILLS OF A SCRUNKLY WET CAT." He frets that he's somehow failing his beloved, who is infinitely sweet and thoughtful and caring and that Professor Murphy is the selfish one, really, who doesn't deserve the man.

10. The students, of course, immediately ADOPT him. Tesco ice cream runs are done, YouTube videos on cooking and invites to kitchens are extended so Professor Murphy could practice making something that is "not a catastrophic culinary disaster unfit for human consumption." There was a session on the language of flowers, which everyone had enjoyed. For a while, flowers with significant meanings were presented to sweethearts and lovers all over the uni. There's an unforgettable after-class meeting in which the craft-inclined students teach Professor Murphy how to knit and crochet and he was really rather proud of the scarf he had created.

11. Professor Murphy's raven had been rather entertained playing with the yarn scraps. The students learn that the raven's name is Matthew.

12. And then, dashing, mysterious Professor Gadling finally peeks into Professor Murphy's class.

"The things I do for you, myne owne hertis rote. Bloody Shaxberd."

"But you do read him so very well, my love." And there it was, that tiny, soft, sweet smile, now aimed in Professor Gadling's direction.

Professor Gadling sighs and puts a hand over his chest. There's a very familiar scarf draped over his neck. "God's wounds, dove, warn your poor, long-suffering husband before you do these things."

"What 'things,' dearest?"

Professor Gadling waves his arms helplessly. The scarf slips a little, offering a tantalizing view of a purplish mark on his throat. "That thing!" He looks appealingly at the students, who are now all stifling their delighted giggles. "Look at him! My heart can only take so much!"

And that was how everyone found out that Professors Gadling and Murphy were actually happily married.

Incidentally, the Shakespeare reading, in which both professors took part, was a true kilig apocalypse. Instant campus legend.

#dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream x hob #professor dream #professor gadling #i crack what i want #history and literature class cryptids #pffthahahaha #shhh nobody tell neil

[youngcreatorlady]

smoke you like a drug...

Warnings: smoking,Billy Hargrove, sexual innuendo, weight mention,Neil mentions

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Billy Hargrove

A/n: I got this amazing idea from @shanakin-skywalker Thank you for the idea! I loved writing this one,oh my gosh

Requested: no! Heavily inspired by @shanakin-skywalker

As you stepped into the hall,you almost automatically realized you were being stared at. It gave you chills,no matter how much you usually loved the attention,mainly if it was from your boyfriend.

Speaking of,where was he? You hadn't seen his blue sparkling Camero when you drove in,and he hadn't showed up to pick you up either.

Shaking it off you continued walking,chewing your gum as you did so...

That was until someone came behind you and grabbed you around the middle,scaring the actual shit out of you.

You let out a small scream,and slightly punched the arm,but heard a lower chuckle and almost immediately relaxed.

“Billy! You can't keep doing that!” You whisper-shout at him,trying to catch your breath as people slowly stopped staring.

 All he did was shrug,grab your ass,and kiss you,which you of course kissed back.

When you pulled away from the kiss you went to bite your gum and then realized it was gone.

“You fuckin gum stealer!” You sounded surprised,although you don't know why,he's done this so many times before.

”Hey,I bought the gum,I get to steal the gum from my girlfriend” Billy shrugs,and starts walking with you,his arm around your shoulder as he does so,that cocky little smile on his face as he smacks on the gum.

“Technically not but alright” you mumble,and he snaps his gaze to you,laughs,and looks away.

“Hey so…where were you?” You ask,and he looks slightly confused so you try again.

“You didn't pick me up,you weren't here when I got in,and I didn't see the Camero outside” you stated,slightly playing with his fingers.

“Oh uhm…Neil needed me to do something before I left,so..” you didn't push farther than that. He barely ever told you about his dad.

Always shielding you from him when you came over.

Hell,for the first 4 months of your relationship,you never even came over.

You guys walked over to the classroom that you had for first period,and Billy placed a kiss to your cheek,grabbing another handful of your ass.

“Billy! Were in front of people!” You stated,but didn't move to stop it in any way.

“Lets just skip all day,c'monn i don't wanna listen to miss. Lateo” he drawled out,his eyes twinkling when you nodded.

Your grades were so fucked.

He smiled that fucking shining smile,and wrapped his arm around your waist,as you two walk closer to the parking lot,and closer to his car.

You were always nervous sitting on the hood of his car,never sure about the weight limit,you didn't want to break anything.

Billy never said anything about it,not anymore anyways. He just grabbed under your thighs,and sat you on the hood of the car,trapping you there.

“Feel better? It can't break if I'm holding you” billy's disgruntled voice murmurs,half getting out a cigarette and half holding you.

You nodded slightly,and let him do what he wanted,watching him.

To anyone else,they would just see…well Billy. But to you,you knew who he was under all of that. That's the best way to describe it.

He couldn't find his cigarettes so you grab them out of a pocket,you knew they were in there. And then,you held one up to his lips,and lit it.

You weren't much of a smoker,maybe once in a while,but you definitely liked the way they smelt on Billy after a bad day.

He inhales the smoke and blows it out,his eyebrows relaxing,the tension on his face lifting,and he sighed.

“Is it so bad that as much as I don't wanna go home I have to?” You shook your head at that.

“No it isn't Billy,because you know,if you're not home,who else is he gonna hit?” you said quietly,but yelped in surprise as you were gently grabbed and pulled into a kiss.

You slowly kiss him back,wrapping your hands in his curls,and Billy slowly pulled away,breathing cigarette smoke into your mouth.

You slowly told your head up and blow it out,closing your eyes.

"Fuck your gorgeous” he murmers,his hand tracing lines on you neck. You had an effect on him. He might deny it ‘till the day he dies,but you had an effect. You made his life worth something.

TADAAAA reposts,reblogs and feedback always accepted!

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x f!reader #Billy hargrove x reader #Fluff #billy hargrove x female reader